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  NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN CO.
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  THE LIFE OF NAPOLEON I

  INCLUDING NEW MATERIALS FROM THE BRITISH OFFICIAL RECORDS



  BY JOHN HOLLAND ROSE, LITT.D.
  LATE SCHOLAR OF CHRIST'S COLLEGE,
  CAMBRIDGE



   "Let my son often read and reflect on history: this is the only
   true philosophy."--_Napoleon's last Instructions for the King of
    Rome_.








  LONDON G. BELL AND SONS, LTD.
  1910

POST 8VO EDITION, ILLUSTRATED
First Published, December 1901.
Second Edition, revised, March 1902.
Third Edition, revised, January 1903.
Fourth Edition, revised, September 1907.
Reprinted, January 1910.


CROWN 8VO EDITION
First Published, September 1904.
Reprinted, October 1907; July 1910.


DEDICATED TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD ACTON,
K.C.V.O., D.C.L., LL.D. REGIUS PROFESSOR OF MODERN HISTORY IN THE
UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE, IN ADMIRATION OF HIS PROFOUND HISTORICAL
LEARNING, AND IN GRATITUDE FOR ADVICE AND HELP GENEROUSLY GIVEN.






PREFACE


An apology seems to be called for from anyone who gives to the world a
new Life of Napoleon I. My excuse must be that for many years I have
sought to revise the traditional story of his career in the light of
facts gleaned from the British Archives and of the many valuable
materials that have recently been published by continental historians.
To explain my manner of dealing with these sources would require an
elaborate critical Introduction; but, as the limits of my space
absolutely preclude any such attempt, I can only briefly refer to the
most important topics.

To deal with the published sources first, I would name as of chief
importance the works of MM. Aulard, Chuquet, Houssaye, Sorel, and
Vandal in France; of Herren Beer, Delbrück, Fournier, Lehmann, Oncken,
and Wertheimer in Germany and Austria; and of Baron Lumbroso in Italy.
I have also profited largely by the scholarly monographs or
collections of documents due to the labours of the "Société d'Histoire
Contemporaine," the General Staff of the French Army, of MM. Bouvier,
Caudrillier, Capitaine "J.G.," Lévy, Madelin, Sagnac, Sciout, Zivy,
and others in France; and of Herren Bailleu, Demelitsch, Hansing,
Klinkowstrom, Luckwaldt, Ulmann, and others in Germany. Some of the
recently published French Memoirs dealing with those times are not
devoid of value, though this class of literature is to be used with
caution. The new letters of Napoleon published by M. Léon Lecestre and
M. Léonce de Brotonne have also opened up fresh vistas into the life
of the great man; and the time seems to have come when we may safely
revise our judgments on many of its episodes.

But I should not have ventured on this great undertaking, had I not
been able to contribute something new to Napoleonic literature. During
a study of this period for an earlier work published in the "Cambridge
Historical Series," I ascertained the great value of the British
records for the years 1795-1815. It is surely discreditable to our
historical research that, apart from the fruitful labours of the Navy
Records Society, of Messrs. Oscar Browning and Hereford George, and of
Mr. Bowman of Toronto, scarcely any English work has appeared that is
based on the official records of this period. Yet they are of great
interest and value. Our diplomatic agents then had the knack of
getting at State secrets in most foreign capitals, even when we were
at war with their Governments; and our War Office and Admiralty
Records have also yielded me some interesting "finds." M. Lévy, in the
preface to his "Napoléon intime" (1893), has well remarked that "the
documentary history of the wars of the Empire has not yet been
written. To write it accurately, it will be more important thoroughly
to know foreign archives than those of France." Those of Russia,
Austria, and Prussia have now for the most part been examined; and I
think that I may claim to have searched all the important parts of our
Foreign Office Archives for the years in question, as well as for part
of the St. Helena period. I have striven to embody the results of this
search in the present volumes as far as was compatible with limits of
space and with the narrative form at which, in my judgment, history
ought always to aim.

On the whole, British policy comes out the better the more fully it is
known. Though often feeble and vacillating, it finally attained to
firmness and dignity; and Ministers closed the cycle of war with acts
of magnanimity towards the French people which are studiously ignored
by those who bid us shed tears over the martyrdom of St. Helena.
Nevertheless, the splendour of the finale must not blind us to the
flaccid eccentricities that made British statesmanship the laughing
stock of Europe in 1801-3, 1806-7, and 1809. Indeed, it is
questionable whether the renewal of war between England and Napoleon
in 1803 was due more to his innate forcefulness or to the contempt
which he felt for the Addington Cabinet. When one also remembers our
extraordinary blunders in the war of the Third Coalition, it seems a
miracle that the British Empire survived that life and death struggle
against a man of superhuman genius who was determined to effect its
overthrow. I have called special attention to the extent and
pertinacity of Napoleon's schemes for the foundation of a French
Colonial Empire in India, Egypt, South Africa, and Australia; and
there can be no doubt that the events of the years 1803-13 determined,
not only the destinies of Europe and Napoleon, but the general trend
of the world's colonization.

As it has been necessary to condense the story of Napoleon's life in
some parts, I have chosen to treat with special brevity the years
1809-11, which may be called the _constans aetas_ of his career, in
order to have more space for the decisive events that followed; but
even in these less eventful years I have striven to show how his
Continental System was setting at work mighty economic forces that
made for his overthrow, so that after the _débâcle_ of 1812 it came to
be a struggle of Napoleon and France _contra mundum_.

While not neglecting the personal details of the great man's life, I
have dwelt mainly on his public career. Apart from his brilliant
conversations, his private life has few features of abiding interest,
perhaps because he early tired of the shallowness of Josephine and the
Corsican angularity of his brothers and sisters. But the cause also
lay in his own disposition. He once said to M. Gallois: "Je n'aime pas
beaucoup les femmes, ni le jeu--enfin rien: _je suis tout à fait un
être politique_." In dealing with him as a warrior and statesman, and
in sparing my readers details as to his bolting his food, sleeping at
concerts, and indulging in amours where for him there was no glamour
of romance, I am laying stress on what interested him most--in a word,
I am taking him at his best.

I could not have accomplished this task, even in the present
inadequate way, but for the help generously accorded from many
quarters. My heartfelt thanks are due to Lord Acton, Regius Professor
of Modern History in the University of Cambridge, for advice of the
highest importance; to Mr. Hubert Hall of the Public Record Office,
for guidance in my researches there; to Baron Lumbroso of Rome,
editor of the "Bibliografia ragionata dell' Epoca Napoleonica," for
hints on Italian and other affairs; to Dr. Luckwaldt, Privat Docent of
the University of Bonn, and author of "Oesterreich und die Anfänge des
Befreiungs-Krieges," for his very scholarly revision of the chapters
on German affairs; to Mr. F.H.E. Cunliffe, M.A., Fellow of All Souls'
College, Oxford, for valuable advice on the campaigns of 1800, 1805,
and 1806; to Professor Caudrillier of Grenoble, author of "Pichegru,"
for information respecting the royalist plot; and to Messrs. J.E.
Morris, M.A., and E.L.S. Horsburgh, B.A., for detailed communications
concerning Waterloo, The nieces of the late Professor Westwood of
Oxford most kindly allowed the facsimile of the new Napoleon letter,
printed opposite p. 156 of vol. i., to be made from the original in
their possession; and Miss Lowe courteously placed at my disposal the
papers of her father relating to the years 1813-15, as well as to the
St. Helena period. I wish here to record my grateful obligations for
all these friendly courtesies, which have given value to the book,
besides saving me from many of the pitfalls with which the subject
abounds. That I have escaped them altogether is not to be imagined;
but I can honestly say, in the words of the late Bishop of London,
that "I have tried to write true history."

J.H.R.

[NOTE.--The references to Napoleon's "Correspondence" in the notes are
to the official French edition, published under the auspices of
Napoleon III. The "New Letters of Napoleon" are those edited by Léon
Lecestre, and translated into English by Lady Mary Loyd, except in a
very few cases where M. Léonce de Brotonne's still more recent edition
is cited under his name. By "F.O.," France, No.----, and "F.O.,"
Prussia, No.----, are meant the volumes of _our_ Foreign Office
despatches relating to France and Prussia. For the sake of brevity I
have called Napoleon's Marshals and high officials by their names, not
by their titles: but a list of these is given at the close of vol.
ii.]





PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION


The demand for this work so far exceeded my expectations that I was
unable to make any considerable changes in the second edition, issued
in March, 1902; and circumstances again make it impossible for me to
give the work that thorough recension which I should desire. I have,
however, carefully considered the suggestions offered by critics, and
have adopted them in some cases. Professor Fournier of Vienna has most
kindly furnished me with details which seem to relegate to the domain
of legend the famous ice catastrophe at Austerlitz; and I have added a
note to this effect on p. 50 of vol. ii. On the other hand, I may
justly claim that the publication of Count Balmain's reports relating
to St. Helena has served to corroborate, in all important details, my
account of Napoleon's captivity.

It only remains to add that I much regret the omission of Mr. Oman's
name from II. 12-13 of page viii of the Preface, an omission rendered
all the more conspicuous by the appearance of the first volume of his
"History of the Peninsular War" in the spring of this year.

J.H.R.

_October, 1902._

Notes have been added at the end of ch. v., vol. i.; chs. xxii.,
xxiii., xxviii., xxix., xxxv., vol. ii.; and an Appendix on the Battle
of Waterloo has been added on p. 577, vol. ii.

       *       *       *       *       *




CONTENTS


    CHAPTER


VOL. I


         NOTE ON THE REPUBLICAN CALENDAR

      I. PARENTAGE AND EARLY YEARS

     II. THE FRENCH REVOLUTION AND CORSICA

    III. TOULON

     IV. VENDÉMIAIRE

      V. THE ITALIAN CAMPAIGN (1796)

     VI. THE FIGHTS FOR MANTUA

    VII. LEOBEN TO CAMPO FORMIO

   VIII. EGYPT

     IX. SYRIA

      X. BRUMAIRE

     XI. MARENGO: LUNÉVILLE

    XII. THE NEW INSTITUTIONS OF FRANCE

   XIII. THE CONSULATE FOR LIFE

    XIV. THE PEACE OF AMIENS

     XV. A FRENCH COLONIAL EMPIRE: ST.
         DOMINGO--LOUISIANA--INDIA--AUSTRALIA

    XVI. NAPOLEON'S INTERVENTIONS

   XVII. THE RENEWAL OF WAR

  XVIII. EUROPE AND THE BONAPARTES

    XIX. THE ROYALIST PLOT

     XX. THE DAWN OF THE EMPIRE

    XXI. THE BOULOGNE FLOTILLA

    APPENDIX: REPORTS HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED
     ON
    (_a_) THE SALE OF LOUISIANA;
    (_b_) THE IRISH DIVISION IN NAPOLEON'S SERVICE

  ILLUSTRATIONS, MAPS, AND PLANS

  THE SIEGE OF TOULON, 1793

  MAP TO ILLUSTRATE THE CAMPAIGNS IN NORTH ITALY

  PLAN TO ILLUSTRATE THE VICTORY OF ARCOLA

  THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF RIVOLI

  FACSIMILE OF A LETTER OF NAPOLEON TO "LA CITOYENNE
  TALLIEN," 1797

  CENTRAL EUROPE, after the Peace of Campo Formio, 1797

  PLAN OF THE SIEGE OF ACRE, from a contemporary sketch

  THE BATTLE OF MARENGO, to illustrate Kellermann's charge

  FRENCH MAP OF THE SOUTH OF AUSTRALIA, 1807


VOL. II


     XXII. ULM AND TRAFALGAR
    XXIII. AUSTERLITZ
     XXIV. PRUSSIA AND THE NEW CHARLEMAGNE
      XXV. THE FALL OF PRUSSIA
     XXVI. THE CONTINENTAL SYSTEM: FRIEDLAND
    XXVII. TILSIT
   XXVIII. THE SPANISH RISING
     XXIX. ERFURT
      XXX. NAPOLEON AND AUSTRIA
     XXXI. THE EMPIRE AT ITS HEIGHT
    XXXII. THE RUSSIAN CAMPAIGN
   XXXIII. THE FIRST SAXON CAMPAIGN
    XXXIV. VITTORIA AND THE ARMISTICE
     XXXV. DRESDEN AND LEIPZIG
    XXXVI. FROM THE RHINE TO THE SEINE
   XXXVII. THE FIRST ABDICATION
  XXXVIII. ELBA AND PARIS
    XXXIX. LIGNY AND QUATRE BRAS
       XL. WATERLOO
      XLI. FROM THE ELYSÉE TO ST. HELENA
     XLII. CLOSING YEARS

           APPENDIX I: LIST OF THE CHIEF APPOINTMENTS
             AND DIGNITIES BESTOWED BY NAPOLEON

           APPENDIX II: THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO

           INDEX


MAPS AND PLANS

  BATTLE OF ULM
  BATTLE OF AUSTERLITZ
  BATTLE OF JENA
  BATTLE OF FRIEDLAND
  BATTLE OF WAGRAM
  CENTRAL EUROPE AFTER 1810
  CAMPAIGN IN RUSSIA
  BATTLE OF VITTORIA
  THE CAMPAIGN OF 1813
  BATTLE OF DRESDEN
  BATTLE OF LEIPZIG
  THE CAMPAIGN OF 1814                              _to face_
  PLAN OF THE WATERLOO CAMPAIGN
  BATTLE OF LIGNY
  BATTLE OF WATERLOO, about 11 o'clock a.m.    _to face_
  ST. HELENA











NOTE ON THE REPUBLICAN CALENDAR


The republican calendar consisted of twelve months of thirty days
each, each month being divided into three "decades" of ten days. Five
days (in leap years six) were added at the end of the year to bring it
into coincidence with the solar year.

  An    I began Sept. 22, 1792.
  "    II  "      "       1793.
  "   III  "      "       1794.
  "    IV (leap year)     1795.

       *       *       *       *       *

  "  VIII began Sept. 22, 1799.
  "    IX   "   Sept. 23, 1800.
  "     X   "      "      1801.

       *       *       *       *       *

  "   XIV   "      "      1805.

The new computation, though reckoned from Sept. 22, 1792, was not
introduced until Nov. 26, 1793 (An II). It ceased after Dec. 31, 1805.

The months are as follows:

    Vendémiaire              Sept. 22 to Oct. 21.
    Brumaire                 Oct. 22  "  Nov. 20.
    Frimaire                 Nov. 21  "  Dec. 20.
    Nivôse                   Dec. 21  "  Jan. 19.
    Pluviôse                 Jan. 20  "  Feb. 18.
    Ventôse                  Feb. 19  "  Mar. 20.
    Germinal                 Mar. 21  "  April 19.
    Floréal                  April 20 "  May 19.
    Prairial                 May 20   "  June 18.
    Messidor                 June 19  "  July 18.
    Thermidor                July 19  "  Aug. 17.
    Fructidor                Aug. 18  "  Sept. 16.

Add five (in leap years six) "Sansculottides" or "Jours
complémentaires."

In 1796 (leap year) the numbers in the table of months, so far as
concerns all dates between Feb. 28 and Sept. 22, will have to be
_reduced by one_, owing to the intercalation of Feb. 29, which is not
compensated for until the end of the republican year.

The matter is further complicated by the fact that the republicans
reckoned An VIII as a leap year, though it is not one in the Gregorian
Calendar. Hence that year ended on Sept. 22, and An IX and succeeding
years began on Sept. 23. Consequently in the above table of months the
numbers of all days from Vendémiaire 1, An IX (Sept. 23, 1800), to
Nivôse 10, An XIV (Dec. 31, 1805), inclusive, will have to be
_increased by one_, except only in the next leap year between Ventôse
9, An XII, and Vendémiaire 1, An XIII (Feb. 28-Sept, 23, 1804), when
the two Revolutionary aberrations happen to neutralize each other.

       *       *       *       *       *





THE LIFE OF NAPOLEON I





CHAPTER I

PARENTAGE AND EARLY YEARS


"I was born when my country was perishing. Thirty thousand French
vomited upon our coasts, drowning the throne of Liberty in waves of
blood, such was the sight which struck my eyes." This passionate
utterance, penned by Napoleon Buonaparte at the beginning of the
French Revolution, describes the state of Corsica in his natal year.
The words are instinct with the vehemence of the youth and the
extravagant sentiment of the age: they strike the keynote of his
career. His life was one of strain and stress from his cradle to his
grave.

In his temperament as in the circumstances of his time the young
Buonaparte was destined for an extraordinary career. Into a tottering
civilization he burst with all the masterful force of an Alaric. But
he was an Alaric of the south, uniting the untamed strength of his
island kindred with the mental powers of his Italian ancestry. In his
personality there is a complex blending of force and grace, of animal
passion and mental clearness, of northern common sense with the
promptings of an oriental imagination; and this union in his nature of
seeming opposites explains many of the mysteries of his life.
Fortunately for lovers of romance, genius cannot be wholly analyzed,
even by the most adroit historical philosophizer or the most exacting
champion of heredity. But in so far as the sources of Napoleon's power
can be measured, they may be traced to the unexampled needs of mankind
in the revolutionary epoch and to his own exceptional endowments.
Evidently, then, the characteristics of his family claim some
attention from all who would understand the man and the influence
which he was to wield over modern Europe.

It has been the fortune of his House to be the subject of dispute from
first to last. Some writers have endeavoured to trace its descent back
to the Cæsars of Rome, others to the Byzantine Emperors; one
genealogical explorer has tracked the family to Majorca, and, altering
its name to Bonpart, has discovered its progenitor in the Man of the
Iron Mask; while the Duchesse d'Abrantès, voyaging eastwards in quest
of its ancestors, has confidently claimed for the family a Greek
origin. Painstaking research has dispelled these romancings of
historical _trouveurs_, and has connected this enigmatic stock with a
Florentine named "William, who in the year 1261 took the surname of
_Bonaparte_ or _Buonaparte_. The name seems to have been assumed when,
amidst the unceasing strifes between Guelfs and Ghibellines that rent
the civic life of Florence, William's party, the Ghibellines, for a
brief space gained the ascendancy. But perpetuity was not to be found
in Florentine politics; and in a short time he was a fugitive at a
Tuscan village, Sarzana, beyond the reach of the victorious Guelfs.
Here the family seems to have lived for well nigh three centuries,
maintaining its Ghibelline and aristocratic principles with surprising
tenacity. The age was not remarkable for the virtue of constancy, or
any other virtue. Politics and private life were alike demoralized by
unceasing intrigues; and amidst strifes of Pope and Emperor, duchies
and republics, cities and autocrats, there was formed that type of
Italian character which is delineated in the pages of Macchiavelli.
From the depths of debasement of that cynical age the Buonapartes
were saved by their poverty, and by the isolation of their life at
Sarzana. Yet the embassies discharged at intervals by the more
talented members of the family showed that the gifts for intrigue were
only dormant; and they were certainly transmitted in their intensity
to the greatest scion of the race.

In the year 1529 Francis Buonaparte, whether pressed by poverty or
distracted by despair at the misfortunes which then overwhelmed Italy,
migrated to Corsica. There the family was grafted upon a tougher
branch of the Italian race. To the vulpine characteristics developed
under the shadow of the Medici there were now added qualities of a
more virile stamp. Though dominated in turn by the masters of the
Mediterranean, by Carthaginians, Romans, Vandals, by the men of Pisa,
and finally by the Genoese Republic, the islanders retained a striking
individuality. The rock-bound coast and mountainous interior helped to
preserve the essential features of primitive life. Foreign Powers
might affect the towns on the sea-board, but they left the clans of
the interior comparatively untouched. Their life centred around the
family. The Government counted for little or nothing; for was it not
the symbol of the detested foreign rule? Its laws were therefore as
naught when they conflicted with the unwritten but omnipotent code of
family honour. A slight inflicted on a neighbour would call forth the
warning words--"Guard thyself: I am on my guard." Forthwith there
began a blood feud, a vendetta, which frequently dragged on its dreary
course through generations of conspiracy and murder, until, the
principals having vanished, the collateral branches of the families
were involved. No Corsican was so loathed as the laggard who shrank
from avenging the family honour, even on a distant relative of the
first offender. The murder of the Duc d'Enghien by Napoleon in 1804
sent a thrill of horror through the Continent. To the Corsicans it
seemed little more than an autocratic version of the _vendetta
traversale_.[1]

The vendetta was the chief law of Corsican society up to comparatively
recent times; and its effects are still visible in the life of the
stern islanders. In his charming romance, "Colomba," M. Prosper
Mérimée has depicted the typical Corsican, even of the towns, as
preoccupied, gloomy, suspicious, ever on the alert, hovering about his
dwelling, like a falcon over his nest, seemingly in preparation for
attack or defence. Laughter, the song, the dance, were rarely heard in
the streets; for the women, after acting as the drudges of the
household, were kept jealously at home, while their lords smoked and
watched. If a game at hazard were ventured upon, it ran its course in
silence, which not seldom was broken by the shot or the stab--first
warning that there had been underhand play. The deed always preceded
the word.

In such a life, where commerce and agriculture were despised, where
woman was mainly a drudge and man a conspirator, there grew up the
typical Corsican temperament, moody and exacting, but withal keen,
brave, and constant, which looked on the world as a fencing-school for
the glorification of the family and the clan[2]. Of this type Napoleon
was to be the supreme exemplar; and the fates granted him as an arena
a chaotic France and a distracted Europe.

Amidst that grim Corsican existence the Buonapartes passed their lives
during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Occupied as advocates
and lawyers with such details of the law as were of any practical
importance, they must have been involved in family feuds and the
oft-recurring disputes between Corsica and the suzerain Power, Genoa.
As became dignitaries in the municipality of Ajaccio, several of the
Buonapartes espoused the Genoese side; and the Genoese Senate in a
document of the year 1652 styled one of them, Jérome, "Egregius
Hieronimus di Buonaparte, procurator Nobilium." These distinctions
they seem to have little coveted. Very few families belonged to the
Corsican _noblesse_, and their fiefs were unimportant. In Corsica, as
in the Forest Cantons of Switzerland and the Highlands of Scotland,
class distinctions were by no means so coveted as in lands that had
been thoroughly feudalized; and the Buonapartes, content with their
civic dignities at Ajaccio and the attachment of their partisans on
their country estates, seem rarely to have used the prefix which
implied nobility. Their life was not unlike that of many an old
Scottish laird, who, though possibly _bourgeois_ in origin, yet by
courtesy ranked as chieftain among his tenants, and was ennobled by
the parlance of the countryside, perhaps all the more readily because
he refused to wear the honours that came from over the Border.

But a new influence was now to call forth all the powers of this tough
stock. In the middle of the eighteenth century we find the head of the
family, Charles Marie Buonaparte, aglow with the flame of Corsican
patriotism then being kindled by the noble career of Paoli. This
gifted patriot, the champion of the islanders, first against the
Genoese and later against the French, desired to cement by education
the framework of the Corsican Commonwealth and founded a university.
It was here that the father of the future French Emperor received a
training in law, and a mental stimulus which was to lift his family
above the level of the _caporali_ and attorneys with whom its lot had
for centuries been cast. His ambition is seen in the endeavour,
successfully carried out by his uncle, Lucien, Archdeacon of Ajaccio,
to obtain recognition of kinship with the Buonapartes of Tuscany who
had been ennobled by the Grand Duke. His patriotism is evinced in his
ardent support of Paoli, by whose valour and energy the Genoese were
finally driven from the island. Amidst these patriotic triumphs
Charles confronted his destiny in the person of Letizia Ramolino, a
beautiful girl, descended from an honourable Florentine family which
had for centuries been settled in Corsica. The wedding took place in
1764, the bridegroom being then eighteen, and the bride fifteen years
of age. The union, if rashly undertaken in the midst of civil strifes,
was yet well assorted. Both parties to it were of patrician, if not
definitely noble descent, and came of families which combined the
intellectual gifts of Tuscany with the vigour of their later island
home[3]. From her mother's race, the Pietra Santa family, Letizia
imbibed the habits of the most backward and savage part of Corsica,
where vendettas were rife and education was almost unknown. Left in
ignorance in her early days, she yet was accustomed to hardships, and
often showed the fertility of resource which such a life always
develops. Hence, at the time of her marriage, she possessed a firmness
of will far beyond her years; and her strength and fortitude enabled
her to survive the terrible adversities of her early days, as also to
meet with quiet matronly dignity the extraordinary honours showered on
her as the mother of the French Emperor. She was inured to habits of
frugality, which reappeared in the personal tastes of her son. In
fact, she so far retained her old parsimonious habits, even amidst the
splendours of the French Imperial Court, as to expose herself to the
charge of avarice. But there is a touching side to all this. She seems
ever to have felt that after the splendour there would come again the
old days of adversity, and her instincts were in one sense correct.
She lived on to the advanced age of eighty-six, and died twenty-one
years after the break-up of her son's empire--a striking proof of the
vitality and tenacity of her powers.

A kindly Providence veiled the future from the young couple. Troubles
fell swiftly upon them both in private and in public life. Their first
two children died in infancy. The third, Joseph, was born in 1768,
when the Corsican patriots were making their last successful efforts
against their new French oppressors: the fourth, the famous Napoleon,
saw the light on August 15th, 1769, when the liberties of Corsica were
being finally extinguished. Nine other children were born before the
outbreak of the French Revolution reawakened civil strifes, amidst
which the then fatherless family was tossed to and fro and finally
whirled away to France.

Destiny had already linked the fortunes of the young Napoleon
Buonaparte with those of France. After the downfall of Genoese rule in
Corsica, France had taken over, for empty promises, the claims of the
hard-pressed Italian republic to its troublesome island possession. It
was a cheap and practical way of restoring, at least in the
Mediterranean the shattered prestige of the French Bourbons. They had
previously intervened in Corsican affairs on the side of the Genoese.
Yet in 1764 Paoli appealed to Louis XV. for protection. It was
granted, in the form of troops that proceeded quietly to occupy the
coast towns of the island under cover of friendly assurances. In 1768,
before the expiration of an informal truce, Marbeuf, the French
commander, commenced hostilities against the patriots[4]. In vain did
Rousseau and many other champions of popular liberty protest against
this bartering away of insular freedom: in vain did Paoli rouse his
compatriots to another and more unequal struggle, and seek to hold the
mountainous interior. Poor, badly equipped, rent by family feuds and
clan schisms, his followers were no match for the French troops; and
after the utter break-up of his forces Paoli fled to England, taking
with him three hundred and forty of the most determined patriots. With
these irreconcilables Charles Buonaparte did not cast in his lot, but
accepted the pardon offered to those who should recognize the French
sway. With his wife and their little child Joseph he returned to
Ajaccio; and there, shortly afterwards, Napoleon was born. As the
patriotic historian, Jacobi, has finely said, "The Corsican people,
when exhausted by producing martyrs to the cause of liberty, produced
Napoleon Buonaparte[5]."

Seeing that Charles Buonaparte had been an ardent adherent of Paoli,
his sudden change of front has exposed him to keen censure. He
certainly had not the grit of which heroes are made. His seems to have
been an ill-balanced nature, soon buoyed up by enthusiasms, and as
speedily depressed by their evaporation; endowed with enough of
learning and culture to be a Voltairean and write second-rate
verses; and with a talent for intrigue which sufficed to embarrass
his never very affluent fortunes. Napoleon certainly derived no
world-compelling qualities from his father: for these he was indebted
to the wilder strain which ran in his mother's blood. The father
doubtless saw in the French connection a chance of worldly advancement
and of liberation from pecuniary difficulties; for the new rulers now
sought to gain over the patrician families of the island. Many of them
had resented the dictatorship of Paoli; and they now gladly accepted
the connection with France, which promised to enrich their country and
to open up a brilliant career in the French army, where commissions
were limited to the scions of nobility.

Much may be said in excuse of Charles Buonaparte's decision, and no
one can deny that Corsica has ultimately gained much by her connection
with France. But his change of front was open to the charge that it
was prompted by self-interest rather than by philosophic foresight. At
any rate, his second son throughout his boyhood nursed a deep
resentment against his father for his desertion of the patriots'
cause. The youth's sympathies were with the peasants, whose allegiance
was not to be bought by baubles, whose constancy and bravery long held
out against the French in a hopeless guerilla warfare. His hot
Corsican blood boiled at the stories of oppression and insult which he
heard from his humbler compatriots. When, at eleven years of age, he
saw in the military college at Brienne the portrait of Choiseul, the
French Minister who had urged on the conquest of Corsica, his passion
burst forth in a torrent of imprecations against the traitor; and,
even after the death of his father in 1785, he exclaimed that he could
never forgive him for not following Paoli into exile.

What trifles seem, at times, to alter the current of human affairs!
Had his father acted thus, the young Napoleon would in all probability
have entered the military or naval service of Great Britain; he might
have shared Paoli's enthusiasm for the land of his adoption, and have
followed the Corsican hero in his enterprises against the French
Revolution, thenceforth figuring in history merely as a greater
Marlborough, crushing the military efforts of democratic France, and
luring England into a career of Continental conquest. Monarchy and
aristocracy would have gone unchallenged, except within the "natural
limits" of France; and the other nations, never shaken to their
inmost depths, would have dragged on their old inert fragmentary
existence.

The decision of Charles Buonaparte altered the destiny of Europe. He
determined that his eldest boy, Joseph, should enter the Church, and
that Napoleon should be a soldier. His perception of the characters of
his boys was correct. An anecdote, for which the elder brother is
responsible, throws a flood of light on their temperaments. The master
of their school arranged a mimic combat for his pupils--Romans against
Carthaginians. Joseph, as the elder was ranged under the banner of
Rome, while Napoleon was told off among the Carthaginians; but, piqued
at being chosen for the losing side, the child fretted, begged, and
stormed until the less bellicose Joseph agreed to change places with
his exacting junior. The incident is prophetic of much in the later
history of the family.

Its imperial future was opened up by the deft complaisance now shown
by Charles Buonaparte. The reward for his speedy submission to France
was soon forthcoming. The French commander in Corsica used his
influence to secure the admission of the young Napoleon to the
military school of Brienne in Champagne; and as the father was able to
satisfy the authorities not only that he was without fortune, but also
that his family had been noble for four generations, Napoleon was
admitted to this school to be educated at the charges of the King of
France (April, 1779). He was now, at the tender age of nine, a
stranger in a strange land, among a people whom he detested as the
oppressors of his countrymen. Worst of all, he had to endure the taunt
of belonging to a subject race. What a position for a proud and
exacting child! Little wonder that the official report represented him
as silent and obstinate; but, strange to say, it added the word
"imperious." It was a tough character which could defy repression
amidst such surroundings. As to his studies, little need be said. In
his French history he read of the glories of the distant past (when
"Germany was part of the French Empire"), the splendours of the reign
of Louis XIV., the disasters of France in the Seven Years' War, and
the "prodigious conquests of the English in India." But his
imagination was kindled from other sources. Boys of pronounced
character have always owed far more to their private reading than to
their set studies; and the young Buonaparte, while grudgingly learning
Latin and French grammar, was feeding his mind on Plutarch's
"Lives"--in a French translation. The artful intermingling of the
actual and the romantic, the historic and the personal, in those vivid
sketches of ancient worthies and heroes, has endeared them to many
minds. Rousseau derived unceasing profit from their perusal; and
Madame Roland found in them "the pasture of great souls." It was so
with the lonely Corsican youth. Holding aloof from his comrades in
gloomy isolation, he caught in the exploits of Greeks and Romans a
distant echo of the tragic romance of his beloved island home. The
librarian of the school asserted that even then the young soldier had
modelled his future career on that of the heroes of antiquity; and we
may well believe that, in reading of the exploits of Leonidas,
Curtius, and Cincinnatus, he saw the figure of his own antique
republican hero, Paoli. To fight side by side with Paoli against the
French was his constant dream. "Paoli will return," he once exclaimed,
"and as soon as I have strength, I will go to help him: and perhaps
together we shall be able to shake the odious yoke from off the neck
of Corsica."

But there was another work which exercised a great influence on his
young mind--the "Gallic War" of Cæsar. To the young Italian the
conquest of Gaul by a man of his own race must have been a congenial
topic, and in Cæsar himself the future conqueror may dimly have
recognized a kindred spirit. The masterful energy and all-conquering
will of the old Roman, his keen insight into the heart of a problem,
the wide sweep of his mental vision, ranging over the intrigues of the
Roman Senate, the shifting politics of a score of tribes, and the
myriad administrative details of a great army and a mighty
province--these were the qualities that furnished the chief mental
training to the young cadet. Indeed, the career of Cæsar was destined
to exert a singular fascination over the Napoleonic dynasty, not only
on its founder, but also on Napoleon III.; and the change in the
character and career of Napoleon the Great may be registered mentally
in the effacement of the portraits of Leonidas and Paoli by those of
Cæsar and Alexander. Later on, during his sojourn at Ajaccio in 1790,
when the first shadows were flitting across his hitherto unclouded
love for Paoli, we hear that he spent whole nights poring over Cæsar's
history, committing many passages to memory in his passionate
admiration of those wondrous exploits. Eagerly he took Cæsar's side as
against Pompey, and no less warmly defended him from the charge of
plotting against the liberties of the commonwealth[6]. It was a
perilous study for a republican youth in whom the military instincts
were as ingrained as the genius for rule.

Concerning the young Buonaparte's life at Brienne there exist few
authentic records and many questionable anecdotes. Of these last, that
which is the most credible and suggestive relates his proposal to his
schoolfellows to construct ramparts of snow during the sharp winter of
1783-4. According to his schoolfellow, Bourrienne, these mimic
fortifications were planned by Buonaparte, who also directed the
methods of attack and defence: or, as others say, he reconstructed
the walls according to the needs of modern war. In either case, the
incident bespeaks for him great power of organization and control. But
there were in general few outlets for his originality and vigour. He
seems to have disliked all his comrades, except Bourrienne, as much as
they detested him for his moody humours and fierce outbreaks of
temper. He is even reported to have vowed that he would do as much
harm as possible to the French people; but the remark smacks of the
story-book. Equally doubtful are the two letters in which he prays to
be removed from the indignities to which he was subjected at
Brienne[7]. In other letters which are undoubtedly genuine, he refers
to his future career with ardour, and writes not a word as to the
bullying to which his Corsican zeal subjected him. Particularly
noteworthy is the letter to his uncle begging him to intervene so as
to prevent Joseph Buonaparte from taking up a military career. Joseph,
writes the younger brother, would make a good garrison officer, as he
was well formed and clever at frivolous compliments--"good therefore
for society, but for a fight--?"

Napoleon's determination had been noticed by his teachers. They had
failed to bend his will, at least on important points. In lesser
details his Italian adroitness seems to have been of service; for the
officer who inspected the school reported of him: "Constitution,
health excellent: character submissive, sweet, honest, grateful:
conduct very regular: has always distinguished himself by his
application to mathematics: knows history and geography passably: very
weak in accomplishments. He will be an excellent seaman: is worthy to
enter the School at Paris." To the military school at Paris he was
accordingly sent in due course, entering there in October, 1784. The
change from the semi-monastic life at Brienne to the splendid edifice
which fronts the Champ de Mars had less effect than might have
been expected in a youth of fifteen years. Not yet did he become
French in sympathy. His love of Corsica and hatred of the French
monarchy steeled him against the luxuries of his new surroundings.
Perhaps it was an added sting that he was educated at the expense of
the monarchy which had conquered his kith and kin. He nevertheless
applied himself with energy to his favourite studies, especially
mathematics. Defective in languages he still was, and ever remained;
for his critical acumen in literature ever fastened on the matter
rather than on style. To the end of his days he could never write
Italian, much less French, with accuracy; and his tutor at Paris not
inaptly described his boyish composition as resembling molten granite.
The same qualities of directness and impetuosity were also fatal to
his efforts at mastering the movements of the dance. In spite of
lessons at Paris and private lessons which he afterwards took at
Valence, he was never a dancer: his bent was obviously for the exact
sciences rather than the arts, for the geometrical rather than the
rhythmical: he thought, as he moved, in straight lines, never in
curves.

The death of his father during the year which the youth spent at Paris
sharpened his sense of responsibility towards his seven younger
brothers and sisters. His own poverty must have inspired him with
disgust at the luxury which he saw around him; but there are good
reasons for doubting the genuineness of the memorial which he is
alleged to have sent from Paris to the second master at Brienne on
this subject. The letters of the scholars at Paris were subject to
strict surveillance; and, if he had taken the trouble to draw up a
list of criticisms on his present training, most assuredly it would
have been destroyed. Undoubtedly, however, he would have sympathized
with the unknown critic in his complaint of the unsuitableness of
sumptuous meals to youths who were destined for the hardships of the
camp. At Brienne he had been dubbed "the Spartan," an instance of that
almost uncanny faculty of schoolboys to dash off in a nickname the
salient features of character. The phrase was correct, almost for
Napoleon's whole life. At any rate, the pomp of Paris served but to
root his youthful affections more tenaciously in the rocks of Corsica.

In September, 1785, that is, at the age of sixteen, Buonaparte was
nominated for a commission as junior lieutenant in La Fère regiment of
artillery quartered at Valence on the Rhone. This was his first close
contact with real life. The rules of the service required him to
spend three months of rigorous drill before he was admitted to his
commission. The work was exacting: the pay was small, viz., 1,120
francs, or less than £45, a year; but all reports agree as to his keen
zest for his profession and the recognition of his transcendent
abilities by his superior officers.[8] There it was that he mastered
the rudiments of war, for lack of which many generals of noble birth
have quickly closed in disaster careers that began with promise:
there, too, he learnt that hardest and best of all lessons, prompt
obedience. "To learn obeying is the fundamental art of governing,"
says Carlyle. It was so with Napoleon: at Valence he served his
apprenticeship in the art of conquering and the art of governing.

This spring-time of his life is of interest and importance in many
ways: it reveals many amiable qualities, which had hitherto been
blighted by the real or fancied scorn of the wealthy cadets. At
Valence, while shrinking from his brother officers, he sought society
more congenial to his simple tastes and restrained demeanour. In a few
of the best bourgeois families of Valence he found happiness. There,
too, blossomed the tenderest, purest idyll of his life. At the country
house of a cultured lady who had befriended him in his solitude, he
saw his first love, Caroline de Colombier. It was a passing fancy;
but to her all the passion of his southern nature welled forth. She
seems to have returned his love; for in the stormy sunset of his life
at St. Helena he recalled some delicious walks at dawn when Caroline
and he had--eaten cherries together. One lingers fondly over these
scenes of his otherwise stern career, for they reveal his capacity for
social joys and for deep and tender affection, had his lot been
otherwise cast. How different might have been his life, had France
never conquered Corsica, and had the Revolution never burst forth! But
Corsica was still his dominant passion. When he was called away from
Valence to repress a riot at Lyons, his feelings, distracted for a
time by Caroline, swerved back towards his island home; and in
September, 1786, he had the joy of revisiting the scenes of his
childhood. Warmly though he greeted his mother, brothers and sisters,
after an absence of nearly eight years, his chief delight was in the
rocky shores, the verdant dales and mountain heights of Corsica. The
odour of the forests, the setting of the sun in the sea "as in the
bosom of the infinite," the quiet proud independence of the
mountaineers themselves, all enchanted him. His delight reveals almost
Wertherian powers of "sensibility." Even the family troubles could not
damp his ardour. His father had embarked on questionable speculations,
which now threatened the Buonapartes with bankruptcy, unless the
French Government proved to be complacent and generous. With the hope
of pressing one of the family claims on the royal exchequer, the
second son procured an extension of furlough and sped to Paris. There
at the close of 1787 he spent several weeks, hopefully endeavouring to
extract money from the bankrupt Government. It was a season of
disillusionment in more senses than one; for there he saw for himself
the seamy side of Parisian life, and drifted for a brief space about
the giddy vortex of the Palais Royal. What a contrast to the limpid
life of Corsica was that turbid frothy existence--already swirling
towards its mighty plunge!

After a furlough of twenty-one months he rejoined his regiment, now at
Auxonne. There his health suffered considerably, not only from the
miasma of the marshes of the river Saône, but also from family
anxieties and arduous literary toils. To these last it is now needful
to refer. Indeed, the external events of his early life are of value
only as they reveal the many-sidedness of his nature and the growth of
his mental powers.

How came he to outgrow the insular patriotism of his early years? The
foregoing recital of facts must have already suggested one obvious
explanation. Nature had dowered him so prodigally with diverse gifts,
mainly of an imperious order, that he could scarcely have limited his
sphere of action to Corsica. Profoundly as he loved his island, it
offered no sphere commensurate with his varied powers and masterful
will. It was no empty vaunt which his father had uttered on his
deathbed that his Napoleon would one day overthrow the old monarchies
and conquer Europe.[9] Neither did the great commander himself
overstate the peculiarity of his temperament, when he confessed that
his instincts had ever prompted him that his will must prevail, and
that what pleased him must of necessity belong to him. Most spoilt
children harbour the same illusion, for a brief space. But all the
buffetings of fortune failed to drive it from the young Buonaparte;
and when despair as to his future might have impaired the vigour of
his domineering instincts, his mind and will acquired a fresh rigidity
by coming under the spell of that philosophizing doctrinaire,
Rousseau.

There was every reason why he should early be attracted by this
fantastic thinker. In that notable work, "Le Contrat Social" (1762),
Rousseau called attention to the antique energy shown by the Corsicans
in defence of their liberties, and in a startlingly prophetic phrase
he exclaimed that the little island would one day astonish Europe. The
source of this predilection of Rousseau for Corsica is patent. Born
and reared at Geneva, he felt a Switzer's love for a people which was<
"neither rich nor poor but self-sufficing "; and in the simple life
and fierce love of liberty of the hardy islanders he saw traces of
that social contract which he postulated as the basis of society.
According to him, the beginnings of all social and political
institutions are to be found in some agreement or contract between
men. Thus arise the clan, the tribe, the nation. The nation may
delegate many of its powers to a ruler; but if he abuse such powers,
the contract between him and his people is at an end, and they may
return to the primitive state, which is founded on an agreement of
equals with equals. Herein lay the attractiveness of Rousseau for all
who were discontented with their surroundings. He seemed infallibly
to demonstrate the absurdity of tyranny and the need of returning to
the primitive bliss of the social contract. It mattered not that the
said contract was utterly unhistorical and that his argument teemed
with fallacies. He inspired a whole generation with detestation of the
present and with longings for the golden age. Poets had sung of it,
but Rousseau seemed to bring it within the grasp of long-suffering
mortals.

The first extant manuscript of Napoleon, written at Valence in April,
1786, shows that he sought in Rousseau's armoury the logical weapons
for demonstrating the "right" of the Corsicans to rebel against the
French. The young hero-worshipper begins by noting that it is the
birthday of Paoli. He plunges into a panegyric on the Corsican
patriots, when he is arrested by the thought that many censure them
for rebelling at all. "The divine laws forbid revolt. But what have
divine laws to do with a purely human affair? Just think of the
absurdity--divine laws universally forbidding the casting off of a
usurping yoke! ... As for human laws, there cannot be any after the
prince violates them." He then postulates two origins for government
as alone possible. Either the people has established laws and
submitted itself to the prince, or the prince has established laws. In
the first case, the prince is engaged by the very nature of his office
to execute the covenants. In the second case, the laws tend, or do not
tend, to the welfare of the people, which is the aim of all
government: if they do not, the contract with the prince dissolves of
itself, for the people then enters again into its primitive state.
Having thus proved the sovereignty of the people, Buonaparte uses his
doctrine to justify Corsican revolt against France, and thus concludes
his curious medley: "The Corsicans, following all the laws of justice,
have been able to shake off the yoke of the Genoese, and may do the
same with that of the French. Amen."

Five days later he again gives the reins to his melancholy. "Always
alone, though in the midst of men," he faces the thought of suicide.
With an innate power of summarizing and balancing thoughts and
sensations, he draws up arguments for and against this act. He is in
the dawn of his days and in four months' time he will see "la patrie,"
which he has not seen since childhood. What joy! And yet--how men have
fallen away from nature: how cringing are his compatriots to their
conquerors: they are no longer the enemies of tyrants, of luxury, of
vile courtiers: the French have corrupted their morals, and when "la
patrie" no longer survives, a good patriot ought to die. Life among
the French is odious: their modes of life differ from his as much as
the light of the moon differs from that of the sun.--A strange
effusion this for a youth of seventeen living amidst the full glories
of the spring in Dauphiné. It was only a few weeks before the ripening
of cherries. Did that cherry-idyll with Mdlle. de Colombier lure him
back to life? Or did the hope of striking a blow for Corsica stay his
suicidal hand? Probably the latter; for we find him shortly afterwards
tilting against a Protestant minister of Geneva who had ventured to
criticise one of the dogmas of Rousseau's evangel.

The Genevan philosopher had asserted that Christianity, by enthroning
in the hearts of Christians the idea of a Kingdom not of this world,
broke the unity of civil society, because it detached the hearts of
its converts from the State, as from all earthly things. To this the
Genevan minister had successfully replied by quoting Christian
teachings on the subject at issue. But Buonaparte fiercely accuses
the pastor of neither having understood, nor even read, "Le Contrat
Social": he hurls at his opponent texts of Scripture which enjoin
obedience to the laws: he accuses Christianity of rendering men slaves
to an anti-social tyranny, because its priests set up an authority in
opposition to civil laws; and as for Protestantism, it propagated
discords between its followers, and thereby violated civic unity.
Christianity, he argues, is a foe to civil government, for it aims at
making men happy in this life by inspiring them with hope of a future
life; while the aim of civil government is "to lend assistance to the
feeble against the strong, and by this means to allow everyone to
enjoy a sweet tranquillity, the road of happiness." He therefore
concludes that Christianity and civil government are diametrically
opposed.

In this tirade we see the youth's spirit of revolt flinging him not
only against French law, but against the religion which sanctions it.
He sees none of the beauty of the Gospels which Rousseau had
admitted. His views are more rigid than those of his teacher.
Scarcely can he conceive of two influences, the spiritual and the
governmental, working on parallel lines, on different parts of man's
nature. His conception of human society is that of an indivisible,
indistinguishable whole, wherein materialism, tinged now and again by
religious sentiment and personal honour, is the sole noteworthy
influence. He finds no worth in a religion which seeks to work from
within to without, which aims at transforming character, and thus
transforming the world. In its headlong quest of tangible results his
eager spirit scorns so tardy a method: he will "compel men to be
happy," and for this result there is but one practicable means, the
Social Contract, the State. Everything which mars the unity of the
Social Contract shall be shattered, so that the State may have a clear
field for the exercise of its beneficent despotism. Such is
Buonaparte's political and religious creed at the age of seventeen,
and such it remained (with many reservations suggested by maturer
thought and self-interest) to the end of his days. It reappears in his
policy anent the Concordat of 1802, by which religion was reduced to
the level of handmaid to the State, as also in his frequent assertions
that he would never have quite the same power as the Czar and the
Sultan, because he had not undivided sway over the consciences of his
people.[10] In this boyish essay we may perhaps discern the
fundamental reason of his later failures. He never completely
understood religion, or the enthusiasm which it can evoke; neither did
he ever fully realize the complexity of human nature, the
many-sidedness of social life, and the limitations that beset the
action even of the most intelligent law-maker.[11]

His reading of Rousseau having equipped him for the study of human
society and government, he now, during his first sojourn at Auxonne
(June, 1788--September, 1789), proceeds to ransack the records of the
ancient and modern world. Despite ill-health, family troubles, and the
outbreak of the French Revolution, he grapples with this portentous
task. The history, geography, religion, and social customs of the
ancient Persians, Scythians, Thracians, Athenians, Spartans,
Egyptians, and Carthaginians--all furnished materials for his
encyclopædic note-books. Nothing came amiss to his summarizing genius.
Here it was that he gained that knowledge of the past which was to
astonish his contemporaries. Side by side with suggestions on
regimental discipline and improvements in artillery, we find notes on
the opening episodes of Plato's "Republic," and a systematic summary
of English history from the earliest times down to the Revolution of
1688. This last event inspired him with special interest, because the
Whigs and their philosophic champion, Locke, maintained that James II.
had violated the original contract between prince and people.
Everywhere in his notes Napoleon emphasizes the incidents which led to
conflicts between dynasties or between rival principles. In fact,
through all these voracious studies there appear signs of his
determination to write a history of Corsica; and, while inspiriting
his kinsmen by recalling the glorious past, he sought to weaken the
French monarchy by inditing a "Dissertation sur l'Autorité Royale."
His first sketch of this work runs as follows:

     "23 October, 1788. Auxonne.

     "This work will begin with general ideas as to the origin and the
     enhanced prestige of the name of king. Military rule is favourable
     to it: this work will afterwards enter into the details of the
     usurped authority enjoyed by the Kings of the twelve Kingdoms of
     Europe.

     "There are very few Kings who have not deserved dethronement[12]."

This curt pronouncement is all that remains of the projected work. It
sufficiently indicates, however, the aim of Napoleon's studies. One
and all they were designed to equip him for the great task of
re-awakening the spirit of the Corsicans and of sapping the base of
the French monarchy.

But these reams of manuscript notes and crude literary efforts have an
even wider source of interest. They show how narrow was his outlook on
life. It all turned on the regeneration of Corsica by methods which he
himself prescribed. We are therefore able to understand why, when his
own methods of salvation for Corsica were rejected, he tore himself
away and threw his undivided energies into the Revolution.

Yet the records of his early life show that in his character there was
a strain of true sentiment and affection. In him Nature carved out a
character of rock-like firmness, but she adorned it with flowers of
human sympathy and tendrils of family love. At his first parting from
his brother Joseph at Autun, when the elder brother was weeping
passionately, the little Napoleon dropped a tear: but that, said the
tutor, meant as much as the flood of tears from Joseph. Love of his
relatives was a potent factor of his policy in later life; and slander
has never been able wholly to blacken the character of a man who loved
and honoured his mother, who asserted that her advice had often been
of the highest service to him, and that her justice and firmness of
spirit marked her out as a natural ruler of men. But when these
admissions are freely granted, it still remains true that his
character was naturally hard; that his sense of personal superiority
made him, even as a child, exacting and domineering; and the sequel
was to show that even the strongest passion of his youth, his
determination to free Corsica from France, could be abjured if
occasion demanded, all the force of his nature being thenceforth
concentrated on vaster adventures.

       *      *      *      *      *




CHAPTER II

THE FRENCH REVOLUTION AND CORSICA


"They seek to destroy the Revolution by attacking my person: I will
defend it, for I am the Revolution." Such were the words uttered by
Buonaparte after the failure of the royalist plot of 1804. They are a
daring transcript of Louis XIV.'s "L'état, c'est moi." That was a bold
claim, even for an age attuned to the whims of autocrats: but this of
the young Corsican is even more daring, for he thereby equated himself
with a movement which claimed to be wide as humanity and infinite as
truth. And yet when he spoke these words, they were not scouted as
presumptuous folly: to most Frenchmen they seemed sober truth and
practical good sense. How came it, one asks in wonder, that after the
short space of fifteen years a world-wide movement depended on a
single life, that the infinitudes of 1789 lived on only in the form,
and by the pleasure, of the First Consul? Here surely is a political
incarnation unparalleled in the whole course of human history. The
riddle cannot be solved by history alone. It belongs in part to the
domain of psychology, when that science shall undertake the study, not
merely of man as a unit, but of the aspirations, moods, and whims of
communities and nations. Meanwhile it will be our far humbler task to
strive to point out the relation of Buonaparte to the Revolution, and
to show how the mighty force of his will dragged it to earth.

The first questions that confront us are obviously these. Were the
lofty aims and aspirations of the Revolution attainable? And, if so,
did the men of 1789 follow them by practical methods? To the former of
these questions the present chapter will, in part at least, serve as
an answer. On the latter part of the problem the events described in
later chapters will throw some light: in them we shall see that the
great popular upheaval let loose mighty forces that bore Buonaparte on
to fortune.

Here we may notice that the Revolution was not a simple and therefore
solid movement. It was complex and contained the seeds of discord
which lurk in many-sided and militant creeds. The theories of its
intellectual champions were as diverse as the motives which spurred on
their followers to the attack on the outworn abuses of the age.

Discontent and faith were the ultimate motive powers of the
Revolution. Faith prepared the Revolution and discontent accomplished
it. Idealists who, in varied planes of thought, preached the doctrine
of human perfectibility, succeeded in slowly permeating the dull
toiling masses of France with hope. Omitting here any notice of
philosophic speculation as such, we may briefly notice the teachings
of three writers whose influence on revolutionary politics was to be
definite and practical. These were Montesquieu, Voltaire, and
Rousseau. The first was by no means a revolutionist, for he decided in
favour of a mixed form of government, like that of England, which
guaranteed the State against the dangers of autocracy, oligarchy, and
mob-rule. Only by a ricochet did he assail the French monarchy. But he
re-awakened critical inquiry; and any inquiry was certain to sap the
base of the _ancien régime_ in France. Montesquieu's teaching inspired
the group of moderate reformers who in 1789 desired to re-fashion the
institutions of France on the model of those of England. But popular
sentiment speedily swept past these Anglophils towards the more
attractive aims set forth by Voltaire.

This keen thinker subjected the privileged classes, especially the
titled clergy, to a searching fire of philosophic bombs and barbed
witticisms. Never was there a more dazzling succession of literary
triumphs over a tottering system. The satirized classes winced and
laughed, and the intellect of France was conquered, for the
Revolution. Thenceforth it was impossible that peasants who were
nominally free should toil to satisfy the exacting needs of the
State, and to support the brilliant bevy of nobles who flitted gaily
round the monarch at Versailles. The young King Louis XVI., it is
true, carried through several reforms, but he had not enough strength
of will to abolish the absurd immunities from taxation which freed the
nobles and titled clergy from the burdens of the State. Thus, down to
1789, the middle classes and peasants bore nearly all the weight of
taxation, while the peasants were also encumbered by feudal dues and
tolls. These were the crying grievances which united in a solid
phalanx both thinkers and practical men, and thereby gave an immense
impetus to the levelling doctrines of Rousseau.

Two only of his political teachings concern us here, namely, social
equality and the unquestioned supremacy of the State; for to these
dogmas, when they seemed doomed to political bankruptcy, Napoleon
Buonaparte was to act as residuary legatee. According to Rousseau,
society and government originated in a social contract, whereby all
members of the community have equal rights. It matters not that the
spirit of the contract may have evaporated amidst the miasma of
luxury. That is a violation of civil society; and members are
justified in reverting at once to the primitive ideal. If the
existence of the body politic be endangered, force may be used:
"Whoever refuses to obey the general will shall be constrained to do
so by the whole body; which means nothing else than that he shall be
forced to be free." Equally plausible and dangerous was his teaching
as to the indivisibility of the general will. Deriving every public
power from his social contract, he finds it easy to prove that the
sovereign power, vested in all the citizens, must be incorruptible,
inalienable, unrepresentable, indivisible, and indestructible.
Englishmen may now find it difficult to understand the enthusiasm
called forth by this quintessence of negations; but to Frenchman
recently escaped from the age of privilege and warring against the
coalition of kings, the cry of the Republic one and indivisible was a
trumpet call to death or victory. Any shifts, even that of a
dictatorship, were to be borne, provided that social equality could be
saved. As republican Rome had saved her early liberties by intrusting
unlimited powers to a temporary dictator, so, claimed Rousseau, a
young commonwealth must by a similar device consult Nature's first law
of self-preservation. The dictator saves liberty by temporarily
abrogating it: by momentary gagging of the legislative power he
renders it truly vocal.

The events of the French Revolution form a tragic commentary on these
theories. In the first stage of that great movement we see the
followers of Montesquieu, Voltaire, and Rousseau marching in an
undivided host against the ramparts of privilege. The walls of the
Bastille fall down even at the blast of their trumpets. Odious feudal
privileges disappear in a single sitting of the National Assembly; and
the _Parlements_, or supreme law courts of the provinces, are swept
away. The old provinces themselves are abolished, and at the beginning
of 1790 France gains social and political unity by her new system of
Departments, which grants full freedom of action in local affairs,
though in all national concerns it binds France closely to the new
popular government at Paris. But discords soon begin to divide the
reformers: hatred of clerical privilege and the desire to fill the
empty coffers of the State dictate the first acts of spoliation.
Tithes are abolished: the lands of the Church are confiscated to the
service of the State; monastic orders are suppressed; and the
Government undertakes to pay the stipends of bishops and priests.
Furthermore, their subjection to the State is definitely secured by
the Civil Constitution of the Clergy (July, 1790) which invalidates
their allegiance to the Pope. Most of the clergy refuse: these are
termed non-jurors or orthodox priests, while their more complaisant
colleagues are known as constitutional priests. Hence arises a serious
schism in the Church, which distracts the religious life of the land,
and separates the friends of liberty from the champions of the
rigorous equality preached by Rousseau.

The new constitution of 1791 was also a source of discord. In its
jealousy of the royal authority, the National Assembly seized very
many of the executive functions of government. The results were
disastrous. Laws remained without force, taxes went uncollected, the
army was distracted by mutinies, and the monarchy sank slowly into the
gulf of bankruptcy and anarchy. Thus, in the course of three years,
the revolutionists goaded the clergy to desperation, they were about
to overthrow the monarchy, every month was proving their local
self-government to be unworkable, and they themselves split into
factions that plunged France into war and drenched her soil by
organized massacres.

       *       *       *       *       *

We know very little about the impression made on the young Buonaparte
by the first events of the Revolution. His note-book seems even to
show that he regarded them as an inconvenient interference with his
plans for Corsica. But gradually the Revolution excites his interest.
In September, 1789, we find him on furlough in Corsica sharing the
hopes of the islanders that their representatives in the French
National Assembly will obtain the boon of independence. He exhorts
his compatriots to favour the democratic cause, which promises a
speedy deliverance from official abuses. He urges them to don the new
tricolour cockade, symbol of Parisian triumph over the old monarchy;
to form a club; above all, to organize a National Guard. The young
officer knew that military power was passing from the royal army, now
honeycombed with discontent, to the National Guard. Here surely was
Corsica's means of salvation. But the French governor of Corsica
intervenes. The club is closed, and the National Guard is dispersed.
Thereupon Buonaparte launches a vigorous protest against the tyranny
of the governor and appeals to the National Assembly of France for
some guarantee of civil liberty. His name is at the head of this
petition, a sufficiently daring step for a junior lieutenant on
furlough. But his patriotism and audacity carry him still further. He
journeys to Bastia, the official capital of his island, and is
concerned in an affray between the populace and the royal troops
(November 5th, 1789). The French authorities, fortunately for him, are
nearly powerless: he is merely requested to return to Ajaccio; and
there he organizes anew the civic force, and sets the dissident
islanders an example of good discipline by mounting guard outside the
house of a personal opponent.

Other events now transpired which began to assuage his opposition to
France. Thanks to the eloquent efforts of Mirabeau, the Corsican
patriots who had remained in exile since 1768 were allowed to return
and enjoy the full rights of citizenship. Little could the friends of
liberty at Paris, or even the statesman himself, have foreseen all the
consequences of this action: it softened the feelings of many
Corsicans towards their conquerors; above all, it caused the heart of
Napoleon Buonaparte for the first time to throb in accord with that of
the French nation. His feelings towards Paoli also began to cool. The
conduct of this illustrious exile exposed him to the charge of
ingratitude towards France. The decree of the French National
Assembly, which restored him to Corsican citizenship, was graced by
acts of courtesy such as the generous French nature can so winningly
dispense. Louis XVI. and the National Assembly warmly greeted him, and
recognized him as head of the National Guard of the island. Yet,
amidst all the congratulations, Paoli saw the approach of anarchy, and
behaved with some reserve. Outwardly, however, concord seemed to be
assured, when on July 14th, 1790, he landed in Corsica; but the hatred
long nursed by the mountaineers and fisherfolk against France was not
to be exorcised by a few demonstrations. In truth, the island was
deeply agitated. The priests were rousing the people against the newly
decreed Civil Constitution of the Clergy; and one of these
disturbances endangered the life of Napoleon himself. He and his
brother Joseph chanced to pass by when one of the processions of
priests and devotees was exciting the pity and indignation of the
townsfolk. The two brothers, who were now well known as partisans of
the Revolution, were threatened with violence, and were saved only by
their own firm demeanour and the intervention of peacemakers.

Then again, the concession of local self-government to the island, as
one of the Departments of France, revealed unexpected difficulties.
Bastia and Ajaccio struggled hard for the honour of being the official
capital. Paoli favoured the claims of Bastia, thereby annoying the
champions of Ajaccio, among whom the Buonapartes were prominent. The
schism was widened by the dictatorial tone of Paoli, a demeanour which
ill became the chief of a civic force. In fact, it soon became
apparent that Corsica was too small a sphere for natures so able and
masterful as those of Paoli and Napoleon Buonaparte.

The first meeting of these two men must have been a scene of deep
interest. It was on the fatal field of Ponte Nuovo. Napoleon doubtless
came there in the spirit of true hero-worship. But hero-worship which
can stand the strain of actual converse is rare indeed, especially
when the expectant devotee is endowed with keen insight and habits of
trenchant expression. One phrase has come down to us as a result of
the interview; but this phrase contains a volume of meaning. After
Paoli had explained the disposition of his troops against the French
at Ponte Nuovo, Buonaparte drily remarked to his brother Joseph, "The
result of these dispositions was what was inevitable." [13]

For the present, Buonaparte and other Corsican democrats were closely
concerned with the delinquencies of the Comte de Buttafuoco, the
deputy for the twelve nobles of the island to the National Assembly of
France. In a letter written on January 23rd, 1791, Buonaparte
overwhelms this man with a torrent of invective.--He it was who had
betrayed his country to France in 1768. Self-interest and that alone
prompted his action then, and always. French rule was a cloak for his
design of subjecting Corsica to "the absurd feudal _régime_" of the
barons. In his selfish royalism he had protested against the new
French constitution as being unsuited to Corsica, "though it was
exactly the same as that which brought us so much good and was wrested
from us only amidst streams of blood."--The letter is remarkable for
the southern intensity of its passion, and for a certain hardening of
tone towards Paoli. Buonaparte writes of Paoli as having been ever
"surrounded by enthusiasts, and as failing to understand in a man any
other passion than fanaticism for liberty and independence," and as
duped by Buttafuoco in 1768.[14] The phrase has an obvious reference
to the Paoli of 1791, surrounded by men who had shared his long exile
and regarded the English constitution as their model. Buonaparte, on
the contrary, is the accredited champion of French democracy, his
furious epistle being printed by the Jacobin Club of Ajaccio.

After firing off this tirade Buonaparte returned to his regiment at
Auxonne (February, 1791). It was high time; for his furlough, though
prolonged on the plea of ill-health, had expired in the preceding
October, and he was therefore liable to six months' imprisonment. But
the young officer rightly gauged the weakness of the moribund
monarchy; and the officers of his almost mutinous regiment were glad
to get him back on any terms. Everywhere in his journey through
Provence and Dauphiné, Buonaparte saw the triumph of revolutionary
principles. He notes that the peasants are to a man for the
Revolution; so are the rank and file of the regiment. The officers
are aristocrats, along with three-fourths of those who belong to "good
society": so are all the women, for "Liberty is fairer than they, and
eclipses them." The Revolution was evidently gaining completer hold
over his mind and was somewhat blurring his insular sentiments, when a
rebuff from Paoli further weakened his ties to Corsica. Buonaparte had
dedicated to him his work on Corsica, and had sent him the manuscript
for his approval. After keeping it an unconscionable time, the old man
now coldly replied that he did not desire the honour of Buonaparte's
panegyric, though he thanked him heartily for it; that the
consciousness of having done his duty sufficed for him in his old age;
and, for the rest, history should not be written in youth. A further
request from Joseph Buonaparte for the return of the slighted
manuscript brought the answer that he, Paoli, had no time to search
his papers. After this, how could hero-worship subsist?

The four months spent by Buonaparte at Auxonne were, indeed, a time of
disappointment and hardship. Out of his slender funds he paid for the
education of his younger brother, Louis, who shared his otherwise
desolate lodging. A room almost bare but for a curtainless bed, a
table heaped with books and papers, and two chairs--such were the
surroundings of the lieutenant in the spring of 1791. He lived on
bread that he might rear his brother for the army, and that he might
buy books, overjoyed when his savings mounted to the price of some
coveted volume.

Perhaps the depressing conditions of his life at Auxonne may account
for the acrid tone of an essay which he there wrote in competition for
a prize offered by the Academy of Lyons on the subject--"What truths
and sentiments ought to be inculcated to men for their happiness." It
was unsuccessful; and modern readers will agree with the verdict of
one of the judges that it was incongruous in arrangement and of a bad
and ragged style. The thoughts are set forth in jerky, vehement
clauses; and, in place of the _sensibilité_ of some of his earlier
effusions, we feel here the icy breath of materialism. He regards an
ideal human society as a geometrical structure based on certain
well-defined postulates. All men ought to be able to satisfy certain
elementary needs of their nature; but all that is beyond is
questionable or harmful. The ideal legislator will curtail wealth so
as to restore the wealthy to their true nature--and so forth. Of any
generous outlook on the wider possibilities of human life there is
scarcely a trace. His essay is the apotheosis of social mediocrity. By
Procrustean methods he would have forced mankind back to the dull
levels of Sparta: the opalescent glow of Athenian life was beyond his
ken. But perhaps the most curious passage is that in which he preaches
against the sin and folly of ambition. He pictures Ambition as a
figure with pallid cheeks, wild eyes, hasty step, jerky movements and
sardonic smile, for whom crimes are a sport, while lies and calumnies
are merely arguments and figures of speech. Then, in words that recall
Juvenal's satire on Hannibal's career, he continues: "What is
Alexander doing when he rushes from Thebes into Persia and thence into
India? He is ever restless, he loses his wits, he believes himself
God. What is the end of Cromwell? He governs England. But is he not
tormented by all the daggers of the furies?"--The words ring false,
even for this period of Buonaparte's life; and one can readily
understand his keen wish in later years to burn every copy of these
youthful essays. But they have nearly all survived; and the diatribe
against ambition itself supplies the feather wherewith history may
wing her shaft at the towering flight of the imperial eagle.[15]

At midsummer he is transferred, as first lieutenant, to another
regiment which happened to be quartered at Valence; but his second
sojourn there is remarkable only for signs of increasing devotion to
the revolutionary cause. In the autumn of 1791 he is again in Corsica
on furlough, and remains there until the month of May following. He
finds the island rent by strifes which it would be tedious to
describe. Suffice it to say that the breach between Paoli and the
Buonapartes gradually widened owing to the dictator's suspicion of all
who favoured the French Revolution. The young officer certainly did
nothing to close the breach. Determined to secure his own election as
lieutenant-colonel in the new Corsican National Guard, he spent much
time in gaining recruits who would vote for him. He further assured
his success by having one of the commissioners, who was acting in
Paoli's interest, carried off from his friends and detained at the
Buonapartes' house in Ajaccio--his first _coup_[16] Stranger events
were to follow. At Easter, when the people were excited by the
persecuting edicts against the clergy and the closing of a monastery,
there was sharp fighting between the populace and Buonaparte's
companies of National Guards. Originating in a petty quarrel, which
was taken up by eager partisans, it embroiled the whole of the town
and gave the ardent young Jacobin the chance of overthrowing his
enemies. His plans even extended to the seizure of the citadel, where
he tried to seduce the French regiment from its duty to officers
whom he dubbed aristocrats. The attempt was a failure. The whole
truth can, perhaps, scarcely be discerned amidst the tissue of
lies which speedily enveloped the affair; but there can be no
doubt that on the second day of strife Buonaparte's National
Guards began the fight and subsequently menaced the regular troops in
the citadel. The conflict was finally stopped by commissioners sent by
Paoli; and the volunteers were sent away from the town.

Buonaparte's position now seemed desperate. His conduct exposed him to
the hatred of most of his fellow-citizens and to the rebukes of the
French War Department. In fact, he had doubly sinned: he had actually
exceeded his furlough by four months: he was technically guilty, first
of desertion, and secondly of treason. In ordinary times he would have
been shot, but the times were extraordinary, and he rightly judged
that when a Continental war was brewing, the most daring course was
also the most prudent, namely, to go to Paris. Thither Paoli allowed
him to proceed, doubtless on the principle of giving the young madcap
a rope wherewith to hang himself.

On his arrival at Marseilles, he hears that war has been declared by
France against Austria; for the republican Ministry, which Louis XVI.
had recently been compelled to accept, believed that war against an
absolute monarch would intensify revolutionary fervour in France and
hasten the advent of the Republic. Their surmises were correct.
Buonaparte, on his arrival at Paris, witnessed the closing scenes of
the reign of Louis XVI. On June 20th he saw the crowd burst into the
Tuileries, when for some hours it insulted the king and queen. Warmly
though he had espoused the principles of the Revolution, his patrician
blood boiled at the sight of these vulgar outrages, and he exclaimed:
"Why don't they sweep off four or five hundred of that _canaille_ with
cannon? The rest would then run away fast enough." The remark is
significant. If his brain approved the Jacobin creed, his instincts
were always with monarchy. His career was to reconcile his reason with
his instincts, and to impose on weary France the curious compromise of
a revolutionary Imperialism.

On August 10th, from the window of a shop near the Tuileries, he
looked down on the strange events which dealt the _coup de grâce_ to
the dying monarchy. Again the chieftain within him sided against the
vulture rabble and with the well-meaning monarch who kept his troops
to a tame defensive. "If Louis XVI." (so wrote Buonaparte to his
brother Joseph) "had mounted his horse, the victory would have been
his--so I judge from the spirit which prevailed in the morning."
When all was over, when Louis sheathed his sword and went for
shelter to the National Assembly, when the fierce Marseillais were
slaughtering the Swiss Guards and bodyguards of the king, Buonaparte
dashed forward to save one of these unfortunates from a southern
sabre. "Southern comrade, let us save this poor wretch.--Are you
of the south?--Yes.--Well, we will save him."

Altogether, what a time of disillusionment this was to the young
officer. What depths of cruelty and obscenity it revealed in the
Parisian rabble. What folly to treat them with the Christian
forbearance shown by Louis XVI. How much more suitable was grapeshot
than the beatitudes. The lesson was stored up for future use at a
somewhat similar crisis on this very spot.

During the few days when victorious Paris left Louis with the sham
title of king, Buonaparte received his captain's commission, which was
signed for the king by Servan, the War Minister. Thus did the
revolutionary Government pass over his double breach of military
discipline at Ajaccio. The revolutionary motto, "La carrière ouverte
aux talents," was never more conspicuously illustrated than in the
facile condoning of his offences and in this rapid promotion. It was
indeed a time fraught with vast possibilities for all republican or
Jacobinical officers. Their monarchist colleagues were streaming over
the frontiers to join the Austrian and Prussian invaders. But National
Guards were enrolling by tens of thousands to drive out the Prussian
and Austrian invaders; and when Europe looked to see France fall for
ever, it saw with wonder her strength renewed as by enchantment. Later
on it learnt that that strength was the strength of Antæus, of a
peasantry that stood firmly rooted in their native soil. Organization
and good leadership alone were needed to transform these ardent masses
into the most formidable soldiery; and the brilliant military
prospects now opened up certainly knit Buonaparte's feelings more
closely with the cause of France. Thus, on September 21st, when the
new National Assembly, known as the Convention, proclaimed the
Republic, we may well believe that sincere convictions no less than
astute calculations moved him to do and dare all things for the sake
of the new democratic commonwealth.[17]

For the present, however, a family duty urges him to return to
Corsica. He obtains permission to escort home his sister Elise, and
for the third time we find him on furlough in Corsica. This laxity of
military discipline at such a crisis is explicable only on the
supposition that the revolutionary chiefs knew of his devotion to
their cause and believed that his influence in the island would render
his informal services there more valuable than his regimental duties
in the army then invading Savoy. For the word Republic, which fired
his imagination, was an offence to Paoli and to most of the
islanders; and the phrase "Republic one and indivisible," ever on the
lips of the French, seemed to promise that the island must become a
petty replica of France--France that was now dominated by the authors
of the vile September massacres. The French party in the island was
therefore rapidly declining, and Paoli was preparing to sever the
union with France. For this he has been bitterly assailed as a
traitor. But, from Paoli's point of view, the acquisition of the
island by France was a piece of rank treachery; and his allegiance to
France was technically at an end when the king was forcibly dethroned
and the Republic was proclaimed. The use of the appellation "traitor"
in such a case is merely a piece of childish abuse. It can be
justified neither by reference to law, equity, nor to the popular
sentiment of the time. Facts were soon to show that the islanders were
bitterly opposed to the party then dominant in France. This hostility
of a clannish, religious, and conservative populace against the
bloodthirsty and atheistical innovators who then lorded it over France
was not diminished by the action of some six thousand French
volunteers, the off-scourings of the southern ports, who were landed
at Ajaccio for an expedition against Sardinia. In their zeal for
Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity, these _bonnets rouges_ came to
blows with the men of Ajaccio, three of whom they hanged. So fierce
was the resentment caused by this outrage that the plan of a joint
expedition for the liberation of Sardinia from monarchical tyranny had
to be modified; and Buonaparte, who was again in command of a
battalion of Corsican guards, proposed that the islanders alone should
proceed to attack the Madalena Isles.

These islands, situated between Corsica and Sardinia, have a double
interest to the historical student. One of them, Caprera, was destined
to shelter another Italian hero at the close of his career, the noble
self-denying Garibaldi: the chief island of the group was the
objective of Buonaparte's first essay in regular warfare. After some
delays the little force set sail under the command of Cesari-Colonna,
the nephew of Paoli. According to Buonaparte's own official statement
at the close of the affair, he had successfully landed his men near
the town to be assailed, and had thrown the Sardinian defences into
confusion, when a treacherous order from his chief bade him to cease
firing and return to the vessels. It has also been stated that this
retreat was the outcome of a secret understanding between Paoli and
Cesari-Colonna that the expedition should miscarry. This seems highly
probable. A mutiny on board the chief ship of the flotilla was
assigned by Cesari-Colonna as the cause of his order for a retreat;
but there are mutinies and mutinies, and this one may have been a
trick of the Paolists for thwarting Buonaparte's plan and leaving him
a prisoner. In any case, the young officer only saved himself and his
men by a hasty retreat to the boats, tumbling into the sea a mortar
and four cannon. Such was the ending to the great captain's first
military enterprise.

On his return to Ajaccio (March 3rd, 1793), Buonaparte found affairs
in utter confusion. News had recently arrived of the declaration of
war by the French Republic against England and Holland. Moreover,
Napoleon's young brother, Lucien, had secretly denounced Paoli to the
French authorities at Toulon; and three commissioners were now sent
from Paris charged with orders to disband the Corsican National
Guards, and to place the Corsican dictator under the orders of the
French general commanding the army of Italy.[18]

A game of truly Macchiavellian skill is now played. The French
commissioners, among whom the Corsican deputy, Salicetti, is by far
the most able, invite Paoli to repair to Toulon, there to concert
measures for the defence of Corsica. Paoli, seeing through the ruse
and discerning a guillotine, pleads that his age makes the journey
impossible; but with his friends he quietly prepares for resistance
and holds the citadel of Ajaccio. Meanwhile the commissioners make
friendly overtures to the old chief; in these Napoleon participates,
being ignorant of Lucien's action at Toulon. The sincerity of these
overtures may well be called in question, though Buonaparte still used
the language of affection to his former idol. However this may be, all
hope of compromise is dashed by the zealots who are in power at Paris.
On April 2nd they order the French commissioners to secure Paoli's
person, by whatever means, and bring him to the French capital. At
once a cry of indignation goes up from all parts of Corsica; and
Buonaparte draws up a declaration, vindicating Paoli's conduct and
begging the French Convention to revoke its decree.[19] Again, one
cannot but suspect that this declaration was intended mainly, if not
solely, for local consumption. In any case, it failed to cool the
resentment of the populace; and the partisans of France soon came to
blows with the Paolists.

Salicetti and Buonaparte now plan by various artifices to gain the
citadel of Ajaccio from the Paolists, but guile is three times foiled
by guile equally astute. Failing here, the young captain seeks to
communicate with the French commissioners at Bastia. He sets out
secretly, with a trusty shepherd as companion, to cross the island:
but at the village of Bocognano he is recognized and imprisoned by the
partisans of Paoli. Some of the villagers, however, retain their old
affection to the Buonaparte family, which here has an ancestral
estate, and secretly set him free. He returns to Ajaccio, only to find
an order for his arrest issued by the Corsican patriots. This time he
escapes by timely concealment in the grotto of a friend's garden; and
from the grounds of another family connection he finally glides away
in a vessel to a point of safety, whence he reaches Bastia.

Still, though a fugitive, he persists in believing that Ajaccio is
French at heart, and urges the sending of a liberating force. The
French commissioners agree, and the expedition sails--only to meet
with utter failure. Ajaccio, as one man, repels the partisans of
France; and, a gale of wind springing up, Buonaparte and his men
regain their boats with the utmost difficulty. At a place hard by, he
finds his mother, uncle, brothers and sisters. Madame Buonaparte, with
the extraordinary tenacity of will that characterized her famous son,
had wished to defend her house at Ajaccio against the hostile
populace; but, yielding to the urgent warnings of friends, finally
fled to the nearest place of safety, and left the house to the fury of
the populace, by whom it was nearly wrecked.

For a brief space Buonaparte clung to the hope of regaining Corsica
for the Republic, but now only by the aid of French troops. For the
islanders, stung by the demand of the French Convention that Paoli
should go to Paris, had rallied to the dictator's side; and the aged
chief made overtures to England for alliance. The partisans of France,
now menaced by England's naval power, were in an utterly untenable
position. Even the steel-like will of Buonaparte was bent. His career
in Corsica was at an end for the present; and with his kith and kin he
set sail for France.

The interest of the events above described lies, not in their
intrinsic importance, but in the signal proof which they afford of
Buonaparte's wondrous endowments of mind and will. In a losing cause
and in a petty sphere he displays all the qualities which, when the
omens were favourable, impelled him to the domination of a Continent.
He fights every inch of ground tenaciously; at each emergency he
evinces a truly Italian fertility of resource, gliding round obstacles
or striving to shatter them by sheer audacity, seeing through men,
cajoling them by his insinuations or overawing them by his mental
superiority, ever determined to try the fickle jade Fortune to the
very utmost, and retreating only before the inevitable. The sole
weakness discoverable in this nature, otherwise compact of strength,
is an excess of will-power over all the faculties that make for
prudence. His vivid imagination only serves to fire him with the full
assurance that he must prevail over all obstacles.

And yet, if he had now stopped to weigh well the lessons of the past,
hitherto fertile only in failures and contradictions, he must have
seen the powerlessness of his own will when in conflict with the
forces of the age; for he had now severed his connection with the
Corsican patriots, of whose cause he had only two years before been
the most passionate champion. It is evident that the schism which
finally separated Buonaparte and Paoli originated in their divergence
of views regarding the French Revolution. Paoli accepted revolutionary
principles only in so far as they promised to base freedom on a due
balance of class interests. He was a follower of Montesquieu. He
longed to see in Corsica a constitution similar to that of England or
to that of 1791 in France. That hope vanished alike for France and
Corsica after the fall of the monarchy; and towards the Jacobinical
Republic, which banished orthodox priests and guillotined the amiable
Louis, Paoli thenceforth felt naught but loathing: "We have been the
enemies of kings," he said to Joseph Buonaparte; "let us never be
their executioners." Thenceforth he drifted inevitably into alliance
with England.

Buonaparte, on the other hand, was a follower of Rousseau, whose ideas
leaped to power at the downfall of the monarchy. Despite the excesses
which he ever deplored, this second Revolution appeared to him to be
the dawn of a new and intelligent age. The clear-cut definitions of
the new political creed dovetailed in with his own rigid views of
life. Mankind was to be saved by law, society being levelled down and
levelled up until the ideals of Lycurgus were attained. Consequently
he regarded the Republic as a mighty agency for the social
regeneration not only of France, but of all peoples. His insular
sentiments were gradually merged in these vaster schemes.
Self-interest and the differentiating effects of party strifes
undoubtedly assisted the mental transformation; but it is clear that
the study of the "Social Contract" was the touchstone of his early
intellectual growth. He had gone to Rousseau's work to deepen his
Corsican patriotism: he there imbibed doctrines which drew him
irresistibly into the vortex of the French Revolution, and of its wars
of propaganda and conquest.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER III

TOULON


When Buonaparte left Corsica for the coast of Provence, his career had
been remarkable only for the strange contrast between the brilliance
of his gifts and the utter failure of all his enterprises. His French
partisanship had, as it seemed, been the ruin of his own and his
family's fortunes. At the age of twenty-four he was known only as the
unlucky leader of forlorn hopes and an outcast from the island around
which his fondest longings had been entwined. His land-fall on the
French coast seemed no more promising; for at that time Provence was
on the verge of revolt against the revolutionary Government. Even
towns like Marseilles and Toulon, which a year earlier had been noted
for their republican fervour, were now disgusted with the course of
events at Paris. In the third climax of revolutionary fury, that of
June 2nd, 1793, the more enlightened of the two republican factions,
the Girondins, had been overthrown by their opponents, the men of the
Mountain, who, aided by the Parisian rabble, seized on power. Most of
the Departments of France resented this violence and took up arms. But
the men of the Mountain acted with extraordinary energy: they
proclaimed the Girondins to be in league with the invaders, and
blasted their opponents with the charge of conspiring to divide France
into federal republics. The Committee of Public Safety, now installed
in power at Paris, decreed a _levée en masse_ of able-bodied patriots
to defend the sacred soil of the Republic, and the "organizer of
victory," Carnot, soon drilled into a terrible efficiency the hosts
that sprang from the soil. On their side the Girondins had no
organization whatever, and were embarrassed by the adhesion of very
many royalists. Consequently their wavering groups speedily gave way
before the impact of the new, solid, central power.

A movement so wanting in definiteness as that of the Girondins was
destined to slide into absolute opposition to the men of the Mountain:
it was doomed to become royalist. Certainly it did not command the
adhesion of Napoleon. His inclinations are seen in his pamphlet, "Le
Souper de Beaucaire," which he published in August, 1793. He wrote it
in the intervals of some regimental work which had come to hand: and
his passage through the little town of Beaucaire seems to have
suggested the scenic setting of this little dialogue. It purports to
record a discussion between an officer--Buonaparte himself--two
merchants of Marseilles, and citizens of Nîmes and Montpellier. It
urges the need of united action under the lead of the Jacobins. The
officer reminds the Marseillais of the great services which their city
has rendered to the cause of liberty. Let Marseilles never disgrace
herself by calling in the Spanish fleet as a protection against
Frenchmen. Let her remember that this civil strife was part of a fight
to the death between French patriots and the despots of Europe. That
was, indeed, the practical point at issue; the stern logic of facts
ranged on the Jacobin side all clear-sighted men who were determined
that the Revolution should not be stamped out by the foreign invaders.
On the ground of mere expediency, men must rally to the cause of the
Jacobinical Republic. Every crime might be condoned, provided that the
men now in power at Paris saved the country. Better their tyranny than
the vengeance of the emigrant _noblesse_. Such was the instinct of
most Frenchmen, and it saved France.

As an _exposé_ of keen policy and all-dominating opportunism, "Le
Souper de Beaucaire" is admirable. In a national crisis anything that
saves the State is justifiable--that is its argument. The men of the
Mountain are abler and stronger than the Girondins: therefore the
Marseillais are foolish not to bow to the men of the Mountain. The
author feels no sympathy with the generous young Girondins, who, under
the inspiration of Madame Roland, sought to establish a republic of
the virtues even while they converted monarchical Europe by the sword.
Few men can now peruse with undimmed eyes the tragic story of their
fall. But the scenes of 1793 had transformed the Corsican youth into a
dry-eyed opportunist who rejects the Girondins as he would have thrown
aside a defective tool: nay, he blames them as "guilty of the greatest
of crimes."[20]

Nevertheless Buonaparte was alive to the miseries of the situation. He
was weary of civil strifes, in which it seemed that no glory could be
won. He must hew his way to fortune, if only in order to support his
family, which was now drifting about from village to village of
Provence and subsisting on the slender sums doled out by the Republic
to Corsican exiles.

He therefore applied, though without success, for a regimental
exchange to the army of the Rhine. But while toiling through his
administrative drudgery in Provence, his duties brought him near to
Toulon, where the Republic was face to face with triumphant royalism.
The hour had struck: the man now appeared.

In July, 1793, Toulon joined other towns of the south in declaring
against Jacobin tyranny; and the royalists of the town, despairing of
making headway against the troops of the Convention, admitted English
and Spanish squadrons to the harbour to hold the town for Louis XVII,
(August 28th). This event shot an electric thrill through France. It
was the climax of a long series of disasters. Lyons had hoisted the
white flag of the Bourbons, and was making a desperate defence against
the forces of the Convention: the royalist peasants of La Vendée had
several times scattered the National Guards in utter rout: the
Spaniards were crossing the Eastern Pyrenees: the Piedmontese were
before the gates of Grenoble; and in the north and on the Rhine a
doubtful contest was raging.

Such was the condition of France when Buonaparte drew near to the
republican forces encamped near Ollioules, to the north-west of
Toulon. He found them in disorder: their commander, Carteaux, had left
the easel to learn the art of war, and was ignorant of the range of
his few cannon; Dommartin, their artillery commander, had been
disabled by a wound; and the Commissioners of the Convention, who were
charged to put new vigour into the operations, were at their wits' end
for lack of men and munitions. One of them was Salicetti, who hailed
his coming as a godsend, and urged him to take Dommartin's place.
Thus, on September 16th, the thin, sallow, threadbare figure took
command of the artillery.

The republicans menaced the town on two sides. Carteaux with some
8,000 men held the hills between Toulon and Ollioules, while a corps
3,000 strong, under Lapoype, observed the fortress on the side of La
Valette. Badly led though they were, they wrested the valley north of
Mount Faron from the allied outposts, and nearly completed the
besiegers' lines (September 18th). In fact, the garrison, which
comprised only 2,000 British troops, 4,000 Spaniards, 1,500 French
royalists, together with some Neapolitans and Piedmontese, was
insufficient to defend the many positions around the city on which its
safety depended. Indeed, General Grey wrote to Pitt that 50,000 men
were needed to garrison the place; but, as that was double the
strength of the British regular army then, the English Minister could
only hold out hopes of the arrival of an Austrian corps and a few
hundred British.[21]

Before Buonaparte's arrival the Jacobins had no artillery: true, they
had a few field-pieces, four heavier guns and two mortars, which a
sergeant helplessly surveyed; but they had no munitions, no tools,
above all no method and no discipline. Here then was the opportunity
for which he had been pining. At once he assumes the tone of a master.
"You mind your business, and let me look after mine," he exclaims to
officious infantrymen; "it is artillery that takes fortresses:
infantry gives its help." The drudgery of the last weeks now yields
fruitful results: his methodical mind, brooding over the chaos before
him, flashes back to this or that detail in some coast fort or
magazine: his energy hustles on the leisurely Provençaux, and in a few
days he has a respectable park of artillery--fourteen cannon, four
mortars, and the necessary stores. In a brief space the Commissioners
show their approval of his services by promoting him to the rank of
_chef de bataillon_.

By this time the tide was beginning to turn in favour of the Republic.
On October 9th Lyons fell before the Jacobins. The news lends a new
zest to the Jacobins, whose left wing had (October 1st) been severely
handled by the allies on Mount Faron. Above all, Buonaparte's
artillery can be still further strengthened. "I have despatched," he
wrote to the Minister of War, "an intelligent officer to Lyons,
Briançon, and Grenoble, to procure what might be useful to us. I have
requested the Army of Italy to furnish us with the cannon now useless
for the defence of Antibes and Monaco.... I have established at
Ollioules an arsenal with 80 workers. I have requisitioned horses from
Nice right to Valence and Montpellier.... I am having 5,000 gabions
made every day at Marseilles." But he was more than a mere organizer.
He was ever with his men, animating them by his own ardour: "I always
found him at his post," wrote Doppet, who now succeeded Carteaux;
"when he needed rest he lay on the ground wrapped in his cloak: he
never left the batteries." There, amidst the autumn rains, he
contracted the febrile symptoms which for several years deepened the
pallor of his cheeks and furrowed the rings under his eyes, giving him
that uncanny, almost spectral, look which struck a chill to all who
saw him first and knew not the fiery energy that burnt within. There,
too, his zeal, his unfailing resource, his bulldog bravery, and that
indefinable quality which separates genius from talent speedily
conquered the hearts of the French soldiery. One example of this
magnetic power must here suffice. He had ordered a battery to be made
so near to Fort Mulgrave that Salicetti described it as within a
pistol-shot of the English guns. Could it be worked, its effect would
be decisive. But who could work it? The first day saw all its gunners
killed or wounded, and even the reckless Jacobins flinched from facing
the iron hail. "Call it _the battery of the fearless_," ordered the
young captain. The generous French nature was touched at its tenderest
point, personal and national honour, and the battery thereafter never
lacked its full complement of gunners, living and dead.

The position at Fort Mulgrave, or the Little Gibraltar, was, indeed,
all important; for if the republicans seized that commanding position,
the allied squadrons could be overpowered, or at least compelled to
sail away; and with their departure Toulon must fall.

Here we come on to ground that has been fiercely fought over in wordy
war. Did Bonaparte originate the plan of attack? Or did he throw his
weight and influence into a scheme that others beside him had
designed? Or did he merely carry out orders as a subordinate?
According to the Commissioner Barras, the last was the case. But
Barras was with the eastern wing of the besiegers, that is, some miles
away from the side of La Seyne and L'Eguillette, where Buonaparte
fought. Besides, Barras' "Mémoires" are so untruthful where Buonaparte
is concerned, as to be unworthy of serious attention, at least on
these points.[22] The historian M. Jung likewise relegates Buonaparte
to a quite subordinate position.[23] But his narrative omits some of
the official documents which show that Buonaparte played a very
important part in the siege. Other writers claim that Buonaparte's
influence on the whole conduct of operations was paramount and
decisive. Thus, M. Duruy quotes the letter of the Commissioners to the
Convention: "We shall take care not to lay siege to Toulon by ordinary
means, when we have a surer means to reduce it, that is, by burning
the enemy's fleet.... We are only waiting for the siege-guns before
taking up a position whence we may reach the ships with red-hot balls;
and we shall see if we are not masters of Toulon." But this very
letter disproves the Buonapartist claim. It was written on September
13th. Thus, _three days before Buonaparte's arrival_, the
Commissioners had fully decided on attacking the Little Gibraltar; and
the claim that Buonaparte originated the plan can only be sustained by
antedating his arrival at Toulon.[24] In fact, every experienced
officer among besiegers and besieged saw the weak point of the
defence: early in September Hood and Mulgrave began the fortification
of the heights behind L'Eguillette. In face of these facts, the
assertion that Buonaparte was the first to design the movements which
secured the surrender of Toulon must be relegated to the domain of
hero-worship. (See note on p. 56.)

[Illustration: THE SIEGE OF TOULON, 1793, from "L'Histoire de France
depuis la Révolution de 1789," by Emmanuel Toulougeon. Paris, An. XII.
[1803]. A. Fort Mulgrave. A'. Promontory of L'Eguillette. 1 and 2.
Batteries. 3. Battery "Hommes sans Peur." The black and shaded
rectangles are the Republican and Allied positions respectively.]

Carteaux having been superseded by Doppet, more energy was thrown
into the operations. Yet for him Buonaparte had scarcely more respect.
On November 15th an affair of outposts near Fort Mulgrave showed his
weakness. The soldiers on both sides eagerly took up the affray; line
after line of the French rushed up towards that frowning redoubt:
O'Hara, the leader of the allied troops, encouraged the British in a
sortie that drove back the blue-coats; whereupon Buonaparte headed the
rallying rush to the gorge of the redoubt, when Doppet sounded the
retreat. Half blinded by rage and by the blood trickling from a slight
wound in his forehead, the young Corsican rushed back to Doppet and
abused him in the language of the camp: "Our blow at Toulon has
missed, because a---- has beaten the retreat." The soldiery applauded
this revolutionary licence, and bespattered their chief with similar
terms.

A few days later the tall soldierly Dugommier took the command:
reinforcements began to pour in, finally raising the strength of the
besiegers to 37,000 men. Above all, the new commander gave Buonaparte
_carte blanche_ for the direction of the artillery. New batteries
accordingly began to ring the Little Gibraltar on the landward side;
O'Hara, while gallantly heading a sortie, fell into the republicans'
hands, and the defenders began to lose heart. The worst disappointment
was the refusal of the Austrian Court to fulfil its promise, solemnly
given in September, to send 5,000 regular troops for the defence of
Toulon.

The final conflict took place on the night of December 16-17, when
torrents of rain, a raging wind, and flashes of lightning added new
horrors to the strife. Scarcely had the assailants left the sheltering
walls of La Seyne, than Buonaparte's horse fell under him, shot dead:
whole companies went astray in the darkness: yet the first column of
2,000 men led by Victor rush at the palisades of Fort Mulgrave, tear
them down, and sweep into the redoubt, only to fall in heaps before a
second line of defence: supported by the second column, they rally,
only to yield once more before the murderous fire. In despair,
Dugommier hurries on the column of reserve, with which Buonaparte
awaits the crisis of the night. Led by the gallant young Muiron, the
reserve sweeps into the gorge of death; Muiron, Buonaparte, and
Dugommier hack their way through the same embrasure: their men swarm
in on the overmatched red-coats and Spaniards, cut them down at their
guns, and the redoubt is won.

This event was decisive. The Neapolitans, who were charged to hold the
neighbouring forts, flung themselves into the sea; and the ships
themselves began to weigh anchor; for Buonaparte's guns soon poured
their shot on the fleet and into the city itself. But even in that
desperate strait the allies turned fiercely to bay. On the evening of
December 17th a young officer, who was destined once more to thwart
Buonaparte's designs, led a small body of picked men into the dockyard
to snatch from the rescuing clutch of the Jacobins the French warships
that could not be carried off. Then was seen a weird sight. The galley
slaves, now freed from their chains and clustering in angry groups,
menaced the intruders. Yet the British seamen spread the combustibles
and let loose the demon of destruction. Forthwith the flames shot up
the masts, and licked up the stores of hemp, tar, and timber: and the
explosion of two powder-ships by the Spaniards shook the earth for
many miles around. Napoleon ever retained a vivid mental picture of
the scene, which amid the hated calm of St. Helena he thus described:
"The whirlwind of flames and smoke from the arsenal resembled the
eruption of a volcano, and the thirteen vessels blazing in the roads
were like so many displays of fireworks: the masts and forms of the
vessels were distinctly traced out by the flames, which lasted many
hours and formed an unparalleled spectacle." [25] The sight struck
horror to the hearts of the royalists of Toulon, who saw in it the
signal of desertion by the allies; and through the lurid night crowds
of panic-stricken wretches thronged the quays crying aloud to be taken
away from the doomed city. The glare of the flames, the crash of the
enemy's bombs, the explosion of the two powder-ships, frenzied many a
soul; and scores of those who could find no place in the boats flung
themselves into the sea rather than face the pikes and guillotines of
the Jacobins. Their fears were only too well founded; for a fortnight
later Fréron, the Commissioner of the Convention, boasted that two
hundred royalists perished daily.

It remains briefly to consider a question of special interest to
English readers. Did the Pitt Ministry intend to betray the confidence
of the French royalists and keep Toulon for England? The charge has
been brought by certain French writers that the British, after
entering Toulon with promise that they would hold it in pledge for
Louis XVII., nevertheless lorded it over the other allies and revealed
their intention of keeping that stronghold. These writers aver that
Hood, after entering Toulon as an equal with the Spanish admiral,
Langara, laid claim to entire command of the land forces; that English
commissioners were sent for the administration of the town; and that
the English Government refused to allow the coming of the Comte de
Provence, who, as the elder of the two surviving brothers of Louis
XVI., was entitled to act on behalf of Louis XVII.[26] The facts in
the main are correct, but the interpretation put upon them may well be
questioned. Hood certainly acted with much arrogance towards the
Spaniards. But when the more courteous O'Hara arrived to take command
of the British, Neapolitan, and Sardinian troop, the new commander
agreed to lay aside the question of supreme command. It was not till
November 30th that the British Government sent off any despatch on the
question, which meanwhile had been settled at Toulon by the exercise
of that tact in which Hood seems signally to have been lacking. The
whole question was personal, not national.

Still less was the conduct of the British Government towards the Comte
de Provence a proof of its design to keep Toulon. The records of our
Foreign Office show that, before the occupation of that stronghold for
Louis XVII., we had declined to acknowledge the claims of his uncle to
the Regency. He and his brother, the Comte d'Artois, were notoriously
unpopular in France, except with royalists of the old school; and
their presence at Toulon would certainly have raised awkward questions
about the future government. The conduct of Spain had hitherto been
similar.[27] But after the occupation of Toulon, the Court of Madrid
judged the presence of the Comte de Provence in that fortress to be
advisable; whereas the Pitt Ministry adhered to its former belief,
insisted on the difficulty of conducting the defence if the Prince
were present as Regent, instructed Mr. Drake, our Minister at Genoa,
to use every argument to deter him from proceeding to Toulon, and
privately ordered our officers there, in the last resort, to refuse
him permission to land. The instructions of October 18th to the royal
commissioners at Toulon show that George III. and his Ministers
believed they would be compromising the royalist cause by recognizing
a regency; and certainly any effort by the allies to prejudice the
future settlement would at once have shattered any hopes of a general
rally to the royalist side.[28]

Besides, if England meant to keep Toulon, why did she send only 2,200
soldiers? Why did she admit, not only 6,900 Spaniards, but also 4,900
Neapolitans and 1,600 Piedmontese? Why did she accept the armed help
of 1,600 French royalists? Why did she urgently plead with Austria to
send 5,000 white-coats from Milan? Why, finally, is there no word in
the British official despatches as to the eventual keeping of Toulon;
while there are several references to _indemnities_ which George III.
would require for the expenses of the war--such as Corsica or some of
the French West Indies? Those despatches show conclusively that
England did not wish to keep a fortress that required a permanent
garrison equal to half of the British army on its peace footing; but
that she did regard it as a good base of operations for the overthrow
of the Jacobin rule and the restoration of monarchy; whereupon her
services must be requited with some suitable indemnity, either one of
the French West Indies or Corsica. These plans were shattered by
Buonaparte's skill and the valour of Dugommier's soldiery; but no
record has yet leaped to light to convict the Pitt Ministry of the
perfidy which Buonaparte, in common with nearly all Frenchmen, charged
to their account.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER IV

VENDÉMIAIRE


The next period of Buonaparte's life presents few features of
interest. He was called upon to supervise the guns and stores for the
Army of Italy, and also to inspect the fortifications and artillery of
the coast. At Marseilles his zeal outstripped his discretion. He
ordered the reconstruction of the fortress which had been destroyed
during the Revolution; but when the townsfolk heard the news, they
protested so vehemently that the work was stopped and an order was
issued for Buonaparte's arrest. From this difficulty the friendship of
the younger Robespierre and of Salicetti, the Commissioners of the
Convention, availed to rescue him; but the incident proves that his
services at Toulon were not so brilliant as to have raised him above
the general level of meritorious officers, who were applauded while
they prospered, but might be sent to the guillotine for any serious
offence.

In February, 1794, he was appointed at Nice general in command of the
artillery of the Army of Italy, which drove the Sardinian troops from
several positions between Ventimiglia and Oneglia. Thence, swinging
round by passes of the Maritime Alps, they outflanked the positions of
the Austro-Sardinian forces at the Col di Tenda, which had defied all
attack in front. Buonaparte's share in this turning operation seems to
have been restricted to the effective handling of artillery, and the
chief credit here rested with Masséna, who won the first of his
laurels in the country of his birth. He was of humble parentage;
yet his erect bearing, proud animated glance, curt penetrating speech,
and keen repartees, proclaimed a nature at once active and wary, an
intellect both calculating and confident. Such was the man who was to
immortalize his name in many a contest, until his glory paled before
the greater genius of Wellington.

Much of the credit of organizing this previously unsuccessful army
belongs to the younger Robespierre, who, as Commissioner of the
Convention, infused his energy into all departments of the service.
For some months his relations to Buonaparte were those of intimacy;
but whether they extended to complete sympathy on political matters
may be doubted. The younger Robespierre held the revolutionary creed
with sufficient ardour, though one of his letters dated from Oneglia
suggests that the fame of the Terror was hurtful to the prospects of
the campaign. It states that the whole of the neighbouring inhabitants
had fled before the French soldiers, in the belief that they were
destroyers of religion and eaters of babies: this was inconvenient, as
it prevented the supply of provisions and the success of forced loans.
The letter suggests that he was a man of action rather than of ideas,
and probably it was this practical quality which bound Buonaparte in
friendship to him. Yet it is difficult to fathom Buonaparte's ideas
about the revolutionary despotism which was then deluging Paris with
blood. Outwardly he appeared to sympathize with it. Such at least is
the testimony of Marie Robespierre, with whom Buonaparte's sisters
were then intimate. "Buonaparte," she said, "was a republican: I will
even say that he took the side of the Mountain: at least, that was the
impression left on my mind by his opinions when I was at Nice.... His
admiration for my elder brother, his friendship for my younger
brother, and perhaps also the interest inspired by my misfortunes,
gained for me, under the Consulate, a pension of 3,600 francs."[29]
Equally noteworthy is the later declaration of Napoleon that
Robespierre was the "scapegoat of the Revolution." [30] It appears
probable, then, that he shared the Jacobinical belief that the Terror
was a necessary though painful stage in the purification of the body
politic. His admiration of the rigour of Lycurgus, and his dislike of
all superfluous luxury, alike favour this supposition; and as he
always had the courage of his convictions, it is impossible to
conceive him clinging to the skirts of the terrorists merely from a
mean hope of prospective favours. That is the alternative explanation
of his intimacy with young Robespierre. Some of his injudicious
admirers, in trying to disprove his complicity with the terrorists,
impale themselves on this horn of the dilemma. In seeking to clear
him from the charge of Terrorism, they stain him with the charge of
truckling to the terrorists. They degrade him from the level of St.
Just to that of Barrère.

A sentence in one of young Robespierre's letters shows that he never
felt completely sure about the young officer. After enumerating to his
brother Buonaparte's merits, he adds: "He is a Corsican, and offers
only the guarantee of a man of that nation who has resisted the
caresses of Paoli and whose property has been ravaged by that
traitor." Evidently, then, Robespierre regarded Buonaparte with some
suspicion as an insular Proteus, lacking those sureties, mental and
pecuniary, which reduced a man to dog-like fidelity.

Yet, however warily Buonaparte picked his steps along the slopes of
the revolutionary volcano, he was destined to feel the scorch of the
central fires. He had recently been intrusted with a mission to the
Genoese Republic, which was in a most difficult position. It was
subject to pressure from three sides; from English men-of-war that had
swooped down on a French frigate, the "Modeste," in Genoese waters;
and from actual invasion by the French on the west and by the
Austrians on the north. Despite the great difficulties of his task, the
young envoy bent the distracted Doge and Senate to his will. He
might, therefore, have expected gratitude from his adopted country;
but shortly after he returned to Nice he was placed under arrest, and
was imprisoned in a fort near Antibes.

The causes of this swift reverse of fortune were curiously complex.
The Robespierres had in the meantime been guillotined at Paris (July
28th, or Thermidor 10th); and this "Thermidorian" reaction alone would
have sufficed to endanger Buonaparte's head. But his position was
further imperilled by his recent strategic suggestions, which had
served to reduce to a secondary _rôle_ the French Army of the Alps.
The operations of that force had of late been strangely thwarted; and
its leaders, searching for the paralyzing influence, discovered it in
the advice of Buonaparte. Their suspicions against him were formulated
in a secret letter to the Committee of Public Safety, which stated
that the Army of the Alps had been kept inactive by the intrigues of
the younger Robespierre and of Ricord. Many a head had fallen for
reasons less serious than these. But Buonaparte had one infallible
safeguard: he could not well be spared. After a careful examination of
his papers, the Commissioners, Salicetti and Albitte, provisionally
restored him to liberty, but not, for some weeks, to his rank of
general (August 20th, 1794). The chief reason assigned for his
liberation was the service which his knowledge and talents might
render to the Republic, a reference to the knowledge of the Italian
coast-line which he had gained during the mission to Genoa.

For a space his daring spirit was doomed to chafe in comparative
inactivity, in supervising the coast artillery. But his faults were
forgotten in the need which was soon felt for his warlike prowess. An
expedition was prepared to free Corsica from "the tyranny of the
English"; and in this Buonaparte sailed, as general commanding the
artillery. With him were two friends, Junot and Marmont, who had clung
to him through his recent troubles; the former was to be helped to
wealth and fame by Buonaparte's friendship, the latter by his own
brilliant gifts.[31] In this expedition their talent was of no avail.
The French were worsted in an engagement with the British fleet, and
fell back in confusion to the coast of France. Once again Buonaparte's
Corsican enterprises were frustrated by the ubiquitous lords of the
sea: against them he now stored up a double portion of hate, for in
the meantime his inspectorship of coast artillery had been given to
his fellow-countryman, Casabianca.

The fortunes of these Corsican exiles drifted hither and thither in
many perplexing currents, as Buonaparte was once more to discover. It
was a prevalent complaint that there were too many of them seeking
employment in the army of the south; and a note respecting the career
of the young officer made by General Schérer, who now commanded the
French Army of Italy, shows that Buonaparte had aroused at least as
much suspicion as admiration. It runs: "This officer is general of
artillery, and in this arm has sound knowledge, but has somewhat too
much ambition and intriguing habits for his advancement." All things
considered, it was deemed advisable to transfer him to the army which
was engaged in crushing the Vendéan revolt, a service which he loathed
and was determined, if possible, to evade. Accompanied by his faithful
friends, Marmont and Junot, as also by his young brother Louis, he set
out for Paris (May, 1795).

In reality Fortune never favoured him more than when she removed him
from the coteries of intriguing Corsicans on the coast of Provence and
brought him to the centre of all influence. An able schemer at Paris
could decide the fate of parties and governments. At the frontiers men
could only accept the decrees of the omnipotent capital. Moreover, the
Revolution, after passing through the molten stage, was now beginning
to solidify, an important opportunity for the political craftsman. The
spring of the year 1795 witnessed a strange blending of the new
fanaticism with the old customs. Society, dammed up for a time by the
Spartan rigour of Robespierre, was now flowing back into its wonted
channels. Gay equipages were seen in the streets; theatres, prosperous
even during the Terror, were now filled to overflowing; gambling,
whether in money or in stocks and _assignats_, was now permeating all
grades of society; and men who had grown rich by amassing the
confiscated State lands now vied with bankers, stock-jobbers, and
forestallers of grain in vulgar ostentation. As for the poor, they
were meeting their match in the gilded youth of Paris, who with
clubbed sticks asserted the right of the rich to be merry. If the
_sansculottes_ attempted to restore the days of the Terror, the
National Guards of Paris were ready to sweep them back into the slums.
Such was their fate on May 20th, shortly after Buonaparte's arrival at
Paris. Any dreams which he may have harboured of restoring the
Jacobins to power were dissipated, for Paris now plunged into the
gaieties of the _ancien régime_. The Terror was remembered only as a
horrible nightmare, which served to add zest to the pleasures of the
present. In some circles no one was received who had not lost a
relative by the guillotine. With a ghastly merriment characteristic of
the time, "victim balls" were given, to which those alone were
admitted who could produce the death warrant of some family
connection: these secured the pleasure of dancing in costumes which
recalled those of the scaffold, and of beckoning ever and anon to
their partners with nods that simulated the fall of the severed head.
It was for this, then, that the amiable Louis, the majestic Marie
Antoinette, the Minerva-like Madame Roland, the Girondins vowed to the
utter quest of liberty, the tyrant-quelling Danton, the incorruptible
Robespierre himself, had felt the fatal axe; in order that the mimicry
of their death agonies might tickle jaded appetites, and help to weave
anew the old Circean spells. So it seemed to the few who cared to
think of the frightful sacrifices of the past, and to measure them
against the seemingly hopeless degradation of the present.

Some such thoughts seem to have flitted across the mind of Buonaparte
in those months of forced inactivity. It was a time of disillusionment.
Rarely do we find thenceforth in his correspondence any gleams of
faith respecting the higher possibilities of the human race. The
golden visions of youth now vanish along with the _bonnet rouge_ and
the jargon of the Terror. His bent had ever been for the material and
practical: and now that faith in the Jacobinical creed was vanishing,
it was more than ever desirable to grapple that errant balloon to
substantial facts. Evidently, the Revolution must now trust to the
clinging of the peasant proprietors to the recently confiscated lands
of the Church and of the emigrant nobles. If all else was vain and
transitory, here surely was a solid basis of material interests to
which the best part of the manhood of France would tenaciously adhere,
defying alike the plots of reactionaries and the forces of monarchical
Europe. Of these interests Buonaparte was to be the determined
guarantor. Amidst much that was visionary in his later policy he never
wavered in his championship of the new peasant proprietors. He was
ever the peasants' General, the peasants' Consul, the peasants'
Emperor.

The transition of the Revolution to an ordinary form of polity was
also being furthered by its unparalleled series of military triumphs.
When Buonaparte's name was as yet unknown, except in Corsica and
Provence, France practically gained her "natural boundaries," the
Rhine and the Alps. In the campaigns of 1793-4, the soldiers of
Pichegru, Kléber, Hoche, and Moreau overran the whole of the Low
Countries and chased the Germans beyond the Rhine; the Piedmontese
were thrust behind the Alps; the Spaniards behind the Pyrenees. In
quick succession State after State sued for peace: Tuscany in
February, 1795; Prussia in April; Hanover, Westphalia, and Saxony in
May; Spain and Hesse-Cassel in July; Switzerland and Denmark in
August.

Such was the state of France when Buonaparte came to seek his
fortunes in the Sphinx-like capital. His artillery command had been
commuted to a corresponding rank in the infantry--a step that deeply
incensed him. He attributed it to malevolent intriguers; but all his
efforts to obtain redress were in vain. Lacking money and patronage,
known only as an able officer and facile intriguer of the bankrupt
Jacobinical party, he might well have despaired. He was now almost
alone. Marmont had gone off to the Army of the Rhine; but Junot was
still with him, allured perhaps by Madame Permon's daughter, whom he
subsequently married. At the house of this amiable hostess, an old
friend of his family, Buonaparte found occasional relief from the
gloom of his existence. The future Madame Junot has described him as
at this time untidy, unkempt, sickly, remarkable for his extreme
thinness and the almost yellow tint of his visage, which was, however,
lit up by "two eyes sparkling with keenness and will-power"--evidently
a Corsican falcon, pining for action, and fretting its soaring spirit
in that vapid town life. Action Buonaparte might have had, but only of
a kind that he loathed. He might have commanded the troops destined to
crush the brave royalist peasants of La Vendée. But, whether from
scorn of such vulture-work, or from an instinct that a nobler quarry
might be started at Paris, he refused to proceed to the Army of the
West, and on the plea of ill-health remained in the capital. There he
spent his time deeply pondering on politics and strategy. He designed
a history of the last two years, and drafted a plan of campaign for
the Army of Italy, which, later on, was to bear him to fortune.
Probably the geographical insight which it displayed may have led to
his appointment (August 20th, 1795) to the topographical bureau of the
Committee of Public Safety. His first thought on hearing of this
important advancement was that it opened up an opportunity for
proceeding to Turkey to organize the artillery of the Sultan; and in a
few days he sent in a formal request to that effect--the first
tangible proof of that yearning after the Orient which haunted him all
through life. But, while straining his gaze eastwards, he experienced
a sharp rebuff. The Committee was on the point of granting his
request, when an examination of his recent conduct proved him guilty
of a breach of discipline in not proceeding to his Vendéan command. On
the very day when one department of the Committee empowered him to
proceed to Constantinople, the Central Committee erased his name from
the list of general officers (September 15th).

This time the blow seemed fatal. But Fortune appeared to compass his
falls only in order that he might the more brilliantly tower aloft.
Within three weeks he was hailed as the saviour of the new republican
constitution. The cause of this almost magical change in his prospects
is to be sought in the political unrest of France, to which we must
now briefly advert.

All through this summer of 1795 there were conflicts between Jacobins
and royalists. In the south the latter party had signally avenged
itself for the agonies of the preceding years, and the ardour of the
French temperament seemed about to drive that hapless people from the
"Red Terror" to a veritable "White Terror," when two disasters checked
the course of the reaction. An attempt of a large force of emigrant
French nobles, backed up by British money and ships, to rouse Brittany
against the Convention was utterly crushed by the able young Hoche;
and nearly seven hundred prisoners were afterwards shot down in cold
blood (July). Shortly before this blow, the little prince styled Louis
XVII. succumbed to the brutal treatment of his gaolers at the Temple
in Paris; and the hopes of the royalists now rested on the unpopular
Comte de Provence. Nevertheless, the political outlook in the summer
of 1795 was not reassuring to the republicans; and the Commission of
Eleven, empowered by the Convention to draft new organic laws, drew up
an instrument of government, which, though republican in form, seemed
to offer all the stability of the most firmly rooted oligarchy. Some
such compromise was perhaps necessary; for the Commonwealth was
confronted by three dangers, anarchy resulting from the pressure of
the mob, an excessive centralization of power in the hands of two
committees, and the possibility of a _coup d'état_ by some pretender
or adventurer. Indeed, the student of French history cannot fail to
see that this is the problem which is ever before the people of
France. It has presented itself in acute though diverse phases in
1797,1799,1814, 1830, 1848, 1851, and in 1871. Who can say that the
problem has yet found its complete solution?

In some respects the constitution which the Convention voted in
August, 1795, was skilfully adapted to meet the needs of the time.
Though democratic in spirit, it granted a vote only to those citizens
who had resided for a year in some dwelling and had paid taxes, thus
excluding the rabble who had proved to be dangerous to any settled
government. It also checked the hasty legislation which had brought
ridicule on successive National Assemblies. In order to moderate the
zeal for the manufacture of decrees, which had often exceeded one
hundred a month, a second or revising chamber was now to be formed on
the basis of age; for it had been found that the younger the deputies
the faster came forth the fluttering flocks of decrees, that often
came home to roost in the guise of curses. A senatorial guillotine, it
was now proposed, should thin out the fledglings before they flew
abroad at all. Of the seven hundred and fifty deputies of France, the
two hundred and fifty oldest men were to form the Council of Ancients,
having powers to amend or reject the proposals emanating from the
Council of Five Hundred. In this Council were the younger deputies,
and with them rested the sole initiation of laws. Thus the young
deputies were to make the laws, but the older deputies were to amend
or reject them; and this nice adjustment of the characteristics of
youth and age, a due blending of enthusiasm with caution, promised to
invigorate the body politic and yet guard its vital interests.
Lastly, in order that the two Councils should continuously represent
the feelings of France, one third of their members must retire for
re-election every year, a device which promised to prevent any violent
change in their composition, such as might occur if, at the end of
their three years' membership, all were called upon to resign at once.

But the real crux of constitution builders had hitherto been in the
relations of the Legislature to the Executive. How should the brain of
the body politic, that is, the Legislature, be connected with the
hand, that is, the Executive? Obviously, so argued all French
political thinkers, the two functions were distinct and must be kept
separate. The results of this theory of the separation of powers were
clearly traceable in the course of the Revolution. When the hand had
been left almost powerless, as in 1791-2, owing to democratic jealousy
of the royal Ministry, the result had been anarchy. The supreme needs
of the State in the agonies of 1793 had rendered the hand omnipotent:
the Convention, that is, the brain, was for some time powerless before
its own instrument, the two secret committees. Experience now showed
that the brain must exercise a general control over the hand, without
unduly hampering its actions. Evidently, then, the deputies of France
must intrust the details of administration to responsible Ministers,
though some directing agency seemed needed as a spur to energy and a
check against royalist plots. In brief, the Committee of Public
Safety, purged of its more dangerous powers, was to furnish the model
for a new body of five members, termed the Directory. This
organism, which was to give its name to the whole period 1795-1799,
was not the Ministry. There was no Ministry as we now use the term.
There were Ministers who were responsible individually for their
departments of State: but they never met for deliberation, or
communicated with the Legislature; they were only heads of
departments, who were responsible individually to the Directors. These
five men formed a powerful committee, deliberating in private on the
whole policy of the State and on all the work of the Ministers. The
Directory had not, it is true, the right of initiating laws and of
arbitrary arrest which the two committees had freely exercised during
the Terror. Its dependence on the Legislature seemed also to be
guaranteed by the Directors being appointed by the two legislative
Councils; while one of the five was to vacate his office for
re-election every year. But in other respects the directorial powers
were almost as extensive as those wielded by the two secret
committees, or as those which Bonaparte was to inherit from the
Directory in 1799. They comprised the general control of policy in
peace and war, the right to negotiate treaties (subject to
ratification by the legislative councils), to promulgate laws voted by
the Councils and watch over their execution, and to appoint or dismiss
the Ministers of State.

Such was the constitution which was proclaimed on September 22nd,
1795, or 1st Vendémiaire, Year IV., of the revolutionary calendar. An
important postscript to the original constitution now excited fierce
commotions which enabled the young officer to repair his own shattered
fortunes. The Convention, terrified at the thought of a general
election, which might send up a malcontent or royalist majority,
decided to impose itself on France for at least two years longer. With
an effrontery unparalleled in parliamentary annals, it decreed that
the law of the new constitution, requiring the re-election of
one-third of the deputies every year, should now be applied to itself;
and that the rest of its members should sit in the forthcoming
Councils. At once a cry of disgust and rage arose from all who were
weary of the Convention and all its works. "Down with the
two-thirds!" was the cry that resounded through the streets of Paris.
The movement was not so much definitely royalist as vaguely
malcontent. The many were enraged by the existing dearth and by the
failure of the Revolution to secure even cheap bread. Doubtless the
royalists strove to drive on the discontent to the desired goal, and
in many parts they tinged the movement with an unmistakably Bourbon
tint. But it is fairly certain that in Paris they could not alone have
fomented a discontent so general as that of Vendémiaire. That they
would have profited by the defeat of the Convention is, however,
equally certain. The history of the Revolution proves that those who
at first merely opposed the excesses of the Jacobins gradually drifted
over to the royalists. The Convention now found itself attacked in the
very city which had been the chosen abode of Liberty and Equality.
Some thirty thousand of the Parisian National Guards were determined
to give short shrift to this Assembly that clung so indecently to
life; and as the armies were far away, the Parisian malcontents seemed
masters of the situation. Without doubt they would have been but for
their own precipitation and the energy of Buonaparte.

But how came he to receive the military authority which was so
potently to influence the course of events? We left him in Fructidor
disgraced: we find him in the middle of Vendémiaire leading part of
the forces of the Convention. This bewildering change was due to the
pressing needs of the Republic, to his own signal abilities, and to
the discerning eye of Barras, whose career claims a brief notice.

Paul Barras came of a Provençal family, and had an adventurous life
both on land and in maritime expeditions. Gifted with a robust frame,
consummate self-assurance, and a ready tongue, he was well equipped
for intrigues, both amorous and political, when the outbreak of the
Revolution gave his thoughts a more serious turn. Espousing the
ultra-democratic side, he yet contrived to emerge unscathed from the
schisms which were fatal to less dextrous trimmers. He was present at
the siege of Toulon, and has striven in his "Mémoires" to disparage
Buonaparte's services and exalt his own. At the crisis of Thermidor
the Convention intrusted him with the command of the "army of the
interior," and the energy which he then displayed gained for him the
same position in the equally critical days of Vendémiaire. Though he
subsequently carped at the conduct of Buonaparte, his action proved
his complete confidence in that young officer's capacity: he at once
sent for him, and intrusted him with most important duties. Herein
lies the chief chance of immortality for the name of Barras; not that,
as a terrorist, he slaughtered royalists at Toulon; not that he was
the military chief of the Thermidorians, who, from fear of their own
necks, ended the supremacy of Robespierre; not even that he degraded
the new _régime_ by a cynical display of all the worst vices of the
old; but rather because he was now privileged to hold the stirrup for
the great captain who vaulted lightly into the saddle.

The present crisis certainly called for a man of skill and
determination. The malcontents had been emboldened by the timorous
actions of General Menou, who had previously been intrusted with the
task of suppressing the agitation. Owing to a praiseworthy desire to
avoid bloodshed, that general wasted time in parleying with the most
rebellious of the "sections" of Paris. The Convention now appointed
Barras to the command, while Buonaparte, Brune, Carteaux, Dupont,
Loison, Vachot, and Vézu were charged to serve under him.[32] Such was
the decree of the Convention, which therefore refutes Napoleon's later
claim that he was in command, and that of his admirers that he was
second in command.

Yet, intrusted from the outset by Barras with important duties, he
unquestionably became the animating spirit of the defence. "From the
first," says Thiébault, "his activity was astonishing: he seemed to be
everywhere at once: he surprised people by his laconic, clear, and
prompt orders: everybody was struck by the vigour of his arrangements,
and passed from admiration to confidence, from confidence to
enthusiasm." Everything now depended on skill and enthusiasm. The
defenders of the Convention, comprising some four or five thousand
troops of the line, and between one and two thousand patriots,
gendarmes, and Invalides, were confronted by nearly thirty thousand
National Guards. The odds were therefore wellnigh as heavy as those
which menaced Louis XVI. on the day of his final overthrow. But the
place of the yielding king was now filled by determined men, who saw
the needs of the situation. In the earlier scenes of the Revolution,
Buonaparte had pondered on the efficacy of artillery in
street-fighting--a fit subject for his geometrical genius. With a few
cannon, he knew that he could sweep all the approaches to the palace;
and, on Barras' orders, he despatched a dashing cavalry officer,
Murat--a name destined to become famous from Madrid to Moscow--to
bring the artillery from the neighbouring camp of Sablons. Murat
secured them before the malcontents of Paris could lay hands on them;
and as the "sections" of Paris had yielded up their own cannon after
the affrays of May, they now lacked the most potent force in
street-fighting. Their actions were also paralyzed by divided
counsels: their commander, an old general named Danican, moved his men
hesitatingly; he wasted precious minutes in parleying, and thus gave
time to Barras' small but compact force to fight them in detail.
Buonaparte had skilfully disposed his cannon to bear on the royalist
columns that threatened the streets north of the Tuileries. But for
some time the two parties stood face to face, seeking to cajole or
intimidate one another. As the autumn afternoon waned, shots were
fired from some houses near the church of St. Roch, where the
malcontents had their headquarters.[33] At once the streets became the
scene of a furious fight; furious but unequal; for Buonaparte's cannon
tore away the heads of the malcontent columns. In vain did the
royalists pour in their volleys from behind barricades, or from the
neighbouring houses: finally they retreated on the barricaded church,
or fled down the Rue St. Honoré. Meanwhile their bands from across the
river, 5,000 strong, were filing across the bridges, and menaced the
Tuileries from that side, until here also they melted away before the
grapeshot and musketry poured into their front and flank. By six
o'clock the conflict was over. The fight presents few, if any,
incidents which are authentic. The well-known engraving of Helman,
which shows Buonaparte directing the storming of the church of St.
Roch is unfortunately quite incorrect. He was not engaged there, but
in the streets further east: the church was not stormed: the
malcontents held it all through the night, and quietly surrendered it
next morning.

Such was the great day of Vendémiaire. It cost the lives of about two
hundred on each side; at least, that is the usual estimate, which
seems somewhat incongruous with the stories of fusillading and
cannonading at close quarters, until we remember that it is the custom
of memoir-writers and newspaper editors to trick out the details of a
fight, and in the case of civil warfare to minimise the bloodshed.
Certainly the Convention acted with clemency in the hour of victory:
two only of the rebel leaders were put to death; and it is pleasing to
remember that when Menou was charged with treachery, Buonaparte used
his influence to procure his freedom.

Bourrienne states that in his later days the victor deeply regretted
his action in this day of Vendémiaire. The assertion seems
incredible. The "whiff of grapeshot" crushed a movement which could
have led only to present anarchy, and probably would have brought
France back to royalism of an odious type. It taught a severe lesson
to a fickle populace which, according to Mme. de Staël, was hungering
for the spoils of place as much as for any political object. Of all
the events of his post-Corsican life, Buonaparte need surely never
have felt compunctions for Vendémiaire.[34]

After four signal reverses in his career, he now enters on a path
strewn with glories. The first reward for his signal services to the
Republic was his appointment to be second in command of the army of
the interior; and when Barras resigned the first command, he took that
responsible post. But more brilliant honours were soon to follow, the
first of a social character, the second purely military.

Buonaparte had already appeared timidly and awkwardly at the _salon_
of the voluptuous Barras, where the fair but frail Madame
Tallien--Notre Dame de Thermidor she was styled--dazzled Parisian
society by her classic features and the uncinctured grace of her
attire. There he reappeared, not in the threadbare uniform that had
attracted the giggling notice of that giddy throng, but as the lion of
the society which his talents had saved. His previous attempts to gain
the hand of a lady had been unsuccessful. He had been refused, first
by Mlle. Clary, sister of his brother Joseph's wife, and quite
recently by Madame Permon. Indeed, the scarecrow young officer had not
been a brilliant match. But now he saw at that _salon_ a charming
widow, Josephine de Beauharnais, whose husband had perished in the
Terror. The ardour of his southern temperament, long repressed by his
privations, speedily rekindles in her presence: his stiff, awkward
manners thaw under her smiles: his silence vanishes when she praises
his military gifts: he admires her tact, her sympathy, her beauty: he
determines to marry her. The lady, on her part, seems to have been
somewhat terrified by her uncanny wooer: she comments questioningly on
his "violent tenderness almost amounting to frenzy": she notes
uneasily his "keen inexplicable gaze which imposes even on our
Directors": How would this eager nature, this masterful energy,
consort with her own "Creole nonchalance"? She did well to ask herself
whether the general's almost volcanic passion would not soon exhaust
itself, and turn from her own fading charms to those of women who
were his equals in age. Besides, when she frankly asked her own heart,
she found that she loved him not: she only admired him. Her chief
consolation was that if she married him, her friend Barras would help
to gain for Buonaparte the command of the Army of Italy. The advice of
Barras undoubtedly helped to still the questioning surmises of
Josephine; and the wedding was celebrated, as a civil contract, on
March 9th, 1796. With a pardonable coquetry, the bride entered her age
on the register as four years less than the thirty-four which had
passed over her: while her husband, desiring still further to lessen
the disparity, entered his date of birth as 1768.

A fortnight before the wedding, he had been appointed to command the
Army of Italy: and after a honeymoon of two days at Paris, he left his
bride to take up his new military duties. Clearly, then, there was
some connection between this brilliant fortune and his espousal of
Josephine. But the assertion that this command was the "dowry" offered
by Barras to the somewhat reluctant bride is more piquant than
correct. That the brilliance of Buonaparte's prospects finally
dissipated her scruples may be frankly admitted. But the appointment
to a command of a French army did not rest with Barras. He was only
one of the five Directors who now decided the chief details of
administration. His colleagues were Letourneur, Rewbell, La
Réveillière-Lépeaux, and the great Carnot; and, as a matter of fact,
it was the last-named who chiefly decided the appointment in question.

He had seen and pondered over the plan of campaign which Buonaparte
had designed for the Army of Italy; and the vigour of the conception,
the masterly appreciation of topographical details which it displayed,
and the trenchant energy of its style had struck conviction to his
strategic genius. Buonaparte owed his command, not to a backstairs
intrigue, as was currently believed in the army, but rather to his own
commanding powers. While serving with the Army of Italy in 1794, he
had carefully studied the coast-line and the passes leading inland;
and, according to the well-known savant, Volney, the young officer,
shortly after his release from imprisonment, sketched out to him and
to a Commissioner of the Convention the details of the very plan of
campaign which was to carry him victoriously from the Genoese Riviera
into the heart of Austria.[35] While describing this masterpiece of
strategy, says Volney, Buonaparte spoke as if inspired. We can fancy
the wasted form dilating with a sense of power, the thin sallow cheeks
aglow with enthusiasm, the hawk-like eyes flashing at the sight of the
helpless Imperial quarry, as he pointed out on the map of Piedmont and
Lombardy the features which would favour a dashing invader and carry
him to the very gates of Vienna. The splendours of the Imperial Court
at the Tuileries seem tawdry and insipid when compared with the
intellectual grandeur which lit up that humble lodging at Nice with
the first rays that heralded the dawn of Italian liberation.

With the fuller knowledge which he had recently acquired, he now in
January, 1796, elaborated this plan of campaign, so that it at once
gained Carnot's admiration. The Directors forwarded it to General
Schérer, who was in command of the Army of Italy, but promptly
received the "brutal" reply that the man who had drafted the plan
ought to come and carry it out. Long dissatisfied with Schérer's
inactivity and constant complaints, the Directory now took him at his
word, and replaced him by Buonaparte. Such is the truth about
Buonaparte's appointment to the Army of Italy.

To Nice, then, the young general set out (March 21st) accompanied, or
speedily followed, by his faithful friends, Marmont and Junot, as well
as by other officers of whose energy he was assured, Berthier, Murat,
and Duroc. How much had happened since the early summer of 1795, when
he had barely the means to pay his way to Paris! A sure instinct had
drawn him to that hot-bed of intrigues. He had played a desperate
game, risking his commission in order that he might keep in close
touch with the central authority. His reward for this almost
superhuman confidence in his own powers was correspondingly great; and
now, though he knew nothing of the handling of cavalry and infantry
save from books, he determined to lead the Army of Italy to a series
of conquests that would rival those of Cæsar. In presence of a will so
stubborn and genius so fervid, what wonder that a friend prophesied
that his halting-place would be either the throne or the scaffold?

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER V

THE ITALIAN CAMPAIGN

(1796)


In the personality of Napoleon nothing is more remarkable than the
combination of gifts which in most natures are mutually exclusive; his
instincts were both political and military; his survey of a land took
in not only the geographical environment but also the material welfare
of the people. Facts, which his foes ignored, offered a firm fulcrum
for the leverage of his will: and their political edifice or their
military policy crumbled to ruin under an assault planned with
consummate skill and pressed home with relentless force.

For the exercise of all these gifts what land was so fitted as the
mosaic of States which was dignified with the name of Italy?

That land had long been the battle-ground of the Bourbons and the
Hapsburgs; and their rivalries, aided by civic dissensions, had
reduced the people that once had given laws to Europe into a condition
of miserable weakness. Europe was once the battle-field of the Romans:
Italy was now the battle-field of Europe. The Hapsburgs dominated the
north, where they held the rich Duchy of Milan, along with the great
stronghold of Mantua, and some scattered imperial fiefs. A scion of
the House of Austria reigned at Florence over the prosperous Duchy of
Tuscany. Modena and Lucca were under the general control of the Court
of Vienna. The south of the peninsula, along with Sicily, was swayed
by Ferdinand IV., a descendant of the Spanish Bourbons, who kept his
people in a condition of mediæval ignorance and servitude; and this
dynasty controlled the Duchy of Parma. The Papal States were also sunk
in the torpor of the Middle Ages; but in the northern districts of
Bologna and Ferrara, known as the "Legations," the inhabitants still
remembered the time of their independence, and chafed under the
irritating restraints of Papal rule. This was seen when the leaven of
French revolutionary thought began to ferment in Italian towns. Two
young men of Bologna were so enamoured of the new ideas, as to raise
an Italian tricolour flag, green, white, and red, and summon their
fellow-citizens to revolt against the rule of the Pope's legate
(November, 1794). The revolt was crushed, and the chief offenders were
hanged; but elsewhere the force of democracy made itself felt,
especially among the more virile peoples of Northern Italy. Lombardy
and Piedmont throbbed with suppressed excitement. Even when the King
of Sardinia, Victor Amadeus III., was waging war against the French
Republic, the men of Turin were with difficulty kept from revolt; and,
as we have seen, the Austro-Sardinian alliance was powerless to
recover Savoy and Nice from the soldiers of liberty or to guard the
Italian Riviera from invasion.

In fact, Bonaparte--for he henceforth spelt his name thus--detected
the political weakness of the Hapsburgs' position in Italy. Masters of
eleven distinct peoples north of the Alps, how could they hope
permanently to dominate a wholly alien people south of that great
mountain barrier? The many failures of the old Ghibelline or Imperial
party in face of any popular impulse which moved the Italian nature to
its depths revealed the artificiality of their rule. Might not such an
impulse be imparted by the French Revolution? And would not the hopes
of national freedom and of emancipation from feudal imposts fire these
peoples with zeal for the French cause? Evidently there were vast
possibilities in a democratic propaganda. At the outset Bonaparte's
racial sympathies were warmly aroused for the liberation of
Italy; and though his judgment was to be warped by the promptings of
ambition, he never lost sight of the welfare of the people whence he
was descended. In his "Memoirs written at St. Helena" he summed up his
convictions respecting the Peninsula in this statesmanlike utterance:
"Italy, isolated within its natural limits, separated by the sea and
by very high mountains from the rest of Europe, seems called to be a
great and powerful nation.... Unity in manners, language, literature
ought finally, in a future more or less remote, to unite its
inhabitants under a single government.... Rome is beyond doubt the
capital which the Italians will one day choose." A prophetic saying:
it came from a man who, as conqueror and organizer, awakened that
people from the torpor of centuries and breathed into it something of
his own indomitable energy.

And then again, the Austrian possessions south of the Alps were
difficult to hold for purely military reasons. They were separated
from Vienna by difficult mountain ranges through which armies
struggled with difficulty. True, Mantua was a formidable stronghold,
but no fortress could make the Milanese other than a weak and
straggling territory, the retention of which by the Court of Vienna
was a defiance to the gospel of nature of which Rousseau was the
herald and Bonaparte the militant exponent.

The Austro-Sardinian forces were now occupying the pass which
separates the Apennines from the Maritime Alps north of the town of
Savona. They were accordingly near the headwaters of the Bormida and
the Tanaro, two of the chief affluents of the River Po: and roads
following those river valleys led, the one north-east, in the
direction of Milan, the other north-west towards Turin, the Sardinian
capital. A wedge of mountainous country separated these roads as they
diverged from the neighbourhood of Montenotte. Here obviously was the
vulnerable point of the Austro-Sardinian position. Here therefore
Bonaparte purposed to deliver his first strokes, foreseeing that,
should he sever the allies, he would have in his favour every
advantage both political and topographical.

All this was possible to a commander who could overcome the initial
difficulties. But these difficulties were enormous. The position of
the French Army of Italy in March, 1796, was precarious. Its
detachments, echelonned near the coast from Savona to Loano, and
thence to Nice, or inland to the Col di Tende, comprised in all
42,000 men, as against the Austro-Sardinian forces amounting to
52,000 men.[36] Moreover, the allies occupied strong positions on the
northern slopes of the Maritime Alps and Apennines, and, holding the
inner and therefore shorter curve, they could by a dextrous
concentration have pushed their more widely scattered opponents on to
the shore, where the republicans would have been harassed by the guns
of the British cruisers. Finally, Bonaparte's troops were badly
equipped, worse clad, and were not paid at all. On his arrival at Nice
at the close of March, the young commander had to disband one
battalion for mutinous conduct.[37] For a brief space it seemed
doubtful how the army would receive this slim, delicate-looking youth,
known hitherto only as a skilful artillerist at Toulon and in the
streets of Paris. But he speedily gained the respect and confidence of
the rank and file, not only by stern punishment of the mutineers, but
by raising money from a local banker, so as to make good some of the
long arrears of pay. Other grievances he rectified by prompt
reorganization of the commissariat and kindred departments. But, above
all, by his burning words he thrilled them: "Soldiers, you are half
starved and half naked. The Government owes you much, but can do
nothing for you. Your patience and courage are honourable to you, but
they procure you neither advantage nor glory. I am about to lead you
into the most fertile valleys of the world: there you will find
flourishing cities and teeming provinces: there you will reap honour,
glory, and riches. Soldiers of the Army of Italy, will you lack
courage?" Two years previously so open a bid for the soldiers'
allegiance would have conducted any French commander forthwith to the
guillotine.

[Illustration: MAP TO ILLUSTRATE THE CAMPAIGNS IN NORTH ITALY.]

But much had changed since the days of Robespierre's supremacy;
Spartan austerity had vanished; and the former insane jealousy of
individual pre-eminence was now favouring a startling reaction which
was soon to install the one supremely able man as absolute master of
France.

Bonaparte's conduct produced a deep impression alike on troops and
officers. From Masséna his energy and his trenchant orders extorted
admiration: and the tall swaggering Augereau shrank beneath the
intellectual superiority of his gaze. Moreover, at the beginning of
April the French received reinforcements which raised their total to
49,300 men, and gave them a superiority of force; for though the
allies had 52,000, yet they were so widely scattered as to be inferior
in any one district. Besides, the Austrian commander, Beaulieu, was
seventy-one years of age, had only just been sent into Italy, with
which land he was ill acquainted, and found one-third of his troops
down with sickness.[38]

Bonaparte now began to concentrate his forces near Savona. Fortune
favoured him even before the campaign commenced. The snows of winter,
still lying on the mountains, though thawing on the southern slopes,
helped to screen his movements from the enemy's outposts; and the
French vanguard pushed along the coastline even as far as Voltri. This
movement was designed to coerce the Senate of Genoa into payment of a
fine for its acquiescence in the seizure of a French vessel by a
British cruiser within its neutral roadstead; but it served to alarm
Beaulieu, who, breaking up his cantonments, sent a strong column
towards that city. At the time this circumstance greatly annoyed
Bonaparte, who had hoped to catch the Imperialists dozing in their
winter quarters. Yet it is certain that the hasty move of their left
flank towards Voltri largely contributed to that brilliant opening of
Bonaparte's campaign, which his admirers have generally regarded as
due solely to his genius.[39] For, when Beaulieu had thrust his column
into the broken coast district between Genoa and Voltri, he severed it
dangerously far from his centre, which marched up the valley of the
eastern branch of the Bormida to occupy the passes of the Apennines
north of Savona. This, again, was by no means in close touch with the
Sardinian allies encamped further to the west in and beyond Ceva.
Beaulieu, writing at a later date to Colonel Graham, the English
_attaché_ at his headquarters, ascribed his first disasters to
Argenteau, his lieutenant at Montenotte, who employed only a third of
the forces placed under his command. But division of forces was
characteristic of the Austrians in all their operations, and they now
gave a fine opportunity to any enterprising opponent who should crush
their weak and unsupported centre. In obedience to orders from Vienna,
Beaulieu assumed the offensive; but he brought his chief force to bear
on the French vanguard at Voltri, which he drove in with some loss.
While he was occupying Voltri, the boom of cannon echoing across the
mountains warned his outposts that the real campaign was opening in
the broken country north of Savona.[40] There the weak Austrian centre
had occupied a ridge or plateau above the village of Montenotte,
through which ran the road leading to Alessandria and Milan.
Argenteau's attack partly succeeded: but the stubborn bravery of a
French detachment checked it before the redoubt which commanded the
southern prolongation of the heights named Monte-Legino.[41]

Such was the position of affairs when Bonaparte hurried up. On the
following day (April 12th), massing the French columns of attack
under cover of an early morning mist, he moved them to their
positions, so that the first struggling rays of sunlight revealed to
the astonished Austrians the presence of an army ready to crush their
front and turn their flanks. For a time the Imperialists struggled
bravely against the superior forces in their front; but when Masséna
pressed round their right wing, they gave way and beat a speedy
retreat to save themselves from entire capture. Bonaparte took no
active share in the battle: he was, very properly, intent on the wider
problem of severing the Austrians from their allies, first by the
turning movement of Masséna, and then by pouring other troops into the
gap thus made. In this he entirely succeeded. The radical defects in
the Austrian dispositions left them utterly unable to withstand the
blows which he now showered upon them. The Sardinians were too far
away on the west to help Argenteau in his hour of need: they were in
and beyond Ceva, intent on covering the road to Turin: whereas, as
Napoleon himself subsequently wrote, they should have been near enough
to their allies to form one powerful army, which, at Dego or
Montenotte, would have defended both Turin and Milan. "United, the two
forces would have been superior to the French army: separated, they
were lost."

The configuration of the ground favoured Bonaparte's plan of driving
the Imperialists down the valley of the Bormida in a north-easterly
direction; and the natural desire of a beaten general to fall back
towards his base of supplies also impelled Beaulieu and Argenteau to
retire towards Milan. But that would sever their connections with the
Sardinians, whose base of supplies, Turin, lay in a north-westerly
direction.

Bonaparte therefore hurled his forces at once against the Austrians
and a Sardinian contingent at Millesimo, and defeated them, Augereau's
division cutting off the retreat of twelve hundred of their men under
Provera. Weakened by this second blow, the allies fell back on the
intrenched village of Dego. Their position was of a strength
proportionate to its strategic importance; for its loss would
completely sever all connection between their two main armies save by
devious routes many miles in their rear. They therefore clung
desperately to the six mamelons and redoubts which barred the valley
and dominated some of the neighbouring heights. Yet such was the
superiority of the French in numbers that these positions were
speedily turned by Masséna, whom Bonaparte again intrusted with the
movement on the enemy's flank and rear. A strange event followed. The
victors, while pillaging the country for the supplies which
Bonaparte's sharpest orders failed to draw from the magazines and
stores on the sea-coast, were attacked in the dead of night by five
Austrian battalions that had been ordered up to support their
countrymen at Dego. These, after straying among the mountains, found
themselves among bands of the marauding French, whom they easily
scattered, seizing Dego itself. Apprised of this mishap, Bonaparte
hurried up more troops from the rear, and on the 15th recovered the
prize which had so nearly been snatched from his grasp. Had Beaulieu
at this time thrown all his forces on the French, he might have
retrieved his first misfortunes: but foresight and energy were not to
be found at the Austrian headquarters: the surprise at Dego was the
work of a colonel; and for many years to come the incompetence of
their aged commanders was to paralyze the fine fighting qualities of
the "white-coats." In three conflicts they had been outmanoeuvred and
outnumbered, and drew in their shattered columns to Acqui.

The French commander now led his columns westward against the
Sardinians, who had fallen back on their fortified camp at Ceva, in
the upper valley of the Tanaro. There they beat off one attack of the
French. A check in front of a strongly intrenched position was
serious. It might have led to a French disaster, had the Austrians
been able to bring aid to their allies. Bonaparte even summoned a
council of war to deliberate on the situation. As a rule, a council of
war gives timid advice. This one strongly advised a second attack on
the camp--a striking proof of the ardour which then nerved the
republican generals. Not yet were they _condottieri_ carving out
fortunes by their swords: not yet were they the pampered minions of an
autocrat, intent primarily on guarding the estates which his favour
had bestowed. Timidity was rather the mark of their opponents. When
the assault on the intrenchments of Ceva was about to be renewed, the
Sardinian forces were discerned filing away westwards. Their general
indulged the fond hope of holding the French at bay at several
strong natural positions on his march. He was bitterly to rue his
error. The French divisions of Sérurier and Dommartin closed in on
him, drove him from Mondovi, and away towards Turin.

Bonaparte had now completely succeeded. Using to the full the
advantage of his central position between the widely scattered
detachments of his foes, he had struck vigorously at their natural
point of junction, Montenotte, and by three subsequent successes--for
the evacuation of Ceva can scarcely be called a French victory--had
forced them further and further apart until Turin was almost within
his power.

It now remained to push these military triumphs to their natural
conclusion, and impose terms of peace on the House of Savoy, which was
secretly desirous of peace. The Directors had ordered Bonaparte that
he should seek to detach Sardinia from the Austrian alliance by
holding out the prospect of a valuable compensation for the loss of
Savoy and Nice in the fertile Milanese.[42] The prospect of this rich
prize would, the Directors surmised, dissolve the Austro-Sardinian
alliance, as soon as the allies had felt the full vigour of the French
arms. Not that Bonaparte himself was to conduct these negotiations. He
was to forward to the Directory all offers of submission. Nay, he was
not empowered to grant on his own responsibility even an armistice. He
was merely to push the foe hard, and feed his needy soldiers on the
conquered territory. He was to be solely a general, never a
negotiator.

The Directors herein showed keen jealousy or striking ignorance of
military affairs. How could he keep the Austrians quiet while envoys
passed between Turin and Paris? All the dictates of common sense
required him to grant an armistice to the Court of Turin before the
Austrians could recover from their recent disasters. But the King of
Sardinia drew him from a perplexing situation by instructing Colli to
make overtures for an armistice as preliminary to a peace. At once the
French commander replied that such powers belonged to the Directory;
but as for an armistice, it would only be possible if the Court of
Turin placed in his hands three fortresses, Coni, Tortona, and
Alessandria, besides guaranteeing the transit of French armies through
Piedmont and the passage of the Po at Valenza. Then, with his
unfailing belief in accomplished facts, Bonaparte pushed on his troops
to Cherasco.

Near that town he received the Piedmontese envoys; and from the pen of
one of them we have an account of the general's behaviour in his first
essay in diplomacy. His demeanour was marked by that grave and frigid
courtesy which was akin to Piedmontese customs. In reply to the
suggestions of the envoys that some of the conditions were of little
value to the French, he answered: "The Republic, in intrusting to me
the command of an army, has credited me with possessing enough
discernment to judge of what that army requires, without having
recourse to the advice of my enemy." Apart, however, from this
sarcasm, which was uttered in a hard and biting voice, his tone was
coldly polite. He reserved his home thrust for the close of the
conference. When it had dragged on till considerably after noon with
no definite result, he looked at his watch and exclaimed: "Gentlemen,
I warn you that a general attack is ordered for two o'clock, and that
if I am not assured that Coni will be put in my hands before
nightfall, the attack will not be postponed for one moment. It may
happen to me to lose battles, but no one shall ever see me lose
minutes either by over-confidence or by sloth." The terms of the
armistice of Cherasco were forthwith signed (April 28th); they were
substantially the same as those first offered by the victor. During
the luncheon which followed, the envoys were still further impressed
by his imperturbable confidence and trenchant phrases; as when he told
them that the campaign was the exact counterpart of what he had
planned in 1794; or described a council of war as a convenient device
for covering cowardice or irresolution in the commander; or asserted
that nothing could now stop him before the walls of Mantua.[43]

As a matter of fact, the French army was at that time so disorganized
by rapine as scarcely to have withstood a combined and vigorous attack
by Beaulieu and Colli. The republicans, long exposed to hunger and
privations, were now revelling in the fertile plains of Piedmont.
Large bands of marauders ranged the neighbouring country, and the
regiments were often reduced to mere companies. From the grave risks
of this situation Bonaparte was rescued by the timidity of the Court
of Turin, which signed the armistice at Cherasco eighteen days after
the commencement of the campaign. A fortnight later the preliminaries
of peace were signed between France and the King of Sardinia, by which
the latter yielded up his provinces of Savoy and Nice, and renounced
the alliance with Austria. Great indignation was felt in the
Imperialist camp at this news; and it was freely stated that the
Piedmontese had let themselves be beaten in order to compass a peace
that had been tacitly agreed upon in the month of January.[44]

Even before this auspicious event, Bonaparte's despatches to the
Directors were couched in almost imperious terms, which showed that he
felt himself the master of the situation. He advised them as to their
policy towards Sardinia, pointing out that, as Victor Amadeus had
yielded up three important fortresses, he was practically in the hands
of the French: "If you do not accept peace with him, if your plan is
to dethrone him, you must amuse him for a few decades[45] and must
warn me: I then seize Valenza and march on Turin." In military
affairs the young general showed that he would brook no interference
from Paris. He requested the Directory to draft 15,000 men from
Kellermann's Army of the Alps to reinforce him: "That will give me an
army of 45,000 men, of which possibly I may send a part to Rome. If
you continue your confidence and approve these plans, I am sure of
success: Italy is yours." Somewhat later, the Directors proposed to
grant the required reinforcements, but stipulated for the retention of
part of the army in the Milanese _under the command of Kellermann_.
Thereupon Bonaparte replied (May 14th) that, as the Austrians had been
reinforced, it was highly impolitic to divide the command. Each
general had his own way of making war. Kellermann, having more
experience, would doubtless do it better: but both together would do
it very badly.

Again the Directors had blundered. In seeking to subject Bonaparte to
the same rules as had been imposed on all French generals since the
treason of Dumouriez in 1793, they were doubtless consulting the vital
interests of the Commonwealth. But, while striving to avert all
possibilities of Cæsarism, they now sinned against that elementary
principle of strategy which requires unity of design in military
operations. Bonaparte's retort was unanswerable, and nothing more was
heard of the luckless proposal.

Meanwhile the peace with the House of Savoy had thrown open the
Milanese to Bonaparte's attack. Holding three Sardinian fortresses, he
had an excellent base of operations; for the lands restored to the
King of Sardinia were to remain subject to requisitions for the French
army until the general peace. The Austrians, on the other hand, were
weakened by the hostility of their Italian subjects, and, worst of
all, they depended ultimately on reinforcements drawn from beyond the
Alps by way of Mantua. In the rich plains of Lombardy they, however,
had one advantage which was denied to them among the rocks of the
Apennines. Their generals could display the tactical skill on which
they prided themselves, and their splendid cavalry had some chance of
emulating the former exploits of the Hungarian and Croatian horse.
They therefore awaited the onset of the French, little dismayed by
recent disasters, and animated by the belief that their antagonist,
unversed in regular warfare, would at once lose in the plains the
bubble reputation gained in ravines. But the country in the second
part of this campaign was not less favourable to Bonaparte's peculiar
gifts than that in which he had won his first laurels as commander.
Amidst the Apennines, where only small bodies of men could be moved, a
general inexperienced in the handling of cavalry and infantry could
make his first essays in tactics with fair chances of success. Speed,
energy, and the prompt seizure of a commanding central position were
the prime requisites; the handling of vast masses of men was
impossible. The plains of Lombardy facilitated larger movements; but
even here the numerous broad swift streams fed by the Alpine snows,
and the network of irrigating dykes, favoured the designs of a young
and daring leader who saw how to use natural obstacles so as to baffle
and ensnare his foes. Bonaparte was now to show that he excelled his
enemies, not only in quickness of eye and vigour of intellect, but
also in the minutiæ of tactics and in those larger strategic
conceptions which decide the fate of nations. In the first place,
having the superiority of force, he was able to attack. This is an
advantage at all times: for the aggressor can generally mislead his
adversary by a series of feints until the real blow can be delivered
with crushing effect. Such has been the aim of all great leaders from
the time of Epaminondas and Alexander, Hannibal and Cæsar, down to the
age of Luxembourg, Marlborough, and Frederick the Great. Aggressive
tactics were particularly suited to the French soldiery, always eager,
active, and intelligent, and now endowed with boundless enthusiasm in
their cause and in their leader.

Then again he was fully aware of the inherent vice of the Austrian
situation. It was as if an unwieldy organism stretched a vulnerable
limb across the huge barrier of the Alps, exposing it to the attack of
a compacter body. It only remained for Bonaparte to turn against his
foes the smaller geographical features on which they too implicitly
relied. Beaulieu had retired beyond the Po and the Ticino, expecting
that the attack on the Milanese would be delivered across the latter
stream by the ordinary route, which crossed it at Pavia. Near that
city the Austrians occupied a strong position with 26,000 men, while
other detachments patrolled the banks of the Ticino further north, and
those of the Po towards Valenza, only 5,000 men being sent towards
Piacenza. Bonaparte, however, was not minded to take the ordinary
route. He determined to march, not as yet on the north of the River
Po, where snow-swollen streams coursed down from the Alps, but rather
on the south side, where the Apennines throw off fewer streams and
also of smaller volume. From the fortress of Tortona he could make a
rush at Piacenza, cross the Po there, and thus gain the Milanese
almost without a blow. To this end he had stipulated in the recent
terms of peace that he might cross the Po at Valenza; and now, amusing
his foes by feints on that side, he vigorously pushed his main columns
along the southern bank of the Po, where they gathered up all the
available boats. The vanguard, led by the impetuous Lannes, seized the
ferry at Piacenza, before the Austrian horse appeared, and scattered a
squadron or two which strove to drive them back into the river (May
7th).

Time was thus gained for a considerable number of French to cross the
river in boats or by the ferry. Working under the eye of their leader,
the French conquered all obstacles: a bridge of boats soon spanned
the stream, and was defended by a _tête de pont_; and with forces
about equal in number to Liptay's Austrians, the republicans advanced
northwards, and, after a tough struggle, dislodged their foes from the
village of Fombio. This success drove a solid wedge between Liptay and
his commander-in-chief, who afterwards bitterly blamed him, first for
retreating, and secondly for not reporting his retreat to
headquarters.

It would appear, however, that Liptay had only 5,000 men (not the
8,000 which Napoleon and French historians have credited to him), that
he was sent by Beaulieu to Piacenza too late to prevent the crossing
by the French, and that at the close of the fight on the following day
he was completely cut off from communicating with his superior.
Beaulieu, with his main force, advanced on Fombio, stumbled on the
French, where he looked to find Liptay, and after a confused fight
succeeded in disengaging himself and withdrawing towards Lodi, where
the high-road leading to Mantua crossed the River Adda. To that stream
he directed his remaining forces to retire. He thereby left Milan
uncovered (except for the garrison which held the citadel), and
abandoned more than the half of Lombardy; but, from the military point
of view, his retreat to the Adda was thoroughly sound. Yet here again
a movement strategically correct was marred by tactical blunders. Had
he concentrated all his forces at the nearest point of the Adda which
the French could cross, namely Pizzighetone, he would have rendered
any flank march of theirs to the northward extremely hazardous; but he
had not yet sufficiently learned from his terrible teacher the need of
concentration; and, having at least three passages to guard, he kept
his forces too spread out to oppose a vigorous move against any one of
them. Indeed, he despaired of holding the line of the Adda, and
retired eastwards with a great part of his army.

Consequently, when Bonaparte, only three days after the seizure of
Piacenza, threw his almost undivided force against the town of Lodi,
his passage was disputed only by the rearguard, whose anxiety to cover
the retreat of a belated detachment far exceeded their determination
to defend the bridge over the Adda. This was a narrow structure, some
eighty fathoms long, standing high above the swift but shallow river.
Resolutely held by well-massed troops and cannon, it might have cost
the French a severe struggle: but the Imperialists were badly
handled: some were posted in and around the town which was between the
river and the advancing French; and the weak walls of Lodi were soon
escaladed by the impetuous republicans. The Austrian commander,
Sebottendorf, now hastily ranged his men along the eastern bank of the
river, so as to defend the bridge and prevent any passage of the river
by boats or by a ford above the town. The Imperialists numbered only
9,627 men; they were discouraged by defeats and by the consciousness
that no serious stand could be attempted before they reached the
neighbourhood of Mantua; and their efforts to break down the bridge
were now frustrated by the French, who, posted behind the walls of
Lodi on the higher bank of the stream, swept their opponents' position
with a searching artillery fire. Having shaken the constancy of his
foes and refreshed his own infantry by a brief rest in Lodi, Bonaparte
at 6 p.m. secretly formed a column of his choicest troops and hurled
it against the bridge. A hot fire of grapeshot and musketry tore its
front, and for a time the column bent before the iron hail. But,
encouraged by the words of their young leader, generals, corporals,
and grenadiers pressed home their charge. This time, aided by
sharp-shooters who waded to islets in the river, the assailants
cleared the bridge, bayoneted the Austrian cannoneers, attacked the
first and second lines of supporting foot, and, when reinforced,
compelled horse and foot to retreat towards Mantua.[46]
Such was the affair of Lodi (May 10th). A legendary
glamour hovers around all the details of this conflict and invests it
with fictitious importance. Beaulieu's main force was far away, and
there was no hope of entrapping anything more than the rear of his
army. Moreover, if this were the object, why was not the flank move of
the French cavalry above Lodi pushed home earlier in the fight? This,
if supported by infantry, could have outflanked the enemy while the
perilous rush was made against the bridge; and such a turning movement
would probably have enveloped the Austrian force while it was being
shattered in front. That is the view in which the strategist,
Clausewitz, regards this encounter. Far different was the impression
which it created among the soldiers and Frenchmen at large. They
valued a commander more for bravery of the bull-dog type than for any
powers of reasoning and subtle combination. These, it is true,
Bonaparte had already shown. He now enchanted the soldiery by dealing
a straight sharp blow. It had a magical effect on their minds. On the
evening of that day the French soldiers, with antique republican
_camaraderie_, saluted their commander as _le petit caporal_ for his
personal bravery in the fray, and this endearing phrase helped to
immortalize the affair of the bridge of Lodi.[47] It shot a thrill of
exultation through France. With pardonable exaggeration, men told how
he charged at the head of the column, and, with Lannes, was the first
to reach the opposite side; and later generations have figured him
charging before his tall grenadiers--a feat that was actually
performed by Lannes, Berthier, Masséna, Cervoni, and Dallemagne. It
was all one. Bonaparte alone was the hero of the day. He reigned
supreme in the hearts of the soldiers, and he saw the importance of
this conquest. At St. Helena he confessed to Montholon that it was the
victory of Lodi which fanned his ambition into a steady flame.

A desire of stimulating popular enthusiasm throughout Italy impelled
the young victor to turn away from his real objective, the fortress of
Mantua, to the political capital of Lombardy. The people of Milan
hailed their French liberators with enthusiasm: they rained flowers on
the bronzed soldiers of liberty, and pointed to their tattered
uniforms and worn-out shoes as proofs of their triumphant energy:
above all, they gazed with admiration, not unmixed with awe, at the
thin pale features of the young commander, whose plain attire bespoke
a Spartan activity, whose ardent gaze and decisive gestures proclaimed
a born leader of men. Forthwith he arranged for the investment of the
citadel where eighteen hundred Austrians held out: he then received
the chief men of the city with easy Italian grace; and in the evening
he gave a sumptuous ball, at which all the dignity, wealth, and beauty
of the old Lombard capital shone resplendent. For a brief space all
went well between the Lombards and their liberators. He received with
flattering distinction the chief artists and men of letters, and also
sought to quicken the activity of the University of Pavia. Political
clubs and newspapers multiplied throughout Lombardy; and actors,
authors, and editors joined in a pæan of courtly or fawning praise, to
the new Scipio, Cæsar, Hannibal, and Jupiter.

There were other reasons why the Lombards should worship the young
victor. Apart from the admiration which a gifted race ever feels for
so fascinating a combination of youthful grace with intellectual power
and martial prowess, they believed that this Italian hero would call
the people to political activity, perchance even to national
independence. For this their most ardent spirits had sighed,
conspired, or fought during the eighty-three years of the Austrian
occupation. Ever since the troublous times of Dante there had been
prophetic souls who caught the vision of a new Italy, healed of her
countless schisms, purified from her social degradations, and uniting
the prowess of her ancient life with the gentler arts of the present
for the perfection of her own powers and for the welfare of mankind.
The gleam of this vision had shone forth even amidst the thunder claps
of the French Revolution; and now that the storm had burst over the
plains of Lombardy, ecstatic youths seemed to see the vision embodied
in the person of Bonaparte himself. At the first news of the success
at Lodi the national colours were donned as cockades, or waved
defiance from balconies and steeples to the Austrian garrisons. All
truly Italian hearts believed that the French victories heralded the
dawn of political freedom not only for Lombardy, but for the whole
peninsula.

Bonaparte's first actions increased these hopes. He abolished the
Austrian machinery of government, excepting the Council of State, and
approved the formation of provisional municipal councils and of a
National Guard. At the same time, he wrote guardedly to the Directors
at Paris, asking whether they proposed to organize Lombardy as a
republic, as it was much more ripe for this form of government than
Piedmont. Further than this he could not go; but at a later date he
did much to redeem his first promises to the people of Northern Italy.

The fair prospect was soon overclouded by the financial measures urged
on the young commander from Paris, measures which were disastrous to
the Lombards and degrading to the liberators themselves. The Directors
had recently bidden him to press hard on the Milanese, and levy large
contributions in money, provisions, and objects of art, seeing that
they did not intend to keep this country.[48] Bonaparte accordingly
issued a proclamation (May 19th), imposing on Lombardy the sum of
twenty million francs, remarking that it was a very light sum for so
fertile a country. Only two days before he had in a letter to the
Directors described it as exhausted by five years of war. As for the
assertion that the army needed this sum, it may be compared with his
private notification to the Directory, three days after his
proclamation, that they might speedily count on six to eight millions
of the Lombard contribution, as lying ready at their disposal, "it
being over and above what the army requires." This is the first
definite suggestion by Bonaparte of that system of bleeding conquered
lands for the benefit of the French Exchequer, which enabled him
speedily to gain power over the Directors. Thenceforth they began to
connive at his diplomatic irregularities, and even to urge on his
expeditions into wealthy districts, provided that the spoils went to
Paris; while the conqueror, on his part, was able tacitly to assume
that tone of authority with which the briber treats the bribed.[49]

The exaction of this large sum, and of various requisites for the
army, as well as the "extraction" of works of art for the benefit of
French museums, at once aroused the bitterest feelings. The loss of
priceless treasures, such as the manuscript of Virgil which had
belonged to Petrarch, and the masterpieces of Raphael and Leonardo da
Vinci, might perhaps have been borne: it concerned only the cultured
few, and their effervescence was soon quelled by patrols of French
cavalry. Far different was it with the peasants between Milan and
Pavia. Drained by the white-coats, they now refused to be bled for the
benefit of the blue-coats of France. They rushed to arms. The city of
Pavia defied the attack of a French column until cannon battered in
its gates. Then the republicans rushed in, massacred all the armed men
for some hours, and glutted their lust and rapacity. By order of
Bonaparte, the members of the municipal council were condemned to
execution; but a delay occurred before this ferocious order was
carried out, and it was subsequently mitigated. Two hundred hostages
were, however, sent away into France as a guarantee for the good
behaviour of the unfortunate city: whereupon the chief announced to
the Directory that this would serve as a useful lesson to the peoples
of Italy.

In one sense this was correct. It gave the Italians a true insight
into French methods; and painful emotions thrilled the peoples of the
peninsula when they realized at what a price their liberation was to
be effected. Yet it is unfair to lay the chief blame on Bonaparte for
the pillage of Lombardy. His actions were only a development of
existing revolutionary customs; but never had these demoralizing
measures been so thoroughly enforced as in the present system of
liberation and blackmail. Lombardy was ransacked with an almost Vandal
rapacity. Bonaparte desired little for himself. His aim ever was power
rather than wealth. Riches he valued only as a means to political
supremacy. But he took care to place the Directors and all his
influential officers deeply in his debt. To the five _soi-disant_
rulers of France he sent one hundred horses, the finest that could be
found in Lombardy, to replace "the poor creatures which now draw your
carriages";[50] to his officers his indulgence was passive, but
usually effective. Marmont states that Bonaparte once reproached him
for his scrupulousness in returning the whole of a certain sum which
he had been commissioned to recover. "At that time," says Marmont, "we
still retained a flower of delicacy on these subjects." This Alpine
gentian was soon to fade in the heats of the plains. Some generals
made large fortunes, eminently so Masséna, first in plunder as in the
fray. And yet the commander, who was so lenient to his generals,
filled his letters to the Directory with complaints about the cloud of
French commissioners, dealers, and other civilian harpies who battened
on the spoil of Lombardy. It seems impossible to avoid the conclusion
that this indulgence towards the soldiers and severity towards
civilians was the result of a fixed determination to link indissolubly
to his fortunes the generals and rank and file. The contrast in his
behaviour was often startling. Some of the civilians he imprisoned:
others he desired to shoot; but as the hardiest robbers had generally
made to themselves friends of the military mammon of unrighteousness,
they escaped with a fine ridiculously out of proportion to their
actual gains.[51]

The Dukes of Parma and Modena were also mulcted. The former of these,
owing to his relationship with the Spanish Bourbons, with whom the
Directory desired to remain on friendly terms, was subjected to the
fine of merely two million francs and twenty masterpieces of art,
these last to be selected by French commissioners from the galleries
of the duchy; but the Duke of Modena, who had assisted the Austrian
arms, purchased his pardon by an indemnity of ten million francs, and
by the cession of twenty pictures, the chief artistic treasures of his
States.[52] As Bonaparte naïvely stated to the Directors, the duke had
no fortresses or guns; consequently these could not be demanded from
him.

From this degrading work Bonaparte strove to wean his soldiers by
recalling them to their nobler work of carrying on the enfranchisement
of Italy. In a proclamation (May 20th) which even now stirs the blood
like a trumpet call, he bade his soldiers remember that, though much
had been done, a far greater task yet awaited them. Posterity must not
reproach them for having found their Capua in Lombardy. Rome was to be
freed: the Eternal City was to renew her youth and show again the
virtues of her ancient worthies, Brutus and Scipio. Then France would
give a glorious peace to Europe; then their fellow-citizens would say
of each champion of liberty as he returned to his hearth: "He was of
the Army of Italy." By such stirring words did he entwine with the
love of liberty that passion for military glory which was destined to
strangle the Republic.

Meanwhile the Austrians had retired behind the banks of the Mincio and
the walls of its guardian fortress, Mantua. Their position was one of
great strength. The river, which carries off the surplus waters of
Lake Garda, joins the River Po after a course of some thirty miles.
Along with the tongue-like cavity occupied by its parent lake, the
river forms the chief inner barrier to all invaders of Italy. From
the earliest times down to those of the two Napoleons, the banks of
the Mincio have witnessed many of the contests which have decided the
fortunes of the peninsula. On its lower course, where the river widens
out into a semicircular lagoon flanked by marshes and backwaters, is
the historic town of Mantua. For this position, if we may trust the
picturesque lines of Mantua's noblest son,[53] the three earliest
races of Northern Italy had striven; and when the power of imperial
Rome was waning, the fierce Attila pitched his camp on the banks of
the Mincio, and there received the pontiff Leo, whose prayers and
dignity averted the threatening torrent of the Scythian horse.

It was by this stream, famed in war as in song, that the Imperialists
now halted their shattered forces, awaiting reinforcements from Tyrol.
These would pass down the valley of the Adige, and in the last part of
their march would cross the lands of the Venetian Republic. For this
action there was a long-established right of way, which did not
involve a breach of the neutrality of Venice. But, as some of the
Austrian troops had straggled on to the Venetian territory south of
Brescia, the French commander had no hesitation in openly violating
Venetian neutrality by the occupation of that town (May 26th).
Augereau's division was also ordered to push on towards the west shore
of Lake Garda, and there collect boats as if a crossing were intended.
Seeing this, the Austrians seized the small Venetian fortress of
Peschiera, which commands the exit of the Mincio from the lake, and
Venetian neutrality was thenceforth wholly disregarded.

By adroit moves on the borders of the lake, Bonaparte now sought to
make Beaulieu nervous about his communications with Tyrol through the
river valley of the Adige; he completely succeeded: seeking to guard
the important positions on that river between Rivoli and Roveredo,
Beaulieu so weakened his forces on the Mincio, that at Borghetto and
Valeggio he had only two battalions and ten squadrons of horse, or
about two thousand men. Lannes' grenadiers, therefore, had little
difficulty in forcing a passage on May 30th, whereupon Beaulieu
withdrew to the upper Adige, highly satisfied with himself for having
victualled the fortress of Mantua so that it could withstand a long
siege. This was, practically, his sole achievement in the campaign.
Outnumbered, outgeneralled, bankrupt in health as in reputation, he
soon resigned his command, but not before he had given signs of
"downright dotage."[54] He had, however, achieved immortality: his
incapacity threw into brilliant relief the genius of his young
antagonist, and therefore appreciably affected the fortunes of Italy
and of Europe.

Bonaparte now despatched Masséna's division northwards, to coop up the
Austrians in the narrow valley of the upper Adige, while other
regiments began to close in on Mantua. The peculiarities of the ground
favoured its investment. The semicircular lagoon which guards Mantua
on the north, and the marshes on the south side, render an assault
very difficult; but they also limit the range of ground over which
sorties can be made, thereby lightening the work of the besiegers; and
during part of the blockade Napoleon left fewer than five thousand men
for this purpose. It was clear, however, that the reduction of Mantua
would be a tedious undertaking, such as Bonaparte's daring and
enterprising genius could ill brook, and that his cherished design of
marching northwards to effect a junction with Moreau on the Danube was
impossible. Having only 40,400 men with him at midsummer, he had
barely enough to hold the line of the Adige, to blockade Mantua, and
to keep open his communications with France.

At the command of the Directory he turned southward against feebler
foes. The relations between the Papal States and the French Republic
had been hostile since the assassination of the French envoy,
Basseville, at Rome, in the early days of 1793; but the Pope, Pius
VI., had confined himself to anathemas against the revolutionists and
prayers for the success of the First Coalition.

This conduct now drew upon him a sharp blow. French troops crossed the
Po and seized Bologna, whereupon the terrified cardinals signed an
armistice with the republican commander, agreeing to close all their
States to the English, and to admit a French garrison to the port of
Ancona. The Pope also consented to yield up "one hundred pictures,
busts, vases, or statues, as the French Commissioners shall determine,
among which shall especially be included the bronze bust of Junius
Brutus and the marble bust of Marcus Brutus, together with five
hundred manuscripts." He was also constrained to pay 15,500,000
francs, besides animals and goods such as the French agents should
requisition for their army, exclusive of the money and materials drawn
from the districts of Bologna and Ferrara. The grand total, in money,
and in kind, raised from the Papal States in this profitable raid, was
reckoned by Bonaparte himself as 34,700,000 francs,[55] or about;
£1,400,000--a liberal assessment for the life of a single envoy and
the _bruta fulmina_ of the Vatican.

Equally lucrative was a dash into Tuscany. As the Grand Duke of this
fertile land had allowed English cruisers and merchants certain
privileges at Leghorn, this was taken as a departure from the
neutrality which he ostensibly maintained since the signature of a
treaty of peace with France in 1795. A column of the republicans now
swiftly approached Leghorn and seized much valuable property from
British merchants. Yet the invaders failed to secure the richest of
the hoped-for plunder; for about forty English merchantmen sheered off
from shore as the troops neared the seaport, and an English frigate,
swooping down, carried off two French vessels almost under the eyes of
Bonaparte himself. This last outrage gave, it is true, a slight
excuse for the levying of requisitions in Leghorn and its environs;
yet, according to the memoir-writer, Miot de Melito, this unprincipled
action must be attributed not to Bonaparte, but to the urgent needs of
the French treasury and the personal greed of some of the Directors.
Possibly also the French commissioners and agents, who levied
blackmail or selected pictures, may have had some share in the shaping
of the Directorial policy: at least, it is certain that some of them,
notably Salicetti, amassed a large fortune from the plunder of
Leghorn. In order to calm the resentment of the Grand Duke, Bonaparte
paid a brief visit to Florence. He was received in respectful silence
as he rode through the streets where his ancestors had schemed for the
Ghibelline cause. By a deft mingling of courtesy and firmness the new
conqueror imposed his will on the Government of Florence, and then
sped northward to press on the siege of Mantua.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER VI

THE FIGHTS FOR MANTUA


The circumstances which recalled Bonaparte to the banks of the Mincio
were indeed serious. The Emperor Francis was determined at all costs
to retain his hold on Italy by raising the siege of that fortress; and
unless the French commander could speedily compass its fall, he had
the prospect of fighting a greatly superior army while his rear was
threatened by the garrison of Mantua. Austria was making unparalleled
efforts to drive this presumptuous young general from a land which she
regarded as her own political preserve. Military historians have
always been puzzled to account for her persistent efforts in 1796-7 to
re-conquer Lombardy. But, in truth, the reasons are diplomatic, not
military, and need not be detailed here. Suffice it to say that,
though the Hapsburg lands in Swabia were threatened by Moreau's Army
of the Rhine, Francis determined at all costs to recover his Italian
possessions.

To this end the Emperor now replaced the luckless Beaulieu by General
Würmser, who had gained some reputation in the Rhenish campaigns; and,
detaching 25,000 men from his northern armies to strengthen his army
on the Adige, he bade him carry the double-headed eagle of Austria
victoriously into the plains of Italy. Though too late to relieve the
citadel of Milan, he was to strain every nerve to relieve Mantua; and,
since the latest reports represented the French as widely dispersed
for the plunder of Central Italy, the Emperor indulged the highest
hopes of Würmser's success.[56]

Possibly this might have been attained had the Austrian Emperor and
staff understood the absolute need of concentration in attacking a
commander who had already demonstrated its supreme importance in
warfare. Yet the difficulties of marching an army of 47,000 men
through the narrow defile carved by the Adige through the Tyrolese
Alps, and the wide extent of the French covering lines, led to the
adoption of a plan which favoured rapidity at the expense of security.
Würmser was to divide his forces for the difficult march southward
from Tyrol into Italy. In defence of this arrangement much could be
urged. To have cumbered the two roads, which run on either side of the
Adige from Trient towards Mantua, with infantry, cavalry, artillery,
and the countless camp-followers, animals, and wagons that follow an
army, would have been fatal alike to speed of marching and to success
in mountain warfare. Even in the campaign of 1866 the greatest
commander of this generation carried out his maxim, "March in separate
columns: unite for fighting." But Würmser and the Aulic Council[57] at
Vienna neglected to insure that reunion for attack, on which von
Moltke laid such stress in his Bohemian campaign. The Austrian forces
in 1796 were divided by obstacles which could not quickly be crossed,
namely, by Lake Garda and the lofty mountains which tower above the
valley of the Adige. Assuredly the Imperialists were not nearly strong
enough to run any risks. The official Austrian returns show that the
total force assembled in Tyrol for the invasion of Italy amounted to
46,937 men, not to the 60,000 as pictured by the imagination of Thiers
and other French historians. As Bonaparte had in Lombardy-Venetia
fully 45,000 men (including 10,000 now engaged in the siege of
Mantua), scattered along a front of fifty miles from Milan to Brescia
and Legnago, the incursion of Würmser's force, if the French were held
to their separate positions by diversions against their flanks, must
have proved decisive. But the fault was committed of so far dividing
the Austrians that nowhere could they deal a crushing blow.
Quosdanovich with 17,600 men was to take the western side of Lake
Garda, seize the French magazines at Brescia, and cut their
communications with Milan and France: the main body under Würmser,
24,300 strong, was meanwhile to march in two columns on either bank of
the Adige, drive the French from Rivoli and push on towards Mantua:
and yet a third division, led by Davidovich from the district of
Friuli on the east, received orders to march on Vicenza and Legnago,
in order to distract the French from that side, and possibly relieve
Mantua if the other two onsets failed.

Faulty as these dispositions were, they yet seriously disconcerted
Bonaparte. He was at Montechiaro, a village situated on the road
between Brescia and Mantua, when, on July 29th, he heard that the
white-coats had driven in Masséna's vanguard above Rivoli on the
Adige, were menacing other positions near Verona and Legnago, and were
advancing on Brescia. As soon as the full extent of the peril was
manifest, he sent off ten despatches to his generals, ordering a
concentration of troops--these, of course, fighting so as to delay the
pursuit--towards the southern end of Lake Garda. This wise step
probably saved his isolated forces from disaster. It was at that point
that the Austrians proposed to unite their two chief columns and crush
the French detachments. But, by drawing in the divisions of Masséna
and Augereau towards the Mincio, Bonaparte speedily assembled a
formidable array, and held the central position between the eastern
and western divisions of the Imperialists. He gave up the important
defensive line of the Adige, it is true; but by promptly rallying on
the Mincio, he occupied a base that was defended on the north by the
small fortress of Peschiera and the waters of Lake Garda. Holding the
bridges over the Mincio, he could strike at his assailants wherever
they should attack; above all, he still covered the siege of Mantua.
Such were his dispositions on July 29th and 30th. On the latter day he
heard of the loss of Brescia, and the consequent cutting of his
communications with Milan. Thereupon he promptly ordered Sérurier, who
was besieging Mantua, to make a last vigorous effort to take that
fortress, but also to assure his retreat westwards if fortune failed
him. Later in the day he ordered him forthwith to send away his
siege-train, throwing into the lake or burying whatever he could not
save from the advancing Imperialists.

This apparently desperate step, which seemed to forebode the
abandonment not only of the siege of Mantua, but of the whole of
Lombardy, was in reality a masterstroke. Bonaparte had perceived the
truth, which the campaigns of 1813 and 1870 were abundantly to
illustrate--that the possession of fortresses, and consequently their
siege by an invader, is of secondary importance when compared with a
decisive victory gained in the open. When menaced by superior forces
advancing towards the south of Lake Garda, he saw that he must
sacrifice his siege works, even his siege-train, in order to gain for
a few precious days that superiority in the field which the division
of the Imperialist columns still left to him.

The dates of these occurrences deserve close scrutiny; for they
suffice to refute some of the exorbitant claims made at a later time
by General Augereau, that only his immovable firmness forced Bonaparte
to fight and to change his dispositions of retreat into an attack
which re-established everything. This extraordinary assertion,
published by Augereau after he had deserted Napoleon in 1814, is
accompanied by a detailed recital of the events of July 30th-August
5th, in which Bonaparte appears as the dazed and discouraged
commander, surrounded by pusillanimous generals, and urged on to fight
solely by the confidence of Augereau. That the forceful energy of this
general had a great influence in restoring the _morale_ of the French
army in the confused and desperate movements which followed may freely
be granted. But his claims to have been the main spring of the French
movements in those anxious days deserve a brief examination. He
asserts that Bonaparte, "devoured by anxieties," met him at Roverbella
late in the evening of July 30th, and spoke of retiring beyond the
River Po. The official correspondence disproves this assertion.
Bonaparte had already given orders to Sérurier to retire beyond the Po
with his artillery train; but this was obviously an attempt to save it
from the advancing Austrians; and the commander had ordered the
northern part of the French besieging force to join Augereau between
Roverbella and Goito. Augereau further asserts that, after he had
roused Bonaparte to the need of a dash to recover Brescia, the
commander-in-chief remarked to Berthier, "In that case we must raise
the siege of Mantua," which again he (Augereau) vigorously opposed.
This second statement is creditable neither to Augereau's accuracy nor
to his sagacity. The order for the raising of the siege had been
issued, and it was entirely necessary for the concentration of French
troops, on which Bonaparte now relied as his only hope against
superior force. Had Bonaparte listened to Augereau's advice and
persisted still in besieging Mantua, the scattered French forces must
have been crushed in detail. Augereau's words are those of a mere
fighter, not of a strategist; and the timidity which he ungenerously
attributed to Bonaparte was nothing but the caution which a superior
intellect saw to be a necessary prelude to a victorious move.

That the fighting honours of the ensuing days rightly belong to
Augereau may be frankly conceded. With forces augmented by the
northern part of the besiegers of Mantua, he moved rapidly westwards
from the Mincio against Brescia, and rescued it from the vanguard of
Quosdanovich (August 1st). On the previous day other Austrian
detachments had also, after obstinate conflicts, been worsted near
Salo and Lonato. Still, the position was one of great perplexity: for
though Masséna's division from the Adige was now beginning to come
into touch with Bonaparte's chief force, yet the fronts of Würmser's
columns were menacing the French from that side, while the troops of
Quosdanovich, hovering about Lonato and Salo, struggled desperately to
stretch a guiding hand to their comrades on the Mincio.

Würmser was now discovering his error. Lured towards Mantua by false
reports that the French were still covering the siege, he had marched
due south when he ought to have rushed to the rescue of his
hard-pressed lieutenant at Brescia. Entering Mantua, he enjoyed a
brief spell of triumph, and sent to the Emperor Francis the news of
the capture of 40 French cannon in the trenches, and of 139 more on
the banks of the Po. But, while he was indulging the fond hope that
the French were in full retreat from Italy, came the startling news
that they had checked Quosdanovich at Brescia and Salo. Realizing his
errors, and determining to retrieve them before all was lost, he at
once pushed on his vanguard towards Castiglione, and easily gained
that village and its castle from a French detachment commanded by
General Valette.

The feeble defence of so important a position threw Bonaparte into one
of those transports of fury which occasionally dethroned his better
judgment. Meeting Valette at Montechiaro, he promptly degraded him to
the ranks, refusing to listen to his plea of having received a written
order to retire. A report of General Landrieux asserts that the rage
of the commander-in-chief was so extreme as for the time even to
impair his determination. The outlook was gloomy. The French seemed
about to be hemmed in amidst the broken country between Castiglione,
Brescia, and Salo. A sudden attack on the Austrians was obviously the
only safe and honourable course. But no one knew precisely their
numbers or their position. Uncertainty ever preyed on Bonaparte's
ardent imagination. His was a mind that quailed not before visible
dangers; but, with all its powers of decisive action, it retained so
much of Corsican eeriness as to chafe at the unknown,[58] and to lose
for the moment the faculty of forming a vigorous resolution. Like the
python, which grips its native rock by the tail in order to gain its
full constricting power, so Bonaparte ever needed a groundwork of fact
for the due exercise of his mental force.

One of a group of generals, whom he had assembled about him near
Montechiaro, proposed that they should ascend the hill which dominated
the plain. Even from its ridge no Austrians were to be seen. Again the
commander burst forth with petulant reproaches, and even talked of
retiring to the Adda. Whereupon, if we may trust the "Memoirs" of
General Landrieux, Augereau protested against retreat, and promised
success for a vigorous charge. "I wash my hands of it, and I am going
away," replied Bonaparte. "And who will command, if you go?" inquired
Augereau. "You," retorted Bonaparte, as he left the astonished circle.

However this may be, the first attack on Castiglione was certainly
left to this determined fighter; and the mingling of boldness and
guile which he showed on the following day regained for the French not
only the village, but also the castle, perched on a precipitous rock.
Yet the report of Colonel Graham, who was then at Marshal Würmser's
headquarters, somewhat dulls the lustre of Augereau's exploit; for the
British officer asserts that the Austrian position had been taken up
quite by haphazard, and that fewer than 15,000 white-coats were
engaged in this first battle of Castiglione. Furthermore, the
narratives of this _mêlée_ written by Augereau himself and by two
other generals, Landrieux and Verdier, who were disaffected towards
Bonaparte, must naturally be received with much reserve. The effect of
Augereau's indomitable energy in restoring confidence to the soldiers
and victory to the French tricolour was, however, generously admitted
by the Emperor Napoleon; for, at a later time when complaints were
being made about Augereau, he generously exclaimed: "Ah, let us not
forget that he saved us at Castiglione."[59]

While Augereau was recovering this important position, confused
conflicts were raging a few miles further north at Lonato. Masséna at
first was driven back by the onset of the Imperialists; but while they
were endeavouring to envelop the French, Bonaparte arrived, and in
conjunction with Masséna pushed on a central attack such as often
wrested victory from the enemy. The white-coats retired in disorder,
some towards Gavardo, others towards the lake, hotly followed by the
French. In the pursuit towards Gavardo, Bonaparte's old friend,
Junot, distinguished himself by his dashing valour. He wounded a
colonel, slew six troopers, and, covered with wounds, was finally
overthrown into a ditch. Such is Bonaparte's own account. It is
gratifying to know that the wounds neither singly nor collectively
were dangerous, and did not long repress Junot's activity. A tinge of
romance seems, indeed, to have gilded many of these narratives; and a
critical examination of the whole story of Lonato seems to suggest
doubts whether the victory was as decisive as historians have often
represented. If the Austrians were "thrown back on Lake Garda and
Desenzano,"[60] it is difficult to see why the pursuers did not drive
them into the lake. As a matter of fact, nearly all the beaten troops
escaped to Gavardo, while others joined their comrades engaged in the
blockade of Peschiera.

A strange incident serves to illustrate the hazards of war and the
confusion of this part of the campaign. A detachment of the vanquished
Austrian forces some 4,000 strong, unable to join their comrades at
Gavardo or Peschiera, and yet unharmed by the victorious pursuers,
wandered about on the hills, and on the next day chanced near Lonato
to come upon a much smaller detachment of French. Though unaware of
the full extent of their good fortune, the Imperialists boldly sent an
envoy to summon the French commanding officer to surrender. When the
bandage was taken from his eyes, he was abashed to find himself in the
presence of Bonaparte, surrounded by the generals of his staff. The
young commander's eyes flashed fire at the seeming insult, and in
tones vibrating with well-simulated passion he threatened the envoy
with condign punishment for daring to give such a message to the
commander-in-chief at his headquarters in the midst of his army. Let
him and his men forthwith lay down their arms. Dazed by the demand,
and seeing only the victorious chief and not the smallness of his
detachment, 4,000 Austrians surrendered to 1,200 French, or rather to
the address and audacity of one master-mind.

Elated by this augury of further victory, the republicans prepared for
the decisive blow. Würmser, though checked on August 3rd, had been so
far reinforced from Mantua as still to indulge hopes of driving the
French from Castiglione and cutting his way through to rescue
Quosdanovich. He was, indeed, in honour bound to make the attempt; for
the engagement had been made, with the usual futility that dogged the
Austrian councils, to reunite their forces and _fight the French on
the 7th of August_. These cast-iron plans were now adhered to in spite
of their dislocation at the hands of Bonaparte and Augereau. Würmser's
line stretched from near the village of Médole in a north-easterly
direction across the high-road between Brescia and Mantua; while his
right wing was posted in the hilly country around Solferino. In fact,
his extreme right rested on the tower-crowned heights of Solferino,
where the forces of Austria two generations later maintained so
desperate a defence against the onset of Napoleon III. and his
liberating army.

Owing to the non-arrival of Mezaros' corps marching from Legnago,
Würmser mustered scarcely twenty-five thousand men on his long line;
while the very opportune approach of part of Sérurier's division,
under the lead of Fiorella, from the south, gave the French an
advantage even in numbers. Moreover, Fiorella's advance on the south
of Würmser's weaker flank, that near Médole, threatened to turn it and
endanger the Austrian communications with Mantua. The Imperialists
seem to have been unaware of this danger; and their bad scouting here
as elsewhere was largely responsible for the issue of the day.
Würmser's desire to stretch a helping hand to Quosdanovich near Lonato
and his confidence in the strength of his own right wing betrayed him
into a fatal imprudence. Sending out feelers after his hard-pressed
colleague on the north, he dangerously prolonged his line, an error in
which he was deftly encouraged by Bonaparte, who held back his own
left wing. Meanwhile the French were rolling in the other extremity of
the Austrian line. Marmont, dashing forward with the horse artillery,
took the enemy's left wing in flank and silenced many of their pieces.
Under cover of this attack, Fiorella's division was able to creep up
within striking distance; and the French cavalry, swooping round the
rear of this hard-pressed wing, nearly captured Würmser and his staff.
A vigorous counterattack by the Austrian reserves, or an immediate
wheeling round of the whole line, was needed to repulse this brilliant
flank attack; but the Austrian reserves had been expended in the north
of their line; and an attempt to change front, always a difficult
operation, was crushed by a headlong charge of Masséna's and
Augereau's divisions on their centre. Before these attacks the whole
Austrian line gave way; and, according to Colonel Graham, nothing but
this retreat, undertaken "without orders," saved the whole force from
being cut off. The criticisms of our officer sufficiently reveal the
cause of the disaster. The softness and incapacity of Würmser, the
absence of a responsible second in command, the ignorance of the
number and positions of the French, the determination to advance
towards Castiglione and to wait thereabouts for Quosdanovich until a
battle could be fought with combined forces on the 7th, the taking up
a position almost by haphazard on the Castiglione-Médole line, and the
failure to detect Fiorella's approach, present a series of defects and
blunders which might have given away the victory to a third-rate
opponent.[61]

The battle was by no means sanguinary: it was a series of manoeuvres
rather than of prolonged conflicts. Hence its interest to all who by
preference dwell on the intellectual problems of warfare rather than
on the details of fighting. Bonaparte had previously shown that he
could deal blows with telling effect. The ease and grace of his moves
at the second battle of Castiglione now redeemed the reputation which
his uncertain behaviour on the four preceding days had somewhat
compromised.

A complete and authentic account of this week of confused fighting has
never been written. The archives of Vienna have not as yet yielded up
all their secrets; and the reputations of so many French officers were
over-clouded by this prolonged _mêlée_ as to render even the victors'
accounts vague and inconsistent. The aim of historians everywhere to
give a clear and vivid account, and the desire of Napoleonic
enthusiasts to represent their hero as always thinking clearly and
acting decisively, have fused trusty ores and worthless slag into an
alloy which has passed for true metal. But no student of Napoleon's
"Correspondence," of the "Memoirs" of Marmont, and of the recitals of
Augereau, Dumas, Landrieux, Verdier, Despinois and others, can hope
wholly to unravel the complications arising from the almost continuous
conflicts that extended over a dozen leagues of hilly country. War is
not always dramatic, however much the readers of campaigns may yearn
after thrilling narratives. In regard to this third act of the Italian
campaign, all that can safely be said is that Bonaparte's intuition to
raise the siege of Mantua, in order that he might defeat in detail the
relieving armies, bears the imprint of genius: but the execution of
this difficult movement was unequal, even at times halting; and the
French army was rescued from its difficulties only by the grand
fighting qualities of the rank and file, and by the Austrian blunders,
which outnumbered those of the republican generals.

Neither were the results of the Castiglione cycle of battles quite so
brilliant as have been represented. Würmser and Quosdanovich lost in
all 17,000 men, it is true: but the former had re-garrisoned and
re-victualled Mantua, besides capturing all the French siege-train.
Bonaparte's primary aim had been to reduce Mantua, so that he might be
free to sweep through Tyrol, join hands with Moreau, and overpower the
white-coats in Bavaria. The aim of the Aulic Council and Würmser had
been to relieve Mantua and restore the Hapsburg rule over Lombardy.
Neither side had succeeded. But the Austrians could at least point to
some successes; and, above all, Mantua was in a better state of
defence than when the French first approached its walls: and while
Mantua was intact, Bonaparte was held to the valley of the Mincio, and
could not deal those lightning blows on the Inn and the Danube which
he ever regarded as the climax of the campaign. Viewed on its material
side, his position was no better than it was before Würmser's
incursion into the plains of Venetia.[62]

With true Hapsburg tenacity, Francis determined on further efforts for
the relief of Mantua. Apart from the promptings of dynastic pride, his
reasons for thus obstinately struggling against Alpine gorges, Italian
sentiment, and Bonaparte's genius, are wellnigh inscrutable; and
military writers have generally condemned this waste of resources on
the Brenta, which, if hurled against the French on the Rhine, would
have compelled the withdrawal of Bonaparte from Italy for the defence
of Lorraine. But the pride of the Emperor Francis brooked no surrender
of his Italian possessions, and again Würmser was spurred on from
Vienna to another invasion of Venetia. It would be tedious to give an
account of Würmser's second attempt, which belongs rather to the
domain of political fatuity than that of military history. Colonel
Graham states that the Austrian rank and file laughed at their
generals, and bitterly complained that they were being led to the
shambles, while the officers almost openly exclaimed: "We must make
peace, for we don't know how to make war." This was again apparent.
Bonaparte forestalled their attack. Their divided forces fell an easy
prey to Masséna, who at Bassano cut Würmser's force to pieces and sent
the _débris_ flying down the valley of the Brenta. Losing most of
their artillery, and separated in two chief bands, the Imperialists
seemed doomed to surrender: but Würmser, doubling on his pursuers,
made a dash westwards, finally cutting his way to Mantua. There again
he vainly endeavoured to make a stand. He was driven from his
positions in front of St. Georges and La Favorita, and was shut up in
the town itself. This addition to the numbers of the garrison was no
increase to its strength; for the fortress, though well provisioned
for an ordinary garrison, could not support a prolonged blockade, and
the fevers of the early autumn soon began to decimate troops worn out
by forced marches and unable to endure the miasma ascending from the
marshes of the Mincio.

The French also were wearied by their exertions in the fierce heats of
September. Murmurs were heard in the ranks and at the mess tables that
Bonaparte's reports of these exploits were tinged by favouritism
and by undue severity against those whose fortune had been less
conspicuous than their merits. One of these misunderstandings was of
some importance. Masséna, whose services had been brilliant at Bassano
but less felicitous since the crossing of the Adige, reproached
Bonaparte for denying praise to the most deserving and lavishing it on
men who had come in opportunely to reap the labours of others. His
written protest, urged with the old republican frankness, only served
further to cloud over the relations between them, which, since Lonato,
had not been cordial.[63] Even thus early in his career Bonaparte
gained the reputation of desiring brilliant and entire success, and of
visiting with his displeasure men who, from whatever cause, did not
wrest from Fortune her utmost favours. That was his own mental
attitude towards the fickle goddess. After entering Milan he cynically
remarked to Marmont: "Fortune is a woman; and the more she does for
me, the more I will require of her." Suggestive words, which explain
at once the splendour of his rise and the rapidity of his fall.

During the few weeks of comparative inaction which ensued, the affairs
of Italy claimed his attention. The prospect of an Austrian
re-conquest had caused no less concern to the friends of liberty in
the peninsula than joy to the reactionary coteries of the old
sovereigns. At Rome and Naples threats against the French were
whispered or openly vaunted. The signature of the treaties of peace
was delayed, and the fulminations of the Vatican were prepared against
the sacrilegious spoilers. After the Austrian war-cloud had melted
away, the time had come to punish prophets of evil. The Duke of Modena
was charged with allowing a convoy to pass from his State to the
garrison of Mantua, and with neglecting to pay the utterly impossible
fine to which Bonaparte had condemned him. The men of Reggio and
Modena were also encouraged to throw off his yoke and to confide in
the French. Those of Reggio succeeded; but in the city of Modena
itself the ducal troops repressed the rising. Bonaparte accordingly
asked the advice of the Directory; but his resolution was already
formed. Two days after seeking their counsel, he took the decisive
step of declaring Modena and Reggio to be under the protection of
France. This act formed an exceedingly important departure in the
history of France as well as in that of Italy. Hitherto the Directory
had succeeded in keeping Bonaparte from active intervention in affairs
of high policy. In particular, it had enjoined on him the greatest
prudence with regard to the liberated lands of Italy, so as not to
involve France in prolonged intervention in the peninsula, or commit
her to a war _à outrance_ with the Hapsburgs; and its warnings were
now urged with all the greater emphasis because news had recently
reached Paris of a serious disaster to the French arms in Germany. But
while the Directors counselled prudence, Bonaparte forced their hand
by declaring the Duchy of Modena to be under the protection of France;
and when their discreet missive reached him, he expressed to them his
regret that it had come too late. By that time (October 24th) he had
virtually founded a new State, for whose security French honour was
deeply pledged. This implied the continuance of the French occupation
of Northern Italy and therefore a prolongation of Bonaparte's command.

It was not the Duchy of Modena alone which felt the invigorating
influence of democracy and nationality. The Papal cities of Bologna
and Ferrara had broken away from the Papal sway, and now sent deputies
to meet the champions of liberty at Modena and found a free
commonwealth. There amidst great enthusiasm was held the first truly
representative Italian assembly that had met for many generations; and
a levy of 2,800 volunteers, styled the Italian legion, was decreed.
Bonaparte visited these towns, stimulated their energy, and bade the
turbulent beware of his vengeance, which would be like that of "the
exterminating angel." In a brief space these districts were formed
into the Cispadane Republic, destined soon to be merged into a yet
larger creation. A new life breathed from Modena and Bologna into
Central Italy. The young republic forthwith abolished all feudal laws,
decreed civic equality, and ordered the convocation at Bologna of a
popularly elected Assembly for the Christmas following. These events
mark the first stage in the beginning of that grand movement, _Il
Risorgimento,_ which after long delays was finally consummated in
1870.

This period of Bonaparte's career may well be lingered over by those
who value his invigorating influence on Italian life more highly than
his military triumphs. At this epoch he was still the champion of the
best principles of the Revolution; he had overthrown Austrian
domination in the peninsula, and had shaken to their base domestic
tyrannies worse than that of the Hapsburgs. His triumphs were as yet
untarnished. If we except the plundering of the liberated and
conquered lands, an act for which the Directory was primarily
responsible, nothing was at this time lacking to the full orb of his
glory. An envoy bore him the welcome news that the English, wearied by
the intractable Corsicans, had evacuated the island of his birth; and
he forthwith arranged for the return of many of the exiles who had
been faithful to the French Republic. Among these was Salicetti, who
now returned for a time to his old insular sphere; while his former
_protégé_ was winning a world-wide fame. Then, turning to the affairs
of Central Italy, the young commander showed his diplomatic talents to
be not a whit inferior to his genius for war. One instance of this
must here suffice. He besought the Pope, who had broken off the
lingering negotiations with France, not to bring on his people the
horrors of war.[64] The beauty of this appeal, as also of a somewhat
earlier appeal to the Emperor Francis at Vienna, is, however,
considerably marred by other items which now stand revealed in
Bonaparte's instructive correspondence. After hearing of the French
defeats in Germany, he knew that the Directors could spare him very
few of the 25,000 troops whom he demanded as reinforcements.

He was also aware that the Pope, incensed at his recent losses in
money and lands, was seeking to revivify the First Coalition. The
pacific precepts addressed by the young Corsican to the Papacy must
therefore be viewed in the light of merely mundane events and of his
secret advice to the French agent at Rome: "The great thing is to gain
time.... Finally, the game really is for us to throw the ball from one
to the other, so as to deceive this old fox."[65]

From these diplomatic amenities the general was forced to turn to the
hazards of war. Gauging Bonaparte's missive at its true worth, the
Emperor determined to re-conquer Italy, an enterprise that seemed well
within his powers. In the month of October victory had crowned the
efforts of his troops in Germany. At Würzburg the Archduke Charles had
completely beaten Jourdan, and had thrown both his army and that of
Moreau back on the Rhine. Animated by reviving hopes, the Imperialists
now assembled some 60,000 strong. Alvintzy, a veteran of sixty years,
renowned for his bravery, but possessing little strategic ability, was
in command of some 35,000 men in the district of Friuli, north of
Trieste, covering that seaport from a threatened French attack. With
this large force he was to advance due west, towards the River Brenta,
while Davidovich, marching through Tyrol by the valley of the Adige,
was to meet him with the remainder near Verona. As Jomini has
observed, the Austrians gave themselves infinite trouble and
encountered grave risks in order to compass a junction of forces
which they might quietly have effected at the outset. Despite all
Bonaparte's lessons, the Aulic Council still clung to its old plan of
enveloping the foe and seeking to bewilder them by attacks delivered
from different sides. Possibly also they were emboldened by the
comparative smallness of Bonaparte's numbers to repeat this hazardous
manoeuvre.

The French could muster little more than 40,000 men; and of these at
least 8,000 were needed opposite Mantua.

At first the Imperialists gained important successes; for though the
French held their own on the Brenta, yet their forces in the Tyrol
were driven down the valley of the Adige with losses so considerable
that Bonaparte was constrained to order a general retreat on Verona.
He discerned that from this central position he could hold in check
Alvintzy's troops marching westwards from Vicenza and prevent their
junction with the Imperialists under Davidovich, who were striving to
thrust Vaubois' division from the plateau of Rivoli.

But before offering battle to Alvintzy outside Verona, Bonaparte paid
a flying visit to his men posted on that plateau in order to rebuke
the wavering and animate the whole body with his own dauntless spirit.
Forming the troops around him, he addressed two regiments in tones of
grief and anger. He reproached them for abandoning strong positions in
a panic, and ordered his chief staff officer to inscribe on their
colours the ominous words: "They are no longer of the Army of
Italy."[66] Stung by this reproach, the men begged with sobs that the
general would test their valour before disgracing them for ever. The
young commander, who must have counted on such a result to his words,
when uttered to French soldiers, thereupon promised to listen to their
appeals; and their bravery in the ensuing fights wiped every stain of
disgrace from their colours. By such acts as these did he nerve his
men against superior numbers and adverse fortune.

Their fortitude was to be severely tried at all points. Alvintzy
occupied a strong position on a line of hills at Caldiero, a few miles
to the east of Verona. His right wing was protected by the spurs of
the Tyrolese Alps, while his left was flanked by the marshes which
stretch between the rivers Alpon and Adige; and he protected his front
by cannon skilfully ranged along the hills. All the bravery of
Masséna's troops failed to dislodge the right wing of the
Imperialists. The French centre was torn by the Austrian cannon and
musketry. A pitiless storm of rain and sleet hindered the advance of
the French guns and unsteadied the aim of the gunners; and finally
they withdrew into Verona, leaving behind 2,000 killed and wounded,
and 750 prisoners (November 12th). This defeat at Caldiero--for it is
idle to speak of it merely as a check--opened up a gloomy vista of
disasters for the French; and Bonaparte, though he disguised his fears
before his staff and the soldiery, forthwith wrote to the Directors
that the army felt itself abandoned at the further end of Italy, and
that this fair conquest seemed about to be lost. With his usual device
of under-rating his own forces and exaggerating those of his foes, he
stated that the French both at Verona and Rivoli were only 18,000,
while the grand total of the Imperialists was upwards of 50,000. But
he must have known that for the present he had to deal with rather
less than half that number. The greater part of the Tyrolese force
had not as yet descended the Adige below Roveredo; and allowing for
detachments and losses, Alvintzy's array at Caldiero barely exceeded
20,000 effectives.

Bonaparte now determined to hazard one of the most daring turning
movements which history records. It was necessary at all costs to
drive Alvintzy from the heights of Caldiero before the Tyrolese
columns should overpower Vaubois' detachment at Rivoli and debouch in
the plains west of Verona. But, as Caldiero could not be taken by a
front attack, it must be turned by a flanking movement. To any other
general than Bonaparte this would have appeared hopeless; but where
others saw nothing but difficulties, his eye discerned a means of
safety. South and south-east of those hills lies a vast depression
swamped by the flood waters of the Alpon and the Adige. Morasses
stretch for some miles west of the village of Arcola, through which
runs a road up the eastern bank of the Alpon, crossing that stream at
the aforenamed village and leading to the banks of the Adige opposite
the village of Ronco; another causeway, diverging from the former a
little to the north of Ronco, leads in a north-westerly direction
towards Porcil. By advancing from Ronco along these causeways, and by
seizing Arcola, Bonaparte designed to outflank the Austrians and tempt
them into an arena where the personal prowess of the French veterans
would have ample scope, and where numbers would be of secondary
importance. Only heads of columns could come into direct contact; and
the formidable Austrian cavalry could not display its usual prowess.
On these facts Bonaparte counted as a set-off to his slight
inferiority in numbers.

In the dead of night the divisions of Augereau and Masséna retired
through Verona. Officers and soldiers were alike deeply discouraged by
this movement, which seemed to presage a retreat towards the Mincio
and the abandonment of Lombardy. To their surprise, when outside the
gate they received the order to turn to the left down the western bank
of the Adige. At Ronco the mystery was solved. A bridge of boats had
there been thrown across the Adige; and, crossing this without
opposition, Augereau's troops rapidly advanced along the causeway
leading to Arcola and menaced the Austrian rear, while Masséna's
column denied north-west, so as directly to threaten his flank at
Caldiero. The surprise, however, was by no means complete; for
Alvintzy himself purposed to cross the Adige at Zevio, so as to make a
dash on Mantua, and in order to protect his flank he had sent a
detachment of Croats to hold Arcola. These now stoutly disputed
Augereau's progress, pouring in from the loopholed cottages volleys
which tore away the front of every column of attack. In vain did
Augereau, seizing the colours, lead his foremost regiment to the
bridge of Arcola. Riddled by the musketry, his men fell back in
disorder. In vain did Bonaparte himself, dismounting from his charger,
seize a flag, rally these veterans and lead them towards the bridge.
The Croats, constantly reinforced, poured in so deadly a fire as to
check the advance: Muiron, Marmont, and a handful of gallant men still
pressed on, thereby screening the body of their chief; but Muiron fell
dead, and another officer, seizing Bonaparte, sought to drag him back
from certain death. The column wavered under the bullets, fell back to
the further side of the causeway, and in the confusion the commander
fell into the deep dyke at the side. Agonized at the sight, the French
rallied, while Marmont and Louis Bonaparte rescued their beloved chief
from capture or from a miry death, and he retired to Ronco, soon
followed by the wearied troops.[67]

[Illustration: PLAN TO ILLUSTRATE THE VICTORY OF ARCOLA.]

This memorable first day of fighting at Arcola (November 15th) closed
on the strange scene of two armies encamped on dykes, exhausted by an
almost amphibious conflict, like that waged by the Dutch "Beggars" in
their war of liberation against Spain. Though at Arcola the
republicans had been severely checked, yet further west Masséna had
held his own; and the French movement as a whole had compelled
Alvintzy to suspend any advance on Verona or on Mantua, to come down
from the heights of Caldiero, and to fight on ground where his
superior numbers were of little avail. This was seen on the second day
of fighting on the dykes opposite Arcola, which was, on the whole,
favourable to the smaller veteran force. On the third day Bonaparte
employed a skilful ruse to add to the discouragement of his foes. He
posted a small body of horsemen behind a spinney near the Austrian
flank, with orders to sound their trumpets as if for a great cavalry
charge. Alarmed by the noise and by the appearance of French troops
from the side of Legnago and behind Arcola, the demoralized
white-coats suddenly gave way and retreated for Vicenza.

Victory again declared for the troops who could dare the longest, and
whose general was never at a loss in face of any definite danger. Both
armies suffered severely in these desperate conflicts;[68] but, while
the Austrians felt that the cup of victory had been snatched from
their very lips, the French soldiery were dazzled by this transcendent
exploit of their chief. They extolled his bravery, which almost vied
with the fabulous achievement of Horatius Cocles, and adored the
genius which saw safety and victory for his discouraged army amidst
swamps and dykes. Bonaparte himself, with that strange mingling of the
practical and the superstitious which forms the charm of his
character, ever afterwards dated the dawn of his fortune in its full
splendour from those hours of supreme crisis among the morasses of
Arcola. But we may doubt whether this posing as the favourite of
fortune was not the result of his profound knowledge of the credulity
of the vulgar herd, which admires genius and worships bravery, but
grovels before persistent good luck.

Though it is difficult to exaggerate the skill and bravery of the
French leader and his troops, the failure of his opponents is
inexplicable but for the fact that most of their troops were unable to
manoeuvre steadily in the open, that Alvintzy was inexperienced as a
commander-in-chief, and was hampered throughout by a bad plan of
campaign. Meanwhile the other Austrian army, led by Davidovich, had
driven Vaubois from his position at Rivoli; and had the Imperialist
generals kept one another informed of their moves, or had Alvintzy,
disregarding a blare of trumpets and a demonstration on his flank and
rear, clung to Arcola for two days longer--the French would have been
nipped between superior forces. But, as it was, the lack of accord in
the Austrian movements nearly ruined the Tyrolese wing, which pushed
on triumphantly towards Verona, while Alvintzy was retreating
eastwards. Warned just in time, Davidovich hastily retreated to
Roveredo, leaving a whole battalion in the hands of the French. To
crown this chapter of blunders, Würmser, whose sortie after Caldiero
might have been most effective, tardily essayed to break through the
blockaders, when both his colleagues were in retreat. How different
were these ill-assorted moves from those of Bonaparte. His maxims
throughout this campaign, and his whole military career, were: (1)
divide for foraging, concentrate for fighting; (2) unity of command is
essential for success; (3) time is everything. This firm grasp of the
essentials of modern warfare insured his triumph over enemies who
trusted to obsolete methods for the defence of antiquated
polities.[69]

The battle of Arcola had an important influence on the fate of Italy
and Europe. In the peninsula all the elements hostile to the
republicans were preparing for an explosion in their rear which should
reaffirm the old saying that Italy was the tomb of the French. Naples
had signed terms of peace with them, it is true; but the natural
animosity of the Vatican against its despoilers could easily have
leagued the south of Italy with the other States that were working
secretly for their expulsion. While the Austrians were victoriously
advancing, these aims were almost openly avowed, and at the close of
the year 1796 Bonaparte moved south to Bologna in order to guide the
Italian patriots in their deliberations and menace the Pope with an
invasion of the Roman States. From this the Pontiff was for the
present saved by new efforts on the part of Austria. But before
describing the final attempt of the Hapsburgs to wrest Italy from
their able adversary, it will be well to notice his growing ascendancy
in diplomatic affairs.

While Bonaparte was struggling in the marshes of Arcola, the Directory
was on the point of sending to Vienna an envoy, General Clarke, with
proposals for an armistice preliminary to negotiations for peace with
Austria. This step was taken, because France was distracted by open
revolt in the south, by general discontent in the west, and by the
retreat of her Rhenish armies, now flung back on the soil of the
Republic by the Austrian Arch-duke Charles. Unable to support large
forces in the east of France out of its bankrupt exchequer, the
Directory desired to be informed of the state of feeling at Vienna. It
therefore sent Clarke with offers, which might enable him to look into
the political and military situation at the enemy's capital, and see
whether peace could not be gained at the price of some of Bonaparte's
conquests. The envoy was an elegant and ambitious young man, descended
from an Irish family long settled in France, who had recently gained
Carnot's favour, and now desired to show his diplomatic skill by
subjecting Bonaparte to the present aims of the Directory.

The Directors' secret instructions reveal the plans which they then
harboured for the reconstruction of the Continent. Having arranged an
armistice which should last up to the end of the next spring, Clarke
was to set forth arrangements which might suit the House of Hapsburg.
He might discuss the restitution of all their possessions in Italy,
and the acquisition of the Bishopric of Salzburg and other smaller
German and Swabian territories: or, if she did not recover the
Milanese, Austria might gain the northern parts of the Papal States as
compensation; and the Duke of Tuscany--a Hapsburg--might reign at
Rome, yielding up his duchy to the Duke of Parma; while, as this last
potentate was a Spanish Bourbon, France might for her good offices to
this House gain largely from Spain in America.[70] In these and other
proposals two methods of bargaining are everywhere prominent. The
great States are in every case to gain at the expense of their weaker
neighbours; Austria is to be appeased; and France is to reap enormous
gains ultimately at the expense of smaller Germanic or Italian States.
These facts should clearly be noted. Napoleon was afterwards
deservedly blamed for carrying out these unprincipled methods; but, at
the worst, he only developed them from those of the Directors, who,
with the cant of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity on their lips,
battened on the plunder of the liberated lands, and cynically proposed
to share the spoil of weaker States with the potentates against whom
they publicly declaimed as tyrants.

The chief aim of these negotiations, so Clarke was assured, was to
convince the Court of Vienna that it would get better terms by
treating with France directly and alone, rather than by joining in the
negotiations which had recently been opened at Paris by England. But
the Viennese Ministers refused to allow Clarke to proceed to their
capital, and appointed Vicenza as the seat of the deliberations.

They were brief. Through the complex web of civilian intrigue,
Bonaparte forthwith thrust the mailed hand of the warrior. He had
little difficulty in proving to Clarke that the situation was
materially altered by the battle of Arcola. The fall of Mantua was now
only a matter of weeks. To allow its provisions to be replenished for
the term of the armistice was an act that no successful general could
tolerate. For that fortress the whole campaign had been waged, and
three Austrian armies had been hurled back into Tyrol and Friuli. Was
it now to be provisioned, in order that the Directory might barter
away the Cispadane Republic? He speedily convinced Clarke of the
fatuity of the Directors' proposals. He imbued him with his own
contempt for an armistice that would rob the victors of their prize;
and, as the Court of Vienna still indulged hopes of success in Italy,
Clarke's negotiations at Vicenza came to a speedy conclusion.

In another important matter the Directory also completely failed.
Nervous as to Bonaparte's ambition, it had secretly ordered Clarke to
watch his conduct and report privately to Paris. Whether warned by a
friend at Court, or forearmed by his own sagacity, Bonaparte knew of
this, and in his intercourse with Clarke deftly let the fact be seen.
He quickly gauged Clarke's powers, and the aim of his mission. "He is
a spy," he remarked a little later to Miot, "whom the Directory have
set upon me: he is a man of no talent--only conceited." The splendour
of his achievements and the mingled grace and authority of his
demeanour so imposed on the envoy that he speedily fell under the
influence of the very man whom he was to watch, and became his
enthusiastic adherent.

Bonaparte was at Bologna, supervising the affairs of the Cispadane
Republic, when he heard that the Austrians were making a last effort
for the relief of Mantua. Another plan had been drawn up by the Aulic
Council at Vienna. Alvintzy, after recruiting his wearied force at
Bassano, was quickly to join the Tyrolese column at Roveredo, thereby
forming an army of 28,000 men wherewith to force the position of
Rivoli and drive the French in on Mantua: 9,000 Imperialists under
Provera were also to advance from the Brenta upon Legnago, in order to
withdraw the attention of the French from the real attempt made by the
valley of the Adige; while 10,000 others at Bassano and elsewhere were
to assail the French front at different points and hinder their
concentration. It will be observed that the errors of July and
November, 1796, were now yet a third time to be committed: the forces
destined merely to make diversions were so strengthened as not to be
merely light bodies distracting the aim of the French, while
Alvintzy's main force was thereby so weakened as to lack the impact
necessary for victory.

Nevertheless, the Imperialists at first threw back their foes with
some losses; and Bonaparte, hurrying northwards to Verona, was for
some hours in a fever of uncertainty as to the movements and strength
of the assailants. Late at night on January 13th he knew that
Provera's advance was little more than a demonstration, and that the
real blow would fall on the 10,000 men marshalled by Joubert at Monte
Baldo and Rivoli. Forthwith he rode to the latter place, and changed
retreat and discouragement into a vigorous offensive by the news that
13,000 more men were on the march to defend the strong position of
Rivoli.

The great defensive strength of this plateau had from the first
attracted his attention. There the Adige in a sharp bend westward
approaches within six miles of Lake Garda. There, too, the mountains,
which hem in the gorge of the river on its right bank, bend away
towards the lake and leave a vast natural amphitheatre, near the
centre of which rises the irregular plateau that commands the exit
from Tyrol. Over this plateau towers on the north Monte Baldo, which,
near the river gorge, sends out southward a sloping ridge, known as
San Marco, connecting it with the plateau. At the foot of this spur is
the summit of the road which leads the traveller from Trent to Verona;
and, as he halts at the top of the zigzag, near the village of Rivoli,
his eye sweeps over the winding gorge of the river beneath, the
threatening mass of Monte Baldo on the north, and on the west of the
village he gazes down on a natural depression which has been sharply
furrowed by a torrent. The least experienced eye can see that the
position is one of great strength. It is a veritable parade ground
among the mountains, almost cut off from them by the ceaseless action
of water, and destined for the defence of the plains of Italy. A small
force posted at the head of the winding roadway can hold at bay an
army toiling up from the valley; but, as at Thermopylae, the position
is liable to be outflanked by an enterprising foe, who should scale
the footpath leading over the western offshoots of Monte Baldo, and,
fording the stream at its foot, should then advance eastwards against
the village. This, in part, was Alvintzy's plan, and having nearly
28,000 men,[71] he doubted not that his enveloping tactics must
capture Joubert's division of 10,000 men. So daunted was even this
brave general by the superior force of his foes that he had ordered a
retreat southwards when an aide-de-camp arrived at full gallop and
ordered him to hold Rivoli at all costs. Bonaparte's arrival at 4 a.m.
explained the order, and an attack made during the darkness wrested
from the Austrians the chapel on the San Marco ridge which stands on
the ridge above the zigzag track. The reflection of the Austrian
watch-fires in the wintry sky showed him their general position. To an
unskilled observer the wide sweep of the glare portended ruin for the
French. To the eye of Bonaparte the sight brought hope. It proved that
his foes were still bent on their old plan of enveloping him: and from
information which he treacherously received from Alvintzy's staff he
must have known that that commander had far fewer than the 45,000 men
which he ascribed to him in bulletins.

[Illustration: NEIGHBOURHOOD OF RIVOLI.]

Yet the full dawn of that January day saw the Imperialists flushed
with success, as their six separate columns drove in the French
outposts and moved towards Rivoli. Of these, one was on the eastern
side of the Adige and merely cannonaded across the valley: another
column wound painfully with most of the artillery and cavalry along
the western bank, making for the village of Incanale and the foot of
the zigzag leading up to Rivoli: three others denied over Monte Baldo
by difficult paths impassable to cannon: while the sixth and
westernmost column, winding along the ridge near Lake Garda, likewise
lacked the power which field-guns and horsemen would have added to its
important turning movement. Never have natural obstacles told more
potently on the fortunes of war than at Rivoli; for on the side where
the assailants most needed horses and guns they could not be used;
while on the eastern edge of their broken front their cannon and
horse, crowded together in the valley of the Adige, had to climb the
winding road under the plunging fire of the French infantry and
artillery. Nevertheless, such was the ardour of the Austrian attack,
that the tide of battle at first set strongly in their favour. Driving
the French from the San Marco ridge and pressing their centre hard
between Monte Baldo and Rivoli, they made it possible for their troops
in the valley to struggle on towards the foot of the zigzag; and on
the west their distant right wing was already beginning to threaten
the French rear. Despite the arrival of Masséna's troops from Verona
about 9 a.m., the republicans showed signs of unsteadiness. Joubert on
the ground above the Adige, Berthier in the centre, and Masséna on the
left, were gradually forced back. An Austrian column, advancing from
the side of Monte Baldo by the narrow ravine, stole round the flank of
a French regiment in front of Masséna's division, and by a vigorous
charge sent it flying in a panic which promised to spread to another
regiment thus uncovered. This was too much for the veteran, already
dubbed "the spoilt child of victory "; he rushed to its captain,
bitterly upbraided him and the other officers, and finally showered
blows on them with the flat of his sword. Then, riding at full speed
to two tried regiments of his own division, he ordered them to check
the foe; and these invincible heroes promptly drove back the
assailants. Even so, however, the valour of the best French regiments
and the skill of Masséna, Berthier, and Joubert barely sufficed to
hold back the onstreaming tide of white-coats opposite Rivoli.

Yet even at this crisis the commander, confident in his central
position, and knowing his ability to ward off the encircling swoops of
the Austrian eagle, maintained that calm demeanour which moved the
wonder of smaller minds. His confidence in his seasoned troops was not
misplaced. The Imperialists, overburdened by long marches and faint
now for lack of food, could not maintain their first advantage. Some
of their foremost troops, that had won the broken ground in front of
St. Mark's Chapel, were suddenly charged by French horse; they fled in
panic, crying out, "French cavalry!" and the space won was speedily
abandoned to the tricolour. This sudden rebuff was to dash all their
hopes of victory; for at that crisis of the day the chief Austrian
column of nearly 8,000 men was struggling up the zigzag ascent leading
from the valley of the Adige to the plateau, in the fond hope that
their foes were by this time driven from the summit. Despite the
terrible fire that tore their flanks, the Imperialists were clutching
desperately at the plateau, when Bonaparte put forth his full striking
power. He could now assail the crowded ranks of the doomed column in
front and on both flanks. A charge of Leclerc's horse and of Joubert's
infantry crushed its head; volleys of cannon and musketry from the
plateau tore its sides; an ammunition wagon exploded in its midst; and
the great constrictor forthwith writhed its bleeding coils back into
the valley, where it lay crushed and helpless for the rest of the
fight.

Animated by this lightning stroke of their commander, the French
turned fiercely towards Monte Baldo and drove back their opponents
into the depression at its foot. But already at their rear loud shouts
warned them of a new danger. The western detachment of the
Imperialists had meanwhile worked round their rear, and, ignorant of
the fate of their comrades, believed that Bonaparte's army was caught
in a trap. The eyes of all the French staff officers were now turned
anxiously on their commander, who quietly remarked, "We have them
now." He knew, in fact, that other French troops marching up from
Verona would take these new foes in the rear; and though Junot and his
horsemen failed to cut their way through so as to expedite their
approach, yet speedily a French regiment burst through the encircling
line and joined in the final attack which drove these last assailants
from the heights south of Rivoli, and later on compelled them to
surrender.

Thus closed the desperate battle of Rivoli (January 14th). Defects in
the Austrian position and the opportune arrival of French
reinforcements served to turn an Austrian success into a complete
rout. Circumstances which to a civilian may seem singly to be of small
account sufficed to tilt the trembling scales of warfare, and
Alvintzy's army now reeled helplessly back into Tyrol with a total
loss of 15,000 men and of nearly all its artillery and stores. Leaving
Joubert to pursue it towards Trent, Bonaparte now flew southwards
towards Mantua, whither Provera had cut his way. Again his untiring
energy, his insatiable care for all probable contingencies, reaped a
success which the ignorant may charge to the account of his fortune.
Strengthening Augereau's division by light troops, he captured the
whole of Provera's army at La Favorita, near the walls of Mantua
(January 16th). The natural result of these two dazzling triumphs was
the fall of the fortress for which the Emperor Francis had risked and
lost five armies. Würmser surrendered Mantua on February 2nd with
18,000 men and immense supplies of arms and stores. The close of this
wondrous campaign was graced by an act of clemency. Generous terms
were accorded to the veteran marshal, whose fidelity to blundering
councillors at Vienna had thrown up in brilliant relief the prudence,
audacity, and resourcefulness of the young war-god.

It was now time to chastise the Pope for his support of the enemies of
France. The Papalini proved to be contemptible as soldiers. They fled
before the republicans, and a military promenade brought the invaders
to Ancona, and then inland to Tolentino, where Pius VI. sued for
peace. The resulting treaty signed at that place (February 19th)
condemned the Holy See to close its ports to the allies, especially to
the English; to acknowledge the acquisition of Avignon by France, and
the establishment of the Cispadane Republic at Bologna, Ferrara, and
the surrounding districts; to pay 30,000,000 francs to the French
Government; and to surrender 100 works of art to the victorious
republicans.

It is needless to describe the remaining stages in Bonaparte's
campaign against Austria. Hitherto he had contended against fairly
good, though discontented and discouraged troops, badly led, and
hampered by the mountain barrier which separated them from their real
base of operations. In the last part of the war he fought against
troops demoralized by an almost unbroken chain of disasters. The
Austrians were now led by a brave and intelligent general, the
Archduke Charles; but he was hampered by rigorous instructions from
Vienna, by senile and indolent generals, by the indignation or despair
of the younger officers at the official favouritism which left them in
obscurity, and by the apathy of soldiers who had lost heart. Neither
his skill nor the natural strength of their positions in Friuli and
Carinthia could avail against veterans flushed with victory and
marshalled with unerring sagacity. The rest of the war only served to
emphasize the truth of Napoleon's later statement, that the moral
element constitutes three-fourths of an army's strength. The barriers
offered by the River Tagliamento and the many commanding heights of
the Carnic and the Noric Alps were as nothing to the triumphant
republicans; and from the heights that guard the province of Styria,
the genius of Napoleon flashed as a terrifying portent to the Court of
Vienna and the potentates of Central Europe. When the tricolour
standards were nearing the town of Leoben, the Emperor Francis sent
envoys to sue for peace;[72] and the preliminaries signed there,
within one hundred miles of the Austrian capital, closed the campaign
which a year previously had opened with so little promise for the
French on the narrow strip of land between the Maritime Alps and the
petty township of Savona.

These brilliant results were due primarily to the consummate
leadership of Bonaparte. His geographical instincts discerned the
means of profiting by natural obstacles and of turning them when they
seemed to screen his opponents. Prompt to divine their plans, he
bewildered them by the audacity of his combinations, which overbore
their columns with superior force at the very time when he seemed
doomed to succumb. Genius so commanding had not been displayed even by
Frederick or Marlborough. And yet these brilliant results could not
have been achieved by an army which rarely exceeded 45,000 men without
the strenuous bravery and tactical skill of the best generals of
division, Augereau, Masséna, and Joubert, as well as of officers who
had shown their worth in many a doubtful fight; Lannes, the hero of
Lodi and Arcola; Marmont, noted for his daring advance of the guns at
Castiglione; Victor, who justified his name by hard fighting at La
Favorita; Murat, the _beau sabreur_, and Junot, both dashing cavalry
generals; and many more whose daring earned them a soldier's death in
order to gain glory for France and liberty for Italy. Still less ought
the soldiery to be forgotten; those troops, whose tattered uniforms
bespoke their ceaseless toils, who grumbled at the frequent lack of
bread, but, as Masséna observed, never _before_ a battle, who even in
retreat never doubted the genius of their chief, and fiercely rallied
at the longed-for sign of fighting. The source of this marvellous
energy is not hard to discover. Their bravery was fed by that
wellspring of hope which had made of France a nation of free men
determined to free the millions beyond their frontiers. The French
columns were "equality on the march"; and the soldiery, animated by
this grand enthusiasm, found its militant embodiment in the great
captain who seemed about to liberate Italy and Central Europe.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER VII

LEOBEN TO CAMPO FORMIO


In signing the preliminaries of peace at Leoben, which formed in part
the basis for the Treaty of Campo Formio, Bonaparte appears as a
diplomatist of the first rank. He had already signed similar articles
with the Court of Turin and with the Vatican. But such a transaction
with the Emperor was infinitely more important than with the
third-rate powers of the peninsula. He now essays his first flight to
the highest levels of international diplomacy. In truth, his mental
endowments, like those of many of the greatest generals, were no less
adapted to success in the council-chamber than on the field of battle;
for, indeed, the processes of thought and the methods of action are
not dissimilar in the spheres of diplomacy and war. To evade obstacles
on which an opponent relies, to multiply them in his path, to bewilder
him by feints before overwhelming him by a crushing onset, these are
the arts which yield success either to the negotiator or to the
commander.

In imposing terms of peace on the Emperor at Leoben (April 18th,
1797), Bonaparte reduced the Directory, and its envoy, Clarke, who was
absent in Italy, to a subordinate _rôle_. As commander-in-chief, he
had power only to conclude a brief armistice, but now he signed the
preliminaries of peace. His excuse to the Directory was ingenious.
While admitting the irregularity of his conduct, he pleaded the
isolated position of his army, and the absence of Clarke, and that,
under the circumstances, his act had been merely "a military
operation." He could also urge that he had in his rear a disaffected
Venetia, and that he believed the French armies on the Rhine to be
stationary and unable to cross that river. But the very tardy advent
of Clarke on the scene strengthens the supposition that Bonaparte was
at the time by no means loth to figure as the pacifier of the
Continent. Had he known the whole truth, namely, that the French were
gaining a battle on the east bank of the Rhine while the terms of
peace were being signed at Leoben, he would most certainly have broken
off the negotiations and have dictated harsher terms at the gates of
Vienna. That was the vision which shone before his eyes three years
previously, when he sketched to his friends at Nice the plan of
campaign, beginning at Savona and ending before the Austrian capital;
and great was his chagrin at hearing the tidings of Moreau's success
on April 20th. The news reached him on his return from Leoben to
Italy, when he was detained for a few hours by a sudden flood of the
River Tagliamento. At once he determined to ride back and make some
excuse for a rupture with Austria; and only the persistent
remonstrances of Berthier turned him from this mad resolve, which
would forthwith have exhibited him to the world as estimating more
highly the youthful promptings of destiny than the honour of a French
negotiator.

The terms which he had granted to the Emperor were lenient enough. The
only definitive gain to France was the acquisition of the Austrian
Netherlands (Belgium), for which troublesome possession the Emperor
was to have compensation elsewhere. Nothing absolutely binding was
said about the left, or west, bank of the Rhine, except that Austria
recognized the "constitutional limits" of France, but reaffirmed the
integrity of "The Empire."[73] These were contradictory statements;
for France had declared the Rhine to be her natural boundary, and the
old "Empire" included Belgium, Trèves, and Luxemburg. But, for the
interpretation of these vague formularies, the following secret and
all-important articles were appended. While the Emperor renounced that
part of his Italian possessions which lay to the west of the Oglio, he
was to receive all the mainland territories of Venice east of that
river, including Dalmatia and Istria, Venice was also to cede her
lands west of the Oglio to the French Government; and in return for
these sacrifices she was to gain the three legations of Romagna,
Ferrara, and Bologna--the very lands which Bonaparte had recently
formed into the Cispadane Republic! For the rest, the Emperor would
have to recognize the proposed Republic at Milan, as also that already
existing at Modena, "compensation" being somewhere found for the
deposed duke.

From the correspondence of Thugut, the Austrian Minister, it appears
certain that Austria herself had looked forward to the partition of
the Venetian mainland territories, and this was the scheme which
Bonaparte _actually proposed to her at Leoben_. Still more
extraordinary was his proposal to sacrifice, ostensibly to Venice but
ultimately to Austria, the greater part of the Cispadane Republic. It
is, indeed, inexplicable, except on the ground that his military
position at Leoben was more brilliant than secure. His uneasiness
about this article of the preliminaries is seen in his letter of April
22nd to the Directors, which explains that the preliminaries need not
count for much. But most extraordinary of all was his procedure
concerning the young Lombard Republic. He seems quite calmly to have
discussed its retrocession to the Austrians, and that, too, after he
had encouraged the Milanese to found a republic, and had declared that
every French victory was "a line of the constitutional charter."[74]
The most reasonable explanation is that Bonaparte over-estimated the
military strength of Austria, and undervalued the energy of the men of
Milan, Modena, and Bologna, of whose levies he spoke most
contemptuously. Certain it is that he desired to disengage himself
from their affairs so as to be free for the grander visions of
oriental conquest that now haunted his imagination. Whatever were his
motives in signing the preliminaries at Leoben, he speedily found
means for their modification in the ever-enlarging area of negotiable
lands.

It is now time to return to the affairs of Venice. For seven months
the towns and villages of that republic had been a prey to pitiless
warfare and systematic rapacity, a fate which the weak ruling
oligarchy could neither avert nor avenge. In the western cities,
Bergamo and Brescia, whose interests and feelings linked them with
Milan rather than Venice, the populace desired an alliance with the
nascent republic on the west and a severance from the gloomy
despotism of the Queen of the Adriatic. Though glorious in her prime,
she now governed with obscurantist methods inspired by fear of her
weakness becoming manifest; and Bonaparte, tearing off the mask which
hitherto had screened her dotage, left her despised by the more
progressive of her own subjects. Even before he first entered the
Venetian territory, he set forth to the Directory the facilities for
plunder and partition which it offered. Referring to its reception of
the Comte de Provence (the future Louis XVIII.) and the occupation of
Peschiera by the Austrians, he wrote (June 6th, 1796):

     "If your plan is to extract five or six million francs from Venice,
     I have expressly prepared for you this sort of rupture with her....
     If you have intentions more pronounced, I think that you ought to
     continue this subject of contention, instruct me as to your
     desires, and wait for the favourable opportunity, which I will
     seize according to circumstances, for we must not have everybody on
     our hands at the same time."

The events which now transpired in Venetia gave him excuses for the
projected partition. The weariness felt by the Brescians and
Bergamesques for Venetian rule had been artfully played on by the
Jacobins of Milan and by the French Generals Kilmaine and Landrieux;
and an effort made by the Venetian officials to repress the growing
discontent brought about disturbances in which some men of the
"Lombard legion" were killed. The complicity of the French in the
revolt is clearly established by the Milanese journals and by the fact
that Landrieux forthwith accepted the command of the rebels at Bergamo
and Brescia.[75] But while these cities espoused the Jacobin cause,
most of the Venetian towns and all the peasantry remained faithful to
the old Government. It was clear that a conflict must ensue, even if
Bonaparte and some of his generals had not secretly worked to bring it
about. That he and they did so work cannot now be disputed. The circle
of proof is complete. The events at Brescia and Bergamo were part of
a scheme for precipitating a rupture with Venice; and their success
was so far assured that Bonaparte at Leoben secretly bargained away
nearly the whole of the Venetian lands. Furthermore, a fortnight
before the signing of these preliminaries, he had suborned a vile
wretch, Salvatori by name, to issue a proclamation purporting to come
from the Venetian authorities, which urged the people everywhere to
rise and massacre the French. It was issued on April 5th, though it
bore the date of March 20th. At once the Doge warned his people that
it was a base fabrication, But the mischief had been done. On Easter
Monday (April 17th) a chance affray in Verona let loose the passions
which had been rising for months past: the populace rose in fury
against the French detachment quartered on them: and all the soldiers
who could not find shelter in the citadel, even the sick in the
hospitals, fell victims to the craving for revenge for the
humiliations and exactions of the last seven months.[76] Such was
Easter-tide at Verona--_les Pâques véronaises_--an event that recalls
the Sicilian Vespers of Palermo in its blind southern fury.

The finale somewhat exceeded Bonaparte's expectations, but he must
have hailed it with a secret satisfaction. It gave him a good excuse
for wholly extinguishing Venice as an independent power. According to
the secret articles signed at Leoben, the city of Venice was to have
retained her independence and gained the Legations. But her contumacy
could now be chastised by annihilation. Venice could, in fact,
indemnify the Hapsburgs for the further cessions which France exacted
from them elsewhere; and in the process Bonaparte would free himself
from the blame which attached to his hasty signature of the
preliminaries at Leoben.[77] He was now determined to secure the Rhine
frontier for France, to gain independence, under French tutelage, not
only for the Lombard Republic, but also for Modena and the Legations.
These were his aims during the negotiations to which he gave the full
force of his intellect during the spring and summer of 1797.

The first thing was to pour French troops into Italy so as to extort
better terms: the next was to declare war on Venice. For this there
was now ample justification; for, apart from the massacre at Verona,
another outrage had been perpetrated. A French corsair, which had
persisted in anchoring in a forbidden part of the harbour of Venice,
had been riddled by the batteries and captured. For this act, and for
the outbreak at Verona, the Doge and Senate offered ample reparation:
but Bonaparte refused to listen to these envoys, "dripping with French
blood," and haughtily bade Venice evacuate her mainland
territories.[78] For various reasons he decided to use guile rather
than force. He found in Venice a secretary of the French legation,
Villetard by name, who could be trusted dextrously to undermine the
crumbling fabric of the oligarchy.[79] This man persuaded the
terrified populace that nothing would appease the fury of the
French general but the deposition of the existing oligarchy and the
formation of a democratic municipality. The people and the patricians
alike swallowed the bait; and the once haughty Senate tamely
pronounced its own doom. Disorders naturally occurred on the downfall
of the ancient oligarchy, especially when the new municipality ordered
the removal of Venetian men-of-war into the hands of the French and
the introduction of French troops by help of Venetian vessels. A
mournful silence oppressed even the democrats when 5,000 French troops
entered Venice on board the flotilla. The famous State, which for
centuries had ruled the waters of the Levant, and had held the fierce
Turks at bay, a people numbering 3,000,000 souls and boasting a
revenue of 9,000,000 ducats, now struck not one blow against
conquerors who came in the guise of liberators.

On the same day Bonaparte signed at Milan a treaty of alliance with
the envoys of the new Venetian Government. His friendship was to be
dearly bought. In secret articles, which were of more import than the
vague professions of amity which filled the public document, it was
stipulated that the French and Venetian Republics should come to an
understanding as to the _exchange_ of certain territories, that Venice
should pay a contribution in money and in materials of war, should aid
the French navy by furnishing three battleships and two frigates, and
should enrich the museums of her benefactress by 20 paintings and 500
manuscripts. While he was signing these conditions of peace, the
Directors were despatching from Paris a declaration of war against
Venice. Their decision was already obsolete: it was founded on
Bonaparte's despatch of April 30th; but in the interval their
proconsul had wholly changed the situation by overthrowing the rule of
the Doge and Senate, and by setting up a democracy, through which he
could extract the wealth of that land. The Directors' declaration of
war was accordingly stopped at Milan, and no more was heard of it.
They were thus forcibly reminded of the truth of his previous warning
that things would certainly go wrong unless they consulted him on all
important details.[80]

This treaty of Milan was the fourth important convention concluded by
the general, who, at the beginning of the campaign of 1796, had been
forbidden even to sign an armistice without consulting Salicetti!

It was speedily followed by another, which in many respects redounds
to the credit of the young conqueror. If his conduct towards Venice
inspires loathing, his treatment of Genoa must excite surprise and
admiration. Apart from one very natural outburst of spleen, it shows
little of that harshness which might have been expected from the man
who had looked on Genoa as the embodiment of mean despotism. Up to the
summer of 1796 Bonaparte seems to have retained something of his old
detestation of that republic; for at midsummer, when he was in the
full career of his Italian conquests, he wrote to Faypoult, the French
envoy at Genoa, urging him to keep open certain cases that were in
dispute, and three weeks later he again wrote that the time for Genoa
had not yet come. Any definite action against this wealthy city was,
indeed, most undesirable during the campaign; for the bankers of
Genoa supplied the French army with the sinews of war by means of
secret loans, and their merchants were equally complaisant in regard
to provisions. These services were appreciated by Bonaparte as much as
they were resented by Nelson; and possibly the succour which Genoese
money and shipping covertly rendered to the French expeditions for
the recovery of Corsica may have helped to efface from Bonaparte's
memory the associations clustering around the once-revered name of
Paoli. From ill-concealed hostility he drifted into a position of
tolerance and finally of friendship towards Genoa, provided that she
became democratic. If her institutions could be assimilated to those
of France, she might prove a valuable intermediary or ally.

The destruction of the Genoese oligarchy presented no great
difficulties. Both Venice and Genoa had long outlived their power, and
the persistent violation of their neutrality had robbed them of that
last support of the weak, self-respect. The intrigues of Faypoult and
Salicetti were undermining the influence of the Doge and Senate, when
the news of the fall of the Venetian oligarchy spurred on the French
party to action, But the Doge and Senate armed bands of mountaineers
and fishermen who were hostile to change; and in a long and desperate
conflict in the narrow streets of Genoa the democrats were completely
worsted (May 23rd). The victors thereupon ransacked the houses of the
opposing faction and found lists of names of those who were to have
been proscribed, besides documents which revealed the complicity of
the French agents in the rising. Bonaparte was enraged at the folly of
the Genoese democrats, which deranged his plans. As he wrote to the
Directory, if they had only remained quiet for a fortnight, the
oligarchy would have collapsed from sheer weakness. The murder of a
few Frenchmen and Milanese now gave him an excuse for intervention. He
sent an aide-de-camp, Lavalette, charged with a vehement diatribe
against the Doge and Senate, which lost nothing in its recital before
that august body. At the close a few senators called out, "Let us
fight": but the spirit of the Dorias flickered away with these
protests; and the degenerate scions of mighty sires submitted to the
insults of an aide-de-camp and the dictation of his master.

The fate of this ancient republic was decided by Bonaparte at the
Castle of Montebello, near Milan, where he had already drawn up her
future constitution. After brief conferences with the Genoese envoys,
he signed with them the secret convention which placed their
republic--soon to be renamed the Ligurian Republic--under the
protection of France and substituted for the close patrician rule a
moderate democracy. The fact is significant. His military instincts
had now weaned him from the stiff Jacobinism of his youth; and, in
conjunction with Faypoult and the envoys, he arranged that the
legislative powers should be intrusted to two popularly elected
chambers of 300 and 150 members, while the executive functions were to
be discharged by twelve senators, presided over by a Doge; these
officers were to be appointed by the chambers: for the rest, the
principles of religious liberty and civic equality were recognized,
and local self-government was amply provided for. Cynics may, of
course, object that this excellent constitution was but a means of
insuring French supremacy and of peacefully installing Bonaparte's
regiments in a very important city; but the close of his intervention
may be pronounced as creditable to his judgment as its results were
salutary to Genoa. He even upbraided the demagogic party of that city
for shivering in pieces the statue of Andrea Doria and suspending the
fragments on some of the innumerable trees of liberty recently
planted.

     "Andrea Doria," he wrote, "was a great sailor and a great
     statesman. Aristocracy was liberty in his time. The whole of Europe
     envies your city the honour of having produced that celebrated man.
     You will, I doubt not, take pains to rear his statue again: I pray
     you to let me bear a part of the expense which that will entail,
     which I desire to share with those who are most zealous for the
     glory and welfare of your country."

In contrasting this wise and dignified conduct with the hatred which
most Corsicans still cherished against Genoa, Bonaparte's greatness of
soul becomes apparent and inspires the wish: _Utinam semper sic
fuisses!_

Few periods of his life have been more crowded with momentous events
than his sojourn at the Castle of Montebello in May-July, 1797.
Besides completing the downfall of Venice and reinvigorating the life
of Genoa, he was deeply concerned with the affairs of the Lombard or
Cisalpine Republic, with his family concerns, with the consolidation
of his own power in French politics, and with the Austrian
negotiations. We will consider these affairs in the order here
indicated.

The future of Lombardy had long been a matter of concern to Bonaparte.
He knew that its people were the _fittest_ in all Italy to benefit by
_constitutional rule_, but it must be dependent on France. He felt
little confidence in the Lombards if left to themselves, as is seen in
his conversation with Melzi and Miot de Melito at the Castle of
Montebello. He was in one of those humours, frequent at this time of
dawning splendour, when confidence in his own genius betrayed him into
quite piquant indiscretions. After referring to the Directory, he
turned abruptly to Melzi, a Lombard nobleman:

     "As for your country, Monsieur de Melzi, it possesses still fewer
     elements of republicanism than France, and can be managed more
     easily than any other. You know better than anyone that we shall do
     what we like with Italy. But the time has not yet come. We must
     give way to the fever of the moment. We are going to have one or
     two republics here of our own sort. Monge will arrange that for
     us."

He had some reason for distrusting the strength of the democrats in
Italy. At the close of 1796 he had written that there were three
parties in Lombardy, one which accepted French guidance, another which
desired liberty even with some impatience, and a third faction,
friendly to the Austrians: he encouraged the first, checked the
second, and repressed the last. He now complained that the Cispadanes
and Cisalpines had behaved very badly in their first elections, which
had been conducted in his absence; for they had allowed clerical
influence to override all French predilections. And, a little later,
he wrote to Talleyrand that the genuine love of liberty was feeble in
Italy, and that, as soon as French influences were withdrawn, the
Italian Jacobins would be murdered by the populace. The sequel was to
justify his misgivings, and therefore to refute the charges of those
who see in his conduct respecting the Cisalpine Republic nothing but
calculating egotism. The difficulty of freeing a populace that had
learnt to hug its chains was so great that the temporary and partial
success which his new creation achieved may be regarded as a proof of
his political sagacity.

After long preparations by four committees, which Bonaparte kept at
Milan closely engaged in the drafting of laws, the constitution of the
Cisalpine Republic was completed. It was a miniature of that of
France, and lest there should be any further mistakes in the
elections, Bonaparte himself appointed, not only the five Directors
and the Ministers whom they were to control, but even the 180
legislators, both Ancients and Juniors. In this strange fashion did
democracy descend on Italy, not mainly as the work of the people, but
at the behest of a great organizing genius. It is only fair to add
that he summoned to the work of civic reconstruction many of the best
intellects of Italy. He appointed a noble, Serbelloni, to be the first
President of the Cisalpine Republic, and a scion of the august House
of the Visconti was sent as its ambassador to Paris. Many able men
that had left Lombardy during the Austrian occupation or the recent
wars were attracted back by Bonaparte's politic clemency; and the
festival of July 9th at Milan, which graced the inauguration of the
new Government, presented a scene of civic joy to which that unhappy
province had long been a stranger. A vast space was thronged with an
enormous crowd which took up the words of the civic oath uttered by
the President. The Archbishop of Milan celebrated Mass and blessed the
banners of the National Guards; and the day closed with games, dances,
and invocations to the memory of the Italians who had fought and died
for their nascent liberties. Amidst all the vivas and the clash of
bells Bonaparte took care to sound a sterner note. On that very day
he ordered the suppression of a Milanese club which had indulged in
Jacobinical extravagances, and he called on the people "to show to the
world by their wisdom, energy, and by the good organization of their
army, that modern Italy has not degenerated and is still worthy of
liberty."

The contagion of Milanese enthusiasm spread rapidly. Some of the
Venetian towns on the mainland now petitioned for union with the
Cisalpine Republic; and the deputies of the Cispadane, who were
present at the festival, urgently begged that their little State might
enjoy the same privilege. Hitherto Bonaparte had refused these
requests, lest he should hamper the negotiations with Austria, which
were still tardily proceeding; but within a month their wish was
gratified, and the Cispadane State was united to the larger and more
vigorous republic north of the River Po, along with the important
districts of Como, Bergamo, Brescia, Crema, and Peschiera.
Disturbances in the Swiss district of the Valteline soon enabled
Bonaparte to intervene on behalf of the oppressed peasants, and to
merge this territory also in the Cisalpine Republic, which
consequently stretched from the high Alps southward to Rimini, and
from the Ticino on the west to the Mincio on the east.[81]

Already, during his sojourn at the Castle of Montebello, Bonaparte
figured as the all-powerful proconsul of the French Republic. Indeed,
all his surroundings--his retinue of complaisant generals, and the
numerous envoys and agents who thronged his ante-chambers to beg an
audience--befitted a Sulla or a Wallenstein, rather than a general of
the regicide Republic. Three hundred Polish soldiers guarded the
approaches to the castle; and semi-regal state was also observed in
its spacious corridors and saloons. There were to be seen Italian
nobles, literati, and artists, counting it the highest honour to visit
the liberator of their land; and to them Bonaparte behaved with that
mixture of affability and inner reserve, of seductive charm
alternating with incisive cross-examination which proclaimed at once
the versatility of his gifts, the keenness of his intellect, and his
determination to gain social, as well as military and political,
supremacy. And yet the occasional abruptness of his movements, and the
strident tones of command lurking beneath his silkiest speech, now and
again reminded beholders that he was of the camp rather than of the
court. To his generals he was distant; for any fault even his
favourite officers felt the full force of his anger; and aides-de-camp
were not often invited to dine at his table. Indeed, he frequently
dined before his retinue, almost in the custom of the old Kings of
France.

With him was his mother, also his brothers, Joseph and Louis, whom he
was rapidly advancing to fortune. There, too, were his sisters; Elise,
proud and self-contained, who at this period married a noble but
somewhat boorish Corsican, Bacciocchi; and Pauline, a charming girl of
sixteen, whose hand the all-powerful brother offered to Marmont, to be
by him unaccountably refused, owing, it would seem, to a prior
attachment. This lively and luxurious young creature was not long to
remain unwedded. The adjutant-general, Leclerc, became her suitor;
and, despite his obscure birth and meagre talents, speedily gained her
as his bride. Bonaparte granted her 40,000 francs as her dowry;
and--significant fact--the nuptials were privately blessed by a priest
in the chapel of the Palace of Montebello.

There, too, at Montebello was Josephine.

Certainly the Bonapartes were not happy in their loves: the one dark
side to the young conqueror's life, all through this brilliant
campaign, was the cruelty of his bride. From her side he had in March,
1796, torn himself away, distracted between his almost insane love for
her and his determination to crush the chief enemy of France: to her
he had written long and tender letters even amidst the superhuman
activities of his campaign. Ten long despatches a day had not
prevented him covering as many sheets of paper with protestations of
devotion to her and with entreaties that she would likewise pour out
her heart to him. Then came complaints, some tenderly pleading, others
passionately bitter, of her cruelly rare and meagre replies. The sad
truth, that Josephine cares much for his fame and little for him
himself, that she delays coming to Italy, these and other afflicting
details rend his heart. At last she comes to Milan, after a
passionate outburst of weeping--at leaving her beloved Paris. In Italy
she shows herself scarcely more than affectionate to her doting
spouse. Marlborough's letters to his peevish duchess during the
Blenheim campaign are not more crowded with maudlin curiosities than
those of the fierce scourge of the Austrians to his heartless fair. He
writes to her agonizingly, begging her to be less lovely, less
gracious, less good--apparently in order that he may love her less
madly: but she is never to be jealous, and, above all, never to weep:
for her tears burn his blood: and he concludes by sending millions of
kisses, and also to her dog! And this mad effusion came from the man
whom the outside world took to be of steel-like coldness: yet his
nature had this fevered, passionate side, just as the moon, where she
faces the outer void, is compact of ice, but turns a front of molten
granite to her blinding, all-compelling luminary.

Undoubtedly this blazing passion helped to spur on the lover to that
terrific energy which makes the Italian campaign unique even amidst
the Napoleonic wars. Beaulieu, Würmser, and Alvintzy were not rivals
in war; they were tiresome hindrances to his unsated love. On the eve
of one of his greatest triumphs he penned to her the following
rhapsody:

     "I am far from you, I seem to be surrounded by the blackest night:
     I need the lurid light of the thunder-bolts which we are about to
     hurl on our enemies to dispel the darkness into which your absence
     has plunged me. Josephine, you wept when we parted: you wept! At
     that thought all my being trembles. But be consoled! Würmser shall
     pay dearly for the tears which I have seen you shed."

What infatuation! to appease a woman's fancied grief, he will pile
high the plains of Mincio with corpses, recking not of the thousand
homes where bitter tears will flow. It is the apotheosis of
sentimental egotism and social callousness. And yet this brain, with
its moral vision hopelessly blurred, judged unerringly in its own
peculiar plane. What power it must have possessed, that, unexhausted
by the flames of love, it grasped infallibly the myriad problems of
war, scanning them the more clearly, perchance, in the white heat of
its own passion.

At last there came the time of fruition at Montebello: of fruition,
but not of ease or full contentment; for not only did an average of
eight despatches a day claim several hours, during which he jealously
guarded his solitude; but Josephine's behaviour served to damp his
ardour. As, during the time of absence, she had slighted his urgent
entreaties for a daily letter, so too, during the sojourn at
Montebello, she revealed the shallowness and frivolity of her being.
Fêtes, balls, and receptions, provided they were enlivened by a light
crackle of compliments from an admiring circle, pleased her more than
the devotion of a genius. She had admitted, before marriage, that her
"Creole _nonchalance_" shrank wearily away from his keen and ardent
nature; and now, when torn away from the _salons_ of Paris, she seems
to have taken refuge in entertainments and lap-dogs.[82] Doubtless
even at this period Josephine evinced something of that warm feeling
which deepened with ripening years and lit up her later sorrows with a
mild radiance; but her recent association with Madame Tallien and that
giddy _cohue_ had accentuated her habits of feline complaisance to all
and sundry. Her facile fondnesses certainly welled forth far too
widely to carve out a single channel of love and mingle with the deep
torrent of Bonaparte's early passion. In time, therefore, his
affections strayed into many other courses; and it would seen that
even in the later part of this Italian epoch his conduct was
irregular. For this Josephine had herself mainly to thank. At last she
awakened to the real value and greatness of the love which her neglect
had served to dull and tarnish, but then it was too late for complete
reunion of souls: the Corsican eagle had by that time soared far
beyond reach of her highest flutterings.[83]

At Montebello, as also at Passeriano, whither the Austrian
negotiations were soon transferred, Bonaparte, though strictly
maintaining the ceremonies of his proconsular court, yet showed the
warmth of his social instincts. After the receptions of the day and
the semi-public dinner, he loved to unbend in the evening. Sometimes,
when Josephine formed a party of ladies for _vingt-et-un_, he would
withdraw to a corner and indulge in the game of _goose_; and
bystanders noted with amusement that his love of success led him to
play tricks and cheat in order not to "fall into the pit." At other
times, if the conversation languished, he proposed that each person
should tell a story; and when no Boccaccio-like facility inspired the
company, he sometimes launched out into one of those eerie and
thrilling recitals, such as he must often have heard from the
_improvisatori_ of his native island. Bourrienne states that
Bonaparte's realism required darkness and daggers for the full display
of his gifts, and that the climax of his dramatic monologue was not
seldom enhanced by the screams of the ladies, a consummation which
gratified rather than perturbed the accomplished actor.

A survey of Bonaparte's multifarious activity in Italy enables the
reader to realize something of the wonder and awe excited by his
achievements. Like an Athena he leaped forth from the Revolution,
fully armed for every kind of contest. His mental superiority
impressed diplomats as his strategy baffled the Imperialist generals;
and now he was to give further proofs of his astuteness by
intervening in the internal affairs of France.

In order to understand Bonaparte's share in the _coup d'état_ of
Fructidor, we must briefly review the course of political events at
Paris. At the time of the installation of the Directory the hope was
widely cherished that the Revolution was now entirely a thing of the
past. But the unrest of the time was seen in the renewal of the
royalist revolts in the west, and in the communistic plot of Babeuf
for the overthrow of the whole existing system of private property.
The aims of these desperadoes were revealed by an accomplice; the
ringleaders were arrested, and after a long trial Babeuf was
guillotined and his confederates were transported (May, 1797). The
disclosure of these ultra-revolutionary aims shocked not only the
bourgeois, but even the peasants who were settled on the confiscated
lands of the nobles and clergy. The very class which had given to the
events of 1789 their irresistible momentum was now inclined to rest
and be thankful; and in this swift revulsion of popular feeling the
royalists began to gain ground. The elections for the renewal of a
third part of the Councils resulted in large gains for them, and they
could therefore somewhat influence the composition of the Directory by
electing Barthélemy, a constitutional royalist. Still, he could not
overbear the other four regicide Directors, even though one of these,
Carnot, also favoured moderate opinions more and more. A crisis
therefore rapidly developed between the still Jacobinical Directory
and the two legislative Councils, in each of which the royalists, or
moderates, had the upper hand. The aim of this majority was to
strengthen the royalist elements in France by the repeal of many
revolutionary laws. Their man of action was Pichegru, the conqueror of
Holland, who, abjuring Jacobinism, now schemed with a club of
royalists, which met at Clichy, on the outskirts of Paris. That their
intrigues aimed at the restoration of the Bourbons had recently been
proved. The French agents in Venice seized the Comte d'Entraigues, the
confidante of the _soi-disant_ Louis XVIII.; and his papers, when
opened by Bonaparte, Clarke, and Berthier at Montebello, proved that
there was a conspiracy in France for the recall of the Bourbons. With
characteristic skill, Bonaparte held back these papers from the
Directory until he had mastered the difficulties of the situation. As
for the count, he released him; and in return for this signal act of
clemency, then very unusual towards an _émigré_, he soon became the
object of his misrepresentation and slander.

The political crisis became acute in July, when the majority
of the Councils sought to force on the Directory Ministers who
would favour moderate or royalist aims. Three Directors, Barras, La
Réveillière-Lépeaux, and Rewbell, refused to listen to these behests,
and insisted on the appointment of Jacobinical Ministers even in the
teeth of a majority of the Councils. This defiance of the deputies of
France was received with execration by most civilians, but with
jubilant acclaim by the armies; for the soldiery, far removed from the
partisan strifes of the capital, still retained their strongly
republican opinions. The news that their conduct towards Venice was
being sharply criticised by the moderates in Paris aroused their
strongest feelings, military pride and democratic ardour.

Nevertheless, Bonaparte's conduct was eminently cautious and reserved.
In the month of May he sent to Paris his most trusted aide-de-camp,
Lavalette, instructing him to sound all parties, to hold aloof from
all engagements, and to report to him dispassionately on the state of
public opinion.[84] Lavalette judged the position of the Directory, or
rather of the Triumvirate which swayed it, to be so precarious that he
cautioned his chief against any definite espousal of its cause; and in
June-July, 1797, Bonaparte almost ceased to correspond with the
Directors except on Italian affairs, probably because he looked
forward to their overthrow as an important step towards his own
supremacy. There was, however, the possibility of a royalist reaction
sweeping all before it in France and ranging the armies against the
civil power. He therefore waited and watched, fully aware of the
enhanced importance which an uncertain situation gives to the outsider
who refuses to show his hand.

Duller eyes than his had discerned that the constitutional conflict
between the Directory and the Councils could not be peaceably
adjusted. The framers of the constitution had designed the slowly
changing Directory as a check on the Councils, which were renewed to
the extent of one-third every year; but, while seeking to put a
regicide drag on the parliamentary coach, they had omitted to provide
against a complete overturn. The Councils could not legally override
the Directory; neither could the Directory veto the decrees of the
Councils, nor, by dissolving them, compel an appeal to the country.
This defect in the constitution had been clearly pointed out by
Necker, and it now drew from Barras the lament:

     "Ah, if the constitution of the Year III., which offers so many
     sage precautions, had not neglected one of the most important; if
     it had foreseen that the two great powers of the State, engaged in
     heated debates, must end with open conflicts, when there is no high
     court of appeal to arrange them; if it had sufficiently armed the
     Directory with the right of dissolving the Chamber!"[85]

As it was, the knot had to be severed by the sword: not, as yet, by
Bonaparte's trenchant blade: he carefully drew back; but where as yet
he feared to tread, Hoche rushed in. This ardently republican general
was inspired by a self-denying patriotism, that flinched not before
odious duties. While Bonaparte was culling laurels in Northern Italy,
Hoche was undertaking the most necessary task of quelling the Vendéan
risings, and later on braved the fogs and storms of the Atlantic in
the hope of rousing all Ireland in revolt. His expedition to Bantry
Bay in December, 1796, having miscarried, he was sent into the
Rhineland. The conclusion of peace by Bonaparte at Leoben again dashed
his hopes, and he therefore received with joy the orders of the
Directory that he should march a large part of his army to Brest for a
second expedition to Ireland. The Directory, however, intended to use
those troops nearer home, and appointed him Minister of War (July
16th). The choice was a good one; Hoche was active, able, and popular
with the soldiery; but he had not yet reached the thirtieth year of
his age, the limit required by the constitution. On this technical
defect the majority of the Councils at once fastened; and their
complaints were redoubled when a large detachment of his troops came
within the distance of the capital forbidden to the army. The
moderates could therefore accuse the triumvirs and Hoche of conspiracy
against the laws; he speedily resigned the Ministry (July 22nd), and
withdrew his troops into Champagne, and finally to the Rhineland.

Now was the opportunity for Bonaparte to take up the _rôle_ of
Cromwell which Hoche had so awkwardly played. And how skilfully the
conqueror of Italy plays it--through subordinates. He was too well
versed in statecraft to let his sword flash before the public gaze. By
this time he had decided to act, and doubtless the fervid Jacobinism
of the soldiery was the chief cause determining his action. At the
national celebration on July 14th he allowed it to have free vent, and
thereupon wrote to the Directory, bitterly reproaching them for their
weakness in face of the royalist plot: "I see that the Clichy Club
means to march over my corpse to the destruction of the Republic." He
ended the diatribe by his usual device, when he desired to remind the
Government of his necessity to them, of offering his resignation, in
case they refused to take vigorous measures against the malcontents.
Yet even now his action was secret and indirect. On July 27th he sent
to the Directors a brief note stating that Augereau had requested
leave to go to Paris, "where his affairs call him"; and that he sent
by this general the originals of the addresses of the army, avowing
its devotion to the constitution. No one would suspect from this that
Augereau was in Bonaparte's confidence and came to carry out the
_coup d'état_. The secret was well preserved. Lavalette was
Bonaparte's official representative; and his neutrality was now
maintained in accordance with a note received from his chief:
"Augereau is coming to Paris: do not put yourself in his power: he has
sown disorder in the army: he is a factious man."

But, while Lavalette was left to trim his sails as best he might,
Augereau was certain to act with energy. Bonaparte knew well that his
Jacobinical lieutenant, famed as the first swordsman of the day, and
the leader of the fighting division of the army, would do his work
thoroughly, always vaunting his own prowess and decrying that of his
commander. It was so. Augereau rushed to Paris, breathing threats of
slaughter against the royalists. Checked for a time by the calculating
_finesse_ of the triumvirs, he prepared to end matters by a single
blow; and, when the time had come, he occupied the strategic points of
the capital, drew a cordon of troops round the Tuileries, where the
Councils sat, invaded the chambers of deputies and consigned to the
Temple the royalists and moderates there present, with their leader,
Pichegru. Barthélemy was also seized; but Carnot, warned by a friend,
fled during the early hours of this eventful day--September 4th (or 18
Fructidor). The mutilated Councils forthwith annulled the late
elections in forty-nine Departments, and passed severe laws against
orthodox priests and the unpardoned _émigrés_ who had ventured to
return to France. The Directory was also intrusted with complete power
to suppress newspapers, to close political clubs, and to declare any
commune in a state of siege. Its functions were now wellnigh as
extensive and absolute as those of the Committee of Public Safety, its
powers being limited only by the incompetence of the individual
Directors and by their paralyzing consciousness that they ruled only
by favour of the army. They had taken the sword to solve a political
problem: two years later they were to fall by that sword.[86]

Augereau fully expected that he would be one of the two Directors who
were elected in place of Carnot and Barthélemy; but the Councils had
no higher opinion of his civic capacity than Bonaparte had formed;
and, to his great disgust, Merlin of Douai and François of Neufchâtel
were chosen. The last scenes of the _coup d'état_ centred around the
transportation of the condemned deputies. One of the early memories of
the future Duc de Broglie recalled the sight of the "_députés
fructidorisés_ travelling in closed carriages, railed up like cages,"
to the seaport whence they were to sail to the lingering agonies of a
tropical prison in French Guiana.

It was a painful spectacle: "the indignation was great, but the
consternation was greater still. Everybody foresaw the renewal of the
Reign of Terror and resignedly prepared for it."

Such were the feelings, even of those who, like Madame de Staël and
her friend Benjamin Constant, had declared before the _coup d'état_
that it was necessary to the salvation of the Republic. That
accomplished woman was endowed with nearly every attribute of genius
except political foresight and self-restraint. No sooner had the blow
been dealt than she fell to deploring its results, which any
fourth-rate intelligence might have foreseen. "Liberty was the only
power really conquered"--such was her later judgment on Fructidor. Now
that Liberty fled affrighted, the errant enthusiasms of the gifted
authoress clung for a brief space to Bonaparte. Her eulogies on his
exploits, says Lavalette, who listened to her through a dinner in
Talleyrand's rooms, possessed all the mad disorder and exaggeration of
inspiration; and, after the repast was over, the votaress refused to
pass out before an aide-de-camp of Bonaparte! The incident is
characteristic both of Madame de Staël's moods and of the whims of the
populace. Amidst the disenchantments of that time, when the pursuit of
liberty seemed but an idle quest, when royalists were the champions of
parliamentary rule and republicans relied on military force, all eyes
turned wearily away from the civic broils at Paris to the visions of
splendour revealed by the conqueror of Italy. Few persons knew how
largely their new favourite was responsible for the events of
Fructidor; all of them had by heart the names of his victories; and
his popularity flamed to the skies when he recrossed the Alps,
bringing with him a lucrative peace with Austria.

The negotiations with that Power had dragged on slowly through the
whole summer and far into the autumn, mainly owing to the hopes of the
Emperor Francis that the disorder in France would filch from her the
meed of victory. Doubtless that would have been the case, had not
Bonaparte, while striking down the royalists at Paris through his
lieutenant, remained at the head of his victorious legions in Venetia
ready again to invade Austria, if occasion should arise.

In some respects, the _coup d'état_ of Fructidor helped on the
progress of the negotiations. That event postponed, if it did not
render impossible, the advent of civil war in France; and, like
Pride's Purge in our civil strifes, it installed in power a Government
which represented the feelings of the army and of its chief. Moreover,
it rid him of the presence of Clarke, his former colleague in the
negotiations, whose relations with Carnot aroused the suspicions of
Barras and led to his recall. Bonaparte was now the sole
plenipotentiary of France. The final negotiations with Austria and the
resulting treaty of Campo Formio may therefore be considered as almost
entirely his handiwork.

And yet, at this very time, the head of the Foreign Office at Paris
was a man destined to achieve the greatest diplomatic reputation of
the age. Charles Maurice de Talleyrand seemed destined for the task of
uniting the society of the old _régime_ with the France of the
Revolution. To review his life would be to review the Revolution. With
a reforming zeal begotten of his own intellectual acuteness and of
resentment against his family, which had disinherited him for the
crime of lameness, he had led the first assaults of 1789 against the
privileges of the nobles and of the clerics among whom his lot had
perforce been cast. He acted as the head of the new "constitutional"
clergy, and bestowed his episcopal blessing at the Feast of Pikes in
1790; but, owing to his moderation, he soon fell into disfavour with
the extreme men who seized on power. After a sojourn in England and
the United States, he came back to France, and on the suggestion of
Madame de Staël was appointed Minister for Foreign Affairs (July,
1797). To this post he brought the highest gifts: his early clerical
training gave a keen edge to an intellect naturally subtle and
penetrating: his intercourse with Mirabeau gave him a grip on the
essentials of sound policy and diplomacy: his sojourn abroad widened
his vision, and imbued him with an admiration for English institutions
and English moderation. Yet he loved France with a deep and fervent
love. For her he schemed; for her he threw over friends or foes with a
Machiavellian facility. Amidst all the glamour of the Napoleonic
Empire he discerned the dangers that threatened France; and he warned
his master--as uselessly as he warned reckless nobles, priestly
bigots, and fanatical Jacobins in the past, or the unteachable zealots
of the restored monarchy. His life, when viewed, not in regard to its
many sordid details, but to its chief guiding principle, was one long
campaign against French _élan_ and partisan obstinacy; and he sealed
it with the quaint declaration in his will that, on reviewing his
career, he found he had never abandoned a party before it had
abandoned itself. Talleyrand was equipped with a diversity of gifts:
his gaze, intellectual yet composed, blenched not when he uttered a
scathing criticism or a diplomatic lie: his deep and penetrating voice
gave force to all his words, and the curl of his lip or the scornful
lifting of his eyebrows sometimes disconcerted an opponent more than
his biting sarcasm. In brief, this disinherited noble, this unfrocked
priest, this disenchanted Liberal, was the complete expression of the
inimitable society of the old _régime_, when quickened intellectually
by Voltaire and dulled by the Terror. After doing much to destroy the
old society, he was now to take a prominent share in its
reconstruction on a modern basis.[87]

Such was the man who now commenced his chief life-work, the task of
guiding Napoleon. "The mere name of Bonaparte is an aid which ought to
smooth away all my difficulties"--these were the obsequious terms in
which he began his correspondence with the great general. In reality,
he distrusted him; but whether from diffidence, or from the weakness
of his own position, which as yet was little more than that of
the head clerk of his department, he did nothing to assert the
predominance of civil over military influence in the negotiations now
proceeding.

Two months before Talleyrand accepted office, Bonaparte had enlarged
his original demands on Austria, and claimed for France the whole of
the lands on the left or west bank of the Rhine, and for the Cisalpine
Republic all the territory up to the River Adige. To these demands the
Court of Vienna offered a tenacious resistance which greatly irritated
him. "These people are so slow," he exclaimed, "they think that a
peace like this ought to be meditated upon for three years first."

Concurrently with the Franco-Austrian negotiations, overtures for a
peace between France and England were being discussed at Lille. Into
these it is impossible to enter farther than to notice that in these
efforts Pitt and the other British Ministers (except Grenville) were
sincerely desirous of peace, and that negotiations broke down owing to
the masterful tone adopted by the Directory. It was perhaps
unfortunate that Lord Malmesbury was selected as the English
negotiator, for his behaviour in the previous year had been construed
by the French as dilatory and insincere. But the Directors may on
better evidence be charged with postponing a settlement until they
had struck down their foes within France. Bonaparte's letters at this
time show that he hoped for the conclusion of a peace with England,
doubtless in order that his own pressure on Austria might be
redoubled. In this he was to be disappointed. After Fructidor the
Directory assumed overweening airs. Talleyrand was bidden to enjoin on
the French plenipotentiaries the adoption of a loftier tone. Maret,
the French envoy at Lille, whose counsels had ever been on the side of
moderation, was abruptly replaced by a "Fructidorian"; and a decisive
refusal was given to the English demand for the retention of Trinidad
and the Cape, at the expense of Spain and the Batavian Republic
respectively. Indeed, the Directory intended to press for the cession
of the Channel Islands to France and of Gibraltar to Spain, and that,
too, at the end of a maritime war fruitful in victories for the Union
Jack.[88]

Towards the King of Sardinia the new Directory was equally imperious.
The throne of Turin was now occupied by Charles Emmanuel IV. He
succeeded to a troublous heritage. Threatened by democratic republics
at Milan and Genoa, and still more by the effervescence of his own
subjects, he strove to gain an offensive and defensive alliance with
France, as the sole safeguard against revolution. To this end he
offered 10,000 Piedmontese for service with Bonaparte, and even
secretly covenanted to cede the island of Sardinia to France. But
these offers could not divert Barras and his colleagues from their
revolutionary policy. They spurned the alliance with the House of
Savoy, and, despite the remonstrances of Bonaparte, they fomented
civil discords in Piedmont such as endangered his communications with
France. Indeed, the Directory after Fructidor was deeply imbued with
fear of their commander in Italy. To increase his difficulties was
now their paramount desire; and under the pretext of extending liberty
in Italy, they instructed Talleyrand to insist on the inclusion of
Venice and Friuli in the Cisalpine Republic. Austria must be content
with Trieste, Istria, and Dalmatia, must renounce all interest in the
fate of the Ionian Isles, and find in Germany all compensation for her
losses in Italy. Such was the ultimatum of the Directory (September
16th). But a loophole of escape was left to Bonaparte; the conduct of
these negotiations was confided solely to him, and he had already
decided their general tenor by giving his provisional assent to the
acquisition by Austria of the east bank of the Adige and the city of
Venice. From these terms he was disinclined to diverge. He was weary
of "this old Europe": his gaze was directed towards Corfu, Malta, and
Egypt; and when he received the official ultimatum, he saw that the
Directory desired a renewal of the war under conditions highly
embarrassing for him. "Yes: I see clearly that they are preparing
defeats for me," he exclaimed to his aide-de-camp Lavalette. They
angered him still more when, on the death of Hoche, they intrusted
their Rhenish forces, numbering 120,000 men, to the command of
Augereau, and sent to the Army of Italy an officer bearing a manifesto
written by Augereau concerning Fructidor, which set forth the anxiety
felt by the Directors concerning Bonaparte's political views. At this
Bonaparte fired up and again offered his resignation (September 25th):

     "No power on earth shall, after this horrible and most unexpected
     act of ingratitude by the Government, make me continue to serve it.
     My health imperiously demands calm and repose.... My recompense is
     in my conscience and in the opinion of posterity. Believe me, that
     at any time of danger, I shall be the first to defend the
     Constitution of the Year III."

The resignation was of course declined, in terms most flattering to
Bonaparte; and the Directors prepared to ratify the treaty with
Sardinia.

Indeed, the fit of passion once passed, the determination to dominate
events again possessed him, and he decided to make peace, despite the
recent instructions of the Directory that no peace would be honourable
which sacrificed Venice to Austria. There is reason to believe that he
now regretted this sacrifice. His passionate outbursts against Venice
after the _Pâques véronaises_, his denunciations of "that fierce and
bloodstained rule," had now given place to some feelings of pity for
the people whose ruin he had so artfully compassed; and the social
intercourse with Venetians which he enjoyed at Passeriano, the castle
of the Doge Manin, may well have inspired some regard for the proud
city which he was now about to barter away to Austria. Only so,
however, could he peacefully terminate the wearisome negotiations with
the Emperor. The Austrian envoy, Count Cobenzl, struggled hard to gain
the whole of Venetia, and the Legations, along with the half of
Lombardy.[89] From these exorbitant demands he was driven by the
persistent vigour of Bonaparte's assaults. The little Corsican proved
himself an expert in diplomatic wiles, now enticing the Imperialist on
to slippery ground, and occasionally shocking him by calculated
outbursts of indignation or bravado. After many days spent in
intellectual fencing, the discussions were narrowed down to Mainz,
Mantua, Venice, and the Ionian Isles. On the fate of these islands a
stormy discussion arose, Cobenzl stipulating for their complete
independence, while Bonaparte passionately claimed them for France. In
one of these sallies his vehement gestures overturned a cabinet with a
costly vase; but the story that he smashed the vase, as a sign of his
power to crush the House of Austria, is a later refinement on the
incident, about which Cobenzl merely reported to Vienna--"He behaved
like a fool." Probably his dextrous disclosure of the severe terms
which the Directory ordered him to extort was far more effective than
this boisterous _gasconnade_. Finally, after threatening an immediate
attack on the Austrian positions, he succeeded on three of the
questions above named, but at the sacrifice of Venice to Austria.

The treaty was signed on October 17th at the village of Campo Formio.
The published articles may be thus summarized: Austria ceded to the
French Republic her Belgic provinces. Of the once extensive Venetian
possessions France gained the Ionian Isles, while Austria acquired
Istria, Dalmatia, the districts at the mouth of the Cattaro, the city
of Venice, and the mainland of Venetia as far west as Lake Garda, the
Adige, and the lower part of the River Po. The Hapsburgs recognized
the independence of the now enlarged Cisalpine Republic. France and
Austria agreed to frame a treaty of commerce on the basis of "the most
favoured nation." The Emperor ceded to the dispossessed Duke of Modena
the territory of Breisgau on the east of the Rhine. A congress was to
be held at Rastadt, at which the plenipotentiaries of France and of
the Germanic Empire were to regulate affairs between these two Powers.

Secret articles bound the Emperor to use his influence in the Empire
to secure for France the left bank of the Rhine; while France was to
use her good offices to procure for the Emperor the Archbishopric of
Salzburg and the Bavarian land between that State and the River Inn.
Other secret articles referred to the indemnities which were to be
found in Germany for some of the potentates who suffered by the
changes announced in the public treaty.

The bartering away of Venice awakened profound indignation. After more
than a thousand years of independence, that city was abandoned to the
Emperor by the very general who had promised to free Italy. It was in
vain that Bonaparte strove to soothe the provisional government of
that city through the influence of a Venetian Jew, who, after his
conversion, had taken the famous name of Dandolo. Summoning him to
Passeriano, he explained to him the hard necessity which now dictated
the transfer of Venice to Austria. France could not now shed any more
of her best blood for what was, after all, only "a moral cause": the
Venetians therefore must cultivate resignation for the present and
hope for the future.

[Illustration: CENTRAL EUROPE AFTER THE PEACE OF CAMPO FORMIO, 1797

The boundaries of the Holy Roman Empire are indicated by thick dots.
The Austrian Dominions are indicated by vertical lines. The Prussian
Dominions are indicated by horizontal lines. The Ecclesiastical
States are indicated by dotted areas.]

The advice was useless. The Venetian democrats determined on a last
desperate venture. They secretly sent three deputies, among them
Dandolo, with a large sum of money wherewith to bribe the Directors to
reject the treaty of Campo Formio. This would have been quite
practicable, had not their errand become known to Bonaparte. Alarmed
and enraged at this device, which, if successful, would have consigned
him to infamy, he sent Duroc in chase; and the envoys, caught before
they crossed the Maritime Alps, were brought before the general at
Milan. To his vehement reproaches and threats they opposed a dignified
silence, until Dandolo, appealing to his generosity, awakened those
nobler feelings which were never long dormant. Then he quietly
dismissed them--to witness the downfall of their beloved city.

_Acribus initiis, ut ferme talia, incuriosa fine_; these cynical
words, with which the historian of the Roman Empire blasted the
movements of his age, may almost serve as the epitaph to Bonaparte's
early enthusiasms. Proclaiming at the beginning of his Italian
campaigns that he came to free Italy, he yet finished his course of
almost unbroken triumphs by a surrender which his panegyrists have
scarcely attempted to condone. But the fate of Venice was almost
forgotten amidst the jubilant acclaim which greeted the conqueror of
Italy on his arrival at Paris. All France rang with the praises of the
hero who had spread liberty throughout Northern and Central Italy,
had enriched the museums of Paris with priceless masterpieces of art,
whose army had captured 150,000 prisoners, and had triumphed in 18
pitched battles--for Caldiero was now reckoned as a French
victory--and 47 smaller engagements. The Directors, shrouding their
hatred and fear of the masterful proconsul under their Roman togas,
greeted him with uneasy effusiveness. The climax of the official
comedy was reached when, at the reception of the conqueror, Barras,
pointing northwards, exclaimed: "Go there and capture the giant
corsair that infests the seas: go punish in London outrages that have
too long been unpunished": whereupon, as if overcome by his emotions,
he embraced the general. Amidst similar attentions bestowed by the
other Directors, the curtain falls on the first, or Italian, act of
the young hero's career, soon to rise on oriental adventures that were
to recall the exploits of Alexander.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER VIII

EGYPT


Among the many misconceptions of the French revolutionists none was
more insidious than the notion that the wealth and power of the
British people rested on an artificial basis. This mistaken belief in
England's weakness arose out of the doctrine taught by the
_Economistes_ or _Physiocrates_ in the latter half of last century,
that commerce was not of itself productive of wealth, since it only
promoted the distribution of the products of the earth; but that
agriculture was the sole source of true wealth and prosperity. They
therefore exalted agriculture at the expense of commerce and
manufactures, and the course of the Revolution, which turned largely
on agrarian questions, tended in the same direction. Robespierre and
St. Just were never weary of contrasting the virtues of a simple
pastoral life with the corruptions and weakness engendered by foreign
commerce; and when, early in 1793, Jacobinical zeal embroiled the
young Republic with England, the orators of the Convention confidently
prophesied the downfall of the modern Carthage. Kersaint declared that
"the credit of England rests upon fictitious wealth: ... bounded in
territory, the public future of England is found almost wholly in its
bank, and this edifice is entirely supported by naval commerce. It is
easy to cripple this commerce, and especially so for a power like
France, which stands alone on her own riches."[90]



Commercial interests played a foremost part all through the struggle.
The official correspondence of Talleyrand in 1797 proves that the
Directory intended to claim the Channel Islands, the north of
Newfoundland, and all our conquests in the East Indies made since
1754, besides the restitution of Gibraltar to Spain.[91] Nor did these
hopes seem extravagant. The financial crisis in London and the mutiny
at the Nore seemed to betoken the exhaustion of England, while the
victories of Bonaparte raised the power of France to heights never
known before. Before the victory of Duncan over the Dutch at
Camperdown (October 11th, 1797), Britain seemed to have lost her naval
supremacy.

The recent admission of State bankruptcy at Paris, when two-thirds of
the existing liabilities were practically expunged, sharpened the
desire of the Directory to compass England's ruin, an enterprise which
might serve to restore French credit and would certainly engage those
vehement activities of Bonaparte that could otherwise work mischief in
Paris. On his side he gladly accepted the command of the _Army of
England_.

     "The people of Paris do not remember anything," he said to
     Bourrienne. "Were I to remain here long, doing nothing, I should be
     lost. In this great Babylon everything wears out: my glory has
     already disappeared. This little Europe does not supply enough of
     it for me. I must seek it in the East: all great fame comes from
     that quarter. However, I wish first to make a tour along the
     [northern] coast to see for myself what may be attempted. If the
     success of a descent upon England appear doubtful, as I suspect it
     will, the Army of England shall become the Army of the East, and I
     go to Egypt."[92]

In February, 1798, he paid a brief visit to Dunkirk and the Flemish
coast, and concluded that the invasion of England was altogether too
complicated to be hazarded except as a last desperate venture. In a
report to the Government (February 23rd) he thus sums up the whole
situation:

     "Whatever efforts we make, we shall not for some years gain the
     naval supremacy. To invade England without that supremacy is the
     most daring and difficult task ever undertaken.... If, having
     regard to the present organization of our navy, it seems impossible
     to gain the necessary promptness of execution, then we must really
     give up the expedition against England, _be satisfied with keeping
     up the pretence of it_, and concentrate all our attention and
     resources on the Rhine, in order to try to deprive England of
     Hanover and Hamburg:[93] ... or else undertake an eastern
     expedition which would menace her trade with the Indies. And if
     none of these three operations is practicable, I see nothing else
     for it but to conclude peace with England."

The greater part of his career serves as a commentary on these
designs. To one or other of them he was constantly turning as
alternative schemes for the subjugation of his most redoubtable foe.
The first plan he now judged to be impracticable; the second, which
appears later in its fully matured form as his Continental System, was
not for the present feasible, because France was about to settle
German affairs at the Congress of Rastadt; to the third he therefore
turned the whole force of his genius.

The conquest of Egypt and the restoration to France of her supremacy
in India appealed to both sides of Bonaparte's nature. The vision of
the tricolour floating above the minarets of Cairo and the palace of
the Great Mogul at Delhi fascinated a mind in which the mysticism of
the south was curiously blent with the practicality and passion for
details that characterize the northern races. To very few men in the
world's history has it been granted to dream grandiose dreams and all
but realize them, to use by turns the telescope and the microscope of
political survey, to plan vast combinations of force, and yet to
supervise with infinite care the adjustment of every adjunct. Cæsar,
in the old world, was possibly the mental peer of Bonaparte in this
majestic equipoise of the imaginative and practical qualities; but of
Cæsar we know comparatively little; whereas the complex workings of
the greatest mind of the modern world stand revealed in that
storehouse of facts and fancies, the "Correspondance de Napoléon." The
motives which led to the Eastern Expedition are there unfolded. In the
letter which he wrote to Talleyrand shortly before the signature of
the peace of Campo Formio occurs this suggestive passage:

     "The character of our nation is to be far too vivacious amidst
     prosperity. If we take for the basis of all our operations true
     policy, which is nothing else than the calculation of combinations
     and chances, we shall long be _la grande nation_ and the arbiter of
     Europe. I say more: we hold the balance of Europe: we will make
     that balance incline as we wish; and, if such is the order of fate,
     I think it by no means impossible that we may in a few years attain
     those grand results of which the heated and enthusiastic
     imagination catches a glimpse, and which the extremely cool,
     persistent, and calculating man will alone attain."

This letter was written when Bonaparte was bartering away Venice to
the Emperor in consideration of the acquisition by France of the
Ionian Isles. Its reference to the vivacity of the French was
doubtless evoked by the orders which he then received to
"revolutionize Italy." To do that, while the Directory further
extorted from England Gibraltar, the Channel Islands, and her eastern
conquests, was a programme dictated by excessive vivacity. The
Directory lacked the practical qualities that selected one great
enterprise at a time and brought to bear on it the needful
concentration of effort. In brief, he selected the war against
England's eastern commerce as his next sphere of action; for it
offered "an arena vaster, more necessary and resplendent" than war
with Austria; "if we compel the [British] Government to a peace, the
advantages we shall gain for our commerce in both hemispheres will be
a great step towards the consolidation of liberty and the public
welfare."[94]

For this eastern expedition he had already prepared. In May, 1797, he
had suggested the seizure of Malta from the Knights of St. John; and
when, on September 27th, the Directory gave its assent, he sent
thither a French commissioner, Poussielgue, on a "commercial mission,"
to inspect those ports, and also, doubtless, to undermine the
discipline of the Knights. Now that the British had retired from
Corsica, and France disposed of the maritime resources of Northern
Italy, Spain, and Holland, it seemed quite practicable to close the
Mediterranean to those "intriguing and enterprising islanders," to
hold them at bay in their dull northern seas, to exhaust them by
ruinous preparations against expected descents on their southern
coasts, on Ireland, and even on Scotland, while Bonaparte's eastern
conquests dried up the sources of their wealth in the Orient: "Let us
concentrate all our activity on our navy and destroy England. That
done, Europe is at our feet."[95]

But he encountered opposition from the Directory. They still clung to
their plan of revolutionizing Italy; and only by playing on their fear
of the army could he bring these civilians to assent to the
expatriation of 35,000 troops and their best generals. On La
Réveillière-Lépeaux the young commander worked with a skill that
veiled the choicest irony. This Director was the high-priest of a
newly-invented cult, termed _Théo-philanthropie_, into the dull embers
of which he was still earnestly blowing. To this would-be prophet
Bonaparte now suggested that the eastern conquests would furnish a
splendid field for the spread of the new faith; and La Réveillière was
forthwith converted from his scheme of revolutionizing Europe to the
grander sphere of moral proselytism opened out to him in the East by
the very chief who, on landing in Egypt, forthwith professed the
Moslem creed.

After gaining the doubtful assent of the Directory, Bonaparte had to
face urgent financial difficulties. The dearth of money was, however,
met by two opportune interventions. The first of these was in the
affairs of Rome. The disorders of the preceding year in that city had
culminated at Christmas in a riot in which General Duphot had been
assassinated; this outrage furnished the pretext desired by the
Directory for revolutionizing Central Italy. Berthier was at once
ordered to lead French troops against the Eternal City. He entered
without resistance (February 15th, 1798), declared the civil authority
of the Pope at an end, and proclaimed the _restoration_ of the Roman
Republic. The practical side of the liberating policy was soon
revealed. A second time the treasures of Rome, both artistic and
financial, were rifled; and, as Lucien Bonaparte caustically remarked
in his "Memoirs," the chief duty of the newly-appointed consuls and
quæstors was to superintend the packing up of pictures and statues
designed for Paris. Berthier not only laid the basis of a large
private fortune, but showed his sense of the object of the expedition
by sending large sums for the equipment of the armada at Toulon. "In
sending me to Rome," wrote Berthier to Bonaparte, "you appoint me
treasurer to the expedition against England. I will try to fill the
exchequer."

The intervention of the Directory in the affairs of Switzerland was
equally lucrative. The inhabitants of the district of Vaud, in their
struggles against the oppressive rule of the Bernese oligarchy, had
offered to the French Government the excuse for interference: and a
force invading that land, overpowered the levies of the central
cantons.[96] The imposition of a centralized form of government
modelled on that of France, the wresting of Geneva from this ancient
confederation, and its incorporation with France, were not the only
evils suffered by Switzerland. Despite the proclamation of General
Brune that the French came as friends to the descendants of William
Tell, and would respect their independence and their property, French
commissioners proceeded to rifle the treasuries of Berne, Zürich,
Solothurn, Fribourg, and Lucerne of sums which amounted in all to
eight and a half million francs; fifteen millions were extorted in
forced contributions and plunder, besides 130 cannon and 60,000
muskets which also became the spoils of the liberators.[97] The
destination of part of the treasure was already fixed; on April 13th
Bonaparte wrote an urgent letter to General Lannes, directing him to
expedite the transit of the booty to Toulon, where three million
francs were forthwith expended on the completion of the armada.

This letter, and also the testimony of Madame de Staël, Barras,
Bourrienne, and Mallet du Pan, show that he must have been a party to
this interference in Swiss affairs, which marks a debasement, not only
of Bonaparte's character, but of that of the French army and people.
It drew from Coleridge, who previously had seen in the Revolution the
dawn of a nobler era, an indignant protest against the prostitution of
the ideas of 1789:

  "Oh France that mockest Heaven, adulterous, blind,
  Are these thy boasts, champion of human kind?
  To mix with Kings in the low lust of sway,
  Yell in the hunt and join the murderous prey? ...
  The sensual and the dark rebel in vain
  Slaves by their own compulsion. In mad game
  They burst their manacles: but wear the name
  Of Freedom, graven on a heavier chain."

The occupation by French troops of the great central bastion of the
European system seemed a challenge, not only to idealists, but to
German potentates. It nearly precipitated a rupture with Vienna, where
the French tricolour had recently been torn down by an angry crowd.
But Bonaparte did his utmost to prevent a renewal of war that would
blight his eastern prospects; and he succeeded. One last trouble
remained. At his final visit to the Directory, when crossed about some
detail, he passionately threw up his command. Thereupon Rewbell, noted
for his incisive speech, drew up the form of resignation, and
presenting it to Bonaparte, firmly said, "Sign, citizen general." The
general did not sign, but retired from the meeting apparently
crestfallen, but really meditating a _coup d'état_. This last
statement rests on the evidence of Mathieu Dumas, who heard it
through General Desaix, a close friend of Bonaparte; and it is clear
from the narratives of Bourrienne, Barras, and Madame Junot that,
during his last days in Paris, the general was moody, preoccupied, and
fearful of being poisoned.

At last the time of preparation and suspense was at an end. The aims
of the expedition as officially defined by a secret decree on April
12th included the capture of Egypt and the exclusion of the English
from "all their possessions in the East to which the general can
come"; Bonaparte was also to have the isthmus of Suez cut through; to
"assure the _free and exclusive_ possession of the Red Sea to the
French Republic"; to improve the condition of the natives of Egypt,
and to cultivate good relations with the Grand Signior. Another secret
decree empowered Bonaparte to seize Malta. To these schemes he added
another of truly colossal dimensions. After conquering the East, he
would rouse the Greeks and other Christians of the East, overthrow the
Turks, seize Constantinople, and "take Europe in the rear."

Generous support was accorded to the _savants_ who were desirous of
exploring the artistic and literary treasures of Egypt and
Mesopotamia. It has been affirmed by the biographer of Monge that the
enthusiasm of this celebrated physicist first awakened Bonaparte's
desire for the eastern expedition; but this seems to have been
aroused earlier by Volney, who saw a good deal of Bonaparte in 1791.
In truth, the desire to wrest the secrets of learning from the
mysterious East seems always to have spurred on his keenly inquisitive
nature. During the winter months of 1797-8 he attended the chemical
lectures of the renowned Berthollet; and it was no perfunctory choice
which selected him for the place in the famous institute left vacant
by the exile of Carnot. The manner in which he now signed his orders
and proclamations--Member of the Institute, General in Chief of the
Army of the East--showed his determination to banish from the life of
France that affectation of boorish ignorance by which the Terrorists
had rendered themselves uniquely odious.

After long delays, caused by contrary winds, the armada set sail from
Toulon. Along with the convoys from Marseilles, Genoa, and Civita
Vecchia, it finally reached the grand total of 13 ships of the line, 7
frigates, several gunboats, and nearly 300 transports of various
sizes, conveying 35,000 troops. Admiral Brueys was the admiral, but
acting under Bonaparte. Of the generals whom the commander-in-chief
took with him, the highest in command were the divisional generals
Kléber, Desaix, Bon, Menou, Reynier, for the infantry: under them
served 14 generals, a few of whom, as Marmont, were to achieve a wider
fame. The cavalry was commanded by the stalwart mulatto, General
Alexandre Dumas, under whom served Leclerc, the husband of Pauline
Bonaparte, along with two men destined to world-wide renown, Murat and
Davoust. The artillery was commanded by Dommartin, the engineers by
Caffarelli: and the heroic Lannes was quarter-master general.

The armada appeared off Malta without meeting with any incident. This
island was held by the Knights of St. John, the last of those
companies of Christian warriors who had once waged war on the infidels
in Palestine. Their courage had evaporated in luxurious ease, and
their discipline was a prey to intestine schisms and to the intrigues
carried on with the French Knights of the Order. A French fleet had
appeared off Valetta in the month of March in the hope of effecting a
surprise; but the admiral, Brueys, judging the effort too hazardous,
sent an awkward explanation, which only served to throw the knights
into the arms of Russia. One of the chivalrous dreams of the Czar Paul
was that of spreading his influence in the Mediterranean by a treaty
with this Order. It gratified his crusading ardour and promised to
Russia a naval base for the partition of Turkey which was then being
discussed with Austria: to secure the control of the island, Russia
was about to expend 400,000 roubles, when Bonaparte anticipated
Muscovite designs by a prompt seizure.[98] An excuse was easily found
for a rupture with the Order: some companies of troops were
disembarked, and hostilities commenced.

Secure within their mighty walls, the knights might have held the
intruders at bay, had they not been divided by internal disputes: the
French knights refused to fight against their countrymen; and a revolt
of the native Maltese, long restless under the yoke of the Order, now
helped to bring the Grand Master to a surrender. The evidence of the
English consul, Mr. Williams, seems to show that the discontent of the
natives was even more potent than the influence of French gold in
bringing about this result.[99] At any rate, one of the strongest
places in Europe admitted a French garrison, after so tame a defence
that General Caffarelli, on viewing the fortifications, remarked to
Bonaparte: "Upon my word, general, it is lucky there was some one in
the town to open the gates to us."

During his stay of seven days at Malta, Bonaparte revealed the vigour
of those organizing powers for which the half of Europe was soon to
present all too small an arena. He abolished the Order, pensioning off
those French knights who had been serviceable: he abolished the
religious houses and confiscated their domains to the service of the
new government: he established a governmental commission acting under
a military governor: he continued provisionally the existing taxes,
and provided for the imposition of customs, excise, and octroi dues:
he prepared the way for the improvement of the streets, the erection
of fountains, the reorganization of the hospitals and the post
office. To the university he gave special attention, rearranging the
curriculum on the model of the more advanced _écoles centrales_ of
France, but inclining the studies severely to the exact sciences and
the useful arts. On all sides he left the imprint of his practical
mind, that viewed life as a game at chess, whence bishops and knights
were carefully banished, and wherein nothing was left but the heavy
pieces and subservient pawns.

After dragging Malta out of its mediaeval calm and plunging it into
the full swirl of modern progress, Bonaparte set sail for Egypt. His
exchequer was the richer by all the gold and silver, whether in
bullion or in vessels, discoverable in the treasury of Malta or in the
Church of St. John. Fortunately, the silver gates of this church had
been coloured over, and thus escaped the fate of the other
treasures.[100] On the voyage to Alexandria he studied the library of
books which he had requested Bourrienne to purchase for him. The
composition of this library is of interest as showing the strong trend
of his thoughts towards history, though at a later date he was careful
to limit its study in the university and schools which he founded. He
had with him 125 volumes of historical works, among which the
translations of Thucydides, Plutarch, Tacitus, and Livy represented
the life of the ancient world, while in modern life he concentrated
his attention chiefly on the manners and institutions of peoples and
the memoirs of great generals--as Turenne, Condé, Luxembourg, Saxe,
Marlborough, Eugène, and Charles XII. Of the poets he selected the
so-called Ossian, Tasso, Ariosto, Homer, Virgil, and the masterpieces
of the French theatre; but he especially affected the turgid and
declamatory style of Ossian. In romance, English literature was
strongly represented by forty volumes of novels, of course in
translations. Besides a few works on arts and sciences, he also had
with him twelve volumes of "Barclay's Geography," and three volumes of
"Cook's Voyages," which show that his thoughts extended to the
antipodes; and under the heading of Politics he included the Bible,
the Koran, the Vedas, a Mythology, and Montesquieu's "Esprit des
Lois"! The composition and classification of this library are equally
suggestive. Bonaparte carefully searched out the weak places of the
organism which he was about to attack--in the present campaign, Egypt
and the British Empire. The climate and natural products, the genius
of its writers and the spirit of its religion--nothing came amiss to
his voracious intellect, which assimilated the most diverse materials
and pressed them all into his service. Greek mythology provided
allusions for the adornment of his proclamations, the Koran would
dictate his behaviour towards the Moslems, and the Bible was to be his
guide-book concerning the Druses and Armenians. All three were
therefore grouped together under the head of Politics.


And this, on the whole, fairly well represents his mental attitude
towards religion: at least, it was his work-a-day attitude. There were
moments, it is true, when an overpowering sense of the majesty of the
universe lifted his whole being far above this petty opportunism: and
in those moments, which, in regard to the declaration of character,
may surely be held to counterbalance whole months spent in tactical
shifts and diplomatic wiles, he was capable of soaring to heights of
imaginative reverence. Such an episode, lighting up for us the
recesses of his mind, occurred during his voyage to Egypt. The
_savants_ on board his ship, "L'Orient," were discussing one of those
questions which Bonaparte often propounded, in order that, as arbiter
in this contest of wits, he might gauge their mental powers. Mental
dexterity, rather than the Socratic pursuit after truth, was the aim
of their dialectic; but on one occasion, when religion was being
discussed, Bonaparte sounded a deeper note: looking up into the
midnight vault of sky, he said to the philosophizing atheists: "Very
ingenious, sirs, but who made all that?" As a retort to the
tongue-fencers, what could be better? The appeal away from words to
the star-studded canopy was irresistible: it affords a signal proof of
what Carlyle has finely called his "instinct for nature" and his
"ineradicable feeling for reality." This probably was the true man,
lying deep under his Moslem shifts and Concordat bargainings.

That there was a tinge of superstition in Bonaparte's nature, such as
usually appears in gifted scions of a coast-dwelling family, cannot be
denied;[101] but his usual attitude towards religion was that of the
political mechanician, not of the devotee, and even while professing
the forms of fatalistic belief, he really subordinated them to his own
designs. To this profound calculation of the credulity of mankind we
may probably refer his allusions to his star. The present writer
regards it as almost certain that his star was invoked in order to
dazzle the vulgar herd. Indeed, if we may trust Miot de Melito, the
First Consul once confessed as much to a circle of friends. "Cæsar,"
he said, "was right to cite his good fortune and to appear to believe
in it. That is a means of acting on the imagination of others without
offending anyone's self-love." A strange admission this; what
boundless self-confidence it implies that he should have admitted the
trickery. The mere acknowledgment of it is a proof that he felt
himself so far above the plane of ordinary mortals that, despite the
disclosure, he himself would continue to be his own star. For the
rest, is it credible that this analyzing genius could ever have
seriously adopted the astrologer's creed? Is there anything in his
early note-books or later correspondence which warrants such a belief?
Do not all his references to his star occur in proclamations and
addresses intended for popular consumption?

Certainly Bonaparte's good fortune was conspicuous all through these
eastern adventures, and never more so than when he escaped the pursuit
of Nelson. The English admiral had divined his aim. Setting all sail,
he came almost within sight of the French force near Crete, and he
reached Alexandria barely two days before his foes hove in sight.
Finding no hostile force there, he doubled back on his course and
scoured the seas between Crete, Sicily, and the Morca, until news
received from a Turkish official again sent him eastwards. On such
trifles does the fate of empires sometimes depend.

Meanwhile events were crowding thick and fast upon Bonaparte. To free
himself from the terrible risks which had menaced his force off the
Egyptian coast, he landed his troops, 35,000 strong, with all possible
expedition at Marabout near Alexandria, and, directing his columns of
attack on the walls of that city, captured it by a rush (July 2nd).

For this seizure of neutral territory he offered no excuse other than
that the Beys, who were the real rulers of Egypt, had favoured English
commerce and were guilty of some outrages on French merchants. He
strove, however, to induce the Sultan of Turkey to believe that the
French invasion of Egypt was a friendly act, as it would overthrow the
power of the Mamelukes, who had reduced Turkish authority to a mere
shadow. This was the argument which he addressed to the Turkish
officials, but it proved to be too subtle even for the oriental mind
fully to appreciate. Bonaparte's chief concern was to win over the
subject population, which consisted of diverse races. At the surface
were the Mamelukes, a powerful military order, possessing a
magnificent cavalry, governed by two Beys, and scarcely recognizing
the vague suzerainty claimed by the Porte. The rivalries of the Beys,
Murad and Ibrahim, produced a fertile crop of discords in this
governing caste, and their feuds exposed the subject races, both Arabs
and Copts, to constant forays and exactions. It seemed possible,
therefore, to arouse them against the dominant caste, provided that
the Mohammedan scruples of the whole population were carefully
respected. To this end, the commander cautioned his troops to act
towards the Moslems as towards "Jews and Italians," and to respect
their muftis and imams as much as "rabbis and bishops." He also
proclaimed to the Egyptians his determination, while overthrowing
Mameluke tyranny, to respect the Moslem faith: "Have we not destroyed
the Pope, who bade men wage war on Moslems? Have we not destroyed the
Knights of Malta, because those fools believed it to be God's will to
war against Moslems?" The French soldiers were vastly amused by the
humour of these proceedings, and the liberated people fully
appreciated the menaces with which Bonaparte's proclamation closed,
backed up as these were by irresistible force.[102]

After arranging affairs at Alexandria, where the gallant Kléber was
left in command, Bonaparte ordered an advance into the interior.
Never, perhaps, did he show the value of swift offensive action more
decisively than in this prompt march on Damanhour across the desert.
The other route by way of Rosetta would have been easier; but, as it
was longer, he rejected it, and told off General Menou to capture that
city and support a flotilla of boats which was to ascend the Nile and
meet the army on its march to Cairo. On July 4th the first division of
the main force set forth by night into the desert south of Alexandria.
All was new and terrible; and, when the rays of the sun smote on their
weary backs, the murmurings of the troops grew loud. This, then, was
the land "more fertile than Lombardy," which was the goal of their
wanderings. "See, there are the six acres of land which you are
promised," exclaimed a waggish soldier to his comrade as they first
gazed from ship-board on the desert east of Alexandria; and all the
sense of discipline failed to keep this and other gibes from the ears
of staff officers even before they reached that city. Far worse was
their position now in the shifting sand of the desert, beset by
hovering Bedouins, stung by scorpions, and afflicted by intolerable
thirst. The Arabs had filled the scanty wells with stones, and only
after long toil could the sappers reach the precious fluid beneath.
Then the troops rushed and fought for the privilege of drinking a few
drops of muddy liquor. Thus they struggled on, the succeeding
divisions faring worst of all. Berthier, chief of the staff, relates
that a glass of water sold for its weight in gold. Even brave officers
abandoned themselves to transports of rage and despair which left them
completely prostrate.[103]

But Bonaparte flinched not. His stern composure offered the best
rebuke to such childish sallies; and when out of a murmuring group
there came the bold remark, "Well, General, are you going to take us
to India thus," he abashed the speaker and his comrades by the quick
retort, "No, I would not undertake that with such soldiers as you."
French honour, touched to the quick, reasserted itself even above the
torments of thirst; and the troops themselves, when they tardily
reached the Nile and slaked their thirst in its waters, recognized the
pre-eminence of his will and his profound confidence in their
endurance. French gaiety had not been wholly eclipsed even by the
miseries of the desert march. To cheer their drooping spirits the
commander had sent some of the staunchest generals along the line of
march. Among them was the gifted Caffarelli, who had lost a leg in the
Rhenish campaign: his reassuring words called forth the inimitable
retort from the ranks: "Ah! he don't care, not he: he has one leg in
France." Scarcely less witty was the soldier's description of the
prowling Bedouins, who cut off stragglers and plunderers, as "The
mounted highway police."

After brushing aside a charge of 800 Mamelukes at Chebreiss, the army
made its way up the banks of the Nile to Embabeh, opposite Cairo.
There the Mamelukes, led by the fighting Bey, Murad, had their
fortified camp; and there that superb cavalry prepared to overwhelm
the invaders in a whirlwind rush of horse (July 21st, 1798). The
occasion and the surroundings were such as to inspire both sides with
desperate resolution. It was the first fierce shock on land of eastern
chivalry and western enterprise since the days of St. Louis; and the
ardour of the republicans was scarcely less than that which had
kindled the soldiers of the cross. Beside the two armies rolled the
mysterious Nile; beyond glittered the slender minarets of Cairo; and
on the south there loomed the massy Pyramids. To the forty centuries
that had rolled over them, Bonaparte now appealed, in one of those
imaginative touches which ever brace the French nature to the utmost
tension of daring and endurance. Thus they advanced in close formation
towards the intrenched camp of the Mamelukes. The divisions on the
left at once rushed at its earthworks, silenced its feeble artillery,
and slaughtered the fellahin inside.


But the other divisions, now ranged in squares, while gazing at this
exploit, were assailed by the Mamelukes. From out the haze of the
mirage, or from behind the ridges of sand and the scrub of the
water-melon plants that dotted the plain, some 10,000 of these superb
horsemen suddenly appeared and rushed at the squares commanded by
Desaix and Reynier. Their richly caparisoned chargers, their waving
plumes, their wild battle-cries, and their marvellous skill with
carbine and sword, lent picturesqueness and terror to the charge.
Musketry and grapeshot mowed down their front coursers in ghastly
swathes; but the living mass swept on, wellnigh overwhelming the
fronts of the squares, and then, swerving aside, poured through the
deadly funnel between. Decimated here also by the steady fire of the
French files, and by the discharges of the rear face, they fell away
exhausted, leaving heaps of dead and dying on the fronts of the
squares, and in their very midst a score of their choicest cavaliers,
whose bravery and horsemanship had carried them to certain death
amidst the bayonets. The French now assumed the offensive, and
Desaix's division, threatening to cut off the retreat of Murad's
horsemen, led that wary chief to draw off his shattered squadrons;
others sought, though with terrible losses, to escape across the Nile
to Ibrahim's following. That chief had taken no share in the fight,
and now made off towards Syria. Such was the battle of the Pyramids,
which gained a colony at the cost of some thirty killed and about ten
times as many wounded: of the killed about twenty fell victims to the
cross fire of the two squares.[104]

After halting for a fortnight at Cairo to recruit his weary troops and
to arrange the affairs of his conquest, Bonaparte marched eastwards in
pursuit of Ibrahim and drove him into Syria, while Desaix waged an
arduous but successful campaign against Murad in Upper Egypt. But the
victors were soon to learn the uselessness of merely military triumphs
in Egypt. As Bonaparte returned to complete the organization of the
new colony, he heard that Nelson had destroyed his fleet.

On July 3rd, before setting out from Alexandria, the French commander
gave an order to his admiral, though it must be added that its
authenticity is doubtful:

     "The admiral will to-morrow acquaint the commander-in-chief by a
     report whether the squadron can enter the port of Alexandria, or
     whether, in Aboukir Roads, bringing its broadside to bear, it can
     defend itself against the enemy's superior force; and in case both
     these plans should be impracticable, he must sail for Corfu ...
     leaving the light ships and the flotilla at Alexandria."

Brueys speedily discovered that the first plan was beset by grave
dangers: the entrance to the harbour of Alexandria, when sounded,
proved to be most difficult for large ships--such was his judgment and
that of Villeneuve and Casabianca--and the exit could be blocked by a
single English battleship. As regards the alternatives of Aboukir or
Corfu, Brueys went on to state: "My firm desire is to be useful to you
in every possible way: and, as I have already said, every post will
suit me well, provided that you placed me there in an active way." By
this rather ambiguous phrase it would seem that he scouted the
alternative of Corfu as consigning him to a degrading inactivity;
while at Aboukir he held that he could be actively useful in
protecting the rear of the army. In that bay he therefore anchored his
largest ships, trusting that the dangers of the approach would screen
him from any sudden attack, but making also special preparations in
case he should be compelled to fight at anchor.[105] His decision was
probably less sound than that of Bonaparte, who, while marching to
Cairo, and again during his sojourn there, ordered him to make for
Corfu or Toulon; for the general saw clearly that the French fleet,
riding in safety in those well-protected roadsteads, would really
dominate the Mediterranean better than in the open expanse of Aboukir.
But these orders did not reach the admiral before the blow fell; and
it is, after all, somewhat ungenerous to censure Brueys for his
decision to remain at Aboukir and risk a fight rather than comply with
the dictates of a prudent but inglorious strategy.

The British admiral, after sweeping the eastern Mediterranean, at last
found the French fleet in Aboukir Bay, about ten miles from the
Rosetta mouth of the Nile. It was anchored under the lee of a shoal
which would have prevented any ordinary admiral from attacking,
especially at sundown. But Nelson, knowing that the head ship of the
French was free to swing at anchor, rightly concluded that there must
be room for British ships to sail between Brueys' stationary line and
the shallows. The British captains thrust five ships between the
French and the shoal, while the others, passing down the enemy's line
on the seaward side, crushed it in detail; and, after a night of
carnage, the light of August 2nd dawned on a scene of destruction
unsurpassed in naval warfare. Two French ships of the line and two
frigates alone escaped: one, the gigantic "Orient," had blown up with
the spoils of Malta on board: the rest, eleven in number, were
captured or burnt.

To Bonaparte this disaster came as a bolt from the blue. Only two days
before, he had written from Cairo to Brueys that all the conduct of
the English made him believe them to be inferior in numbers and fully
satisfied with blockading Malta. Yet, in order to restore the _morale_
of his army, utterly depressed by this disaster, he affected a
confidence which he could no longer feel, and said: "Well! here we
must remain or achieve a grandeur like that of the ancients."[106] He
had recently assured his intimates that after routing the Beys' forces
he would return to France and strike a blow direct at England.
Whatever he may have designed, he was now a prisoner in his conquest.
His men, even some of his highest officers, as Berthier, Bessières,
Lannes, Murat, Dumas, and others, bitterly complained of their
miserable position. But the commander, whose spirits rose with
adversity, took effective means for repressing such discontent. To the
last-named, a powerful mulatto, he exclaimed: "You have held seditious
parleys: take care that I do not perform my duty: your six feet of
stature shall not save you from being shot": and he offered passports
for France to a few of the most discontented and useless officers,
well knowing that after Nelson's victory they could scarcely be used.
Others, again, out-Heroding Herod, suggested that the frigates and
transports at Alexandria should be taken to pieces and conveyed on
camels' backs to Suez, there to be used for the invasion of
India.[107]

The versatility of Bonaparte's genius was never more marked than at
this time of discouragement. While his enemies figured him and his
exhausted troops as vainly seeking to escape from those arid wastes;
while Nelson was landing the French prisoners in order to increase his
embarrassment about food, Bonaparte and his _savants_ were developing
constructive powers of the highest order, which made the army
independent of Europe. It was a vast undertaking. Deprived of most of
their treasure and many of their mechanical appliances by the loss of
the fleet, the _savants_ and engineers had, as it were, to start from
the beginning. Some strove to meet the difficulties of food-supply by
extending the cultivation of corn and rice, or by the construction of
large ovens and bakeries, or of windmills for grinding corn. Others
planted vineyards for the future, or sought to appease the ceaseless
thirst of the soldiery by the manufacture of a kind of native beer.
Foundries and workshops began, though slowly, to supply tools and
machines; the earth was rifled of her treasures, natron was wrought,
saltpetre works were established, and gunpowder was thereby procured
for the army with an energy which recalled the prodigies of activity
of 1793.

With his usual ardour in the cause of learning, Bonaparte several
times a week appeared in the chemical laboratory, or witnessed the
experiments performed by Berthollet and Monge. Desirous of giving
cohesion to the efforts of his _savants_, and of honouring not only
the useful arts but abstruse research, he united these pioneers of
science in a society termed the Institute of Egypt. On August 23rd,
1798, it was installed with much ceremony in the palace of one of the
Beys, Monge being president and Bonaparte vice-president. The general
also enrolled himself in the mathematical section of the institute.
Indeed, he sought by all possible means to aid the labours of the
_savants_, whose dissertations were now heard in the large hall of the
harem that formerly resounded only to the twanging of lutes, weary
jests, and idle laughter. The labours of the _savants_ were not
confined to Cairo and the Delta. As soon as the victories of Desaix
in Upper Egypt opened the middle reaches of the Nile to peaceful
research, the treasures of Memphis were revealed to the astonished
gaze of western learning. Many of the more portable relics were
transferred to Cairo, and thence to Rosetta or Alexandria, in order to
grace the museums of Paris. The _savants_ proposed, but sea-power
disposed, of these treasures. They are now, with few exceptions, in
the British Museum.

Apart from archæology, much was done to extend the bounds of learning.
Astronomy gained much by the observations of General Caffarelli. A
series of measurements was begun for an exact survey of Egypt: the
geologists and engineers examined the course of the Nile, recorded the
progress of alluvial deposits at its mouth or on its banks, and
therefrom calculated the antiquity of divers parts of the Delta. No
part of the great conqueror's career so aptly illustrates the truth of
his noble words to the magistrates of the Ligurian Republic: "The true
conquests, the only conquests which cost no regrets, are those
achieved over ignorance."

Such, in brief outline, is the story of the renascence in Egypt. The
mother-land of science and learning, after a wellnigh barren interval
of 1,100 years since the Arab conquest, was now developed and
illumined by the application of the arts with which in the dim past
she had enriched the life of barbarous Europe. The repayment of this
incalculable debt was due primarily to the enterprise of Bonaparte. It
is one of his many titles to fame and to the homage of posterity. How
poor by the side of this encyclopaedic genius are the gifts even of
his most brilliant foes! At that same time the Archduke Charles of
Austria was vegetating in inglorious ease on his estates. As for
Beaulieu and Würmser, they had subsided into their native obscurity.
Nelson, after his recent triumph, persuading himself that "Bonaparte
had gone to the devil," was bending before the whims of a professional
beauty and the odious despotism of the worst Court in Europe. While
the admiral tarnished his fame on the Syren coast of Naples, his great
opponent bent all the resources of a fertile intellect to retrieve his
position, and even under the gloom of disaster threw a gleam of light
into the dark continent. While his adversaries were merely generals or
admirals, hampered by a stupid education and a narrow nationality,
Bonaparte had eagerly imbibed the new learning of his age and saw its
possible influence on the reorganization of society. He is not merely
a general. Even when he is scattering to the winds the proud chivalry
of the East, and is prescribing to Brueys his safest course of action,
he finds time vastly to expand the horizon of human knowledge.


Nor did he neglect Egyptian politics. He used a native council for
consultation and for the promulgation of his own ideas. Immediately
after his entry into Cairo he appointed nine sheikhs to form a divan,
or council, consulting daily on public order and the food-supplies of
the city. He next assembled a general divan for Egypt, and a smaller
council for each province, and asked their advice concerning the
administration of justice and the collection of taxes.[108] In its use
of oriental terminology, this scheme was undeniably clever; but
neither French, Arabs, nor Turks were deceived as to the real
government, which resided entirely in Bonaparte; and his skill in
reapportioning the imposts had some effect on the prosperity of the
land, enabling it to bear the drain of his constant requisitions. The
welfare of the new colony was also promoted by the foundation of a
mint and of an Egyptian Commercial Company.

His inventive genius was by no means exhausted by these varied toils.
On his journey to Suez he met a camel caravan in the desert, and
noticing the speed of the animals, he determined to form a camel
corps; and in the first month of 1799 the experiment was made with
such success that admission into the ranks of the camelry came to be
viewed as a favour. Each animal carried two men with their arms and
baggage: the uniform was sky-blue with a white turban; and the speed
and precision of their movements enabled them to deal terrible blows,
even at distant tribes of Bedouins, who bent before a genius that
could outwit them even in their own deserts.

The pleasures of his officers and men were also met by the opening of
the Tivoli Gardens; and there, in sight of the Pyramids, the life of
the Palais Royal took root: the glasses clinked, the dice rattled, and
heads reeled to the lascivious movements of the eastern dance; and
Bonaparte himself indulged a passing passion for the wife of one of
his officers, with an openness that brought on him a rebuke from his
stepson, Eugène Beauharnais. But already he had been rendered
desperate by reports of the unfaithfulness of Josephine at Paris; the
news wrung from him this pathetic letter to his brother Joseph--the
death-cry of his long drooping idealism:

     "I have much to worry me privately, for the veil is entirely torn
     aside. You alone remain to me; your affection is very dear to me:
     nothing more remains to make me a misanthrope than to lose her and
     see you betray me.... Buy a country seat against my return, either
     near Paris or in Burgundy. I need solitude and isolation: grandeur
     wearies me: the fount of feeling is dried up: glory itself is
     insipid. At twenty-nine years of age I have exhausted everything.
     It only remains to me to become a thorough egoist."[109]

Many rumours were circulated as to Bonaparte's public appearance in
oriental costume and his presence at a religious service in a mosque.
It is even stated by Thiers that at one of the chief festivals he
repaired to the great mosque, repeated the prayers like a true Moslem,
crossing his legs and swaying his body to and fro, so that he "edified
the believers by his orthodox piety." But the whole incident, however
attractive scenically and in point of humour, seems to be no better
authenticated than the religious results about which the historian
cherished so hopeful a belief. The truth seems to be that the general
went to the celebration of the birth of the Prophet as an interested
spectator, at the house of the sheik, El Bekri. Some hundred sheikhs
were there present: they swayed their bodies to and fro while the
story of Mahomet's life was recited; and Bonaparte afterwards partook
of an oriental repast. But he never forgot his dignity so far as
publicly to appear in a turban and loose trousers, which he donned
only once for the amusement of his staff.[110] That he endeavoured to
pose as a Moslem is beyond doubt. Witness his endeavour to convince
the imams at Cairo of his desire to conform to their faith. If we may
believe that dubious compilation, "A Voice from St. Helena," he bade
them consult together as to the possibility of admission of men, who
were not circumcised and did not abstain from wine, into the true
fold. As to the latter disability, he stated that the French were poor
cold people, inhabitants of the north, who could not exist without
wine. For a long time the imams demurred to this plea, which involved
greater difficulties than the question of circumcision: but after long
consultations they decided that both objections might be waived in
consideration of a superabundance of good works. The reply was
prompted by an irony no less subtle than that which accompanied the
claim, and neither side was deceived in this contest of wits.

A rude awakening soon came. For some few days there had been rumours
that the division under Desaix which was fighting the Mamelukes in
Upper Egypt had been engulfed in those sandy wastes; and this report
fanned to a flame the latent hostility against the unbelievers. From
many minarets of Cairo a summons to arms took the place of the
customary call to prayer: and on October 21st the French garrison was
so fiercely and suddenly attacked as to leave the issue doubtful.
Discipline and grapeshot finally prevailed, whereupon a repression of
oriental ferocity cowed the spirits of the townsfolk and of the
neighbouring country. Forts were constructed in Cairo and at all the
strategic points along the lower Nile, and Egypt seemed to be
conquered.

Feeling sure now of his hold on the populace, Bonaparte, at the close
of the year, undertook a journey to Suez and the Sinaitic peninsula.
It offered that combination of utility and romance which ever appealed
to him. At Suez he sought to revivify commerce by lightening the
customs' dues, by founding a branch of his Egyptian commercial
company, and by graciously receiving a deputation of the Arabs of Tor
who came to sue for his friendship.[111] Then, journeying on, he
visited the fountains of Moses; but it is not true that (as stated by
Lanfrey) he proceeded to Mount Sinai and signed his name in the
register of the monastery side by side with that of Mahomet. On his
return to the isthmus he is said to have narrowly escaped from the
rising tide of the Red Sea. If we may credit Savary, who was not of
the party, its safety was due to the address of the commander, who, as
darkness fell on the bewildered band, arranged his horsemen in files,
until the higher causeway of the path was again discovered. North of
Suez the traces of the canal dug by Sesostris revealed themselves to
the trained eye of the commander. The observations of his engineers
confirmed his conjecture, but the vast labour of reconstruction
forbade any attempt to construct a maritime canal. On his return to
Cairo he wrote to the Imam of Muscat, assuring him of his friendship
and begging him to forward to Tippoo Sahib a letter offering alliance
and deliverance from "the iron yoke of England," and stating that the
French had arrived on the shores of the Red Sea "with a numerous and
invincible army." The letter was intercepted by a British cruiser; and
the alarm caused by these vast designs only served to spur on our
forces to efforts which cost Tippoo his life and the French most of
their Indian settlements.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER IX

SYRIA


Meanwhile Turkey had declared war on France, and was sending an army
through Syria for the recovery of Egypt, while another expedition was
assembling at Rhodes. Like all great captains, Bonaparte was never
content with the defensive: his convictions and his pugnacious
instincts alike urged him to give rather than to receive the blow; and
he argued that he could attack and destroy the Syrian force before the
cessation of the winter's gales would allow the other Turkish
expedition to attempt a disembarkation at Aboukir. If he waited in
Egypt, he might have to meet the two attacks at once, whereas, if he
struck at Jaffa and Acre, he would rid himself of the chief mass of
his foes. Besides, as he explained in his letter of February 10th,
1799, to the Directors, his seizure of those towns would rob the
English fleet of its base of supplies and thereby cripple its
activities off the coast of Egypt. So far, his reasons for the Syrian
campaign are intelligible and sound. But he also gave out that,
leaving Desaix and his Ethiopian supernumeraries to defend Egypt, he
himself would accomplish the conquest of Syria and the East: he would
raise in revolt the Christians of the Lebanon and Armenia, overthrow
the Turkish power in Asia, and then march either on Constantinople or
Delhi.

It is difficult to take this quite seriously, considering that he had
only 12,000 men available for these adventures; and with anyone but
Bonaparte they might be dismissed as utterly Quixotic. But in his case
we must seek for some practical purpose; for he never divorced fancy
from fact, and in his best days imagination was the hand-maid of
politics and strategy rather than the mistress. Probably these
gorgeous visions were bodied forth so as to inspirit the soldiery and
enthrall the imagination of France. He had already proved the immense
power of imagination over that susceptible people. In one sense, his
whole expedition was but a picturesque drama; and an imposing climax
could now be found in the plan of an Eastern Empire, that opened up
dazzling vistas of glory and veiled his figure in a grandiose mirage,
beside which the civilian Directors were dwarfed into ridiculous
puppets.

If these vast schemes are to be taken seriously, another explanation
of them is possible, namely, that he relied on the example set by
Alexander the Great, who with a small but highly-trained army had
shattered the stately dominions of the East. If Bonaparte trusted to
this precedent, he erred. True, Alexander began his enterprise with a
comparatively small force: but at least he had a sure base of
operations, and his army in Thessaly was strong enough to prevent
Athens from exchanging her sullen but passive hostility for an
offensive that would endanger his communications by sea. The Athenian
fleet was therefore never the danger to the Macedonians that Nelson
and Sir Sidney Smith were to Bonaparte. Since the French armada
weighed anchor at Toulon, Britain's position had became vastly
stronger. Nelson was lord of the Mediterranean: the revolt in Ireland
had completely failed: a coalition against France was being formed;
and it was therefore certain that the force in Egypt could not be
materially strengthened. Bonaparte did not as yet know the full extent
of his country's danger; but the mere fact that he would have to bear
the pressure of England's naval supremacy along the Syrian coast
should have dispelled any notion that he could rival the exploits of
Alexander and become Emperor of the East.[112]


From conjectures about motives we turn to facts. Setting forth early
in February, the French captured most of the Turkish advanced guard at
the fort of El Arisch, but sent their captives away on condition of
not bearing arms against France for at least one year. The victors
then marched on Jaffa, and, in spite of a spirited defence, took it
by storm (March 7th). Flushed with their triumph over a cruel and
detested foe, the soldiers were giving up the city to pillage and
massacre, when two aides-de-camp promised quarter to a large body of
the defenders, who had sought refuge in a large caravanserai; and
their lives were grudgingly spared by the victors. Bonaparte
vehemently reproached his aides-de-camp for their ill-timed clemency.
What could he now do with these 2,500 or 3,000 prisoners? They could
not be trusted to serve with the French; besides, the provisions
scarcely sufficed for Bonaparte's own men, who began to complain
loudly at sharing any with Turks and Albanians. They could not be sent
away to Egypt, there to spread discontent: and only 300 Egyptians were
so sent away.[113] Finally, on the demand of his generals and troops,
the remaining prisoners were shot down on the seashore. There is,
however, no warrant for the malicious assertion that Bonaparte readily
gave the fatal order. On the contrary, he delayed it for three days,
until the growing difficulties and the loud complaints of his soldiers
wrung it from him as a last resort.

Moreover, several of the victims had already fought against him at El
Arisch, and had violated their promise that they would fight no more
against the French in that campaign. M. Lanfrey's assertion that there
is no evidence for the identification is untenable, in view of a
document which I have discovered in the Records of the British
Admiralty. Inclosed with Sir Sidney Smith's despatches is one from the
secretary of Gezzar, dated Acre, March 1st, 1799, in which the Pacha
urgently entreats the British commodore to come to his help, because
his (Gezzar's) troops had failed to hold El Arisch, and the _same
troops_ had also abandoned Gaza and were in great dread of the French
at Jaffa. Considered from the military point of view, the massacre at
Jaffa is perhaps defensible; and Bonaparte's reluctant assent
contrasts favourably with the conduct of many commanders in similar
cases. Perhaps an episode like that at Jaffa is not without its uses
in opening the eyes of mankind to the ghastly shifts by which military
glory may have to be won. The alternative to the massacre was the
detaching of a French battalion to conduct their prisoners to Egypt.
As that would seriously have weakened the little army, the prisoners
were shot.

A deadlier foe was now to be faced. Already at El Arisch a few cases
of the plague had appeared in Kléber's division, which had come from
Rosetta and Damietta; and the relics of the retreating Mameluke and
Turkish forces seem also to have bequeathed that disease as a fatal
legacy to their pursuers. After Jaffa the malady attacked most
battalions of the army; and it may have quickened Bonaparte's march
towards Acre. Certain it is that he rejected Kléber's advice to
advance inland towards Nablus, the ancient Shechem, and from that
commanding centre to dominate Palestine and defy the power of
Gezzar.[114]

[Illustration: PLAN OF THE SIEGE OF ACRE FROM A CONTEMPORARY SKETCH]

Always prompt to strike at the heart, the commander-in-chief
determined to march straight on Acre, where that notorious Turkish
pacha sat intrenched behind weak walls and the ramparts of terror
which his calculating ferocity had reared around him. Ever since the
age of the Crusades that seaport had been the chief place of arms of
Palestine; but the harbour was now nearly silted up, and even the
neighbouring roadstead of Hayfa was desolate. The fortress was
formidable only to orientals. In his work, "Les Ruines," Volney had
remarked about Acre: "Through all this part of Asia bastions, lines of
defence, covered ways, ramparts, and in short everything relating to
modern fortification are utterly unknown; and a single thirty-gun
frigate would easily bombard and lay in ruins the whole coast." This
judgment of his former friend undoubtedly lulled Bonaparte into
illusory confidence, and the rank and file after their success at
Jaffa expected an easy triumph at Acre.

This would doubtless have happened but for British help. Captain
Miller, of H.M.S. "Theseus," thus reported on the condition of Acre
before Sir Sidney Smith's arrival:

     "I found almost every embrasure empty except those towards the sea.
     Many years' collection of the dirt of the town thrown in such a
     situation as completely covered the approach to the gate from the
     only guns that could flank it and from the sea ... none of their
     batteries have casemates, traverses, or splinter-proofs: they have
     many guns, but generally small and defective--the carriages in
     general so." [115]

Captain Miller's energy made good some of these defects; but the place
was still lamentably weak when, on March 15th, Sir Sidney Smith
arrived. The English squadron in the east of the Mediterranean had,
to Nelson's chagrin, been confided to the command of this ardent young
officer, who now had the good fortune to capture off the promontory of
Mount Carmel seven French vessels containing Bonaparte's siege-train.
This event had a decisive influence on the fortunes of the siege and
of the whole campaign. The French cannon were now hastily mounted on
the very walls that they had been intended to breach; while the gun
vessels reinforced the two English frigates, and were ready to pour a
searching fire on the assailants in their trenches or as they rushed
against the walls. These had also been hastily strengthened under the
direction of a French royalist officer named Phélippeaux, an old
schoolfellow of Bonaparte, and later on a comrade of Sidney Smith,
alike in his imprisonment and in his escape from the clutches of the
revolutionists. Sharing the lot of the adventurous young seaman,
Phélippeaux sailed to the Levant, and now brought to the defence of
Acre the science of a skilled engineer. Bravely seconded by British
officers and seamen, he sought to repair the breach effected by the
French field-pieces, and constructed at the most exposed points inner
defences, before which the most obstinate efforts of the storming
parties melted away. Nine times did the assailants advance against the
breaches with the confidence born of unfailing success and redoubled
by the gaze of their great commander; but as often were they beaten
back by the obstinate bravery of the British seamen and Turks.

The monotony was once relieved by a quaint incident. In the course of
a correspondence with Bonaparte, Sir Sidney Smith is said to have
shown his annoyance by sending him a challenge to a duel. It met with
the very proper reply that he would fight, if the English would send
out _a Marlborough_.

During these desperate conflicts Bonaparte detached a considerable
number of troops inland to beat off a large Turkish and Mameluke force
destined for the relief of Acre and the invasion of Egypt. The first
encounter was near Nazareth, where Junot displayed the dash and
resource which had brought him fame in Italy; but the decisive battle
was fought in the Plain of Esdraëlon, not far from the base of Mount
Tabor. There Kléber's division of 2,000 men was for some hours hard
pressed by a motley array of horse and foot drawn from diverse parts
of the Sultan's dominions. The heroism of the burly Alsacian and the
toughness of his men barely kept off the fierce rushes of the Moslem
horse and foot. At last Bonaparte's cannon were heard. The chief,
marching swiftly on with his troops drawn up in three squares,
speedily brushed aside the enveloping clouds of orientals; finally, by
well-combined efforts the French hurled back the enemy on passes, some
of which had been seized by the commander's prescience. At the close
of this memorable day (April 15th) an army of nearly 30,000 men was
completely routed and dispersed by the valour and skilful dispositions
of two divisions which together amounted to less than a seventh of
that number. No battle of modern times more closely resembles the
exploits of Alexander than this masterly concentration of force; and
possibly some memory of this may have prompted the words of
Kléber--"General, how great you are!"--as he met and embraced his
commander on the field of battle. Bonaparte and his staff spent the
night at the Convent of Nazareth; and when his officers burst out
laughing at the story told by the Prior of the breaking of a pillar by
the angel Gabriel at the time of the Annunciation, their untimely
levity was promptly checked by the frown of the commander.

The triumph seemed to decide the Christians of the Lebanon to ally
themselves with Bonaparte, and they secretly covenanted to furnish
12,000 troops at his cost; but this question ultimately depended on
the siege of Acre. On rejoining their comrades before Acre, the
victors found that the siege had made little progress: for a time the
besiegers relied on mining operations, but with little success; though
Phélippeaux succumbed to a sunstroke (May 1st), his place was filled
by Colonel Douglas, who foiled the efforts of the French engineers
and enabled the place to hold out till the advent of the long-expected
Turkish succours. On May 7th their sails were visible far out on an
almost windless sea. At once Bonaparte made desperate efforts to carry
the "mud-hole" by storm. Led with reckless gallantry by the heroic
Lannes, his troops gained part of the wall and planted the tricolour
on the north-east tower; but all further progress was checked by
English blue-jackets, whom the commodore poured into the town; and the
Turkish reinforcements, wafted landwards by a favouring breeze, were
landed in time to wrest the ramparts from the assailants' grip. On the
following day an assault was again attempted: from the English ships
Bonaparte could be clearly seen on Richard Coeur de Lion's mound
urging on the French; but though, under Lannes' leadership, they
penetrated to the garden of Gezzar's seraglio, they fell in heaps
under the bullets, pikes, and scimitars of the defenders, and few
returned alive to the camp. Lannes himself was dangerously wounded,
and saved only by the devotion of an officer.

Both sides were now worn out by this extraordinary siege. "This town
is not, nor ever has been, defensible according to the rules of art;
but according to every other rule it must and shall be defended"--so
wrote Sir Sidney Smith to Nelson on May 9th. But a fell influence was
working against the besiegers; as the season advanced, they succumbed
more and more to the ravages of the plague; and, after failing again
on May 10th, many of their battalions refused to advance to the breach
over the putrid remains of their comrades. Finally, Bonaparte, after
clinging to his enterprise with desperate tenacity, on the night of
May 20th gave orders to retreat.

This siege of nine weeks' duration had cost him severe losses, among
them being Generals Caffarelli and Bon: but worst of all was the loss
of that reputation for invincibility which he had hitherto enjoyed.
His defeat at Caldiero, near Verona, in 1796 had been officially
converted into a victory: but Acre could not be termed anything but a
reverse. In vain did the commander and his staff proclaim that, after
dispersing the Turks at Mount Tabor, the capture of Acre was
superfluous; his desperate efforts in the early part of May revealed
the hollowness of his words. There were, it is true, solid reasons for
his retreat. He had just heard of the breaking out of the war of the
Second Coalition against France; and revolts in Egypt also demanded
his presence.[116] But these last events furnished a damning
commentary on his whole Syrian enterprise, which had led to a
dangerous diffusion of the French forces. And for what? For the
conquest of Constantinople or of India? That dream seems to have
haunted Bonaparte's brain even down to the close of the siege of Acre.
During the siege, and later, he was heard to inveigh against "the
miserable little hole" which had come between him and his destiny--the
Empire of the East; and it is possible that ideas which he may at
first have set forth in order to dazzle his comrades came finally to
master his whole being. Certainly the words just quoted betoken a
quite abnormal wilfulness as well as a peculiarly subjective notion of
fatalism. His "destiny" was to be mapped out by his own prescience,
decided by his own will, gripped by his own powers. Such fatalism had
nothing in common with the sombre creed of the East: it was merely an
excess of individualism: it was the matured expression of that feature
of his character, curiously dominant even in childhood, that _what he
wanted he must of necessity have_. How strange that this imperious
obstinacy, this sublimation of western willpower, should not have been
tamed even by the overmastering might of Nature in the Orient!

As for the Empire of the East, the declared hostility of the tribes
around Nablus had shown how futile were Bonaparte's efforts to win
over Moslems: and his earlier Moslem proclamations were skilfully
distributed by Sir Sidney Smith among the Christians of Syria, and
served partly to neutralize the efforts which Bonaparte made to win
them over.[117] Vain indeed was the effort to conciliate the Moslems
in Egypt, and yet in Syria to arouse the Christians against the
Commander of the Faithful. Such religious opportunism smacked of the
Parisian boulevards: it utterly ignored the tenacity of belief of the
East, where the creed is the very life. The outcome of all that
_finesse_ was seen in the closing days of the siege and during the
retreat towards Jaffa, when the tribes of the Lebanon and of the
Nablus district watched like vultures on the hills and swooped down on
the retreating columns. The pain of disillusionment, added to his
sympathy with the sick and wounded, once broke down Bonaparte's
nerves. Having ordered all horsemen to dismount so that there might be
sufficient transport for the sick and maimed, the commander was asked
by an equerry which horse he reserved for his own use. "Did you not
hear the order," he retorted, striking the man with his whip,
"everyone on foot." Rarely did this great man mar a noble action by
harsh treatment: the incident sufficiently reveals the tension of
feelings, always keen, and now overwrought by physical suffering and
mental disappointment.

There was indeed much to exasperate him. At Acre he had lost nearly
5,000 men in killed, wounded, and plague-stricken, though he falsely
reported to the Directory that his losses during the whole expedition
did not exceed 1,500 men: and during the terrible retreat to Jaffa he
was shocked, not only by occasional suicides of soldiers in his
presence, but by the utter callousness of officers and men to the
claims of the sick and wounded. It was as a rebuke to this inhumanity
that he ordered all to march on foot, and his authority seems even to
have been exerted to prevent some attempts at poisoning the
plague-stricken. The narrative of J. Miot, commissary of the army,
shows that these suggestions originated among the soldiery at Acre
when threatened with the toil of transporting those unfortunates back
to Egypt; and, as his testimony is generally adverse to Bonaparte, and
he mentions the same horrible device, when speaking of the hospitals
at Jaffa, as a camp rumour, it may be regarded as scarcely worthy of
credence.[118]




Undoubtedly the scenes were heartrending at Jaffa; and it has been
generally believed that the victims of the plague were then and there
put out of their miseries by large doses of opium. Certainly the
hospitals were crowded with wounded and victims of the plague; but
during the seven days' halt at that town adequate measures were taken
by the chief medical officers, Desgenettes and Larrey, for their
transport to Egypt. More than a thousand were sent away on ships,
seven of which were fortunately present; and 800 were conveyed to
Egypt in carts or litters across the desert.[119] Another fact
suffices to refute the slander mentioned above. From the despatch of
Sir Sidney Smith to Nelson of May 30th, 1799, it appears that, when
the English commodore touched at Jaffa, he found some of the abandoned
ones _still alive_: "We have found seven poor fellows in the hospital
and will take care of them." He also supplied the French ships
conveying the wounded with water, provisions, and stores, of which
they were much in need, and allowed them to proceed to their
destination. It is true that the evidence of Las Cases at St. Helena,
eagerly cited by Lanfrey, seems to show that some of the worst cases
in the Jaffa hospitals were got rid of by opium; but the admission by
Napoleon that the administering of opium was justifiable occurred in
one of those casuistical discussions which turn, not on facts, but on
motives. Conclusions drawn from such conversations, sixteen years or
more after the supposed occurrence, must in any case give ground
before the evidence of contemporaries, which proves that every care
was taken of the sick and wounded, that the proposals of poisoning
first came from the soldiery, that Napoleon both before and after
Jaffa set the noble example of marching on foot so that there might be
sufficiency of transport, that nearly all the unfortunates arrived in
Egypt and in fair condition, and that seven survivors were found alive
at Jaffa by English officers.[120]

The remaining episodes of the Eastern Expedition may be briefly
dismissed. After a painful desert march the army returned to Egypt in
June; and, on July 25th, under the lead of Murat and Lannes, drove
into the sea a large force of Turks which had effected a landing in
Aboukir Bay. Bonaparte was now weary of gaining triumphs over foes
whom he and his soldiers despised. While in this state of mind, he
received from Sir Sidney Smith a packet of English and German
newspapers giving news up to June 6th, which brought him quickly to a
decision. The formation of a powerful coalition, the loss of Italy,
defeats on the Rhine, and the schisms, disgust, and despair prevalent
in France--all drew his imagination westwards away from the illusory
Orient; and he determined to leave his army to the care of Kléber and
sail to France.

The morality of this step has been keenly discussed. The rank and
file of the army seem to have regarded it as little less than
desertion,[121] and the predominance of personal motives in this
important decision can scarcely be denied. His private aim in
undertaking the Eastern Expedition, that of dazzling the imagination
of the French people and of exhibiting the incapacity of the
Directory, had been abundantly realized. His eastern enterprise had
now shrunk to practical and prosaic dimensions, namely, the
consolidation of French power in Egypt. Yet, as will appear in later
chapters, he did not give up his oriental schemes; though at St.
Helena he once oddly spoke of the Egyptian expedition as an "exhausted
enterprise," it is clear that he worked hard to keep his colony. The
career of Alexander had for him a charm that even the conquests of
Cæsar could not rival; and at the height of his European triumphs, the
hero of Austerlitz was heard to murmur: "J'ai manqué à ma fortune à
Saint-Jean d'Acre."[122]

In defence of his sudden return it may be urged that he had more than
once promised the Directory that his stay in Egypt would not exceed
five months; and there can be no doubt that now, as always, he had an
alternative plan before him in case of failure or incomplete success
in the East. To this alternative he now turned with that swiftness and
fertility of resource which astonished both friends and foes in
countless battles and at many political crises.

It has been stated by Lanfrey that his appointment of Kléber to
succeed him was dictated by political and personal hostility; but it
may more naturally be considered a tribute to his abilities as a
general and to his influence over the soldiery, which was only second
to that of Bonaparte and Desaix. He also promised to send him speedy
succour; and as there seemed to be a probability of France regaining
her naval supremacy in the Mediterranean by the union of the fleet of
Bruix with that of Spain, he might well hope to send ample
reinforcements. He probably did not know the actual facts of the case,
that in July Bruix tamely followed the Spanish squadron to Cadiz, and
that the Directory had ordered Bruix to withdraw the French army from
Egypt. But, arguing from the facts as known to him, Bonaparte might
well believe that the difficulties of France would be fully met by his
own return, and that Egypt could be held with ease. The duty of a
great commander is to be at the post of greatest danger, and that was
now on the banks of the Rhine or Mincio.

The advent of a south-east wind, a rare event there at that season of
the year, led him hastily to embark at Alexandria in the night of
August 22nd-23rd. His two frigates bore with him some of the greatest
sons of France; his chief of the staff, Berthier, whose ardent love
for Madame Visconti had been repressed by his reluctant determination
to share the fortunes of his chief; Lannes and Murat, both recently
wounded, but covered with glory by their exploits in Syria and at
Aboukir; his friend Marmont, as well as Duroc, Andréossi, Bessières,
Lavalette, Admiral Gantheaume, Monge, and Berthollet, his secretary
Bourrienne, and the traveller Denon. He also left orders that Desaix,
who had been in charge of Upper Egypt, should soon return to France,
so that the rivalry between him and Kléber might not distract French
councils in Egypt. There seems little ground for the assertion that he
selected for return his favourites and men likely to be politically
serviceable to him. If he left behind the ardently republican Kléber,
he also left his old friend Junot: if he brought back Berthier and
Marmont, he also ordered the return of the almost Jacobinical Desaix.
Sir Sidney Smith having gone to Cyprus for repairs, Bonaparte slipped
out unmolested. By great good fortune his frigates eluded the English
ships cruising between Malta and Cape Bon, and after a brief stay at
Ajaccio, he and his comrades landed at Fréjus (October 9th). So great
was the enthusiasm of the people that, despite all the quarantine
regulations, they escorted the party to shore. "We prefer the plague
to the Austrians," they exclaimed; and this feeling but feebly
expressed the emotion of France at the return of the Conqueror of the
East.

And yet he found no domestic happiness. Josephine's _liaison_ with a
young officer, M. Charles, had become notorious owing to his prolonged
visits to her country house, La Malmaison. Alarmed at her husband's
return, she now hurried to meet him, but missed him on the way; while
he, finding his home at Paris empty, raged at her infidelity, refused
to see her on her return, and declared he would divorce her. From this
he was turned by the prayers of Eugène and Hortense Beauharnais, and
the tears of Josephine herself. A reconciliation took place; but there
was no reunion of hearts, and Mme. Reinhard echoed the feeling of
respectable society when she wrote that he should have divorced her
outright. Thenceforth he lived for Glory alone.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER X

BRUMAIRE


Rarely has France been in a more distracted state than in the summer
of 1799. Royalist revolts in the west and south rent the national
life. The religious schism was unhealed; education was at a
standstill; commerce had been swept from the seas by the British
fleets; and trade with Italy and Germany was cut off by the war of
the Second Coalition.

The formation of this league between Russia, Austria, England, Naples,
Portugal, and Turkey was in the main the outcome of the alarm and
indignation aroused by the reckless conduct of the Directory, which
overthrew the Bourbons at Naples, erected the Parthenopæan Republic,
and compelled the King of Sardinia to abdicate at Turin and retire to
his island. Russia and Austria took a leading part in forming the
Coalition. Great Britain, ever hampered by her inept army
organization, offered to supply money in place of the troops which she
could not properly equip.

But under the cloak of legitimacy the monarchical Powers harboured
their own selfish designs. This Nessus' cloak of the First Coalition
soon galled the limbs of the allies and rendered them incapable of
sustained and vigorous action. Yet they gained signal successes over
the raw conscripts of France. In July, 1799, the Austro-Russian army
captured Mantua and Alessandria; and in the following month Suvoroff
gained the decisive victory of Novi and drove the remains of the
French forces towards Genoa. The next months were far more favourable
to the tricolour flag, for, owing to Austro-Russian jealousies,
Masséna was able to gain an important victory at Zurich over a Russian
army. In the north the republicans were also in the end successful.
Ten days after Bonaparte's arrival at Fréjus, they compelled an
Anglo-Russian force campaigning in Holland to the capitulation of
Alkmaar, whereby the Duke of York agreed to withdraw all his troops
from that coast. Disgusted by the conduct of his allies, the Czar Paul
withdrew his troops from any active share in the operations by land,
thenceforth concentrating his efforts on the acquisition of Corsica,
Malta, and posts of vantage in the Adriatic. These designs, which were
well known to the British Government, served to hamper our naval
strength in those seas, and to fetter the action of the Austrian arms
in Northern Italy.[123]

Yet, though the schisms of the allies finally yielded a victory to the
French in the campaigns of 1799, the position of the Republic was
precarious. The danger was rather internal than external. It arose
from embarrassed finances, from the civil war that burst out with new
violence in the north-west, and, above all, from a sense of the
supreme difficulty of attaining political stability and of reconciling
liberty with order. The struggle between the executive and legislative
powers which had been rudely settled by the _coup d'état_ of
Fructidor, had been postponed, not solved. Public opinion was speedily
ruffled by the Jacobinical violence which ensued. The stifling of
liberty of the press and the curtailment of the right of public
meeting served only to instill new energy into the party of resistance
in the elective Councils, and to undermine a republican government
that relied on Venetian methods of rule. Reviewing the events of those
days, Madame de Staël finely remarked that only the free consent of
the people could breathe life into political institutions; and that
the monstrous system of guaranteeing freedom by despotic means served
only to manufacture governments that had to be wound up at intervals
lest they should stop dead.[124] Such a sarcasm, coming from the
gifted lady who had aided and abetted the stroke of Fructidor, shows
how far that event had falsified the hopes of the sincerest friends of
the Revolution. Events were therefore now favourable to a return from
the methods of Rousseau to those of Richelieu; and the genius who was
skilfully to adapt republicanism to autocracy was now at hand. Though
Bonaparte desired at once to attack the Austrians in Northern Italy,
yet a sure instinct impelled him to remain at Paris, for, as he said
to Marmont: "When the house is crumbling, is it the time to busy
oneself with the garden? A change here is indispensable."

The sudden rise of Bonaparte to supreme power cannot be understood
without some reference to the state of French politics in the months
preceding his return to France. The position of parties had been
strangely complicated by the unpopularity of the Directors. Despite
their illegal devices, the elections of 1798 and 1799 for the renewal
of a third part of the legislative Councils had signally strengthened
the anti-directorial ranks. Among the Opposition were some royalists,
a large number of constitutionals, whether of the Feuillant or
Girondin type, and many deputies, who either vaunted the name of
Jacobins or veiled their advanced opinions under the convenient
appellation of "patriots." Many of the deputies were young,
impressionable, and likely to follow any able leader who promised to
heal the schisms of the country. In fact, the old party lines were
being effaced. The champions of the constitution of 1795 (Year III.)
saw no better means of defending it than by violating electoral
liberties--always in the sacred name of Liberty; and the Directory,
while professing to hold the balance between the extreme parties,
repressed them by turns with a vigour which rendered them popular and
official moderation odious.



In this general confusion and apathy the dearth of statesmen was
painfully conspicuous. Only true grandeur of character can defy the
withering influences of an age of disillusionment; and France had for
a time to rely upon Sieyès. Perhaps no man has built up a reputation
for political capacity on performances so slight as the Abbé Sieyès.
In the States General of 1789 he speedily acquired renown for oracular
wisdom, owing to the brevity and wit of his remarks in an assembly
where such virtues were rare. But the course of the Revolution soon
showed the barrenness of his mind and the timidity of his character.
He therefore failed to exert any lasting influence upon events. In the
time of the Terror his insignificance was his refuge. His witty reply
to an inquiry how he had then fared--"J'ai vécu "--sufficiently
characterizes the man. In the Directorial period he displayed more
activity. He was sent as French ambassador to Berlin, and plumed
himself on having persuaded that Court to a neutrality favourable to
France. But it is clear that the neutrality of Prussia was the outcome
of selfish considerations. While Austria tried the hazards of war, her
northern rival husbanded her resources, strengthened her position as
the protectress of Northern Germany, and dextrously sought to attract
the nebula of middle German States into her own sphere of influence.
From his task of tilting a balance which was already decided, Sieyès
was recalled to Paris in May, 1799, by the news of his election to the
place in the Directory vacated by Rewbell. The other Directors had
striven, but in vain, to prevent his election: they knew well that
this impracticable theorist would speedily paralyze the Government;
for, when previously elected Director in 1795, he had refused to
serve, on the ground that the constitution was thoroughly bad. He now
declared his hostility to the Directory, and looked around for some
complaisant military chief who should act as his tool and then be
cast away. His first choice, Joubert, was killed at the battle of
Novi. Moreau seems then to have been looked on with favour; he was a
republican, able in warfare and singularly devoid of skill or ambition
in political matters. Relying on Moreau, Sieyès continued his
intrigues, and after some preliminary fencing gained over to his side
the Director Barras. But if we may believe the assertions of the
royalist, Hyde de Neuville, Barras was also receiving the advances of
the royalists with a view to a restoration of Louis XVIII., an event
which was then quite within the bounds of probability. For the
present, however, Barras favoured the plans of Sieyès, and helped him
to get rid of the firmly republican Directors, La Réveillière-Lépeaux
and Merlin, who were deposed (30th Prairial).[125]

The new Directors were Gohier, Roger Ducos, and Moulin; the first, an
elderly respectable advocate; the second, a Girondin by early
associations, but a trimmer by instinct, and therefore easily gained
over by Sieyès; while the recommendation of the third, Moulin, seem to
have been his political nullity and some third-rate military services
in the Vendéan war. Yet the Directory of Prairial was not devoid of a
spasmodic energy, which served to throw back the invaders of France.
Bernadotte, the fiery Gascon, remarkable for his ardent gaze, his
encircling masses of coal-black hair, and the dash of Moorish blood
which ever aroused Bonaparte's respectful apprehensions, was Minister
of War, and speedily formed a new army of 100,000 men: Lindet
undertook to re-establish the finances by means of progressive taxes:
the Chouan movement in the northern and western departments was
repressed by a law legalising the seizure of hostages; and there
seemed some hope that France would roll back the tide of invasion,
keep her "natural frontiers," and return to normal methods of
government.

Such was the position of affairs when Bonaparte's arrival inspired
France with joy and the Directory with ill-concealed dread. As in
1795, so now in 1799, he appeared at Paris when French political life
was in a stage of transition. If ever the Napoleonic star shone
auspiciously, it was in the months when he threaded his path between
Nelson's cruisers and cut athwart the maze of Sieyès' intrigues. To
the philosopher's "J'ai vécu" he could oppose the crushing retort
"J'ai vaincu."

The general, on meeting the thinker at Gohier's house, studiously
ignored him. In truth, he was at first disposed to oust both Sieyès
and Barras from the Directory. The latter of these men was odious to
him for reasons both private and public. In time past he had had good
reasons for suspecting Josephine's relations with the voluptuous
Director, and with the men whom she met at his house. During the
Egyptian campaign his jealousy had been fiercely roused in another
quarter, and, as we have seen, led to an almost open breach with his
wife. But against Barras he still harboured strong suspicions; and the
frequency of his visits to the Director's house after returning from
Egypt was doubtless due to his desire to sound the depths of his
private as well as of his public immorality. If we may credit the
_embarras de mensonges_ which has been dignified by the name of
Barras' "Memoirs," Josephine once fled to his house and flung herself
at his knees, begging to be taken away from her husband; but the story
is exploded by the moral which the relator clumsily tacks on, as to
the good advice which he gave her.[126] While Bonaparte seems to have
found no grounds for suspecting Barras on this score, he yet
discovered his intrigues with various malcontents; and he saw that
Barras, holding the balance of power in the Directory between the
opposing pairs of colleagues, was intriguing to get the highest
possible price for the betrayal of the Directory and of the
constitution of 1795.

For Sieyès the general felt dislike but respect. He soon saw the
advantage of an alliance with so learned a thinker, so skilful an
intriguer, and so weak a man. It was, indeed, necessary; for, after
making vain overtures to Gohier for the alteration of the law which
excluded from the Directory men of less than forty years of age,
the general needed the alliance of Sieyès for the overthrow of the
constitution. In a short space he gathered around him the malcontents
whom the frequent crises had deprived of office, Roederer, Admiral
Bruix, Réal, Cambacérès, and, above all, Talleyrand. The last-named;
already known for his skill in diplomacy, had special reasons for
favouring the alliance of Bonaparte and Sieyès: he had been dismissed
from the Foreign Office in the previous month of July because in his
hands it had proved to be too lucrative to the holder and too
expensive for France. It was an open secret that, when American
commissioners arrived in Paris a short time previously, for the
settlement of various disputes between the two countries, they found
that the negotiations would not progress until 250,000 dollars had
changed hands. The result was that hostilities continued, and that
Talleyrand soon found himself deprived of office, until another turn
of the revolutionary kaleidoscope should restore him to his coveted
place.[127] He discerned in the Bonaparte-Sieyès combination the force
that would give the requisite tilt now that Moreau gave up politics.

The army and most of the generals were also ready for some change,
only Bernadotte and Jourdan refusing to listen to the new proposals;
and the former of these came "with sufficiently bad grace" to join
Bonaparte at the time of action. The police was secured through that
dextrous trimmer, the regicide Fouché, who now turned against the very
men who had recently appointed him to office. Feeling sure of the
soldiery and police, the innovators fixed the 18th of Brumaire as the
date of their enterprise. There were many conferences at the houses of
the conspirators; and one of the few vivid touches which relieve the
dull tones of the Talleyrand "Memoirs" reveals the consciousness of
these men that they were conspirators. Late on a night in the middle
of Brumaire, Bonaparte came to Talleyrand's house to arrange details
of the _coup d'état,_ when the noise of carriages stopping outside
caused them to pale with fear that their plans were discovered. At
once the diplomatist blew out the lights and hurried to the balcony,
when he found that their fright was due merely to an accident to the
carriages of the revellers and gamesters returning from the Palais
Royal, which were guarded by gendarmes. The incident closed with
laughter and jests; but it illustrates the tension of the nerves of
the political gamesters, as also the mental weakness of Bonaparte when
confronted by some unknown danger. It was perhaps the only weak point
in his intellectual armour; but it was to be found out at certain
crises of his career.

Meanwhile in the legislative Councils there was a feeling of vague
disquiet. The Ancients were, on the whole, hostile to the Directory,
but in the Council of Five Hundred the democratic ardour of the
younger deputies foreboded a fierce opposition. Yet there also the
plotters found many adherents, who followed the lead now cautiously
given by Lucien Bonaparte. This young man, whose impassioned speeches
had marked him out as an irreproachable patriot, was now President of
that Council. No event could have been more auspicious for the
conspirators. With Sieyès, Barras, and Ducos, as traitors in the
Directory, with the Ancients favourable, and the junior deputies under
the presidency of Lucien, the plot seemed sure of success.

The first important step was taken by the Council of Ancients, who
decreed the transference of the sessions of the Councils to St. Cloud.
The danger of a Jacobin plot was urged as a plea for this motion,
which was declared carried without the knowledge either of the
Directory as a whole, or of the Five Hundred, whose opposition would
have been vehement. The Ancients then appointed Bonaparte to command
the armed forces in and near Paris. The next step was to insure the
abdication of Gohier and Moulin. Seeking to entrap Gohier, then the
President of the Directory, Josephine invited him to breakfast on the
morning of 18th Brumaire; but Gohier, suspecting a snare, remained at
his official residence, the Luxemburg Palace. None the less the
Directory was doomed; for the two defenders of the institution had not
the necessary quorum for giving effect to their decrees. Moulin
thereupon escaped, and Gohier was kept under guard--by Moreau's
soldiery![128]

Meanwhile, accompanied by a brilliant group of generals, Bonaparte
proceeded to the Tuileries, where the Ancients were sitting; and by
indulging in a wordy declamation he avoided taking the oath to the
constitution required of a general on entering upon a new command. In
the Council of Five Hundred, Lucien Bonaparte stopped the eager
questions and murmurs, on the pretext that the session was only legal
at St. Cloud.

There, on the next day (19th Brumaire or 10th November), a far more
serious blow was to be struck. The overthrow of the Directory was a
foregone conclusion. But with the Legislature it was far otherwise,
for its life was still whole and vigorous. Yet, while amputating a
moribund limb, the plotters did not scruple to paralyze the brain of
the body politic.

Despite the adhesion of most of the Ancients to his plans, Bonaparte,
on appearing before them, could only utter a succession of short,
jerky phrases which smacked of the barracks rather than of the Senate.
Retiring in some confusion, he regains his presence of mind among the
soldiers outside, and enters the hall of the Five Hundred, intending
to intimidate them not only by threats, but by armed force. At the
sight of the uniforms at the door, the republican enthusiasm of the
younger deputies catches fire. They fiercely assail him with cries of
"Down with the tyrant! down with the Dictator! outlaw him!" In vain
Lucien Bonaparte commands order. Several deputies rush at the general,
and fiercely shake him by the collar. He turns faint with excitement
and chagrin; but Lefebvre and a few grenadiers rushing up drag him
from the hall. He comes forth like a somnambulist (says an onlooker),
pursued by the terrible cry, "Hors la loi!" Had the cries at once
taken form in a decree, the history of the world might have been
different. One of the deputies, General Augereau, fiercely demands
that the motion of outlawry be put to the vote. Lucien Bonaparte
refuses, protests, weeps, finally throws off his official robes, and
is rescued from the enraged deputies by grenadiers whom the
conspirators send in for this purpose. Meanwhile Bonaparte and his
friends were hastily deliberating, when one of their number brought
the news that the deputies had declared the general an outlaw. The
news chased the blood from his cheek, until Sieyès, whose _sang froid_
did not desert him in these civilian broils, exclaims, "Since they
outlaw you, they are outlaws." This revolutionary logic recalls
Bonaparte to himself. He shouts, "To arms!" Lucien, too, mounting a
horse, appeals to the soldiers to free the Council from the menaces
of some deputies armed with daggers, and in the pay of England, who
are terrorising the majority. The shouts of command, clinched by the
adroit reference to daggers and English gold, cause the troops to
waver in their duty; and Lucien, pressing his advantage to the utmost,
draws a sword, and, holding it towards his brother, exclaims that he
will stab him if ever he attempts anything against liberty. Murat,
Leclerc, and other generals enforce this melodramatic appeal by shouts
for Bonaparte, which the troops excitedly take up. The drums sound for
an advance, and the troops forthwith enter the hall. In vain the
deputies raise the shout, "Vive la République," and invoke the
constitution. Appeals to the law are overpowered by the drum and by
shouts for Bonaparte; and the legislators of France fly pell-mell from
the hall through doors and windows.[129]

Thus was fulfilled the prophecy which eight years previously Burke had
made in his immortal work on the French Revolution. That great thinker
had predicted that French liberty would fall a victim to the first
great general who drew the eyes of all men upon himself. "The moment
in which that event shall happen, the person who really commands the
army is your master, the master of your king, the master of your
Assembly, the master of your whole republic."

Discussions about the _coup d'état_ of Brumaire generally confuse the
issue at stake by ignoring the difference between the overthrow of the
Directory and that of the Legislature. The collapse of the Directory
was certain to take place; but few expected that the Legislature of
France would likewise vanish. For vanish it did: not for nearly half
a century had France another free and truly democratic representative
assembly. This result of Brumaire was unexpected by several of the men
who plotted the overthrow of unpopular Directors, and hoped for the
nipping of Jacobinical or royalist designs. Indeed, no event in French
history is more astonishing than the dispersal of the republican
deputies, most of whom desired a change of _personnel_ but not a
revolution in methods of government. Until a few days previously the
Councils had the allegiance of the populace and of the soldiers; the
troops at St. Cloud were loyal to the constitution, and respected the
persons of the deputies until they were deluded by Lucien. For a few
minutes the fate of France trembled in the balance; and the
conspirators knew it.[130] Bonaparte confessed it by his incoherent
gaspings; Sieyès had his carriage ready, with six horses, for flight;
the terrible cry, "Hors la loi!" if raised against Bonaparte in the
heart of Paris, would certainly have roused the populace to fury in
the cause of liberty and have swept the conspirators to the
guillotine. But, as it was, the affair was decided in the solitudes of
St. Cloud by Lucien and a battalion of soldiers.

Efforts have frequently been made to represent the events of Brumaire
as inevitable and to dovetail them in with a pretended philosophy of
history. But it is impossible to study them closely without observing
how narrow was the margin between the success and failure of the plot,
and how jagged was the edge of an affair which philosophizers seek to
fit in with their symmetrical explanations. In truth, no event of
world-wide importance was ever decided by circumstances so trifling.
"There is but one step from triumph to a fall. I have seen that in the
greatest affairs a little thing has always decided important
events"--so wrote Bonaparte three years before his triumph at St.
Cloud: he might have written it of that event. It is equally
questionable whether it can be regarded as saving France from anarchy.
His admirers, it is true, have striven to depict France as trodden
down by invaders, dissolved by anarchy, and saved only by the stroke
of Brumaire. But she was already triumphant: it was quite possible
that she would peacefully adjust her governmental difficulties: they
were certainly no greater than they had been in and since the year
1797: Fouché had closed the club of the Jacobins: the Councils had
recovered their rightful influence, and, but for the plotters of
Brumaire, might have effected a return to ordinary government of the
type of 1795-7. This was the real blow; that the vigorous trunk, the
Legislature, was struck down along with the withering Directorial
branch.

The friends of liberty might well be dismayed when they saw how tamely
France accepted this astounding stroke. Some allowance was naturally
to be made, at first, for the popular apathy: the Jacobins, already
discouraged by past repression, were partly dazed by the suddenness of
the blow, and were also ignorant of the aims of the men who dealt it;
and while they were waiting to see the import of events, power passed
rapidly into the hands of Bonaparte and his coadjutors. Such is an
explanation, in part at least, of the strange docility now shown by a
populace which still vaunted its loyalty to the democratic republic.
But there is another explanation, which goes far deeper. The
revolutionary strifes had wearied the brain of France and had
predisposed it to accept accomplished facts. Distracted by the talk
about royalist plots and Jacobin plots, cowering away from the white
ogre and the red spectre, the more credulous part of the populace was
fain to take shelter under the cloak of a great soldier, who at least
promised order. Everything favoured the drill-sergeant theory of
government. The instincts developed by a thousand years of monarchy
had not been rooted out in the last decade. They now prompted France
to rally round her able man; and, abandoning political liberty as a
hopeless quest, she obeyed the imperious call which promised to
revivify the order and brilliance of her old existence with the
throbbing blood of her new life.

The French constitution was now to be reconstructed by a
self-appointed commission which sat with closed doors. This strange
ending to all the constitution-building of a decade was due to the
adroitness of Lucien Bonaparte. At the close of that eventful day, the
19th of Brumaire, he gathered about him in the deserted hall at St.
Cloud some score or so of the dispersed deputies known to be
favourable to his brother, declaimed against the Jacobins, whose
spectral plot had proved so useful to the real plotters, and proposed
to this "Rump" of the Council the formation of a commission who should
report on measures that were deemed necessary for the public safety.
The measures were found to be the deposition of the Directory, the
expulsion of sixty-one members from the Councils, the nomination of
Sieyès, Roger Ducos, and Bonaparte as provisional Consuls and the
adjournment of the Councils for four months. The Consuls accordingly
took up their residence in the Luxemburg Palace, just vacated by the
Directors, and the drafting of a constitution was confided to them and
to an _interim_ commission of fifty members chosen equally from the
two Councils.

The illegality of these devices was hidden beneath a cloak of politic
clemency. To this commission the Consuls, or rather Bonaparte--for
his will soon dominated that of Sieyès--proposed two most salutary
changes. He desired to put an end to the seizure of hostages from
villages suspected of royalism; and also to the exaction of taxes
levied on a progressive scale, which harassed the wealthy without
proportionately benefiting the exchequer. These two expedients,
adopted by the Directory in the summer of 1799, were temporary
measures adopted to stem the tide of invasion and to crush revolts;
but they were regarded as signs of a permanently terrorist policy, and
their removal greatly strengthened the new consular rule. The blunder
of nearly all the revolutionary governments had been in continuing
severe laws after the need for them had ceased to be pressing.
Bonaparte, with infinite tact, discerned this truth, and, as will
shortly appear, set himself to found his government on the support of
that vast neutral mass which was neither royalist nor Jacobin, which
hated the severities of the reds no less than the abuses of the
_ancien régime_.

While Bonaparte was conciliating the many, Sieyès was striving to body
forth the constitution which for many years had been nebulously
floating in his brain. The function of the Socratic [Greek: maieutaes]
was discharged by Boulay de la Meurthe, who with difficulty reduced
those ideas to definite shape. The new constitution was based on the
principle: "Confidence comes from below, power from above." This meant
that the people, that is, all adult males, were admitted only to the
preliminary stages of election of deputies, while the final act of
selection was to be made by higher grades or powers. The "confidence"
required of the people was to be shown not only towards their
nominees, but towards those who were charged with the final and most
important act of selection. The winnowing processes in the election of
representatives were to be carried out on a decimal system. The adult
voters meeting in their several districts were to choose one-tenth of
their number, this tenth being named the Notabilities of the Commune.
These, some five or six hundred thousand in number, meeting in their
several Departments, were thereupon to choose one-tenth of their
number; and the resulting fifty or sixty thousand men, termed
Notabilities of the Departments, were again to name one-tenth of their
number, who were styled Notabilities of the Nation. But the most
important act of selection was still to come--from above. From this
last-named list the governing powers were to select the members of the
legislative bodies and the chief officials and servants of the
Government.

The executive now claims a brief notice. The well-worn theory of the
distinction of powers, that is, the legislative and executive powers,
was maintained in Sieyès' plan. At the head of the Government the
philosopher desired to enthrone an august personage, the Grand
Elector, who was to be selected by the Senate. This Grand Elector was
to nominate two Consuls, one for peace, the other for war; they were
to nominate the Ministers of State, who in their turn selected the
agents of power from the list of Notabilities of the Nation. The two
Consuls and their Ministers administered the executive affairs. The
Senate, sitting in dignified ease, was merely to safeguard the
constitution, to elect the Grand Elector, and to select the members of
the _Corps Législatif_ (proper) and the Tribunate.

Distrust of the former almost superhuman activity in law-making now
appeared in divisions, checks, and balances quite ingenious in their
complexity. The Legislature was divided into three councils: the
_Corps Législatif_, properly so called, which listened in silence to
proposals of laws offered by the Council of State and criticised or
orally approved by the Tribunate.[131] These three bodies were not
only divided, but were placed in opposition, especially the two
talking bodies, which resembled plaintiff and defendant pleading
before a gagged judge. But even so the constitution was not
sufficiently guarded against Jacobins or royalists. If by any chance a
dangerous proposal were forced through these mutually distrustful
bodies, the Senate was charged with the task of vetoing it, and if the
Grand Elector, or any other high official, strove to gain a perpetual
dictatorship, the Senate was at once to _absorb_ him into its ranks.

Moreover, lest the voters should send up too large a proportion of
Jacobins or royalists, the first selection of members of the great
Councils and the chief functionaries for local affairs was to be made
by the Consuls, who thus primarily exercised not only the "power from
above," but also the "confidence" which ought to have come from below.
Perhaps this device was necessary to set in motion Sieyès' system of
wheels within wheels; for the Senate, which was to elect the Grand
Elector, by whom the executive officers were indirectly to be chosen,
was in part self-sufficient: the Consuls named the first members, who
then co-opted, that is, chose the new members. Some impulse from
without was also needed to give the constitution life; and this
impulse was now to come. Where Sieyès had only contrived wheels,
checks, regulator, break, and safety-valve, there now rushed in an
imperious will which not only simplified the parts but supplied an
irresistible motive power.

The complexity of much of the mechanism, especially that relating to
popular election and the legislature, entirely suited Bonaparte. But,
while approving the triple winnowing, to which Sieyès subjected the
results of manhood suffrage, and the subordination of the legislative
to the executive authority,[132] the general expressed his entire
disapproval of the limitations of the Grand Elector's powers. The name
was anti-republican: let it be changed to First Consul. And whereas
Sieyès condemned his grand functionary to the repose of a _roi
fainéant_, Bonaparte secured to him practically all the powers
assigned by Sieyès to the Consuls for Peace and for War. Lastly,
Bonaparte protested against the right of absorbing him being given to
the Senate. Here also he was successful; and thus a delicately poised
bureaucracy was turned into an almost unlimited dictatorship.

This metamorphosis may well excite wonder. But, in truth, Sieyès and
his colleagues were too weary and sceptical to oppose the one
"intensely practical man." To Bonaparte's trenchant reasons and
incisive tones the theorist could only reply by a scornful silence
broken by a few bitter retorts. To the irresistible power of the
general he could only oppose the subtlety of a student. And, indeed,
who can picture Bonaparte, the greatest warrior of the age, delegating
the control of all warlike operations to a Consul for War while
Austrian cannon were thundering in the county of Nice and British
cruisers were insulting the French coasts? It was inevitable that the
reposeful Grand Elector should be transformed into the omnipotent
First Consul, and that these powers should be wielded by Bonaparte
himself.[133]

The extent of the First Consul's powers, as finally settled by the
joint commission, was as follows. He had the direct and sole
nomination of the members of the general administration, of those of
the departmental and municipal councils, and of the administrators,
afterwards called prefects and sub-prefects. He also appointed all
military and naval officers, ambassadors and agents sent to foreign
Powers, and the judges in civil and criminal suits, except the _juges
de paix_ and, later on, the members of the _Cour de Cassation_. He
therefore controlled the army, navy, and diplomatic service, as well
as the general administration. He also signed treaties, though these
might be discussed, and must be ratified, by the legislative bodies.
The three Consuls were to reside in the Tuileries palace; but, apart
from the enjoyment of 150,000 francs a year, and occasional
consultation by the First Consul, the position of these officials was
so awkward that Bonaparte frankly remarked to Roederer that it would
have been better to call them Grand Councillors. They were, in truth,
supernumeraries added to the chief of the State, as a concession to
the spirit of equality and as a blind to hide the reality of the new
despotism. All three were to be chosen for ten years, and were
re-eligible.

Such is an outline of the constitution of 1799 (Year VIII.). It was
promulgated on December 15th, 1799, and was offered to the people for
acceptance, in a proclamation which closed with the words: "Citizens,
the Revolution is confined to the principles which commenced it. It is
finished." The news of this last fact decided the enthusiastic
acceptance of the constitution. In a _plébiscite_, or mass vote of the
people, held in the early days of 1800, it was accepted by an
overwhelming majority, viz., by 3,011,007 as against only 1,562
negatives. No fact so forcibly proves the failure of absolute
democracy in France; and, whatever may be said of the methods of
securing this national acclaim, it was, and must ever remain, the
soundest of Bonaparte's titles to power. To a pedant who once
inquired about his genealogy he significantly replied: "It dates from
Brumaire."

Shortly before the _plébiscite_, Sieyès and Ducos resigned their
temporary commissions as Consuls: they were rewarded with seats in the
Senate; and Sieyès, in consideration of his constitutional work,
received the estate of Crosne from the nation.

  "Sieyès à Bonaparte a fait present du trône,
  Sous un pompeux débris croyant l'ensevelir.
  Bonaparte à Sieyès a fait present de Crosne
    Pour le payer et l'avilir."

The sting in the tail of Lebrun's epigram struck home. Sieyès'
acceptance of Crosne was, in fact, his acceptance of notice to quit
public affairs, in which he had always moved with philosophic disdain.
He lived on to the year 1836 in dignified ease, surveying with
Olympian calm the storms of French and Continental politics.

The two new Consuls were Cambacérès and Lebrun. The former was known
as a learned jurist and a tactful man. He had voted for the death of
Louis XVI., but his subsequent action had been that of a moderate, and
his knowledge of legal affairs was likely to be of the highest service
to Bonaparte, who intrusted him with a general oversight of
legislation. His tact was seen in his refusal to take up his abode in
the Tuileries, lest, as he remarked to Lebrun, he might have to move
out again soon. The third Consul, Lebrun, was a moderate with leanings
towards constitutional royalty. He was to prove another useful
satellite to Bonaparte, who intrusted him with the general oversight
of finance and regarded him as a connecting link with the moderate
royalists. The chief secretary to the Consuls was Maret, a trusty
political agent, who had striven for peace with England both in 1793
and in 1797.

As for the Ministers, they were now reinforced by Talleyrand, who took
up that of Foreign Affairs, and by Berthier, who brought his powers of
hard work to that of War, until he was succeeded for a time by Carnot.
Lucien Bonaparte, and later Chaptal, became Minister of the Interior,
Gaudin controlled Finance, Forfait the Navy, and Fouché the Police.
The Council of State was organized in the following sections; that of
_War_, which was presided over by General Brune: _Marine_, by Admiral
Gantheaume: _Finance_, by Defermon: _Legislation_, by Boulay de la
Meurthe: the _Interior_, by Roederer.

The First Consul soon showed that he intended to adopt a non-partisan
and thoroughly national policy. That had been, it is true, the aim of
the Directors in their policy of balance and repression of extreme
parties on both sides. For the reasons above indicated, they had
failed: but now a stronger and more tactful grasp was to succeed in a
feat which naturally became easier every year that removed the
passions of the revolutionary epoch further into the distance. Men
cannot for ever perorate, and agitate and plot. A time infallibly
comes when an able leader can successfully appeal to their saner
instincts: and that hour had now struck. Bonaparte's appeal was made
to the many, who cared not for politics, provided that they themselves
were left in security and comfort: it was urged quietly, persistently,
and with the reserve power of a mighty prestige and of overwhelming
military force. Throughout the whole of the Consulate, a policy of
moderation, which is too often taken for weakness, was strenuously
carried through by the strongest man and the greatest warrior of the
age.

The truly national character of his rule was seen in many ways. He
excluded from high office men who were notorious regicides, excepting
a few who, like Fouché, were too clever to be dispensed with. The
constitutionals of 1791 and even declared royalists were welcomed back
to France, and many of the Fructidorian exiles also returned.[134] The
list of _émigrés_ was closed, so that neither political hatred nor
private greed could misrepresent a journey as an act of political
emigration. Equally generous and prudent was the treatment of Roman
Catholics. Toleration was now extended to orthodox or non-juring
priests, who were required merely to _promise_ allegiance to the new
constitution. By this act of timely clemency, orthodox priests were
allowed to return to France, and they were even suffered to officiate
in places where no opposition was thereby aroused.

While thus removing one of the chief grievances of the Norman, Breton
and Vendéan peasants, who had risen as much for their religion as for
their king, he determined to crush their revolts. The north-west, and
indeed parts of the south of France, were still simmering with
rebellions and brigandage. In Normandy a daring and able leader named
Frotté headed a considerable band of malcontents, and still more
formidable were the Breton "Chouans" that followed the peasant leader
Georges Cadoudal. This man was a born leader. Though but thirty years
of age, his fierce courage had long marked him out as the first
fighter of his race and creed. His features bespoke a bold, hearty
spirit, and his massive frame defied fatigue and hardship. He
struggled on; and in the autumn of 1799 fortune seemed about to favour
the "whites": the revolt was spreading; and had a Bourbon prince
landed in Brittany before Bonaparte returned from Egypt, the royalists
might quite possibly have overthrown the Directory. But Bonaparte's
daring changed the whole aspect of affairs. The news of the stroke of
Brumaire gave the royalists pause. At first they believed that the
First Consul would soon call back the king, and Bonaparte skilfully
favoured this notion: he offered a pacification, of which some of the
harassed peasants availed themselves. Georges himself for a time
advised a reconciliation, and a meeting of the royalist leaders voted
to a man that they desired "to have the king and you" (Bonaparte). One
of them, Hyde de Neuville, had an interview with the First Consul at
Paris, and has left on record his surprise at seeing the slight form
of the man whose name was ringing through France. At the first glance
he took him for a rather poorly dressed lackey; but when the general
raised his eyes and searched him through and through with their eager
fire, the royalist saw his error and fell under the spell of a gaze
which few could endure unmoved. The interview brought no definite
result.

Other overtures made by Bonaparte were more effective. True to his
plan of dividing his enemies, he appealed to the clergy to end the
civil strife. The appeal struck home to the heart or the ambitions of
a cleric named Bernier. This man was but a village priest of La
Vendée: yet his natural abilities gained him an ascendancy in the
councils of the insurgents, which the First Consul was now
victoriously to exploit. Whatever may have been Bernier's motives, he
certainly acted with some duplicity. Without forewarning Cadoudal,
Bourmont, Frotté, and other royalist leaders, he secretly persuaded
the less combative leaders to accept the First Consul's terms; and a
pacification was arranged (January 18th), In vain did Cadoudal rage
against this treachery: in vain did he strive to break the armistice.
Frotté in Normandy was the last to capitulate and the first to feel
Bonaparte's vengeance: on a trumped-up charge of treachery he was
hurried before a court-martial and shot. An order was sent from Paris
for his pardon; but a letter which Bonaparte wrote to Brune on the day
of the execution contains the ominous phrase: _By this time Frotté
ought to be shot_; and a recently published letter to Hédouville
expresses the belief that _the punishment of that desperate leader
will doubtless contribute to the complete pacification of the
West_.[135]

In the hope of gaining over the Chouans, Bonaparte required their
chiefs to come to Paris, where they received the greatest
consideration. In Bernier the priest, Bonaparte discerned diplomatic
gifts of a high order, which were soon to be tested in a far more
important negotiation. The nobles, too, received flattering
attentions which touched their pride and assured their future
insignificance. Among them was Count Bourmont, the Judas of the
Waterloo campaign.

In contrast with the priest and the nobles, Georges Cadoudal stood
firm as a rock. That suave tongue spoke to him of glory, honour, and
the fatherland: he heeded it not, for he knew it had ordered the death
of Frotté. There stood these fighters alone, face to face, types of
the north and south, of past and present, fiercest and toughest of
living men, their stern wills racked in wrestle for two hours. But
southern craft was foiled by Breton steadfastness, and Georges went
his way unshamed. Once outside the palace, his only words to his
friend, Hyde de Neuville, were: "What a mind I had to strangle him in
these arms!" Shadowed by Bonaparte's spies, and hearing that he was
to be arrested, he fled to England; and Normandy and Brittany enjoyed
the semblance of peace.[136]

Thus ended the civil war which for nearly seven years had rent France
in twain. Whatever may be said about the details of Bonaparte's
action, few will deny its beneficent results on French life. Harsh and
remorseless as Nature herself towards individuals, he certainly, at
this part of his career, promoted the peace and prosperity of the
masses. And what more can be said on behalf of a ruler at the end of a
bloody revolution?

Meanwhile the First Consul had continued to develop Sieyès'
constitution in the direction of autocracy. The Council of State,
which was little more than an enlarged Ministry, had been charged with
the vague and dangerous function of "developing the sense of laws" on
the demand of the Consuls; and it was soon seen that this Council was
merely a convenient screen to hide the operations of Bonaparte's will.
On the other hand, a blow was struck at the Tribunate, the only public
body which had the right of debate and criticism. It was now proposed
(January, 1800) that the time allowed for debate should be strictly
limited. This restriction to the right of free discussion met with
little opposition. One of the most gifted of the new tribunes,
Benjamin Constant, the friend of Madame de Staël, eloquently pleaded
against this policy of distrust which would reduce the Tribunate to a
silence that would be _heard by Europe_. It was in vain. The rabid
rhetoric of the past had infected France with a foolish fear of all
free debate. The Tribunate signed its own death warrant; and the sole
result of its feeble attempt at opposition was that Madame de Staël's
_salon_ was forthwith deserted by the Liberals who had there found
inspiration; while the gifted authoress herself was officially
requested to retire into the country.

The next act of the central power struck at freedom of the press. As a
few journals ventured on witticisms at the expense of the new
Government, the Consuls ordered the suppression of all the political
journals of Paris except thirteen; and three even of these favoured
papers were suppressed on April 7th. The reason given for this
despotic action was the need of guiding public opinion wisely during
the war, and of preventing any articles "contrary to the respect due
to the social compact, to the sovereignty of the people, and to the
glory of the armies." By a finely ironical touch Rousseau's doctrine
of the popular sovereignty was thus invoked to sanction its violation.
The incident is characteristic of the whole tendency of events, which
showed that the dawn of personal rule was at hand. In fact, Bonaparte
had already taken the bold step of removing to the Tuileries, and that
too, on the very day when he ordered public mourning for the death of
Washington (February 7th). No one but the great Corsican would have
dared to brave the comments which this coincidence provoked. But he
was necessary to France, and all men knew it. At the first sitting of
the provisional Consuls, Ducos had said to him: "It is useless to vote
about the presidence; it belongs to you of right"; and, despite the
wry face pulled by Sieyès, the general at once took the chair.
Scarcely less remarkable than the lack of energy in statesmen was the
confusion of thought in the populace. Mme. Reinhard tells us that
after the _coup d'état_ people _believed they had returned to the
first days of liberty_. What wonder, then, that the one able and
strong-willed man led the helpless many and re-moulded Sieyès'
constitution in a fashion that was thus happily parodied:

  "J'ai, pour les fous, d'un Tribunat
    Conservé la figure;
  Pour les sots je laisse un Sénat,
    Mais ce n'est qu'en peinture;
  A ce stupide magistrat
    Ma volonté préside;
  Et tout le Conseil d'Etat
    Dans mon sabre réside."

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XI

MARENGO: LUNÉVILLE


Reserving for the next chapter a description of the new civil
institutions of France, it will be convenient now to turn to foreign
affairs. Having arranged the most urgent of domestic questions, the
First Consul was ready to encounter the forces of the Second
Coalition. He had already won golden opinions in France by
endeavouring peacefully to dissolve it. On the 25th of December, 1799,
he sent two courteous letters, one to George III., the other to the
Emperor Francis, proposing an immediate end to the war. The close of
the letter to George III. has been deservedly admired: "France and
England by the abuse of their strength may, for the misfortune of all
nations, be long in exhausting it: but I venture to declare that the
fate of all civilized nations is concerned in the termination of a war
which kindles a conflagration over the whole world." This noble
sentiment touched the imagination of France and of friends of peace
everywhere.

And yet, if the circumstances of the time be considered, the first
agreeable impressions aroused by the perusal of this letter must be
clouded over by doubts. The First Consul had just seized on power by
illegal and forcible means, and there was as yet little to convince
foreign States that he would hold it longer than the men whom he had
displaced. Moreover, France was in a difficult position. Her treasury
was empty; her army in Italy was being edged into the narrow
coast-line near Genoa; and her oriental forces were shut up in their
new conquest. Were not the appeals to Austria and England merely a
skillful device to gain time? Did his past power in Italy and Egypt
warrant the belief that he would abandon the peninsula and the new
colony? Could the man who had bartered away Venetia and seized Malta
and Egypt be fitly looked upon as the sacred'r peacemaker? In
diplomacy men's words are interpreted by their past conduct and
present circumstances, neither of which tended to produce confidence
in Bonaparte's pacific overtures; and neither Francis nor George III.
looked on the present attempt as anything but a skilful means of
weakening the Coalition.

Indeed, that league was, for various reasons, all but dissolved by
internal dissensions. Austria was resolved to keep all the eastern
part of Piedmont and the greater part of the Genoese Republic. While
welcoming the latter half of this demand, George III.'s Ministers
protested against the absorption of so great a part of Piedmont as an
act of cruel injustice to the King of Sardinia. Austria was annoyed at
the British remonstrances and was indignant at the designs of the Czar
on Corsica. Accordingly no time could have been better chosen by
Bonaparte for seeking to dissolve the Coalition, as he certainly hoped
to do by these two letters. Only the staunch support of legitimist
claims by England then prevented the Coalition from degenerating into
a scramble for Italian territories.[137] And, if we may trust the
verdict of contemporaries and his own confession at St. Helena,
Bonaparte never expected any other result from these letters than an
increase of his popularity in France. This was enhanced by the British
reply, which declared that His Majesty could not place his reliance on
"general professions of pacific dispositions": France had waged
aggressive war, levied exactions, and overthrown institutions in
neighbouring States; and the British Government could not as yet
discern any abandonment of this system: something more was required
for a durable peace: "The best and most natural pledge of its reality
and permanence would be the restoration of that line of princes which
for so many centuries maintained the French nation in prosperity at
home and in consideration and respect abroad." This answer has been
sharply criticised, and justly so, if its influence on public opinion
be alone considered. But a perusal of the British Foreign Office
Records reveals the reason for the use of these stiffly legitimist
claims. Legitimacy alone promised to stop the endless shiftings of the
political kaleidoscope, whether by France, Austria, or Russia. Our
ambassador at Vienna was requested to inform the Government of Vienna
of the exact wording of the British reply:

     "As a proof of the zeal and steadiness with which His Majesty
     adheres to the principles of the Confederacy, and as a testimony of
     the confidence with which he anticipates a similar answer from His
     Imperial Majesty, to whom an overture of a similar nature has
     without doubt been made."

But this correct conduct, while admirably adapted to prop up the
tottering Coalition, was equally favourable to the consolidation of
Bonaparte's power. It helped to band together the French people to
resist the imposition of their exiled royal house by external force.
Even George III. thought it "much too strong," though he suggested no
alteration. At once Bonaparte retorted in a masterly note; he
ironically presumed that His Britannic Majesty admitted the right of
nations to choose their form of government, since only by that right
did he wear the British crown; and he invited him not to apply to
other peoples a principle which would recall the Stuarts to the throne
of Great Britain.

Bonaparte's diplomatic game was completely won during the debates on
the King's speech at Westminster at the close of January, 1800. Lord
Grenville laboriously proved that peace was impossible with a nation
whose war was against all order, religion, and morality; and he cited
examples of French lawlessness from Holland and Switzerland to Malta
and Egypt. Pitt declared that the French Revolution was the severest
trial which Providence had ever yet inflicted on the nations of the
earth; and, claiming that there was no security in negotiating with
France, owing to her instability, he summed up his case in the
Ciceronian phrase: _Pacem nolo quia infida_. Ministers carried the day
by 260 votes to 64; but they ranged nearly the whole of France on the
side of the First Consul. No triumph in the field was worth more to
him than these Philippics, which seemed to challenge France to build
up a strong Government in order that the Court of St. James might find
some firm foundation for future negotiations.

Far more dextrous was the conduct of the Austrian diplomatists.
Affecting to believe in the sincerity of the First Consul's proposal
for peace, they so worded their note as to draw from him a reply that
he was prepared to discuss terms of peace on the basis of the Treaty
of Campo Formio.[138] As Austria had since then conquered the greater
part of Italy, Bonaparte's reply immediately revealed his
determination to reassert French supremacy in Italy and the Rhineland.
The action of the Courts of Vienna and London was not unlike that of
the sun and the wind in the proverbial saw. Viennese suavity induced
Bonaparte to take off his coat and show himself as he really was:
while the conscientious bluster of Grenville and Pitt made the First
Consul button up his coat, and pose as the buffeted peacemaker.

The allies had good grounds for confidence. Though Russia had
withdrawn from the Second Coalition yet the Austrians continued their
victorious advance in Italy. In April, 1800, they severed the French
forces near Savona, driving back Suchet's corps towards Nice, while
the other was gradually hemmed in behind the redoubts of Genoa. There
the Imperialist advance was stoutly stayed. Masséna, ably seconded by
Oudinot and Soult, who now gained their first laurels as generals,
maintained a most obstinate resistance, defying alike the assaults of
the white-coats, the bombs hurled by the English squadron, and the
deadlier inroads of famine and sickness. The garrison dwindled by
degrees to less than 10,000 effectives, but they kept double the
number of Austrians there, while Bonaparte was about to strike a
terrible blow against their rear and that of Melas further west. It
was for this that the First Consul urged Masséna to hold out at Genoa
to the last extremity, and nobly was the order obeyed.

Suchet meanwhile defended the line of the River Var against Melas. In
Germany, Moreau with his larger forces slowly edged back the chief
Austrian army, that of General Kray, from the defiles of the Black
Forest, compelling it to fall back on the intrenched camp at Ulm.

On their side, the Austrians strove to compel Masséna to a speedy
surrender, and then with a large force to press on into Nice,
Provence, and possibly Savoy, surrounding Suchet's force, and rousing
the French royalists of the south to a general insurrection. They also
had the promise of the help of a British force, which was to be landed
at some point on the coast and take Suchet in the flank or rear.[139]
Such was the plan, daring in outline and promising great things,
provided that everything went well. If Masséna surrendered, if the
British War Office and Admiralty worked up to time, if the winds were
favourable, and if the French royalists again ventured on a revolt,
then France would be crippled, perhaps conquered. As for the French
occupation of Switzerland and Moreau's advance into Swabia, that was
not to prevent the prosecution of the original Austrian plan of
advancing against Provence and wresting Nice and Savoy from the French
grasp. This scheme has been criticised as if it were based solely on
military considerations; but it was rather dictated by schemes of
political aggrandizement. The conquest of Nice and Savoy was necessary
to complete the ambitious schemes of the Hapsburgs, who sought to gain
a large part of Piedmont at the expense of the King of Sardinia, and
after conquering Savoy and Nice, to thrust that unfortunate king to
the utmost verge of the peninsula, which the prowess of his
descendants has ultimately united under the Italian tricolour.

The allied plan sinned against one of the elementary rules of
strategy; it exposed a large force to a blow from the rear, namely,
from Switzerland. The importance of this immensely strong central
position early attracted Bonaparte's attention. On the 17th of March
he called his secretary, Bourrienne (so the latter states), and lay
down with him on a map of Piedmont: then, placing pins tipped, some
with red, others with black wax, so as to denote the positions of the
troops, he asked him to guess where the French would beat their foes:

     "How the devil should I know?" said Bourrienne. "Why, look here,
     you fool," said the First Consul: "Melas is at Alessandria with his
     headquarters. There he will remain until Genoa surrenders. He has
     at Alessandria his magazines, his hospitals, his artillery, his
     reserves. Crossing the Alps here (at the Great St. Bernard), I
     shall fall upon Melas, cut off his communications with Austria, and
     meet him here in the plains of the River Scrivia at San Giuliano."

I quote this passage as showing how readily such stories of ready-made
plans gain credence, until they come to be tested by Napoleon's
correspondence. There we find no strategic soothsaying, but only a
close watching of events as they develop day by day. In March and
April he kept urging on Moreau the need of an early advance, while he
considered the advantages offered by the St. Gotthard, Simplon, and
Great St. Bernard passes for his own army. On April 27th he decided
against the first (except for a detachment), because Moreau's advance
was too slow to safeguard his rear on that route. He now preferred the
Great St. Bernard, but still doubted whether, after crossing, he
should make for Milan, or strike at Masséna's besiegers, in case that
general should be very hard pressed. Like all great commanders, he
started with a general plan, but he arranged the details as the
situation required. In his letter of May 19th, he poured scorn on
Parisian editors who said he prophesied that in a month he would be at
Milan. "That is not in my character. Very often I do _not_ say what I
know: but never do I say what will be."

The better to hide his purpose, he chose as his first base of
operations the city of Dijon, whence he seemed to threaten either the
Swabian or the Italian army of his foes. But this was not enough. At
the old Burgundian capital he assembled his staff and a few regiments
of conscripts in order to mislead the English and Austrian spies;
while the fighting battalions were drafted by diverse routes to Geneva
or Lausanne. So skilful were these preparations that, in the early
days of May, the greater part of his men and stores were near the lake
of Geneva, whence they were easily transferred to the upper valley of
the Rhone. In order that he might have a methodical, hard-working
coadjutor he sent Berthier from the office of the Ministry of War,
where he had displayed less ability than Bernadotte, to be
commander-in-chief of the "army of reserve." In reality Berthier was,
as before in Italy and Egypt, chief of the staff; but he had the
titular dignity of commander which the constitution of 1800 forbade
the First Consul to assume.

On May 6th Bonaparte left Paris for Geneva, where he felt the pulse of
every movement in both campaigns. At that city, on hearing the report
of his general of engineers, he decided to take the Great St. Bernard
route into Italy, as against the Simplon. With redoubled energy, he
now supervised the thousands of details that were needed to insure
success: for, while prone to indulging in grandiose schemes, he
revelled in the work which alone could bring them within his grasp:
or, as Wellington once remarked, "Nothing was too great or too small
for his proboscis." The difficulties of sending a large army over the
Great St. Bernard were indeed immense. That pass was chosen because it
presented only five leagues of ground impracticable for carriages. But
those five leagues tested the utmost powers of the army and of its
chiefs. Marmont, who commanded the artillery, had devised the
ingenious plan of taking the cannon from their carriages and placing
them in the hollowed-out trunks of pine, so that the trunnions fitting
into large notches kept them steady during the ascent over the snow
and the still more difficult descent.[140] The labour of dragging the
guns wore out the peasants; then the troops were invited--a hundred at
a time--to take a turn at the ropes, and were exhilarated by martial
airs played by the bands, or by bugles and drums sounding the charge
at the worst places of the ascent.

The track sometimes ran along narrow ledges where a false step meant
death, or where avalanches were to be feared. The elements, however,
were propitious, and the losses insignificant. This was due to many
causes: the ardour of the troops in an enterprise which appealed to
French imagination and roused all their activities; the friendliness
of the mountaineers; and the organizing powers of Bonaparte and of his
staff; all these may be cited as elements of success. They present a
striking contrast to the march of Hannibal's army over one of the
western passes of the Alps. His motley host struggled over a long
stretch of mountains in the short days of October over unknown paths,
in one part swept away by a fall of the cliff, and ever and anon beset
by clouds of treacherous Gauls. Seeing that the great Carthaginian's
difficulties began long before he reached the Alps, that he was
encumbered by elephants, and that his army was composed of diverse
races held together only by trust in the prowess of their chief, his
exploit was far more wonderful than that of Bonaparte, which, indeed,
more nearly resembles the crossing of the St. Bernard by Francis I. in
1515. The difference between the conditions of Hannibal's and
Bonaparte's enterprises may partly be measured by the time which they
occupied. Whereas Hannibal's march across the Alps lasted fifteen
days, three of which were spent in the miseries of a forced halt
amidst the snow, the First Consul's forces took but seven days.
Whereas the Carthaginian army was weakened by hunger, the French
carried their full rations of biscuit; and at the head of the pass the
monks of the Hospice of St. Bernard served out the rations of bread,
cheese, and wine which the First Consul had forwarded, and which their
own generosity now doubled. The hospitable fathers themselves served
at the tables set up in front of the Hospice.

After insuring the regular succession of troops and stores, Bonaparte
himself began the ascent on May 20th. He wore the gray overcoat which
had already become famous; and his features were fixed in that
expression of calm self-possession which he ever maintained in face of
difficulty. The melodramatic attitudes of horse and rider, which David
has immortalized in his great painting, are, of course, merely
symbolical of the genius of militant democracy prancing over natural
obstacles and wafted onwards and upwards by the breath of victory. The
living figure was remarkable only for stern self-restraint and
suppressed excitement; instead of the prancing war-horse limned by
David, his beast of burden was a mule, led by a peasant; and, in place
of victory, he had heard that Lannes with the vanguard had found an
unexpected obstacle to his descent into Italy. The narrow valley of
the Dora Baltea, by which alone they could advance, was wellnigh
blocked by the fort of Bard, which was firmly held by a small Austrian
garrison and defied all the efforts of Lannes and Berthier. This was
the news that met the First Consul during his ascent, and again at the
Hospice. After accepting the hospitality of the monks, and spending a
short time in the library and chapel, he resumed his journey; and on
the southern slopes he and his staff now and again amused themselves
by sliding down the tracks which the passage of thousands of men had
rendered slippery. After halting at Aosta, he proceeded down the
valley to the fort of Bard.

Meanwhile some of his foot-soldiers had worked their way round this
obstacle by a goat-track among the hills and had already reached Ivrea
lower down the valley. Still the fort held out against the cannonade
of the French. Its commanding position seemed to preclude all hope of
getting the artillery past it; and without artillery the First Consul
could not hope for success in the plains of Piedmont. Unable to
capture the fort, he bethought him of hurrying by night the now
remounted guns under the cover of the houses of the village. For this
purpose he caused the main street to be strewn with straw and dung,
while the wheels of the cannon were covered over so as to make little
noise. They were then dragged quietly through the village almost
within pistol shot of the garrison: nevertheless, the defenders took
alarm, and, firing with musketry and grenades, exploded some
ammunition wagons and inflicted other losses; yet 40 guns and 100
wagons were got past the fort.

How this unfailing resource contrasts with the heedless behaviour of
the enemy! Had they speedily reinforced their detachment at Bard,
there can be little doubt that Bonaparte's movements could have been
seriously hampered. But, up to May 21st, Melas was ignorant that his
distant rear was being assailed, and the 3,000 Austrians who guarded
the vale of the Dora Baltea were divided, part being at Bard and
others at Ivrea. The latter place was taken by a rush of Lannes'
troops on May 22nd, and Bard was blockaded by part of the French
rearguard.

Bonaparte's army, if the rearguard be included, numbered 41,000 men.
Meanwhile, farther east, a French force of 15,000 men, drawn partly
from Moreau's army and led by Moncey, was crossing the St. Gotthard
pass and began to drive back the Austrian outposts in the upper valley
of the Ticino; and 5,000 men, marching over the Mont Cenis pass,
threatened Turin from the west. The First Consul's aim now was to
unite the two chief forces, seize the enemy's magazines, and compel
him to a complete surrender. This daring resolve took shape at Aosta
on the 24th, when he heard that Melas was, on the 19th, still at Nice,
unconscious of his doom. The chance of ending the war at one blow was
not to be missed, even if Masséna had to shift for himself.

But already Melas' dream of triumph had vanished. On the 21st, hearing
the astonishing news that a large force had crossed the St. Bernard,
he left 18,000 men to oppose Suchet on the Var, and hurried back with
the remainder to Turin. At the Piedmontese capital he heard that he
had to deal with the First Consul; but not until the last day of May
did he know that Moncey was forcing the St. Gotthard and threatening
Milan. Then, realizing the full extent of his danger, he hastily
called in all the available troops in order to fight his way through
to Mantua. He even sent an express to the besiegers of Genoa to retire
on Alessandria; but negotiations had been opened with Masséna for the
surrender of that stronghold, and the opinion of Lord Keith, the
English admiral, decided the Austrian commander there to press the
siege to the very end. The city was in the direst straits. Horses,
dogs, cats, and rats were at last eagerly sought as food: and at
every sortie crowds of the starving inhabitants followed the French in
order to cut down grass, nettles, and leaves, which they then boiled
with salt.[141] A revolt threatened by the wretched townsfolk was
averted by Masséna ordering his troops to fire on every gathering of
more than four men. At last, on June 4th, with 8,000 half-starved
soldiers he marched through the Austrian posts with the honours of
war. The stern warrior would not hear of the word surrender or
capitulation. He merely stated to the allied commanders that on June
4th his troops would evacuate Genoa or clear their path by the
bayonet.

Bonaparte has been reproached for not marching at once to succour
Masséna: the charge of desertion was brought by Masséna and Thiébault,
and has been driven home by Lanfrey with his usual skill. It will,
however, scarcely bear a close examination. The Austrians, at the
first trustworthy news of the French inroads into Piedmont and
Lombardy, were certain to concentrate either at Turin or Alessandria.
Indeed, Melas was already near Turin, and would have fallen on the
First Consul's flank had the latter marched due south towards
Genoa.[142] Such a march, with only 40,000 men, would have been
perilous: and it could at most only have rescued a now reduced and
almost famishing garrison. Besides, he very naturally expected the
besiegers of Genoa to retreat now that their rear was threatened.

Sound policy and a desire to deal a dramatic stroke spurred on the
First Consul to a more daring and effective plan; to clear Lombardy of
the Imperialists and seize their stores; then, after uniting with
Moncey's 15,000 troops, to cut off the retreat of all the Austrian
forces west of Milan.

On entering Milan he was greeted with wild acclaim by the partisans of
France (June 2nd); they extolled the energy and foresight that brought
two armies, as it were down from the clouds, to confound their
oppressors. Numbers of men connected with the Cisalpine Republic had
been proscribed, banished, or imprisoned by the Austrians; and their
friends now hailed him as the restorer of their republic. The First
Consul spent seven days in selecting the men who were to rebuild the
Cisalpine State, in beating back the eastern forces of Austria beyond
the River Adda, and in organizing his troops and those of Moncey for
the final blow. The military problems, indeed, demanded great care and
judgment. His position was curiously the reverse of that which he had
occupied in 1796. Then the French held Tortona, Alessandria, and
Valenza, and sought to drive back the Austrians to the walls of
Mantua. Now the Imperialists, holding nearly the same positions, were
striving to break through the French lines which cut them off from
that city of refuge; and Bonaparte, having forces slightly inferior to
his opponents, felt the difficulty of frustrating their escape.

Three routes were open to Melas. The most direct was by way of Tortona
and Piacenza along the southern bank of the Po, through the difficult
defile of Stradella: or he might retire towards Genoa, across the
Apennines, and regain Mantua by a dash across the Modenese: or he
might cross the Po at Valenza and the Ticino near Pavia. All these
roads had to be watched by the French as they cautiously drew towards
their quarry. Bonaparte's first move was to send Murat with a
considerable body of troops to seize Piacenza and to occupy the defile
of Stradella. These important posts were wrested from the Austrian
vanguard; and this success was crowned on June 9th by General Lannes'
brilliant victory at Montebello over a superior Austrian force
marching from Genoa towards Piacenza, which he drove back towards
Alessandria. Smaller bodies of French were meanwhile watching the
course of the Ticino, and others seized the magazines of the enemy at
Cremona.

After gaining precious news as to Melas' movements from an intercepted
despatch, Bonaparte left Milan on June 9th, and proceeded to
Stradella. There he waited for news of Suchet and Masséna from the
side of Savona and Ceva; for their forces, if united, might
complete the circle which he was drawing around the Imperialists.[143]
He hoped that Masséna would have joined Suchet near Savona; but owing
to various circumstances, for which Masséna was in no wise to blame,
their junction was delayed; and Suchet, though pressing on towards
Acqui, was unable to cut off the Austrian retreat on Genoa. Yet he so
harassed the corps opposed to him in its retreat from Nice that only
about 8,000 Austrians joined Melas from that quarter.[144]

Doubtless, Melas' best course would still have been to make a dash for
Genoa and trust to the English ships. But this plan galled the pride
of the general, who had culled plenteous laurels in Italy until the
approach of Bonaparte threatened to snatch the whole chaplet from his
brow. He and his staff sought to restore their drooping fortunes by a
bold rush against the ring of foes that were closing around. Never has
an effort of this kind so nearly succeeded and yet so wholly failed.

The First Consul, believing that the Austrians were bent solely on
flight, advanced from Stradella, where success would have been
certain, into the plains of Tortona, whence he could check any move of
theirs southwards on Genoa. But now the space which he occupied was so
great as to weaken his line at any one point; while his foes had the
advantage of the central position.


Bonaparte was also forced to those enveloping tactics which had so
often proved fatal to the Austrians four years previously; and this
curious reversal of his usual tactics may account for the anxiety
which he betrayed as he moved towards Marengo. He had, however,
recently been encouraged by the arrival of Desaix from Paris after his
return from Egypt. This dashing officer and noble man inspired him
with a sincere affection, as was seen by the three hours of eager
converse which he held with him on his arrival, as also by his words
to Bourrienne: "He is quite an antique character." Desaix with 5,300
troops was now despatched on the night of June 13th towards Genoa to
stop the escape of the Austrians in that direction. This eccentric
move has been severely criticised: but the facts, as then known by
Bonaparte, seemed to show that Melas was about to march on Genoa. The
French vanguard under Gardane had in the afternoon easily driven the
enemy's front from the village of Marengo; and Gardane had even
reported that there was no bridge over the River Bormida by which the
enemy could debouch into the plain of Marengo. Marmont, pushing on
later in the evening, had discovered that there was at least one
well-defended bridge; and when early next morning Gardane's error was
known, the First Consul, with a blaze of passion against the offender,
sent a courier in hot haste to recall Desaix. Long before he could
arrive, the battle of Marengo had begun: and for the greater part of
that eventful day, June the 14th, the French had only 18000 men
wherewith to oppose the onset of 31,000 Austrians.[145]

As will be seen by the accompanying map, the village of Marengo lies
in the plain that stretches eastwards from the banks of the River
Bormida towards the hilly country of Stradella. The village lies on
the high-road leading eastwards from the fortress of Alessandria, the
chief stronghold of north-western Italy.

[Illustration: BATTLE OF MARENGO TO ILLUSTRATE KELLERMANN'S CHARGE]

The plain is cut up by numerous obstacles. Through Marengo runs a
stream called the Fontanone. The deep curves of the Bormida, the steep
banks of the Fontanone, along with the villages, farmsteads, and
vineyards scattered over the plain, all helped to render an advance
exceedingly difficult in face of a determined enemy; and these natural
features had no small share in deciding the fortunes of the day.

Shortly after dawn Melas began to pour his troops across the Bormida,
and drove in the French outposts on Marengo: but there they met with a
tough resistance from the soldiers of Victor's division, while
Kellermann, the son of the hero of Valmy, performed his first great
exploit by hurling back some venturesome Austrian horsemen into the
deep bed of the Fontanone. This gave time to Lannes to bring up his
division, 5,000 strong, into line between Marengo and Castel Ceriolo.
But when the full force of the Austrian attack was developed about 10
a.m., the Imperialists not only gained Marengo, but threw a heavy
column, led by General Ott, against Lannes, who was constrained to
retire, contesting every inch of the ground. Thus, when, an hour
later, Bonaparte rode up from the distant rear, hurrying along his
Consular Guard, his eye fell upon his battalions overpowered in front
and outflanked on both wings. At once he launched his Consular Guard,
1,000 strong, against Ott's triumphant ranks. Drawn up in square near
Castel Ceriolo, it checked them for a brief space, until, plied by
cannon and charged by the enemy's horse, these chosen troops also
began to give ground. But at this crisis Monnier's division of 3,600
men arrived, threw itself into the fight, held up the flood of
white-coats around the hamlet of Li Poggi, while Carra St. Cyr
fastened his grip on Castel Ceriolo. Under cover of this welcome
screen, Victor and Lannes restored some order to their divisions and
checked for a time the onsets of the enemy. Slowly but surely,
however, the impact of the Austrian main column, advancing along the
highroad, made them draw back on San Giuliano.

By 2 p.m. the battle seemed to be lost for the French; except on the
north of their line they were in full retreat, and all but five of
their cannon were silenced. Melas, oppressed by his weight of years,
by the terrific heat, and by two slight wounds, retired to
Alessandria, leaving his chief of the staff, Zach, to direct the
pursuit. But, unfortunately, Melas had sent back 2,200 horsemen to
watch the district between Alessandria and Acqui, to which latter
place Suchet's force was advancing. To guard against this remoter
danger, he weakened his attacking force at the critical time and
place; and now, when the Austrians approached the hill of San Giuliano
with bands playing and colours flying, their horse was not strong
enough to complete the French defeat. Still, such was the strength of
their onset that all resistance seemed unavailing, until about 5 p.m.
the approach of Desaix breathed new life and hope into the defence. At
once he rode up to the First Consul; and if vague rumours may be
credited, he was met by the eager question: "Well, what do you think
of it?" To which he replied: "The battle is lost, but there is time to
gain another." Marmont, who heard the conversation, denies that these
words were uttered; and they presume a boldness of which even Desaix
would scarcely have been guilty to his chief. What he unquestionably
did urge was the immediate use of artillery to check the Austrian
advance: and Marmont, hastily reinforcing his own five guns with
thirteen others, took a strong position and riddled the serried ranks
of the enemy as, swathed in clouds of smoke and dust, they pressed
blindly forward. The First Consul disposed the troops of Desaix behind
the village and a neighbouring hill; while at a little distance on the
French left, Kellermann was ready to charge with his heavy cavalry as
opportunity offered.

It came quickly. Marmont's guns unsteadied Zach's grenadiers: Desaix's
men plied them with musketry; and while they were preparing for a last
effort, Kellermann's heavy cavalry charged full on their flank. Never
was surprise more complete. The column was cut in twain by this onset;
and veterans, who but now seemed about to overbear all obstacles, were
lying mangled by grapeshot, hacked by sabres, flying helplessly amidst
the vineyards, or surrendering by hundreds. A panic spread to their
comrades; and they gave way on all sides before the fiercely rallying
French. The retreat became a rout as the recoiling columns neared the
bridges of the Bormida: and night closed over a scene of wild
confusion, as the defeated army, thrust out from the shelter of
Marengo, flung itself over the river into the stronghold of
Alessandria.

Such was the victory of Marengo. It was dearly bought; for, apart from
the heavy losses, amounting on either side to about one-third of the
number engaged, the victors sustained an irreparable loss in the death
of Desaix, who fell in the moment when his skill and vigour snatched
victory from defeat. The victory was immediately due to Kellermann's
brilliant charge; and there can be no doubt, in spite of Savary's
statements, that this young officer made the charge on his own
initiative. Yet his onset could have had little effect, had not Desaix
shaken the enemy and left him liable to a panic like that which
brought disaster to the Imperialists at Rivoli. Bonaparte's
dispositions at the crisis were undoubtedly skilful; but in the first
part of the fight his conduct was below his reputation. We do not hear
of him electrifying his disordered troops by any deed comparable with
that of Cæsar, when, shield in hand, he flung himself among the
legionaries to stem the torrent of the Nervii. At the climax of the
fight he uttered the words "Soldiers, remember it is my custom to
bivouac on the field of battle"--tame and egotistical words
considering the gravity of the crisis.

On the evening of the great day, while paying an exaggerated
compliment to Bessières and the cavalry of the Consular Guard, he
merely remarked to Kellermann: "You made a very good charge"; to which
that officer is said to have replied: "I am glad you are satisfied,
general: for it has placed the crown on your head." Such pettiness was
unworthy of the great captain who could design and carry through the
memorable campaign of Marengo. If the climax was not worthy of the
inception, yet the campaign as a whole must be pronounced a
masterpiece. Since the days of Hannibal no design so daring and
original had startled the world. A great Austrian army was stopped in
its victorious career, was compelled to turn on its shattered
communications, and to fight for its existence some 120 miles to the
rear of the territory which it seemed to have conquered. In fact, the
allied victories of the past year were effaced by this march of
Bonaparte's army, which, in less than a month after the ascent of the
Alps, regained Nice, Piedmont, and Lombardy, and reduced the
Imperialists to the direst straits.

Staggered by this terrific blow, Melas and his staff were ready to
accept any terms that were not deeply humiliating; and Bonaparte on
his side was not loth to end the campaign in a blaze of glory. He
consented that the Imperial troops should retire to the east of the
Mincio, except at Peschiera and Mantua, which they were still to
occupy. These terms have been variously criticised: Melas has been
blamed for cowardice in surrendering the many strongholds, including
Genoa, which his men firmly held. Yet it must be remembered that he
now had at Alessandria less than 20,000 effectives, and that 30,000
Austrians in isolated bodies were practically at the mercy of the
French between Savona and Brescia. One and all they could now retire
to the Mincio and there resume the defence of the Imperial
territories. The political designs of the Court of Vienna on Piedmont
were of course shattered; but it now recovered the army which it had
heedlessly sacrificed to territorial greed. Bonaparte has also been
blamed for the lenience of his terms. Severer conditions could
doubtless have been extorted; but he now merged the soldier in the
statesman. He desired peace for the sake of France and for his own
sake. After this brilliant stroke peace would be doubly grateful to a
people that longed for glory but also yearned to heal the wounds of
eight years' warfare. His own position as First Consul was as yet
ill-established; and he desired to be back at Paris so as to curb the
restive Tribunate, overawe Jacobins and royalists, and rebuild the
institutions of France.

Impelled by these motives, he penned to the Emperor Francis an
eloquent appeal for peace, renewing his offer of treating with Austria
on the basis of the treaty of Campo Formio.[146] But Austria was not
as yet so far humbled as to accept such terms; and it needed the
master-stroke of Moreau at the great battle of Hohenlinden (December
2nd, 1800), and the turning of her fortresses on the Mincio by the
brilliant passage of the Splügen in the depths of winter by
Macdonald--a feat far transcending that of Bonaparte at the St.
Bernard--to compel her to a peace. A description of these events would
be beyond the scope of this work; and we now return to consider the
career of Bonaparte as a statesman.

After a brief stay at Milan and Turin, where he was received as the
liberator of Italy, the First Consul crossed the Alps by the Mont
Cenis pass and was received with rapturous acclaim at Lyons and Paris.
He had been absent from the capital less than two calendar months.

He now sent a letter to the Czar Paul, offering that, if the French
garrison of Malta were compelled by famine to evacuate that island, he
would place it in the hands of the Czar, as Grand Master of the
Knights of St. John. Rarely has a "Greek gift" been more skilfully
tendered. In the first place, Valetta was so closely blockaded by
Nelson's cruisers and invested by the native Maltese that its
surrender might be expected in a few weeks; and the First Consul was
well aware how anxiously the Czar had been seeking to gain a foothold
at Malta, whence he could menace Turkey from the south-east. In his
wish completely to gain over Russia, Bonaparte also sent back,
well-clad and well-armed, the prisoners taken from the Russian armies
in 1799, a step which was doubly appreciated at Petersburg because the
Russian troops which had campaigned with the Duke of York in Holland
were somewhat shabbily treated by the British Government in the
Channel Islands, where they took up their winter quarters. Accordingly
the Czar now sent Kalicheff to Paris, for the formation of a
Franco-Russian alliance. He was warmly received. Bonaparte promised in
general terms to restore the King of Sardinia to his former realm and
the Pope to his States. On his side, the Czar sent the alluring advice
to Bonaparte to found a dynasty and thereby put an end to the
revolutionary principles which had armed Europe against France. He
also offered to recognize the natural frontiers of France, the Rhine
and the Maritime Alps, and claimed that German affairs should be
regulated under his own mediation. When both parties were so
complaisant, a bargain was easily arranged. France and Russia
accordingly joined hands in order to secure predominance in the
affairs of Central and Southern Europe, and to counterbalance
England's supremacy at sea.

For it was not enough to break up the Second Coalition and recover
Northern Italy. Bonaparte's policy was more than European; it was
oceanic. England must be beaten on her own element: then and then only
could the young warrior secure his grasp on Egypt and return to his
oriental schemes. His correspondence before and after the Marengo
campaign reveals his eagerness for a peace with Austria and an
alliance with Russia. His thoughts constantly turn to Egypt. He
bargains with Britain that his army there may be revictualled, and so
words his claim that troops can easily be sent also. Lord Grenville
refuses (September 10th); whereupon Bonaparte throws himself eagerly
into further plans for the destruction of the islanders. He seeks to
inflame the Czar's wrath against the English maritime code. His
success for the time is complete. At the close of 1800 the Russian
Emperor marshals the Baltic Powers for the overthrow of England's
navy, and outstrips Bonaparte's wildest hopes by proposing a
Franco-Russian invasion of India with a view to "dealing his enemy a
mortal blow." This plan, as drawn up at the close of 1800, arranged
for the mustering of 35,000 Russians at Astrakan; while as many French
were to fight their way to the mouth of the Danube, set sail on
Russian ships for the Sea of Azov, join their allies on the Caspian
Sea, sail to its southern extremity, and, rousing the Persians and
Afghans by the hope of plunder, sweep the British from India. The
scheme received from Bonaparte a courteous perusal; but he subjected
it to several criticisms, which led to less patient rejoinders from
the irascible potentate. Nevertheless, Paul began to march his troops
towards the lower Volga, and several polks of Cossacks had crossed
that river on the ice, when the news of his assassination cut short
the scheme.[147]

The grandiose schemes of Paul vanished with their fantastic contriver;
but the _rapprochement_ of Russia to revolutionary France was
ultimately to prove an event of far-reaching importance; for the
eastern power thereby began to exert on the democracy of western
Europe that subtle, semi-Asiatic influence which has so powerfully
warped its original character.

The dawn of the nineteenth century witnessed some startling
rearrangements on the political chess-board.


While Bonaparte brought Russia and France to sudden amity, the
unbending maritime policy of Great Britain leagued the Baltic Powers
against the mistress of the seas. In the autumn of 1800 the Czar Paul,
after hearing of our capture of Malta, forthwith revived the Armed
Neutrality League of 1780 and opposed the forces of Russia, Prussia,
Sweden, and Denmark to the might of England's navy. But Nelson's
brilliant success at Copenhagen and the murder of the Czar by a palace
conspiracy shattered this league only four months after its formation,
and the new Czar, Alexander, reverted for a time to friendship with
England.[148] This sudden ending to the first Franco-Russia alliance
so enraged Bonaparte that he caused a paragraph to be inserted in the
official "Moniteur," charging the British Government with procuring
the assassination of Paul, an insinuation that only proclaimed his
rage at this sudden rebuff to his hitherto successful diplomacy.
Though foiled for a time, he never lost sight of the hoped-for
alliance, which, with a deft commixture of force and persuasion, he
gained seven years later after the crushing blow of Friedland.

Dread of a Franco-Russian alliance undoubtedly helped to compel
Austria to a peace. Humbled by Moreau at the great battle of
Hohenlinden, the Emperor Francis opened negotiations at Lunéville in
Lorraine. The subtle obstinacy of Cobenzl there found its match in the
firm yet suave diplomacy of Joseph Bonaparte, who wearied out Cobenzl
himself, until the march of Moreau towards Vienna compelled Francis to
accept the River Adige as his boundary in Italy. The other terms of
the treaty (February 9th, 1801) were practically the same as those of
the treaty of Campo Formio, save that the Hapsburg Grand Duke of
Tuscany was compelled to surrender his State to a son of the Bourbon
Duke of Parma. He himself was to receive "compensation" in Germany,
where also the unfortunate Duke of Modena was to find consolation in
the district of the Breisgau on the Upper Rhine. The helplessness of
the old Holy Roman Empire was, indeed, glaringly displayed; for
Francis now admitted the right of the French to interfere in the
rearrangement of that medley of States. He also recognized the
Cisalpine, Ligurian, Helvetic, and Batavian Republics, as at present
constituted; but their independence, and the liberty of their peoples
to choose what form of government they thought fit, were expressly
stipulated.

The Court of Naples also made peace with France by the treaty of
Florence (March, 1801), whereby it withdrew its troops from the States
of the Church, and closed its ports to British and Turkish ships; it
also renounced in favour of the French Republic all its claims over a
maritime district of Tuscany known as the Présidii, the little
principality of Piombino, and a port in the Isle of Elba. These
cessions fitted in well with Napoleon's schemes for the proposed
elevation of the heir of the Duchy of Parma to the rank of King of
Tuscany or Etruria. The King of Naples also pledged himself to admit
and support a French corps in his dominions. Soult with 10,000 troops
thereupon occupied Otranto, Taranto, and Brindisi, in order to hold
the Neapolitan Government to its engagements, and to facilitate French
intercourse with Egypt.

In his relations with the New World Bonaparte had also prospered.
Certain disputes between France and the United States had led to
hostilities in the year 1798. Negotiations for peace were opened in
March, 1800, and led to the treaty of Morfontaine, which enabled
Bonaparte to press on the Court of Madrid the scheme of the
Parma-Louisiana exchange, that promised him a magnificent empire on
the banks of the Mississippi.

These and other grandiose designs were confided only to Talleyrand and
other intimate counsellors. But, even to the mass of mankind, the
transformation scene ushered in by the nineteenth century was one of
bewildering brilliance. Italy from the Alps to her heel controlled by
the French; Austria compelled to forego all her Italian plans;
Switzerland and Holland dominated by the First Consul's influence;
Spain following submissively his imperious lead; England, despite all
her naval triumphs, helpless on land; and France rapidly regaining
more than all her old prestige and stability under the new
institutions which form the most enduring tribute to the First
Consul's glory.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XII

THE NEW INSTITUTIONS OF FRANCE


"We have done with the romance of the Revolution: we must now commence
its history. We must have eyes only for what is real and practicable
in the application of principles, and not for the speculative and
hypothetical." Such were the memorable words of Bonaparte to his
Council of State at one of its early meetings. They strike the keynote
of the era of the Consulate. It was a period of intensely practical
activity that absorbed all the energies of France and caused the
earlier events of the Revolution to fade away into a seemingly remote
past. The failures of the civilian rulers and the military triumphs of
Bonaparte had exerted a curious influence on the French character,
which was in a mood of expectant receptivity. In 1800 everything was
in the transitional state that favours the efforts of a master
builder; and one was now at hand whose constructive ability in civil
affairs equalled his transcendent genius for war.

I propose here briefly to review the most important works of
reconstruction which render the Consulate and the early part of the
Empire for ever famous. So vast and complex were Bonaparte's efforts
in this field that they will be described, not chronologically, but
subject by subject. The reader will, however, remember that for the
most part they went on side by side, even amidst the distractions
caused by war, diplomacy, colonial enterprises, and the myriad details
of a vast administration. What here appears as a series of canals was
in reality a mighty river of enterprise rolling in undivided volume
and fed by the superhuman vitality of the First Consul. It was his
inexhaustible curiosity which compelled functionaries to reveal the
secrets of their office: it was his intelligence that seized on the
salient points of every problem and saw the solution: it was his
ardour and mental tenacity which kept his Ministers and committees
hard at work, and by toil of sometimes twenty hours a day supervised
the results: it was, in fine, his passion for thoroughness, his
ambition for France, that nerved every official with something of his
own contempt of difficulties, until, as one of them said, "the
gigantic entered into our very habits of thought."[149]

The first question of political reconstruction which urgently claimed
attention was that of local government. On the very day when it was
certain that the nation had accepted the new constitution, the First
Consul presented to the Legislature a draft of a law for regulating
the affairs of the Departments. It must be admitted that local
self-government, as instituted by the men of 1789 in their
Departmental System, had proved a failure. In that time of buoyant
hope, when every difficulty and abuse seemed about to be charmed away
by the magic of universal suffrage, local self-government of a most
advanced type had been intrusted to an inexperienced populace. There
were elections for the commune or parish, elections for the canton,
elections for the district, elections for the Department, and
elections for the National Assembly, until the rustic brain, after
reeling with excitement, speedily fell back into muddled apathy and
left affairs generally to the wire-pullers of the nearest Jacobin
club. A time of great confusion ensued. Law went according to local
opinion, and the national taxes were often left unpaid. In the Reign
of Terror this lax system was replaced by the despotism of the secret
committees, and the way was thus paved for a return to organized
central control, such as was exercised by the Directory.

The First Consul, as successor to the Directory, therefore found
matters ready to his hand for a drastic measure of centralization, and
it is curious to notice that the men of 1789 had unwittingly cleared
the ground for him. To make way for the "supremacy of the general
will," they abolished the _Parlements_, which had maintained the old
laws, customs, and privileges of their several provinces, and had
frequently interfered in purely political matters. The abolition of
these and other privileged corporations in 1789 unified France and
left not a single barrier to withstand either the flood of democracy
or the backwash of reaction. Everything therefore favoured the action
of the First Consul in drawing all local powers under his own control.
France was for the moment weary of elective bodies, that did little
except waste the nation's taxes; and though there was some opposition
to the new proposal, it passed on February 16th, 1800 (28 Pluviose,
an, viii).

It substituted local government by the central power for local
self-government. The local divisions remained the same, except that
the "districts," abolished by the Convention, were now reconstituted
on a somewhat larger scale, and were termed _arrondissements_, while
the smaller communes, which had been merged in the cantons since 1795,
were also revived. It is noteworthy that, of all the areas mapped out
by the Constituent Assembly in 1789-90, only the Department and canton
have had a continuous existence--a fact which seems to show the peril
of tampering with well-established boundaries, and of carving out a
large number of artificial districts, which speedily become the
_corpus vile_ of other experimenters. Indeed, so little was there of
effective self-government that France seems to have sighed with relief
when order was imposed by Bonaparte in the person of a Prefect. This
important official, a miniature First Consul, was to administer the
affairs of the Department, while sub-prefects were similarly placed
over the new _arrondissements_, and mayors over the communes. The
mayors were appointed by the First Consul in communes of more than
5,000 souls: by the prefects in the smaller communes: all were alike
responsible to the central power.

The rebound from the former electoral system, which placed all local
authority ultimately in the hands of the voters, was emphasized by
Article 75 of the constitution, which virtually raised officials
beyond reach of prosecution. It ran thus: "The agents of the
Government, other than the Ministers, cannot be prosecuted for facts
relating to their duties except by a decision of the Council of State:
in that case the prosecution takes place before the ordinary
tribunals." Now, as this decision rested with a body composed almost
entirely of the higher officials, it will be seen that the chance of
a public prosecution of an official became extremely small. France was
therefore in the first months of 1800 handed over to a hierarchy of
officials closely bound together by interest and _esprit de corps_;
and local administration, after ten years of democratic experiments,
practically reverted to what it had been under the old monarchy. In
fact, the powers of the Prefects were, on the whole, much greater than
those of the royal Intendants: for while the latter were hampered by
the provincial _Parlements_, the nominees of the First Consul had to
deal with councils that retained scarce the shadow of power. The real
authority in local matters rested with the Prefects. The old elective
bodies survived, it is true, but their functions were now mainly
advisory; and, lest their advice should be too copious, the sessions
of the first two bodies were limited to a fortnight a year. Except for
a share in the assessment of taxation, their existence was merely a
screen to hide the reality of the new central despotism.[150]
Beneficent it may have been; and the choice of Prefects was certainly
a proof of Bonaparte's discernment of real merit among men of all
shades of opinion; but for all that, it was a despotism, and one that
has inextricably entwined itself with the whole life of France.[151]

It seems strange that this law should not have aroused fierce
opposition; for it practically gagged democracy in its most
appropriate and successful sphere of action, local self-government,
and made popular election a mere shadow, except in the single act of
the choice of the local _juges de paix_. This was foreseen by the
Liberals in the Tribunate: but their power was small since the
regulations passed in January: and though Daunou, as "reporter,"
sharply criticised this measure, yet he lamely concluded with the
advice that it would be dangerous to reject it. The Tribunes therefore
passed the proposal by 71 votes to 25: and the Corps Législatif by 217
to 68.

The results of this new local government have often been considered so
favourable as to prove that the genius of the French people requires
central control rather than self-government. But it should be noted
that the conditions of France from 1790 to 1800 were altogether
hostile to the development of free institutions. The fierce feuds at
home, the greed and the class jealousies awakened by confiscation, the
blasts of war and the blight of bankruptcy, would have severely tested
the firmest of local institutions; they were certain to wither so
delicate an organism as an absolute democracy, which requires peace,
prosperity, and infinite patience for its development. Because France
then came to despair of her local self-government, it did not follow
that she would fail after Bonaparte's return had restored her prestige
and prosperity. But the national _élan_ forbade any postponement or
compromise; and France forthwith accepted the rule of an able official
hierarchy as a welcome alternative to the haphazard acts of local
busybodies. By many able men the change has been hailed as a proof of
Bonaparte's marvellous discernment of the national character, which,
as they aver, longs for brilliance, order, and strong government,
rather than for the steep and thorny paths of liberty. Certainly there
is much in the modern history of France which supports this opinion.
Yet perhaps these characteristics are due very largely to the master
craftsman, who fashioned France anew when in a state of receptivity,
and thus was able to subject democracy to that force which alone has
been able to tame it--the mighty force of militarism.

       *       *       *       *       *

The return to a monarchical policy was nowhere more evident than in
the very important negotiations which regulated the relations of
Church and State and produced the _Concordat_ or treaty of peace with
the Roman Catholic Church. But we must first look back at the events
which had reduced the Roman Catholic Church in France to its pitiable
condition.

The conduct of the revolutionists towards the Church of France was
actuated partly by the urgent needs of the national exchequer, partly
by hatred and fear of so powerful a religious corporation. Idealists
of the new school of thought, and practical men who dreaded
bankruptcy, accordingly joined in the assault on its property and
privileges: its tithes were confiscated, the religious houses and
their property were likewise absorbed, and its lands were declared to
be the lands of the nation. A budget of public worship was, it is
true, designed to support the bishops and priests; but this solemn
obligation was soon renounced by the fiercer revolutionists. Yet
robbery was not their worst offence. In July, 1790, they passed a law
called the Civil Constitution of the Clergy, which aimed at subjecting
the Church to the State. It compelled bishops and priests to seek
election by the adult males of their several Departments and parishes,
and forced them to take a stringent oath of obedience to the new order
of things. All the bishops but four refused to take an oath which set
at naught the authority of the Pope: more than 50,000 priests likewise
refused, and were ejected from their livings: the recusants were
termed _orthodox_ or _non-juring_ priests, and by the law of August,
1792, they were exiled from France, while their more pliable or
time-serving brethren who accepted the new decree were known as
_constitutionals_. About 12,000 of the constitutionals married, while
some of them applauded the extreme Jacobinical measures of the Terror.
One of them shocked the faithful by celebrating the mysteries, having
a _bonnet rouge_ on his head, holding a pike in his hand, while his
wife was installed near the altar.[152] Outrages like these were rare:
but they served to discredit the constitutional Church and to throw up
in sharper relief the courage with which the orthodox clergy met exile
and death for conscience' sake. Moreover, the time-serving of the
constitutionals was to avail them little: during the Terror their
stipends were unpaid, and the churches were for the most part closed.
After a partial respite in 1795-6, the _coup d'état_ of Fructidor
(1797) again ushered in two years of petty persecutions; but in the
early summer of 1799 constitutionals were once more allowed to observe
the Christian Sunday, and at the time of Bonaparte's return from
Egypt their services were more frequented than those of the
Theophilanthropists on the _décadis_. It was evident, then, that the
anti-religious _furor_ had burnt itself out, and that France was
turning back to her old faith. Indeed, outside Paris and a few other
large towns, public opinion mocked at the new cults, and in the
country districts the peasantry clung with deep affection to their old
orthodox priests, often following them into the forests to receive
their services and forsaking those of their supplanters.

Such, then, was the religious state of France in 1799: her clergy were
rent by a formidable schism; the orthodox priests clung where possible
to their parishioners, or lived in destitution abroad; the
constitutional priests, though still frowned on by the Directory, were
gaining ground at the expense of the Theophilanthropists, whose
expiring efforts excited ridicule. In fine, a nation weary of
religious experiments and groping about for some firm anchorage in the
midst of the turbid ebb-tide and its numerous backwaters.[153]

Despite the absence of any deep religious belief, Bonaparte felt the
need of religion as the bulwark of morality and the cement of society.
During his youth he had experienced the strength of Romanism in
Corsica, and during his campaigns in Italy he saw with admiration the
zeal of the French orthodox priests who had accepted exile and poverty
for conscience' sake. To these outcasts he extended more protection
than was deemed compatible with correct republicanism; and he received
their grateful thanks. After Brumaire he suppressed the oath
previously exacted from the clergy, and replaced it by a _promise_ of
fidelity to the constitution. Many reasons have been assigned for this
conduct, but doubtless his imagination was touched by the sight of the
majestic hierarchy of Rome, whose spiritual powers still prevailed,
even amidst the ruin of its temporal authority, and were slowly but
surely winning back the ground lost in the Revolution. An influence so
impalpable yet irresistible, that inherited from the Rome of the
Cæsars the gift of organization and the power of maintaining
discipline, in which the Revolution was so signally lacking, might
well be the ally of the man who now dominated the Latin peoples. The
pupil of Cæsar could certainly not neglect the aid of the spiritual
hierarchy, which was all that remained of the old Roman grandeur.




Added to this was his keen instinct for reality, which led him to
scorn such whipped-up creeds as Robespierre's Supreme Being and that
amazing hybrid, Theophilanthropy, offspring of the Goddess of Reason
and La Réveillière-Lépeaux. Having watched their manufacture, rise and
fall, he felt the more regard for the faith of his youth, which
satisfied one of the most imperious needs of his nature, a craving for
certainty. Witness this crushing retort to M. Mathieu: "What is your
Theophilanthropy? Oh, don't talk to me of a religion which only takes
me for this life, without telling me whence I come or whither I go."
Of course, this does not prove the reality of Napoleon's religion; but
it shows that he was not devoid of the religious instinct.

The victory of Marengo enabled Bonaparte to proceed with his plans for
an accommodation with the Vatican; and he informed one of the Lombard
bishops that he desired to open friendly relations with Pope Pius
VII., who was then about to make his entry into Rome. There he
received the protection of the First Consul, and soon recovered his
sovereignty over his States, excepting the Legations.

The negotiations between Paris and the Vatican were transacted chiefly
by a very able priest, Bernier by name, who had gained the First
Consul's confidence during the pacification of Brittany, and now urged
on the envoys of Rome the need of deferring to all that was reasonable
in the French demands. The negotiators for the Vatican were Cardinals
Consalvi and Caprara, and Monseigneur Spina--able ecclesiastics, who
were fitted to maintain clerical claims with that mixture of
suppleness and firmness which had so often baffled the force and craft
of mighty potentates. The first difficulty arose on the question of
the resignation of bishops of the Gallican Church: Bonaparte demanded
that, whether orthodox or constitutionals, they must resign their sees
into the Pope's hands; failing that, they must be deposed by the papal
authority. Sweeping as this proposal seemed, Bonaparte claimed that
bishops of both sides must resign, in order that a satisfactory
selection might be made. Still more imperious was the need that the
Church should renounce all claim to her confiscated domains. All
classes of the community, so urged Bonaparte, had made immense
sacrifices during the Revolution; and now that peasants were settled
on these once clerical lands, the foundations of society would be
broken up by any attempt to dispossess them.

To both of these proposals the Court of Rome offered a tenacious
resistance. The idea of compelling long-persecuted bishops to resign
their sees was no less distasteful than the latter proposal, which
involved acquiescence in sacrilegious robbery. At least, pleaded Mgr.
Spina, let tithes be re-established. To this request the First Consul
deigned no reply. None, indeed, was possible except a curt refusal.
Few imposts had been so detested as the tithe; and its reimposition
would have wounded the peasant class, on which the First Consul based
his authority. So long as he had their support he could treat with
disdain the scoffs of the philosophers and even the opposition of his
officers; but to have wavered on the subject of tithe and of the
Church lands might have been fatal even to the victor of Marengo.[154]

In fact, the difficulty of effecting any compromise was enormous. In
seeking to reconcile the France of Rousseau and Robespierre to the
unchanging policy of the Vatican, the "heir to the Revolution" was
essaying a harder task than any military enterprise. To slay men has
ever been easier than to mould their thoughts anew; and Bonaparte was
now striving not only to remould French thought but also to fashion
anew the ideas of the Eternal City. He soon perceived that this latter
enterprise was more difficult than the former. The Pope and his
councillors rejoiced at the signs of his repentance, but required to
see the fruits thereof. Instead of first-fruits they received
unheard-of demands--the surrender of the three Legations of Bologna,
Ferrara, and Romagna, the renunciation of all tithes and Church lands
in France, and the acceptance of a compromise with schismatics. What
wonder that the replies from Rome were couched in the _non possumus_
terms which form the last refuge of the Vatican. Finding that
negotiations made no progress, Bonaparte intrusted Berthier and Murat
to pay a visit to Rome and exercise a discreet but burdensome pressure
in the form of requisitions for the French troops in the Papal States.

The ratification of peace with Austria gave greater weight to his
representations at Rome, and he endeavoured to press on the signature
of the Concordat, so as to startle the world by the simultaneous
announcement of the pacification of the Continent and of the healing
of the great religious schism in France. But the clerical machinery
worked too slowly to admit of this projected _coup de théâtre_. In
Bonaparte's proposals of February 25th, 1801, there were several
demands already found to be inadmissible at the Vatican;[155] and
matters came to a deadlock until the Pope invested Spina with larger
powers for negotiating at Paris. Consalvi also proceeded to Paris,
where he was received in state with other ambassadors at the
Tuileries, the sight of a cardinal's robe causing no little sensation.
The First Consul granted him a long interview, speaking at first
somewhat seriously, but gradually becoming more affable and gracious.
Yet as his behaviour softened his demands stiffened; and at the close
of the audience he pressed Consalvi to sign a somewhat unfavourable
version of the compact within five days, otherwise the negotiations
would be at an end and a _national religion would be adopted_--an
enterprise for which the auguries promised complete success. At a
later interview he expressed the same resolution in homely phrase:
when Consalvi pressed him to take a firm stand against the
"constitutional" intruders, he laughingly remarked that he could do no
more until he knew how he stood with Rome; for "you know that when
one cannot arrange matters with God, one comes to terms with the
devil."[156]

This dalliance with the "constitutionals" might have been more than an
astute ruse, and Consalvi knew it. In framing a national Church the
First Consul would have appealed not only to the old Gallican feeling,
still strong among the clerics and laity, but also to the potent force
of French nationality. The experiment might have been managed so as to
offend none but the strictest Catholics, who were less to be feared
than the free-thinkers. Consalvi was not far wrong when, writing of
the official world at Paris, he said that only Bonaparte really
desired a Concordat.

The First Consul's motives in seeking the alliance of Rome have, very
naturally, been subjected to searching criticism; and in forcing the
Concordat on France, and also on Rome, he was certainly undertaking
the most difficult negotiation of his life.[157] But his preference
for the Roman connection was an act of far-reaching statecraft. He saw
that a national Church, unrecognized by Rome, was a mere half-way
house between Romanism and Protestantism; and he disliked the latter
creed because of its tendency to beget sects and to impair the
validity of the general will. He still retained enough of Rousseau's
doctrine to desire that the general will should be uniform, provided
that it could be controlled by his own will. Such uniformity in the
sphere of religion was impossible unless he had the support of the
Papacy. Only by a bargain with Rome could he gain the support of a
solid ecclesiastical phalanx. Finally, by erecting a French national
Church, he would not only have perpetuated schism at home, but would
have disqualified himself for acting the part of Charlemagne over
central and southern Europe. To re-fashion Europe in a cosmopolitan
mould he needed a clerical police that was more than merely French. To
achieve those grander designs the successor of Cæsar would need the
aid of the successor of Peter; and this aid would be granted only to
the restorer of Roman Catholicism in France, never to the perpetuator
of schism.

These would seem to be the chief reasons why he braved public opinion
in Paris and clung to the Roman connection, bringing forward his plan
of a Gallican Church only as a threatening move against the clerical
flank. When the Vatican was obdurate he coquetted with the
"constitutional" bishops, allowing them every facility for free speech
in a council which they held at Paris at the close of June, 1801. He
summoned to the Tuileries their president, the famous Grégoire, and
showed him signal marks of esteem. "Put not your trust in princes"
must soon have been the thought of Grégoire and his colleagues: for a
fortnight later Bonaparte carried through his treaty with Rome and
shelved alike the congress and the church of the "constitutionals."

It would be tedious to detail all the steps in this complex
negotiation, but the final proceedings call for some notice. When the
treaty was assuming its final form, Talleyrand, the polite scoffer,
the bitter foe of all clerical claims, found it desirable to take the
baths at a distant place, and left the threads of the negotiation in
the hands of two men who were equally determined to prevent its
signature, Maret, Secretary of State, and Hauterive, who afterwards
become the official archivist of France. These men determined to
submit to Consalvi a draft of the treaty differing widely from that
which had been agreed upon; and that, too, when the official
announcement had been made that the treaty was to be signed
immediately. In the last hours the cardinal found himself confronted
with unexpected conditions, many of which he had successfully
repelled. Though staggered by this trickery, which compelled him to
sign a surrender or to accept an open rupture, Consalvi fought the
question over again in a conference that lasted twenty-four hours; he
even appeared at the State dinner given on July 14th by the First
Consul, who informed him before the other guests that it was a
question of "my draft of the treaty or none at all." Nothing baffled
the patience and tenacity of the Cardinal; and finally, by the good
offices of Joseph Bonaparte, the objectionable demands thrust forward
at the eleventh hour were removed or altered.

The question has been discussed whether the First Consul was a party
to this device. Theiner asserts that he knew nothing of it: that it
was an official intrigue got up at the last moment by the
anti-clericals so as to precipitate a rupture. In support of this
view, he cites letters of Maret and Hauterive as inculpating these men
and tending to free Bonaparte from suspicion of complicity. But the
letters cannot be said to dissipate all suspicion. The First Consul
had made this negotiation peculiarly his own: no officials assuredly
would have dared secretly to foist their own version of an important
treaty; or, if they did, this act would have been the last of their
career. But Bonaparte did not disgrace them; on the contrary, he
continued to honour them with his confidence. Moreover, the First
Consul flew into a passion with his brother Joseph when he reported
that Consalvi could not sign the document now offered to him, and tore
in pieces the articles finally arranged with the Cardinal. On the
return of his usually calm intelligence, he at last allowed the
concessions to stand, with the exception of two; but in a scrutiny of
motives we must assign most importance, not to second and more prudent
thoughts, but to the first ebullition of feelings, which seem
unmistakably to prove his knowledge and approval of Hauterive's
device. We must therefore conclude that he allowed the antagonists of
the Concordat to make this treacherous onset, with the intention of
extorting every possible demand from the dazed and bewildered
Cardinal.[158]



After further delays the Concordat was ratified at Eastertide, 1802.
It may be briefly described as follows: The French Government
recognized that the Catholic apostolic and Roman religion was the
religion of the great majority of the French people, "especially of
the Consuls"; but it refused to declare it to be the religion of
France, as was the case under the _ancien régime_. It was to be freely
and publicly practised in France, subject to the police regulations
that the Government judged necessary for the public tranquillity. In
return for these great advantages, many concessions were expected from
the Church. The present bishops, both orthodox and constitutional,
were, at the Pope's invitation, to resign their sees; or, failing
that, new appointments were to be made, as if the sees were vacant.
The last proviso was necessary; for of the eighty-one surviving
bishops affected by this decision as many as thirteen orthodox and two
"constitutionals" offered persistent but unavailing protests against
the action of the Pope and First Consul.

A new division of archbishoprics and bishoprics was now made, which
gave in all sixty sees to France. The First Consul enjoyed the right
of nomination to them, whereupon the Pope bestowed canonical
investiture. The archbishops and bishops were all to take an oath of
fidelity to the constitution. The bishops nominated the lower clerics
provided that they were acceptable to the Government: all alike bound
themselves to watch over governmental interests. The stability of
France was further assured by a clause granting complete and permanent
security to the holders of the confiscated Church lands--a healing and
salutary compromise which restored peace to every village and soothed
the qualms of many a troubled conscience. On its side, the State
undertook to furnish suitable stipends to the clergy, a promise which
was fulfilled in a rather niggardly spirit. For the rest, the First
Consul enjoyed the same consideration as the Kings of France in all
matters ecclesiastical; and a clause was added, though Bonaparte
declared it needless, that if any succeeding First Consul were not a
Roman Catholic, his prerogatives in religious matters should be
revised by a Convention. A similar Concordat was passed a little later
for the pacification of the Cisalpine Republic.

The Concordat was bitterly assailed by the Jacobins, especially by the
military chiefs, and had not the infidel generals been for the most
part sundered by mutual jealousies they might perhaps have overthrown
Bonaparte. But their obvious incapacity for civil affairs enabled them
to venture on nothing more than a few coarse jests and clumsy
demonstrations. At the Easter celebration at Notre Dame in honour of
the ratification of the Concordat, one of them, Delmas by name,
ventured on the only protest barbed with telling satire: "Yes, a fine
piece of monkery this, indeed. It only lacked the million men who got
killed to destroy what you are striving to bring back." But to all
protests Bonaparte opposed a calm behaviour that veiled a rigid
determination, before which priests and soldiers were alike helpless.

In subsequent articles styled "organic," Bonaparte, without consulting
the Pope, made several laws that galled the orthodox clergy. Under the
plea of legislating for the police of public worship, he reaffirmed
some of the principles which he had been unable to incorporate in the
Concordat itself. The organic articles asserted the old claims of the
Gallican Church, which forbade the application of Papal Bulls, or of
the decrees of "foreign" synods, to France: they further forbade the
French bishops to assemble in council or synod without the permission
of the Government; and this was also required for a bishop to leave
his diocese, even if he were summoned to Rome. Such were the chief of
the organic articles. Passed under the plea of securing public
tranquillity, they proved a fruitful source of discord, which during
the Empire became so acute as to weaken Napoleon's authority. In
matters religious as well as political, he early revealed his chief
moral and mental defect, a determination to carry his point by
whatever means and to require the utmost in every bargain. While
refusing fully to establish Roman Catholicism as the religion of the
State, he compelled the Church to surrender its temporalities, to
accept the regulations of the State, and to protect its interests.
Truly if, in Chateaubriand's famous phrase, he was the "restorer of
the altars," he exacted the uttermost farthing for that restoration.

In one matter his clear intelligence stands forth in marked contrast
to the narrow pedantry of the Roman Cardinals. At a time of
reconciliation between orthodox and "constitutionals," they required
from the latter a complete and public retractation of their recent
errors. At once Bonaparte intervened with telling effect. So condign a
humiliation, he argued, would altogether mar the harmony newly
re-established. "The past is past: and the bishops and prefects ought
to require from the priests only the declaration of adhesion to the
Concordat, and of obedience to the bishop nominated by the First
Consul and instituted by the Pope." This enlightened advice, backed up
by irresistible power, carried the day, and some ten thousand
constitutional priests were quietly received back into the Roman
communion, those who had contracted marriages being compelled to put
away their wives. Bonaparte took a deep interest in the reconstruction
of dioceses, in the naming of churches, and similar details, doubtless
with the full consciousness that the revival of the Roman religious
discipline in France was a more important service than any feat of
arms.

He was right: in healing a great schism in France he was dealing a
deadly blow at the revolutionary feeling of which it was a prominent
manifestation. In the words of one of his Ministers, "The Concordat
was the most brilliant triumph over the genius of Revolution, and all
the following successes have without exception resulted from it."[159]

After this testimony it is needless to ask why Bonaparte did not take
up with Protestantism. At St. Helena, it is true, he asserted that the
choice of Catholicism or Protestantism was entirely open to him in
1801, and that the nation would have followed him in either direction:
but his religious policy, if carefully examined, shows no sign of
wavering on this subject, though he once or twice made a strategic
diversion towards Geneva, when Rome showed too firm a front. Is it
conceivable that a man who, as he informed Joseph, was systematically
working to found a dynasty, should hesitate in the choice of a
governmental creed? Is it possible to think of the great champion of
external control and State discipline as a defender of liberty of
conscience and the right of private judgment?

The regulation of the Protestant cult in France was a far less arduous
task. But as Bonaparte's aim was to attach all cults to the State, he
decided to recognize the two chief Protestant bodies in France,
Calvinists and Lutherans, allowing them to choose their own pastors
and to regulate their affairs in consistories. The pastors were to be
salaried by the State, but in return the Government not only reserved
its approval of every appointment, but required the Protestant bodies
to have no relations whatever with any foreign Power or authority. The
organic articles of 1802, which defined the position of the Protestant
bodies, form a very important landmark in the history of the followers
of Luther and Calvin. Persecuted by Louis XIV. and XV., they were
tolerated by Louis XVI.; they gained complete religious equality
in 1789, and after a few years of anarchy in matters of faith, they
found themselves suddenly and stringently bound to the State by the
organizing genius of Bonaparte.

In the years 1806-1808 the position of the Jews was likewise defined,
at least for all those who recognized France as their country,
performed all civic duties, and recognized all the laws of the State.
In consideration of their paying full taxes and performing military
service, they received official protection and their rabbis
governmental support.

Such was Bonaparte's policy on religious subjects. There can be little
doubt that its motive was, in the main, political. This methodizing
genius, who looked on the beliefs and passions, the desires and
ambitions of mankind, as so many forces which were to aid him in his
ascent, had already satisfied the desires for military glory and
material prosperity; and in his bargain with Rome he now won the
support of an organized priesthood, besides that of the smaller
Protestant and Jewish communions. That he gained also peace and
quietness for France may be granted, though it was at the expense
of that mental alertness and independence which had been her chief
intellectual glory; but none of his intimate acquaintances ever
doubted that his religion was only a vague sentiment, and his
attendance at mass merely a compliment to his "sacred
gendarmerie."[l60]

Having dared and achieved the exploit of organizing religion in a
half-infidel society, the First Consul was ready to undertake the
almost equally hazardous task of establishing an order of social
distinction, and that too in the very land where less than eight years
previously every title qualified its holder for the guillotine. For
his new experiment, the Legion of Honour, he could adduce only one
precedent in the acts of the last twelve years.


The whole tendency had been towards levelling all inequalities. In
1790 all titles of nobility were swept away; and though the Convention
decreed "arms of honour" to brave soldiers, yet its generosity to the
deserving proved to be less remarkable than its activity in
guillotining the unsuccessful. Bonaparte, however, adduced its custom
of granting occasional modest rewards as a precedent for his own
design, which was to be far more extended and ambitious.

In May, 1802, he proposed the formation of a Legion of Honour,
organized in fifteen cohorts, with grand officers, commanders,
officers, and legionaries. Its affairs were to be regulated by a
council presided over by Bonaparte himself. Each cohort received
"national domains" with 200,000 francs annual rental, and these funds
were disbursed to the members on a scale proportionate to their rank.
The men who had received "arms of honour" were, _ipso facto_ to be
legionaries; soldiers "who had rendered considerable services to the
State in the war of liberty," and civilians "who by their learning,
talents, and virtues contributed to establish or to defend the
principles of the Republic," might hope for the honour and reward now
held out. The idea of rewarding merit in a civilian, as well as among
the military caste which had hitherto almost entirely absorbed such
honours, was certainly enlightened; and the names of the famous
_savants_ Laplace, Monge, Berthollet, Lagrange, Chaptal, and of
jurists such as Treilhard and Tronchet, imparted lustre to what would
otherwise have been a very commonplace institution. Bonaparte desired
to call out all the faculties of the nation; and when Dumas proposed
that the order should be limited to soldiers, the First Consul
replied in a brilliant and convincing harangue:

     "To do great things nowadays it is not enough to be a man of five
     feet ten inches. If strength and bravery made the general, every
     soldier might claim the command. The general who does great things
     is he who also possesses civil qualities. The soldier knows no law
     but force, sees nothing but it, and measures everything by it. The
     civilian, on the other hand, only looks to the general welfare. The
     characteristic of the soldier is to wish to do everything
     despotically: that of the civilian is to submit everything to
     discussion, truth, and reason. The superiority thus unquestionably
     belongs to the civilian."

In these noble words we can discern the secret of Bonaparte's
supremacy both in politics and in warfare. Uniting in his own person
the ablest qualities of the statesman and the warrior, he naturally
desired that his new order of merit should quicken the vitality of
France in every direction, knowing full well that the results would
speedily be felt in the army itself. When admitted to its ranks, the
new member swore:

     "To devote himself to the service of the Republic, to the
     maintenance of the integrity of its territory, the defence of its
     government, laws, and of the property which they have consecrated;
     to fight by all methods authorized by justice, reason, and law,
     against every attempt to re-establish the feudal _régime_ or to
     reproduce the titles and qualities thereto belonging; and finally
     to strive to the uttermost to maintain liberty and equality."

It is not surprising that the Tribunate, despite the recent purging of
its most independent members, judged liberty and equality to be
endangered by the method of defence now proposed. The members bitterly
criticised the scheme as a device of the counter-revolution; but, with
the timid inconsequence which was already sapping their virility, they
proceeded to pass by fifty-six votes to thirty-eight a measure of
which they had so accurately gauged the results. The new institution
was, indeed, admirably suited to consolidate Bonaparte's power.
Resting on the financial basis of the confiscated lands, it offered
some guarantee against the restoration of the old monarchy and feudal
nobility; while, by stimulating that love of distinction and
brilliance which is inherent in every gifted people, it quietly began
to graduate society and to group it around the Paladins of a new
Gaulish chivalry. The people had recently cast off the overlordship of
the old Frankish nobles, but admiration of merit (the ultimate source
of all titles of distinction) was only dormant even in the days of
Robespierre; and its insane repression during the Terror now begat a
corresponding enthusiasm for all commanding gifts. Of this inevitable
reaction Bonaparte now made skillful use. When Berlier, one of the
leading jurists of France, objected to the new order as leading France
back to aristocracy, and contemptuously said that crosses and ribbons
were the toys of monarchy, Bonaparte replied:

     "Well: men are led by toys. I would not say that in a rostrum, but
     in a council of wise men and statesmen one ought to speak one's
     mind. I don't think that the French love liberty and equality: the
     French are not at all changed by ten years of revolution: they are
     what the Gauls were, fierce and fickle. They have one
     feeling--honour. We must nourish that feeling: they must have
     distinctions. See how they bow down before the stars of
     strangers."[161]

After so frank an exposition of motives to his own Council of State,
little more need be said. We need not credit Bonaparte or the orators
of the Tribunate with any superhuman sagacity when he and they foresaw
that such an order would prepare the way for more resplendent titles.
The Legion of Honour, at least in its highest grades, was the
chrysalis stage of the Imperial _noblesse_. After all, the new
Charlemagne might plead that his new creation satisfied an innate
craving of the race, and that its durability was the best answer to
hostile critics. Even when, in 1814, his Senators were offering the
crown of France to the heir of the Bourbons, they expressly stipulated
that the Legion of Honour should not be abolished: it has survived all
the shocks of French history, even the vulgarizing associations of
the Second Empire.

       *       *       *       *       *

The same quality of almost pyramidal solidity characterizes another
great enterprise of the Napoleonic period, the codification of French
law.

The difficulties of this undertaking consisted mainly in the enormous
mass of decrees emanating from the National Assemblies, relative to
political, civil, and criminal affairs. Many of those decrees, the
offspring of a momentary enthusiasm, had found a place in the codes of
laws which were then compiled; and yet sagacious observers knew that
several of them warred against the instincts of the Gallic race. This
conviction was summed up in the trenchant statement of the compilers
of the new code, in which they appealed from the ideas of Rousseau to
the customs of the past: "New theories are but the maxims of certain
individuals: the old maxims represent the sense of centuries." There
was much force in this dictum. The overthrow of Feudalism and the old
monarchy had not permanently altered the French nature. They were
still the same joyous, artistic, clan-loving people whom the Latin
historians described: and pride in the nation or the family was as
closely linked with respect for a doughty champion of national and
family interests as in the days of Cæsar. Of this Roman or
quasi-Gallic reaction Napoleon was to be the regulator; and no sphere
of his activities bespeaks his unerring political sagacity more than
his sifting of the old and the new in the great code which was
afterwards to bear his name.

Old French law had been an inextricable labyrinth of laws and customs,
mainly Roman and Frankish in origin, hopelessly tangled by feudal
customs, provincial privileges, ecclesiastical rights, and the later
undergrowth of royal decrees; and no part of the legislation of the
revolutionists met with so little resistance as their root and branch
destruction of this exasperating jungle. Their difficulties only began
when they endeavoured to apply the principles of the Rights of Man to
political, civil, and criminal affairs. The chief of these principles
relating to criminal law were that law can only forbid actions that
are harmful to society, and must only impose penalties that are
strictly necessary. To these epoch-making pronouncements the Assembly
added, in 1790, that crimes should be visited only on the guilty
individual, not on the family; and that penalties must be proportioned
to the offences. The last two of these principles had of late been
flagrantly violated; but the general pacification of France now
permitted a calm consideration of the whole question of criminal law,
and of its application to normal conditions.

Civil law was to be greatly influenced by the Rights of Man; but those
famous declarations were to a large extent contravened in the ensuing
civil strifes, and their application to real life was rendered
infinitely more difficult by that predominance of the critical over
the constructive faculties which marred the efforts of the
revolutionary Babel-builders. Indeed, such was the ardour of those
enthusiasts that they could scarcely see any difficulties. Thus, the
Convention in 1793 allowed its legislative committee just one month
for the preparation of a code of civil law. At the close of six weeks
Cambacérès, the reporter of the committee, was actually able to
announce that it was ready. It was found to be too complex. Another
commission was ordered to reconstruct it: this time the Convention
discovered that the revised edition was too concise. Two other drafts
were drawn up at the orders of the Directory, but neither gave
satisfaction. And thus it was reserved for the First Consul to achieve
what the revolutionists had only begun, building on the foundations
and with the very materials which their ten years' toil had prepared.

He had many other advantages. The Second Consul, Cambacérès, was at
his side, with stores of legal experience and habits of complaisance
that were of the highest value. Then, too, the principles of personal
liberty and social equality were yielding ground before the more
autocratic maxims of Roman law. The view of life now dominant was that
of the warrior not of the philosopher. Bonaparte named Tronchet, Bigot
de Préameneu, and the eloquent and learned Portalis for the redaction
of the code. By ceaseless toil they completed their first draft in
four months. Then, after receiving the criticisms of the Court of
Cassation and the Tribunals of Appeal, it came before the Council of
State for the decision of its special committee on legislation. There
it was subjected to the scrutiny of several experts, but, above all,
to Bonaparte himself. He presided at more than half of the 102
sittings devoted to this criticism; and sittings of eight or nine
hours were scarcely long enough to satisfy his eager curiosity, his
relentless activity, and his determined practicality.

From the notes of Thibaudeau one of the members of this revising
committee, we catch a glimpse of the part there played by the First
Consul. We see him listening intently to the discussions of the
jurists, taking up and sorting the threads of thought when a tangle
seemed imminent, and presenting the result in some striking pattern.
We watch his methodizing spirit at work on the cumbrous legal
phraseology, hammering it out into clear, ductile French. We feel the
unerring sagacity, which acted as a political and social touchstone,
testing, approving, or rejecting multifarious details drawn from old
French law or from the customs of the Revolution; and finally we
wonder at the architectural skill which worked the 2,281 articles of
the Code into an almost unassailable pile. To the skill and patience
of the three chief redactors that result is, of course, very largely
due: yet, in its mingling of strength, simplicity, and symmetry, we
may discern the projection of Napoleon's genius over what had hitherto
been a legal chaos.

Some blocks of the pyramid were almost entirely his own. He widened
the area of French citizenship; above all, he strengthened the
structure of the family by enhancing the father's authority. Herein
his Corsican instincts and the requirements of statecraft led him to
undo much of the legislation of the revolutionists. Their ideal was
individual liberty: his aim was to establish public order by
autocratic methods. They had sought to make of the family a little
republic, founded on the principles of liberty and equality; but in
the new code the paternal authority reappeared no less strict, albeit
less severe in some details than that of the _ancien régime._ The
family was thenceforth modelled on the idea dominant in the State,
that authority and responsible action pertained to a single
individual. The father controlled the conduct of his children: his
consent was necessary for the marriage of sons up to their
twenty-fifth year, for that of daughters up to their twenty-first
year; and other regulations were framed in the same spirit.[162] Thus
there was rebuilt in France the institution of the family on an almost
Roman basis; and these customs, contrasting sharply with the domestic
anarchy of the Anglo-Saxon race, have had a mighty influence in
fashioning the character of the French, as of the other Latin peoples,
to a ductility that yields a ready obedience to local officials,
drill-sergeants, and the central Government.

In other respects Bonaparte's influence on the code was equally
potent. He raised the age at which marriage could be legally
contracted to that of eighteen for men, and fifteen for women, and he
prescribed a formula of obedience to be repeated by the bride to her
husband; while the latter was bound to protect and support the
wife.[163]

And yet, on the question of divorce, Bonaparte's action was
sufficiently ambiguous to reawaken Josephine's fears; and the
detractors of the great man have some ground for declaring that his
action herein was dictated by personal considerations. Others again
may point to the declarations of the French National Assemblies that
the law regarded marriage merely as a civil contract, and that divorce
was to be a logical sequel of individual liberty, "which an
indissoluble tie would annul." It is indisputable that extremely lax
customs had been the result of the law of 1792, divorce being allowed
on a mere declaration of incompatibility of temper.[164] Against these
scandals Bonaparte firmly set his face. But he disagreed with the
framers of the new Code when they proposed altogether to prohibit
divorce, though such a proposition might well have seemed consonant
with his zeal for Roman Catholicism. After long debates it was decided
to reduce the causes which could render divorce possible from nine to
four--adultery, cruelty, condemnation to a degrading penalty, and
mutual consent--provided that this last demand should be persistently
urged after not less than two years of marriage, and in no case was it
to be valid after twenty years of marriage.[165]

We may also notice here that Bonaparte sought to surround the act of
adoption with much solemnity, declaring it to be one of the grandest
acts imaginable. Yet, lest marriage should thereby be discouraged,
celibates were expressly debarred from the privileges of adopting
heirs. The precaution shows how keenly this able ruler peered into
the future. Doubtless, he surmised that in the future the population
of France would cease to expand at the normal rate, owing to the
working of the law compelling the equal division of property among all
the children of a family. To this law he was certainly opposed.
Equality in regard to the bequest of property was one of the sacred
maxims of revolutionary jurists, who had limited the right of free
disposal by bequest to one-tenth of each estate: nine-tenths being of
necessity divided equally among the direct heirs. Yet so strong was
the reaction in favour of the Roman principle of paternal authority,
that Bonaparte and a majority of the drafters of the new Code scrupled
not to assail that maxim, and to claim for the father larger
discretionary powers over the disposal of his property. They demanded
that the disposable share should vary according to the wealth of the
testator--a remarkable proposal, which proves him to be anything but
the unflinching champion of revolutionary legal ideas which popular
French histories have generally depicted him.

This proposal would have re-established liberty of bequest in its most
pernicious form, granting almost limitless discretionary power to the
wealthy, while restricting or denying it to the poor.[166] Fortunately
for his reputation in France, the suggestion was rejected; and the
law, as finally adopted, fixed the disposable share as one-half of the
property, if there was but one heir; one-third, if there were two
heirs; one-fourth, if there were three; and so on, diminishing as the
size of the family increased. This sliding scale, varying inversely
with the size of the family, is open to an obvious objection: it
granted liberty of bequest only in cases where the family was small,
but practically lapsed when the family attained to patriarchal
dimensions. The natural result has been that the birth-rate has
suffered a serious and prolonged check in France. It seems certain
that the First Consul foresaw this result. His experience of peasant
life must have warned him that the law, even as now amended, would
stunt the population of France and ultimately bring about that [Greek:
oliganthrôpia] which saps all great military enterprises. The great
captain did all in his power to prevent the French settling down in a
self-contained national life; he strove to stir them up to world-wide
undertakings, and for the success of his future imperial schemes a
redundant population was an absolute necessity.

The Civil Code became law in 1804: after undergoing some slight
modifications and additions, it was, in 1807 renamed the Code
Napoléon. Its provisions had already, in 1806, been adopted in Italy.
In 1810 Holland, and the newly-annexed coast-line of the North Sea as
far as Hamburg, and even Lübeck on the Baltic, received it as the
basis of their laws, as did the Grand Duchy of Berg in 1811.
Indirectly it has also exerted an immense influence on the legislation
of Central and Southern Germany, Prussia, Switzerland, and Spain:
while many of the Central and South American States have also
borrowed its salient features.

A Code of Civil Procedure was promulgated in France in 1806, one of
Commerce in 1807, of "Criminal Instruction" in 1808, and a Penal Code
in 1810. Except that they were more reactionary in spirit than the
Civil Code, there is little that calls for notice here, the Penal Code
especially showing little advance in intelligence or clemency on the
older laws of France. Even in 1802, officials favoured severity after
the disorders of the preceding years. When Fox and Romilly paid a
visit to Talleyrand at Paris, they were informed by his secretary
that:

     "In his opinion nothing could restore good morals and order in the
     country but 'la roue et la religion de nos ancêtres.' He knew, he
     said, that the English did not think so, but we knew nothing of the
     people. Fox was deeply shocked at the idea of restoring the wheel
     as a punishment in France."[167]

This horrible punishment was not actually restored: but this extract
from Romilly's diary shows what was the state of feeling in official
circles at Paris, and how strong was the reaction towards older ideas.
The reaction was unquestionably emphasized by Bonaparte's influence,
and it is noteworthy that the Penal and other Codes, passed during the
Empire, were more reactionary than the laws of the Consulate. Yet,
even as First Consul, he exerted an influence that began to banish the
customs and traditions of the Revolution, except in the single sphere
of material interests; and he satisfied the peasants' love of land and
money in order that he might the more securely triumph over
revolutionary ideals and draw France insensibly back to the age of
Louis XIV.


While the legislator must always keep in reserve punishment as the
_ultima ratio_ for the lawless, he will turn by preference to
education as a more potent moralizing agency; and certainly education
urgently needed Bonaparte's attention. The work of carrying into
practice the grand educational aims of Condorcet and his coadjutors in
the French Convention was enough to tax the energies of a Hercules.
Those ardent reformers did little more than clear the ground for
future action: they abolished the old monastic and clerical training,
and declared for a generous system of national education in primary,
secondary, and advanced schools. But amid strifes and bankruptcy their
aims remained unfulfilled. In 1799 there were only twenty-four
elementary schools open in Paris, with a total attendance of less than
1,000 pupils; and in rural districts matters were equally bad. Indeed,
Lucien Bonaparte asserted that scarcely any education was to be found
in France. Exaggerated though this statement was, in relation to
secondary and advanced education, it was proximately true of the
elementary schools. The revolutionists had merely traced the outlines
of a scheme: it remained for the First Consul to fill in the details,
or to leave it blank.

The result can scarcely be cited as a proof of his educational zeal.
Elementary schools were left to the control and supervision of the
communes and of the _sous-préfets_, and naturally made little advance
amidst an apathetic population and under officials who cared not to
press on an expensive enterprise. The law of April 30th, 1802,
however, aimed at improving the secondary education, which the
Convention had attempted to give in its _écoles centrales_. These were
now reconstituted either as _écoles secondaires_ or as _lycées_. The
former were local or even private institutions intended for the most
promising pupils of the commune or group of communes; while the
_lycées_, far fewer in number, were controlled directly by the
Government. In both of these schools great prominence was given to the
exact and applied sciences. The aim of the instruction was not to
awaken thought and develop the faculties, but rather to fashion able
breadwinners, obedient citizens, and enthusiastic soldiers. The
training was of an almost military type, the pupils being regularly
drilled, while the lessons began and ended with the roll of drums. The
numbers of the _lycées_ and of their pupils rapidly increased; but the
progress of the secondary and primary schools, which could boast no
such attractions, was very slow. In 1806 only 25,000 children were
attending the public primary schools. But two years later elementary
and advanced instruction received a notable impetus from the
establishment of the University of France.

There is no institution which better reveals the character of the
French Emperor, with its singular combination of greatness and
littleness, of wide-sweeping aims with official pedantry. The
University, as it existed during the First Empire, offers a striking
example of that mania for the control of the general will which
philosophers had so attractively taught and Napoleon so profitably
practised. It is the first definite outcome of a desire to subject
education and learning to wholesale regimental methods, and to break
up the old-world bowers of culture by State-worked steam-ploughs. His
aims were thus set forth:

     "I want a teaching body, because such a body never dies, but
     transmits its organization and spirit. I want a body whose teaching
     is far above the fads of the moment, goes straight on even when the
     government is asleep, and whose administration and statutes become
     so national that one can never lightly resolve to meddle with
     them.... There will never be fixity in politics if there is not a
     teaching body with fixed principles. As long as people do not from
     their infancy learn whether they ought to be republicans or
     monarchists, Catholics or sceptics, the State will never form a
     nation: it will rest on unsafe and shifting foundations, always
     exposed to changes and disorders."

Such being Napoleon's designs, the new University of France was
admirably suited to his purpose. It was not a local university: it was
the sum total of all the public teaching bodies of the French Empire,
arranged and drilled in one vast instructional array. Elementary
schools, secondary schools, _lycées_, as well as the more advanced
colleges, all were absorbed in and controlled by this great teaching
corporation, which was to inculcate the precepts of the Catholic
religion, fidelity to the Emperor and to his Government, as guarantees
for the welfare of the people and the unity of France. For educational
purposes, France was now divided into seventeen Academies, which
formed the local centres of the new institution. Thus, from Paris and
sixteen provincial Academies, instruction was strictly organized and
controlled; and within a short time of its institution (March, 1808),
instruction of all kinds, including that of the elementary schools,
showed some advance. But to all those who look on the unfolding of the
mental and moral faculties as the chief aim of true _education_, the
homely experiments of Pestalozzi offer a far more suggestive and
important field for observation than the barrack-like methods of the
French Emperor. The Swiss reformer sought to train the mind to
observe, reflect, and think; to assist the faculties in attaining
their fullest and freest expression; and thus to add to the richness
and variety of human thought. The French imperial system sought to
prune away all mental independence, and to train the young generation
in neat and serviceable _espalier_ methods: all aspiring shoots,
especially in the sphere of moral and political science, were sharply
cut down. Consequently French thought, which had been the most
ardently speculative in Europe, speedily became vapid and mechanical.

The same remark is proximately true of the literary life of the First
Empire. It soon began to feel the rigorous methods of the Emperor.
Poetry and all other modes of expression of lofty thought and rapt
feeling require not only a free outlet but natural and unrestrained
surroundings. The true poet is at home in the forest or on the
mountain rather than in prim _parterres_. The philosopher sees most
clearly and reasons most suggestively, when his faculties are not
cramped by the need of observing political rules and police
regulations. And the historian, when he is tied down to a mere
investigation and recital of facts, without reference to their
meaning, is but a sorry fowl flapping helplessly with unequal wings.

Yet such were the conditions under which the literature of France
struggled and pined. Her poets, a band sadly thinned already by the
guillotine, sang in forced and hollow strains until the return of
royalism begat an imperialist fervour in the soul-stirring lyrics of
Béranger: her philosophy was dumb; and Napoleonic history limped along
on official crutches, until Thiers, a generation later, essayed his
monumental work. In the realm of exact and applied science, as might
be expected, splendid discoveries adorned the Emperor's reign; but if
we are to find any vitality in the literature of that period, we must
go to the ranks, not of the panegyrists, but of the opposition. There,
in the pages of Madame de Staël and Chateaubriand, we feel the throb
of life. Genius will out, of its own native force: but it cannot be
pressed out, even at a Napoleon's bidding. In vain did he endeavour to
stimulate literature by the reorganization of the Institute, and by
granting decennial prizes for the chief works and discoveries of the
decade. While science prospered, literature languished: and one of his
own remarks, as to the desirability of a public and semi-official
criticism of some great literary work, seems to suggest a reason for
this intellectual malaise:

     "The public will take interest in this criticism; perhaps it will
     even take sides: it matters not, as its attention will be fixed on
     these interesting debates: it will talk about grammar and poetry:
     taste will be improved, and our aim will be fulfilled: _out of that
     will come poets and grammarians_."

And so it came to pass that, while he was rescuing a nation from chaos
and his eagles winged their flight to Naples, Lisbon, and Moscow, he
found no original thinker worthily to hymn his praises; and the chief
literary triumphs of his reign came from Chateaubriand, whom he
impoverished, and Madame de Staël, whom he drove into exile.

       *       *       *       *       *

Such are the chief laws and customs which are imperishably associated
with the name of Napoleon Bonaparte. In some respects they may be
described as making for progress. Their establishment gave to the
Revolution that solidity which it had previously lacked. Among so
"inflammable" a people as the French--the epithet is Ste. Beuve's--it
was quite possible that some of the chief civil conquests of the last
decade might have been lost, had not the First Consul, to use his own
expressive phrase, "thrown in some blocks of granite." We may
intensify his metaphor and assert that out of the shifting shingle of
French life he constructed a concrete breakwater, in which his own
will acted as the binding cement, defying the storms of revolutionary
or royalist passion which had swept the incoherent atoms to and fro,
and had carried desolation far inland. Thenceforth France was able to
work out her future under the shelter of institutions which
unquestionably possess one supreme merit, that of durability. But
while the chief civic and material gains of the Revolution were thus
perpetuated, the very spirit and life of that great movement were
benumbed by the personality and action of Napoleon. The burning
enthusiasm for the Rights of Man was quenched, the passion for civic
equality survived only as the gibbering ghost of what it had been in
1790, and the consolidation of revolutionary France was effected by a
process nearly akin to petrifaction.

And yet this time of political and intellectual reaction in France was
marked by the rise of the greatest of her modern institutions. There
is the chief paradox of that age. While barren of literary activity
and of truly civic developments, yet it was unequalled in the growth
of institutions. This is generally the characteristic of epochs when
the human faculties, long congealed by untoward restraints, suddenly
burst their barriers and run riot in a spring-tide of hope. The time
of disillusionment or despair which usually supervenes may, as a rule,
be compared with the numbing torpor of winter, necessary doubtless in
our human economy, but lacking the charm and vitality of the expansive
phase. Often, indeed, it is disgraced by the characteristics of a
slavish populace, a mean selfishness, a mad frivolity, and fawning
adulation on the ruler who dispenses _panem et circenses_. Such has
been the course of many a political reaction, from the time of
degenerate Athens and imperial Rome down to the decay of Medicean
Florence and the orgies of the restored Stuarts.

The fruitfulness of the time of monarchical reaction in France may be
chiefly attributed to two causes, the one general, the other personal;
the one connected with the French Revolution, the other with the
exceptional gifts of Bonaparte. In their efforts to create durable
institutions the revolutionists had failed: they had attempted too
much: they had overthrown the old order, had undertaken crusades
against monarchical Europe, and striven to manufacture constitutions
and remodel a deeply agitated society. They did scarcely more than
trace the outlines of the future social structure. The edifice, which
should have been reared by the Directory, was scarcely advanced at
all, owing to the singular dullness of the new rulers of France. But
the genius was at hand. He restored order, he rallied various classes
to his side, he methodized local government, he restored finance and
credit, he restored religious peace and yet secured the peasants in
their tenure of the confiscated lands, he rewarded merit with social
honours, and finally he solidified his polity by a comprehensive code
of laws which made him the keystone of the now rounded arch of French
life.

His methods in this immense work deserve attention: they were very
different from those of the revolutionary parties after the best days
of 1789 were past. The followers of Rousseau worked on rigorous _a
priori_ methods. If institutions and sentiments did not square with
the principles of their master, they were swept away or were forced
into conformity with the new evangel. A correct knowledge of the
"Contrat Social" and keen critical powers were the prime requisites of
Jacobinical statesmanship. Knowledge of the history of France, the
faculty of gauging the real strength of popular feelings, tact in
conciliating important interests, all were alike despised.
Institutions and class interests were as nothing in comparison with
that imposing abstraction, the general will. For this alone could
philosophers legislate and factions conspire.

From these lofty aims and exasperating methods Bonaparte was speedily
weaned. If victorious analysis led to this; if it could only pull
down, not reconstruct; if, while legislating for the general will,
Jacobins harassed one class after another and produced civil war, then
away with their pedantries in favour of the practical statecraft which
attempted one task at a time and aimed at winning back in turn the
alienated classes. Then, and then alone, after civic peace had been
re-established, would he attempt the reconstruction of the civil order
in the same tentative manner, taking up only this or that frayed end
at once, trusting to time, skill, and patience to transform the tangle
into a symmetrical pattern. And thus, where Feuillants, Girondins, and
Jacobins had produced chaos, the practical man and his able helpers
succeeded in weaving ineffaceable outlines. As to the time when the
change took place in Bonaparte's brain from Jacobinism to aims and
methods that may be called conservative, we are strangely ignorant.
But the results of this mental change will stand forth clear and
solid for many a generation in the customs, laws, and institutions of
his adopted country. If the Revolution, intellectually considered,
began and ended with analysis, Napoleon's faculties supplied the
needed synthesis. Together they made modern France.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XIII

THE CONSULATE FOR LIFE


With the view of presenting in clear outlines the chief institutions
of Napoleonic France, they have been described in the preceding
chapter, detached from their political setting. We now return to
consider the events which favoured the consolidation of Bonaparte's
power.

No politician inured to the tricks of statecraft could more firmly
have handled public affairs than the man who practically began his
political apprenticeship at Brumaire. Without apparent effort he rose
to the height whence the five Directors had so ignominiously fallen;
and instinctively he chose at once the policy which alone could have
insured rest for France, that of balancing interests and parties. His
own political views being as yet unknown, dark with the excessive
brightness of his encircling glory, he could pose as the conciliator
of contending factions. The Jacobins were content when they saw the
regicide Cambacérès become Second Consul; and friends of
constitutional monarchy remembered that the Third Consul, Lebrun, had
leanings towards the Feuillants of 1791. Fouché at the inquisitorial
Ministry of Police, and Merlin, Berlier, Real, and Boulay de la
Meurthe in the Council of State seemed a barrier to all monarchical
schemes; and the Jacobins therefore remained quiet, even while
Catholic worship was again publicly celebrated, while Vendean rebels
were pardoned, and plotting _émigrés_ were entering the public
service.

Many, indeed, of the prominent terrorists had settled profitably on
the offices which Bonaparte had multiplied throughout France, and were
therefore dumb: but some of the less favoured ones, angered by the
stealthy advance of autocracy, wove a plot for the overthrow of the
First Consul. Chief among them were a braggart named Demerville, a
painter, Topino Lebrun, a sculptor, Ceracchi, and Aréna, brother of
the Corsican deputy who had shaken Bonaparte by the collar at the
crisis of Brumaire. These men hit upon the notion that, with the aid
of one man of action, they could make away with the new despot. They
opened their hearts to a penniless officer named Harel, who had been
dismissed from the army; and he straightway took the news to
Bonaparte's private secretary, Bourrienne. The First Consul, on
hearing of the matter, at once charged Bourrienne to supply Harel with
money to buy firearms, but not to tell the secret to Fouché, of whose
double dealings with the Jacobins he was already aware. It became
needful, however, to inform him of the plot, which was now carefully
nursed by the authorities. The arrests were planned to take place at
the opera on October 10th. About half an hour after the play had
begun, Bonaparte bade his secretary go into the lobby to hear the
news. Bourrienne at once heard the noise caused by a number of
arrests: he came back, reported the matter to his master, who
forthwith returned to the Tuileries. The plot was over.[168]

A more serious attempt was to follow. On the 3rd day of Nivôse
(December 24th, 1800), as the First Consul was driving to the opera to
hear Haydn's oratorio, "The Creation," his carriage was shaken by a
terrific explosion. A bomb had burst between his carriage and that of
Josephine, which was following. Neither was injured, though many
spectators were killed or wounded. "Josephine," he calmly said, as she
entered the box, "those rascals wanted to blow me up: send for a copy
of the music." But under this cool demeanour he nursed a determination
of vengeance against his political foes, the Jacobins. On the next day
he appeared at a session of the Council of State along with the
Ministers of Police and of the Interior, Fouché and Chaptal. The Aréna
plot and other recent events seemed to point to wild Jacobins and
anarchists as the authors of this outrage: but Fouché ventured to
impute it to the royalists and to England.

     "There are in it," Bonaparte at once remarked, "neither nobles, nor
     Chouans, nor priests. They are men of September (_Septembriseurs_),
     wretches stained with blood, ever conspiring in solid phalanx
     against every successive government. We must find a means of prompt
     redress."

The Councillors at once adopted this opinion, Roederer hotly declaring
his open hostility to Fouché for his reputed complicity with the
terrorists; and, if we may credit the _on dit_ of Pasquier, Talleyrand
urged the execution of Fouché within twenty-four hours. Bonaparte,
however, preferred to keep the two cleverest and most questionable
schemers of the age, so as mutually to check each other's movements. A
day later, when the Council was about to institute special
proceedings, Bonaparte again intervened with the remark that the
action of the tribunal would be too slow, too restricted: a signal
revenge was needed for so foul a crime, rapid as lightning:

     "Blood must be shed: as many guilty must be shot as the innocent
     who had perished--some fifteen or twenty--and two hundred banished,
     so that the Republic might profit by that event to purge itself."

This was the policy now openly followed. In vain did some members of
the usually obsequious Council object to this summary procedure.
Roederer, Boulay, even the Second Consul himself, now perceived how
trifling was their influence when they attempted to modify Bonaparte's
plans, and two sections of the Council speedily decided that there
should be a military commission to judge suspects and "deport"
dangerous persons, and that the Government should announce this to
the Senate, Corps Législatif, and Tribunate. Public opinion,
meanwhile, was carefully trained by the official "Moniteur," which
described in detail various so-called anarchist attempts; but an
increasing number in official circles veered round to Fouché's belief
that the outrage was the work of the royalists abetted by England. The
First Consul himself, six days after the event, inclined to this
version. Nevertheless, at a full meeting of the Council of State, on
the first day of the year 1801, he brought up a list of "130 villains
who were troubling the public peace," with a view to inflicting
summary punishment on them. Thibaudeau, Boulay, and Roederer haltingly
expressed their fears that all the 130 might not be guilty of the
recent outrage, and that the Council had no powers to decide on the
proscription of individuals. Bonaparte at once assured them that he
was not consulting them about the fate of individuals, but merely to
know whether they thought an exceptional measure necessary. The
Government had only

     "Strong presumptions, not proofs, that the terrorists were the
     authors of this attempt. _Chouannerie_ and emigration are surface
     ills, terrorism is an internal disease. The measure ought to be
     taken independently of the event. It is only the occasion of it. We
     banish them (the terrorists) for the massacres of September 2nd,
     May 31st, the Babeuf plot, and every subsequent attempt."[169]

The Council thereupon unanimously affirmed the need of an exceptional
measure, and adopted a suggestion of Talleyrand (probably emanating
from Bonaparte) that the Senate should be invited to declare by a
special decision, called a _senatus consultum_, whether such an act
were "preservative of the constitution." This device, which avoided
the necessity of passing a law through two less subservient bodies,
the Tribunate and Corps Législatif, was forthwith approved by the
guardians of the constitution. It had far-reaching results. The
complaisant Senate was brought down from its constitutional watchtower
to become the tool of the Consuls; and an easy way for further
innovations was thus dextrously opened up through the very portals
which were designed to bar them out.

The immediate results of the device were startling. By an act of
January 4th, 1801, as many as 130 prominent Jacobins were "placed
under special surveillance outside the European territory of the
Republic"--a specious phrase for denoting a living death amidst the
wastes of French Guiana or the Seychelles. Some of the threatened
persons escaped, perhaps owing to the connivance of Fouché; some were
sent to the Isle of Oléron; but the others were forthwith despatched
to the miseries of captivity in the tropics. Among these were
personages so diverse as Rossignol, once the scourge of France with
his force of Parisian cut-throats, and Destrem, whose crime was his
vehement upbraiding of Bonaparte at St. Cloud. After this measure had
taken effect, it was discovered by judicial inquiry that the Jacobins
had no connection with the outrage, which was the work of royalists
named Saint-Réjant and Carbon. These were captured, and on January
31st, 1801, were executed; but their fate had no influence whatever on
the sentence of the transported Jacobins. Of those who were sent to
Guiana and the Seychelles, scarce twenty saw France again.[170]



Bonaparte's conduct with respect to plots deserves close attention.
Never since the age of the Borgias have conspiracies been so skilfully
exploited, so cunningly countermined. Moreover, his conduct with
respect to the Aréna and Nivôse affairs had a wider significance; for
he now quietly but firmly exchanged the policy of balancing parties
for one which crushed the extreme republicans, and enhanced the
importance of all who were likely to approve or condone the
establishment of personal rule.

It is now time to consider the effect which Bonaparte's foreign policy
had on his position in France. Reserving for a later chapter an
examination of the Treaty of Amiens, we may here notice the close
connection between Bonaparte's diplomatic successes and the
perpetuation of his Consulate. All thoughtful students of history must
have observed the warping influence which war and diplomacy have
exerted on democratic institutions. The age of Alcibiades, the doom of
the Roman Republic, and many other examples might be cited to show
that free institutions can with difficulty survive the strain of a
vast military organization or the insidious results of an exacting
diplomacy. But never has the gulf between democracy and personal rule
been so quickly spanned as by the commanding genius of Bonaparte.

The events which disgusted both England and France with war have been
described above. Each antagonist had parried the attacks of the other.
The blow which Bonaparte had aimed at Britain's commerce by his
eastern expedition had been foiled; and a considerable French force
was shut up in Egypt. His plan of relieving his starving garrison in
Malta, by concluding a maritime truce, had been seen through by us;
and after a blockade of two years, Valetta fell (September, 1800). But
while Great Britain regained more than all her old power in the
Mediterranean, she failed to make any impression on the land-power of
France. The First Consul in the year 1801 compelled Naples and
Portugal to give up the English alliance and to exclude our vessels
and goods. In the north the results of the war had been in favour of
the islanders. The Union Jack again waved triumphant on the Baltic,
and all attempts of the French to rouse and support an Irish revolt
had signally failed. Yet the French preparations for an invasion of
England strained the resources of our exchequer and the patience of
our people. The weary struggle was evidently about to close in a
stalemate.

For political and financial reasons the two Powers needed repose.
Bonaparte's authority was not as yet so firmly founded that he could
afford to neglect the silent longings of France for peace; his
institutions had not as yet taken root; and he needed money for public
works and colonial enterprises. That he looked on peace as far more
desirable for France than for England at the present time is clear
from a confidential talk which he had with Roederer at the close of
1800. This bright thinker, to whom he often unbosomed himself, took
exception to his remark that England could not wish for peace;
whereupon the First Consul uttered these memorable words:

     "My dear fellow, England ought not to wish for peace, because we
     are masters of the world. Spain is ours. We have a foothold in
     Italy. In Egypt we have the reversion to their tenure. Switzerland,
     Holland, Belgium--that is a matter irrevocably settled, on which we
     have declared to Prussia, Russia, and the Emperor that _we alone_,
     if it were necessary, would make war on all, namely, that there
     shall be no Stadholder in Holland, and that we will keep Belgium
     and the left bank of the Rhine. A stadholder in Holland would be as
     bad as a Bourbon in the St. Antoine suburb."[171]


The passage is remarkable, not only for its frank statement of the
terms on which England and the Continent might have peace, but also
because it discloses the rank undergrowth of pride and ambition that
is beginning to overtop his reasoning faculties. Even before he has
heard the news of Moreau's great victory of Hohenlinden, he equates
the military strength of France with that of the rest of Europe: nay,
he claims without a shadow of doubt the mastery of the world: he will
wage, if necessary, a double war, against England for a colonial
empire, and against Europe for domination in Holland and the
Rhineland. It is naught to him that that double effort has exhausted
France in the reigns of Louis XIV. and Louis XV. Holland, Switzerland,
Italy, shall be French provinces, Egypt and the Indies shall be her
satrapies, and _la grande nation_ may then rest on her glories.

Had these aims been known at Westminster, Ministers would have counted
peace far more harmful than war. But, while ambition reigned at Paris,
dull common sense dictated the policy of Britain. In truth, our people
needed rest: we were in the first stages of an industrial revolution:
our cotton and woollen industries were passing from the cottage to the
factory; and a large part of our folk were beginning to cluster in
grimy, ill-organized townships. Population and wealth advanced by
leaps and bounds; but with them came the nineteenth-century problems
of widening class distinctions and uncertainty of employment. The
food-supply was often inadequate, and in 1801 the price of wheat in
the London market ranged from £6 to £8 the quarter; the quartern loaf
selling at times for as much as 1s. 10-1/2d.[172]

The state of the sister island was even worse. The discontent of
Ireland had been crushed by the severe repression which followed the
rising of 1798; and the bonds connecting the two countries were
forcibly tightened by the Act of Union of 1800. But rest and reform
were urgently needed if this political welding was to acquire solid
strength, and rest and reform were alike denied. The position of the
Ministry at Westminster was also precarious. The opposition of George
III. to the proposals for Catholic Emancipation, to which Pitt
believed himself in honour bound, led to the resignation in February,
1801, of that able Minister. In the following month Addington, the
Speaker of the House of Commons, with the complacence born of bland
obtuseness, undertook to fill his place. At first, the Ministry was
treated with the tolerance due to the new Premier's urbanity, but it
gradually faded away into contempt for his pitiful weakness in face of
the dangers that threatened the realm.

Certain unofficial efforts in the cause of peace had been made during
the year 1800, by a Frenchman, M. Otto, who had been charged to
proceed to London to treat with the British Government for the
exchange of prisoners. For various reasons his tentative proposals as
to an accommodation between the belligerents had had no issue: but he
continued to reside in London, and quietly sought to bring about a
good understanding. The accession of the Addington Ministry favoured
the opening of negotiations, the new Secretary for Foreign Affairs,
Lord Hawkesbury, announcing His Majesty's desire for peace. Indeed,
the one hope of the new Ministry, and of the king who supported it as
the only alternative to Catholic Emancipation, was bound up with the
cause of peace. In the next chapter it will appear how disastrous were
the results of that strange political situation, when a morbidly
conscientious king clung to the weak Addington, and jeopardised the
interests of Britain, rather than accept a strong Minister and a
measure of religious equality.

Napoleon received Hawkesbury's first overtures, those of March 21st,
1801, with thinly veiled scorn; but the news of Nelson's victory at
Copenhagen and of the assassination of the Czar Paul, the latter of
which wrung from him a cry of rage, ended his hopes of crushing us;
and negotiations were now formally begun. On the 14th of April, Great
Britain demanded that the French should evacuate Egypt, while she
herself would give up Minorca, but retain the following conquests:
Malta, Tobago, Martinique, Trinidad, Essequibo, Demerara, Berbice,
Ceylon, and (a little later) Curaçoa; while, if the Cape of Good Hope
were restored to the Dutch, it was to be a free port: an indemnity was
also to be found for the Prince of Orange for the loss of his
Netherlands. These claims were declared by Bonaparte to be
inadmissible. He on his side urged the far more impracticable demand
of the _status quo ante bellum_ in the East and West Indies and in the
Mediterranean; which would imply the surrender, not only of our many
naval conquests, but also of our gains in Hindostan at the expense of
the late Tippoo Sahib's dominions. In the ensuing five months the
British Government gained some noteworthy successes in diplomacy and
war. It settled the disputes arising out of the Armed Neutrality
League; there was every prospect of our troops defeating those of
France in Egypt; and our navy captured St. Eustace and Saba in the
West Indies.

As a set-off to our efforts by sea, Bonaparte instigated a war between
Spain and Portugal, in order that the latter Power might be held as a
"guarantee for the general peace." Spain, however, merely waged a "war
of oranges," and came to terms with her neighbour in the Treaty of
Badajoz, June 6th, 1801, whereby she gained the small frontier
district of Olivenza. This fell far short of the First Consul's
intentions. Indeed, such was his annoyance at the conduct of the Court
of Madrid and the complaisance of his brother Lucien Bonaparte, who
was ambassador there, that he determined to make Spain bear a heavy
share of the English demands. On June 22nd, 1801, he wrote to his
brother at Madrid:

     "I have already caused the English to be informed that I will never
     depart, as regards Portugal, from the _ultimatum_ addressed to M.
     d'Araujo, and that the _status quo ante bellum_ for Portugal must
     amount, for Spain, to the restitution of Trinidad; for France, to
     the restitution of Martinique and Tobago; and for Batavia [Holland],
     to that of Curaçoa and some other small American isles."[173]

In other words, if Portugal at the close of this whipped-up war
retained her present possessions, then England must renounce her
claims to Trinidad, Martinique, Tobago, Curaçoa, etc.: and he summed
up his contention in the statement that "in signing this treaty
Charles IV. has consented to the loss of Trinidad." Further pressure
on Portugal compelled her to cede part of Northern Brazil to France
and to pay her 20,000,000 francs.

A still more striking light is thrown on Bonaparte's diplomatic
methods by the following question, addressed to Lord Hawkesbury on
June 15th:

     "If, supposing that the French Government should accede to the
     arrangements proposed for the East Indies by England, and should
     adopt the _status quo ante bellum_ for Portugal, the King of
     England would consent to the re-establishment of the _status quo_
     in the Mediterranean and in America."

The British Minister in his reply of June 25th explained what the
phrase _status quo ante bellum_ in regard to the Mediterranean would
really imply. It would necessitate, not merely the evacuation of Egypt
by the French, but also that of the Kingdom of Sardinia (including
Nice), the Duchy of Tuscany, and the independence of the rest of the
peninsula. He had already offered that we should evacuate Minorca; but
he now stated that, if France retained her influence over Italy,
England would claim Malta as a set-off to the vast extension of French
territorial influence, and in order to protect English commerce in
those seas: for the rest, the British Government could not regard the
maintenance of the integrity of Portugal as an equivalent to the
surrender by Great Britain of her West Indian conquests, especially as
France had acquired further portions of Saint Domingo. Nevertheless he
offered to restore Trinidad to Spain, if she would reinstate Portugal
in the frontier strip of Olivenza; and, on August 5th, he told Otto
that we would give up Malta if it became independent.

Meanwhile events were, on the whole, favourable to Great Britain. She
made peace with Russia on favourable terms; and in the Mediterranean,
despite a first success gained by the French Admiral Linois at
Algesiras, a second battle brought back victory to the Union Jack. An
attack made by Nelson on the flotilla at Boulogne was a failure
(August 15th). But at the close of August the French commander in
Egypt, General Menou, was constrained to agree to the evacuation of
Egypt by his troops, which were to be sent back to France on English
vessels. This event had been expected by Bonaparte, and the secret
instruction which he forwarded to Otto at London shows the nicety of
his calculation as to the advantages to be reaped by France owing to
her receiving the news while it was still unknown in England. He
ordered Otto to fix October the 2nd for the close of the negotiations:

     "You will understand the importance of this when you reflect that
     Menou may possibly not be able to hold out in Alexandria beyond the
     first of Vendémiaire (September 22nd); that, at this season, the
     winds are fair to come from Egypt, and ships reach Italy and
     Trieste in very few days. Thus it is necessary to push them [the
     negotiations] to a conclusion before Vendémiaire 10."

The advantages of an irresponsible autocrat in negotiating with a
Ministry dependent on Parliament have rarely been more signally shown.
Anxious to gain popularity, and unable to stem the popular movement
for peace, Addington and Hawkesbury yielded to this request for a
fixed limit of time; and the preliminaries of peace were signed at
London on October 1st, 1801, the very day before the news arrived
there that one of our demands was rendered useless by the actual
surrender of the French in Egypt.[174]



The chief conditions of the preliminaries were as follows: Great
Britain restored to France, Spain, and the Batavian Republic all their
possessions and colonies recently conquered by her except Trinidad and
Ceylon. The Cape of Good Hope was given back to the Dutch, but
remained open to British and French commerce. Malta was to be restored
to the Order of St. John, and placed under the guarantee and
protection of a third Power to be agreed on in the definitive treaty.
Egypt returned to the control of the Sublime Porte. The existing
possessions of Portugal (that is, exclusive of Olivenza) were
preserved intact. The French agreed to loose their hold on the Kingdom
of Naples and the Roman territory; while the British were also to
evacuate Porto Ferrajo (Elba) and the other ports and islands which
they held in the Mediterranean and Adriatic. The young Republic of the
Seven Islands (Ionian Islands) was recognized by France: and the
fisheries on the coasts of Newfoundland and the adjacent isles were
placed on their former footing, subject to "such arrangements as shall
appear just and reciprocally useful."

It was remarked as significant of the new docility of George III.,
that the empty title of "King of France," which he and his
predecessors had affected, was now formally resigned, and the _fleurs
de lys_ ceased to appear on the royal arms.

Thus, with three exceptions, Great Britain had given way on every
point of importance since the first declaration of her claims; the
three exceptions were Trinidad and Ceylon, which she gained from the
allies of France; and Egypt, the recovery of which from the French was
already achieved, though it was unknown at London. On every detail but
these Bonaparte had gained a signal diplomatic success. His skill and
tenacity bade fair to recover for France, Martinique, Tobago, and
Santa Lucia, then in British hands, as well as the French stations in
India. The only British gains, after nine years of warfare, fruitful
in naval triumphs, but entailing an addition of £290,000,000 to the
National Debt, were the islands of Trinidad and the Dutch possessions
in Ceylon. And yet in the six months spent in negotiations the general
course of events had been favourable to the northern Power. What then
had been lacking? Certainly not valour to her warriors, nor good
fortune to her flag; but merely brain power to her rulers. They had
little of that foresight, skill, and intellectual courage, without
which even the exploits of a Nelson are of little permanent effect.

Reserving for treatment in the next chapter the questions arising from
these preliminaries and the resulting Peace of Amiens, we turn now to
consider their bearing on Bonaparte's position as First Consul. The
return of peace after an exhausting war is always welcome; yet the
patriotic Briton who saw the National Debt more than doubled, with no
adequate gain in land or influence, could not but contrast the
difference in the fortunes of France. That Power had now gained the
Rhine boundary; her troops garrisoned the fortresses of Holland and
Northern Italy; her chief dictated his will to German princelings and
to the once free Switzers; while the Court of Madrid, nay, the
Eternal City herself, obeyed his behests. And all this prodigious
expansion had been accomplished at little apparent cost to France
herself; for the victors' bill had been very largely met out of the
resources of the conquered territories. It is true that her nobles and
clergy had suffered fearful losses in lands and treasure, while her
trading classes had cruelly felt the headlong fall in value of her
paper notes: but in a land endowed with a bounteous soil and climate
such losses are soon repaired, and the signature of the peace with
England left France comparatively prosperous. In October the First
Consul also concluded peace with Russia, and came to a friendly
understanding with the Czar on Italian affairs and the question of
indemnities for the dispossessed German Princes.[175]


Bonaparte now strove to extend the colonies and commerce of France, a
topic to which we shall return later on, and to develop her internal
resources. The chief roads were repaired, and ceased to be in the
miserable condition in which the abolition of the _corvées_ in 1789
had left them: canals were dug to connect the chief river systems of
France, or were greatly improved; and Paris soon benefited from the
construction of the Scheldt and Oise canal, which brought the
resources of Belgium within easy reach of the centre of France. Ports
were deepened and extended; and Marseilles entered on golden vistas of
prosperity soon to be closed by the renewal of war with England.
Communications with Italy were facilitated by the improvement of the
road between Marseilles and Genoa, as also of the tracks leading over
the Simplon, Mont Cenis, and Mont Genèvre passes: the roads leading to
the Rhine and along its left bank also attested the First Consul's
desire, not only to extend commerce, but to protect his natural
boundary on the east. The results of this road-making were to be seen
in the campaign of Ulm, when the French forces marched from Boulogne
to the Black Forest at an unparalleled speed.

Paris in particular felt his renovating hand. With the abrupt,
determined tones which he assumed more and more on reaching absolute
power, he one day said to Chaptal at Malmaison:

     "I intend to make Paris the most beautiful capital of the world: I
     wish that in ten years it should number two millions of
     inhabitants." "But," replied his Minister of the Interior, "one
     cannot improvise population; ... as it is, Paris would scarcely
     support one million"; and he instanced the want of good drinking
     water. "What are your plans for giving water to Paris?" Chaptal
     gave two alternatives--artesian wells or the bringing of water from
     the River Ourcq to Paris. "I adopt the latter plan: go home and
     order five hundred men to set to work to-morrow at La Villette to
     dig the canal."

Such was the inception of a great public work which cost more than
half a million sterling. The provisioning of Paris also received
careful attention, a large reserve of wheat being always kept on hand
for the satisfaction of "a populace which is only dangerous when it is
hungry." Bonaparte therefore insisted on corn being stored and sold in
large quantities and at a very low price, even when considerable loss
was thereby entailed.[176] But besides supplying _panem_ he also
provided _circenses_ to an extent never known even in the days of
Louis XV. State aid was largely granted to the chief theatres, where
Bonaparte himself was a frequent attendant, and a willing captive to
the charms of the actress Mlle. Georges.

The beautifying of Paris was, however, the chief means employed by
Bonaparte for weaning its populace from politics; and his efforts to
this end were soon crowned with complete success. Here again the
events of the Revolution had left the field clear for vast works of
reconstruction such as would have been impossible but for the
abolition of the many monastic institutions of old Paris. On or near
the sites of the famous Feuillants and Jacobins he now laid down
splendid thoroughfares; and where the constitutionals or reds a decade
previously had perorated and fought, the fashionable world of Paris
now rolled in gilded cabriolets along streets whose names recalled the
Italian and Egyptian triumphs of the First Consul. Art and culture
bowed down to the ruler who ordered the renovation of the Louvre,
which now became the treasure-house of painting and sculpture,
enriched by masterpieces taken from many an Italian gallery. No
enterprise has more conspicuously helped to assure the position of
Paris as the capital of the world's culture than Bonaparte's grouping
of the nation's art treasures in a central and magnificent building.
In the first year of his Empire Napoleon gave orders for the
construction of vast galleries which were to connect the northern
pavilion of the Tuileries with the Louvre and form a splendid façade
to the new Rue de Rivoli. Despite the expense, the work was pushed
on until it was suddenly arrested by the downfall of the Empire,
and was left to the great man's nephew to complete. Though it is
possible, as Chaptal avers, that the original design aimed at the
formation of a central fortress, yet to all lovers of art, above
all to the hero-worshipping Heine, the new Louvre was a sure pledge
of Napoleon's immortality.

Other works which combined beauty with utility were the prolongation
of the quays along the left bank of the Seine, the building of three
bridges over that river, the improvement of the Jardin des Plantes,
together with that of other parks and open spaces, and the completion
of the Conservatoire of Arts and Trades. At a later date, the military
spirit of the Empire received signal illustration in the erection of
the Vendôme column, the Arc de Triomphe, and the consecration, or
desecration, of the Madeleine as a temple of glory.

Many of these works were subsequent to the period which we are
considering; but the enterprises of the Emperor represent the designs
of the First Consul; and the plans for the improvement of Paris formed
during the Consulate were sufficient to inspire the Parisians with
lively gratitude and to turn them from political speculations to
scenes of splendour and gaiety that recalled the days of Louis XIV. If
we may believe the testimony of Romilly, who visited Paris in 1802,
the new policy had even then attained its end.

     "The quiet despotism, which leaves everybody who does not wish to
     meddle with politics (and few at present have any such wish) in the
     full and secure enjoyment of their property and of their pleasures,
     is a sort of paradise, compared with the agitation, the perpetual
     alarms, the scenes of infamy, of bloodshed, which accompanied the
     pretended liberties of France."

But while acknowledging the material benefits of Bonaparte's rule, the
same friend of liberty notes with concern:

     "That he [Bonaparte] meditates the gaining fresh laurels in war can
     hardly be doubted, if the accounts which one hears of his restless
     and impatient disposition be true."

However much the populace delighted in this new _régime_, the many
ardent souls who had dared and achieved so much in the sacred quest of
liberty could not refrain from protesting against the innovations
which were restoring personal rule. Though the Press was gagged,
though as many as thirty-two Departments were subjected to the
scrutiny of special tribunals, which, under the guise of stamping out
brigandage, frequently punished opponents of the Government, yet the
voice of criticism was not wholly silenced. The project of the
Concordat was sharply opposed in the Tribunate, which also ventured to
declare that the first sections of the Civil Codes were not
conformable to the principles of 1789 and to the first draft of a code
presented to the Convention. The Government thereupon refused to send
to the Tribunate any important measures, but merely flung them a mass
of petty details to discuss, as "_bones to gnaw_" until the time for
the renewal by lot of a fifth of its members should come round. During
a discussion at the Council of State, the First Consul hinted with
much frankness at the methods which ought to be adopted to quell the
factious opposition of the Tribunate:

     "One cannot work with an institution so productive of disorder. The
     constitution has created a legislative power composed of three
     bodies. None of these branches has any right to organize itself:
     that must be done by the law. Therefore we must make a body which
     shall organize the manner of deliberations of these three branches.
     The Tribunate ought to be divided into five sections. The
     discussion of laws will take place secretly in each section: one
     might even introduce a discussion between these sections and those
     of the Council of State. Only the reporter will speak publicly.
     Then things will go on reasonably."

Having delivered this opinion, _ex cathedra_, he departed (January
7th, 1802) for Lyons, there to be invested with supreme authority in
the reconstituted Cisalpine, or as it was now termed, Italian
Republic[177]


Returning at the close of the month, radiant with the lustre of this
new dignity, he was able to bend the Tribunate and the _Corps
Législatif_ to his will. The renewal of their membership by one-fifth
served as the opportunity for subjecting them to the more pliable
Senate. This august body of highly-paid members holding office for
life had the right of nominating the new members; but hitherto the
retiring members had been singled out by lot. Roederer, acting on a
hint of the time-serving Second Consul, now proposed in the Council
of State that the retiring members of those Chambers should
thenceforth be appointed by the Senate, and not by lot; for the
principle of the lot, he quaintly urged, was hostile to the right of
election which belonged to the Senate. Against such conscious
sophistry all the bolts of logic were harmless. The question was left
undecided, in order that the Senate might forthwith declare in favour
of its own right to determine every year not only the elections to,
but the exclusions from, the Tribunate and the _Corps Législatif_. A
_senatus consultant_ of March legalized this monstrous innovation,
which led to the exclusion from the Tribunate of zealous republicans
like Benjamin Constant, Isnard, Ganilh, Daunou, and Chénier. The
infusion of the senatorial nominees served to complete the nullity of
these bodies; and the Tribunate, the lineal descendant of the terrible
Convention, was gagged and bound within eight years of the stilling of
Danton's mighty voice.

In days when civic zeal was the strength of the French Republic, the
mere suggestion of such a violation of liberty would have cost the
speaker his life. But since the rise of Bonaparte, civic sentiments
had yielded place to the military spirit and to boundless pride in the
nation's glory. Whenever republican feelings were outraged, there were
sufficient distractions to dissipate any of the sombre broodings which
Bonaparte so heartily disliked; and an event of international
importance now came to still the voice of political criticism.

The signature of the definitive treaty of peace with Great Britain
(March 25th, 1802) sufficed to drown the muttered discontent of the
old republican party under the paeans of a nation's joy. The
jubilation was natural. While Londoners were grumbling at the
sacrifices which Addington's timidity had entailed, all France rang
with praises of the diplomatic skill which could rescue several
islands from England's grip and yet assure French supremacy on the
Continent. The event seemed to call for some sign of the nation's
thankfulness to the restorer of peace and prosperity. The hint having
been given by the tactful Cambacérès to some of the members of the
Tribunate, this now docile body expressed a wish that there should be
a striking token of the national gratitude; and a motion to that
effect was made by the Senate to the _Corps Législatif and_ to the
Government itself.

The form which the national memorial should take was left entirely
vague. Under ordinary circumstances the outcome would have been a
column or a statue: to a Napoleon it was monarchy.

The Senate was in much doubt as to the fit course of action. The
majority desired to extend the Consulate for a second term of ten
years, and a formal motion to that effect was made on May 7th. It was
opposed by a few, some of whom demanded the prolongation for life. The
president, Tronchet, prompted by Fouché and other republicans, held
that only the question of prolonging the Consulate for another term of
ten years was before the Senate: and the motion was carried by sixty
votes against one: the dissentient voice was that of the Girondin
Lanjuinais. The report of this vote disconcerted the First Consul, but
he replied with some constraint that as the people had invested him
with the supreme magistrature, he would not feel assured of its
confidence unless the present proposal were also sanctioned by its
vote: "You judge that I owe the people another sacrifice: I will give
it if the people's voice orders what your vote now authorizes." But
before the mass vote of the people was taken, an important change had
been made in the proposal itself. It was well known that Bonaparte was
dissatisfied with the senatorial offer: and at a special session of
the Council of State, at which Ministers were present, the Second
Consul urged that they must now decide how, when, and _on what
question_ the people were to be consulted. The whole question recently
settled by the Senate was thus reopened in a way that illustrated the
advantage of multiplying councils and of keeping them under official
tutelage. The Ministers present asserted that the people disapproved
of the limitations of time imposed by the Senate; and after some
discussion Cambacérès procured the decision that the consultation of
the people should be on the questions whether the First Consul should
hold his power for life, and whether he should nominate his successor.

To the latter part of this proposal the First Consul offered a
well-judged refusal. To consult the people on the restoration of
monarchy would, as yet, have been as inopportune as it was
superfluous. After gaining complete power, Bonaparte could be well
assured as to the establishment of an hereditary claim. The former and
less offensive part of the proposal was therefore submitted to the
people; and to it there could be only one issue amidst the prosperity
brought by the peace, and the surveillance exercised by the prefects
and the grateful clergy now brought back by the Concordat. The
Consulate for Life was voted by the enormous majority of more than
3,500,000 affirmative votes against 8,374 negatives. But among these
dissentients were many honoured names: among military men Carnot,
Drouot, Mouton, and Bernard opposed the innovation; and Lafayette made
the public statement that he could not vote for such a magistracy
unless political liberty were guaranteed. A _senatus consultum_ of
August 1st forthwith proclaimed Napoleon Bonaparte Consul for Life and
ordered the erection of a Statue of Peace, holding in one hand the
victor's laurel and in the other the senatorial decree.

On the following day Napoleon--for henceforth he generally used his
Christian name like other monarchs--presented to the Council of State
a project of an organic law, which virtually amounted to a new
constitution. The mere fact of its presentation at so early a date
suffices to prove how completely he had prepared for the recent change
and how thoroughly assured he was of success. This important measure
was hurried through the Senate, and, without being submitted to the
Tribunate or _Corps Législatif_, still less to the people, for whose
sanction he had recently affected so much concern--was declared to be
the fundamental law of the State.

The fifth constitution of revolutionary France may be thus described.
It began by altering the methods of election. In place of Sieyès'
lists of notabilities, Bonaparte proposed a simpler plan. The
adult citizens of each canton were thenceforth to meet, for
electoral purposes, in primary assemblies, to name two candidates
for the office of _juge de paix_ (i.e., magistrate) and town
councillor, and to choose the members of the "electoral colleges"
for the _arrondissement_ and for the Department. In the latter case
only the 600 most wealthy men of the Department were eligible. An
official or aristocratic tinge was to be imparted to these electoral
colleges by the infusion of members selected by the First Consul from
the members of the Legion of Honour. Fixity of opinion was also
assured by members holding office for life; and, as they were elected
in the midst of the enthusiasm aroused by the Peace of Amiens, they
were decidedly Bonapartist.

The electoral colleges had the following powers: they nominated two
candidates for each place vacant in the merely consultative councils
of their respective areas, and had the equally barren honour of
presenting two candidates for the Tribunate--the final act of
_selection_ being decided by the executive, that is, by the First
Consul. Corresponding privileges were accorded to the electoral
colleges of the Department, save that these plutocratic bodies had the
right of presenting candidates for admission to the Senate. The lists
of candidates for the _Corps_ _Législatif_ were to be formed by the
joint action of the electoral colleges, namely, those of the
Departments and those of the _arrondissements_. But as the resulting
councils and parliamentary bodies had only the shadow of power, the
whole apparatus was but an imposing machine for winnowing the air and
threshing chaff.

The First Consul secured few additional rights or attributes, except
the exercise of the royal prerogative of granting pardon. But, in
truth, his own powers were already so large that they were scarcely
susceptible of extension. The three Consuls held office for life, and
were _ex officio_ members of the Senate. The second and third Consuls
were nominated by the Senate on the presentation of the First Consul:
the Senate might reject two names proposed by him for either office,
but they must accept his third nominee. The First Consul might deposit
in the State archives his proposal as to his successor: if the Senate
rejected this proposal, the second and third Consuls made a
suggestion; and if it were rejected, one of the two whom they
thereupon named must be elected by the Senate. The three legislative
bodies lost practically all their powers, those of the _Corps
Législatif_ going to the Senate, those of the Council of State to an
official Cabal formed out of it; while the Tribunate was forced to
_debate secretly in five sections_, where, as Bonaparte observed,
_they might jabber as they liked_.

On the other hand, the attributes of the Senate were signally
enhanced. It was thenceforth charged, not only with the preservation
of the republican constitution, but with its interpretation in
disputed points, and its completion wherever it should be found
wanting. Furthermore, by means of organic _senatus consulta_ it was
empowered to make constitutions for the French colonies, or to suspend
trial by jury for five years in any Department, or even to declare it
outside the limits of the constitution. It now gained the right of
being consulted in regard to the ratification of treaties, previously
enjoyed by the _Corps Législatif._ Finally, it could dissolve the
_Corps Législatif_ and the Tribunate. But this formidable machinery
was kept under the strict control of the chief engineer: all these
powers were set in motion on the initiative of the Government; and the
proposals for its laws, or _senatus consulta,_ were discussed in the
Cabal of the Council of State named by the First Consul. This
precaution might have been deemed superfluous by a ruler less careful
about details than Napoleon; the composition of the Senate was such as
to assure its pliability; for though it continued to renew its ranks
by co-optation, yet that privilege was restricted in the following
way: from the lists of candidates for the Senate sent up by the
electoral colleges of the Departments, Napoleon selected three for
each seat vacant; one of those three must be chosen by the Senate.
Moreover, the First Consul was to be allowed directly to nominate
forty members in addition to the eighty prescribed by the constitution
of 1799. Thus, by direct or indirect means, the Senate soon became a
strict Napoleonic preserve, to which only the most devoted adherents
could aspire. And yet, such is the vanity of human efforts, it was
this very body which twelve years later was to vote his
deposition.[178]

The victory of action over talk, of the executive over the
legislature, of the one supremely able man over the discordant and
helpless many, was now complete. The process was startlingly swift;
yet its chief stages are not difficult to trace. The orators of the
first two National Assemblies of France, after wrecking the old royal
authority, were constrained by the pressure of events to intrust the
supervision of the executive powers to important committees, whose
functions grew with the intensity of the national danger. Amidst the
agonies of 1793, when France was menaced by the First Coalition, the
Committee of Public Safety leaped forth as the ensanguined champion of
democracy; and, as the crisis, developed in intensity, this terrible
body and the Committee of General Security virtually governed France.

After the repulse of the invaders and the fall of Robespierre, the
return to ordinary methods was marked by the institution of the
Directory, when five men, chosen by the legislature, controlled the
executive powers and the general policy of the Republic: that
compromise was forcibly ended by the stroke of Brumaire. Three Consuls
then seized the reins, and two years later a single charioteer gripped
the destinies of France. His powers were, in fact, ultimately derived
from those of the secret committees of the terrorists. But, unlike the
supremacy of Robespierre, that of Napoleon could not be disputed; for
the general, while guarding all the material boons which the
Revolution had conferred, conciliated the interests and classes
whereon the civilian had so brutally trampled. The new autocracy
therefore possessed a solid strength which that of the terrorists
could never possess. Indeed, it was more absolute than the dictatorial
power that Rousseau had outlined. The philosopher had asserted that,
while silencing the legislative power, the dictator really made it
vocal, and that he could do everything but make laws. But Napoleon,
after 1802, did far more: he suppressed debates and yet drew laws from
his subservient legislature. Whether, then, we regard its practical
importance for France and Europe, or limit our view to the mental
sagacity and indomitable will-power required for its accomplishment,
the triumph of Napoleon in the three years subsequent to his return
from Egypt is the most stupendous recorded in the history of civilized
peoples.

The populace consoled itself for the loss of political liberty by the
splendour of the fête which heralded the title of First Consul for
Life, proclaimed on August 15th: that day was also memorable as being
the First Consul's thirty-third birthday, the festival of the
Assumption, and the anniversary of the ratification of the Concordat.
The decorations and fireworks were worthy of so remarkable a
confluence of solemnities. High on one of the towers of Notre Dame
glittered an enormous star, and at its centre there shone the sign of
the Zodiac which had shed its influence over his first hours of life.
The myriads of spectators who gazed at that natal emblem might well
have thought that his life's star was now at its zenith. Few could
have dared to think that it was to mount far higher into unknown
depths of space, blazing as a baleful portent to kings and peoples;
still less was there any Cassandra shriek of doom as to its final
headlong fall into the wastes of ocean. All was joy and jubilation
over a career that had even now surpassed the records of antique
heroism, that blended the romance of oriental prowess with the
beneficent toils of the legislator, and prospered alike in war and
peace.

And yet black care cast one shadow over that jubilant festival. There
was a void in the First Consul's life such as saddened but few of the
millions of peasants who looked up to him as their saviour. His wife
had borne him no heir: and there seemed no prospect that a child of
his own would ever succeed to his glorious heritage. Family joys, it
seemed, were not for him. Suspicions and bickerings were his lot. His
brothers, in their feverish desire for the establishment of a
Bonapartist dynasty, ceaselessly urged that he should take means to
provide himself with a legitimate heir, in the last resort by
divorcing Josephine. With a consideration for her feelings which does
him credit, Napoleon refused to countenance such proceedings. Yet it
is certain that from this time onwards he kept in view the
desirability, on political grounds, of divorcing her, and made this
the excuse for indulgence in amours against which Josephine's tears
and reproaches were all in vain.

The consolidation of personal rule, the institution of the Legion of
Honour, and the return of very many of the emigrant nobles under the
terms of the recent amnesty, favoured the growth of luxury in the
capital and of Court etiquette at the Tuileries and St. Cloud. At
these palaces the pomp of the _ancien régime_ was laboriously copied.
General Duroc, stiff republican though he was, received the
appointment of Governor of the Palace; under him were chamberlains and
prefects of the palace, who enforced a ceremonial that struggled to be
monarchical. The gorgeous liveries and sumptuous garments of the reign
of Louis XV. speedily replaced the military dress which even civilians
had worn under the warlike Republic. High boots, sabres, and
regimental headgear gave way to buckled shoes, silk stockings, Court
rapiers, and light hats, the last generally held under the arm.
Tricolour cockades were discarded, along with the revolutionary jargon
which _thou'd_ and _citizen'd_ everyone; and men began to purge their
speech of some of the obscene terms which had haunted clubs and camps.

It was remarked, however, that the First Consul still clung to the use
of the term _citizen_, and that amidst the surprising combinations of
colours that flecked his Court, he generally wore only the uniform of
a colonel of grenadiers or of the light infantry of the consular
guard. This conduct resulted partly from his early dislike of luxury,
but partly, doubtless, from a conviction that republicans will forgive
much in a man who, like Vespasian, discards the grandeur which his
prowess has won, and shines by his very plainness. To trifling matters
such as these Napoleon always attached great importance; for, as he
said to Admiral Malcolm at St. Helena: "In France trifles are great
things: reason is nothing."[179] Besides, genius so commanding as his
little needed the external trappings wherewith ordinary mortals hide
their nullity. If his attire was simple, it but set off the better the
play of his mobile features, and the rich, unfailing flow of his
conversation. Perhaps no clearer and more pleasing account of his
appearance and his conduct at a reception has ever been given to the
world than this sketch of the great man in one of his gentler moods by
John Leslie Foster, who visited Paris shortly after the Peace of
Amiens:

     "He is about five feet seven inches high, delicately and gracefully
     made; his hair a dark brown crop, thin and lank; his complexion
     smooth, pale, and sallow; his eyes gray, but very animated; his
     eye-brows light brown, thin and projecting. All his features,
     particularly his mouth and nose, fine, sharp, defined, and
     expressive beyond description; expressive of what? Not of
     anything _percé_ as the prints expressed him, still less of anything
     _méchant_; nor has he anything of that eye whose bend doth awe the
     world. The true expression of his countenance is a pleasing
     melancholy, which, whenever he speaks, relaxes into the most
     agreeable and gracious smile you can conceive. To this you must add
     the appearance of deep and intense thought, but above all the
     predominating expression a look of calm and tranquil resolution and
     intrepidity which nothing human could discompose. His address is
     the finest I have ever seen, and said by those who have travelled
     to exceed not only every Prince and Potentate now in being, but
     even all those whose memory has come down to us. He has more
     unaffected dignity than I could conceive in man. His address is the
     gentlest and most prepossessing you can conceive, which is seconded
     by the greatest fund of levée conversation that I suppose any
     person ever possessed. He speaks deliberately, but very fluently,
     with particular emphasis, and in a rather low tone of voice. While
     he speaks, his features are still more expressive than his
     words."[180]

In contrast with this intellectual power and becoming simplicity of
attire, how stupid and tawdry were the bevies of soulless women and
the dumb groups of half-tamed soldiers! How vapid also the rules of
etiquette and precedence which starched the men and agitated the minds
of their consorts! Yet, while soaring above these rules with easy
grace, the First Consul imposed them rigidly on the crowd of eager
courtiers. On these burning questions he generally took the advice of
M. de Rémusat, whose tact and acquaintance with Court customs were now
of much service; while the sprightly wit of his young wife attracted
Josephine, as it has all readers of her piquant but rather spiteful
memoirs. In her pages we catch a glimpse of the life of that singular
Court; the attempts at aping the inimitable manners of the _ancien
régime_; the pompous nullity of the second and third Consuls; the
tawdry magnificence of the costumes; the studied avoidance of any word
that implied even a modicum of learning or a distant acquaintance with
politics; the nervous preoccupation about Napoleon's moods and whims;
the graceful manners of Josephine that rarely failed to charm away his
humours, except when she herself had been outrageously slighted for
some passing favourite; above all, the leaden dullness of
conversation, which drew from Chaptal the confession that life there
was the life of a galley slave. And if we seek for the hidden reason
why a ruler eminently endowed with mental force and freshness should
have endured so laboured a masquerade, we find it in his strikingly
frank confession to Madame de Rémusat: _It is fortunate that the
French are to be ruled through their vanity._ <

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XIV

THE PEACE OF AMIENS


The previous chapter dealt in the main with the internal affairs of
France and the completion of Napoleon's power: it touched on foreign
affairs only so far as to exhibit the close connection between the
First Consul's diplomatic victory over England and his triumph over
the republican constitution in his adopted country. But it is time now
to review the course of the negotiations which led up to the Treaty of
Amiens.

In order to realize the advantages which France then had over England,
it will be well briefly to review the condition of our land at that
time. Our population was far smaller than that of the French Republic.
France, with her recent acquisitions in Belgium, the Rhineland, Savoy,
Nice, and Piedmont, numbered nearly 40,000,000 inhabitants: but the
census returns of Great Britain for 1801 showed only a total of
10,942,000 souls, while the numbers for Ireland, arguing from the
rather untrustworthy return of 1813, may be reckoned at about six and
a half millions. The prodigious growth of the English-speaking people
had not as yet fully commenced either in the motherland, the United
States, or in the small and struggling settlements of Canada and
Australia. Its future expansion was to be assured by industrial and
social causes, and by the events considered in this and in subsequent
chapters. It was a small people that had for several months faced with
undaunted front the gigantic power of Bonaparte and that of the Armed
Neutrals.

This population of less than 18,000,000 souls, of which nearly
one-third openly resented the Act of Union recently imposed on
Ireland, was burdened by a National Debt which amounted to
£537,000,000, and entailed a yearly charge of more than £20,000,000
sterling. In the years of war with revolutionary France the annual
expenditure had risen from £19,859,000 (for 1792) to the total of
£61,329,000, which necessitated an income tax of 10 per cent. on all
incomes of £200 and upwards. Yet, despite party feuds, the nation was
never stronger, and its fleets had never won more brilliant and solid
triumphs. The chief naval historian of France admits that we had
captured no fewer than 50 ships of the line, and had lost to our
enemies only five, thereby raising the strength of our fighting line
to 189, while that of France had sunk to 47.[181] The prowess of Sir
Arthur Wellesley was also beginning to revive in India the ancient
lustre of the British arms; but the events of 1802-3 were to show that
our industrial enterprise, and the exploits of our sailors and
soldiers, were by themselves of little avail when matched in a
diplomatic contest against the vast resources of France and the
embodied might of a Napoleon.

Men and institutions were everywhere receiving the imprint of his
will. France was as wax under his genius. The sovereigns of Spain,
Italy, and Germany obeyed his _fiat_. Even the stubborn Dutch bent
before him. On the plea of defeating Orange intrigues, he imposed a
new constitution on the Batavian Republic whose independence he had
agreed to respect. Its Directory was now replaced by a Regency which
relieved the deputies of the people of all responsibility. A
_plébiscite_ showed 52,000 votes against, and 16,000 for, the new
_régime_; but, as 350,000 had not voted, their silence was taken for
consent, and Bonaparte's will became law (September, 1801).

We are now in a position to appreciate the position of France and
Great Britain. Before the signature of the preliminaries of peace at
London on October 1st, 1801, our Government had given up its claims to
the Cape, Malta, Tobago, Martinique, Essequibo, Demerara, Berbice, and
Curaçoa, retaining of its conquests only Trinidad and Ceylon.

A belated attempt had, indeed, been made to retain Tobago. The Premier
and the Foreign Secretary, Lord Hawkesbury, were led by the French
political agent in London, M. Otto, to believe that, in the ensuing
negotiations at Amiens, every facility would be given by the French
Government towards its retrocession to us, and that this act would be
regarded as the means of indemnifying Great Britain for the heavy
expense of supporting many thousands of French and Dutch prisoners.
The Cabinet, relying on this promise as binding between honourable
men, thereupon endeavoured to obtain the assent of George III. to the
preliminaries in their ultimate form, and only the prospect of
regaining Tobago by this compromise induced the King to give it. When
it was too late, King and Ministers realized their mistake in relying
on verbal promises and in failing to procure a written statement.[182]

The abandonment by Ministers of their former claim to Malta is equally
strange. Nelson, though he held Malta to be useless as a base for the
British fleet watching Toulon, made the memorable statement: "I
consider Malta as a most important outwork to India." But a despatch
from St. Petersburg, stating that the new Czar had concluded a formal
treaty of alliance with the Order of St. John settled in Russia, may
have convinced Addington and his colleagues that it would be better to
forego all claim to Malta in order to cement the newly won friendship
of Russia. Whatever may have been their motive, British Ministers
consented to cede the island to the Knights of St. John under the
protection of some third Power.

The preliminaries of peace were further remarkable for three strange
omissions. They did not provide for the renewal of previous treaties
of peace between the late combatants. War is held to break all
previous treaties; and by failing to require the renewal of the
treaties of 1713, 1763, and 1783, it was now open to Spain and France
to cement, albeit in a new form, that Family Compact which it had long
been the aim of British diplomacy to dissolve: the failure to renew
those earlier treaties rendered it possible for the Court of Madrid to
alienate any of its colonies to France, as at that very time was being
arranged with respect to Louisiana.

The second omission was equally remarkable. No mention was made of any
renewal of commercial intercourse between England and France.
Doubtless a complete settlement of this question would have been
difficult. British merchants would have looked for a renewal of that
enlightened treaty of commerce of 1786-7, which had aroused the bitter
opposition of French manufacturers. But the question might have been
broached at London, and its omission from the preliminaries served as
a reason for shelving it in the definitive treaty--a piece of folly
which at once provoked the severest censure from British
manufacturers, who thereby lost the markets of France, and her subject
States, Holland, Spain, Switzerland, Genoa, and Etruria.

And, finally, the terms of peace provided no compensation either for
the French royal House or for the dispossessed House of Orange. Here
again, it would have been very difficult to find a recompense such as
the Bourbons could with dignity have accepted; and the suggestion made
by one of the royalist exiles to Lord Hawkesbury, that Great Britain
should seize Crete and hand it over to them, will show how desperate
was their case.[183] Nevertheless, some effort should have been made
by a Government which had so often proclaimed its championship of the
legitimist cause. Still more glaring was the omission of any
stipulation for an indemnity for the House of Orange, now exiled from
the Batavian Republic. That claim, though urged at the outset, found
no place in the preliminaries; and the mingled surprise and contempt
felt in the _salons_ of Paris at the conduct of the British Government
is shown in a semi-official report sent thence by one of its secret
agents:

     "I cannot get it into my head that the British Ministry has acted
     in good faith in subscribing to preliminaries of peace, which,
     considering the respective position of the parties, would be
     harmful to the English people.... People are persuaded in France
     that the moderation of England is only a snare put in Bonaparte's
     way, and it is mainly in order to dispel it that our journals have
     received the order to make much of the advantages which must accrue
     to England from the conquests retained by her; but the journalists
     have convinced nobody, and it is said openly that if our European
     conquests are consolidated by a general peace, France will, within
     ten years, subjugate all Europe, Great Britain included, despite
     all her vast dominions in India. Only within the last few days have
     people here believed in the sincerity of the English preliminaries
     of peace, and they say everywhere that, after having gloriously
     sailed past the rocks that Bonaparte's cunning had placed in its
     track, the British Ministry has completely foundered at the mouth
     of the harbour. People blame the whole structure of the peace as
     betraying marks of feebleness in all that concerns the dignity and
     the interests of the King; ... and we cannot excuse its neglect of
     the royalists, whose interests are entirely set aside in the
     preliminaries. Men are especially astonished at England's
     retrocession of Martinique without a single stipulation for the
     colonists there, who are at the mercy of a government as rapacious
     as it is fickle. All the owners of colonial property are very
     uneasy, and do not hide their annoyance against England on this
     score."[184]

This interesting report gives a glimpse into the real thought of Paris
such as is rarely afforded by the tamed or venal Press. As Bonaparte's
spies enabled him to feel every throb of the French pulse, he must at
once have seen how great was the prestige which he gained by these
first diplomatic successes, and how precarious was the foothold of the
English Ministers on the slippery grade of concession to which they
had been lured. Addington surely should have remembered that only the
strong man can with safety recede at the outset, and that an act of
concession which, coming from a master mind, is interpreted as one of
noble magnanimity, will be scornfully snatched from a nerveless hand
as a sign of timorous complaisance. But the public statements and the
secret avowals of our leaders show that they wished "to try the
experiment of peace," now that France had returned to ordinary
political conditions and Jacobinism was curbed by Bonaparte.
"Perhaps," wrote Castlereagh, "France, satisfied with her recent
acquisitions, will find her interest in that system of internal
improvement which is necessarily connected with peace."[185] There is
no reason for doubting the sincerity of this statement. Our policy was
distinctly and continuously complaisant: France regained her colonies:
she was not required to withdraw from Switzerland and Holland. Who
could expect, from what was then known of Bonaparte's character, that
a peace so fraught with glory and profit would not satisfy French
honour and his own ambition?

Peace, then, was an "experiment." The British Government wished to see
whether France would turn from revolution and war to agriculture and
commerce, whether her young ruler be satisfied with a position of
grandeur and solid power such as Louis XIV. had rarely enjoyed. Alas!
the failure of the experiment was patent to all save the blandest
optimists long before the Preliminaries of London took form in the
definitive Treaty of Amiens. Bonaparte's aim now was to keep our
Government strictly to the provisional terms of peace which it had
imprudently signed. Even before the negotiations were opened at
Amiens, he ordered Joseph Bonaparte to listen to no proposal
concerning the King of Sardinia and the ex-Stadholder of Holland,
and asserted that the "internal affairs of the Batavian Republic, of
Germany, of Helvetia, and of the Italian Republics" were "absolutely
alien to the discussions with England." This implied that England was
to be shut out from Continental politics, and that France was to
regulate the affairs of central and southern Europe. This observance
of the letter was, however, less rigid where French colonial and
maritime interests were at stake. Dextrous feelers were put forth
seawards, and it was only when these were repulsed that the French
negotiators encased themselves in their preliminaries.

The task of reducing those articles to a definitive treaty devolved,
on the British side, on the Marquis Cornwallis, a gouty, world-weary
old soldier, chiefly remembered for the surrender which ended the
American War. Nevertheless, he had everywhere won respect for his
personal probity in the administration of Indian affairs, and there
must also have been some convincing qualities in a personality which
drew from Napoleon at St. Helena the remark: "I do not believe that
Cornwallis was a man of first-rate abilities: but he had talent, great
probity, sincerity, and never broke his word.... He was a man of
honour--a true Englishman."

Against Lord Cornwallis, and his far abler secretary, Mr. Merry, were
pitted Joseph Bonaparte and his secretaries. The abilities of the
eldest of the Bonapartes have been much underrated. Though he lacked
the masterful force and wide powers of his second brother, yet at
Lunéville Joseph proved himself to be an able diplomatist, and later
on in his tenure of power at Naples and Madrid he displayed no small
administrative gifts. Moreover, his tact and kindliness kindled in all
who knew him a warmth of friendship such as Napoleon's sterner
qualities rarely inspired. The one was loved as a man: for the other,
even his earlier acquaintances felt admiration and devotion, but
always mingled with a certain fear of the demi-god that would at times
blaze forth. This was the dread personality that urged Talleyrand and
Joseph Bonaparte to their utmost endeavours and steeled them against
any untoward complaisance at Amiens.

The selection of so honourable a man as Cornwallis afforded no slight
guarantee for the sincerity of our Government, and its sincerity will
stand the test of a perusal of its despatches. Having examined all
those that deal with these negotiations, the present writer can affirm
that the official instructions were in no respect modified by the
secret injunctions: these referred merely to such delicate and
personal topics as the evacuation of Hanover by Prussian troops and
the indemnities to be sought for the House of Orange and the House of
Savoy. The circumstances of these two dispossessed dynasties were
explained so as to show that the former Dutch Stadholder had a very
strong claim on us, as well as on France and the Batavian Republic;
while the championship of the House of Savoy by the Czar rendered the
claims of that ancient family on the intervention of George III. less
direct and personal than those of the Prince of Orange. Indeed,
England would have insisted on the insertion of a clause to this
effect in the preliminaries had not other arrangements been on foot at
Berlin which promised to yield due compensation to this unfortunate
prince. Doubtless the motives of the British Ministers were good, but
their failure to insert such a clause fatally prejudiced their case
all through the negotiations at Amiens.

The British official declaration respecting Malta was clear and
practical. The island was to be restored to the Knights of the Order
of St. John and placed under the protection of a third Power other
than France and England. But the reconstitution of the Order was no
less difficult than the choice of a strong and disinterested
protecting Power. Lord Hawkesbury proposed that Russia be the
guaranteeing Power. No proposal could have been more reasonable. The
claims of the Czar to the protectorate of the Order had been so
recently asserted by a treaty with the knights that no other
conclusion seemed feasible. And, in order to assuage the grievances of
the islanders and strengthen the rule of the knights, the British
Ministry desired that the natives of Malta should gain a foothold in
the new constitution. The lack of civil and political rights had
contributed so materially to the overthrow of the Order that no
reconstruction of that shattered body could be deemed intelligent, or
even honest, which did not cement its interests with those of the
native Maltese. The First Consul, however, at once demurred to both
these proposals. In the course of a long interview with Cornwallis at
Paris,[186] he adverted to the danger of bringing Russia's maritime
pressure to bear on Mediterranean questions, especially as her
sovereigns "had of late shown themselves to be such unsteady
politicians." This of course referred to the English proclivities of
Alexander I., and it is clear that Bonaparte's annoyance with
Alexander was the first unsettling influence which prevented the
solution of the Maltese question. The First Consul also admitted to
Cornwallis that the King of Naples, despite his ancient claims of
suzerainty over Malta, could not be considered a satisfactory
guarantor, as between two Great Powers; and he then proposed that the
tangle should be cut by blowing up the fortifications of Valetta.

The mere suggestion of such an act affords eloquent proof of the
difficulties besetting the whole question. To destroy works of vast
extent, which were the bulwark of Christendom against the Barbary
pirates, would practically have involved the handing over of Valetta
to those pests of the Mediterranean; and from Malta as a new base of
operations they could have spread devastation along the coasts of
Sicily and Italy. This was the objection which Cornwallis at once
offered to an other-wise specious proposal: he had recently received
papers from Major-General Pigot at Malta, in which the same solution
of the question was examined in detail. The British officer pointed
out that the complete dismantling of the fortifications would expose
the island, and therefore the coasts of Italy, to the rovers; yet he
suggested a partial demolition, which seems to prove that the British
officers in command at Malta did not contemplate the retention of the
island and the infraction of the peace.

Our Government, however, disapproved of the destruction of the
fortifications of Valetta as wounding the susceptibilities of the
Czar, and as in no wise rendering impossible the seizure of the island
and the reconstruction of those works by some future invader. In fact,
as the British Ministry now aimed above all at maintaining good
relations with the Czar, Bonaparte's proposal could only be regarded
as an ingenious device for sundering the Anglo-Russian understanding.
The French Minister at St. Petersburg was doing his utmost to prevent
the _rapprochement_ of the Czar to the Court of St James, and was
striving to revive the moribund league of the Armed Neutrals. That
last offer had "been rejected in the most peremptory manner and in
terms almost bordering upon derision." Still there was reason to
believe that the former Anglo-Russian disputes about Malta might be so
far renewed as to bring Bonaparte and Alexander to an understanding.
The sentimental Liberalism of the young Czar predisposed him towards a
French alliance, and his whole disposition inclined him towards the
brilliant opportunism of Paris rather than the frigid legitimacy of
the Court of St. James. The Maltese affair and the possibility of
reopening the Eastern Question were the two sources of hope to the
promoters of a Franco-Russian alliance; for both these questions
appealed to the chivalrous love of adventure and to the calculating
ambition so curiously blent in Alexander's nature. Such, then, was the
motive which doubtless prompted Bonaparte's proposal concerning
Valetta; such also were the reasons which certainly dictated its
rejection by Great Britain.

In his interview with the First Consul at Paris, and in the subsequent
negotiations at Amiens with Joseph Bonaparte, the question of Tobago
and England's money claim for the support of French prisoners was
found to be no less thorny than that of Malta. The Bonapartes firmly
rejected the proposal for the retention of Tobago by England in lieu
of her pecuniary demand. A Government which neglected to procure the
insertion of its claim to Tobago among the Preliminaries of London
could certainly not hope to regain that island in exchange for a
concession to France that was in any degree disputable. But the two
Bonapartes and Talleyrand now took their stand solely on the
preliminaries, and politely waved on one side the earlier promises of
M. Otto as unauthorized and invalid, They also closely scrutinized the
British claim to an indemnity for the support of French prisoners.
Though theoretically correct, it was open to an objection, which was
urged by Bonaparte and Talleyrand with suave yet incisive irony.
They suggested that the claim must be considered in relation to a
counter-claim, soon to be sent from Paris, for the maintenance of all
prisoners taken by the French from the various forces subsidized by
Great Britain, a charge which "would probably not leave a balance so
much in favour of His [Britannic] Majesty as His Government may have
looked forward to." This retort was not so terrible as it appeared;
for most of the papers necessary for the making up of the French
counterclaim had been lost or destroyed during the Revolution. Yet the
threat told with full effect on Cornwallis, who thereafter referred to
the British claim as a "hopeless debt."[187] The officials of Downing
Street drew a distinction between prisoners from armies merely
subsidized by us and those taken from foreign forces actually under
our control; but it is clear that Cornwallis ceased to press the
claim. In fact, the British case was mismanaged from beginning to end:
the accounts for the maintenance of French and Dutch prisoners were,
in the first instance, wrongly drawn up; and there seems to have been
little or no notion of the seriousness of the counter-claim, which
came with all the effect of a volley from a masked battery,
destructive alike to our diplomatic reputation and to our hope of
retaining Tobago.

It is impossible to refer here to all the topics discussed at Amiens.
The determination of the French Government to adopt a forward colonial
and oceanic policy is clearly seen in its proposals made at the close
of the year 1801. They were: (1) the abolition of salutes to the
British flag on the high seas; (2) an _absolute_ ownership of the
eastern and western coasts of Newfoundland in return for a proposed
cession of the isles of St. Pierre and Miquelon to us--which would
have practically ceded to France _in full sovereignty_ all the best
fishing coasts of that land, with every prospect of settling the
interior, in exchange for two islets devastated by war and then in
British hands; (3) the right of the French to a share in the whale
fishery in those seas; (4) the establishment of a French fishing
station in the Falkland Isles; and (5) the extension of the French
districts around the towns of Yanaon and Mahé in India.[188] To all
these demands Lord Cornwallis opposed an unbending opposition. Weak as
our policy had been on other affairs, it was firm as a rock on all
maritime and Indian questions. In fact, the events to be described in
the next chapter, which led to the consolidation of British power in
Hindostan, would in all probability never have occurred but for the
apprehensions excited by these French demands; and our masterful
proconsul in Bengal, the Marquis Wellesley, could not have pursued his
daring and expensive schemes of conquest, annexation, and forced
alliances, had not the schemes of the First Consul played into the
hands of the soldiers at Calcutta and weakened the protests of the
dividend-hunters of Leadenhall Street.

The persistence of French demands for an increase of influence in
Newfoundland and the West and East Indies, the vastness of her
expedition to Saint Domingo and the thinly-veiled designs of her
Australian expedition (which we shall notice in the next chapter), all
served to awaken the suspicions of the British Government. The
negotiations consequently progressed but slowly. From the outset they
were clogged by the suspicion of bad faith. Spain and Holland, smarting
under the conditions of a peace which gave to France all the glory and
to her allies all the loss, delayed sending their respective envoys to
the conferences at Amiens, and finally avowed their determination to
resist the surrender of Trinidad and Ceylon. In fact, pressure had to
be exerted from Paris and London before they yielded to the inevitable.
This difficulty was only one of several: there then remained the
questions whether Portugal and Turkey should be admitted to share in the
treaty, as England demanded; or whether they should sign a separate
peace with France. The First Consul strenuously insisted on the
exclusion of those States, though their interests were vitally affected
by the present negotiations, He saw that a separate treaty with the
Sublime Porte would enable him, not only to extract valuable trading
concessions in the Black Sea trade, but also to cement a good
understanding with Russia on the Eastern Question, which was now being
adroitly reopened by French diplomacy. Against the exclusion of Turkey
from the negotiations at Amiens, Great Britain firmly but vainly
protested. In fact, Talleyrand had bound the Porte to a separate
agreement which promised everything for France and nothing for Turkey,
and seemed to doom the Sublime Porte to certain humiliation and probable
partition.[189]

Then there were the vexed questions of the indemnities claimed by
George III. for the Houses of Orange and of Savoy. In his interview
with Cornwallis, Bonaparte had effusively promised to do his utmost
for the ex-Stadholder, though he refused to consider the case of the
King of Sardinia, who, he averred, had offended him by appealing to
the Czar. The territorial interests of France in Italy doubtless
offered a more potent argument to the First Consul: after practically
annexing Piedmont and dominating the peninsula, he could ill brook
the presence on the mainland of a king whom he had already sacrificed
to his astute and masterful policy. The case of the Prince of Orange
was different. He was a victim to the triumph of French and democratic
influence in the Dutch Netherlands. George III. felt a deep interest
in this unfortunate prince and made a strong appeal to the better
instincts of Bonaparte on his behalf. Indeed, it is probable that
England had acquiesced in the consolidation of French influence at the
Hague, in the hope that her complaisance would lead the First Consul
to assure him some position worthy of so ancient a House. But though
Cornwallis pressed the Batavian Republic on behalf of its exiled
chief, yet the question was finally adjourned by the XVIIIth clause of
the definitive Treaty of Amiens; and the scion of that famous House
had to take his share in the forthcoming scramble for the clerical
domains of Germany.[190]

For the still more difficult cause of the House of Savoy the British
Government made honest but unavailing efforts, firmly refusing to
recognize the newest creations of Bonaparte in Italy, namely, the
Kingdom of Etruria and the Ligurian Republic, until he indemnified the
House of Savoy. Our recognition was withheld for the reasons that
prompt every bargainer to refuse satisfaction to his antagonist until
an equal concession is accorded. This game was played by both Powers
at Amiens, and with little other result than mutual exasperation. Yet
here, too, the balance of gain naturally accrued to Bonaparte; for he
required the British Ministry to recognize existing facts in Etruria
and Liguria, while Cornwallis had to champion the cause of exiles and
of an order that seemed for ever to have vanished. To pit the
non-existent against the actual was a task far above the powers of
British statesmanship; yet that was to be its task for the next
decade, while the forces of the living present were to be wielded by
its mighty antagonist. Herein lay the secret of British failures and
of Napoleon's extraordinary triumphs.

Leaving, for a space, the negotiations at Amiens, we turn to consider
the events which transpired at Lyons in the early weeks of 1802,
events which influenced not only the future of Italy, but the fortunes
of Bonaparte.

It will be remembered that, after the French victories of Marengo and
Hohenlinden, Austria agreed to terms of peace whereby the Cisalpine,
Ligurian, Helvetic, and Batavian Republics were formally recognized by
her, though a clause expressly stipulated that they were to be
independent of France. A vain hope! They continued to be under French
tutelage, and their strongholds in the possession of French troops.

It now remained to legalize French supremacy in the Cisalpine
Republic, which comprised the land between the Ticino and the Adige,
and the Alps and the Rubicon. The new State received a provisional
form of government after Marengo, a small council being appointed to
supervise civil affairs at the capital, Milan. With it and with
Marescalchi, the Cisalpine envoy at Paris, Bonaparte had concerted a
constitution, or rather he had used these men as a convenient screen
to hide its purely personal origin. Having, for form's sake, consulted
the men whom he had himself appointed, he now suggested that the chief
citizens of that republic should confer with him respecting their new
institutions. His Minister at Milan thereupon proposed that they
should cross the Alps for that purpose, assembling, not at Paris,
where their dependence on the First Consul's will might provoke too
much comment, but at Lyons. To that city, accordingly, there repaired
some 450 of the chief men of Northern Italy, who braved the snows of a
most rigorous December, in the hope of consolidating the liberties of
their long-distracted country. And thus was seen the strange spectacle
of the organization of Lombardy, Modena, and the Legations being
effected in one provincial centre of France, while at another of her
cities the peace of Europe and the fortunes of two colonial empires
were likewise at stake. Such a conjunction of events might well
impress the imagination of men, bending the stubborn will of the
northern islanders, and moulding the Italian notables to complete
complaisance. And yet, such power was there in the nascent idea of
Italian nationality, that Bonaparte's proposals, which, in his
absence, were skilfully set forth by Talleyrand, met with more than
one rebuff from the Consulta at Lyons.

Bitterly it opposed the declaration that the Roman Catholic religion
was the religion of the Cisalpine Republic and must be maintained by a
State budget. Only the first part of this proposal could be carried:
so keen was the opposition to the second part that, as a preferable
plan, property was set apart for the support of the clergy; and
clerical discipline was subjected to the State, on terms somewhat
similar to those of the French Concordat.[191]

Secular affairs gave less trouble. The apparent success of the French
constitution furnished a strong motive for adopting one of a similar
character for the Italian State; and as the proposed institutions had
been approved at Milan, their acceptance by a large and miscellaneous
body was a foregone conclusion. Talleyrand also took the most
unscrupulous care that the affair of the Presidency should be
judiciously settled. On December 31st, 1801, he writes to Bonaparte
from Lyons:

     "The opinion of the Cisalpines seems not at all decided as to the
     choice to be made: they will gladly receive the man whom you
     nominate: a President in France and a Vice-President at Milan would
     suit a large number of them."

Four days later he confidently assures the First Consul:

     "They will do what you want without your needing even to show your
     desire. What they think you desire will immediately become
     law."[192]

The ground having been thus thoroughly worked, Bonaparte and
Josephine, accompanied by a brilliant suite, arrived at Lyons on
January 11th, and met with an enthusiastic reception. Despite the
intense cold, followed by a sudden thaw, a brilliant series of fêtes,
parades, and receptions took place; and several battalions of the
French Army of Egypt, which had recently been conveyed home on English
ships, now passed in review before their chief. The impressionable
Italians could not mistake the aim of these demonstrations; and, after
general matters had been arranged by the notables, the final measures
were relegated to a committee of thirty. The desirability of this step
was obvious, for urgent protests had already been raised in the
Consulta against the appointment of a foreigner as President of the
new State. When a hubbub arose on this burning topic:

     "Some officers of the regiments in garrison at Lyons appeared in
     the hall and imposed silence upon all parties. Notwithstanding
     this, Count Melzi was actually chosen President by the majority of
     the Committee of Thirty; but he declined the honour, and suggested
     in significant terms that, to enable him to render any service to
     the country, the committee had better fix upon General Bonaparte as
     their Chief Magistrate. This being done, Bonaparte immediately
     appointed Count Melzi Vice-President."[193]

Bonaparte's determination to fill this important position is clearly
seen in his correspondence. On the 2nd and 4th of Pluviôse (January
22nd and 24th), he writes from Lyons:

     "All the principal affairs of the Consulta are settled. I count on
     being back at Paris in the course of the decade."

     "To-morrow I shall review the troops from Egypt. On the 6th [of
     Pluviôse] all the business of the Consulta will be finished, and I
     shall probably set out on my journey on the 7th."

The next day, 5th Pluviôse, sees the accomplishment of his desires:

     "To-day I have reviewed the troops on the Place Bellecour; the sun
     shone as it does in Floréal. The Consulta has named a committee of
     thirty individuals, which has reported to it that, considering the
     domestic and foreign affairs of the Cisalpine, it was indispensable
     to let me discharge the first magistracy, until circumstances
     permit and I judge it suitable to appoint a successor."

These extracts prove that the acts of the Consulta could be planned
beforehand no less precisely than the movements of the soldiery, and
that even so complex a matter as the voting of a constitution and the
choice of its chief had to fall in with the arrangements of this
methodizing genius. Certainly civilization had progressed since the
weary years when the French people groped through mists and waded in
blood in order to gain a perfect polity: that precious boon was now
conferred on a neighbouring people in so sure a way that the plans of
their benefactor could be infallibly fixed and his return to Paris
calculated to the hour.

The final address uttered by Bonaparte to the Italian notables is
remarkable for the short, sharp sentences, which recall the tones of
the parade ground. Passing recent events in rapid review, he said,
speaking in his mother tongue:

     "...Every effort had been made to dismember you: the protection of
     France won the day: you have been recognized at Lunéville.
     One-fifth larger than before, you are now more powerful, more
     consolidated, and have wider hopes. Composed of six different
     nations, you will be now united under a constitution the best
     possible for your social and material condition. ... The selections
     I have made for your chief offices have been made independently of
     all idea of party or feeling of locality. As for that of President,
     I have found no one among you with sufficient claims on public
     opinion, sufficiently free from local feelings, and who had
     rendered great enough services to his country, to intrust it to
     him.... Your people has only local feelings: it must now rise to
     national feelings."

In accordance with this last grand and prophetic remark, the name
Italian was substituted for that of Cisalpine: and thus, for the first
time since the Middle Ages, there reappeared on the map of Europe that
name, which was to evoke the sneers of diplomatists and the most
exalted patriotism of the century. If Bonaparte had done naught else,
he would deserve immortal glory for training the divided peoples of
the peninsula for a life of united activity.

The new constitution was modelled on that of France; but the pretence
of a democratic suffrage was abandoned. The right of voting was
accorded to three classes, the great proprietors, the clerics and
learned men, and the merchants. These, meeting in their several
"Electoral Colleges," voted for the members of the legislative bodies;
a Tribunal was also charged with the maintenance of the constitution.
By these means Bonaparte endeavoured to fetter the power of the
reactionaries no less than the anti-clerical fervour of the Italian
Jacobins. The blending of the new and the old which then began shows
the hand of the master builder, who neither sweeps away materials
merely because they are old, nor rejects the strength that comes from
improved methods of construction: and, however much we may question
the disinterestedness of his motives in this great enterprise, there
can be but one opinion as to the skill of the methods and the
beneficence of the results in Italy.[194]



The first step in the process of Italian unification had now been
taken at Lyons. A second soon followed. The affairs of the Ligurian
Republic were in some confusion; and an address came from Genoa
begging that their differences might be composed by the First Consul.
The spontaneity of this offer may well be questioned, seeing that
Bonaparte found it desirable, in his letter of February 18th, 1802, to
assure the Ligurian authorities that they need feel no disquietude as
to the independence of their republic. Bonaparte undertook to alter
their constitution and nominate their Doge.

That the news of the events at Lyons excited the liveliest indignation
in London is evident from Hawkesbury's despatch of February 12th,
1802, to Cornwallis:

     "The proceedings at Lyons have created the greatest alarm in this
     country, and there are many persons who were pacifically disposed,
     who since this event are desirous of renewing the war. It is
     impossible to be surprised at this feeling when we consider the
     inordinate ambition, the gross breach of faith, and the inclination
     to insult Europe manifested by the First Consul on this occasion.
     The Government here are desirous of avoiding to take notice of
     these proceedings, and are sincerely desirous to conclude the
     peace, if it can be obtained on terms consistent with our honour."

Why the Government should have lagged behind the far surer instincts
of English public opinion it is difficult to say. Hawkesbury's
despatch of four days later supplies an excuse for his contemptible
device of pretending not to see this glaring violation of the Treaty
of Lunéville. Referring to the events at Lyons, he writes:

     "Extravagant and unjustifiable as they are in themselves, [they]
     must have led us to believe that the First Consul would have been
     more anxious than ever to have closed his account with this
     country."

Doubtless that was the case, but only on condition that England
remained passive while French domination was extended over all
neighbouring lands. If our Ministers believed that Bonaparte feared
the displeasure of Austria, they were completely in error. Thanks to
the utter weakness of the European system, and the rivalry of Austria
and Prussia, he was now able to concentrate his ever-increasing power
and prestige on the negotiations at Amiens, which once more claim our
attention.

Far from being sated by the prestige gained at Lyons, he seemed to
grow more exacting with victory. Moreover, he had been cut to the
quick by some foolish articles of a French _émigré_ named Peltier, in
a paper published at London: instead of treating them with the
contempt they deserved, he magnified these ravings of a disappointed
exile into an event of high policy, and fulminated against the
Government which allowed them. In vain did Cornwallis object that the
Addington Cabinet could not venture on the unpopular act of curbing
freedom of the Press in Great Britain. The First Consul, who had
experienced no such difficulty in France, persisted now, as a year
later, in considering every uncomplimentary reference to himself as an
indirect and semiofficial attack.

To these causes we may attribute the French demands of February 4th:
contradicting his earlier proposal for a temporary Neapolitan garrison
of Malta, Bonaparte now absolutely refused either to grant that
necessary protection to the weak Order of St. John, or to join Great
Britain in an equal share of the expenses--£20,000 a year--which such
a garrison would entail. The astonishment and indignation aroused at
Downing Street nearly led to an immediate rupture of the negotiations;
and it needed all the patience of Cornwallis and the suavity of Joseph
Bonaparte to smooth away the asperities caused by Napoleon's direct
intervention. It needs only a slight acquaintance with the First
Consul's methods of thought and expression to recognize in the
Protocol of February 4th the incisive speech of an autocrat confident
in his newly-consolidated powers and irritated by the gibes of
Peltier.[195]

The good sense of the two plenipotentiaries at Amiens before long
effected a reconciliation. Hawkesbury, writing from Downing Street,
warned Cornwallis that if a rupture were to take place it must not be
owing to "any impatience on our part": and he, in his turn, affably
inquired from Joseph Bonaparte whether he had any more practicable
plan than that of a Neapolitan garrison, which he had himself
proposed. No plan was forthcoming other than that of a garrison of
1,000 Swiss mercenaries; and as this was open to grave objections, the
original proposal was finally restored. On its side, the Court of St.
James still refused to blow up the fortifications at Valetta; and
rather than destroy those works, England had already offered that the
independence of Malta should be guaranteed by the Great Powers--Great
Britain, France, Austria, Russia, Spain, and Prussia: to this
arrangement France soon assented. Later on we demanded that the
Neapolitan garrison should remain in Malta for three years after the
evacuation of the island by the British troops; whereas France desired
to limit the period to one year. To this Cornwallis finally assented,
with the proviso that, "if the Order of St. John shall not have raised
a sufficient number of men, the Neapolitan troops shall remain until
they shall be relieved by an adequate force, to be agreed upon by the
guaranteeing Powers." The question of the garrison having been
arranged, other details gave less trouble, and the Maltese question
was settled in the thirteen conditions added to Clause X. of the
definitive treaty.

Though this complex question was thus adjusted by March 17th, other
matters delayed a settlement.



Hawkesbury still demanded a definite indemnity for the Prince of
Orange, but Cornwallis finally assented to Article XVIII. of the
treaty, which vaguely promised "an adequate compensation." Cornwallis
also persuaded his chief to waive his claims for the direct
participation of Turkey in the treaty. The British demand for an
indemnity for the expense of supporting French prisoners was to be
relegated to commissioners--who never met. Indeed, this was the only
polite way of escaping from the untenable position which our
Government had heedlessly taken upon this topic.

It is clear from the concluding despatches of Cornwallis that he was
wheedled by Joseph Bonaparte into conceding more than the British
Government had empowered him to do; and, though the "secret and most
confidential" despatch of March 22nd cautioned him against narrowing
too much the ground of a rupture, if a rupture should still occur, yet
three days later, and _after the receipt of this despatch_, he signed
the terms of peace with Joseph Bonaparte, and two days later with the
other signatory Powers.[196] It may well be doubted whether peace
would ever have been signed but for the skill of Joseph Bonaparte in
polite cajolery and the determination of Cornwallis to arrive at an
understanding. In any case the final act of signature was distinctly
the act, not of the British Government, but of its plenipotentiary.


That fact is confirmed by his admission, on March 28th, that he had
yielded where he was ordered to remain inflexible. At St. Helena,
Napoleon also averred that after Cornwallis had definitely pledged
himself to sign the treaty as it stood on the night of March 24th, he
received instructions in a contrary sense from Downing Street; that
nevertheless he held himself bound by his promise and signed the
treaty on the following day, observing that his Government, if
dissatisfied, might refuse to ratify it, but that, having pledged his
word, he felt bound to abide by it. This story seems consonant with
the whole behaviour of Cornwallis, so creditable to him as a man, so
damaging to him as a diplomatist. The later events of the negotiation
aroused much annoyance at Downing Street, and the conduct of
Cornwallis met with chilling disapproval.

The First Consul, on the other hand, showed his appreciation of his
brother's skill with unusual warmth; for when they appeared together
at the opera in Paris, he affectionately thrust his elder brother to
the front of the State box to receive the plaudits of the audience at
the advent of a definite peace. That was surely the purest and noblest
joy which the brothers ever tasted.

With what feelings of pride, not unmixed with awe, must the brothers
have surveyed their career. Less than nine years had elapsed since
their family fled from Corsica, and landed on the coast of Provence,
apparently as bankrupt in their political hopes as in their material
fortunes. Thrice did the fickle goddess cast Napoleon to the ground in
the first two years of his new life, only that his wondrous gifts and
sublime self-confidence might tower aloft the more conspicuously,
bewildering alike the malcontents of Paris, the generals of the old
Empire, the peoples of the Levant, and the statesmen of Britain. Of
all these triumphs assuredly the last was not the least. The Peace of
Amiens left France the arbitress of Europe, and, by restoring to her
all her lost colonies, it promised to place her in the van of the
oceanic and colonizing peoples.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XV

A FRENCH COLONIAL EMPIRE

ST. DOMINGO--LOUISIANA--INDIA--AUSTRALIA

     "Il n'y a rien dans l'histoire du monde de comparable aux forces
     navales de l'Angleterre, à l'étendue et à la richesse de son
     commerce, à la masse de ses dettes, de ses défenses, de ses moyens,
     et à la fragilité des bases sur lesquelles repose l'édifice immense
     de sa fortune."--BARON MALOUET, _Considérations historiques sur
     l'Empire de la Mer_.


There are abundant reasons for thinking that Napoleon valued the Peace
of Amiens as a necessary preliminary to the restoration of the French
Colonial Empire. A comparison of the dates at which he set on foot his
oceanic schemes will show that they nearly all had their inception in
the closing months of 1801 and in the course of the following year.
The sole important exceptions were the politico-scientific expedition
to Australia, the ostensible purpose of which insured immunity from
the attacks of English cruisers even in the year 1800, and the plans
for securing French supremacy in Egypt, which had been frustrated in
1801 and were, to all appearance, abandoned by the First Consul
according to the provisions of the Treaty of Amiens. The question
whether he really relinquished his designs on Egypt is so intimately
connected with the rupture of the Peace of Amiens that it will be more
fitly considered in the following chapter. It may not, however, be out
of place to offer some proofs as to the value which Bonaparte set on
the valley of the Nile and the Isthmus of Suez. A letter from a spy at
Paris, preserved in the archives of our Foreign Office, and dated
July 10th, 1801, contains the following significant statement with
reference to Bonaparte: "Egypt, which is considered here as lost to
France, is the only object which interests his personal ambition and
excites his revenge." Even at the end of his days, he thought
longingly of the land of the Pharaohs. In his first interview with the
governor of St. Helena, the illustrious exile said emphatically:
"Egypt is the most important country in the world." The words reveal a
keen perception of all the influences conducive to commercial
prosperity and imperial greatness. Egypt, in fact, with the Suez
Canal, which his imagination always pictured as a necessary adjunct,
was to be the keystone of that arch of empire which was to span the
oceans and link the prairies of the far west to the teeming plains of
India and the far Austral Isles.

The motives which impelled Napoleon to the enterprises now to be
considered were as many-sided as the maritime ventures themselves.
Ultimately, doubtless, they arose out of a love of vast undertakings
that ministered at once to an expanding ambition and to that need of
arduous administrative toils for which his mind ever craved in the
heyday of its activity. And, while satiating the grinding powers of
his otherwise morbidly restless spirit, these enterprises also fed and
soothed those imperious, if unconscious, instincts which prompt every
able man of inquiring mind to reclaim all possible domains from the
unknown or the chaotic. As Egypt had, for the present at least, been
reft from his grasp, he turned naturally to all other lands that could
be forced to yield their secrets to the inquirer, or their comforts to
the benefactors of mankind. Only a dull cynicism can deny this motive
to the man who first unlocked the doors of Egyptian civilization; and
it would be equally futile to deny to him the same beneficent aims
with regard to the settlement of the plains of the Mississippi, and
the coasts of New Holland.

The peculiarities of the condition of France furnished another
powerful impulse towards colonization. In the last decade her people
had suffered from an excess of mental activity and nervous excitement.
From philosophical and political speculation they must be brought back
to the practical and prosaic; and what influence could be so healthy
as the turning up of new soil and other processes that satisfy the
primitive instincts? Some of these, it was true, were being met by the
increasing peasant proprietary in France herself. But this internal
development, salutary as it was, could not appease the restless
spirits of the towns or the ambition of the soldiery. Foreign
adventures and oceanic commerce alone could satisfy the Parisians and
open up new careers for the Prætorian chiefs, whom the First Consul
alone really feared.

Nor were these sentiments felt by him alone. In a paper which
Talleyrand read to the Institute of France in July, 1797, that
far-seeing statesman had dwelt upon the pacifying influences exerted
by foreign commerce and colonial settlements on a too introspective
nation. His words bear witness to the keenness of his insight into the
maladies of his own people and the sources of social and political
strength enjoyed by the United States, where he had recently
sojourned. Referring to their speedy recovery from the tumults of
their revolution, he said: "The true Lethe after passing through a
revolution is to be found in the opening out to men of every avenue of
hope.--Revolutions leave behind them a general restlessness of mind, a
need of movement." That need was met in America by man's warfare
against the forest, the flood, and the prairie. France must therefore
possess colonies as intellectual and political safety-valves; and in
his graceful, airy style he touched on the advantages offered by
Egypt, Louisiana, and West Africa, both for their intrinsic value and
as opening the door of work and of hope to a brain-sick generation.

Following up this clue, Bonaparte, at a somewhat later date, remarked
the tendency of the French people, now that the revolutionary strifes
were past, to settle down contentedly on their own little plots; and
he emphasized the need of a colonial policy such as would widen the
national life. The remark has been largely justified by events; and
doubtless he discerned in the agrarian reforms of the Revolution an
influence unfavourable to that racial dispersion which, under wise
guidance, builds up an oceanic empire. The grievances of the _ancien
régime_ had helped to scatter on the shores of the St. Lawrence the
seeds of a possible New France. Primogeniture was ever driving from
England her younger sons to found New Englands and expand the commerce
of the motherland. Let not France now rest at home, content with her
perfect laws and with the conquest of her "natural frontiers." Let her
rather strive to regain the first place in colonial activity which the
follies of Louis XV. and the secular jealousy of Albion had filched
from her. In the effort she would extend the bounds of civilization,
lay the ghost of Jacobinism, satisfy military and naval adventures,
and unconsciously revert to the ideas and governmental methods of the
age of _le grand monarque_.

The French possessions beyond the seas had never shrunk to a smaller
area than in the closing years of the late war with England. The fact
was confessed by the First Consul in his letter of October 7th, 1801,
to Decrès, the Minister for the Navy and the Colonies: "Our
possessions beyond the sea, which are now in our power, are limited to
Saint Domingo, Guadeloupe, the Isle of France (Mauritius), the Isle of
Bourbon, Senegal, and Guiana." After rendering this involuntary homage
to the prowess of the British navy, Bonaparte proceeded to describe
the first measures for the organization of these colonies: for not
until March 25th, 1802, when the definitive treaty of peace was
signed, could the others be regained by France.

       *       *       *       *       *

First in importance came the re-establishment of French authority in
the large and fertile island of Hayti, or St. Domingo. It needs an
effort of the imagination for the modern reader to realize the immense
importance of the West Indian islands at the beginning of the
century, whose close found them depressed and half bankrupt. At the
earlier date, when the name Australia was unknown, and the
half-starved settlement in and around Sydney represented the sole
wealth of that isle of continent; when the Cape of Good Hope was
looked on only as a port of call; when the United States numbered less
than five and a half million souls, and the waters of the Mississippi
rolled in unsullied majesty past a few petty Spanish stations--the
plantations of the West Indies seemed the unfailing mine of colonial
industry and commerce. Under the _ancien régime_, the trade of the
French portion of San Domingo is reported to have represented more
than half of her oceanic commerce. But during the Revolution the
prosperity of that colony reeled under a terrible blow.

The hasty proclamation of equality between whites and blacks by the
French revolutionists, and the refusal of the planters to recognize
that decree as binding, led to a terrible servile revolt, which
desolated the whole of the colony. Those merciless strifes had,
however, somewhat abated under the organizing power of a man, in whom
the black race seemed to have vindicated its claims to political
capacity. Toussaint l'Ouverture had come to the front by sheer
sagacity and force of character. By a deft mixture of force and
clemency, he imposed order on the vapouring crowds of negroes: he
restored the French part of the island to comparative order and
prosperity; and with an army of 20,000 men he occupied the Spanish
portion. In this, as in other matters, he appeared to act as the
mandatory of France; but he looked to the time when France, beset by
European wars, would tacitly acknowledge his independence. In May,
1801, he made a constitution for the island, and declared himself
governor for life, with power to appoint his successor. This mimicry
of the consular office, and the open vaunt that he was the "Bonaparte
of the Antilles," incensed Bonaparte; and the haste with which, on
the day after the Preliminaries of London, he prepared to overthrow
this contemptible rival, tells its own tale.

Yet Corsican hatred was tempered with Corsican guile. Toussaint had
requested that the Haytians should be under the protection of their
former mistress. Protection was the last thing that Bonaparte desired;
but he deemed it politic to flatter the black chieftain with
assurances of his personal esteem and gratitude for the "great
services which you have rendered to the French people. If its flag
floats over St. Domingo it is due to you and your brave blacks"--a
reference to Toussaint's successful resistance to English attempts at
landing. There were, it is true, some points in the new Haytian
constitution which contravened the sovereign rights of France, but
these were pardonable in the difficult circumstances which had pressed
on Toussaint: he was now, however, invited to amend them so as to
recognize the complete sovereignty of the motherland and the authority
of General Leclerc, whom Bonaparte sent out as captain-general of the
island. To this officer, the husband of Pauline Bonaparte, the First
Consul wrote on the same day that there was reported to be much
ferment in the island against Toussaint, that the obstacles to be
overcome would therefore be much less formidable than had been feared,
provided that activity and firmness were used. In his references to
the burning topic of slavery, the First Consul showed a similar
reserve. The French Republic having abolished it, he could not, as
yet, openly restore an institution flagrantly opposed to the Rights of
Man. Ostensibly therefore he figured as the champion of emancipation,
assuring the Haytians in his proclamation of November 8th, 1801, that
they were all free and all equal in the sight of God and of the
French Republic: "If you are told, 'These forces are destined to
snatch your liberty from you,' reply, 'The Republic has given us our
liberty: it will not allow it to be taken from us.'" Of a similar
tenor was his public declaration a fortnight later, that at St.
Domingo and Guadeloupe everybody was free and would remain free. Very
different were his private instructions. On the last day of October he
ordered Talleyrand to write to the British Government, asking for
their help in supplying provisions from Jamaica to this expedition
destined to "destroy the new Algiers being organized in American
waters"; and a fortnight later he charged him to state his resolve to
destroy the government of the blacks at St. Domingo; that if he had to
postpone the expedition for a year, he would be "obliged to constitute
the blacks as French"; and that "the liberty of the blacks, if
recognized by the Government, would always be a support for the
Republic in the New World." As he was striving to cajole our
Government into supporting his expedition, it is clear that in the
last enigmatic phrase he was bidding for that support by the hint of a
prospective restoration of slavery at St. Domingo. A comparison of his
public and private statements must have produced a curious effect on
the British Ministers, and many of the difficulties during the
negotiations at Amiens doubtless sprang out of their knowledge of his
double-dealing in the West Indies.

The means at the First Consul's disposal might have been considered
sufficient to dispense with these paltry devices; for when the
squadrons of Brest, Lorient, Rochefort, and Toulon had joined their
forces, they mustered thirty-two ships of the line and thirty-one
frigates, with more than 20,000 troops on board. So great, indeed, was
the force as to occasion strong remonstrances from the British
Government, and a warning that a proportionately strong fleet would be
sent to watch over the safety of our West Indies.[197] The size of the
French armada and the warnings which Toussaint received from Europe
induced that wily dictator to adopt stringent precautionary measures.
He persuaded the blacks that the French were about to enslave them
once more, and, raising the spectre of bondage, he quelled sedition,
ravaged the maritime towns, and awaited the French in the interior, in
confident expectation that yellow fever would winnow their ranks and
reduce them to a level with his own strength.

His hopes were ultimately realized, but not until he himself succumbed
to the hardihood of the French attack. Leclerc's army swept across the
desolated belt with an ardour that was redoubled by the sight of the
mangled remains of white people strewn amidst the negro encampments,
and stormed Toussaint's chief stronghold at Crête-à-Pierrot. The
dictator and his factious lieutenants thereupon surrendered (May 8th,
1802), on condition of their official rank being respected--a
stipulation which both sides must have regarded as unreal and
impossible. The French then pressed on to secure the subjection of the
whole island before the advent of the unhealthy season, which
Toussaint eagerly awaited. It now set in with unusual virulence; and
in a few days the conquerors found their force reduced to 12,000
effectives. Suspecting Toussaint's designs, Leclerc seized him. He was
empowered to do so by Bonaparte's orders of March 16th, 1802:

     "Follow your instructions exactly, and as soon as you have done
     with Toussaint, Christopher, Dessalines, and the chief brigands,
     and the masses of the blacks are disarmed, send to the continent
     all the blacks and the half-castes who have taken part in the civil
     troubles."

Toussaint was hurried off to France, where he died a year later from
the hardships to which he was exposed at the fort of Joux among the
Juras.

Long before the cold of a French winter claimed the life of Toussaint,
his antagonist fell a victim to the sweltering heats of the tropics.
On November 2nd, 1802, Leclerc succumbed to the unhealthy climate and
to his ceaseless anxieties. In the Notes dictated at St. Helena,
Napoleon submitted Leclerc's memory to some strictures for his
indiscretion in regard to the proposed restoration of slavery. The
official letters of that officer expose the injustice of the charge.
The facts are these. After the seeming submission of St. Domingo, the
First Consul caused a decree to be secretly passed at Paris (May 20th,
1802), which prepared to re-establish slavery in the West Indies; but
Decrès warned Leclerc that it was not for the present to be applied to
St. Domingo unless it seemed to be opportune. Knowing how fatal any
such proclamation would be, Leclerc suppressed the decree; but General
Richepanse, who was now governor of the island of Guadeloupe, not only
issued the decree, but proceeded to enforce it with rigour. It was
this which caused the last and most desperate revolts of the blacks,
fatal alike to French domination and to Leclerc's life. His successor,
Rochambeau, in spite of strong reinforcements of troops from France
and a policy of the utmost rigour, succeeded no better. In the island
of Guadeloupe the rebels openly defied the authority of France; and,
on the renewal of war between England and France, the remains of the
expedition were for the most part constrained to surrender to the
British flag or to the insurgent blacks. The island recovered its
so-called independence; and the sole result of Napoleon's efforts in
this sphere was the loss of more than twenty generals and some 30,000
troops.

The assertion has been repeatedly made that the First Consul told off
for this service the troops of the Army of the Rhine, with the aim of
exposing to the risks of tropical life the most republican part of the
French forces. That these furnished a large part of the expeditionary
force cannot be denied; but if his design was to rid himself of
political foes, it is difficult to see why he should not have selected
Moreau, Masséna, or Augereau, rather than Leclerc. The fact that his
brother-in-law was accompanied by his wife, Pauline Bonaparte, for
whom venomous tongues asserted that Napoleon cherished a more than
brotherly affection, will suffice to refute the slander. Finally, it
may be remarked that Bonaparte had not hesitated to subject the
choicest part of his Army of Italy and his own special friends to
similiar risks in Egypt and Syria. He never hesitated to sacrifice
thousands of lives when a great object was at stake; and the
restoration of the French West Indian Colonies might well seem worth
an army, especially as St. Domingo was not only of immense instrinsic
value to France in days when beetroot sugar was unknown, but was of
strategic importance as a base of operations for the vast colonial
empire which the First Consul proposed to rebuild in the basin of the
Mississippi.

       *       *       *       *       *

The history of the French possessions on the North American continent
could scarcely be recalled by ardent patriots without pangs of
remorse. The name Louisiana, applied to a vast territory stretching up
the banks of the Mississippi and the Missouri, recalled the glorious
days of Louis XIV., when the French flag was borne by stout
_voyageurs_ up the foaming rivers of Canada and the placid reaches of
the father of rivers. It had been the ambition of Montcalm to connect
the French stations on Lake Erie with the forts of Louisiana; but that
warrior-statesman in the West, as his kindred spirit, Dupleix, in the
East, had fallen on the evil days of Louis XV., when valour and merit
in the French colonies were sacrificed to the pleasures and parasites
of Versailles. The natural result followed. Louisiana was yielded up
to Spain in 1763, in order to reconcile the Court of Madrid to
cessions required by that same Peace of Paris. Twenty years later
Spain recovered from England the provinces of eastern and western
Florida; and thus, at the dawn of the nineteenth century, the red and
yellow flag waved over all the lands between California, New Orleans,
and the southern tip of Florida.[198]

Many efforts were made by France to regain her old Mississippi
province; and in 1795, at the break up of the First Coalition, the
victorious Republic pressed Spain to yield up this territory, where
the settlers were still French at heart. Doubtless the weak King of
Spain would have yielded; but his chief Minister, Godoy, clung
tenaciously to Louisiana, and consented to cede only the Spanish part
of St. Domingo--a diplomatic success which helped to earn him the
title of the Prince of the Peace. So matters remained until
Talleyrand, as Foreign Minister, sought to gain Louisiana from Spain
before it slipped into the horny fists of the Anglo-Saxons.

That there was every prospect of this last event was the conviction
not only of the politicians at Washington, but also of every
iron-worker on the Ohio and of every planter on the Tennessee. Those
young but growing settlements chafed against the restraints imposed by
Spain on the river trade of the lower Mississippi--the sole means
available for their exports in times when the Alleghanies were crossed
by only two tracks worthy the name of roads. In 1795 they gained free
egress to the Gulf of Mexico and the right of bonding their
merchandise in a special warehouse at New Orleans. Thereafter the
United States calmly awaited the time when racial vigour and the
exigencies of commerce should yield to them the possession of the
western prairies and the little townships of Arkansas and New Orleans.
They reckoned without taking count of the eager longing of the French
for their former colony and the determination of Napoleon to give
effect to this honourable sentiment.

In July, 1800, when his negotiations with the United



States were in good train, the First Consul sent to Madrid
instructions empowering the French Minister there to arrange a treaty
whereby France should receive Louisiana in return for the cession of
Tuscany to the heir of the Duke of Parma. This young man had married
the daughter of Charles IV. of Spain; and, for the aggrandizement of
his son-in-law, that _roi fainéant_, was ready, nay eager, to bargain
away a quarter of a continent; and he did so by a secret convention
signed at St. Ildefonso on October 7th, 1800.

But though Charles rejoiced over this exchange, Godoy, who was gifted
with some insight into the future, was determined to frustrate it.
Various events occurred which enabled this wily Minister, first to
delay, and then almost to prevent, the odious surrender. Chief among
these was the certainty that the transfer from weak hands to strong
hands would be passionately resented by the United States; and until
peace with England was fully assured, and the power of Toussaint
broken, it would be folly for the First Consul to risk a conflict with
the United States. That they would fight rather than see the western
prairies pass into the First Consul's hands was abundantly manifest.
It is proved by many patriotic pamphlets. The most important of
these--"An Address to the Government of the United States on the
Cession of Louisiana to the French," published at Philadelphia in
1802--quoted largely from a French _brochure_ by a French Councillor
of State. The French writer had stated that along the Mississippi his
countrymen would find boundless fertile prairies, and as for the
opposition of the United States--"a nation of pedlars and
shopkeepers"--that could be crushed by a French alliance with the
Indian tribes. The American writer thereupon passionately called on
his fellow-citizens to prevent this transfer: "France is to be dreaded
only, or chiefly, on the Mississippi. The Government must take
Louisiana before it passes into her hands. The iron is now hot:
command us to rise as one man and strike." These and other like
protests at last stirred the placid Government at Washington; and it
bade the American Minister at Paris to make urgent remonstrances, the
sole effect of which was to draw from Talleyrand the bland assurance
that the transfer had not been seriously contemplated.[199]

By the month of June, 1802, all circumstances seemed to smile on
Napoleon's enterprise: England had ratified the Peace of Amiens,
Toussaint had delivered himself up to Leclerc: France had her troops
strongly posted in Tuscany and Parma, and could, if necessary,
forcibly end the remaining scruples felt at Madrid; while the United
States, with a feeble army and a rotting navy, were controlled by the
most peaceable and Franco-phil of their presidents, Thomas Jefferson.
The First Consul accordingly ordered an expedition to be prepared, as
if for the reinforcement of Leclerc in St. Domingo, though it was
really destined for New Orleans; and he instructed Talleyrand to
soothe or coerce the Court of Madrid into the final act of transfer.
The offer was therefore made by the latter (June 19th) in the name of
the First Consul that _in no case would Louisiana ever be alienated to
a Third Power_. When further delays supervened, Bonaparte, true to his
policy of continually raising his demands, required that Eastern and
Western Florida should also be ceded to him by Spain, on condition
that the young King of Etruria (for so Tuscany was now to be styled)
should regain his father's duchy of Parma.[200]

A word of explanation must here find place as to this singular
proposal. Parma had long been under French control; and, in March,
1801, by the secret Treaty of Madrid, the ruler of that duchy, whose
death seemed imminent, was to resign his claims thereto, provided that
his son should gain Etruria--as had been already provided for at St.
Ildefonso and Lunéville. The duke was, however, allowed to keep his
duchy until his death, which occurred on October 9th, 1802; and it is
stated by our envoy in Paris to have been hastened by news of that
odious bargain.[201] His death now furnished Bonaparte with a good
occasion for seeking to win an immense area in the New World at the
expense of a small Italian duchy, which his troops could at any time
easily overrun. This consideration seems to have occurred even to
Charles IV.; he refused to barter the Floridas against Parma. The
re-establishment of his son-in-law in his paternal domains was
doubtless desirable, but not at the cost of so exacting a heriot as
East and West Florida.

From out this maze of sordid intrigues two or three facts challenge
our attention. Both Bonaparte and Charles IV. regarded the most
fertile waste lands then calling for the plough as fairly exchanged
against half a million of Tuscans; but the former feared the
resentment of the United States, and sought to postpone a rupture
until he could coerce them by overwhelming force. It is equally clear
that, had he succeeded in this enterprise, France might have gained a
great colonial empire in North America protected from St. Domingo as a
naval and military base, while that island would have doubly prospered
from the vast supplies poured down the Mississippi; but this success
he would have bought at the expense of a _rapprochement_ between the
United States and their motherland, such as a bitter destiny was to
postpone to the end of the century.

The prospect of an Anglo-American alliance might well give pause even
to Napoleon. Nevertheless, he resolved to complete this vast
enterprise, which, if successful, would have profoundly affected the
New World and the relative importance of the French and English
peoples. The Spanish officials at New Orleans, in pursuance of orders
from Madrid, now closed the lower Mississippi to vessels of the United
States (October, 1802). At once a furious outcry arose in the States
against an act which not only violated their treaty rights, but
foreshadowed the coming grip of the First Consul. For this outburst he
was prepared: General Victor was at Dunkirk, with five battalions and
sixteen field-pieces, ready to cross the Atlantic, ostensibly for the
relief of Leclerc, but really in order to take possession of New
Orleans.[202] But his plan was foiled by the sure instincts of the
American people, by the disasters of the St. Domingo expedition, and
by the restlessness of England under his various provocations.
Jefferson, despite his predilections for France, was compelled to
forbid the occupation of Louisiana: he accordingly sent Monroe to
Paris with instructions to effect a compromise, or even to buy
outright the French claims on that land. Various circumstances
favoured this mission. In the first week of the year 1803 Napoleon
received the news of Leclerc's death and the miserable state of the
French in St. Domingo; and as the tidings that he now received from
Egypt, Syria, Corfu, and the East generally, were of the most alluring
kind, he tacitly abandoned his Mississippi enterprise in favour of the
oriental schemes which were closer to his heart. In that month of
January he seems to have turned his gaze from the western hemisphere
towards Turkey, Egypt, and India. True, he still seemed to be doing
his utmost for the occupation of Louisiana, but only as a device for
sustaining the selling price of the western prairies.

When the news of this change of policy reached the ears of Joseph and
Lucien Bonaparte, it aroused their bitterest opposition. Lucien plumed
himself on having struck the bargain with Spain which had secured that
vast province at the expense of an Austrian archduke's crown; and
Joseph knew only too well that Napoleon was freeing himself in the
West in order to be free to strike hard in Europe and the East. The
imminent rupture of the Peace of Amiens touched him keenly: for that
peace was his proudest achievement. If colonial adventures must be
sought, let them be sought in the New World, where Spain and the
United States could offer only a feeble resistance, rather than in
Europe and Asia, where unending war must be the result of an
aggressive policy.

At once the brothers sought an interview with Napoleon. He chanced to
be in his bath, a warm bath perfumed with scents, where he believed
that tired nature most readily found recovery. He ordered them to be
admitted, and an interesting family discussion was the result. On his
mentioning the proposed sale, Lucien at once retorted that the
Legislature would never consent to this sacrifice. He there touched
the wrong chord in Napoleon's nature: had he appealed to the memories
of _le grand monarque_ and of Montcalm, possibly he might have bent
that iron will; but the mention of the consent of the French deputies
roused the spleen of the autocrat, who, from amidst the scented water,
mockingly bade his brother go into mourning for the affair, which he,
and he alone, intended to carry out. This gibe led Joseph to threaten
that he would mount the tribune in the Chambers and head the
opposition to this unpatriotic surrender. Defiance flashed forth once
more from the bath; and the First Consul finally ended their bitter
retorts by spasmodically rising as suddenly falling backwards, and
drenching Joseph to the skin. His peals of scornful laughter, and the
swooning of the valet, who was not yet fully inured to these family
scenes, interrupted the argument of the piece; but, when resumed a
little later, _à sec_, Lucien wound up by declaring that, if he were
not his brother, he would be his enemy. "My enemy! That is rather
strong," exclaimed Napoleon. "You my enemy! I would break you, see,
like this box"--and he dashed his snuff-box on the carpet. It did not
break: but the portrait of Josephine was detached and broken.
Whereupon Lucien picked up the pieces and handed them to his brother,
remarking: "It is a pity: meanwhile, until you can break me, it is
your wife's portrait that you have broken."[203]

To Talleyrand, Napoleon was equally unbending: summoning him on April
11th, he said:

     "Irresolution and deliberation are no longer in season. I renounce
     Louisiana. It is not only New Orleans that I cede: it is the whole
     colony, without reserve; I know the price of what I abandon. I have
     proved the importance I attach to this province, since my first
     diplomatic act with Spain had the object of recovering it. I
     renounce it with the greatest regret: to attempt obstinately to
     retain it would be folly. I direct you to negotiate the
     affair."[204]

After some haggling with Monroe, the price agreed on for this
territory was 60,000,000 francs, the United States also covenanting to
satisfy the claims which many of their citizens had on the French
treasury. For this paltry sum the United States gained a peaceful
title to the debatable lands west of Lake Erie and to the vast tracts
west of the Mississippi. The First Consul carried out his threat of
denying to the deputies of France any voice in this barter. The war
with England sufficed to distract their attention; and France turned
sadly away from the western prairies, which her hardy sons had first
opened up, to fix her gaze, first on the Orient, and thereafter on
European conquests. No more was heard of Louisiana, and few references
were permitted to the disasters in St. Domingo; for Napoleon abhorred
any mention of a _coup manqué_, and strove to banish from the
imagination of France those dreams of a trans-Atlantic Empire which
had drawn him, as they were destined sixty years later to draw his
nephew, to the verge of war with the rising republic of the New World.
In one respect, the uncle was more fortunate than the nephew. In
signing the treaty with the United States, the First Consul could
represent his conduct, not as a dexterous retreat from an impossible
situation, but as an act of grace to the Americans and a blow to
England. "This accession of territory," he said, "strengthens for ever
the power of the United States, and I have just given to England a
maritime rival that sooner or later will humble her pride."[205]

       *       *       *       *       *

In the East there seemed to be scarcely the same field for expansion
as in the western hemisphere. Yet, as the Orient had ever fired the
imagination of Napoleon, he was eager to expand the possessions of
France in the Indian Ocean. In October, 1801, these amounted to the
Isle of Bourbon and the Isle of France; for the former French
possessions in India, namely, Pondicherry, Mahé, Karikal,
Chandernagore, along with their factories at Yanaon, Surat, and two
smaller places, had been seized by the British, and were not to be
given back to France until six months after the definitive treaty of
peace was signed. From these scanty relics it seemed impossible to
rear a stable fabric: yet the First Consul grappled with the task.
After the cessation of hostilities, he ordered Admiral Gantheaume with
four ships of war to show the French flag in those seas, and to be
ready in due course to take over the French settlements in India.
Meanwhile he used his utmost endeavours in the negotiations at Amiens
to gain an accession of land for Pondicherry, such as would make it a
possible base for military enterprise. Even before those negotiations
began he expressed to Lord Cornwallis his desire for such an
extension; and when the British plenipotentiary urged the cession of
Tobago to Great Britain, he offered to exchange it for an
establishment or territory in India.[206] Herein the First Consul
committed a serious tactical blunder; for his insistence on this topic
and his avowed desire to negotiate direct with the Nabob undoubtedly
aroused the suspicions of our Government.

Still greater must have been their concern when they learnt that
General Decaen was commissioned to receive back the French possessions
in India; for that general in 1800 had expressed to Bonaparte his
hatred of the English, and had begged, even if he had to wait ten
years, that he might be sent where he could fight them, especially in
India. As was his wont, Bonaparte said little at the time; but after
testing Decaen's military capacity, he called him to his side at
midsummer, 1802, and suddenly asked him if he still thought about
India. On receiving an eager affirmative, he said, "Well, you will
go." "In what capacity?" "As captain-general: go to the Minister of
Marine and of the Colonies and ask him to communicate to you the
documents relating to this expedition." By such means did Bonaparte
secure devoted servants. It is scarcely needful to add that the choice
of such a man only three months after the signature of the Treaty of
Amiens proves that the First Consul only intended to keep that peace
as long as his forward colonial policy rendered it desirable.[207]

Meanwhile our Governor-General, Marquis Wellesley, was displaying an
activity which might seem to be dictated by knowledge of Bonaparte's
designs. There was, indeed, every need of vigour. Nowhere had French
and British interests been so constantly in collision as in India. In
1798 France had intrigued with Tippoo Sahib at Seringapatam, and
arranged a treaty for the purpose of expelling the British nation from
India. When in 1799 French hopes were dashed by Arthur Wellesley's
capture of that city and the death of Tippoo, there still remained
some prospect of overthrowing British supremacy by uniting the
restless Mahratta rulers of the north and centre, especially Scindiah
and Holkar, in a powerful confederacy. For some years their armies,
numbering some 60,000 men, had been drilled and equipped by French
adventurers, the ablest and most powerful of whom was M. Perron.
Doubtless it was with the hope of gaining their support that the Czar
Paul and Bonaparte had in 1800 formed the project of invading India by
way of Persia. And after the dissipation of that dream, there still
remained the chance of strengthening the Mahratta princes so as to
contest British claims with every hope of success. Forewarned by the
home Government of Bonaparte's eastern designs, our able and ambitious
Governor-General now prepared to isolate the Mahratta chieftains, to
cut them off from all contact with France, and, if necessary, to
shatter Scindiah's army, the only formidable native force drilled by
European methods.

Such was the position of affairs when General Decaen undertook the
enterprise of revivifying French influences in India.

The secret instructions which he received from the First Consul, dated
January 15th, 1803, were the following:

     "To communicate with the peoples or princes who are most impatient
     under the yoke of the English Company.... To send home a report six
     months after his arrival in India, concerning all information that
     he shall have collected, on the strength, the position, and the
     feeling of the different peoples of India, as well as on the
     strength and position of the different English establishments; ...
     his views, and hopes that he might have of finding support, in case
     of war, so as to be able to maintain himself in the Peninsula....
     Finally, as one must reason on the hypothesis that we should not be
     masters of the sea and could hope for slight succour,"

Decaen is to seek among the French possessions or elsewhere a place
serving as a _point d'appui_, where in the last resort he could
capitulate and thus gain the means of being transported to France with
arms and baggage. Of this _point d'appui_ he will

     "strive to take possession after the first months ... whatever be
     the nation to which it belongs, Portuguese, Dutch, or English....
     If war should break out between England and France before the 1st
     of Vendémiaire, Year XIII. (September 22nd, 1804), and the captain
     general is warned of it before receiving the orders of the
     Government, he has _carte blanche_ to fall back on the Ile de
     France and the Cape, or to remain in India.... It is now considered
     impossible that we should have war with England without dragging in
     Holland. One of the first cares of the captain-general will be to
     gain control over the Dutch, Portuguese, and Spanish
     establishments, and of their resources. The captain-general's
     mission is at first one of observation, on political and military
     topics, with the small forces that he takes out, and an occupation
     of _comptoirs_ for our commerce: but the First Consul, if well
     informed by him, will perhaps be able some day to put him in a
     position to acquire that great glory which hands down the memory of
     men beyond the lapse of centuries."[208]

Had these instructions been known to English statesmen, they would
certainly have ended the peace which was being thus perfidiously used
by the First Consul for the destruction of our Indian Empire. But
though their suspicions were aroused by the departure of Decaen's
expedition and by the activity of French agents in India, yet the
truth remained half hidden, until, at a later date, the publication of
General Decaen's papers shed a flood of light on Napoleon's policy.

Owing to various causes, the expedition did not set sail from Brest
until the beginning of March, 1803. The date should be noticed. It
proves that at this time Napoleon judged that a rupture of peace was
not imminent; and when he saw his miscalculation, he sought to delay
the war with England as long as possible in order to allow time for
Decaen's force at least to reach the Cape, then in the hands of the
Dutch. The French squadron was too weak to risk a fight with an
English fleet; it comprised only four ships of war, two transports,
and a few smaller vessels, carrying about 1,800 troops.[209] The ships
were under the command of Admiral Linois, who was destined to be the
terror of our merchantmen in eastern seas. Decaen's first halt was at
the Cape, which had been given back by us to the Dutch East India
Company on February 21st, 1803. The French general found the Dutch
officials in their usual state of lethargy: the fortifications had not
been repaired, and many of the inhabitants, and even of the officials
themselves, says Decaen, were devoted to the English. After surveying
the place, doubtless with a view to its occupation as the _point
d'appui_ hinted at in his instructions, he set sail on the 27th of
May, and arrived before Pondicherry on the 11th of July.[210]

In the meantime important events had transpired which served to wreck
not only Decaen's enterprise, but the French influence in India. In
Europe the flames of war had burst forth, a fact of which both Decaen
and the British officials were ignorant; but the Governor of Fort St.
George (Madras), having, before the 15th of June, "received
intelligence which appeared to indicate the certainty of an early
renewal of hostilities between His Majesty and France," announced that
he must postpone the restitution of Pondicherry to the French, until
he should have the authority of the Governor-General for such
action.[211]



The Marquis Wellesley was still less disposed to any such restitution.
French intervention in the affairs of Switzerland, which will be
described later on, had so embittered Anglo-French relations that on
October the 17th, 1802, Lord Hobart, our Minister of War and for the
Colonies, despatched a "most secret" despatch, stating that recent
events rendered it necessary to postpone this retrocession. At a later
period Wellesley received contrary orders, instructing him to restore
French and Dutch territories; but he judged that step to be
inopportune considering the gravity of events in the north of India.
So active was the French propaganda at the Mahratta Courts, and so
threatening were their armed preparations, that he redoubled his
efforts for the consolidation of British supremacy. He resolved to
strike at Scindiah, unless he withdrew his southern army into his own
territories; and, on receiving an evasive answer from that prince, who
hoped by temporizing to gain armed succours from France, he launched
the British forces against him. Now was the opportunity for Arthur
Wellesley to display his prowess against the finest forces of the
East; and brilliantly did the young warrior display it. The victories
of Assaye in September, and of Argaum in November, scattered the
southern Mahratta force, but only after desperate conflicts that
suggested how easily a couple of Decaen's battalions might have turned
the scales of war.

Meanwhile, in the north, General Lake stormed Aligarh, and drove
Scindiah's troops back to Delhi. Disgusted at the incapacity and
perfidy that surrounded him, Perron threw up his command; and another
conflict near Delhi yielded that ancient seat of Empire to our trading
Company. In three months the results of the toil of Scindiah, the
restless ambition of Holkar, the training of European officers, and the
secret intrigues of Napoleon, were all swept to the winds. Wellesley now
annexed the land around Delhi and Agra, besides certain coast districts
which cut off the Mahrattas from the sea, also stipulating for the
complete exclusion of French agents from their States. Perron was
allowed to return to France; and the brusque reception accorded him from
Bonaparte may serve to measure the height of the First Consul's hopes,
the depth of his disappointment, and his resentment against a man who
was daunted by a single disaster.[212]

Meanwhile it was the lot of Decaen to witness, in inglorious
inactivity, the overthrow of all his hopes. Indeed, he barely escaped
the capture which Wellesley designed for his whole force, as soon as
he should hear of the outbreak of war in Europe; but by secret and
skilful measures all the French ships, except one transport, escaped
to their appointed rendezvous, the Ile de France. Enraged by these
events, Decaen and Linois determined to inflict every possible injury
on their foes. The latter soon swept from the eastern seas British
merchantmen valued at a million sterling, while the general ceased not
to send emissaries into India to encourage the millions of natives to
shake off the yoke of "a few thousand English."

These officers effected little, and some of them were handed over to
the English authorities by the now obsequious potentates. Decaen also
endeavoured to carry out the First Consul's design of occupying
strategic points in the Indian Ocean. In the autumn of 1803 he sent a
fine cruiser to the Imaum of Muscat, to induce him to cede a station
for commercial purposes at that port. But Wellesley, forewarned by our
agent at Bagdad, had made a firm alliance with the Imaum, who
accordingly refused the request of the French captain. The incident,
however, supplies another link in the chain of evidence as to the
completeness of Napoleon's oriental policy, and yields another proof
of the vigour of our great proconsul at Calcutta, by whose foresight
our Indian Empire was preserved and strengthened.[213]

Bonaparte's enterprises were by no means limited to well-known lands.
The unknown continent of the Southern Seas appealed to his
imagination, which pictured its solitudes transformed by French energy
into a second fatherland. Australia, or New Holland, as it was then
called, had long attracted the notice of French explorers, but the
English penal settlements at and near Sydney formed the only European
establishment on the great southern island at the dawn of the
nineteenth century.

Bonaparte early turned his eyes towards that land. On his voyage to
Egypt he took with him the volumes in which Captain Cook described his
famous discoveries; and no sooner was he firmly installed as First
Consul than he planned with the Institute of France a great French
expedition to New Holland. The full text of the plan has never been
published: probably it was suppressed or destroyed; and the sole
public record relating to it is contained in the official account of
the expedition published at the French Imperial Press in 1807.[214]
According to this description, the aim was solely geographical and
scientific. The First Consul and the Institute of France desired that
the ships should proceed to Van Diemen's Land, explore its rivers, and
then complete the survey of the south coast of the continent, so as to
see whether behind the islands of the Nuyts Archipelago there might be
a channel connecting with the Gulf of Carpentaria, and so cutting New
Holland in half. They were then to sail west to "Terre Leeuwin,"
ascend the Swan River, complete the exploration of Shark's Bay and the
north-western coasts, and winter in Timor or Amboyne. Finally, they
were to coast along New Guinea and the Gulf of Carpentaria, and return
to France in 1803.

In September, 1800, the ships, having on board twenty-three scientific
men, set sail from Havre under the command of Commodore Baudin. They
received no molestation from English cruisers, it being a rule of
honour to give Admiralty permits to all members of genuinely
scientific and geographical parties. Nevertheless, even on its
scientific side, this splendidly-equipped expedition produced no
results comparable with those achieved by Lieutenant Bass or by
Captain Flinders. The French ships touched at the Ile de France, and
sailed thence for Van Diemen's Land. After spending a long time in the
exploration of its coasts and in collecting scientific information,
they made for Sydney in order to repair their ships and gain relief
for their many invalids. Thence, after incidents which will be noticed
presently, they set sail in November, 1802, for Bass Strait and the
coast beyond. They seem to have overlooked the entrance to Port
Phillip--a discovery effected by Murray in 1801, but not made public
till three years later--and failed to notice the outlet of the chief
Australian river, which is obscured by a shallow lake.

There they were met by Captain Flinders, who, on H.M.S.
"Investigator," had been exploring the coast between Cape Leeuwin and
the great gulfs which he named after Lords St. Vincent and Spencer.
Flinders was returning towards Sydney, when, in the long desolate
curve of the bay which he named from the incident Encounter Bay, he
saw the French ships. After brief and guarded intercourse the
explorers separated, the French proceeding to survey the gulfs whence
the "Investigator" had just sailed; while Flinders, after a short stay
at Sydney and the exploration of the northern coast and Torres Strait,
set out for Europe.[215]

Apart from the compilation of the most accurate map of Australia which
had then appeared, and the naming of several features on its
coasts--_e.g._, Capes Berrouilli and Gantheaume, the Bays of Rivoli
and of Lacépède, and the Freycinet Peninsula, which are still
retained--the French expedition achieved no geographical results of
the first importance.

Its political aims now claim attention. A glance at the accompanying
map will show that, under the guise of being an emissary of
civilization, Commodore Baudin was prepared to claim half the
continent for France. Indeed, his final inquiry at Sydney about the
extent of the British claims on the Pacific coast was so significant
as to elicit from Governor King the reply that the whole of Van
Diemen's Land and of the coast from Cape Howe on the south of the
mainland to Cape York on the north was British territory. King also
notified the suspicious action of the French Commander to the Home
Government; and when the French sailed away to explore the coast of
southern and central Australia he sent a ship to watch their
proceedings. When, therefore, Commodore Baudin effected a landing on
King Island, the Union Jack was speedily hoisted and saluted by the
blue-jackets of the British vessel; for it was rumoured that French
officers had said that King Island would afford a good station for the
command of Bass Strait and the seizure of British ships. This was
probably mere gossip. Baudin in his interviews with Governor King at
Sydney disclaimed any intention of seizing Van Diemen's Land; but he
afterwards stated that _he did not know what were the plans of the
French Government with regard to that island_.[216]

Long before this dark saying could be known at Westminster, the
suspicions of our Government had been aroused; and, on February 13th,
1803, Lord Hobart penned a despatch to Governor King bidding him to
take every precaution against French annexations, and to form
settlements in Van Diemen's Land and at Port Phillip. The station of
Risden was accordingly planted on the estuary of the Derwent, a little
above the present town of Hobart; while on the shores of Port Phillip
another expedition sent out from the mother country sought, but for
the present in vain, to find a suitable site. The French cruise
therefore exerted on the fortunes of the English and French peoples an
influence such as has frequently accrued from their colonial rivalry:
it spurred on the island Power to more vigorous efforts than she would
otherwise have put forth, and led to the discomfiture of her
continental rival. The plans of Napoleon for the acquisition of Van
Diemen's Land and the middle of Australia had an effect like that
which the ambition of Montcalm, Dupleix, Lally, and Perron has exerted
on the ultimate destiny of many a vast and fertile territory.



Still, in spite of the destruction of his fleet at Trafalgar, Napoleon
held to his Australian plans. No fact, perhaps, is more suggestive of
the dogged tenacity of his will than his order to Péron and Freycinet
to publish through the Imperial Press at Paris an exhaustive account
of their Australian voyage, accompanied by maps which claimed half of
that continent for the tricolour flag. It appeared in 1807, the year
of Tilsit and of the plans for the partition of Portugal and her
colonies between France and Spain. The hour seemed at last to have
struck for the assertion of French supremacy in other continents, now
that the Franco-Russian alliance had durably consolidated it in
Europe. And who shall say that, but for the Spanish Rising and the
genius of Wellington, a vast colonial empire might not have been won
for France, had Napoleon been free to divert his energies away from
this "old Europe" of which he professed to be utterly weary?

His whole attitude towards European and colonial politics revealed a
statesmanlike appreciation of the forces that were to mould the
fortunes of nations in the nineteenth century. He saw that no
rearrangement of the European peoples could be permanent. They were
too stubborn, too solidly nationalized, to bear the yoke of the new
Charlemagne. "I am come too late," he once exclaimed to Marmont; "men
are too enlightened, there is nothing great left to be done." These
words reveal his sense of the artificiality of his European conquests.
His imperial instincts could find complete satisfaction only among the
docile fate-ridden peoples of Asia, where he might unite the functions
of an Alexander and a Mahomet: or, failing that, he would carve out an
empire from the vast southern lands, organizing them by his unresting
powers and ruling them as oekist and as despot. This task would possess
a permanence such as man's conquests over Nature may always enjoy, and
his triumphs over his fellows seldom or never. The political
reconstruction of Europe was at best one of an infinite number of such
changes, always progressing and never completed; while the peopling of
new lands and the founding of States belonged to that highest plane of
political achievement wherein schemes of social beneficence and the
dictates of a boundless ambition could maintain an eager and unending
rivalry. While a strictly European policy could effect little more
than a raking over of long-cultivated parterres, the foundation of a
new colonial empire would be the turning up of the virgin soil of the
limitless prairie.

If we inquire by the light of history why these grand designs failed,
the answer must be that they were too vast fitly to consort with an
ambitious European policy. His ablest adviser noted this fundamental
defect as rapidly developing after the Peace of Amiens, when "he began
to sow the seeds of new wars which, after overwhelming Europe and
France, were to lead him to his ruin." This criticism of Talleyrand on
a man far greater than himself, but who lacked that saving grace of
moderation in which the diplomatist excelled, is consonant with all
the teachings of history. The fortunes of the colonial empires of
Athens and Carthage in the ancient world, of the Italian maritime
republics, of Portugal and Spain, and, above all, the failure of the
projects of Louis XIV. and Louis XV. serve to prove that only as the
motherland enjoys a sufficiency of peace at home and on her borders
can she send forth in ceaseless flow those supplies of men and
treasure which are the very life-blood of a new organism. That
beneficent stream might have poured into Napoleon's Colonial Empire,
had not other claims diverted it into the barren channels of European
warfare. The same result followed as at the time of the Seven Years'
War, when the double effort to wage great campaigns in Germany and
across the oceans sapped the strength of France, and the additions won
by Dupleix and Montcalm fell away from her flaccid frame.

Did Napoleon foresee a similar result? His conduct in regard to
Louisiana and in reference to Decaen's expedition proves that he did,
but only when it was too late. As soon as he saw that his policy was
about to provoke another war with Britain long before he was ready for
it, he decided to forego his oceanic schemes and to concentrate his
forces on his European frontiers. The decision was dictated by a true
sense of imperial strategy. But what shall we say of his sense of
imperial diplomacy? The foregoing narrative and the events to be
described in the next chapters prove that his mistake lay in that
overweening belief in his own powers and in the pliability of his
enemies which was the cause of his grandest triumphs and of his
unexampled overthrow.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XVI

NAPOLEON'S INTERVENTIONS


War, said St. Augustine, is but the transition from a lower to a
higher state of peace. The saying is certainly true for those wars
that are waged in defence of some great principle or righteous cause.
It may perhaps be applied with justice to the early struggles of the
French revolutionists to secure their democratic Government against
the threatened intervention of monarchical States. But the danger of
vindicating the cause of freedom by armed force has never been more
glaringly shown than in the struggles of that volcanic age. When
democracy had gained a sure foothold in the European system, the war
was still pushed on by the triumphant republicans at the expense of
neighbouring States, so that, even before the advent of Bonaparte,
their polity was being strangely warped by the influence of military
methods of rule. The brilliance of the triumphs won by that young
warrior speedily became the greatest danger of republican France; and
as the extraordinary energy developed in her people by recent events
cast her feeble neighbours to the ground, Europe cowered away before
the ever-increasing bulk of France. In their struggles after democracy
the French finally reverted to the military type of Government, which
accords with many of the cherished instincts of their race: and the
military-democratic compromise embodied in Napoleon endowed that
people with the twofold force of national pride and of conscious
strength springing from their new institutions.

With this was mingled contempt for neighbouring peoples who either
could not or would not gain a similar independence and prestige.
Everything helped to feed this self-confidence and contempt for
others. The venerable fabric of the Holy Roman Empire was rocking to
and fro amidst the spoliations of its ecclesiastical lands by lay
princes, in which its former champions, the Houses of Hapsburg and
Hohenzollern, were the most exacting of the claimants. The Czar, in
October, 1801, had come to a profitable understanding with France
concerning these "secularizations." A little later France and Russia
began to draw together on the Eastern Question in a way threatening to
Turkey and to British influence in the Levant.[217] In fact, French
diplomacy used the partition of the German ecclesiastical lands and
the threatened collapse of the Ottoman power as a potent means of
busying the Continental States and leaving Great Britain isolated.
Moreover, the great island State was passing through ministerial and
financial difficulties which robbed her of all the fruits of her naval
triumphs and made her diplomacy at Amiens the laughing-stock of the
world. When monarchical ideas were thus discredited, it was idle to
expect peace. The struggling upwards towards a higher plane had indeed
begun; democracy had effected a lodgment in Western Europe; but the
old order in its bewildered gropings after some sure basis had not yet
touched bottom on that rock of nationality which was to yield a new
foundation for monarchy amidst the strifes of the nineteenth century.
Only when the monarchs received the support of their French-hating
subjects could an equilibrium of force and of enthusiasms yield the
long-sought opportunity for a durable peace.[218]



The negotiations at Amiens had amply shown the great difficulty of the
readjustment of European affairs. If our Ministers had manifested
their real feelings about Napoleon's presidency of the Italian
Republic, war would certainly have broken forth. But, as has been
seen, they preferred to assume the attitude of the ostrich, the worst
possible device both for the welfare of Europe and the interests of
Great Britain; for it convinced Napoleon that he could safely venture
on other interventions; and this he proceeded to do in the affairs of
Italy, Holland, and Switzerland.

On September 21st, 1802, appeared a _senatus consultum_ ordering the
incorporation of Piedmont in France. This important territory,
lessened by the annexation of its eastern parts to the Italian
Republic, had for five months been provisionally administered by a
French general as a military district of France. Its definite
incorporation in the great Republic now put an end to all hopes of
restoration of the House of Savoy. For the King of Sardinia, now an
exile in his island, the British Ministry had made some efforts at
Amiens; but, as it knew that the Czar and the First Consul had agreed
on offering him some suitable indemnity, the hope was cherished that
the new sovereign, Victor Emmanuel I., would be restored to his
mainland possessions. That hope was now at an end. In vain did Lord
Whitworth, our ambassador at Paris, seek to help the Russian envoy to
gain a fit indemnity. Sienna and its lands were named, as if in
derision; and though George III. and the Czar ceased not to press the
claims of the House of Savoy, yet no more tempting offer came from
Paris, except a hint that some part of European Turkey might be found
for him; and the young ruler nobly refused to barter for the petty
Siennese, or for some Turkish pachalic, his birthright to the lands
which, under a happier Victor Emmanuel, were to form the nucleus of a
United Italy.[219] A month after the absorption of Piedmont came the
annexation of Parma. The heir to that duchy, who was son-in-law to the
King of Spain, had been raised to the dignity of King of Etruria; and
in return for this aggrandizement in Europe, Charles IV. bartered away
to France the whole of Louisiana. Nevertheless, the First Consul kept
his troops in Parma, and on the death of the old duke in October,
1802, Parma and its dependencies were incorporated in the French
Republic.

The naval supremacy of France in the Mediterranean was also secured by
the annexation of the Isle of Elba with its excellent harbour of Porto
Ferrajo. Three deputies from Elba came to Paris to pay their respects
to their new ruler. The Minister of War was thereupon charged to treat
them with every courtesy, to entertain them at dinner, to give them
3,000 francs apiece, and to hint that on their presentation to
Bonaparte they might make a short speech expressing the pleasure of
their people at being united with France. By such deft rehearsals did
this master in the art of scenic displays weld Elba on to France and
France to himself.

Even more important was Bonaparte's intervention in Switzerland. The
condition of that land calls for some explanation. For wellnigh three
centuries the Switzers had been grouped in thirteen cantons, which
differed widely in character and constitution. The Central or Forest
Cantons still retained the old Teutonic custom of regulating their
affairs in their several folk-moots, at which every householder
appeared fully armed. Elsewhere the confederation had developed less
admirable customs, and the richer lowlands especially were under the
hereditary control of rich burgher families. There was no constitution
binding these States in any effective union. Each of the cantons
claimed a governmental sovereignty that was scarcely impaired by the
deliberations of the Federal Diet. Besides these sovereign States were
others that held an ill-defined position as allies; among these were
Geneva, Basel, Bienne, Saint Gall, the old imperial city of Mühlhausen
in Alsace, the three Grisons, the principality of Neufchâtel, and
Valais on the Upper Rhone. Last came the subject-lands, Aargau,
Thurgau, Ticino, Vaud, and others, which were governed in various
degrees of strictness by their cantonal overlords. Such was the old
Swiss Confederacy: it somewhat resembled that chaotic Macedonian
league of mountain clans, plain-dwellers, and cities, which was so
profoundly influenced by the infiltration of Greek ideas and by the
masterful genius of Philip. Switzerland was likewise to be shaken by a
new political influence, and thereafter to be controlled by the
greatest statesman of the age.

On this motley group of cantons and districts the French Revolution
exerted a powerful influence; and when, in 1798, the people of Vaud
strove to throw off the yoke of Berne, French troops, on the
invitation of the insurgents, invaded Switzerland, quelled the brave
resistance of the central cantons, and ransacked the chief of the
Swiss treasuries. After the plunderers came the constitution-mongers,
who forthwith forced on Switzerland democracy of the most French and
geometrical type: all differences between the sovereign cantons,
allies, and subject-lands were swept away, and Helvetia was
constituted as an indivisible republic--except Valais, which was to be
independent, and Geneva and Mühlhausen, which were absorbed by France.
The subject districts and non-privileged classes benefited
considerably by the social reforms introduced under French influence;
but a constitution recklessly transferred from Paris to Berne could
only provoke loathing among a people that never before had submitted
to foreign dictation. Moreover, the new order of things violated the
most elementary needs of the Swiss, whose racial and religious
instincts claimed freedom of action for each district or canton.

Of these deep-seated feelings the oligarchs of the plains, no less
than the democrats of the Forest Cantons, were now the champions;
while the partisans of the new-fangled democracy were held up to scorn
as the supporters of a cast-iron centralization. It soon became clear
that the constitution of 1798 could be perpetuated only by the support
of the French troops quartered on that unhappy land; for throughout
the years 1800 and 1801 the political see-saw tilted every few months,
first in favour of the oligarchic or federal party, then again towards
their unionist opponents. After the Peace of Lunéville, which
recognized the right of the Swiss to adopt what form of government
they thought fit, some of their deputies travelled to Paris with the
draft of a constitution lately drawn up by the Chamber at Berne, in
the hope of gaining the assent of the First Consul to its provisions
and the withdrawal of French troops. They had every reason for hope:
the party then in power at Berne was that which favoured a centralized
democracy, and their plenipotentiary in Paris, a thorough republican
named Stapfer, had been led to hope that Switzerland would now be
allowed to carve out its own destiny. What, then, was his surprise to
find the First Consul increasingly enamoured of federalism. The
letters written by Stapfer to the Swiss Government at this time are
highly instructive.[220]

On March 10th, 1801, he wrote:

     "What torments us most is the cruel uncertainty as to the real aims
     of the French Government. Does it want to federalize us in order to
     weaken us and to rule more surely by our divisions: or does it
     really desire our independence and welfare, and is its delay only
     the result of its doubts as to the true wishes of the Helvetic
     nation?"

Stapfer soon found that the real cause of delay was the non-completion
of the cession of Valais, which Bonaparte urgently desired for the
construction of a military road across the Simplon Pass; and as the
Swiss refused this demand, matters remained at a standstill. "The
whole of Europe would not make him give up a favourite scheme," wrote
Stapfer on April 10th; "the possession of Valais is one of the matters
closest to his heart."

The protracted pressure of a French army of occupation on that already
impoverished land proved irresistible; and some important
modifications of the Swiss project of a constitution, on which the
First Consul insisted, were inserted in the new federal compact of
May, 1801. Switzerland was now divided into seventeen cantons; and
despite the wish of the official Swiss envoys for a strongly
centralized government, Bonaparte gave large powers to the cantonal
authorities. His motives in this course of action have been variously
judged. In giving greater freedom of movement to the several cantons,
he certainly adopted the only statesmanlike course: but his conduct
during the negotiation, his retention of Valais, and the continued
occupation of Switzerland by his troops, albeit in reduced numbers,
caused many doubts as to the sincerity of his desire for a final
settlement.

The unionist majority at Berne soon proceeded to modify his proposals,
which they condemned as full of defects and contradictions; while the
federals strove to keep matters as they were. In the month of October
their efforts succeeded, thanks to the support of the French
ambassador and soldiery; they dissolved the Assembly, annulled its
recent amendments; and their influence procured for Reding, the head
of the oligarchic party, the office of Landamman, or supreme
magistrate. So reactionary, however, were their proceedings, that the
First Consul recalled the French general as a sign of his displeasure
at his help recently offered to the federals. Their triumph was brief:
while their chiefs were away at Easter, 1802, the democratic unionists
effected another _coup d'état_--it was the fourth--and promulgated one
more constitution. This change seems also to have been brought about
with the connivance of the French authorities:[221] their refusal to
listen to Stapfer's claims for a definite settlement, as well as their
persistent hints that the Swiss could not by themselves arrange their
own affairs, argued a desire to continue the epoch of quarterly _coups
d'état_.

The victory of the so-called democrats at Berne now brought the whole
matter to the touch. They appealed to the people in the first Swiss
_plébiscite_, the precursor of the famous _referendum_. It could now
be decided without the interference of French troops; for the First
Consul had privately declared to the new Landamman, Dolder, that he
left it to his Government to decide whether the foreign soldiery
should remain as a support or should evacuate Switzerland.[222] After
many searchings of heart, the new authorities decided to try their
fortunes alone--a response which must have been expected at Paris,
where Stapfer had for months been urging the removal of the French
forces. For the first time since the year 1798 Switzerland was
therefore free to declare her will. The result of the _plébiscite_ was
decisive enough, 72,453 votes being cast in favour of the latest
constitution, and 92,423 against it. Nothing daunted by this rebuff,
and, adopting a device which the First Consul had invented for the
benefit of Dutch liberty, the Bernese leaders declared that the
167,172 adult voters who had not voted at all must reckon as approving
the new order of things. The flimsiness of this pretext was soon
disclosed. The Swiss had had enough of electioneering tricks,
hole-and-corner revolutions, and paper compacts. They rushed to arms;
and if ever Carlyle's appeal away from ballot-boxes and parliamentary
tongue-fencers to the primæval _mights of man_ can be justified, it
was in the sharp and decisive conflicts of the early autumn of 1802 in
Switzerland. The troops of the central authorities, marching forth
from Berne to quell the rising ferment, sustained a repulse at the
foot of Mont Pilatus, as also before the walls of Zürich; and, the
revolt of the federals ever gathering force, the Helvetic authorities
were driven from Berne to Lausanne. There they were planning flight
across the Lake of Geneva to Savoy, when, on October 15th, the arrival
of Napoleon's aide-de-camp, General Rapp, with an imperious
proclamation dismayed the federals and promised to the discomfited
unionists the mediation of the First Consul for which they had humbly
pleaded.[223]

Napoleon had apparently viewed the late proceedings in Switzerland
with mingled feelings of irritation and amused contempt. "Well, there
you are once more in a Revolution" was his hasty comment to Stapfer at
a diplomatic reception shortly after Easter; "try and get tired of all
that." It is difficult, however, to believe that so keen-sighted a
statesman could look forward to anything but commotions for a land
that was being saddled with an impracticable constitution, and whence
the controlling French forces were withdrawn at that very crisis. He
was certainly prepared for the events of September: many times he had
quizzingly asked Stapfer how the constitution was faring, and he must
have received with quiet amusement the solemn reply that there could
be no doubt as to its brilliant success. When the truth flashed
on Stapfer he was dumbfoundered, especially as Talleyrand at first
mockingly repulsed any suggestion of the need of French mediation, and
went on to assure him that his master had neither counselled nor
approved the last constitution, the unfitness of which was now shown
by the widespread insurrection. Two days later, however, Napoleon
altered his tone and directed Talleyrand vigorously to protest against
the acts and proclamations of the victorious federals as "the most
violent outrage to French honour." On the last day of September he
issued a proclamation to the Swiss declaring that he now revoked his
decision not to mingle in Swiss politics, and ordered the federal
authorities and troops to disperse, and the cantons to send deputies
to Paris for the regulation of their affairs under his mediation.
Meanwhile he bade the Swiss live once more in hope: their land was on
the brink of a precipice, but it would soon be saved! Rapp carried
analogous orders to Lausanne and Berne, while Ney marched in with a
large force of French troops that had been assembled near the Swiss
frontiers.

So glaring a violation of Swiss independence and of the guaranteeing
Treaty of Lunéville aroused indignation throughout Europe. But Austria
was too alarmed at Prussian aggrandizement in Germany to offer any
protest; and, indeed, procured some trifling gains by giving France a
free hand in Switzerland.[224] The Court of Berlin, then content to
play the jackal to the French lion, revealed to the First Consul the
appeals for help privately made to Prussia by the Swiss federals:[225]
the Czar, influenced doubtless by his compact with France concerning
German affairs, and by the advice of his former tutor, the Swiss
Laharpe, offered no encouragement; and it was left to Great Britain to
make the sole effort then attempted for the cause of Swiss
independence. For some time past the cantons had made appeals to
the British Government, which now, in response, sent an English agent,
Moore, to confer with their chiefs, and to advance money and promise
active support if he judged that a successful resistance could be
attempted.[226] The British Ministry undoubtedly prepared for an open
rupture with France on this question. Orders were immediately sent
from London that no more French or Dutch colonies were to be handed
back; and, as we have seen, the Cape of Good Hope and the French
settlements in India were refused to the Dutch and French officers who
claimed their surrender.

Hostilities, however, were for the present avoided. In face of the
overwhelming force which Ney had close at hand, the chiefs of the
central cantons shrank from any active opposition; and Moore, finding
on his arrival at Constance that they had decided to submit, speedily
returned to England. Ministers beheld with anger and dismay the
perpetuation of French supremacy in that land; but they lacked the
courage openly to oppose the First Consul's action, and gave orders
that the stipulated cessions of French and Dutch colonies should take
effect.

The submission of the Swiss and the weakness of all the Powers
encouraged the First Consul to impose his will on the deputies from
the cantons, who assembled at Paris at the close of the year 1802. He
first caused their aims and the capacity of their leaders to be
sounded in a Franco-Swiss Commission, and thereafter assembled them at
St. Cloud on Sunday, December 12th. He harangued them at great length,
hinting very clearly that the Swiss must now take a far lower place in
the scale of peoples than in the days when France was divided into
sixty fiefs, and that union with her could alone enable them to play a
great part in the world's affairs: nevertheless, as they clung to
independence he would undertake in his quality of mediator to end
their troubles, and yet leave them free. That they could attain unity
was a mere dream of their metaphysicians: they must rely on the
cantonal organization, always provided that the French and Italian
districts of Vaud and the upper Ticino were not subject to the central
or German cantons: to prevent such a dishonour he would shed the blood
of 50,000 Frenchmen: Berne must also open its golden book of the
privileged families to include four times their number. For the rest,
the Continental Powers could not help them, and England had "no right
to meddle in Swiss affairs." The same menace was repeated in more
strident tones on January 29th:

     "I tell you that I would sacrifice 100,000 men rather than allow
     England to meddle in your affairs: if the Cabinet of St. James
     uttered a single word for you, it would be all up with you, I would
     unite you to France: if that Court made the least insinuation of
     its fears that I would be your Landamman, I would make myself your
     Landamman."

There spake forth the inner mind of the man who, whether as child,
youth, lieutenant, general, Consul, or Emperor, loved to bear down
opposition.[227]

In those days of superhuman activity, when he was carving out one
colonial Empire in the New World and preparing to found another in
India, when he was outwitting the Cardinals, rearranging the map of
Germany, breathing new life into French commerce and striving to
shackle that of Britain, he yet found time to utter some of the sagest
maxims as to the widely different needs of the Swiss cantons. He
assured the deputies that he spoke as a Corsican and a mountaineer,
who knew and loved the clan system. His words proved it. With sure
touch he sketched the characteristics of the French and Swiss people.
Switzerland needed the local freedom imparted by her cantons: while
France required unity, Switzerland needed federalism: the French
rejected this last as damaging their power and glory; but the Swiss
did not ask for glory; they needed "political tranquillity and
obscurity": moreover, a simple pastoral people must have extensive
local rights, which formed their chief distraction from the monotony
of life: democracy was a necessity for the forest cantons; but let not
the aristocrats of the towns fear that a wider franchise would end
their influence, for a people dependent on pastoral pursuits would
always cling to great families rather than to electoral assemblies:
let these be elected on a fairly wide basis. Then again, what ready
wit flashed forth in his retort to a deputy who objected to the
Bernese Oberland forming part of the Canton of Berne: "Where do you
take your cattle and your cheese?"--"To Berne."--"Whence do you get
your grain, cloth, and iron?"--"From Berne."--"Very well: 'To Berne,
from Berne'--you consequently belong to Berne." The reply is a good
instance of that canny materialism which he so victoriously opposed to
feudal chaos and monarchical ineptitude.

Indeed, in matters great as well as small his genius pierced to the
heart of a problem: he saw that the democratic unionists had failed
from the rigidity of their centralization, while the federals had
given offence by insufficiently recognizing the new passion for social
equality.[228] He now prepared to federalize Switzerland on a
moderately democratic basis; for a policy of balance, he himself being
at the middle of the see-saw, was obviously required by good sense as
well as by self-interest. Witness his words to Roederer on this
subject:

"While satisfying the generality, I cause the patricians to tremble.
In giving to these last the appearance of power, I oblige them to take
refuge at my side in order to find protection. I let the people
threaten the aristocrats, so that these may have need of me. I will
give them places and distinctions, but they will hold them from me.
This system of mine has succeeded in France. See the clergy. Every day
they will become, in spite of themselves, more devoted to my
government than they had foreseen."

How simple and yet how subtle is this statecraft; simplicity of aim,
with subtlety in the choice of means: this is the secret of his
success.

After much preliminary work done by French commissioners and the Swiss
deputies in committee, the First Consul summed up the results of their
labours in the Act of Mediation of February 19th, 1803, which
constituted the Confederation in nineteen cantons, the formerly
subject districts now attaining cantonal dignity and privileges. The
forest cantons kept their ancient folk-moots, while the town cantons
such as Berne, Zürich, and Basel were suffered to blend their old
institutions with democratic customs, greatly to the chagrin of the
unionists, at whose invitation Bonaparte had taken up the work of
mediation.

The federal compact was also a compromise between the old and the new.
The nineteen cantons were to enjoy sovereign powers under the shelter
of the old federal pact. Bonaparte saw that the fussy imposition of
French governmental forms in 1798 had wrought infinite harm, and he
now granted to the federal authorities merely the powers necessary for
self-defence: the federal forces were to consist of 15,200 men--a
number less than that which by old treaty Switzerland had to furnish
to France. The central power was vested in a Landamman and other
officers appointed yearly by one of the six chief cantons taken in
rotation; and a Federal Diet, consisting of twenty-five deputies--one
from each of the small cantons, and two from each of the six larger
cantons--met to discuss matters of general import, but the balance of
power rested with the cantons: further articles regulated the Helvetic
debt and declared the independence of Switzerland--as if a land could
be independent which furnished more troops to the foreigner than it
was allowed to maintain for its own defence. Furthermore, the Act
breathed not a word about religious liberty, freedom of the Press, or
the right of petition: and, viewing it as a whole, the friends of
freedom had cause to echo the complaint of Stapfer that "the First
Consul's aim was to annul Switzerland politically, but to assure to
the Swiss the greatest possible domestic happiness."

I have judged it advisable to give an account of Franco-Swiss
relations on a scale proportionate to their interest and importance;
they exhibit, not only the meanness and folly of the French Directory,
but the genius of the great Corsican in skilfully blending the new and
the old, and in his rejection of the fussy pedantry of French
theorists and the worst prejudices of the Swiss oligarchs. Had not his
sage designs been intertwined with subtle intrigues which assured his
own unquestioned supremacy in that land, the Act of Mediation might be
reckoned among the grandest and most beneficent achievements. As it
is, it must be regarded as a masterpiece of able but selfish
statecraft, which contrasts unfavourably with the disinterested
arrangements sanctioned by the allies for Switzerland in 1815.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XVII

THE RENEWAL OF WAR


The re-occupation of Switzerland by the French in October, 1802, was
soon followed by other serious events, which convinced the British
Ministry that war was hardly to be avoided. Indeed, before the treaty
was ratified, ominous complaints had begun to pass between Paris and
London.

Some of these were trivial, others were highly important. Among the
latter was the question of commercial intercourse. The British
Ministry had neglected to obtain any written assurance that trade
relations should be resumed between the two countries; and the First
Consul, either prompted by the protectionist theories of the Jacobins,
or because he wished to exert pressure upon England in order to extort
further concessions, determined to restrict trade with us to the
smallest possible dimensions. This treatment of England was wholly
exceptional, for in his treaties concluded with Russia, Portugal, and
the Porte, Napoleon had procured the insertion of clauses which
directly fostered French trade with those lands. Remonstrances soon
came from the British Government that "strict prohibitions were being
enforced to the admission of British commodities and manufactures into
France, and very vigorous restrictions were imposed on British vessels
entering French ports"; but, in spite of all representations, we had
the mortification of seeing the hardware of Birmingham, and the
ever-increasing stores of cotton and woollen goods, shut out from
France and her subject-lands, as well as from the French colonies
which we had just handed back.

In this policy of commercial prohibition Napoleon was confirmed by our
refusal to expel the Bourbon princes. He declined to accept our
explanation that they were not officially recognized, and could not be
expelled from England without a violation of the rights of
hospitality; and he bitterly complained of the personal attacks made
upon him in journals published in London by the French _émigrés_. Of
these the most acrid, namely, those of Peltier's paper, "L'Ambigu,"
had already received the reprobation of the British Ministry; but, as
had been previously explained at Amiens, the Addington Cabinet decided
that it could not venture to curtail the liberty of the Press, least
of all at the dictation of the very man who was answering the pop-guns
of our unofficial journals by double-shotted retorts in the official
"Moniteur." Of these last His Majesty did not deign to make any
formal complaint; but he suggested that their insertion in the organ
of the French Government should have prevented Napoleon from
preferring the present protests.

This wordy war proceeded with unabated vigour on both sides of the
Channel, the British journals complaining of the Napoleonic
dictatorship in Continental affairs, while the "Moniteur" bristled
with articles whose short, sharp sentences could come only from the
First Consul. The official Press hitherto had been characterized by
dull decorum, and great was the surprise of the older Courts when the
French official journals compared the policy of the Court of St. James
with the methods of the Barbary rovers and the designs of the Miltonic
Satan.[229] Nevertheless, our Ministry prosecuted and convicted
Peltier for libel, an act which, at the time, produced an excellent
impression at Paris.[230]



But more serious matters were now at hand. Newspaper articles and
commercial restrictions were not the cause of war, however much they
irritated the two peoples.

The general position of Anglo-French affairs in the autumn of 1802 is
well described in the official instructions given to Lord Whitworth
when he was about to proceed as ambassador to Paris. For this
difficult duty he had several good qualifications. During his embassy
at St. Petersburg he had shown a combination of tact and firmness
which imposed respect, and doubtless his composure under the violent
outbreaks of the Czar Paul furnished a recommendation for the equally
trying post at Paris, which he filled with a _sang froid_ that has
become historic. Possibly a more genial personality might have
smoothed over some difficulties at the Tuileries: but the Addington
Ministry, having tried geniality in the person of Cornwallis,
naturally selected a man who was remarkable for his powers of quiet
yet firm resistance.

His first instructions of September 10th, 1802, are such as might be
drawn up between any two Powers entering on a long term of peace. But
the series of untoward events noticed above overclouded the political
horizon; and the change finds significant expression in the secret
instructions of November 14th. He is now charged to state George
III.'s determination "never to forego his right of interfering in the
affairs of the Continent on any occasion in which the interests of his
own dominions or those of Europe in general may appear to him to
require it." A French despatch is then quoted, as admitting that, for
every considerable gain of France on the Continent, Great Britain had
some claim to compensation: and such a claim, it was hinted, might now
be proffered after the annexation of Piedmont and Parma. Against the
continued occupation of Holland by French troops and their invasion of
Switzerland, Whitworth was to make moderate but firm remonstrances,
but in such a way as not to commit us finally. He was to employ an
equal discretion with regard to Malta. As Russia and Prussia had as
yet declined to guarantee the arrangements for that island's
independence, it was evident that the British troops could not yet be
withdrawn.

     "His Majesty would certainly be justified in claiming the
     possession of Malta, as some counterpoise to the acquisitions of
     France, since the conclusion of the definitive treaty: but it is
     not necessary to decide now whether His Majesty will be disposed to
     avail himself of his pretensions in this respect."

Thus between September 10th and November 14th we passed from a
distinctly pacific to a bellicose attitude, and all but formed the
decision to demand Malta as a compensation for the recent
aggrandizements of France. To have declared war at once on these
grounds would certainly have been more dignified. But, as our Ministry
had already given way on many topics, a sudden declaration of war on
Swiss and Italian affairs would have stultified its complaisant
conduct on weightier subjects. Moreover, the whole drift of
eighteenth-century diplomacy, no less than Bonaparte's own admission,
warranted the hope of securing Malta by way of "compensation." The
adroit bargainer, who was putting up German Church lands for sale, who
had gained Louisiana by the Parma-Tuscany exchange, and still
professed to the Czar his good intentions as to an "indemnity" for the
King of Sardinia, might well be expected to admit the principle of
compensation in Anglo-French relations when these were being
jeopardized by French aggrandizement; and, as will shortly appear, the
First Consul, while professing to champion international law against
perfidious Albion, privately admitted her right to compensation, and
only demurred to its practical application when his oriental designs
were thereby compromised.

Before Whitworth proceeded to Paris, sharp remonstrances had been
exchanged between the French and British Governments. To our protests
against Napoleon's interventions in neighbouring States, he retorted
by demanding "the whole Treaty of Amiens and nothing but that treaty."
Whereupon Hawkesbury answered: "The state of the Continent at the
period of the Treaty of Amiens, and nothing but that state." In reply
Napoleon sent off a counterblast, alleging that French troops had
evacuated Taranto, that Switzerland had requested his mediation, that
German affairs possessed no novelty, and that England, having six
months previously waived her interest in continental affairs, could
not resume it at will. The retort, which has called forth the
admiration of M. Thiers, is more specious than convincing.
Hawkesbury's appeal was, not to the sword, but to law; not to French
influence gained by military occupations that contravened the Treaty
of Lunéville, but to international equity.

Certainly, the Addington Cabinet committed a grievous blunder in not
inserting in the Treaty of Amiens a clause stipulating the
independence of the Batavian and Helvetic Republics. Doubtless it
relied on the Treaty of Lunéville, and on a Franco-Dutch convention of
August, 1801, which specified that French troops were to remain in the
Batavian Republic only up to the time of the general peace. But it is
one thing to rely on international law, and quite another thing, in an
age of violence and chicanery, to hazard the gravest material
interests on its observance. Yet this was what the Addington Ministry
had done: "His Majesty consented to make numerous and most important
restitutions to the Batavian Government on the consideration of that
Government being independent and not being subject to any foreign
control."[231] Truly, the restoration of the Cape of Good Hope and of
other colonies to the Dutch, solely in reliance on the observance of
international law by Napoleon and Talleyrand, was, as the event
proved, an act of singular credulity. But, looking at this matter
fairly and squarely, it must be allowed that Napoleon's reply evaded
the essence of the British complaint; it was merely an _argumentum ad
hominem_; it convicted the Addington Cabinet of weakness and
improvidence; but in equity it was null and void, and in practical
politics it betokened war.

As Napoleon refused to withdraw his troops from Holland, and continued
to dominate that unhappy realm, it was clear that the Cape of Good
Hope would speedily be closed to our ships--a prospect which immensely
enhanced the value of the overland route to India, and of those
portals of the Orient, Malta and Egypt. To the Maltese Question we now
turn, as also, later on, to the Eastern Question, with which it was
then closely connected.

Many causes excited the uneasiness of the British Government
about the fate of Malta. In spite of our effort not to wound the
susceptibilities of the Czar, who was protector of the Order of St.
John, that sensitive young ruler had taken umbrage at the article
relating to that island. He now appeared merely as one of the six
Powers guaranteeing its independence, not as the sole patron and
guarantor, and he was piqued at his name appearing after that of the
Emperor Francis![232] For the present arrangement the First Consul was
chiefly to blame; but the Czar vented his displeasure on England. On
April 28th, 1802, our envoy at Paris, Mr. Merry, reported as follows:

     "Either the Russian Government itself, or Count Markoff alone
     personally, is so completely out of humour with us for not having
     acted in strict concert with them, or him, or in conformity to
     their ideas in negotiating the definitive treaty [of Amiens], that
     I find he takes pains to turn it into ridicule, and particularly to
     represent the arrangement we have made for Malta as impracticable
     and consequently as completely null."

The despatches of our ambassador at St. Petersburg, Lord St. Helens,
and of his successor, Admiral Warren, are of the same tenor. They
report the Czar's annoyance with England over the Maltese affair, and
his refusal to listen even to the joint Anglo-French request,
of November 18th, 1802, for his guarantee of the Amiens
arrangements.[233] A week later Alexander announced that he would
guarantee the independence of Malta, provided that the complete
sovereignty of the Knights of St. John was recognized--that is,
without any participation of the native Maltese in the affairs of that
Order--and that the island should be garrisoned by Neapolitan troops,
paid by France and England, until the Knights should be able to
maintain their independence. This reopening of the question discussed,
_ad nauseam_, at Amiens proved that the Maltese Question would long
continue to perplex the world. The matter was still further
complicated by the abolition of the Priories, Commanderies, and
property of the Order of St. John by the French Government in the
spring of 1802--an example which was imitated by the Court of Madrid
in the following autumn; and as the property of the Knights in the
French part of Italy had also lapsed, it was difficult to see how the
scattered and impoverished Knights could form a stable government,
especially if the native Maltese were not to be admitted to a share in
public affairs. This action of France, Spain, and Russia fully
warranted the British Government in not admitting into the fortress
the 2,000 Neapolitan troops that arrived in the autumn of 1802. Our
evacuation of Malta was conditioned by several stipulations, five of
which had not been fulfilled.[234] But the difficulties arising out of
the reconstruction of this moribund Order were as nothing when
compared with those resulting from the reopening of a far vaster and
more complex question--the "eternal" Eastern Question.

Rarely has the mouldering away of the Turkish Empire gone on so
rapidly as at the beginning of the nineteenth century. Corruption and
favouritism paralyzed the Government at Constantinople; masterful
pachas, aping the tactics of Ali Pacha, the virtual ruler of Albania,
were beginning to carve out satrapies in Syria, Asia Minor, Wallachia,
and even in Roumelia itself. Such was the state of Turkey when the
Sultan and his advisers heard with deep concern, in October, 1801,
that the only Power on whose friendship they could firmly rely was
about to relinquish Malta. At once he sent an earnest appeal to George
III. begging him not to evacuate the island. This despatch is not in
the archives of our Foreign Office; but the letter written from Malta
by Lord Elgin, our ambassador at Constantinople, on his return home,
sufficiently shows that the Sultan was conscious of his own weakness
and of the schemes of partition which were being concocted at Paris.
Bonaparte had already begun to sound both Austria and Russia on this
subject, deftly hinting that the Power which did not early join in the
enterprise would come poorly off. For the present both the rulers
rejected his overtures; but he ceased not to hope that the anarchy in
Turkey, and the jealousy which partition schemes always arouse among
neighbours, would draw first one and then the other into his
enterprise.[235]

The young Czar's disposition was at that period restless and unstable,
free from the passionate caprices of his ill-fated father, and attuned
by the fond efforts of the Swiss democrat Laharpe, to the loftiest
aspirations of the France of 1789. Yet the son of Paul I. could hardly
free himself from the instincts of a line of conquering Czars; his
frank blue eyes, his graceful yet commanding figure, his high broad
forehead and close shut mouth gave promise of mental energy; and his
splendid physique and love of martial display seemed to invite him to
complete the campaigns of Catherine II. against the Turks, and to wash
out in the waves of the Danube the remorse which he still felt at his
unwitting complicity in a parricidal plot. Between his love of liberty
and of foreign conquest he for the present wavered, with a strange
constitutional indecision that marred a noble character and that
yielded him a prey more than once to a masterful will or to seductive
projects. He is the Janus of Russian history. On the one side he faces
the enormous problems of social and political reform, and yet he
steals many a longing glance towards the dome of St. Sofia. This
instability in his nature has been thus pointedly criticised by his
friend Prince Czartoryski:[236]

     "Grand ideas of the general good, generous sentiments, and the
     desire to sacrifice to them a part of the imperial authority, had
     really occupied the Emperor's mind, but they were rather a young
     man's fancies than a grown man's decided will. The Emperor liked
     forms of liberty, as he liked the theatre: it gave him pleasure and
     flattered his vanity to see the appearances of free government in
     his Empire: but all he wanted in this respect was forms and
     appearances: he did not expect them to become realities. He would
     willingly have agreed that every man should be free, on the
     condition that he should voluntarily do only what the Emperor
     wished."

This later judgment of the well-known Polish nationalist is probably
embittered by the disappointments which he experienced at the Czar's
hands; but it expresses the feeling of most observers of Alexander's
early career, and it corresponds with the conclusion arrived at by
Napoleon's favourite aide-de-camp, Duroc, who went to congratulate the
young Czar on his accession and to entice him into oriental
schemes--that there was nothing to hope and nothing to fear from the
Czar. The _mot_ was deeply true.[237]


From these oriental schemes the young Czar was, for the time, drawn
aside towards the nobler path of social reform. The saving influence
on this occasion was exerted by his old tutor, Laharpe. The
ex-Director of Switzerland readily persuaded the Czar that Russia
sorely needed political and social reform. His influence was
powerfully aided by a brilliant group of young men, the Vorontzoffs,
the Strogonoffs, Novossiltzoff, and Czartoryski, whose admiration for
western ideas and institutions, especially those of Britain, helped to
impel Alexander on the path of progress. Thus, when Napoleon was
plying the Czar with notes respecting Turkey, that young ruler was
commencing to bestow system on his administration, privileges on the
serfs, and the feeble beginnings of education on the people.

While immersed in these beneficent designs, Alexander heard with deep
chagrin of the annexation of Piedmont and Parma, and that Napoleon
refused to the King of Sardinia any larger territory than the
Siennese. This breach of good faith cut the Czar to the quick. It was
in vain that Napoleon now sought to lure him into Turkish adventures
by representing that France should secure the Morea for herself, that
other parts of European Turkey might be apportioned to Victor Emmanuel
I. and the French Bourbons. This cold-blooded proposal, that ancient
dynasties should be thrust from the homes of their birth into alien
Greek or Moslem lands, wounded the Czar's monarchical sentiments. He
would none of it; nor did he relish the prospect of seeing the French
in the Morea, whence they could complete the disorder of Turkey and
seize on Constantinople. He saw whither Napoleon was leading him. He
drew back abruptly, and even notified to our ambassador, Admiral
Warren, that _England had better keep Malta._[238]


Alexander also, on January 19th, 1803 (O.S.), charged his ambassador
at Paris to declare that the existing system of Europe must not be
further disturbed, that each Government should strive for peace and
the welfare of its own people; that the frequent references of
Napoleon to the approaching dissolution of Turkey were ill-received at
St. Petersburg, where they were considered the chief cause of
England's anxiety and refusal to disarm. He also suggested that the
First Consul by some public utterance should dispel the fears of
England as to a partition of the Ottoman Empire, and thus assure the
peace of the world.[239]

Before this excellent advice was received, Napoleon astonished the
world by a daring stroke. On the 30th of January the "Moniteur"
printed in full the bellicose report of Colonel Sebastiani on his
mission to Algiers, Egypt, Syria, and the Ionian Isles. As that
mission was afterwards to be passed off as merely of a commercial
character, it will be well to quote typical passages from the secret
instructions which the First Consul gave to his envoy on September
5th, 1802:

     "He will proceed to Alexandria: he will take note of what is in the
     harbour, the ships, the forces which the British as well as the
     Turks have there, the state of the fortifications, the state of the
     towers, the account of all that has passed since our departure both
     at Alexandria and in the whole of Egypt: finally, the present state
     of the Egyptians.... He will proceed to St. Jean d'Acre, will
     recommend the convent of Nazareth to Djezzar: will inform him that
     the agent of the [French] Republic is to appear at Acre: will find
     out about the fortifications he has had made: will walk along them
     himself, if there be no danger."

Fortifications, troops, ships of war, the feelings of the natives, and
the protection of the Christians--these subjects were to be
Sebastiani's sole care. Commerce was not once named. The departure of
this officer had already alarmed our Government. Mr. Merry, our
_chargé d'affaires_ in Paris, had warned it as to the real aims in
view, in the following "secret despatch:

     "PARIS, _September 25th,_ 1802.

      "... I have learnt from good authority that he [Sebastiani] was
     accompanied by a person of the name of Jaubert (who was General
     Bonaparte's interpreter and confidential agent with the natives
     during the time he commanded in Egypt), who has carried with him
     regular powers and instructions, prepared by M. Talleyrand, to
     treat with Ibrahim-Bey for the purpose of creating a fresh and
     successful revolt in Egypt against the power of the Porte, and of
     placing that country again under the direct or indirect dependence
     of France, to which end he has been authorized to offer assistance
     from hence in men and money. The person who has confided to me this
     information understands that the mission to Ibrahim-Bey is confided
     solely to M. Jaubert, and that his being sent with Colonel
     Sebastiani has been in order to conceal the real object of it, and
     to afford him a safe conveyance to Egypt, as well as for the
     purpose of assisting the Colonel in his transactions with the
     Regencies of Algiers, Tunis, and Tripoli."[240]

Merry's information was correct: it tallied with the secret
instructions given by Napoleon to Sebastiani: and our Government, thus
forewarned, at once adopted a stiffer tone on all Mediterranean and
oriental questions. Sebastiani was very coldly received by our officer
commanding in Egypt, General Stuart, who informed him that no orders
had as yet come from London for our evacuation of that land.
Proceeding to Cairo, the commercial emissary proposed to mediate
between the Turkish Pacha and the rebellious Mamelukes, an offer which
was firmly declined.[241] In vain did Sebastiani bluster and cajole by
turns. The Pacha refused to allow him to go on to Assouan, the
headquarters of the insurgent Bey, and the discomfited envoy made his
way back to the coast and took ship for Acre. Thence he set sail for
Corfu, where he assured the people of Napoleon's wish that there
should be an end to their civil discords. Returning to Genoa, and
posting with all speed to Paris, he arrived there on January 25th,
1803. Five days later that gay capital was startled by the report of
his mission, which was printed in full in the "Moniteur." It described
the wretched state of the Turks in Egypt--the Pacha of Cairo
practically powerless, and on bad terms with General Stuart, the
fortifications everywhere in a ruinous state, the 4,430 British troops
cantoned in and near Alexandria, the Turkish forces beneath contempt.
"Six thousand French would at present be enough to conquer Egypt." And
as to the Ionian islands, "I do not stray from the truth in assuring
you that these islands will declare themselves French as soon as an
opportunity shall offer itself."[242]

Such were the chief items of this report. Various motives have been
assigned for its publication. Some writers have seen in it a crushing
retort to English newspaper articles. Others there are, as M. Thiers,
who waver between the opinion that the publication of this report was
either a "sudden unfortunate incident," or a protest against the
"latitude" which England allowed herself in the execution of the
Treaty of Amiens.


A consideration of the actual state of affairs at the end of January,
1803, will perhaps guide us to an explanation which is more consonant
with the grandeur of Napoleon's designs. At that time he was
all-powerful in the Old World. As First Consul for Life he was master
of forty millions of men: he was President of the Italian Republic: to
the Switzers, as to the Dutch, his word was law. Against the
infractions of the Treaty of Lunéville, Austria dared make no protest.
The Czar was occupied with domestic affairs, and his rebuff to
Napoleon's oriental schemes had not yet reached Paris. As for the
British Ministry, it was trembling from the attacks of the Grenvilles
and Windhams on the one side, and from the equally vigorous onslaughts
of Fox, who, when the Government proposed an addition to the armed
forces, brought forward the stale platitude that a large standing army
"was a dangerous instrument of influence in the hands of the Crown."
When England's greatest orator thus impaired the unity of national
feeling, and her only statesman, Pitt, remained in studied seclusion,
the First Consul might well feel assured of the impotence of the
Island Power, and view the bickering of her politicians with the same
quiet contempt that Philip felt for the Athens of Demosthenes.

But while his prospects in Europe and the East were roseate, the
western horizon bulked threateningly with clouds. The news of the
disasters in St. Domingo reached Paris in the first week of the year
1803, and shortly afterwards came tidings of the ferment in the United
States and the determination of their people to resist the acquisition
of Louisiana by France. If he persevered with this last scheme, he
would provoke war with that republic and drive it into the arms of
England. From that blunder his statecraft instinctively saved him, and
he determined to sell Louisiana to the United States.

So unheroic a retreat from the prairies of the New World must be
covered by a demonstration towards the banks of the Nile and of the
Indus. It was ever his plan to cover retreat in one direction by
brilliant diversions in another: only so could he enthrall the
imagination of France, and keep his hold on her restless capital. And
the publication of Sebastiani's report, with its glowing description
of the fondness cherished for France alike by Moslems, Syrian
Christians, and the Greeks of Corfu; its declamation against the
perfidy of General Stuart; and its incitation to the conquest of the
Levant, furnished him with the motive power for effecting a telling
transformation scene and banishing all thoughts of losses in the
West.[243]

The official publication of this report created a sensation even in
France, and was not the _bagatelle_ which M. Thiers has endeavoured to
represent it.[244] But far greater was the astonishment at Downing
Street, not at the facts disclosed by the report--for Merry's note
had prepared our Ministers for them--but rather at the official avowal
of hostile designs. At once our Government warned Whitworth that he
must insist on our retaining Malta. He was also to protest against the
publication of such a document, and to declare that George III. could
not "enter into any further discussion relative to Malta until he
received a satisfactory explanation." Far from offering it, Napoleon
at once complained of our non-evacuation of Alexandria and Malta.

     "Instead of that garrison [of Alexandria] being a means of
     protecting Egypt, it was only furnishing him with a pretence
     for invading it. This he should not do, whatever might be his
     desire to have it as a colony, because he did not think it worth
     the risk of a war, in which he might perhaps be considered the
     aggressor, and by which he should lose more than he could gain,
     since sooner or later Egypt would belong to France, either by the
     falling to pieces of the Turkish Empire, or by some arrangement
     with the Porte.... Finally," he asked, "why should not the mistress
     of the seas and the mistress of the land come to an arrangement and
     govern the world?"

A subtler diplomatist than Whitworth would probably have taken the
hint for a Franco-British partition of the world: but the Englishman,
unable at that moment to utter a word amidst the torrent of argument
and invective, used the first opportunity merely to assure Napoleon of
the alarm caused in England by Sebastiani's utterance concerning
Egypt. This touched the First Consul at the wrong point, and he
insisted that on the evacuation of Malta the question of peace or war
must depend. In vain did the English ambassador refer to the extension
of French power on the Continent. Napoleon cut him short: "I suppose
you mean Piedmont and Switzerland: ce sont des----: vous n'avez pas le
droit d'en parler à cette heure." Seeing that he was losing his
temper, Lord Whitworth then diverted the conversation.[245]

This long tirade shows clearly what were the aims of the First Consul.
He desired peace until his eastern plans were fully matured. And what
ruler would not desire to maintain a peace so fruitful in
conquests--that perpetuated French influence in Italy, Switzerland,
and Holland, that enabled France to prepare for the dissolution of the
Turkish Empire and to intrigue with the Mahrattas? Those were the
conditions on which England could enjoy peace: she must recognize the
arbitrament of France in the affairs of all neighbouring States, she
must make no claim for compensation in the Mediterranean, and she must
endure to be officially informed that she alone could not maintain a
struggle against France.[246]

But George III. was not minded to sink to the level of a Charles II.
Whatever were the failings of our "farmer king," he was keenly alive
to national honour and interests. These had been deeply wounded, even
in the United Kingdom itself. Napoleon had been active in sending
"commercial commissioners" into our land. Many of them were proved to
be soldiers: and the secret instructions sent by Talleyrand to one of
them at Dublin, which chanced to fall into the hands of our
Government, showed that they were charged to make plans of the
harbours, and of the soundings and moorings.[247]

Then again, the French were almost certainly helping Irish
conspirators. One of these, Emmett, already suspected of complicity in
the Despard conspiracy which aimed at the King's life, had, after its
failure, sought shelter in France. At the close of 1802 he returned to
his native land and began to store arms in a house near Rathfarnham.
It is doubtful whether the authorities were aware of his plans, or, as
is more probable, let the plot come to a head. The outbreak did not
take place till the following July (after the renewal of war), when
Emmett and some of his accomplices, along with Russell, who stirred up
sedition in Ulster, paid for their folly with their lives. They
disavowed any connection with France, but they must have based their
hope of success on a promised French invasion of our coasts.[248]

The dealings of the French commercial commissioners and the beginnings
of the Emmett plot increased the tension caused by Napoleon's
masterful foreign policy; and the result was seen in the King's
message to Parliament on March 8th, 1803. In view of the military
preparations and of the wanton defiance of the First Consul's recent
message to the Corps Législatif, Ministers asked for the embodiment of
the militia and the addition of 10,000 seamen to the navy. After
Napoleon's declaration to our ambassador that France was bringing her
forces on active service up to 480,000 men, the above-named increase
of the British forces might well seem a reasonable measure of defence.
Yet it so aroused the spleen of the First Consul that, at a public
reception of ambassadors on March 13th, he thus accosted Lord
Whitworth:

     "'So you are determined to go to war.' 'No, First Consul,' I
     replied, 'we are too sensible of the advantage of peace.' 'Why,
     then, these armaments? Against whom these measures of precaution? I
     have not a single ship of the line in the French ports, but if you
     wish to arm I will arm also: if you wish to fight, I will fight
     also. You may perhaps kill France, but will never intimidate her.'
     'We wish,' said I, 'neither the one nor the other. We wish to live
     on good terms with her.' 'You must respect treaties then,' replied
     he; 'woe to those who do not respect treaties. They shall answer
     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."[249]

This curious scene shows Napoleon in one of his weaker petulant moods:
it left on the embarrassed spectators no impression of outraged
dignity, but rather of the over-weening self-assertion of an autocrat
who could push on hostile preparations, and yet flout the ambassador
of the Power that took reasonable precautions in return. The slight
offered to our ambassador, though hotly resented in Britain, had no
direct effect on the negotiations, as the First Consul soon took the
opportunity of tacitly apologizing for the occurrence; but indirectly
the matter was infinitely important. By that utterance he nailed his
colours to the mast with respect to the British evacuation of Malta.
With his keen insight into the French nature, he knew that "honour" was
its mainspring, and that his political fortunes rested on the
satisfaction of that instinct. He could not now draw back without
affronting the prestige of France and undermining his own position. In
vain did our Government remind him of his admission that "His Majesty
should keep a compensation out of his conquests for the important
acquisitions of territory made by France upon the Continent."[250] That
promise, although official, was secret. Its violation would, at the
worst, only offend the officials of Whitehall. Whereas, if he now
acceded to their demand that Malta should be the compensation, he at
once committed that worst of all crimes in a French statesman, of
rendering himself ludicrous. In this respect, then, the scene of March
13th at the Tuileries was indirectly the cause of the bloodiest war that
has desolated Europe.

Napoleon now regarded the outbreak of hostilities as probable, if not
certain. Facts are often more eloquent than diplomatic assurances, and
such facts are not wanting. On March 6th Decaen's expedition had set
sail from Brest for the East Indies with no anticipation of immediate
war. On March 16th a fast brig was sent after him with orders that he
should return with all speed from Pondicherry to the Mauritius.
Napoleon's correspondence also shows that, as early as March 11th,
that is, after hearing of George III.'s message to Parliament, he
expected the outbreak of hostilities: on that day he ordered the
formation of flotillas at Dunkirk and Cherbourg, and sent urgent
messages to the sovereigns of Russia, Prussia, and Spain, inveighing
against England's perfidy. The envoy despatched to St. Petersburg was
specially charged to talk to the Czar on philosophic questions, and to
urge him to free the seas from England's tyranny.

Much as Addington and his colleagues loved peace, they were now
convinced that it was more hazardous than open war. Malta was the only
effectual bar to a French seizure of Egypt or an invasion of Turkey from
the side of Corfu. With Turkey partitioned and Egypt in French hands,
there would be no security against Napoleon's designs on India. The
British forces evacuated the Cape of Good Hope on February 21st, 1803;
they set sail from Alexandria on the 17th of the following month. By the
former act we yielded up to France the sea route to India--for the Dutch
at the Cape were but the tools of the First Consul: by the latter we
left Malta as the sole barrier against a renewed land attack on our
Eastern possessions. The safety of our East Indian possessions was
really at stake, and yet Europe was asked to believe that the question
was whether England would or would not evacuate Malta. This was the
French statement of the case: it was met by the British plea that
France, having declared her acceptance of the principle of compensation
for us, had no cause for objecting to the retention of an island so
vital to our interests.

Yet, while convinced of the immense importance of Malta, the Addington
Cabinet did not insist on retaining it, if the French Government would
"suggest some other _equivalent security_ by which His Majesty's
object in claiming the permanent possession of Malta may be
accomplished and the independence of the island secured conformably to
the spirit of the 10th Article of the Treaty of Amiens."[251] To the
First Consul was therefore left the initiative in proposing some other
plan which would safeguard British interests in the Levant; and, with
this qualifying explanation, the British ambassador was charged to
present to him the following proposals for a new treaty: Malta to
remain in British hands, the Knights to be indemnified for any losses
of property which they may thereby sustain: Holland and Switzerland to
be evacuated by French troops: the island of Elba to be confirmed to
France, and the King of Etruria to be acknowledged by Great Britain:
the Italian and Ligurian Republics also to be acknowledged, if "an
arrangement is made in Italy for the King of Sardinia, which shall be
satisfactory to him."

Lord Whitworth judged it better not to present these demands point
blank, but gradually to reveal their substance. This course, he
judged, would be less damaging to the friends of peace at the
Tuileries, and less likely to affront Napoleon. But it was all one and
the same. The First Consul, in his present state of highly wrought
tension, practically ignored the suggestion of an _equivalent
security,_ and declaimed against the perfidy of England for daring to
infringe the treaty, though he had offered no opposition to the Czar's
proposals respecting Malta, which weakened the stability of the Order
and sensibly modified that same treaty.

Talleyrand was more conciliatory; and there is little doubt that, had
the First Consul allowed his brother Joseph and his Foreign Minister
wider powers, the crisis might have been peaceably passed. Joseph
Bonaparte urgently pressed Whitworth to be satisfied with Corfu or
Crete in place of Malta; but he confessed that the suggestion was
quite unauthorized, and that the First Consul was so enraged on the
Maltese Question that he dared not broach it to him.[252] Indeed, all
through these critical weeks Napoleon's relations to his brothers were
very strained, they desiring peace in Europe so that Louisiana might
even now be saved to France, while the First Consul persisted in his
oriental schemes. He seems now to have concentrated his energies on
the task of postponing the rupture to a convenient date and of casting
on his foes the odium of the approaching war. He made no proposal that
could reassure Britain as to the security of the overland routes; and
he named no other island which could be considered as an equivalent to
Malta.

To many persons his position has seemed logically unassailable; but it
is difficult to see how this view can be held. The Treaty of Amiens
had twice over been rendered, in a technical sense, null and void by the
action of Continental Powers. Russia and Prussia had not guaranteed the
state of things arranged for Malta by that treaty; and the action of
France and Spain in confiscating the property of the Knights in their
respective lands had so far sapped the strength of the Order that it
could never again support the expense of the large garrison which the
lines around Valetta required.

In a military sense, this was the crux of the problem; for no one
affected to believe that Malta was rendered secure by the presence at
Valetta of 2,000 troops of the King of Naples, whose realm could
within a week be overrun by Murat's division. This obvious difficulty
led Lord Hawkesbury to urge, in his notes of April 13th and later,
that British troops should garrison the chief fortifications of
Valetta and leave the civil power to the Knights: or, if that were
found objectionable, that we should retain complete possession of the
island for ten years, provided that we were left free to negotiate
with the King of Naples for the cession of Lampedusa, an islet to the
west of Malta. To this last proposal the First Consul offered no
objection; but he still inflexibly opposed any retention of Malta,
even for ten years, and sought to make the barren islet of Lampedusa
appear an equivalent to Malta. This absurd contention had, however,
been exploded by Talleyrand's indiscreet confession "that the
re-establishment of the Order of St. John was not so much the point to
be discussed as that of suffering Great Britain to acquire a
_possession in the Mediterranean_."[253]

This, indeed, was the pith and marrow of the whole question, whether
Great Britain was to be excluded from that great sea--save at
Gibraltar and Lampedusa--looking on idly at its transformation into a
French lake by the seizure of Corfu, the Morea, Egypt, and Malta
itself; or whether she should retain some hold on the overland route
to the East. The difficulty was frankly pointed out by Lord Whitworth;
it was as frankly admitted by Joseph Bonaparte; it was recognized by
Talleyrand; and Napoleon's desire for a durable peace must have been
slight when he refused to admit England's claim effectively to
safeguard her interests in the Levant, and ever fell back on the
literal fulfilment of a treaty which had been invalidated by his own
deliberate actions.

Affairs now rapidly came to a climax. On April 23rd the British
Government notified its ambassador that, if the present terms were not
granted within seven days of his receiving them, he was to leave
Paris. Napoleon was no less angered than surprised by the recent turn
of events. In place of timid complaisance which he had expected from
Addington, he was met with open defiance; but he now proposed that the
Czar should offer his intervention between the disputants. The
suggestion was infinitely skilful. It flattered the pride of the young
autocrat and promised to yield gains as substantial as those which
Russian mediation had a year before procured for France from the
intimidated Sultan; it would help to check the plans for an
Anglo-Russian alliance then being mooted at St. Petersburg, and, above
all, it served to gain time.

All these advantages were to a large extent realized. Though the Czar
had been the first to suggest our retention of Malta, he now began to
waver. The clearness and precision of Talleyrand's notes, and the
telling charge of perfidy against England, made an impression which
the cumbrous retorts of Lord Hawkesbury and the sailor-like diplomacy
of Admiral Warren failed to efface.[254] And the Russian Chancellor,
Vorontzoff, though friendly to England, and desirous of seeing her
firmly established at Malta, now began to complain of the want of
clearness in her policy. The Czar emphasized this complaint, and
suggested that, as Malta could not be the real cause of dispute, the
British Government should formulate distinctly its grievances and so set
the matter in train for a settlement. The suggestion was not complied
with. To draw up a long list of complaints, some drawn from secret
sources and exposing the First Consul's schemes, would have exasperated
his already ruffled temper; and the proposal can only be regarded as an
adroit means of justifying Alexander's sudden change of front.

Meanwhile events had proceeded apace at Paris. On April 26th Joseph
Bonaparte made a last effort to bend his brother's will, but only
gained the grudging concession that Napoleon would never consent to
the British retention of Malta for a longer time than three or four
years. As this would have enabled him to postpone the rupture long
enough to mature his oriental plans, it was rejected by Lord
Whitworth, who insisted on ten years as the minimum. The evident
determination of the British Government speedily to terminate the
affair, one way or the other, threw Napoleon into a paroxysm of
passion; and at the diplomatic reception of May 1st, from which Lord
Whitworth discreetly absented himself, he vehemently inveighed against
its conduct. Fretted by the absence of our ambassador, for whom this
sally had been intended, he returned to St. Cloud, and there dictated
this curious epistle to Talleyrand:

     "I desire that your conference [with Lord Whitworth] shall not
     degenerate into a conversation. Show yourself cold, reserved, and
     even somewhat proud. If the [British] note contains the word
     _ultimatum_ make him feel that this word implies war; if it does
     not contain this word, make him insert it, remarking to him that we
     must know where we are, that we are tired of this state of
     anxiety.... Soften down a little at the end of the conference, and
     invite him to return before writing to his Court."

But this careful rehearsal was to avail nothing; our stolid ambassador
was not to be cajoled, and on May 2nd, that is, seven days after his
presenting our ultimatum, he sent for his passports. He did not,
however, set out immediately. Yielding to an urgent request, he
delayed his departure in order to hear the French reply to the British
ultimatum.[255] It notified sarcastically that Lampedusa was not in
the First Consul's power to bestow, that any change with reference to
Malta must be referred by Great Britain to the Great Powers for their
concurrence, and that Holland would be evacuated as soon as the terms
of the Treaty of Amiens were complied with. Another proposal was that
Malta should be transferred to Russia--the very step which was
proposed at Amiens and was rejected by the Czar: on that account Lord
Whitworth now refused it as being merely a device to gain time. The
sending of his passports having been delayed, he received one more
despatch from Downing Street, which allowed that our retention of
Malta for ten years should form a secret article--a device which would
spare the First Consul's susceptibilities on the point of honour. Even
so, however, Napoleon refused to consider a longer tenure than two or
three years. And in this he was undoubtedly encouraged by the recent
despatch from St. Petersburg, wherein the Czar promised his mediation
in a sense favourable to France. This unfortunate occurrence completed
the discomfiture of the peace party at the Consular Court, and in a
long and heated discussion in a council held at St. Cloud on May 11th
all but Joseph Bonaparte and Talleyrand voted for the rejection of
the British demands.

On the next day Lord Whitworth left Paris. During his journey to
Calais he received one more proposal, that France should hold the
peninsula of Otranto for ten years if Great Britain retained Malta for
that period; but if this suggestion was made in good faith, which is
doubtful, its effect was destroyed by a rambling diatribe which
Talleyrand, at his master's orders, sent shortly afterwards.[256] In
any case it was looked upon by our ambassador as a last attempt to gain
time for the concentration of the French naval forces. He crossed the
Straits of Dover on May 17th, the day before the British declaration of
war was issued.

On May 22nd, 1803, appeared at Paris the startling order that, as
British frigates had captured two French merchantmen on the Breton
coast, all Englishmen between eighteen and sixty years of age who were
in France should be detained as prisoners of war. The pretext for this
unheard-of action, which condemned some 10,000 Britons to prolonged
detention, was that the two French ships were seized prior to the
declaration of war. This is false: they were seized on May 18th, that
is, on the day on which the British Government declared war, three
days after an embargo had been laid on British vessels in French
ports, and seven days after the First Consul had directed his envoy at
Florence to lay an embargo on English ships in the ports of
Tuscany.[257] It is therefore obvious that Napoleon's barbarous decree
merely marked his disappointment at the failure of his efforts to gain
time and to deal the first stroke. How sorely his temper was tried by
the late events is clear from the recital of the Duchesse d'Abrantès,
who relates that her husband, when ordered to seize English residents,
found the First Consul in a fury, his eyes flashing fire; and when
Junot expressed his reluctance to carry out this decree, Napoleon
passionately exclaimed: "Do not trust too far to my friendship: as
soon as I conceive doubt as to yours, mine is gone."

Few persons in England now cherished any doubts as to the First
Consul's hatred of the nation which stood between him and his oriental
designs. Ministers alone knew the extent of those plans: but every
ploughboy could feel the malice of an act which cooped up innocent
travellers on the flimsiest of pretexts. National ardour, and, alas,
national hatred were deeply stirred.[258] The Whigs, who had paraded the
clemency of Napoleon, were at once helpless, and found themselves
reduced to impotence for wellnigh a generation; and the Tories, who
seemed the exponents of a national policy, were left in power until the
stream of democracy, dammed up by war in 1793 and again in 1803,
asserted its full force in the later movement for reform.

Yet the opinion often expressed by pamphleteers, that the war of 1803
was undertaken to compel France to abandon her republican principles,
is devoid of a shred of evidence in its favour. After 1802 there were
no French republican principles to be combated; they had already been
jettisoned; and, since Bonaparte had crushed the Jacobins, his
personal claims were favourably regarded at Whitehall, Addington even
assuring the French envoy that he would welcome the establishment of
hereditary succession in the First Consul's family.[259] But while
Bonaparte's own conduct served to refute the notion that the war of
1803 was a war of principles, his masterful policy in Europe and the
Levant convinced every well-informed man that peace was impossible;
and the rupture was accompanied by acts and insults to the "nation of
shopkeepers" that could be avenged only by torrents of blood.
Diatribes against perfidious Albion filled the French Press and
overflowed into splenetic pamphlets, one of which bade odious England
tremble under the consciousness of her bad faith and the expectation
of swift and condign chastisement. Such was the spirit in which these
nations rushed to arms; and the conflict was scarcely to cease until
Napoleon was flung out into the solitudes of the southern Atlantic.

The importance of the rupture of the Peace of Amiens will be realized if
we briefly survey Bonaparte's position after that treaty was signed. He
had regained for his adopted country a colonial empire and had given
away not a single French island. France was raised to a position of
assured strength far preferable to the perilous heights attained later
on at Tilsit. In Australia there was a prospect that the tricolour would
wave over areas as great and settlements as prosperous as those of New
South Wales and the infant town of Sydney. From the Ile de France and
the Cape of Good Hope as convenient bases of operations, British India
could easily be assailed; and a Franco-Mahratta alliance promised to
yield a victory over the troops of the East India Company. In Europe the
imminent collapse of the Turkish Empire invited a partition, whence
France might hope to gain Egypt and the Morea. The Ionian Isles were
ready to accept French annexation; and, if England withdrew her troops
from Malta, the fate of the weak Order of St. John could scarcely be a
matter of doubt.

For the fulfilment of these bright hopes one thing alone was needed, a
policy of peace and naval preparation. As yet Napoleon's navy was
comparatively weak. In March, 1803, he had only forty-three
line-of-battle ships, ten of which were on distant stations; but he
had ordered twenty-three more to be built--ten of them in Holland;
and, with the harbours of France, Holland, Flanders, and Northern
Italy at his disposal, he might hope, at the close of 1804, to
confront the flag of St. George with a superiority of force. That was
the time which his secret instructions to Decaen marked out for the
outbreak of the war that would yield to the tricolour a world-wide
supremacy.

These schemes miscarried owing to the impetuosity of their contriver.
Hustled out of the arena of European politics, and threatened with
French supremacy in the other Continents, England forthwith drew the
sword; and her action, cutting athwart the far-reaching web of the
Napoleonic intrigues, forced France to forego her oceanic plans, to
muster her forces on the Straits of Dover, and thereby to yield to the
English race the supremacy in Louisiana, India, and Australia, leaving
also the destinies of Egypt to be decided in a later age. Viewed from
the standpoint of racial expansion, the renewal of war in 1803 is the
greatest event of the century.

[Since this chapter was printed, articles on the same subject have
appeared in the "Revue Historique" (March-June, 1901) by M.
Philippson, which take almost the same view as that here presented. I
cannot, however, agree with the learned writer that Napoleon wanted
war. I think he did not, _until his navy was ready_; but it was not in
him to give way.]


     NOTE TO THE FIFTH EDITION

     M. Coquelle, in a work which has been translated into English by
     Mr. Gordon D. Knox (G. Bell and Sons, Ltd.), has shown clearly that
     the non-evacuation of Holland by Napoleon's troops and the
     subjection of that Republic to French influence formed the chief
     causes of war. I refer my readers to that work for details of the
     negotiations in their final stages.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XVIII

EUROPE AND THE BONAPARTES


The disappointment felt by Napoleon at England's interruption of his
designs may be measured, first by his efforts to postpone the rupture,
and thereafter by the fierce energy which he threw into the war. As
has been previously noted, the Czar had responded to the First
Consul's appeal for mediation in notes which seemed to the British
Cabinet unjustly favourable to the French case. Napoleon now offered
to recognize the arbitration of the Czar on the questions in dispute,
and suggested that meanwhile Malta should be handed over to Russia to
be held in pledge: he on his part offered to evacuate Hanover,
Switzerland, and Holland, if the British would suspend hostilities, to
grant an indemnity to the King of Sardinia, to allow Britain to occupy
Lampedusa, and fully to assure "the independence of Europe," if France
retained her present frontiers. But when the Russian envoy, Markoff,
urged him to crown these proposals by allowing Britain to hold Malta
for a certain time, thereafter to be agreed upon, he firmly refused to
do so on his own initiative, for that would soil his honour: but he
would view with resignation its cession to Britain if that proved to
be the award of Alexander. Accordingly Markoff wrote to his colleague
at London, assuring him that the peace of the world was now once again
assured by the noble action of the First Consul.[260]

Were these proposals prompted by a sincere desire to assure a lasting
peace, or were they put forward as a device to gain time for the
completion of the French naval preparations? Evidently they were
completely distrusted by the British Government, and with some reason.
They were nearly identical with the terms formulated in the British
ultimatum, which Napoleon had rejected. Moreover, our Foreign Office
had by this time come to suspect Alexander. On June 23rd Lord
Hawkesbury wrote that it might be most damaging to British interests
to place Malta "at the hazard of the Czar's arbitration"; and he
informed the Russian ambassador, Count Vorontzoff, that the aim of the
French had obviously been merely to gain time, that their explanations
were loose and unsatisfactory, and their demands inadmissible, and
that Great Britain could not acknowledge the present territories of
the French Republic as permanent while Malta was placed in
arbitration. In fact, our Government feared that, when Malta had been
placed in Alexander's hands, Napoleon would lure him into oriental
adventures and renew the plans of an advance on India. Their fears
were well founded.

Napoleon's preoccupation was always for the East: on February 21st,
1803, he had charged his Minister of Marine to send arms and
ammunition to the Suliotes and Maniotes then revolting against the
Sultan; and at midsummer French agents were at Ragusa to prepare for a
landing at the mouth of the River Cattaro.[261] With Turkey rent by
revolt, Malta placed as a pledge in Russian keeping, and Alexander
drawn into the current of Napoleon's designs, what might not be
accomplished? Evidently the First Consul could expect more from this
course of events than from barren strifes with Nelson's ships in the
Straits of Dover. For _us_, such a peace was far more risky than war.
And yet, if the Czar's offer were too stiffly repelled, public opinion
would everywhere be alienated, and in that has always lain half the
strength of England's policy.[262] Ministers therefore declared that,
while they could not accept Russia's arbitration without appeal, they
would accede to her mediation if it concerned all the causes of the
present war. This reasonable proposal was accepted by the Czar, but
received from Napoleon a firm refusal. He at once wrote to Talleyrand,
August 23rd, 1803, directing that the Russian proposals should be made
known to Haugwitz, the Prussian Foreign Minister:

     "Make him see all the absurdity of it: tell him that England will
     never get from me any other treaty than that of Amiens: that _I
     will never suffer her to have anything in the Mediterranean_; that
     I will not treat with her about the Continent; that I am resolved
     to evacuate Holland and Switzerland; but that I will never
     stipulate this in an article."

As for Russia, he continued, she talked much about the integrity of
Turkey, but was violating it by the occupation of the Ionian Isles and
her constant intrigues in Wallachia. These facts were correct: but the
manner in which he stated them clearly revealed his annoyance that the
Czar would not wholly espouse the French cause. Talleyrand's views on
this question may be seen in his letter to Bonaparte, when he assures
his chief that he has now reaped from his noble advance to the Russian
Emperor the sole possible advantage--"that of proving to Europe by a
grand act of frankness your love of peace and to throw upon England
the whole blame for the war." It is not often that a diplomatist so
clearly reveals the secrets of his chief's policy.[263]

The motives of Alexander were less questionable. His chief desire at
that time was to improve the lot of his people. War would disarrange
these noble designs: France would inevitably overrun the weaker
Continental States: England would retaliate by enforcing her severe
maritime code; and the whole world would be rent in twain by this
strife of the elements.


These gloomy forebodings were soon to be realized. Holland was the
first to suffer. And yet one effort was made to spare her the horrors
of war. Filled with commiseration for her past sufferings, the British
Government at once offered to respect her neutrality, provided that
the French troops would evacuate her fortresses and exact no succour
either in ships, men, or money.[264] But such forbearance was scarcely
to be expected from Napoleon, who not only had a French division in
that land, supported at its expense, but also relied on its maritime
resources.[265] The proposal was at once set aside at Paris.
Napoleon's decision to drag the Batavian Republic into the war arose,
however, from no spasm of the war fever; it was calmly stated in the
secret instructions issued to General Decaen in the preceding January.
"It is now considered impossible that we could have war with England,
without dragging Holland into it." Holland was accordingly once more
ground between the upper and the nether millstone, between the Sea
Power and the Land Power, pouring out for Napoleon its resources in
men and money, and losing to the masters of the sea its ships, foreign
commerce, and colonies.

Equally hard was the treatment of Naples. In spite of the Czar's plea
that its neutrality might be respected, this kingdom was at once
occupied by St. Cyr with troops that held the chief positions on the
"heel" of Italy. This infraction of the Treaty of Florence was to be
justified by a proclamation asserting that, as England had retained
Malta, the balance of power required that France should hold these
positions as long as England held Malta.[266] This action punished the
King and Queen of Naples for their supposed subservience to English
policy; and, while lightening the burdens of the French exchequer, it
compelled England to keep a large fleet in the Mediterranean for the
protection of Egypt, and thereby weakened her defensive powers in the
Straits of Dover. To distract his foes, and compel them to extend
their lines, was ever Napoleon's aim both in military and naval
strategy; and the occupation of Taranto, together with the naval
activity at Toulon and Genoa, left it doubtful whether the great
captain determined to strike at London or to resume his eastern
adventures. His previous moves all seemed to point towards Egypt and
India; and the Admiralty instructions of May 18th, 1803, to Nelson,
reveal the expectation of our Government that the real blow would fall
on the Morea and Egypt. Six weeks later our admiral reported the
activity of French intrigues in the Morea, which was doubtless
intended to be their halfway house to Egypt--"when sooner or later,
farewell India."[267] Proofs of Napoleon's designs on the Morea were
found by Captain Keats of H.M.S. "Superb" on a French vessel that he
captured, a French corporal having on him a secret letter from an
agent at Corfu, dated May 23rd, 1803. It ended thus:

     "I have every reason to believe that we shall soon have a
     revolution in the Morea, as we desire. I have close relations with
     Crepacchi, and we are in daily correspondence with all the chiefs
     of the Morea: we have even provided them with munitions of
     war."[268]

On the whole, however, it seems probable that Napoleon's chief aim now
was London and not Egypt; but his demonstrations eastwards were so
skilfully maintained as to convince both the English Government and
Nelson that his real aim was Egypt or Malta. For this project the
French _corps d'armée_ in the "heel" of Italy held a commanding
position. Ships alone were wanting; and these he sought to compel the
King of Naples to furnish. As early as April 20th, 1803, our _chargé
d'affaires_ at Naples, Mr. à Court, reported that Napoleon was pressing
on that Government a French alliance, on the ground that:

     "The interests of the two countries are the same: it is the
     intention of France to shut every port to the English, from Holland
     to the Turkish dominions, to prevent the exportation of her
     merchandise, and to give a mortal blow to her commerce, for there
     she is most vulnerable. Our joint forces may wrest from her hands
     the island of Malta. The Sicilian navy may convoy and protect the
     French troops in the prosecution of such a plan, and the most happy
     result may be augured to their united exertions."

Possibly the King and his spirited but whimsical consort, Queen
Charlotte, might have bent before the threats which accompanied this
alluring offer; but at the head of the Neapolitan administration was
an Englishman, General Acton, whose talents and force of will
commanded their respect and confidence. To the threats of the French
ambassador he answered that France was strong and Naples was weak;
force might overthrow the dynasty; but nothing would induce it to
violate its neutrality towards England. So unwonted a defiance aroused
Napoleon to a characteristic revenge. When his troops were quartered
on Southern Italy, and were draining the Neapolitan resources, the
Queen wrote appealing to his clemency on behalf of her much burdened
people. In reply he assured her of his desire to be agreeable to her:
but how could he look on Naples as a neutral State, when its chief
Minister was an Englishman? This was "the real reason that justified
all the measures taken towards Naples."[269] The brutality and
falseness of this reply had no other effect than to embitter Queen
Charlotte's hatred against the arbiter of the world's destinies,
before whom she and her consort refused to bow, even when, three years
later, they were forced to seek shelter behind the girdle of the
inviolate sea.



Hanover also fell into Napoleon's hands. Mortier with 25,000 French
troops speedily overran that land and compelled the Duke of Cambridge
to a capitulation. The occupation of the Electorate not only relieved
the French exchequer of the support of a considerable corps; it also
served to hold in check the Prussian Court, always preoccupied about
Hanover; and it barred the entrance of the Elbe and Weser to British
ships, an aim long cherished by Napoleon. To this we retorted by
blockading the mouths of those rivers, an act which must have been
expected by Napoleon, and which enabled him to declaim against British
maritime tyranny. In truth, the beginnings of the Continental System
were now clearly discernible. The shores of the Continent from the
south of Italy to the mouth of the Elbe were practically closed to
English ships, while by a decree of July 15th _any vessel whatsoever_
that had cleared from a British port was to be excluded from all
harbours of the French Republic. Thus all commercial nations were
compelled, slowly but inevitably, to side with the master of the land
or the mistress of the seas.

In vain did the King of Prussia represent to Napoleon that Hanover was
not British territory, and that the neutrality of Germany was
infringed and its interests damaged by the French occupation of
Hanover and Cuxhaven. His protest was met by an offer from Napoleon to
evacuate Hanover, Taranto and Otranto, only at the time when England
should "evacuate Malta and the Mediterranean"; and though the special
Prussian envoy, Lombard, reported to his master that Napoleon was
"truth, loyalty, and friendship personified," yet he received not a
word that betokened real regard for the susceptibilities of Frederick
William III. or the commerce of his people.[270] For the present,
neither King nor Czar ventured on further remonstrances; but the First
Consul had sown seeds of discord which were to bear fruit in the Third
Coalition.

Having quartered 60,000 French troops on Naples and Hanover, Napoleon
could face with equanimity the costs of the war. Gigantic as they were,
they could be met from the purchase money of Louisiana, the taxation and
voluntary gifts of the French dominions, the subsidies of the Italian
and Ligurian Republics, and a contribution which he now exacted from
Spain.

Even before the outbreak of hostilities he had significantly reminded
Charles IV. that the Spanish marine was deteriorating, and her
arsenals and dockyards were idle: "But England is not asleep; she is
ever on the watch and will never rest until she has seized on the
colonies and commerce of the world."[271] For the present, however,
the loss of Trinidad and the sale of Louisiana rankled too deeply to
admit of Spain entering into another conflict, whence, as before,
Napoleon would doubtless gain the glory and leave to her the burden of
territorial sacrifices. In spite of his shameless relations to the
Queen of Spain, Godoy, the Spanish Minister, was not devoid of
patriotism; and he strove to evade the obligations which the treaty of
1796 imposed on Spain in case of an Anglo-French conflict. He embodied
the militia of the north of Spain and doubtless would have defied
Bonaparte's demands, had Russia and Prussia shown any disposition to
resist French aggressions. But those Powers were as yet wholly devoted
to private interests; and when Napoleon threatened Charles IV. and
Godoy with an inroad of 80,000 French troops unless the Spanish
militia were dissolved and 72,000,000 francs were paid every year into
the French exchequer, the Court of Madrid speedily gave way. Its
surrender was further assured by the thinly veiled threat that further
resistance would lead to the exposure of the _liaison_ between Godoy
and the Queen. Spain therefore engaged to pay the required sum--more
than double the amount stipulated in 1796--to further the interests of
French commerce and to bring pressure to bear on Portugal. At
the close of the year the Court of Lisbon, yielding to the threats
of France and Spain, consented to purchase its neutrality by
the payment of a million francs a month to the master of the
Continent.[272]

Meanwhile the First Consul was throwing his untiring energies into the
enterprise of crushing his redoubtable foe. He pushed on the naval
preparations at all the dockyards of France, Holland, and North Italy;
the great mole that was to shelter the roadstead at Cherbourg was
hurried forward, and the coast from the Seine to the Rhine became "a
coast of iron and bronze"--to use Marmont's picturesque phrase--while
every harbour swarmed with small craft destined for an invasion.
Troops were withdrawn from the Rhenish frontiers and encamped along
the shores of Picardy; others were stationed in reserve at St. Omer,
Montreuil, Bruges, and Utrecht; while smaller camps were formed at
Ghent, Compiègne, and St. Malo. The banks of the Elbe, Weser, Scheldt,
Somme, and Seine--even as far up as Paris itself--rang with the blows
of shipwrights labouring to strengthen the flotilla of flat-bottomed
vessels designed for the invasion of England. Troops, to the number of
50,000 at Boulogne under Soult, 30,000 at Etaples, and as many at
Bruges, commanded by Ney and Davoust respectively, were organized
anew, and by constant drill and exposure to the elements formed the
tough nucleus of the future Grand Army, before which the choicest
troops of Czar and Kaiser were to be scattered in headlong rout. To
all these many-sided exertions of organization and drill, of improving
harbours and coast fortifications, of ship-building, testing,
embarking, and disembarking, the First Consul now and again applied
the spur of his personal supervision; for while the warlike enthusiasm
which he had aroused against perfidious Albion of itself achieved
wonders, yet work was never so strenuous and exploits so daring as
under the eyes of the great captain himself. He therefore paid
frequent visits to the north coast, surveying with critical eyes the
works at Boulogne, Calais, Dunkirk,


Ostend, and Antwerp. The last-named port engaged his special
attention. Its position at the head of the navigable estuary of the
Scheldt, exactly opposite the Thames, marked it out as the natural
rival of London; he now encouraged its commerce and ordered the
construction of a dockyard fitted to contain twenty-five battleships
and a proportionate number of frigates and sloops. Antwerp was to
become the great commercial and naval emporium of the North Sea. The
time seemed to favour the design; Hamburg and Bremen were blockaded,
and London for a space was menaced by the growing power of the First
Consul, who seemed destined to restore to the Flemish port the
prosperity which the savagery of Alva had swept away with such profit
to Elizabethan London. But grand as were Napoleon's enterprises at
Antwerp, they fell far short of his ulterior designs. He told Las
Cases at St. Helena that the dockyard and magazines were to have been
protected by a gigantic fortress built on the opposite side of the
River Scheldt, and that Antwerp was to have been "a loaded pistol held
at the head of England."

In both lands warlike ardour rose to the highest pitch. French towns
and Departments freely offered gifts of gunboats and battleships. And
in England public men vied with one another in their eagerness to
equip and maintain volunteer regiments. Wordsworth, who had formerly
sung the praises of the French Revolution, thus voiced the national
defiance:

  "No parleying now! In Britain is one breath;
  We all are with you now from shore to shore;
  Ye men of Kent, 'tis victory or death."

In one respect England enjoyed a notable advantage. Having declared
war before Napoleon's plans were matured, she held the command of the
seas, even against the naval resources of France, Holland, and North
Italy. The first months of the war witnessed the surrender of St.
Lucia and Tobago to our fleets; and before the close of the year
Berbice, Demerara, Essequibo, together with < nearly the whole of the
French St. Domingo force, had capitulated to the Union Jack. Our naval
supremacy in the Channel now told with full effect. Frigates were ever
on the watch in the Straits to chase any French vessels that left
port. But our chief efforts were to blockade the enemy's ships.
Despite constant ill-health and frequent gales, Nelson clung to
Toulon. Admiral Cornwallis cruised off Brest with a fleet generally
exceeding fifteen sail of the line and several smaller vessels: six
frigates and smaller craft protected the coast of Ireland; six
line-of-battle ships and twenty-three lesser vessels were kept in the
Downs under Lord Keith as a central reserve force, to which the news
of all events transpiring on the enemy's coast was speedily conveyed
by despatch boats; the newly invented semaphore telegraphs were also
systematically used between the Isle of Wight and Deal to convey news
along the coast and to London. Martello towers were erected along the
coast from Harwich to Pevensey Bay, at the points where a landing was
easy. Numerous inventors also came forward with plans for destroying
the French flotilla, but none was found to be serviceable except the
rockets of Colonel Congreve, which inflicted some damage at Boulogne
and elsewhere. Such were the dispositions of our chief naval forces:
they comprised 469 ships of war, and over 700 armed boats, of all
sizes.[273]

Our regular troops and militia mustered 180,000 strong; while the
volunteers, including 120,000 men armed with pikes or similar weapons,
numbered 410,000. Of course little could be hoped from these last in a
conflict with French veterans; and even the regulars, in the absence
of any great generals--for Wellesley was then in India--might have
offered but a poor resistance to Napoleon's military machine.
Preparations were, however, made for a desperate resistance. Plans
were quietly framed for the transfer of the Queen and the royal family
to Worcester, along with the public treasure, which was to be lodged
in the cathedral; while the artillery and stores from Woolwich arsenal
were to be conveyed into the Midlands by the Grand Junction
Canal.[274]

The scheme of coast-defence which General Dundas had drawn up in 1796
was now again set in action. It included, not only the disposition of
the armed forces, but plans for the systematic removal of all
provisions, stores, animals, and fodder from the districts threatened
by the invader; and it is clear that the country was far better
prepared than French writers have been willing to admit. Indeed, so
great was the expense of these defensive preparations that, when
Nelson's return from the West Indies disconcerted the enemy's plans,
Fox merged the statesman in the partisan by the curious assertion that
the invasion scare had been got up by the Pitt Ministry for party
purposes.[275] Few persons shared that opinion. The nation was
animated by a patriotism such as had never yet stirred the sluggish
veins of Georgian England. The Jacobinism, which Dundas in 1796 had
lamented as paralyzing the nation's energy, had wholly vanished; and
the fatality which dogged the steps of Napoleon was already
discernible. The mingled hatred and fear which he inspired outside
France was beginning to solidify the national resistance: after
uniting rich and poor, English and Scots in a firm phalanx in the
United Kingdom, the national principle was in turn to vivify Spain,
Russia, and Germany, and thus to assure his overthrow.

Reserving for consideration in another chapter the later developments
of the naval war, it will be convenient now to turn to important
events in the history of the Bonaparte family.

The loves and intrigues of the Bonapartes have furnished material enough
to fill several volumes devoted to light gossip, and naturally so. Given
an ambitious family, styled _parvenus_ by the ungenerous, shooting aloft
swiftly as the flames of Vesuvius, ardent as its inner fires, and
stubborn as its hardened lava--given also an imperious brother
determined to marry his younger brothers and sisters, not as they
willed, but as he willed--and it is clear that materials are at hand
sufficient to make the fortunes of a dozen comediettas.

To the marriage of Pauline Bonaparte only the briefest reference need
here be made. The wild humour of her blood showed itself before her
first marriage; and after the death of her husband, General Leclerc,
in San Domingo, she privately espoused Prince Borghese before the
legal time of mourning had expired, an indiscretion which much annoyed
Napoleon (August, 1803). Ultimately this brilliant, frivolous creature
resided in the splendid mansion which now forms the British embassy in
Paris. The case of Louis Bonaparte was somewhat different. Nurtured as
he had been in his early years by Napoleon, he had rewarded him by
contracting a dutiful match with Hortense Beauharnais (January, 1802);
but that union was to be marred by a grotesquely horrible jealousy
which the young husband soon conceived for his powerful brother.

For the present, however, the chief trouble was caused by Lucien,
whose address had saved matters at the few critical minutes of
Brumaire. Gifted with a strong vein of literary feeling and oratorical
fire he united in his person the obstinacy of a Bonaparte, the
headstrong feelings of a poet, and the dogmatism of a Corsican
republican. His presumptuous conduct had already embroiled him with
the First Consul, who deprived him of his Ministry and sent him as
ambassador to Madrid.[276] He further sinned, first by hurrying on
peace with Portugal--it is said for a handsome present from
Lisbon--and later by refusing to marry the widow of the King of
Etruria. In this he persisted, despite the urgent representations of
Napoleon and Joseph: "You know very well that I am a republican, and
that a queen is not what suits me, an ugly queen too!"--" What a pity
your answer was not cut short, it would have been quite Roman," sneered
Joseph at his younger brother, once the Brutus of the Jacobin clubs. But
Lucien was proof against all the splendours of the royal match; he was
madly in love with a Madame Jouberthon, the deserted wife of a Paris
stockbroker; and in order to checkmate all Napoleon's attempts to force
on a hated union, he had secretly married the lady of his choice at the
village of Plessis-Chamant, hard by his country house (October 26th,
1803).

The letter which divulged the news of this affair reached the First
Consul at St. Cloud on an interesting occasion.[277] It was during a
so-called family concert, to which only the choicest spirits had been
invited, whence also, to Josephine's chagrin, Napoleon had excluded
Madame Tallien and several other old friends, whose reputation would
have tainted the air of religion and morality now pervading the
Consular Court. While this select company was enjoying the strains of
the chamber music, and Napoleon alone was dozing, Lucien's missive was
handed in by the faithful if indiscreet Duroc. A change came over the
scene. At once Napoleon started up, called out "Stop the music: stop,"
and began with nervous strides and agitated gestures to pace the hall,
exclaiming "Treason! it is treason!" Round-eyed, open-mouthed
wonder seized on the disconcerted musicians, the company rose in
confusion, and Josephine, following her spouse, besought him to say
what had happened. "What has happened--why--Lucien has married
his--mistress."[278]

The secret cause for this climax of fashionable comedy is to be sought
in reasons of state. The establishment of hereditary power was then
being secretly and anxiously discussed. Napoleon had no heirs: Joseph's
children were girls: Lucien's first marriage also had naught but female
issue: the succession must therefore devolve on Lucien's children by a
second marriage. But a natural son had already been born to him by
Madame Jouberthon; and his marriage now promised to make this bastard
the heir to the future French imperial throne. That was the reason why
Napoleon paced the hall at St. Cloud, "waving his arms like a
semaphore," and exclaiming "treason!" Failing the birth of sons to the
two elder brothers, Lucien's marriage seriously endangered the
foundation of a Napoleonic dynasty; besides, the whole affair would
yield excellent sport to the royalists of the Boulevard St. Germain, the
snarling Jacobins of the back streets, and the newspaper writers of
hated Albion.

In vain were negotiations set on foot to make Lucien divorce his
wife. The attempt only produced exasperation, Joseph himself finally
accusing Napoleon of bad faith in the course of this affair. In the
following springtime Lucien shook off the dust of France from his
feet, and declared in a last letter to Joseph that he departed, hating
Napoleon. The moral to this curious story was well pointed by Joseph
Bonaparte: "Destiny seems to blind us, and intends, by means of our
own faults, to restore France some day to her former rulers." [279]

At the very time of the scene at St. Cloud, fortune was preparing for
the First Consul another matrimonial trouble. His youngest brother,
Jerome, then aged nineteen years, had shown much aptitude for the
French navy, and was serving on the American station, when a quarrel
with the admiral sent him flying in disgust to the shore. There, at
Baltimore, he fell in love with Miss Paterson, the daughter of a
well-to-do merchant, and sought her hand in marriage. In vain did the
French consul remind him that, were he five years older, he would
still need the consent of his mother. The headstrong nature of his
race brooked no opposition, and he secretly espoused the young lady at
her father's residence.


Napoleon's ire fell like a blasting wind on the young couple; but
after waiting some time, in hopes that the storm would blow over, they
ventured to come to Europe. Thereupon Napoleon wrote to Madame Mère in
these terms:

     "Jerome has arrived at Lisbon with the woman with whom he lives....
     I have given orders that Miss Paterson is to be sent back to
     America.... If he shows no inclination to wash away the dishonour
     with which he has stained my name, by forsaking his country's flag
     on land and sea for the sake of a wretched woman, I will cast him
     off for ever."[280]

The sequel will show that Jerome was made of softer stuff than Lucien;
and, strange to say, his compliance with Napoleon's dynastic designs
provided that family with the only legitimate male heirs that were
destined to sustain its wavering hopes to the end of the century.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XIX

THE ROYALIST PLOT


From domestic comedy, France turned rapidly in the early months of
1804 to a sombre tragedy--the tragedy of the Georges Cadoudal plot and
the execution of the Duc d'Enghien.

There were varied reasons why the exiled French Bourbons should
compass the overthrow of Napoleon. Every month that they delayed
action lessened their chances of success. They had long clung to the
hope that his Concordat with the Pope and other anti-revolutionary
measures betokened his intention to recall their dynasty. But in
February, 1803, the Comte de Provence received overtures which showed
that Bonaparte had never thought of playing the part of General Monk.
The exiled prince, then residing at Warsaw, was courteously but most
firmly urged by the First Consul to renounce both for himself and for
the other members of his House all claims to the throne of France, in
return for which he would receive a pension of two million francs a
year. The notion of sinking to the level of a pensionary of the French
Republic touched Bourbon pride to the quick and provoked this spirited
reply:

     "As a descendant of St. Louis, I shall endeavour to imitate his
     example by respecting myself even in captivity. As successor to
     Francis I., I shall at least aspire to say with him: 'We have lost
     everything but our honour."'

To this declaration the Comte d'Artois, his son, the Duc de Berri,
Louis Philippe of Orleans, his two sons, and the two Condés gave their
ardent assent; and the same loyal response came from the young Condé,
the Duc d'Enghien, dated Ettenheim, March 22nd, 1803. Little did men
think when they read this last defiance to Napoleon that within a year
its author would be flung into a grave in the moat of the Castle of
Vincennes.

Scarcely had the echoes of the Bourbon retorts died away than the
outbreak of war between England and France raised the hopes of the
French royalist exiles in London; and their nimble fancy pictured the
French army and nation as ready to fling themselves at the feet of
Louis XVIII. The future monarch did not share these illusions. In the
chilly solitudes of Warsaw he discerned matters in their true light,
and prepared to wait until the vaulting ambition of Napoleon should
league Europe against him. Indeed, when the plans of the forward wing
in London were explained to him, with a view of enlisting his support,
he deftly waved aside the embarrassing overtures by quoting the lines:

                               "Et pour être approuvés
  De semblables projets veulent être achevés,"

a cautious reply which led his brother, then at Edinburgh, scornfully
to contemn his _feebleness_ as unworthy of any further confidences.[281]
In truth, the Comte d'Artois, destined one day to be Charles X. of
France, was not fashioned by nature for a Fabian policy of delay: not
even the misfortunes of exile could instill into the watertight
compartments of his brain the most elementary notions of prudence.
Daring, however, attracts daring; and this prince had gathered around
him in our land the most desperate of the French royalists, whose hopes,
hatreds, schemes, and unending requests for British money may be scanned
by the curious in some thirty large volumes of letters bequeathed by
their factotum the Comte de Puisaye, to the British Museum.
Unfortunately this correspondence throws little light on the details of
the plot which is fitly called by the name of Georges Cadoudal.

This daring Breton was, in fact, the only man of action on whom the
Bourbon princes could firmly rely for an enterprise that demanded a
cool head, cunning in the choice of means, and a remorseless hand.
Pichegru it is true, lived near London, but saw little of the
_émigrés_, except the venerable Condé. Dumouriez also was in the great
city, but his name was too generally scorned in France for his
treachery in 1793 to warrant his being used. But there were plenty of
swashbucklers who could prepare the ground in France, or, if fortune
favoured, might strike the blow themselves; and a small committee of
French royalists, which had the support of that furious royalist, Mr.
Windham, M.P., began even before the close of 1802 to discuss plans
for the "removal" of Bonaparte. Two of their tools, Picot and Le
Bourgeois by name, plunged blindly into a plot, and were arrested soon
after they set foot in France. Their boyish credulity seems to have
suggested to the French authorities the sending of an agent so as to
entrap not only French _émigrés_, but also English officials and
Jacobinical generals.

The _agent provocateur_ has at all times been a favourite tool of
continental Governments: but rarely has a more finished specimen of
the class been seen than Méhée de la Touche. After plying the trade of
an assassin in the September massacres of 1792, and of a Jacobin spy
during the Terror, he had been included by Bonaparte among the Jacobin
scapegoats who expiated the Chouan outrage of Nivôse. Pining in the
weariness of exile, he heard from his wife that he might be pardoned
if he would perform some service for the Consular Government. At once
he consented, and it was agreed that he should feign royalism, should
worm himself into the secrets of the _émigrés_ at London, and act as
intermediary between them and the discontented republicans of Paris.

The man who seems to have planned this scheme was the ex-Minister of
Police. Fouché had lately been deprived by Bonaparte of the
inquisitorial powers which he so unscrupulously used. His duties were
divided between Régnier, the Grand Judge and Minister of Justice, and
Réal, a Councillor of State, who watched over the internal security of
France. These men had none of the ability of Fouché, nor did they know
at the outset what Méhée was doing in London. It may, therefore, be
assumed that Méhée was one of Fouché's creatures, whom he used to
discredit his successor, and that Bonaparte welcomed this means of
quickening the zeal of the official police, while he also wove his
meshes round plotting _émigrés_, English officials, and French
generals.[282]

Among these last there was almost chronic discontent, and Bonaparte
claimed to have found out a plot whereby twelve of them should divide
France into as many portions, leaving to him only Paris and its
environs. If so, he never made any use of his discovery. In fact, out
of this group of malcontents, Moreau, Bernadotte, Augereau, Macdonald,
and others, he feared only the hostility of the first. The victor of
Hohenlinden lived in sullen privacy near to Paris, refusing to present
himself at the Consular Court, and showing his contempt for those who
donned a courtier's uniform. He openly mocked at the Concordat; and
when the Legion of Honour was instituted, he bestowed a collar of
honour upon his dog. So keen was Napoleon's resentment at this
raillery that he even proposed to send him a challenge to a duel in
the Bois de Boulogne.[283] The challenge, of course, was not sent; a
show of reconciliation was assumed between the two warriors; but
Napoleon retained a covert dislike of the man whose brusque
republicanism was applauded by a large portion of the army and by the
_frondeurs_ of Paris.

The ruin of Moreau, and the confusion alike of French royalists and
of the British Ministry, could now be assured by the encouragement of
a Jacobin-Royalist conspiracy, in which English officials should be
implicated. Moreau was notoriously incapable in the sphere of
political intrigue: the royalist coteries in London presented just the
material on which the _agent provocateur_ delights to work; and some
British officials could, doubtless, with equal ease be drawn into the
toils. Méhée de la Touche has left a highly spiced account of his
adventures; but it must, of course, be received with distrust.[284]

Proceeding first to Guernsey, he gained the confidence of the
Governor, General Doyle; and, fortified by recommendations from him,
he presented himself to the _émigrés_ at London, and had an interview
with Lord Hawkesbury and the Under-Secretaries of State, Messrs.
Hammond and Yorke. He found it easy to inflame the imagination of the
French exiles, who clutched at the proposed union between the
irreconcilables, the extreme royalists, and the extreme republicans;
and it was forthwith arranged that Napoleon's power, which rested on
the support of the peasants, in fact of the body of France, should be
crushed by an enveloping move of the tips of the wings.

Méhée's narrative contains few details and dates, such as enable one
to test his assertions. But I have examined the Puisaye Papers,[285]
and also the Foreign and Home Office archives, and have found proofs
of the complicity of our Government, which it will be well to present
here connectedly. Taken singly they are inconclusive, but collectively
their importance is considerable. In our Foreign Office Records
(France, No 70) there is a letter, dated London, August 30th, 1803,
from the Baron de Roll, the factotum of the exiled Bourbons, to Mr.
Hammond, our Permanent Under-Secretary at the Foreign Office, asking
him to call on the Comte d'Artois at his residence, No. 46, Baker
Street. That the deliberations at that house were not wholly peaceful
appears from a long secret memorandum of October 24th, 1803, in which
the Comte d'Artois reviews the career of "that _miserable adventurer_"
(Bonaparte), so as to prove that his present position is precarious
and tottering. He concludes by naming those who desired his
overthrow--Moreau, Reynier, Bernadotte, Simon, Masséna, Lannes, and
Férino: Sieyès, Carnot, Chénier, Fouché, Barras, Tallien, Rewbel,
Lamarque, and Jean de Bry. Others would not attack him "corps à
corps," but disliked his supremacy. These two papers prove that our
Government was aware of the Bourbon plot. Another document, dated
London, November 18th, 1803, proves its active complicity. It is a
list of the French royalist officers "who had set out or were ready to
set out." All were in our pay, two at six shillings, five at four
shillings, and nine at two shillings a day. It would be indelicate to
reveal the names, but among them occurs that of Joachim P.J. Cadoudal.
The list is drawn up and signed by Frieding--a name that was
frequently used by Pichegru as an _alias_. In his handwriting also is
a list of "royalist officers for whom I demand a year's pay in
advance"--five generals, thirteen _chefs de légion_, seventeen _chefs
de bataillon_, and nineteen captains. The pay claimed amounts to
£3,110 15_s._[286] That some, at least, of our Admiralty officials
also aided Cadoudal is proved by a "most secret" letter, dated
Admiralty Office, July 31st, 1803, from E. N[epean] to Admiral Montagu
in the Downs, charging him to help the bearer, Captain Wright, in the
execution of "a very important service," and to provide for him "one
of the best of the hired cutters or luggers under your orders."
Another "most secret" Admiralty letter, of January 9th, 1804, orders a
frigate or large sloop to be got ready to convey secretly "an officer
of rank and consideration" (probably Pichegru) to the French coast.
Wright carried over the conspirators in several parties, until chance
threw him into Napoleon's power and consigned him to an ignominious
death, probably suicide.

Finally, there is the letter of Mr. Arbuthnot, Parliamentary Secretary
at the Foreign Office (dated March 12th, 1804), to Sir Arthur Paget,
in which he refers to the "sad result of all our fine projects for the
re-establishment of the Bourbons: ... we are, of course, greatly
apprehensive for poor Moreau's safety."[287]

In face of this damning evidence the ministerial denials of complicity
must be swept aside.[288] It is possible, however, that the plot was
connived at, not by the more respectable chiefs, but by young and
hot-headed officials. Even in the summer of 1803 that Cabinet was
already tottering under the attacks of the Whigs and the followers of
Pitt. The blandly respectable Addington and Hawkesbury with his
"vacant grin"[289] were evidently no match for Napoleon; and
Arbuthnot himself dubs Addington "a poor wretch universally despised
and laught at," and pronounces the Cabinet "the most inefficient that
ever curst a country." I judge, therefore, that our official aid to
the conspirators was limited to the Under-Secretaries of the Foreign,
War, and Admiralty Offices. Moreover, the royalist plans, _as revealed
to our officials_, mainly concerned a rising in Normandy and Brittany.
Our Government would not have paid the salaries of fifty-four royalist
officers--many of them of good old French families--if it had been
only a question of stabbing Napoleon. The lists of those officers were
drawn up here in November, 1803, that is, three months after Georges
Cadoudal had set out for Normandy and Paris to collect his
desperadoes; and it seems most probable that the officers of the
"royal army" were expected merely to clinch Cadoudal's enterprise by
rekindling the flame of revolt in the north and west. French agents
were trying to do the same in Ireland, and a plot for the murder of
George III. was thought to have been connived at by the French
authorities. But, when all is said, the British Government must stand
accused of one of the most heinous of crimes. The whole truth was not
known at Paris; but it was surmised; and the surmise was sufficient to
envenom the whole course of the struggle between England and Napoleon.

Having now established the responsibility of British officials in
this, the most famous plot of the century, we return to describe the
progress of the conspiracy and the arts employed by Napoleon to defeat
it. His tool, Méhée de la Touche, after entrapping French royalists
and some of our own officials in London, proceeded to the Continent in
order to inveigle some of our envoys. He achieved a brilliant success.
He called at Munich, in order, as he speciously alleged, to arrange
with our ambassador there the preparations for the royalist plot. The
British envoy, who bore the honoured name of Francis Drake, was a
zealous intriguer closely in touch with the _émigrés_: he was
completely won over by the arts of Méhée: he gave the spy money,
supplied him with a code of false names, and even intrusted him with a
recipe for sympathetic ink. Thus furnished, Méhée proceeded to Paris,
sent his briber a few harmless bulletins, took his information to the
police, and, _at Napoleon's dictation_, gave him news that seriously
misled our Government and Nelson.[290]


The same trick was tried on Stuart, our ambassador at Vienna, who had
a tempting offer from a French agent to furnish news from every French
despatch to or from Vienna. Stuart had closed with the offer, when
suddenly the man was seized at the instance of the French ambassador,
and his papers were searched.[291] In this case there were none that
compromised Stuart, and his career was not cut short in the
ignominious manner that befell Drake, over whom there may be inscribed
as epitaph the warning which Talleyrand gave to young aspirants--"et
surtout pas trop de zèle."

Thus, while the royalists were conspiring the overthrow of Napoleon,
he through his agents was countermining their clumsy approach to his
citadel, and prepared to blow them sky high when their mines were
crowded for the final rush. The royalist plans matured slowly owing to
changes which need not be noticed. Georges Cadoudal quitted London,
and landed at Biville, a smuggler's haunt not far from Dieppe, on
August 23rd, 1803. Thence he made his way to Paris, and spent some
months in striving to enlist trusty recruits. It has been stated that
the plot never aimed at assassination, but at the overpowering of the
First Consul's escort, and the seizure of his person, during one of
his journeys. Then he was to be forcibly transferred to the northern
coast on relays of horses, and hurried over to England.[292] But,
though the plotters threw the veil of decency over their enterprise by
calling it kidnapping, they undoubtedly meant murder. Among Drake's
papers there is a hint that the royalist emissaries were _at first_ to
speak only of the seizure and deportation of the First Consul.

Whatever may have been their precise aims, they were certainly known
to Napoleon and his police. On November 1st, 1803, he wrote to
Régnier:


     "You must not be in a hurry about the arrests: when the author
     [Méhée] has given in all the information, we will draw up a plan
     with him, and will see what is to be done. I wish him to write to
     Drake, and, in order to make him trustful, inform him that, before
     the great blow can be dealt, he believes he [Méhée] can promise to
     have seized on the table of the First Consul, in his secret room,
     notes written in his own hand relating to his great expedition,
     and every other important document."

Napoleon revelled in the details of his plan for hoisting the
engineers with their own petards.[293] But he knew full well that the
plot, when fully ripe, would yield far more than the capture of a few
Chouans. He must wait until Moreau was implicated. The man selected by
the _émigrés_ to sound Moreau was Pichegru, and this choice was the
sole instance of common sense displayed by them. It was Pichegru who
had marked out the future fortune of Moreau in the campaign of 1793,
and yet he had seemed to be the victim of that general's gross
ingratitude at Fructidor. Who then so fitted as he to approach the
victor of Hohenlinden? Through a priest named David and General
Lajolais, an interview was arranged; and shortly after Pichegru's
arrival in France, these warriors furtively clasped hands in the
capital which had so often resounded with their praises (January,
1804). They met three or four times, and cleared away some of the
misunderstandings of the past. But he would have nothing to do with
Georges, and when Pichegru mooted the overthrow of Bonaparte and the
restoration of the Bourbons, he firmly warned him: "Do with Bonaparte
what you will, but do not ask me to put a Bourbon in his place."

From this resolve Moreau never receded. But his calculating reserve did
not save him. Already several suspects had been imprisoned in Normandy.
At Napoleon's suggestion five of them were condemned to death, in the
hope of extorting a confession; and the last a man named Querelle,
gratified his gaolers by revealing (February 14th) not only the lodging
of Georges in Paris, but the intention of other conspirators, among whom
was a French prince, to land at Biville. The plot was now coming to a
head, and so was the counter-plot. On the next day Moreau was arrested
by order of Napoleon, who feigned the utmost grief and surprise at
seeing the victor of Hohenlinden mixed up with royalist assassins in the
pay of England.[294]

Elated by this success, and hoping to catch the Comte d'Artois
himself, Napoleon forthwith despatched to that cliff one of his most
crafty and devoted servants, Savary, who commanded the _gendarmerie
d'élite._ Tricked out in suitable disguises, and informed by a
smuggler as to the royalist signals, Savary eagerly awaited the royal
quarry, and when Captain Wright's vessel hove in sight, he used his
utmost arts to imitate the signals that invited a landing. But the
crew were not to be lured to shore; and after fruitless endeavours he
returned to Paris--in time to take part in the murder of the Duc
d'Enghien.

Meanwhile the police were on the tracks of Pichegru and Georges. On
the last day of February the general was seized in bed in the house of
a treacherous friend: but not until the gates of Paris had been
closed, and domiciliary visits made, was Georges taken, and then only
after a desperate affray (March 9th). The arrest of the two Polignacs
and the Marquis de Rivière speedily followed.

Hitherto Napoleon had completely outwitted his foes. He knew well
enough that he was in no danger.

    "I have run no real risks," he wrote to Melzi, "for the police had
    its eyes on all these machinations, and I have the consolation of
    not finding reason to complain of a single man among all those I
    have placed in this huge administration, Moreau stands alone."
    [295]

But now, at the moment of victory, when France was swelling with rage
against royalist assassins, English gold, and Moreau's treachery, the
First Consul was hurried into an enterprise which gained him an
imperial crown and flecked the purple with innocent blood.

There was living at Ettenheim, in Baden, not far from the Rhine, a
young prince of the House of Condé, the Duc d'Enghien. Since the
disbanding of the corps of Condé he had been tranquilly enjoying the
society of the Princess Charlotte de Rohan, to whom he had been
secretly married. Her charms, the attractions of the chase, the
society of a small circle of French _émigrés_, and an occasional
secret visit to the theatre at Strassburg, formed the chief diversions
to an otherwise monotonous life, until he was fired with the hope of a
speedy declaration of war by Austria and Russia against Napoleon.
Report accused him of having indiscreetly ventured in disguise far
into France; but he indignantly denied it. His other letters also
prove that he was not an accomplice of the Cadoudal-Pichegru
conspiracy. But Napoleon's spies gave information which seemed to
implicate him in that enterprise. Chief among them was Méhée, who, at
the close of February, hovered about Ettenheim and heard that the duke
was often absent for many days at a time.

Napoleon received this news on March 1st, and ordered the closest
investigation to be made. One of his spies reported that the young
duke associated with General Dumouriez. In reality the general was in
London, and the spy had substituted the name of a harmless old
gentleman called Thumery. When Napoleon saw the name of Dumouriez with
that of the young duke his rage knew no bounds. "Am I a dog to be
beaten to death in the street? Why was I not warned that they were
assembling at Ettenheim? Are my murderers sacred beings? They attack my
very person. I'll give them war for war." And he overwhelmed with
reproaches both Réal and Talleyrand for neglecting to warn him of these
traitors and assassins clustering on the banks of the Rhine. The seizure
of Georges Cadoudal and the examination of one of his servants helped to
confirm Napoleon's surmise that he was the victim of a plot of which the
duke and Dumouriez were the real contrivers, while Georges was their
tool. Cadoudal's servant stated that there often came to his master's
house a mysterious man, at whose entry not only Georges but also the
Polignacs and Rivière always arose. This convinced Napoleon that the Duc
d'Enghien was directing the plot, and he determined to have the duke and
Dumouriez seized. That they were on German soil was naught to him.
Talleyrand promised that he could soon prevail on the Elector to
overlook this violation of his territory, and the question was then
discussed in an informal council. Talleyrand, Réal, and Fouché advised
the severest measures. Lebrun spoke of the outcry which such a violation
of neutral territory would arouse, but bent before the determination of
the First Consul; and the regicide Cambacérès alone offered a firm
opposition to an outrage which must embroil France with Germany and
Russia. Despite this protest, Napoleon issued his orders and then
repaired to the pleasing solitudes of La Malmaison, where he remained in
almost complete seclusion. The execution of the orders was now left to
Generals Ordener and Caulaincourt, who arranged the raid into Baden; to
Murat, who was now Governor of Paris; and to the devoted and
unquestioning Savary and Réal.

The seizure of the duke was craftily effected. Troops and gendarmes
were quietly mustered at Strassburg: spies were sent forward to survey
the ground; and as the dawn of the 15th of March was lighting up the
eastern sky, thirty Frenchmen encircled Enghien's abode. His hot blood
prompted him to fight, but on the advice of a friend he quietly
surrendered, was haled away to Strassburg, and thence to the castle of
Vincennes on the south-east of Paris. There everything was ready for
his reception on the evening of March 20th. The pall of secrecy was
spread over the preparations. The name of Plessis was assigned to the
victim, and Harel, the governor of the castle, was left ignorant of
his rank.[296]

Above all, he was to be tried by a court-martial of officers, a form
of judgment which was summary and without appeal; whereas the ordinary
courts of justice must be slow and open to the public gaze. It was
true that the Senate had just suspended trial by jury in the case of
attempts against the First Consul's life--a device adopted in view of
the Moreau prosecution. But the certainty of a conviction was not
enough: Napoleon determined to strike terror into his enemies, such as
a swift and secret blow always inspires. He had resolved on a trial by
court-martial when he still believed Enghien to be an accomplice of
Dumouriez; and when, late on Saturday, March 17th, that mistake was
explained, his purpose remained unshaken--unshaken too by the high
mass of Easter Sunday, March 18th, which he heard in state at the
Chapel of the Tuileries. On the return journey to Malmaison Josephine
confessed to Madame de Rémusat her fears that Bonaparte's will was
unalterably fixed: "I have done what I could, but I fear his mind is
made up." She and Joseph approached him once more in the park while
Talleyrand was at his side. "I fear that cripple," she said, as they
came near, and Joseph drew the Minister aside. All was in vain. "Go
away; you are a child; you don't understand public duties." This was
Josephine's final repulse.

On March 20th Napoleon drew up the form of questions to be put to the
prisoner. He now shifted the ground of accusation. Out of eleven
questions only the last three referred to the duke's connection with
the Cadoudal plot.[297] For in the meantime he had found in the
duke's papers proofs of his having offered his services to the
British Government for the present war,[298] his hopes of
participation in a future Continental war, but nothing that could
implicate him in the Cadoudal plot. The papers were certainly
disappointing; and that is doubtless the reason why, after examining
them on March 19th, he charged Réal "to take secret cognizance of
these papers, along with Desmarest. One must prevent any talk on the
more or less of charges contained in these papers." The same fact
doubtless led to their abstraction along with the _dossier_ of the
proceedings of the court-martial.[299]

The task of summoning the officers who were to form the court-martial
was imposed on Murat. But when this bluff, hearty soldier received
this order, he exclaimed: "What! are they trying to soil my uniform! I
will not allow it! Let him appoint them himself if he wants to." But a
second and more imperious mandate compelled him to perform this
hateful duty. The seven senior officers of the garrison of Paris now
summoned were ordered not to separate until judgment was passed.[300]
At their head was General Hulin, who had shown such daring in the
assault on the Bastille; and thus one of the early heroes of the
Revolution had the evening of his days shrouded over with the horrors
of a midnight murder. Finally, the First Consul charged Savary, who
had just returned to Paris from Biville, furious at being baulked of
his prey, to proceed to Vincennes with a band of his gendarmes for the
carrying out of the sentence.

The seven officers as yet knew nothing of the nature of their mission,
or of martial law. "We had not," wrote Hulin long afterwards, "the least
idea about trials; and, worst of all, the reporter and clerk had
scarcely any more experience."[301] The examination of the prisoner was
curt in the extreme. He was asked his name, date and place of birth,
whether he had borne arms against France and was in the pay of England.
To the last questions he answered decisively in the affirmative, adding
that he wished to take part in the new war against France.

His replies were the same as he made in his preliminary examination,
which he closed with the written and urgent request for a personal
interview with Napoleon. To this request the court proposed to accede;
but Savary, who had posted himself behind Hulin's chair, at once
declared this step to be _inopportune_. The judges had only one chance
of escape from their predicament, namely, to induce the duke to
invalidate his evidence: this he firmly refused to do, and when Hulin
warned him of the danger of his position, he replied that he knew it,
and wished to have an interview with the First Consul.

The court then passed sentence, and, "in accordance with article
(blank) of the law (blank) to the following effect (blank) condemned
him to suffer death." Ashamed, as it would seem, of this clumsy
condemnation, Hulin was writing to Bonaparte to request for the
condemned man the personal interview which he craved, when Savary took
the pen from his hands, with the words: "Your work is done: the rest
is my business."[302] The duke was forthwith led out into the moat of
the castle, where a few torches shed their light on the final scene of
this sombre tragedy: he asked for a priest, but this was denied him:
he then bowed his head in prayer, lifted those noble features towards
the soldiers, begged them not to miss their aim, and fell, shot
through the heart. Hard by was a grave, which, in accordance with
orders received on the previous day, the governor had caused to be
made ready; into this the body was thrown pell-mell, and the earth
closed over the remains of the last scion of the warlike House of
Condé.

Twelve years later loving hands disinterred the bones and placed them
in the chapel of the castle. But even then the world knew not all the
enormity of the crime. It was reserved for clumsy apologists like
Savary to provoke replies and further investigations. The various
excuses which throw the blame on Talleyrand, and on everyone but the
chief actor, are sufficiently disposed of by the ex-Emperor's will. In
that document Napoleon brushed away the excuses which had previously
been offered to the credulity or malice of his courtiers, and took on
himself the responsibility for the execution:

     "I caused the Duc d'Enghien to be arrested and judged, because it
     was necessary for the safety, the interest, and the honour of the
     French people when the Comte d'Artois, by his own confession, was
     supporting sixty assassins at Paris. In similar circumstances I
     would act in the same way again."[303]


The execution of the Duc d'Enghien is one of the most important
incidents of this period, so crowded with momentous events. The
sensation of horror which it caused can be gauged by the mental agony
of Madame de Rémusat and of others who had hitherto looked on
Bonaparte as the hero of the age and the saviour of the country. His
mother hotly upbraided him, saying it was an atrocious act, the stain
of which could never be wiped out, and that he had yielded to the
advice of enemies' eager to tarnish his fame.[304] Napoleon said
nothing, but shut himself up in his cabinet, revolving these terrible
words, which doubtless bore fruit in the bitter reproaches later to be
heaped upon Talleyrand for his share in the tragedy. Many royalists
who had begun to rally to his side now showed their indignation at the
deed. Chateaubriand, who was about to proceed as the envoy of France
to the Republic of Valais, at once offered his resignation and assumed
an attitude of covert defiance. And that was the conduct of all
royalists who were not dazzled by the glamour of success or cajoled by
Napoleon's favours. Many of his friends ventured to show their horror
of this Corsican vendetta; and a _mot_ which was plausibly, but it
seems wrongly, attributed to Fouché, well sums up the general opinion
of that callous society: "It was worse than a crime--it was a
blunder."

Scarcely had Paris recovered from this sensation when, on April 6th,
Pichegru was found strangled in prison; and men silently but almost
unanimously hailed it as the work of Napoleon's Mamelukes. This
judgment, however natural after the Enghien affair, seems to be
incorrect. It is true the corpse bore marks which scarcely tallied with
suicide: but Georges Cadoudal, whose cell was hard by, heard no sound of
a scuffle; and it is unlikely that so strong a man as Pichegru would
easily have succumbed to assailants. It is therefore more probable that
the conqueror of Holland, shattered by his misfortunes and too proud to
undergo a public trial, cut short a life which already was doomed. Never
have plotters failed more ignominiously and played more completely into
the hands of their enemy. A _mot_ of the Boulevards wittily sums up the
results of their puny efforts: "They came to France to give her a king,
and they gave her an Emperor."

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XX

THE DAWN OF THE EMPIRE


For some time the question of a Napoleonic dynasty had been freely
discussed; and the First Consul himself had latterly confessed his
intentions to Joseph in words that reveal his super-human confidence
and his caution: "I always intended to end the Revolution by the
establishment of heredity: but I thought that such a step could not be
taken before the lapse of five or six years." Events, however, bore
him along on a favouring tide. Hatred of England, fear of Jacobin
excesses, indignation at the royalist schemes against his life, and
finally even the execution of Enghien, helped on the establishment of
the Empire. Though moderate men of all parties condemned the murder,
the remnants of the Jacobin party hailed it with joy. Up to this time
they had a lingering fear that the First Consul was about to play the
part of Monk. The pomp of the Tuileries and the hated Concordat seemed
to their crooked minds but the prelude to a recall of the Bourbons,
whereupon priestcraft, tithes, and feudalism would be the order of the
day. Now at last the tragedy of Vincennes threw a lurid light into the
recesses of Napoleon's ambition; and they exclaimed, "He is one of
us." It must thenceforth be war to the knife between the Bourbons and
Bonaparte; and his rule would therefore be the best guarantee for the
perpetual ownership of the lands confiscated during the
Revolution.[305]

To a materialized society that great event had come to be little more
than a big land investment syndicate, of which Bonaparte was now to be
the sole and perpetual director. This is the inner meaning of the
references to the Social Contract which figure so oddly among the
petitions for hereditary rule. The Jacobins, except a few conscientious
stalwarts, were especially alert in the feat of making extremes meet.
Fouché, who now wriggled back into favour and office, appealed to the
Senate, only seven days after the execution, to establish hereditary
power as the only means of ending the plots against Napoleon's life;
for, as the opportunist Jacobins argued, if the hereditary system were
adopted, conspiracies to murder would be meaningless, when, even if they
struck down one man, they must fail to shatter the system that
guaranteed the Revolution.

The cue having been thus dextrously given, appeals and petitions for
hereditary rule began to pour in from all parts of France. The grand
work of the reorganization of France certainly furnished a solid claim
on the nation's gratitude. The recent promulgation of the Civil Code
and the revival of material prosperity redounded to Napoleon's glory;
and with equal truth and wit he could claim the diadem as a fit reward
_for having revived many interests while none had been displaced._
Such a remark and such an exploit proclaim the born ruler of men. But
the Senate overstepped all bounds of decency when it thus addressed
him: "You are founding a new era: but you ought to make it last for
ever: splendour is nothing without duration." The Greeks who fawned on
Persian satraps did not more unman themselves than these pensioned
sycophants, who had lived through the days of 1789 but knew them not.
This fulsome adulation would be unworthy of notice did it not convey
the most signal proof of the danger which republics incur when men
lose sight of the higher aims of life and wallow among its sordid
interests.[306]



After the severe drilling of the last four years, the Chambers voted
nearly unanimously in favour of a Napoleonic dynasty. The Corps
Législatif was not in session, and it was not convoked. The Senate,
after hearing Fouché's unmistakable hints, named a commission of its
members to report on hereditary rule, and then waited on events. These
were decided mainly in private meetings of the Council of State, where
the proposal met with some opposition from Cambacérès, Merlin, and
Thibaudeau. But of what avail are private remonstrances when in open
session opponents are dumb and supporters vie in adulation? In the
Tribunate, on April 23rd, an obscure member named Curée proposed the
adoption of the hereditary principle. One man alone dared openly to
combat the proposal, the great Carnot; and the opposition of Curée to
Carnot might have recalled to the minds of those abject champions of
popular liberty the verse that glitters amidst the literary rubbish of
the Roman Empire:

  "Victrix causa deis placuit, sed victa Catoni."

The Tribunate named a commission to report; it was favourable to the
Bonapartes. The Senate voted in the same sense, three Senators alone,
among them Grégoire, Bishop of Blois, voting against it. Sieyès and
Lanjuinais were absent; but the well-salaried lord of the manor of
Crosne must have read with amused contempt the resolution of this
body, which he had designed to be the _guardian of the republican
constitution_:

     "The French have conquered liberty: they wish to preserve their
     conquest: they wish for repose after victory. They will owe this
     glorious repose to the hereditary rule of a single man, who, raised
     above all, is to defend public liberty, maintain equality, and
     lower his fasces before the sovereignty of the people that
     proclaims him."


In this way did France reduce to practice the dogma of Rousseau with
regard to the occasional and temporary need of a dictator.[307]

When the commonalty are so obsequious, any title can be taken by the
one necessary man. Napoleon at first affected to doubt whether the
title of Stadtholder would not be more seemly than that of Emperor;
and in one of the many conferences held on this topic, Miot de Melito
advocated the retention of the term Consul for its grand republican
simplicity. But it was soon seen that the term Emperor was the only
one which satisfied Napoleon's ambition and French love of splendour.
Accordingly a _senatus consultum_ of May 18th, 1804, formally decreed
to him the title of Emperor of the French. As for his former
colleagues, Cambacérès and Lebrun, they were stultified with the
titles of Arch-chancellor and Arch-treasurer of the Empire: his
brother Joseph received the title of Grand Elector, borrowed from the
Holy Roman Empire, and oddly applied to an hereditary empire where the
chief _had_ been appointed: Louis was dubbed Constable: two other
grand dignities, those of Arch-chancellor of State and High Admiral,
were not as yet filled, but were reserved for Napoleon's relatives by
marriage, Eugène Beauharnais and Murat. These six grand dignitaries of
the new Empire were to be irresponsible and irremovable, and, along
with the Emperor, they formed the Grand Council of the Empire.

On lesser individuals the rays of the imperial diadem cast a fainter
glow. Napoleon's uncle, Cardinal Fesch, became Grand Almoner;
Berthier, Grand Master of the Hounds; Talleyrand, Grand Chamberlain;
Duroc, Grand Marshal of the Palace; and Caulaincourt, Master of the
Horse, the acceptance of which title seemed to the world to convict
him of full complicity in the schemes for the murder of the Duc
d'Enghien. For the rest, the Emperor's mother was to be styled _Madame
Mère_; his sisters became Imperial Highnesses, with their several
establishments of ladies-in-waiting; and Paris fluttered with excitement
at each successive step upwards of expectant nobles, regicides,
generals, and stockjobbers towards the central galaxy of the Corsican
family, which, ten years before, had subsisted on the alms of the
Republic one and indivisible.

It remained to gain over the army. The means used were profuse, in
proportion as the task was arduous. The following generals were
distinguished as Marshals of the Empire (May 19th): Berthier, Murat,
Masséna, Augereau, Lannes, Jourdan, Ney, Soult, Brune, Davoust,
Bessières, Moncey, Mortier, and Bernadotte; two marshal's bâtons were
held in reserve as a reward for future service, and four aged
generals, Lefebvre, Serrurier, Pérignon, and Kellerman (the hero of
Valmy), received the title of honorary marshals. In one of his
conversations with Roederer, the Emperor frankly avowed his reasons
for showering these honours on his military chiefs; it was in order to
assure the imperial dignity to himself; for how could they object to
this, when they themselves received honours so lofty?[308] The
confession affords a curious instance of Napoleon's unbounded trust
in the most elementary, not to say the meanest, motives of human
conduct. Suitable rewards were bestowed on officers of the second
rank. But it was at once remarked that determined and outspoken
republicans like Suchet, Gouvion St. Cyr, and Macdonald, whose talents
and exploits far outstripped those of many of the marshals, were
excluded from their ranks. St. Cyr was at Taranto, and Macdonald,
after an enforced diplomatic mission to Copenhagen, was received on
his recall with much coolness.[309] Other generals who had given
umbrage at the Tuileries were more effectively broken in by a term of
diplomatic banishment. Lannes at Lisbon and Brune at Constantinople
learnt a little diplomacy and some complaisance to the head of the
State, and were taken back to Napoleon's favour. Bernadotte, though ever
suspected of Jacobinism and feared for the forceful ambition that sprang
from the blending of Gascon and Moorish blood in his veins, was now also
treated with the consideration due to one who had married Joseph
Bonaparte's sister-in-law: he received at Napoleon's hands the house in
Paris which had formerly belonged to Moreau: the exile's estate of
Grosbois, near Paris, went to reward the ever faithful Berthier.
Augereau, half cured of his Jacobinism by the disfavour of the
Directory, was now drilling a small French force and Irish volunteers at
Brest. But the Grand Army, which comprised the pick of the French
forces, was intrusted to the command of men on whom Napoleon could
absolutely rely, Davoust, Soult, and Ney; and, in that splendid force,
hatred of England and pride in Napoleon's prowess now overwhelmed all
political considerations.

These arrangements attest the marvellous foresight and care which
Napoleon brought to bear on all affairs: even if the discontented
generals and troops had protested against the adoption of the Empire
and the prosecution of Moreau, they must have been easily overpowered.
In some places, as at Metz, the troops and populace fretted against
the Empire and its pretentious pomp; but the action of the commanders
soon restored order. And thus it came to pass that even the soldiery
that still cherished the Republic raised not a musket while the Empire
was founded, and Moreau was accused of high treason.

The record of the French revolutionary generals is in the main a
gloomy one. If in 1795 it had been prophesied that all those generals
who bore the tricolour to victory would vanish or bow their heads
before a Corsican, the prophet would speedily have closed his
croakings for ever. Yet the reality was even worse. Marceau and Hoche
died in the Rhineland: Kléber and Desaix fell on the same day, by
assassination and in battle: Richepanse, Leclerc, and many other brave
officers rotted away in San Domingo: Pichegru died a violent death in
prison: Carnot was retiring into voluntary exile: Masséna and
Macdonald were vegetating in inglorious ease: others were fast
descending to the rank of flunkeys; and Moreau was on his trial for
high treason.

Even the populace, dazzled with glitter and drunk with sensations,
suffered some qualms at seeing the victor of Hohenlinden placed in the
dock; and the grief of the scanty survivors of the Army of the Rhine
portended trouble if the forms of justice were too much strained.
Trial by jury had been recently dispensed with in cases that concerned
the life of Napoleon. Consequently the prisoner, along with Georges
and his confederates, could be safely arraigned before judges in open
court; and in that respect the trial contrasted with the midnight
court-martial of Vincennes. Yet in no State trial have judges been
subjected to more official pressure for the purpose of assuring a
conviction.[310] The cross examination of numerous witnesses proved
that Moreau had persistently refused his help to the plot; and the
utmost that could be urged against him was that he desired Napoleon's
overthrow, had three interviews with Pichegru, and did not reveal the
plot to the authorities. That is to say, he was guilty of passively
conniving at the success of a plot which a "good citizen" ought to
have denounced.

For these reasons the judges sentenced him to two years'
imprisonment. This judgment excessively annoyed Napoleon, who desired
to use his imperial prerogative of pardon on Moreau's life, not on a
mere term of imprisonment; and with a show of clemency that veiled a
hidden irritation, he now released him provided that he retired to the
United States.[311] To that land of free men the victor of Hohenlinden
retired with a dignity which almost threw a veil over his past
incapacity and folly; and, for the present at least, men could say that
the end of his political career was nobler than Pompey's, while
Napoleon's conduct towards his rival lacked the clemency which graced
the triumph of Cæsar.

As for the actual conspirators, twenty of them were sentenced to death
on June 10th, among them being the elder of the two Polignacs, the
Marquis de Rivière, and Georges Cadoudal. Urgent efforts were made on
behalf of the nobles by Josephine and "Madame Mère"; and Napoleon
grudgingly commuted their sentence to imprisonment. But the plebeian,
Georges Cadoudal, suffered death for the cause that had enlisted all
the fierce energies of his youth and manhood. With him perished the
bravest of Bretons and the last man of action of the royalists.
Thenceforth Napoleon was not troubled by Bourbon plotters; and
doubtless the skill with which his agents had nursed this silly plot
and sought to entangle all waverers did far more than the strokes of
the guillotine to procure his future immunity. Men trembled before a
union of immeasurable power with unfathomable craft such as recalled
the days of the Emperor Tiberius.

Indeed, Napoleon might now almost say that his chief foes were the
members of his own household. The question of hereditary succession
had already reawakened and intensified all the fierce passions of the
Emperor's relatives. Josephine saw in it the fatal eclipse of a
divorce sweeping towards the dazzling field of her new life, and
Napoleon is known to have thrice almost decided on this step. She no
longer had any hopes of bearing a child; and she is reported by the
compiler of the Fouché "Memoirs" to have clutched at that absurd
device, a supposititious child, which Fouché had taken care to
ridicule in advance. Whatever be the truth of this rumour, she
certainly used all her powers over Napoleon and over
her daughter Hortense, the spouse of Louis Bonaparte, to have their
son recognized as first in the line of direct succession. But this
proposal, which shelved both Joseph and Louis, was not only hotly
resented by the eldest brother, who claimed to be successor designate,
it also aroused the flames of jealousy in Louis himself. It was
notorious that he suspected Napoleon of an incestuous passion for
Hortense, of which his fondness for the little Charles Napoleon was
maliciously urged as proof; and the proposal, when made with trembling
eagerness by Josephine, was hurled back by Louis with brutal violence.
To the clamour of Louis and Joseph the Emperor and Josephine seemed
reluctantly to yield.

New arrangements were accordingly proposed. Lucien and Jerome having,
for the present at least, put themselves out of court by their
unsatisfactory marriages, Napoleon appeared to accept a reconciliation
with Joseph and Louis, and to place them in the order of succession,
as the Senate recommended. But he still reserved the right of adopting
the son of Louis and of thus favouring his chances of priority.
Indeed, it must be admitted that the Emperor at this difficult crisis
showed conjugal tact and affection, for which he has received scant
justice at the hands of Josephine's champions. "How could I divorce
this good wife," he said to Roederer, "because I am becoming great?"
But fate seemed to decree the divorce, which, despite the reasonings
of his brothers, he resolutely thrust aside; for the little boy on
whose life the Empress built so many fond hopes was to be cut off by
an early death in the year 1807.

Then there were frequent disputes between Napoleon and Joseph. Both of
them had the Corsican's instinct in favour of primogeniture; and
hitherto Napoleon had in many ways deferred to his elder brother. Now,
however, he showed clearly that he would brook not the slightest
interference in affairs of State. And truly, if we except Joseph's
diplomatic services, he showed no commanding gifts such as could raise
him aloft along with the bewildering rush of Napoleon's fortunes. The
one was an irrepressible genius, the other was a man of culture and
talent, whose chief bent was towards literature, amours, and the art
of _dolce far niente_, except when his pride was touched: then he was
capable of bursts of passion which seemed to impose even on his
masterful second brother. Lucien, Louis, and even the youthful Jerome,
had the same intractable pride which rose defiant even against
Napoleon. He was determined that his brothers should now take a
subordinate rank, while they regarded the dynasty as largely due to
their exertions at or after Brumaire, and claimed a proportionate
reward. Napoleon, however, saw that a dynasty could not thus be
founded. As he frankly said to Roederer, a dynasty could only take
firm root in France among heirs brought up in a palace: "I have never
looked on my brothers as the natural heirs to power: I only consider
them as men fit to ward off the evils of a minority."

Joseph deeply resented this conduct. He was a Prince of the Empire,
and a Grand Elector; but he speedily found out that this meant nothing
more than occasionally presiding at the Senate, and accordingly
indulged in little acts of opposition that enraged the autocrat. In
his desire to get his brother away from Paris, the Emperor had already
recommended him to take up the profession of arms; for he could not
include him in the succession, and place famous marshals under him if
he knew nothing of an army. Joseph perforce accepted the command of a
regiment, and at thirty-six years of age began to learn drill near
Boulogne.[312] This piece of burlesque was one day to prove infinitely
regrettable. After the disaster of Vittoria, Napoleon doubtless wished
that Joseph had for ever had free play in the tribune of the Senate
rather than have dabbled in military affairs. But in the spring and
summer of 1804 the Emperor noted his every word; so that, when he
ventured to suggest that Josephine should not be crowned at the coming
coronation, Napoleon's wrath blazed forth. Why should Joseph speak of
_his_ rights and _his_ interests? Who had won power? Who deserved to
enjoy power? Power was his (Napoleon's) mistress, and he dared Joseph
to touch her. The Senate or Council of State might oppose him for ten
years, without his becoming a tyrant: "To make me a tyrant one thing
alone is necessary--a movement of my family."[313]

The family, however, did not move. As happened with all the brothers
except Lucien, Joseph gave way at the critical moment. After
threatening at the Council of State to resign his Grand Electorate and
retire to Germany if his wife were compelled to bear Josephine's train
at the coronation, he was informed by the Emperor that either he must
conduct himself dutifully as the first subject of the realm, or retire
into private life, or oppose--and be crushed. The argument was
unanswerable, and Joseph yielded. To save his own and his wife's
feelings, the wording of the official programme was altered: she was
_to support Josephine's mantle_, not _to bear her train_.

In things great and small Napoleon carried his point. Although
Roederer pleaded long and earnestly that Joseph and Louis should come
next to the Emperor in the succession, and inserted a clause in the
report which he was intrusted to draw up, yet by some skilful artifice
this clause was withdrawn from the constitutional act on which the
nation was invited to express its opinion: and France assented to a
_plébiscite_ for the establishment of the Empire in Napoleon's family,
which passed over Joseph and Louis, as well as Lucien and Jerome, and
vested the succession in the natural or adopted son of Napoleon, and
in the heirs male of Joseph or Louis. Consequently these princes had
no place in the succession, except by virtue of the _senatus
consultant_ of May 18th, which gave them a legal right, it is true,
but without the added sanction of the popular vote. More than three
and a half million votes were cast for the new arrangement, a number
which exceeded those given for the Consulate and the Consulate for
Life. As usual, France accepted accomplished facts.

Matters legal and ceremonial were now approaching completion for the
coronation. Negotiations had been proceeding between the Tuileries and
the Vatican, Napoleon begging and indeed requiring the presence of the
Pope on that occasion. Pius VII. was troubled at the thought of
crowning the murderer of the Duc d'Enghien; but he was scarcely his
own master, and the dextrous hints of Napoleon that religion would
benefit if he were present at Notre Dame seem to have overcome his
first scruples, besides quickening the hope of recovering the north of
his States. He was to be disappointed in more ways than one. Religion
was to benefit only from the enhanced prestige given to her rites in
the coming ceremony, not in the practical way that the Pope desired.
And yet it was of the first importance for Napoleon to receive the
holy oil and the papal blessing, for only so could he hope to wean the
affections of royalists from their uncrowned and exiled king.
Doubtless this was one of the chief reasons for the restoration of
religion by the Concordat, as was shrewdly seen at the time by
Lafayette, who laughingly exclaimed: "Confess, general, that your
chief wish is for the little phial."[314] The sally drew from the
First Consul an obscene disclaimer worthy of a drunken ostler.
Nevertheless, the little phial was now on its way.

In order to divest the meeting of Pope and Emperor of any awkward
ceremony, Napoleon arranged that it should take place on the road
between Fontainebleau and Nemours, as a chance incident in the middle
of a day's hunting. The benevolent old pontiff was reclining in his
carriage, weary with the long journey through the cold of an early
winter, when he was startled to see the retinue of his host. The
contrast in every way was striking. The figure of the Emperor had now
attained the fullness which betokens abounding health and strength: his
face was slightly flushed with the hunt and the consciousness that he
was master of the situation, and his form on horseback gained a dignity
from which the shortness of his legs somewhat detracted when on foot. As
he rode up attired in full hunting costume, he might have seemed the
embodiment of triumphant strength. The Pope, on the other hand, clad in
white garments and with white silk shoes, gave an impression of peaceful
benevolence, had not his intellectual features borne signs of the
protracted anxieties of his pontificate. The Emperor threw himself from
his horse and advanced to meet his guest, who on his side alighted,
rather unwillingly, in the mud to give and receive the embrace of
welcome. Meanwhile Napoleon's carriage had been driven up: footmen were
holding open both doors, and an officer of the Court politely handed
Pius VII. to the left door, while the Emperor, entering by the right,
took the seat of honour, and thus settled once for all the vexed
question of social precedence.[315]

During the Pope's sojourn at Fontainebleau, Josephine breathed to him
her anxiety as to her marriage; it having been only a civil contract,
she feared its dissolution, and saw in the Pope's intervention a
chance of a firmer union with her consort. The pontiff comforted her
and required from Napoleon the due solemnization of his marriage; it
was therefore secretly performed by Napoleon's uncle, Cardinal Fesch,
two days before the coronation.[316]

It was not enough, however, that the successor of St. Peter should
grace the coronation with his presence: the Emperor sought to touch
the imagination of men by figuring as the successor of Charlemagne. We
here approach one of the most interesting experiments of the modern
world, which, if successful, would profoundly have altered the face of
Europe and the character of its States. Even in its failure it attests
Napoleon's vivid imagination and boundless mental resources. He
aspired to be more than Emperor of the French: he wished to make his
Empire a cosmopolitan realm, whose confines might rival those of the
Holy Roman Empire of one thousand years before, and embrace scores of
peoples in a grand, well-ordered European polity.

Already his dominions included a million of Germans in the Rhineland,
Italians of Piedmont, Genoa, and Nice, besides Savoyards, Genevese,
and Belgians. How potent would be his influence on the weltering chaos
of German and Italian States, if these much-divided peoples learnt to
look on him as the successor to the glories of Charlemagne! And this
honour he was now to claim. However delusive was the parallel between
the old semi-tribal polity and modern States where the peoples were
awakening to a sense of their nationality, Napoleon was now in a
position to clear the way for his great experiment. He had two charms
wherewith to work, material prosperity and his gift of touching the
popular imagination. The former of these was already silently working
in his favour: the latter was first essayed at the coronation.

Already, after a sojourn at Boulogne, he had visited Aix-la-Chapelle,
the city where Charlemagne's relics are entombed, and where Victor
Hugo in some of his sublimest verse has pictured Charles V. kneeling
in prayer to catch the spirit of the mediæval hero. Thither went
Napoleon, but in no suppliant mood; for when Josephine was offered the
arm-bones of the great dead, she also proudly replied that she would
not deprive the city of that precious relic, especially as she had the
support of an arm as great as that of Charlemagne.[317] The insignia
and the sword of that monarch were now brought to Paris, and shed on
the ceremony of coronation that historic gleam which was needed to
redeem it from tawdry commonplace.

All that money and art could do to invest the affair with pomp and
circumstance had already been done. The advice of the new Master of
the Ceremonies, M. de Ségur, and the hints of the other nobles who had
rallied to the new Empire, had been carefully collated by the untiring
brain that now watched over France. The sum of 1,123,000 francs had
been expended on the coronation robes of Emperor and Empress, and far
more on crowns and tiaras. The result was seen in costumes of
matchless splendour; the Emperor wore a French coat of red velvet
embroidered in gold, a short cloak adorned with bees and the collar of
the Legion of Honour in diamonds; and at the archbishop's palace he
assumed the long purple robe of velvet profusely ornamented with
ermine, while his brow was encircled by a wreath of laurel, meed of
mighty conquerors. In the pommel of his sword flashed the famous Pitt
diamond, which, after swelling the family fortune of the British
statesman, fell to the Regent of France, and now graced the coronation
of her Dictator. The Empress, radiant with joy at her now indissoluble
union, bore her splendours with an easy grace that charmed all
beholders and gave her an almost girlish air. She wore a robe of white
satin, trimmed with silver and gold and besprinkled with golden bees:
her waist and shoulders glittered with diamonds, while on her brows
rested a diadem of the finest diamonds and pearls valued at more than
a million francs.[318] The curious might remember that for a necklace
of less than twice that value the fair fame of Marie Antoinette had
been clouded over and the House of Bourbon shaken to its base.

The stately procession began with an odd incident: Napoleon and
Josephine, misled apparently by the all-pervading splendour of the new
state carriage, seated themselves on the wrong side, that is, in the
seats destined for Joseph and Louis: the mistake was at once made good,
with some merriment; but the superstitious saw in it an omen of
evil.[319] And now, amidst much enthusiasm and far greater curiosity,
the procession wound along through the Rue Nicaise and the Rue St.
Honoré--streets where Bonaparte had won his spurs on the day of
Vendémiaire--over the Pont-Neuf, and so to the venerable cathedral,
where the Pope, chilled by long waiting, was ready to grace the
ceremony. First he anointed Emperor and Empress with the holy oil; then,
at the suitable place in the Mass he blessed their crowns, rings, and
mantles, uttering the traditional prayers for the possession of the
virtues and powers which each might seem to typify. But when he was
about to crown the Emperor, he was gently waved aside, and Napoleon with
his own hands crowned himself. A thrill ran through the august assembly,
either of pity for the feelings of the aged pontiff or of admiration at
the "noble and legitimate pride" of the great captain who claimed as
wholly his own the crown which his own right arm had won. Then the
_cortège_ slowly returned to the middle of the nave, where a lofty
throne had been reared.

Another omen now startled those who laid store by trifles. It was
noticed that the sovereigns in ascending the steps nearly fell
backwards under the weight of their robes and trains, though in the
case of Josephine the anxious moment may have been due to the
carelessness, whether accidental or studied, of her "mantle-bearers."
But to those who looked beneath the surface of things was not this an
all-absorbing portent, that all this religious pomp should be removed
by scarcely eleven years from the time when this same nave echoed to
the shouts and gleamed with the torches of the worshippers of the
newly enthroned Goddess of Reason?

Revolutionary feelings were not wholly dead, but they now vented
themselves merely in gibes. On the night before the coronation the walls
of Paris were adorned with posters announcing: _The last Representation
of the French Revolution--for the Benefit of a poor Corsican Family._
And after the event there were inquiries why the new throne had no
_glands d'or;_ the answer suggested because it was _sanglant_.[320]
Beyond these quips and jests the Jacobins and royalists did not go. When
the phrase _your subjects_ was publicly assigned to the Corps Législatif
by its courtier-like president, Fontanes, there was a flutter of wrath
among those who had hoped that the new Empire was to be republican. But
it quickly passed away; and no Frenchman, except perhaps Carnot, made so
manly a protest as the man of genius at Vienna, who had composed the
"Sinfonia Eroïca," and with grand republican simplicity inscribed it,
"Beethoven à Bonaparte." When the master heard that his former hero had
taken the imperial crown, he tore off the dedication with a volley of
curses on the renegade and tyrant; and in later years he dedicated the
immortal work to the _memory_ of a great man.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXI

THE BOULOGNE FLOTILLA


The establishment of the Empire, as has been seen, provoked few signs
of opposition from the French armies, once renowned for their
Jacobinism; and by one or two instances of well-timed clemency, the
Emperor gained over even staunch republicans. Notably was this the
case with a brave and stalwart colonel, who, enraged at the first
volley of cheers for the Empire, boldly ordered "Silence in the
ranks." At once Napoleon made him general and appointed him one of his
aides-de-camp; and this brave officer, Mouton by name, was later to
gain glory and the title of Comte de Lobau in the Wagram campaign.
These were the results of a timely act of generosity, such as touches
the hearts of any soldiery and leads them to shed their blood like
water. And so when Napoleon, after the coronation, distributed to the
garrison of Paris their standards, topped now by the imperial eagles,
the great Champ de Mars was a scene of wild enthusiasm. The thunderous
shouts that acclaimed the prowess of the new Frankish leader were as
warlike as those which ever greeted the hoisting of a Carolingian King
on the shields of his lieges. Distant nations heard the threatening
din and hastened to muster their forces for the fray.

As yet only England was at war with the Emperor. Against her Napoleon
now prepared to embattle the might of his vast Empire. The
preparations on the northern coast were now wellnigh complete, and
there was only one question to be solved--how to "leap the ditch." It
seems strange to us now that no attempt was made to utilize the great
motive force of the nineteenth century--steam power. And the French
memoir-writers, Marmont, Bourrienne, Pasquier, and Bausset, have
expressed their surprise that so able a chief as Napoleon should have
neglected this potent ally.

Their criticisms seem to be prompted by later reflections rather
than based on an accurate statement of facts. In truth, the
nineteenth-century Hercules was still in his cradle. Henry Bell had in
1800 experimented with a steamer on the Clyde; but it aroused the same
trembling curiosity as Trevithick's first locomotive, or as Fulton's
first paddle-boat built on the Seine in 1803. In fact, this boat of
the great American inventor was so weak that, when at anchor, it broke
in half during a gale, thus ridding itself of the weight of its
cumbrous engine. With his usual energy, Fulton built a larger and
stronger craft, which not only carried the machinery, but, in August,
1803, astonished the members of the French Institute by moving, though
with much circumspection.

Fulton, however, was disappointed, and if we may judge from the scanty
records of his life, he never offered this invention to Napoleon.[321]
He felt the need of better machinery, and as this could only be
procured in England, he gave the order to a Birmingham firm, which
engined his first successful boat, the "Clermont," launched on the
Hudson in 1807. But for the war, perhaps, Fulton would have continued
to live in Paris and made his third attempt there. He certainly never
offered his imperfect steamship to the First Consul. Probably the fact
that his first boat foundered when at anchor in the Seine would have
procured him a rough reception, if he had offered to equip the whole
of the Boulogne flotilla with an invention which had sunk its first
receptacle and propelled the second boat at a snail's pace.

Besides, he had already met with one repulse from Napoleon. He had
offered, first to the Directory and later to the First Consul, a boat
which he claimed would "deliver France and the world from British
oppression."


This was a sailing vessel, which could sink under water and then
discharge under a hostile ship a "carcass" of gunpowder or
_torpedo_--another invention of his fertile brain. The Directory at
once repulsed him. Bonaparte instructed Monge, Laplace, and Volney to
report on this submarine or "plunging" boat, which had a partial
success. It succeeded in blowing up a small vessel in the harbour at
Brest in July, 1801; but the Commission seems to have reported
unfavourably on its utility for offensive purposes. In truth, as
Fulton had not then applied motive power to this invention, the name
"plunging boat" conveyed an exaggerated notion of its functions, which
were more suited to a life of ascetic contemplation than of
destructive activity.

It appears that the memoir-writers named above have confused the two
distinct inventions of Fulton just referred to. In the latter half of
1803 he repaired to England, and later on to the United States, and
after the year 1803 he seems to have had neither the will nor the
opportunity to serve Napoleon. In England he offered his torpedo
patent to the English Admiralty, expressing his hatred of the French
Emperor as a "wild beast who ought to be hunted down." Little was done
with the torpedo in England, except to blow up a vessel off Walmer as
a proof of what it could do. It is curious also that when Bell offered
his paddle-boat to the Admiralty it was refused, though Nelson is said
to have spoken in its favour. The official mind is everywhere hostile
to new inventions; and Marmont suggestively remarks that Bonaparte's
training as an artillerist, and his experience of the inconvenience
and expense resulting from the adoption of changes in that arm, had no
slight influence in setting him against all innovations.

But, to resume our description of the Boulogne flotilla, it may be of
interest to give some hitherto unpublished details about the
flat-bottomed boats, and then to pass in brief review Napoleon's plans
for assuring a temporary command of the Channel.

It is clear that he at first relied almost solely on the flotilla.
After one of his visits to Boulogne, he wrote on November 23rd, 1803,
to Admiral Gantheaume that he would soon have on the northern coast
1,300 flat-bottomed boats able to carry 100,000 men, while the Dutch
flotilla would transport 60,000. "Do you think it will take us to the
English coast? Eight hours of darkness which favour us would decide
the fate of the universe." There is no mention of any convoying fleet:
the First Consul evidently believed that the flotilla could beat off
any attack at sea. This letter offers a signal proof of his inability,
at least at that time, to understand the risks of naval warfare. But
though his precise and logical mind seems then to have been incapable
of fully realizing the conditions of war on the fickle, troublous, and
tide-swept Channel, his admirals urgently warned him against trusting
to shallow, flat-bottomed boats to beat the enemy out at sea; for
though these _praams_ in their coasting trips repelled the attacks of
British cruisers, which dared not come into shallow waters, it did not
follow that they would have the same success in mid-Channel, far away
from coast defences and amidst choppy waves that must render the guns
of keelless boats wellnigh useless.[320]

The present writer, after going through the reports of our admiral
stationed in the Downs, is convinced that our seamen felt a supreme
contempt for the flat-bottomed boats when at sea. After the capture of
one of them, by an English gun-brig, Admiral Montagu reported,
November 23rd, 1803:

    "It is impossible to suppose for an instant that anything
    effective can be produced by such miserable tools, equally
    ill-calculated for the grand essentials in a maritime formation,
    battle and speed: that floored as this wretched vessel is, she
    cannot hug the wind, but must drift bodily to leeward, which
    indeed was the cause of her capture; for, having got a little to
    leeward of Boulogne Bay, it was impossible to get back and she was
    necessitated to steer large for Calais. On the score of battle,
    she has one long 18-pounder, without breeching or tackle,
    traversing on a slide, which can only be fired stem on. The
    8-pounder is mounted aft, but is a fixture: so that literally, if
    one of our small boats was to lay alongside there would be nothing
    but musketry to resist, and those [_sic_] placed in the hands of
    poor wretches weakened by the effect of seasickness, exemplified
    when this gun-boat was captured--the soldiers having retreated to
    the hold, incapable of any energy or manly exertion.... In short,
    Sir, these vessels in my mind are completely contemptible and
    ridiculous, and I therefore conclude that the numbers collected at
    Boulogne are to keep our attention on the _qui vive_, and to gloss
    over the real attack meditated from other points."

The vessel which provoked the contempt of our admiral was not one of
the smallest class: she was 58-1/3 ft. long, 14-1/2 ft. wide, drew 3
ft. forward and 4 ft. aft: her sides rose 3 ft. above the water, and
her capacity was 35 tons. The secret intelligence of the Admiralty for
the years 1804 and 1805 also shows that Dutch sailors were equally
convinced of the unseaworthiness of these craft: Admiral Verhuell
plainly told the French Emperor that, however flatterers might try to
persuade him of the feasibility of the expedition, "nothing but
disgrace could be expected." The same volume (No. 426) contains a
report of the capture of two of the larger class of French _chaloupes_
off Cape La Hogue. Among the prisoners was a young French royalist
named La Bourdonnais: when forced by the conscription to enter
Napoleon's service, he chose to serve with the _chaloupes_ "because
of his conviction that all these flotillas were nothing but bugbears
and would never attempt the invasion so much talked of and in which so
few persons really believe." The same was the opinion of the veteran
General Dumouriez, who, now an exile in England, drew up for our
Government a long report on the proposed invasion and the means of
thwarting it. The reports of our spies also prove that all experienced
seamen on the Continent declared Napoleon's project to be either a
ruse or a foolhardy venture.

The compiler of the Ney "Memoirs," who was certainly well acquainted
with the opinions of that Marshal, then commanding the troops at
Boulogne, also believed that the flotilla was only able to serve as a
gigantic ferry.[322] The French admirals were still better aware of
the terrible risks to their crowded craft in a fight out at sea. They
also pointed out that the difference in the size, draught, and speed
of the boats must cause the dispersion of the flotilla, when its parts
might fall a prey to the more seaworthy vessels of the enemy. Indeed,
the only chance of crossing without much loss seemed to be offered by
a protracted calm, when the British cruisers would be helpless against
a combined attack of a cloud of row-boats. The risks would be greater
during a fog, when the crowd of boats must be liable to collision,
stranding on shoals, and losing their way. Even the departure of this
quaint armada presented grave difficulties: it was found that the
whole force could not clear the harbour in a single tide; and a part
of the flotilla must therefore remain exposed to the British fire
before the whole mass could get under way. For all these reasons
Bruix, the commander of the flotilla, and Decrès, Minister of Marine,
dissuaded Napoleon from attempting the descent without the support of
a powerful covering fleet.

Napoleon's correspondence shows that, by the close of the year 1803,
he had abandoned that first fatuous scheme which gained him from the
wits of Paris the soubriquet of "Don Quixote de la Manche."[323] On
the 7th of December he wrote to Gantheaume, maritime prefect at
Toulon, urging him to press on the completion of his nine ships of the
line and five frigates, and sketching plans of a naval combination that
promised to insure the temporary command of the Channel. Of these only
two need be cited here:

1. "The Toulon squadron will set out on 20th _nivôse_ (January 10th,
1804), will arrive before Cadiz (or Lisbon), will find there the
Rochefort squadron, will sail on without making land, between Brest
and the Sorlingues, will touch at Cape La Hogue, and will pass in
forty-eight hours before Boulogne: thence it will continue to the
mouth of the Scheldt (there procuring masts, cordage, and all needful
things)--or perhaps to Cherbourg.

2. "The Rochefort squadron will set out on 20th _nivôse_, will reach
Toulon the 20th _pluviôse:_ the united squadrons will set sail in
_ventôse_, and arrive in _germinal_ before Boulogne--that is rather
late. In any case the Egyptian Expedition will cover the departure of
the Toulon squadron: everything will be managed _so that Nelson will
first sail for Alexandria_."

These schemes reveal the strong and also the weak qualities of
Napoleon. He perceived the strength of the central position which
France enjoyed on her four coasts; and he now contrived all his
dispositions, both naval and political, so as to tempt Nelson away
eastwards from Toulon during the concentration of the French fleet in
the Channel; and for this purpose he informed the military officers at
Toulon that their destination was Taranto and the Morea. It was to
these points that he wished to decoy Nelson; for this end had he sent
his troops to Taranto, and kept up French intrigues in Corfu, the
Morea, and Egypt; it was for this purpose that he charged that wily
spy Méhée to inform Drake that the Toulon fleet was to take 40,000
French troops to the Morea, and that the Brest fleet, with 200 highly
trained Irish officers, was intended solely for Ireland. But, while
displaying consummate guile, he failed to allow for the uncertainties
of operations conducted by sea. Ignoring the patent fact that the
Toulon fleet was blockaded by Nelson, and that of Rochefort by
Collingwood, he fixed the dates of their departure and junction as
though he were ordering the movements of a _corps d'armée_ in
Provence; and this craving for certainty was to mar his naval plans
and dog his footsteps with the shadow of disaster.[324]

The plan of using the Toulon fleet to cover an invasion of England was
not entirely new. As far back as the days of De Tourville, a somewhat
similar plan had been devised: the French Channel and Atlantic fleets
under that admiral were closely to engage Russell off the Isle of
Wight, while the Toulon squadron, sailing northwards, was to collect
the French transports on the coasts of Normandy for the invasion of
England. Had Napoleon carefully studied French naval history, he would
have seen that the disaster of La Hogue was largely caused by the
severe weather which prevented the rendezvous, and brought about a
hasty and ill-advised alteration in the original scheme. But of all
subjects on which he spoke as an authority, there was perhaps not one
that he had so inadequately studied as naval strategy: yet there was
none wherein the lessons of experience needed so carefully to be laid
to heart.

Fortune seemed to frown on Napoleon's naval schemes: yet she was
perhaps not unkind in thwarting them in their first stages. Events
occurred which early suggested a deviation from the combinations
noticed above. In the last days of 1803, hearing that the English
were about to attack Martinique, he at once wrote to Gantheaume,
urging him to despatch the Toulon squadron under Admiral
Latouche-Tréville for the rescue of this important island. The
commander of the troops, Cervoni, was to be told that the expedition
aimed at the Morea, so that spies might report this news to Nelson,
and it is clear from our admiral's despatches that the ruse half
succeeded. Distracted, however, by the thought that the French might,
after all, aim at Ireland, Nelson clung to the vicinity of Toulon, and
his untiring zeal kept in harbour the most daring admiral in the French
navy, who, despite his advanced age, excited an enthusiasm that none
other could arouse.

To him, in spite of his present ill-fortune, Napoleon intrusted the
execution of a scheme bearing date July 2nd, 1804. Latouche was
ordered speedily to put to sea with his ten ships of the line and four
frigates, to rally a French warship then at Cadiz, release the five
ships of the line and four frigates blockaded at Rochefort by
Collingwood, and then sweep the Channel and convoy the flotilla across
the straits. This has been pronounced by Jurien de la Gravière the
best of all Napoleon's plans: it exposed ships that had long been in
harbour only to a short ocean voyage, and it was free from the
complexity of the later and more grandiose schemes.

But fate interposed and carried off the intrepid commander by that
worst of all deaths for a brave seaman, death by disease in harbour,
where he was shut up by his country's foes (August 20th).

Villeneuve was thereupon appointed to succeed him, while Missiessy
held command at Rochefort. The choice of Villeneuve has always been
considered strange; and the riddle is not solved by the declaration of
Napoleon that he considered that Villeneuve at the Nile showed his
_good fortune_ in escaping with the only French ships which survived
that disaster. A strange reason this: to appoint an admiral commander
of an expedition that was to change the face of the world because his
good fortune consisted in escaping from Nelson![325]

Napoleon now began to widen his plans. According to the scheme of
September 29th, three expeditions were now to set out; the first was
to assure the safety of the French West Indies; the second was to
recover the Dutch colonies in those seas and reinforce the French troops
still holding out in part of St. Domingo; while the third had as its
objective West Africa and St. Helena. The Emperor evidently hoped to
daze us by simultaneous attacks in Africa, America, and also in Asiatic
waters. After these fleets had set sail in October and November, 1804,
Ireland was to be attacked by the Brest fleet now commanded by
Gantheaume. Slipping away from the grip of Cornwallis, he was to pass
out of sight of land and disembark his troops in Lough Swilly. These
troops, 18,000 strong, were under that redoubtable fighter, Augereau;
and had they been landed, the history of the world might have been
different. Leaving them to revolutionize Ireland, Gantheaume was to make
for the English Channel, touch at Cherbourg for further orders, and
proceed to Boulogne to convoy the flotilla across: or, if the weather
prevented this, as was probable in January, he was to pass on to the
Texel, rally the seven Dutch battleships and the transports with their
25,000 troops, beat back down the English Channel and return to Ireland.
Napoleon counted on the complete success of one or other of Gantheaume's
moves: "Whether I have 30,000 or 40,000 men in Ireland, or whether I am
both in England and Ireland, the war is ours."[326]

The objections to the September combination are fairly obvious. It was
exceedingly improbable that the three fleets could escape at the time
and in the order which Napoleon desired, or that crews enervated by
long captivity in port would succeed in difficult operations when
thrust out into the wintry gales of the Atlantic and the Channel.
Besides, success could only be won after a serious dispersion of
French naval resources; and the West Indian expeditions must be
regarded as prompted quite as much by a colonial policy as by a
determination to overrun England or Ireland.[327]


At any rate, if the Emperor's aim was merely to distract us by widely
diverging attacks, that could surely have been accomplished without
sending twenty-six sail of the line into American and African waters,
and leaving to Gantheaume so disproportionate an amount of work and
danger. This September combination may therefore be judged distinctly
inferior to that of July, which, with no scattering of the French
forces, promised to decoy Nelson away to the Morea and Egypt, while
the Toulon and Rochefort squadrons proceeded to Boulogne.

The September schemes hopelessly miscarried. Gantheaume did not elude
Cornwallis, and remained shut up in Brest. Missiessy escaped from
Rochefort, sailed to the West Indies, where he did some damage and
then sailed home again. "He had taken a pawn and returned to his own
square."[328] Villeneuve slipped out from Toulon (January 19th, 1805),
while Nelson was sheltering from westerly gales under the lee of
Sardinia; but the storm which promised to renew his reputation for
good luck speedily revealed the weakness of his ships and crews.

"My fleet looked well at Toulon," he wrote to Decrès, Minister of
Marine, "but when the storm came on, things changed at once. The
sailors were not used to storms: they were lost among the mass of
soldiers: these from sea-sickness lay in heaps about the decks: it was
impossible to work the ships: hence yard-arms were broken and sails
were carried away: our losses resulted as much from clumsiness and
inexperience as from defects in the materials delivered by the
arsenals."[329]

Inexperience and sea-sickness were factors that found no place in
Napoleon's calculations; but they compelled Villeneuve to return to
Toulon to refit; and there Nelson closed on him once more.

Meanwhile events were transpiring which seemed to add to Napoleon's
naval strength and to the difficulties of his foes. On January 4th,
1805, he concluded with Spain a treaty which added her naval resources
to those of France, Holland, and Northern Italy. The causes that led
to an open rupture between England and Spain were these. Spain had
been called upon by Napoleon secretly to pay him the stipulated sum of
72,000,000 francs a year (see p. 437), and she reluctantly consented.
This was, of course, a covert act of hostility against England; and
the Spanish Government was warned at the close of 1803 that, if this
subsidy continued to be paid to France, it would constitute "at any
future period, when circumstances may render it necessary, a just
cause of war" between England and Spain. Far from complying with this
reasonable remonstrance, the Spanish Court yielded to Napoleon's
imperious order to repair five French warships that had taken refuge
in Ferrol from our cruisers, and in July, 1804, allowed French seamen
to travel thither overland to complete the crews of these vessels.
Thus for some months our warships had to observe Ferrol, as if it were
a hostile port.

Clearly, this state of things could not continue; and when the
protests of our ambassador at Madrid were persistently evaded or
ignored, he was ordered, in the month of September, to leave that
capital unless he received satisfactory assurances. He did not leave
until November 10th, and before that time a sinister event had taken
place. The British Ministry determined that Spanish treasure-ships from
South America should not be allowed to land at Cadiz the sinews of war
for France, and sent orders to our squadrons to stop those ships. Four
frigates were told off for that purpose. On the 5th of October they
sighted the four rather smaller Spanish frigates that bore the ingots of
Peru, and summoned them to surrender, thereafter to be held in pledge.
The Spaniards, nobly resolving to yield only to overwhelming force,
refused; and in the ensuing fight one of their ships blew up, whereupon
the others hauled down their flags and were taken to England. Resenting
this action, Spain declared war on December 12th, 1804.

Stripped of all the rodomontade with which French historians have
enveloped this incident, the essential facts are as follows. Napoleon
compelled Spain by the threat of invasion to pay him a large subsidy:
England declared this payment, and accompanying acts, to be acts of
war; Spain shuffled uneasily between the two belligerents but
continued to supply funds to Napoleon and to shelter and repair his
warships; thereupon England resolved to cut off her American
subsidies, but sent a force too small to preclude the possibility of a
sea-fight; the fight took place, with a lamentable result, which
changed the covert hostility of Spain into active hostility.

Public opinion and popular narratives are, however, fashioned by
sentiment rather than founded on evidence; accordingly, Britain's
prestige suffered from this event. The facts, as currently reported,
seemed to convict her of an act of piracy; and few persons on the
Continent or among the Whig coteries of Westminster troubled to find
out whether Spain had not been guilty of acts of hostility and whether
the French Emperor was not the author of the new war. Undoubtedly it
was his threatening pressure on Spain that had compelled her to her
recent action: but that pressure had been for the most part veiled by
diplomacy, while Britain's retort was patent and notorious.
Consequently, every version of this incident that was based merely on
newspaper reports condemned her conduct as brutally piratical; and
only those who have delved into archives have discovered the real
facts of the case.[330] Napoleon's letter to the King of Spain quoted
on p. 437 shows that even before the war he was seeking to drag him
into hostilities with England, and he continued to exert a remorseless
pressure on the Court of Madrid; it left two alternatives open to
England, either to see Napoleon close his grip on Spain and wield her
naval resources when she was fully prepared for war, or to precipitate
the rupture. It was the alternative, _mutatis mutandis_, presented to
George III. and the elder Pitt in 1761, when the King was for delay
and his Minister was for war at once. That instance had proved the
father's foresight; and now at the close of 1804 the younger Pitt
might flatter himself that open war was better than a treacherous
peace.

In lieu of a subsidy Spain now promised to provide from twenty-five to
twenty-nine sail of the line, and to have them ready by the close of
March. On his side, Napoleon agreed to guarantee the integrity of the
Spanish dominions, and to regain Trinidad for her. The sequel will
show how his word was kept.

The conclusion of this alliance placed the hostile navies almost on an
equality, at least on paper. But, as the equipment of the Spanish
fleet was very slow, Napoleon for the present adhered to his plan of
September, 1804, with the result already detailed. Not until March
2nd, 1805, do we find the influence of the Spanish alliance observable
in his naval schemes. On that date he issued orders to Villeneuve and
Gantheaume, which assigned to the latter most of the initiative, as also
the chief command after their assumed junction. Gantheaume, with the
Brest fleet, after eluding the blockaders, was to proceed first to
Ferrol, capture the British ships off that port and, reinforced by the
French and Spanish ships there at anchor, proceed across the Atlantic to
the appointed rendezvous at Martinique. The Toulon squadron under
Villeneuve was at the same time to make for Cadiz, and, after collecting
the Spanish ships, set sail for the West Indies. Then the armada was to
return with all speed to Boulogne, where Napoleon expected it to arrive
between June 10th and July 10th.[331]

Diverse judgments have been passed on this, the last and grandest of
Napoleon's naval combinations. On the one hand, it is urged that, as
the French fleets had seen no active service, a long voyage was
necessary to impart experience and efficiency before matters were
brought to the touch in the Straits of Dover; and as Britain and
France both regarded their West Indian islands as their most valued
possessions, a voyage thither would be certain to draw British sails
in eager pursuit. Finally, those islands dotted over a thousand miles
of sea presented a labyrinth wherein it would be easy for the French
to elude Nelson's cruisers.

On the other hand, it may be urged that the success of the plan
depended on too many _ifs_. Assuming that the Toulon and Brest
squadrons escaped the blockaders, their subsequent movements would
most probably be reported by some swift frigate off Gibraltar or
Ferrol. The chance of our divining the French plans was surely as
great as that Gantheaume and Villeneuve would unite in the West
Indies, ravage the British possessions, and return in undiminished
force. The English fleets, after weary months of blockade, were adepts
at scouting; their wings covered with ease a vast space, their
frigates rapidly signalled news to the flagship, and their
concentration was swift and decisive. Prompt to note every varying
puff of wind, they bade fair to overhaul their enemies when the chase
began in earnest, and when once the battle was joined, numbers counted
for little: the English crews, inured to fights on the ocean, might be
trusted to overwhelm the foe by their superior experience and
discipline, hampered as the French now were by the lumbering and
defective warships of Spain.

Napoleon, indeed, amply discounted the chances of failure of his
ultimate design, the command of the Channel. The ostensible aims of
the expedition were colonial. The French fleets were to take on board
11,908 soldiers, of whom three-fourths were destined for the West
Indies; and, in case Gantheaume did not join Villeneuve at Martinique,
the latter was ordered, after waiting forty days, to set sail for the
Canaries, there to intercept the English convoys bound for Brazil and
the East Indies.

In the spring and summer of 1805 Napoleon's correspondence supplies
copious proof of the ideas and plans that passed through his brain.
After firmly founding the new Empire, he journeyed into Piedmont,
thence to Milan for his coronation as King of Italy, and finally to
Genoa. In this absence of three months from Paris (April-July) many
lengthy letters to Decrès attest the alternations of his hopes and
fears. He now keeps the possibility of failure always before him: his
letters no longer breathe the crude confidence of 1803: and while
facing the chances of failure in the West Indies, his thoughts swing
back to the Orient:

     "According to all the news that I receive, five or six thousand men
     in the [East] Indies would ruin the English Company. Supposing that
     our [West] Indian expedition is not fully successful, and I cannot
     reach the grand end which will demolish all the rest, I think we
     must arrange the [East] Indian expedition for September. We have
     now greater resources for it than some time ago."[332]

How tenacious is his will! He here recurs to the plan laid down before
Decaen sailed to the East Indies in March, 1803. Even the prospects of
a continental coalition fail to dispel that gorgeous dream. But amid
much that is visionary we may discern this element of practicality: in
case the blow against England misses the mark, Napoleon has provided
himself with a splendid alternative that will banish all thought of
failure.

It is needless to recount here the well-known details of Villeneuve's
voyage and Nelson's pursuit. The Toulon and Cadiz fleets got clear
away to the West Indies, and after a last glance towards the Orient,
Nelson set out in pursuit. On the 4th of June the hostile fleets were
separated by only a hundred miles of sea; and Villeneuve, when off
Antigua, hearing that Nelson was so close, decided forthwith to return
to Europe. After disembarking most of his troops and capturing a fleet
of fourteen British merchantmen, he sailed for Ferrol, in pursuance of
orders just received from Napoleon, which bade him rally fifteen
allied ships at that port, and push on to Brest, where he must release
Gantheaume.

In this gigantic war game, where the Atlantic was the chess-board, and
the prize a world-empire, the chances were at this time curiously
even. Fortune had favoured Villeneuve but checked Gantheaume.
Villeneuve successfully dodged Nelson in the West Indies, but
ultimately the pursuer divined the enemy's scheme of returning to
Europe, and sent a swift brig to warn the Admiralty, which was thereby
informed of the exact position of affairs on July 8th, that is, twelve
days before Napoleon himself knew of the state of affairs. On July
20th, the French Emperor heard, _through English newspapers_, that his
fleet was on its return voyage: and his heart beat high with hope that
Villeneuve would now gather up his squadrons in the Bay of Biscay and
appear before Boulogne in overwhelming force; for he argued that, even
if Villeneuve should keep right away from Brest, and leave blockaders
and blockaded face to face, he would still be at least sixteen ships
stronger than any force that could be brought against him.

But Napoleon was now committing the blunder which he so often censured
in his inferiors. He was "making pictures" to himself, pictures in
which the gleams of fortune were reserved for the tricolour flag, and
gloom and disaster shrouded the Union Jack; he conceived that Nelson
had made for Jamaica, and that the British squadrons were engaged in
chasing phantom French fleets around Ireland or to the East Indies.
"We have not to do," he said, "with a far-seeing, but with a very
proud, Government."

In reality, Nelson was nearing the coast of Portugal, Cornwallis had
been so speedily reinforced as to marshal twenty-eight ships of the
line off Brest, while Calder was waiting for Villeneuve off Cape
Finisterre with a fleet of fifteen battleships. Thus, when Villeneuve
neared the north-west of Spain, his twenty ships of the line were
confronted by a force which he could neither overwhelm nor shake off.
The combat of July 22nd, fought amidst a dense haze, was unfavourable
to the allies, two Spanish ships of the line striking their colours to
Calder before the gathering fog and gloom of night separated the
combatants: on the next two days Villeneuve strove to come to close
quarters, but Calder sheered off; thereupon the French, unable then to
make Ferrol, put into Vigo, while Calder, ignorant of their position,
joined Cornwallis off Brest. This retreat of the British admiral
subjected him to a court-martial, and consternation reigned in London
when Villeneuve was known to be on the Spanish coast unguarded; but
the fear was needless; though the French admiral succeeded in rallying
the Ferrol squadron, yet, as he was ordered to avoid Ferrol, he put
into Corunna, and on August 15th he decided to sail for Cadiz.

To realize the immense importance of this decision we must picture to
ourselves the state of affairs just before this time.

Nelson, delayed by contrary winds and dogged by temporary ill-luck,
had made for Gibraltar, whence, finding that no French ships had
passed the straits, he doubled back in hot haste northwards, and there
is clear proof that his speedy return to the coast of Spain spread
dismay in official circles at Paris. "This unexpected union of forces
undoubtedly renders every scheme of invasion impracticable for the
present," wrote Talleyrand to Napoleon on August 2nd, 1805.[333]
Missing Villeneuve off Ferrol, Nelson joined Cornwallis off Ushant on
the very day when the French admiral decided to make for Cadiz.
Passing on to Portsmouth, the hero now enjoyed a few days of
well-earned repose, until the nation called on him for his final
effort.

Meanwhile Napoleon had arrived on August 3rd at Boulogne, where he
reviewed a line of soldiery nine miles long. The sight might well
arouse his hopes of assured victory. He had ground for hoping that
Villeneuve would soon be in the Channel. Not until August 8th did he
receive news of the fight with Calder, and he took pains to parade it
as an English defeat. He therefore trusted that, in the spirit of his
orders to Villeneuve dated July the 26th, that admiral would sail to
Cadiz, gather up other French and Spanish ships, and return to Ferrol
and Brest with a mighty force of some sixty sail of the line:

     "I count on your zeal for my service, on your love for the
     fatherland, on your hatred of this Power which for forty
     generations has oppressed us, and which a little daring and
     perseverance on your part will for ever reduce to the rank of the
     small Powers: 150,000 soldiers ... and the crews complete are
     embarked on 2,000 craft of the flotilla, which, despite the English
     cruisers, forms a long line of broadsides from Etaples to Cape
     Grisnez. Your voyage, and it alone, makes us without any doubt
     masters of England."

Austria and Russia were already marshalling their forces for the war
of the Third Coalition. Yet, though menaced by those Powers, to whom
he had recently offered the most flagrant provocations, this
astonishing man was intent only on the ruin of England, and secretly
derided their preparations. "You need not" (so he wrote to Eugène,
Viceroy of Italy) "contradict the newspaper rumours of war, but make
fun of them.... Austria's actions are probably the result of
fear."--Thus, even when the eastern horizon lowered threateningly with
clouds, he continued to pace the cliffs of Boulogne, or gallop
restlessly along the strand, straining his gaze westward to catch the
first glimpse of his armada. That horizon was never to be flecked with
Villeneuve's sails: they were at this time furled in the harbour of
Cadiz.

Unmeasured abuse has been showered upon Villeneuve for his retreat to
that harbour. But it must be remembered that in both of Napoleon's
last orders to him, those of July 16th and 26th, he was required to
sail to Cadiz under certain conditions. In the first order prescribing
alternative ways of gaining the mastery of the Channel, that step was
recommended solely as a last alternative in case of misfortune: he was
directed not to enter the long and difficult inlet of Ferrol, but,
after collecting the squadron there, to cast anchor at Cadiz. In the
order of July 26th he was charged positively to repair to Cadiz: "My
intention is that you rally at Cadiz the Spanish ships there,
disembark your sick, and, without stopping there more than four days
at most, again set sail, return to Ferrol, etc." Villeneuve seems not
to have received these last orders, but he alludes to those of July
16th.[334]

These, then, were probably the last instructions he received from
Napoleon before setting sail from the roads of Corunna on August 13th.
The censures passed on his retreat to Cadiz are therefore based on the
supposition that he received instructions which he did not
receive.[335] He expressly based his move to Cadiz on Napoleon's
orders of July 16th. The mishaps which the Emperor then contemplated
as necessitating such a step had, in Villeneuve's eyes, actually
happened. The admiral considered the fight of July 22nd _la malheureuse
affaire;_ his ships were encumbered with sick; they worked badly; on
August 15th a north-east gale carried away the top-mast of a Spanish
ship; and having heard from a Danish merchantman the news--false news,
as it afterwards appeared--that Cornwallis with twenty-five ships was to
the north, he turned and scudded before the wind. He could not divine
the disastrous influence of his conduct on the plan of invasion. He did
not know that his master was even then beginning to hesitate between a
dash on London or a campaign on the Danube, and that the events of the
next few days were destined to tilt the fortunes of the world. Doubtless
he ought to have disregarded the Emperor's words about Cadiz and to have
struggled on to Brest, as his earlier and wider orders enjoined. But the
Emperor's instructions pointed to Cadiz as the rendezvous in case of
misfortune or great difficulty. As a matter of fact, Napoleon on July
26th ordered the Rochefort squadron to _meet Villeneuve at Cadiz;_ and
it is clear that by that date Napoleon had decided on that rendezvous,
apparently because it could be more easily entered and cleared than
Ferrol, and was safer from attack. But, as it happened, the Rochefort
squadron had already set sail and failed to sight an enemy or friend for
several weeks.

Such are the risks of naval warfare, in which even the greatest
geniuses at times groped but blindly. Nelson was not afraid to confess
the truth. The French Emperor, however, seems never to have made an
admission which would mar his claim to strategic infallibility. Even
now, when the Spanish ships were proved to clog the enterprise, he
persisted in merely counting numbers, and in asserting that Villeneuve
might still neutralize the force of Calder and Cornwallis. These hopes
he cherished up to August 23rd, when, as the next chapter will show,
he faced right about to confront Austria. His Minister of Marine, who
had more truly gauged the difficulties of all parts of the naval
enterprise, continued earnestly to warn him of the terrible risk of
burdening Villeneuve's ships with the unseaworthy craft of Spain and
of trusting to this ill-assorted armada to cover the invasion now that
their foes had divined its secret. The Emperor bitterly upbraided his
Minister for his timidity, and in the presence of Daru, Intendant
General of the army, indulged in a dramatic soliloquy against
Villeneuve for his violation of orders: "What a navy! What an admiral!
What sacrifices for nothing! My hopes are frustrated--- Daru, sit down
and write"--whereupon it is said that he traced out the plans of the
campaign which was to culminate at Ulm and Austerlitz.[336]

The question has often been asked whether Napoleon seriously intended
the invasion of England. Certainly the experienced seamen of England,
France, and Holland, with few exceptions, declared that the
flat-bottomed boats were unseaworthy, and that a frightful disaster
must ensue if they were met out at sea by our ships. When it is
further remembered that our coasts were defended by batteries and
martello towers, that several hundreds of pinnaces and row-boats were
ready to attack the flotilla before it could attempt the
disembarkation of horses, artillery, and stores, and that 180,000
regulars and militia, aided by 400,000 volunteers, were ready to
defend our land, the difficulties even of capturing London will be
obvious. And the capture of the capital would not have decided the
contest. Napoleon seems to have thought it would. In his voyage to St.
Helena he said: "I put all to the hazard; I entered into no
calculations as to the manner in which I was to return; I trusted all
to the impression the occupation of the capital would have
occasioned."[337]--But, as has been shown above (p. 441), plans had been
secretly drawn up for the removal of the Court and the national treasure
to Worcester; the cannon of Woolwich were to be despatched into the
Midlands by canal; and our military authorities reckoned that the
systematic removal of provisions and stores from all the districts
threatened by the enemy would exhaust him long before he overran the
home counties. Besides, the invasion was planned when Britain's naval
power had been merely evaded, not conquered. Nelson and Cornwallis and
Calder would not for ever be chasing phantom fleets; they would
certainly return, and cut Napoleon from his base, the sea.

Again, if Napoleon was bent solely on the invasion of England, why
should he in June, 1805, have offered to Russia and Austria so
gratuitous an affront as the annexation of the Ligurian Republic? He
must have known that this act would hurry them into war. Thiers
considers the annexation of Genoa a "grave fault" in the Emperor's
policy--but many have doubted whether Napoleon did not intend Genoa to
be the gate leading to a new avenue of glory, now that the success of
his naval dispositions was doubtful. Marbot gives the general opinion
of military circles when he says that the Emperor wanted to provoke a
continental war in order to escape the ridicule which the failure of
his Boulogne plans would otherwise have aroused. "The new coalition
came just at the right moment to get him out of an annoying
situation." The compiler of the Fouché "Memoirs," which, though not
genuine, may be accepted as generally correct, took the same view. He
attributes to Napoleon the noteworthy words: "I may fail by sea, but
not by land; besides, I shall be able to strike the blow before the
old coalition machines are ready: the kings have neither activity nor
decision of character: I do not fear old Europe." The Emperor also
remarked to the Council of State that the expense of all the
preparations at Boulogne was fully justified by the fact that they
gave him "fully twenty days' start over all enemies.... A pretext had
to be found for raising the troops and bringing them together without
alarming the Continental Powers: and that pretext was afforded me by
the projected descent upon England."[338]

It is also quite possible that his aim was Ireland as much as England.
It certainly was in the plan of September, 1804: and doubtless it
still held a prominent place in his mind, except during the few days
when he pictured Calder vanquished and Nelson scouring the West
Indies. Then he doubtless fixed his gaze solely upon London. But there
is much indirect evidence which points to Ireland as forming at least
a very important part of his scheme. Both Nelson and Collingwood
believed him to be aiming at Ireland.[339]

But indeed Napoleon is often unfathomable. Herein lies much of the
charm of Napoleonic studies. He is at once the Achilles, the Mercury,
and the Proteus of the modern world. The ease with which his mind
grasped all problems and suddenly concentrated its force on some new
plan may well perplex posterity as it dazed his contemporaries. If we
were dealing with any other man than Napoleon, we might safely say
that an invasion of England, before the command of the sea had been
secured, was infinitely less likely than a descent on Ireland. The
landing of a _corps d'armée_ there would have provoked a revolution;
and British ascendancy would have vanished in a week. Even had Nelson
returned and swept the seas, Ireland would have been lost to the
United Kingdom; and Britain, exhausted also by the expenses which the
Boulogne preparations had compelled her to make for the defence of
London, must have succumbed.

If ever Napoleon intended risking all his fortunes on the conquest of
England, it can be proved that his mind was gradually cleared of
illusions. He trusted that a popular rising would overthrow the British
Government: people and rulers showed an accord that had never been known
since the reign of Queen Anne. He believed, for a short space, that the
flotilla could fight sea-going ships out at sea: the converse was proved
up to the hilt. Finally, he trusted that Villeneuve, when burdened with
Spanish ships, would outwit and outmanoeuvre Nelson!

What then remained after these and many other disappointments? Surely
that scheme alone was practicable, in which the command of the sea
formed only an unimportant factor. For the conquest of England it was
an essential factor. In Ireland alone could Napoleon find the
conditions on which he counted for success--a discontented populace
that would throng to the French eagles, and a field of warfare where
the mere landing of 20,000 veterans would decide the campaign.[340]

And yet it is, on the whole, certain that his expedition for Ireland
was meant merely to distract and paralyze the defenders of Great
Britain, while he dealt the chief blow at London. Instinct and
conviction alike prompted him to make imposing feints that should lead
his enemy to lay bare his heart, and that heart was our great capital.
His indomitable will scorned the word _impossible_--"a word found only
in the dictionary of fools"; he felt England to be the sole barrier to
his ambitions; and to crush her power he was ready to brave, not only
her stoutest seamen, but also her guardian angels, the winds and
storms. Both the man and the occasion were unique in the world's
history and must not be judged according to tame probabilities. For
his honour was at stake. He was so deeply pledged to make use of the
vast preparations at his northern ports that, had all his complex
dispositions worked smoothly, he would certainly have attempted a dash
at London; and only after some adequate excuse could he consent to give
up that adventure.

The excuse was now furnished by Villeneuve's retreat to Cadiz; and
public opinion, ignorant of Napoleon's latest instructions on that
subject, and knowing only the salient facts of the case, laid on that
luckless admiral the whole burden of blame for the failure of the
scheme of invasion. With front unabashed and a mind presaging certain
triumphs, Napoleon accordingly wheeled his legions eastward to
prosecute that alluring alternative, the conquest of England through
the Continent.

       *       *       *       *       *

APPENDIX

[_The two following State Papers have never before been published_]


No. I. is a despatch from Mr. Thornton, our _chargé d'affaires_ at
Washington, relative to the expected transfer of the vast region of
Louisiana from Spain to France (see ch. xv. of this vol.).

  [In "F O.," America, No. 35.]
  "WASHINGTON,
  "26 _Jany._, 1802.

     "MY LORD,

     "... About four years ago, when the rumour of the transfer of
     Louisiana to France was first circulated, I put into Mr.
     Pickering's hands for his perusal a despatch written by Mr. Fauchet
     about the year 1794, which with many others was intercepted by one
     of H.M. ships. In that paper the French Minister urged to his
     Government the absolute necessity of acquiring Louisiana or some
     territory in the vicinity of the United States in order to obtain a
     permanent influence in the country, and he alluded to a memorial
     written some years before by the Count du Moutier to the same
     effect, when he was employed as His Most Christian Majesty's
     Minister to the United States. The project seems therefore to have
     been long in the contemplation of the French Government, and
     perhaps no period is more favourable than the present for carrying
     it into execution.

     "When I paid my respects to the Vice-President, Mr. Burr, on his
     arrival at this place, he, of his own accord, directed conversation
     to this topic. He owned that he had made some exertion indirectly
     to discover the truth of the report, and thought he had reason to
     believe it. He appeared to think that the great armament destined
     by France to St. Domingo, had this ulterior object in view, and
     expressed much apprehension that the transfer and colonization of
     Louisiana were meditated by her with the concurrence or
     acquiescence of His Maj'^{s} Gov^{t}. It was impossible for me to
     give any opinion on this part of the measure, which, whatever may
     be its ultimate tendency, presents at first view nothing but danger
     to His Maj'^{s} Trans-Atlantic possessions.

     "Regarding alone the aim of France to acquire a preponderating
     influence in the councils of the United States, it may be very well
     doubted whether the possession of Louisiana, and the means which
     she would chose to employ are calculated to secure that end.
     Experience seems now to have sanctioned the opinion that if the
     provinces of Canada had been restored to France at the Peace of
     Paris, and if from that quarter she had been left to press upon the
     American frontier, to harass the exterior settlements and to mingle
     in the feuds of the Indian Tribes, the colonies might still have
     preserved their allegiance to the parent country and have retained
     their just jealousy of that system of encroachment adopted by
     France from the beginning of the last century. The present project
     is but a continuance of the same system; and neither her power nor
     her present temper leave room for expectation that she will pursue
     it with less eagerness or greater moderation than before. Whether,
     therefore, she attempt to restrain the navigation of the
     Mississippi or limit the freedom of the port of New Orleans;
     whether she press upon the Western States with any view to
     conquest, or seduce them by her principles of fraternity (for which
     indeed they are well prepared) she must infallibly alienate the
     Atlantic States and force them into a straiter connection with
     Great Britain.

     "I have scarcely met with a person under whatever party he may rank
     himself, who does not dread this event, and who would not prefer
     almost any neighbours to the French: and it seems perfect
     infatuation in the Administration of this country that they chuse
     the present moment for leaving that frontier almost defenceless by
     the reduction of its military establishment.

     "I have, etc.,

     "[Signed] EDW'D THORNTON."

       *       *       *       *       *

No. II. is a report in "F.O.," France, No. 71, by one of our spies in
Paris on the doings of the Irish exiles there, especially O'Connor,
whom Napoleon had appointed General of Division in Marshal Augereau's
army, then assembling at Brest for the expedition to Ireland. After
stating O'Connor's appointment, the report continues:

    "About eighty Irishmen were sent to Morlaix to be formed into a
    company of officers and taught how they were to discipline and
    instruct their countrymen when they landed in Ireland. McShee,
    Général de Brigade, commands them. He and Blackwell are, I
    believe, the only persons among them of any consequence, who have
    seen actual service. Emmett's brother and McDonald, who were
    jealous of the attention paid to O'Connor, would not go to
    Morlaix. They were prevailed on to go to Brest towards the end of
    May, and there to join General Humbert. Commandant Dalton, a young
    man of Irish extraction, and lately appointed to a situation in
    the Army at Boulogne, translated everything between O'Connor and
    the War Department at Paris. There is no Irish Committee at Paris
    as is reported. O'Connor and General Hartry, an old Irishman who
    has been long in the French service, are the only persons applied
    to by the French Government, O'Connor for the expedition, and
    Hartry for the Police, etc., of the Irish in France.

    "O'Connor, though he had long tried to have an audience of
    Bonaparte, never saw him till the 20th of May [1805], when he was
    presented to him at the levee by Marshal Augereau. The Emperor and
    the Empress complimented him on his dress and military appearance,
    and Bonaparte said to him _Venez me voir en particulier demain
    matin._ O'Connor went and was alone with him near two hours. On
    that day Bonaparte did not say a word to him respecting his
    intention on England; all their conversation regarded Ireland.
    O'Connor was with him again on the Thursday and Friday following.
    Those three audiences are all that O'Connor ever had in private
    with Bonaparte.

    "He told me on the Saturday evening that he should go to Court the
    next morning to take public leave of the Emperor and leave Paris
    as soon as he had received 10,000 livres which Maret was to give
    him for his travelling expenses, etc., and which he was to have in
    a day or two. His horses and all his servants but one had set off
    for Brest some time before.

    "Bonaparte told O'Connor, when speaking of the prospect of a
    continental War, 'la Russie peut-être pourroit envoyer cette année
    100,000 hommes contre la France, mais j'ai pour cela assez de
    monde à ma disposition: je ferois même marcher, s'il le faut, une
    armée contre la Russie, et si l'Empereur d'Allemagne refusoit un
    passage à cette armée dans son pays, je la ferois passer malgré
    lui.' He afterwards said--'il y a plusieurs moyens de détruire
    l'Angleterre, mais celui de lui ôter Irlande est bon. Je vous
    donnerai 25,000 bonnes troupes et s'il en arrive seulement 15,000,
    ce sera assez. Vous aurez aussi 150,000 fusils pour armer vos
    compatriotes, et un parc d'artillerie légère, des pièces de 4 et
    de 6 livres, et toutes les provisions de guerre nécessaires.'

    "O'Connor endeavoured to persuade Bonaparte that the best way to
    conquer England was first to go to Ireland, and thence to England
    with 200,000 Irishmen. Bonaparte said he did not think that would
    do; _d'ailleurs,_ he added, _ce seroit trop long_. They agreed
    that all the English in Ireland should be exterminated as the
    whites had been in St. Domingo. Bonaparte assured him that, as
    soon as he had formed an Irish army, he should be Commander in
    Chief of the French and Irish forces. Bonaparte directed O'Connor
    to try to gain over to his interest Laharpe, the Emperor of
    Russia's tutor. Laharpe had applied for a passport to go to St.
    Pétersbourg. He says he will do everything in his power to engage
    the Emperor to go to war with Bonaparte. Laharpe breathes nothing
    but vengeance against Bonaparte, who, besides other injuries,
    turned his back on him in public and would not speak to him.
    Laharpe was warned of O'Connor's intended visit, and went to the
    country to avoid seeing him: The Senator Garat is to go to Brest
    with O'Connor to write a constitution for Ireland. O'Connor is
    getting out of favor with the Irish in France; they begin to
    suspect his ambitious and selfish views. There was a coolness
    between Admiral Truguet and him for some time previous to
    Truguet's return to Brest. Augereau had given a dinner to all the
    principal officers of his army then at Paris. Truguet invited all
    of them to dine with him, two or three days after, except
    O'Connor. O'Connor told me he would never forgive him for it."

       *       *       *       *       *

VOLUME II

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXII

ULM AND TRAFALGAR


"Napoleon is the only man in Europe that knows the value of
time."--Czartoryski.


Before describing the Continental campaign which shattered the old
European system to its base, it will be well to take a brief glance at
the events which precipitated the war of the Third Coalition. Even at
the time of Napoleon's rupture with England, his highhanded conduct
towards the Italian Republic, Holland, Switzerland, and in regard to
the Secularizations in Germany, had exposed him to the hostility of
Russia, Sweden, and Austria; but as yet it took the form of secret
resentment. The last-named Power, under the Ministry of Count Cobenzl,
had relapsed into a tame and undignified policy, which the Swedish
Ambassador at Vienna described as "one of fear and hope--fear of the
power of France, and hope to obtain favours from her."[1] At Berlin,
Frederick William clung nervously to neutrality, even though the
French occupation of Hanover was a threat to Prussia's influence in
North Germany. The Czar Alexander was, at present, wrapt up in home
affairs; and the only monarch who as yet ventured to show his dislike
of the First Consul was the King of Sweden. In the autumn of 1803
Gustavus IV. defiantly refused Napoleon's proposals for a
Franco-Swedish alliance, baited though they were with the offer of
Norway as an eventual prize for Sweden, and a subsidy for every
Swedish warship serving against England. And it was not the dislike of
a proud nature to receive money which prompted his refusal; for
Gustavus, while in Germany, hinted to Drake that he desired to have
pecuniary help from England for the defence of his province of
Pomerania.[2]

But a doughtier champion of European independence was soon to enter
the field. The earlier feelings of respect and admiration which the
young Czar had cherished towards Napoleon were already overclouded,
when the news of the execution of the Duc d'Enghien at once roused a
storm of passion in his breast. The chivalrous protection which he
loved to extend to smaller States, the guarantee of the Germanic
system which the Treaty of Teschen had vested in him, above all, his
horror at the crime, led him to offer an emphatic protest. The Russian
Court at once went into mourning, and Alexander expressed both to the
German Diet and to the French Government his indignation at the
outrage. It was ever Napoleon's habit to return blow with blow; and he
now instructed Talleyrand to reply that in the D'Enghien affair he had
acted solely on the defensive, and that Russia's complaint "led him to
ask if, at the time when England was compassing the assassination of
Paul I., the authors of the plot had been known to be one league
beyond the [Russian] frontiers, every effort would not have been made
to have them seized?" Never has a poisoned dart been more deftly sped
at the weak spot of an enemy's armour. The Czar, ever haunted by the
thought of his complicity in a parricidal plot, was deeply wounded by
this malicious taunt, and all the more so because, as the death of
Paul had been officially ascribed to a fit, the insult could not be
flung back.[3] The only reply was to break off all diplomatic
relations with Napoleon; and this took place in the summer of 1804.[4]

Yet war was not to break out for more than a year. This delay was due
to several causes. Austria could not be moved from her posture of
timid neutrality. In fact, Francis II. and Cobenzl saw in Napoleon's
need of a recognition of his new imperial title a means of assuring a
corresponding change of title for the Hapsburg Dominions. Francis had
long been weary of the hollow dignity of Elective Emperor of the Holy
Roman Empire. The faded pageantry of Ratisbone and Frankfurt was all
that remained of the glories of the realm of Charlemagne: the medley
of States which owned him as elected lord cared not for the decrees of
this ghostly realm; and Goethe might well place in the mouth of his
jovial toper, in the cellar scene of "Faust," the words:

                    "Dankt Gott mit jedem Morgen
  Dass Ihr nicht braucht für's Röm'sche Reich zu sorgen!"

In that bargaining and burglarious age, was it not better to build a
more lasting habitation than this venerable ruin? Would not the
hereditary dominions form a more lasting shelter from the storm? Such
were doubtless the thoughts that prompted the assumption of the title
of Hereditary Emperor of Austria (August 11th, 1804). The
letter-patent, in which this change was announced, cited as parallels
"the example of the Imperial Court of Russia in the last century and
of the new sovereign of France." Both references gave umbrage to
Alexander, who saw no parallel between the assumption of the title of
Emperor by Peter the Great and the game of follow-the-leader played by
Francis to Napoleon.[5]

Prussian complaisance to the French Emperor was at this time to be
expected. Frederick William III. reigned over 10,000,000 subjects; he
could marshal 248,000 of the best trained troops in Europe, and his
revenue was more fruitful than that of the great Frederick. Yet the
effective power of Prussia had sadly waned; for her policy was now
marked by an enervating indecision. In the autumn of 1804, however,
the Prussian King was for a time spurred into action by the news that
Sir George Rumbold, British envoy at Hamburg, had been seized on the
night of October 24th, by French troops, and carried off to Paris.
This aggression upon the Circle of Lower Saxony, of which Frederick
William was Director, aroused lively indignation at Berlin; and the
King at once wrote to Napoleon a request for the envoy's liberation as
a proof of his "friendship and high consideration ...a seal on the past
and a pledge for the future."

To this appeal Napoleon returned a soothing answer that Sir George
would at once be released, though England was ever violating the
rights of neutrals, and her agents were conspiring against his life.
The Emperor, in fact, saw that he had taken a false step, which might
throw Prussia into the arms of England and Russia. For this latter
Power had already (May, 1804) offered her armed help to the Court of
Berlin in case the French should violate any other German
territory.[6] But the King was easily soothed; and when, in the
following spring, Napoleon sent seven Golden Eagles of the Legion of
Honour to the Court of Berlin, seven Black Eagles of the renowned
Prussian Order were sent in return--an occurrence which led Gustavus
IV. to return his Order of the Black Eagle with the remark that he
could not recognize "Napoleon and his like" as comrades in an Order of
Chivalry and Religion.[7] Napoleon's aim was achieved: Prussia was
sundered from any league in which Gustavus IV. was a prominent member.

Thus, the chief steps in the formation of the Third Coalition were
taken by Sweden, England, and Russia. Early in 1804 Gustavus proposed
a League of the Powers; and, on the advent of the Pitt Ministry to
office, overtures began to pass between St. Petersburg and London for
an alliance. Important proposals were made by Pitt and our Foreign
Minister, the Earl of Harrowby, in a note of June 26th, 1804, in which
hopes were expressed that Russia, England, Austria, Sweden, and if
possible Prussia, might be drawn together.[8] Alexander and
Czartoryski were already debating the advantages of an alliance with
England. Their aims were certainly noble. International law and the
rights of the weak States bordering on France were to be championed,
and it was suggested by Czartoryski that disputes should be settled,
not by force, but by arbitration.[9]

The statement of these exalted ideas was intrusted to a special envoy
to London, M. Novossiltzoff, who propounded to Pitt the scheme of a
European polity where the States should be independent and enjoy
institutions "founded on the sacred rights of humanity." With this aim
in view, the Czar desired to curb the power of Napoleon, bring back
France to her old limits, and assure the peace of Europe on a firm
basis, namely on the principle of the _balance of power_. Pitt and
Lord Harrowby having agreed to these proposals, details were discussed
at the close of 1804. None of the allies were, in any case, to make a
separate peace; and England (said M. Novossiltzoff) must not only use
her own troops, but grant subsidies to enable the Powers to set on
foot effective forces.

This last sentence claims special notice, as it disposes of the
well-worn phrase, that the Third Coalition was _built up_ by Pitt's
gold. On the contrary, Russia was the first to set forth the need of
English subsidies, which Pitt was by no means eager to supply. The
phrase used by French historians is doubtless correct in so far as
English gold enabled our allies to arm efficiently; but it is wholly
false if it implies that the Third Coalition was merely trumped up by
our money, and that the Russian, Austrian, and Swedish Governments
were so many automatic machines which, if jogged with coins, would
instantly supply armies to the ready money purchaser. This is
practically the notion still prevalent on the Continent; and it is
clearly traceable to the endless diatribes against Pitt's gold with
which Napoleon seasoned his bulletins, and to the caricatures which he
_ordered to be drawn_. The following was his direction to his Minister
of Police, Fouché: "Have caricatures made--an Englishman purse in
hand, _entreating the various Powers to take his money. This is the
real direction to give the whole business._" How well he knew mankind:
he rightly counted on its gullibility where pictures were concerned;
and the direction which he thus gave to public opinion bids fair to
persist, in spite of every exposure of the trickery.[10]

But, to return to the plans of the allies, Holland, Switzerland, and
Italy were to be liberated from their "enslavement to France," and
strengthened so as to provide barriers to future aggressions: the King
of Sardinia was to be restored to his mainland possessions, and
receive in addition the Ligurian, or Genoese, Republic.[11]

On all essential topics the British Government was in full accord with
the views of the Czar, and Pitt insisted on the need of a system of
international law which should guarantee the Continent against further
rapacious acts. But Europe was not destined to find peace on these
principles until after ten years of desolating war.

Various causes hindered the formation of this league. On January 2nd,
1805, Napoleon sent to George III. an offer of peace; and those
persons who did not see that this was a device for discovering the
course of negotiations believed that he ardently desired it. We now
know that the offer was despatched a week after he had ordered
Missiessy to ravage the British West Indies.[12] And, doubtless, his
object was attained when George III. replied in the speech from the
throne (January 15th) that he could not entertain the proposal without
reference to the Powers with whom he was then engaged in confidential
intercourse, and especially the Emperor of Russia. Yet the British
Government discussed with the Czar the basis for a future pacification
of Europe; and the mission of Novossiltzoff at midsummer to Berlin, on
his way to Paris, was the answer, albeit a belated one, to Napoleon's
New Year's pacific appeal. We shall now see why this delay occurred,
and what acts of the French Emperor finally dispelled all hopes of
peace.

The delay was due to differences between Russia and England respecting
Malta and our maritime code. The Czar insisted on our relinquishing
Malta and relaxing the rigours of the right of search for deserters
from our navy. To this the Pitt Ministry demurred, seeing that Malta
was our only means of protecting the Mediterranean States, and our
only security against French aggressions in the Levant, while the
right of searching neutral vessels was necessary to prevent the
enfeebling of our navy.[13] Negotiations were nearly broken off even
after a treaty between the two Powers had been brought to the final
stage on April 11th, 1805; but in July (after the Czar had recorded
his solemn protest against our keeping Malta) it was ratified, and
formed the basis for the Third Coalition. The aims of the allies were
to bring about the expulsion of French troops from North Germany; to
assure the independence of the Republics of Holland and Switzerland;
and to reinstate the King of Sardinia in Piedmont. Half a million of
men were to be set in motion, besides the forces of Great Britain; and
the latter Power, as a set-off to her lack of troops, agreed to
subsidize her allies to the extent of; £1,250,000 a year for every
100,000 men actually employed in the war. It was further stipulated
that a European Congress at the close of the war should endeavour to
fix more surely the principles of the Law of Nations and establish a
federative system. Above all, the allies bound themselves not to
hinder the popular wish in France respecting the form of government--a
clause which deprived the war of the Third Coalition of that
monarchical character which had pervaded the league of 1793 and, to a
less extent, that of 1799.[14]

What was the attitude of Napoleon towards this league? He certainly
took little pains to conciliate the Czar. In fact, his actions towards
Russia were almost openly provocative. Thus, while fully aware of the
interest which Alexander felt in the restoration of the King of
Sardinia, he sent the proposal that that unlucky King should receive
the Ionian Isles and Malta as indemnities for his losses, and that too
when Russia looked upon Corfu as her own. To this offer the Czar
deigned not a word in reply. Napoleon also sent an envoy to the Shah
of Persia with an offer of alliance, so as to check the advances of
Russia on the shores of the Caspian.[15]

On the other hand, he used every effort to allure Prussia, by secretly
offering her Hanover, and that too as early as the close of July.[16]
For a brief space, also, he took some pains to conciliate Austria.
This indeed was necessary: for the Court of Vienna had already
(November 6th, 1804) framed a secret agreement with Russia to make war
on Napoleon if he committed any new aggression in Italy or menaced any
part of the Turkish Empire.[17] Yet this act was really defensive.
Francis desired only to protect himself against Napoleon's ambition,
and, had he been treated with consideration, would doubtless have
clung to peace.

For a time Napoleon humoured that Court, even as regards the changes
now mooted in Italy. On January 1st, 1805, he wrote to Francis,
stating that he was about to proclaim Joseph Bonaparte King of Italy,
if the latter would renounce his claim to the crown of France, and so
keep the governments of France and Italy separate, as the Treaty of
Lunéville required; that this action would enfeeble his (Napoleon's)
power, but would carry its own recompense if it proved agreeable to
the Emperor Francis.

But it soon appeared that Joseph was by no means inclined to accept
the crown of Lombardy if it entailed the sacrifice of all hope of
succeeding to the French Empire. He had already demurred to _le vilain
titre de roi_, and on January 27th announced his final rejection of
the offer. Napoleon then proposed to Louis that he should hold that
crown in trust for his son; but the suggestion at once rekindled the
flames of jealousy which ever haunted Louis; and, after a violent
scene, the Emperor thrust his brother from the room.

Perhaps this anger was simulated. He once admitted that his rage only
mounted this high--pointing to his chin; and the refusals of his
brothers were certainly to be expected. However that may be, he now
resolved to assume that crown himself, appointing as Viceroy his
step-son, Eugène Beauharnais. True, he announced to the French Senate
that the realms of France and Italy would be kept separate: but
neither the Italian deputies, who had been summoned to Paris to vote
this dignity to their master, nor the servile Senate, nor the rulers
of Europe, were deceived. Thus, when in the early summer Napoleon
reviewed a large force that fought over again in mimic war the battle
of Marengo; when, amidst all the pomp and pageantry that art could
devise, he crowned himself in the cathedral of Milan with the iron
circlet of the old Lombard Kings, using the traditional formula: "God
gave it me, woe to him who touches it"; when, finally, he incorporated
the Ligurian Republic in the French Empire, Francis of Austria
reluctantly accepted the challenges thus threateningly cast down, and
began to arm.[18] The records of our Foreign Office show conclusively
that the Hapsburg ruler felt himself girt with difficulties: the
Austrian army was as yet ill organized: the reforms after which the
Archduke Charles had been striving were ill received by the military
clique; and the sole result had been to unsettle rather than
strengthen the army, and to break down the health of the Archduke.[19]
Yet the intention of Napoleon to treat Italy as a French province was
so insultingly paraded that Francis felt war to be inevitable, and
resolved to strike a blow while the French were still entangled in
their naval schemes. He knew well the dangers of war; he would have
eagerly welcomed any sign of really peaceful intentions at Paris; but
no signs were given; in fact, French agents were sent into Switzerland
to intrigue for a union of that land with France. Here again the pride
of the Hapsburgs was cut to the quick, and they disdained to submit to
humiliations such as were eating the heart out of the Prussian
monarchy.

The Czar, too, was far from eager for war. He had sent Novossiltzoff
to Berlin _en route_ for Paris, in the hope of coming to terms with
Napoleon, when the news of the annexation of Genoa ended the last
hopes of a compromise. "This man is insatiable," exclaimed Alexander;
"his ambition knows no bounds; he is a scourge of the world; he wants
war; well, he shall have it, and the sooner the better," The Czar at
once ordered all negotiations to be broken off. Novossiltzoff, on July
10th, declared to Baron Hardenberg, the successor of Haugwitz at the
Prussian Foreign Office, that Napoleon had now passed the utmost
limits of the Czar's patience; and he at once returned his French
passports. In forwarding them to the French ambassador at Berlin,
Hardenberg expressed the deep regret of the Prussian monarch at the
breakdown of this most salutary negotiation--a phrase which showed
that the patience of Berlin was nearly exhausted.[20]

Clearly, then, the Third Coalition was not cemented by English gold,
but by Napoleon's provocations. While England and Russia found great
difficulty in coming to an accord, and Austria was arming only from
fear, the least act of complaisance on his part would have unravelled
this ill-knit confederacy. But no such action was forthcoming. All his
letters written in North Italy after his coronation are puffed up with
incredible insolence. Along with hints to Eugène to base politics on
dissimulation and to seek only to be feared, we find letters to
Ministers at Paris scorning the idea that England and Russia can come
to terms, and asserting that the annexation of Genoa concerns England
alone; but if Austria wants to find a pretext for war, she may now
find it.

Then he hurries back to Fontainebleau, covering the distance from
Turin in eighty-five hours; and, after a brief sojourn at St. Cloud,
he reaches Boulogne. There, on August the 22nd, he hears that Austria
is continuing to arm: a few hours later comes the news that Villeneuve
has turned back to Cadiz. Fiercely and trenchantly he resolves this
fateful problem. He then sketches to Talleyrand the outlines of his
new policy. He will again press, and this time most earnestly, his
offer of Hanover to Prussia as the price of her effective alliance
against the new coalition. Perhaps this new alliance will strangle the
coalition at its birth; at any rate it will paralyze Austria.
Accordingly, he despatches to Berlin his favourite aide-de-camp,
General Duroc, to persuade the King that his alliance will save the
Continent from war.[21]

Meanwhile the Hapsburgs were completely deceived. They imagined
Napoleon to be wholly immersed in his naval enterprise, and
accordingly formed a plan of campaign, which, though admirable against
a weak and guileless foe, was fraught with danger if the python's
coils were ready for a spring. As a matter of fact, he was far better
prepared than Austria. As late as July 7th, the Court of Vienna had
informed the allies that its army would not be ready for four months;
yet the nervous anxiety of the Hapsburgs to be beforehand with
Napoleon led them to hurry on war: and on August 9th they secretly
gave their adhesion to the Russo-British alliance.

Then, too, by a strange fatuity, their move into Bavaria was to be
made with a force of only 59,000 men, while their chief masses, some
92,000 strong, were launched into Italy against the strongholds on the
Mincio. To guard the flanks of these armies, Austria had 34,000 men in
Tyrol; but, apart from raw recruits, there were fewer than 20,000
soldiers in the rest of that vast empire. In fact, the success of the
autumn campaign was known to depend on the help of the Russians, who
were expected to reach the banks of the Inn before the 20th of
October, while it was thought that the French could not possibly reach
the Danube till twenty days later.[22] It was intended, however, to
act most vigorously in Italy, and to wage a defensive campaign on the
Danube.

Such was the plan concocted at Vienna, mainly under the influence of
the Archduke Charles, who took the command of the army in Italy, while
that of the Danube was assigned to the Archduke Ferdinand and Mack,
the new Quarter-Master-General. This soldier had hitherto enjoyed a
great reputation in Austria, probably because he was the only general
who had suffered no great defeat. Amidst the disasters of 1797 he
seemed the only man able to retrieve the past, and to be shut out from
command by Thugut's insane jealousy of his "transcendent
abilities."[23] Brave he certainly was: but his mind was always swayed
by preconceived notions; he belonged to the school of "manoeuvre
strategists," of whom the Duke of Brunswick was the leader; and he now
began the campaign of 1805 with the fixed purpose of holding a
commanding military position. Such a position the Emperor Francis and
Mack had discovered in the weak fortress of Ulm and the line of the
River Iller. Towards these points of vantage the Austrians now began
to move.

The first thing was to gain over the Elector of Bavaria. The Court of
Vienna, seeking to persuade or compel that prince to join the
Coalition, made overtures (September 3rd to 6th) with which he dallied
for a day or two until an opportunity came of escaping to the fortress
of Würzburg. Mack thereupon crossed the River Inn and sought, but in
vain, to cut off the Bavarian troops from that stronghold.
Accordingly, the Austrian leader marched on to Ulm, where he arrived
in the middle of September; and, not satisfied with holding this
advanced position, he pushed on his outposts to the chief defiles of
the Black Forest, while other regiments held the valley of the River
Iller and strengthened the fortress of Memmingen. Doubtless this would
have been good strategy, had his forces been equal in numbers to those
of Napoleon. At that time the Black Forest was the only  physical barrier
between France and Southern Germany; the Rhine was then practically a
French river; and, only by holding the passes of that range could the
Austrians hope to screen Swabia from invasion on the side of Alsace.

[Illustration: BATTLE OF ULM.]

But Mack forgot two essential facts. Until the Russians arrived, he
was too weak to hold so advanced a position in what was hostile
ground, now that Bavaria and the other South German States obeyed
Napoleon's summons to range themselves on his side. Further, he was
dangerously exposed on the north, as a glance at the map will show.
Ulm and the line of the Iller formed a strong defence against the
south-west: but on the north that position is singularly open: it can
be turned from the valleys of the Main, the Neckar, and the Altmühl,
all of which conduct an invader to the regions east of Ulm. Indeed, it
passes belief how even the Aulic Council could have ignored the
dangers of that position. Possibly the fact that Ulm had been stoutly
held by Kray in 1796 now induced them to overrate its present
importance; but at that time the fortified camp of Ulm was the central
knot of vast operations, whereas now it was but an advanced
outpost.[24] If Francis and his advisers were swayed by historical
reminiscences it is strange that they forgot the fate of Melas in
Piedmont. The real parallel had been provided, not by Kray, but by the
general who was cut off at Marengo. Indeed, in its broad outlines, the
campaign of Ulm resembles that of Marengo. Against foes who had thrust
their columns far from their base, Napoleon now, as in 1800,
determined to deal a crushing blow. On the part of the Austrians we
notice the same misplaced confidence, the same lack of timely news,
and the same inability to understand Napoleon's plan until his
dispositions are complete; while his strategy and tactics in 1805
recall to one's mind the masterly simplicity of design, the subtlety
and energy of execution, which led up to his triumph in the plains of
Piedmont.

Meanwhile the allies were dissipating their strength. A Russian corps,
acting from Corfu as a base, and an English expedition from Malta,
were jointly to attack St. Cyr in the south of Italy, raise the
country at his rear and compel him to surrender. This plan was left
helplessly flapping in the air by a convention which Napoleon imposed
on the Neapolitan ambassador. On September 21st Talleyrand induced
that envoy to guarantee the neutrality of the kingdom of Naples, all
belligerents being excluded from its domains. Consequently St. Cyr's
corps evacuated that land and brought a welcome reinforcement to
Masséna on the Mincio. Equally skilful was Napoleon's action as
regards Hanover. On that side also the allies planned a formidable
expedition. From the fortress of Stralsund in Swedish Pomerania, a
force of Russians and Swedes, which Gustavus burned to command, was to
march into Hanover, and, when strengthened by an Anglo-Hanoverian
corps, drive the French from the Low Countries. It is curious to
contrast the cumbrous negotiations concerning this expedition--the
quarrels about the command, the anxiety at the outset lest Villeneuve
should perhaps sail into the Baltic, the delays of the British War
Office, the remonstrances of the Czar, and the efforts to avert the
jealousy of Prussia--with the serene indifference of Napoleon as to
the whole affair. He knew full well that the war would not be decided
by diversions at the heel of Italy or on the banks of the Ems, but by
the shock of great masses of men on the Danube. He denuded Hanover of
French troops, except at its southern fortress of Hameln, so that he
could overwhelm the levies of Austria before the Russians came up. In
brief, while the Coalition sought, like a Briareus, to envelop him on
all sides, he prepared to deal a blow at its heart.

As the first part of the campaign depended almost entirely on problems
of time and space, it will be well to follow the chief movements of
the hostile forces somewhat closely. The Austrian plan aimed at
forestalling the French in the occupation of Swabia; and its apparent
success puffed up Mack with boundless confidence. At Ulm he threw up
extensive outworks to strengthen that obsolete fortress, extended his
lines to Memmingen far on the south, and trusted that the Muscovites
would come up long before the French eagles hovered above the sources
of the Danube. But at that time the Russian vanguard had not reached
Linz in Upper Austria, and not before October 10th did it appear on
the banks of the River Inn.[25]

Far from being the last to move, the French Emperor outstripped his
enemies in the speed of his preparations. Whereas the Austrians
believed he would not be able to reach the Danube in force before
November 10th, he intended to have 200,000 men in Germany by September
18th. But he knew not at first the full extent of his good fortune: it
did not occur to him that the Austrians would cross the Inn: all he
asks Talleyrand, on August 23rd, is that such news may appear in the
"Moniteur" as will gain him twenty days and give General Bertrand time
to win over Bavaria, while "I make my 200,000 men pirouette into
Germany." On August 29th the _Army of England_ became the _Grand
Army_, composed of seven corps, led by Bernadotte, Marmont, Davoust,
Soult, Lannes, Ney and Augereau. The cavalry was assigned to Murat;
while Bessières was in command of the Imperial Guard, now numbering
some 10,000 men.

Already the greater part of this vast array was beginning to move
inland; Davoust and Soult left some regiments, 30,000 strong, to guard
the flotilla, and Marmont detached 14,000 men to defend the coasts of
Holland; but the other corps on September 2nd began their march
Rhine-wards in almost their full strength. On that day Bernadotte
broke up his cantonments in Hanover, and began his march towards the
Main, on which so much was to turn. The Elector of Hesse-Cassel now
espoused Napoleon's cause. Thus, without meeting any opposition,
Bernadotte's columns reached Würzburg at the close of September; there
the Elector of Bavaria welcomed the Marshal and gave him the support
of his 20,000 troops; and at that stronghold he was also joined by
Marmont.

In order to mislead the Austrians, Napoleon remained up to September
23rd at St. Cloud or Paris; and during his stay appeared a _Senatus
Consultum_ ordering that, after January 1st, 1806, France should give
up its revolutionary calendar and revert to the Gregorian. He then set
out for Strassburg, as though the chief blows were to be dealt through
the passes of the Black Forest at the front of Mack's line of defence;
and, to encourage that general in this belief, Murat received orders
to show his horsemen in the passes held by Mack's outposts, but to
avoid any serious engagements. This would give time for the other
corps to creep up to the enemy's rear. Mack, meanwhile, had heard of
the forthcoming junction of the French and Bavarians at Würzburg, but
opined that it threatened Bohemia.[26]

Accordingly, he still clung to his lines, contenting himself with
sending a cavalry regiment to observe Bernadotte's movements; but
neither he nor his nominal chief, the Archduke Ferdinand, divined the
truth. Indeed, so far did they rely on the aid of the Russians as to
order back some regiments sent from Italy by the more sagacious
Archduke Charles; but 11,000 troops from Tyrol reached the Swabian
army. That force was now spread out so as to hold the bridges of the
Danube between Ingolstadt and Ulm; and on October 7th the Austrians
were disposed as follows: 18,000 men under Kienmayer were guarding
Ingolstadt, Neuburg, Donauwörth, Günzburg, and lesser points, while
Mack had about 35,000 men at Ulm and along the line of the Iller; the
arrival of other detachments brought the Austrian total to upwards of
70,000 men. Against this long scattered line Napoleon led greatly
superior forces.[27] The development of his plans proceeded apace.
Though Prussia had proclaimed her strict neutrality, he did not
scruple to violate it by sending Bernadotte's corps through her
principality of Ansbach, which lay in their path. He charged
Bernadotte to "offer many assurances favourable to Prussia, and
testify all possible affection and respect for her--and then rapidly
cross her land, asserting the impossibility of doing anything else."
Accordingly, that Marshal was lavish in his regrets and apologies, but
ordered his columns to defile past the battalions and squadrons of
Prussia, that were powerless to resent the outrage.[28]

The news of this trespass on Prussian territory reached the ears of
Frederick William at a critical time, when the Czar sent to Berlin a
kind of ultimatum, intimating that, even if Prussia deserted the cause
of European independence, Russian troops must nevertheless pass
through part of Prussian Poland. Stung by this note from his usually
passive demeanour, the King sent off an answer that such a step would
entail a Franco-Prussian alliance against the violators of his
territory, when the news came that Napoleon had actually done at
Ansbach what Alexander had announced his intention of doing in the
east. The revulsion of feeling was violent: for a short space the King
declared he would dismiss Duroc and make war on Napoleon for this
insult, but in the end he called a cabinet council and invited the
Czar to come to Berlin.[29]

While the Gallophil counsellors, Haugwitz and Lombard, were using all
their arts to hinder the Prusso-Russian understanding, the meshes were
being woven fast around Mack and the Archduke Ferdinand. Bernadotte's
corps, after making history in its march, was detached to the
south-east so as to hold in check the Russian vanguard, and to give
plenty of room to the troops that were to cut off Mack from Austria, a
move which may be compared with the march of Bonaparte to Milan before
he essayed the capture of Melas. Both steps bespeak his desire to have
ample space at his back before circling round his prey.

On October 6th the corps of Soult and Lannes, helped by Murat's
powerful cavalry, cut the Austrian lines on the Danube at Donauwörth,
and gained a firm footing on the right bank. Over the crossing thus
secured far in Mack's rear, the French poured in dense array, and
marched south and south-west towards the back of the Austrian
positions, while Ney's corps marched to seize the chief bridges over
the Danube.

A study of the processes of Mack's brain at this time is not without
interest. It shows the danger of intrusting the fate of an army to a
man who cannot weigh evidence. Mack was not ignorant of the course of
events, though his news generally came late. The mischief was that his
brain warped the news. On October 6th he wrote to Vienna that the
enemy seemed about to aim a blow at his communications: on October
7th, when he heard of the loss of Donauwörth, he described it as an
unfortunate event, which no one thought to be possible. The Archduke
now urged the need of an immediate retreat towards Munich, and marched
in an easterly direction on Günzburg: another Austrian division of
8,000 men moved on Wertingen, where, on October 8th, it was furiously
attacked by the troops of Murat and Lannes. At first the Imperialists
firmly kept their ranks; but the unequal contest closed with a hasty
flight, which left 2,000 men in the hands of the French Then Murat,
pressing on through the woods, cut off Mack's retreat to Augsburg. Yet
that general still took a cheerful view of his position. On that same
day he wrote from Günzburg that, as soon as the enemy had passed over
the Lech, he would cross the Danube and cut their communications at
Nördlingen. He wrote thus when Ney's corps was striving to seize the
Danube bridges below Ulm. If Mack were to march north-east against the
French communications it was of the utmost importance for him to hold
the chief of these bridges: but Ney speedily seized three of them, and
on the 9th was able to draw closer the toils around Ulm.

From his position at Augsburg the French Emperor now directed the
final operations; and, as before Marengo, he gave most heed to that
side by which he judged his enemy would strive to break through, in
this case towards Kempten and Tyrol. This would doubtless have been
Mack's safest course; for he was strong enough to brush aside Soult,
gain Tyrol, seal up its valleys against Napoleon, and carry
reinforcements to the Archduke Charles. But he was still intent on his
Nördlingen scheme, even after the loss of the Danube bridges exposed
his march thither to flank attacks from the four French corps now
south of the river. Nevertheless, Napoleon's miscalculation of Mack's
plans, or, as Thiers has striven to prove, a misunderstanding of his
orders by Murat, gave the Austrians a chance such as fortune rarely
bestows.[30]

In spite of Ney's protests, one of his divisions, that led by Dupont,
had been left alone to guard the northern bank of the Danube, a
position where it might have been overwhelmed by an enterprising foe.
What is more extraordinary, Dupont, with only 6,000 men, was charged
to advance on Ulm, and carry it by storm. On the 11th he accordingly
advanced against Mack's fortified camp north of that city. The
Austrians met him in force, and, despite the utmost heroism of his
troops, finally wrested the village of Hasslach from his grasp; later
in the day a cloud of their horsemen, swooping round his right wing,
cut up his tired troops, took 1,000 prisoners, and left 1,500 dead and
wounded on the field. Among the booty was found a despatch of Napoleon
ordering Dupont to carry Ulm by storm--which might have shown them
that the French Emperor believed that city to be all but deserted.[31]
In truth, Napoleon's miscalculation opened for Mack a path of safety;
and had he at once marched away to the north, the whole aspect of
affairs might have changed. The Russian vanguard was on the banks of
the Inn: all the French, except the relics of Dupont's division, were
south of the Danube, and a few vigorous blows at their communications
might have greatly embarrassed troops that had little artillery, light
stores of ammunition, and lived almost entirely on the produce of the
country. We may picture to ourselves the fierce blows that, in such a
case, Frederick the Great would have rained on his assailants as he
wheeled round on their rear and turned their turning movements. With
Frederick matched against Napoleon, the Lech and the Danube would have
witnessed a very cyclone of war.

But Mack was not Frederick: and he had to do with a foe who speedily
made good an error. On October 13th, when Mack seemed about to cut off
the French from the Main, he received news through Napoleon's spies
that the English had effected a landing at Boulogne, and a revolution
had broken out in France. The tidings found easy entrance into a brain
that had a strange bias towards pleasing falsities and rejected
disagreeable facts. At once he leaped to the conclusion that the moves
of Soult, Murat, Lannes, Marmont, and Ney round his rear were merely
desperate efforts to cut back a way to Alsace. He therefore held fast
to his lines, made only feeble efforts to clear the northern road, and
despatched reinforcements to Memmingen. The next day brought other
news; that Memmingen had been invested by Soult; that Ney by a
brilliant dash across the Danube at Elchingen had routed an Austrian
division there, and was threatening Ulm from the north-east; and that
the other French columns were advancing from the south-east. Yet Mack,
still viewing these facts in the twilight of his own fancies, pictured
them as the efforts of despair, not as the drawing in of the hunter's
toils.

He was now almost alone in his reading of events. The Archduke
Ferdinand, though nominally in supreme command, had hitherto deferred
to Mack's age and experience, as the Emperor Francis enjoined. But he
now urged the need of instantly marching away to the north with all
available forces. Still Mack clung to his notion that it was the
French who were in sore straits; and he forbade the evacuation of Ulm;
whereupon the Archduke, with Schwarzenberg, Kollowrath, Gyulai, and
all whose instincts or rank prompted and enabled them to defy the
madman's authority, assembled 1,500 horsemen and rode off by the
northern road. It was high time; for Ney, firmly established at
Elchingen, was pushing on his vanguard towards the doomed city: Murat
and Lannes were charged to support him on the north bank, while across
the river Marmont, and further south Soult, cut off the retreat on
Tyrol.

At last the scales fell from Mack's eyes. Even now he protested
against the mere mention of surrender. But again he was disappointed.
Ney stormed the Michaelsberg north of Ulm, a position on which the
Austrians had counted; and on October 17th the hapless commander
agreed to terms of capitulation, whereby his troops were to march out
and lay down their arms in six days' time, if an Austro-Russian army
able to raise the siege did not come on the scene. These conditions
were afterwards altered by the captor, who, wheedling his captive with
a few bland words, persuaded him to surrender on the 20th on condition
that Ney and his corps remained before Ulm until the 25th. This was
Mack's last offence against his country and his profession; his assent
to this wily compromise at once set free the other French corps for
offensive operations; and that too when every day was precious to
Austria, Russia, and Prussia.

On October 20th the French Emperor, with a brilliant staff, backed by
the solid wall of his Guard and flanked by eight columns of his
troops, received the homage of the vanquished. First came their
commander, who, bowed down by grief, handed his sword to the victor
with the words, "Here is the unfortunate Mack." Then there filed out
to the foot of the Michaelsberg 20,000 foot and 3,000 horse, who laid
down their arms before the Emperor, some with defiant rage, the most
part in stolid dejection, while others flung them away with every sign
of indecent joy.[32] As if the elements themselves conspired to
enhance the brilliance of Napoleon's triumph, the sun, which had been
obscured for days by storm-clouds and torrents of rain, now shone
brightly forth, bathing the scene in the mild radiance of autumn,
lighting up the French forces disposed on the slopes of that natural
amphitheatre, while it cast deep shadows from the long trail of the
vanquished beneath. The French were electrified by the sight: the
fatigues of their forced marches through the dusty heats of September,
and the slush, swamps, and torrents of the last few days were all
forgotten, and they hailed with jubilant shouts the chief whose
sagacity had planned and achieved a triumph hitherto unequalled in the
annals of war. "Our Emperor," said they, "has found out a new way of
making war: he no longer makes it with our arms, but with our
legs."[33]

Meanwhile the other Austrian detachments were being hunted down. Only
a few men escaped from Memmingen into Tyrol: the division, which, if
properly supported, might have cut a way through to Nördlingen three
days earlier, was now overwhelmed by the troops of Murat and Lannes;
out of 13,000 foot-soldiers very few escaped. Most of the horsemen
succeeded in joining the Archduke Ferdinand, on whose track Murat now
flung himself with untiring energy. The _beau sabreur_ swept through
part of Ansbach in pursuit, came up with Ferdinand near Nuremberg, and
defeated his squadrons, their chief, with about 1,700 horse and some
500 mounted artillerymen, finally reaching the shelter of the Bohemian
Mountains. All the rest of Mack's great array had been engulfed.

Thus closed the first scene of the War of the Third Coalition. Hasty
preparations, rash plans, and, above all, Mack's fatal ingenuity in
reading his notions into facts--these were the causes of a disaster
which ruined the chances of the allies. The Archduke Charles, who had
been foiled by Masséna's stubborn defence, was at once recalled from
Italy in order to cover Vienna; and, worst of all, the Court of Berlin
now delayed drawing the sword.

Yet, even amidst the unstinted boons that she showered on Napoleon by
land, Fortune rudely baffled him at sea. When he was hurrying from Ulm
towards the River Inn, to carry the war into Austria, he heard that
the French navy had been shattered. Trafalgar was fought the day after
Mack's army filed out of Ulm. The greatest sea-fight of the century
was the outcome of Napoleon's desire that his ships should carry
succour to his troops in Italy. For this voyage the Emperor was about
to substitute Admiral Rosily for Villeneuve: and the unfortunate
admiral, divining that resolve, sought by a bold stroke to retrieve
his fortunes. He put to sea, and Trafalgar was the result. It would be
superfluous to describe this last and most splendid of Nelson's
exploits; but a few words as to the bearing of this great victory on
the events of that time may not be out of place. It is certain that
Villeneuve at Trafalgar fought under more favourable conditions than
in the conflict of July 22nd. He had landed his very numerous sick,
his crews had been refreshed and reinforced, and, above all, the worst
of the Spanish ships had been replaced by seaworthy and serviceable
craft. Yet out of the thirty-three sail of the line, he lost eighteen
to an enemy that numbered only twenty-seven sail; and that fact alone
absolves him from the charge of cowardice in declining to face
Cornwallis and Calder in July with ships that were cumbered with sick
and badly needed refitting.

Then again: it is often stated that Trafalgar saved England from
invasion. To refute this error it is merely needful to remind the
reader that all immediate fear of invasion was over, when, at the
close of August, Napoleon wheeled the Grand Army against Austria. Not
until the Continent was conquered could the landing in Kent become
practicable. That opportunity occurred two years later, after Tilsit;
then, in truth, the United Kingdom was free from panic because
Trafalgar had practically destroyed the French navy. For these
islands, then, the benefits of Trafalgar were prospective. But, for
the British Empire, they were immediate. Every French, Dutch, and
Spanish colony that now fell into our hands was in great measure the
fruit of Nelson's victory, which heralded the second and vaster stage
of imperial growth.

Finally, the decisive advantage which Britain now gained over Napoleon
at sea compelled him, if he would realize the world-wide schemes ever
closest to his heart, to adopt the method of warfare against us which
he had all along contemplated as an effective alternative. As far back
as February, 1798, he pointed out that there were three ways of
attacking and ruining England, either a direct invasion, or a French
control of North Germany which would ruin British commerce, or an
expedition to the Indies. After Trafalgar the first of these
alternatives was impossible, and the last receded for a time into the
background. The second now took the first place in his thoughts; he
could only bring England to his feet and gain a world-empire by
shutting out her goods from the whole of the Continent, and thus
condemning her to industrial strangulation. In a word, Trafalgar
necessitated the adoption of the Continental System, which was built
up by the events now to be described.

    Note to the Third Edition.--An American critic has charged me with
    inconsistency in saying that the Third Coalition was not built up
    by English gold, because I state (p. 5) that the first advances
    were made by England to Russia. I ought to have used the phrase
    "the first _written_ proposals that I have found were made," etc.
    Czartoryski's "Memoirs" (vol. ii., chs. ii.-iii.), to which I
    referred my readers for details, show clearly that Alexander and
    his advisers looked on a rupture with France as inevitable, but
    wished to temporize for some three months or so, until certain
    matters were cleared up; they therefore cautiously sounded the
    position at Vienna and London. This passage from Czartoryski (vol.
    ii., ch. iii.) proves that Russia wanted the English alliance:

    "After the diplomatic rupture consequent upon the execution of the
    Duc d'Enghien, it became indispensable to come to an understanding
    with the only Power, except Russia, which thought herself strong
    enough to contend with France--to ascertain as thoroughly as
    possible what were her inclinations and designs, the principles of
    her policy, and those which she could be led to adopt in certain
    contingencies. It would have been a great advantage to obtain the
    concurrence in our views of so powerful a State as England, and to
    strive with her for the same objects; but for this it was
    necessary, not only to make sure of her present inclinations, but
    to weigh well the possibilities of the future after the death of
    George III. and the fall of the Pitt Ministry. We had to make
    England understand that the wish to fight Napoleon was not in
    itself sufficient to establish an indissoluble bond between her
    Government and that of St. Petersburg...."

    In "F.O.," Russia, No. 55, is a despatch of our ambassador at St.
    Petersburg, Admiral Warren, of June 30, 1804, in which he reports
    Czartoryski's concern at rumours of negotiations between England
    and France: "The prince [Czartoryski] remarked that he could not
    suppose, after what had passed between the two Courts, and the
    manner in which the Emperor [Alexander] had explained himself to
    England, and after the measures which Russia had since proposed,
    that Great Britain would make a peace at once by herself."

    Of these earlier negotiations I have found no trace; but obviously
    the first proposals for an alliance must have come from Russia.
    Sweden was the first to propose a monarchical league against
    Napoleon. (See my article in the "Revue Napoléonienne" for June,
    1902.)


       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXIII

AUSTERLITZ


After the capitulation of Ulm, the French Emperor marched against the
Russian army, which, as he told his troops, _English gold had brought
from the ends of the earth._ As is generally the case with coalitions,
neither of the allies was ready in time or sent its full quota. In
place of the 54,000 which Alexander had covenanted to send to
Austria's support, he sent as yet only 46,000; and of these 8,000 were
detached into Podolia in order to watch the warlike moves of the
Turks, whom the French had stirred up against the Muscovite.

But Alexander had another and weightier excuse for not denuding his
realm of troops, namely, the ambiguous policy of Prussia. Up to the
middle of October this great military Power clung to her somewhat
threatening neutrality, an attitude not unlike that of the
Scandinavian States, which, in 1691, remained deaf to the entreaties
of William of Orange to take up the cause of European freedom against
Louis XIV., and were dubbed the Third Party. It would seem, however,
that the Prussian King had some grounds for his conduct: he feared the
Polish influence which Czartoryski wielded over the Czar, and saw in
the Russian request for a right of way through Prussian Poland a
deep-laid scheme for the seizure of that territory. Indeed, the
letters of Czartoryski prove that such a plan was pressed forward, and
found much favour with the Czar, though at the last moment he
prudently shelved it.[34]

For a time the hesitations of Prussia were ended by Napoleon's
violation of Ansbach, and by Alexander's frank explanations at
Potsdam; but meanwhile the delays caused by Prussia's suspicions had
marred the Austrian plans. A week's grace granted by Napoleon, or a
week gained by the Russians on their actual marching time, would have
altered the whole situation in Bavaria--and Prussia would have drawn
the sword against France to avenge the insult at Ansbach.

On October 10th Hardenberg informed the Austrian ambassador,
Metternich, that Frederick William was on the point of declaring for
the allies. Nothing, however, was done until Alexander reached
Potsdam, and the first news that he received on his arrival (October
25th) was of the surrender of Ulm. Nevertheless, the influence of the
Czar checkmated the efforts of Haugwitz and the French party, and kept
that Government to its resolve, which on November 3rd took the form of
the Treaty of Potsdam between Russia, Austria, and Prussia. Frederick
William pledged himself to offer the armed mediation of Prussia, and,
if it were refused by Napoleon, to join the allies. The Prussian
demands were as follows: indemnities for the King of Sardinia in
Lombardy, Liguria, and Parma; the independence of Naples, Holland,
Germany, and Switzerland; and the Mincio as Austria's boundary in
Italy.[35]

An envoy was to offer these terms to Napoleon, and to bring back a
definite answer within one month from the time of his departure, and
in the meantime 180,000 Prussians prepared to threaten his flank and
rear. Alexander also secretly pledged himself to use his influence
with George III. to gain Hanover for Frederick William at the close of
the war, England meanwhile subsidizing Prussia and her Saxon allies on
the usual scale. The Czar afterwards accompanied the King and Queen to
the crypt of the Great Frederick, kissed the tomb, and, as he took his
leave of their majesties, cast a significant look at the altar.[36]

Did he fear the peace-loving tendencies of the King, or the treachery
of Haugwitz? It is difficult to see good faith in every detail of the
treaty. Apart from the strange assumption that England would subsidize
Prussia and also give up Hanover, the manner in which the armed
mediation was to be offered left several loopholes for escape. After
the surrender of Ulm, speedy and vigorous action was needed to restore
the balance; yet a month's delay was bargained for. Then, too,
Haugwitz, who was charged with this most important mission, deferred
his departure for ten days on the plea that Prussia's forces could not
be ready before the middle of December. Such was the statement of the
leisurely Duke of Brunswick; but it can scarcely be reconciled with
Frederick William's threat, a month earlier, of immediate war against
the Russians if they entered his lands. Yet now that monarch approved
of the delay. Haugwitz therefore did not set out till November 14th,
and by that time Napoleon was master of Vienna, and the allies were
falling back into Moravia.

We now turn to the scene of war. For the first time in modern history
the Hapsburg capital had fallen into the hands of a foreign foe.
Napoleon now installed himself at the stately palace of Schönbrunn,
while Francis was fleeing to Olmütz and the Archdukes Charles and John
were struggling in the defiles of the Alps to disengage themselves
from the vanguard of Masséna. The march of the French on Vienna, and
thence northwards to Brünn, led to only one incident of general
interest, namely, the filching away from the Austrians of the bridge
over the Danube to the north of Vienna. As it nears the city, that
great river spreads out into several channels, the largest being on
the north. The wooden bridge further up the river having been burnt by
the Russian rearguard, there remained only the bridge or bridges,
opposite the city, on the possession of which Napoleon set much store.
He therefore charged Murat and Lannes to secure them if possible.

Murat was smarting under the Emperor's displeasure for a rash advance
on Vienna which had wellnigh cost the existence of Mortier's corps on
the other bank. Indeed, only by the most resolute bravery did the
remnant of that corps hew its way through overwhelming numbers. Murat,
who should have kept closely in touch with Mortier by a flotilla of
boats, was eager to retrieve his fault, and, with Lannes, Bertrand,
and an officer of engineers, he now approached the first part of the
bridge as if for a parley during an informal armistice which had just
been discussed but not concluded. The French Marshals had disposed the
grenadiers of General Oudinot, a body of men as renowned as their
leader for fighting qualities, behind some thickets that spread along
the southern bank and partly screened the approach. The plank
barricade at the southern end was now thrown down, and the four
Frenchmen advanced. An Austrian mounted sentinel fired his carbine and
galloped away to the main bridge; thereupon the four men advanced,
called to the officer there in command as if for a parley, and stopped
him in the act of firing the gunpowder stored beneath the bridge, with
the assurance that an armistice was, or was about to be, concluded.

Reaching the northern end they repeated their tale, and claimed to see
the commander. While the defenders were hesitating, Oudinot's
grenadiers were rapidly marching forward. As soon as they were seen,
the Austrians prepared once more to fire the bridge. Again they were
implored to desist, as peace was as good as signed. But when the
grenadiers had reached the northern bank, the mask was dropped: fresh
troops were hurrying up and the chance of saving the bridge from their
grasp was now lost. By these means did Murat and Lannes secure an
undisputed passage to the northern bank, for which four years later
the French had desperately to fight. Napoleon was delighted at Murat's
exploit, which greatly furthered his pursuit of the allies, and he at
once restored that Marshal to high favour. But those who placed
gentlemanly conduct above the glamour of a trickster's success were
not slow, even then, to express their disapproval of this act of
perfidy.[37]

The prolonged retreat into Moravia, the unexpected feebleness of the
Hapsburg arms, and the lack of supplies weighed heavily on Alexander's
spirits, as is shown in his letter from Olmütz to the King of Prussia
on November 19th: "Our position is more than critical: we stand almost
alone against the French, who are close on our heels. As for the
Austrian army, it does not exist.... If your armies advance, the whole
position will alter at once."[38] A few days later, however, when
27,000 more Russians were at hand, including his Imperial Guard, the
Czar passed from the depths of depression to the heights of
confidence. The caution of his wary commander, Kutusoff, who urged a
Fabian policy of delay and retreat, now began to weary him. To retire
into northern Hungary seemed ignominious. And though Frederick William
held to his resolve of not drawing the sword before December 15th, and
by that time the Archduke Charles with a large army was expected below
Vienna, yet the susceptible young autocrat spurned the behests of
irksome prudence. In vain did Kutusoff and Schwarzenberg urge the need
of delay and retreat: Alexander gave more heed to the rash counsels of
his younger officers. An advance was ordered on Brünn, and a
successful cavalry skirmish at Wischau confirmed the Czar in his
change from the strategy of Fabius to that of Varro.

Napoleon, who was now at Brünn, had already divined this change in the
temper of his foe, and called back his men with the express purpose of
humouring Alexander's latest mood and tempting him on to a decisive
battle. He saw clearly the advantage of fighting at once. The renewed
offers of an armistice, which he received from the prudent Francis,
might alone have convinced him of this; and they came in time to give
him an argument, telling enough to daunt the Prussian envoy, who was
now drawing near to his headquarters.

After proceeding towards Vienna and being sent back to Brünn, Haugwitz
arrived there on November 29th.[39] Of the four hours' private
conference that ensued with Napoleon we have but scanty records, and
those by Haugwitz himself, who had every reason for warping the truth.
He states that he was received with icy coldness, and at once saw that
the least threat of hostile pressure by Prussia would drive Napoleon
to make a separate peace with Austria. But after the first hour the
Emperor appeared to thaw: he discussed the question of a Continental
peace and laid aside all resentment at Prussia's conduct: finally, he
gave a general assent to her proposals, on two conditions, namely,
that the allied force then in Hanover should not be allowed by Prussia
to invade Holland, and that the French garrison in the fortress of
Hameln, now compassed about by Prussians, should be provisioned. To
both of these requests Haugwitz assented, and pledged the word of his
King, an act of presumption which that monarch was to repudiate.

While exceeding his instructions on this side, Haugwitz did
practically nothing to advance the chief business of his mission.
Either his own fears, or the crafty mixture of threats and flattery
that cajoled so many envoys, led him to neglect the interests of
Prussia, and to play into the hands of the very man whose ambition he
was sent to check. After the interview, when the envoy had retired to
his lodging, Caulaincourt came up in haste to warn him that a battle
was imminent, that his personal safety might be endangered, and that
Napoleon requested him to repair to Vienna, where he might consult
with Talleyrand on affairs of State. Horses and an escort were ready,
and Haugwitz set out for that city, where he arrived on November 30th,
only to find that Talleyrand was strictly forbidden to do more than
entertain him with commonplaces. Thus, the all-important question as
to the action of Prussia's legions was again postponed, even when
150,000 Prussians and Saxons were ready to march against the French
communications.

Napoleon's letter of November 30th to Talleyrand reveals his secret
anxiety at this time. In truth, the crisis was terrible. With a
superior force in front, with the Archdukes Ferdinand and Charles
threatening to raise Bohemia and Hungary on his flanks, while two
Prussian armies were about to throw themselves on his rear, his
position was fully as serious as that of Hannibal before Cannæ, from
which the Carthaginian freed himself only by that staggering blow. Did
that example inspire the French Emperor, or did he take counsel from
his own boundless resources of brain and will? Certain it is that,
after a passing fit of discouragement, he braced himself for a final
effort, and staked all on the effect of one mighty stroke. In order to
hurry on the battle he feigned discouragement and withdrew his lines
from Austerlitz to the Goldbach. Already he had sent General Savary to
the Czar with proposals for a short truce.[40] The word truce now
spelt guile; its offer through Savary, whose hands were stained with
the blood of the Duc d'Enghien, was in itself an insult, and Alexander
gave that envoy the coolest reception. In return he sent Prince
Dolgoruki, the leader of the bellicose youths now high in favour, who
proudly declared to the French Emperor the wishes of his master for
the independence of Europe--adding among other things that Holland
must be free and have Belgium added to it.

This suggestion greatly amused Napoleon, who replied that Russia ought
now to think of her own advantages on the side of Turkey. The answer
convinced the Czar that Napoleon dreaded a conflict in his dangerously
advanced position. He knew not his antagonist's resources. Napoleon
had hurried up every available regiment. Bernadotte's corps was
recalled from the frontier of Bohemia; Friant's division of 4,000 men
was ordered up from Pressburg; and by forced marches it also was nigh
at hand on the night of December 1st, worn with fatigue after covering
an immense space in two days, but ready to do excellent service on the
morrow.[41] By this timely concentration Napoleon raised his forces to
a total of at least 73,000 men, while the enemy founded their plan on
the assumption that Napoleon had less than 50,000, and would scarcely
resist the onset of superior forces.

Their plan was rash, even for an army which numbered about 80,000 men.
The Austrian General Weyrother had convinced the Czar that an
energetic advance of his left wing, which rested on the southern spurs
of the Pratzenberg, would force back Napoleon's right, which was
ranged between the villages of Kobelnitz and Sokelnitz, and so roll up
his long line that stretched beyond Schlapanitz. This move, if
successful, would not only win the day, but decide the campaign, by
cutting off the French from their supplies coming from the south and
driving them into the exhausted lands around Olmütz. Such was
Weyrother's scheme, which enchanted the Czar and moved the fears of
the veteran Kutusoff: it was expounded to the Russian and Austrian
generals after midnight on December the 2nd. Strong in the great
central hill, the Pratzenberg, and the cover of its village at the
foot, the Czar had no fear for his centre: to his right or northern
wing he gave still less heed, as it rested firmly on villages and was
powerful in cavalry and artillery; but his left wing, comprising fully
two-fifths of the allied army, was expected easily to defeat
Napoleon's weak and scattered right, and so decide the day. Kutusoff
saw the peril of massing so great a force there and weakening the
centre, but sadly held his peace.

Napoleon had already divined their secret. In his order of battle he
took his troops into his confidence, telling them that, while the
enemy marched to turn his right, they would expose their flank to his
blows. To announce this beforehand was strangely bold, and it has been
thought that he had the plan from some traitor on the enemy's staff.
No proof of this has been given; and such an explanation seems
superfluous to those who have observed Napoleon's uncanny power of
fathoming his adversary's designs. The idea of withdrawing one wing in
order to tempt the foe unduly to prolong his line on that side, and
then to crush it at the centre, or sever it from the centre, is common
both to Castiglione and Austerlitz. It is true, the peculiarities of
the ground, the ardour of the Russian attack, and the vastness of the
operations lent to the present conflict a splendour and a horror which
Castiglione lacked. But the tactics which won both battles were
fundamentally the same.

He had studied the ground in front of Austerlitz; and the priceless
gift of strategic imagination revealed to him what a rash and showy
leader would be certain to do on that ground;[42] he tempted him to
it, and the announcement of the enemy's plan to the French soldiery
supplied the touch of good comradeship which insured their utmost
devotion on the morrow. At midnight, as he returned from visiting the
outposts, the soldiers greeted him with a weird illumination: by a
common impulse they tore down the straw from their rude shelters and
held aloft the burning wisps on long poles, dancing the while in
honour of the short gray-coated figure, and shouting, "It is the
anniversary of the coronation. Long live the Emperor." Thus was the
great day ushered in. The welkin glowed with this tribute of an army's
heroworship: the frost-laden clouds echoed back the multitudinous
acclaim; and the Russians, as they swung forward their left, surmised
that, after all, the French would stand their ground and fight, whilst
others saw in the flare a signal that Napoleon was once more about to
retreat.

December the 2nd may well be the most famous day of the Napoleonic
calendar: it was the day of his coronation, it was the day of
Austerlitz, and, a generation later, another Napoleon chose it for his
_coup d'état_. The "sun of Austerlitz," which the nephew then hailed,
looked down on a spectacle far different from that which he wished to
gild with borrowed splendour. Struggling dimly through dense banks of
mist, it shone on the faces of 73,000 Frenchmen resolved to conquer or
to die: it cast weird shadows before the gray columns of Russia and
the white-coats of Austria as they pressed in serried ranks towards
the frozen swamps of the Goldbach. At first the allies found little
opposition; and Kienmayer's horse cleared the French from Tellnitz and
the level ground beyond. But Friant's division, hurrying up from the
west, restored the fight and drove the first assailants from the
village. Others, however, were pressing on, twenty-nine battalions
strong, and not all the tenacious bravery of Davoust's soldiery
availed to hold that spot. Nor was it necessary. Napoleon's plan was
to let the allied left compromise itself on this side, while he rained
the decisive blows at its joint with the centre on the southern spur
of the Pratzenberg.

For this reason he reduced Davoust to defensive tactics, for which his
stubborn methodical genius eminently fitted him, until the French
centre had forced the Russians from the plateau. Opposite or near that
height he had posted the corps of Soult and Bernadotte, supporting
them with the grenadiers of Oudinot and the Imperial Guard.
Confronting these imposing forces was the Russian centre, weakened by
the heavy drafts sent towards Tellnitz, but strong in its position and
in the experience of its leader Kutusoff. Caution urged him to hold
back his men to the last moment, until the need of giving cohesion to
the turning movement led the Czar impatiently to order his advance.
Scarcely had the Russians descended beyond Pratzen when they were
exposed to a furious attack. Vandamme, noted even then as one of the
hardest hitters in the army, was leading his division of Soult's corps
up the northern slopes of the plateau; by a sidelong slant his men cut
off a detachment of Russians in the village, and, aided by the brigade
of Thiébault, swarmed up the hill at a speed which surprised and
unsteadied its defenders. Oudinot's grenadiers and the Imperial Guard
were ready to sustain Soult: but the men of his corps had the glory of
seizing the plateau and driving back the Russians. Yet these returned
to the charge. Alexander and Kutusoff saw the importance of the
heights, and brought up a great part of their reserves. Soon the
divisions of  Vandamme and St. Hilaire were borne back;
and it needed all the grand fighting powers of their troops to hold up
against the masses of howling Russians. For two hours the battle there
swayed to and fro; and Thiébault has censured Napoleon for the lack of
support, and Soult for his apathy, during this soldiers' battle.

[Illustration: BATTLE OF AUSTERLITZ]

But the Emperor was awaiting the development of events on the wings. A
sharp fight of all arms was raging on the plain further to the north.
There the allies at first gained ground, the Austrian horse well
maintaining its old fame: but the infantry of Lannes' corps, supported
by powerful artillery ranged on a small conical hill, speedily checked
their charges; the French horse, marshalled by Murat and Kellermann
somewhat after the fashion of the British cavalry at Waterloo, so as
to support the squares and dash through the intervals in pursuit, soon
made most effective charges upon the dense squadrons of the allies,
and finally a general advance of Lannes and Murat overthrew the
wavering lines opposite and chased them back towards the small town of
Austerlitz.

Thus by noon the lines of fighting swerved till they ranged along the
course of the Littawa stream, save where the allies had thrust forward
a long and apparently successful wedge beyond Tellnitz. The Czar saw
the danger of this almost isolated wing, and sought to keep touch with
it; but the defects of the allied plan were now painfully apparent.
Napoleon, having the interior lines, while his foes were scattered
over an irregular arc, could reinforce his hard-pressed right. There
Davoust was being slowly borne back, when the march of Duroc with part
of the Imperial Guard restored the balance on that side. The French
centre also was strengthened by the timely arrival of part of
Bernadotte's corps. That Marshal detached a division towards the
northern slopes of the plateau; for he divined that there his master
would need every man to deal the final blows.[43]

In truth, Alexander and Kutusoff were struggling hard to regain the
Pratzenberg. Four times did the Muscovites fling themselves on the
French centre, and not without some passing gleams of success. Here
occurred the most famous cavalry fight of the war. The Russian Guards,
mounted on superb horses, had cut up two of Vandamme's battalions,
when Rapp rode to their rescue with the chasseurs of the French
Imperial Guard. These choice bodies of horsemen met with a terrible
shock, which threw the Russians into disorder. Rallied by other
squadrons, these now overthrew their assailants and seemed about to
overpower them, when Bessières with the heavy cavalry of the Guard
fell on the flank of the Muscovite horse and drove their lines, horse
and foot, into the valley beyond.

Assured of his centre, Napoleon now launched Soult's corps down the
south-western spurs of the plateau upon the flank and rear of the
allied left: this unexpected onset was decisive: the French, sweeping
down the slopes with triumphant shouts, cut off several battalions on
the banks of the Goldbach, scattered others in headlong flight towards
Brünn, and drove the greater part down to the Lake of Tellnitz. Here
the troubles of the allies culminated. A few gained the narrow marshy
gap between the two lakes; but dense bodies found no means of escape
save the frozen surface of the upper lake. In some parts the ice bore
the weight of the fugitives; but where they thronged pell-mell, or
where it was cut up by the plunging fire of the French cannon on the
heights, crowds of men sank to destruction. The victors themselves
stood aghast at this spectacle; and, for the credit of human nature be
it said, many sought to save their drowning foes. Among others, the
youthful Marbot swam to a floe to help bring a Russian officer to
land, a chivalrous exploit which called forth the praise of Napoleon.
The Emperor brought this glorious day to a fitting close by visiting
the ground most thickly strewn with his wounded, and giving directions
for their treatment or removal. As if satisfied with the victory, he
gave little heed to the pursuit. In truth, never since Marlborough cut
the Franco-Bavarian army in twain at Blenheim, had there been a battle
so terrible in its finale, and so decisive in its results as this of
the three Emperors, which cost the allies 33,000 men and 186 cannon.

The Emperors Alexander and Francis fled eastwards into the night.
Between them there was now a tacit understanding that the campaign was
at an end. On that night Francis sent proposals for a truce; and in
two days' time Napoleon agreed to an armistice (signed on December
6th) on condition that Francis would send away the Russian army and
entirely exclude that of Prussia from his territories. A contribution
of 100,000,000 francs was also laid upon the Hapsburg dominions. On
the next day Alexander pledged himself to withdraw his army at once;
and Francis proceeded to treat for peace with Napoleon. This was an
infraction of the treaties of the Third Coalition, which prescribed
that no separate peace should be made.

Under the circumstances, the conduct of the Hapsburgs was pardonable:
but the seeming break-up of the coalition furnished the Court of
Berlin with a good reason for declining to bear the burden alone. It
was not Austerlitz that daunted Frederick William; for, after hearing
of that disaster, he wrote that he would be true to his pledge given
on November 3rd. But then, on the decisive day (December 15th), came
the news of the defection of Austria, the withdrawal of Alexander's
army, and the closing of the Hapsburg lands to a Prussian force. These
facts absolved Frederick William from his obligations to those Powers,
and allowed him with perfect good faith to keep his sword in the
scabbard. The change, it is true, sadly dulled the warlike ardour of
his army; but it could not be called desertion of Russia and
Austria.[44] The disgrace came later, when, on Christmas Day, Haugwitz
reached Berlin, and described to the King and Ministers his interview
with Napoleon in the palace of Schönbrunn, and the treaty which the
victor then and there offered to Prussia at the sword's point.

For most men a great victory such as Austerlitz would have brought a
brief spell of rest, especially after the ceaseless toils and
anxieties of the previous fortnight. Yet now, after ridding himself of
all fear of Austria, Napoleon at once used every device of his subtle
statecraft to dissolve the nascent coalition. And Fortune had willed
that, when flushed with triumph, he should have to deal with a
timorous time-server.

It is the curse of a policy of keeping up a dainty balance in a
hurricane that it unmans the balancer, until at last the peacemaker
resembles a juggler. A decade of compromise and evasion of
difficulties had enfeebled the spirit of Prussia, until the hardest
trial for her King was to take any step that could not be retraced. He
had often spoken "feelingly, if not energetically," of the
predicaments of his position between France, England, and Russia.[45]
And, as in the case of that other _bon père de famille_, Louis XVI.,
whom Nature framed for a farmhouse and Fate tossed into a revolution,
his lack of foresight and resolution took the heart out of his
advisers and turned statesmen into trimmers. Even before the news of
Austerlitz reached the ears of Talleyrand and Haugwitz at Vienna, the
bearer of Prussia's ultimatum was posing as the friend of France. On
all occasions he wore the cordon of the Legion of Honour; and while
the hosts of East and West were in the death-grapple on the
Pratzenberg, he strove to convince the French Foreign Minister that
the Prussians had entered Hanover only in order to keep the peace in
North Germany; that, as Russians had traversed Prussian territory, the
French would, of course, be equally free to do so; that Frederick
William objected to the descent of any English force in Hanover, which
belonged _de facto_ to France; and finally that the Treaty of Potsdam
was not a treaty at all, but merely a declaration with the "offer of
Prussia's good offices and of mediation, but without any mingling of
hostile intentions." Well might Talleyrand write to Napoleon: "I am
very satisfied with M. Haugwitz."[46]

Napoleon's victory over Prussian diplomacy was therefore won, even
before the lightning-stroke of Austerlitz blasted the Third Coalition.
Haugwitz began his conference with the victor at Schönbrunn on
December 13th, by offering Frederick William's congratulations on his
triumph at Austerlitz, to which the Emperor replied by a sarcastic
query whether, if the result of that battle had been different, he
would have spoken at all about the friendship of his master.[47] After
thus disconcerting the envoy and upbraiding him with the Treaty of
Potsdam, Napoleon unmasked his battery by offering Prussia the
Electorate of Hanover in return for the comparatively petty sacrifices
of Ansbach to Bavaria, and Cleves and Neufchâtel to France. For the
loss of these outlying districts Prussia could buy that long-coveted
land.[48] The envoy was dazzled by this glittering offer, and by
others that followed. The conqueror proposed an offensive and
defensive alliance, whereby France and Prussia mutually guaranteed
their lands along with prospective additions in Germany and Italy; and
the Court of Berlin was also to uphold the independence of Turkey.

Such were the terms that Napoleon peremptorily required Haugwitz to
sign within a few hours: and the bearer of Prussia's ultimatum on
December 15th signed this Treaty of Schönbrunn, which degraded the
would-be arbitress of Europe to her former position of well-fed
follower of France. This was the news which Haugwitz brought back to
his astonished King. His reception was of the coolest; for Frederick
William was an honest man, who sought peace, prosperity, and the
welfare of his people, and now saw himself confronted by the
alternative of war or national humiliation. In truth, every turn and
double of his course was now leading him deeper into the discredit and
ruin which will be described in the next chapter.

Leaving for the present that unhappy King amidst his increasing
perplexities, we return to the affairs of Austria. Mack's disaster
alone had cast that Government into the depths of despair, and we
learn from Lord Gower, our ambassador at St. Petersburg, that he had
seen copies of letters written by the Emperor Francis to Napoleon
"couched in terms of humility and submission unworthy of a great
monarch," to which the latter replied in a tone of superiority and
affected commiseration, and with a demand for the Hapsburg lands in
Venetia and Swabia.[49]

The same tone of whining dejection was kept up by Cobenzl and other
Austrian Ministers, even before Austerlitz, when Prussia was on the
point of drawing the sword; and they sent offers of peace, when it was
rather for their foe to sue for it. After that battle, and, still more
so, after signing the armistice of December 6th, they were at the
conqueror's mercy; and Napoleon knew it. After probing the inner
weakness of the Berlin Court, he now pressed with merciless severity
on the Hapsburgs. He proposed to tear away their Swabian and Tyrolese
lands and their share of the spoils of Venice. In vain did the
Austrian plenipotentiaries struggle against these harsh terms,
pleading for Tyrol and Dalmatia, and pointing out the impossibility of
raising 100,000,000 francs from territories ravaged by war. In vain
did they proffer a claim to Hanover for one of their Archdukes: though
Talleyrand urged the advantage of this step as dissolving the
Anglo-Austrian alliance, yet Napoleon refused to hear of it; for at
that time he was offering that Electorate to Haugwitz.[50] Still less
would he hear a word in favour of the Court of Naples, whose conduct
had aroused his resentment. The utmost that the Austrian envoys could
wring from him was the reduction of the war contribution to 40,000,000
francs.

The terms finally arranged in the Treaty of Pressburg (December 26th,
1805) may be thus summarized: Austria recognized the recent
acquisitions and changes of title made by Napoleon in Italy, and ceded
to him her parts of Venetia, Istria, and Dalmatia. She recognized the
title of King now bestowed by Napoleon on the Electors of Bavaria and
Würtemberg, a change which was not to invalidate their membership of
the "Germanic Confederation." To those potentates and to the Elector
(now Grand Duke) of Baden, the Hapsburgs ceded all their scattered
Swabian domains, while Bavaria also gained Tyrol and Vorarlberg. As a
slight compensation for these grievous losses, Austria gained
Salzburg, whose Elector was to receive from Bavaria the former
principality of Würzburg. The domains and revenues of the Teutonic and
Maltese Orders were secularized, so as to furnish appanages to some
other princes of the Hapsburg House; and another blow was dealt at the
Germanic system by the declaration that Napoleon guaranteed the full
and entire sovereignty of the rulers of Bavaria, Würtemberg, and
Baden. In fact, as will appear in the next chapter, Napoleon now
usurped the place in Germany previously held by the Hapsburgs, and
extended his influence as far east as the River Inn, and, on the
south, down to the remote city of Ragusa on the Adriatic.

But it is one thing to win a brilliant diplomatic triumph, and quite
another thing to secure a firm and lasting peace. The Peace of
Pressburg raised Napoleon to heights of power never dreamt of by Louis
XIV.: but his pre-eminence was at best precarious. When by moderate
terms he might have secured the alliance of Austria and severed her
friendship with England, he chose to place his heel on her neck and
drive her to secret but irreconcilable hatred.

And his choice was deliberate. Two months earlier, Talleyrand had sent
him a memorandum on the subject of a Franco-Austrian alliance, which
is instinct with statesmanlike foresight. He stated that there were
four Great Powers--France, Great Britain, Russia, and Austria: he
excluded Prussia, whose rise to greatness under Frederick the Great
was but temporary. Austria, he claimed, must remain a Great Power. She
had opposed revolutionary France; but with Imperial France she had no
lasting quarrel. Rather did her manifest destiny clash with that of
Russia on the lower Danube, where the approaching break-up of the
Ottoman Power must bring those States into conflict. It was good
policy, then, to give a decided but friendly turn of Hapsburg policy
towards the east. Let Napoleon frankly approach the Emperor Francis
and say in effect: "I never sought this war with you, but I have
conquered: I wish to restore complete harmony between us: and, in
order to remove all causes of dispute, you must give up your Swabian,
Tyrolese, and Venetian lands: of these Tyrol shall fall to a prince of
your choice, and Venice (along with Trieste and Istria) shall form an
aristocratic Republic under a magistrate nominated in the first
instance by me. As a set-off to these losses, you shall receive
Moldavia, Wallachia, and northern Bulgaria. If the Russians object to
this and attack you, I will be your ally." Such was Talleyrand's
proposal.[51]

It is easy to criticise it in many details; but there can be little
doubt that its adoption by Napoleon would have laid a firmer
foundation for French supremacy than was afforded by the Treaties of
Pressburg and Tilsit. Austria would not have been deeply wounded, as
she now was by the transfer of her faithful Tyrolese to the detested
rule of Bavaria, and by the undisguised triumph of Napoleon in Italy
and along the Adriatic. Moreover, the erection of Tyrol and Venetia
into separate States would have been a wise concession to those
clannish societies; and Austria could not have taken up the
championship of outraged Tyrolese sentiment, which she assumed four
years later. Instead of figuring as the leader of German nationality,
she would have been on the worst of terms with the Czar over the
Eastern Question; and their discord would have enabled France to
dictate her own terms as to the partition of the Sultan's dominions.
Talleyrand had no specific for dissolving the traditional friendship
of England and Austria, and we may imagine the joy with which he heard
from the Hapsburg envoys the demand for Hanover, at a time when
English gold was pouring into the empty coffers at Vienna. Here was
the sure means of embroiling England and Austria for a generation at
least. But this further chance of preventing future coalitions was
likewise rejected by Napoleon, who deliberately chose to make Austria
a deadly foe, and to aggrandize her rival Prussia.[52]

Why did Napoleon reject Talleyrand's plan? Unquestionably, I think,
because he had resolved to build up a Continental System, which should
"hermetically seal" the coasts of Europe against English commerce. If
he was to realize those golden visions of his youth, ships, colonies,
and an Eastern empire, which, even amidst the glories of Austerlitz,
he placed far above any European triumph, he must extend his coast
system and subject or conciliate the maritime States. Of these the
most important were Prussia and Russia. The seaborne commerce of
Austria was insignificant, and could easily be controlled from his
vassal lands of Venetia and Dalmatia. To the would-be conqueror of
England the friendship or hatred of Austria seemed unimportant: he
preferred to depress this now almost land-locked Power, and to draw
tight the bonds of union with Prussia, always provided that she
excluded British goods.[53]

The same reason led him to hope for a Russian alliance. Only by the
help of Russia and Prussia could he shut England out from the Baltic;
and, to win that help, he destined Hanover for Prussia and the
Danubian States for the Czar. For the founder of the Continental
System such a choice was natural; but, viewed from the standpoint of
Continental politics, his treatment of Austria was a serious blunder.
His frightful pressure on her motley lands endowed them with a
solidity which they had never known before; and in less than four
years, the conqueror had cause to regret having driven the Hapsburgs
to desperation. It may even be questioned whether Austerlitz itself
was not a misfortune to him. Just before that battle he thought of
treating Austria leniently, taking only Verona and Legnago, and
exchanging Venetia against Salzburg. This would have detached her from
the Coalition, and made a friend of a Power that is naturally inclined
to be conservative.

After Austerlitz, he rushed to the other extreme and forced the
Hapsburgs to a hostility in which the Marie Louise marriage was only a
forced and uneasy truce. His motives are not, in my judgment, to be
assigned to mere lust of domination, but rather to a reasoned though
exaggerated conviction of the need of Prussia and Russia to his
Continental System. Above all things, he now sought to humble England,
so that finally he might be free for his long-deferred Oriental
enterprise. This is the irony of his career, that, though he preferred
the career of Alexander the Great to that of Cæsar; though he placed
his victory at Austerlitz far below the triumph of the great
Macedonian at Issus which assured the conquest of the Orient, yet he
felt himself driven to the very measures which tethered him to _cette
vieille Europe_ and which finally roused the Continent against him.

Among his errors of judgment, assuredly his behaviour to Austria in
1805 was not the least. The recent history of Europe supplies a
suggestive contrast. Two generations after Austerlitz, the Hapsburg
Power was shattered by the disaster of Königgrätz, and once more lost
all influence in Germany and Italy. But the victor then showed
consideration for the vanquished. Bismarck had pondered over the
lessons of history, because, as he said, _history teaches one how far
one may safely go_. He therefore persuaded King William to forego
claims that would have embittered the rivalry of Prussia and Austria.
Nay! he recurred to Talleyrand's policy of encouraging the Hapsburgs
to seek in the Balkan Peninsula compensation for their losses in the
west: and within fifteen years the basis of the Triple Alliance was
firmly laid. Napoleon, on the other hand, for lack of that
statesmanlike moderation which consecrates victory and cements the
fabric of an enduring Empire, soon saw the political results of
Austerlitz swept away by the rising tide of the nations' wrath. In
less than nine years the Austrians and their allies were masters of
Paris.

    NOTE TO THE THIRD EDITION.--The account given on p. 41 of the
    drowning of numbers of Russians at the close of the Battle of
    Austerlitz was founded upon the testimony of Napoleon and many
    French generals; the facts, as related by Lejeune, seemed quite
    convincing; the Czar Alexander also asserted at Vienna in 1815
    that 20,000 Russians had been drowned there. But the local
    evidence (kindly furnished to me by Professor Fournier of Vienna)
    seems to prove that the story is a myth. Both lakes were drained
    only a few days after the battle, _at Napoleon's orders_; in the
    lower lake not a single corpse was found; in the upper lake 150
    corpses of horses, but only two, some say three, of men, were
    found. Probably Napoleon invented the catastrophe for the sake of
    dramatic effect, and others followed the lead given in his
    bulletin. The Czar may have adopted the story because it helped to
    excuse his defeat. (See my article in the "Eng. Hist. Rev." for
    July, 1902.)

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXIV

PRUSSIA AND THE NEW CHARLEMAGNE


An eminent German historian, who has striven to say some kind words
about Frederick William's Government before the collapse at Jena,
prefaces his apology by the axiom that from a Prussian monarch one
ought to expect, not French, English, or Russian policy, but only
Prussian policy. The claim may well be challenged. Doubtless, there
are some States concerning which it would be true. Countries such as
Great Britain and Spain, whose areas are clearly defined by nature,
may with advantage be self-contained until their peoples overflow into
new lands: before they become world Powers, they may gain in strength
by being narrowly national. But there are other States whose fortunes
are widely different. They represent some principle of life or energy,
in the midst of mere political wreckage. If the binding power, which
built up an older organism, should decline, as happened to the Holy
Roman Empire after the religious wars, fragments will fall away and
join bodies to which they are now more akin.

Of the States that throve among the crumbling masses of the old Empire
the chief was Brandenburg-Prussia. She had a twofold energy which the
older organism lacked: she was Protestant and she was national; she
championed the new creed cherished by the North Germans, and she felt,
though dimly as yet, the strength that came from an almost single kin.
Until she seized on part of the spoils of Poland, her Slavonic
subjects were for the most part germanized Slavs; and even after
acquiring Posen and Warsaw at the close of the eighteenth century, she
could still claim to be the chief Germanic State. A generation
earlier, Frederick the Great had seen this to be the source of her
strength. His policy was not merely Prussian: in effect, if not in
aim, it was German. His victory at Rossbach over a great polyglot
force of French and Imperialists first awakened German nationality to
a thrill of conscious life; and the last success of his career was the
championship of the lesser German princes against the encroachments of
the Hapsburgs. In fact, it seems now a mere commonplace to assert that
Prussia has prospered most when, as under Frederick the Great and
William the Great, her policy has been truly German, and that she has
fallen back most in the years 1795-1806 and 1848-1852, when the
subservience of her Frederick Williams to France and Austria has lost
them the respect and support of the rest of the Fatherland. A State
that would attract other fragments of the same nation must be
attractive, and it must be broadly national if it is to attract. If
Stein and Bismarck had been merely Prussians, if Cavour's policy had
been narrowly Sardinian, would their States ever have served as the
rallying centres for the Germany and Italy of to-day?

The difficulties which beset Frederick William III. in 1805 were not
entirely of his own making. His predecessor of the same ill-omened
name, when nearing the close of his inglorious reign, made the Peace
of Basel (1795), which began to place the policy of Berlin at the beck
and call of the French revolutionists. But the present ruler had
assured Prussia's subservience to France at the time of the
Secularizations, when he gained Erfurt, Eichsfeld, Hildesheim,
Paderborn, and a great part of the straggling bishopric of Münster.
Even at that time of shameless rapacity, there were those who saw that
the gain of half a million of subjects to Prussia was a poor return
for the loss of self-respect that befell all who shared in the
sacrilegious plunder bartered away by Bonaparte and Talleyrand.
Frederick William III. was even suspected of a leaning towards French
methods of Government; and a Prussian statesman said to the French
ambassador:

    "You have only the nobles against you: the King and the people are
    openly for France. The revolution which you have made from below
    upwards will be slowly effected in Prussia from above downwards:
    the King is a democrat after his fashion: he is always striving to
    curtail the privileges of the nobles, but by slow means. In a few
    years feudal rights will cease to exist in Prussia."[54]

Could the King have carried out these much-needed reforms, he might
perhaps have opposed a solid society to the renewed might of France.
But he failed to set his house in order before the storm burst; and in
1803 he so far gave up his championship of North German affairs as to
allow the French to occupy Hanover, a land that he and his Ministers
had long coveted.

We saw in the last chapter that Hanover was the bait whereby Napoleon
hooked the Prussian envoy, Haugwitz, at Schönbrunn; and that the very
man who had been sent to impose Prussia's will upon the French Emperor
returned to Berlin bringing peace and dishonour. The surprise and
annoyance of Frederick William may be imagined. On all sides
difficulties were thickening around him. Shortly before the return of
Haugwitz to Berlin, the Russian troops campaigning in Hanover had been
placed under the protection of Prussia; and the King himself had
offered to our Minister, Lord Harrowby, to protect Cathcart's
Anglo-Hanoverian corps which, _with the aid of Prussian troops_, was
restoring the authority of George III. in that Electorate.

Moreover, Frederick William could not complain of any shabby treatment
from our Government. Knowing that he was set on the acquisition of
Hanover and could only be drawn into the Coalition by an equally
attractive offer, the Pitt Ministry had proposed through Lord Harrowby
the cession to Prussia at the general peace of the lands south-west of
the Duchy of Cleves, "bounded by a frontier line drawn from Antwerp to
Luxemburg," and connected with the rest of her territories.[55] This
plan, which would have planted Prussia firmly at Antwerp, Liège,
Luxemburg, and Cologne, also aimed at installing the Elector of
Salzburg in the rest of the new Rhenish acquisitions of France; while
the equipoise of the Powers was to be adjusted by the cession of
Salzburg, the Papal Legations, and the line of the Mincio to Austria,
she in her turn giving up part of her Dalmatian lands to Russia.
Prussia was to be the protectress of North Germany and regard any
incursion of the French, "north of the Maine or at least of the Lahn,"
as an act of war. Great Britain, after subsidizing Prussia for 100,000
troops on the usual scale, pledged herself to restore all her
conquests made, or to be made, during the war, with the exception of
the Cape of Good Hope: but no questions were to be raised about that
desirable colony, or Malta, or the British maritime code.[56]

At the close of 1805, then, Frederick William was face to face with
the offers of England and those brought by Haugwitz from Napoleon.
That is, he had to choose between the half of Belgium and the
Rhineland as offered by England, or Hanover as a gift from Napoleon.
The former gain was the richer, but apparently the more risky, for it
entailed the hatred of France: the latter seemed to secure the
friendship of the conqueror, though at the expense of the claims of
honour and a naval war with England. His confidential advisers,
Lombard, Beyme, and Haugwitz, were determined to gain the Electorate,
preferably at Napoleon's hands; while his Foreign Minister,
Hardenberg, a Hanoverian by birth, desired to assure the union of his
native land with Prussia by more honourable means, and probably by
means of an exchange with George III., which will be noticed
presently. In his opposition to French influence, Hardenberg had the
support of the more patriotic Prussians, who sought to safeguard
Prussia's honour, and to avert war with England. The difficulty in
accepting the Electorate at the point of Napoleon's sword was not
merely on the score of morality: it was due to the presence of a large
force of English, Hanoverians, and Russians on the banks of the Weser,
and to the protection which the Prussian Government had offered to
those troops against any French attack, always provided that they did
not move against Holland and retired behind the Prussian
battalions.[57] The indignation of British officers at this last order
is expressed by Christian Ompteda, of the King's German Legion, in a
letter to his brother at Berlin: "My dear fellow, if this sort of
thing goes on, the Continent will soon be irrecoverably lost. The
Russian and English armies will not long creep for refuge under the
contemptible Prussian cloak. We are here, 40,000 of the best and
bravest troops. A swift move on Holland only would have opened the
road to certain success.... And this is Lombard's and Haugwitz's
work!"[58]

What meanwhile were George III.'s Ministers doing? At this crisis
English policy suffered a terrible blow. Death struck down the
"stately column" that held up the swaying fortunes of our race.
William Pitt, long failing in health, was sore-stricken by the news of
Austerlitz and the defection of Austria. But the popular version as to
the cause of his death--that _Austerlitz killed Pitt_--is more
melodramatic than correct. Among the many causes that broke that
unbending spirit, the news of the miserable result of the Hanoverian
Expedition was the last and severest. The files of our Foreign Office
papers yield touching proof of the hopes which the Cabinet cherished,
even after Vienna was in Napoleon's hands. Harrowby was urged to do
everything in his power--short of conceding Hanover--to bring Prussia
into the field, in which case "nearly 300,000 men will be available in
North Germany at the beginning of the next campaign, which will
include 70,000 British and Hanoverian troops employed there or in
maritime enterprises."[59] To this hope Pitt clung, even after hearing
the news of Austerlitz, and it was doubtless this which enabled him to
bear that last journey from Bath to Putney Heath, with less fatigue
and far more quickly than had been expected. He arrived home on
Saturday night, January 11th. On the following Wednesday his friend,
George Rose, called on him and found that a serious change for the
worse had set in.

    "On the Sunday he was better, and continued improving till Monday
    in the afternoon, when Lord Castlereagh insisted on seeing him,
    and, having obtained access to him, entered (Lord Hawkesbury being
    also present) on points of public business of the most serious
    importance (principally respecting the bringing home the British
    troops from the Continent), which affected him visibly that
    evening and the next day, and this morning the effect was more
    plainly observed: ... his countenance is extremely changed, his
    voice weak, and his body almost wasted."

It is clear also from the medical evidence which the diarist gives
that the news from Hanover was the cause of this sudden change. On the
previous Sunday, that is, just after the fatigue of the three days'
journey, the physicians "thought there was a reasonable prospect of
Mr. Pitt's recovery, that the probability was in favour of it, and
that, if his complaint should not take an unfavourable turn, he might
be able to attend to business in about a month."[60] That unfavourable
turn took place when the heroic spirit lost all hope under the
distressing news from Berlin and Hanover. Austerlitz, it is true, had
depressed him. Yet that, after all, did not concern British honour and
the dearest interests of his master.

But, that Frederick William, from whom he had hoped so much, to whom
he was on the point of advancing a great subsidy, should now fall
away, should talk of peace with Napoleon and claim Hanover, should
forbid an invasion of Holland and request the British forces to
evacuate North Germany--this was a blow to George III., to our
military prestige, and to the now tottering Ministry. How could he
face the Opposition, already wellnigh triumphant in the sad Melville
business, with a King's Speech in which this was the chief news?
Losing hope, he lost all hold on life: he sank rapidly: in the last
hours his thoughts wandered away to Berlin and Lord Harrowby. "What is
the wind?" he asked. "East; that will do; that will bring him fast,"
he murmured. And, on January 23rd, about half an hour before he
breathed his last, the servant heard him say: "My country: oh my
country."[61]

Thus sank to rest, amidst a horror of great darkness, the statesman
whose noon had been calm and glorious. Only a superficial reading of
his career can represent him as eager for war and a foe to popular
progress. His best friends knew full well his pride in the great
financial achievements of 1784-6, his resolute clinging to peace in
1792, and his longing for a pacification in 1796, 1797, and 1800,
provided it could be gained without detriment to our allies and to the
vital interests of Britain. His defence lies buried amidst the
documents of our Record Office, and has not yet fully seen the light.
For he was a reserved man, the warmth of whose nature blossomed forth
only to a few friends, or on such occasions as his inspired speech on
the emancipation of slaves. To outsiders he had more than the usual
fund of English coldness: he wrote no memoirs, he left few letters, he
had scant means of influencing public opinion; and he viewed with
lofty disdain the French clamour that it was he who made and kept up
the war. "I know it," he said; "the Jacobins cry louder than we can,
and make themselves heard."[62] He was, in fact, a typical champion of
our rather dumb and stolid race, that plods along to the end of the
appointed stage, scarcely heeding the cloud of stinging flies. Both
the people and its champion were ill fitted to cope with Napoleon.
None of our statesmen had the Latin tact and the histrionic gifts
needful to fathom his guile, to arouse the public opinion of Europe
against him, or to expose his double-dealing.

But Pitt was unfortunate above all of them. It was his fate to begin
his career in an age of mediocrities and to finish it in an almost
single combat with the giant. He was no match for Napoleon. The
Coalition, which the Czar and he did so much to form, was a house of
cards that fell at the conqueror's first touch; and the Prussian
alliance now proved to be a broken reed. His notions of strategy were
puerile. The French Emperor was not to be beaten by small forces
tapping at his outworks; and Austria might reasonably complain that
our neglect to attack the rear of the Grand Army in Flanders exposed
her to the full force of its onset on the Danube. But though his
genius pales before the fiery comet of Napoleon, it shines with a
clear and steady radiance when viewed beside that of the Continental
statesmen of his age. They flickered for a brief space and set. His
was the rare virtue of dauntless courage and unswerving constancy. By
the side of their wavering groups he stands forth like an Abdiel:

  "Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified,
  His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal:
  Nor number nor example with him wrought
  To swerve from truth or change his constant mind,
  Though single."

While English statesmanship was essaying the task of forming a
Coalition Ministry under Fox and Grenville, Napoleon with untiring
activity was consolidating his position in Germany, Italy, and France.
In Germany he allied his family by marriage with the now royal Houses
of Bavaria and Würtemberg. He chased the Bourbons of Naples from their
Continental domains. In France he found means to mitigate a severe
financial crisis, and to strengthen his throne by a new order of
hereditary nobility. In a word, he became the new Charlemagne.

The exaltation of the South German dynasties had long been a favourite
project with Napoleon, who saw in the hatred of the House of Bavaria
for Austria a sure basis for spreading French influence into the heart
of Germany. Not long after the battle of Austerlitz, the Elector of
Bavaria, while out shooting, received from a French courier a letter
directed to "Sa Majesté _le Roi_ de Bavière et de Suabe."[63] This
letter was despatched six days after a formal request was sent through
Duroc, that the Elector would give his daughter Augusta in marriage to
Eugène Beauharnais. The affair had been mooted in October: it was
clinched by the victory of Austerlitz; and after Napoleon's arrival at
Munich on the last day of the year, the final details were arranged.
The bridegroom was informed of it in the following laconic style: "I
have arrived at Munich. I have arranged your marriage with the
Princess Augusta. It has been announced. This morning the princess
visited me, and I spoke with her for a long time. She is very pretty.
You will find herewith her portrait on a cup; but she is much better
looking." The wedding took place at Munich as soon as the bridegroom
could cross the Alps; and Napoleon delayed his departure for France in
order to witness the ceremony which linked him with an old reigning
family. At the same time he arranged a match between Jerome Bonaparte
and Princess Catherine of Würtemberg. This was less expeditious,
partly because, in the case of a Bonaparte, Napoleon judged it needful
to sound the measure of his obedience. But Jerome had been broken in:
he had thrown over Miss Paterson, and, after a delay of a year and a
half, obeyed his brother's behests, and strengthened the ties
connecting Swabia with France. A third alliance was cemented by the
marriage of the heir to the Grand Duchy of Baden with Stéphanie de
Beauharnais, niece of Josephine.

In the early part of 1806 Napoleon might flatter himself with his
brilliant success as a match-maker. Yet, after all, he was less
concerned with the affairs of Hymen than with those of Mars and
Mercury. He longed to be at Paris for the settlement of finances; and
he burned to hear of the expulsion of the Bourbons from Naples. For
this last he had already sent forth his imperious mandates from
Vienna; and, after a brief sojourn at the Swabian capitals, he set out
for Paris, where he arrived incognito at midnight of January 26th.
During his absence of one hundred and twenty-five days he had captured
or destroyed two armies, stricken a mighty coalition to the heart,
shattered the Hapsburg Power, and revolutionized the Germanic system
by establishing two Napoleonic kingdoms in its midst.

Yet, as if nothing had been done, and all his hopes and thoughts lay
in the future, he summoned his financial advisers to a council for
eight o'clock in the morning. Scarcely did he deign to notice their
congratulations on his triumphs. "We have," he said, "to deal with
more serious questions: it seems that the greatest dangers of the
State were not in Austria: let us hear the report of the Minister of
the Treasury." It then appeared that Barbé-Marbois had been concerned
in risky financial concerns with the Court of Spain, through a man
named Ouvrard. The Minister therefore was promptly dismissed, and
Mollien then and there received his post. The new Minister states in
his memoirs that the money, which had sufficed to carry the French
armies from the English Channel to the Rhine, had been raised on
extravagant terms, largely on loans on the national domains. In fact,
it had been an open question whether victory would come promptly
enough to avert a wholesale crash at Paris.

So bad were the finances that, though 40,000,000 francs were poured
every year into France as subsidies from Italy and Spain, yet loans of
120,000,000 francs had been incurred in order to meet current
expenses.[64] It would exceed the limits of our space to describe by
what forceful means Napoleon restored the financial equilibrium and
assuaged the commercial crisis resulting from the war with England.
Mollien soon had reason to know that, so far from avoiding Continental
wars, the Emperor thenceforth seemed almost to provoke them, and that
the motto--_War must support war_--fell far short of the truth.
Napoleon's wars, always excepting his war with England, supported the
burdens of an armed peace. In this respect his easy and gainful
triumph over Austria was a disaster for France and Europe. It beckoned
him on to Jena and Tilsit.

While reducing his finances to order and newspaper editors to
servility, the conqueror received news of the triumph of his arms in
Southern Italy. There the Bourbons of Naples had mortally offended
him. After concluding a convention for the peaceable withdrawal of St.
Cyr's corps and the strict observance of neutrality by the kingdom of
Naples, Ferdinand IV. and his Queen Caroline welcomed the arrival at
their capital of an Anglo-Russian force of 20,000 men, and intrusted
the command of these and of the Neapolitan troops to General Lacy.[65]
This force, it is true, did little except weaken the northward march
of Masséna; but the violation of neutrality by the Bourbons galled
Napoleon. At Vienna he refused to listen to the timid pleading of the
Hapsburgs on their behalf, and as soon as peace was signed at
Pressburg he put forth a bulletin stating that St. Cyr was marching on
Naples to hurl from the throne that guilty woman who had so flagrantly
violated all that is sacred among men. France would fight for thirty
years rather than pardon her atrocious act of perfidy: the Queen of
Naples had ceased to reign: let her go to London and form a committee
of sympathetic ink with Drake, Spencer-Smith, Taylor, and Wickham.

This diatribe was not the first occasion on which the conqueror had
proved that he was no gentleman. In his brutal letter of January 2nd,
1805, to Queen Caroline, he told her that, if she was the cause of
another war, she and her children would beg their bread all through
Europe. That and similar outbursts afford some excuse for the conduct
of the Bourbons in the autumn of 1805. They infringed the neutrality
which their ambassador had engaged to observe: but it is to be
remembered that Napoleon's invasion of the Neapolitan States in 1803
was a gross violation of international law, which the French Foreign
Office sought to cloak by fabricating two secret articles of the
Treaty of Amiens.[66] And though troth should doubtless be kept, even
with a law-breaker, yet its violation becomes venial when the latter
adopts the tone of a bully. For the present he triumphed. Joseph
Bonaparte invaded Naples in force, and on January 13th the King,
Queen, and Court set sail for Palermo. The Anglo-Russian divisions
re-embarked and sailed away for Malta and Corfu. One of the Neapolitan
strongholds, Gaëta, held out till the middle of July. Elsewhere the
Bourbon troops gave little trouble.

The conquest of Naples enabled Napoleon to extend his experiment of a
federation of Bonapartist Kings. He announced to Miot de Melito, now
appointed one of Joseph's administrators, his intentions in an
interview at the Tuileries on January 28th. Joseph was to be King of
Naples, if he accepted the honour quickly. If not, the Emperor would
adopt a son, as in the case of Eugène, and make him King.--"I don't
need a wife to have an heir. It is by my pen that I get
children."--But Joseph must also show himself worthy of the honour.
Let him despise fatigue, get wounded, break a leg.

    "Look at me. The recent campaign, agitation, and movement have
    made me fat. I believe that if all the kings coalesced against me,
    I should get a quite ridiculous stomach.... You have heard my
    words. I can no longer have relatives in obscurity. Those who will
    not rise with me, shall no longer be of my family. I am making a
    family of kings attached to my federative system."[67]

The threat having had its effect, Joseph was proclaimed King of Naples
by a decree of Napoleon. "Keep a firm hand: I only ask one thing of
you: be entirely the master there."[68] Such was the advice given to
his amiable brother, who after enjoying a military promenade
southwards was charged to undertake the conquest of Sicily. It
mattered little that the overthrow of the Neapolitan Bourbons offended
the Czar, who had undertaken the protection of that House.

As though intent on browbeating Alexander by an exhibition of his
power, Napoleon lavished Italian titles on his Marshals and statesmen.
Talleyrand became Prince of Benevento; and Bernadotte, Prince of
Ponte-Corvo (two Papal enclaves in Neapolitan soil). To these and
other titles were attached large domains (not divisible at death),
which enabled his paladins and their successors to support their new
dignities with pomp and splendour; especially was this so with the two
titles which his bargains with Prussia and Bavaria enabled him to
bestow. Thanks to the complaisance of their Kings, the Grand Duchy of
Berg and Cleves was granted to Murat, while the energetic and trusty
Berthier was rewarded with the Principality of Neufchâtel and a truly
princely fortune.[69]

Thus was founded the Napoleonic nobility; and thus was fulfilled Mme.
de Staël's prophecy that the priests and nobles would be the
_caryatides_ of the future throne. The change was brought about
skilfully. It took place when pride in Napoleon's exploits was at its
height, and when the "Gazette de France" asserted:

    "France is henceforth the arbitress of Europe.... Civilization
    would have perished in Europe, if forth from the ruins there had
    not arisen one of these men before whom the world keeps silence,
    and to whom Providence seems to intrust its destinies."[70]

This adulation, which recalls that of the Court of Augustus or
Tiberius, gives the measure of French thought. In truth, Napoleon
showed profound insight into human nature when he judged the hatred of
an order of nobility to be a mere passing spasm of revolutionary
fever; and he evinced equal good sense in restoring that order through
the chiefs of the one truly popular institution in France, the army.
Besides, the new titles were not taken from French domains, which
would have revived the idea of feudal dependence in France: they were
the fruit of Napoleon's great victory; and the sound of distant names
like Benevento, Berg, and Dalmatia skilfully flattered the pride of
_la grande nation_.

It is now time to return to the affairs of Prussia and to point out
the chief stages in her downward course. On January 3rd, 1806, an
important State Council was held at Berlin in order to decide on
certain modifications to the Schönbrunn Treaty with Napoleon. The
chief change resolved on was as follows: Instead of the cessions of
territory being immediate and absolute, as proposed by Napoleon, they
were not to take effect before the general peace. Until that took
place, Frederick William resolved to occupy Hanover provisionally,
meanwhile answering to France for the tranquillity of the north of
Germany.[71] The Prussian Government therefore gave strong hints that
the presence of a British force there was objectionable, and the
troops were withdrawn.[72]

Napoleon was to be less pliable. And yet Haugwitz assured the Prussian
King and council that he had looked Napoleon through and through, and
had discerned an unexpressed wish to deal easily with Prussia. As to
his acceptance of these changes in the Schönbrunn Treaty, Haugwitz
felt no doubt whatever, at least so his foe, Hardenberg, states. But
the Prussian Ministers were now proposing, not the offensive and
defensive treaty of alliance that Napoleon required, but rather a
mediation for peace between France and England. They were, in fact,
striving to steer halfway between Napoleon and George III.--and gain
Hanover. Verily, here was a belief in half measures passing that of
women.

The envoy despatched to assure Napoleon's assent to these new
conditions was the very man who had quailed before the Emperor at
Schönbrunn. Count Haugwitz set out on January 14th for Munich and
thence for Paris; but long before any definite news was received from
him, the Court of Berlin decided, on the strength of a few oily
compliments from the French ambassador, Laforest, to regard the
acceptance of Napoleon as fully assured. Accordingly, on January 24th,
the Government resolved to place the Prussian army on a peace-footing
and recall the troops from Franconia, as a daily saving of 100,000
thalers might thereby be effected. Never was there a greater act of
extravagance. As soon as the retreat and demobilizing of the Prussian
forces was announced, the French troops in Bavaria and Franconia began
to press forward, while others poured across the Rhine. Affecting to
ignore these threatening moves, the Prussian Court strove peaceably to
acquire Hanover by secretly offering George III. a re-arrangement of
territories, whereby the Hanoverian lands east of the Weser, along
with a few districts west of Hameln and Nienburg, should pass to
Prussia. Frederick William proposed to keep Minden and Ravensburg, but
to cede East Frisia and all the rest of his Westphalian possessions to
King George, who would retain the electoral dignity for these new
lands.[73] The only reply that our ruler deigned to this offer was
that he trusted:

    "His Prussian Majesty will follow the honourable dictates of his
    own heart, and will demonstrate to the world that he will not set
    the dreadful example of indemnifying himself at the expense of a
    third party, whose sentiments and conduct towards him and his
    subjects have been uniformly friendly and pacifick."[74]

But by the close of February this appeal fell on deaf ears. Frederick
William had decided to comply with Napoleon's terms and was about to
take formal possession of Hanover.

The conqueror was far from taking that easy view of the changes made
in the Schönbrunn Treaty which the discerning Haugwitz had trustfully
expected. At first, every effort was made by Talleyrand to delay his
interview with the Emperor, evidently in the hope that the subtle
flattery of Laforest at Berlin would lead to the demobilization of the
Prussian forces. This fatal step was known at Paris before February
6th, when Haugwitz was received by the Emperor; and the knowledge that
Prussia was at his mercy decided the conqueror's tone. He began by
some wheedling words as to the ability shown by Haugwitz in the
Schönbrunn negotiation:

    "If anyone but myself had treated with you I should have thought
    him bought over by you; but, let me confess to you, the treaty was
    due to your talents and merit. You were in my eyes the first
    statesman in Europe, and covered yourself with immortal glory."

Before that interview, forsooth, he had decided to make war on
Prussia; and only Haugwitz had induced him to offer her peace and the
gift of Hanover. Why, then, had that treaty been so criticised at
Berlin? Why had the French ambassador been slighted? Why was
Hardenberg high in favour? Why had not the King dismissed that tool of
England? Here the envoy strove to stem the rising torrent of the
Emperor's wrath; his words were at once swept aside; and the deluge
flowed on. As Prussia had not ratified the treaty pure and simple, she
was in a state of war with France; for she still had Russian and
English troops on her soil. Here again Haugwitz observed that those
forces were withdrawing, and that the Prussians were entering Hanover
in force. The storm burst forth anew. What right had Prussia thus to
carry into effect a treaty which she had not ratified? If her forces
entered Hanover, his troops should forthwith occupy Ansbach, Cleves,
and Neufchâtel: if Frederick William meant to have Hanover, he should
pay dearly for it. But he would allow Haugwitz to see Talleyrand, so
as to prevent an immediate war.[75]

The calm of the Foreign Minister was as dangerous as the bluster of
the Emperor. Talleyrand was no friend to Prussia. He had long known
Napoleon's determination to press on a war between England and
Prussia, and he lent himself to the plan of undermining the
Hohenzollerns. The scales now fell from the envoy's eyes. He saw that
his country stood friendless before an exacting creditor, who now
claimed further sacrifices--or Prussia's life-blood. The Emperor's
threats were partly fictitious; and when Haugwitz was thoroughly
frightened and ready to concede almost anything, Napoleon came to the
real point at issue, and demanded that the whole of the German
coast-line on the North Sea should be closed to English commerce. With
this stringent clause superadded, Hanover was now handed over to
Prussia. Never was a Greek gift more skilfully offered. The present of
Hanover on those terms implied for the recipient Russia's disapproval
and the hostility of England.[76]

This was the news brought by Haugwitz to Berlin. Frederick William was
now on the horns of the very dilemma which he had sought to avoid.
Either he must accept Napoleon's terms, or defy the conqueror to
almost single combat. The irony of his position was now painfully
apparent. In his longing for peace and retrenchment he had dismissed
his would-be allies, and had sent his own soldiers grumbling to their
homes. Moreover, he was tied by his previous action. If he accepted
peace from Napoleon at Christmas, when 300,000 men could have disputed
the victor's laurels, how much more must he accept it now! He not only
gave way on this point: he even complied with Napoleon's wishes by
keeping Hardenberg at a distance. He did not dismiss him--the
friendship of the spirited Queen Louisa forbade that: but Hardenberg
yielded up to Haugwitz the guidance of foreign affairs, and was
granted unlimited leave of absence.

Popular feeling was deeply moved by this craven compliance with French
behests. The officers of the Berlin garrison serenaded the patriotic
statesman, while Haugwitz twice had his windows smashed. Public
opinion, it is true, counted for little in Prussia. The rigorous
separation of classes, the absence of popular education, the complete
subjection of the journals to Government, and the mutual jealousy of
soldiers and civilians, prevented any general expression of opinion in
that almost feudal society.

But when the people of Ansbach piteously begged not to be handed over
to Bavaria, and forthwith saw their land occupied by the French before
Prussia had ratified the cession of that principality; when the North
Germans found that the gain of Hanover by Prussia was at the price of
war with England and the ruin of their commerce; when it was seen that
Frederick William and Haugwitz had clipped the wings of the Prussian
eagle till it shunned a fight with the Gallic cock, a feeling of shame
and indignation arose which proved that the limits of endurance had
been reached. Observers saw that, after all, the old German feeling
was not dead; it was only torpid; and forces were beginning to work
which threatened ruin to the Hohenzollerns if they again tarnished the
national honour.[77]

Meanwhile the first overtures for peace were exchanged between Paris,
London, and St. Petersburg. In the spring of 1806 there seemed some
ground for hope that Europe might find repose, at least on land, after
fourteen years of almost constant war. France was no longer
Jacobinical. Under Napoleon she had quickly fallen into line with the
monarchical States, and the questions now at stake merely related to
boundaries and the balance of power. The bellicose ardour of the Czar
had melted away at Austerlitz. The seizure of Hanover by Prussia moved
him but little, and he sought to compose the resulting strife. As for
the other Powers, they were either helpless or torpid. The King of
Sweden was venting his spleen upon Prussia. Italy, South Germany,
Holland, and Spain were at Napoleon's beck; and the policy of England
under the new Grenville-Fox Ministry inclined strongly towards peace.
There seemed, then, every chance of founding the supremacy of France
upon lasting foundations, if the claims of Britain and Austria
received reasonable satisfaction. Napoleon also seems to have wanted
peace for the consolidation of his power in Europe and the extension
of his colonies and commerce. As at the close of all his land
campaigns, his thoughts turned to the East, and on January 31st, 1806,
he issued orders to Decrès which, far from showing any despair as to
the French navy, foreshadowed a vigorous naval and colonial policy;
while his moves on the Dalmatian coast, and the despatch of Sebastiani
on a mission to the Porte, revealed the magnetic attraction which the
Levant still had for him.

A peculiar interest therefore attaches to the negotiations for peace
in 1806, especially as they were pushed on by that generous orator,
Fox, who had so long pleaded for a good understanding with France. On
February 20th, 1806, he disclosed to Talleyrand the details of a
supposed plot for the murder of the French Emperor, which some person
had proposed to him, an offer which he rejected with horror, at the
same time ordering the man to be expelled from the kingdom. It is more
than probable that the whole thing was got up by the French police as
a test of the esteem which Fox had always expressed for Bonaparte.

The experiment having turned out well, Talleyrand assured Fox of the
pacific desires of the French Emperor as recently stated to the Corps
Législatif, namely, that peace could be had on the terms of the Treaty
of Amiens. Fox at once clasped the outstretched hand, but stated that
the negotiations must be in concert with Russia, and the treaty such
as our allies could honourably accept. To this Talleyrand, on April
1st, gave a partial assent, adding that Napoleon was convinced that
the rupture of the Peace of Amiens was due solely to the refusal of
France to grant a treaty of commerce. France and England could now
come to satisfactory terms, if England would be content with the
sovereignty of the seas, and not interfere with Continental
affairs.[78] France desired, not a truce, but a durable peace.

To this Fox assented, but traversed the French claim that Russia's
participation would imply her mediation. Peace could only come from an
honourable understanding between all the Powers actually at war.
Talleyrand denied that Russia was at war with France, as the Third
Coalition had lapsed; but Fox held his ground, and declared there must
be peace with England _and Russia_, or not at all: otherwise France
would be seen to aim at "excluding us from any connection with the
Continental Powers of Europe."[79]

Such a beginning was disappointing: it showed that Napoleon and
Talleyrand were intent on sowing distrust between England and Russia,
who were mutually pledged not to make peace separately; and for a time
all overtures ceased between London and Paris, until it was known that
a Russian envoy was going to Paris. Hitherto the French Foreign Office
had won brilliant successes by skilfully separating and embittering
allies. But now it seemed that their tactics were foiled. Two firm and
trusty allies yet remained, Britain and Russia. To Czartoryski our
Foreign Minister had expressed his desire that the former offensive
alliance should now take a solely defensive character: "If we cannot
reduce the enormous power of France, it will always be something to
stop its progress." To these opinions the Russian Minister gave a
cordial assent, and despatched a special envoy to London to concert
terms of peace along with the British Ministry, while Oubril, "a safe
man on whose prudence and principles the two allied Courts may safely
rely," was despatched to Vienna and Paris.[80]

Oubril proceeded to Vienna, where he had long discussions with the
British and French ambassadors: Fox also requested that Lord Yarmouth,
one of the many hundreds of Englishmen still kept under restraint in
France, might have his freedom and repair at once to Paris for a
preliminary discussion with Talleyrand. The request being granted, the
prisoner left the depot at Verdun, and, early in June, saw that
Minister in his first flush of pride at the new title of Prince of
Benevento. At that time Paris was intoxicated with Napoleon's glory.
The French were lords of Franconia, whence they levied heavy
exactions: in Italy they defied the Pope's authority.[81] They were
firmly installed at Ancona, despite repeated protests of Pius VII.
King Joseph with an army of 45,000 men was planning the expulsion of
the Bourbons from Sicily. And in these early days of June, Louis
Bonaparte was declared King of Holland.

Yet Talleyrand was not so dazzled by this splendour as to slight the
idea of peace with England; and when Lord Yarmouth stated that George
III. would above all things require the restoration of Hanover, the
Minister, after a delay in which he consulted his master, stated that
that would make no difficulty. As to the other questions, namely,
Sicily and the maintenance of the Turkish Empire, he replied: "You
hold Sicily, we do not ask it of you: if we possessed it, it might
much increase our difficulties"; and as regards Turkey he advised
that England should speedily gain the guarantee of its integrity from
France--"for much is being prepared, but nothing is yet done." After
reporting these views at Downing Street, Lord Yarmouth returned to
Paris for further discussions, with the general understanding that the
principle of _uti possidetis_ should form their basis--except as
regards Hanover. He now was informed by Talleyrand that the
negotiations with Russia were to be kept separate, and that Napoleon
had other views about Sicily, as he looked on its conquest as
necessary for Joseph's security on the mainland.

Surprised at this change, our envoy stated that he could not discuss
any terms of peace in which Sicily was not kept for the Bourbons;
whereupon Talleyrand replied that things were altered, and that we
ought to be content with regaining Hanover from Prussia and keeping
Malta and the Cape of Good Hope. On Lord Yarmouth declining to proceed
further until the French claims to Sicily were renounced, the offer of
the Hanse Towns (Lübeck, Hamburg, and Bremen) was made for his
Sicilian Majesty; and on the refusal of that bait, Dalmatia, Ragusa,
and Albania were proposed.

As Napoleon had offered to guarantee the integrity of the Turkish
Empire, Lord Yarmouth showed some indignation at a proposal which
would have begun its partition; and, but for the expected arrival of
Oubril, would have broken off the negotiation. On July 8th he saw the
Russian envoy and found him a man of straw. Oubril approved
everything. He was glad that France would give back Hanover to
England, because that would sever the Franco-Prussian union and make
the Court of Berlin dependent on Russia. He even thought it might be
well for the Hanse Towns to go to the Neapolitan Bourbons, provided
those towns were placed under the Czar's protection. But even better
was the proposal that those Bourbons should have Dalmatia and
neighbouring lands; for that would drive a wedge between Napoleon and
Turkey. Such was the gist of this curious interview. Desirous of
testing the accuracy of his account of it, Lord Yarmouth read it over
to Oubril at their next interview, when the Russian envoy added the
following written corrections:

    "N.B.M. d'Oubril believes, though he has no directions on this
    subject, that it would be suitable to Russia, and even
    advantageous for the assuring their own independence, that Hamburg
    and Lübeck should pass under the suzerainty of Russia.--N.B.
    Although M. d'Oubril has a positive order to insist on the
    preservation of Sicily for the King of Naples, yet he is of
    opinion that the acquisition of Venetia, Istria, Dalmatia, and
    Albania" [should be an establishment for his Sicilian
    Majesty].[82]

That a reed shaken by every breeze should bow before Napoleon's will
was not surprising; and late at night on July 20th Lord Yarmouth heard
that the Russian envoy had just signed a separate peace with France,
whereby the independence of the Ionian Isles was recognized (Russia
keeping only 4,000 troops in Corfu), and Germany was to be evacuated
by the French. But the sting was in the tail: for a secret article
stipulated that Ferdinand IV. should cede Sicily to Joseph Bonaparte
and receive the Balearic Isles from Napoleon's ally, Spain.

Such was the news which our envoy heard, after forcing his way to
Oubril's presence, just as the latter was hurrying off to St.
Petersburg. At that city an important change had taken place;
Czartoryski had retired in favour of Baron Budberg, who was less
favourable to a close alliance with England; and it appears certain
that Oubril would not have broken through his instructions had he not
known of this change. What other motives led him to break faith with
England, Sicily, and Spain are not clearly known. He claimed that the
new order of things in Germany rendered it highly important to get the
French troops out of that land. Doubtless this was so; but even that
benefit would have been dearly bought at the price of disgrace to the
Czar.[83]

Leaving for the present Oubril to face his indignant master, we turn
to notice an epoch-making change, the details of which were settled at
Paris in the midst of the negotiations with England and Russia. On
July 17th was quietly signed the Act of the Confederation of the
Rhine, that destroyed the old Germanic Empire.

Some such event had long been expected. The Holy Roman Empire, after a
thousand years of life, had been stricken unto death at Austerlitz.
The seizure of Hanover by Prussia had led the King of Sweden to
declare that he, for his Pomeranian lands, would take no more share in
the deliberations of the senile Diet at Ratisbon which took no notice
of that outrage. Moreover, Ratisbon was now merely the second city of
Bavaria, whose King might easily deny to that body its local
habitation; and the use of the term Germanic Confederation in the
Treaty of Pressburg sounded the death-knell of an Empire which
Voltaire with equal wit and truth had described as neither holy, nor
Roman, nor an Empire. In the new age of trenchant realities how could
that venerable figment survive--where the election of the Emperor was
a sham, his coronation a mere parade of tattered robes before a crowd
of landless Serenities, and where the Diet was largely concerned with
regulating the claims of the envoys of princes to sit on seats of red
cloth or on the less honourable green cloth, or with apportioning the
traditional thirty-seven dishes of the imperial banquet so that the
last should be borne by a Westphalian envoy?[84]

Among these spectral survivals of an outworn life the incursion of
Napoleon across the Rhine had aroused a panic not unlike that which
the sturdy form of Æneas cast on the gibbering shades of the Greeks in
the mourning fields of Hades. And when, on August 1st, 1806, the heir
to the Revolution notified to the Diet at Ratisbon that neither he nor
the States of South and Central Germany any longer recognized the
existence of the old Empire, feebler protests arose than came from the
straining throats of the scared comrades of Agamemnon. The Diet itself
uttered no audible sound. The Emperor, Francis II., forthwith declared
that he laid down his crown, absolved all the electors and princes
from their allegiance, and retired within the bounds of the Austrian
Empire.

Thus feebly flickered out the light which had shed splendour on
mediæval Christendom. Kindled in the basilica of St. Peter's on
Christmas Day of the year 800 in an almost mystical union of spiritual
and earthly power, by the blessing of Pope Leo on Karl the Great, it
was now trodden under foot by the chief of a more than Frankish State,
who aspired to unquestioned sway over a dominion as great as that of
the mediæval hero. For Napoleon, as Protector of the Rhenish
Confederation, now controlled most of the German lands that
acknowledged Charlemagne, while his hold on Italy was immeasurably
stronger. Further parallels between two ages and systems so unlike as
those of Charlemagne and his imitator are of course superficial; and
Napoleon's attempt at impressing the imagination of the Germans seems
to us to smack of unreality. Yet we must remember that they were then
the most impressionable and docile of nations, that his attempt was
made with much skill, and that none of the appointed guardians of the
old Empire raised a voice in protest while he imposed a constitution
on the fifteen Princes of the new Confederation.

They included the rulers of South Germany, as well as Dalberg the
Arch-Chancellor, who now took the title of Prince Primate, the
Grand-Duke of Berg, the Landgrave, now Grand-Duke, of Hesse-Darmstadt,
two Princes of the House of Nassau, and seven lesser potentates. In
some cases German laws were abolished in favour of the _Code
Napoléon_. A close offensive and defensive alliance was framed between
France and these States, that were to furnish in all 63,000 troops at
the bidding of the Protector. Napoleon also gained some control over
their fiscal and commercial codes--an important advantage, in view of
the Continental System, that was soon to take definite form.[85]

As a set-off to this surrender of all questions of foreign policy and
many internal rights, what did these rulers receive? As happened
almost uniformly in Napoleon's aggrandizements, he struck a bargain
extremely serviceable to himself, less so to those whose support he
sought, and in which the losses fell crushingly on the weak. His
statecraft in this respect was more cynical than that of the crowned
robbers who had degraded eighteenth-century politics into a game of
grab. Their robberies were at least direct and straightforward. It was
reserved for Napoleon at the Treaty of Campo Formio to win huge gains
mostly at the expense of a weak third party, namely, Venice. He
pursued the same profitable tactics in the Secularizations, when
France and the greater German Powers gained enormously at the final
cost of the Church lands and the little States; and now he ground up
the German domains that were to cement his new Rhenish system.

There were still numbers of Imperial Counts and Knights, as well as
free cities, that had not been absorbed in 1803. The survivors were
now wiped out by Napoleon for the benefit of his Rhenish underlings,
the spoliation being veiled under the term _Mediatization_. The
euphemism claims a brief explanation. In old German law the nobles and
cities that gained local independence by shaking off the control of
the local potentate were termed _immediate_, because they owed
allegiance directly to the Emperor, without any feudal intermediary:
if by mischance they fell under that hated control they were said to
be _mediatized_. This term was now applied to acts that subjected the
knight, or city, not to feudal control, but to complete absorption by
the king or prince of Napoleon's creation. Six Imperial or Free Cities
survived the Secularizations, namely, the three Hanse towns, and
Augsburg, Frankfurt, and Nuremberg. The northern towns still held
their ancient rights; but Augsburg and Nuremberg now fell to the King
of Bavaria, and Frankfurt was bestowed by Napoleon on Dalberg, the
Prince Primate of the Confederation.

German life began to lose much of the quaint diversity beloved of
artists and poets; but it also gained much. No longer did the Count of
Limburg-Styrum parade his army of one colonel, six officers, and two
privates in the valley of the Roehr: he and his passed under the sway
of Murat, and the lapse of these pigmy forces made a national army
possible in the dim future. No more did the Imperial lawyers at
Wetzlar browse on evergreen lawsuits: justice was administered after
the concise methods of Napoleon. The crops of the Swabian peasant were
now comparatively safe from the deer of His Translucency of the castle
hard by; for the spirit of the French Revolution breathed upon the old
game laws and robbed them of their terrors. And the German patriot of
to-day must still confess that the first impulse for reform, however
questionable its motives and brutal its application, came from the new
Charlemagne.

    NOTE TO THE FOURTH EDITION.--In a volume of Essays entitled
    "Napoleonic Studies" (George Bell and Sons, 1904) I have treated
    somewhat fully the questions of Pitt's Continental policy, and of
    Napoleon's relations to the new thought of the age, in two Essays,
    entitled "Pitt's Plans for the Settlement of Europe" and
    "Wordsworth, Schiller, Fichte, and the Idealist Revolt against
    Napoleon."

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXV

THE FALL OF PRUSSIA


We now turn to consider the influence which the founding of the
Rhenish Confederation exerted on the international problems which were
being discussed at Paris. Having gained this diplomatic victory,
Napoleon, it seems, might well afford to be lenient to Prussia, to the
Czar, even to England. Would he seize this opportunity, and soothe the
fears of these Powers by a few timely concessions, or would he press
them all the harder because the third of Germany was now under his
control? Here again he was at the parting of the ways.

As the only obstacles to the conclusion of a durable peace with
England were Sicily and Hanover, it may be well to examine here the
bearing of these questions on the peace of Europe and Napoleon's
future.

It is clear from his letters to Joseph that he had firmly resolved to
conquer Sicily. Before his brother had reached Naples he warned him to
prepare for the expulsion of the Bourbons from that island. For that
purpose the French pushed on into Calabria and began to make extensive
preparations--at the very time when Talleyrand stated to Lord Yarmouth
that the French did not want Sicily. But the English forces defending
that island prepared to deal a blow that would prevent a French
descent. A force of about 5,000 men under Sir John Stuart landed in
the Bay of St. Euphemia: and when, on the 4th of July, 1806, Reynier
led 7,000 troops against them in full assurance of victory, his
choicest battalions sank before the fierce bayonet charge of the
British: in half an hour the French were in full retreat, leaving half
their numbers on the field.

The moral effect of this victory was very great. Hitherto our troops,
except in Egypt, had had no opportunity of showing their splendid
qualities. More than half a century had passed since at Minden a
British force had triumphed over a French force in Europe; and
Napoleon expressed the current opinion when he declared to Joseph his
joy that at last the _slow and clumsy English_ had ventured on the
mainland.[86] Moreover, the success at Maida, the general rising of
the Calabrias that speedily followed, and Stuart's capture of Reggio,
Cortone, and other towns, with large stores and forty cannon destined
for the conquest of Sicily, scattered to the winds the French hope of
carrying Sicily by a _coup de main_.

If there was any chance of the Russian and British Governments
deserting the cause of the Bourbons, it was ended by the news from the
Mediterranean; and Napoleon now realized that the mastery of that
sea--"_the principal and constant aim of my policy_"--had once more
slipped from his grasp! On their side the Bourbons were unduly elated
by a further success which was more brilliant than solid. Queen
Caroline, excited at the capture of Capri by Sir Sidney Smith, sought
to rouse all her lost provinces: she intrigued behind the back of the
King and of General Acton, while the knight-errant succeeded in
paralyzing the plans of Sir John Stuart.[87] Meanwhile Masséna, after
reducing the fortress of Gaëta to surrender, marched southward with a
large force, and the British and Bourbon forces re-embarked for
Sicily, leaving the fierce peasants and bandits of Calabria to the
mercies of the conquerors. But Maida was not fought in vain. Sicily
thenceforth was safe, the British army regained something of its
ancient fame, and the hope of resisting Napoleon was strengthened both
at St. Petersburg and London.

Peace can rarely be attained unless one of the combatants is overcome
or both are exhausted. But neither Great Britain nor France was in
this position. By sea our successes had been as continuous as those of
Napoleon over our allies on land. In January we captured the Cape from
the Dutch: in February the French force at St. Domingo surrendered to
Sir James Duckworth: Admiral Warren in March closed the career of the
adventurous Linois; and early in July a British force seized great
treasure at Buenos Ayres, whence, however, it was soon obliged to
retire. After these successes Fox could not but be firm. He refused to
budge from the standpoint of _uti possidetis_ which our envoy had
stated as the basis of negotiations: and the Earl of Lauderdale, who
was sent to support and finally to supersede the Earl of Yarmouth, at
once took a firm tone which drew forth a truculent rejoinder. If that
was to be the basis, wrote Clarke, the French plenipotentiary, then
France would require Moravia, Styria, the whole of Austria (Proper),
and Hanover, and in that case leave England her few colonial
conquests.

This reply of August 8th nearly severed the negotiations on the spot:
but Talleyrand persistently refused to grant the passports which
Lauderdale demanded--evidently in the hope that the Czar's
ratification of Oubril's treaty would cause us to give up Sicily.[88]
He was in error. On September 3rd the news reached Paris that
Alexander scornfully rejected his envoy's handiwork. Nevertheless,
Napoleon refused to forego his claims to Sicily; and the closing days
of Fox were embittered by the thought that this negotiation, the last
hope of a career fruitful in disappointments, was doomed to failure.
After using his splendid eloquence for fifteen years in defence of the
Revolution and its "heir," he came to the bitter conclusion that
liberty had miscarried in France, and that that land had bent beneath
the yoke in order the more completely to subjugate the Continent. He
died on September 13th.

French historians, following an article in the "Moniteur" of November
26th, have often asserted that the death of Fox and the accession to
power of the warlike faction changed the character of the
negotiations.[89] Nothing can be further from the truth. Not long
before his end, Fox thus expressed to his nephew his despair of peace:

    "We can in honour do nothing without the full and _bonâ fide_
    consent of the Queen and Court of Naples; but, even exclusive of
    that consideration and of the great importance of Sicily, it is
    not so much the value of the point in dispute as the manner in
    which the French fly from their word that disheartens me. It is
    not Sicily, but the shuffling, insincere way in which they act,
    that shows me that they are playing a false game; and in that case
    it would be very imprudent to make any concessions, which by any
    possibility could be thought inconsistent with our honour, or
    could furnish our allies with a plausible pretence for suspecting,
    reproaching, or deserting us."

It is further to be noted that Lauderdale stayed on at Paris three
weeks after the death of Fox; that he put forward no new demand, but
required that Talleyrand should revert to his first promise of
renouncing all claim to Sicily, and should treat conjointly with
England and Russia. It was in vain. Napoleon's final concessions were
that the Bourbons, after losing Sicily, should have the Balearic Isles
and be pensioned _by Spain_; that Russia should hold Corfu (as she
already did); and that we should recover Hanover from Prussia, and
keep Malta, the Cape, Tobago, and the three French towns in India;
but, except Hanover, all of these were in our power. On Sicily he
would not bate one jot of his pretensions. The negotiations were
therefore broken off on October 6th, twelve days after Napoleon left
Paris to marshal his troops against Prussia.[90] The whole affair
revealed Napoleon's determination to trick the allies into signing
separate and disadvantageous treaties, and thus to regain by craft the
ground which he had lost in fair fight at Maida.

If Sicily was the rock of stumbling between us and Napoleon, Hanover
was the chief cause of the war between France and Prussia. During the
negotiations at Paris, Lord Yarmouth privately informed Lucchesini,
the Prussian ambassador, that Talleyrand made no difficulty about the
restitution of Hanover to George III. The news, when forwarded to
Berlin at the close of July, caused a nervous flutter in ministerial
circles, where every effort was being made to keep on good terms with
France.

Even before this news arrived, the task was far from easy. Murat, when
occupying his new Duchy of Berg, pushed on his troops into the old
Church lands of Essen and Werden. Prussia looked on these districts as
her own, and the sturdy patriot Blücher at once marched in his
soldiers, tore down Murat's proclamations, and restored the Prussian
eagle with blare of trumpet and beat of drum.[91] A collision was with
difficulty averted by the complaisance of Frederick William, who
called back his troops and referred the question to lawyers; but even
the King was piqued when the Grand-Duke of Berg sent him a letter of
remonstrance on Blücher's conduct, commencing with the familiar
address, _Mon frère_.

Blücher meanwhile and the soldiery were eating out their hearts with
rage, as they saw the French pouring across the Rhine, and
constructing a bridge of boats at Wesel; and had they known that that
important stronghold, the key of North Germany, was quietly declared
to be a French garrison town, they would probably have forced the
hands of the King.[92] For at this time Frederick William and Haugwitz
were alarmed by the formation of the Rhenish Confederation, and were
not wholly reassured by Napoleon's suggestion that the abolition of
the old Empire must be an advantage to Prussia. They clutched eagerly,
however, at his proposal that Prussia should form a league of the
North German States, and made overtures to the two most important
States, Saxony and Hesse-Cassel. During a few halcyon days the King
even proposed to assume the title _Emperor of Prussia_, from which,
however, the Elector of Saxony ironically dissuaded him. This castle
in the air faded away when news reached Berlin at the beginning of
August that Napoleon was seeking to bring the Elector of Hesse-Cassel
into the Rhenish Confederation, and was offering as a bait the domains
of some Imperial Knights and the principality of Fulda, now held by
the Prince of Orange, a relative of Frederick William. Moreover, the
moves of the French troops in Thuringia were so threatening to Saxony
that the Court of Dresden began to scout the project of a North German
Confederation.

Still, the King and Haugwitz tried to persuade themselves that
Napoleon meant well for Prussia, that England had been doing her
utmost to make bad blood between the two allies, and that "great
results could not be attained without some friction." In this hope
they were encouraged by the French ambassador, the man who had enticed
Prussia to her demobilization. He was charged by Talleyrand to report
at Berlin that "peace with England would be made, as well as with
Russia, if France had consented to the restitution of Hanover.--I have
renewed," added Laforest, "the assurance that the Emperor [Napoleon]
would never yield on this point."

And yet at that very time the French Foreign Office was at work upon a
Project of a Treaty in which the restitution of Hanover to George III.
was expressly named and received the assent of Napoleon.[93] The
Prussian ambassador, Lucchesini, had some inkling of this from French
sources,[94] as well as from Lord Yarmouth, and on July 28th penned a
despatch which fell like a thunderbolt on the optimists of Berlin. It
crossed on the way--such is the irony of diplomacy--a despatch from
Berlin that required him to show unlimited confidence in Napoleon.
From confidence the King now rushed to the opposite extreme, and saw
Napoleon's hand in all the friction of the last few weeks.

Here again he was wrong; for the French Emperor had held back Murat
and the other hot-bloods of the army who were longing to measure
swords with Prussia.[95] His correspondence proves that his first
thoughts were always in the Mediterranean. For one page that he wrote
about German affairs he wrote twenty to Joseph or Eugène on the need
of keeping a firm hand and punishing Calabrian rebels--"shoot three
men in every village"--above all, on the plans for conquering Sicily.
It was therefore with real surprise that on August 16th-18th he learnt
from a purloined despatch of Lucchesini that the latter suspected him
of planning with the Czar the partition of Prussian Poland. He treated
the matter with contempt, and seems to have thought that Prussia would
meekly accept the morsels which he proposed to throw to her in place
of Hanover. But he misread the character of Frederick William, if he
thought so grievous an insult would be passed over, and he knew not
the power of the Prussian Queen to kindle the fire of patriotism.

Queen Louisa was at this time thirty years of age and in the flower of
that noble matronly beauty which bespoke a pure and exalted being. As
daughter of a poverty-stricken prince of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, her
youth had been spent in the homeliest fashion, until her charms won
the heart of the Crown Prince of Prussia. Her first entry into Berlin
was graced by an act that proclaimed a loving nature. When a group of
children dressed in white greeted her with verses of welcome, she
lifted up and kissed their little leader, to the scandal of stiff
dowagers, and the joy of the citizens. The incident recalls the easy
grace and disregard of etiquette shown by Marie Antoinette at
Versailles in her young bridal days; and, in truth, these queens have
something in common, besides their loveliness and their misfortunes.
Both were mated with cold and uninspiring consorts. Destiny had
refused both to Frederick William and to Louis XVI. the power of
exciting feelings warmer than the esteem and respect due to a worthy
man; and all the fervour of loyalty was aroused by their queens.

Louisa was a North German Marie Antoinette, but more staid and homely
than the vivacious daughter of Maria Theresa. Neither did she
interfere much in politics, until the great crash came: even when the
blow was impending, and the patriotic statesmen, with whom she
sympathized, begged the King to remove Haugwitz, she disappointed them
by withholding the entreaties which her instincts urged but her wifely
obedience restrained. Her influence as yet was that of a noble,
fascinating woman, who softened the jars occasioned by the King's
narrow and pedantic nature, and purified the Court from the grossness
of the past. But in the dark days that were to come, her faith and
enthusiasm breathed new force into a down-trodden people; and where
all else was shattered, the King and Queen still held forth the ideal
of that first and strongest of Teutonic institutions, a pure family
life.

The "Memoirs" of Hardenberg show that the Queen quietly upheld the
patriotic cause;[96] and in the tone of the letter that Frederick
William wrote to the Czar (August 8th) there is something of feminine
resentment against the French Emperor: after recounting his grievances
at Napoleon's hands, he continued:

    "If the news be true, if he be capable of perfidy so black, be
    convinced, Sire, that it is not merely a question about Hanover
    between him and me, but that he has decided to make war against me
    at all costs. He wants no other Power beside his own.... Tell me,
    Sire, I conjure you, if I may hope that your troops will be within
    reach of succour for me, and if I may count on them in case of
    aggression."

Alexander wrote a cheering response, advising him to settle his
differences with England and Sweden, and assuring him of help.
Whereupon the King replied (September 6th) that he had reopened the
North Sea rivers to British ships and hoped for peace and pecuniary
help from London. He concluded thus:

    "Meanwhile, Bonaparte has left me at my ease: for not only does he
    not enter into any explanation about my armaments, but he has even
    forbidden his Ministers to give and receive any explanations
    whatever. It appears, then, that it is I who am to take the
    initiative. My troops are marching on all sides to hasten that
    moment."[97]

These last sentences are the handwriting on the wall for the _ancien
régime_ in Prussia. Taking the bland assurances of Talleyrand and the
studied indifference of Laforest as signs that Napoleon might be
caught off his guard, Prussia continued her warlike preparations; and
in order to gain time Lucchesini was recalled and replaced by an envoy
who was to enter into lengthy explanations. The trick did not deceive
Napoleon, who on September 3rd had heard with much surprise that
Russia meant to continue the war. At once he saw the germ of a new
Coalition, and bent his energies to the task of conciliating Austria,
and of fomenting the disputes between Russia and Turkey. Towards
Frederick William his tone was that of a friend who grieves at an
unexpected quarrel. How--he exclaimed to Lucchesini on the
ambassador's departure--how could the King credit him with encouraging
the intrigues of a fussy ambassador at Cassel or the bluster of Murat?

As for Hanover, he had intended sending some one to Berlin to propose
an equivalent for it in case England still made its restitution a
_sine quâ non_ of peace. "But," he added, "if your young officers and
your women at Berlin want war, I am preparing to satisfy them. Yet my
ambition turns wholly to Italy. She is a mistress whose favours I will
share with no one. I will have all the Adriatic. The Pope shall be my
vassal, and I will conquer Sicily. On North Germany I have no claims:
I do not object to the Hanse towns entering your confederation. As to
the inclusion of Saxony in it, my mind is not yet made up."[98]

Indeed, the tenor of his private correspondence proves that before the
first week of September he did not expect a new Coalition. He believed
that England and Russia would give way before him, and that Prussia
would never dare to stir. For the Court of Berlin he had a sovereign
contempt, as for the "old coalition machines" in general. His conduct
of affairs at this time betokens, not so much desire for war as lack
of imagination where other persons' susceptibilities are concerned. It
is probable that he then wanted peace with England and peace on the
Continent; for his diplomacy won conquests fully as valuable as the
booty of his sword, and only in a naval peace could he lay the
foundations of that oriental empire which, he assured O'Meara at St.
Helena, held the first place in his thoughts after the overthrow of
Austria. But it was not in his nature to make the needful concessions.
"_I must follow my policy in a geometrical line_" he said to
Lucchesini. England might have Hanover and a few colonies if she would
let Sicily go to a Bonaparte: as for Prussia, she might absorb
half-a-dozen neighbouring princelings.

That is the gist of Napoleon's European policy in the summer of 1806;
and the surprise which he expressed to Mollien at the rejection of his
offers is probably genuine. Sensitive to the least insult himself, his
bluntness of perception respecting the honour of others might almost
qualify him to rank with Aristotle's man devoid of feeling. It is
perfectly true that he did not make war on Prussia in 1806 any more
than on England in 1803. He only made peace impossible.[99]

The condition on which Prussia now urgently insisted was the entire
evacuation of Germany by French troops. This Napoleon refused to
concede until Frederick William demobilized his army, a step that
would have once more humbled him in the eyes of this people. It might
even have led to his dethronement. For an incident had just occurred
in Bavaria that fanned German sentiment to a flame. A bookseller of
Nuremberg, named Palm, was proved by French officers to have sold an
anonymous pamphlet entitled "Germany in her deep Humiliation." It was
by no means of a revolutionary type, and the worthy man believed it to
be a mistake when he was arrested by the military authorities. He was
wrong. Napoleon had sent orders that a terrible example must be made
in order to stop the sale of patriotic German pamphlets. Palm was
therefore haled away to Braunau, an Austrian town then held by French
troops, was tried by martial law and shot (August 25th). Never did the
Emperor commit a greater blunder. The outrage sent a thrill of
indignation through the length and breadth of Germany. Instead of
quenching, it inflamed the national sentiment, and thus rendered
doubly difficult any peaceful compromise between Frederick William and
Napoleon. The latter was now looked upon as a tyrant by the citizen
class which his reforms were designed to conciliate: and Frederick
William became almost the champion of Germany when he demanded the
withdrawal of the French troops.

Unfortunately, the King refused to appoint Ministers who inspired
confidence. With Hardenberg in place of Haugwitz, men would have felt
sure that the sword would not again be tamely sheathed; great efforts
were made to effect this change, but met with a chilling repulse from
the King.[100] It is true that Haugwitz and Beyme now expressed the
bitterest hatred of Napoleon, as well they might for a man who had
betrayed their confidence. But, none the less, the King's refusal to
change his men along with his policy was fatal. Both at St. Petersburg
and London no trust was felt in Prussia as long as Haugwitz was at the
helm. The man who had twice steered the ship of state under Napoleon's
guns might do it again; and both England and Russia waited to see some
irrevocable step taken before they again risked an army for that
prince of waverers.

Grenville rather tardily sent Lord Morpeth to arrange an alliance, but
only after he should receive a solemn pledge that Hanover would be
restored. That envoy approached the Prussian headquarters just in time
to be swept away in the torrent of fugitives from Jena. As for Russia,
she had awaited the arrival of a Prussian officer at St. Petersburg to
concert a plan of campaign. When he arrived he had no plan; and the
Czar, perplexed by the fatuity of his ally, and the hostility of the
Turks, refused to march his troops forthwith into Prussia.[101]
Equally disappointing was the conduct of Austria. This Power, bleeding
from the wounds of last year and smarting under the jealousy of
Russia, refused to move until the allies had won a victory. And so,
thanks to the jealousies of the old monarchies, Frederick William had
no Russian or Austrian troops at his side, no sinews of war from
London to invigorate his preparations, when he staked his all in the
high places of Thuringia. He gained, it is true, the support of Saxony
and Weimar; but this brought less than 21,000 men to his side.

On the other hand, Napoleon, as Protector of the Rhenish
Confederation, secured the aid of 25,000 South Germans, as well as an
excellent fortified base at Würzburg. His troops, holding the citadels
of Passau and Braunau on the Austrian frontier, kept the Hapsburgs
quiet; and 60,000 French and Dutch troops at Wesel menaced the
Prussians in Hanover. Above all, his forces already in Germany were
strengthened until, in the early days of October, some 200,000 men
were marching from the Main towards the Duchy of Weimar. Soult and Ney
led 60,000 men from Amberg towards Baireuth and Hof: Bernadotte and
Davoust, with 90,000, marched towards Schleitz, while Lannes and
Augereau, with 46,000, moved by a road further to the left towards
Saalfeld.

The progress of these dense columns near together and through a hilly
country presented great difficulties, which only the experience of the
officers, the energy and patience of the men, and the genius of their
great leader could overcome. Meanwhile Napoleon had quietly left Paris
on September 25th. Travelling at his usual rapid rate, he reached
Mainz on the 28th: he was at Würzburg on October 2nd; there he
directed the operations, confident that the impact of his immense
force would speedily break the Prussians, drive them down the valley
of the Saale and thus detach the Elector of Saxony from an alliance
that already was irksome.

The French, therefore, had a vast mass of seasoned fighters, a good
base of operations, and a clear plan of attack. The Prussians, on the
contrary, could muster barely 128,000 men, including the Saxons, for
service in the field; and of these 27,000 with Rüchel were on the
frontier of Hesse-Cassel seeking to assure the alliance of the
Elector. The commander-in-chief was the septuagenarian Duke of
Brunswick, well known for his failure at Valmy in 1792 and his recent
support to the policy of complaisance to France. His appointment
aroused anger and consternation; and General Kalckreuth expressed to
Gentz the general opinion when he said that the Duke was quite
incompetent for such a command: "His character is not strong enough,
his mediocrity, irresolution, and untrustworthiness would ruin the
best undertaking." The Duke himself was aware of his incompetence. Why
then, we ask, did he accept the command? The answer is startling; but
it rests on the evidence of General von Müffling:

    "The Duke of Brunswick had accepted the command _in order to avert
    war_. I can affirm this with perfect certainty, since I have heard
    it from his own lips more than once. He was fully aware of the
    weaknesses of the Prussian army and the incompetence of its
    officers."[102]

Thus there was seen the strange sight of a diffident, peace-loving
King accompanying the army and sharing in all the deliberations; while
these were nominally presided over by a despondent old man who still
intrigued to preserve peace, and shifted on to the King the
responsibility of every important act. And yet there were able
generals who could have acted with effect, even if they fell short of
the opinion hopefully bruited by General Rüchel, that "several were
equal to M. de Bonaparte." Events were to prove that Gneisenau,
Scharnhorst, and Blücher rivalled the best of the French Marshals; but
in this war their lights were placed under bushels and only shone
forth when the official covers had been shattered. Scharnhorst,
already renowned for his strategic and administrative genius, took
part in some of the many councils of war where everything was
discussed and little was decided; but his opinion had no weight, for
on October 7th he wrote: "What we ought to do I know right well, what
we _shall_ do only the gods know."[103] He evidently referred to the
need of concentration. At that time the thin Prussian lines were
spread out over a front of eighty-five miles, the Saxons being near
Gera, the chief army, under Brunswick, at Erfurth, while Rüchel was so
far distant on the west that he could only come up at Jena just one
hour too late to avert disaster.

And yet with these weak and scattered forces, Prince Hohenlohe
proposed a bold move forward to the Main. Brunswick, on the other
hand, counselled a prudent defensive; but he could not, or would not,
enforce his plan; and the result was an oscillation between the two
extremes. Had he massed all his forces so as to command the valleys of
the Saale and Elster near Jena and Gera, the campaign might possibly
have been prolonged until the Russians came up. As it was, the allies
dulled the ardour of their troops by marches, counter-marches, and
interminable councils-of-war, while Napoleon's columns were threading
their way along those valleys at the average rate of fifteen miles a
day, in order to turn the allied left and cut the connection between
Prussia and Saxony.[104]

The first serious fighting was on October the 10th at Saalfeld, where
Prince Louis Ferdinand of Prussia with a small force sought to protect
Hohenlohe's flank march westwards on Jena. The task was beyond the
strength even of this flower of Prussian chivalry. He was overpowered
by the weight and vigour of Lannes' attack, and when already wounded
in a cavalry _mêlée_ was pierced through the body by an officer to
whom he proudly refused to surrender. The death of this hero, the
"Alcibiades" of Prussia, cast a gloom over the whole army, and
mournful faces at headquarters seemed to presage yet worse disasters.
Perhaps it was some inkling of this discouragement, or a laudable
desire to stop "an impolitic war," that urged Napoleon two days later
to pen a letter to the King of Prussia urging him to make peace before
he was crushed, as he assuredly would be. In itself the letter seems
admirable--until one remembers the circumstances of the case. The King
had pledged his word to the Czar to make war; if, therefore, he now
made peace and sent the Russians back, he would once more stand
condemned of preferring dishonourable ease to the noble hazards of an
affair of honour. As Napoleon was aware of the union of the King and
Czar, this letter must be regarded as an attempt to dissolve the
alliance and tarnish Frederick William's reputation. It was viewed in
that light by that monarch; and there is not a hint in Napoleon's
other letters that he really expected peace.

He was then at Gera, pushing forward his corps towards Naumburg so as
to cut off the Prussians from Saxony and the Elbe. Great as was his
superiority, these movements occasioned such a dispersion of his
forces as to invite attack from enterprising foes; but he despised the
Prussian generals as imbeciles, and endeavoured to unsteady their rank
and file by seizing and burning their military stores at the latter
town. He certainly believed that they were all in retreat northwards,
and great was his surprise when he heard from Lannes early on October
13th that his scouts, after scaling the hills behind Jena in a dense
mist, had come upon the Prussian army. The news was only partly
correct. It was only Hohenlohe's corps: for the bulk of that army,
under Brunswick, was retreating northwards, and nearly stumbled upon
the corps of Davoust and Bernadotte behind Naumburg.

Lannes also was in danger on the Landgrafenberg. This is a lofty hill
which towers above the town of Jena and the narrow winding vale of the
Saale; while its other slopes, to the north and west, rise above and
dominate the broken and irregular plateau on which Hohenlohe's force
was encamped. Had the Prussians attacked his weary regiments in force,
they might easily have hurled them into the Saale. But Hohenlohe had
received orders to retire northwards in the rear of Brunswick, as soon
as he had rallied the detachment of Rüchel near Weimar, and was
therefore indisposed to venture on the bold offensive which now was
his only means of safety. The respite thus granted was used by the
French to hurry every available regiment up the slopes north and west
of Jena. Late in the afternoon, Napoleon himself ascended the
Landgrafenberg to survey the plateau; while a pastor of the town was
compelled to show a path further north which leads to the same plateau
through a gulley called the Rau-thal.[105]

[Illustration: BATTLE OF JENA]

On the south the heights sink away into a wider valley, the Mühl-thal,
along which runs the road to Weimar; and on this side too their wooded
brows are broken by gulleys, up one of which runs a winding track
known as the Schnecke or Snail. Villages and woods diversified the
plateau and hindered the free use of that extended line formation on
which the Prussians relied, while favouring the operations of dense
columns preceded by clouds of skirmishers by which Napoleon so often
hewed his way to victory. His greatest advantage, however, lay in the
ignorance of his foes. Hohenlohe, believing that he was confronted
only by Lannes' corps, took little thought about what was going on in
his front, and judging the Mühl-thal approach alone to be accessible,
posted his chief force on this side. So insufficient a guard was
therefore kept on the side of the Landgrafenberg that the French,
under cover of the darkness, not only crowned the summit densely with
troops, but dragged up whole batteries of cannon.

The toil was stupendous: in one of the steep hollow tracks a number of
cannon and wagons stuck fast; but the Emperor, making his rounds at
midnight, brought the magic of his presence to aid the weary troops
and rebuke the officers whose negligence had caused this block.
Lantern in hand, he went up and down the line to direct the work; and
Savary, who saw this scene, noted the wonder of the men, as they
caught sight of the Emperor, the renewed energy of their blows at the
rocks, and their whispers of surprise that _he_ should come in person
when their officers were asleep. The night was far spent when, after
seeing the first wagon right through the narrow steep, he repaired to
his bivouac amidst his Guards on the summit, and issued further orders
before snatching a brief repose. By such untiring energy did he assure
victory. Apart from its immense effect on the spirits of his troops,
his vigilance reaped a rich reward. Jena was won by a rapid
concentration of troops, and the prompt seizure of a commanding
position almost under the eyes of an unenterprising enemy. The corps
of Soult and Ney spent most of the night and early morning in marching
towards Jena and taking up their positions on the right or north wing,
while Lannes and the Guard held the central height, and Augereau's
corps in the Mühl-thal threatened the Saxons and Prussians guarding
the Schnecke.[106]

A dense fog screened the moves of the assailants early on the morrow,
and, after some confused but obstinate fighting, the French secured
their hold on the plateau not only above the town of Jena, where their
onset took the Prussians by surprise, but also above the Mühl-thal,
where the enemy were in force.

By ten o'clock the fog lifted, and the warm rays of the autumn sun
showed the dense masses of the French advancing towards the middle of
the plateau. Hohenlohe now saw the full extent of his error and
despatched an urgent message to Rüchel for aid. It was too late. The
French centre, led by Lannes, began to push back the Prussian lines on
the village named Vierzehn Heiligen. It was in vain that Hohenlohe's
choice squadrons flung themselves on the serried masses in front: the
artillery and musketry fire disordered them, while French dragoons
were ready to profit by their confusion. The village was lost, then
retaken by a rally of the Prussians, then lost again when Ney was
reinforced; and when the full vigour of the French attack was
developed by the advance of Soult and Augereau on either wing,
Napoleon launched his reserves, his Guard, and Murat's squadrons on
the disordered lines. The impact was irresistible, and Hohenlohe's
force was swept away. Then it was that Rüchel's force drew near, and
strove to stem the rout. Advancing steadily, as if on parade, his
troops for a brief space held up the French onset; but neither the
dash of the Prussian horse nor the bravery of the foot-soldiers could
dam that mighty tide, which laid low the gallant leader and swept his
lines away into the general wreck.[107]

In the headlong flight before Murat's horsemen, the fugitives fell in
with another beaten array, that of Brunswick. At Jena the Prussians,
if defeated, were not disgraced: before the first shot was fired their
defeat was a mathematical certainty. At the crisis of the battle they
had but 47,400 men at hand, while Napoleon then disposed of 83,600
combatants.[108] But at Auerstädt they were driven back and disgraced.
There they had a decided superiority in numbers, having more than
35,000 of their choicest troops, while opposite to them stood only the
27,000 men of Davoust's corps.

Hitherto Davoust had been remarkable rather for his dog-like devotion
to Napoleon than for any martial genius; and the brilliant Marmont had
openly scoffed at his receiving the title of Marshal. But, under his
quiet exterior and plodding habits, there lay concealed a variety of
gifts which only needed a great occasion to shine forth and astonish
the world.[109] The time was now at hand. Frederick William and
Brunswick were marching from Auerstädt to make good their retreat on
the Elbe, when their foremost horsemen, led by the gallant Blücher,
saw a solid wall of French infantry loom through the morning fog. It
was part of Davoust's corps, strongly posted in and around the village
of Hassenhausen.

At once Blücher charged, only to be driven back with severe loss.
Again he came on, this time supported by infantry and cannon: again he
was repulsed; for Davoust, aided by the fog, had seized the
neighbouring heights which commanded the high road, and held them with
firm grip. Determined to brush aside or crush this stubborn foe, the
Duke of Brunswick now led heavy masses along the narrow defile; but
the steady fire of the French laid him low, with most of the officers;
and as the Prussians fell back, Davoust swung forward his men to
threaten their flanks. The King was dismayed at these repeated checks,
and though the Prussian reserves under Kalckreuth could have been
called up to overwhelm the hard-pressed French by the weight of
numbers, yet he judged it better to draw off his men and fall back on
Hohenlohe for support.

But what a support! Instead of an army, it was a terrified mob flying
before Murat's sabres, that met them halfway between Auerstädt and
Weimar. Threatened also by Bernadotte's corps on their left flank, the
two Prussian armies now melted away in one indistinguishable torrent,
that was stemmed only by the sheltering walls of Erfurt, Magdeburg,
and of fortresses yet more remote.

Of the twin battles of Jena and Auerstädt, the latter was
unquestionably the more glorious for the French arms. That Napoleon
should have beaten an army of little more than half his numbers is in
no way remarkable. What is strange is that so consummate a leader
should have been entirely ignorant of the distribution of the enemy's
forces, and should have left Davoust with only 27,000 men exposed to
the attack of Brunswick with nearly 40,000.[110] In his bulletins, as
in the "Relation Officielle," the Emperor sought to gloze over his
error by magnifying Hohenlohe's corps into a great army and
attenuating Davoust's splendid exploit, which in his private letters
he warmly praised. The fact is, he had made all his dispositions in
the belief that he had the main body of the Prussians before him at
Jena.

That is why, on the afternoon of the 13th, he hastily sent to recall
Murat's horse and Bernadotte's corps from Naumburg and its vicinity;
and in consequence Bernadotte took no very active part in the
fighting. For this he has been bitterly blamed, on the strength of an
assertion that Napoleon during the night of the 13th-14th sent him an
order to support Davoust. This order has never been produced, and it
finds no place in the latest and fullest collection of French official
despatches, which, however, contains some that fully exonerate
Bernadotte.[111] Unfortunately for Bernadotte's fame, the tattle of
memoir writers is more attractive and gains more currency than the
prosaic facts of despatches.

Fortune plays an immense part in warfare; and never did she favour the
Emperor more than on October the 14th, 1806. Fortune and the skill and
bravery of Davoust and his corps turned what might have been an almost
doubtful conflict into an overwhelming victory. Though Napoleon was as
ignorant of the movements of Brunswick as he was of the flank march of
Blücher at Waterloo, yet the enterprise and tenacity of Davoust and
Lannes yielded him, on the Thuringian heights, a triumph scarcely
paralleled in the annals of war. It is difficult to overpraise those
Marshals for the energy with which they clung to the foe and brought
on a battle under conditions highly favourable to the French: without
their efforts, the Prussian army could never have been shattered on a
single day.

The flood of invasion now roared down the Thuringian valleys and
deluged the plains of Saxony and Brandenburg. Rivers and ramparts were
alike helpless to stay that all-devouring tide. On October the 16th,
16,000 men surrendered at Erfurt to Murat: then, spurring eastward,
_le beau sabreur_ rushed on the wreck of Hohenlohe's force, and with
the aid of Lannes' untiring corps compelled it to surrender at
Prenzlau.[112] Blücher meanwhile stubbornly retreated to the north;
but, with Murat, Soult, and Bernadotte dogging his steps, he finally
threw himself into Lübeck, where, after a last desperate effort, he
surrendered to overpowering numbers (November 7th).

Here the gloom of defeat was relieved by gleams of heroism; but before
the walls of other Prussian strongholds disaster was blackened by
disgrace. Held by timid old men or nerveless pedants, they scarcely
waited for a vigorous attack. A few cannon-shots, or even a
demonstration of cavalry, generally brought out the white flag. In
quick succession, Spandau, Stettin, Küstrin, Magdeburg, and Hameln
opened their gates, the governor of the last-named being mainly
concerned about securing his future retiring pension from the French
as soon as Hanover passed into their keeping.

Amidst these shameful surrenders the capital fell into the hands of
Davoust (October 25th). Varnhagen von Ense had described his mingled
surprise and admiration at seeing those "lively, impudent,
mean-looking little fellows," who had beaten the splendid soldiers
trained in the school of Frederick the Great. His wonder was natural;
but all who looked beneath the surface well knew that Prussia was
overthrown before the first shot was fired. She was the victim of a
deadening barrack routine, of official apathy or corruption, and of a
degrading policy which dulled the enthusiasm of her sons.

Thirteen days after the great battle, Napoleon himself entered Berlin
in triumph. It was the first time that he allowed himself a victor's
privilege, and no pains were spared to impress the imagination of
mankind by a parade of his choicest troops. First came the foot
grenadiers and chasseurs of the Imperial Guard: behind the central
group marched other squadrons and battalions of these veterans,
already famed as the doughtiest fighters of their age. In their midst
came the mind of this military machine--Napoleon, accompanied by three
Marshals and a brilliant staff. Among them men noted the plain,
soldierlike Berthier, the ever trusty and methodical chief of the
staff. At his side rode Davoust, whose round and placid face gave
little promise of his rapid rush to the front rank among the French
paladins. There too was the tall, handsome, threatening form of
Augereau, whose services at Jena, meritorious as they were, scarcely
maintained his fame at the high level to which it soared at
Castiglione. Then came Napoleon's favourite aide-de-camp, Duroc, a
short, stern, war-hardened man, well known in Berlin, where twice he
had sought to rivet close the bonds of the French alliance.

Above all, the gaze of the awe-struck crowd was fixed on the figure of
the chief, now grown to the roundness of robust health amidst toils
that would have worn most men to a shadow; and on the face, no longer
thin with the unsatisfied longings of youth, but square and full with
toil requited and ambition wellnigh sated--a visage redeemed from the
coarseness of the epicure's only by the knitted brows that bespoke
ceaseless thought, and by the keen, melancholy, unfathomable eyes.


NOTE ADDED TO THE FOURTH EDITION

    Several facts of considerable interest and importance respecting
    the Anglo-French negotiations of 1806 have been brought to light
    by M. Coquelle in his recently published work "Napoleon and
    England, 1803-1813," chapters xi.-xvii. (George Bell and Sons,
    1904).

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXVI

THE CONTINENTAL SYSTEM: FRIEDLAND

    "I know full well that London is a corner of the world, and that
    Paris is its centre."--_Letter of Napoleon_, August 18th, 1806.

On the 21st of November, 1806, Napoleon issued at Berlin the decree
which proclaimed open and unrelenting war on English industry and
commerce, a war that was to embroil the whole civilized world and
cease only with his overthrow. After reciting his complaints against
the English maritime code, he declared the British Isles to be in a
state of blockade, interdicted all commerce with them, threatened
seizure and imprisonment to English goods and subjects wherever found
by French or allied troops, forbade all trade in English and colonial
wares, and excluded from French and allied ports any ship that had
touched at those of Great Britain; while any ship that connived at the
infraction of the present decree was to be held a good prize of
war.[113] This ukase, which was binding for France, Italy,
Switzerland, Holland, and the Rhenish Confederation, formed the
foundation of the Continental System, a term applicable to the sum
total of the measures that aimed at ruining England by excluding her
goods from the Continent.

The plan of strangling Britain by her own wealth was not peculiar to
Napoleon. In common with much of his political stock-in-trade he had
it from the Jacobins, who stoutly maintained that England's wealth was
fictitious and would collapse as soon as her commerce was attacked in
the Indies and excluded from the Rhine and Elbe. At first the
fulminations of Parisian legislators fell idly on the stately pile of
British industry; but when the young Bonaparte appeared on the scene,
the commercial warfare became serious. As soon as his victories in
Italy widened the sphere of French influence, the Directory banned the
entry of all our products, counting all cotton and woollen goods as
English unless the contrary could be proved by certificates of
origin.[114] Public opinion in France, which, unless held in by an
intelligent monarch, has always swung towards protection or
prohibition, welcomed that vigorous measure; and great was the outcry
of manufacturers when it was rumoured in 1802 that Napoleon was about
to make a commercial treaty with the national enemy. Tradition and
custom, therefore, were all on his side, when, after Trafalgar, he
concentrated all his energy on his "coast-system."[115]

Ostensibly the Berlin Decree was a retort to our Order in Council of
May 16th, 1806, which declared all the coast between Brest and the
Elbe in a state of blockade; and French historians have defended it on
this ground, asserting that it was a necessary reply to England's
aggressive action.[116] But this plea can scarcely be maintained. The
aggressor, surely, was the man who forced Prussia to close the neutral
North German coast to British goods (February, 1806). Besides, there
is indirect proof that Napoleon looked on our blockade of the northern
coasts as not unreasonable. In his subsequent negotiations with us, he
raised no protest against it, and made no difficulty about our
maritime code: if we would let him seize Sicily, we might, it seems,
have re-enacted that code in all its earlier stringency. Far from
doing so, Fox and his successors relaxed the blockade of North
Germany; and by an order dated September 25th, the coast between the
Elbe and the Ems was declared free.

Napoleon's grievance against us was thereby materially lessened, and
his protest against fictitious blockades in the preamble of the Berlin
Decree really applied only to our action on the coast between the
Helder and Brest, where our cruisers were watching the naval
preparations still going on. His retort in the interests of outraged
law was certainly curious; he declared our 3,000 miles of coast in a
state of blockade--a mere _brutum fulmen_ in point of fact, but
designed to give a show of legality to his Continental System. Yet,
apart from this thin pretext, he troubled very little about law.
Indeed, blockade is an act of war; and its application to this or that
part or coast depends on the will and power of the belligerents.
Napoleon frankly recognized that fact; and, however much his preambles
appealed to law, his conduct was decided solely by expediency. When he
wanted peace (along with Sicily) he said nothing about our maritime
claims: when the war went on, he used them as a pretext for an action
that was ten times as stringent.

The gauntlet thrown down by him at Berlin was promptly taken up by
Great Britain. An Order in Council of January 7th, 1807, forbade
neutrals to trade between the ports of France and her allies, or
between ports that observed the Berlin Decree, under pain of seizure
and confiscation of the ship and cargo. In return Napoleon issued from
Warsaw (January 27th) a decree, ordering the seizure in the Hanse
Towns of all English goods and colonial produce. By way of reprisal
England reimposed a strict blockade on the North German coast (March
11th); and after the Peace of Tilsit laid the Continent at the feet of
Napoleon, he frankly told the diplomatic circle at Fontainebleau that
he would no longer allow any commercial or political relations between
the Continent and England. "The sea must be subdued by the land." In
these words Napoleon pithily summed up his enterprise; and whatever
may be thought of the means which he adopted, the design is not
without grandeur. Granted that Britannia ruled the waves, yet he ruled
the land; and the land, as the active fruitful element, must overpower
the barren sea. Such was the notion: it was fallacious, as will appear
later on; but it appealed strongly to the French imagination as
providing an infallible means of humbling the traditional foe.
Furthermore, it placed in Napoleon's hands a potent engine of
government, not only for assuring his position in France, but for
extending his sway over North Germany and all coasts that seemed
needful to the success of the experiment.

Indirectly also it seems to have fed, without satisfying, his
ever-growing love of power. Here we touch on the difficult question of
motive; and it is perhaps impossible, except for dogmatists, to
determine whether the enterprises that led to his ruin--the partition
of Portugal, which slid easily into the occupation of Spain, together
with his Moscow adventure--were prompted by ambition or by a
semi-fatalistic feeling that they were necessary to the complete
triumph of his Continental System. He himself, with a flash of almost
uncanny insight, once remarked to Roederer that his ambition was
different from that of other men: for they were slaves to it, whereas
it was so interwoven with the whole texture of his being as to
interfere with no single process of thought and will. Whether that is
possible is a question for psychologists and casuists; but every
open-minded student of Napoleon's career must at times pause in utter
doubt, whether this or that act was prompted by mad ambition, or
followed naturally, perhaps inevitably, from that world-embracing
postulate, the Continental System.

England also derived some secondary advantages from this war of the
elements. In order to stalemate her mighty foe, she pushed on her
colonial conquests so as to control the resources of the tropics, and
thus prevent that deadly tilting of the balance landwards which
Napoleon strove to effect. And fate decreed that the conquests of
English seamen and settlers were to be more enduring than those of
Napoleon's legions. While the French were gaining barren victories
beyond the Vistula and Ebro, our seamen seized French and Dutch
colonies and our pioneers opened up the interior of Australia and
South Africa.

We also used our maritime monopoly to depress neutral commerce. We
have not space to discuss the complex question of the rights of
neutrals in time of war, which would involve an examination of the
"rule of 1756" and the compromises arrived at after the two Armed
Neutrality Leagues. Suffice it to say that our merchants had recently
been indignant at the comparative immunity enjoyed by neutral ships,
and had pressed for more vigorous action against such as traded to
French ports.[117] Yet the statement that our Orders in Council were
determined by the clamour of the mercantile class is an exaggeration:
they were reprisals against Napoleon's acts, following them in almost
geometrical gradations. To his domination over the industrial
resources of the Continent we had nothing to oppose but our
manufacturing skill, our supremacy in the tropics, and our control of
the sea. The methods used on both sides were alike brutal, and, when
carried to their logical conclusion at the close of the year, crushed
the neutrals between the upper and the nether millstone. But it is
difficult to see what other alternative was open to an insular State
that was all-powerful at sea and weak on land. Our very existence was
bound up with maritime commerce; and an abandonment of the carrying
trade to neutrals would have been the tamest of surrenders, at a time
when surrender meant political extinction.

We turn now to follow the chief steps in Napoleon's onward march,
which enabled him to impose his system on nearly the whole of the
Continent. While encamped in the Prussian capital he decreed the
deposition of the Elector of Hesse-Cassel, and French and Dutch troops
forthwith occupied that Electorate. Towards Saxony he acted with
politic clemency; and on December 11th, 1806, the Elector accepted the
French alliance, entered the Confederation of the Rhine, and received
the title of King.[118]

Meanwhile Frederick William, accompanied by his grief-stricken
consort, was striving to draw together an army in his eastern
provinces. Some overtures with a view to peace had been made after
Jena; but Napoleon finally refused to relax his pursuit unless the
Prussians retired beyond the Vistula, and yielded up to him all the
western parts of the kingdom, with their fortresses. Besides, he let
it be known that Prussia must join him in a close alliance against
Russia, with a view to checking her ambitious projects against Turkey;
for the Czar, resenting the Sultan's deposition of the hospodars of
the Danubian Principalities, an act suggested by the French, had sent
an army across the River Pruth, even when the Porte timidly revoked
its objectionable firman.[119] The Eastern Question having been thus
reopened, Napoleon suggested a Franco-Prussian alliance so as to avert
a Russian conquest of the Balkan Peninsula. But now, as ever, his
terms to Prussia were too exacting. The King deigned not to stoop to
such humiliation, but resolved to stake his all on the courage of his
troops and the fidelity of the Czar.

The Russians, though delayed by their distrust of Haugwitz, and by
their insensate war with Turkey, were now marching, 73,000 strong,
into Prussian Poland, but were too late to save the Silesian
fortresses, most of which surrendered to the French. The fighting in
the open also went against the allies, though at Pultusk, a town north
of Warsaw, the Russians claimed that the contest had been drawn in
their favour.

At the close of the year the armies went into winter-quarters. It was
high time. The French were ill supplied for a winter campaign amid the
desolate wastes of Poland. Snow and rain, frosts and thaws had turned
the wretched tracks into muddy swamps, where men sank to their knees,
horses to their bellies, and carriages beyond their axles. The
carriage conveying Talleyrand was a whole night stuck fast, in spite
of the efforts of ten horses to drag it out. The opinion of the
soldiery on Poland and the Poles is well expressed by that prince of
_raconteurs_, Marbot: "Weather frightful, victuals very scarce, no
wine, beer detestable, water muddy, no bread, lodgings shared with
cows and pigs. 'And they call this their country,' said our soldiers."

Yet Polish patriotism had been a mighty power in the world; and
Napoleon, ever on the watch for the weak places of his foes, saw how
effective a lever it might be. This had been his constant practice: he
had pitted Italians against Austrians, Copts against Mamelukes, Druses
against Turks, Irish against English, South Germans against the
Hapsburgs and Hohenzollerns, and for the most part with success. But,
except in the case of the Italian people and the South German princes,
he rarely, if ever, bestowed boons proportionate to the services
rendered. It is very questionable whether he felt more warmly for
Irish nationalists than for Copts and Druses.[120] Except in regard to
his Italian kindred, none of the nationalist aspirations that were to
mould the history of the century touched a responsive chord in his
nature. In this, as in other affairs of state, he held "true policy"
to be "nothing else than the calculation of combinations and chances."

It was in this spirit that he surveyed the Polish Question. Arising
out of the partitions of that unhappy land by Russia, Austria, and
Prussia, it had distracted the repose of Europe scarcely less than the
French Revolution; and now the heir to the Revolution, after hewing
his way through the weak monarchies of Central Europe, was about to
probe this ulcer of Christendom. As usual, nothing had been done to
forestall him. Czartoryski had begged Alexander to declare Russian
Poland an autonomous kingdom united with Russia only by the golden
link of the crown, but this timely proposal was rejected;[121] and the
Czar displayed the weakness of his judgment and the strength of his
vanity by plunging into war with Turkey and Persia, at a time when
Poland was opening her arms to the victor of a hundred fights. It was,
therefore, easy for Napoleon to surround Russia with foes; and, as
will shortly appear, he took steps to invigorate even the remote
Persian Empire.

But, above all, he spurred on the Poles to take up arms. His
encouragements were discreetly vague. True, he countenanced Polish
proclamations, which spoke grandiloquently of national liberty; but
proclamations he ever viewed as the _ballons d'essai_ of politics. He
also warned Murat not to promise the Poles too much: "My greatness
does not depend on the aid of a few thousand Poles. Let them show a
firm resolve to be independent: let them pledge themselves to support
the King that will be given to them, and then I will see what is to be
done."

There were two reasons for this caution. His Marshals found no very
general disposition among the Poles to take up arms for France; and he
desired not to offend Austria by revolutionizing Galicia and her
districts south and east of Warsaw. Already the Hapsburgs were
nervously mustering their troops, and Napoleon had no wish to tempt
fortune by warring against three Powers a thousand miles away from his
own frontiers. He therefore calmed the Court of Vienna by promising
that he would discourage any rising in Austrian Poland, and he held
forth the prospect of regaining Silesia. This tempting offer was made
secretly and conditionally; and evoked no expression of thanks, but
rather a redoubling of precautions. Yet, despite the efforts of
England and Russia, the Hapsburg ruler refused to join the allies: he
preferred to play the waiting game which had ruined Prussia.[122]

The campaign was reopened amidst terrible weather by a daring move of
Bennigsen's Russians westwards, in the hope of saving Danzig and
Graudenz from the French. At first a screen of forests well concealed
his advance. But, falling in with Bernadotte near the River Passarge,
his progress was checked and his design revealed. At once Napoleon
prepared to march northwards and throw the Russians into the sea, a
plan which in its turn was foiled by the seizure of a French despatch
by Cossacks. Bennigsen, now aware of his danger, at once retreated
towards Königsberg, but at Eylau turned on his pursuers and fought the
bloodiest battle fought in Europe since Malplaquet. The numbers on
both sides were probably about equal, numbering some 75,000 men, the
Russians having a slight superiority in men and still more in
artillery. Driven from Eylau on the night of February 7th after
confused fighting, the Muscovite withdrew to a strong position formed
by an irregular line of hills, which he crowned with cannon.

As the dawn peered through the snow-laden clouds, guns began to deal
death amongst the hostile masses, and heavy columns moved forward.
Davoust, on the French right, began to push back the Russians on that
side, whereupon Napoleon ordered Augereau's corps to complete the
advantage by driving in the enemy's centre. Gallantly the French
advanced. Their leading regiment, the 14th, had seized a hillock which
commanded the enemy's lines,[123] when, amidst a whirlwind of snow
that beat in their faces, a deadly storm of grape and canister almost
annihilated the corps. Its shattered lines fell back, leaving the 14th
to its fate. But a cloud of Cossacks now swept on the retiring
companies, stabbing with their long spears; and it was a scanty band
that found safety in their former position. Russian cannon and cavalry
also stopped the advance of Davoust, and the fighting for a time
resolved itself into confused but murderous charges at close quarters.
As if to increase the horrors of the scene, snowstorms again swept
over the field, dazing the French and shrouding with friendly wings
the fierce charges of Cossacks. Yet the Grand Army fought on with
devoted heroism; and the chief, determined to snatch at victory,
launched eighty squadrons of horse against the Russian centre.
Sweeping aside the Cossacks, and defying the cannon that riddled their
files, they poured upon the first line of Russian infantry: for a time
they were stemmed, but, finding some weaker places, the cuirassiers
burst through, only to be thrown back by the second line; and, when
furiously charged by Cossacks, they fell back in disorder. "These
Russians fight like bulls," said the French. The simile was just. Even
while Murat was hacking at their centre a column of 4,000 Russian
grenadiers, detaching itself from their mangled line, marched straight
forward on the village of Eylau. With the same blind courage that
nerved Solmes' division at Steinkirk, they beat aside the French light
horse and foot, and were now threatening the cemetery where Napoleon
and his staff were standing.

    "I never was so much struck with anything in my life," said
    General Bertrand at St. Helena, "as by the Emperor at Eylau when
    he was almost trodden under foot by the Russian column. He kept
    his ground as the Russians advanced, saying frequently, 'What
    boldness.'"

But, when all around him trembled, and Berthier ordered up the horses
as if for retreat, he himself quietly signalled for his Guards. These
sturdy troops, long fuming at their inaction, marched forward with a
stern joy. As at Steinkirk the French Household Brigade disdained to
fire on the bull-dogs, so now the Guards rushed on the Muscovites with
the cold steel. The shock was terrible; but the pent-up fury of the
French carried all before it, and the grenadiers were wellnigh
destroyed. The battle might still have ended in a French victory; for
Davoust was obstinately holding the village which he had seized in the
morning, and even threatened the rear of Bennigsen's centre. But when
both sides were wellnigh exhausted, the Prussian General Lestocq with
8,000 men, urged on by the counsels of Scharnhorst, hurried up from
the side of Königsberg, marched straight on Davoust, and checked his
forward movements. Ney followed Lestocq, but at so great a distance
that his arrival at nightfall served only to secure the French left.

Thus darkness closed over some 100,000 men, who wearily clung to their
posts, and over snowy wastes where half that number lay dead, dying,
or disabled. Well might Ney exclaim: "What a massacre, and without any
issue!" Each side claimed the victory, and, as is usual in such cases,
began industriously to minimize its own and to magnify the enemy's
losses. The truth seems to be that both sides had about 25,000 men
_hors de combat_; but, as Bennigsen lacked tents, supplies, and above
all, the dauntless courage of Napoleon, he speedily fell back, and
this enabled the Emperor to claim a decisive victory.[124]

Exhausted by this terrific strife, the combatants now relaxed their
efforts for a brief space; but while Napoleon used the time of respite
in hurrying up troops from all parts of his vast dominions, the allies
did little to improve their advantage. This inertness is all the more
strange as Prussia and Russia came to closer accord in the Treaty of
Bartenstein (April 26th, 1807).[125]

The two monarchs now recur to the generous scheme of a European peace,
for which the Czar and William Pitt had vainly struggled two years
before. The present war is to be fought out to the end, not so as to
humble France and interfere in her internal concerns, but in order to
assure to Europe the blessings of a solid peace based on the claims of
justice and of national independence. France must be satisfied with
reasonable boundaries, and Prussia be restored to the limits of 1805
or their equivalent. Germany is to be freed from the dictation of the
French, and become a "constitutional federation," with a boundary
"parallel to the Rhine." Austria is to be asked to join the present
league, regaining Tyrol and the Mincio frontier. England and Sweden
must be rallied to the common cause. The allies will also take steps
to cause Denmark to join the league. For the rest, the integrity of
Turkey is to be maintained, and the future of Italy decided in concert
with Austria and England, the Kings of Sardinia and Naples being
restored. Even should Austria, England, and Sweden not join them, yet
Russia and Prussia will continue the struggle and not lay down their
arms save by mutual consent.

Had all the Powers threatened by Napoleon at once come forward and
acted with vigour, these ends might, even now, have been attained. But
Austria merely renewed her offers of mediation, a well-meaning but
hopeless proposal. England, a prey to official incapacity, joined the
league, promised help in men and money, and did little or nothing
except send fruitless expeditions to Alexandria and the Dardanelles
with the aim of forcing the Turks to a peace with Russia. In Sicily we
held our own against Joseph's generals, but had no men to spare for a
diversion against Marmont's forces in Dalmatia, which Alexander urged.
Still less could we send from our own shores any force for the
effective aid of Prussia. Though we had made peace with that Power,
and ordinary prudence might have dictated the taking of steps to save
the coast fortresses, Danzig and Colberg, from the French besiegers,
yet our efforts were limited to the despatch of a few cruisers to the
former stronghold. Even more urgent was the need of rescuing
Stralsund, the chief fortress of Swedish Pomerania. Such an expedition
clearly offered great possibilities with the minimum of risk. From the
Isle of Rügen Mortier's corps could be attacked; and when Stralsund
was freed, a dash on Stettin, then weakly held by the French, promised
an easy success that would raise the whole of North Germany in
Napoleon's rear.[126]

But arguments were thrown away upon the Grenville Ministry, which
clung to its old plan of doing nothing and of doing it expensively.
The Foreign Secretary, Lord Howick, replied that the allies must not
expect any considerable aid from our land forces. Considering that the
Income or War Tax of 2s. in the £ had yielded close on £20,000,000,
and that the army numbered 192,000 men (exclusive of those in India),
this declaration did not shed lustre on the Ministry of all the
Talents. That bankrupt Cabinet, however, was dismissed by George III.
in March, 1807, because it declined to waive the question of Catholic
Emancipation, and its place was filled by the Duke of Portland, with
Canning as Foreign Minister. Soon it was seen that Pitt's cloak had
fallen on worthy shoulders, and a new vigour began to inspirit our
foreign policy. Yet the bad results of frittering away our forces on
distant expeditions could not be wiped out at once. In fact, our
military expert, Lord Cathcart, reported that only some 12,000 men
could at present be spared for service in the Baltic; and, as it would
be beneath our dignity to send so small a force, it would be better to
keep it at home ready to menace any part of the French coast. As to
Stralsund, he thought that plan was more feasible, but that, even
there, the allies would not make head against Mortier's corps.[127]

This is a specimen of the reasoning that was fast rendering Britain
contemptible alike to friends and foes. It is not surprising that such
timorous selfishness should have at last moved the Czar to say to our
envoy: "Act where you please, provided that you act at all."[128] In
the end the new Ministry did venture to act: it engaged to send 20,000
men to the succour of Stralsund; but, with the fatality that then
dogged our steps, that decision was formed on June the 17th, three
days after the Coalition was shattered by the mighty blow of
Friedland.

In striking contrast to the faint-hearted measures of the allies was
the timely energy of Napoleon in bringing up reinforcements. These
were drawn partly from Mortier's corps in Pomerania, now engaged in
watching the Swedes, who made a truce; partly from the Bavarians and
Saxons; but mostly from French troops already in Central Germany,
their places being taken by Italians, Spaniards, Swiss, and Dutch. In
France a new levy of conscripts was ordered--the third since the
outbreak of war with Prussia. The Turks were encouraged to press on
the war against Russia and England; and a mission was sent to the Shah
of Persia to strengthen his arms against the Czar. To this last we
will now advert.

For some time past Napoleon had been coquetting with Persia, and an
embassy from the Shah now came to the castle of Finkenstein, a
beautiful seat not far from the Vistula, where the Emperor spent the
months of spring. A treaty was drawn up, and General Gardane was
deputed to draw closer the bonds of friendship with the Court of
Teheran. The instructions secretly issued to this officer are of great
interest. He is ordered to proceed to Persia by way of Constantinople,
to concert an alliance between Sultan and Shah, to redouble Persia's
efforts against her "natural enemy," Russia, and to examine the means
of invading India. For this purpose a number of officers are sent with
him to examine the routes from Egypt or Syria to Delhi, as also to
report on the harbours in Persia with a view to a maritime expedition,
either by way of Suez or the Cape of Good Hope. The Shah is to be
induced to form a corps of 12,000 men, drilled on the European model
and armed with weapons sold by France. This force will attack the
Russians in Georgia and serve later in an expedition to India. With a
view to the sending of 20,000 French troops to India, Gardane is to
communicate with the Mahratta princes and prepare for this enterprise
by every possible means.

We may note here that Gardane proceeded to Persia and was urging on
the Shah to more active measures against Russia when the news of the
Treaty of Tilsit diverted his efforts towards the east. At the close
of the year, he reported to Napoleon that, for the march overland from
Syria to the Ganges, Cyprus was an indispensable base of supplies: he
recommended the route Bir, Mardin, Teheran, Herat, Cabul, and
Peshawar: forty to fifty thousand French troops would be needed, and
thirty or forty thousand Persians should also be taken up. Nothing
came of these plans; but it is clear that, even when Napoleon was face
to face with formidable foes on the Vistula, his thoughts still turned
longingly to the banks of the Ganges.[129]

The result of Napoleon's activity and the supineness of his foes were
soon apparent. Danzig surrendered to the French on May the 24th, and
Neisse in Silesia a little later; and it was not till the besiegers of
these fortresses came up to swell the French host that Bennigsen
opened the campaign. He was soon to rue the delay. His efforts to
drive the foe from the River Passarge were promptly foiled, and he
retired in haste to his intrenched camp at Heilsberg. There, on June
the 10th, he turned fiercely at bay and dealt heavy losses to the
French vanguard. In vain did Soult's corps struggle up towards the
intrenchments; his men were mown down by grapeshot and musketry: in
vain did Napoleon, who hurried up in the afternoon, launch the
fusiliers of the Guard and a division of Lannes' corps. The Muscovites
held firm, and the day closed ominously for the French. It was Eylau
over again on a small scale.

But Bennigsen was one of those commanders who, after fighting with
great spirit, suffer a relapse. Despite the entreaties of his
generals, he had retreated after Eylau; and now, after a day of
inaction, his columns filed off towards Königsberg under cover of the
darkness. In excuse for this action it has been urged that he had but
two days' supply of bread in the camp, and that a forward move of
Davoust's corps round his right flank threatened to cut him off from
his base of supplies, Königsberg.[130]

The first excuse only exposes him to greater censure. The Russian
habit at that time usually was to live almost from hand to mouth; but
that a carefully-prepared position like that of Heilsberg should be
left without adequate supplies is unpardonable. On the two next days
the rival hosts marched northward, the one to seize, the other to
save, Königsberg. They were separated by the winding vale of the Alle.
But the course of this river favoured Napoleon as much as it hindered
Bennigsen. The Alle below Heilsberg makes a deep bend towards the
north-east, then northwards again towards Friedland, where it comes
within forty miles of Königsberg, but in its lower course flows
north-east until it joins the Pregel.

An army marching from Heilsberg to the old Prussian capital by the
right bank would therefore easily be outstripped by one that could
follow the chord of the arc instead of the irregular arc itself.
Napoleon was in this fortunate position, while the Russians plodded
amid heavy rains over the semicircular route further to the east.
Their mistake in abandoning Heilsberg was now obvious. The Emperor
halted at Eylau on the 13th for news of the Prussians in front and of
Bennigsen on his right flank. Against the former he hurled his chief
masses under the lead of Murat in the hope of seizing Königsberg at
one blow.[131] But, foreseeing that the Russians would probably pass
over the Alle at Friedland he despatched Lannes to Domnau to see
whether they had already crossed in force. Clearly, then, Napoleon did
not foresee what the morrow had in store for him: his aim was to drive
a solid wedge between Bennigsen and the defenders of Königsberg, to
storm that city first, and then to turn on Bennigsen. The claim of
some of Napoleon's admirers that he laid a trap for the Russians at
Friedland, as he had done at Austerlitz, is therefore refuted by the
Emperor's own orders.

None the less did Bennigsen walk into a trap, and one of his own
choosing. Anxious to thrust himself between Napoleon and the old
Prussian capital, he crossed the river at Friedland and sought to
strengthen his position on the left bank by driving Lannes' vanguard
back on Domnau, by throwing three bridges over the stream, and by
crowning the hills on the right bank with a formidable artillery. But
he had to deal with a tough and daring opponent. Throughout the winter
Lannes had been a prey to ill-health and resentment at his chief's
real or fancied injustice: but the heats of summer re-awakened his
thirst for glory and restored him to his wonted vigour. Calling up the
Saxon horse, Grouchy's dragoons, and Oudinot's grenadiers, he held his
ground through the brief hours of darkness. Before dawn he posted his
10,000 troops among the woods and on the plateau of Posthenen that
lies to the west of Friedland and strove to stop the march of 40,000
Russians. After four hours of fighting, his men were about to be
thrust back, when the divisions of Verdier and Dupas--the latter from
Mortier's corps--shared the burden of the fight until the sun was at
its zenith. When once more the fight was doubtful, the dense columns
of Ney and Victor were to be seen, and by desperate efforts the French
vanguard held its ground until this welcome aid arrived.

Napoleon, having received Lannes' urgent appeals for help, now rode up
in hot haste, and in response to the cheers of his weary troops
repeatedly exclaimed: "Today is a lucky day, the anniversary of
Marengo." Their ardour was excited to the highest pitch, Oudinot
saluting his chief with the words: "Quick, sire! my grenadiers can
hold no longer: but give me reinforcements and I'll pitch the Russians
into the river."[132] The Emperor cautiously gave them pause: the
fresh troops marched to the front and formed the first line, those who
had fought for nine hours now forming the supports. Ney held the post
of honour in the woods on the right flank, nearly above Friedland;
behind him was the corps of Bernadotte, which, since the disabling of
that Marshal by a wound had been led by General Victor: there too were
the dragoons of Latour-Maubourg, and the imposing masses of the Guard.
In the centre, but bending in towards the rear, stood the remnant of
Lannes' indomitable corps, now condemned for a time to comparative
inactivity; and defensive tactics were also enjoined on
Mortier and Grouchy on the left wing, until Ney and Victor should
decide the fortunes of the second fight. The Russians, as if bent on
favouring Napoleon's design, continued to deploy in front of
Friedland, keeping up the while a desultory fight; and Bennigsen,
anxious now about his communications with Königsberg, detached 6,000
men down the right bank of the river towards Wehlau. Only 46,000 men
were thus left to defend Friedland against a force that now numbered
80,000: yet no works were thrown up to guard the bridges--and this
after the arrival of Napoleon with strong reinforcements was known by
the excitement along the enemy's front.

[Illustration: BATTLE OF FRIEDLAND]

Nevertheless, as late as 3 p.m., Napoleon was in doubt whether he
should not await the arrival of Murat. At his instructions, Berthier
ordered that Marshal to leave Soult at Königsberg and hurry back with
Davoust and the cavalry towards Friedland: "If I perceive at the
beginning of this fight that the enemy is in too great force, I might
be content with cannonading to-day and awaiting your arrival." But a
little later the Emperor decides for instant attack. The omens are all
favourable. If driven back the Russians will fight with their backs to
a deep river. Besides, their position is cut in twain by a mill-stream
which flows in a gulley, and near the town is dammed up so as to form
a small lake. Below this lies Friedland in a deep bend of the river
itself. Into this _cul-de-sac_ he will drive the Russian left, and
fling their broken lines into the lake and river.

At five o'clock a salvo of twenty guns opened the second and greater
battle of Friedland. To rush on the Muscovite van and clear it from
the wood of Sortlack was for Ney's leading division the work of a
moment; but on reaching the open ground their ranks were ploughed by
the shot of the Russian guns ranged on the hills beyond the river.
Staggered by this fire, the division was wavering, when the Russian
Guards and their choicest squadrons of horse charged home with deadly
effect. But Ney's second division, led by the gallant Dupont, hurried
up to restore the balance, while Latour-Maubourg's dragoons fell on
the enemy's horsemen and drove them pell-mell towards Friedland.

The Russian artillery fared little better: Napoleon directed Sénarmont
with thirty-six guns to take it in flank and it was soon overpowered.
Freed now from the Russian grapeshot and sabres, Ney held on his
course like a torrent that masters a dam, reached the upper part of
the lake, and threw the bewildered foe into its waters or into the
town. Friedland was now a death-trap: huddled together, plied by
shell, shot and bayonet, the Russians fought from street to street
with the energy of despair, but little by little were driven back on
the bridges. No help was to be found there; for Sénarmont, bringing up
his guns, swept the bridges with a terrific fire: when part of the
Russian left and centre had fled across, they burst into flames, a
signal that warned their comrades further north of their coming doom.
On that side, too, a general advance of the French drove the enemy
back towards the steep banks of the river. But on those open plains
the devotion and prowess of the Muscovite cavalry bore ampler fruit:
charging the foe while in the full swing of victory, these gallant
riders gave time for the infantry to attempt the dangers of a deep
ford: hundreds were drowned, but others, along with most of the guns,
stole away in the darkness down the left bank of the river.

On the morrow Bennigsen's army was a mass of fugitives straggling
towards the Pregel and fighting with one another for a chance to cross
its long narrow bridge. Even on the other side they halted not, but
wandered on towards the Niemen, no longer an army but an armed mob. On
its banks they were joined by the defenders of Königsberg, who after a
stout stand cut their way through Soult's lines and made for Tilsit.
There, behind the broad stream of the Niemen, the fugitives found
rest.

It will always be a mystery why Bennigsen held on to Friedland after
French reinforcements arrived; and the feeling of wonder and
exasperation finds expression in the report of our envoy, Lord
Hutchinson, founded on the information of two British officers who
were at the Russian headquarters:

    "Many of the circumstances attending the Battle of Friedland are
    unexampled in the annals of war. We crossed the River Alle, not
    knowing whether we had to contend with a corps or the whole French
    army. From the commencement of the battle it was manifest that we
    had a great deal to lose and probably little to gain: ... General
    Bennigsen would, I believe, have retired early in the day from
    ground which he ought never to have occupied; but the corps in our
    front made so vigorous a resistance that, though occasionally we
    gained a little ground, yet we were never able to drive them from
    the woods or the village of Heinrichsdorf."[133]

This evidence shows the transcendent services of Lannes, Oudinot, and
Grouchy in the early part of the day; and it is clear that, as at
Jena, no great battle would have been fought at all but for the valour
and tenacity with which Lannes clung to the foe until Napoleon came
up.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXVII

TILSIT


Even now matters were not hopeless for the allies. Crowds of
stragglers rejoined the colours at Tilsit, and Tartar reinforcements
were near at hand. The gallant Gneisenau was still holding out bravely
at Kolberg against Brune's divisions; and two of the Silesian
fortresses had not yet surrendered. Moreover, Austria seemed about to
declare against Napoleon, and there were hopes that before long
England would do something. But, above all, since the war was for
Prussia solely an affair of honour,[134] it deeply concerned
Alexander's good name not to desert an ally to whom he was now pledged
by all the claims of chivalry until satisfactory terms could be
gained.

But Alexander's nature had not as yet been strengthened by misfortune
and religious convictions: it was a sunny background of flickering
enthusiasms, flecked now and again by shadows of eastern cunning or
darkened by warlike ambitions--a nature in which the sentimentalism of
Rousseau and the passions of a Boyar alternately gained the mastery.
No realism is more crude than that of the disillusionized idealist;
and for months the young Czar had seen his dream of a free and happy
Europe fade away amidst the smoke of Napoleon's guns and the mists of
English muddling. At first he blenched not even at the news of
Friedland. In an interview with our ambassador, Lord Gower, on June
the 17th, he bitterly upbraided him with our inactivity in the Baltic
and the Mediterranean, and the non-fulfilment of our promise of a
loan; as for himself, "he would never stoop to Bonaparte: he would
rather retire to Kazan or even to Tobolsk." But five days later,
acting under pressure from his despairing generals, some of whom
reminded him of his father's fate, he arranged an armistice with the
conqueror.[135] Five days only were allowed in which Prussia might
decide to follow his example or proceed with the war alone. She
accepted the inevitable on the following day.

The international situation was now strangely like that which followed
immediately upon the battle of Austerlitz. Then it was Prussia, now it
was Austria, that played the part of the cautious friend at the very
time when the beaten allies were meditating surrender. For some time
past the Court of Vienna had been offering its services for mediation:
they were well received at London, with open disappointment by
Prussia, and with ill-concealed annoyance by Napoleon. As at the time
when Haugwitz came to him to dictate Prussia's terms, so now the
Emperor kept the Austrian envoy waiting without an answer, until the
blow of Friedland was dealt.[136] Even then Austria seemed about to
enter the lists, when news arrived of the conclusion of the armistice
at Tilsit. This enabled her to sheathe her sword with no loss of
honour; but, as was the case with Prussia at the close of 1805, her
conduct was seen to be timid and time-serving; and it merited the
secret rebuke of Canning that she "was (as usual) just ten days too
late in her determination, or the world might have been saved."[137]

Whether Austria had been beguiled by the recent diplomatic caresses of
Napoleon may well be doubted; for they were obviously aimed at keeping
her quiet until he had settled scores with Prussia and Russia. His
advances only began on the eve of the last war, and the sharpness of
the transition from threats to endearments could not be smoothed over
even by Talleyrand's finesse.[138] When the slaughter at Eylau placed
him in peril, he again bade Talleyrand soothe the Austrian envoy with
assurances that, if his master was anxious to maintain the integrity
of Turkey, France would maintain it; or if he desired to share in an
eventual partition, France would also arrange that to his liking.[139]
But as the prospects for the campaign improved, Napoleon's tone
hardened. On March the 14th he states that he has enough men to keep
Austria quiet and to "get rid of the Russians in a month." And now he
looks on an alliance with the Hapsburgs merely as giving a short time
of quiet, whereas an alliance with Russia would be "very
advantageous."[140] He had also felt the value of alliance with
Prussia, as his repeated overtures during the campaign testify; but
when Frederick William persistently rejected all accommodation with
the man who had so deeply outraged his kingly honour, he turned
finally to Alexander.

The Czar was made of more pliable stuff. Moreover, he now cherished
one sentiment that brought him into sympathy with Napoleon, namely,
hatred of England. He certainly had grave cause for complaint. We had
done nothing to help the allies in the Polish campaign except to send
a few cruisers and 60,000 muskets, which last did not reach the
Swedish and Russian ports until the war was over. True, we had gone
out of our way to attack Constantinople at his request; but that
attack had failed; and our attitude towards his Turkish policy was one
of veiled suspicion, varied with moral lectures.[141] As for the loan
of five millions sterling which the Czar had asked us to guarantee, we
had put him off, our envoy finally reminding him that it had been of
the first importance to help Austria to move. Worst of all, our
cruisers had seized some Russian merchantmen coming out of French
ports, and despite protests from St. Petersburg the legality of that
seizure was maintained. Thus, in a war which concerned our very
existence we had not rendered him a single practical service, and yet
strained the principles of maritime law at the expense of Russian
commerce.[142]

Over against our policy of blundering delay there was that of
Napoleon, prompt, keen, and ever victorious. The whole war had arisen
out of the conflict of these two Powers; and Napoleon had never ceased
to declare that it was essentially a struggle between England and the
Continent. After Eylau Alexander was proof against these arguments;
but now the triumphant energy of Napoleon and the stolid apathy of
England brought about a quite bewildering change in Russian policy.
Delicate advances having been made by the two Emperors, an interview
was arranged to take place on a raft moored in the middle of the River
Niemen (June 25th).

"I hate the English as much as you do, and I will second you in all
your actions against them." Such are said to have been the words with
which Alexander greeted Napoleon as they stepped on to the raft.
Whereupon the conqueror replied: "In that case all can be arranged and
peace is made."[143] As the two Emperors were unaccompanied at that
first interview, it is difficult to see on what evidence this story
rests. It is most unlikely that either Emperor would divulge the
remarks of the other on that occasion; and the words attributed to
Alexander seem highly impolitic. For what was his position at this
time? He was striving to make the best of a bad case against an
opponent whose genius he secretly feared. Besides, we know for certain
that he was most anxious to postpone his rupture with England for some
months.[144] All desire for an immediate break was on Napoleon's side.

We can therefore only guess at what transpired, from the vague
descriptions of the two men themselves. They are characteristic
enough: "I never had more prejudices against anyone than against
_him_," said Alexander afterwards; "but, after three-quarters of an
hour of conversation, they all disappeared like a dream"; and later he
exclaimed: "Would that I had seen him sooner: the veil is torn aside
and the time of error is past." As for Napoleon, he wrote to
Josephine: "I have just seen the Emperor Alexander: I have been very
pleased with him: he is a very handsome, good, and young Emperor: he
has an intellect above what is commonly attributed to him."[145] The
tone of these remarks strikes the keynote of all the conversations
that followed. At the next day's conference, also held in the
sumptuous pavilion erected on the raft, the King of Prussia was
present; but towards him Napoleon's demeanour was cold and
threatening. He upbraided him with the war, lectured him on the duty
of a king to his people, and bade him dismiss Hardenberg. Frederick
William listened for the most part in silence; his nature was too
stiff and straightforward to practise any Byzantine arts; but when his
trusty Minister was attacked, he protested that he should not know how
to replace him. Napoleon had foreseen the plea and at once named three
men who would give better advice. Among them was the staunch patriot
Stein!

From the ensuing conferences the King was almost wholly excluded. They
were held in a part of the town of Tilsit which was neutralized for
that purpose, as also for the guards and diplomatists of the three
sovereigns. There, too, lived the two Emperors in closest intercourse,
while on most days the Prussian King rode over from a neighbouring
village to figure as a sad, reproachful guest at the rides, parades,
and dinners that cemented the new Franco-Russian alliance. Yet, amid
all the melodious raptures of Alexander over Napoleon's newly
discovered virtues, it is easy to detect the clinging ground-tone of
Muscovite ambition. An event had occurred which excited the hopes of
both Emperors. At the close of May, the Sultan Selim was violently
deposed by the Janissaries who clamoured for more vigorous measures
against the Russians. Never did news come more opportunely for
Napoleon than this, which reached him at Tilsit on, or before, June
the 24th. He is said to have exclaimed to the Czar with a flash of
dramatic fatalism: "It is a decree of Providence which tells me that
the Turkish Empire can no longer exist."[146]

Certain it is that the most potent spell exerted by the great
conqueror over his rival was a guarded invitation to share in some
future partition of the Turkish Empire. That scheme had fascinated
Napoleon ever since the year 1797, when he gazed on the Adriatic.
Though laid aside for a time in 1806, when he roused the Turks against
Russia, it was never lost sight of; and now, on the basis of a common
hatred of England and a common desire to secure the spoils of the
Ottoman Power, the stately fabric of the Franco-Russian alliance was
reared.

On his side, Alexander required some assurance that Poland should not
be reconstituted in its integrity--a change that would tear from
Russia the huge districts stretching almost up to Riga, Smolensk, and
Kiev, which were still Polish in sympathy. Here Napoleon reassured
him, at least in part. He would not re-create the great kingdom of
Poland: he would merely carve out from Prussia the greater part of her
Polish possessions.

These two important questions being settled, it only remained for the
Czar to plead for the King of Prussia, to acknowledge Napoleon's
domination as Emperor of the West, while he himself, as autocrat of
the East, secured a better western boundary for Russia. At first he
strove to gain for Frederick William the restoration of several of his
lands west of the Elbe. This championship was not wholly
disinterested; for it is now known that the Czar had set his heart on
a great part of Prussian Poland.

In truth, he was a sufficiently good disciple of the French
revolutionists to plead very cogently his claims to a "natural
frontier." He disliked a "dry frontier": he must have a riverine
boundary: in fact, he claimed the banks of the Lower Niemen, and,
further south, the course of the rivers Wavre, Narew and Bug. To this
claim he had perhaps been encouraged by some alluring words of
Napoleon that thenceforth the Vistula must be the boundary of their
empires. But his ally was now determined to keep Russia away from the
old Polish capital; and in strangely prophetic words he pointed out
that the Czar's claims would bring the Russian eagles within sight of
Warsaw, which would be too clear a sign that that city was destined to
pass under the Russian rule.[147] Divining also that Alexander's plea
for the restoration by France of some of Prussia's western lands was
linked with a plan which would give Russia some of her eastern
districts,[148] Napoleon resolved to press hard on Prussia from the
west. While handing over to the Czar only the small district around
Bialystock, he remorselessly thrust Prussia to the east of the Elbe.

From this neither the arguments of the Czar nor the entreaties of
Queen Louisa availed to move him. And yet, in the fond hope that her
tears might win back Magdeburg, that noble bulwark of North German
independence, the forlorn Queen came to Tilsit to crave this boon
(July 6th). It was a terrible ordeal to do this from the man who had
repeatedly insulted her in his official journals, figuring her, first
as a mailed Amazon galloping at the head of her regiment, and finally
breathing forth scandals on her spotless reputation.

Yet, for the sake of her husband and her people, she braced herself up
to the effort of treating him as a gentleman and appealing to his
generosity. If she was able to conceal her loathing, this was scarcely
so with her devoted lady in waiting, the Countess von Voss, who has
left us an acrid account of Napoleon's visit to the Queen at the
miller's house at Tilsit.[149]

    "He is excessively ugly, with a fat swollen sallow face, very
    corpulent, besides short and entirely without figure. His great
    eyes roll gloomily around; the expression of his features is
    severe; he looks like the incarnation of fate: only his mouth is
    well shaped, and his teeth are good. He was extremely polite,
    talked to the Queen a long time alone.... Again, after dinner, he
    had a long conversation with the Queen, who also seemed pretty
    well satisfied with the result."[150]


Queen Louisa's verdict about his appearance was more favourable; she
admired his head "as that of a Cæsar." With winsome boldness inspired
by patriotism, she begged for Magdeburg. Taken aback by her beauty and
frankness, Napoleon had recourse to compliments about her dress. "Are
we to talk about fashion, at such a time?" was her reply. Again she
pleaded, and again he fell back on vapidities. Nevertheless, her
appeals to his generosity seemed to be thawing his statecraft, when
the entrance of that unlucky man, her husband, gave the conversation a
colder tone. The dinner, however, passed cheerfully enough; and,
according to French accounts, Napoleon graced the conclusion of
dessert by offering her a rose. Her woman's wit flew to the utterance:
"May I consider it a token of friendship, and that you grant my
request for Magdeburg?" But he was on his guard, parried her onset
with a general remark as to the way in which such civilities should be
taken, and turned the conversation. Then, as if he feared the result
of a second interview, he hastened to end matters with the Prussian
negotiators.[151]

He thus described the interview in a letter to Josephine:

    "I have had to be on my guard against her efforts to oblige me to
    some concessions for her husband; but I have been gallant, and
    have held to my policy."

This was only too clear on the following day, when the Queen again
dined with the sovereigns.

    "Napoleon," says the Countess von Voss, "seemed malicious and
    spiteful, and the conversation was brief and constrained. After
    dinner the Queen again conversed apart with him. On taking leave
    she said to him that she went away feeling it deeply that he
    should have deceived her. My poor Queen: she is quite in despair."


When conducted to her carriage by Talleyrand and Duroc, she sank down
overcome by emotion. Yet, amid her tears and humiliation, the old
Prussian pride had flashed forth in one of her replies as the rainbow
amidst the rain-storm. When Napoleon expressed his surprise that she
should have dared to make war on him with means so utterly inadequate,
she at once retorted: "Sire, I must confess to Your Majesty, the glory
of Frederick the Great had misled us as to our real strength"--a
retort which justly won the praise of that fastidious connoisseur,
Talleyrand, for its reminder of Prussia's former greatness and the
transitoriness of all human grandeur.[152]

On that same day (July 7th) the Treaty of Tilsit was signed. Its terms
may be thus summarized. Out of regard for the Emperor of Russia,
Napoleon consented to restore to the King of Prussia the province of
Silesia, and the old Prussian lands between the Elbe and Niemen. But
the Polish lands seized by Prussia in the second and third partitions
were (with the exception of the Bialystock district, now gained by
Russia) to form a new State called the Duchy of Warsaw. Of this duchy
the King of Saxony was constituted ruler. Danzig, once a Polish city,
was now declared a free city under the protection of the Kings of
Prussia and Saxony, but the retention there of a French garrison until
the peace made it practically a French fortress. Saxe-Coburg,
Oldenburg, and Mecklenburg-Schwerin were restored to their dukes, but
the two last were to be held by French troops until England made peace
with France. With this aim in view, Napoleon accepted Alexander's
mediation for the conclusion of a treaty of peace with England,
provided that she accepted that mediation within one month of the
ratification of the present treaty.

On his side, the Czar now recognized the recent changes in Naples,
Holland, and Germany; among the last of these was the creation of the
Kingdom of Westphalia for Jerome Bonaparte out of the Prussian lands
west of the Elbe, the Duchy of Brunswick, and the Electorate of
Hesse-Cassel. Holland gained East Frisia at the expense of Prussia. As
regards Turkey, the Czar pledged himself to cease hostilities at once,
to accept the mediation of Napoleon in the present dispute, and to
withdraw Russian troops from the Danubian Provinces as soon as peace
was concluded with the Sublime Porte. Finally, the two Emperors
mutually guaranteed the integrity of their possessions and placed
their ceremonial and diplomatic relations on a footing of complete
equality.

Such were the published articles of the Treaty of Tilsit. Even if this
had been all, the European system would have sustained the severest
blow since the Thirty Years' War. The Prussian monarchy was suddenly
bereft of half its population, and now figured on the map as a
disjointed land, scarcely larger than the possessions of the King of
Saxony, and less defensible than Jerome Bonaparte's Kingdom of
Westphalia; while the Confederation of the Rhine, soon to be
aggrandized by the accession of Mecklenburg and Oldenburg, seemed to
doom the House of Hohenzollern to lasting insignificance.[153]

But the published treaty was by no means all. There were also secret
articles, the chief of which were that the Cattaro district--to the
west of Montenegro--and the Ionian Islands should go to France, and
that the Czar would recognize Joseph Bonaparte as King of Sicily when
Ferdinand of Naples should have received "an indemnity such as the
Balearic Isles, or Crete, or their equivalent." Also, if Hanover
should eventually be annexed to the Kingdom of Westphalia, a
Westphalian district with a population of from three to four hundred
thousand souls would be retroceded to Prussia. Finally, the chiefs of
the Houses of Orange-Nassau, Hesse-Cassel, and Brunswick were to
receive pensions from Murat and Jerome Bonaparte, who dispossessed
them.

Most important of all was the secret treaty of alliance with Russia,
also signed on July 7th, whereby the two Emperors bound themselves to
make common cause in any war that either of them might undertake
against any European Power, employing, if need be, the whole of their
respective forces. Again, if England did not accept the Czar's
mediation, or if she did not, by the 1st of December, 1807, recognize
the perfect equality of all flags at sea, and restore her conquests
made from France and her allies since 1805, then Russia would make war
on her. In that case, the present allies will "summon the three Courts
of Copenhagen, Stockholm, and Lisbon to close their ports against the
English and declare war against England. If any one of the three
Courts refuse, it shall be treated as an enemy by the high contracting
parties, and if Sweden refuse, _Denmark shall be compelled to declare
war on her_." Pressure would also be put on Austria to follow the same
course. But if England made peace betimes, she might recover Hanover,
on restoring her conquests in the French, Spanish, and Dutch colonies.
Similarly, if Turkey refused the mediation of Napoleon, he would in
that case help Russia to drive the Turks from Europe--"the city of
Constantinople and the province of Roumelia alone excepted."[154]

The naming of the city of Constantinople, which is in Roumelia,
betokens a superfluity of prudence. But it helps to confirm the
statement of Napoleon's secretary, M. Méneval, that the future of that
city led to a decided difference of opinion between the Emperors.
After one of their discussions, Napoleon stayed poring over a map, and
finally exclaimed, "Constantinople! Never! It is the empire of the
world." Doubtless it was on this subject that Alexander cherished some
secret annoyance. Certain it is that, despite all his professions of
devotion to Napoleon, he went back to St. Petersburg ill at ease and
possessed with a certain awe of the conqueror. For what had he gained?
He received a small slice of Prussian Poland, and the prospect of
aggrandizement on the side of Turkey and Sweden, Finland being pointed
out as an easy prey. For these future gains he was to close his ports
to England and see his commerce, his navy, and his seaboard suffer. It
is not surprising that before leaving Tilsit he remarked to Frederick
William that "the most onerous condition imposed by Napoleon was
common to Russia and Prussia."[155]

This refers to the compulsion put upon them to join Napoleon's
Continental System. In the treaty signed with Prussia on July 9th,
Napoleon not only wrested away half her lands, but required the
immediate closing of all her ports to British vessels. We may also
note here that, by the extraordinary negligence of the Prussian
negotiator, Marshal Kalckreuth, the subsequent convention as to the
evacuation of Prussia by the French troops left open a loophole for
its indefinite occupation. Each province or district was to be
evacuated when the French requisitions had been satisfied.[156] The
exaction of impossible sums would therefore enable the conquerors,
quite legally, to keep their locust swarms in that miserable land. And
that was the policy pursued for sixteen months.

Why this refinement of cruelty to his former ally? Why not have
annexed Prussia outright? Probably there were two reasons against
annexation: first, that his army could live on her in a way that would
not be possible with his own subjects or allies; second, that the army
of occupation would serve as a guarantee both for Russia's good faith
and for the absolute exclusion of British goods from Prussia.[157]
This had long been his aim. He now attained it, but only by war that
bequeathed a legacy of war, and a peace that was no peace.

Napoleon's behaviour at Tilsit has generally been regarded, at least
in England, as prompted by an insane lust of power; and the treaty has
been judged as if its aim was the domination of the Continent. But
another explanation, though less sweeping and attractive, seems more
consonant with the facts of the case.

He hoped that, before so mighty a confederacy as was framed at Tilsit,
England would bend the knee, give up not only her maritime claims but
her colonial conquests, and humbly take rank with Powers that had
lived their day. The conqueror who had thrice crumpled up the Hapsburg
States, and shattered Prussia in a day, might well believe that the
men of Downing Street, expert only in missing opportunities and
exasperating their friends, would not dare to defy the forces of
united Europe, but would bow before his prowess and grant peace to a
weary world. In his letter of July 6th, 1807, to the Czar, he advised
the postponement of the final summons to the British Government,
because it would "give five months in which the first exasperation
will die down in England, and she will have time to understand the
immense consequences that would result from so imprudent a struggle."
Neither Napoleon nor Alexander was deaf to generous aspirations. They
both desired peace, so that their empires might expand and
consolidate. Above all, France was weary of war; and by peace the
average Frenchman meant, not respite from Continental strifes that
yielded a surfeit of barren glories, but peace with England. The words
of Lucchesini, the former Prussian ambassador in Paris, on this
subject are worth quoting:

    "The war with England was at bottom the only one in which the
    French public took much interest, since the evils it inflicted on
    France were felt every moment: nothing was spoken of so decidedly
    among all classes of the people as the wish to have done with that
    war; and when one spoke of peace at Paris, one always meant peace
    with England: peace with the others was as indifferent to the
    public as the victories or the conquests of Bonaparte."[158]

If the French middle classes longed for a maritime peace so that
coffee and sugar might become reasonably cheap, how much more would
their ruler, whose heart was set on colonies and a realm in the
Orient? In Poland he had cheered his troops with the thought that they
were winning back the French colonial empire; and, as we have seen, he
was even then preparing the ground in Persia for a future invasion of
India. These plans could only be carried out after a time of peace
that should rehabilitate the French navy. Humanitarian sentiment,
patriotism, and even the promptings of a wider ambition, therefore
bade him strive for a general pacification, such as he seemed to have
assured at Tilsit.

But the means which he adopted were just those that were destined to
defeat this aim. Where he sought to intimidate, he only aroused a more
stubborn resistance: where he should have allayed national fears, he
redoubled them. He did not understand our people: he saw not that,
behind our official sluggishness and muddling, there was a quenchless
national vitality, which, if directed by a genius, could defy a
world-wide combination. If, instead of making secret compacts with the
Czar and trampling on Prussia; if, instead of intriguing with the
Sultan and the Shah, and thus reawakening our fears respecting Egypt
and India, he had called a Congress and submitted all the present
disputes to general discussion, there is reason to think that Great
Britain would have received his overtures. George III.'s Ministers had
favoured the proposal of a Congress when put forward by Austria in the
spring;[159] and they would doubtless have welcomed it from Napoleon
after Friedland, had they not known of far-reaching plans which
rendered peace more risky than open war. This great genius had, in
fact, one fatal defect; he had little faith except in outward
compulsion; and his superabundant energy of menace against England
blighted the hopes of peace which he undoubtedly cherished.

Long before Alexander's offer of mediation was forwarded to London,
our Ministers had taken a sudden and desperate resolution. They
determined to compel Denmark to join England and Sweden, and to hold
the fleet at Copenhagen as a gauge of Danish fidelity.

That momentous resolve was formed on or just before July the 16th, in
consequence of news that had arrived from Memel and Tilsit. The exact
purport of that news, and the manner of its acquisition, have been one
of the puzzles of modern history. But the following facts seem to
furnish a solution. Our Foreign Office Records show that our agent at
Tilsit, Mr. Mackenzie, who was on confidential terms with General
Bennigsen, left post haste for England immediately after the first
imperial interview; and the news which he brought, together with
reports of the threatening moves of the French on Holstein, clinched
the determination of our Government to checkmate the Franco-Russian
aims by bringing strong pressure to bear on Denmark. To keep open the
mouth of the Baltic was an urgent necessity, otherwise we should lose
touch with the Anglo-Swedish forces campaigning against the French
near Stralsund.[160] Furthermore, it should be noted that Denmark held
the balance in naval affairs. France and her allies now had fifty-nine
sail of the line ready for sea: the compact with the Czar would give
her twenty-four more; and if Napoleon seized the eighteen Danish and
nine Portuguese battleships, his fighting strength would be nearly
equal to our own.[161] Canning therefore determined, on July 16th, to
compel Denmark to side with us, or at least to observe a neutrality
favourable to the British cause; and, to save her honour, he proposed
to send an irresistible naval force.

    "Denmark's safety," he wrote on July 16th, "is to be found, under
    the present circumstances of the world, only in a balance of
    opposite dangers. For it is not to be disguised that the influence
    which France has acquired from recent events over the North of
    Europe, might, unless balanced by the naval power of Great
    Britain, leave to Denmark no other option than that of compliance
    with the demands of Bonaparte."[162]

_A balance of opposite dangers!_ In this phrase Canning summed up his
policy towards Denmark. Threatened by Napoleon on the land, she was to
be threatened by us from the sea; and Canning hoped that these
opposite forces would, at least, secure Danish neutrality, without
which Sweden must succumb in her struggle against France. That some
compulsion would be needed had long been clear. In fact, the use of
compulsion had first been recommended by the Russian and Prussian
Governments, which had gone so far as to include in the Treaty of
Bartenstein a proposal of common action, along with England, Austria
and Sweden, _to compel Denmark to side with the allies against
Napoleon_.[163] To this resolve England still clung, despite the
defection of the Czar. In truth, his present conduct made the case for
the coercion of Denmark infinitely more urgent.

As to the reality of Napoleon's designs on Denmark, there can be no
doubt. After his return to France, he wrote from St. Cloud, directing
Talleyrand to express his displeasure that Denmark had not fulfilled
her _promises_: "Whatever my desire to treat Denmark well, I cannot
hinder her suffering from having allowed the Baltic to be violated [by
the English expedition to Stralsund]; and, if England refuses Russia's
mediation, Denmark must choose either to make war against England, or
against me."[164] Whence it is clear that Denmark had given Napoleon
grounds for hoping that she would declare the Baltic a _mare clausum_.

The British Government had so far fathomed these designs as to see the
urgency of the danger. Accordingly it proposed to Denmark a secret
defensive alliance, the chief terms of which were the handing over of
the Danish fleet, to be kept as a "sacred pledge" by us till the
peace, a subsidy of £100,000 paid to Denmark for that fleet, and the
offer of armed assistance in case she should be attacked by France.
This offer of defensive alliance was repulsed, and the Danish Prince
Royal determined to resist even the mighty armada which was now
nearing his shores. Towards the close of August, eighty-eight British
ships were in the Sound and the Belt; and when the transports from
Rügen and Stralsund joined those from Yarmouth, as many as 15,400
troops were at hand, under the command of Lord Cathcart. A landing was
effected near Copenhagen, and offers of alliance were again made,
including the deposit of the Danish fleet; "but if this offer is
rejected now, it cannot be repeated. The captured property, public and
private, must then belong to the captors: and the city, when taken,
must share the fate of conquered places." The Danes stoutly repelled
offers and threats alike: the English batteries thereupon bombarded
the city until the gallant defenders capitulated (September 7th). The
conditions hastily concluded by our commanders were that the British
forces should occupy the citadel and dockyard for six weeks, should
take possession of the ships and naval stores, and thereupon evacuate
Zealand.

These terms were scrupulously carried out; and at the close of six
weeks our forces sailed away with the Danish fleet, including fifteen
sail of the line, fifteen frigates, and thirty-one small vessels. This
end to the expedition was keenly regretted by Canning. In a lengthy
Memorandum he left it on record that he desired, not merely Denmark's
fleet, but her alliance. In his view nothing could save Europe but a
firm Anglo-Scandinavian league, which would keep open the Baltic and
set bounds to the designs of the two Emperors. Only by such an
alliance could Sweden be saved from Russia and France. Indeed,
foreseeing the danger to Sweden from a French army acting from Zealand
as a base, Canning proposed to Gustavus that he should occupy that
island, or, failing that, receive succour from a British force on his
own shore of the Sound. But both offers were declined. The final
efforts made to draw Denmark into our alliance were equally futile,
and she kept up hostilities against us for nearly seven years. Thus
Canning's scheme of alliance with the Scandinavian States failed.
Britain gained, it is true, a further safeguard against invasion; but
our statesman, while blaming the precipitate action of our commanders
in insisting solely upon the surrender of the fleet, declared that
that action, apart from an Anglo-Danish alliance, was "an act of great
injustice."[165]

And as such it has been generally regarded, that is, by those who did
not, and could not, know the real state of the case. In one respect
our action was unpardonable: it was not the last desperate effort of a
long period of struggle: it came after a time of selfish torpor fatal
alike to our reputation and the interests of our allies. After
protesting their inability to help them, Ministers belied their own
words by the energy with which they acted against a small State. And
the prevalent opinion found expression in the protests uttered in
Parliament that it would have been better to face the whole might of
the French, Russian, and Danish navies than to emulate the conduct of
those who had overrun and despoiled Switzerland.

Moreover, our action did not benefit Sweden, but just the reverse.
Cathcart's force, that had been helping the Swedes in the defence of
their Pomeranian province, was withdrawn in order to strengthen our
hands against Copenhagen. Thereupon the gallant Gustavus, overborne by
the weight of Marshal Brune's corps, sued for an armistice. It was
granted only on the condition that Stralsund should pass into Brune's
hands (August 20th); and the Swedes, unable even to hold Rügen, were
forced to give up that island also. Sick in health and weary of a
world that his chivalrous instincts scorned, Gustavus withdrew his
forces into Sweden. Even there he was menaced. The hostilities which
Denmark forthwith commenced against England and Sweden exposed his
southern coasts; but he now chose to lean on the valour of his own
subjects rather than on the broken reed of British assistance, and
awaited the attacks of the Danes on the west and of the Russians on
his province of Finland.

The news from Copenhagen also furnished the Czar with a good excuse
for hostilities with England. For such an event he had hitherto been
by no means desirous. On his return from Tilsit to St. Petersburg he
found the nobility and merchants wholly opposed to a rupture with the
Sea Power, the former disdaining to clasp the hand of the conqueror of
Friedland, the latter foreseeing ruin from the adoption of the
Continental System; and when Napoleon sent Savary on a special mission
to the Czar's Court, the Empress-Mother and nobles alike showed their
abhorrence of "the executioner of the Duc d'Enghien." In vain were
imperial favours lavished on this envoy. He confessed to Napoleon that
only the Czar and the new Foreign Minister, Romantzoff, were
favourable to France; and it was soon obvious that their ardour for a
partition of Turkey must disturb the warily balancing policy which
Napoleon adopted as soon as the Czar's friendship seemed assured.

The dissolution of this artificial alliance was a task far beyond the
powers of British statesmanship. To Alexander's offer of mediation
between France and England Canning replied that we desired first to
know what were "the just and equitable terms on which France intended
to negotiate," and secondly what were the secret articles of the
Treaty of Tilsit. That there were such was obvious; for the published
treaty made no mention of the Kings of Sardinia and of the two
Sicilies, in whom Alexander had taken so deep an interest. But the
second request annoyed the Czar; and this feeling was intensified by
our action at Copenhagen. Yet, though he pronounced it an act of
"unheard-of violence," the Russian official notes to our Government
were so far reassuring that Lord Castlereagh was able to write to Lord
Cathcart (September 22nd): "Russia does not show any disposition to
resent or to complain of what we have done at Copenhagen.... The tone
of the Russian cabinet has become much more conciliatory to us since
they heard of your operations at Copenhagen."[166] It would seem,
however, that this double-dealing was prompted by naval
considerations. The Czar desired to temporize until his Mediterranean
squadron should gain a place of safety and his Baltic ports be encased
in ice; but on 27th October (8th November, N.S.) he broke off all
communications with us, and adopted the Continental System.

Meanwhile, at the other extremity of Europe, events were transpiring
that served as the best excuse for our harshness towards Denmark. Even
before our fleet sailed for the Sound, Napoleon was weaving his plans
for the destruction of Portugal. It is clear that he designed to
strike her first before taking any action against Denmark. During his
return journey from Tilsit to Paris, he directed Talleyrand to send
orders to Lisbon for the closing of all Portuguese ports against
British goods by September the 1st--"in default of which I declare war
on Portugal." He also ordered the massing of 20,000 French troops at
Bayonne in readiness to join the Spanish forces that were to threaten
the little kingdom.[167]

What crime had Portugal committed? She had of late been singularly
passive: anxiously she looked on at the gigantic strifes that were
engulfing the smaller States one by one. Her conduct towards Napoleon
had been far less provocative than that of Denmark towards England.
Threatened with partition by him and Spain in 1801, she had eagerly
snatched at peace, and on the rupture of the Peace of Amiens was fain
to purchase her neutrality at the cost of a heavy subsidy to France,
which she still paid in the hope of prolonging her "existence on
sufferance."[168] That hope now faded away.

As far back as February, 1806, Napoleon had lent a ready ear to the
plans which Godoy, the all-powerful Minister at Madrid, had proposed
for the partition of Portugal; and, in the month of July following,
Talleyrand held out to our plenipotentiary at Paris the threat that,
unless England speedily made peace with France, Napoleon would annex
Switzerland--"but still less can we alter, for any other
consideration, our intention of invading Portugal. The army destined
for that purpose is already assembling at Bayonne." A year's respite
was gained for the House of Braganza by the campaigns of Jena and
Friedland. But now, with the tenacity of his nature, the Emperor
returned to the plan, actually tried in 1801 and prepared for in 1806,
of crushing our faithful ally in order to compel us to make peace. On
this occasion he counted on certain success, as may be seen by the
following extract from the despatch of the Portuguese ambassador at
Paris to his Government:

    "On Sunday afternoon [August 2nd] there was a diplomatic Levée.
    The Emperor came up to me as I stood in the circle, and in a low
    voice said: 'Have you written to your Court? Have you despatched a
    courier with my final determination?'--I replied in the
    affirmative.--'Very well,' said the Emperor, 'then by this time
    your Court knows that she must break with England before the 1st
    of September. It is the only way to accelerate peace.'--As the
    place did not permit discussion on my part, I answered: 'I should
    think, Sire, that England must now be sincerely anxious to make
    peace.'--'Oh,' replied the Emperor, 'we are very certain of that:
    however, in all cases, you must break either with England or
    France before the 1st of September.'--He then turned about and
    addressed himself to the Danish Minister, as far as I could judge
    to the same purport."[169]

Equally confident is Napoleon's tone in the lately published letter of
September 7th:

    "As soon as I received news of the English expedition against
    Copenhagen,[170] I caused Portugal to be informed that all her
    ports must be closed to England, and I massed an army of 40,000
    men at Bayonne to join the Spaniards in enforcing this action, if
    necessary. But a letter I have just received from the Prince
    Regent [of Portugal] leads me to presume that this last measure
    will not be necessary, that the Portuguese ports will be closed to
    the English by the time this is read, and that Portugal will have
    declared war against England. On the other hand, my flotilla will
    be ready for action on 1st October, and I shall have a large army
    at Boulogne, ready to attempt a _coup de main_ on England."

The letter concludes by ordering that all British diplomatists are to
be driven _out of Europe_, and that Sweden must make common cause with
France and Russia. Such were the means to be used for forcing
affrighted Peace again to visit this distracted earth.

In truth, the fate of the British race seemed for the time to hang
upon the events at Copenhagen and Lisbon. Very much depended on the
action of the Prince Regent of Portugal. Had he tamely submitted to
Napoleon's ukase and placed his fleet and his vast colonial empire at
the service of France, it is doubtful whether even the high-souled
Canning would not have stooped to surrender in face of odds so
overwhelming. The young statesman's anxiety as to the action of
Portugal is attested by many a long and minutely corrected despatch to
Viscount Strangford, our envoy at Lisbon. But, fortunately for us,
Napoleon committed the blunder which so often marred his plans: he
pushed them too far: he required the Prince Regent to adopt a course
of conduct repellent to an honourable man, namely, to confiscate the
merchandise and property of British merchants who had long trusted the
good faith of the House of Braganza. To this last demand the prince
opposed a dignified resistance, though on all other points he gave
way. This will appear from Lord Strangford's despatch of August 13th:

    " ... The Portuguese Ministers place all their hopes of being able
    to ward off this terrible blow in the certainty which they
    entertain of England being obliged to enter into negotiations for
    a general peace.... The very existence of the Portuguese Monarchy
    depends on the celerity with which England shall meet the pacific
    interference of the Emperor of Russia. The Prince Regent gives the
    most solemn promise that he will not on any account consent to the
    measure of confiscating the property of British subjects residing
    under his protection. But I think that if France could be induced
    to give up this point, and limit her demands to the exclusion of
    British commerce from Portugal, the Government of this country
    would accede to them...."

A week later he states that Portugal begged England to put up with a
temporary rupture, and reports that a quantity of diamonds had been
taken out of the Treasury and sent to Paris to be distributed in
presents to persons supposed to possess influence over the minds of
Bonaparte and Talleyrand. It would be interesting to trace the history
of these diamonds. But, as Napoleon had recently awarded sums
amounting in all to 26,582,000 francs from out of the estates
confiscated in Poland,[171] signs of sudden affluence were widespread
in Paris and rendered it difficult to detect the receivers of the
gems. Talleyrand was the usual recipient of such _douceurs_. But on
August the 14th he had retired from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs,
gaining the title of Vice Grand-Elector; and, if we are to be guided,
not by the statements of his personal foes, Hauterive and Pasquier,
but by the determination which he is known to have formed at Tilsit,
that he would not be "the executioner of Europe," we may judge that he
disapproved of the barbarous treatment meted out to Prussia and now
planned against Portugal.[172]

As has been stated above, the partition of this kingdom had been
planned by Godoy in concert with Napoleon early in 1806. That pampered
minion of the Spanish Court, angry at the shelving of plans which
promised to yield him a third of Portugal, called Spain to arms while
Napoleon was marching to Jena, an affront which the conqueror seemed
to overlook but never really forgave. Now, however, he appeared wholly
to enter into Godoy's scheme; and, while the Prince Regent of Portugal
was appealing to his pity, the Emperor (September 25th, 1807) charged
Duroc to confer with Godoy's confidential agent at Paris, Don
Izquierdo. " ...As for Portugal, I make no difficulty about granting to
the King of Spain a suzerainty over Portugal, and even taking part of
it away for the Queen of Etruria and the Prince of the Peace [Godoy]."
Duroc was also to point out the difficulty, now that "all Italy"
belonged to Napoleon, of allowing "that deformity," the kingdom of
Etruria, to disfigure the peninsula. The change would in fact, doubly
benefit the French Emperor. It would enable him completely to exclude
British commerce from the port of Leghorn, where it was trickling in
alarmingly, and also to place the mouths of the Tagus and Douro in the
hands of obedient vassals.

Such was the scheme in outline. Despite the offer of the Prince Regent
to obey all Napoleon's behests except that relating to the seizure of
British subjects and their property, war was irrevocably resolved on
by October the 12th.[173] And on October the 27th a secret convention
was signed at the Palace of Fontainebleau for arranging "the future
lot of Portugal by a healthy policy and conformably to the interests
of France and Spain." Portugal was now to be divided into three very
unequal parts: the largest portion, comprising Estremadura, Beira, and
Tras-os Montes, was reserved for a future arrangement at the general
peace, but meanwhile was to be held by France: Algarve and Alemtejo
were handed over to Godoy; while the diminutive province of Entre
Minho e Douro was flung as a sop to the young King of Etruria and his
mother, a princess of the House of Spain, to console them for the loss
of Etruria. A vague promise was made that the House of Braganza might
be reinstated in the first of these three portions, in case England
restored Gibraltar, Trinidad, and other colonies taken by her from
Spain or her allies; and Napoleon guaranteed to the King of Spain his
possessions in Europe, exclusive of the Balearic Isles, offering also
to recognize him as Emperor of the Two Americas.

Meanwhile Junot was leading his army corps from Bayonne towards
Salamanca and Ciudad Rodrigo, to give effect to this healthful
arrangement. This general, whom it was desirable to remove from Paris
on account of his rather too open _liaison_ with one of the Bonaparte
princesses, was urged to the utmost speed and address by the Emperor.
He must cover the whole 200 leagues in thirty-five days; lack of
provisions must not hinder the march, for "20,000 men can live
anywhere, even in a desert"; and, above all, as the Prince Regent had
again offered to declare war on England, he (Junot) could represent
that he came as an ally: "I have already informed you that my
intention in authorizing you to enter that land as an ally was to
enable you to seize its fleet, but that my mind was fully made up to
take possession of Portugal."[174] Lisbon, in fact, was to be served
as Venice was ten years before, the lion donning the skin of the fox
so as to effect a peaceful seizure. But that ruse could hardly succeed
twice. The Prince Regent had his ships ready for flight. The bluff and
headstrong Junot, nicknamed "the tempest" by the army, was too artless
to catch the prince by guile; but he hurried his soldiers over
mountains and through flooded gorges until, on November 30th, 1,500
tattered, shoeless, famished grenadiers straggled into Lisbon--to find
that the royal quarry had flown.

The Prince Regent took this momentous resolve with the utmost
reluctance. For many weeks he had clung to the hope that Napoleon
would spare him; and though he accepted a convention with England,
whereby he gained the convoy of our men-of-war across the Atlantic and
the promise of aggrandizement in South America, he still continued to
temporize, and that too, when a British fleet was at hand in the Tagus
strong enough to thwart the designs of the Russian squadron there
present to prevent his departure. When the French were within two
days' march of Lisbon, Lord Strangford feared that the Portuguese
fleet would be delivered into their hands; and only after a trenchant
declaration that further vacillation would be taken as a sign of
hostility to Great Britain, did the Prince Regent resolve to seek
beyond the seas the independence which was denied to him in his own
realm.[175]

Few scenes are more pathetic than the departure of the House of
Braganza from the cradle of its birth. Love for the Prince Regent as a
man, mingled with pity for the demented Queen, held the populace of
Lisbon in tearful silence as the royal family and courtiers filed
along the quays, followed by agonized groups of those who had decided
to share their trials. But silence gave way to wails of despair as the
exiles embarked on the heaving estuary and severed the last links with
Europe. Slowly the fleet began to beat down the river in the teeth of
an Atlantic gale. Near the mouth the refugees were received with a
royal salute by the British fleet, and under its convoy they breasted
the waves of the ocean and the perils of the future.

The conduct of England towards Denmark and that of Napoleon towards
Portugal call for a brief comparison. Those small kingdoms were the
victims of two powerful States whose real or fancied interests
prompted them to the domination of the land and of the sea. But when
we compare the actions of the two Great Powers, important differences
begin to reveal themselves. England had far more cause for complaint
against Denmark than Napoleon had against Portugal. The hostility of
the Danes to the recent coalition was notorious. To compel them to
change their policy without loss of national honour, we sent the most
powerful armada that had ever left our shores, with offers of alliance
and a demand that their fleet, the main object of Napoleon's designs,
should be delivered up to be held in deposit. The offer was refused,
and we seized the fleet. The act was brutal, but it was at least open
and above board, and the capitulation of September 7th was
scrupulously observed, even when the Danes prepared to renew
hostilities.

On the other hand, the demands of Napoleon on the Court of Lisbon were
such as no honourable prince could accept; they were relentlessly
pressed on in spite of the offer of the Prince Regent to meet him in
every particular save one; the appeals of the victim were deliberately
used by the aggressor to further his own rapacious designs; and the
enterprise fell short of ending in a massacre only because the glamour
of the French arms so dazzled the susceptible people of the south
that, for the present, they sank helplessly away at the sight of two
battalions of spectres. Finally, Portugal was partitioned--or rather
it was kept entirely by Napoleon; for, after the promises of partition
had done their work, the sleeping partners in the transaction were
quietly shelved, and it was then seen that Portugal had finally served
as the bait for ensnaring Spain. To this subject we shall return in
the next chapter.

In Italy also, the Juggernaut car of the Continental System rolled
over the small States. The Kingdom of Etruria, which in 1802 had
served as an easy means of buying the whole of Louisiana from the
Spanish Bourbons, was now wrested from that complaisant House, and in
December was annexed to the French Empire.

The Pope also passed under the yoke. For a long time the relations
between Pius VII. and Napoleon had been strained. Gentle as the
Pontiff was by nature, he had declined to exclude all British
merchandise from his States, or to accept an alliance with Eugène and
Joseph. He also angered Napoleon by persistently refusing to dissolve
the marriage of Jerome Buonaparte with Miss Paterson; and an
interesting correspondence ensued, culminating in a long diatribe
which Eugène was charged to forward to the Vatican as an extract from
a private letter of Napoleon to himself.[176] Pius VII. was to be
privately warned that Napoleon had done more good to religion than the
Pope had done harm. Christ had said that His Kingdom was not of this
world. Why then did the Pope set himself above Christ? Why did he
refuse to render to Cæsar that which was Cæsar's?--A fortnight later
the Emperor advised Eugène to despatch troops in the direction of
Bologna--"and if the Pope commits an imprudence, it will be a fine
opportunity for depriving him of the Roman States."

No imprudence was committed. Yet, in the following January, Napoleon
ordered his troops to occupy Rome, alleging that the Eternal City was
a hotbed of intrigues fomented by England and the ex-Queen of Naples,
that Neapolitan rebels had sought an asylum in the Papal States, and
that, though he had no wish to deprive the Pope of his territories,
yet he must include him in his "system." When Pius VII. refused to
commit himself to a policy which would involve war with England,
Napoleon ordered that his lands east of the Apennines should be
annexed to the Kingdom of Italy (April 2nd, 1808). Napoleon thus
gained complete control over the Adriatic coasts, which, along with
the island of Corfu, had long engaged his most earnest attention.[177]

True to his aim of forcing or enticing all maritime States into a
mighty confederacy for the humiliation of England, Napoleon had given
most heed to lands possessing extensive seaboards. Northern Italy,
Holland, Naples, North Germany, Prussia, Russia, Portugal, Spain,
Denmark, and Central Italy had, in turn, adopted his system. On
Austria he exerted a less imperious pressure; for her coast-line of
Trieste and Croatia was so easily controlled by his Italian and
Dalmatian territories that English merchandise with difficulty found
admittance. Yet, in order to carry out there also his policy of
"Thorough," he brought the arguments of Paris and St. Petersburg to
bear on the Court of Vienna; and on February 18th, 1808, Austria was
enrolled in a league that might well be called continental; for in the
spring of that year it embraced every land save Sweden and Turkey.

His activity at this time almost passes belief. While he fastened his
grip on the Continent, gallicized the institutions of Italy and
Germany, and almost daily instructed his brothers in the essentials of
successful statecraft, he found time to turn his thoughts once more to
the East, and to mark every device of England for lengthening her
lease of life. Noticing that we had annulled our blockade of the Elbe
and Weser, with the aim of getting our goods introduced there by
neutral ships, Napoleon charged his Finance Minister, Gaudin, to
prepare a decree for pressing hard on neutrals who had touched at any
of our ports or carried wares that could be proved to be of British
origin.[178]

He was perfectly correct in his surmise that English goods were about
to be sent into the Continent extensively on neutral vessels. After
the consequences of the Treaty of Tilsit had been fully developed,
that was almost their only means of entry. "In August, September and
October, British commerce lay prostrate and motionless until a
protecting and self-defensive system was interposed by our Orders in
Council."[179] The first of these ordered reprisals against the new
Napoleonic States (November 4th): a week later came a second which
declared that, as the Orders of January had not induced the enemy to
relax his commercial hostilities, but these were now enforced with
increased rigour, any port whence the British flag was excluded would
be treated as if it were actually blockaded; that is, the principle of
the legality of a nominal blockade, abandoned in 1801, was now
reaffirmed. The carriage of hostile colonial products was likewise
prohibited to neutrals, though certain exceptions were allowed. Also
any neutral vessel carrying "certificates of origin"--a device for
distinguishing between British and neutral goods--was to be considered
a lawful prize of war. A third Order in Council of the same date
allowed goods to be imported into the United Kingdom from a hostile
port in neutral ships, subject to the ordinary duties, and bonding
facilities were granted for the re-exportation of such goods to any
friendly or neutral port.[180] These orders were designed to draw
neutral commerce through our ports, and to give secret facilities for
the carriage of our goods by neutrals, while pressing upon those that
obeyed Napoleon's system.

The harshest of them was that which encouraged the searching of
neutral vessels for certificates of origin--a measure as severe as the
confiscation of British property by Napoleon, which it was designed to
defeat. And we may note here that the friction resulting from our
Orders in Council and our enforcement of the right of search led to
the United States passing a Non-Intercourse Act (December 23rd, 1807)
that preluded active hostilities against us. It also led Napoleon to
confiscate all American ships in his harbours after April 17th, 1808.

The November Orders in Council soon drew a reply from Napoleon. He
heard of them during a progress through the north of Italy, and from
Milan he flung back his retort, the famous Milan Decrees of November
23rd and December 17th. He thereby declared every neutral ship, which
submitted to those orders, to be denationalized and good prize of war;
and the same doom was pronounced against every vessel sailing to or
from any port in the United Kingdom or its colonies or possessions.
But these measures were not to affect ships of those States that
compelled Great Britain to respect their flag. The islanders might
well be dismayed at the prospect of a seclusion which promised to
recall the Virgilian line:

  "penitus toto divisos orbe Britannos."

Yet they resolved to pit the resources of the outer world against the
militarism of Napoleon; and, drawing the resources of the tropics to
the new power-looms of Lancashire and Yorkshire, they might well hope
to pour their unequalled goods into Europe from points of vantage such
as Sicily, Gibraltar, the Channel Islands, and Heligoland. There were
many Englishmen who believed that the November Orders in Council
brought nothing but harm to our cause. They argued that our
manufactured goods must find their way into the Continent in spite of
the Berlin Decrees; and they could point to the curious fact that
Bourrienne, Napoleon's agent at Hamburg, when charged to procure
50,000 overcoats for the French army during the Eylau campaign, was
obliged to buy them from England.[181]

The incident certainly proves the folly of the Continental System. And
if we had had to consult our manufacturing interests alone, a policy
of _laisser faire_ would doubtless have been the best. England,
however, prided herself on her merchant service: to that she looked as
the nursery for the royal navy: and the abandonment of the world's
carrying trade to neutrals would have seemed an act of high treason.
Her acts of retaliation against the Berlin Decrees and the policy of
Tilsit were harsh and high-handed. But they were adopted during a
pitiless commercial strife; and, in warfare of so novel and desperate
a kind, acts must unfortunately be judged by their efficacy to harm
the foe rather than by the standards of morality that hold good during
peace. Outwardly, it seemed as if England were doomed. She had lost
her allies and alienated the sympathies of neutrals. But from the sea
she was able to exert on the Napoleonic States a pressure that was
gradual, cumulative, and resistless; and the future was to prove the
wisdom of the words of Mollien: "England waged a warfare of modern
times; Napoleon, that of ancient times. There are times and cases when
an anachronism is fatal."

Moreover, at the very time when the Emperor was about to complete his
great experiment by subduing Sweden and preparing for the partition of
Turkey, it sustained a fatal shock by the fierce rising of the Spanish
people against his usurped authority.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXVIII

THE SPANISH RISING


The relations of Spain to France during the twelve years that preceded
the rising of 1808 are marked by acts of folly and unmanly
complaisance that promised utterly to degrade a once proud and
sensitive people. They were the work of the senile and spiritless
King, Charles IV., of his intriguing consort, and, above all, of her
paramour, the all-powerful Minister Godoy. Of an ancient and
honourable family, endowed with a fine figure, courtly address, and
unscrupulous arts, this man had wormed himself into the royal
confidence; and after bringing about a favourable peace with France in
1795, he was styled The Prince of the Peace.

In the next year the meaning of the French alliance was revealed in
the Treaty of St. Ildefonso, which required Spain to furnish troops,
ships, and subsidies for the war against England, a state of vassalage
which was made harder by Napoleon. The results are well known. After
being forced by him to cede Trinidad to us at the Peace of Amiens, she
sacrificed her navy at Trafalgar, saw her colonies and commerce decay
and her finances shrivel for lack of the golden streams formerly
poured in by Mexico and Peru.

In the summer of 1806, while sinking into debt and disgrace, the Court
of Madrid heard with indignation of Napoleon's design to hand over the
Balearic Isles to the Spanish Bourbons whom he had driven from Naples
and proposed to drive from Sicily. At once Spanish pride caught fire
and clutched at means of revenge.[182] Godoy was further incensed by
the sudden abandonment of the plans which he had long discussed with
Napoleon for the partition of Portugal, plans which gave him the
prospect of reigning as King over the southern portion of that
realm.[183] Accordingly, when the Emperor was entering upon the Jena
campaign, he summoned the Spanish people to arms in a most threatening
manner. The news of the collapse of Prussia ended his bravado.
Complaisance again reigned at Madrid, and 15,000 Spaniards were sent,
at Napoleon's demand, to serve on the borders of Denmark, while the
autocrat of the West perfected his plans against the Iberian
Peninsula. As was noted in the previous chapter, the Emperor renewed
his offers of a partition of Portugal in the early autumn of 1807; and
in pursuance of the secret Treaty of Fontainebleau, Junot's corps
marched through Spain into Portugal, where they were helped by a
Spanish corps.

It is significant that, as early as October 17th, 1807, Napoleon
ordered his general to send a detailed description of the country and
of his line of march, the engineer officers being specially charged to
send sketches, "_which it is important to have_." Other French
divisions then crossed the Pyrenees, under plea of keeping open
Junot's communications with France; and spies were sent to observe the
state of the chief Spanish strongholds. Others were charged to report
on the condition of the Spanish army and the state of public opinion;
while Junot was cautioned to keep a sharp watch on the Spanish troops
in Portugal, to allow no fortress to be in their hands, and to send
all the Portuguese troops away to France. Thus, in the early days of
1808, Napoleon had some 20,000 troops in Portugal, about 40,000 in the
north of Spain, and 12,000 in Catalonia. By various artifices they
gained admission into the strongholds of Pamplona, Monjuik, Barcelona,
St. Sebastian, and Figueras, so that by the month of March the north
and west of the peninsula had passed quietly into his hands, while the
greater part of the Spanish army was doing his work in Portugal or on
the shores of the Baltic.[184]

These proceedings began to arouse alarm and discontent among the
Spanish people; but on its Government their influence was as benumbing
as that which the boa-constrictor exerts on its prey. In vain did
Charles IV. and Godoy strive to set a limit to the numbers of the
auxiliaries that poured across the Pyrenees to help them against
fabled English expeditions. In vain did they beg that the partition of
Portugal might now proceed in accordance with the terms of the secret
Treaty of Fontainebleau. The King was curtly told that affairs were
not yet ripe for the publication of that treaty.[185] And the growing
conviction that he had been duped poured gall into the cup of family
bitterness that had long been full to overflowing.

The scandalous relations of the Queen with Godoy had deeply incensed
the heir to the throne, Ferdinand, Prince of Asturias. His attitude of
covert opposition to his parents and their minion was strengthened by
the influence of his bride, a daughter of the ex-Queen of Naples, and
their palace was the headquarters of all who hoped to end the
degradation of the kingdom. As later events were to prove, Ferdinand
had not the qualities of courage and magnanimity that command general
homage; but it was enough for his countrymen that he opposed the
Court. In 1806 his consort died; and on October 11th, 1807, without
consulting his father, he secretly wrote to Napoleon, requesting the
hand of a Bonaparte princess in marriage, and stating that such an
alliance was the ardent wish of all Spaniards, while they would abhor
his union with a sister of the Princess of the Peace. To this letter
Napoleon sent no reply. But Charles IV. had some inkling of the fact
that the prince had been treating direct with Napoleon; and this,
along with another unfilial action of the prince, furnished an excuse
for a charge of high treason. It was spitefully pressed home and was
revoked only on his humble request for the King's pardon.

Now, this "School for Scandal" was being played at Madrid at the time
when Napoleon was arranging the partition of Portugal; and the schism
in the Spanish royal House may well have strengthened his
determination to end its miserable existence and give a good
government to Spain. At the close of the so-called palace plot,
Charles IV. informed his august ally of _that frightful attempt_, and
begged him to _give the aid of his lights and his counsels_.[186] The
craven-hearted King thus himself opened the door for that intervention
which Napoleon had already meditated. His resolve now rapidly
hardened. At the close of January, 1808, he wrote to Junot asking him:
"If unexpected events occurred in Spain, what would you fear from the
Spanish troops? Could you easily rid yourself of them?"[187] On
February the 20th he appointed Murat, Grand Duke of Berg, to be his
Lieutenant in Spain and commander of the French Forces. The choice of
this bluff, headstrong cavalier, who had done so much to provoke
Prussia in 1806, certainly betokened a forward policy. Yet the Emperor
continued to smile on the Spanish Court, and gave a sort of half
sanction to the union of Ferdinand with a daughter of Lucien
Bonaparte.[188] In fact, the hope of this alliance was now used to
keep quiet the numerous partisans of Ferdinand, while Murat advanced
rapidly towards Madrid. To his Lieutenant the Emperor wrote (March
16th): "Continue your kindly talk. Reassure the King, the Prince of
the Peace, the Prince of Asturias, the Queen. The chief thing is to
reach Madrid, to rest your troops and replenish your provisions. Say
that I am about to come so as to arrange matters."

As to Napoleon's real aims, Murat was in complete ignorance; and he
repeatedly complained of the lack of confidence which a brother-in-law
had a right to expect.[189] But while the Grand Duke of Berg beamed on
the Spaniards with meaningless affability, Izquierdo, Godoy's secret
agent at Paris, troubled his master with gloomy reports of the
deepening reserve and lowering threats of Ministers at Paris. There
was talk of requiring from Spain the cession of her lands between the
Pyrenees and the Ebro: there were even dark suggestions as to the need
of dethroning the Spanish Bourbons once for all. Interpreting these
hints in the light of their own consciences, the King, Queen, and
favourite saw themselves in imagination flung forth into the Atlantic,
a butt to the scorn of mankind; and they prepared to flee to the New
World betimes, with the needful treasure.

But there, too, Napoleon forestalled them. On February 21st a secret
order was sent to a French squadron to anchor off Cadiz and stop the
King and Queen of Spain if they sought to "repeat the scene of
Lisbon."[190] Their escape to America would be even more favourable to
England than the flight of the Court of Lisbon had been; and Napoleon
took good care that the King, to whom he had awarded the title of
Emperor of the two Americas, should remain a prisoner in Europe.
Scared, however, by the approach of Murat and the news from Paris,
Charles still prepared for flight; and the Queen's anxiety to save her
favourite from the growing fury of the populace also bent her desires
seawards.

The Court was at the palace of Aranjuez, not far from Madrid, and it
seemed easy to escape into Andalusia, and to carry away, by guile or
by force, the heir to the throne. But Ferdinand, who hoped for
deliverance at the hands of the French, thwarted the scheme by a
timely hint to his faithful guards. At once his partisans gathered
round him; and the people, rushing to Godoy's residence, madly
ransacked it in the hope of tearing to pieces the author of the
nation's ruin. After thirty-six hours' concealment, Godoy ventured to
steal forth; at once he was discovered, was kicked and beaten; and
only the intervention of Ferdinand, prompted by the agonized
entreaties of his mother, availed to save the dregs of that wretched
life. The roars of the crowd around the palace, and the smashing of
the royal carriage, now decided the King to abdicate; and he declared
that his declining years and failing health now led him to yield the
crown to Ferdinand (March 19th, 1808).

Loud was the acclaim that greeted the young King when he entered
Madrid; but the rejoicings were soon damped by the ambiguous behaviour
of Murat, who, on entering Madrid at the head of his troops, skilfully
evaded any recognition of Ferdinand as King. In fact, Murat had
received (March 21st) a letter from Charles IV.'s daughter begging for
his help to her parents at Aranjuez; and it soon transpired that the
ex-King and Queen now repented of their abdication, which they
represented as brought about by force and therefore null and void. The
Grand Duke of Berg saw the advantage which this dispute might give to
Napoleon; and he begged the Emperor to come immediately to Madrid for
the settlement of matters on which he alone could decide. To this
Napoleon replied (March 30th) commending his Lieutenant's prudence,
and urging him to escort Charles IV. to the Escurial as King, while
Godoy was also to be protected and sent to Bayonne.

To this town the Emperor set out on April the 2nd, as though he would
thence proceed to Madrid. Ferdinand, meanwhile, was treated with
guarded courtesy that kept alive his hope of an alliance with a French
princess. To favour this notion, Napoleon despatched the wariest of
his agents, Savary, who artfully persuaded him to meet the Emperor at
Burgos. He succeeded, and even induced him to continue his journey to
Vittoria. At that place the citizens sought to cut the traces of the
royal carriage, so much did they fear treachery if he proceeded
further. Yet the young King, beguiled by the Emperor's letter of April
16th, which offered the hand of a French princess, prolonged his
journey, crossed the frontier, and was received by Napoleon at Bayonne
(April 20th). His arguments, proving that his father's abdication had
been voluntary, fell on deaf ears. The Emperor invited him to dinner,
and afterwards sent Savary to inform him that he must hand back the
crown to his father. To this Ferdinand returned a firm refusal; and
his advisers, Escoiquiz and Labrador, ventured to warn the Emperor
that the Spaniards would swear eternal hatred to France if he tampered
with the crown of Spain. Napoleon listened good-humouredly, pulled
Escoiquiz by the ear as a sign of his personal regard, and added: "You
are a deep fellow; but, I tell you, the Bourbons will never let me
alone." On the next day he offered Ferdinand the throne of Etruria. It
was coldly declined.[191]

Charles IV., his Queen, and Godoy, arrived at Bayonne at the close of
April. The ex-King had offered to put himself and his claim in
Napoleon's hands, which was exactly what the Emperor desired. The
feeble creature now poured forth his bile on his disobedient son, and
peevishly bade him restore the crown. Ferdinand assented, provided his
father would really reign, and would dismiss those advisers who were
hated by the nation; but the attempt to impose conditions called forth
a flash of senile wrath, along with the remark that "one ought to do
everything _for_ the people and nothing _by_ the people."

Meanwhile the men of Madrid were not acting with the passivity desired
by their philosophizing monarch. At first they had welcomed Murat as
delivering them from the detested yoke of Godoy; but the conduct of
the French in their capital, and the detention of Ferdinand at
Bayonne, aroused angry feelings, which burst forth on May the 2nd, and
long defied the grapeshot of Murat's guns and the sabres of his
troopers. The news of this so-called revolt gave Napoleon another
handle against his guests. He hurried to Charles and cowed him by
well-simulated signs of anger, which that _roi fainéant_ thereupon
vented on his son, with a passion that was outdone only by the shrill
gibes of the Queen. At the close of this strange scene, the Emperor
interposed with a few stern words, threatening to treat the prince as
a rebel if he did not that very evening restore the crown to his
father. Ferdinand braved the parental taunts in stolid silence, but
before the trenchant threats of Napoleon he quailed, and broke down.

Resistance was now at an end. On that same night (May 5th) the Emperor
concluded with Godoy a convention whereby Charles IV. agreed to hand
over to Napoleon the crowns of Spain and the Indies, on consideration
that those dominions should remain intact, should keep the Roman
Catholic faith to the exclusion of all others, and that he himself
should be pensioned off with the estates of Compiègne and Chambord,
receiving a yearly income of seven and a half million francs, payable
by the French treasury. The Spanish princes were similarly treated,
Ferdinand signing away his rights for a castle and a pension. To crown
the farce, Napoleon ordered Talleyrand to receive them at his estate
of Valençay, and amuse them with actors and the charms of female
society. Thus the choicest humorist of the age was told off to
entertain three uninteresting exiles; and the ex-Minister of Foreign
Affairs, who disapproved of the treachery of Bayonne, was made to
appear the Emperor's accomplice.

Such were the means whereby Napoleon gained the crowns of Spain and
the Indies, without striking a blow.

His excuse for the treachery as expressed at the time was as follows:
"My action is not good from a certain point of view, I know. But my
policy demands that I shall not leave in my rear, so near to Paris, a
dynasty hostile to mine." From this and from other similar remarks, it
would seem that his resolve to dethrone the Bourbons was taken while
on his march to Jena, but was thrust down into the abyss of his
inscrutable will for a whole year, until Junot's march to Lisbon
furnished a safe means for effecting the subjugation of Spain. This
end he thenceforth pursued unswervingly with no sign of remorse, or
even of hesitation--unless we accept as genuine the almost certainly
spurious letter of March 29th, 1808. That letter represents him as
blaming Murat for entering Madrid, when he had repeatedly urged him to
do so; as asking his advice after he had all along kept him in
ignorance as to his aims; and as writing a philosophical homily on the
unused energies of the Spanish people, for whom in his genuine letters
he expressed a lofty contempt.[192]

The whole enterprise is, indeed, a masterpiece of skill, but a
masterpiece marred by ineffaceable stains of treachery. And at the
close of his life, he himself said: "I embarked very badly on the
Spanish affair, I confess: the immorality of it was too patent, the
injustice too cynical, and the whole thing wears an ugly look since I
have fallen; for the attempt is only seen in its hideous nakedness
deprived of all majesty and of the many benefits which completed my
intention."

That he hoped to reform Spain is certain. Political and social reforms
had hitherto consolidated the work of conquest; and those which he
soon offered to the Spaniards might possibly have renovated that
nation, had they not been handed in at the sword's point; but the
motive was too obvious, the intervention too insulting, to render
success possible with the most sensitive people in Europe. On May 2nd
he wrote to Murat that he intended King Joseph of Naples to reign at
Madrid, and offered to Murat either Portugal or Naples.[193] He chose
the latter. Joseph was allowed no choice in the matter. He was
summoned from Naples to Bayonne, and, on arriving at Pau, heard with
great surprise that he was King of Spain.

Napoleon's selection was tactful. At Naples, the eldest of the
Bonapartes had effected many reforms and was generally popular; but
the treachery of Bayonne blasted all hopes of his succeeding at
Madrid. Though the grandees of Spain welcomed the new monarch with
courtly grace, though Charles IV. gave him his blessing, though
Ferdinand demeaned himself by advising his former subjects quietly to
submit, the populace willed otherwise.

Every instinct of the Spanish nature was aflame with resentment.
Loathing for Charles IV., his Queen, and their favourite, whom
Napoleon richly dowered, love of the young King whom he falsely
filched away, detestation of the French troops who outraged the rights
of hospitality, and zeal for the Roman Catholic Church, whose chief
had just been robbed of half his States, goaded the Spaniards to
madness. Their indignation rumbled hoarsely for a time, like a volcano
in labour, and then burst forth in an explosion of fury. The
constitution which Napoleon presented to the Spanish Notables at
Bayonne was accepted by them, only to be flung back with scorn by the
people. The men of enlightenment who counselled prudence and patience
were slain by raging mobs or sought safety in flight. The rising was
at once national in its grand spontaneity and local in its intensity.
Province after province rose in arms, except the north and centre,
where 80,000 French troops held the patriots in check. In the van of
the movement was the rugged little province of Asturias, long ago the
forlorn hope of the Christians in their desperate conflicts with the
Moors. Intrenched behind their mountains and proud of their ancient
fame, the Asturians ventured on the sublime folly of declaring war
against the ruler of the West and the lord of 900,000 warriors.
Swiftly Galicia and Leon in the north repeated the challenge; while in
the south, the fertile lands of Andalusia, Murcia, and Valencia
flashed back from their mountains the beacon lights of a national war.
The former dislike of England was forgotten. The Juntas of Asturias,
Galicia, and Andalusia sent appeals to us for help, to which Canning
generously responded; and, on July 4th, we passed at a single bound
from war with the Spanish Bourbons to an informal alliance with the
people of Spain.

Napoleon now began to see the magnitude of his error. Instead of
gaining control over Spain and the Indies, he had changed
long-suffering allies into irreconcilable foes. He prepared to conquer
Spain. While Joseph was escorted to his new capital by a small army,
Napoleon from Bayonne directed the operations of his generals. Holding
the northern road from Bayonne to Burgos and Madrid, they were to send
out cautious feelers against the bands of insurgents; for, as Napoleon
wrote to Savary (July 13th): "In civil wars it is the important posts
that must be held: one ought not to go everywhere." Weighty words,
which his lieutenants in Spain were often to disregard! Bessières in
the north gained a success at Medina de Rio Seco; but a signal
disaster in the south ruined the whole campaign. Dupont, after beating
the levies of Andalusia, penetrated into the heart of that great
province, and, when cumbered with plunder, his divided forces were
surrounded, cut off from their supplies, and forced to surrender at
Baylen--in all about 20,000 men (July 19th). The news that a French
army had laid down its arms caused an immense sensation in an age when
Napoleon's troops were held to be invincible. Baylen was hailed
everywhere by despairing patriots as the dawn of a new era. And such
it was to be. If Valmy proclaimed the advent of militant democracy,
the victory of Spaniards over one of the bravest of Napoleon's
generals was felt to be an even greater portent. It ushered in the
epoch of national resistance to the overweening claims of the Emperor
of the West.

That truth he seems dimly to have surmised. His rage on hearing of the
capitulation was at first too deep for words. Then he burst out:
"Could I have expected that from Dupont, a man whom I loved, and was
rearing up to become a Marshal? They say he had no other way to save
the lives of his soldiers. Better, far better, to have died with arms
in their hands. Their death would have been glorious: we should have
avenged them. You can always supply the place of soldiers. Honour
alone, when once lost, can never be regained."

Moreover, the material consequences were considerable. The Spaniards
speedily threatened Madrid; and, on the advice of Savary, Joseph
withdrew from his capital after a week's sojourn, and fell back
hurriedly on the line of the Upper Ebro, where the French rallied for
a second advance.

Their misfortunes did not end here. In the north-east the hardy
Catalans had risen against the invaders, and by sheer pluck and
audacity cooped them up in their ill-gotten strongholds of Barcelona
and Figueras. The men of Arragon, too, never backward in upholding
their ancient liberties, rallied to defend their capital Saragossa.
Their rage was increased by the arrival of Palafox, who had escaped in
disguise from the suite of Ferdinand at Bayonne, and brought news of
the treachery there perpetrated. Beaten outside their ancient city,
and unable to hold its crumbling walls against the French cannon and
columns of assault, the defenders yet fiercely turned to bay amidst
its narrow lanes and massive monasteries. There a novel warfare was
waged. From street to street and house to house the fight eddied for
days, the Arragonese opposing to French valour the stubborn devotion
ever shown by the peoples of the peninsula in defence of their walled
cities, and an enthusiasm kindled by the zeal of their monks and the
heroism of the Maid of Saragossa. Finally, on August 10th, the noble
city shook off the grip of the 15,000 assailants, who fell back to
join Joseph's forces higher up the Ebro.

Even now the Emperor did not fully realize the serious nature of the
war that was beginning. Despite Savary's warnings of the dangers to be
faced in Spain, he persisted in thinking of it as an ordinary war that
could be ended by good strategy and a few victories. He censured
Joseph and Savary for giving up the line of the Upper Douro: he blamed
them next for the evacuation of Tudela, and summed up the situation by
stating that "all the Spanish forces are not able to overthrow 25,000
French in a reasonable position"--adding, with stinging satire: "In
war _men_ are nothing: it is _a man_ who is everything."

When, at the close of August, Napoleon penned these memorable words in
his palace of St. Cloud, he knew not that a _man_ had arrived on the
scene of action. At the beginning of that month, Sir Arthur Wellesley
with a British force of 12,300 men landed at the mouth of the River
Mondego, and, aided by Portuguese irregulars, began his march on
Lisbon. This is not the place for a review of the character and career
of our great warrior: in truth, a volume would be too short for the
task. With fine poetic insight, Lord Tennyson has noted in his funeral
Ode the qualities that enabled him to overcome the unexampled
difficulties caused by our own incompetent Government and by jealous,
exacting, and slipshod allies:

  "Mourn for the man of long-enduring blood,
  The statesman-warrior, moderate, resolute,
  Whole in himself, a common good."


Glory and vexation were soon to be his. On the 17th he drove the
French vanguard from Roliça; and when, four days later, Junot hurried
up with all his force, the British inflicted on that presumptuous
leader a signal defeat at Vimiero. So bad were Junot's tactics that
his whole force would have been cut off from Torres Vedras, had not
Wellesley's senior officer, Sir Harry Burrard, arrived just in time to
take over the command and stop the pursuit. Thereupon Wellesley
sarcastically exclaimed to his staff: "Gentlemen, nothing now remains
to us but to go and shoot red-legged partridges." The peculiarities of
our war administration were further seen in the supersession of
Burrard by Sir Hew Dalrymple, whose chief title to fame is his signing
of the Convention of Cintra.

By this strange compact the whole of Junot's force was to be conveyed
from Portugal to France on British ships, while the Russian squadron
blockaded in the Tagus was to be held by us in pledge till the peace,
the crews being sent on to Russia. The convention itself was violently
attacked by the English public; but it has found a defender in Napier,
who dwells on the advantages of getting the French at once out of
Portugal, and thus providing a sure base for the operations in Spain.
Seeing, however, that Junot's men were demoralized by defeat, and that
the nearest succouring force was in Navarre, these excuses seem
scarcely tenable, except on the ground that, with such commanders as
Burrard and Dalrymple, it was certainly desirable to get the French
speedily away.

On his side, Napoleon showed much annoyance at Junot's acceptance of
this convention, and remarked: "I was about to send Junot to a council
of war: but happily the English got the start of me by sending their
generals to one, and thus saved me from the pain of punishing an old
friend." With his customary severity to those who had failed, he
frowned on all the officers of the Army of Portugal, and, on landing
in France, they were strictly forbidden to come to Paris. The fate of
Dupont and of his chief lieutenants, who were released by the
Spaniards, was even harder: on their return they were condemned to
imprisonment. By such means did Napoleon exact the uttermost from his
troops, even in a service so detested as that in Spain ever was.[194]

Despite the blunderings of our War Office, the silly vapourings of the
Spaniards, and the insane quarrels of their provincial juntas about
precedence and the sharing of English subsidies, the summer of 1808
saw Napoleon's power stagger under terrible blows. Not only did he
lose Spain and Portugal and the subsidies which they had meekly paid,
but most of the 15,000 Spanish troops which had served him on the
shores of the Baltic found means to slip away on British ships and put
a backbone into the patriotic movements in the north of Spain. But
worst of all was the loss of that moral strength, which he himself
reckoned as three-fourths of the whole force in war. Hitherto he had
always been able to marshal the popular impulse on his side. As the
heir to the Revolution he had appealed, and not in vain, to the
democratic forces which he had hypnotized in France but sought to stir
up in his favour abroad. Despite the efforts of Czartoryski and Stein
to tear the democratic mask from his face, it imposed on mankind until
the Spanish Revolution laid bare the truth; and at St. Helena the
exile gave his own verdict on the policy of Bayonne: "It was the
Spanish ulcer which ruined me."


    NOTE TO THE THIRD EDITION.--For a careful account of the
    Convention of Cintra in its military and political aspects, see
    Mr. Oman's recently published "History of the Peninsular War,"
    vol. i., pp. 268-278, 291-300. I cannot, however, agree with the
    learned author that that Convention was justifiable on military
    grounds, after so decisive a victory as Vimiero.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXIX

ERFURT

    "At bottom the great question is--who shall have
    Constantinople?"--NAPOLEON, May 31st, 1808.


The Spanish Rising made an immense rent in Napoleon's plans. It opened
valuable markets for British goods both in the Peninsula and in South
and Central America, and that too at the very time when the
Continental System was about to enfold us in its deadly grip.[195] And
finally it disarranged schemes that reached far beyond Europe. To
these we must now briefly recur.

Even amidst his greatest military triumphs Napoleon's gaze turned
longingly towards the East; and no sooner did he force peace on the
conquered than his thoughts centred once more on his navy and
colonies, on Egypt and India. The Treaty of Tilsit gave him leisure to
renew these designs. The publication in 1807 of his official Atlas of
Australia, in which he claimed nearly half that continent for France,
proves that he never accepted Trafalgar as a death-blow to his
maritime and colonial aspirations. And the ardour of his desire for
the conquest of India is seen in the letter which he wrote to the Czar
on February 2nd, 1808. After expressing his desire for the glory and
expansion of Russia, and advising the Czar to conquer Finland, he
proceeds:

    "An army of 50,000 men, Russians, French, and perhaps a few
    Austrians, that penetrated by way of Constantinople into Asia,
    would not reach the Euphrates before England would tremble and bow
    the knee before the Continent. I am ready in Dalmatia. Your
    Majesty is ready on the Danube. A month after we came to an
    agreement the army could be on the Bosporus.... By the 1st of May
    our troops can be in Asia, and at the same time those of Your
    Majesty, at Stockholm. Then the English, threatened in the Indies,
    and chased from the Levant, will be crushed under the weight of
    events with which the atmosphere will be charged."[196]

There were several reasons why Napoleon should urge on this scheme. He
was irritated by the continued resistance of Great Britain, and
thought to terrify us into surrender by means of those oriental
enterprises which convinced our statesmen that we must fight on for
dear life. He also desired to restore the harmony of his relations
with Alexander. For, in truth, the rapturous harmonies of Tilsit had
soon been marred by discord. Alexander did not withdraw his troops
from the Danubian provinces; whereupon Napoleon declined to evacuate
Silesia; and the friction resulting from this wary balancing of
interests was increased, when, at the close of 1807, a formal proposal
was sent from Paris that, if Russia retained those provinces, Silesia
should be at the disposal of France.[197] The dazzling vistas opened
up to Alexander's gaze at Tilsit were thus shrouded by a sordid and
distasteful bargain, which he hotly repelled. To repair this false
step, Napoleon now wrote the alluring letter quoted above; and the
Czar exclaimed on perusing it: "Ah, this is the language of Tilsit."

Yet, it may be questioned whether Napoleon desired to press on an
immediate partition of the Ottoman Power. His letter invited the Czar
to two great enterprises, the conquest of Finland and the invasion of
Persia and India. The former by itself was destined to tax Russia's
strength. Despite Alexander's offer of a perpetual guarantee for the
Finnish constitution and customs, that interesting people opposed a
stubborn resistance. Napoleon must also have known that Russia's
forces were then wholly unequal to the invasion of India; and his
invitation to Alexander to engage in two serious enterprises certainly
had the effect of postponing the partition of Turkey. Delay was all in
his favour, if he was to gain the lion's share of the spoils. Russian
troops were ready on the banks of the Danube; but he was not as yet
fully prepared. His hold on Dalmatia, Ragusa, and Corfu was not wholly
assured. Sicily and Malta still defied him; and not until he seized
Sicily could he gain the control of the Mediterranean--"the constant
aim of my policy." Only when that great sea had become a French lake
could he hope to plant himself firmly in Albania, Thessaly, Greece,
Crete, Egypt, and Syria.

For the present, then, the Czar was beguiled with the prospect of an
eastern expedition; and, while Russian troops were overrunning
Finland, Napoleon sought to conquer Sicily and reduce Spain to the
rank of a feudatory State. From this wider point of view, he looked on
the Iberian Peninsula merely as a serviceable base for a greater
enterprise, the conquest of the East. This is proved by a letter that
he wrote to Decrès, Minister of Marine and of the Colonies, from
Bayonne on May 17th, 1808, when the Spanish affair seemed settled:
"There is not much news from India. England is in great penury there,
and the arrival of an expedition [from France] would ruin that colony
from top to bottom. The more I reflect on this step, the less
inconvenience I see in taking it." Two days later he wrote to Murat
that money must be found for naval preparations at the Spanish ports:
"I must have ships, for I intend striking a heavy blow towards the end
of the season." But at the close of June he warned Decrès that as
Spanish affairs were going badly, he must postpone his design of
despatching a fleet far from European waters.[198]

Spain having proved to be, not a meek purveyor of fleets, but a
devourer of French armies, there was the more need of a close accord
with the Czar. Napoleon desired, not only to assure a further
postponement of the Turkish enterprise, but also to hold Austria and
Germany in check. The former Power, seeing Napoleon in difficulties,
pushed on apace her military organization; and Germany heaved with
suppressed excitement at the news of the Spanish Rising. The dormant
instinct of German nationality had already shown signs of awakening.
In the early days of 1808 the once cosmopolitan philosopher, Fichte,
delivered at Berlin within sound of the French drums his "Addresses to
the German Nation," in which he dwelt on the unquenchable strength of
a people that determined at all costs to live free.

On the philosopher's theme the Spaniards now furnished a commentary
written with their life-blood. Thinkers and soldiers were alike moved
by the stories of Baylen and Saragossa. Varnhagen von Ense relates how
deep was the excitement of the quaint sage, Jean Paul Richter, who
"doubted not that the Germans would one day rise against the French as
the Spaniards had done, and that Prussia would revenge its insults and
give freedom to Germany.... I proved to him how hollow and weak was
Napoleon's power: how deeply rooted was the opposition to it. The
Spaniards were the refrain to everything, and we always returned to
them."

The beginnings of a new civic life were then being laid in Prussia by
Stein. Called by the King to be virtually a civic dictator, this great
statesman carried out the most drastic reforms. In October, 1807,
there appeared at Memel the decrees of emancipation which declared the
abolition of serfdom with all its compulsory and menial services. The
old feudal society was further invigorated by the admission of all
classes to the holding of land or to any employment, while trade
monopolies were similarly swept away. Municipal self-government gave
new zest and energy to civic life; and the principle that the army
"ought to be the union of all the moral and physical energies of the
nation" was carried out by the military organizer Scharnhorst, who
conceived and partly realized the idea that all able-bodied men should
serve their time with the colours and then be drafted into a reserve.
This military reform excited Napoleon's distrust, and he forced the
King to agree by treaty (September, 1808) that the Prussian army
should never exceed 42,000 men, a measure which did not hinder the
formation of an effective reserve, and was therefore complied with to
the letter, if not in spirit.

In fact, in the previous month a plan of a popular insurrection had
been secretly discussed by Stein, Scharnhorst, and other patriotic
Ministers. The example of the Spaniards was everywhere to be followed,
and, if Austria sent forth her legions on the Danube and England
helped in Hanover, there seemed some prospect of shaking off the
Napoleonic yoke. The scheme miscarried, and largely owing to the
interception of a letter in which Stein imprudently referred to the
exasperation of public feeling in Germany and the lively hope excited
by the events in Spain and the preparations of Austria. Napoleon
caused the letter to be printed in the "Moniteur" of September 8th,
and sequestered Stein's property in Westphalia. He also kept his grip
on Prussia; for while withdrawing most of his troops from that
exhausted land, he retained French garrisons in Stettin, Glogau, and
Küstrin. Holding these fortresses on the strong defensive line of the
Oder, he might smile at the puny efforts of Prussian patriots and hope
speedily to crush the Spanish rebels, provided he could count on the
loyal support of Alexander in holding Austria in check.

To gain this support and to clear away the clouds that bulked on their
oriental horizon, Napoleon urgently desired an interview with his
ally. For some months it had been proposed; but the Spanish Rising and
the armaments of Austria made it essential.

The meeting took place at Erfurt (September 27th). The Thuringian city
was ablaze with uniforms, and the cannon thundered salvoes of welcome
as the two potentates and their suites entered the ancient walls and
filed through narrow streets redolent of old German calm, an abode
more suited to the speculations of a Luther than to the
world-embracing schemes of the Emperors of the West and East. With
them were their chief warriors and Ministers, personages who now threw
into the shade the new German kings. There, too, were the lesser
German princes, some of them to grace the Court of the man who had
showered lands and titles on them, others to hint a wish for more
lands and higher titles. In truth, the title of king was tantalizingly
common; and if we may credit a story of the time, the French soldiery
had learnt to despise it. For, on one occasion, when the guard of
honour, deceived by the splendour of the King of Würtemberg's chariot,
was about to deliver the triple salute accorded only to the two
Emperors, the officer in command angrily exclaimed: "Be quiet: it's
only a king."

The Emperors at Erfurt devoted the mornings to personal interviews,
the afternoons to politics, the evenings to receptions and the
theatre. The actors of the Comédie Française had been brought from
Paris, and played to the Emperors and a parterre of princes the
masterpieces of the French stage, especially those which contained
suitable allusions. A notable incident occurred on the recital of the
line in the "Oedipe" of Voltaire:

  "L'amitié d'un grand homme est un bienfait des dieux."

As if moved by a sudden inspiration, Alexander arose and warmly
pressed the hand of Napoleon, who was then half-dozing at his
side.[199] On the surface, indeed, everything was friendship and
harmony. With urbane facility, the Czar accompanied his ally to the
battlefield of Jena, listened to the animated description of the
victor, and then joined in the chase in a forest hard by.

But beneath these brilliant shows there lurked suspicions and fears.
Alexander was annoyed that Napoleon retained French garrisons in the
fortresses on the Oder and claimed an impossible sum as indemnity from
Prussia. This was not the restoration of Prussia's independence, for
which he, Alexander, had pleaded; and while the French eagles were at
Küstrin, the Russian frontier could not be deemed wholly safe.[200]
Then again the Czar had been secretly warned by Talleyrand against
complaisance to the French Emperor. "Sire, what are you coming here
for? It is for you to save Europe, and you will only succeed in that
by resisting Napoleon. The French are civilized, their sovereign is
not. The sovereign of Russia is civilized, her people are not.
Therefore the sovereign of Russia must be the ally of the French
people."[201] We may doubt whether this symmetrical proposition would
have had much effect, if Alexander had not received similar warnings
from his own ambassador at Paris; and it would seem that too much
importance has been assigned to what is termed Talleyrand's
_treachery_ at Erfurt.[202] Affairs of high policy are determined, not
so much by the logic of words as by the sterner logic of facts. Ever
since Tilsit, Napoleon had been prodigal of promises to his ally, but
of little else. The alluring visions set forth in his letter of
February 2nd were as visionary as ever; and Romantzoff expressed the
wish of his countrymen in his remark to Champagny: "We have come to
Erfurt to set a limit to this conduct." It was evident that if
Napoleon had his way completely, the partition of Turkey would take
place at the time and in the manner desired by him; this the Czar was
determined to prevent, and therefore turned a deaf ear to his ally's
proposal that they should summon Austria to explain her present
ambiguous behaviour and frankly to recognize Joseph Bonaparte as King
of Spain. If Austria put a stop to her present armaments, the
supremacy of Napoleon in Central Europe would be alarmingly great.
Clearly it was not to Russia's interest to weaken the only
buffer-state that remained between her and the Empire of the West.

These fears were quietly fed by a special envoy of the Court of
Vienna, Baron Vincent, who brought complimentary notes to the two
Emperors and remained to feel the pulse of European policy. It boded
peace for Austria for the present. Despite Napoleon's eager arguments
that England would never make peace until Austria accepted the present
situation in Spain, Alexander quietly but firmly refused to take any
steps to depress the Hapsburg Power. The discussions waxed warm; for
Napoleon saw that, unless the Court of Vienna were coerced, England
would persist in aiding the Spanish patriots; and Alexander showed an
unexpected obstinacy. Napoleon's plea, that peace could only be
assured by the entire discouragement of England, Austria, and the
Spanish "rebels," had no effect on him: in fact, he began to question
the sincerity of a peacemaker whose methods were war and intimidation.
Finding arguments useless, Napoleon had recourse to anger. At the end
of a lively discussion, he threw his cap on the ground and stamped on
it. Alexander stopped, looked at him with a meaning smile, and said
quietly: "You are violent: as for me, I am obstinate: anger gains
nothing from me: let us talk, let us reason, or I go." He moved
towards the door, whereupon Napoleon called him back--and they
reasoned.

It was of no avail. Though Alexander left his ally a free hand in
Spain, he refused to join him in a diplomatic menace to Austria; and
Napoleon saw that "those devilish Spanish affairs" were at the root of
this important failure, which was to cost him the war on the Danube in
the following year.

As a set-off to this check, he disappointed Alexander respecting
Prussia and Turkey. He refused to withdraw his troops from the
fortresses on the Oder, and grudgingly consented to lower his
pecuniary claims on Prussia from 140,000,000 francs to 120,000,000.
Towards the Czar's Turkish schemes he showed little more complaisance.
After sharp discussions it was finally settled that Russia should gain
the Danubian provinces, but not until the following year. France
renounced all mediation between Alexander and the Porte, but required
him to maintain the integrity of all the other Turkish possessions,
which meant that the partition of Turkey was to be postponed until it
suited Napoleon to take up his oriental schemes in earnest. The golden
visions of Tilsit were thus once more relegated to a distant future,
and the keenness of the Czar's disappointment may be measured by his
striking statement quoted by Caulaincourt in one of his earlier
reports from St. Petersburg: "Let the world be turned upside down
provided that Russia gains Constantinople and the Dardanelles."[203]

The Erfurt interview left another hidden sore. It was there that the
divorce from Josephine was officially discussed, with a view to a more
ambitious alliance. Persistent as the rumours of a divorce had been
for seven years past, they seem to have emanated, not from the
husband, but from jealous sisters-in-law, intriguing relatives, and
officious Ministers. To the most meddlesome of these satellites,
Fouché, who had ventured to suggest to Josephine the propriety of
sacrificing herself for the good of the State, Napoleon had lately
administered a severe rebuke. But now he caused Talleyrand and
Caulaincourt to sound the Czar as to the feasibility of an alliance
with one of his sisters. The response was equally vague and discreet.
Alexander expressed his gratification at the friendship which
proffered such a request and his desire for the founding of a
Napoleonic House. Further than this he did not go: and eight days
after his return to St. Petersburg his only marriageable sister,
Catherine, was affianced to the heir to the Duchy of Oldenburg. This
event, it is true, was decided by the Dowager Empress; but no one,
least of all Napoleon, could harbour any doubts as to its
significance.

In truth, Napoleon's chief triumphs at Erfurt were social and
literary. His efforts to dazzle German princes and denationalize two
of her leading thinkers were partly successful. Goethe and Wieland
bowed before his greatness. To the former Napoleon granted a lengthy
interview. He flattered the aged poet at the outset by the words, "You
are a man": he then talked about several works in a way that Goethe
thought very just; and he criticised one passage of the poet's
youthful work, "Werther," as untrue to nature, with which Goethe
agreed. On Voltaire's "Mahomet" he heaped censure, for its unworthy
portraiture of the conqueror of the East and its ineffective fatalism.
"These pieces belong to an obscure age. Besides, what do they mean
with their fatalism? Politics is fatalism." The significance of this
saying was soon to be emphasized, so that misapprehension was
impossible. After witnessing Voltaire's "La Mort de César," Napoleon
suggested that the poet ought to write a tragedy in a grander style
than Voltaire's, so as to show how the world would have benefited if
the great Roman had had time to carry out his vast plans.

Finally, Goethe was invited to come to Paris, where he would find
abundant materials for his poetic creations. Fortunately, Goethe was
able to plead his age in excuse; and the world was therefore spared
the sight of a great genius saddled with an imperial commission and
writing a Napoleonized version of Cæsar's exploits and policy. But the
pressing character of the invitation reveals the Emperor's
dissatisfaction with his French poetasters and his intention to
denationalize German literature. He had a dim perception that Teutonic
idealism was a dangerous foe, inasmuch as it kept alive the sense of
nationality which he was determined to obliterate. He was right. The
last and most patriotic of Schiller's works, "Wilhelm Tell," the
impassioned discourses of Fichte, the efforts of the new patriotic
league, the Tugendbund, and last, but not least, the memory of the
murdered Palm, all these were influences that baffled bayonets and
diplomacy. Conquer and bargain as he might, he could not grapple with
the impalpable forces of the era that was now dawning. The younger
generation throbbed responsive to the teachings of Fichte, the appeals
of Stein, and the exploits of the Spaniards; it was blind to the
splendours of Erfurt: and it heard with grief, but with no change of
conviction, that Goethe and Wieland had accepted from Napoleon the
cross of the Legion of Honour, and that too on the anniversary of the
Battle of Jena.

After thus finally belittling the two poets, he shot a parting shaft
at German idealism in his farewell to the academicians. He bade them
beware of idealogues as dangerous dreamers and disguised materialists.
Then, raising his voice, he exclaimed: "Philosophers plague themselves
with weaving systems: they will never find a better one than
Christianity, which, reconciling man with himself, also assures public
order and repose. Your idealogues destroy every illusion; and the time
of illusions is for peoples and individuals alike the time of
happiness. I carry one away, that you will think kindly of me." He
then mounted his carriage and drove away to Paris to resume his
conquest of Spain.[204]

The last diplomatic proceeding at Erfurt was the drawing up of a
secret convention which assigned Finland and the Danubian Provinces to
Russia, and promised Russia's help to Napoleon in case Austria should
attack him. The Czar also recognized Joseph Bonaparte as King of Spain
and joined Napoleon in a joint note to George III. summoning him to
make peace. On the same day (October 12th) that note was drawn up and
despatched to London. In reply, Canning stated our willingness to
treat for peace, provided that it should include all parties: that,
although bound by no formal treaty to Ferdinand VII. and the Spanish
people, yet we felt ourselves none the less pledged to them, and
presumed that they, as well as our other allies, would be admitted to
the negotiations. Long before this reply reached Paris, Napoleon had
left for Spain. But on November 19th, he charged Champagny to state
that the Spanish rebels could no more be admitted than the Irish
insurgents: as for the other parties to the dispute he would not
refuse to admit "either the King reigning in Sweden, or the King
reigning in Sicily, or the King reigning in Brazil." This insulting
reply sufficiently shows the insincerity of his overtures and the
peculiarity of his views of monarchy. The Spaniards were rebels
because they refused to recognize the forced abdication of their young
King; and the rulers of Sweden, Naples and Portugal, were Kings as
long as it suited Napoleon to tolerate them, and no longer. It is
needless to add that our Government refused to desert the Spaniards;
and in his reply to St. Petersburg, Canning expressed George III.'s
deep regret that Alexander should sanction

    "An usurpation unparalleled in the history of the world.... If
    these be the principles to which the Emperor of Russia has
    inviolably attached himself ... deeply does His Majesty [George
    III.] lament a determination by which the sufferings of Europe
    must be aggravated and prolonged. But not to His Majesty is to be
    attributed the continuance of the calamities of war, by the
    disappointment of all hope of such a peace as would be compatible
    with justice and honour."[205]

No open-minded person can peruse the correspondence on this subject
without concluding that British policy, if lacking the breadth, grip
and _finesse_ that marked that of France and Russia, yet possessed the
sterling merits of manly truthfulness and staunch fidelity. The words
quoted above were the words of Canning, but the spirit that animated
them was that of George III. His storm-tossed life was now verging
towards the dread bourne of insanity; but it was given to him to make
this stern yet half-pleading appeal to the Czar's better nature. And
who shall say that the example of constancy which the aged King
displayed amidst the gathering gloom of his public and private life
did not ultimately bear fruit in the later and grander phase of
Alexander's character and career?

Meanwhile Napoleon was bursting through the Spanish defence. The
patriots, puffed up with their first successes, had been indulging in
dreams of an invasion of France; and their provincial juntas
quarrelled over the sharing of the future spoils as over the
apportionment of English arms and money. Their awakening was terrible.
With less than 90,000 raw troops they were attacked by 250,000 men led
by the greatest warrior of the age. Everywhere they were routed, and
at a last fight at the pass over the Somosierra mountain, the
superiority of the French was strikingly shown. While the Spaniards
were pouring down grapeshot on the struggling masses of the
assailants, the Emperor resolved to hurl his light Polish horse uphill
at the death-dealing guns. Dashingly was the order obeyed. Some forty
or fifty riders bit the dust, but the rest swept on, sabred the
gunners, and decided the day. The Spaniards, amazed at these
unheard-of tactics, took to their heels, and nothing now stayed
Napoleon's entry into Madrid (December 4th). There he strove to
popularize Joseph's rule by offering several desirable reforms, such
as the abolition of feudal laws and of the Inquisition. It was of no
avail. The Spaniards would have none of them at his hands.

After a brief stay in Madrid, he turned to crush Sir John Moore. That
brave soldier, relying on the empty promises of the patriots, had
ventured into the heart of Leon with a British force of 26,000 men. If
he could not save Madrid, he could at least postpone a French conquest
of the south. In this he succeeded; his chivalrous daring drew on him
the chief strength of the invaders; and when hopelessly outnumbered he
beat a lion-like retreat to Corunna. There he turned and dealt the
French a blow that closed his own career with glory and gained time
for his men to embark in safety.

While the red-coats saw the snowy heights of Galicia fade into the
sky, Napoleon was spurring back to the Pyrenees. He had received news
that portended war with Austria; and, cherishing the strange belief
that Spain was conquered, he rushed back to Paris to confront the
Hapsburg Power. But Spain was not conquered. Scattered her armies were
in the open, and even brave Saragossa fell in glorious ruins under
Lannes' persistent attacks. But the patriots fiercely rallied in the
mountains, and Napoleon was to find out the truth of the Roman
historian's saying: "In no land does the character of the people and
the nature of the country help to repair disasters more readily than
in Spain."

There was another reason for Napoleon's sudden return. Rumours had
reached him as to the _rapprochement_ of those usually envious rivals,
Talleyrand and Fouché, who now walked arm in arm, held secret
conclaves, and seemed to have some understanding with Murat. Were they
plotting to bring this ambitious man and his still more ambitious and
vindictive consort from the despised throne at Naples to seize on
power at Paris while the Emperor was engulfed in the Spanish quagmire?
A story ran that Fouché had relays of horses ready between Naples and
Paris for this enterprise.[206] But where Fouché and Talleyrand are
concerned, truth lurks at the bottom of an unfathomable well.

All that we know for certain is that Napoleon flew back to Paris in a
towering rage, and that, after sharply rebuking Fouché, he subjected
the Prince of Benevento to a violent tirade: just as he (Talleyrand)
had first advised the death of the Duc d'Enghien and then turned that
event to his sovereign's discredit, so now, after counselling the
overthrow of the Spanish dynasty, he was making the same underhand use
of the miscarriage of that enterprise. The Grand Chamberlain stood as
if unmoved until the storm swept by, and then coldly remarked to the
astonished circle: "What a pity that so great a man has been so badly
brought up." Nevertheless, the insult rankled deep in his being, there
to be nursed for five years, and then in the fullness of time to dart
forth with a snake-like revenge. In 1814 and 1815 men saw that not the
least serious result of Napoleon's Spanish policy was the envenoming
of his relations with the two cleverest of living Frenchmen.


NOTE TO THE THIRD EDITION.--In the foregoing narrative, describing the
battle of the Somosierra, I followed the usually accepted account,
which assigns the victory solely to the credit of the Polish horsemen.
But Mr. Oman has shown ("History of the Peninsular War," vol. i., pp.
459-461) that their first charge failed, and that only when a brigade
of French infantry skirmished right up to the crest, did a second
effort of the Poles, supported by cavalry of the Guard, secure the
pass. Napier's description (vol. i., p. 267), based on the French
bulletin, is incorrect.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXX

NAPOLEON AND AUSTRIA


"Never maltreat an enemy by halves": such was the sage advice of
Prussia's warrior King Frederick the Great, who instinctively saw the
folly of half measures in dealing with a formidable foe. The only
statesmanlike alternatives were, to win his friendship by generous
treatment, or to crush him to the earth so that he could not rise to
deal another blow.

As we have seen, Napoleon deliberately took the perilous middle course
with the Hapsburgs after Austerlitz. He tore away from them their
faithful Tyrolese along with all their Swabian lands, and he half
crippled them in Italy by leaving them the line of the Adige instead
of the Mincio. Later on, he compelled Austria to join the Continental
System, to the detriment of her commerce and revenue; and his thinly
veiled threats at Erfurt nerved her to strike home as soon as she saw
him embarked on the Spanish enterprise. She had some grounds for
confidence. The blows showered on the Hapsburg States had served to
weld them more closely together; reforms effected in the
administration under the guidance of the able and high-spirited
minister, Stadion, promised to reinvigorate the whole Empire; and army
reforms, championed by the Archduke Charles, had shelved the petted
incapables of the Court and opened up undreamt-of vistas of hope even
to the common soldier. Moreover, it was certain that the Tyrolese
would revolt against the cast-iron Liberalism now imposed on them from
Munich, which interfered with their cherished customs and church
festivals.

Throughout Germany, too, there were widespread movements for casting
off the yoke of Napoleon. The benefits gained by the adoption of his
laws were already balanced by the deepening hardships entailed by the
Continental System; and the national German sentiment, which Napoleon
ever sought to root out, persistently clung to Berlin and Vienna. A
new thrill of resentment ran through Germany when Napoleon launched a
decree of proscription against Stein, who had resigned office on
November 24th. It was dated from Madrid (December 16th, 1808), and
ordered that "the man named Stein," for seeking to excite troubles in
Germany, should be held an enemy of France and the Confederation of
the Rhine, and suffer confiscation of his property and seizure of his
person, wherever he might be. The great statesman thereupon fled into
Austria, where all the hopes of German nationalists now centred.[207]

On April the 6th the Archduke Charles issued a proclamation in which
the new hopes of reformed Austria found eloquent expression: "The
freedom of Europe has sought refuge beneath your banners. Soldiers,
your victories will break her chains: your German brothers who are now
in the ranks of the enemy wait for their deliverance." These hopes
were premature. Austria was too late or too soon: she was too late to
overpower the Bavarians, or to catch the French forces leaderless, and
too soon to gain the full benefit from her recent army reforms and
from the diversion promised by England on the North Sea.[208] But our
limits of space render it impossible adequately to describe the course
of the struggle on the Danube or of the Tyrolese rising.

Napoleon, hurrying from Paris, found his forces spread out over a
front of sixty miles from Ratisbon to positions south of Augsburg, and
it needed all his skill to mass them before the Archduke's blows fell.
Thanks to Austrian slowness the danger was averted, and a difficult
retrograde movement was speedily changed into a triumphant offensive.
Five successive days saw as many French victories, the chief of which,
at Eckmühl (April 22nd), forced the Archduke with the Austrian right
wing northwards towards Ratisbon, which was stormed on the following
day, Charles now made for the Böhmer Wald, while his left wing on the
south of the Danube fell back towards the Inn. Pushing his advantage
to the utmost, the victor invaded Austria and forced Vienna to
surrender (May 13th).

At that city Napoleon issued (May 17th) a decree which reveals the
excess of his confidence. It struck down the temporal power of the
Pope, and annexed to the French Empire the part of the Papal States
which he had spared the year before. The form of the decree was as
remarkable as its substance. With an effrontery only equalled by its
historical falsity, it cited the example of "Charlemagne, my august
predecessor, Emperor of the French"; and, after exalting the Imperial
dignity, it proceeded to lower the Popes to the position of Bishops of
Rome. The subordination of the spiritual to the civil power was also
assured by the assigning of a yearly stipend of 2,000,000 francs to
the Pope.

When Pius VII. protested against the seizure of his States, and hurled
a bull of excommunication at the spoliator, Napoleon issued orders
which led to his arrest; and shortly after midsummer the unfortunate
pontiff was hurried away from Rome to Florence.

Meanwhile Napoleon had experienced an unlooked-for reverse. Though so
far cowed by his defeats in Bavaria as to send Napoleon a cringing
request for peace, to which the victor deigned no reply, the Archduke
Charles obstinately clung to the northern bank of the Danube opposite
the capital, and inflicted a severe defeat on the Emperor when the
latter sought to drive him from Aspern-Essling (May 21st-22nd). Had
the Austrian commander had that remorseless resolve which ever
prompted Napoleon to wrest from Fortune her utmost favours, the
white-coats might have driven their foes into the river; for at the
close of both of those days of carnage they had a clear advantage. A
French disaster was in fact averted only by the combined efforts of
Napoleon, Masséna, Lannes, and General Mouton; and even they were for
a time dismayed by the frightful losses, and by the news that the
bridges, over which alone they could retire, had been swept away by
trees and barges sent down the flooded stream. But, as at Eylau,
Napoleon's iron will imposed on his foes, and, under cover of
darkness, the French were withdrawn into the island of Lobau, after
losing some 25,000 men.[209]

Among them was that prince of vanguard leaders, Lannes. On hearing
that his old friend was mortally wounded, the Emperor hurried to him,
and tenderly embraced him. The interview, says Marbot, who was
supporting the Marshal's shoulders, was most affecting, both these
stern warriors displaying genuine emotion. And yet, it is reported
that, after Lannes was removed to Ebersdorf, his last words were those
of reproach to the Emperor for his ambition. At that time, however,
the patient was delirious, and the words, if really uttered, were
meaningless; but the inventor of the anecdote might plead that it was
consonant with the recent tenor of the Marshal's thoughts. Like all
thoughtful soldiers, who placed France before Napoleon, Lannes was
weary of these endless wars. After Jena his heart was not in the work;
and he wrote thus about Napoleon during the siege of Danzig: "I have
always been the victim of my attachment to him. He only loves you by
fits and starts, that is, when he has need of you." His presentiment
was true. He was a victim to a war that was the outcome solely of
Napoleon's Continental System, and not of the needs of France. He
passed away, leaving a brilliant military fame and a reputation for
soldierly republican frankness which was fast vanishing from the camps
and _salons_ of the Empire.[210]

As yet, however, Napoleon's genius and the martial ardour of his
soldiers sufficed to overbear the halting efforts of Austria and her
well-wishers. On retiring into Lobau Island he put forth to the utmost
his extraordinary powers of organization. Boats brought vast supplies
of stores and ammunition from Vienna, which the French still held. The
menacing front of Masséna and Davoust imposed on the enemy.
Reinforcements were hurried up from Bavaria. Tyrol was denuded of
Franco-Bavarian troops, so that the peasants, under the lead of the
brave innkeeper, Hofer, were able to organize a systematic defence.
And a French army which had finally beaten the Austrians in Venetia,
now began to drive them back into Hungary. In Poland the white-coats
were held in check, and the Franco-Russian compact deterred Frederick
William from making any move against France such as Prussian patriots
ardently counselled.

To have done so would have been madness, unless England sent powerful
aid on the side of Hanover; and that aid was not forthcoming. Yet the
patriotic ardour of the Germans led to two daring efforts against the
French. Schill, with a Prussian cavalry regiment, sought to seize
Magdeburg, and failing there moved north in hopes of British help. His
adventurous ride was ended by Napoleon's Dutch and North German
troops, who closed in on him at Stralsund, and, on May 31st, cut to
pieces his brave troop. Schill met a warrior's death: most of the
survivors were sent to the galleys in France. Undeterred by this
failure, the young Duke of Brunswick sought to rouse Saxony and
Westphalia by a dashing cavalry raid (June); but, beyond showing the
weakness of Jerome Bonaparte's rule and the general hatred of the
French, he effected little: with his 2,000 followers he was finally
saved by British cruisers (August). Had the British expedition, which
in the ensuing autumn rotted away on Walcheren, been landed at
Stralsund, or in Hanover during the spring, it is certain that Germany
would have risen in Napoleon's rear; and in that case, the doubtful
struggle which closed at Wagram might have ended very
differently.[211]

All hopes for European independence centred in Wellesley and the
Archduke Charles. Although there was no formal compact between England
and Austria, yet the Hapsburgs rested their hopes largely on the
diversions made by our troops. In the early part of the Peninsular
campaign of 1809, these hopes were brilliantly fulfilled. Wellesley
moved against Soult at Oporto, and, by a dextrous crossing of that
river in his rear, compelled him to beat a calamitous retreat on
Spain, with the loss of all his cannon and stores. The French reached
Lugo an armed rabble, and were greeted there with jeers and
execrations by the men of Ney's corps. The two Marshals themselves
took up the quarrel, and so fierce were the taunts of Ney that Soult
drew his sword and a duel was barely averted.[212] An appearance of
concord was restored during their operations in Galicia and Asturias:
but no opportunity was missed of secretly thwarting the hated rival;
and here, as all through the Peninsular War, the private jealousies of
the French leaders fatally compromised the success of their arms.
Wellesley, seeing that the operations in Galicia would never decide
the war, began to prepare a deadly blow at the centre of French
authority, Madrid.

While Wellesley thrust a thin wedge into the heart of Spain, the
Archduke Charles was overthrown on the banks of the Danube. After
drawing in reinforcements from France, the Rhenish Confederation, and
Eugène's army of Italy, the French Emperor disposed of 180,000
highly-trained troops, whom he massed in the Lobau Island, or on the
right shore of the Danube. Every preparation was made for deceiving
the Austrians as to the point of crossing and with complete success.
With great labour the defenders threw up intrenchments facing the
north side of the island. But, on a thick stormy night (July 4th), six
bridges of boats were quickly swung across the stream lower down, that
is, on the east side of Lobau, while a furious cannonade on the north
side misled their foes. The crossing was effected without loss by
Oudinot and Masséna; and sunrise saw the whole French army advancing
rapidly northwards, thereby outflanking the Austrian earthworks, which
were now evacuated.

Charles was outmanoeuvred and outnumbered. His brother, the Archduke
John, was at Pressburg with 20,000 men, watched hitherto by Davoust.
But the French Marshal cleverly withdrew his corps, leaving only
enough men to impose on that unenterprising leader. Other Austrian
detachments were also far away at the critical time, and thus Napoleon
had a superiority of force of about 50,000 men. Nevertheless, the
defence at Wagram was most obstinate (July 6th). Holding his own on
the hills behind the Russbach, the Archduke swung forward his right in
such strength as to drive back Masséna on Aspern; but his weakened
centre was now pushed back and endangered by the persistent vigour of
Macdonald's onset. This success at the centre gave time for Davoust to
wrest Neusiedel from the white-coats, a movement which would have been
stopped or crushed, had the Archduke John obeyed his brother's orders
and marched from the side of Pressburg on Napoleon's unguarded right
flank. Finally, after an obstinate stand, the Austrians fell back in
good order, effectively covering their retreat by a murderous
artillery fire. A total loss of some 50,000 men, apportioned nearly
equally on either side, was the chief result of this terrible day. It
was not remarkable for brilliant tactics; and, as at Aspern, the
Austrians fully equalled their foes in courage.

[Illustration: WAGRAM]

Such was the battle of Wagram, one of the greatest of all time, if the
number of combatants be counted, but one of the least decisive in its
strictly military results. If we may compare Austerlitz with Blenheim,
Wagram may with equal fitness be matched with the vast slaughter of
Malplaquet exactly a century before. The French now felt the hardening
of the national defence of Austria and the falling off in their own
fighting powers. Marmont tells how, at the close of the day, the
approach of the Archduke John's scouts struck panic into the
conquerors, so that for a time the plain on the east was covered with
runaway conscripts and disconcerted plunderers. The incident proved
the deterioration of the Grand Army from the times of Ulm and Jena.
Raw conscripts raised before their time and hurriedly drafted into the
line had impaired its steadiness, and men noted as another ominous
fact that few unwounded prisoners were taken from the Austrians, and
only nine guns and one colour. In fact, the only reputation enhanced
was that of Macdonald, who for his great services at the centre
enjoyed the unique honour of receiving a Marshal's bâton from Napoleon
on the field of battle.

Had the Archduke Charles been made of the same stuff as Wellington,
the campaign might still have been retrieved. But softness and
irresolution were the characteristics of Austria's generals no less
than of her rulers.[213] The Hapsburg armies were still led with the
old leisurely _insouciance_; and their counsels swayed to and fro
under the wavering impulses of a seemingly decrepit dynasty. Francis
had many good qualities: he was a good husband and father, and his
kindly manners endeared him to the Viennese even in the midst of
defeat. But he was capricious and shortsighted; anything outside of
the well-worn ruts of routine vexed and alarmed him; and it is a
supreme proof of the greatness and courage of his reforming Minister,
Stadion, that his innovations should have been tolerated for so long.
Now that disasters were shaking his throne he began to suspect the
reformer; and Stadion confessed to the publicist, Gentz, that it was
impossible to reckon on the Emperor for a quarter of an hour together,
unless one stayed by him all the twenty-four hours.--"After a great
defeat, he will take himself off at once and will calmly commend us to
God."--This was what now happened. Another failure at Znaim so daunted
the Archduke that he sued for an armistice (July 12th). For this there
was some excuse. The latest news both from Spain and Prussia inspired
the hope that, if time were gained, important diversions might be made
in both quarters.

As we have seen, Sir Arthur Wellesley opened the campaign with a
brilliant success, and then prepared to strike at the heart of the
French power. The memorable campaign of Talavera was the result.
Relying on promises of aid from the Spanish Junta and from their
cross-grained commander, Cuesta, he led a small British force up the
valley of the Tagus to seize Madrid, while the chief French armies
were engaged in distant provinces. In one sense he achieved his aim.
He compelled the enemy to loose their hold on those provinces and
concentrate to save the capital. And before they fully effected their
concentration, he gave battle to King Joseph and Marshals Jourdan and
Victor at Talavera (July 28th). Skilfully posting the Spaniards behind
intrenchments and in gardens where their raw levies could fight with
every advantage, he extended his thin red lines--he had only 17,000
British troops--along a ridge stretching up to a plateau that
dominated the broken ground north of the town. On that hill Wellesley
planted his left: and all the efforts of Victor to turn that wing or
to break it by charges across the intervening ravine were bloodily
beaten off.

The fierce heat served but to kindle French and British to greater
fury. Finally, the dashing charge of our 23rd dragoons and the
irresistible advance of the 48th regiment of foot overthrew the
enemy's centre; and as the day waned, the 30,000 French retired, with
a loss of 17 cannon and of 7,000 men in killed, wounded, and
prisoners. Had the other Spanish armies now offered the support which
Wellesley expected, he would doubtless have seized Madrid. He had
written three days before Talavera: "With or without a battle we shall
be at Madrid soon." But his allies now failed him utterly: they did
not hold the mountain passes which confronted Soult in his march from
Salamanca into the valley of the Tagus; and they left the British
forces half starving.--"We are here worse off than in a hostile
country," wrote our commander; "never was an army so ill used: we had
no assistance from the Spanish army: we were obliged to unload our
ammunition and our treasure in order to employ the cars in the removal
of our sick and wounded." Meanwhile Soult, with 50,000 men, was
threading his way easily through the mountains and threatened to cut
us off from Portugal: but by a rapid retreat Wellesley saved his army,
vowing that he would never again trust Spanish offers of help.[214]

Far more dispiriting was the news that reached the Austrian
negotiators from the North Sea. There the British Government succeeded
in eclipsing all its former achievements in forewarning foes and
disgusting its friends. Very early in the year, the men of Downing
Street knew that Austria was preparing to fight Napoleon and built her
hopes of success, partly on the Peninsular War, partly on a British
descent in Hanover, where everything was ripe for revolution.
Unfortunately, we were still, formally, at war with her: and the
conclusion of the treaty of peace was so long delayed at Vienna that
July was almost gone before the Austrian ratification reached London,
and our armada set sail from Dover.[215] The result is well known.
Official favouritism handed over the command of 40,000 troops to the
Earl of Chatham, who wasted precious days in battering down the walls
of Flushing when he should have struck straight at the goal now aimed
at, Antwerp. That fortress was therefore ready to beat him off; and he
finally withdrew his army into the Isle of Walcheren, into whose
fever-laden swamps Napoleon had refused to send a single French
soldier. A tottering remnant was all that survived by the close of the
year: and the climax of our national disgrace was reached when a
court-martial acquitted the commanders. Napoleon would have had them
shot.

Helpless as the old monarchies were to cope with Napoleon, a wild
longing for vengeance was beginning to throb among the peoples. It
showed itself in a remarkable attempt on his life during a review at
Schönbrunn. A delicate youth named Staps, son of a Thuringian pastor,
made his way to the palace, armed with a long knife, intending to stab
him while he read a petition (October 12th). Berthier and Rapp, noting
the lad's importunity, had him searched and brought before Napoleon.
"What did you mean to do with that knife?" asked the Emperor. "Kill
you," was the reply. "You are an idiot or an Illuminat." "I am not an
idiot and do not know what an Illuminat is." "Then you are diseased."
"No, I am quite well." "Why do you wish to kill me?" "Because you are
the curse of my Fatherland." "You are a fanatic; I will forgive you
and spare your life." "I want no forgiveness." "Would you thank me if
I pardoned you?" "I would seek to kill you again." The quiet firmness
with which Staps gave these replies and then went to his doom made a
deep impression on Napoleon; and he sought to hurry on the conclusion
of peace with these odd Germans whom he could conquer but not
convince.

The Emperor Francis was now resigned to his fate, but he refused to
hear of giving up his remaining sea-coast in Istria. On this point
Metternich strove hard to bend Napoleon's will, but received as a
final answer: "Then war is unavoidable."[216] In fact, the victor knew
that Austria was in his power. The Archduke Charles had thrown up his
command, the soldiery were depressed, and a great part of the Empire
was in the hands of the French. England's efforts had failed; and of
all the isolated patriotic movements in Germany only that of the
Tyrolese mountaineers still struggled on. Napoleon could therefore
dictate his own terms in the Treaty of Schönbrunn (October 14th),
which he announced as complete, when as yet Francis had not signed
it.[217] Austria thereby recognized Joseph as King of Spain, and ceded
Salzburg and the Inn-viertel to Napoleon, to be transferred by him to
Bavaria. To the French Empire she yielded up parts of Austrian Friuli
and Carinthia, besides Carniola, the city and district of Trieste, and
portions of Croatia and Dalmatia to the south of the River Save. Her
spoils of the old Polish lands now went to aggrandize the Duchy of
Warsaw, a small strip of Austrian Gallicia also going to Russia.
Besides losing 3,500,000 subjects, Austria was mulcted in an indemnity
of £3,400,000, and again bound herself to exclude all British
products. By a secret clause she agreed to limit her army to 150,000
men.

Perhaps the severest loss was the abandonment of the faithful
Tyrolese. After Aspern, the Emperor Francis promised that he would
never lay down his arms until they were re-united with his Empire.
This promise now went the way of the many fond hopes of reform and
championship of German nationality which her ablest men had lately
cherished, and the Empire settled down in torpor and bankruptcy. In
dumb wrath and despair Austrian patriots looked on, while the Tyrolese
were beaten down by French, Bavarian, and Italian forces. Hofer
finally took to the hills, was betrayed by a friend, and was taken to
Mantua. Some of the officers who there tried him desired to spare his
life, but a special despatch of Napoleon[218] ordered his execution,
and the brave mountaineer fell, with the words on his lips: "Long live
the Emperor Francis." Tyrol, meanwhile, was parcelled out between
Bavaria, Illyria, and the Kingdom of Italy; but bullets and partitions
were of no avail against the staunch patriotism of her people, and the
Tyrolese campaign boded ill for Napoleon if monarchs, generals, and
statesmen should ever be inspired by the sturdy faith and hardihood of
that noble peasantry.

As yet, however, prudence and timidity reigned supreme. Though the
Czar uttered some snappish words at the threatening increase to the
Duchy of Warsaw, he still posed as Napoleon's ally. The Swedes, weary
of their hopeless strifes with France, Russia, and Denmark, deposed
the still bellicose Gustavus IV.; and his successor, Charles XIII.,
made peace with those Powers, retaining Swedish Pomerania, but only at
the cost of submitting to the Continental System. Prussia seemed, to
official eyes, utterly cowed. The Hapsburgs, having failed in their
bold championship of the cause of reform and of German nationality,
now fell back into a policy marked by timid opportunism and decorously
dull routine.

The change was marked by the retirement of Stadion, a man whose
enterprising character, no less than his enthusiasm for reform, ill
fitted him for the time of compromise and subservience now at hand. He
it was who had urged Austria forward in the paths of progress and had
sought safety in the people: he was the Stein of Austria. But now, on
the eve of peace, he earnestly begged to be allowed to resign the
Ministry of Foreign Affairs; and the Emperor Francis thereupon
summoned to that seemingly thankless office a young diplomatist, who
was destined to play a foremost part in the mighty drama of Napoleon's
overthrow, and thereafter to wield by his astute policy almost as
great an influence in Central and Southern Europe as the autocrat
himself.

Metternich was born at Coblentz in 1773, and was therefore four years
the junior of Napoleon. He came of an old family of the Rhineland, and
his father's position in the service of the old Empire secured him
early entrance into the diplomatic circle. After acting as secretary
to the Imperial delegates at the Congress of Rastatt, he occupied the
post of Austrian ambassador successively at the Courts of Dresden and
Berlin; and in 1806 he was suddenly called to take up the embassy in
Paris. There he displayed charms of courtly tact, and lively and
eloquent conversation, which won Napoleon's admiration and esteem. He
was looked on as a Gallophil; and, like Bismarck at a later crisis, he
used his social gifts and powers of cajolery so as to gain a correct
estimate of the characters of his future opponents.

Yet, besides these faculties of finesse and intrigue--and the Miltonic
Belial never told lies with more winsome grace--Metternich showed at
times a manly composure and firmness, even when Napoleon unmasked a
searching fire of diplomatic questions and taunts. Of this he had
given proof shortly before the outbreak of the late war, and his
conduct had earned the thanks of the other ambassadors for giving the
French Emperor a lesson in manners, while the autocrat liked him none
the less, but rather the more, for standing up to him. But now, after
the war, all was changed; craft was more serviceable than fortitude;
and the gay Rhinelander brought to the irksome task of subservience to
the conqueror a courtly _insouciance_ under which he nursed the hope
of ultimate revenge.--"From the day when peace is signed," he wrote to
the Emperor Francis on August 10th, 1809, "we must confine our system
to tacking and turning, and flattering. Thus alone may we possibly
preserve our existence, till the day of general deliverance."[219]
This was to be the general drift of Austrian policy for the next four
years; and it may be granted that only by bending before the blast
could that sore-stricken monarchy be saved from destruction. An
opportunity soon occurred of carrying the new system into effect.
Metternich offered the conqueror an Austrian Archduchess as a bride.

After the humiliation of the Hapsburgs and of the Spanish patriots,
nothing seemed wanting to Napoleon's triumph but an heir who should
found a durable dynasty. This aim was now to be reached. As soon as
the Emperor returned to Paris, his behaviour towards Josephine showed
a marked reserve. The passage communicating between their private
apartments was closed, and the gleams of triumphant jealousy that
flashed from her sisters-in-law warned Josephine of her approaching
doom. The divorce so long bruited by news-mongers was at hand. The
Emperor broke the tidings to his consort in the private drawing-room
of the Tuileries on November 30th, and strove to tone down the
harshness of his decision by basing it on the imperative needs of the
State. But she spurned the dictates of statecraft. With all her
faults, she was affectionate and tender; she was a woman first and an
Empress afterwards; she now clung to Napoleon, not merely for the
splendour of the destiny which he had opened to her, but also from
genuine love.

Their relations had curiously changed. At the outset she had slighted
his mad devotion by her shallow coldness and occasional infidelities,
until his lava-like passion petrified. Thenceforth it was for her to
woo, and woo in vain. For years past she had to bemoan the waning of
his affection and his many conjugal sins. And now the chasm, which she
thought to have spanned by the religious ceremony on the eve of the
coronation, yawned at her feet. The woman and the Empress in her
shrank back from the black void of the future; and with piteous
reproaches she flung back the orders of the Emperor and the soothings
of the husband. Napoleon, it would seem, had nerved himself against
such an outbreak. In vain did Josephine sink down at his feet with
heart-rending cries that she would never survive the disgrace: failing
to calm her himself, he opened the door and summoned the prefect of
the palace, Bausset, and bade him bear her away to her private
apartments. Down the narrow stairs she was borne, the Emperor lifting
her feet and Bausset supporting her shoulders, until, half fainting,
she was left to the sympathies of her women and the attentions of
Corvisart. But hers was a wound that no sympathy or skill could
cure.[220]

On his side, Napoleon felt the wrench. Not only the ghost of his early
love, but his dislike of new associates and novel ways cried out
against the change. "In separating myself from my wife," Napoleon once
said to Talleyrand, "I renounce much. I should have to study the
tastes and habits of a young woman. Josephine accommodates herself to
everything: she understands me perfectly."[221] But his boundless
triumphs, his alliance with the Czar and total overthrow of the
Bourbons and the Pope, had fed the fires of his ambition. He aspired
to give the _mot d'ordre_ to the universe; and he scrupled not to put
aside a consort who could not help him to found a dynasty. Yet it was
not without pangs of sorrow and remorse. His laboured, panting breath
and almost gasping words left on Bausset the impression that he was
genuinely affected; and, consummate actor though he was, we may well
believe that he felt the parting from his early associations.
Underneath his generally cold exterior he hid a nervous nature,
dominated by an inflexible will, but which now and again broke through
all restraint, bathing the beloved object with sudden tenderness or
blasting a foe with fiery passion. And it would seem that Josephine's
pangs had power to reawaken the feelings of his more generous youth.
The ceremony of divorce took place on December 15th Josephine
declaring with agonized pride that she gave her assent for the welfare
of France.

Already the new marriage negotiations had begun. They are unique even
amidst the frigid annals of royal betrothals. The French ambassador,
Caulaincourt, was charged to make definite overtures at St. Petersburg
for the hand of the Czar's younger sister; the conditions could easily
be arranged; religion need be no difficulty; but time was pressing;
the Emperor had need of an heir; "we are counting the minutes here,"
ran the despatch; and an answer was expected from St. Petersburg after
an interval of _two days_.[222] The request caused Alexander the
greatest perplexity. He parried it with the reply, correct enough in
form as in fact, that the disposal of his sister rested with the
Dowager Empress. But her hostility to Napoleon was well known. After
the half overtures of Erfurt she had at once betrothed her elder
daughter to the Duke of Oldenburg. No similar escape was now possible
for the younger one: but, after leaving Napoleon's request unanswered
until February 4th, the reply was then despatched that the tender age
of the princess, she being only twenty years old, formed an
insuperable obstacle.

Some such answer had long been expected at Paris. Metternich asserts
in his "Memoirs" that Napoleon had caused Laborde, one of his
diplomatic agents at Vienna, tentatively to sound that Court as to his
betrothal with the Archduchess Marie Louise. But the French archives
show that the first hint came from Metternich, who saw in it a means
of weakening the Franco-Russian alliance and saving Austria from
further disasters.[223] A little later the Countess Metternich was at
Paris; and great was her surprise when, on January 2nd, 1810,
Josephine informed her that she favoured a marriage between Napoleon
and Marie Louise. "I spoke to him of it yesterday," she said; "his
choice is not yet fixed; but he thinks that this would be his choice
if he were sure of its being accepted." Thereafter the Countess
received the most flattering attentions at Court, a proof that the
Hapsburg match was now favoured, even though the coyness of the Czar
was as yet unknown.

At the close of January a Privy Council was held at the Tuileries to
decide on the imperial bride. The votes were nearly equal: four voted
for Austria, four for Saxony, and three for Russia. After listening
quietly to the arguments, Napoleon summed up the discussion by
pronouncing firmly and warmly in favour of Austria. The marriage
contract was therefore drawn up on February 7th; and Berthier was
despatched to Vienna to claim the hand of Marie Louise. He entered
that city over the ruins of the old ramparts, which were now being
dismantled in accordance with the French demands.

The marriage took place at Vienna by proxy; the bride was conducted to
Paris; and the final ceremony took place at Notre Dame on April 2nd,
but not until the union had been consummated. Such were Napoleon's
second wooing and wedding. Nevertheless, he showed himself an
attentive and even indulgent spouse, and he remarked at St. Helena
that if Josephine was all grace and charm, Marie Louise was innocence
and nature herself.

The Austrian marriage was an event of the first importance. It gained
a few years' respite for the despairing Hapsburgs, and gave tardy
satisfaction to Talleyrand's statesmanlike scheme of a Franco-Austrian
alliance which should be in the best sense conservative. Had Napoleon
taken this step after Austerlitz in the way that his counsellor
advised, possibly Europe might have reached a condition of stable
equilibrium, always provided that he gave up his favourite scheme of
partitioning Turkey. But that was not to be; and when Austria finally
yielded up Marie Louise as an unpicturesque Iphigenia on the marriage
altar, she did so only as a desperate device for appeasing an
inexorable destiny. And, strange to say, she succeeded. For Alexander
took offence at the marriage negotiations; and thus was opened a
breach in the Franco-Russian alliance which other events were rapidly
to widen, until Western and Central Europe hurled themselves against
the East, and reached Moscow.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXXI

THE EMPIRE AT ITS HEIGHT


Napoleon's star had now risen to its zenith. After his marriage with a
daughter of the most ancient of continental dynasties, nothing seemed
lacking to his splendour. He had humbled Pope and Emperor alike:
Germany crouched at his feet: France, Italy, and the Confederation of
the Rhine gratefully acknowledged the benefits of his vigorous sway:
the Czar was still following the lead given at Erfurt: Sweden had
succumbed to the pressure of the two Emperors: and Turkey survived
only because it did not yet suit Napoleon to shear her asunder: he
must first complete the commercial ruin of England and drive
Wellington into the sea. Then events would at last be ripe for the
oriental schemes which the Spanish Rising had postponed.

He might well hope that England's strength was running out: near the
close of 1810 the three per cent. consols sank to sixty-five, and the
declared bankruptcies averaged 250 a month. The failure of the
Walcheren expedition had led to terrible loss of men and treasure, and
had clouded over the reputation of her leaders. After mutual
recriminations Canning and Castlereagh resigned office and fought a
duel. Shortly afterwards the Premier, the Duke of Portland, fell ill
and resigned: his place was taken by Mr. Perceval, a man whose sole
recommendation for the post was his conscientious Toryism and powers
of dull plodding. Ruled by an ill-assorted Ministry and a King whose
reason was now hopelessly overclouded, weakened by the strangling grip
of the Continental System, England seemed on the verge of ruin; and,
encouraged alike by the factious conduct of our parliamentary
Opposition and by Soult's recent conquest of Andalusia, Napoleon bent
himself to the final grapple by extending his coast system, and by
sending Masséna and his choicest troops into Spain to drive the
leopards into the sea.

The limits of our space prevent any description of the ensuing
campaign of Torres Vedras; and we must refer our readers to the ample
canvas of Napier if they would realize the sagacity of Wellington in
constructing to the north of Lisbon that mighty _tête de pont_ for the
Sea Power against Masséna's veteran army. After dealing the staggering
blow of Busaco at that presumptuous Marshal, our great leader fell
back, through a tract which he swept bare of supplies, on this sure
bulwark, and there watched the French host of some 65,000 men waste
away amidst the miseries of hunger and the rains and diseases of
autumn. At length, in November, Masséna drew off to positions near
Santarem, where he awaited the succour which Napoleon ordered Soult to
bring. It was in vain: Soult, puffed up by his triumphs in Andalusia,
was resolved to play his own game and reduce Badajoz; he won his point
but marred the campaign; and, at last, foiled by Wellington's skilful
tactics, Masséna beat a retreat northwards out of Portugal after
losing some 35,000 men (March, 1811). Wellington's success bore an
immeasurable harvest of results. The unmanly whinings of the English
Opposition were stilled; the replies of the Czar to Napoleon's demands
grew firmer; and the patriots of the Peninsula stiffened their backs
in a resistance so stubborn, albeit unskilful, that 370,000 French
troops utterly failed to keep Wellington in check, and to stamp out
the national defence in the summer of 1811.

In truth, Napoleon had exasperated the Spaniards no less than their
_soi disant_ king, by a series of provocations extending over the year
1810. On the plea that Spain must herself meet the expenses of the
war, he erected the four northern provinces into commands for French
generals, who were independent of his brother's authority and levied
all the taxes over that vast area (February). On May 29th he withdrew
Burgos and Valladolid from Joseph's control, and divided the greater
part of Spain for military and administrative purposes into districts
that were French satrapies in all but name. The decree was doubly
disastrous: it gave free play to the feuds of the French chiefs; and
it seemed to the Spaniards to foreshadow a speedy partition of Spain.
The surmise was correct. Napoleon intended to unite to France the
lands between the Pyrenees and the Ebro. Indeed, in his conception,
the conquest of Portugal was mainly desirable because it would provide
his brother with an indemnity in the west for the loss of his northern
provinces. Joseph's protests against such a partition of the land,
which Napoleon had sworn at Bayonne to keep intact, were disregarded;
but letters on this subject fell into the hands of the Spanish
guerillas and were published by order of the Regency at Cadiz.
Despised by the Spaniards, flouted by Napoleon, set at defiance by the
French satraps, and reduced wellnigh to bankruptcy, the puppet King
felt his position insupportable, and, hurrying to Paris, tendered his
resignation of the crown (May, 1811). In his anxiety to huddle up the
scandal, Napoleon appeased his brother, promised him one-fourth of the
taxes levied by the French commanders, and coaxed or drove him to
resume his thankless task at Madrid. But the doggedness of the
Emperor's resolve may be measured by the fact that, even when on the
brink of war with Russia, he defied Spanish national sentiment by
annexing Catalonia to France (March, 1812).

It seems strange that Napoleon did not himself proceed to Spain in
order to direct the operations in person and thus still the jealousies
of the Marshals which so hampered his armies. Wellington certainly
feared his coming. At a later date he told Earl Stanhope that Napoleon
was vastly superior to any of his Marshals: "There was nothing like
him. He suited a French army so exactly.... His presence on the field
made a difference of 40,000 men."[224] That estimate is certainly
modest if one looks not merely at tactics but at the strategy of the
whole Peninsular War. But the Emperor did not again come into Spain.
At the outset of 1810 he prepared to do so; but, as soon as the
Austrian marriage was arranged, he abandoned this salutary project.

There were thenceforth several reasons why he should remain in or near
Paris. His attentions to his young wife, and his desire to increase
the splendour of the Court, counted for much. Yet more important was
it to curb the clericals (now incensed at the imprisonment of the
Pope), and sharply to watch the intrigues of the royalists and other
malcontents. Public opinion, also, still needed to be educated; the
constant drain of men for the wars and the increase in the price of
necessaries led to grumblings in the Press, which claimed the presence
of his Argus eye and the adoption of a very stringent censorship.[225]
But, above all, there was the commercial war with England. This could
be directed best from Paris, where he could speedily hear of British
endeavours to force goods into Germany, Holland, or Italy, and of any
change in our maritime code.

Important as was the war in Spain, it was only one phase of his
world-wide struggle with the mistress of the seas; and he judged that
if she bled to death under his Continental System, the Peninsular War
must subside into a guerilla strife, Spain thereafter figuring merely
as a greater Vendée. Accordingly, the year 1810 sees the climax of his
great commercial experiment.

The first land to be sacrificed to this venture was Holland. For many
months the Emperor had been discontented with his brother Louis, who
had taken into his head the strange notion that he reigned there by
divine right. As Napoleon pathetically said at St. Helena, when
reviewing the conduct of his brothers, "If I made one a king, he
imagined that he was _King by the grace of God_. He was no longer my
lieutenant: he was one enemy more for me to watch." A singular fate
for this king-maker, that he should be forgotten and the holy oil
alone remembered! Yet Louis probably used that mediæval notion as a
shield against his brother's dictation. The tough Bonaparte nature
brooked not the idea of mere lieutenancy. He declined to obey orders
from the brother whom he secretly detested. He flatly refused to be
transferred from the Hague to Madrid, or to put in force the
burdensome decrees of the Continental System.

On his side, Napoleon upbraided him with governing too softly, and
with seeking popularity where he should seek control. After the
Walcheren expedition, he chid him severely for allowing the English
fleet ever to show its face in the Scheldt; for "the fleets of that
Power ought to find nothing but rocks of iron" in that river, "which
was as important to France as the Thames to England."[226] But the
head and front of his offending was that British goods still found
their way into Holland. In vain did the Emperor forbid that American
ships which had touched at English ports should be debarred from those
of Holland. In vain did he threaten to close the Scheldt and Rhine to
Dutch barges. Louis held on his way, with kindly patience towards his
merchants, and with a Bonapartist obstinacy proof against fraternal
advice or threats. At last, early in 1810, Napoleon sent troops to
occupy Walcheren and neighbouring Dutch lands. It seemed for a time as
though this was but a device to extort favourable terms of peace from
England in return for an offer that France would not annex Holland.
Negotiations to this effect were set on foot through the medium of
Ouvrard and Labouchere, son-in-law of the banker Baring: Fouché also,
without the knowledge of his master, ventured to put forth a
diplomatic feeler as to a possible Anglo-French alliance against the
United States, an action for which he was soon very properly
disgraced.[227]

The negotiation failed, as it deserved to do. Our objections were, not
merely to the absurd proposal that we should give up our maritime code
if Napoleon would abstain from annexing Holland and the Hanseatic
towns, but still more against the man himself and his whole policy. We
had every reason to distrust the good faith of the man who had
betrayed the Turks at Tilsit, Portugal at Fontainebleau, and the
Spaniards at Bayonne. To pause in the strife, to relax our hold on our
new colonies, and to desert the Spaniards, in order to preserve the
merely titular independence of Holland and the Hanse Towns, would have
been an act of singular simplicity. Nor does Napoleon seem to have
expected it. He wrote to his Foreign Minister, Champagny, on March
20th, 1810: "From not having made peace sooner, England has lost
Naples, Spain, Portugal, and the market of Trieste. If she delays much
longer, she will lose Holland, the Hanse Towns, and Sicily." And
surely this Sibylline conduct of his required that he should annex
these lands and all Europe in order to exact a suitable price from the
exhausted islanders. Such was the corollary of the Continental System.

Meanwhile Louis, nettled by the inquisitions of the French
_douaniers_, and by the order of his brother to seize all American
ships in Dutch ports, was drawing on himself further reproaches and
threats: "Louis, you are incorrigible ... you do not want to reign for
any length of time. States are governed by reason and policy, and not
by acrimony and weakness." Twenty thousand French troops were
approaching Amsterdam to bring him to reason, when the young ruler
decided to be rid of this royal mummery. On the night of July 1st he
fled from Haarlem, and travelled swiftly and secretly eastwards until
he reached Teplitz, in Bohemia. The ignominy of this flight rested on
the brother who had made kingship a mockery. The refugee left behind
him the reputation of a man who, lovable by nature but soured by
domestic discords, sought to shield his subjects from the ruin into
which the rigid application of the Continental System was certain to
plunge them. That fate now befell the unhappy little land. On July 9th
it was annexed to the French Empire, and all the commercial decrees
were carried out as rigidly at Rotterdam as at Havre.

At the close of the year, Napoleon's coast system was extended to the
borders of Holstein by the annexation of Oldenburg, the northern parts
of Berg, Westphalia, and Hanover, along with Lauenburg and the Hanse
Towns, Bremen, Hamburg, and Lübeck. The little Swiss Republic of
Valais was also absorbed in the Empire.

This change in North Germany, which carried the French flag to the
shores of the Baltic, was his final expedient for assuring England's
commercial ruin. As far back as February, 1798, he had recommended the
extension of French influence over the Hanse Towns as a means of
reducing his most redoubtable foe to surrender, and now there were two
special reasons for this annexation. First, the ships of Oldenburg had
been largely used for conveying British produce into North
Germany;[228] and secondly, the French commercial code was so rigorous
that no officials with even the semblance of independence could be
trusted with its execution. On August 5th a decree had been
promulgated at the Trianon, near Versailles, which imposed enormous
duties on every important colonial product. Cotton--especially that
from America--sugar, tea, coffee, cocoa, and other articles were
subjected to dues, generally of half their value and irrespective of
their place of production.

[Illustration: CENTRAL EUROPE AFTER 1810]

Traders were ordered to declare their possession of all colonial wares
and to pay the duty, under pain of confiscation. Depôts of such goods
within four days' distance from the frontiers of the Empire were held
to be clandestine; and troops were sent forthwith into Germany,
Switzerland, and Spain to seize such stores, a proceeding which
aroused the men of Stuttgart, Frankfurt, and Berne to almost open
resistance. It is difficult to see the reason for this decree, except
on the supposition that the Continental System did not stop British
imports, and that all tropical products were British.

Napoleon's own correspondence shows that he believed this to be so. At
that same time he issued orders that all colonial produce found at
Stettin should be confiscated because it was evidently English
property brought on American ships. He further recommended Murat and
Eugène to press hard on such wares in order to replenish their
exchequers and raise funds for restoring their commerce. Eugène must,
however, be careful to tax American and colonial cotton most heavily,
while letting in that of the Levant on favourable terms.

Jerome, too, was bidden rigorously to enforce the Trianon tariff in
Westphalia; and the hint was to be passed on to Prussia and the
Rhenish Confederation that, by subjecting colonial goods to these
enormous imposts, those States would gain several millions of francs
"and the loss would fall partly on English commerce and partly on the
smugglers."[229] In fact, all his acts and words at this time reveal
the densest ignorance, not only of political economy, but of the
elementary facts of commerce, as when he imagined that officials, who
were sufficiently hard worked with watching a nimble host of some
100,000 smugglers along an immense frontier, would also be able to
distinguish between Syrian and American cottons, and to exact 800
francs from 100 kilogrammes of the latter, as against 400 francs from
the former, or that six times as much could ever be levied on Chinese
teas as on other teas! Such a tariff called for a highly drilled army
of those sufficiently rare individuals, honest _douaniers_, endowed
also with Napoleonic activity and omniscience. But, as Chaptal
remarked, the Emperor had never thought much about the needs of
commerce, and he despised merchants as persons who had "neither a
faith nor a country, whose sole object was gain." His own notion about
commerce was that he could "make it manoeuvre like a regiment"; and
this military conception of trade led him to entertain the fond hope
that exchequers benefited by confiscation and prohibitive tariffs,
that a "national commerce" could be speedily built up by cutting off
imports, and that the burden of loss in the present commercial war
fell on England and not on the continental consumer.

Such was the penalty which the great man paid for scorning all new
knowledge as _idéalogie_. The principles set forth by Quesnay, Turgot,
and Adam Smith were to him mere sophistical juggling. He once said to
Mollien: "I seek the good that is practical, not the ideal best: the
world is very old: we must profit by its experience: it teaches that
old practices are worth more than new theories: you are not the only
one who knows trade secrets."[230] This was his general attitude
towards the exponents of new financial or commercial views. Indeed, we
can hardly think of this great champion of external control and state
intervention favouring the open-handed methods of _laisser faire_.
Unhappy France, that gave this motto to the world but let her greatest
ruler emphasize her recent reaction towards commercial mediævalism!
Luckless Emperor, who aspired to found the United States of Europe,
but outraged the principle which most surely and lastingly works for
international harmony, that of Free Trade!

While the Trianon tariff sought to hinder the import of England's
colonial products, or, failing that, to reap a golden harvest from
them, Napoleon further endeavoured to terrify continental dealers from
accepting any of her manufactures. His Fontainebleau decree of October
18th, 1810, ordered that all such goods should be seized and publicly
burnt; and five weeks later special tribunals were instituted for
enforcing these ukases and for trying all persons, whether smugglers
caught red-handed or shopkeepers who inadvertently offered for sale
the cottons of Lancashire or the silks of Bengal.

The canon was now complete. It only remained to convert the world to
the new gospel of pacific war. The results were soon clearly visible
in a sudden rise of prices throughout France, Germany, and Italy. Raw
cotton now fetched 10 to 11 francs, sugar 6 to 7 francs, coffee 8
francs, and indigo 21 francs, per pound, or on the average about ten
times the prices then ruling at London.[231] The reason for this
advantage to the English consumer and manufacturer is clear. England
swayed the tropics and held the seas; and, having a monopoly of
colonial produce, she could import it easily and abundantly, while the
continental purchaser had ultimately to pay for the risks incurred by
his shopkeeper, by British merchants, and by their smugglers, who "ran
in" from Heligoland, Jersey, or Sicily. These classes vied in their
efforts to prick holes in the continental decrees. Bargees and women,
dogs and hearses, were pressed into service against Napoleon. The
last-named device was for a time tried with much success near Hamburg,
until the French authorities, wondering at the strange increase of
funerals in a river-side suburb, peered into the hearses, and found
them stuffed full with bales of British merchandise. This gruesome
plan failing, others were tried. Large quantities of sand were brought
from the seashore, until, unfortunately for the housewives, some
inquisitive official found that it hailed from the West Indies.

Or again, devious routes were resorted to. Sugar was smuggled from
London into Germany by way of Salonica, that being now almost the only
neutral port open to British commerce. Thence it was borne in panniers
on the backs of mules over the Balkans to Belgrade, where it was
transferred to barges and carried up the Danube. Another illicit trade
route was from the desolate shores of Dalmatia through Hungary. The
writer of a pamphlet, "England, Ireland, and America," states that his
firm then employed 500 horses on and near that coast in carrying
British goods into Central Europe, and that the cost of getting them
into France was "about £28 per cwt., or more than fifty times the
present freight to Calcutta." In fact, the result of the Emperor's
economic experiments may be summed up in the statement of Chaptal that
the general run of prices in France was higher by one-third than it
was before 1789.

Now the merest tyro might see that the difference in price above the
normal level was paid by the consumer. The colonial producer, the
British merchant and shipper were certainly harassed, and trade was
dislocated; but, as Mollien observed, commerce soon adapted itself to
altered conditions; and merchants never parted with their wares
without getting hard cash or resorting to the primitive method of
barter. Money was also frequently melted down in France and Germany so
as to effect bargains with England in bars of metal. And so, in one
way or another, trade was carried on, with infinite discomfort and
friction, it is true; but it never wholly ceased even between England
and France direct.

In fact, Napoleon so clung to the old mercantilist craze of
stimulating exports in order that they might greatly exceed the
imports, as to favour the sending of agricultural produce to England,
provided that such cargoes comprised manufactured goods. He allowed
this privilege not only to his Empire but also to the Kingdom of
Italy.[232] The difficulty was that England would not receive the
manufactured goods of her enemies; and, as corn and cheese could not
be exported to England, unless a certain proportion of silk and cloths
went with them, the latter were got up so as to satisfy the French
customs officers and then cast into the sea. It is needless to add
that this export of manufactures to England, on which Napoleon prided
himself, was limited to showy but worthless articles, which were made
solely _ad usum delphinorum_.

It was fortunate for us that Napoleon entertained these crude ideas on
political economy; for his action opened for us a loophole of escape
from a very serious difficulty. At that time our fast growing
population was barely fed by our own wheat even after good seasons;
and Providence afflicted us in 1809 and 1810 with very poor harvests.
In 1810 the average price was 103 shillings the quarter, the highest
ever known except in 1800 and 1801; and as commerce was dislocated by
the Continental System and hand-labour was being largely replaced by
the new power-looms and improved spinning machinery, the outlook would
have been hopeless, had not our great enemy allowed us to import
continental corn. This device, which he imagined would impoverish us
to enrich his own States, was the greatest aid that he could have
rendered to our hard-pressed social system; and readers of Charlotte
Brontë's realistic sketches of the Luddite rioting in Yorkshire may
imagine what would have befallen England if, besides lack of work and
low wages, there had been the added horrors of a bread famine. But
fortunately the curious commercial notions harboured by our foe
enabled us in the winter of 1810-11 to get supplies of corn not only
from Prussia and Poland but even from Italy and France.

In one sense this incident has been misunderstood. It has been
referred to by Porter[233] and other hopeful persons as proof positive
that as long as we can buy corn we shall get it, even from our
enemies. It proves nothing of the sort. Napoleon's correspondence and
his whole policy with regard to licences, which we shall presently
examine, shows clearly that he believed he would greatly benefit his
own States and impoverish our people by selling us large stores of
corn at a very high price. There is no hint in any of his letters that
he ever framed the notion of _starving_ us into surrender. All that he
looked to was the draining away of our wealth by cutting off our
exports, and by allowing imports to enter our harbours much as usual.
As long as he prevented us selling our produce, he heeded little how
much we bought from his States: in fact, the more we bought, the
sooner we should be bankrupt--such was his notion.

It is strange that he never sought to cut off our corn-supplies. They
were then drawn almost entirely from the Baltic ports. The United
States and Canada had as yet only sent us a few driblets of corn. La
Plata and the Cape of Good Hope were quite undeveloped; and our
settlements in New South Wales were at that time often troubled by
dearth. The plan of sealing up the cornfields of Europe from Riga to
Trieste would have been feasible, at least for a few weeks; French
troops held Danzig and Stettin; Russia, Prussia, and Denmark were at
his beck and call; and an imperial decree forbidding the export of
corn from France and her allied States to the United Kingdom could
hardly have failed to reduce us to starvation and surrender in the
very critical winter of 1810-11. But that strange mental defect of
clinging with ever increasing tenacity to preconceived notions led
Napoleon to allow and even to favour exports of corn to us in the time
of our utmost need; and Britain survived the strain.[234]

What folly, however, to refer to the action of this man of one
economic idea as being likely to determine the conduct of continental
statesmen in some future naval war with England. In truth, the urgency
of the problem of our national food-supply in time of a great war can
only be fully understood by those who have studied the Napoleonic era.
England then grew nearly enough corn for her needs; her fleets swept
the seas; and Napoleon's economic hobby left her foreign food-supply
unhampered at the severest crisis. Yet, even so, the price of the
quartern loaf rose to more than fifteenpence, and we were brought to
the verge of civil war. A comparison of that time with the conditions
that now prevail must yield food for reflection to all but the
case-hardened optimists.

But already Napoleon was convinced that the Continental System must be
secretly relaxed in special cases. Despite the fulsome addresses which
some Chambers of Commerce sent up, he knew that his seaports were in
the depths of distress, and that French cotton manufacturers could not
hope to compete with those of Lancashire now that his own tariff had
doubled the price of raw cotton and dyes in France. He therefore hit
upon the curious device of allowing continental merchants to buy
licences for the privilege of secretly evading his own decrees. The
English Government seems to have been the first to issue similar
secret permits; but Napoleon had scarcely signed his Berlin Decree for
the blockade of England before he connived at its infraction. When
sugar, coffee, and other comforts became scarce, they were secretly
imported from perfidious Albion for the imperial table. The final
stage was reached in July, 1810, when licences to import forbidden
goods were secretly sold to favoured merchants, and many
officials--among them Bourrienne--reaped a rich harvest from the sale
of these imperial indulgences. Merchants were so eager to evade the
hated laws that they offered high prices to the treasury and
_douceurs_ to officials for the coveted boon; and as much as £40,000
is said to have been paid for a single licence.

On both sides of the Channel this device was abhorred, but its results
were specially odious in Napoleon's States, where the burdens to be
evaded were far heavier than those entailed by the Orders in Council.
In fact, the Continental System was now seen to be an organized
hypocrisy, which, in order to ruin the mistress of the seas, exposed
the peoples to burdens more grievous than those borne by England, and
left all but the wealthiest merchants a prey to a grinding fiscal
tyranny. And the sting of it all was its social injustice; for while
the poor were severely punished, sometimes with death, for smuggling
sugar or tobacco, Napoleon and the favoured few who could buy licences
often imported these articles in large quantities. What wonder, then,
that Russia and Sweden should decline long to endure these gratuitous
hardships, and should seek to evade the behests of the imperial
smuggler of the Tuileries!

Nevertheless, as no inventive people can ever be thrown wholly on its
own resources without deriving some benefit, we find that France met
the crisis with the cheery patience and unflagging ingenuity which she
has ever evinced. In a great Empire which embraced all the lands
between Hamburg, Bayonne, and Rome, not to mention Illyria and
Dalmatia, a great variety of products might readily reward the
inventor and the husbandman. Tobacco, rice, and cotton could be reared
in the southern portions. Valiant efforts were also made to get
Asiatic produce overland, so as to disappoint the English cruisers;
and the coffee of Arabia was taxed very lightly, so as to ruin the
American producer. When the fragrant berry became more and more
scarce, chicory was discovered by good patriots to be a palatable
substitute, and scientific men sought to induce French manufacturers
to use the isatis plant instead of indigo. Prizes were offered by the
State and by local Chambers of Commerce to those who should make up
for the lack of tropical goods and dyes.

A notable discovery was made by Chaptal and Delessert, who improved on
Markgraf's process of procuring sugar from beetroot and made it a
practical success. Napoleon also hoped that a chemical substitute for
indigo had been found, and exclaimed to a doleful deputation of
merchants, who came to the Tuileries in the early summer of 1811, that
chemistry would soon revolutionize commerce as completely as the
discovery of the compass had done. Besides, the French Empire was the
richest country in the world, and could almost do without foreign
commerce, at least until England had given way; and that would soon
come to pass; for the pressure of events would soon compel London
merchants to throw their sugar and indigo into the Thames.[235]

In reality, he placed commerce far behind agriculture, which he
considered to be the basis of a nation's wealth and a nation's health.
But he also took a keen interest in manufactures. The silk industry at
Lyons found in him a generous patron. He ordered that the best
scientific training should there be given, so as to improve the
processes of manufacture; and, as silk of nearly all kinds could be
produced in France and Italy, Lyons was comparatively prosperous.
When, however, it suffered from the general rise of prices and from
the impaired buying power of the community, he adopted heroic
remedies. He ordered that all ships leaving France should carry silk
fabrics equal in value to one-fourth of the whole freight; but whether
these stuffs went to adorn women or mermaids seems an open question.
Or again, on the advice of Chaptal, the Emperor made large purchases
of surplus stocks of Lyons silk, Rouen cottons, and Ste. Antoine
furniture, so as to prevent an imminent collapse of credit and a
recrudescence of Jacobinism in those industrial centres; for as he
said: "I fear a rising brought about by want of bread: I had rather
fight an army of 200,000 men than that."[236]

In the main, this policy of giving _panem et circenses_ was successful
in France; at least, it kept her quiet. The national feeling ran
strongly in favour of commercial prohibition. In 1787 Arthur Young
found the cotton-workers of the north furious at the recent inroads of
Lancashire cottons, while the wine-growers of the Garonne were equally
favourable to the enlightened Anglo-French commercial treaty of 1786.
It was Napoleon's lot to win the favour of the rigid protectionists,
while not alienating that of the men of the Gironde, who saw in him
the champion of agrarian liberty against the feudal nobles. Moreover,
the nation still cherished the pathetic belief that the war was due to
Albion's perfidy respecting Malta, and burned with a desire to
chastise the recreant islanders. For these reasons, Frenchmen endured
the drain of men and money with but little show of grumbling.

They were tired of the wars. _We have had enough glory_, they said,
even in the capital itself, and an acute German observer describes the
feeling there as curiously mixed. Parisian gaiety often found vent in
lampoons against the Emperor; and much satire at his expense might
with safety be indulged in among a crowd, provided it were seasoned
with wit. The people seemed not to fear Napoleon, as he was feared in
Germany: the old revolutionary party was still active and might easily
become far more dangerous than the royalist coteries of the Boulevard
St. Germain. For the rest, they were all so accustomed to political
change that they looked on his government as provisional, and put up
with him only as long as the army triumphed abroad and he could make
his power felt at home. Such was the impression of Paris gained by
Varnhagen von Ense. Public opinion in the provinces seems to have been
more favourable to Napoleon; and, on the whole, pride in the army and
in the vigorous administration which that nation loves, above all,
hatred of England and the hope of wresting from her the world's
empire, led the French silently to endure rigorous press laws,
increased taxes, war prices, licences, and chicory.

For Germans the hardships were much greater and the alleviations far
less. They had no deep interest in Malta or in the dominion of the
seas; and political economy was then only beginning to dawn on the
Teutonic mind. The general trend of German thought had inclined
towards the _Everlasting Nay_, until Napoleon flashed across its ken.
For a time he won the admiration of the chief thinkers of Germany by
brushing away the feudal cobwebs from her fair face. He seemed about
to call her sons to a life of public activity; and in the famous
soliloquy of Faust, in which he feels his way from word to thought,
from thought to might, and from might to action, we may discern the
literary projection of the influence exerted by the new Charlemagne on
that nation of dreamers.[237] But the promise was fulfilled only in
the most harshly practical way, namely, by cutting off all supplies of
tobacco and coffee; and when Teufelsdröckh himself, admirer though he
was of the French Revolution, found that the summons for his favourite
beverage--the "dear melancholy coffee, that begets fancies," of
Lessing--produced only a muddy decoction of acorns, there was the risk
of his tendencies earthwards taking a very practically revolutionary
turn.

In truth, the German universities were the leaders of the national
reaction against the Emperor of the West. Fichte's pleading for a
truly national education had taken effect. Elementary instruction was
now being organized in Prussia; and the divorce of thought from
action, which had so long sterilized German life, was ended by the
foundation of the University of Berlin by Humboldt. Thus, in 1810, the
year of Prussia's deepest woe, when her brave Queen died of a stricken
heart, when French soldiers and _douaniers_ were seizing and burning
colonial wares, her thinkers came into closer touch with her men of
action, with mutually helpful results. Thinkers ceased to be mere
dreamers, and Prussian officials gained a wider outlook on life. The
life of beneficent activity, to which Napoleon might have summoned the
great majority of Germans, dawned on them from Berlin, not from Paris.

His influence was more and more oppressive. The final results of his
commercial decrees on the trade of Hamburg were thus described by
Perthes, a well-known writer and bookseller of that town: "Of the 422
sugar-boiling houses, few now stood open: the printing of cottons had
ceased entirely: the tobacco-dressers were driven away by the
Government. The imposition of innumerable taxes, door and window,
capitation and land taxes, drove the inhabitants to despair." But the
same sagacious thinker was able to point the moral of it all, and
prove to his friends that their present trials were due to the selfish
particularism of the German States: "It was a necessity that some
great power should arise in the midst of the degenerate selfishness of
the times and also prove victorious, for there was nothing vigorous to
oppose it. Napoleon is an historical necessity."[238]

Thus, both in the abodes of learning and in the centres of industry
men were groping after a higher unity and a firmer political
organization, which, after the Napoleonic deluge had swept by, was to
lay the foundation of a New Germany.

To all appearances, however, Napoleon's power seemed to be more firmly
established than ever in the ensuing year. On March 20th, 1811, a son
was born to him. At the crisis of this event, he revealed the warmth
of his family instincts. On hearing that the life of mother or infant
might have to be sacrificed, he exclaimed at once, "Save the
mother."[239] When the danger was past, he very considerately informed
Josephine, stating, "he has my chest, my mouth and my eyes. I trust
that he will fulfil his destiny." That destiny was mapped out in the
title conferred on the child, "King of Rome," which was designed to
recall the title "King of the Romans," used in the Holy Roman Empire.

Napoleon resolved that the old elective dignity should now be renewed
in a strictly hereditary Empire, vaster than that of Charlemagne.
Paris was to be its capital, Rome its second city, and the future
Emperors were always to be crowned a second time at Rome. Furthermore,
lest the mediæval dispute as to the supremacy of Emperor or Pope in
Rome should again vex mankind, the Papacy was virtually annexed: the
status of the pontiff was defined in the most Erastian sense, imperial
funds were assigned for his support, and he was bidden to maintain two
palaces, "the one necessarily at Paris, the other at Rome."

It is impossible briefly to describe the various conflicts between
Pius VII. and Napoleon. Though now kept in captivity by Napoleon, the
Pope refused to ratify these and other ukases of his captor; and the
credit which Napoleon had won by his wordly-wise
Concordat was now lost by his infraction of many of its clauses and by
his harsh treatment of a defenceless old man. It is true that Pius had
excommunicated Napoleon; but that was for the crime of annexing the
Papal States, and public opinion revolted at the spectacle of an
all-powerful Emperor now consigning to captivity the man who in former
years had done so much to consolidate his authority. After the
disasters of the Russian campaign, he sought to come to terms with the
pontiff; but even then the bargain struck at Fontainebleau was so hard
that his prisoner, though unnerved by ill-health, retracted the unholy
compromise. Whereupon Napoleon ordered that the cardinals who advised
this step should be seized and carried away from Fontainebleau. Few of
Napoleon's actions were more harmful than this series of petty
persecutions; and among the influences that brought about his fall, we
may reckon the dignified resistance of the pontiff, whose meekness
threw up in sharp relief the pride and arrogance of his captor. The
Papacy stooped, but only to conquer.

For the present, everything seemed to favour the new Charlemagne.
Never had the world seen embodied might like that of Napoleon's
Empire; and well might he exclaim at the birth of the King of Rome,
"Now begins the finest epoch of my reign." All the auguries seemed
favourable. In France, the voice of opposition was all but hushed.
Italians, Swiss, and even some Spaniards, helped to keep down Prussia.
Dutchmen and Danes had hunted down Schill for him at Stralsund. Polish
horsemen had charged up the Somosierra Pass against the Spanish guns,
and did valiant service on the bloody field of Albuera. The
Confederation of the Rhine could send forth 150,000 men to fight his
battles. The Hapsburgs were his vassals, and only faint shadows of
discord as yet clouded his relations with Alexander. One of his
Marshals, Bernadotte, had been chosen to succeed to the crown of
Sweden; and at the other end of Europe, it seemed that Wellington and
the Spanish patriots must ultimately succumb to superior numbers.

Surely now was the time for the fulfilment of those glowing oriental
designs beside which his European triumphs seemed pale. In the autumn
of 1810 he sent agents carefully to inspect the strongholds of Egypt
and Syria, and his consuls in the Levant were ordered to send a report
every six months on the condition of the Turkish Empire.[240] Above
all, he urged on the completion of dockyards and ships of war. Vast
works were pushed on at Antwerp and Cherbourg: ships and gunboats were
to be built at every suitable port from the Texel to Naples and
Trieste; and as the result of these labours, the Emperor counted on
having 104 ships of the line, which would cover the transports from
the Mediterranean, Cherbourg, Boulogne and the Scheldt, and threaten
England with an array of 200,000 fighting men.[241]

In March, 1811, this plan was modified, possibly because, as in 1804,
he found the difficulties of a descent on our coasts greater than he
first imagined. He now seeks merely to weary out the English in the
present year. But in the next year, or in 1813, he will send an
expedition of 40,000 men from the Scheldt, as if to menace Ireland;
and, having thrown us off our guard, he will divide that force into
four parts for the recovery of the French and Dutch colonies in the
West Indies. He counts also on having a part of his army in Spain free
for service elsewhere: it must be sent to seize Sicily or Egypt.

But this was not all. His thoughts also turn to the Cape of Good Hope.
Eight thousand men are to sail from Brest to seize that point of
vantage at which he had gazed so longingly in 1803. Of these plans,
the recovery of Egypt evidently lay nearest to his heart. He orders
the storage at Toulon of everything needful for an Egyptian
expedition, along with sixty gun-vessels of light draught suitable for
the navigation of the Nile or of the lakes near the coast.[242] Decrès
is charged to send models of these craft; and we may picture the eager
scrutiny which they received. For the Orient was still the pole to
which Napoleon's whole being responded. Turned away perforce by wars
with Austria, Russia, Prussia, and Spain, it swung round towards Egypt
and India on the first chance of European peace, only to be driven
back by some untoward shock nearer home. In 1803 he counted on the
speedy opening of a campaign on the Ganges. In 1811 he proposes that
the tricolour shall once more wave on the citadel of Cairo, and
threaten India from the shores of the Red Sea. But a higher will than
his disposed of these events, and ordained that he should then be
flung back from Russia and fight for his Empire in the plains of
Saxony.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXXII

THE RUSSIAN CAMPAIGN


Two mighty and ambitious potentates never fully trust one another.
Under all the shows of diplomatic affection, there remains a thick
rind of reserve or fear. Especially must that be so with men who
spring from a fierce untamed stock. Despite the training of Laharpe,
Alexander at times showed the passions and finesse of a Boyar. And who
shall say that the early Jacobinism and later culture of Napoleon was
more than a veneer spread all too thinly over an Italian _condottiere_
of the Renaissance age? These men were too expert at wiles really to
trust to the pompous assurances of Tilsit and Erfurt. De Maistre tells
us that Napoleon never partook of Alexander's repasts on the banks of
the Niemen. For him Muscovite cookery was suspect.

Amidst the glories of Erfurt, Oudinot saw an incident that revealed
the Czar's hidden feelings. During one of their rides, the Emperors
were stopped by a dyke, which Napoleon's steed refused to take;
accordingly the Marshal had to help it across; but the Czar, proud of
his horsemanship, finally cleared the obstacle with a splendid bound,
though at the cost of a shock which broke his sword-belt. The sword
fell to the ground, and Oudinot was about to hand it to Alexander,
when Napoleon quickly said: "Keep that sword and bring it to me
later": then, turning to the Czar, he added: "You have no objection,
Sire?" A look of surprise and distrust flashed across the Czar's
features; but, resuming his easy bearing, he gave his assent. Later in
the day, Napoleon sent his own sword to Alexander, and thus came off
easily best from an incident which threatened at first to throw him
into the shade. The affair shows the ready wit and mental superiority
of the one man no less than the veiled reserve and uneasiness of the
other.

At the close of 1809, Alexander confessed his inner feeling to
Czartoryski. Napoleon, he said, was a man who would not scruple to use
any means so long as he gained his end: his mental strength was
unquestioned: in the worst troubles he was cool and collected: his
fits of passion were only meant to intimidate: his every act was the
result of calculation: it was absurd to say that his prodigious
exertions would drive him mad: his health was splendid and was equal
to any effort provided that he had eight hours' sleep every day. The
impression left on the ex-Minister was that Alexander understood his
ally thoroughly and _feared him greatly_.[243]

A few days later came Napoleon's request for the hand of the Czar's
sister, a request which Alexander declined with many expressions of
goodwill and regret. What, then, was his surprise to find that, before
the final answer had been returned, Napoleon was in treaty for the
hand of an Austrian Archduchess.[244] This time it was for him to feel
affronted. And so this breathless search for a bride left sore
feelings at both capitals, at Paris because the Czar declined
Napoleon's request, at St. Petersburg because the imperial wooer was
off on another scent before the first had given out.

Alexander's annoyance was increased by his ally's doubtful behaviour
about Poland. After the recent increase of the Duchy of Warsaw he had
urged Napoleon to make a declaration that "the Kingdom of Poland shall
never be re-established." This matter was being discussed side by side
with the matrimonial overtures; and, after their collapse, Napoleon
finally declined to give this assurance which Alexander felt needful
for checking the rising hopes of Poles and Lithuanians. The utmost the
French Emperor would do was to promise, _in a secret clause_, that he
would never aid any other Power or any popular movement that aimed at
the re-establishment of that kingdom.[245] In fact, as the Muscovite
alliance was on the wane, he judged it bad policy to discourage the
Poles, who might do so much for him in case of a Franco-Russian war.
He soon begins to face seriously the prospect of such an event. At the
close of 1810 he writes that the Russians are intrenching themselves
on the Dwina and Dniester, which "shows a bad spirit."

But the great difficulty is Russia's imperfect observation of the
Continental System. He begs the Czar to close his ports against
English ships: 600 of them are wandering about the Baltic, after being
repulsed from its southern shores, in the hope of getting into Russian
harbours. Let Alexander seize their cargoes, and England, now at her
last gasp, must give in. Five weeks later he returns to the charge. It
is not enough to seize British ships; the hated wares get in under
American, Swedish, Spanish, and Portuguese, _even under French flags_.
Of the 2,000 ships that entered the Baltic in 1810, not one was really
a neutral: they were all charged with English goods, with false papers
and _forged certificates of origin manufactured in London_.[246] Any
other unit among earth's millions would have been convinced of the
futility of the whole enterprise, now that his own special devices
were being turned against him. It was not enough to conquer and
enchain the Continent. Every customs officer must be an expert in
manufactures, groceries, documents, and the water-marks of paper, if
he was to detect the new "frauds of the neutral flags."

But Napoleon knew not the word impossible--"a word that exists only in
the dictionary of fools." In fact, his mind, naturally unbending, was
now working more and more in self-made grooves. Of these the deepest
was his commercial warfare; and he pushed on, reckless of Europe and
reckless of the Czar. In the middle of December he annexed the North
Sea coast of Germany, including Oldenburg. The heir to this duchy had
married Alexander's sister, whose hand Napoleon had claimed at Erfurt.
The duke, it is true, was offered the district of Erfurt as an
indemnity; but that proposal only stung the Czar the more. The
deposition of the duke was not merely a personal affront; it was an
infraction of the Treaty of Tilsit which had restored him to his
duchy.

A fortnight later, when as yet he knew not of the Oldenburg incident,
Alexander himself broke that treaty.[247] At the close of 1810 he
declined to admit land-borne goods on the easy terms arranged at
Tilsit, but levied heavy dues on them, especially on the _articles de
luxe_ that mostly hailed from France. Some such step was inevitable.
Unable to export freely to England, Russia had not money enough to buy
costly French goods without disordering the exchange and ruining her
credit. While seeking to raise revenue on French manufactures, the
Czar resolved to admit on easy terms all colonial goods, especially
American. English goods he would shut out as heretofore; and he
claimed that this new departure was well within the limits of the
Treaty of Tilsit. Far different was Napoleon's view: "Here is a great
planet taking a wrong direction. I do not understand its course at
all."[248] Such were his first words on reading the text of the new
ukase. A fatalistic tone now haunts his references to Russia's policy.
On April 2nd he writes: "If Alexander does not quickly stop the
impetus which has been given, he will be carried away by it next year;
and thus war will take place in spite of him, _in spite of me_, in
spite of the interests of France and Russia.... It is an operatic
scene, of which the English are the shifters." What madness! As if
Russia's craving for colonial wares and solvency were a device of the
diabolical islanders.[249] As if his planetary simile were anything
more than a claim that he was the centre of the universe and his will
its guiding and controlling power.

Nevertheless, Russia held on her way. In vain did Alexander explain to
his ally the economic needs of his realm, protest his fidelity to the
Continental System, and beg some consideration for the Duke of
Oldenburg. It was evident that the Emperor of the West would make no
real concession. In fact, the need of domination was the quintessence
of his being. And Maret, Duc de Bassano, who was now his Foreign
Minister, or rather, we should say, the man who wrote and signed his
despatches, revealed the psychological cause of the war which cost the
lives of nearly a million of men, in a note to Lauriston, the French
ambassador at St. Petersburg. Napoleon, he wrote, cared little about
interviews or negotiations unless the movements of his 450,000 men
caused serious concern in Russia, recalled her to the Continental
System as settled at Tilsit, and "brought her back to the state of
inferiority in which she was then."[250]

This was, indeed, the gist of the whole question. Napoleon saw that
Alexander was slipping out of the leading strings of Tilsit, and that
he was likely to come off best from that bargain, which was intended
to confirm the supremacy of the Western Empire. For both potentates
that treaty had been, at bottom, nothing more than a truce. Napoleon
saw in it a means of subjecting the Continent to his commercial code,
and of preparing for a Franco-Russian partition of Turkey. The Czar
hailed it as a breathing space wherein he could reorganize his army,
conquer Finland, and stride towards the Balkans. The Erfurt interview
prolonged the truce; for Napoleon felt the supreme need of stamping
out the Spanish Rising and of postponing the partition of Turkey which
his ally was eager to begin. By the close of 1811 both potentates had
exhausted all the benefits likely to accrue from their alliance.[251]
Napoleon flattered himself that the conquest of Spain was wellnigh
assured, and that England was in her last agonies. On the other hand,
Russia had recovered her military strength, had gained Finland and
planted her foot on the Lower Danube, and now sought to shuffle off
Napoleon's commercial decrees. In fine, the monarch, who at Tilsit had
figured as mere clay in the hands of the Corsican potter, had proved
himself to be his equal both in cunning and tenacity. The seeming dupe
of 1807 now promised to be the victor in statecraft.

Then there was the open sore of Poland. The challenge, on this
subject, was flung down by Napoleon at a diplomatic reception on his
birthday, August 15th, 1811. Addressing the Russian envoy, he
exclaimed: "I am not so stupid as to think that it is Oldenburg which
troubles you. I see that Poland is the question: you attribute to me
designs in favour of Poland. I begin to think that you wish to seize
it. No: if your army were encamped on Montmartre, I would not cede an
inch of the Warsaw territory, not a village, not a windmill." His
fears as to Russia's designs were far-fetched. Alexander's sounding of
the Poles was a defensive measure, seriously undertaken only after
Napoleon's refusal to discourage the Polish nationalists. But it
suited the French Emperor to aver that the quarrel was about Poland
rather than the Continental System, and the scene just described is a
good specimen of his habit of cool calculation even in seemingly
chance outbursts of temper. His rhapsody gained him the ardent support
of the Poles, and was vague enough to cause no great alarm to Austria
and Prussia.[252]

On the next day Napoleon sketched to his Ministers the general plan of
campaign against Russia. The whole of the Continent was to be
embattled against her. On the Hapsburg alliance he might well rely.
But the conduct of Prussia gave him some concern. For a time she
seemed about to risk a war _à outrance_, such as Stein, Fichte, and
the staunch patriots of the Tugendbund ardently craved. Indeed,
Napoleon's threats to this hapless realm seemed for a time to portend
its annihilation. The King, therefore, sent Scharnhorst first to St.
Petersburg and then to Vienna with secret overtures for an alliance.
They were virtually refused. Prudence was in the ascendant at both
capitals; and, as will presently appear, the more sagacious Prussians
soon came to see that a war, in which Napoleon could be enticed into
the heart of Russia, might deal a mortal blow at his overgrown Empire.
Certainly it was quite impossible for Prussia to stay the French
advance. A guerilla warfare, such as throve in Spain, must surely be
crushed in her open plains; and the diffident King returned
Gneisenau's plan of a rising of the Prussian people against Napoleon
with the chilling comment, "Very good as poetry."

Thus, when Napoleon wound up his diplomatic threats by an imperious
summons to side with him or against him, Frederick William was fain to
abide by his terms, sending 20,000 troops against Russia, granting
free passage to Napoleon's army, and furnishing immense supplies of
food and forage, the payment of which was to be settled by some future
arrangement (February, 1812). These conditions seemed to thrust
Prussia down to the lowest circle of the Napoleonic Inferno; and great
was the indignation of her patriots. They saw not that only by
stooping before the western blast could Prussia be saved. To this
topic we shall recur presently, when we treat of the Russian plan of
campaign.

Sweden was less tractable than Napoleon expected. He had hoped that
the deposition of his personal enemy, Gustavus IV., the enthronement
of a feeble old man, Charles XIII., and the choice of Bernadotte as
heir to the Swedish crown, would bring that land back to its
traditional alliance with France. But, on accepting his new dignity,
Bernadotte showed his customary independence of thought by refusing to
promise that he would never bear arms against France--a refusal that
cost him his principality of Ponte Corvo. He at once adopted a forward
Scandinavian policy; and, as the Franco-Russian alliance waned, he
offered Swedish succour to Napoleon if he would favour the acquisition
of Norway by the Court of Stockholm.

The Emperor had himself mooted this project in 1802, but he now
returned a stern refusal (February 25th, 1811), and bade Sweden
enforce the Continental System under pain of the occupation of Swedish
Pomerania by French troops. Even this threat failed to bend the will
of Bernadotte, and the Swedes preferred to forego their troublesome
German province rather than lose their foreign commerce. In the
following January, Napoleon carried out his threat, thereby throwing
Sweden into the arms of Russia. By the treaty of March-April, 1812,
Bernadotte gained from Alexander the prospect of acquiring Norway, in
return for the aid of Sweden in the forthcoming war against Napoleon.
This was the chief diplomatic success gained by Alexander; for though
he came to terms with Turkey two months later (retaining Bessarabia),
the treaty was ratified too late to enable him to concentrate all his
forces against the Napoleonic host that was now flooding the plains of
Prussia.[253]

The results of this understanding with the Court of Stockholm were
seen in the Czar's note presented at Paris at the close of April. He
required of Napoleon the evacuation of Swedish Pomerania by French
troops and a friendly adjustment of Franco-Swedish disputes, the
evacuation of Prussia by the French, the reduction of their large
garrison at Danzig, and the recognition of Russia's right to trade
with neutrals. If these terms were accorded by France, Alexander was
ready to negotiate for an indemnity for the Duke of Oldenburg and a
mitigation of the Russian customs dues on French goods.[254] The
reception given by Napoleon to these reasonable terms was unpromising.
"You are a gentleman," he exclaimed to Prince Kurakin, "--and yet you
dare to present to me such proposals?--You are acting as Prussia did
before Jena." Alexander had already given up all hope of peace. A week
before that scene, he had left St. Petersburg for the army, knowing
full well that Napoleon's cast-iron will might be shivered by a mighty
blow, but could never be bent by diplomacy.

On his side, Napoleon sought to overawe his eastern rival by a display
of imposing force. Lord of a dominion that far excelled that of the
Czar in material resources, suzerain of seven kingdoms and thirty
principalities, he called his allies and vassals about him at Dresden,
and gave to the world the last vision of that imperial splendour which
dazzled the imagination of men.

It was an idle display. In return for secret assurances that he might
eventually regain his Illyrian provinces, the Emperor Francis had
pledged himself by treaty to send 30,000 men to guard Napoleon's flank
in Volhynia. But everyone at St. Petersburg knew that this aid, along
with that of Prussia, was forced and hollow.[255] The example of Spain
and the cautious strategy of Wellington had dissolved the spell of
French invincibility; and the Czar was resolved to trust to the
toughness of his people and the defensive strength of his boundless
plains. The time of the Macks, the Brunswicks, the Bennigsens was
past: the day of Wellington and of truly national methods of warfare
had dawned.

Yet the hosts now moving against Alexander bade fair to overwhelm the
devotion of his myriad subjects and the awful solitudes of his
steppes. It was as if Peter the Hermit had arisen to impel the peoples
of Western and Central Europe once more against the immobile East.
Frenchmen to the number of 200,000 formed the kernel of this vast
body: 147,000 Germans from the Confederation of the Rhine followed the
new Charlemagne: nearly 80,000 Italians under Eugène formed an Army of
Observation: 60,000 Poles stepped eagerly forth to wrest their
nation's liberty from the Muscovite grasp; and Illyrians, Swiss, and
Dutch, along with a few Spaniards and Portuguese, swelled the Grand
Army to a total of 600,000 men. Nor was this all. Austria and Prussia
sent their contingents, amounting in all to 50,000 men, to guard
Napoleon's flanks on the side of Volhynia and Courland. And this
mighty mass, driven on by Napoleon's will, gained a momentum which was
to carry its main army to Moscow.

After reviewing his vassals at Dresden, and hurrying on the
arrangements for the transport of stores, Napoleon journeyed to the
banks of the Niemen. On all sides were to be seen signs of the passage
of a mighty host, broken-down carts, dead horses, wrecked villages,
and dense columns of troops that stripped Prussia wellnigh bare. Yet,
despite these immense preparations, no hint of discouragement came
from the Czar's headquarters. On arriving at the Niemen, Napoleon
issued to the Grand Army a proclamation which was virtually a
declaration of war. In it there occurred the fatalistic remark:
"Russia is drawn on by fate: her destinies must be fulfilled."
Alexander's words to his troops breathed a different spirit: "God
fights against the aggressor."

Much that is highly conjectural has been written about the plans of
campaign of the two Emperors. That of Napoleon may be briefly stated:
it was to find out the enemy's chief forces, divide them, or cut them
from their communications, and beat them in detail. In other words, he
never started with any set plan of campaign, other than the
destruction of the chief opposing force. But, in the present instance,
it may be questioned whether he had not sought by his exasperating
provocations to drive Prussia into alliance with the Czar. In that
case, Alexander would have been bound in honour to come to the aid of
his ally. And if the Russians ventured across the Niemen, or the
Vistula, as Napoleon at first believed they would,[256] his task would
doubtless have been as easy as it proved at Friedland. Many Prussian
officers, so Müffling asserts, believed that this was the aim of
French diplomacy in the early autumn of 1811, and that the best reply
was an unconditional surrender. On the other hand, there is the fact
that St. Marsan, Napoleon's ambassador at Berlin, assured that
Government, on October 29th, that his master did not wish to destroy
Prussia, but laid much stress on the supplies which she could furnish
him--a support that would enable the Grand Army to advance on the
Niemen _like a rushing stream_.

The metaphor was strangely imprudent. It almost invited Prussia to
open wide her sluices and let the flood foam away on to the sandy
wastes of Lithuania; and we may fancy that the more discerning minds
at Berlin now saw the advantage of a policy which would entice the
French into the wastes of Muscovy. It is strange that Napoleon's
Syrian adage, "Never make war against a desert," did not now recur to
his mind. But he gradually steeled himself to the conviction that war
with Alexander was inevitable, and that the help of Austria and
Prussia would enable him to beat back the Muscovite hordes into their
eastern steppes. For a time he had unquestionably thought of
destroying Prussia before he attacked the Czar; but he finally decided
to postpone her fate until he had used her for the overthrow of
Russia.[257]

After the experiences of Austerlitz and Friedland, the advantages of a
defensive campaign could not escape the notice of the Czar. As early
as October, 1811, when Scharnhorst was at St. Petersburg, he discussed
these questions with him; and not all that officer's pleading for the
cause of Prussian independence induced Alexander to offer armed help
unless the French committed a wanton aggression on Königsberg. Seeing
that there was no hope of bringing the Russians far to the west,
Scharnhorst seems finally to have counselled a Fabian strategy for the
ensuing war; and, when at Vienna, he drew up a memoir in this sense
for the guidance of the Czar.[258]

Alexander was certainly much in need of sound guidance. Though
Scharnhorst had pointed out the way of salvation, a strategic tempter
was soon at hand in the person of General von Phull, an uncompromising
theorist who planned campaigns with an unquestioning devotion to
abstract principles. Untaught by the catastrophes of the past,
Alexander once more let his enthusiasm for theories and principles
lead him to the brink of the abyss. Phull captivated him by setting
forth the true plan of a defensive campaign which he had evolved from
patient study of the Seven Years' War. Everything depended on the
proper selection of defensive positions and the due disposition of the
defending armies. There must be two armies of defence, and at least
one great intrenched camp. One army must oppose the invader on a line
near, or leading up to, the camp; while the other army must manoeuvre
on his rear or flanks. And the camp must be so placed as to stretch
its protecting influence over one, or more, important roads. It need
not be on any one of them: in fact, it was better that it should be
some distance away; for it thus fulfilled better the all-important
function of a "flanking position."

Such a position Phull had discovered at Drissa in a curve of the River
Dwina. It was sufficiently far from the roads leading from the Niemen
to St. Petersburg and to Moscow efficiently to protect them both.
There, accordingly, he suggested that vast earthworks should be
prepared; for there, at that artificial Torres Vedras, Russia's chief
force might await the Grand Army, while the other force harassed its
flank or rear.[259]

Napoleon had not probed this absurdity to its inmost depths: but he
early found out that the Russians were in two widely separated armies;
and this sufficed to decide his movements and the early part of the
campaign. Having learnt that one army was near Vilna, and the other in
front of the marshes of the Pripet, he sought to hold them apart by a
rapid irruption into the intervening space, and thereafter to destroy
them piecemeal. Never was a visionary theory threatened by a more
terrible realism. For Napoleon at midsummer was mustering a third of a
million of men on the banks of the Niemen, while the Russians, with
little more than half those numbers as yet available for the
fighting-line, had them spread out over an immense space, so as to
facilitate those flanking operations on which Phull set such
store.[260]

On the morn of June 23rd, three immense French columns wound their way
to the pontoon bridges hastily thrown over the Niemen near Kovno; and
loud shouts of triumph greeted the great leader as the vanguard set
foot on Lithuanian soil. No Russians were seen except a few light
horsemen, who galloped up, inquired of the engineers why they were
building the bridges, and then rode hastily away. During three days
the Grand Army filed over the river and melted away into the sandy
wastes. No foe at first contested their march, but neither were they
met by the crowds of downtrodden natives whom their fancy pictured as
thronging to welcome the liberators. In truth, the peasants of
Lithuania had no very close racial affinity to the Poles, whose
offshoots were found chiefly among the nobles and the wealthier
townsfolk. Solitude, the sultry heat of a Russian mid-summer, and
drenching thunderstorms depressed the spirits of the invaders. The
miserable cart tracks were at once cut up by the passage of the host,
and 10,000 horses perished of fatigue or of disease caused by the rank
grass, in the fifty miles' march from the Niemen to Vilna.

The difficulties of the transport service began at once, and they were
to increase with every day's march. With his usual foresight, Napoleon
had ordered the collection of immense stores of all kinds at Danzig,
his chief base of supplies. Two million pairs of boots were required
for the wear and tear of a long campaign, and all preparations were on
the same colossal scale. In this connection it is noteworthy that no
small proportion of the cloaks and boots came from England, as the
industrial resources of the Continent were wholly unequal to supplying
the crusaders of the Continental System.

A great part of those stores never reached the troops in Russia. The
wherries sent from Danzig to the Niemen were often snapped up by
British cruisers, and the carriage of stores from the Niemen entailed
so frightful a waste of horseflesh that only the most absolute
necessaries could keep pace with the army in its rapid advance. The
men were thus left without food except such as marauding could extort.
In this art Napoleon's troops were experts. Many miles of country were
scoured on either side of the line of march, and the Emperor, on
reaching Vilna, had to order Ney to send out cavalry patrols to gather
in the stragglers, who were committing "horrible devastations" and
would "fall into the hands of the Cossacks."

At Vilna the Grand Army met with a more cheering reception than
heretofore. Deftly placing his Polish regiments in front and chasing
the retiring Russians beyond the town, Napoleon then returned to find
a welcome in the old Lithuanian capital. The old men came forth clad
in the national garb, and it seemed that that province, once a part of
the great Polish monarchy, would break away from the empire of the
Czars and extend Napoleon's influence to within a few miles of
Smolensk.[261] The newly-formed Diet at Warsaw also favoured this
project: it constituted itself into a general confederation, declared
the Kingdom of Poland to be restored, and sent a deputation to
Napoleon at Vilna begging him to utter the creative words: "Let the
Kingdom of Poland exist." The Emperor gave a guarded answer. He
declared that he loved the Poles, he commended them for their
patriotism, which was "the first duty of civilized man," but added
that only by a unanimous effort could they now compel their enemies to
recognize their rights; and that, having guaranteed the integrity of
the Austrian Empire, he could not sanction any movement which would
disturb its remaining Polish provinces.

This diplomatic reply chilled his auditors. But what would have been
their feelings had they known that the calling of the Diet at Warsaw,
and the tone of its address to Napoleon; had all been sketched out
five weeks before by the imperial stage manager himself? Yet such was
the case.

The scene-shifter was the Abbé de Pradt, Archbishop of Malines, whom
Napoleon sent as ambassador to Warsaw, with elaborate instructions as
to the summoning of the Diet, the whipping-up of Polish enthusiasm,
the revolutionizing of Russian Poland, and the style of the address to
him. Nay, his passion for the regulation of details even led him to
inform the ambassador that the imperial reply would be one of praise
of Polish patriotism and of warning that Polish liberty could only be
won by their "zeal and their efforts." The trickery was like that
which he had played upon the Poles shortly before Eylau. In effect, he
said now, as then: "Pour out your blood for me first, and I will do
something for you." But on this occasion the scenic setting was more
impressive, the rush of the Poles to arms more ardent, the diplomatic
reply more astutely postponed, and the finale more awful.[262]

Still, the Poles marched on; but their devotion became more
questioning. The feelings of the Lithuanians were also ruffled by
Napoleon's reply to the Polish deputies: nor were they consoled by his
appointment of seven magnates to regulate the affairs of the districts
of Lithuania, under the ægis of French commissioners, who proved to be
the real governors. Worst of all was the marauding of Napoleon's
troops, who, after their long habituation to the imperial maxim that
"war must support war," could not now see the need of enduring the
pangs of hunger in order that Lithuanian enthusiasm might not cool.

[Illustration: CAMPAIGN IN RUSSIA]

Meanwhile the war had not progressed altogether as he desired. His aim
had been to conceal his advance across the Niemen, to surprise the two
chief Russian armies while far separated, and thus to end the war on
Lithuanian soil by a blow such as he had dealt at Friedland. The
Russian arrangements seemed to favour his plan. Their two chief
arrays, that led by the Czar and by General Barclay de Tolly, some
125,000 strong north of Vilna, and that of Prince Bagration mustering
now about 45,000 effectives, in the province of Volhynia, were
labouring to carry out the strategy devised by Phull. The former was
directly to oppose the march of Napoleon's main army, while the
smaller Russian force was to operate on its flanks and rear. Such a
plan could only have succeeded in the good old times when war was
conducted according to ceremonious etiquette; it courted destruction
from Napoleon. At Vilna the Emperor directed the movements that were
to ensnare Bagration. Already he had urged on the march of Davoust,
who was to circle round from the north, and the advance of Jerome
Bonaparte's Westphalians, who were bidden to hurry on eastwards from
the town of Grodno on the Upper Niemen. Their convergence would drive
Bagration into the almost trackless marshes of the Pripet, whence his
force would emerge, if at all, as helpless units.

Such was Napoleon's plan, and it would have succeeded but for a
miscalculation in the time needed for Jerome's march. Napoleon
underrated the difficulties of his advance or else overrated his
brother's military capacity. The King of Westphalia was delayed a few
days at Grodno by bad weather and other difficulties; thus Bagration,
who had been ordered by the Czar to retire, was able to escape the
meshes closing around him by a speedy retreat to Bobruisk, whence he
moved northwards. Napoleon was enraged at this loss of a priceless
opportunity, and addressed vehement reproaches to Jerome for his
slowness and "small-mindedness." The youngest of the Bonapartes
resented this rebuke which ignored the difficulties besetting a rapid
advance. The prospect of being subjected to that prince of martinets,
Davoust, chafed his pride; and, throwing up his command, he forthwith
returned to the pleasures of Cassel.

By great good fortune, Bagration's force had escaped from the snares
strewn in its path by the strategy of Phull and the counter-moves of
Napoleon. The fickle goddess also favoured the rescue of the chief
Russian army from imminent peril at Drissa. In pursuance of Phull's
scheme, the Czar and Barclay de Tolly fell back with that army towards
the intrenched camp on the Dwina. But doubts had already begun to
haunt their minds as to the wisdom of Phull's plans. In fact, the bias
of Barclay's nature was towards the proven and the practical. He came
of a Scottish family which long ago had settled in Livonia, and had
won prosperity and esteem in the trade of Riga. His ancestry and his
early surroundings therefore disposed him to the careful weighing of
evidence and distrust of vague theories. His thoroughness in military
organization during the war in Finland and his unquestioned probity
and open-mindedness, had recently brought him high into favour with
the Czar, who made him War Minister. He had no wide acquaintance with
the science of warfare, and has been judged altogether deficient in a
wide outlook on events and in those masterly conceptions which mark
the great warrior.[263] But nations are sometimes ruined by lofty
genius, while at times they may be saved by humdrum prudence; and
Barclay's common sense had no small share in saving Russia.

Two months before the Grand Army passed the Niemen, he had expressed
the hope that God would send retreat to the Russian armies; and we may
safely attribute to his influence with the Czar the timely order to
Bagration to desist from flanking tactics and beat a retreat while yet
there was time. That portion of Phull's strategy having signally
failed, Alexander naturally became more suspicious about the Drissa
plan; and during the retirement from Vilna, he ordered a survey of the
works to be made by Phull's adjutant, a young German named Clausewitz,
who was destined to win a name as an authority in strategy. This
officer was unable conscientiously to present a cheering report. He
found the camp deficient in many respects. Nevertheless, Alexander
still clung to the hope of checking the French advance before these
great intrenchments.

On his arrival there, on July 8th, this hope also was dashed. Michaud,
a young Sardinian engineer, pointed out several serious defects in
their construction. Barclay also protested against shutting up a large
part of the defending army in a camp which could easily be blockaded
by Napoleon's vast forces. Finally, as the Russian reserves stationed
there proved to be disappointingly weak both in numbers and
efficiency, the Czar determined to evacuate the camp, intrust the sole
command to Barclay, and retire to his northern capital. It is said
that, before he left the army, the Grand Duke Constantine, a friend of
the French cause, made a last effort to induce him to come to terms
with Napoleon, now that the plan of campaign had failed. If so,
Alexander repelled the attempt. Pride as a ruler and a just resentment
against Napoleon prevented any compromise; and probably he now saw
that safety for himself and ruin for his foe lay in the firm adoption
of that Fabian policy of retreat and delay, which Scharnhorst had
advocated and Barclay was now determined to carry out.

Though still hampered by the intrigues of Constantine, Bennigsen, and
other generals, who hated him as a foreigner and feigned to despise
him as a coward, Barclay at once took the step which he had long felt
to be necessary; he ordered a retreat which would bring him into touch
with Bagration. Accordingly, leaving Wittgenstein with 25,000 men to
hold Oudinot's corps in check on the middle Dwina, he marched
eastwards towards Vitepsk. True, he left St. Petersburg open to
attack; but it was not likely that Napoleon, when the summer was far
spent, would press so far north and forego his usual plan of striking
at the enemy's chief forces. He would certainly seek to hinder the
junction of the two Russian armies, as soon as he saw that this was
Barclay's aim. Such proved to be the case. Napoleon soon penetrated
his design, and strove to frustrate it by a rapid move from Vilna
towards Polotsk on Barclay's flank, but he failed to cut into his line
of march, and once more had to pursue.

Despite the heavy shrinkage in the Grand Army caused by a remorseless
rush through a country wellnigh stripped of supplies, the Emperor
sought to force on a general engagement. He hoped to catch Barclay at
Vitepsk. "The whole Russian army is at Vitepsk--we are on the eve of
great events," he writes on July 25th. But the Russians skilfully
withdrew by night from their position in front of that town, which he
entered on July 28th. Chagrined and perplexed, the chief stays a
fortnight to organize supplies and stores, while his vanguard presses
on to envelop the Russians at Smolensk. Again his hopes revive when he
hears that Barclay and Bagration are about to join near that city. In
fact, those leaders there concluded that strategic movement to the
rear which was absolutely necessary if they were not to be overwhelmed
singly. They viewed the retreat in a very different light. To the
cautious Barclay it portended a triumph long deferred, but sure: while
the more impulsive Muscovite looked upon the constant falling back as
a national disgrace.

The feelings of the soldiery also forbade a spiritless abandonment of
the holy city of the Upper Dnieper that stands as sentinel to Russia
Proper. On these feelings Napoleon counted, and rightly. He was now in
no haste to strike: the blow must be crushing and final. At last he
hears that Davoust, the leader whose devotion and methodical
persistence merit his complete trust, has bridged the River Dnieper
below the city, and has built ovens for supplying the host with bread.
And having now drawn up troops and supplies from the rear, he pushes
on to end the campaign.

Barclay was still for retreat; but religious sentiment and patriotism
bade the defenders stand firm behind those crumbling walls, while
Bagration secured the line of retreat. The French, ranged
around on the low hills which ring it on the south, looked for an easy
triumph, and Napoleon seems to have felt an excess of confidence. At
any rate, his dispositions were far from masterly. He made no serious
effort to threaten the Russian communications with Moscow, nor did he
wait for his artillery to overwhelm the ramparts and their defenders.
The corps of Ney, Davoust, and Poniatowski, with Murat's cavalry and
the Imperial Guard posted in reserve, promised an easy victory, and
the dense columns of foot moved eagerly to the assault. They were
received with a terrific fire. Only after three hours' desperate
fighting did they master the southern suburbs, and at nightfall the
walls still defied their assaults. Yet in the meantime Napoleon's
cannon had done their work. The wooden houses were everywhere on fire;
a speedy retreat alone could save the garrison from ruin; and amidst a
whirlwind of flame and smoke Barclay drew off his men to join
Bagration on the road to Moscow (August 17th).

Once more, then, the Russian army had slipped from Napoleon's grasp,
though this time it dealt him a loss of 12,000 in killed or wounded.
And the momentous question faced him whether he should halt, now that
summer was on the wane, or snatch under the walls of Moscow the
triumph which Vilna, Vitepsk, and Smolensk had promised and denied. It
is stated by that melodramatic narrator, Count Philip Ségur, that on
entering Vitepsk, the Emperor exclaimed: "The campaign of 1812 is
ended, that of 1813 will do the rest." But the whole of Napoleon's
"Correspondence" refutes the anecdote. Besides, it was not Napoleon's
habit to go into winter quarters in July, or to rest before he had
defeated the enemy's main army.[264]

At Smolensk the question wore another aspect. Napoleon told Metternich
at Dresden that he would not in the present year advance beyond
Smolensk, but would organize Lithuania during winter and advance again
in the spring of 1813, adding: "My enterprise is one of those of which
the solution is to be found in patience." A policy of masterly
inactivity certainly commended itself to his Marshals. But the desire
to crush the enemy's rear drew Ney and Murat into a sharp affair at
Valutino or Lubino: the French lost heavily, but finally gained the
position: and the hope that the foe were determined to fight the
decisive battle at Dorogobuzh lured Napoleon on, despite his earlier
decision.[265] Besides, his position seemed less hazardous than it was
before Austerlitz. The Grand Army was decidedly superior to the united
forces of Barclay and Bagration. On the Dwina, Oudinot held the
Russians at bay; and when he was wounded, his successor, Gouvion St.
Cyr, displayed a tactical skill which enabled him easily to foil a
mere fighter like Wittgenstein. On the French right flank, affairs
were less promising; for the ending of the Russo-Turkish war now left
the Russian army of the Pruth free to march into Volhynia. But, for
the present, Napoleon was able to summon up strong reserves under
Victor, and assure his rear.

With full confidence, then, he pressed onwards to wrest from Fortune
one last favour. It was granted to him at Borodino. There the Russians
made a determined stand. National jealousy of Barclay, inflamed by his
protracted retreat, had at last led to his being superseded by
Kutusoff; and, having about 110,000 troops, the old fighting general
now turned fiercely to bay. His position on the low convex curve of
hills that rise behind the village of Borodino was of great strength.
On his right was the winding valley of the Kolotza, an affluent of the
Moskwa, and before his centre and left the ground sloped down to a
stream. On this more exposed side the Russians had hastily thrown up
earthworks, that at the centre being known as the Great Redoubt,
though it had no rear defences.

Napoleon halted for two days, until his gathering forces mustered some
125,000 men, and he now prepared to end the war at a blow. After
surveying the Russian position, he saw Kutusoff's error in widely
extending his lines to the north; and while making feints on that
side, so as to prevent any concentration of the Muscovite array, he
planned to overwhelm the more exposed centre and left, by the assaults
of Davoust and Poniatowski on the south, and of Ney's corps and
Eugène's Italians on the redoubts at the centre. Davoust begged to be
allowed to outflank the Russian left; but Napoleon refused, perhaps
owing to a fear that the Russians might retreat early in the day, and
decided on dealing direct blows at the left and centre. As the 7th of
September dawned with all the splendour of a protracted summer, cannon
began to thunder against the serried arrays ranged along the opposing
slopes, and Napoleon's columns moved against the redoubts and woods
that sheltered the Muscovite lines. The defence was most obstinate.
Time after time the smaller redoubts were taken and retaken; and
while, on the French right centre, the tide of battle surged up and
down the slope, the Great Redoubt dealt havoc among Eugène's Italians,
who bravely but, as it seemed, hopelessly struggled up that fatal
rise.

Then was seen a soul-stirring sight. Of a sudden, a mass of
Cuirassiers rushed forth from the invaders' ranks, flung itself
uphill, and girdled the grim earthwork with a stream of flashing steel
There, for a brief space, it was stayed by the tough Muscovite lines,
until another billow of horsemen, marshalled by Grouchy and Chastel,
swept all before it, took the redoubt on its weak reverse, and
overwhelmed its devoted defenders.[266] In vain did the Russian
cavalry seek to save the day: Murat's horsemen were not to be denied,
and Kutusoff was at last fain to draw back his mangled lines, but
slowly and defiantly, under cover of a crushing artillery fire.

Thus ended the bloodiest fight of the century. For several hours 800
cannon had dealt death among the opposing masses; the Russians lost
about 40,000 men, and, whatever Napoleon said in his bulletins, the
rents in his array were probably nearly as great. He has been censured
for not launching his Guard at the wavering foe at the climax of the
fight; and the soldiery loudly blamed its commander, Bessières, for
dissuading his master from this step. But to have sacrificed those
veterans to Russian cannon would have been a perilous act.[267] His
Guard was the solid kernel of his army: on it he could always rely,
even when French regulars dissolved, as often happened after long
marches, into bands of unruly marauders; and its value was to be found
out during the retreat. More fitly may Napoleon be blamed for not
seeking earlier in the day to turn the Russian left, and roll that
long line up on the river. Here, as at Smolensk, he resorted to a
frontal attack, which could only yield success at a frightful cost.
The day brought little glory to the generals, except to Ney, Murat,
and Grouchy. For his valour in the _mêlée_, Ney received the title of
Prince de la Moskwa.

A week before this Pyrrhic triumph, Napoleon had heard of a terrible
reverse to French arms in Spain. His old friend, Marmont, who had won
the Marshal's baton after Wagram, measured his strength with
Wellington in the plains of Leon with brilliant success until a false
move near Salamanca exposed him to a crushing rejoinder, and sent his
army flying back towards Burgos. Madrid was now uncovered and was
occupied for a time by the English army (August 13th). Thus while
Napoleon was gasping at Moscow, his brother was expelled from Madrid,
until the recall of Soult from Andalusia gave the French a superiority
in the centre of Spain which forced Wellington to retire to Ciudad
Rodrigo. He lost the fruits of his victory, save that Andalusia was
freed: but he saved his army for the triumphant campaign of 1813. Had
Napoleon shown the like prudence by beating a timely retreat from
Moscow, who can say that the next hard-fought fights in Silesia and
Saxony would not have once more crowned his veterans with decisive
triumph?

As it was, the Grand Army toiled on through heat, dust, and the smoke
of burning villages, to gain peace and plenty at Moscow. But when, on
September the 14th, the conqueror entered that city with his vanguard,
solitude reigned almost unbroken. A few fanatics, clinging to the
tradition that the Kremlin was impregnable, idly sought to defend it;
but troops, officials, nobles, merchants, and the great mass of the
people were gone, and the military stores had been burnt or removed.
Rostopchin, the governor, had released the prisoners and broken the
fire engines. Flames speedily burst forth, and Bausset, the Prefect of
Napoleon's Palace, affirms that while looking forth from the Kremlin
he saw the flames burst forth in several districts in quick
succession; and that a careful examination of cellars often proved
them to be stored with combustibles, vitriol in one case being
swallowed by a French soldier who took it for brandy! If all this be
true, it proves that the Muscovites were determined to fire their
capital. But their writers have as stoutly affirmed that the fires
were caused by French and Polish plunderers.[268] Three days later,
the powers of the air and the demons of drink and frenzy raged
uncontrolled; and Napoleon himself barely escaped from the whirlwinds
of flame that enveloped the Kremlin and nearly scorched to death the
last members of his staff. For several hours the conflagration was
fanned by an equinoctial gale, and when, on the 20th, it died down,
convicts or plunderers kindled it anew.

Yet the army did not want for shelter, and, as Sergeant Bourgogne
remarks, if every house had been gutted there were still the caves and
cellars that promised protection from the cold of winter. The real
problem was now, as ever, the food-supply. The Russians had swept the
district wellnigh bare; and though the Grand Army feasted for a
fortnight on dainties and drink, yet bread, flour, and meat were soon
very scarce. In vain did the Emperor seek to entice the inhabitants
back; they knew the habits of the invaders only too well; and despite
several distant raids, which sometimes cost the French dear, the
soldiery began to suffer.

October wore on with delusive radiance, but brought no peace. Soon
after the great conflagration at Moscow, Napoleon sent secret and
alluring overtures to Alexander, offering to leave Russia a free hand
in regard to Turkey, inclusive of Constantinople, which he had
hitherto strictly reserved, and hinting that Polish affairs might also
be arranged to the Czar's liking.[269] But Alexander refused tamely to
accept the fruits of victory from the man who, he believed, had burnt
holy Moscow, and clung to his vow never to treat with his rival as
long as a single French soldier stood on Russian soil. His resolve
saved Europe. Yet it cost him much to defy the great conqueror to the
death: he had so far feared the capture of St. Petersburg as to
request that the Cronstadt fleet might be kept in safety in
England.[270] But gradually he came to see that the sacrifice of
Moscow had saved his empire and lured Napoleon to his doom. Kutusoff
also played a waiting game. Affecting a wish for peace, he was about
secretly to meet Napoleon's envoy, Lauriston, when the Russian
generals and our commissioner, Sir R. Wilson, intervened, and required
that it should be a public step. It seems likely, however, that
Kutusoff was only seeking to entrap the French into barren
negotiations; he knew that an answer could not come from the banks of
the Neva until winter began to steal over the northern steppes.

Slowly the truth begins to dawn on Napoleon that Moscow is not _the
heart of Russia_, as he had asserted to De Pradt that it was.
Gradually he sees that that primitive organism had no heart, that its
almost amorphous life was widespread through myriads of village
communes, vegetating apart from Moscow or Petersburg, and that his
march to the old capital was little more than a sword-slash through a
pond.[271] Had he set himself to study with his former care the real
nature of the hostile organism, he would certainly never have ventured
beyond Smolensk in the present year. But he had now merged the thinker
in the conqueror, and--sure sign of coming disaster--his mind no
longer accurately gauged facts, it recast them in its own mould.

By long manipulation of men and events, it had framed a dogma of
personal infallibility. This vice had of late been growing on him
apace. It was apparent even in trifles. The Countess Metternich
describes how, early in 1810, he persisted in saying that Kaunitz was
her brother, in spite of her frequent disclaimers of that honour; and,
somewhat earlier, Marmont noticed with half-amused dismay that when
the Emperor gave a wrong estimate of the numbers of a certain corps,
no correction had the slightest effect on him; his mind always
reverted to the first figure. In weightier matters this peculiarity
was equally noticeable. His clinging to preconceived notions, however
unfair or burdensome they were to Britain, Prussia, or Austria, had
been the underlying cause of his wars with those Powers. And now this
same defect, burnt into his being by the blaze of a hundred victories,
held him to Moscow for five weeks, in the belief that Russia was
stricken unto death, and that the facile Czar whom he had known at
Tilsit would once more bend the knee. An idle hope. "I have learnt to
know him now," said the Czar, "Napoleon or I; I or Napoleon; we cannot
reign side by side." Buoyed up by religious faith and by his people's
heroism, Alexander silently defied the victor of Moscow and rebuked
Kutusoff for receiving the French envoy.

At last, on October 18th, the Russians threw away the scabbard and
surprised Murat's force some forty miles south of Moscow, inflicting a
loss of 3,000 men. But already, a day or two earlier, Napoleon had
realized the futility of his hope of peace and had resolved to
retreat. The only alternative was to winter at Moscow, and he judged
that the state of French and Spanish affairs rendered such a course
perilous. He therefore informed Maret that the Grand Army would go
into winter quarters between the Dnieper and the Dwina.[272]

There is no hint in his letters that he anticipated a disastrous
retreat. The weather hitherto had been "as fine as that at
Fontainebleau in September," and he purposed retiring by a more
southerly route which had not been exhausted by war. Full of
confidence, then, he set out on the 19th, with 115,000 men, persuaded
that he would easily reach friendly Lithuania and his winter quarters
"before severe cold set in." The veil was rudely torn from his eyes
when, south of Malo-Jaroslavitz, his Marshals found the Russians so
strongly posted that any further attack seemed to be an act of folly.
Eugène's corps had suffered cruelly in an obstinate fight in and
around that town, and the advice of Berthier, Murat, and Bessières was
against its renewal. For an hour or more the Emperor sat silently
gazing at a map. The only prudent course now left was to retreat north
and then west by way of Borodino, _over his devastated line of
advance_.[273] Back, then, towards Borodino the army mournfully
trudged (October 26th):

    "Everywhere (says Labaume) we saw wagons abandoned for want of
    horses to draw them. Those who bore along with them the spoils of
    Moscow trembled for their riches; but we were disquieted most of
    all at seeing the deplorable state of our cavalry. The villages
    which had but lately given us shelter were level with the ground:
    under their ashes were the bodies of hundreds of soldiers and
    peasants.... But most horrible was the field of Borodino, where we
    saw the forty thousand men, who had perished there, yet lying
    unburied."

For a time, Kutusoff forbore to attack the sore-stricken host; but,
early in November, the Russian horse began to infest the line of
march, and at Viasma their gathering forces were barely held off: had
Kutusoff aided his lieutenants, he might have decimated his famished
foes.

Hitherto the weather had been singularly mild and open, so much so
that the superstitious peasants looked on it as a sign that God was
favouring Napoleon. But, at last, on November the 6th, the first storm
of winter fell on the straggling array, and completed its miseries.
The icy blasts struck death to the hearts of the feeble; and the puny
fighting of man against man was now merged in the awful struggle
against the powers of the air. Drifts of snow blotted out the
landscape; the wandering columns often lost the road and thousands
forthwith ended their miseries. Except among the Old Guard all
semblance of military order was now lost, and battalions melted away
into groups of marauders.

The search for food and fuel became furious, even when the rigour of
the cold abated. The behaviour of Bourgogne, a sergeant in the
Imperial Guard, may serve to show by what shifts a hardy masterful
nature fought its way through the wreckage of humanity around: "If I
could meet anybody in the world with a loaf, I would make him give me
half--nay, I would kill him so as to get the whole." These were his
feelings: he acted on them by foraging in the forest and seizing a pot
in which an orderly was secretly cooking potatoes for his general.
Bourgogne made off with the potatoes, devoured most of them
half-boiled, returned to his comrades and told them he had found
nothing. Taking his place near their fire, he scooped out his bed in
the snow, lay under his bearskin, and clasped his now precious
knapsack, while the others moaned with hunger. Yet, as his narrative
shows, he was not naturally a heartless man: in such a situation man
is apt to sink to the level of the wolf. The best food obtainable was
horseflesh, and hungry throngs rushed at every horse that fell,
disputing its carcass with the packs of dogs or wolves that hung about
the line of march.[274]

Smolensk was now the thought dearest to every heart; and, buoyed with
the hope of rest and food, the army tottered westwards as it had
panted eastwards through the fierce summer heats with Moscow as its
cynosure. The hope that clung about Smolensk was but a cruel mirage.
The wreck of that city offered poor shelter; the stores were exhausted
by the vanguard; and, to the horror of Eugène's Italians, men swarmed
out of that fancied abode of plenty and pounced on every horse that
stumbled to its doom on the slippery banks of the Dnieper. With
inconceivable folly, Napoleon, or his staff, had provided no means for
roughing the horses' shoes. The Cossacks, when they knew this,
exclaimed to Wilson: "God has made Napoleon forget that there was a
winter here."

Disasters now thickened about the Grand Army. During his halt at
Smolensk (November 9th-14th), Napoleon heard that Victor's force on
the Dwina had been worsted by the Russians, and there was ground for
fearing that the Muscovite army of the Ukraine would cut into the line
of retreat. The halt at Smolensk also gave time for Kutusoff to come
up parallel with the main force, and had he pressed on with ordinary
speed and showed a tithe of his wonted pugnacity, he might have
captured the Grand Army and its leader. As it was, his feeble attack
on the rearguard at Krasnoe only gave Ney an opportunity of showing
his dauntless courage. The "bravest of the brave" fought his way
through clouds of Cossacks, crossed the Dnieper, though with the loss
of all his guns, and rejoined the main body. Napoleon was greatly
relieved on hearing of the escape of this Launcelot of the Imperial
chivalry. He ordered cannon to be fired at suitable intervals so as to
forward the news if it were propitious; and on hearing their distant
boomings, he exclaimed to his officers: "I have more than 400,000,000
francs in the cellars of the Tuileries, and would gladly have given
the whole for the ransom of my faithful companion in arms."[275]

Far greater was the danger at the River Beresina. The Russian army of
the south had seized the bridge at Borisoff on which Napoleon's safety
depended, and Oudinot vainly struggled to wrest it back. The
Muscovites burnt it under his eyes. Such was the news which Napoleon
heard at Bobr on November 24th. It staggered him; for, with his usual
excess of confidence, he had destroyed his pontoons on the banks of
the Dnieper; and now there was no means of crossing a river, usually
insignificant, but swollen by floods and bridged only by half-thawed
ice. Yet French resource was far from vanquished. General Corbineau,
finding from some peasants that the river was fordable three leagues
above Borisoff, brought the news to Oudinot, who forthwith prepared to
cross there. Napoleon, coming up on the 26th, approved the plan, and
cheeringly said to his Marshal, "Well, you shall be my locksmith and
open that passage for me."[276]

To deceive the foe, the Emperor told off a regiment or two southwards
with a long tail of camp-followers that were taken to be an army. And
this wily move, harmonizing with recent demonstrations of the
Austrians on the side of Minsk, convinced the Muscovite leader that
Napoleon was minded to clasp hands with them.[277] While the Russians
patrolled the river on the south, French sappers were working, often
neck deep in the water, to throw two light bridges across the stream
higher up. By heroic toil, which to most of them brought death, the
bridges were speedily finished, and, as the light of November 26th was
waning Oudinot's corps of 7,000 men gained a firm footing on the
homeward side. But they were observed by Russian scouts, and when on
the next day Napoleon and other corps had struggled across, the enemy
came up, captured a whole division, and on the morrow strove to hurl
the invaders into the river. Victor and the rearguard staunchly kept
them at bay; but at one point the Russian army of the Dwina
temporarily gained ground and swept the bridges and their approaches
with artillery fire.

Then the panic-stricken throngs of wounded and stragglers, women and
camp-followers, writhed and fought their way until the frail planks
were piled high with living and dead. To add to the horrors, one
bridge gave way under the weight of the cannon. The rush for the one
remaining bridge became yet more frantic and the day closed amidst
scenes of unspeakable woe. Stout swimmers threw themselves into the
stream, only to fall victims to the ice floes and the numbing cold. At
dawn of the 29th, the French rearguard fired the bridge to cover the
retreat. Then a last, loud wail of horror arose from the farther bank,
and despair or a loathing of life drove many to end their miseries in
the river or in the flames.

Such was the crossing of the Beresina. The ghastly tale was told once
more with renewed horrors when the floods of winter abated and laid
bare some 12,000 corpses along the course of that fatal stream. It
would seem that if Napoleon, or his staff, had hurried on the
camp-followers to cross on the night of the 27th to the 28th, those
awful scenes would not have happened, for on that night the bridges
_were not used at all_. Grosser carelessness than this cannot be
conceived; and yet, even after this shocking blunder, the devotion of
the soldiers to their chief found touching expression. When he was
suffering from cold in the wretched bivouac west of the river,
officers went round calling for dry wood for his fire; and shivering
men were seen to offer precious sticks, with the words, "Take it for
the Emperor."[278]

On that day Napoleon wrote to Maret that possibly he would leave the
army and hurry on to Paris. His presence there was certainly needed,
if his crown was to be saved. On November 6th, the day of the first
snowstorm, he heard of the Quixotic attempt of a French republican,
General Malet, to overthrow the Government at Paris. With a handful of
followers, but armed with a false report of Napoleon's capture in
Russia, this man had apprehended several officials, until the scheme
collapsed of sheer inanity.[279] "How now, if we were at Moscow,"
exclaimed the Emperor, on hearing this curious news; and he saw with
chagrin that some of his generals merely shrugged their shoulders.
After crossing the Beresina, he might hope that the worst was over and
that the stores at Vilna and Kovno would suffice for the remnant of
his army. The cold for a time had been less rigorous. The behaviour of
Prussia and Austria was, in truth, more important than the conduct of
the retreat. Unless those Powers were kept to their troth, not a
Frenchman would cross the Elbe.

At Smorgoni, then, on December the 5th, he informed his Marshals that
he left them in order to raise 300,000 men; and, intrusting the
command to Murat, he hurried away. His great care was to prevent the
extent of the disaster being speedily known. "Remove all strangers
from Vilna," he wrote to Maret: "the army is not fine to look upon
just now." The precaution was much needed. Frost set in once more, and
now with unending grip. Vilna offered a poor haven of refuge. The
stores were soon plundered, and, as the Cossacks drew near, Murat and
the remnant of the Grand Army decamped in pitiable panic. Amidst ever
deepening misery they struggled on, until, of the 600,000 men who had
proudly crossed the Niemen for the conquest of Russia, only 20,000
famished, frost-bitten, unarmed spectres staggered across the bridge
of Kovno in the middle of December. The auxiliary corps furnished by
Austria and Prussia fell back almost unscathed. But the remainder of
that mighty host rotted away in Russian prisons or lay at rest under
Nature's winding-sheet of snow.[280]

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXXIII

THE FIRST SAXON CAMPAIGN


Despite the loss of the most splendid army ever marshalled by man,
Napoleon abated no whit of his resolve to dominate Germany and dictate
terms to Russia. At Warsaw, in his retreat, he informed De Pradt that
there was but one step from the sublime _to the ridiculous_, that is,
from the advance on Moscow to the retreat. At Dresden he called on his
allies, Austria and Prussia, to repel the Russians; and at Paris he
strained every nerve to call the youth of the Empire to arms. The
summons met with a ready response: he had but to stamp his foot when
the news from East Prussia looked ominous, and an array of 350,000
conscripts was promised by the Senate (January 10th).

In truth, his genius had enthralled the mind of France. The
magnificence of his aims, his hitherto triumphant energy, and the
glamour of his European supremacy had called forth all the faculties
of the French and Italian peoples, and set them pulsating with
ecstatic activity. He knew by instinct all the intricacies of their
being, which his genius controlled with the easy decisiveness of a
master-key. The rude shock of the Russian disaster served but to
emphasize the thoroughness of his domination, and the dumb
trustfulness of his forty-three millions of subjects.

And yet their patience might well have been exhausted. His military
needs had long ago drawn in levies the year before they were legally
liable; but the mighty swirl of the Moscow campaign now sucked 150,000
lads of under twenty years of age into the devouring vortex. In the
Dutch and German provinces of his Empire the number of those who
evaded the clutches of the conscription was very large. In fact, the
number of "refractory conscripts" in the whole realm amounted to
40,000. Large bands of them ranged the woods of Brittany and La
Vendée, until mobile columns were sent to sweep them into the
barracks.

But in nearly the whole of France (Proper), Napoleon's name was still
an unfailing talisman, appealing as it did to the two strongest
instincts of the Celt, the clinging to the soil and the passion for
heroic enterprise. Thus it came about that the peasantry gave up their
sons to be "food for cannon" with the same docility that was shown by
soldiers who sank death-stricken into a snowy bed with no word of
reproach to the author of their miseries. A like obsequiousness was
shown by the officials and legislators of France, who meekly listened
to the Emperor's reproaches for their weakness in the Malet affair,
and heard with mild surprise his denunciation against republican
idealogy--_the cloudy metaphysics to which all the misfortunes of our
fair France may be attributed_. No tongue dared to utter the retort
which must have fermented in every brain.[281]

But his explanations and appeals did not satisfy every Frenchman. Many
were appalled at the frightful drain on the nation's strength. They
asked in private how the deficit of 1812 and the further expenses of
1813 were to be met, even if he allotted the communal domains to the
service of the State. They pointed to allies ruined or lost; to Spain,
where Joseph's throne still tottered from the shock of Salamanca; to
Poland, lying mangled at the feet of the Muscovites; to Italy,
desolated by the loss of her bravest sons; to the Confederation of the
Rhine, equally afflicted and less resigned; to Austria and Prussia,
where timid sovereigns and calculating Courts alone kept the peoples
true to the hated French alliance. Only by a change of system, they
averred, could the hatred of Europe be appeased, and the formation of
a new and vaster Coalition avoided. Let Napoleon cease to force his
methods of commercial warfare on the Continent: let him make peace on
honourable terms with Russia, where the chief Minister, Romantzoff,
was ready to meet him halfway: let him withdraw his garrisons from
Prussian fortresses, soothe the susceptibilities of Austria--and
events would tend to a solid and honourable peace.

To all promptings of prudence Napoleon was deaf. His instincts and his
experience of the Kings prevented him yielding on any important point.
He determined to carry on the war from the Tagus to the Vistula, to
bolster up Joseph in Spain, to keep his garrisons fast rooted in every
fortress as far east as Danzig. Russia and Prussia, he said, had more
need of peace than France. If he began by giving up towns, they would
demand kingdoms, whereas by yielding nothing he would intimidate them.
And if they did form a league, their forces would be thinly spread out
over an immense space; he would easily dispose of their armies when
they were not aided by the climate; and a single victory would undo
the clumsy knot (_ce noeud mal assorti_).[282]

In truth, if he left Spain out of his count, the survey of the
military position was in many ways reassuring. England's power was
enfeebled by the declaration of war by the United States. In Central
Europe his position was still commanding. He held nearly all the
fortresses of Prussia, and though he had lost a great army, that loss
was spread out very largely over Poles, Germans, Italians, and smaller
peoples. Many of the best French troops and all his ablest generals
had survived. His Guard could therefore be formed again, and the
brains of his army were also intact. The war had brought to light no
military genius among the Russians; and all his past experience of the
"old coalition machines" warranted the belief that their rusty
cogwheels, even if oiled by English subsidies, would clank slowly
along and break down at the first exceptional strain. Such had been
the case at Marengo, at Austerlitz, at Friedland. Why should not
history repeat itself?

While he was guiding his steps solely by the light of past experience,
events were occurring that heralded the dawn of a new era for Central
Europe. On the 30th of December, the Prussian General Yorck, who led
the Prussian corps serving previously under Macdonald in Courland,
concluded the Convention of Tauroggen with the Russians, stipulating
that this corps should hold the district around Memel and Tilsit as
neutral territory, until Frederick William's decision should be known.
Strictly considered, this convention was a grave breach of
international law and an act of treachery towards Napoleon. The King
at first viewed it in that light; but to all his subjects it seemed a
noble and patriotic action. To continue the war with Russia for the
benefit of Napoleon would have been an act of political suicide.

Yet, for some weeks, Frederick William waited on events; and these
events decided for war, not against Russia, but against France. The
Prussian Chancellor, Hardenberg, did his best to hoodwink the French
at Berlin, and quietly to play into the hands of the ardent German
patriots. After publishing an official rebuke to Yorck, he secretly
sent Major Thile to reassure him. He did more: in order to rescue the
King from French influence, still paramount at Berlin, he persuaded
him to set out for Breslau, on the pretext of raising there another
contingent for service under Napoleon. The ruse completely succeeded:
it deceived the French ambassador, St. Marsan: it fooled even Napoleon
himself. With his now invariable habit of taking for granted that
events would march according to his word of command, the Emperor
assumed that this was for the raising of the corps of 30,000 men which
he had requested Frederick William to provide, and said to Prince
Hatzfeld (January 29th): "Your King is going to Breslau: I think it a
timely step." Such was Napoleon's frame of mind, even after he heard
of Yorck's convention with the Russians. That event he considered "the
worst occurrence that could happen." Yet neither that nor the
patriotic ferment in Prussia reft the veil from his eyes. He still
believed that the Prussians would follow their King, and that the King
would obey him. On February the 3rd he wrote to Maret, complaining
that 2,000 Prussian horsemen were shutting themselves up in Silesian
towns, "as if they were afraid of us, instead of helping us and
covering their country."

Once away from Berlin, Frederick William found himself launched on a
resistless stream of national enthusiasm. At heart he was no less a
patriot than the most ardent of the university students; but he knew
far better than they the awful risks of war with the French Empire.
His little kingdom of 4,700,000 souls, with but half-a-dozen
strongholds it could call its own, a realm ravaged by Napoleon's
troops alike in war and peace until commerce and credit were but a dim
memory--such a land could ill afford to defy an empire ten times as
populous and more than ten times as powerful. True, the Russians were
pouring in under the guise of friendship; but the bitter memories of
Tilsit forbade any implicit trust in Alexander. And, if the dross had
been burnt out of his nature by a year of fiery trial, could his army,
exhausted by that frightful winter campaign and decimated by the
diseases which Napoleon's ghastly array scattered broadcast in its
flight, ever hope, even with the help of Prussia's young levies, to
cope with the united forces of Napoleon and Austria?

For at present it seemed that the Court of Vienna would hold fast to
the French alliance. There Metternich was all-powerful, and the
keystone of his system was a guarded but profit-seeking subservience
to Napoleon. Not that the Emperor Francis and he loved the French
potentate; but they looked on him now as a pillar of order, as a
barrier against Jacobinism in France, against the ominous
pan-Germanism preached by Prussian enthusiasts, and against Muscovite
aggandizement in Turkey and Poland. Great was their concern, first at
the Russo-Turkish peace which installed the Muscovites at the northern
mouth of the Danube, and still more at the conquering swoops of the
Russian eagle on Warsaw and Posen. How could they now hope to gain
from Turkey the set-off to the loss of Tyrol and Illyria on which they
had recently been counting, and how save any of the Polish lands from
the grip of Russia? For the present Russia was more to be feared than
Napoleon. Her influence seemed the more threatening to the policy of
balance on which the fortunes of the Hapsburgs were delicately poised.

Only by degrees were these fears and jealousies laid to rest. It
needed all the address of a British envoy, Lord Walpole, who repaired
secretly to Vienna and held out the promise of tempting gains, to
assuage these alarms, and turn Austria's gaze once more on her lost
provinces, Tyrol, Illyria, and Venetia. For the present, however,
nothing came of these overtures; and when the French discovered
Walpole's presence at Vienna, Metternich begged him to leave.[283]

For the present, then, Austria assumed a neutral attitude. A truce was
concluded with Russia, and a special envoy was sent to Paris to
explain the desire of the Emperor Francis to act as mediator, with a
view to the conclusion of a general peace. The latest researches into
Austrian policy show that the Kaiser desired an honourable peace for
all parties concerned, and that Metternich may have shared his views.
But, early in the negotiations, Napoleon showed flashes of distrust as
to the sincerity of his father-in-law, and Austria gradually changed
her attitude. The change was to be fatal to Napoleon. But the question
whether it was brought about by Napoleon's obstinacy, or Metternich's
perfidy, or the force of circumstances, must be postponed for the
present, while we consider events of equal importance and of greater
interest.

While Austria balanced and Frederick William negotiated, the sterner
minds of North Germany rushed in on the once sacred ground of
diplomacy and statecraft. The struggle against Napoleon was prepared
for by the exile Stein, and war was first proclaimed by a professor.

Among the many influences that urged on the Czar to a war for the
liberation of Prussia and Europe, not the least was that wielded at
his Court in the latter half of 1812 by the staunch German patriot,
Stein. His heroic spirit never quailed, even in the darkest hour of
Prussia's humiliation; and he now pointed out convincingly that the
only sure means of overthrowing Napoleon was to raise Germany against
him. To remain on a tame defensive at Warsaw would be to court another
French invasion in 1813. The safety of Russia called for a pursuit of
the French beyond the Elbe and a rally of the Germans against the man
they detested. The appeal struck home. It revived Alexander's longings
for the liberation of Europe, which he had buried at Tilsit; and it
agreed with the promptings of an ambitious statecraft. Only by
overthrowing Napoleon's supremacy in Germany could the Czar gain a
free hand for a lasting settlement of the Polish Question. The eastern
turn given to his policy in 1807 was at an end--but not before Russia
had taken another step towards the Bosphorus. With one leg planted at
the mouth of the Danube, the Colossus now prepared to stride over
Central Europe. The aims of Catherine II. in 1792 were at last to be
realized. While Europe was wrestling with Revolutionary France, the
Muscovite grasp was to tighten on Poland. It is not surprising that
Alexander, on January 13th, commented on the "brilliance of the
present situation," or that he decided to press onward. He gave little
heed to the Gallophil counsels of Romantzoff or the dolorous warnings
of the German-hating Kutusoff; and, on January 18th, he empowered
Stein provisionally to administer in his name the districts of Prussia
(Proper) when occupied by Russian troops.

So irregular a proceeding could only be excused by dire necessity and
by success. It was more than excused; it was triumphantly justified.
Four days later Stein arrived at Königsberg, in company with the
patriotic poet, Arndt. The Estates, or Provincial Assemblies, of East
and West Prussia were summoned, and they heartily voted supplies for
forming a Landwehr or militia, as well as a last line of defence
called the Landsturm. This step, unique in the history of Prussia, was
taken apart from, almost in defiance of, the royal sanction: it was,
in fact, due to the masterful will of Stein, who saw that a great
popular impulse, and it alone, could overcome the inertia of King and
officials. That impulse he himself originated, and by virtue of powers
conferred on him by the Emperor Alexander. And the ball thus set
rolling at Königsberg was to gather mass and momentum until, thanks to
the powerful aid of Wellington in the South, it overthrew Napoleon at
Paris.

The action of the exile was furthered by the word of a thinker and
seer. A worthy professor at the University of Breslau, named Steffens,
had long been meditating on some means of helping his country. The
arrival of Frederick William had kindled a flame of devotion which
perplexed that modest and rather pedantic ruler. But he so far
responded to it as to allow Hardenberg to issue (February 3rd) an
appeal for volunteers to "reinforce the ranks of the old defenders of
the country." The appeal was entirely vague: it did not specify
whether they would serve against the nominal enemy, Russia, or the
real enemy, Napoleon. Pondering this weighty question, as did all good
patriots, Steffens heard, in the watches of the night, the voice of
conscience declare: "Thou must declare war against Napoleon." At his
early morning lecture on Physics, which was very thinly attended, he
told the students that he would address them at eleven on the call for
volunteers. That lecture was thronged; and to the sea of eager faces
Steffens spoke forth the thought that simmered in every brain, the
burning desire for _war with Napoleon_. He offered himself as a
recruit: 200 students from Breslau and 258 from the University of
Berlin soon flocked to the colours, and that, too, chiefly from the
classes which of yore had detested the army. Thanks to the teachings
of Fichte and the still deeper lessons of adversity, the mind of
Germany was now ranged on the side of national independence and
against an omnivorous imperialism.

Where the mind led the body followed, yet still somewhat haltingly. In
truth, the King and his officials were in a difficult position. They
distrusted the Russians, who seemed chiefly eager to force Frederick
William into war with France and to arrange the question of a frontier
afterwards. But the eastern frontier was a question of life and death
for Prussia. If Alexander kept the whole of the great Duchy of Warsaw,
the Hohenzollern States would be threatened from the east as
grievously as ever they were on the west by the French at Magdeburg.
And the Czar seemed resolved to keep the whole of Poland. He told the
Prussian envoy, Knesebeck, that, while handing over to Frederick
William the whole of Saxony, Russia must retain all the Polish lands,
a resolve which would have planted the Russian standards almost on the
banks of the Oder. Nay, more: Knesebeck detected among the Russian
officials a strong, though as yet but half expressed, longing for the
whole of Prussia east of the lower Vistula.

For his part, Frederick William cherished lofty hopes. He knew that
the Russian troops had suffered horribly from privations and disease,
that as yet they mustered only 40,000 effectives on the Polish
borders, and that they urgently needed the help of Prussia. He
therefore claimed that, if he joined Russia in a war against Napoleon,
he must recover the whole of what had been Prussian Poland, with the
exception of the district of Bialystock ceded at Tilsit.[284] It
seemed, then, that the Polish Question would once more exert on the
European concert that dissolving influence which had weakened the
Central Powers ever since the days of Valmy. Had Napoleon now sent to
Breslau a subtle schemer like Savary, the apple of discord might have
been thrown in with fatal results. But the fortunes of his Empire then
rested on a Piedmontese nobleman, St. Marsan, who showed a singular
credulity as to Prussia's subservience. He accepted all Hardenberg's
explanations (including a thin official reproof to Steffens), and did
little or nothing to countermine the diplomatic approaches of Russia.
The ground being thus left clear, it was possible for the Czar to
speak straight to the heart of Frederick William. This he now did.
Knesebeck was set aside; and Alexander, meeting the Prussian demands
halfway, promised in a treaty, signed at Kalisch on February 27th, to
leave Prussia all her present territories, and to secure for her the
equivalent, in a "statistical, financial, and geographical sense," of
the lands which she had lost since 1806, along with a territory
adapted to connect Prussia Proper with the province of Silesia.[285]

It seems certain that Stein's influence weighed much with Alexander in
this final compromise, which postponed the irritating question of the
eastern frontier and bent all the energies of two great States to the
War of Liberation. Stein was sent to Frederick William at Breslau; but
the King hardly deigned to see him, and the greatest of German
patriots was suffered to remain in a garret of that city during a
wearisome attack of fever. But he lived through disease and official
neglect as he triumphed over Slavonic intrigues; and he had at hand
that salve of many an able man--the knowledge that, even while he
himself was slighted, his plans were adopted with beneficent and
far-reaching results.

The Russo-Prussian alliance was firmly upheld by Lord Cathcart, the
British ambassador to Russia, who reached headquarters on March the
2nd. For the present, Great Britain did not definitely join the
allies; but the discussions on the Hanoverian Question, which had
previously sundered us from Prussia, soon proved that wisdom had been
learnt in the school of adversity. The Hohenzollerns now renounced all
claims to Hanover, though they showed some repugnance to our
Prince-Regent's demand that the Electorate should receive some
territorial gain.

Thus the two questions on which Napoleon had counted as certain to
clog the wheels of the Coalition, as they had done in the past, were
removed, and the way was cleared for a compact firmer than any which
Europe had hitherto known. On March 17th a Russo-Prussian Convention
was concluded at Breslau whereby those Powers agreed to deliver
Germany from France, to dissolve the Confederation of the Rhine, and
to summon the German princes and people to help them; every prince
that refused would suffer the loss of his States; and arrangements
were made for the provisional administration of the lands which the
allies should occupy. Frederick William also appealed to his people
and to his army, and instituted that coveted order of merit, the Iron
Cross.

But there was small need of appeals and decorations. The people rushed
to arms with an ardour that rivalled the _levée en masse_ of France in
1793. Nobles and students, professors and peasants, poets and
merchants, shouldered their muskets. Housewives and maidens brought
their scanty savings or their treasured trinkets as offerings for the
altar of the Fatherland. One incident deserves special notice. A girl,
Nanny by name, whose ringlets were her only wealth, shore them off,
sold them, and brought the price of them, two thalers, for the sacred
cause. A noble impulse thrilled through Germany. Volunteers came from
far, many of whom were to ride with Lützow's irregular horse in his
wild ventures. Most noteworthy of these was the gifted young poet,
Korner, a Saxon by birth, who now forsook a life of ease, radiant with
poetic promise, at the careless city of Vienna, to follow the Prussian
eagle. "A great time calls for great hearts," he wrote to his father:
"am I to write vaudevilles when I feel within me the courage and
strength for joining the actors on the stage of real life?" Alas! for
him the end was to be swift and tragic. Not long after inditing an ode
to his sword, he fell in a skirmish near Hamburg.

Germany mourned his loss; but she mourned still more that her greatest
poet, Goethe, felt no throb of national enthusiasm. The great Olympian
was too much wrapped up in his lofty speculations to spare much
sympathy for struggling mortals below: "Shake your chains, if you
will: the man (Napoleon) is too strong for you: you will not break
them." Such was his unprophetic utterance at Dresden to the elder
Korner. Men who touched the people's pulse had no such doubts. "Ah!
those were noble times," wrote Arndt: "the fresh young hope of life
and honour sang in all hearts; it echoed along every street; it rolled
majestically down every chancel." The sight of Germans thronging from
all parts into Silesia to fight for their Prussian champions awakened
in him the vision of a United Germany, which took form in the song,
"What is the German's Fatherland?"[286]

Against this ever-rising tide of national enthusiasm Napoleon pitted
the resources which Gallic devotion still yielded up to his demands.
They were surprisingly great. In less than half a year, after the loss
of half a million of men, a new army nearly as numerous was marshalled
under the imperial eagles. Thirty thousand tried troops were brought
from Spain, thereby greatly relieving the pressure on Wellington.
Italy and the garrison towns of the Empire sent forth a vast number.
But the majority were young, untrained troops; and it was remarked
that the conscripts born in the years of the Terror, 1793-4, had not
the stamina of the earlier levies. Brave they were, superbly brave;
and the Emperor sought by every means to breathe into them his own
indomitable spirit. One of them has described how, on handing them
their colours, he made a brief speech; and, at the close, rising in
his stirrups and stretching forth his hand, he shot at them the
question: "'You swear to guard them?' I felt, as we all felt, that he
snatched from our very navel the cry, 'Yes, we swear.'" Truly, the
Emperor could make boys heroes, but he could never repair the losses
of 1812. Guns he possessed to the number of a thousand in his
arsenals; but he lacked the thousands of skilled artillerymen: youths
he could find and horses he could buy: but not for many a month had he
the resistless streams of horsemen that poured over Prussia after
Jena, or swept into the Great Redoubt at Borodino. Nevertheless, the
energy which embattled a new host within five months of a seemingly
overwhelming disaster, must be considered the most extraordinary event
of an age fertile in marvels. "The imagination sinks back confounded,"
says Pasquier, "when one thinks of all the work to be done and the
resources of all kinds to be found, in order to raise, clothe, and
equip such an army in so short a time."

While immersed in this prodigious task, the Emperor heard, with some
surprise but with no dismay, the news of Prussia's armaments and
disaffection. At first he treats it as a passing freak which will
vanish with firm treatment. "Remain at Berlin as long as you can," he
writes to Eugène, March 5th. "Make examples for the sake of
discipline. At the least insult, whether from a village or a town,
were it from Berlin itself, burn it down." The chief thing that still
concerns him is the vagueness of Eugène's reports, which leave him no
option but to get news about his troops in Germany from _the English
newspapers_. "Do not forget," he writes again on March 14th, "that
Prussia has only four millions of people. She never in her most
prosperous times had more than 150,000 troops. She will not have more
than 40,000 now." That, indeed, was the number to which he had limited
her after Tilsit; and he was unable to conceive that Scharnhorst's
plan of passing men into a reserve would send triple that force into
the field.[287] As for the Russians, he writes, they are thinned by
disease, and must spread out widely in order to besiege the many
fortresses between the Vistula and the Elbe. Indeed, he assures his
ally, the King of Bavaria, that it will be good policy to let them
advance: "The farther they advance, the more certain is their ruin."
Sixty thousand troops were being led by Bertrand from Italy into
Bavaria.[288] These, along with the corps of Eugène and Davoust, would
crush the Russian columns. And, while the allies were busy in Saxony,
Napoleon proposed to mass a great force under the shelter of the Harz
Mountains, cross the Elbe near Havelberg, make a rush for the relief
of Stettin, and stretch a hand to the large French force beleaguered
at Danzig.

Such was his first plan. It was upset by the rapidity of the Cossacks
and the general uprising of Prussia. Augereau's corps was driven from
Berlin by a force of Cossacks led by Tettenborn; and this daring free
lance, a native of Hamburg, thereupon made a dash for the liberation
of his city. For the time he was completely successful: the fury of
the citizens against the French _douaniers_ gave the Cossacks and
patriots an easy triumph there and throughout Hanover. This news
caused Napoleon grave concern. The loss of the great Hanse Town opened
a wide door for English goods, English money, and English troops into
Germany. It must be closed at all costs: and, with severe rebukes to
Eugène and Lauriston, who were now holding the line of the middle
Elbe, he charged Davoust (March 18th) to hold the long winding course
of that river between Magdeburg and Hamburg. The advance of this
determined leader was soon to change the face of affairs in North
Germany.

Shortly before Napoleon left Paris for the seat of war, he received
the new Austrian ambassador, Prince Schwarzenberg (April 9th). With a
jocular courtesy that veiled the deepest irony, he complimented him on
having waged _a fine campaign in_ 1812. Austria's present requests
were not reassuring. While professing the utmost regard for the
welfare of Napoleon, she renewed her offer of mediation in a more
pressing way. In fact, Metternich's aim now was to free Austria from
the threatening pressure of Napoleon on the west and of Russia on the
east. She must now assure to Europe a lasting peace--"not a mere truce
in disguise, like all former treaties with Napoleon"--but a peace that
would restrict the power of France and "establish a balance of power
among the chief States."[289] Such was the secret aim of Austria's
mediation. Obviously, it gave her many advantages. While posing as
mediator, she could claim her share in the territorial redistribution
which must accompany the peace. The blessing awarded to the peacemaker
must be tangible and immediate.

Napoleon's reply to the ambassador was carefully guarded. War was not
to his interest. It would cost more blood than the Moscow campaign.
The great hindrance to any settlement would be England. Russia also
seemed disposed to a fight _à outrance_; but if the Czar wanted peace,
it was for him, not for France, to take the initiative: "I cannot take
the initiative: that would be like capitulating as if I were in a
fort: it is for the others to send me their proposals." And he
expressed his resolve to accept no disadvantageous terms in these
notable words: "If I concluded a dishonourable peace, it would be my
overthrow. I am a new man; I must pay the more heed to public opinion,
because I stand in need of it. The French have lively imaginations:
they love fame and excitement, and are nervous. Do you know the prime
cause of the fall of the Bourbons? It dates from Rossbach." Benevolent
assurances as to Napoleon's desire for peace and for the assembly of a
Congress were all that Schwarzenberg could gain; and his mission was
barren of result, except to increase suspicions on both sides.

In fact, Napoleon was playing his cards at Vienna. He had sent Count
Narbonne thither on a special mission, the purport of which stands
revealed in the envoy's "verbal note" of April 7th. In that note
Austria was pressed to help France with 100,000 men, against Russia
and Prussia, in case they should open hostilities; her reward was to
be the rich province of Silesia. As for the rest of Prussia, two
millions of that people were to be assigned to Saxony, Frederick
William being thrust to the east of the lower Vistula, and left with
one million subjects.[290] Such was the glittering prize dangled
before Metternich. But even the prospect of regaining the province
torn away by the great Frederick moved him not. He judged the
establishment of equilibrium in Europe to be preferable to a mean
triumph over Prussia. To her and to the Czar he had secretly held out
hopes of succour in case Napoleon should prove intractable: and to
this course of action he still clung. True, he trampled on _la petite
morale_ in neglecting to aid his nominal ally, Napoleon. But to
abandon him, if he remained obdurate, was, after all, but an act of
treachery to an individual who had slight claims on Austria, and whose
present offer was alike immoral and insulting. Four days later
Metternich notified to Russia and Prussia that the Emperor Francis
would now proceed with his task of armed mediation.[291]

Austria's overtures for a general peace met with no encouragement at
London. Her envoy, Count Wessenberg, was now treated with the same
cold reserve that had been accorded to Lord Walpole at Vienna early in
the year. On April 9th Castlereagh informed him that all hope of peace
had failed since the "Ruler of France" had declared to the Legislative
Body that _the French Dynasty reigned and would continue to reign in
Spain, and that he had already stated all the sacrifices that he could
consent to make for peace_.

    "Whilst he [Napoleon] shall continue to declare that none of the
    territories arbitrarily incorporated into the French Empire shall
    become matter of negotiation, it is in vain to hope that His
    Imperial Majesty's beneficent intentions can by negotiation be
    accomplished. It is for His Imperial Majesty to consider, after a
    declaration in the nature of a defiance from the Ruler of France,
    a declaration highly insulting to His Imperial Majesty when his
    intervention for peace had been previously accepted, whether the
    moment is not arrived for all the Great Powers of Europe to act in
    concert for their common interests and honour. To obtain for their
    States what may deserve the name of peace they must look again to
    establish an Equilibrium in Europe."

Finally, the British Government refused to lend itself to a
negotiation which must weaken and distract the efforts of Russia and
Prussia.[292]

For the present Napoleon indulged the hope that the bribe of Silesia
would range Austria's legions side by side with his own, and with
Poniatowski's Poles. Animated with this hope, he left Paris before the
dawn of April 15th; and, travelling at furious speed, his carriage
rolled within the portals of Mainz in less than forty hours. There he
stayed for a week, feeling every throb of the chief arteries of his
advance. They beat full and fast; the only bad symptom was the refusal
of Saxony to place her cavalry at his disposal. But, at the close of
the week, Austria's attitude gave him concern. It was clear that she
had not swallowed the bait of Silesia, and that her troops could not
be counted on.

At once he takes precautions. His troops in Italy are to be made
ready, the strongholds of the Upper Danube strengthened, and his
German vassals are closely to watch the policy of Vienna.[293] He then
proceeds to Weimar. There, on April 29th, he mounts his war-horse and
gazes with searching eyes into the columns that are winding through
the Thuringian vales towards Leipzig. The auguries seem favourable.
The men are full of ardour: the line of march is itself an
inspiration; and the veterans cheer the young conscripts with tales of
the great day of Jena and Auerstädt.

At the close of April the military situation was as follows. Eugène
Beauharnais, who commanded the relics of the Grand Army, after
suffering a reverse at Mockern, had retired to the line of the Elbe;
and French garrisons were thus left isolated in Danzig, Modlin,
Zamosc, Glogau, Küstrin, and Stettin.[294] Napoleon's first plan of an
advance direct to Stettin and Danzig having miscarried, he now sought
to gather an immense force as secretly as possible near the Main,
speedily to reinforce Eugène, crush the heads of the enemy's columns,
and, rolling them up in disorder, carry the war to the banks of the
Oder, and relieve his beleaguered garrisons by way of Leipzig and
Torgau. The plan would have the further advantage of bringing a
formidable force near to the Austrian frontier, and holding fast the
Hapsburgs and Saxons to the French alliance.

Meanwhile the allied army was pressing westwards with no less
determination. The Czar and King had addressed a menacing summons to
the King of Saxony to join them, but, receiving no response, invaded
his States. Thereupon Frederick Augustus fled into Bohemia, relying on
an offer from Vienna which guaranteed him his German lands if he would
join the Hapsburgs in their armed mediation.[295] For the present,
however, Saxony was to be the battlefield of the two contending
principles of nationality and Napoleonic Imperialism.

They clashed together on the historic ground of Lützen. Not only the
associations of the place, but the reputation of the leaders helped to
kindle the enthusiasm of the rank and file. On the one side was the
great conqueror himself, with faculties and prestige undimmed even by
the greatest disaster recorded in the annals of civilized nations. He
was opposed by men no less determined than himself. The illness and
finally the death of the obstinate old Kutusoff had stopped the
intrigues of the Slav peace party, hitherto strong in the Russian
camp: and the command now devolved on Wittgenstein, a more energetic
man, whose heart was in his work.

But the most inspiring influence was that of Blücher. The staunch
patriot seemed to embody the best qualities of the old _régime_ and of
the new era. The rigour learnt in the school of Frederick the Great
was vivified by the fresh young enthusiasm of the dawning age of
nationality. Not that the old soldier could appreciate the lofty
teachings of Fichte the philosopher and Schleiermacher the preacher.
But his lack of learning--he could never write a despatch without
strange torturings of his mother-tongue--was more than made up by a
quenchless love of the Fatherland, by a robust common sense, which hit
straight at the mark where subtler minds strayed off into side issues,
by a comradeship that endeared him to every private, and by a courage
that never quailed. And all these gifts, homely but invaluable in a
people's war, were wrought to utmost tension by an all-absorbing
passion, hatred of Napoleon. In the dark days after Jena, when,
pressed back to the Baltic, his brave followers succumbed to the
weight of numbers, he began to store up vials of fury against the
insolent conqueror. Often he beguiled the weary hours with lunging at
an imaginary foe, calling out--_Napoleon_. And this almost Satanic
hatred bore the old man through seven years of humiliation; it gave
him at seventy-two years of age the energy of youth; far from being
sated by triumphs in Saxony and Champagne, it nerved him with new
strength after the shocks to mind and body which he sustained at
Ligny; it carried him and his army through the miry lanes of Wavre on
to the sunset radiance of Waterloo.

What he lacked in skill and science was made up by his able
coadjutors, Scharnhorst and Gneisenau, the former pre-eminent in
organization, the latter in strategy. After organizing Prussia's
citizen army, it was Scharnhorst's fate to be mortally wounded in the
first battle; but his place, as chief of staff, was soon filled by
Gneisenau, in whose nature the sternness of the warrior was happily
blended with the coolness of the scientific thinker. The accord
between him and Blücher was close and cordial; and the latter, on
receiving the degree of doctor of laws from the University of Oxford,
wittily acknowledged his debt to the strategist. "Well," said he, "if
I am to be a doctor, they must make Gneisenau an apothecary; for he
makes up the pills and I then administer them."

On these resolute chiefs and their 33,000 Prussians fell the brunt of
the fighting near Lützen. Wittgenstein, with his 35,000 Russians,
showed less energy; but if a fourth Russian corps under Miloradovitch,
then on the Elster, had arrived in time, the day might have closed
with victory for the allies. Their plan was to cross a stream, called
the Floss Graben, some five miles to the south of Lützen, storm the
villages of Gross Görschen, Rahna, and Starsiedel, held by the French
vanguard, and, cutting into Napoleon's line of march towards Lützen
and Leipzig, throw it into disorder and rout. But their great enemy
had recently joined his array to that of Eugène: he was in force, and
was then planning a turning movement on the north, similar to that
which threatened his south flank. Ney, on whom fell Blücher's first
blows, had observed the preparations, and one of his divisions, that
of Souham, had strengthened the village of Gross Görschen for an
obstinate defence. The French position is thus described by Lord
Cathcart, who was then present at the allied headquarters:

    "The country is uncovered and open, but with much variety of hill
    and valley, and much intersected by hollow ways and millstreams,
    the former not discernible till closely approached. The enemy,
    placed behind a long ridge and in a string of villages, with a
    hollow way in front, and a stream sufficient to float timber on
    the left, waited the near approach of the allies. He had an
    immense quantity of ordnance: the batteries in the open country
    were supported by masses of infantry in solid squares. The plan of
    our operations was to attack Gross Görschen with artillery and
    infantry, and meanwhile to pierce the line, to the enemy's right
    of the villages, with a strong column of cavalry in order to cut
    off the troops in the villages from support.... The cavalry of the
    Prussian Reserve, to whose lot this attack fell, made it with
    great gallantry; but the showers of grapeshot and musketry to
    which they were exposed in reaching the hollow way made it
    impracticable for them to penetrate; and, the enemy appearing
    determined to hold the villages at any expense, the affair assumed
    the most expensive character of attack and defence of a post
    repeatedly taken, lost, and retaken. The cavalry made several
    attempts to break the enemy's line, and in some of their attacks
    succeeded in breaking into the squares and cutting down the
    infantry. Late in the evening, Bonaparte, having called in the
    troops from [the side of] Leipzig and collected all his reserves,
    made an attack on the right of the allies, supported by the fire
    of several batteries advancing. The vivacity of this movement made
    it expedient to change the front of our nearest brigades on our
    right; and, as the whole cavalry from our left was ordered to the
    right to turn this attack, I was not without hopes of witnessing
    the destruction of Bonaparte and of all his army; but before the
    cavalry could arrive, it became so dark that nothing could be seen
    but the flashes of the guns."[296]

The desperate fight thus closed with a slight advantage to the French,
due to the timely advance of Eugène with Macdonald's corps against the
right flank of the wearied allies, when it was too late for them to
make any counter-move. These had lost severely, and among the fallen
was Scharnhorst, whose wound proved to be mortal. But Blücher, far
from being daunted by defeat or by a wound, led seven squadrons of
horse against the victors after nightfall, threw them for a brief
space into a panic, and nearly charged up to the square which
sheltered Napoleon. The Saxon Captain von Odeleben, who was at the
French headquarters, states that the Emperor was for a few minutes
quite dazed by the daring of this stroke; and he now had too few
squadrons to venture on any retaliation. Both sides were, in fact,
exhausted. The allies had lost 10,000 men killed and wounded, but no
prisoners or guns: the French losses were nearly as heavy, and five
guns and 800 prisoners fell into Blücher's hands. Both armies camped
on the field of battle; but, as the supplies of ammunition of the
allies had run low, and news came to hand that Lauriston had dislodged
Kleist from Leipzig, it was decided to retreat towards Dresden.

Napoleon cautiously followed them, leaving behind Ney's corps, which
had suffered frightfully at Gross Görschen; and he strove to inspirit
the conscripts, many of whom had shown unsteadiness, by proclaiming to
the army that the victory of Lützen would rank above Austerlitz, Jena,
Friedland, and Borodino.

Far from showing dejection, Alexander renewed to Cathcart his
assurance of persevering in the war. At Dresden our envoy was again
assured (May 7th) that the allies would not give in, but that "Austria
will wear the cloak of mediation till the time her immense force is
ready to act, the 24th instant. Count Stadion is hourly expected here:
he will bring proposals of terms of peace and similar ones will be
sent to the French headquarters. Receiving and refusing these
proposals will occupy most of the time." In fact, Metternich was on
the point of despatching from Vienna two envoys, Stadion to the
allies, Count Bubna to Napoleon, with the offer of Austria's armed
mediation.

It found him in no complaisant mood. He had entered Dresden as a
conqueror: he had bitterly chidden the citizens for their support of
the Prussian volunteers, and ordered them to beg their own King to
return from Bohemia. To that hapless monarch he had sent an imperious
mandate to come back and order the Saxon troops, who obstinately held
Torgau, forthwith to hand it over to the French. On all sides his
behests were obeyed, the Saxon troops grudgingly ranging themselves
under the French eagles. And while he was tearing Saxony away from the
national cause, he was summoned by Austria to halt. The victor met the
request with a flash of defiance. After a reproachful talk with Bubna,
on May 17th, he wrote two letters to the Emperor Francis. In the more
official note he assured him that he desired peace, and that he
assented to the opening of a Congress with that aim in view, in which
England, Russia, Prussia, and even the Spanish insurgents might take
part. He therefore proposed that an armistice should be concluded for
the needful preparations. But in the other letter he assured his
father-in-law that he was ready to die at the head of all the generous
men of France rather than become the sport of England. His resentment
against Austria finds utterance in his despatch of the same day, in
which he bids Caulaincourt seek an interview at once with the Czar:
"The essential thing is to have a talk with him.... My intention is to
build him a golden bridge so as to deliver him from the intrigues of
Metternich. If I must make sacrifices, I prefer to make them to a
straightforward enemy, rather than to the profit of Austria, which
Power has betrayed my alliance, and, under the guise of mediator,
means to claim the right of arranging everything." Caulaincourt is to
remind Alexander how badly Austria behaved to him in 1812, and to
suggest that if he treats at once before losing another battle, he can
retire with honour and _with good terms for Prussia, without any
intervention from Austria_.

His other letters of this time show that it is on the Hapsburgs that
his resentment will most heavily fall. Eugène, who had recently
departed to organize the forces in Italy, is urged to threaten Austria
with not fewer than 80,000 men, and to give out that he will soon have
150,000 men under arms. And, while straining every nerve in Germany,
France, and Italy, Napoleon asserts that there will be an armistice
for the conclusion of a general peace.[297] But the allies were not to
be duped into a peace that was no peace. They had good grounds for
expecting the eventual aid of Austria; and when Caulaincourt craved an
interview, the Czar refused his request, thus bringing affairs once
more to the arbitrament of the sword. The only effect of
Caulaincourt's mission, and of Napoleon's bitter words to Bubna, was
to alarm Austria.

On their side, the allies desired to risk no further check; and they
had therefore taken up a strong position near Bautzen, where they
could receive reinforcements and effectually cover Silesia. Their
extreme left rested on the spurs of the Lusatian mountains, while
their long front of some four miles in extent stretched northwards
along a ridge that rose between the River Spree and an affluent, and
bent a convex threatening brow against that river and town. There they
were joined by Barclay, whose arrival brought their total strength to
82,000 men. But again Napoleon had the advantage in numbers. Suddenly
calling in Ney's and Lauriston's force of 60,000 men, which had been
sent north so as to threaten Berlin, he confronted the allies with at
least 130,000 men.[298]

On the first day of fighting (May 20th) the French seized the town of
Bautzen, but failed to drive the allies from the hilly, wooded ground
on the south. The fighting on the next day was far more serious. At
dawn of a beautiful spring morning, in a country radiant with verdure
and diversified by trim villages, the thunder of cannon and the
sputter of skirmishers' lines presaged a stubborn conflict. The allied
sovereigns from the commanding ridge at their centre could survey all
the enemy's movements on the hills opposite; and our commissary,
Colonel (afterwards Sir Hudson) Lowe, has thus described his view of
Napoleon, who was near the French centre:

    "He was about fifty paces in front of the others, accompanied by
    one of his marshals, with whom he walked backwards and forwards
    for nearly an hour. He was dressed in a plain uniform coat and a
    star [_sic_], with a plain hat, different from that of his
    marshals and generals, which was feathered. In the rear, and to
    the left of the ridge on which he stood, were his reserves. They
    were formed in lines of squadrons and battalions, appearing like a
    large column of battalions: their number must have been between
    15,000 and 20,000.

    After he had retired from the eminence, several of the battalions
    were observed to be drawn off to his left, and to be replaced by
    others from the rear: the masses of his reserves appeared to
    suffer scarcely any diminution.... Those troops which were to act
    against our right continued their march: the others, opposite our
    centre, planted themselves about midway on the slope, which
    descended from the ridge towards our position; and, under the
    protection of the guns that crowned the ridge, they appeared to
    set our cavalry at defiance.... Yet there was no forward movement
    in that part. To turn and overthrow our flanks, particularly the
    right one, appeared now to be their main object."

This was the case. Napoleon was employing his usual tactics of
assailing the allies everywhere by artillery and musketry fire, so as
to keep them in their already very extended position until he could
deliver a decisive blow. This was dealt, though somewhat tardily, by
Ney with his huge corps at the allied right, where Barclay's 5,000
Russians were outmatched and driven back. The village of Preititz was
lost, and with it the allies' communications were laid bare. It was of
the utmost importance to recover the village; and Blücher, at the
right centre, hard pressed though he was, sent down Kleist's brigade,
which helped to wrench the prize from that Marshal's grasp. But Ney
was too strong to be kept off, even by the streams of cannon-shot
poured upon his dense columns. With the help of Lauriston's corps, he
again slowly pressed on, began to envelop the allies' right, and
threatened to cut off their retreat. Blücher was also furiously
assailed by Marmont and Bertrand. On the left, it is true, the
Russians had beaten back Oudinot with heavy loss; but, as Napoleon had
not yet seriously drawn on his reserves, the allied chiefs decided to
draw off their hard-pressed troops from this unequal contest, where
victory was impossible and delay might place everything in jeopardy.

The retirement began late in the afternoon. Covered by the fire of a
powerful artillery from successive crests, and by the charges of their
dauntless cavalry, the allies beat off every effort of the French to
turn the retreat into a rout. In vain did Napoleon press the pursuit.
As at Lützen, he had cause to mourn the loss in the plains of Russia
of those living waves that had swept his enemies from many a
battlefield. But now their columns refused to melt away. They filed
off, unbroken and defiant, under the covering wings of Uhlans and
Cossacks.[299]

The next day witnessed the same sight, the allies drawing steadily
back, showering shot from every post of vantage, and leaving not a
prisoner or a caisson in the conquerors' hands. "What!" said Napoleon,
"after such a butchery, no results? no prisoners?" Scarcely had he
spoken these words, when a cannon-ball tore through his staff, killing
one general outright, wounding another, and shattering the frame of
Duroc, Duc de Friuli. Napoleon was deeply affected by this occurrence.
He dismounted, went into the cottage where Duroc was taken, and for
some time pressed his hand in silence. Then he uttered the words:
"Duroc, there is another world where we shall meet again." To which
the Grand Marshal made reply: "Yes, sire; but it will be in thirty
years, when you have triumphed over your enemies and realized all the
hopes of your country." After a long pause of painful silence, the
Emperor mournfully left the man for whom he felt, perhaps, the
liveliest sympathy and affection he ever bestowed. Under Duroc's cold,
reserved exterior the Emperor knew that there beat a true heart,
devoted and loyal ever since they had first met at Toulon. He received
no one else for the rest of that night, and a hush of awe fell on the
camp at the unwonted signs of grief of their great leader.

Possibly this loss strengthened the Emperor's desire for a truce, a
feeling not lessened by a mishap befalling one of his divisions, which
fell into an ambush laid by the Prussians at Hainau, and lost 1,500
men and 18 guns.

For their part, the allies equally desired a suspension of arms. Their
forces were in much confusion. Alexander had superseded Wittgenstein
by Barclay, who now insisted on withdrawing the Russians into Poland.
To this the Prussian staff offered the most strenuous resistance. Such
a confession of weakness, urged Müffling, would dishearten the troops
and intimidate the Austrian statesmen who had promised speedy succour.
Let the allies cling to the sheltering rampart of the Riesengebirge,
where they might defy Napoleon's attacks and await the white-coats.
The fortress of Schweidnitz would screen their retreat, and the
Landwehr of Silesia would make good the gaps in their ranks. Towards
Schweidnitz, then, the Czar ordered Barclay to retreat.

There two disappointments awaited them. The fortifications, dismantled
by the French in 1807, were still in disrepair, and the 20,000 muskets
bought in Austria for the Silesian levies were without touch-holes!
Again Barclay declared that he must retreat into Poland, and only the
offer of a truce by Napoleon deterred him from that step, which must
have compromised the whole military and political situation. What
would not Napoleon have given to know the actual state of things at
the allied headquarters?[300] But no spy warned him of the truth; and
as his own instincts prompted him to turn aside, so as to prepare
condign chastisement for Austria, he continued to treat for an
armistice.

"Nothing," he wrote to Eugène on June 2nd, "can be more perfidious
than that Court. If I granted her present demands, she would
afterwards ask for Italy and Germany. Certainly she shall have nothing
from me." Events served to strengthen his resolve. The French entered
Breslau in triumph, and raised the siege of Glogau. The coalition
seemed to be tottering. That the punishment dealt to the allies and
Austria might be severe and final, he only needed a few weeks for the
reorganization of his once formidable cavalry. Then he could vent his
rage upon Austria. Then he could overthrow the Hungarian horse, and
crumple up the ill-trained Austrian foot. A short truce, he believed,
was useless: it would favour the allies more than the French. And,
under the specious plea that the discussion of a satisfactory peace
must take up at least forty days, he ordered his envoy, Caulaincourt,
to insist on a space of time which would admit of the French forces
being fully equipped in Saxony, Bavaria, and Illyria. "If," he wrote
to Caulaincourt on June 4th, "we did not wish to treat with a view to
peace, we should not be so stupid as to treat for an armistice at the
present time." And he urged him to insist on the limit of July 20th,
"always on the same reasoning, namely, that we must have forty full
days to see if we can come to an understanding." Far different was his
secret warning to General Clarke, the Minister of War. To him he wrote
on June 2nd:

    "If I can, I will wait for the month of September to deal great
    blows. I wish then to be in a position to crush my enemies, though
    it is possible that, when Austria sees me about to do so, she may
    make use of her pathetic and sentimental style, in order to
    recognize the chimerical and ridiculous nature of her pretensions.
    I have wished to write you this letter so that you may thoroughly
    know my thoughts once for all."

And to Maret, his Minister for Foreign Affairs, he wrote on the same
day:

    "We must gain time, and to gain time without displeasing Austria,
    we must use the same language we have used for the last six
    months--that we can do everything if Austria is our ally.... Work
    on this, beat about the bush, and gain time.... You can embroider
    on this canvas for the next two months, and find matter for
    sending twenty couriers."[301]

In such cases, where Napoleon's diplomatic assurances are belied by
his secret military instructions, no one who has carefully studied his
career can doubt which course would be adopted. The armistice was
merely the pause that would be followed by a fiercer onset, unless the
allies and Austria bent before his will. Of this they gave no sign
even after the blow of Bautzen. In the negotiations concerning the
armistice they showed no timidity; and when, on June 4th, it was
signed at Poischwitz up to July 20th, Napoleon felt some doubts
whether he had not shown too much complaisance.

It was so: in granting a suspension of arms he had signed his own
death warrant.

The news that reached him at Dresden in the month of June helped to
stiffen his resolve once more. Davoust and Vandamme had succeeded in
dispersing the raw levies of North Germany and in restoring Napoleon's
authority at the mouths of the Elbe and Weser; and in this they now
had the help of the Danes.

For some time the allies had been seeking to win over Denmark. But
there was one insurmountable barrier in the way, the ambition of
Bernadotte. As we have seen, he was desirous of signalizing his
prospective succession to the Swedish throne by bringing to his
adopted country a land that would amply recompense it for the loss of
Finland.[302] This could only be found in Norway, then united with
Denmark; and this was the price of Swedish succour, to which the Czar
had assented during the war of 1812. For reasons which need not be
detailed here, Swedish help was not then forthcoming. But early in
1813 it was seen that a diversion caused by the landing of 30,000
Swedes in North Germany might be most valuable, and it was especially
desired by the British Government. Still, England was loth to gain the
alliance of Bernadotte at the price of Norway, which must drive
Denmark into the arms of France. Castlereagh, therefore, sought to
tempt him by the offer of our recent conquest of Guadeloupe. Or, if he
must have Norway, would not Denmark give her assent if she received
Swedish Pomerania and Lübeck? Bernadotte himself once suggested that
he would be satisfied with the Bishopric of Trondjem, the northern
part of Norway, if he could gain no compensation for Denmark in
Germany.[303]

This offer was tentatively made. It was all one. Denmark would not
hear of the cession of Norway or any part of it; and in the course of
the negotiations with England she even put in a claim to the Hanse
Towns, which was at once rejected. As Denmark was obdurate, Bernadotte
insisted that Sweden should gain the whole of Norway as the price of
her help to the allies. By the treaty of Stockholm (March 3rd, 1813)
we acceded to the Russo-Swedish compact of the previous year, which
assigned Norway to Sweden: we also promised to cede Guadeloupe to
Bernadotte, and to pay £1,000,000 towards the support of the Swedish
troops serving against Napoleon.[304] In the middle of May it was
known at Copenhagen that nothing was to be hoped for from Russia and
England. The Danes, therefore, ranged themselves on the French side,
with results that were to prove fatal to the welfare of their kingdom.

Thus the bargain which Bernadotte drove with the allies leagued
Denmark against them, and thereby hindered the liberation of North
Germany. But, such is the irony of fate, the transfer of Norway from
Denmark to Sweden has had a permanence in which Napoleon's territorial
arrangements have been signally lacking.

Bernadotte landed at Stralsund with 24,000 men, on May 18th. But the
organization of his troops for the campaign was so slow that he could
send no effective help to the Cossacks and patriots at Hamburg. His
seeming lethargy at once aroused the Czar's suspicions. This the
Swedish Prince Royal speedily detected; and, on hearing of the
armistice, he feared that another Tilsit would be the result. In a
passionate letter, of June 10th, he begged Alexander not to accept
peace: "To accept a peace dictated by Napoleon is to rear a sepulchre
for Europe: and if this misfortune happens, only England and Sweden
can remain intact."

This was the real Bernadotte. Those who called him a disguised friend
of Napoleon little knew the depth of his hatred for the Emperor, a
hatred which was even then compassing the earth for means of
overthrowing him, and saw in the person of a lonely French exile
beyond the Atlantic an instrument of vengeance. Already he had bidden
his old comrade in arms, Moreau, to come over and direct the people's
war against the tyrant who had exiled him; and the victor of
Hohenlinden was soon to land at Stralsund and spend his last days in
serving against the tricolour.

For the present the prospects of the allies seemed gloomy indeed. In
the south-east they had lost all the land up to Breslau and Glogau;
and in North Germany Davoust began to turn Hamburg into a great
fortress. This was in obedience to Napoleon's orders. "I shall never
feel assured," the Emperor wrote to his Marshal, "until Hamburg can be
looked on as a stronghold provisioned for several months and prepared
in every way for a long defence."--The ruin of commercial interests
was nought to him; and when Savary ventured to hint at the discontent
caused in French mercantile circles by these steps, he received a
sharp rebuke: "... The cackling of the Paris bankers matters very
little to me. I am having Hamburg fortified. I am having a naval
arsenal formed there. Within a few months it will be one of my
strongest fortresses. I intend to keep a standing army of 15,000 men
there."[305] His plan was ruthlessly carried out. The wealth of
Hamburg was systematically extorted in order to furnish means for a
completer subjection. Boundless exactions, robbery of the bank, odious
oppression of all classes, these were the first steps. Twenty thousand
persons were thereafter driven out, first the young and strong as
being dangerous, then the old and weak as being useless; and a once
prosperous emporium of trade became Napoleon's chief northern
stronghold, a centre of hope for French and Danes, and a stimulus to
revenge for every patriotic Teuton.[306]

Yet the patriots were not cast down by recent events. Their one desire
was for the renewal of war: their one fear was that the diplomatists
would once more barter away German independence. "Our people," cried
Karl Müller, "is still too lazy because it is too wealthy. Let us
learn, as the Russians did, to go round and burn, and then find
ourselves dagger and poison, as the Spaniards did. Against those two
peoples Napoleon's troops could effect nothing." And while gloom and
doubt hung over Germany, a cheering ray shot forth once more from the
south-west. At the close of June came the news that Wellington had
utterly routed the French at Vittoria.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXXIV

VITTORIA AND THE ARMISTICE


It would be beyond the scope of this work to describe in detail the
campaign that culminated at Vittoria. Our task must be limited to
showing what was the position of affairs at the close of 1812, what
were the Emperor's plans for holding part, at least, of Spain, and why
they ended in utter failure.

The causes, which had all along weakened the French operations in
Spain, operated in full force during the campaign of 1812. The
jealousy of the Marshals, and, still more, their insubordination to
King Joseph, prevented that timely concentration of force by which the
Emperor won his greatest triumphs. Discordant aims and grudging
co-operation marked their operations. Military writers have often been
puzzled to account for the rash moves of Marmont, which brought on him
the crushing blow of Salamanca. Had he waited but a few days before
pressing Wellington hard, he would have been reinforced by King Joseph
with 14,000 men.[307] But he preferred to risk all on a last dashing
move rather than to wait for the King and contribute, as second in
command, to securing a substantial success.

The correspondence of Joseph before and after Salamanca is
instructive. We see him unable to move quickly to the support of
Marmont, because the French Army of the North neglects to send him the
detachment needed for the defence of Madrid; and when, on hearing the
news of Salamanca, he orders Soult to evacuate Andalusia so as to
concentrate forces for the recovery of the capital, his command is for
some time disobeyed. When, at last, Joseph, Soult, and Suchet
concentrate their forces for a march on Madrid, Wellington is
compelled to retire. Pushing on his rear with superior forces, Joseph
then seeks to press on a battle; but again Soult moves so slowly that
Wellington is able to draw off his men and make good his retreat to
Ciudad Rodrigo.[308]

Apparently Joseph came off victor from the campaign of 1812; but the
withdrawal of French troops towards Madrid and the valley of the Douro
had fatal consequences. The south was at once lost to the French; and
the sturdy mountaineers of Biscay, Navarre, and Arragon formed large
bands whose persistent daring showed that the north was far from
conquered. Encouraged by the presence of a small British force, they
seized on most of the northern ports; and their chief, Mina, was able
to meet the French northern army on almost equal terms. In the east,
Suchet held his own against the Spaniards and an Anglo-Sicilian
expedition. But in regard to the rest of Spain, Soult's gloomy
prophecy was fulfilled: "The loss of Andalusia and the raising of the
siege of Cadiz are events whose results will be felt throughout the
whole of Europe."

The Spanish Cortes, or Parliament, long cooped up in Cadiz, now sought
to put in force the recently devised democratic constitution. It was
hailed with joy by advanced thinkers in the cities, and with loathing
by the clergy, the nobles, the wealthy, and the peasants. But, though
the Cortes sowed the seeds of political discord, they took one very
commendable step. They appointed Wellington generalissimo of all the
Spanish armies; and, in a visit which he paid to the Cortes at
Christmastide, he prepared for a real co-operation of Spanish forces
in the next campaign.

At that time Napoleon was uneasily looking into the state of Spanish
affairs. As soon as he mastered the contents of the despatches from
Madrid he counselled a course of action that promised, at any rate, to
postpone the overthrow of his power. The advice is set forth in
letters written on January 4th and February 12th by the Minister of
War, General Clarke; for Napoleon had practically ceased to correspond
with his brother. In the latter of these despatches Clarke explained
in some detail the urgent need of acting at once, while the English
were inactive, so as to stamp out the ever-spreading flame of revolt
in the northern provinces. Two French armies, that of the North and
the so-called "Army of Portugal," were to be told off for this duty;
and Joseph was informed that his armies of the south and of the centre
would for the present suffice to hold the British in check. As to
Joseph's general course of action, it was thus prescribed:

    "The Emperor commands me to reiterate to your Majesty that the use
    of Valladolid as a residence and as headquarters is an
    indispensable preliminary. From that place must be sent out on the
    Burgos road, and on other fit points, the troops which are to
    strengthen or to second the army of the north. Madrid, and even
    Valencia, form parts of this system only as posts to be held by
    your extreme left, not as places to be kept by a concentration of
    forces.... To occupy Valladolid and Salamanca, to use the utmost
    exertion to pacify Navarre and Arragon to keep the communication
    with France rapid and safe, to be always ready to take the
    offensive--these are the Emperor's instructions for the campaign,
    and the principles on which all its operations ought to be
    founded...."[309]

A fortnight later, Clarke bade the King threaten Ciudad Rodrigo so as
to make Wellington believe that the French would invade Portugal. He
was also to lay heavy contributions on Madrid and Toledo. In fact, the
capital was to be held only as long as it could be squeezed.

Such were the plans. They show clearly that the Emperor was impressed
with the need of crushing the rising in the north of Spain; for he
ordered as great a force against Mina and his troublesome bands as he
deemed necessary to watch the Portuguese frontier. Clausel was charged
to stamp out the northern rising, and Napoleon seems to have judged
that this hardy fighter would end this tedious task before Wellington
dealt any serious blows. The miscalculation was to be fatal. Mina was
not speedily to be beaten, nor was the British general the slow
unenterprising leader that the Emperor took him to be. And then again,
in spite of all the experiences of the past, Napoleon failed to allow
for the delays caused by the capture of his couriers, or by their long
detours. Yet, never were these more serious. Clarke's first urgent
despatch, that of January 4th, did not reach the King until February
16th.[310] When its directions were being doubtfully obeyed, those
quoted above arrived on March 12th, and led to changes in the
disposition of the troops. Thus the forces opposed to Wellington were
weakened in order to crush the northern revolt, and yet these
detachments were only sent north at the close of March for a difficult
enterprise which was not to be completed before the British leader
threw his sword decisively into the scales of war.

Joseph has been severely blamed for his tardy action: but, in truth,
he was in a hopeless _impasse_: on all sides he saw the walls of his
royal prison house closing in. The rebels in the north cut off the
French despatches, thus forestalling his movements and delaying by
some weeks his execution of Napoleon's plans. Worst of all, the
Emperor withdrew the pith and marrow of his forces: 1,200 officers,
6,000 non-commissioned officers, and some 24,000 of the most seasoned
soldiers filed away towards France to put strength and firmness into
the new levies of the line, or to fill out again the skeleton
battalions and squadrons of the Imperial Guard.[311]

It is strange that Napoleon did not withdraw all his troops from
Spain. They still exceeded 150,000 men; and yet, after he had flung
away army after army, the Spaniards were everywhere in arms, except in
Valencia. The north defied all the efforts of Clausel for several
weeks, until he declared that it would take 50,000 men three months to
crush the mountaineers.[312] Above all, Wellington was known to be
mustering a formidable force on the Portuguese borders. In truth,
Napoleon seems long to have been afflicted with political colour
blindness in Spanish affairs. Even now he only dimly saw the
ridiculous falsity of his brother's position--a parvenu among the
proudest nobility in the world, a bankrupt King called upon to keep up
regal pomp before a ceremonious race, a benevolent ruler forced to
levy heavy loans and contributions on a sensitive populace whose
goodwill he earnestly strove to gain, an easy-going epicure spurred on
to impetuous action by orders from Paris which he dared not disregard
and could not execute, a peace-loving valetudinarian upon whom was
thrust the task of controlling testy French Marshals, and of holding a
nation in check and Wellington at bay.

The concentration on which Napoleon laid such stress would doubtless
have proved a most effective step had the French forces on the Douro
been marshalled by an able leader. But here, again, the situation had
been fatally compromised by the recall of the ablest of the French
commanders in Spain. Wellington afterwards said that Soult was second
only to Masséna among the French Marshals pitted against him. He had
some defects. "He did not quite understand a field of battle: he was
an excellent tactician, knew very well how to bring his troops up to
the field, but not so well how to use them when he had brought them
up."[313] But the fact remains that, with the exception of his Oporto
failure, Soult came with credit, if not glory, out of every campaign
waged against Wellington. Yet he was now recalled.

Indeed, this vain and ambitious man had mortally offended King Joseph.
After Salamanca he had treated him with gross disrespect. Not only did
he, at first, refuse to move from Andalusia, but he secretly revealed
to six French generals his fears that Joseph was betraying the French
cause by treating with the Spanish national government at Cadiz. He
even warned Clarke of the King's supposed intentions, in a letter
which by chance fell into Joseph's hands.[314] The hot blood of the
Bonapartes boiled at this underhand dealing, and he at once despatched
Colonel Desprez to Napoleon to demand Soult's instant recall. The
Emperor, who was then at Moscow, temporized. Perhaps he was not sorry
to have in Spain so vigilant an informer; and he made the guarded
reply that Soult's suspicions did not much surprise him, that they
were shared by many other French generals, who thought King Joseph
preferred Spain to France, and that he could not recall Soult, as he
had "the only military head in Spain." The threatening war-cloud in
Central Europe led Napoleon to change his resolve. Soult was recalled,
but not disgraced, and, after the death of Bessières, he received the
command of the Imperial Guard.

The commander who now bore the brunt of responsibility was Jourdan,
who acted as major-general at the King's side, a post which he had
held once before, but had forfeited owing to his blunders in the
summer of 1809. The victor of Fleurus was now fifty-one years of age,
and his failing health quite unfitted him for the Herculean tasks of
guiding refractory generals, and of propping up a tottering monarchy.
For Jourdan's talents Napoleon had expressed but scanty esteem,
whereas on many occasions he extolled the abilities of Suchet, who was
now holding down Valencia and Catalonia. Certainly Suchet's tenacity
and administrative skill rendered his stay in those rich provinces
highly desirable. But the best talent was surely needed on
Wellington's line of advance, namely, at Valladolid. To the
shortcomings and mishaps of Joseph and Jourdan in that quarter may be
chiefly ascribed the collapse of the French power.

In fact, the only part of Spain that now really interested Napoleon
was the north and north-east. So long as he firmly held the provinces
north of the Ebro, he seems to have cared little whether Joseph
reigned, or did not reign, at Madrid. All that concerned him was to
hold the British at bay from the line of the Douro, while French
authority was established in the north and north-east. This he was
determined to keep; and probably he had already formed the design,
later on to be mooted to Ferdinand VII. at Valençay, of restoring him
to the throne of Spain and of indemnifying him with Portugal for the
loss of the north-eastern provinces. This scheme may even have formed
part of a plan of general pacification; for at Dresden, on May 17th,
he proposed to Austria the admission of representatives of the Spanish
_insurgents_ to the European Congress. But it is time to turn from the
haze of conjecture to the sharp outlines of Wellington's
campaign.[315]

While the French cause in Spain was crumbling to pieces, that of the
patriots was being firmly welded together by the organizing genius of
Wellington. By patient efforts, he soon had the Spanish and Portuguese
contingents in an efficient condition: and, as large reinforcements
had come from England, he was able early in May to muster 70,000
British and Portuguese troops and 30,000 Spaniards for a move
eastwards. Murray's force tied Suchet fast to the province of
Valencia; Clausel was fully employed in Navarre, and thus Joseph's
army on the Douro was left far too weak to stem Wellington's tide of
war. Only some 45,000 French were ready in the districts between
Salamanca and Valladolid. Others remained in the basin of the Tagus in
case the allies should burst in by that route.

Wellington kept up their illusions by feints at several points, while
he prepared to thrust a mighty force over the fords of the Tormes and
Esla. He completely succeeded. While Joseph and Jourdan were haltingly
mustering their forces in Leon, the allies began that series of rapid
flanking movements on the north which decided the campaign. Swinging
forward his powerful left wing he manoeuvred the French out of one
strong position after another. The Tormes, the Esla, the Douro, the
Carrion, the Pisuerga, none of these streams stopped his advance.
Joseph nowhere showed fight; he abandoned even the castle of Burgos,
and, fearing to be cut off from France, retired behind the upper Ebro.

The official excuse given for this rapid retreat was the lack of
provisions: but the diaries of two British officers, Tomkinson and
Simmons, show that they found the country between the Esla and the
Ebro for the most part well stocked and fertile. Simmons, who was with
the famous Light Division, notes that the Rifles did not fire a shot
after breaking up their winter quarters, until they skirmished with
the French in the hills near the source of the Ebro. The French
retreat was really necessary in order to bring the King's forces into
touch with the corps of Generals Clausel and Foy, in Navarre and
Biscay respectively. Joseph had already sent urgent orders to call in
these corps; for, as he explained to Clarke, the supreme need now was
to beat Wellington; that done, the partisan warfare would collapse.

But Clausel and Foy took their orders, not from the King, but from
Paris; and up to June 5th, Joseph heard not a word from Clausel. At
last, on June 15th, that general wrote from Pamplona that he had
received Joseph's commands of May 30th and June 7th, and would march
to join him. Had he at once called in his mobile columns and covered
with all haste the fifty miles that separated him from the King, the
French army would have been the stronger by at least 14,000 men. But
his concentration was a work of some difficulty, and he finally drew
near to Vittoria on June 22nd, when the French cause was irrecoverably
lost.[316]

Wellington, meanwhile, had foreseen the supreme need of despatch.
Early in the year he had urged our naval authorities to strengthen our
squadron on the north of Spain, so that he might in due course make
Santander his base of supplies. Naval support was not forthcoming to
the extent that he expected;[317] but after leaving Burgos he was able
to make some use of the northern ports, thereby shortening his line of
communications. In fact, the Vittoria campaign illustrates the immense
advantages gained by a leader, who is sure of his rear and of one
flank, over an enemy who is ever nervous about his communications. The
British squadron acted like a covering force on the north to
Wellington: it fed the guerilla warfare in Biscay, and menaced Joseph
with real though invisible dangers. This explains, in large measure,
why our commander moved forward so rapidly, and pushed forward his
left wing with such persistent daring. Mountain fastnesses and roaring
torrents stayed not the advance of his light troops on that side. Near
the sources of the Ebro, the French again felt their communications
with France threatened, and falling back from the main stream, up the
defile carved out by a tributary, the Zadora, they halted wearily in
the basin of Vittoria.

There Joseph and Jourdan determined to fight. As usual, there had been
recriminations at headquarters. "Jourdan, ill and angry, kept his
room; and the King was equally invisible."[318] Few orders were given.
The town was packed with convoys and vehicles of all kinds, and it was
not till dawn of that fatal midsummer's day that the last convoy set
out for France, under the escort of 3,000 troops. Nevertheless, Joseph
might hope to hold his own. True, he had but 70,000 troops at hand, or
perhaps even fewer; yet on the evening of the 19th he heard that
Clausel had set out from Pamplona.

At once he bade him press on his march, but that message fell into the
enemy's hands.[319] Relying, then, on help which was not to arrive,
Joseph confronted the allied army. It numbered, in all, 83,000 men,
though Napier asserts that not more than 60,000 took part in the
fighting. The French left wing rested on steep hills near Puebla,
which tower above the River Zadora, and leave but a narrow defile.
Their centre held a less precipitous ridge, which trends away to the
north parallel to the middle reaches of that stream. Higher up its
course, the Zadora describes a sharp curve that protects the ridge on
its northern flank; and if a daring foe drove the defenders away from
these heights, they could still fall back on two lower ridges nearer
Vittoria. But these natural advantages were not utilized to the full.
The bridges opposite the French front were not broken, and the
defenders were far too widely spread out. Their right wing, consisting
of the "Army of Portugal" under General Reille, guarded the bridge
north of Vittoria, and was thus quite out of touch with the main force
that held the hills five miles away to the west.

The dawn broke heavily; the air was thick with rain and driving mists,
under cover of which Hill's command moved up against the steeps of
Puebla. A Spanish brigade, under General Morillo, nimbly scaled those
slopes on the south-west, gained a footing near the summit, and, when
reinforced, firmly held their ground. Meanwhile the rest of Hill's
troops threaded their way beneath through the pass of Puebla, and,
after a tough fight, wrested the village of Subijana from the foe. In
vain did Joseph and Jourdan bring up troops from the centre; the
British and Spaniards were not to be driven either from the village or
from the heights. Wellington's main array was also advancing to attack
the French centre occupying the ridge behind the Zadora; and Graham,
after making a long détour to the north through very broken country,
sought to surprise Reille and drive him from the bridge north of
Vittoria. In this advance the guidance of the Spanish irregulars,
under Colonel Longa, was of priceless value. So well was Graham
covered by their bands, that, up to the moment of attack, Reille knew
not that a British division was also at hand. At the centre, too, a
Spanish peasant informed Wellington that the chief bridge of Tres
Puentes was unguarded, and guided Kempt's brigade through rocky ground
to within easy charging distance.

 [Illustration: BATTLE OF VITTORIA]

The bridge was seized, Joseph's outposts were completely turned, and
time was given for the muster of Picton's men. Stoutly they breasted
the slopes, and unsteadied the weakened French centre, which was also
assailed on its northern flank. At the same time Joseph's left wing
began to waver under Hill's repeated onslaughts; and, distracted by
the distant cannonade, which told of a stubborn fight between Graham
and Reille, the King now began to draw in his lines towards Vittoria.
For a time the French firmly held the village of Arinez, but Picton's
men were not to be denied. They burst through the rearguard, and the
battle now became a running fight, extending over some five miles of
broken country. At the last slopes, close to Vittoria, the defenders
made a last heroic stand, and their artillery dealt havoc among the
assailants; but our fourth division, rushing forward into the smoke,
carried a hill that commanded their left, and the day was won. Nothing
now remained for the French but a speedy retreat, while the gallant
Reille could still hold Graham's superior force at bay.

There, too, the fight at last swirled back, albeit with many a
rallying eddy, into Vittoria. That town was no place of refuge, but a
death-trap; for Graham had pushed on a detachment to Durana, on the
high-road leading direct to France, and thus blocked the main line of
retreat. Joseph's army was now in pitiable plight. Pent up in the
choked streets of Vittoria, torn by cannon-shot from the English
lines, the wreckage of its three armies for a time surged helplessly
to and fro, and then broke away eastwards towards Pamplona. On that
side only was safety to be found, for British hussars scoured the
plain to the north-east, lending wings to the flight. The narrow
causeway, leading through marshes, was soon blocked, and panic seized
on all: artillerymen cut their traces and fled; carriages crowded with
women, once called gay, but now frantic with terror, wagons laden with
ammunition, stores, treasure-chests, and the booty amassed by generals
and favourites during five years of warfare and extortion, all were
left pell-mell. Jourdan's Marshal's baton was taken, and was sent by
Wellington to the Prince Regent, who acknowledged it by conferring on
the victor the title of Field-Marshal.

Richly was the title deserved. After four years of battling with
superior numbers, the British leader at last revealed the full majesty
of his powers now that the omens were favourable. In six weeks he
marched more than five hundred miles, crossed six rivers, and, using
the Navarrese revolt as the anvil, dealt the hammer-stroke of
Vittoria. It cost Napoleon 151 pieces of cannon, nearly all the stores
piled up for his Peninsular campaigns--and Spain itself.[320]

As for Joseph, he left his carriage and fled on horseback towards
France, reaching St. Jean de Luz "with only a napoleon left." He there
also assured his queen that he had always preferred a private station
to the grandeur and agitations of public life.[321] This, indeed, was
one of the many weak points of his brother's Spanish policy. It rested
on the shoulders of an amiable man who was better suited to the ease
of Naples than to the Herculean toils of Madrid. Napoleon now saw the
magnitude of his error. On July 1st he bade Soult leave Dresden at
once for Paris. There he was to call on Clarke, with him repair to
Cambacérès; and, as Lieutenant-General, take steps to re-establish the
Emperor's affairs in Spain. A Regency was to govern in place of
Joseph, who was ordered to remain, according to the state of affairs,
either at Burgos(!) or St. Sebastian or Bayonne.

    "All the follies in Spain" (he wrote to Cambacérès on that day)
    "are due to the mistaken consideration I have shown the King, who
    not only does not know how to command, but does not even know his
    own value enough to leave the military command alone."

And to Savary he wrote two days later:

    "It is hard to imagine anything so inconceivable as what is now
    going on in Spain. The King could have collected 100,000 picked
    men: _they might have beaten the whole of England_."

Reflection, however, showed him that the fault was his own; that if,
as had occurred to him when he left Paris, he had intrusted the
supreme command in Spain to Soult, the disaster would never have
happened.[322] His belief in Soult's capacity was justified by the
last events of the Peninsular War. But neither his splendid rally of
the scattered French forces, nor the skilful movements of Clausel and
Suchet, nor the stubborn defence of Pamplona and San Sebastian, could
now save the French cause. The sole result of these last operations
was to restore the lustre of the French arms and to keep 150,000 men
in Spain when the scales of war were wavering in the plains of Saxony.

Napoleon's letters betray the agitation which he felt even at the
first vague rumours of the disaster of Vittoria. On the first three
days of July he penned at Dresden seven despatches on that topic in a
style so vehement that the compilers of the "Correspondance de
Napoléon" have thought it best to omit them. He further enjoined the
utmost reserve, and ordered the official journals merely to state
that, after a brisk engagement at Vittoria, the French army was
concentrating in Arragon, and that the British had captured about a
hundred guns and wagons left behind in the town for lack of horses.

There was every reason for hiding the truth. He saw how seriously it
must weaken his chances of browbeating the Eastern Powers, and of
punishing Austria for her armed mediation. Hitherto there seemed every
chance of his succeeding. The French standards flew on all the
fortresses of the Elbe and Oder. Hamburg was fast becoming a great
French camp, and Denmark was ranged on the side of France.

Indeed, on reviewing the situation on June 4th, the German publicist,
Gentz, came to the conclusion that the Emperor Francis would probably
end his vacillations by some inglorious compromise. The Kaiser desired
peace; but he also wished to shake off the irksome tutelage of his
son-in-law, and regain Illyria. For the present he wavered. Before the
news of Lützen reached him, he undoubtedly encouraged the allies: but
that reverse brought about a half left turn towards Napoleon. "Boney's
success at Lützen," wrote Sir G. Jackson in his Diary, "has made
Francis reconsider his half-formed resolutions." Here was the chief
difficulty for the allies. Their fortunes, and the future of Europe,
rested largely on the decision of a man whose natural irresolution of
character had been increased by adversity. Fortunately, the news from
Spain finally helped to incline him towards war; but for some weeks
his decision remained the unknown quantity in European politics.
Fortunately, too, he was amenable to the gentle but determining
pressure of the kind which Metternich could so skilfully exert. That
statesman, as usual, schemed and balanced. He saw that Austria had
much to gain by playing the waiting game. Her forces were improving
both in numbers and efficiency, and under cover of her offer of armed
mediation were holding strong positions in Bohemia. In fact, she was
regaining her prestige, and might hope to impose her will on the
combatants at the forthcoming European Congress at Prague. Metternich,
therefore, continued to pose as the well-wisher of both parties and
the champion of a reasonable and therefore durable compromise.

He had acted thus, not only in his choice of measures, but in his
selection of men. He had sent to Napoleon's headquarters at Dresden
Count Bubna, whose sincere and resolute striving for peace served to
lull animosity and suspicions in that place. But to the allied
headquarters, now at Reichenbach, he had despatched Count Stadion, who
worked no less earnestly for war. While therefore the Courts of St.
Petersburg, Berlin, and London hoped, from Stadion's language, that
Austria meant to draw the sword, Napoleon inclined to the belief that
she would never do more than rattle her scabbard, and would finally
yield to his demands.

Stadion's letters to Metternich show that he feared this result. He
pressed him to end the seesaw policy of the last six months. "These
people are beaten owing to our faults, our half wishes, our half
measures, and presently they will get out of the scrape and leave us
to pay the price." As for Austria's forthcoming demand of Illyria, who
would guarantee that the French Emperor would let her keep it six
months, if he remained master of Germany and Italy? Only by a close
union with the allies could she be screened from Napoleon's vengeance,
which must otherwise lead to her utter destruction. Let, then, all
timid counsellors be removed from the side of the Emperor Francis. "I
cling to my oft-expressed conviction that we are no longer masters of
our own affairs, and that the tide of events will carry us
along."[323] If we may judge from Metternich's statements in his
"Memoirs," written many years later, he was all along in secret
sympathy with these views. But his actions and his official despatches
during the first six weeks of the armistice bore another complexion;
they were almost colourless, or rather, they were chameleonic. At
Dresden they seemed, on the whole, to be favourable to France: at
Reichenbach, when coloured by Stadion, they were thought to hold out
the prospect of another European coalition.

A new and important development was given to Austrian policy when, on
June 7th, Metternich drew up the conditions on which Austria would
insist as the basis of her armed mediation. They were as follows: (1)
Dissolution of the Duchy of Warsaw; (2) A consequent reconstruction of
Prussia, with the certainty of recovering Danzig; (3) Restitution of
the Illyrian provinces, including Dalmatia, to Austria; (4)
Re-establishment of the Hanse Towns, and an eventual arrangement as to
the cession of the other parts of the 32nd military division [the part
of North Germany annexed by Napoleon in 1810]. To these were added two
other conditions on which Austria would lay great stress, namely: (5)
Dissolution of the Confederation of the Rhine; (6) Reconstruction of
Prussia conformably with her territorial extent previous to 1805.

At first sight these terms seem favourable to the allied cause; but
they were much less extensive than the proposals submitted by
Alexander in the middle of May. Therefore, when they were set forth to
the allies at Reichenbach, they were unfavourably received, and for
some days suspicion of Austria overclouded the previous goodwill. It
was removed only by the labours of Stadion and by the tact which
Metternich displayed during an interview with the Czar at Opotschna
(June 17th).

Alexander came there prejudiced against Metternich as a past master in
the arts of double-dealing: he went away convinced that he meant well
for the allies. "What will become of us," asked the Czar, "if Napoleon
accepts your mediation?" To which the statesman replied: "If he
refuses it, the truce will be at an end, and you will find us in the
ranks of your allies. If he accepts it, the negotiations will prove to
a certainty that Napoleon is neither wise nor just; and the issue will
be the same." Alexander knew enough of his great enemy's character to
discern the sagacity of Metternich's forecast; and both Frederick
William and he agreed to the Austrian terms.[324] Accordingly, on June
27th, a treaty was secretly signed at Reichenbach, wherein Austria
pledged herself to an active alliance with Russia and Prussia in case
Napoleon should not, by the end of the armistice, have acceded to her
four _conditiones sine quibus non._ To these was now added a demand
for the evacuation of all Polish and Prussian fortresses by French
troops, a stipulation which it was practically certain that Napoleon
would refuse.[325]

The allies meanwhile were gaining the sinews of war from England. The
Czar had informed Cathcart at Kalisch that, though he did not press
our Government for subsidies, yet he would not be able to wage a long
campaign without such aid. On June 14th and 15th, our ambassador
signed treaties with Russia and Prussia, whereby we agreed to aid the
former by a yearly subsidy of £1,133,334, and the latter by a sum of
half that amount, and to meet all the expenses of the Russian fleet
then in our harbours. The Czar and the King of Prussia bound
themselves to maintain in the field (exclusive of garrisons) 160,000
and 80,000 men respectively.[326]

There was every reason for these preparations. Everything showed that
Napoleon was bent on browbeating the allies. On June 17th Napoleon's
troops destroyed or captured Lützow's volunteers at Kitzen near
Leipzig. The excuse for this act was that Lützow had violated the
armistice; but he had satisfied Nisas, the French officer there in
command, that he was loyally observing it. Nevertheless, his brigade
was cut to pieces. The protests of the allies received no response
except that Lützow's men might be exchanged--as if they had been
captured in fair fight. Finally, Napoleon refused to hear the
statement of Nisas in his own justification, reproached him for
casting a slur on the conduct of French troops, and deprived him of
his command.[327]

But it was Napoleon's bearing towards Metternich, in an interview held
on June 26th at the Marcolini Palace at Dresden, that most clearly
revealed the inflexibility of his policy. Ostensibly, the interview
was fixed in order to arrange the forms of the forthcoming Congress
that was to insure the world's peace. In reality, however, Napoleon
hoped to intimidate the Austrian statesman, and to gather from him the
results of his recent interview with the Czar. Carrying his sword at
his side and his hat under his arm, he received Metternich in state.
After a few studied phrases about the health of the Emperor Francis,
his brow clouded and he plunged _in medias res_: "So you too want war:
well, you shall have it. I have beaten the Russians at Bautzen: now
you wish your turn to come. Be it so, the rendezvous shall be in
Vienna. Men are incorrigible: experience is lost upon you. Three times
I have replaced the Emperor Francis on his throne. I have promised
always to live at peace with him: I have married his daughter. At the
time I said to myself--you are perpetrating a folly; but it was done,
and now I repent of it."

Metternich saw his advantage: his adversary had lost his temper and
forgotten his dignity. He calmly reminded Napoleon that peace depended
on him; that his power must be reduced within reasonable limits, or he
would fall in the ensuing struggle. No matador fluttered the cloak
more dextrously. Napoleon rushed on. No coalition should daunt him: he
could overpower any number of men--everything except the cold of
Russia--and the losses of that campaign had been made good. He then
diverged into stories about that war, varied by digressions as to his
exact knowledge of Austria's armaments, details of which were sent to
him daily. To end this wandering talk, Metternich reminded him that
his troops now were not men but boys. Whereupon the Emperor
passionately replied: "You do not know what goes on in the mind of a
soldier; a man such as I does not take much heed of the lives of a
million of men,"--and he threw aside his hat. Metternich did not pick
it up.

Napoleon noticed the unspoken defiance, and wound up by saying: "When
I married an Archduchess I tried to weld the new with the old, Gothic
prejudices with the institutions of my century: I deceived myself, and
this day I see the whole extent of my error. It may cost me my throne,
but I will bury the world beneath its ruins." In dismissing
Metternich, the Emperor used the device which, shortly before the
rupture with England in 1803, he had recommended Talleyrand to employ
upon Whitworth, namely, after trying intimidation to resort to
cajolery. Touching the Minister on the shoulder, he said quietly:
"Well, now, do you know what will happen? You will not make war on
me?" To which came the quick reply: "You are lost, Sire; I had the
presentiment of it when I came: now, in going, I have the certainty."
In the anteroom the generals crowded around the illustrious visitor.
Berthier had previously begged him to remember that Europe, and
France, urgently needed peace; and now, on conducting him to his
carriage, he asked him whether he was satisfied with Napoleon. "Yes,"
was the answer, "he has explained everything to me: it is all over
with the man."[328]

Substantially, this was the case. Napoleon's resentment against
Austria, not unnatural under the circumstances, had hurried him into
outbursts that revealed the inner fires of his passion. In a second
interview, on June 30th, he was far more gracious, and allowed Austria
to hope that she would gain Illyria. He also accepted Austria's
mediation; and it was stipulated that a Congress should meet at Prague
for the discussion of a general pacification. Metternich appeared
highly pleased with this condescension, but he knew by experience that
Napoleon's caresses were as dangerous as his wrath; and he remained on
his guard. The Emperor soon disclosed his real aim. In gracious tones
he added: "But this is not all: I must have a prolongation of the
armistice. How can we between July 5th and 20th end a negotiation
which ought to embrace the whole world?" He proposed August 20th as
the date of its expiration. To this Metternich demurred because the
allies already thought the armistice too long for their interests.
August 10th was finally agreed on, but not without much opposition on
the part of the allied generals, who insisted that such a prolongation
would greatly embarrass them.

Outwardly, this new arrangement seemed to portend peace: but it is
significant that on June 28th Napoleon wrote to Eugène that all the
probabilities appeared for war; and on June 30th he wrote his
father-in-law a cold and almost threatening letter.[329]

Late on that very evening came to hand the first report of the
disaster of Vittoria. Despite all Napoleon's precautions, the news
leaked out at Dresden. Bubna's despatches of July 5th, 6th, and 7th
soon made it known to the Emperor Francis, then at Brandeis in
Bohemia. Thence it reached the allied monarchs and Bernadotte on July
12th at Trachenberg in the midst of negotiations which will be
described presently. The effect of the news was very great. The Czar
at once ordered a Te Deum to be sung: "It is the first instance,"
wrote Cathcart, "of a Te Deum having been sung at this Court for a
victory in which the forces of the Russian Empire were not
engaged."[330] But its results were more than ceremonial: they were
practical. Our envoy, Thornton, who followed Bernadotte to
Trachenberg, states that Bubna had learnt that Wellington had
completely routed three French corps with a _débandade_ like that of
the retreat from Moscow. Thornton adds: "The Prince Royal [Bernadotte]
thinks that the French army will be very soon withdrawn from Silesia
and that Buonaparte must soon commence his retreat nearer the Rhine. I
have no doubt of its effect upon Austria. This is visible in the
answer of the Emperor [Francis] to the Prince, which came to-day from
the Austrian head-quarters." That letter, dated July 9th, was indeed
of the most cordial character. It expressed great pleasure at hearing
that "the obstacles which seemed to hinder the co-operation of the
forces under your Royal Highness are now removed. I regard this
co-operation as one of the surest supports of the cause which the
Powers may once more be called on to defend by a war which can only
offer chances of success unless sustained by the greatest and most
unanimous measures."[331] Further than this Francis could scarcely go
without pledging himself unconditionally to an alliance; and doubtless
it was the news of Vittoria that evoked these encouraging assurances.

It is even more certain that the compact of Trachenberg also helped to
end the hesitations of Austria. This compact arose out of the urgent
need of adopting a general plan of campaign, and, above all, of ending
the disputes between the allied sovereigns and Bernadotte. The Prince
Royal of Sweden had lost their confidence through his failure to save
Hamburg from the French and Danes. Yet, on his side, he had some cause
for complaint. In the previous summer, Alexander led him to expect the
active aid of 35,000 Russian troops for a campaign in Norway: but,
mainly at the instance of England, he now landed in Pomerania and left
Sweden exposed to a Danish attack on the side of Norway. He therefore
suggested an interview with the allied sovereigns, a request which was
warmly seconded by Castlereagh.[332] Accordingly it took place at
Trachenberg, a castle north of Breslau, with the happiest results. The
warmth of the great Gascon's manner cleared away all clouds, and won
the approval of Frederick William.

There was signed the famous compact, or plan, of Trachenberg (July
12th). It bound the allies to turn their main forces against
Napoleon's chief army, wherever it was: those allied corps that
threatened his flanks or communications were to act on the line that
most directly cut into them: and the salient bastion of Bohemia was
expressly named as offering the greatest advantages for attacking
Napoleon's main force. The first and third of these axioms were
directly framed so as to encourage Austria: the second aimed at
concentrating Bernadotte's force on the main struggle and preventing
his waging war merely against Denmark.

The plan went even further: 100,000 allied troops were to be sent into
Bohemia, as soon as the armistice should cease, so as to form in all
an army of 200,000 men. On the north, Bernadotte, after detaching a
corps towards Hamburg, was to advance with a Russo-Prusso-Swedish army
of 70,000 men towards the middle course of the Elbe, his objective
being Leipzig; and the rest of the allied forces, those remaining in
Silesia, were to march towards Torgau, and thus threaten Napoleon's
positions in Saxony from the East. This plan of campaign was an
immense advance on those of the earlier coalitions. There was no
reliance here on lines and camps: the days of Mack and Phull were
past: the allies had at last learnt from Napoleon the need of seeking
out the enemy's chief army, and of flinging at it all the available
forces. Politically, also, the compact deserves notice. In concerting
a plan of offensive operations from Bohemia, the allies were going far
to determine the conduct of Austria.

On that same day the peace Congress was opened at Prague. Its
proceedings were farcical from the outset. Only Anstett and Humboldt,
the Russian and Prussian envoys, were at hand; and at the appointment
of the former, an Alsatian by birth, Napoleon expressed great
annoyance. The difficulties about the armistice also gave him the
opportunity, which he undoubtedly sought, of further delaying
negotiations. In vain did Metternich point out to the French envoy,
Narbonne, at Prague, that these frivolous delays must lead to war if
matters were not amicably settled by August 10th, at midnight.[333] In
vain did Narbonne and Caulaincourt beg their master to seize this
opportunity for concluding a safe and honourable peace. It was not
till the middle of July that he appointed them his plenipotentiaries
at the Congress; and, even then, he retained the latter at Dresden,
while the former fretted in forced inaction at Prague. "I send you
more _powers_ than _power_," wrote Maret to Narbonne with cynical
jauntiness: "you will have your hands tied, but your legs and mouth
free so that you may walk about and dine."[334] At last, on the 26th,
Caulaincourt received his instructions; but what must have been the
anguish of this loyal son of France to see that Napoleon was courting
war with a united Europe. Austria, said his master, was acting as
mediator: and the mediator ought not to look for gains: she had made
no sacrifice and deserved to gain nothing at all: her claims were
limitless; and every concession granted by France would encourage her
to ask for more: he was disposed to make peace with Russia on
satisfactory terms so as to punish Austria for her bad faith in
breaking the alliance of 1812.[335]

Such trifling with the world's peace seems to belong, not to the
sphere of history, but to the sombre domain of Greek tragedy, where
mortals full blown with pride rush blindly on the embossed bucklers of
fate. For what did Austria demand of him? She proposed to leave him
master of all the lands from the swamps of the Ems down to the Roman
Campagna: Italy was to be his, along with as much of the Iberian
Peninsula as he could hold. His control of Illyria, North Germany, and
the Rhenish Confederation he must give up. But France, Belgium,
Holland, and Italy would surely form a noble realm for a man who had
lost half a million of men, and was even now losing Spain. Yet his
correspondence proves that, even so, he thought little of his foes,
and, least of all, of the Congress at Prague.

Leaving his plenipotentiaries tied down to the discussion of matters
of form, he set out from Dresden on July 24th for a visit to Mainz,
where he met the Empress and reviewed his reserves. Every item of news
fed his warlike resolve. Soult, with nearly 100,000 men, was about to
relieve Pamplona (so he wrote to Caulaincourt): the English were
retiring in confusion: 12,000 veteran horsemen from his armies in
Spain would soon be on the Rhine; but they could not be on the Elbe
before September. If the allies wanted a longer armistice, he
(Napoleon) would agree to it: if they wished to fight, he was equally
ready, even against the Austrians as well.[336]

To Davoust, at Hamburg, he expressed himself as if war was certain;
and he ordered Clarke, at Paris, to have 110,000 muskets made by the
end of the year, so that, in all, 400,000 would be ready. Letters
about the Congress are conspicuous by their absence; and everything
proves that, as he wrote to Clarke at the beginning of the armistice,
he purposed striking his great blows in September. Little by little we
see the emergence of his final plan--_to overthrow Russia and Prussia,
while, for a week or two, he amused Austria with separate overtures at
Prague_.

But, during eight years of adversity, European statesmen had learnt
that disunion spelt disaster; and it was evident that Napoleon's
delays were prompted solely by the need of equipping and training his
new cavalry brigades. As for the Congress, no one took it seriously.
Gentz, who was then in close contact with Metternich, saw how this
tragi-comedy would end. "We believe that on his return to Dresden,
Napoleon will address to this Court a solemn Note in which he will
accuse everybody of the delays which he himself has caused, and will
end up by proclaiming a sort of ultimatum. Our reply will be a
declaration of war."[337]

This was what happened. As July wore on and brought no peaceful
overtures, but rather a tightening of Napoleon's coils in Saxony,
Bavaria, and Illyria, the Emperor Francis inclined towards war.
As late as July 18th he wrote to Metternich that he was still for
peace, provided that Illyria could be gained.[338]

But the French military preparations decided him, a few days later, to
make war, unless every one of the Austrian demands should be conceded
by August 10th. His counsellors had already come to that conclusion,
as our records prove. On July 20th Stadion wrote to Cathcart urging
him to give pecuniary aid to General Nugent, who would wait on him to
concert means for rousing a revolt against Napoleon in Tyrol and North
Italy; and our envoy agreed to give £5,000 a month for the "support of
5,000 Austrians acting in communication with our squadron in the
Adriatic." This step met with Metternich's approval; and, when writing
to Stadion from Prague (July 25th), he counselled Cathcart to send a
despatch to Wellington and urge him to make a vigorous move against
the south of France. He (Metternich) would have the letter sent safely
through Switzerland and the south of France direct to our
general.[339]

With the solemn triflings of the Congress we need not concern
ourselves. The French plenipotentiaries saw clearly that their master
"would allow of no peace but that which he should himself dictate with
his foot on the enemy's neck." Yet they persevered in their thankless
task, for "who could tell whether the Emperor, when he found himself
placed between highly favourable conditions and the fear of having
200,000 additional troops against him, might not hesitate; whether
just one grain of common sense, one spark of wisdom, might not enter
his head?" Alas! That brain was now impervious to advice; and the
young De Broglie, from whom we quote this extract, sums up the opinion
of the French plenipotentiaries in the trenchant phrase, "the devil
was in him."[340]

But there was method in his madness. In the Dresden interview he had
warned Metternich that not till the eleventh hour would he disclose
his real demands. And now was the opportunity of trying the effect of
a final act of intimidation. On August 4th he was back again in
Dresden: on the next day he dictated the secret conditions on which he
would accept Austria's mediation; and, on August 6th, Caulaincourt
paid Metternich a private visit to find out what Austria's terms
really were. After a flying visit to the Emperor Francis at Brandeis,
the Minister brought back as an ultimatum the six terms drawn up on
June 7th (see p. 316); and to these he now added another which
guaranteed the existing possessions of every State, great or small.

Napoleon was taken aback by this boldness, which he attributed to the
influence of Spanish affairs and to English intrigues.[341] On August
9th he summoned Bubna and offered to give up the Duchy of
Warsaw--provided that the King of Saxony gained an indemnity--also the
Illyrian Provinces (but without Istria), as well as Danzig, if its
fortifications were destroyed. As for the Hanse Towns and North
Germany, he would not hear of letting them go. Bubna thought that
Austria would acquiesce. But she had said her last word: she saw that
Napoleon was trifling with her until he had disposed of Russia and
Prussia. And, at midnight of August 10th, beacon fires on the heights
of the Riesengebirge flashed the glad news to the allies in Silesia
that they might begin to march their columns into Bohemia. The second
and vaster Act in the drama of liberation had begun.

Did Napoleon remember, in that crisis of his destiny, that it was
exactly twenty-one years since the downfall of the old French
monarchy, when he looked forth on the collapse of the royalist defence
at the Tuileries and the fruitless bravery of the Swiss Guards?

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXXV

DRESDEN AND LEIPZIG


The militant Revolution had now attained its majority. It had to
confront an embattled Europe. Hitherto the jealousies or fears of the
Eastern Powers had prevented any effective union. The Austro-Prussian
league of 1792 was of the loosest description owing to the astute
neutrality of the Czarina Catherine. In 1798 and 1805 Prussia seemed
to imitate her policy, and only after Austria had been crushed did the
army of Frederick the Great try conclusions with Napoleon. In the Jena
and Friedland campaigns, the Hapsburgs played the part of the sulking
Achilles, and met their natural reward in 1809. The war of 1812
marshalled both Austria and Prussia as vassal States in Napoleon's
crusade against Russia. But it also brought salvation, and Napoleon's
fateful obstinacy during the negotiations at Prague virtually
compelled his own father-in-law to draw the sword against him.
Ostensibly, the points at issue were finally narrowed down to the
control of the Confederation of the Rhine, the ownership of North
Germany, and a few smaller points. But really there was a deeper
cause, the character of Napoleon.

The vindictiveness with which he had trampled on his foes, his almost
superhuman lust of domination, and the halting way in which he met all
overtures for a compromise--this it was that drove the Hapsburgs into
an alliance with their traditional foes. His conduct may be explained
on diverse grounds, as springing from the vendetta instincts of his
race, or from his still viewing events through the distorting medium
of the Continental System, or from his ingrained conviction that, at
bottom, rulers are influenced only by intimidation.

In any case, he had now succeeded in bringing about the very thing
which Charles James Fox had declared to be impossible. In opening the
negotiations for peace with France in April, 1806, our Foreign
Minister had declared to Talleyrand that "the project of combining the
whole of Europe against France is to the last degree chimerical." Yet
Great Britain and the Spanish patriots, after struggling alone against
the conqueror from 1808 to 1812, saw Russia, Sweden, Prussia, and
Austria, successively range themselves on their side. It is true, the
Germans of the Rhenish Confederation, the Italians, Swiss, and Danes
were still enrolled under the banners of the new Charlemagne; but,
with the exception of the last, they fought wearily or questioningly,
as for a cause that promised naught but barren triumphs and unending
strife.

Truly, the years that witnessed Napoleon's fall were fruitful in
paradox. The greatest political genius of the age, for lack of the
saving grace of moderation, had banded Europe against him: and the
most calculating of commanders had also given his enemies time to
frame an effective military combination. The Prussian General von
Boyen has told us in his Memoirs how dismayed ardent patriots were at
the conclusion of the armistice in June, and how slow even the wiser
heads were to see that it would benefit their cause. If Napoleon
needed it in order to train his raw conscripts and organize new
brigades of cavalry, the need of the allies was even greater. Their
resources were far less developed than his own. At Bautzen, their army
was much smaller; and Boyen states that had the Emperor pushed them
hard, driven the Russians back into Poland and called the Poles once
more to arms, the allies must have been in the most serious
straits.[342]

Napoleon, it is true, gained much by the armistice. His conscripts
profited immensely by the training of those nine weeks: his forces now
threatened Austria on the side of Bavaria and Illyria, as well as from
the newly intrenched camp south of Dresden: his cavalry was
re-recovering its old efficiency: Murat, in answer to his imperious
summons, ended his long vacillations and joined the army at Dresden on
August 14th.

Above all, the French now firmly held that great military barrier, the
River Elbe. Napoleon's obstinacy during the armistice was undoubtedly
fed by his boundless confidence in the strength of his military
position. In vain did his Marshals remind him that he was dangerously
far from France; that, if Austria drew the sword, she could cut him
off from the Rhine, and that the Saale, or even the Rhine itself,
would be a safer line of defence.--Ten battles lost, he retorted,
would scarcely force him to that last step. True, he now exposed his
line of communications with France; but if the art of war consisted in
never running any risk, glory would be the prize of mediocre minds. He
must have a complete triumph. The question was not of abandoning this
or that province: his political superiority was at stake. At Marengo,
Austerlitz, and Wagram, he was in greater danger. His forces now were
not _in the air_; they rested on the Elbe, on its fortresses, and on
Erfurt. Dresden was the pivot on which all his movements turned. His
enemies were spread out on a circumference stretching from Prague to
Berlin, while he was at the centre; and, operating on interior and
therefore shorter lines, he could outmarch and outmanoeuvre them.
"_But_," he concluded, "_where I am not my lieutenants must wait for
me without trusting anything to chance_. The allies cannot long act
together on lines so extended, and can I not reasonably hope sooner or
later to catch them in some false move? If they venture between my
fortified lines of the Elbe and the Rhine, I will enter Bohemia and
thus take them in the rear."[343]

The plan promised much. The central intrenched camps of Dresden and
Pirna, together with the fortresses of Königstein above, and of Torgau
below, the Saxon capital, gave great strategic advantages. The corps
of St. Cyr at Königstein and those of Vandamme, Poniatowski, and
Victor further to the east, watched the defiles leading from Bohemia.
The corps of Macdonald, Lauriston, Ney, and Marmont held in check
Blücher's army of Silesia. On Napoleon's left, and resting on the
fortresses of Wittenberg and Magdeburg, the corps of Oudinot,
Bertrand, and Reynier threatened Berlin and Bernadotte's army of the
north cantonned in its neighbourhood; while Davoust at Hamburg faced
Bernadotte's northern detachments and menaced his communications with
Stralsund. Davoust certainly was far away, and the loss of this ablest
of Napoleon's lieutenants was severely to be felt in the subsequent
complicated moves; with this exception, however, Napoleon's troops
were well in hand and had the advantage of the central position, while
the allies were, as yet, spread out on an extended arc.

But Napoleon once more made the mistake of underrating both the
numbers and the abilities of his foes. By great exertions they now had
close on half a million of men under arms, near the banks of the Oder
and the Elbe, or advancing from Poland and Hungary. True, many of
these were reserves or raw recruits, and Colonel Cathcart doubted
whether the Austrian reserves were then in existence.[344] But the
best authorities place the total at 496,000 men and 1,443 cannon.
Moreover, as was agreed on at Trachenberg, 77,000 Russians and 49,000
Prussians now marched from Glatz and Schweidnitz into Bohemia, and
speedily came into touch with the 110,000 Austrians now ranged behind
the River Eger. The formation of this allied Grand Army was a masterly
step. Napoleon did not hear of it before August 16th, and it was not
until a week later that he realized how vast were the forces that
would threaten his rear. For the present his plan was to hold the
Bohemian passes south of Bautzen and Pirna, so as to hinder any
invasion of Saxony, while he threw himself in great force on the Army
of Silesia, now 95,000 strong, though he believed it to number only
50,000.[345] While he was crushing Blücher, his lieutenants, Oudinot,
Reynier, and Bertrand, were charged to drive Bernadotte's scattered
corps from Berlin; whereupon Davoust was to cut him off from the sea
and relieve the French garrisons at Stettin and Küstrin. Thus Napoleon
proposed to act on the offensive in the open country towards Berlin
and in Silesia, remaining at first on the defensive at Dresden and in
the Lusatian mountains. This was against the advice of Marmont, who
urged him to strike first at Prague, and not to intrust his
lieutenants with great undertakings far away from Dresden. The advice
proved to be sound; but it seems certain that Napoleon intended to
open the campaign by a mighty blow dealt at Blücher, and then to lead
a great force through the Lusatian defiles into Bohemia and drive the
allies before him towards Vienna.

But what did he presume that the allied forces in Bohemia would be
doing while he overwhelmed Blücher in Silesia? Would not Dresden and
his communications with France be left open to their blows? He decided
to run this risk. He had 100,000 men among the Lusatian hills between
Bautzen and Zittau. St. Cyr's corps was strongly posted at Pirna and
the small fortress of Königstein, while his light troops watched the
passes north of Teplitz and Karlsbad. If the allies sought to invade
Saxony, they would, so Napoleon thought, try to force the Zittau road,
which presented few natural difficulties. If they threatened Dresden
by the passages further west, Vandamme would march from near Zittau to
reinforce St. Cyr, or, if need be, the Emperor himself would hurry
back from Silesia with his Guards. If the enemy invaded Bavaria,
Napoleon wished them _bon voyage_: they would soon come back faster
than they went; for, in that case, he would pour his columns down from
Zittau towards Prague and Vienna. The thought that he might for a time
be cut off from France troubled him not: "400,000 men," he said,
"resting on a system of strongholds, on a river like the Elbe, are not
to be turned." In truth, he thought little about the Bohemian army. If
40,000 Russians had entered Bohemia, they would not reach Prague till
the 25th; so he wrote to St. Cyr On the 17th, the day when hostilities
could first begin; and he evidently believed that Dresden would be
safe till September. Its defence seemed assured by the skill of that
master of defensive warfare, St. Cyr, by the barrier of the Erz
Mountains, and still more by Austrian slowness.

Of this characteristic of theirs he cherished great hopes. Their
finances were in dire disorder; and Fouché, who had just returned from
a tour in the Hapsburg States, reported that the best way of striking
at that Power would be "to affect its paper currency, on which all its
armaments depend."[346] And truly if the transport of a great army
over a mountain range had depended solely on the almost bankrupt
exchequer at Vienna, Dresden would have been safe until Michaelmas;
but, beside the material aid brought by the Russians and Prussians
into Bohemia, England also gave her financial support. In pursuance of
the secret article agreed on at Reichenbach, Cathcart now advanced
£250,000 at once; and the knowledge that our financial support was
given to the federative paper notes issued by the allies enabled the
Court of Vienna privately to raise loans and to wage war with a vigour
wholly unexpected by Napoleon.[347]

Certainly the allied Grand Army suffered from no lack of advisers. The
Czar, the Emperor Francis, and the King of Prussia were there; as a
compliment to Austria, the command was intrusted to Field-Marshal
Schwarzenberg, a man of diplomatic ability rather than of military
genius. By his side were the Russians, Wittgenstein, Barclay, and
Toll, the Prussian Knesebeck, the Swiss Jomini, and, above all,
Moreau.

The last-named, as we have seen, came over on the inducement of
Bernadotte, and was received with great honour by the allied
sovereigns. Jomini also was welcomed for his knowledge of the art of
war. This great writer had long served as a French general; but the
ill-treatment that he had lately suffered at Berthier's hands led him,
on August 14th, to quit the French service and pass over to the
allies. His account of his desertion, however, makes it clear that he
had not penetrated Napoleon's designs, for the best of all reasons,
because the Emperor kept them to himself to the very last moment.[348]

The second part of the campaign opens with the curious sight of
immense forces, commanded by experienced leaders, acting in complete
ignorance of the moves of the enemy only some fifty miles away.
Leaving Bautzen on August 17th, Napoleon proceeded eastwards to
Görlitz, turned off thence to Zittau, and hearing a false rumour that
the Russo-Prussian force in Bohemia was only 40,000 strong, returned
to Görlitz with the aim of crushing Blücher. Disputes about the
armistice had given that enterprising leader the excuse for entering
the neutral zone before its expiration; and he had had sharp affairs
with Macdonald and Ney near Löwenberg on the River Bober. Napoleon
hurried up with his Guards, eager to catch Blücher;[349] the French
were now 140,000 strong, while the allies had barely 95,000 at hand.
But the Prussian veteran, usually as daring as a lion, was now wily as
a fox. Under cover of stiff outpost affairs, he skilfully withdrew to
the south-east, hoping to lure the French into the depths of Silesia
and so give time to Schwarzenberg to seize Dresden.

[Illustration: CAMPAIGN OF 1813]

But Napoleon was not to be drawn further afield. Seeing that his foes
could not be forced to a pitched battle, he intrusted the command to
Macdonald, and rapidly withdrew with Ney and his Guard towards
Görlitz; for he now saw the possible danger to Dresden if
Schwarzenberg struck home. If, however, that leader remained on the
defensive, the Emperor determined to fall back on what had all along
been his second plan, and make a rush through the Lusatian defiles on
Prague.[350] But a despatch from St. Cyr, which reached him at Görlitz
late at night on the 23rd, showed that Dresden was in serious danger
from the gathering masses of the allies. This news consigned his
second plan to the limbo of vain hopes. Yet, as will appear a little
later, his determination to defend by taking the offensive soon took
form in yet a third design for the destruction of the allies.

It is a proof of the quenchless pugnacity of his mind that he framed
this plan during the fatigues of the long forced march back towards
Dresden, amidst pouring rain and the discouragement of knowing that
his raid into Silesia had ended merely in the fruitless wearying of
his choicest troops. Accompanied by the Old Guard, the Young Guard, a
division of infantry, and Latour-Maubourg's cavalry, he arrived at
Stolpen, south-east of Dresden, before dawn of the 25th. Most of the
battalions had traversed forty miles in little more than forty-eight
hours, and that, too, after a partial engagement at Löwenberg, and
despite lack of regular rations. Leaving him for a time, we turn to
glance at the fortunes of the war in Brandenburg and Silesia.

Napoleon had bidden Oudinot, with his own corps and those of Reynier
and Bertrand, in all about 70,000 men, to fight his way to Berlin,
disperse the Landwehr and the "mad rabble" there, and, if the city
resisted, set it in flames by the fire of fifty howitzers. That
Marshal found that a tough resistance awaited him, although the allied
commander-in-chief, Bernadotte, moved with the utmost caution, as if
he were bent on justifying Napoleon's recent sneer that he would "only
make a show" (_piaffer_). It is true that the position of the Swedish
Prince, with Davoust threatening his rear, was far from safe; but he
earned the dislike of the Prussians by playing the _grand
seigneur_.[351] Meanwhile most of the defence was carried out by the
Prussians, who flooded the flat marshy land, thus delaying Oudinot's
advance and compelling him to divide his corps. Nevertheless, it
seemed that Bernadotte was about to evacuate Berlin.

At this there was general indignation, which found vent in the retort
of the Prussian General, von Bülow: "Our bones shall bleach in front
of Berlin, not behind it." Seeing an opportune moment while Oudinot's
other corps were as yet far off, Bülow sharply attacked Reynier's
corps of Saxons at Grossbeeren, and gained a brilliant success, taking
1,700 prisoners with 26 guns, and thus compelling Oudinot's scattered
array to fall back in confusion on Wittenberg (August 23rd).[352]
Thither the Crown Prince cautiously followed him. Four days later, a
Prussian column of Landwehr fought a desperate fight at Hagelberg with
Girard's conscripts, finally rushing on them with wolf-like fury,
stabbing and clubbing them, till the foss and the lanes of the town
were piled high with dead and wounded. Scarce 1,700 out of Girard's
9,000 made good their flight to Magdeburg. The failures at Grossbeeren
and Hagelberg reacted unfavourably on Davoust. That leader, advancing
into Mecklenburg, had skirmished with Walmoden's corps of Hanoverians,
British, and Hanseatics; but, hearing of the failure of the other
attempts on Berlin, he fell back and confined himself mainly to a
defensive which had never entered into the Emperor's designs on that
side, or indeed on any side.

Even when Napoleon left Macdonald facing Blücher in Silesia, his
orders were, not merely to keep the allies in check: if possible
Macdonald was to attack him and drive him beyond the town of
Jauer.[353] This was what the French Marshal attempted to do on the
26th of August. The conditions seemed favourable to a surprise.
Blücher's army was stationed amidst hilly country deeply furrowed by
the valleys of the Katzbach and the "raging Neisse."[354] Less than
half of the allied army of 95,000 men was composed of Prussians: the
Russians naturally obeyed his orders with some reluctance, and even
his own countryman, Yorck, grudgingly followed the behests of the
"hussar general."

Macdonald also hoped to catch the allies while they were sundered by
the deep valley of the Neisse. The Prussians with the Russian corps
led by Sacken were to the east of the Neisse near the village of
Eichholz, the central point of the plateau north of Jauer, which was
the objective of the French right wing; while Langeron's Russian corps
was at Hennersdorf, some three miles away and on the west of that
torrent. On his side, Blücher was planning an attack on Macdonald,
when he heard that the French had crossed the Neisse near its
confluence with the Katzbach, and were struggling up the streaming
gullies that led to Eichholz.

Driving rain-storms hid the movements on both sides, and as Souham,
who led the French right, had neglected to throw out flanking scouts,
the Prussian staff-officer, Muffling, was able to ride within a short
distance of the enemy's columns and report to his chief that they
could be assailed before their masses were fully deployed on the
plateau. While Souham's force was still toiling up, Sacken's artillery
began to ply it with shot, and had Yorck charged quickly with his
corps of Prussians, the day might have been won forthwith. But that
opinionated general insisted on leisurely deploying his men. Souham
was therefore able to gain a foothold on the plateau: Sebastiani's men
dragged up twenty-four light cannon: and at times the devoted bravery
of the French endangered the defence. But the defects in their
position slowly but surely told against them, and the vigour of their
attack spent itself. Their cavalry was exhausted by the mud: their
muskets were rendered wellnigh useless by the ceaseless rain; and when
Blücher late in the afternoon headed a dashing charge of Prussian and
Russian horsemen, the wearied conscripts gave way, fled pell-mell down
the slopes, and made for the fords of the Neisse and the Katzbach,
where many were engulfed by the swollen waters. Meanwhile the Russians
on the allied left barely kept off Lauriston's onsets, and on that
side the day ended in a drawn fight. Macdonald, however, seeing
Lauriston's rear threatened by the advance of the Prussians over the
Katzbach, retreated during the night with all his forces. On the next
few days, the allies, pressing on his wearied and demoralized troops,
completed their discomfiture, so that Blücher, on the 1st of
September, was able thus to sum up the results of the battle and the
pursuit--two eagles, 103 cannon, 18,000 men, and a vast quantity of
ammunition and stores captured, and Silesia entirely freed from the
foe.[355]

We now return to the events that centred at Dresden. When, on August
21st and 22nd, the allies wound their way through the passes of the
Erz, they were wholly ignorant of Napoleon's whereabouts. The
generals, Jomini and Toll, who were acquainted with the plan of
operations agree in stating that the aim of the allies was to seize
Leipzig. The latter asserts that they believed Napoleon to be there,
while the Swiss strategist saw in this movement merely a means of
effecting a junction with Bernadotte's army, so as to cut off Napoleon
from the Rhine.[356] Unaware that the rich prize of Dresden was left
almost within their grasp by Napoleon's eastward move, the allies
plodded on towards Freiberg and Chemnitz, when, on the 23rd, the
capture of one of St. Cyr's despatches flashed the truth upon them.

At once they turned eastwards towards Dresden; but so slow was their
progress over the wretched cross-roads now cut up by the rains, that
not till the early morning of the 25th did the heads of their columns
appear on the heights south-west of the Saxon capital. Yet, even so,
the omens were all in their favour. On their right, Wittgenstein had
already carried the French lines at Pirna, and was now driving in St.
Cyr's outposts towards Dresden. The daring spirits at Schwarzenberg's
headquarters therefore begged him to push on the advantage already
gained, while Napoleon was still far away. Everything, they asserted,
proved that the French were surprised; Dresden could not long hold out
against an attack by superior numbers: its position in a river valley
dominated by the southern and western slopes, which the allies
strongly held, was fatal to a prolonged defence: the thirteen redoubts
hastily thrown up by the French could not long keep an army at bay,
and of these only five were on the left side of the Elbe on which the
allies were now encamped.

Against these manly counsels the voice of prudence pleaded for delay.
It was not known how strong were St. Cyr's forces in Dresden and in
the intrenched camp south of the city. Would it not therefore be
better to await the development of events? Such was the advice of Toll
and Moreau, the latter warning the Czar, with an earnestness which we
may deem fraught with destiny for himself--"Sire, if we attack, we
shall lose 20,000 men and break our nose."[357] The multitude of
counsellors did not tend to safety. Distracted by the strife of
tongues, Schwarzenberg finally took refuge in that last resort of weak
minds, a tame compromise. He decided to wait until further corps
reached the front, and at four o'clock of the following afternoon _to
push forward five columns for a general reconnaissance in force_. As
Jomini has pointed out, this plan rested on sheer confusion of
thought. If the commander meant merely to find out the strength of the
defenders, that could be ascertained at once by sending forward light
troops, screened by skirmishers, at the important points. If he wished
to attack in force, his movement was timed too late in the day safely
to effect a lodgment in a large city held by a resolute foe. Moreover,
the postponement of the attack for thirty hours gave time for the
French Emperor to appear on the scene with his Guards.

As we have seen, Napoleon reached Stolpen, a town distant some sixteen
miles from Dresden, very early on the morning of the 25th. His plans
present a telling contrast to the slow and clumsy arrangements of the
allies. He proposed to hurl his Guards at their rear and cut them off
from Bohemia. Crossing the Elbe at Königstein, he would recover the
camp of Pirna, hold the plateau further west and intercept
Schwarzenberg's retreat.[358] For the success of this plan he needed a
day's rest for his wearied Guards and the knowledge that Dresden could
hold out for a short time. His veterans could perhaps dispense with
rest; where their Emperor went they would follow; but Dresden was the
unknown quantity. Shortly after midnight of the 25th and 26th, he
heard from St. Cyr that Dresden would soon be attacked in such force
that a successful defence was doubtful.

At once he changed his plan and at 1 a.m. sent off four despatches
ordering his Guards and all available troops to succour St. Cyr.
Vandamme's corps alone was now charged with the task of creeping round
the enemy's rear, while the Guards long before dawn resumed their
march through the rain and mud. The Emperor followed and passed them
at a gallop, reaching the capital at 9 a.m. with Latour-Maubourg's
cuirassiers; and, early in the afternoon, the bearskins of the Guards
were seen on the heights east of Dresden, while the dark masses of the
allies were gathering on the south and west for their reconnaissance
in force.

[Illustration: BATTLE OF DRESDEN]

Lowering clouds and pitiless rain robbed the scene of all brilliance,
but wreathed it with a certain sombre majesty. On the one side was the
fair city, the centre of German art and culture, hastily girdled with
redoubts and intrenchments manned now by some 120,000 defenders. Fears
and murmurings had vanished as soon as the Emperor appeared; and
though in many homes men still longed for the triumph of the allies,
yet loyalty to their King and awe of Napoleon held the great mass of
the citizens true to his alliance. As for the French soldiery, their
enthusiasm was unbounded. As regiment after regiment tramped in
wearily from the east over the Elbe bridge and the men saw that
well-known figure in the gray overcoat, fatigues and discomforts were
forgotten; thunderous shouts of "Vive l'Empereur" rent the air and
rolled along the stream, carrying inspiration to the defenders, doubt
and dismay to the hostile lines. Yet these too were being
strengthened, until they finally mustered close on 200,000 men, who
crowned the slopes south of Dresden with a war-cloud that promised to
sweep away its hasty defences--had not Napoleon been there.

The news of his arrival shook the nerves of the Russian Emperor, and
it was reserved for the usually diffident King of Prussia to combat
all notion of retreat. Schwarzenberg's reconnaissance in force
therefore took place punctually at four o'clock, when the French,
after a brief rest, were well prepared to meet them. The Prussians had
already seized the "Great Garden" which lines the Pirna road; and from
this point of vantage they now sought to drive St. Cyr from the works
thrown up on its flank and rear. But their masses were torn by a
deadly fire and finally fell back shattered. The Russians, on their
right, fared no better. At the allied centre and left, the attack at
one time promised success. Under cover of a heavy cannonade from their
slopes, the Austrians carried two redoubts: but, with a desperate
charge, the Old Guard drove in through the gorges of these works and
bayoneted the victors of an hour. As night fell, the assailants drew
off baffled, after sustaining serious losses.

Nevertheless, the miseries of the night, the heavy rains of the
dawning day and the knowledge of the strength of the enemy's position
in front and of Vandamme's movement in their rear, failed to daunt
their spirits. If they were determined, Napoleon was radiant with
hope. His force, though smaller, held the inner line and spread over
some three miles; while the concave front of the allies extended over
double that space, and their left wing was separated from the centre
by the stream and defile of Plauen. From his inner position he could
therefore readily throw an overpowering mass on any part of their
attenuated array. He prepared to do so against their wings. At those
points everything promised success to his methods of attack.

Never, perhaps, in all modern warfare has the musket been so useless
as amidst the drenching rains which beat upon the fighters at the
Katzbach and before Dresden. So defective was its firing arrangement
then that after a heavy storm only a feeble sputter came from whole
battalions of foot: and on those two eventful days the honours lay
with the artillery and _l'arme blanche_. As for the infantrymen, they
could effect little except in some wild snatches of bayonet work at
close quarters. This explains the course of events both at the
Katzbach on the 26th, and at Dresden on the following day. The allied
centre was too strongly posted on the slopes south of Dresden to be
assailed with much hope of success. But, against the Russian vanguard
on the allied right, Napoleon launched Mortier's corps and Nansouty's
cavalry with complete success, until Wittgenstein's masses on the
heights stayed the French onset. Along the centre, some thousand
cannon thundered against one another, but with no very noteworthy
result, save that Moreau had his legs carried away by a shot from a
field battery that suddenly opened upon the Czar's suite. It was the
first shot that dealt him this fatal wound, but several other balls
fell among the group until Alexander and his staff moved away.

Meanwhile the great blow was struck by Napoleon at the allied left.
There the Austrian wing was sundered from the main force by the
difficult defile of Plauen; and it was crushed by one of the Emperor's
most brilliant combinations. Directing Victor with 20,000 men of all
arms to engage the white-coats in front, he bade Murat, with 10,000
horsemen, steal round near the bank of the Elbe and charge their flank
and rear. The division of Count Metzko bore the brunt of this terrible
onset. Nobly it resisted. Though not one musket in fifty would fire,
the footmen in one place beat off two charges of Latour-Maubourg's
cuirassiers, until he headed his line with lancers, who mangled their
ranks and opened a way for the sword.[359] Then all was slaughter; and
as Murat's squadrons raged along their broken lines, 10,000 footmen,
cut off from the main body, laid down their arms. News of this
disaster on the left and the sound of Vandamme's cannon thundering
among the hills west of Pirna decided the allied sovereigns and
Schwarzenberg to prepare for a timely retreat into Bohemia. Yet so
bold a front did they keep at the centre and right that the waning
light showed the combatants facing each other there on even terms.

During the night, the rumbling of wagons warned Marmont's scouts that
the enemy were retreating;[360] and the Emperor, coming up at break of
day, ordered that Marshal and St. Cyr to press directly on their rear,
while Murat pursued the fugitives along the Freiburg road further to
the west. The outcome of these two days of fighting was most serious
for the allies. They lost 35,000 men in killed, wounded and
prisoners--a natural result of their neglect to seize Fortune's
bounteous favours on the 25th; a result, too, of Napoleon's rapid
movements and unerring sagacity in profiting by the tactical blunders
of his foes.

It was the last of his great victories. And even here the golden fruit
which he hoped to cull crumbled to bitter dust in his grasp. As has
been pointed out, he had charged General Vandamme, one of the sternest
fighters in the French army, to undertake with 38,000 men a task which
he himself had previously hoped to achieve with more than double that
number. This was to seize Pirna and the plateau to the west, which
commands the three roads leading towards Teplitz in Bohemia. The best
of these roads crosses the Erzgebirge by way of Nollendorf and the
gorge leading down to Kulm, the other by the Zinnwald pass, while
between them is a third and yet more difficult track. Vandamme was to
take up a position west or south-west of Pirna so as to cut off the
retreat of the foe.

Accordingly, he set out from Stolpen at dawn of the 26th, and on the
next two days fought his way far round the rear of the allied Grand
Army. A Russian force of 14,000 men, led by the young Prince Eugène of
Würtemberg and Count Ostermann, sought in vain to stop his progress:
though roughly handled on the 28th by the French, the Muscovites
disengaged themselves, fell back ever fighting to the Nollendorf pass,
and took up a strong position behind the village of Kulm. There they
received timely support from the forces of the Czar and Frederick
William, who, after crossing by the Zinnwald pass, heard the firing on
the east and divined the gravity of the crisis. Unless they kept
Vandamme at bay, the Grand Army could with difficulty struggle through
into Bohemia. But now, with the supports hastily sent him, Ostermann
finally beat back Vandamme's utmost efforts. The defenders little knew
what favours Fortune had in store.

A Prussian corps under Kleist was slowly plodding up the middle of the
three defiles, when, at noonday of the 29th, an order came from the
King to hurry over the ridge and turn east to the support of
Ostermann. This was impossible: the defile was choked with wagons and
artillery: but one of Kleist's staff-officers proposed the daring plan
of plunging at once into cross tracks and cutting into Vandamme's
rear. This novel and romantic design was carried out. While, then, the
French general was showering his blows against the allies below Kulm,
the Prussians swarmed down from the heights of Nollendorf on his rear.
Even so, the French struggled stoutly for liberty. Their leader,
scorning death or surrender, flung himself with his braves on the
Russians in front, but was borne down and caught, fighting to the
last. Several squadrons rushed up the steeps against the Prussians and
in part hewed their way through. Four thousand footmen held their own
on a natural stronghold until their bullets failed, and the survivors
surrendered. Many more plunged into the woods and met various fates,
some escaping through to their comrades, others falling before
Kleist's rearguard. Such was the disaster of Kulm. Apart from the
unbending heroism shown by the conquered, it may be called the Caudine
Forks of modern war. A force of close on 40,000 men was nearly
destroyed: it lost all its cannon and survived only in bands of
exhausted stragglers.[361]

Who is to be blamed for this disaster? Obviously, it could not have
occurred had Vandamme kept in touch with the nearest French divisions:
otherwise, these could have closed in on Kleist's rear and captured
him. Napoleon clearly intended to support Vandamme by the corps of St.
Cyr, who, early on the 28th, was charged to co-operate with that
general, while Mortier covered Pirna. But on that same morning the
Emperor rode to Pirna, found that St. Cyr, Marmont, and Murat were
sweeping in crowds of prisoners, and directed Berthier to order
Vandamme to "penetrate into Bohemia and overwhelm the Prince of
Würtemberg."[362] Then, without waiting to organize the pursuit, he
forthwith returned to Dresden, either because, as some say, the rains
of the previous days had struck a chill to his system, or as Marmont,
with more reason, asserts, because of his concern at the news of
Macdonald's disaster on the Katzbach. Certain it is that he recalled
his Old Guard to Dresden, busied himself with plans for a march on
Berlin, and at 5.30 next morning directed Berthier to order St. Cyr to
"pursue the foe to Maxen and in all directions that he has taken."
This order led St. Cyr westwards, in pursuit of Barclay's Russians,
who had diverged sharply in that direction in order to escape
Vandamme.

The eastern road to Teplitz was thus left comparatively clear, while
the middle road was thronged with pursuers and pursued.[363] No
directions were given by Napoleon to warn Vandamme of the gap thus
left in his rear: neither was Mortier at Pirna told to press on and
keep in touch with Vandamme now that St. Cyr was some eight miles away
to the west. Doubtless St. Cyr and Mortier ought to have concerted
measures for keeping in touch with Vandamme, and they deserve censure
for their lack of foresight; but it was not usual, even for the
Marshals, to take the initiative when the Emperor was near at hand. To
sum up: the causes of Vandamme's disaster were, firstly, his rapid
rush into Bohemia in quest of the Marshal's baton which was to be his
guerdon of victory: secondly, the divergence of St. Cyr westward in
pursuance of Napoleon's order of the 29th to pursue the enemy towards
Maxen: thirdly, the neglect of St. Cyr and Mortier to concert measures
for the support of Vandamme along the Nollendorf road: but, above all,
the return of Napoleon to Dresden, and his neglect to secure a timely
co-operation of his forces along the eastern line of pursuit.[364]

The disaster at Kulm ruined Napoleon's campaign. While Vandamme was
making his last stand, his master at Dresden was drawing up a long
Note as to the respective advantages of a march on Berlin or on
Prague. He decided on the former course, which would crush the
national movement in Prussia, and bring him into touch with Davoust
and the French garrisons at Küstrin and Stettin. "Then, if Austria
begins her follies again, I shall be at Dresden with a united army."

He looked on Austria as cowed by the blows dealt her south of Dresden,
which would probably bring her to sue for peace, and he hoped that one
more great battle would end the war. The mishaps to Macdonald and
Vandamme dispelled these dreams. Still, with indomitable energy, he
charged Ney to take command of Oudinot's army (a post of which this
unfortunate leader begged to be relieved) and to strike at Berlin. He
ordered Friant with a column of the Old Guard to march to Bautzen and
drive in Macdonald's stragglers with the butt ends of muskets.[365]
Then, hearing how pressing was the danger of this Marshal, he himself
set out secretly with the cavalry of the Guard in hope of crushing
Blücher. But again that leader retreated (September 4th and 5th), and
once more the allied Grand Army thrust its columns through the Erz and
threatened Dresden. Hurrying back in the worst of humours to defend
that city, Napoleon heard bad news from the north. On September 6th
Ney had been badly beaten at Dennewitz. In truth, that brave fighter
was no tactician: his dispositions were worse than those of Oudinot,
and the obstinate bravery of the Prussians, led by Bülow and
Tauenzien, wrested a victory from superior numbers. Night alone saved
Ney's army from complete dissolution: as it was, he lost some 9,000
killed and wounded, 15,000 prisoners along with eighty cannon, and
frankly summed up the situation thus to his master: "I have been
totally beaten, and still do not know whether my army has
reassembled."[366] Ultimately his army assembled and fell back behind
the Elbe at Torgau.

Thus, in a fortnight (August 23rd-September 6th), Napoleon had gained
a great success at Dresden, while, on the circumference of operations,
his lieutenants had lost five battles--Grossbeeren, Hagelberg,
Katzbach, Kulm, and Dennewitz. The allies could therefore contract
that circumference, come into closer touch, and threaten his central
intrenched camps at Pirna and Dresden. Yet still, in pursuance of a
preconcerted plan, they drew back where he advanced in person. Thus,
when he sought to drive back Schwarzenberg's columns into Bohemia,
that leader warily retired to the now impregnable passes; and the
Emperor fell back on Dresden, wearied and perplexed. As he said to
Marmont: "The chess-board is very confused: it is only I who can know
where I am." Yet once more he plunged into the Erzgebirge, engaged in
a fruitless skirmish in the defile above Kulm, and again had to lead
his troops back to Pirna and Dresden. A third move against Blücher led
to the same wearisome result.

The allies, having worn down the foe, planned a daring move. Blücher
persuaded the allied sovereigns to strike from Bohemia at Leipzig,
thus turning the flank of the defensive works that the French had
thrown up south of Dresden, and cutting their communications with
France. He himself would march north-west, join the northern army, and
thereafter meet them at Leipzig. This rendezvous he kept, as later he
staunchly kept troth with Wellington at Waterloo; and we may detect
here, as in 1815, the strategic genius of Gneisenau as the prime
motive force.

Leaving a small force to screen his former positions at Bautzen, the
veteran, with 65,000 men, stealthily set out on his flank march
towards Wittenberg, threw two pontoon bridges over the Elbe at
Wartenburg, about ten miles above that fortress, drove away Bertrand's
battalions who hindered the crossing, and threw up earthworks to
protect the bridges (October 3rd). This done, he began to feel about
for Bernadotte, and came into touch with him south of Dessau. By this
daring march he placed two armies, amounting to 160,000 men, on the
north of Napoleon's lines; and his personal influence checked, even if
it did not wholly stop, the diplomatic loiterings of the Swedish Crown
Prince.[368] Bernadotte's hesitations were finally overcome by the
news that Blücher was marching south towards Leipzig. Finally he gave
orders to follow him; but we may judge how easy would have been the
task of overthrowing Bernadotte's discordant array if Napoleon could
have carried out his project of September 30th.

As it was, the disaster of Kulm kept the Emperor tethered for some
days within a few leagues of Dresden, while Bülow and Blücher saved
the campaign for the allies in the north, thereby exciting a patriotic
ferment which drove Jerome Bonaparte from Cassel and kept Davoust to
the defensive around Hamburg. There the skilful moves of Walmoden with
a force of Russians, British, Swedes, and North Germans kept in check
the ablest of the French Marshals, and prevented his junction with the
Emperor, for which the latter never ceased to struggle.

Meanwhile the Grand Army of the allies, strengthened by the approach
from Poland of 50,000 Russians of the Army of Reserve, was creeping
through the western passes of the Erz into the plains south of
Leipzig. This move was not unexpected by Napoleon. The importance of
that city was obvious. Situated in the midst of the fertile Saxon
plain, the centre of a great system ofroads, its position and its
wealth alike marked it out as the place likely to be seized by a
daring foe who should seek to cut Napoleon off from France.

As fortune turned against him, he became ever more nervous about
Leipzig. Yet, for the present, the northward march of Blücher rivetted
his attention. It puzzled him. Even as late as October 2nd he had not
fathomed Blücher's real aim[369]. But four days later he heard that
the Prussian leader had crossed the Elbe. At once he hurried
north-west with the Guard to crush him, and to resume the favourite
project of threatening Berlin and join hands with Davoust. Charging
St-Cyr with the defence of Dresden, and Murat with the defence of
Leipzig, he took his stand at Düben, a small town on the Mulde, nearly
midway between Leipzig and Wittenberg. Thence he reinforced Ney's
army, and ordered that Marshal northwards to fall on the rear of
Bernadotte and Blücher; while he himself waited in a moated castle at
Düben to learn the issue of events.

The saxon Colonel, von Odeleben, has left us a vivid picture of the
great man's restlessness during those four days. Surrounded by maps
and despatches, and waited on by watchful geographer and apprehensive
secretary, he spent much of the time scrawling large letters on a
sheet of paper, uneasily listening for the tramp of a courier. In
truth, few days of his life were more critical that those spent amidst
the rains, swamps, and fogs of Düben. Could he have caught Bernadotte
and Blücher far apart, he might have overwhelmed them singly, and then
have carried the war into the heart of Prussia. But he knows that
Dresden and Leipzig are far from safe. The news from that side begins
to alarm him: and though, on the north, Ney, Bertrand, and Reynier cut
up the rearguard of the allies, he learns with some disquiet that
Blücher is withdrawing westwards behind the River Saale, a move which
betokens a wish to come into touch with Schwarzenberg near Leipzig.

Yet this disconcerting thought spurs him on to one of his most daring
designs. "As a means of upsetting all their plans, I will march to the
Elbe. There I have the advantage, since I have Hamburg, Magdeburg,
Wittenberg, Torgau, and Dresden."[370] What faith he had in the
defensive capacities of a great river line dotted with fortresses! His
lieutenants did not share it. Caulaincourt tells us that his plan of
dashing at Berlin roused general consternation at headquarters, and
that the staff came in a body to beg him to give it up, and march back
to protect Leipzig. Reluctantly he abandons it, and then only to
change it for one equally venturesome. He will crush Bernadotte and
Blücher, or throw them beyond the Elbe, and then, himself crossing the
Elbe, ascend its right bank, recross it at Torgau, and strike at
Schwarzenberg's rear near Leipzig.

The plan promised well, provided that his men were walking machines,
and that Schwarzenberg did nothing in the interval. But gradually the
truth dawns on him that, while he sits weaving plans and dictating
despatches--he sent off six in the small hours of October
12th--Blücher and Schwarzenberg are drawing near to Leipzig. On that
day he prepared to fall back on that city, a resolve strengthened on
the morrow by the capture of one of the enemy's envoys, who reported
that they had great hopes of detaching Bavaria from the French cause.

The news was correct. Five days earlier, the King of Bavaria had come
to terms with Austria, offering to place 36,000 troops at her
disposal, while she, in return, guaranteed his complete sovereignty
and a full territorial indemnity for any districts that he might be
called on to restore to the Hapsburgs.[371] Napoleon knew not as yet
the full import of the news, and it is quite incorrect to allege, as
some heedless admirers have done, that this was the only thing that
stayed his conquering march northwards.[372] His retreat to Leipzig
was arranged before he heard the first rumour as to Bavaria's
defection. But the tidings saddened his men on their miry march
southwards; and, strange to say, the Emperor published it to all his
troops at Leipzig on the 15th, giving it as the cause why they were
about to fall back on the Rhine.

There was much to depress the Emperor when, on the 14th, he drew near
to Leipzig. With him came the King and Queen of Saxony, who during the
last days had resignedly moved along in the tail of this comet, which
had blasted their once smiling realm. Outside the city they parted,
the royal pair seeking shelter under its roofs, while the Emperor
pressed on to Murat's headquarters near Wachau. There, too the news
was doubtful. The King of Naples had not, on that day, shown his old
prowess. Though he disposed of larger masses of horsemen than those
which the allies sent out to reconnoitre, he chose his ground of
attack badly, and led his brigades in so loose an array that, after
long swayings to and fro, the fight closed with advantage to the
allies.[373] It was not without reason that Napoleon on that night
received his Marshals rather coolly at his modest quarters in the
village of Reudnitz. Leaning against the stove, he ran over several
names of those who were now slack in their duty; and when Augereau was
announced, he remarked that he was not the Augereau of Castiglione.
"Ah! give me back the old soldiers of Italy, and I will show you that
I am," retorted the testy veteran.

As a matter of fact, Napoleon was not the old Napoleon, not even the
Napoleon of Dresden. There he had overwhelmed the foe by a rapid
concentration. Now nothing decisive was done on the 15th, and time was
thereby given the allies to mature their plans. Early on that day
Blücher heard that on the morrow Schwarzenberg would attack Leipzig
from the south-east, but would send a corps westwards to threaten it
on the side of Lindenau. The Prussian leader therefore hurried on from
the banks of the Saale, and at night the glare of his watch-fires
warned Marmont that Leipzig would be assailed also from the
north-west. Yet, despite the warnings which Napoleon received from his
Marshal, he refused to believe that the north side was seriously
threatened; and, as late as the dawn of the 16th, he bade his troops
there to be ready to march through Leipzig and throw themselves on the
masses of Schwarzenberg.[374] Had Napoleon given those orders on the
15th, all might have gone well; for all his available forces, except
Ney's and Reynier's corps, were near at hand, making a total of nearly
150,000 men, while Schwarzenberg had as yet not many more. But those
orders on the 16th were not only belated: they contributed to the
defeat on the north side.

The Emperor's thoughts were concentrated on the south. There his lines
stretched in convex front along undulating ground near Wachau and
Liebertwolkwitz, about a league to the south and south-east of the
town. His right was protected by the marshy ground of the small river
Pleisse; his centre stretched across the roads leading towards
Dresden, while his left rested on a small stream, the Parthe, which
curves round towards the north-west and forms a natural defence to the
town on the north. Yet to cautious minds his position seemed unsafe;
he had in his rear a town whose old walls were of no military value, a
town on which several roads converged from the north, east, and south,
but from which, in case of defeat, he could retire westward only by
one road, that leading over the now flooded streams of the Pleisse and
the Elster. But the great captain himself thought only of victory. He
had charged Macdonald and Ney to march from Taucha to his support:
Marmont was to do the same; and, with these concentrated forces acting
against the far more extended array of Schwarzenberg, he counted on
overthrowing him on the morrow, and then crushing the disunited forces
of Blücher and Bernadotte.[375]

[Illustration: BATTLE OF LEIPZIG]

The Emperor and Murat were riding along the ridge near
Liebertwolkwitz, when, at nine o'clock, three shots fired in quick
succession from the allies on the opposite heights, opened the series
of battles fitly termed the Battle of the Nations. For six hours a
furious cannonade shook the earth, and the conflict surged to and fro
with little decisive result; but when Macdonald's corps struck in from
the north-east, the allies began to give ground. Thereupon Napoleon
launched two cavalry corps, those of Latour-Maubourg and Pajol,
against the allied centre.

Then was seen one of the most superb sights of war. Rising quickly
from behind the ridge, 12,000 horsemen rode in two vast masses against
a weak point in the opposing lines. They were led by the King of
Naples with all his wonted dash. Panting up the muddy slopes opposite,
they sabred the gunners, enveloped the Russian squares, and the three
allied sovereigns themselves had to beat a hasty retreat to avoid
capture. But the horses were soon spent by the furious pace at which
Murat careered along; and a timely charge by Pahlen's Cossacks and the
Silesian cuirassiers, brought up from the allied reserves beyond the
Pleisse, drove the French brigades back in great disorder, with the
loss of their able corps leaders. The allies by a final effort
regained all the lost ground, and the day here ended in a drawn fight,
with the loss of about 20,000 men to either side.

Meanwhile, on the west side of Leipzig, Bertrand had beaten off the
attack of Giulay's Austrian corps on the village of Lindenau. But,
further north, Marmont sustained a serious reverse. In obedience to
Napoleon's order, he was falling back towards Leipzig, when he was
sharply attacked by Yorck's corps at Möckern. Between that village and
Eutritzsch further east the French Marshal offered a most obstinate
resistance. Blücher, hoping to capture his whole corps, begged Sir
Charles Stewart to ride back to Bernadotte and request his succour.
The British envoy found the Swedish Prince at Halle and conjured him
to make every exertion not to be the only leader left out of the
battle.[376] It was in vain: his army was too far away; and only after
the village of Möckern had been repeatedly taken and re-taken, was
Marmont finally driven out by Yorck's Prussians.[377]

In truth, Marmont lacked the support of Ney's corps, which Berthier
had led him to expect if he were attacked in force. But the orders
were vague or contradictory. Ney had been charged to follow Macdonald
and impart irresistible momentum to the onset which was to have
crushed Schwarzenberg's right wing. He therefore only detached one
weak division to cover Marmont's right flank, and with the other
divisions marched away south, when an urgent message from Möckern
recalled him to that side of Leipzig, with the result that his 15,000
men spent the whole day in useless marches and counter-marches.[378]
The mishap was most serious. Had he strengthened Macdonald's
outflanking move, the right wing of the allied Grand Army might have
been shattered. Had he reinforced Marmont effectively, the position on
the north might have been held. As it was, the French fell back from
Möckern in confusion, losing 53 cannon; but they had inflicted on
Yorck's corps a loss of 8,000 men out of 21,000. Relatively to the
forces engaged, Albuera and Möckern are the bloodiest battles of the
Napoleonic wars.

On the whole, Napoleon had dealt the allies heavier losses than he had
sustained. But they could replace them. On the morrow Bennigsen was
near at hand on the east with 41,000 Russians of the Army of Reserve;
Colloredo's Austrian corps had also come up; and, in the north,
Bernadotte's Army of the North, 60,000 strong, was known to be
marching from Halle to reinforce Blücher. Napoleon, however, could
only count on Reynier's corps of 15,000 men, mostly Saxons, who
marched in from Düben. St. Cyr's corps of 27,000 men was too far away,
at Dresden; and Napoleon must have bitterly rued his rashness in
leaving that Marshal isolated on the south-east, while Davoust was
also cut off at Hamburg. He now had scarcely 150,000 effectives left
after the slaughter of the 16th; and of these, the German divisions
were murmuring at the endless marches and privations. Everything
helped to depress men's minds. On that Sabbath morning all was sombre
desolation around Leipzig, while within that city naught was heard but
the groans of the wounded and the lamentations of the citizens. Still
Napoleon's spirit was unquenched. Amidst the steady rain he paced
restlessly with Murat along the dykes of the Pleisse. The King assured
him that the enemy had suffered enormous losses. Then, the dreary walk
ended, the Emperor shut himself in his tent. His resolve was taken. He
would try fortune once more.[379]

Among the prisoners was the Austrian General Merveldt, over whom
Napoleon had gained his first diplomatic triumph, that at Leoben. He
it was, too, who had brought the first offers of an armistice after
Austerlitz. These recollections touched the superstitious chords in
the great Corsican's being; for in times of stress the strongest
nature harks back to early instincts. This harbinger of good fortune
the Emperor now summoned and talked long and earnestly with him.[380]
First, he complimented him on his efforts of the previous day to turn
the French left at Dölitz; next, he offered to free him on parole in
order to return to the allied headquarters with proposals for an
armistice. Then, after giving out that he had more than 200,000 men
round Leipzig, he turned to the European situation. Why had Austria
deserted him? At Prague she might have dictated terms to Europe. But
the English did not want peace. To this Merveldt answered that they
needed it sorely, but it must be not a truce, but a peace founded on
the equilibrium of Europe.--"Well," replied Napoleon, "let them give
me back my isles and I will give them back Hanover; I will also
re-establish the Hanse Towns and the annexed departments [of North
Germany].... But how treat with England, who wishes to bind me not to
build more than thirty ships of the line in my ports?"[381]

As for the Confederation of the Rhine, those States might secede that
chose to do so: but never would he cease to protect those that wanted
his protection. As to giving Holland its independence, he saw a great
difficulty: that land would then fall under the control of England.
Italy ought to be under one sovereign; that would suit the European
system. As he had abandoned Spain, that question was thereby decided.
Why then should not peace be the result of an armistice?--The allied
sovereigns thought differently, and at once waved aside the proposal.
No answer was sent.

In fact, they had Napoleon in their power, as he surmised. Late on
that Sunday, he withdrew his drenched and half-starved troops nearer
to Leipzig; for Blücher had gained ground on the north and threatened
the French line of retreat. Why the Emperor did not retreat during the
night must remain a mystery. All the peoples of Europe were now
closing in on him. On the north were Prussians, Russians, Swedes, and
a few British troops. To the south-east were the dense masses of the
allied Grand Army drawn from all the lands between the Alps and the
Urals; and among Bennigsen's array on the east of Leipzig were to be
seen the Bashkirs of Siberia, whose bows and arrows gained them from
the French soldiery the sobriquet of _les Amours_.

To this ring of 300,000 fighters Napoleon could oppose scarcely half
as many. Yet the French fought on, if not for victory, yet for honour;
and, under the lead of Prince Poniatowski, whose valour on the 16th
had gained him the coveted rank of a Marshal of France, the Poles once
more clutched desperately at the wraith of their national
independence. Napoleon took his stand with his staff on a hill behind
Probstheyde near a half-ruined windmill, fit emblem of his fortunes;
while, further south, the three allied monarchs watched from a higher
eminence the vast horse-shoe of smoke slowly draw in towards the city.
In truth, this immense conflict baffles all description. On the
north-east, the Crown Prince of Sweden gradually drove his columns
across the Parthe, while Blücher hammered at the suburbs.

Near the village of Paunsdorf, the allies found a weak place in the
defence, where Reynier's Saxons showed signs of disaffection. Some few
went over to the Russians in the forenoon, and about 3 p.m. others
marched over with loud hurrahs. They did not exceed 3,000 men, with 19
cannon, but these pieces were at once effectively used against the
French. Napoleon hurried towards the spot with part of his Guards, who
restored the fight on that side. But it was only for a time. The
defence was everywhere overmatched.

Even the inspiration of his presence and the desperate efforts of
Murat, Poniatowski, Victor, Macdonald, and thousands of nameless
heroes, barely held off the masses of the allied Grand Army. On the
north and north-east, Marmont and Ney were equally overborne.[382]
Worst of all, the supply of cannon balls was running low. With
pardonable exaggeration the Emperor afterwards wrote to Clarke: "If I
had then had 30,000 rounds, I should to-day be the master of the
world."

At nightfall, the chief returned weary and depressed to the windmill,
and instructed Berthier to order the retreat. Then, beside a
watch-fire, he sank down on a bench into a deep slumber, while his
generals looked on in mournful silence. All around them there surged
in the darkness the last cries of battle, the groans of the wounded,
and the dull rumble of a retreating host. After a quarter of an hour
he awoke with a start and threw an astonished look on his staff; then,
recollecting himself, he bade an officer repair to the King of Saxony
and tell him the state of affairs.

Early next morning, he withdrew into Leipzig, and, after paying a
brief visit to the King, rode away towards the western gate. It was
none too soon. The conflux of his still mighty forces streaming in by
three high roads, produced in all the streets of the town a crush
which thickened every hour. The Prussians and Swedes were breaking
into the northern suburbs, while the white-coats drove in the
defenders on the south. Slowly and painfully the throng of fugitives
struggled through the town towards the western gate. On that side the
confusion became ever worse, as the shots of the allies began to whiz
across the arches and causeway that led over the Pleisse and the
Elster, while the hurrahs of the Russians drew near on the north.
Ammunition wagons, gendarmes, women, grenadiers and artillery, cavalry
and cattle, the wounded, the dying, Marshals and sutlers, all were
wedged into an indistinguishable throng that fought for a foothold on
that narrow road of safety; and high above the din came the clash of
merry bells from the liberated suburbs, bells that three days before
had rung forced peals of triumph at Napoleon's orders, but now bade
farewell for ever to French domination. To increase the rout, a
temporary bridge thrown over the Elster broke down under the crush;
and the rush for the roadway became more furious. In despair of
reaching it, hundreds threw themselves into the flooded stream, but
few reached the further shore: among the drowned was that flower of
Polish chivalry, Prince Poniatowski.

But this mishap was soon to be outdone. A corporal of engineers, in
the absence of his chief, had received orders to blow up the bridge
outside the western gate, as soon as the pursuers were at hand; but,
alarmed by the volleys of Sacken's Russians, whom Blücher had sent to
work round by the river courses north-west of the town, the bewildered
subaltern fired the mine while the rearguard and a great crowd of
stragglers were still on the eastern side.[383] This was the climax of
this day of disaster, which left in the hands of the allies as many as
thirty generals, including Lauriston and Reynier, and 33,000 of the
rank and file, along with 260 cannon and 870 ammunition wagons. From
the village of Lindenau Napoleon gazed back at times over the awesome
scene, but in general he busied himself with reducing to order the
masses that had struggled across. The Old Guard survived, staunch as
ever, and had saved its 120 cannon, but the Young Guard was reduced to
a mere wreck. Amidst all the horrors of that day, the Emperor
maintained a stolid composure, but observers saw that he was bathed in
sweat. Towards evening, he turned and rode away westwards; and from
the weary famished files, many a fierce glance and muttered curse shot
forth as he passed by. Men remembered that it was exactly a year since
the Grand Army broke up from Moscow.

Yet, despite the ravages of typhus, the falling away of the German
States and the assaults of the allied horse, the retreating host
struggled stoutly on towards the Rhine. At Hainau it swept aside an
army of Bavarians and Austrians that sought to bar the road to France;
and, early in November, 40,000 armed men, with a larger number of
unarmed stragglers, filed across the bridge at Mainz. Napoleon had not
only lost Germany; he left behind in its fortresses as many as 190,000
troops, of whom nearly all were French; and of the 1,300 cannon with
which he began the second part of the campaign, scarce 200 were now at
hand for the defence of his Empire.

The causes of this immense disaster are not far to seek. They were
both political and military. In staking all on the possession of the
line of the Elbe, Napoleon was engulfing himself in a hostile land. At
the first signs of his overthrow, the national spirit of Germany was
certain to inflame the Franconians and Westphalians in his rear, and
imperil his communications. In regard to strategy, he committed the
same blunder as that perpetrated by Mack in 1805. He trusted to a
river line that could easily be turned by his foes. As soon as Austria
declared against him, his position on the Elbe was fully as perilous
as Mack's lines of the Iller at Ulm.

And yet, in spite of the obvious danger from the great mountain
bastion of Bohemia that stretched far away in his rear, the Emperor
kept his troops spread out from Königstein to Hamburg, and ventured on
long and wearying marches into Silesia, and north to Düben, which left
his positions in Saxony almost at the mercy of the allied Grand
Army.[384] By emerging from the mighty barrier of the Erzgebirge, that
army compelled him three times to give up his offensive moves and
hastily to fall back into the heart of Saxony.

The plain truth is that he was out-generalled by the allies. The
assertion may seem to savour of profanity. Yet, if words have any
meaning, the phrase is literally correct. His aim was primarily to
maintain himself on the line of the Elbe, but also, though in the
second place, to keep up his communication with France. Their aim was
to leave him the Elbe line, but to cut him off from France. Even at
the outset they planned to strike at Leipzig: their attack on Dresden
was an afterthought, timidly and slowly carried out. As long, however,
as their Grand Army clung to the Erz mountains, they paralyzed his
movements to the east and north, which merely played into their hands.

As regards the execution of the allied plans, the honours must
unquestionably rest with Blücher and Gneisenau. Their tactful retreats
before Napoleon in Silesia, their crushing blow at Macdonald, above
all, their daring flank march to Wartenburg and thence to Halle, are
exploits of a very high order; and doubtless it was the emergence of
this unsuspected volcanic force from the unbroken flats of continental
mediocrity that nonplussed Napoleon and led to the results described
above. Truly heroic was Blücher's determination to push on to Leipzig,
even when the enemy was seizing the Elbe bridges in his rear. The
veteran saw clearly that a junction with Schwarzenberg near Leipzig
was the all-important step, and that it must bring back the French to
that point. His judgment was as sound as his strokes were trenchant;
and, owing to the illusions which Napoleon still cherished as to the
saving strength of the Elbe line, the French arrived on that mighty
battlefield half-famished and wearied by fruitless marches and
countermarches. Of all Napoleon's campaigns, that of the second part
of 1813 must rank as by far the weakest in conception, the most
fertile in blunders, and the most disastrous in its results for
France.


NOTE TO THE THIRD EDITION.--In order not to overcrowd these chapters
with diplomatic details, I have made only the briefest reference to
the Treaties signed at Teplitz on Sept. 9th, 1813, with Russia and
Prussia, which cemented the fourth great Coalition; but it will be
well to describe them here.

A way having been paved for a closer union by the Treaty of Kalisch
(see p. 276) and by that of Reichenbach (see p. 317), it was now
agreed (1) that Austria and Prussia should be restored as nearly as
possible to the position which they held in 1805; (2) that the
Confederation of the Rhine should be dissolved; (3) and that "full and
unconditional independence" should be accorded to the princes of the
other German States. This last clause was firmly but vainly opposed by
Stein and the German Unionist party. Austria's help was so sorely
needed that she could dictate her terms, and she began to scheme for
the creation of a sort of _Fürstenbund_, or League of Princes, under
her hegemony. The result was seen in her Treaty of October 7th, 1813,
with Bavaria, which detached that State from the French alliance and
assured the success of Metternich's plans for Germany (see pp.
354-355). The smaller States soon followed the lead given by Bavaria;
and the reconstruction of Germany on the Austrian plan was further
assured by the Treaty of Chaumont (see pp. 402-403). Thus the dire
need of Austrian help felt by Russia and Prussia throughout the
campaigns of 1813-1814 had no small share in moulding the future of
Europe.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXXVI

FROM THE RHINE TO THE SEINE


"The Emperor Napoleon must become King of France. Up to now all his
work has been done for the Empire. He lost the Empire when he lost his
army. When he no longer makes war for the army, he will make peace for
the French people, and then he will become King of France."--Such were
the words of the most sagacious of French statesmen to Schwarzenberg.
They were spoken on April 15th, 1813, when it still seemed likely that
Napoleon would meet halfway the wishes of Austria. Such, at least, was
Talleyrand's ardent hope. He saw the innate absurdity of attempting to
browbeat Austria, and strangle the infant Hercules of German
nationality, after the Grand Army had been lost in Russia.

If this was reasonable in the spring of 1813, it was an imperative
necessity at the close of the year. Napoleon had in the meantime lost
400,000 men: and he could not now say, as he did to Metternich of his
losses in Russia, that "nearly half were Germans." The men who had
fallen in Saxony, or who bravely held out in the Polish, German, and
Spanish fortresses, were nearly all French. They were, what the
_triarii_ were to the Roman legion, the reserves of the fighting
manhood of France. That unhappy land was growing restless under its
disasters. In Spain, Wellington had blockaded Pamplona, stormed St.
Sebastian, thrown Soult back on the Pyrenees in a series of desperate
conflicts, and planted the British flag on the soil of France, eleven
days before Napoleon was overthrown at Leipzig. Then, pressing
northwards, in compliance with the urgent appeals of the allied
sovereigns, our great commander assailed the lines south of the
Nivelle, on which the French had been working for three months, drove
the enemy out of them and back over the river, with a loss of 4,200
men and 51 guns (November 10th).[385]

The same tale was told in the north. The allies were welcomed by the
secondary German princes, who, in return for compacts guaranteeing
their sovereignty, promised to raise contingents that amounted in all
to upwards of a quarter of a million of men. Bernadotte marched
against the Danes and cut off Davoust in Hamburg, where that Marshal
bravely held out to the end of the war. Elsewhere in the north
Napoleon's domination quickly mouldered away. Bülow, aided by a small
British force, invaded Holland early in November; and, with the old
cry of _Orange boven_, the Dutch tore down the French tricolour and
welcomed back the Prince of Orange. In Italy, Eugène remained faithful
to his step-father and repulsed all the overtures of the allies: but
Murat, whose allegiance had already been shaken by the secret offers
of the allies, now began to show signs of going over to them, as he
did at the dawn of the New Year.[386]

Meanwhile Napoleon had arrived at Paris (November 9th). He found his
capital sunk in depression, and indignant at the author of its
miseries. Peace was the dearest wish of all. Marie Louise confessed it
by her tears, Cambacérès by his tactful reserve, and the people by
their cries, while the sullen demeanour or bitter words of the
Marshals showed that their patience was exhausted. Evidently a
scapegoat was needed: it was found in the person of Maret, Duc de
Bassano, whose devotion to Napoleon had reduced the Ministry of
Foreign Affairs to a highly paid clerkship. For the crime of not
bending his master's inflexible will at Dresden, he was now cast as a
sop to the peace party; and his portfolio was intrusted to
Caulaincourt, Duc de Vicenza (November 20th). The change was salutary.
The new Minister, when ambassador at St. Petersburg, had been highly
esteemed by the Czar for his frank, chivalrous demeanour. Our
countrywoman, Lady Burghersh, afterwards testified to his personal
charm: "I never saw a countenance so expressive of kindness,
sweetness, and openness."[387] And these gifts were fortified by a
manly intelligence, a profound love of France, and by devotion to her
highest interests. The first of her interests was obviously peace; and
there now seemed some chance of his conferring this boon on her and on
the world at large.

On November the 8th and 9th Metternich had two interviews at Frankfurt
with Baron St. Aignan, a brother-in-law of Caulaincourt, and formerly
the French envoy at Weimar. The Austrian Minister assured him of the
moderation of the allies, especially of England, and of their wish for
a lasting peace founded on the principle of the balance of power.
France must give up all control of Spain, Italy, and Germany, and
return to her natural frontiers, the Rhine, the Alps, and the
Pyrenees. Lord Aberdeen, our ambassador to Austria, and Count
Nesselrode, the Russian Minister for Foreign Affairs, were present at
the second interview, and assented to this statement, the latter
pledging his word that it had the approval of Prussia. Aberdeen added
his assurance that England was prepared to relax her maritime code and
sacrifice many of her conquests in order to attain a durable peace. To
these Frankfurt overtures Napoleon charged Maret to answer in vaguely
favourable terms, and to suggest the meeting of a European Congress at
Mannheim. The effect of this Note (November 16th) was marred by the
strange statement--"a peace based on the independence of all nations,
both from the continental and the maritime point of view, has always
been the constant object of the desires and policy of the Emperor
[Napoleon]."[388]

Metternich in reply pointed out that the French Government had not
accepted the proposed terms as a basis for negotiations. The new
Foreign Minister, Caulaincourt, sent off (December 2nd) an acceptance
which was far more frank and satisfactory; but the day before he
penned it, the allies had virtually withdrawn their offer, as they had
told him they would do if it was not speedily accepted. They had all
along decided not to stay the military operations; and, as these were
still flowing strongly in their favour, they could not be expected to
keep open an offer which was exceedingly favourable to Napoleon even
at the time when it was made, that is, before the support of the
Dutch, of the Swiss, and of Murat was fully assured.

It may be well to pause for a moment to inquire what were the views of
the allied Governments, and of Napoleon himself, at this crisis when
Europe was seething in the political crucible. Had Metternich the full
assent of those Governments when he offered the French Emperor the
natural frontiers? Here we must separate the views of Lord Aberdeen
from those of the British Cabinet, as represented by its Foreign
Minister, Lord Castlereagh: and we must also distinguish between the
Emperor Alexander and his Minister, Nesselrode, a man of weak
character, in whom he had little confidence. Certainly the British
Cabinet was not disposed to leave Antwerp in Napoleon's hands.

    "This nation," wrote Castlereagh to Aberdeen on November 13th, "is
    likely to view with disfavour any peace which does not confine
    France within her ancient limits.... We are still ready to
    encounter, with our allies, the hazards of peace, if peace can be
    made on the basis proposed, satisfactorily executed [_sic_]; and
    we are not inclined to go out of our way to interfere in the
    internal government of France, however much we might desire to see
    it placed in more pacific hands. But I am satisfied we must not
    encourage our allies to patch up an imperfect arrangement. If they
    will do so, we must submit; but it should appear, in that case, to
    be their own act, and not ours.... I must particularly entreat you
    to keep your attention upon Antwerp. The destruction of that
    arsenal is essential to our safety. To leave it in the hands of
    France is little short of imposing upon Great Britain the charge
    of a perpetual war establishment."[389]

Thenceforth British policy inclined, though tentatively and with some
hesitations, to the view that it was needful in the interests of peace
to bring France back to the limits of 1791, that is, of withdrawing
from her, not only Holland, the Rhineland and Italy, but also Belgium,
Savoy, and Nice. The Prussian patriots were far more decided. They
were determined that France should not dominate the Rhineland and
overawe Germany from the fortresses of Mainz, Coblentz, and Wesel. On
this subject Arndt spoke forth with no uncertain sound in a
pamphlet--"The Rhine, Germany's river, not her boundary"--which proved
that the French claim to the Rhine frontier was consonant neither with
the teachings of history nor the distribution of the two peoples. The
pamphlet had an immense effect in stirring up Germans to attack the
cherished French doctrine of the natural frontiers, and it clinched
the claim which he had put forward in his "Fatherland" song of the
year before. It bade Germans strive for Trèves and Cologne, aye, even
for Strassburg and Metz. Hardenberg and Stein, differing on most
points, united in praising this work. Even before it appeared, the
former chafed at the thought of Napoleon holding the left bank of the
Rhine. On hearing of Metternich's Frankfurt offer to the French
Emperor, he wrote in his diary: "Propositions of peace without my
assent--Rhine, Alps, Pyrenees: a mad business."[390]

Frederick William's views were less pronounced: in fact, his proneness
to see a lion in every path earned for him the _sobriquet_ of
Cassandra in his Chancellor's diary. But in the main he was swayed by
the Czar; and that autocrat was now determined to dictate at Paris a
peace that would rid him of all prospect of his great rival's revenge.
Vanity and fear alike prescribed such a course of action. He longed to
lead his magnificent Guards to Paris, there to display his clemency in
contrast to the action of the French at Moscow; and this sentiment was
fed by fear of Napoleon. The latter motive was concealed, of course,
but Lord Aberdeen gauged its power during a private interview that he
had with Alexander at Freiburg (December 24th): "He talked with great
freedom: he is more decided than ever as to the necessity of
perseverance, and puts little trust in the fair promises of
Bonaparte.--'_So long as he lives there can be no security_'--he
repeated it two or three times."[391] We can therefore understand his
concern lest the Frankfurt terms should be accepted outright by
Napoleon. Metternich, however, assured him that the French Emperor
would not assent;[392] and, as in regard to the Prague Congress, he
was substantially correct.

Here again we touch on the disputed question whether Metternich played
a fair game against Napoleon, or whether he tempted him to play with
loaded dice while his throne was at stake. The latter supposition for
a long time held the field; but it is untenable. On several occasions
the Austrian statesman warned Napoleon, or his trusty advisers, that
the best course open to him was to sign peace at once. He did so at
Dresden, and he did so now. On November 10th he sent Caulaincourt a
letter, of which these are the most important sentences:

    " ... M. de St. Aignan will speak to you of my conversations [with
    him]. I expect nothing from them, but I shall have done my duty.
    France will never sign a more fortunate peace than that which the
    Powers will make to-day, and tomorrow if they have reverses. New
    successes may extend their views.... I do not doubt that the
    approach of the allied armies to the frontiers of France may
    facilitate the formation of great armaments by her Government. The
    questions will become problematical for the civilized world; but
    the Emperor Napoleon will not make peace. There is my profession
    of faith, and I shall never be happier than if I am wrong."

The letter rings true in every part. Metternich made no secret of
sending it, but allowed Lord Aberdeen to see it.[393] And by good
fortune it reached Caulaincourt about the time when he assumed the
portfolio of Foreign Affairs. Its substance must therefore have been
known to Napoleon; and the tone of the Frankfurt proposals ought to
have convinced him of the need of speedily making peace while Austria
held out the olive branch from across the Rhine. But Metternich's
gloomy forecast was only too true. During his sojourn at Paris he had
tested the rigidity of that cast-iron will.

In fact, no one who knew the Emperor's devotion to Italy could believe
that he would give up Piedmont and Liguria. His own despatches show
that he never contemplated such a surrender. On November 20th he gave
orders for the enrolling of 46,000 Frenchmen _of mature age_--"not
Italians or Belgians"--who were to reinforce Eugène and help him to
defend Italy; that, too, at a time when the defence of Champagne and
Languedoc was about to devolve on lads of eighteen.

He was equally determined not to give up Holland. On the possession of
this maritime and industrious community he had always laid great
stress. He once remarked to Roederer that the ruin of the French
Bourbons was due to three events--the Battle of Rossbach, the affair
of the diamond necklace, and the victory of Anglo-Prussian influence
over that of France in Dutch affairs (1787). He even appealed to
Nature to prove that that land must form part of the French Empire.
"Holland," said one of his Ministers in 1809, "is the alluvium of the
Rhine, Meuse, and Scheldt--in other words, one of the great arteries
of the Empire." Before the last battle at Leipzig he told Merveldt
that he could not grant Holland its independence, for it would fall
under the tutelage of England. And even while his Empire was crumbling
away after that disaster, he wrote to his mother: "Holland is a French
country, _and will remain so for ever_."[394]

Russia, Prussia, and Britain were equally determined that the Dutch
should be independent; and if Metternich wavered on the subject of
Dutch independence, his hesitation was at an end by the middle of
December, for a memorandum of the Russian diplomatist, Pozzo di Borgo,
states that Metternich then regarded the Rhine boundary as ending at
Düsseldorf: "after that town the river takes the name of Waal."[395]
Such juggling with geography was surely superfluous; for by that time
the Frankfurt terms had virtually lapsed, owing to Napoleon's belated
acceptance; and Metternich had joined the other allied Governments
that now demanded a more thorough solution of the boundary question.

In fact, the allies were now able to make political capital out of
their recent moderation.[396] On December 1st they issued an appeal to
the French nation to the following effect: "We do not make war on
France, but we are casting off the yoke which your Government imposed
on our countries. We hoped to have found peace before touching your
soil: we now go to find it there."

If the sovereigns hoped by means of this declaration to separate
France from Napoleon, they erred. To cross the Rhine was to attack,
not Napoleon, but the French Revolution. Belgium and the Rhine
boundary had been won by Dumouriez, Jourdain, Pichegru, and Moreau, at
a time when Bonaparte's name was unknown outside Corsica and Provence.
France had looked on wearily at Napoleon's wars in Germany, Spain, and
Russia: they concerned him, not her. But when the "sacred soil" was
threatened, citizens began to close their ranks: they ceased their
declamations against the crushing taxes and youth-slaying
conscription: they submitted to heavier taxes and levies of still
younger lads. In fact, by doffing the mask of Charlemagne, the Emperor
became once more the Bonaparte of the days of Marengo.

He counted on some such change in public opinion; and it enabled him
to defy with impunity the beginnings of a Parliamentary opposition.
The Senate had been puffily obsequious, as usual; but the Corps
Législatif had mistaken its functions. Summoned to vote new taxes, it
presumed to give advice. A commission of its members agreed to a
report on the existing situation, drawn up by Lainé, which gave the
Emperor great offence. Its crime lay in its outspoken requests that
peace should be concluded on the basis of the natural frontiers, that
the rigours of the conscription should be abated, and that the laws
which guaranteed the free exercise of political rights should be
maintained intact. The Emperor was deeply incensed, and, despite the
advice of his Ministers, determined to dissolve the Chamber forthwith
(December 31st). Not content with this exercise of arbitrary power, he
subjected its members to a barrack-like rebuke at the official
reception on New Year's Day.--He had convoked them to do good, and
they had done evil. Two battles lost in Champagne would not have been
so harmful as their last action. What was their mandate compared with
his? France had twice chosen _him_ by some millions of votes: while
_they_ were nominated only by a few hundreds apiece. They had flung
mud at him: but he was a man who might be slain, never dishonoured. He
would fight for the nation, hurl back the foe, and conclude an
honourable peace. Then, for their shame, he would print and circulate
their report.--Such was the gist of this diatribe, which he shot forth
in strident tones and with flashing eyes. He had the copies of the
report destroyed, and dismissed the deputies to their homes throughout
France.

The country, in the main, took his side; and doubtless the national
instinct was sound; for the allies had crossed the Rhine, and France
once more was in danger. As in 1793, when the nation welcomed the
triumph of the dare-devil Jacobins over the respectable parliamentary
Girondins, as promising a vigorous rule and the expulsion of the
monarchical invaders, so now the soldiers and peasants, if not the
middle classes, rejoiced at the discomfiture of the talkers by the one
necessary man of action. The general feeling was pithily expressed by
an old peasant: "It's no longer a question of Bonaparte. Our soil is
invaded: let us go and fight."

This was the feeling which the Emperor ruthlessly exploited. He
decreed the enrolment of a great force of National Guards, exacted
further levies for the regular army, and ordered a _levée en masse_
for the eastern Departments. The difficulties in his way were
enormous. But he flung himself at the task with incomparable _verve_.
Soldiers were wanting: youths were dragged forth, even from the
royalist districts of the extreme north and west and south. Money was
wanting: it was extorted from all quarters, and Napoleon not only
lavished 55,000,000 francs from his own private hoard, but seized that
of his parsimonious mother.[397] Cannon, muskets, uniforms were
wanting: their manufacture was pushed on with feverish haste: Napoleon
ordered his War Office to "procure all the cloth in France, good and
bad," so as to have 200,000 uniforms ready by the end of February; and
he counted on having half a million of effectives in the field at the
close of spring.

Among these he reckoned--so, at least, he wrote to Melzi--"nearly
200,000" French soldiers from Arragon, Catalonia, and at Bayonne. Even
if we allow for his desire to encourage his officials in Italy, the
estimate is curious. Wellington at that time, it is true, had lessened
his numbers by sending back across the Pyrenees all his Spanish
troops, whose atrocities endangered that good understanding with the
French peasantry which our great leader, for political motives, was
determined to cultivate.[398] Yet, despite the shrinkage in numbers,
he drove the French from the banks of the River Nive, and inflicted on
them severe losses in desperate conflicts near Bayonne (December
9th-13th). In fact, the intrenched camp in front of that town was now
the sole barrier to Wellington's advance northwards, and it was with
difficulty that Soult clung to this position. The peasantry, too,
finding that they were far better treated by Wellington's troops than
by their own soldiers, began to favour the allied cause, with results
that will shortly appear. Yet these disquieting symptoms did not daunt
Napoleon; for he now based his hopes of resisting the British advance
on a compact which he had concluded with Ferdinand VII., the rightful
King of Spain.

As soon as he returned to St. Cloud after the Leipzig campaign he made
secret overtures to that unhappy exile;[399] and by the Treaty of
Valençay (December 11th, 1813) he agreed to recognize him as King of
the whole of Spain, provided that British and French troops evacuated
that land. His imagination ran riot in picturing the results of this
treaty. Ferdinand was to enter Spain; Suchet, then playing a losing
game in Catalonia, was quietly to withdraw his columns through the
Pyrenees, while Wellington would have his base of operations cut from
under him, and thenceforth be a negligeable quantity.[400] These
pleasing fancies all rested on the acceptance of the new treaty by the
Spanish Regency and Cortès. But, alas for Napoleon! they at once
rejected it, declaring null and void all acts of Ferdinand while he
was a prisoner, and forbidding all negotiations with France while
French troops remained in the Peninsula (January 8th).

Equally disappointing were affairs in Italy. On the 11th of January,
Murat made an alliance with Austria, and promised to aid her with a
corps of 30,000 Neapolitans, while she guaranteed him his throne and a
slice of the Roman territory. Napoleon directed Eugène, as soon as
this bad news was confirmed, to prepare to fall back on the Alps. But,
in order to clog Murat's movements, the Emperor resolved to make use
of the spiritual power, which for six years he had slighted. He gave
orders that the aged Pope should be released from his detention at
Fontainebleau, and hurried secretly to Rome. "Let him burst on that
place like a clap of thunder," he wrote to Savary (January 21st). But
this stagey device was not to succeed. Even now Napoleon insisted on
conditions with which Pius VII. could not conscientiously comply, and
he was still detained at Tarrascon when his captor was setting out for
Elba.

Three days after Murat's desertion, Denmark fell away from Napoleon.
Overborne by the forces of Bernadotte, the little kingdom made peace
with England and Sweden, agreeing to yield up Norway to the latter
Power in consideration of recovering an indemnity in Germany. To us
the Danes ceded Heligoland. Thus, within three months of the disaster
at Leipzig, all Napoleon's allies forsook him, and all but the Danes
were now about to fight against him--a striking proof of the
artificiality of his domination.

By this time it was clear that even France would soon be stricken to
the heart unless Napoleon speedily concentrated his forces. On the
north and east the allies were advancing with a speed that nonplussed
the Emperor. Accustomed to sluggish movements on their part, he had
not expected an invasion in force before the spring, and here it was
in the first days of January. Bülow and Graham had overrun Holland.
The allies, with the exception of the Czar, had no scruples about
infringing the neutrality of Switzerland, as Napoleon had consistently
done, and the constitution, which he had imposed upon that land eleven
years before, now straightway collapsed. Detaching a strong corps
southwards to hold the Simplon and Great St. Bernard Passes and
threaten Lyons, Schwarzenberg led the allied Grand Army into France by
way of Basel, Belfort, and Langres. The prompt seizure of the Plateau
of Langres was an important success. The allies thereby turned the
strong defensive lines of the Vosges Mountains, and of the Rivers
Moselle and Meuse, so that Blücher, with his "Army of Silesia," was
able rapidly to advance into Lorraine, and drive Victor from Nancy.
Toul speedily surrendered, and the sturdy veteran then turned to the
south-west, in order to come into touch with Schwarzenberg's columns.
Neither leader delayed before the eastern fortresses. The allies had
learnt from Napoleon to invest or observe them and press on, a course
which their vast superiority of force rendered free from danger.
Schwarzenberg, on the 25th, had 150,000 men between Langres, Chaumont,
and Bar-sur-Aube; while Blücher, with about half those numbers,
crossed the Marne at St. Dizier, and was drawing near to Brienne. In
front of them were the weak and disheartened corps of Marmont, Ney,
Victor, and Macdonald, mustering in all about 50,000 men. Desertions
to the allies were frequent, and Blücher, wishing to show that the war
was practically over, dismissed both deserters and prisoners to their
homes.[401]

But the war was far from over: it had not yet begun. Hitherto Napoleon
had hurried on the preparations from Paris, but the urgency of the
danger now beckoned him eastwards. As before, he left the Empress as
Regent of France, but appointed King Joseph as Lieutenant-General of
France. On Sunday, January 23rd, he held the last reception. It was in
the large hall of the Tuileries, where the Parisian rabble had forced
Louis XVI. to don the _bonnet rouge_. Another dynasty was now
tottering to its fall; but none could have read its doom in the faces
of the obsequious courtiers, or of the officers of the Parisian
National Guards, who offered their homage to the heir of the
Revolution.

He came forward with the Empress and the King of Rome, a flaxen-haired
child of three winters, clad in the uniform of the National Guard.
Taking the boy by the hand into the midst of the circle, he spoke
these touching words: "Gentlemen,--I am about to set out for the army.
I intrust to you what I hold dearest in the world--my wife and my son.
Let there be no political divisions." He then carried him amidst his
dignitaries and officers, while sobs and shouts bespoke the warmth of
the feelings kindled by this scene. And never, surely, since the young
Maria Theresa appealed in person to the Hungarian magnates to defend
her against rapacious neighbours, had any monarch spoken so straight
to the hearts of his lieges. The secret of his success is not far to
seek. He had not commanded as Emperor: he had appealed as a father to
fathers and mothers.

It is painful to have to add that many who there swore to defend him
were even then beginning to plot his overthrow. Most painful of all is
it to remember that when, before dawn of the 25th, Marie Louise bade
him farewell, it was her last farewell: for she, too, deserted him in
his misfortunes, refused to share his exile, and ultimately degraded
herself by her connection with Count Neipperg.

Heedless of all that the future might bring, and concentrating his
thoughts on the problems of the present, the great warrior journeyed
rapidly eastwards to Châlons-sur-Marne, and opened the most glorious
of his campaigns. And yet it began with disaster. At Brienne, among
the scenes of his school-days, he assailed Blücher in the hope of
preventing the junction of the Army of Silesia with that of
Schwarzenberg further south (January 29th). After sharp fighting, the
Prussians were driven from the castle and town. But the success was
illusory. Blücher withdrew towards Bar-sur-Aube, in order to gain
support from Schwarzenberg, and, three days later, turned the tables
on Napoleon while the latter was indulging in hopes that the allies
were about to treat seriously for peace.[402] Nevertheless, though
surprised by greatly superior numbers, the 40,000 French clung
obstinately to the village of La Rothière until their thin lines were
everywhere driven in or outflanked, with the loss of 73 cannon and
more than 3,000 prisoners. Each side lost about 5,000 killed and
wounded--a mere trifle to the allies, but a grave disaster to the
defenders.

The Emperor was much discouraged. He had put forth his full strength,
exposed his own person to the hottest fire, so as to encourage his
men, and yet failed to prevent the union of the allied armies, or to
hold the line of the River Aube. Early on the morrow he left the
castle of Brienne, and took the road for Troyes; while Marmont, with a
corps now reduced to less than 3,000 men, bravely defended the passage
of the Voire at Rosnay, and, after delaying the pursuit, took post at
Arcis-sur-Aube. The means of defence, both moral and material, seemed
wellnigh exhausted. When, on February 3rd, Napoleon entered Troyes,
scarcely a single _vivat_ was heard. Even the old troops were cast
down by defeat and hunger, while as many as 6,000 conscripts are said
to have deserted. The inhabitants refused to supply the necessaries of
life except upon requisition. "The army is perishing of famine,"
writes the Emperor at Troyes. Again at Nogent: "Twelve men have died
of hunger, though we have used fire and sword to get food on our way
here." And, now, into the space left undefended between the Marne and
the Aube, Blücher began to thrust his triumphant columns, with no
barrier to check him until he neared the environs of Paris. Once more
the Prussian and Russian officers looked on the war as over, and
invited one another to dinner at the Palais-Royal in a week's
time.[403]

But it was on this confidence of the old hussar-general that Napoleon
counted. He knew his proneness to daring movements, and the strong
bias of Schwarzenberg towards delay: he also divined that they would
now separate their forces, Blücher making straight for Paris, while
other columns would threaten the capital by way of Troyes and Sens.
That was why he fell back on Troyes, so as directly to oppose the
latter movement, "or so as to return and manoeuvre against Blücher and
stay his march."[404] Another motive was his expectation of finding at
Nogent the 15,000 veterans whom he had ordered Soult to send
northwards. And doubtless the final reason was his determination to
use the sheltering curve of the Seine, which between Troyes and Nogent
flows within twenty miles of the high-road that Blücher must use if he
struck at Paris. At many a crisis Napoleon had proved the efficacy of
a great river line. From Rivoli to Friedland his career abounds in
examples of riverine tactics. The war of 1813 was one prolonged
struggle for the line of the Elbe. He still continued the war because
he could not yet bring himself to sign away the Rhenish fortresses:
and he now hoped to regain that "natural boundary" by blows showered
on divided enemies from behind the arc of the Seine.

With wonderful prescience he had guessed at the general plan of the
allies. But he could scarcely have dared to hope that on that very day
(February 2nd) they were holding a council of war at Brienne, and
formally resolved that Blücher should march north-west on Paris with
about 50,000 men, while the allied Grand Army of nearly three times
those numbers was to diverge south-west towards Bar-sur-Seine and Sens.
So unequal a partition of forces seemed to court disaster. It is true
that the allies had no magazines of supplies: they could not march in
an undivided host through a hostile land where the scanty defenders
themselves were nearly starving. If, however, they decided to move at
all, it was needful to allot the more dangerous task to a powerful
force. Above all, it was necessary to keep their main armies well in
touch with one another and with the foe. Yet these obvious precautions
were not taken. In truth, the separation of the allies was dictated
more by political jealousy than by military motives. To these political
affairs we must now allude; for they had no small effect in leading
Napoleon on to an illusory triumph and an irretrievable overthrow. We
will show their influence, first on the conduct of the allies, and
then on the actions of Napoleon.

The alarm of Austria at the growing power of Russia and Prussia was
becoming acute. She had drawn the sword only because Napoleon's
resentment was more to be feared than Alexander's ambition. But all
had changed since then. The warrior who, five months ago, still had
his sword at the throat of Germany, was now being pursued across the
dreary flats of Champagne. And his eastern rival, who then plaintively
sued for Austria's aid, now showed a desire to establish Russian
control over all the Polish lands, indemnifying Prussia for losses in
that quarter by the acquisition of Saxony. Both of these changes would
press heavily on Austria from the north; and she was determined to
prevent them as far as possible. Then there was the vexed question of
the reconstruction of Germany to which we shall recur later on.
Smaller matters, involving the relations of the allies to Bernadotte,
Denmark, and Switzerland further complicated the situation: but, above
all, there was the problem of the future limits and form of government
of France.

On that topic there were two chief parties: those who desired merely
to clip Napoleon's wings, and those who sought to bring back France to
her old boundaries. The Emperor Francis was still disposed to leave
him the "natural frontiers," provided he gave up all control of
Germany, Holland, and Italy. On the other side were the Czar and the
forward wing of the Prussian patriots. Frederick William was more
cautious, but in the main he deferred to the Czar's views on the
boundary question. Still, so powerful was the influence of the Emperor
Francis, Metternich, and Schwarzenberg, that the two parties were
evenly balanced and beset by many suspicions and fears, until the
arrival of the British Foreign Minister, Castlereagh, began to restore
something like confidence and concord.

The British Cabinet had decided that, as none of our three envoys then
at the allied headquarters had much diplomatic experience, our
Minister should go in person to supervise the course of affairs. He
reached head-quarters in the third week of January, and what Thiers
has called the proud simplicity of his conduct, contrasting as it did
with the uneasy finesse of Metternich and Nesselrode, imparted to his
counsels a weight which they merited from their disinterestedness.
Great Britain was in a very strong position. She had borne the brunt
of the struggle before the present coalition took shape: apart from
some modest gains to Hanover, she was about to take no part in the
ensuing territorial scramble: she even offered to give up many of her
oceanic conquests, provided that the European settlement would be such
as to guarantee a lasting peace.[405] And this, the British Minister
came to see, could not be attained while Napoleon reigned over a Great
France: the only sure pledge of peace would be the return of that
country to its old frontiers, and preferably to its ancient dynasty.

On the question of boundaries the Czar's views were not clearly
defined; they were personal rather than territorial. He was determined
to get rid of Napoleon; but he would not, as yet, hear of the
re-establishment of the Bourbons. He disliked that dynasty in general,
and Louis XVIII. in particular. Bernadotte seemed to him a far fitter
successor to Napoleon than the gouty old gentleman who for three and
twenty years had been morosely flitting about Europe and issuing
useless proclamations.

Here, indeed, was Napoleon's great chance: there was no man fit to
succeed him, and he knew it. Scarcely anyone but Bernadotte himself
agreed with the Czar as to the fitness of the choice just named. To
the allies the Prince Royal of Sweden was suspect for his loiterings,
and to Frenchmen he seemed a traitor. We find that Stein disagreed
with the Czar on this point, and declared that the Bourbons were the
only alternative to Napoleon. Assuredly, this was not because the
great German loved that family, but simply because he saw that their
very mediocrity would be a pledge that France would not again overflow
her old limits and submerge Europe.

Here, then, was the strength of Castlereagh's position. Amidst the
warping disputes and underhand intrigues his claims were clear,
disinterested, and logically tenable. Besides, they were so urged as
to calm the disputants. He quietly assured Metternich that Britain
would resist the absorption of the whole of Poland and Saxony by
Russia and Prussia; and on his side the Austrian statesman showed that
he would not oppose the return of the Bourbons to France "from any
family considerations," provided that that act came as the act of the
French nation.[406] And this was a proviso on which our Government and
Wellington already laid great stress.

Castlereagh's straightforward behaviour had an immense influence in
leading Metternich to favour a more drastic solution of the French
question than he had previously advocated. The Frankfurt proposals
were now quietly waived, and Metternich came to see the need of
withdrawing Belgium from France and intrusting it to the House of
Orange. Still, the Austrian statesman was for concluding peace with
Napoleon as soon as might be, though he confessed in his private
letters that peace did not depend on the Châtillon parleys. Some
persons, he wrote, wanted the Bourbons back: still more wished for a
Regency (_i.e._, Marie Louise as Regent for Napoleon II.): others
said: "Away with Napoleon, no peace is possible with him": the masses
cried out for peace, so as to end the whole affair: but added
Metternich: "The riddle will be solved before or in Paris."[407] There
spoke the discreet opportunist, always open to the logic of facts and
the persuasion of Castlereagh.

Our Minister found the sovereigns of Russia and Prussia far less
tractable; and he only partially succeeded in lulling their suspicions
that Metternich was hand and glove with Napoleon. So deep was the
Czar's distrust of the Austrian statesman and commander-in-chief that
he resolved to brush aside Metternich's diplomatic _pourparlers_, to
push on rapidly to Paris, and there dictate peace.[408]

But it was just this eagerness of the Czar and the Prussians to reach
Paris which kept alive Austrian fears. A complete triumph to their
arms would seal the doom of Poland and Saxony; and it has been thought
that Schwarzenberg, who himself longed for peace, not only sought to
save Austrian soldiers by keeping them back, but that at this time he
did less than his duty in keeping touch with Blücher. Several times
during the ensuing days the charge of treachery was hurled by the
Prussians against the Austrians, and once at least by Frederick
William himself. But it seems more probable that Metternich and
Schwarzenberg held their men back merely for prudential motives until
the resumption of the negotiations with France should throw more light
on the tangled political jungle through which the allies were groping.
It is significant that while Schwarzenberg cautiously felt about for
Napoleon's rearguard, of which he lost touch for two whole days,
Metternich insisted that the peace Congress must be opened.
Caulaincourt had for several days been waiting near the allied
head-quarters; and, said the Austrian Minister, it would be a breach
of faith to put him off any longer now that Castlereagh had arrived.
Only when Austria threatened to withdraw from the Coalition did
Alexander concede this point, and then with a very bad grace; for the
resumption of the negotiations virtually tied him to the neighbourhood
of Châtillon-sur-Seine, the town fixed for the Congress, while Blücher
was rapidly moving towards Paris with every prospect of snatching from
the imperial brow the coveted laurel of a triumphal entry.

To prevent this interference with his own pet plans, the susceptible
autocrat sent off from Bar-sur-Seine (February 7th) an order that
Blücher was not to enter Paris, but must await the arrival of the
sovereigns. The order was needless. Napoleon, goaded to fury by the
demands which the allies on that very day formulated at Châtillon,
flung himself upon Blücher and completely altered the whole military
situation. But before describing this wonderful effort, we must take a
glance at the diplomatic overtures which spurred him on.

The Congress of Châtillon opened on February 5th, and on that day
Castlereagh gained his point, that questions about our maritime code
should be completely banished from the discussions. Two days later the
allies declared that France must withdraw within the boundaries of
1791, with the exception of certain changes made for mutual
convenience and of some colonial retrocessions that England would
grant to France. The French plenipotentiary, Caulaincourt, heard this
demand with a quiet but strained composure: he reminded them that at
Frankfurt they had proposed to leave France the Rhine and the Alps; he
inquired what colonial sacrifices England was prepared to make if she
cooped up France in her old limits in Europe. To this our
plenipotentiaries Aberdeen, Cathcart, and Stewart refused to reply
until he assented to the present demand of the allies. He very
properly refused to do this; and, despite his eagerness to come to an
arrangement and end the misfortunes of France, referred the matter to
his master.[409]

What were Napoleon's views on these questions? It is difficult to
follow the workings of his mind before the time when Caulaincourt's
despatch flashed the horrible truth upon him that he might, after all,
leave France smaller and weaker than he found her. Then the lightnings
of his wrath flash forth, and we see the tumult and anguish of that
mighty soul: but previously the storm-wrack of passion and the
cloud-bank of his clinging will are lit up by few gleams of the
earlier piercing intelligence. On January the 4th he had written to
Caulaincourt that the policy of England and the personal rancour of
the Czar would drag Austria along. If Fortune betrayed him (Napoleon)
he would give up the throne: never would he sign any shameful peace.
But he added: "You must see what Metternich wants: it is not to
Austria's interest to push matters to the end." In the accompanying
instructions to his plenipotentiary, he seems to assent to the Alpine
and Rhenish frontiers, but advises him to sign the preliminaries as
vaguely as possible, "_as we have everything to gain by delay_." The
Rhine frontier must be so described as to leave France the Dutch
fortresses: and Savona and Spezzia must also count as on the French
side of the Alps. These, be it observed, are his notions when he has
not heard of the defection of Murat, or the rejection of his Spanish
bargain by the Cortès.

Twelve days later he proposes to Metternich an armistice, and again
suggests that it is not to Austria's interest to press matters too
far. But the allies are too wary to leave such a matter to Metternich:
at Teplitz they bound themselves to common action; and the proposal
only shows them the need of pushing on fast while their foe is still
unprepared. Once more his old optimism asserts itself. The first
French success, that at Brienne, leads him to hope that the allies
will now be ready to make peace. Even after the disaster at La
Rothière, he believes that the mere arrival of Caulaincourt at the
allied headquarters will foment the discords which there exist.[410]
Then, writing amidst the unspeakable miseries at Troyes (February
4th), he upbraids Caulaincourt for worrying him about "powers and
instructions when it is still doubtful if the enemy wants to
negotiate. His terms, it seems, are determined on beforehand. As soon
as you have them, you have the power to accept them or to refer them
to me within twenty-four hours."

After midnight, he again directs him to accept the terms, if
acceptable: "in the contrary case we will run the risks of a battle;
even the loss of Paris, and all that will ensue." Later on that day he
allows Maret to send a despatch giving Caulaincourt "carte blanche" to
conclude peace.[411] But the plenipotentiary dared not take on himself
the responsibility of accepting the terms offered by the allies two
days later. The last despatch was too vague to enable him to sign away
many thousands of square miles of territory: it contradicted the tenor
of Napoleon's letters, which empowered him to assent to nothing less
than the Frankfurt terms. And thus was to slip away one more chance of
bringing about peace--a peace that would strip the French Empire of
frontier lands and alien peoples, but leave it to the peasants' ruler,
Napoleon.

In truth, the Emperor's words and letters breathed nothing but warlike
resolve. Famine and misery accompany him on his march to Nogent, and
there, on the 7th, he hears tidings that strike despair to every heart
but his. An Anglo-German force is besieging the staunch old Carnot in
Antwerp; Bülow has entered Brussels; Belgium is lost: Macdonald's weak
corps is falling back on Epernay, hard pressed by Yorck, while Blücher
is heading for Paris. Last of all comes on the morrow Caulaincourt's
despatch announcing that the allies now insist on France returning to
the limits of 1791.

Never, surely, since the time of Job did calamity shower her blows so
thickly on the head of mortal man: and never were they met with less
resignation and more undaunted defiance. After receiving the black
budget of news the Emperor straightway shut himself up. For some time
his Marshals left him alone: but, as Caulaincourt's courier was
waiting for the reply, Berthier and Maret ventured to intrude on his
grief. He tossed them the letter containing the allied terms. A long
silence ensued, while they awaited his decision. As he spoke not a
word, they begged him to give way and grant peace to France. Then his
pent-up feelings burst forth: "What, you would have me sign a treaty
like that, and trample under foot my coronation oath! Unheard-of
disasters may have snatched from me the promise to renounce my
conquests: but, give up those made before me--never! God keep me from
such a disgrace. Reply to Caulaincourt since you wish it, but tell him
that I reject this treaty. I prefer to run the uttermost risks of
war." He threw himself on his camp bed. Maret waited by his side, and
gained from him in calmer moments permission to write to Caulaincourt
in terms that allowed the negotiation to proceed. At dawn on the 9th
Maret came back hoping to gain assent to despatches that he had been
drawing up during the night. To his surprise he found the Emperor
stretched out over large charts, compass in hand. "Ah, there you are,"
was his greeting; "now it's a question of very different matters. I am
going to beat Blücher: if I succeed, the state of affairs will
entirely change, and then we will see."

The tension of his feelings at this time, when rage and desperation
finally gave way to a fixed resolve to stake all on a blow at
Blücher's flank, finds expression in a phrase which has been omitted
from the official correspondence.[412] In one of the five letters
which he wrote to Joseph on the 9th, he remarked: "Pray the Madonna of
armies to be for us: Louis, who is a saint, may engage to give her a
lighted candle." A curiously sarcastic touch, probably due to his
annoyance at the _Misereres_ and "prayers forty hours long" at Paris
which he bade his Ministers curtail. Or was it a passing flash of that
religious sentiment which he professed in his declining years?

He certainly counted on victory over Blücher. A week earlier, he had
foreseen the chance that that leader would expose his flank: on the
7th he charged Marmont to occupy Sézanne, where he would be strongly
supported; on the afternoon of the 9th he set out from Nogent to
reinforce his Marshal; and on the morrow Marmont and Ney fell upon one
of Blücher's scattered columns at Champaubert. It was a corps of
Russians, less than 5,000 strong, with no horsemen and but twenty-four
cannon; the Muscovites offered a stout resistance, but only 1,500
escaped.[413] Blücher's line of march was now cut in twain. He himself
was at Vertus with the last column; his foremost corps, under Sacken,
was west of Montmirail, while Yorck was far to the north of that
village observing Macdonald's movements along the Château-Thierry
road.

The Emperor with 20,000 men might therefore hope to destroy these
corps piecemeal. Leaving Marmont along with Grouchy's horse to hold
Blücher in check on the east, he struck westwards against Sacken's
Russians near Montmirail. The shock was terrible; both sides were
weary with night marches on miry roads, along which cannon had to be
dragged by double teams: yet, though footsore and worn with cold and
hunger, the men fought with sustained fury, the French to stamp out
the barbarous invaders who had wasted their villages, the Russians to
hold their position until Yorck's Prussians should stretch a
succouring hand from the north. Many a time did the French rush at the
village of Marchais held by Sacken: they were repeatedly repulsed,
until, as darkness came on, Ney and Mortier with the Guard stormed a
large farmhouse on their left. Then, at last, Sacken's men drew off in
sore plight north-west across the fields, where Yorck's tardy advent
alone saved them from destruction. The next day completed their
discomfiture. Napoleon and Mortier pursued both allied corps to
Château-Thierry and, after sharp fighting in the streets of that
place, drove them across the Marne. The townsfolk hailed the advent of
their Emperor with unbounded joy: they had believed him to be at
Troyes, beaten and dispirited; and here he was delivering them from
the brutal licence of the eastern soldiery. Nothing was impossible to
him.

Next it was Blücher's turn. Leaving Mortier to pursue the fugitives of
Sacken and Yorck along the Soissons road, Napoleon left
Château-Thierry late at night on the 13th, following the mass of his
troops to reinforce Marmont. That Marshal had yielded ground to
Blücher's desperate efforts, but was standing at bay at Vauchamps,
when Napoleon drew near to the scene of the unequal fight. Suddenly a
mighty shout of "Vive l'Empereur" warned the assailants that they now
had to do with Napoleon. Yet no precipitation weakened the Emperor's
blow: not until his cavalry greatly outnumbered that of the allies did
he begin the chief attack. Stoutly it was beaten off by the allied
squares: but Drouot's artillery ploughed through their masses, while
swarms of horsemen were ready to open out those ghastly furrows. There
was nothing for it but retreat, and that across open country, where
the charges and the pounding still went on. But nothing could break
that stubborn infantry: animated by their leader, the Prussians and
Russians plodded steadily eastwards, until, as darkness drew on, they
found Grouchy's horse barring the road before Etoges. "Forward" was
still the veteran's cry: and through the cavalry they cut their way:
through hostile footmen that had stolen round to the village they also
burst, and at last found shelter near Bergères. "Words fail me," wrote
Colonel Hudson Lowe, "to express my admiration at their undaunted and
manly behaviour."

This gallant retreat shed lustre over the rank and file. But the sins
of the commanders had cost the allies dear. In four days the army of
Silesia lost fully 15,000 men, and its corps were driven far asunder
by Napoleon's incursion. His brilliant moves and trenchant strokes
astonished the world. With less than 30,000 men he had burst into
Blücher's line of march, and scattered in flight 50,000 warriors
advancing on Paris in full assurance of victory. It was not chance,
but science, that gave him these successes. Acting from behind the
screen of the Seine, he had thrown his small but undivided force
against scattered portions of a superior force. It was the strategy of
Lonato and Castiglione over again; and the enthusiasm of those days
bade fair to revive.

His men, who previously had tramped downheartedly over wastes of snow
and miry cross-roads, now marched with head erect as in former days;
the villagers, far from being cowed by the brutalities of the
Cossacks, formed bands to hang upon the enemies' rear and entrap their
foragers. Above all, Paris was herself once more. Before he began
these brilliant moves, he had to upbraid Cambacérès for his unmanly
conduct. "I see that instead of sustaining the Empress, you are
discouraging her. Why lose your head thus? What mean these _Miserere_
and these prayers of forty hours? Are you going mad at Paris?" Now the
capital again breathed defiance to the foe, and sent the Emperor
National Guards. Many of these from Brittany, it is true, came "in
round hats and _sabots_": they had no knapsacks: but they had guns,
and they fought.

Could he have pursued Blücher on the morrow he might probably have
broken up even that hardy infantry, now in dire straits for want of
supplies. But bad news came to hand from the south-west. Under urgent
pressure from the Czar, Schwarzenberg had pushed forward two columns
from Troyes towards Paris: one of them had seized the bridge over the
Seine at Bray, a day's march below Nogent: the other was nearing
Fontainebleau. Napoleon was furious at the neglect of Victor to guard
the crossing at Bray, and reluctantly turned away from Blücher to
crush these columns. His men marched or were carried in vehicles, by
way of Meaux and Guignes, to reinforce Victor: on the 17th they drove
back the outposts of Schwarzenberg's centre, while Macdonald and
Oudinot marched towards Nogent to threaten his right. These rapid
moves alarmed the Austrian commander, whose left, swung forward on
Fontainebleau, was in some danger of being cut off. He therefore sued
for an armistice. It was refused; and the request drew from Napoleon a
letter to his brother Joseph full of contempt for the allies (February
18th). "It is difficult," he writes, "to be so cowardly as that! He
[Schwarzenberg] had constantly, and in the most insulting terms,
refused a suspension of arms of any kind, ... and yet these wretches
at the first check fall on their knees. I will grant no armistice till
my territory is clear of them." He adds that he now expected to gain
the "natural frontiers" offered by the allies at Frankfurt--the
minimum that he could accept with honour; and he closes with these
memorable words, which flash a searchlight on his pacific professions
of thirteen months later: "If I had agreed to the old boundaries, I
should have rushed to arms two years later, telling the nation that I
had signed not a peace, but a capitulation."[414]

The events of the 18th strengthened his resolve. He then attacked the
Crown Prince of Würtemberg on the north side of the Seine, opposite
Montereau, overthrew him by the weight of the artillery of the Guard,
whereupon a brilliant charge of Pajol's horsemen wrested the bridge
from the South Germans and restored to the Emperor the much-needed
crossing over the river. Napoleon's activity on that day was
marvellous. He wrote or dictated eleven despatches, six of them long
before dawn, gave instructions to an officer who was to encourage
Eugène to hold firm in Italy, fought a battle, directed the aim of
several cannon, and wound up the day by severe rebukes to Marshal
Victor and two generals for their recent blunders. Thus, on a brief
winter's day, he fills the _rôle_ of Emperor, organizer, tactician,
cannoneer, and martinet; in fact, he crowns it by pardoning Victor,
when that brave man vows that he cannot live away from the army, and
will fight as a common soldier among the Guards: he then and there
assigns to him two divisions of the Guard. To the artillerymen the
_camaraderie_ of the Emperor gave a new zest: and when they ventured
to reproach him for thus risking his life, he replied with a touch of
the fatalism which enthralls a soldier's mind: "Ah! don't fear: the
ball is not cast that will kill me."

Yes: Napoleon displayed during these last ten days a fertility of
resource, a power to drive back the tide of events, that have dazzled
posterity, as they dismayed his foes. We may seek in vain for a
parallel, save perhaps in the careers of Hannibal and Frederick.
Alexander the Great's victories were won over Asiatics: Cæsar's
magnificent rally of his wavering bands against the onrush of the
Nervii was but one effort of disciplined valour crushing the
impetuosity of the barbarian. Marlborough and Wellington often
triumphed over great odds and turned the course of history. But their
star had never set so low as that of Napoleon's after La Rothière, and
never did it rush to the zenith with a splendour like that which
blinded the trained hosts of Blücher and Schwarzenberg. Whatever the
mistakes of these leaders, and they were great, there is something
that defies analysis in Napoleon's sudden transformation of his beaten
dispirited band into a triumphant array before which four times their
numbers sought refuge in retreat. But it is just this transcendent
quality that adds a charm to the character and career of Napoleon.
Where analysis fails, there genius begins.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXXVII

THE FIRST ABDICATION


It now remained to be seen whether Napoleon would make a wise use of
his successes. While the Grand Army drew in its columns behind the
sheltering line of the Seine at Troyes, the French Emperor strove to
reap in diplomacy the fruits of his military prowess. In brief, he
sought to detach Austria from the Coalition. From Nogent he wrote, on
February 21st, to the Emperor Francis, dwelling on the impolicy of
Austria continuing the war. Why should she subordinate her policy to
that of England and to the personal animosities of the Czar? Why
should she see her former Belgian provinces handed over to a
Protestant Dutch Prince about to be allied with the House of Brunswick
by marriage? France would never give up Belgium; and he, as French
Emperor, would never sign a peace that would drive her from the Rhine
and exclude her from the circle of the Great Powers. But if Austria
really wished for the equilibrium of Europe, he (Napoleon) was ready
to forget the past and make peace on the basis of the Frankfurt
terms.[415]

Had these offers been rather less exacting, and reached the allied
headquarters a week earlier, they might have led to the break up of
the Coalition. For the political situation of the allies had been even
more precarious than that of their armies. The pretensions of the Czar
had excited indignation and alarm. Swayed to and fro between the
counsels of his old tutor, Laharpe, now again at his side, and his own
autocratic instincts, he declared that he would push on to Paris,
consult the will of the French people by a plébiscite, and abide by
its decision, even if it gave a new lease of power to Napoleon. But
side by side with this democratic proposal came another of a more
despotic type, that the military Governor of Paris must be a Russian
officer.

The amusement caused by these odd notions was overshadowed by alarm.
Metternich, Castlereagh, and Hardenberg saw in them a ruse for
foisting on France either Bernadotte, or an orientalized Republic, or
a Muscovite version of the Treaty of Tilsit. Then again, on February
9th, Alexander sent a mandate to the plenipotentiaries at Châtillon,
requesting that their sessions should be suspended, though he had
recently agreed at Langres to enter into negotiations with France,
provided that the military operations were not suspended. Evidently,
then, he was bent on forcing the hands of his allies, and Austria
feared that he might at the end of the war insist on her taking
Alsace, as a set-off to the loss of Eastern Galicia which he wished to
absorb. So keen was the jealousy thus aroused, that at Troyes
Metternich and Hardenberg signed a secret agreement to prevent the
Czar carrying matters with a high hand at Paris (February 14th); and
on the same day they sent him a stiff Note requesting the resumption
of the negotiations with Napoleon. Indeed, Austria formally threatened
to withdraw her troops from the war, unless he limited his aims to the
terms propounded by the allies at Châtillon. Alexander at first
refused; but the news of Blücher's disasters shook his determination,
and he assented on that day, provided that steps were at once taken to
lighten the pressure on the Russian corps serving under Blücher. Thus,
by February 14th, the crisis was over.[416]

Schwarzenberg cautiously pushed on three columns to attract the
thunderbolts that otherwise would have destroyed the Silesian Army
root and branch; and he succeeded. True, his vanguard was beaten at
Montereau; but, by drawing Napoleon south and then east of the Seine,
he gave time to Blücher to strengthen his shattered array and resume
the offensive. Meanwhile Bülow, with the northern army, began to draw
near to the scene of action, and on the 23rd the allies took the wise
step of assigning his corps, along with those of Winzingerode,
Woronzoff, and Strogonoff, to the Prussian veteran. The last three
corps were withdrawn from the army of Bernadotte, and that prince was
apprized of the fact by the Czar in a rather curt letter.

The diplomatic situation had also cleared up before Napoleon's letter
reached the Emperor Francis. The negotiations with Caulaincourt were
resumed at Châtillon on February the 17th; and there is every reason
to think that Austria, England, Prussia, and perhaps even Russia would
now gladly have signed peace with Napoleon on the basis of the French
frontiers of 1791, provided that he renounced all claims to
interference in the affairs of Europe outside those limits.[417]

These demands would certainly have been accepted by the French
plenipotentiary had he listened to his own pacific promptings. But he
was now in the most painful position. Maret had informed him, the day
after Montmirail, that Napoleon was set on keeping the Rhenish and
Alpine frontiers.[418] He could, therefore, do nothing but temporize.
He knew how precarious was the military supremacy just snatched by his
master, and trusted that a few days more would bring wisdom before it
was too late. But his efforts for delay were useless.

While he was marking time, Napoleon was sending him despatches
instinct with pride. "I have made 30,000 to 40,000 prisoners," he
wrote on the 17th: "I have taken 200 cannon, a great number of
generals, and destroyed several armies, almost without striking a
blow. I yesterday checked Schwarzenberg's army, which I hope to
destroy before it recrosses my frontier." And two days later, after
hearing the allied terms, he wrote that they would make the blood of
every Frenchman boil with indignation, and that he would dictate _his_
ultimatum at Troyes or Châtillon. Of course, Caulaincourt kept these
diatribes to himself, but his painfully constrained demeanour betrayed
the secret that he longed for peace and that his hands were tied.

On all sides proofs were to be seen that Napoleon would never give up
Belgium and the Rhine frontier. When the allies (at the suggestion of
Schwarzenberg, and _with the approval of the Czar_) sued for an
armistice, he forbade his envoys to enter into any parleys until the
allies agreed to accept the "natural frontiers" as the basis for a
peace, and retired in the meantime on Alsace, Lorraine, and
Holland.[419] These last conditions he agreed three days later to
relax; but on the first point he was inexorable, and he knew that the
military commissioners appointed to arrange the truce had no power to
agree to the _political_ article which he made a _sine quâ non_.

Accordingly, no armistice was concluded, and his unbending attitude
made a bad impression on the Emperor Francis, who, on the 27th,
replied to his son-in-law in terms which showed that his blows were
welding the Coalition more firmly together.[420]

In fact, while the plenipotentiaries at Châtillon were exchanging
empty demands, a most important compact was taking form at Chaumont:
it was dated from the 1st of March, but definitively signed on the
9th. Great Britain, Russia, Austria, and Prussia thereby bound
themselves not to treat singly with France for peace, but to continue
the war until France was brought back to her old frontiers, and the
complete independence of Germany, Holland, Switzerland, and Spain was
secured. Each of the four Powers must maintain 150,000 men in the
field (exclusive of garrisons); and Britain agreed to aid her allies
with equal yearly subsidies amounting in all to £5,000,000 for the
year 1814.[421] The treaty would be only defensive if Napoleon
accepted the allied terms formulated at Châtillon: otherwise it would
be offensive and hold good, if need be, for twenty years.

Undoubtedly this compact was largely the work of Castlereagh, whose
tact and calmness had done wonders in healing schisms; but so intimate
a union could never have been formed among previously discordant
allies but for their overmastering fear of Napoleon. Such a treaty was
without parallel in European history; and the stringency of its
clauses serves as the measure of the prowess and perversity of the
French Emperor. It is puerile to say, as Mollien does, that England
bribed the allies to this last effort. Experiences of the last months
had shown them that peace could not be durable as long as Napoleon
remained in a position to threaten Germany. Even now they were ready
to conclude it with Napoleon on the basis of the old frontiers of
France, provided that he assented before the 11th of March; but the
most pacific of their leaders saw that the more they showed their
desire for peace, the more they strengthened Napoleon's resolve to
have it only on terms which they saw to be fraught with future
danger.[422]

While the conferences at Châtillon followed one another in fruitless
succession, Blücher, with 48,000 effectives, was once more resuming
the offensive. Napoleon heard the news at Troyes (February 25th). He
was surprised at the veteran's temerity: he had pictured him crushed
and helpless beyond Chalons, and had cherished the hope of destroying
Schwarzenberg.--"If," he wrote to Clarke on the morrow, "I had had a
pontoon bridge, the war would be over, and Schwarzenberg's army would
no longer exist.... For want of boats, I could not pass the Seine at
the necessary points. It was not 50 boats that I needed, only
20."--With this characteristic outburst against his War Minister,
whose neglect to send up twenty boats from Paris had changed the
world's history, the Emperor turned aside to overwhelm Blücher. The
Prussian commander was near the junction of the Seine and the Aube;
and seemed to offer his flank as unguardedly as three weeks before.

Napoleon sent Ney, Victor, and Arrighi northwards to fall on his rear,
and on the 27th repaired to Arcis-sur-Aube to direct the operations.
What, then, was his annoyance when, in pursuance of the allied plan
formed on the 23rd, Blücher skilfully retired northwards, withdrew
beyond the Marne and broke the bridges behind him. Then after failing
to drive Marmont and Mortier from Meaux and the line of the Ourcq, the
Prussian leader marched towards Soissons, near which town he expected
to meet the northern army of the allies. For some hours he was in
grave danger: Marmont hung on his rear, and Napoleon with 35,000 hardy
troops was preparing to turn his right flank. In fact, had he not
broken the bridge over the Marne at La Ferté-sous-Jouarre, and thereby
delayed the Emperor thirty-six hours, he would probably have been
crushed before he could cross the River Aisne. His men were dead beat
by marching night and day over roads first covered by snow and now
deep in slush: for a week they had had no regular rations, and great
was their joy when, at the close of the 2nd, they drew near to the
42,000 troops that Bülow and Winzingerode mustered near the banks of
the Aisne and Vesle.

On that day Napoleon, when delayed at La Ferté, conceived the daring
idea of rushing on the morrow after Blücher, who was "very embarrassed
in the mire," and then of carrying the war into Lorraine, rescuing the
garrisons of Verdun, Toul, and Metz, and rousing the peasantry of the
east of France against the invaders. It mattered not that
Schwarzenberg had dealt Oudinot and Gérard a severe check at
Bar-sur-Aube, as soon as Napoleon's back was turned. That cautious
leader would be certain, he thought, to beat a retreat towards the
Rhine as soon as his rear was threatened; and Napoleon pictured France
rising as in 1793, shaking off her invaders and dictating a glorious
peace.

Far different was the actual situation. Blücher was not to be caught;
a sharp frost on the 3rd improved the roads; and his complete junction
with the northern army was facilitated by the surrender of Soissons on
that same afternoon. This fourth-rate fortress was ill-prepared to
withstand an attack; and, after a short bombardment by Winzingerode,
two allied officers made their way to the Governor, praised his
bravery, pointed out the uselessness of further resistance, and
offered to allow the garrison to march out with the honours of war and
rejoin the Emperor, where they could fight to more advantage. The
Governor, who bore the ill-starred name of Moreau, finally gave way,
and his troops, nearly all Poles, marched out at 4 p.m., furious at
his "treason"; for the distant thunder of Marmont's cannon was already
heard on the side of Oulchy. Rumour said that they were the Emperor's
cannon, but rumour lied. At dawn Napoleon's troops had begun to cross
the temporary bridge over the Marne, thirty-five miles away; but by
great exertions his outposts on that evening reached Rocourt, only
some twenty miles south of Soissons.[423]

The fact deserves notice: for it disposes of the strange statement of
Thiers that the surrender of Soissons was, next to Waterloo, the most
fatal event in the annals of France. The gifted historian, as also, to
some extent, M. Houssaye, assumed that, had Soissons held out, Blücher
and Bülow could not have united their forces. But Bülow had not relied
solely on the bridge at Soissons for the union of the armies; on the
2nd he had thrown a bridge over the Aisne at Vailly, some distance
above that city, and another on the third near to its eastern
suburb.[424] It is clear, then, that the two armies, numbering in all
over 100,000 men, could have joined long before Napoleon, Marmont, and
Mortier were in a position to attack. Before the Emperor heard of the
surrender, he had marched to Fismes, and had detached Corbineau to
occupy Rheims, evidently with the aim of cutting Blücher's
communications with Schwarzenberg, and opening up the way to Verdun
and Metz.

For that plan was now his dominant aim, while the repulse of Blücher
was chiefly of importance because it would enable him to stretch a
hand eastwards to his beleaguered garrisons.[425] But Blücher was not
to be thus disposed of. While withdrawing from Soissons to the natural
fortress of Laon, he heard that Napoleon had crossed the Aisne at
Berry-au-Bac, and was making for Craonne. Above that town there rises
a long narrow ridge or plateau, which Blücher ordered his Russian
corps to occupy. There was fought one of the bloodiest battles of the
war (March 7th). The aim of the allies was to await the French attack
on the plateau, while 10,000 horsemen and sixty guns worked round and
fell on their rear.

The plan failed, owing to a mistake in the line of march of this
flanking force: and the battle resolved itself into a soldiers' fight.
Five times did Ney lead his braves up those slopes, only to be hurled
back by the dogged Muscovites. But the Emperor now arrived; a sixth
attack by the cavalry and artillery of the Guard battered in the
defence; and Blücher, hearing that the flank move had failed, ordered
a retreat on Laon. This confused and desperate fight cost both sides
about 7,000 men, nearly a fourth of the numbers engaged. Victor,
Grouchy, and six French generals were among the wounded.[426]

Nevertheless, Napoleon struggled on: he called up Marmont and Mortier,
gave out that he was about to receive other large reinforcements, and
bade his garrisons in Belgium and Lorraine fall on the rear of the
foe. One more victory, he thought, would end the war, or at least
lower the demands of the allies. It was not to be. Blücher and Bülow
held the strong natural citadel of Laon; and all Napoleon's efforts on
March the 9th and 10th failed to storm the southern approaches.
Marmont fared no better on the east; and when, at nightfall, the weary
French fell back, the Prussians resolved to try a night attack on
Marmont's corps, which was far away from the main body. Never was a
surprise more successful; Marmont was quite off his guard; horse and
foot fled in wild confusion, leaving 2,500 prisoners and forty-five
cannon in the hands of the victorious Yorck. Could the allies have
pressed home their advantage, the result must have been decisive; but
Blücher had fallen ill, and a halt was called.[427]

Alone, among the leaders in this campaign, the Emperor remained
unbroken. All the allied leaders had at one time or another bent under
his blows; and the French Marshals seemed doomed, as in 1813, to fail
wherever their Emperor was not. Ney, Victor, and Mortier had again
evinced few of the qualities of a commander, except bravery. Augereau
was betraying softness and irresolution in the Lyonnais in front of a
smaller Austrian force. Suchet and Davoust were shut up in Catalonia
and Hamburg. St. Cyr and Vandamme were prisoners. Soult had kept a
bold front near Bayonne: but now news was to hand that Wellington had
surprised and routed him at Orthez. On the Seine, Macdonald and
Oudinot failed to hold Troyes against the masses of Schwarzenberg. Of
all the French Marshals, Marmont had distinguished himself the most in
this campaign, and now at Laon he had been caught napping. Yet, while
all others failed, Napoleon seemed invincible. Even after Marmont's
disaster, the allies forbore to attack the chief; and, just as a lion
that has been beaten off by a herd of buffaloes stalks away, mangled
but full of fight and unmolested, so the Emperor drew off in peace
towards Soissons. Thence he marched on Rheims, gained a victory over a
Russian division there, and hoped to succour his Lorraine garrisons,
when, on the 17th, the news of Schwarzenberg's advance towards Paris
led him southwards once more.

Yielding to the remonstrances of the Czar, the Austrian leader had
purposed to march on the French capital, if everything went well; but
he once more drew back on receiving news of Napoleon's advance against
his right flank. While preparing to retire towards Brienne, he heard
that his great antagonist had crossed that river at Plancy with less
than 20,000 troops. To retrace his steps, fall upon this handful of
weary men with 100,000, and drive them into the river, was not a
daring conception: but so accustomed were the allies to dalliance and
delay that a thrill of surprise ran through the host when he began to
call up its retiring columns for a fight.[428]

Napoleon also was surprised: he believed the Grand Army to be in full
retreat, and purposed then to dash on Vitry and Verdun.[429] But the
allies gave him plenty of time to draw up Macdonald's and Oudinot's
corps, while they themselves were still so widely sundered as at first
scarcely to stay his onset. The fighting behind Arcis was desperate:
Napoleon exposed his person freely to snatch victory from the
deepening masses in front. At one time a shell burst in front of him,
and his staff shivered as they saw his figure disappear in the cloud
of smoke and dust; but he arose unhurt, mounted another charger and
pressed on the fight. It was in vain: he was compelled to draw back
his men to the town (March 20th). On the morrow a bold attack by
Schwarzenberg could have overwhelmed Napoleon's 30,000 men; but his
bold front imposed on the Austrian leader, while the French were drawn
across the river, only the rearguard suffering heavily from the
belated attack of the allies. With the loss of 4,000 men, Napoleon
fell back northwards into the wasted plains of Sézanne. Hope now
vanished from every breast but his. And surely if human weakness had
ever found a place in that fiery soul, it might now have tempted him
to sue for peace. He had flung himself first north, then south, in
order to keep for France the natural frontiers that he might have had
as a present last November; he had failed; and now he might with
honour accept the terms of the victors. But once more he was too late.

The negotiations at Châtillon had ended on March 19th, that is, nine
days later than had been originally fixed by the allies. The extension
of time was due mainly to their regard and pity for Caulaincourt; and,
indeed, he was in the most pitiable position, a plenipotentiary
without full powers, a Minister kept partly in the dark by his
sovereign, and a patriot unable to rescue his beloved France from the
abyss towards which Napoleon's infatuation was hurrying her. He knew
the resolve of the allies far better than his master's intentions. It
was from Lord Aberdeen that he heard of the failure of the parleys for
an armistice: from him also he learnt that Napoleon had written a
"passionate" letter to Kaiser Francis, and he expressed satisfaction
that the reply was firm and decided.[430] His private intercourse at
Châtillon with the British plenipotentiaries was frank and friendly,
as also with Stadion. He received frequent letters from Metternich,
advising him quickly to come to terms with the allies;[431] and the
Austrian Minister sent Prince Esterhazy to warn him that the allies
would never recede from their demand of the old frontiers for France,
not even if the fortune of war drove them across the Rhine for a time.
"Is there, then, no means to enlighten Napoleon as to his true
situation, or to save him if he persists in destroying himself? Has he
irrevocably staked his own and his son's fate on the last
cannon?"--Let Napoleon, then, accept the allied proposal by sending a
counter-project, differing only very slightly from theirs, and peace
would be made.[432] Caulaincourt needed no spur. "He works tooth and
nail for a peace," wrote Stewart, "as far as depends on him. He dreads
Bonaparte's successes even more than ours, lest they should make him
more impracticable."[433]

But, unfortunately, his latest and most urgent appeal to the Emperor
reached the latter just after the Pyrrhic victory at Craonne, which
left him more stubborn than ever. Far from meeting the allies halfway,
he let fall words that bespoke only injured pride: "If one must
receive lashes," he said within hearing of the courier, "it is not for
me to offer my back to them." On the morrow he charged Maret to reply
to his distressed plenipotentiary that he (Napoleon) knew best what
the situation demanded; the demand of the allies that France should
retire within her old frontiers was only their _first word:_
Caulaincourt must get to know their ultimatum: if this was their
ultimatum, he must reject it. He (Napoleon) would possibly give up
Dutch Brabant and the fortresses of Wesel, Castel (opposite Mainz),
and Kehl, but would make no substantial changes on the Frankfurt
terms. Still, Caulaincourt struggled on. When the session of March
10th was closing, he produced a declaration offering to give up all
Napoleon's claims to control lands beyond the natural limits.

The others divined that it was his own handiwork, drawn up in order to
spin out the negotiations and leave his master a few days of
grace.[434] They respected his intentions, and nine days of grace were
gained; but the only answer that Napoleon vouchsafed to Caulaincourt's
appeals was the missive of March 17th from Rheims: "I have received
your letters of the 13th. I charge the Duke of Bassano to answer them
in detail. I give you directly the power to make the concessions which
would be indispensable to keep up the activity of the negotiations,
and to get to know at last the ultimatum of the allies, it being well
understood that the treaty would have for result the evacuation of our
territory and the release of all prisoners on both sides." The
instructions which he charged the Duke of Bassano to send to
Caulaincourt were such as a victor might have dictated. The allies
must evacuate his territory and give up all the fortresses as soon as
the preliminaries of peace were signed: if the negotiations were to
break off they had better break off on this question. He himself would
cease to control lands beyond the natural frontiers, and would
recognize the independence of Holland: as regards Belgium, he would
refuse to cede it to a prince of the House of Orange, but he hinted
that it might well go to a French prince as an indemnity--evidently
Joseph Bonaparte was meant. If this concession were made, he expected
that all the French colonies, including the Ile de France, would be
restored. Nothing definite was said about the Rhine frontier.

The courier who carried these proposals from Rheims to Châtillon was
twice detained by the Russians, and had not reached the town when the
Congress came to an end (March 19th). Their only importance,
therefore, is to show that, despite all the warnings in which the
Prague negotiations were so fruitful, Napoleon clung to the same
threatening and dilatory tactics which had then driven Austria into
the arms of his foes. He still persisted in looking on the time limit
of the allies as meaningless, on their ultimatum as their _first
word_, from which they would soon shuffle away under the pressure of
his prowess--and this, too, when Caulaincourt was daily warning him
that the hours were numbered, that nothing would change the resolve of
his foes, and that their defeats only increased their exasperation
against him.

If anything could have increased this exasperation, it was the
discovery that he was playing with them all the time. On the 20th the
allied scouts brought to head-quarters a despatch written by Maret the
day before to Caulaincourt which contained this damning sentence: "The
Emperor's desires remain entirely vague on everything relating to the
delivering up of the strongholds, Antwerp, Mayence, and Alessandria,
if you should be obliged to consent to these cessions, as he has the
intention, even after the ratification of the treaty, to take counsel
from the military situation of affairs. Wait for the last
moment."[435] Peace, then, was to be patched up for Napoleon's
convenience and broken by him at the first seasonable opportunity. Is
it surprising that on that same day the Ministers of the Powers
decided to have no more negotiations with Napoleon, and that
Metternich listened not unfavourably to the emissary of the Bourbons,
the Count de Vitrolles, whom he had previously kept at arm's length?

In truth, Napoleon was now about to stake everything on a plan from
which other leaders would have recoiled, but which, in his eyes,
promised a signal triumph. This was to rally the French garrisons in
Lorraine and throw himself on Schwarzenberg's rear. It was, indeed,
his only remaining chance. With his band of barely 40,000 men, kept up
to that number by the arrival of levies that impaired its solidity, he
could scarcely hope to beat back the dense masses now marshalled
behind the Aube, the Seine, and the Marne.

A glance at the map will show that behind those rivers the allies
could creep up within striking distance of Paris, while from his
position north of the Aube he could attack them only by crossing one
or other of those great streams, the bridges of which were in their
hands. He still held the central position; but it was robbed of its
value if he could not attack. Warfare for him was little else than the
art of swift and decisive attack; or, as he tersely phrased it, "The
art of war is to march twelve leagues, fight a battle, and march
twelve more in pursuit." As this was now impossible against the fronts
and flanks of the allies, it only remained to threaten the rear of the
army which was most likely to be intimidated by such a manoeuvre. And
this was clearly the army led by Schwarzenberg. From Blücher and Bülow
naught but defiance to the death was to be expected, and their rear
was supported by the Dutch strongholds.

But the Austrians had shown themselves as soft in their strategy as in
their diplomacy. Everyone at the allied headquarters knew that
Schwarzenberg was unequal to the load of responsibility thrust on him,
that the incursion of a band of Alsatian peasants on his convoys made
him nervous, and that he would not move on Paris as long as his
"communications were exposed to a movement by Chalons and Vitry."[436]
What an effect, then, would be produced on that timid commander by an
"Imperial Vendée" in Alsace, Lorraine, and Franche-Comté!

And such a rising might then have become fierce and widespread. The
east and centre were the strongholds of French democracy, as they had
been the hotbed of feudal and monarchical abuses; and at this very
time the Bourbon princes declared themselves at Nancy and Bordeaux.
The tactless Comte d'Artois was at Nancy, striving to whip up royalist
feeling in Lorraine, and his eldest son, the Duc d'Angoulême, entered
Bordeaux with the British red-coats (March 12th).

To explain how this last event was possible we must retrace our steps.
After Soult was driven by Wellington from the mountains at the back of
the town of Orthez, he drew back his shattered troops over the River
Adour, and then turned sharply to the east in order to join hands with
Suchet's corps. This move, excellent as it was in a military sense,
left Bordeaux open to the British; and Wellington forthwith sent
Beresford northwards with 12,000 troops to occupy that great city. He
met with a warm greeting from the French royalists, as also did the
Duc d'Angoulême, who arrived soon after. The young prince at once
proclaimed Louis XVIII. King of France, and allowed the royalist mayor
to declare that the allies were advancing to Paris merely in order to
destroy Napoleon and replace him by the rightful monarch. Strongly as
Wellington's sympathies ran with the aim of this declaration, he
emphatically repudiated it. Etiquette compelled him to do so; for the
allies were still negotiating with Napoleon; and his own tact warned
him that the Bourbons must never come into France under the cloak of
the allies.

The allied sovereigns had as yet done nothing to favour their cause;
and the wiser heads among the French royalists saw how desirable it
was that the initiative should come from France. The bad effects of
the Bordeaux manifesto were soon seen in the rallying of National
Guards and peasants to the tricolour against the hated _fleur-de-lys;_
and Beresford's men could do little more than hold their own.[437] If
that was the case in the monarchical south, what might not Napoleon
hope to effect in the east, now that the Bourbon "chimæra" threatened
to become a fact?

The news as to the state of Paris was less satisfactory. That fickle
populace cheered royalist allusions at the theatres, hissed off an
"official" play that represented Cossack marauders,[438] and caused
such alarm to Savary that he wrote to warn his master of the inability
of the police to control the public if the war rolled on towards
Paris. Whether Savary's advice was honestly stupid, or whether, as
Lavalette hints, Talleyrand's intrigues were undermining his loyalty
to Napoleon, it is difficult to say. But certainly the advice gave
Napoleon an additional reason for flinging himself on Schwarzenberg's
rear and drawing him back into Lorraine. He had reason to hope that
Augereau, reinforced by some of Suchet's troops, would march towards
Dijon and threaten the Austrians on the south, while he himself
pressed on them from the north-east. In that case, would not Austria
make peace, and leave Alexander and Blücher at his mercy? And might he
not hope to cut off the Comte d'Artois, and possibly also catch
Bernadotte, who had been angling unsuccessfully for popular support in
the north-east?

But, while basing all his hopes on the devotion of the French
peasantry and the pacific leanings of Austria, the French Emperor left
out of count the eager hatred of the Czar and the Prussians. "Blücher
would be mad if he attempted any serious movement," so Napoleon wrote
to Berthier on the 20th, apparently on the strength of his former
suggestion that Joseph should persuade Bernadotte to desert the allies
and attack Blücher's rear.[439] At least, it is difficult to find any
other reason for Napoleon's strange belief that Blücher would sit
still while his allies were being beaten; unless, indeed, we accept
Marmont's explanation that Napoleon's brain now rejected all
unpleasing news and registered wishes as facts.

Fortune seemed to smile on his enterprise. Though he failed to take
Vitry from the allied garrison, yet near St. Dizier he fell on a
Prussian convoy, captured 800 men and 400 wagons filled with stores.
Everywhere he ordered the tocsin to proclaim a _levée en masse_, and
sent messengers to warn his Lorraine garrisons to cut their way to his
side. His light troops spread up the valley of the Marne towards
Chaumont, capturing stores and couriers; and he seized this
opportunity, when he pictured the Austrians as thoroughly demoralized,
to send Caulaincourt from Doulevant with offers to renew the
negotiations for peace (March 25th).[440] But while Napoleon awaits
the result of these proposals, his rear is attacked: he retraces his
steps, falls on the assailants, and finds that they belong to Blücher.
But how can Prussians be there in force? Is not Blücher resting on the
banks of the Aisne? And where is Schwarzenberg? The Emperor pushes a
force on to Vitry to solve this riddle, and there the horrible truth
unfolds itself little by little that he stands on the brink of ruin.

It is a story instinct with an irony like that of the infatuation of
King Oedipus in the drama of Sophocles. Every step that the warrior
has taken to snatch at victory increases the completeness of the
disaster. The Emperor Francis, scared by the approach of the French
horsemen, and not wishing to fall into the hands of his son-in-law,
has withdrawn with Metternich to Dijon.

Napoleon's letter to him is lost.[441] Metternich, well guarded by
Castlereagh, is powerless to meet Caulaincourt's offer, and their
flight leaves Schwarzenberg under the influence of the Czar.[442]
Moreover, Blücher has not been idle. While Napoleon is hurrying
eastwards to Vitry, the Prussian leader drives back Marmont's weak
corps, his vanguard crosses the Marne near Epernay on the 23rd, his
Cossacks capture a courier bearing a letter written on that day by
Napoleon to Marie Louise. It ends thus: "I have decided to march
towards the Marne, in order to push the enemy's army further from
Paris, and to draw near to my fortresses. I shall be this evening at
St. Dizier. Adieu, my friend! Embrace my son." Warned by this letter
of Napoleon's plan, Blücher pushes on; his outposts on the morrow join
hands with those of Schwarzenberg, and send a thrill of vigour into
the larger force.

That leader, held at bay by Macdonald's rearguard, was groping after
Napoleon, when the capture of a French despatch, and the news
forwarded by Blücher, informed him of the French Emperor's eastward
march. A council of war was therefore held at Pougy on the afternoon
of the 23rd, when the Czar and the bolder spirits led Schwarzenberg to
give up his communications with Switzerland, and stake everything on
joining Blücher, and following Napoleon's 40,000 with an array of
180,000 men. But the capture of another French despatch a few hours
later altered the course of events once more. This time it was a
budget of official news from Paris to Napoleon, describing the
exhaustion of the finances, the discontent of the populace, and the
sensation caused by Wellington's successes and the capture of
Bordeaux. These glad tidings inspired Alexander with a far more
incisive plan--to march on Paris. This suggestion had been pressed on
him on the 17th by Baron de Vitrolles, a French royalist agent, at the
close of a long interview; and now its advantages were obvious.
Accordingly, at Sommepuis, on the 24th, he convoked his generals,
Barclay, Volkonski, Toll, and Diebitsch, to seek their advice. Barclay
was for following Napoleon, but the two last voted for the advance to
Paris, Toll maintaining that only 10,000 horsemen need be left behind
to screen their movements. The Czar signified his warm approval of
this plan; a little later the King of Prussia gave his assent, and
Schwarzenberg rather doubtfully deferred to their wishes. Thus the
result of Napoleon's incursion on the rear of the allies signally
belied his expectations. Instead of compelling the enemy to beat a
retreat on the Rhine, it left the road open to his capital.[443]

At dawn on the 25th, then, the allied Grand Army turned to the
right-about, while Blücher's men marched joyfully on the parallel road
from Chalons. Near La Fère-Champenoise, on that day, a cloud of
Russian and Austrian horse harassed Marmont's and Mortier's corps, and
took 2,500 prisoners and fifty cannon. Further to the north, Blücher's
Cossacks swooped on a division of 4,500 men, mostly National Guards,
that guarded a large convoy. Stoutly the French formed in squares, and
beat them off again and again. Thereupon Colonel Hudson Lowe rode away
southwards, to beg reinforcements from Wrede's Bavarians.

They, too, failed to break that indomitable infantry. The 180 wagons
had to be left behind; but the recruits plodded on, and seemed likely
to break through to Marmont, when the Czar came on the scene. At once
he ordered up artillery, riddled their ranks with grapeshot, and when
their commander, Pacthod, still refused to surrender, threatened to
overwhelm their battered squares by the cavalry of his Guard. Pacthod
thereupon ordered his square to surrender. Another band also grounded
arms; but the men in the last square fought on, reckless of life, and
were beaten down by a whirlwind of sabring, stabbing horsemen, whose
fury the generous Czar vainly strove to curb. "I blushed for my very
nature as a man," wrote Colonel Lowe, "at witnessing this scene of
carnage." The day was glorious for France, but it cost her, in all,
more than 5,000 killed and wounded, 4,000 prisoners, and 80 cannon,
besides the provisions and stores designed for Napoleon's army.[444]
Nothing but the wreck of Marmont's and Mortier's corps, about 12,000
men in all, now barred the road to Paris. Meeting with no serious
resistance, the allies crossed the Marne at Meaux, and on the 29th
reached Bondy, within striking distance of the French capital.

In that city the people were a prey, first to sheer incredulity, then
to the wildest dismay. To them history was but a melodrama and war a
romance. Never since the time of Jeanne d'Arc had a foreign enemy come
within sight of their spires. For ramparts they had octroi walls, and
in place of the death-dealing defiance of 1792 they now showed only
the spasmodic vehemence or ironical resignation of an over-cultivated
stock. As M. Charles de Rémusat finely remarks on their varying moods,
"The despotism which makes a constant show of prosperity gives men
little fortitude to meet adversity." Doubtless the royalists, with
Talleyrand as their factotum, worked to paralyze the defence; but they
formed a small minority, and the masses would have fought for Napoleon
had he been present to direct everything. But he was far away, rushing
back through Champagne to retrieve his blunder, and in his place they
had Joseph. The ex-King of Spain was not the man for the hour. He was
no hero to breathe defiance into a bewildered crowd, nor was he well
seconded. Clarke, and Moncey, the commander of the 12,000 National
Guards, had not armed one-half of that doubtful militia. Marmont and
Mortier were at hand, and, with the garrison and National Guards,
mustered some 42,000 men.

But what were these against the trained host of more than 100,000 men
now marching against the feeble barriers on the north and east?
Moreover, Joseph and the Council of Regency had dispirited the
defenders by causing the Empress Regent and the infant King of Rome to
leave the capital along with the treasure. In Joseph's defence it
should be said that Napoleon had twice warned him to transfer the seat
of Government to the south of the Loire if the allies neared Paris,
and in no case to allow the Empress and the King of Rome to be
captured. "Do not leave the side of my son: I had rather know that he
was in the Seine than in the hands of the enemies of France." The
Emperor's views as to the effect of the capture of Paris were also
well known. In January he remarked to Mollien, the Minister of the
Treasure, "My dear fellow, if the enemy reaches the gates of Paris,
the Empire is no more."[445]

Oppressed by these gloomy omens, the defenders awaited the onset of
the allies at Montreuil, Romainville Pantin, and on the northern plain
(March 30th). At some points French valour held up successfully
against the dense masses; but in the afternoon Marmont, seeing his
thin lines overlapped, and in imminent danger of being cut off at
Belleville, sent out a request for a truce, as Joseph had empowered
him to do if affairs proved to be irretrievable. At all points
resistance was hopeless; Mortier was hard pressed on the north-east;
at the Clichy gate Moncey and his National Guards fought only for
honour; and so, after a whole day of sanguinary conflicts, the great
city surrendered on honourable terms.

And thus ended the great impulse which had gone forth from Paris since
1789, which had flooded the plains of Germany, the plateaux of Spain,
the cities of Italy, and the steppes of Russia, levelling the barriers
of castes and creeds, and binding men in a new and solid unity. The
reaction against that great centrifugal and international movement had
now become centripetal and profoundly national. Thanks to Napoleon's
statecraft, the peoples of Europe from the Volga to the Tagus were now
embattled in a mighty phalanx, and were about to enter in triumph the
city that only twenty-five years before had heralded the dawn of their
nascent liberties.

And what of Napoleon, in part the product and in part the cause, of
this strange reaction? By a strange Nemesis, his military genius and
his overweening contempt of Schwarzenberg drew him aside at the very
time when the allies could strike with deadly effect at the heart of
his centralized despotism. On the 29th he hears of disaffection at
Paris, of the disaster at La Fère Champenoise, and of the loss of
Lyons by Augereau. He at once sees the enormity of his blunder. His
weary Guards and he seek to annihilate space. They press on by the
unguarded road by way of Troyes and Fontainebleau, thereby cutting off
all chance of the Emperor Francis and Metternich sending messages from
Dijon to Paris. By incredible exertions the men cover seventeen
leagues on the 29th and reach Troyes.

Napoleon, accompanied by Caulaincourt, Drouot, Flahaut, and Lefebvre,
rushes on, wearing out horses at every stage: at Fontainebleau on the
30th he hears that his consort has left Paris; at Essonne, that the
battle is raging. Late at night, near Athis, he meets a troop of horse
under General Belliard: eagerly he questions this brave officer, and
learns that Joseph has left Paris, and that the battle is over.
"Forward then to Paris: everywhere where I am not they act
stupidly."--"But, sire," says the general, "it is too late: Paris has
capitulated."

The indomitable will is not yet broken. He must go on; he will sound
the tocsin, rouse the populace, tear up the capitulation, and beat the
insolent enemy. The sight of Mortier's troops, a little further on, at
last burns the truth into his brain: he sends on Caulaincourt with
full powers to treat for peace, and then sits up for the rest of the
night, poring over his maps and measuring the devotion of his Guard
against the inexorable bounds of time and space. He is within ten
miles of Paris, and sees the glare of the enemy's watch-fires all over
the northern sky.

On the morrow he hears that the allied sovereigns are about to enter
Paris, and Marmont warns him by letter that public opinion has much
changed since the withdrawal, first of the Empress, and then of
Joseph, Louis, and Jerome. This was true. The people were disgusted by
their flight; Blücher now had eighty cannon planted on the heights of
Montmartre; and men knew that he would not spare Paris if she hazarded
a further effort. And thus, when, on that same morning, the Czar, with
the King of Prussia on his right, and Schwarzenberg on his left, rode
into Paris at the head of the Russian and Prussian Guards, they met
with nothing worse than sullen looks on the part of the masses, while
knots of enthusiastic royalists shouted wildly for the Bourbons, and
women flung themselves to kiss the boots of the liberating Emperor.
The Bourbon party, however, was certainly in the minority; but at
places along the route their demonstrations were effective enough to
influence an impressionable populace, and to delight the
conquerors.--"The white cockade appeared very universally:"--wrote
Stewart with suspicious emphasis--"many of the National Guards, whom I
saw, wore them."[446]

Fearing that the Elysée Palace had been mined, the Czar installed
himself at Talleyrand's mansion, opposite the Place de la Concorde;
and forthwith there took place a most important private Council. The
two monarchs were present, along with Nesselrode and Napoleon's
Corsican enemy, Pozzo di Borgo. Princes Schwarzenberg and Lichtenstein
represented Austria; while Talleyrand and Dalberg were there to plead
for the House of Bourbon: De Pradt and Baron Louis were afterwards
summoned. The Czar opened the deliberations by declaring that there
were three courses open, to make peace with Napoleon, to accept Marie
Louise as Regent for her son, or to recall the Bourbons.[447] The
first he declared to be impossible; the second was beset by the
gravest difficulties; and, while stating the objections to the
Bourbons, he let it be seen that he now favoured this solution,
provided that it really was the will of France. He then called on
Talleyrand to speak; and that pleader set forth the case of the
Bourbons with his usual skill. The French army, he said, was more
devoted to its own glory than to Napoleon. France longed for peace,
and she could only find it with due sureties under her old dynasty. If
the populace had not as yet declared for the Bourbons, who could
wonder at that, when the allies persisted in negotiating with
Napoleon? But let them declare that they will no more treat with him,
and France would at once show her real desires. For himself, he would
answer for the Senate. The Czar was satisfied; Frederick William
assented; the Austrian princes said not a word on behalf of the claims
of Marie Louise; and the cause of the House of Bourbon easily
triumphed.[448]

On the morrow appeared in the "Journal des Débats" a decisive
proclamation, signed by Alexander _on behalf of all the allied
Powers;_ but we must be permitted to doubt whether the Emperor
Francis, if present, would have allowed it to appear, especially if
his daughter were present in Paris as Regent. The proclamation set
forth that the allies would never again treat with "Napoleon
Bonaparte" or any member of his family; that they would respect the
integrity of France as it existed under its lawful kings, and would
recognize and guarantee the constitution which the French nation
should adopt.

Accordingly, they invited the Senate at once to appoint a Provisional
Government. Talleyrand, as Grand Elector of the Empire, had the power
to summon that guardian of the commonwealth, whose vote would clearly
be far more expeditious than the _plébiscite_ on which Alexander had
previously set his heart. Of the 140 Senators only 64 assembled, but
over them Talleyrand's influence was supreme. He spake, and they
silently registered his suggestions. Thus it was that the august body,
taught by ten years of despotism to bend gracefully before every
breeze, fulfilled its last function in the Napoleonic _régime_ by
overthrowing the very constitution which it had been expressly charged
to uphold. The date was the 1st of April. Talleyrand, Dalberg,
Beurnonville, Jaucourt, and l'Abbé de Montesquiou at once formed a
Provisional Government; but the soul of it was Talleyrand. The Czar
gave the word, and Talleyrand acted as scene-shifter. The last tableau
of this constitutional farce was reached on the following day, when
the Senate and the Corps Législatif declared that Napoleon had ceased
to reign.

Such was the ex-bishop's revenge for insults borne for many a year
with courtly tact, but none the less bitterly felt. Napoleon and he
had come to regard each other with instinctive antipathy; but while
the diplomatist hid his hatred under the cloak of irony, the soldier
blurted forth his suspicions. Before leaving Paris, the Emperor had
wound up his last Council-meeting by a diatribe against enemies left
in the citadel; and his words became all the hotter when he saw that
Talleyrand, who was then quietly conversing with Joseph in a corner,
took no notice of the outburst. From Champagne he sent off an order to
Savary to arrest the ex-Minister, but that functionary took upon
himself to disregard the order. Probably there was some understanding
between them. And thus, after steering past many a rock, the patient
schemer at last helped Europe to shipwreck that mighty adventurer when
but a league or two from port.

But all was not over yet. Napoleon had fallen back on Fontainebleau,
in front of which town he was assembling a force of nearly 60,000 men.
Marie Louise, with the Ministers, was at Blois, and desired to make
her way to the side of her consort. Had she done so, and had her
father been present at Paris, a very interesting and delicate
situation would have been the result; and we may fancy that it would
have needed all Metternich's finesse and Castlereagh's common sense to
keep the three monarchs united. But Francis was still at Dijon; and
Metternich and Castlereagh did not reach Paris until April 10th; so
that everything in these important days was decided by the Czar and
Talleyrand, both of them irreconcilable foes of Napoleon. It was in
vain that Caulaincourt (April 1st) begged the Czar to grant peace to
Napoleon on the basis of the old frontiers. "Peace with him would only
be a truce," was the reply.

The victor did not repulse the idea of a Regency so absolutely, and
the faithful Minister at once hurried to Fontainebleau to persuade his
master to abdicate in favour of his son. Napoleon repulsed the offer
with disdain: rather than _that_, he would once more try the hazards
of war. He knew that the Old and the Young Guard, still nearly 9,000
strong in all, burned to revenge the insult to French pride; and at
the close of a review held on the 3rd in the great court of the
palace, they shouted, "To Paris!" and swore to bury themselves under
its ruins. It needed not the acclaim of his veterans to prompt him to
the like resolve. When, on April 1st, he received a Verbal Note from
Alexander, stating that the allies would no longer treat with him,
except on his private and family concerns, he exclaimed to Marmont, at
the line of the Essonne, that he must fight, for it was a necessity of
his position. He also proposed to that Marshal to cross the Seine and
attack the allies, forgetting that the Marne, with its bridges held by
them, was in the way. Marmont, endowed with a keen and sardonic
intelligence, had already seen that his master was more and more the
victim of illusions, never crediting the existence of difficulties
that he did not actually witness. And when, on the 3rd, or perhaps
earlier, offers came from the royalists, the Marshal promised to help
them in the way that will shortly appear.

Napoleon's last overtures to the Czar came late on the following day.
On that morning he had a long and heated discussion with Berthier,
Ney, Oudinot, and Lefebvre. Caulaincourt and Maret were present as
peacemakers. The Marshals upbraided Napoleon with the folly of
marching on Paris. Angered by their words Napoleon at last said: "The
army will obey me." "No," retorted Ney, "it will obey its commanders."

Macdonald, who had just arrived with his weary corps, took up their
case with his usual frankness. "Our horses," he said, "can go no
further: we have not enough ammunition for one skirmish, and no means
of procuring more. If we fail, as we probably shall, the whole of
France will be destroyed. We can still impose on the enemy: let us
retain our attitude.... We have had enough of war without kindling
civil war." Finally the Emperor gave way, and drew up a declaration
couched in these terms: "The allied Powers having proclaimed that the
Emperor Napoleon was the sole obstacle to the re-establishment of
peace in Europe, the Emperor Napoleon, faithful to his oaths, declares
that he is ready to descend from the throne, to leave France, and even
give up his life, for the good of the fatherland, inseparable from the
rights of his son, of those of the regency of the Empress and of the
maintenance of the laws of the Empire."[449]

A careful reading of this document will show that it was not an act of
abdication, but merely a conditional offer to abdicate, which would
satisfy those undiplomatic soldiers and gain time. Macdonald also
relates that, after drawing it up, the Emperor threw himself on the
sofa, struck his thigh, and said: "Nonsense, gentlemen! let us leave
all that alone and march to-morrow, we shall beat them." But they held
him to his promise; and Caulaincourt, Ney, and Macdonald straightway
proceeding to Paris, beset the Czar with many entreaties and some
threats to recognize the Regency.

In their interview, late at night on the 4th, they seemed to make a
great impression, especially when they reminded him of his promise not
to force any government on France. Next, the Czar called in the
members of the Provisional Government, and heard their arguments that
a Regency must speedily give way before the impact of the one
masterful will. Yet again Alexander listened to the eloquence of
Caulaincourt, and finally to the pleadings of the now anxious
provisionals. So the night wore on at Talleyrand's mansion, the Czar
finally stating that, after hearing the Prussian monarch's advice, he
would give his decision. And shortly before dawn came the news that
Marmont's corps had marched over to the enemy. "You see," said
Alexander to Pozzo di Borgo, "it is Providence that wills it: no more
doubt or hesitation now."[450]

On that same night, in fact, Marmont's corps of 12,000 men was brought
from Essonne within the lines of the allies, by the Marshal's
generals. Marmont himself was then in Paris, having been induced by
Ney and Macdonald to come with them, so as to hinder the carrying out
of his treasonable design; but his generals, who were in the secret,
were alarmed by the frequency of Napoleon's couriers, and carried out
the original plan. Thus, at dawn of the 5th, the rank and file found
themselves amidst the columns and squadrons of the allies. It was now
too late to escape; the men swore at their leaders with helpless fury;
and 12,000 men were thus filched from Napoleon's array.[451]

If this conduct be viewed from the personal standpoint, it must be
judged a base betrayal of an old friend and benefactor; and it is
usually regarded in that light alone. And yet Marmont might plead that
his action was necessary to prevent Napoleon sacrificing his troops,
and perhaps also his capital, to a morbid pride and desire for
revenge. The Marshal owed something to France. The Chambers had
pronounced his master's abdication, and Paris seemed to acquiesce in
their decision: Bordeaux and Lyons had now definitely hoisted the
white flag: Wellington had triumphed in the south; Schwarzenberg
marshalled 140,000 men around the capital; and Marmont knew, perhaps,
better than any of the Marshals, the obstinacy of that terrible will
which had strewn the roads between Moscow, Paris, and Lisbon with a
million of corpses. Was it not time that this should end? And would it
end as long as Napoleon saw any chance of snatching a temporary
success?

However we may regard Marmont's conduct, there can be no doubt that it
helped on Napoleon's fall. The Czar was too subtle a diplomatist to
attach much importance to Napoleon's declaration cited above. He must
have seen in it a device to gain time. But he himself also wished for
a few more hours' respite before flinging away the scabbard; and we
may regard his lengthy balancings between the pleas of Caulaincourt
and Talleyrand as prompted partly by a wish to sip to the full the
sweets of revenge for the occupation of Moscow, but mainly by the
resolve to mark time until Marmont's corps had been brought over.

Now that the head was struck off Napoleon's lance, the Czar repulsed
all notion of a Regency, but declared that he was ready to grant
generous terms to Napoleon if the latter abdicated outright. "Now,
when he is in trouble," he said, "I will become once more his friend
and will forget the past." In conferences with Napoleon's
representatives, Alexander decided that Napoleon must keep the title
of Emperor, and receive a suitable pension. The islands of Corfu,
Corsica, and Elba were considered for his future abode: the last
offered the fewest objections; and though Metternich later on
protested against the choice of Elba, the Czar felt his honour pledged
to this arrangement.[452]

Napoleon himself now began to yield to the inevitable. On hearing the
news of Marmont's defection, he sat for some time as if stupefied,
then sadly remarked: "The ungrateful man: well! he will be more
unhappy than I." But once more, on the 6th, the fighting instinct
comes uppermost. He plans to retire with his faithful troops beyond
the Loire, and rally the corps of Augereau, Suchet, and Soult. "Come,"
he cries to his generals, "let us march to the Alps." Not one of them
speaks in reply. "Ah," replies the Emperor to their unspoken thoughts;
"you want repose: have it then. Alas! you know not how many
disappointments and dangers await you on your beds of down." He then
wrote his formal abdication:

    "The allied Powers having declared that the Emperor was the sole
    obstacle to the re-establishment of peace in Europe, the Emperor,
    faithful to his oaths, declares that he renounces, for himself and
    his heirs, the thrones of France and Italy, and that there is no
    sacrifice, not even that of life, which he is not ready to make
    for the interest of France."

The allies made haste to finish the affair; for even now they feared
that the caged lion would burst his bars. Indeed, the trusty secretary
Fain asserts that when on Easter Monday, the 11th, Caulaincourt
brought back the allies' ratification of this deed, Napoleon's first
demand was to retract the abdication. It would be unjust, however, to
lay too much stress on this strange conduct; for at that time the
Emperor's mind was partly unhinged by maddening tumults.

His anguish increased when he heard the final terms of the allies.
They allotted to him the isle of Elba; to his consort and heir, the
duchies of Parma, Placentia and Guastalla, and two millions of francs
as an annual subsidy, divided equally between himself and her. They
were to keep the title of Emperor and Empress; but their son would
bear the name of Duke of Parma, etc. The other Bonapartes received an
annual subsidy of 2,500,000 francs, this and the former sum being paid
by France. Four hundred soldiers might accompany him to Elba. A
"suitable establishment" was to be provided for Eugène outside of
France.[453] For some hours Napoleon refused to ratify this compact.
All hope of resistance was vain, for Oudinot, Victor, Lefebvre, and,
finally, Ney and Berthier, had gone over to the royalists: even the
soldiery began to waver. But a noble pride held back the mighty
conqueror from accepting Elba and signing a money compact. It is not
without a struggle that a Cæsar sinks to the level of a Sancho Panza.

He then talked to Caulaincourt with the insight that always illumined
his judgments. Marie Louise ought to have Tuscany, he said: Parma
would not befit her dignity. Besides, if she had to traverse other
States to come to him, would she ever do so? He next talked of his
Marshals. Masséna's were the greatest exploits: but Suchet had shown
himself the wisest both in war and administration. Soult was able, but
too ambitious. Berthier was honest, sensible, the model of a chief of
the staff; and "yet he has now caused me much pain." Not a word
escaped him about Davoust, still manfully struggling at Hamburg. Not
one of his Ministers, he complained, had come from Blois to bid him
farewell. He then spoke of his greatest enemy--England. "She has done
me much harm, doubtless, but I have left in her flanks a poisoned
dart. It is I who have made this debt, that will ever burden, if not
crush, future generations." Finally, he came back to the hateful
compact which Caulaincourt pressed him in vain to sign. How could he
take money from the allies. How could he leave France so small, after
receiving her so great!

That same night he sought to end his life. On February the 8th he had
warned his brother Joseph that he would do so if Paris were captured.
During the retreat from Moscow he had carried about a phial which was
said to contain opium, and he now sought to end his miseries. But
Caulaincourt, his valet Constant, and the surgeon Ivan were soon at
hand with such slight cures as were possible. After violent sickness
the Emperor sank into deep prostration; but, when refreshed by tea,
and by the cool air of dawning day, he gradually revived. "Fate has
decided," he exclaimed: "I must live and await all that Providence has
in store for me."[454] He then signed the treaty with the allies,
presented Macdonald with the sword of Murad Bey, and calmly began to
prepare for his departure.

Marie Louise did not come to see him. Her decision to do so was
overruled by her father, in obedience to whose behests she repaired
from Blois to Rambouillet.

There, guarded by Cossacks, she saw Francis, Alexander, and Frederick
William in turn. What passed between them is not known: but the result
was that, on April 23rd, she set out for Vienna, whence she finally
repaired to Parma; she manifested no great desire to see her consort
at Elba, but soon consoled herself with the Count de Neipperg.

No doubts as to her future conduct, no qualms of conscience as to the
destiny of France now ruffled Napoleon's mind. Like a sky cleared by a
thunderstorm, once more it shone forth with clear radiance. Those who
saw him now were astonished at his calmness, except in some moments
when he declaimed at his wife and child being kept from him by
Austrian schemes. Then he stormed and wept and declared that he would
seek refuge in England, which General Köller, the Austrian
commissioner appointed to escort him to Elba, strongly advised him to
do. But for the most part he showed remarkable composure. When Bausset
sought to soothe him by remarking that France would still form one of
the finest of realms, he replied: "_with remarkable serenity_--'I
abdicate and I yield nothing.'"[455] The words hide a world of
meaning: they inclose the secret of the Hundred Days.

On the 20th, he bade farewell to his Guard: in thrilling words he told
them that his mission thenceforth would be to describe to posterity
the wonders they had achieved: he then embraced General Petit, kissed
the war-stained banner, and, wafted on his way by the sobs of these
unconquered heroes, set forth for the Mediterranean. In the central
districts, and as far as Lyons, he was often greeted by the well-known
shouts, but, further south, the temper of the people changed.

At Orange they cursed him to his face, and hurled stones at the
windows of the carriage; Napoleon, protected by Bertrand, sat huddled
up in the corner, "apparently very much frightened." After forcing a
way through the rabble, the Emperor, when at a safe distance, donned a
plain great coat, a Russian cloak, and a plain round hat with a white
cockade: in this or similar disguises he sought to escape notice at
every village or town, evincing, says the British Commissioner,
Colonel Campbell, "much anxiety to save his life."

By a détour he skirted the town of Avignon, where the mob thirsted for
his blood; and by another device he disappointed the people of Orgon,
who had prepared an effigy of him in uniform, smeared with blood, and
placarded with the words: "Voilà donc l'odieux tyran! Tôt ou tard le
crime est puni."[456] In this humiliating way he hurried on towards
the coast, where a British frigate, the "Undaunted," was waiting for
him. There some suspicious delays ensued, which aroused the fears of
the allied commissioners, especially as bands of French soldiers began
to draw near after the break-up of Eugène's army.[457]

At last, on the 28th, accompanied by Counts Bertrand and Drouot, he
set sail from Fréjus. It was less than fifteen years since he had
landed there crowned with the halo of his oriental adventures.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXXVIII

ELBA AND PARIS


If it be an advantage to pause in the midst of the rush of life and
take one's bearings afresh, then Napoleon was fortunate in being
drifted to the quiet eddy of Elba. He there had leisure to review his
career, to note where he had served his generation and succeeded,
where also he had dashed himself fruitlessly against the fundamental
instincts of mankind. Undoubtedly he did essay this mental
stock-taking. He remarked to the conscientious Drouot that he was
wrong in not making peace at the Congress of Prague; that trust in his
own genius and in his soldiery led him astray; "but those who blame me
have never drunk of Fortune's intoxicating cup." When a turn of her
wheel brought him uppermost again, he confessed that at Elba he had
heard, as in a tomb, the verdict of posterity; and there are signs
that his maturer convictions thenceforth strove to curb the old
domineering instincts that had wrecked his life.

Introspection, however, was alien to his being; he was made for the
camp rather than the study; his critical powers, if turned in for a
time on himself, quickly swung back to work upon men and affairs; and
they found the needed exercise in organizing his Liliputian Empire and
surveying the course of European politics. In the first weeks he was
up at dawn, walking or riding about Porto Ferrajo and its environs,
planning better defences, or tracing out new roads and avenues of
mulberry trees. "I have never seen a man," wrote Campbell, "with so
much activity and restless perseverance: he appears to take pleasure
in perpetual movement, and in seeing those who accompany him sink
under fatigue." About seven hundred of his Guards were brought over on
British transports; and these, along with Corsicans and Tuscans,
guarded him against royalist plotters, real or supposed. In a short
time he purchased a few small vessels, and annexed the islet of
Pianosa. These affairs and the formation of an Imperial Court for the
delectation of his mother and his sister Pauline, who now joined him,
served to drive away ennui; but he bitterly resented the Emperor
Francis's refusal to let his wife and son come to him. Whether Marie
Louise would have come is more than doubtful, for her relations to
Count Neipperg were already notorious; but the detention of his son
was a heartless action that aroused general sympathy for the lonely
man. The Countess Walewska paid him a visit for some days, bringing
the son whom she had borne him.[458]

Meanwhile Europe was settling down uneasily on its new political
foundations. Considering that France had been at the mercy of the
allies, she had few just grounds of complaint against them. The
Treaties of Paris (May 30th, 1814) left her with rather wider bounds
than those of 1791; and she kept the art treasures reft by Napoleon.
Perfidious Albion yielded up all her French colonial conquests, except
Mauritius, Tobago, and St. Lucia. Britons grumbled at the paltry gains
brought by a war that had cost more than £600,000,000: but Castlereagh
justified the policy of conciliation. "It is better," said he, "for
France to be commercial and pacific than a warlike and conquering
State." We insisted on her ceding Belgium to the House of Orange,
while we retained the Dutch colonies conquered by us, the Cape,
Demerara, and Curaçoa--paying £6,000,000 for them.

The loss of the Netherlands, the Rhineland, and Italy galled French
pride. Loud were the murmurs of the throngs of soldiers that came from
the fortresses of Germany, or the prisons of Spain, Russia, and
England--70,000 crossed over from our shores alone--at the harshness
of the allies and the pusillanimity of the Bourbons. The return from
war to peace is always hard; and now these gaunt warriors came back to
a little France that perforce discharged them or placed them on
half-pay. Perhaps they might have been won over by a tactful Court:
but the Bourbons, especially that typical _émigré_, the Comte
d'Artois, were nothing if not tactless, witness their shelving of the
Old Guard and formation of the Maison du Roi, a privileged and highly
paid corps of 6,000 nobles and royalist gentlemen. The peasants, too,
were uneasy, especially those who held the lands of nobles confiscated
in the Revolution. To indemnify the former owners was impossible in
face of the torrent of exorbitant claims that flowed in. And the year
1814, which began as a soul-stirring epic, ended with sordid squabbles
worthy of a third-rate farce.

Moreover, at this very time, the former allies seemed on the brink of
war. The limits of our space admit only of the briefest glance at the
disputes of the Powers at the Congress of Vienna. The storm centre of
Europe was the figure of the Czar. To our ambassador at Vienna, Sir
Charles Stewart, he declared his resolve to keep western Poland and
never to give up 7,000,000 of his "Polish subjects."[459] Strange to
say, he ultimately gained the assent of Prussia to this objectionable
scheme, provided that she acquired the whole of Saxony, while
Frederick Augustus was to be transplanted to the Rhineland with Bonn
as capital. To these proposals Austria, England, and France offered
stern opposition, and framed a secret compact (January 3rd, 1815) to
resist them, if need be, with armies amounting to 450,000 men. But,
though swords were rattled in their scabbards, they were not drawn.
When news reached Vienna of the activity of Bonapartists in France and
of Murat in Italy, the Powers agreed (February 8th) to the
Saxon-Polish compromise which took shape in the map of Eastern Europe.
The territorial arrangements in the west were evidently inspired by
the wish to build up bulwarks against France. Belgium was tacked on to
Holland; Germany was huddled into a Confederation, in which the
princes had complete sovereign powers; and the Kingdom of Sardinia
grew to more than its former bulk by recovering Savoy and Nice and
gaining Genoa.

This piling up of artificial barriers against some future Napoleon was
to serve the designs of the illustrious exile himself. The instinct of
nationality, which his blows had aroused to full vigour, was now
outraged by the sovereigns whom it carried along to victory. Belgians
strongly objected to Dutch rule, and German "Unitarians," as
Metternich dubbed them, spurned a form of union which subjected the
Fatherland to Austria and her henchmen. Hardest of all was the fate of
Italy. After learning the secret of her essential unity under
Napoleon, she was now parcelled out among her former rulers; and
thrills of rage shot through the peninsula when the Hapsburgs settled
down at Venice and Milan, while their scions took up the reins at
Modena, Parma, and Florence.

It was on this popular indignation that Murat now built his hopes.
After throwing over Napoleon, he had looked to find favour with the
allies; but his movements in 1814 had been so suspicious that the fate
of his kingdom remained hanging in the balance. The Bourbons of Paris
and Madrid strove hard to effect his overthrow; but Austria and
England, having tied their hands early in 1814 by treaties with him,
could only wait and watch in the hope that the impetuous soldier would
take a false step. He did so in February, 1815, when he levied forces,
summoned Louis XVIII. to declare whether he was at war with him, and
prepared to march into Northern Italy.

The disturbed state of the peninsula caused the Powers much uneasiness
as to the presence of Napoleon at Elba. Louis XVIII. in his
despatches, and Talleyrand in private conversations, two or three
times urged his removal to the Azores; but, with the exception of
Castlereagh, who gave a doubtful assent, the plenipotentiaries scouted
the thought of it. Metternich entirely opposed it, and the Czar would
certainly have objected to the reversal of his Elba plan, had
Talleyrand made a formal proposal to that effect. But he did not do
so. The official records of the Congress contain not a word on the
subject. Equally unfounded were the newspaper rumours that the
Congress was considering the advisability of removing Napoleon to St.
Helena. On this topic the official records are also silent; and we
have the explicit denial of the Duke of Wellington (who reached Vienna
on the 1st of February to relieve Castlereagh) that "the Congress ever
had any intention of removing Bonaparte from Elba to St. Helena."[460]

Napoleon's position was certainly one of unstable equilibrium, that
tended towards some daring enterprise or inglorious bankruptcy. The
maintenance of his troops cost him more than 1,000,000 francs a year,
while his revenue was less than half of that sum. He ought to have
received 2,000,000 francs a year from Louis XVIII.; but that monarch,
while confiscating the property of the Bonapartes in France, paid not
a centime of the sums which the allies had pledged him to pay to the
fallen House. Both the Czar and our envoy, Castlereagh, warmly
reproached Talleyrand with his master's shabby conduct; to which the
plenipotentiary replied that it was dangerous to furnish Napoleon with
money as long as Italy was in so disturbed a state. Castlereagh, on
his return to England by way of Paris, again pressed the matter on
Louis XVIII., who promised to take the matter in hand. But he was soon
quit of it: for, as he wrote to Talleyrand on March 7th, Bonaparte's
landing in France _spared him the trouble_.[461]

To assert, however, that Napoleon's escape from Elba was prompted by a
desire to avoid bankruptcy, is to credit him with respectable
_bourgeois_ scruples by which he was never troubled. Though "Madame
Mère" and Pauline complained bitterly to Campbell of the lack of funds
at Elba, the Emperor himself was far from depressed. "His spirits seem
of late," wrote Campbell on December 28th, "rather to rise, and not to
yield in the smallest degree to the pressure of pecuniary
difficulties." Both Campbell and Lord John Russell, who then paid the
Emperor a flying visit, thought that he was planning some great move,
and warned our Ministers.[462] But they shared the view of other
wiseacres, that Italy would be his goal, and that too, when Campbell's
despatches teemed with remarks made to him by Napoleon as to the
certainty of an outbreak in France. Here are two of them:

    He said that there would be a violent outbreak, similar to the
    Revolution, in consequence of their present humiliation: every man
    in France considers the Rhine to be the natural frontier of
    France, and nothing can alter this opinion. If the spirit of the
    nation is roused into action nothing can oppose it. It is like a
    torrent.... The present Government of France is too feeble: the
    Bourbons should make war as soon as possible so as to establish
    themselves upon the throne. It would not be difficult to recover
    Belgium. It is only for the British troops there that the French
    army has the smallest awe" (_sic_).

His final resolve to put everything to the hazard was formed about
February 13th, when, shortly after receiving tidings as to the unrest
in Italy, the discords of the Powers, and the resolve of the allied
sovereigns to leave Vienna on the 20th, he heard news of the highest
importance from France. On that day one of his former officials,
Fleury de Chaboulon, landed in Elba, and informed him of the hatching
of a plot by military malcontents, under the lead of Fouché, for the
overthrow of Louis XVIII.[463] Napoleon at once despatched his
informant to Naples, and ordered his brig, "L'Inconstant," to be
painted like an English vessel. Most fortunately for him, Campbell on
the 16th set sail for Tuscany--"for his health and on private
affairs"--on the small war-vessel, "Partridge," to which the British
Government had intrusted the supervision of Napoleon. Captain Adye, of
that vessel, promised, after taking Campbell to Leghorn, to return and
cruise off Elba. He called at Porto Ferrajo on the 24th, and to
Bertrand's question, when he was to bring Campbell back, returned the
undiplomatic answer that it was fixed for the 26th. The news seems to
have decided Napoleon to escape on that day, when the "Partridge"
would be absent at Leghorn. Meanwhile Campbell, alarmed by the news of
the preparations at Elba, was sending off a request to Genoa that
another British warship should be sent to frustrate the designs of the
"restless villain."

But it was now too late. On that Sunday night at 9 p.m., the Emperor,
with 1,050 officers and men, embarked at Porto Ferrajo on the
"Inconstant" and six smaller craft. Favoured by the light airs that
detained the British vessel, his flotilla glided away northwards; and
not before the 28th did Adye and Campbell find that the imperial eagle
had flown. Meanwhile Napoleon had eluded the French guard-ship,
"Fleur-de-Lys," and ordered his vessels to scatter. On doubling the
north of Corsica, he fell in with another French cruiser, the
"Zephyr," which hailed his brig and inquired how the great man was.
"Marvellously well," came the reply, suggested by Napoleon himself to
his captain. The royalist cruiser passed on contented. And thus,
thanks to the imbecility of the old Governments and of their servants,
Napoleon was able to land his little force safely in the Golfe de
Jouan on the afternoon of March 1st.[464] Is it surprising that
foreigners, who had not yet fathomed the eccentricities of British
officialdom, should have believed that we connived at Napoleon's
escape? It needed the blood shed at Waterloo to wipe out the
misconception.

"I shall reach Paris without firing a shot." Such was the prophecy of
Napoleon to his rather questioning followers as they neared the coast
of Provence. It seemed the wildest of dreams. Could the man, who had
been wellnigh murdered by the rabble of Avignon and Orgon, hope to
march in peace through that royalist province? And, if he ever reached
the central districts where men loved him better, would the soldiery
dare to disobey the commands of Soult, the new Minister of War, of
Ney, Berthier, Macdonald, St. Cyr, Suchet, Augereau, and of many more
who were now honestly serving the Bourbons? The King and his brothers
had no fears. They laughed at the folly of this rash intruder.

At first their confidence seemed justified. Napoleon's overtures to
the officer and garrison of Antibes were repulsed, and the small
detachment which he sent there was captured. Undaunted by this check,
he decided to hurry on by way of Grasse towards Grenoble, thus
forestalling the news of his first failure, and avoiding the royalist
districts of the lower Rhone.

Napoleon was visibly perturbed as he drew near to Grenoble. There the
officer in command, General Marchand, had threatened to exterminate
this "band of brigands"; and his soldiers as yet showed no signs of
defection. But, by some bad management, only one battalion held the
defile of Laffray on the south. As the bear-skins of the Guard came in
sight, the royalist ranks swerved and drew back. Then the Emperor came
forward, and ordered his men to lower their arms. "There he is: fire
on him," cried a royalist officer. Not a shot rang out.--"Soldiers,"
said the well-known voice, "if there is one among you who wishes to
kill his Emperor, he can do so. Here I am." At once a great shout of
"Vive l'Empereur" burst forth: and the battalion broke into an
enthusiastic rush towards the idol of the soldiery.

That scene decided the whole course of events. A little later, a young
noble, Labédoyère, leads over his regiment; at Grenoble the garrison
stands looking on and cheering while the Bonapartists batter in the
gates; and the hero is borne in amidst a whirlwind of cheers. At
Lyons, the Comte d'Artois and Macdonald seek safety in flight; and
soldiers and workmen welcome their chief with wild acclaim; but amidst
the wonted cries are heard threats of "The Bourbons to the
guillotine," "Down with the priests!"

The shouts were ominous: they showed that the Jacobins meant to use
Napoleon merely as a tool for the overthrow of the Bourbons. The
"have-nots" cheered him, but the "haves" shivered at his coming, for
every thinking man knew that it implied war with Europe.[465] Napoleon
saw the danger of relying merely on malcontents and sought to arouse a
truly national feeling. He therefore on March 13th issued a series of
popular decrees, that declared the rule of the Bourbons at an end,
dissolved the Senate and Chamber of Deputies, and summoned the
"electoral colleges" of the Empire to a great assembly, or Champ de
Mai, at Paris. He further proscribed the white flag, ordered the
wearing of the tri-colour cockade, disbanded the hated "Maison du
Roi," abolished feudal titles, and sequestered the domains of the
Bourbon princes. In brief, he acted as the Bonaparte of 1799. He then
set forth for Paris, at the head of 14,000 men.

Ney was at the same time marching with 6,000 men from Besançon. He had
lately assured Louis XVIII. that Napoleon deserved to be brought to
Paris in an iron cage. But now his soldiers kept a sullen silence. At
Bourg the leading regiment deserted; and while beset by difficulties,
the Marshal received from Napoleon the assurance that he would be
received as he was on the day after the Moskwa (Borodino). This was
enough. He drew his troops around him, and, to their lively joy,
declared for the Emperor (March 14th). Napoleon was as good as his
word. Never prone to petty malice, he now received with equal
graciousness those officers who flung themselves at his feet, and
those who staunchly served the King to the very last. Before this
sunny magnanimity the last hopes of the Bourbons melted away. Greeted
on all sides by soldiers and peasants, the enchanter advances on
Paris, whence the King and Court beat a hasty retreat towards Lille.

Crowds of peasants line and almost block the road from Fontainebleau
to catch a glimpse of the gray coat; and, to expedite matters, he
drives on in a cabriolet with his faithful Caulaincourt. Escorted by a
cavalcade of officers he enters Paris after nightfall; but there the
tone of the public is cool and questioning, until the front of the
Tuileries facing the river is reached.[466] Then a mighty shout arises
from the throng of jubilant half-pay officers as the well-known figure
alights: he passes in, and is half carried up the grand staircase,
"his eyes half closed," says Lavalette, "his hands extended before him
like a blind man, and expressing his joy only by a smile." Ladies are
there also, who have spent the weary hours of waiting in stripping off
_fleurs-de-lys_, and gleefully exposing the N's and golden bees
concealed by cheap Bourbon upholstery. Anon they fly back to this
task; the palace wears its wonted look; and the brief spell of Bourbon
rule seems gone for ever.

To his contemporaries this triumph of Napoleon appeared a miracle
before which the voice of criticism must be dumb. And yet, if we
remember the hollowness of the Bourbon restoration, the tactlessness
of the princes and the greed of their partisans, it seems strange that
the house of cards reared by the Czar and Talleyrand remained standing
even for eleven months. Napoleon correctly described the condition of
France when he said to his comrades on the "Inconstant": "There is no
historic example that induces me to venture on this bold enterprise:
but I have taken into account the surprise that will seize on men, the
state of public feeling, the resentment against the allies, the love
of my soldiers, in fine, all the Napoleonic elements that still
germinate in our beautiful France."[467]

Still less was he deceived by the seemingly overwhelming impulse in
his favour. He looked beyond the hysteria of welcome to the cold and
critical fit which follows; and he saw danger ahead. When Mollien
complimented him on his return, he replied, alluding to the general
indifference at the departure of the Bourbons: "My dear fellow! People
have let me come, just as they let the others go." The remark reveals
keen insight into the workings of French public opinion. The whole
course of the Revolution had shown how easy it was to destroy a
Government, how difficult to rebuild. In truth, the events of March,
1815, may be called the epilogue of the revolutionary drama. The royal
House had offended the two most powerful of French interests, the
military and the agrarian, so that soldiers and peasants clutched
eagerly at Napoleon as a mighty lever for its overthrow.

The Emperor wisely formed his Ministry before the first enthusiasm
cooled down. Maret again became Secretary of State; Decrès took the
Navy; Gaudin the finances; Mollien was coaxed back to the Treasury,
and Davoust reluctantly accepted the Ministry of War. Savary declined
to be burdened with the Police, and Napoleon did not press him: for
that clever intriguer, Fouché, was pointed out as the only man who
could rally the Jacobins around the imperial throne: to him, then,
Napoleon assigned this important post, though fully aware that in his
hands it was a two-edged tool. Carnot was finally persuaded to become
Minister for Home Affairs.

Napoleon's fate, however, was to be decided, not at Paris, but by the
statesmen assembled at Vienna. There time was hanging somewhat
heavily, and the news of Napoleon's escape was welcomed at first as a
grateful diversion. Talleyrand asserted that Napoleon would aim at
Italy, but Metternich at once remarked: "He will make straight for
Paris." When this prophecy proved to be alarmingly true, a drastic
method was adopted to save the Bourbons. The plenipotentiaries drew up
a declaration that Bonaparte, having broken the compact which
established him at Elba--the only legal title attaching to his
existence--had placed himself outside the bounds of civil and social
relations, and, as an enemy and disturber of the peace of the world,
was consigned to "public prosecution" (March 13th).[468] The rigour of
this decree has been generally condemned. But, after all, it did not
exceed in harshness Napoleon's own act of proscription against Stein;
it was a desperate attempt to stop the flight of the imperial eagle to
Paris and to save France from war with Europe.

Public considerations were doubtless commingled with the promptings of
personal hatred. We are assured that Talleyrand was the author of this
declaration, which had the complete approval of the Czar. But Napoleon
had one enemy more powerful than Alexander, more insidious than
Talleyrand, and that was--his own past. Everywhere the spectre of war
rose up before the imagination of men. The merchant pictured his ships
swept off by privateers: the peasant saw his homestead desolate: the
housewife dreamt of her larder emptied by taxes, and sons carried off
for the war. At Berlin, wrote Jackson, all was agitation, and
everybody said that _the work of last year would have to be done over
again_.

In England the current of public feeling was somewhat weakened by the
drifts and eddies of party politics. Many of the Whigs made a popular
hero of Napoleon, some from a desire to overthrow the Liverpool
Ministry that proscribed him; others because they believed, or tried
to believe, that the return of Napoleon concerned only France, and
that he would leave Europe alone if Europe left him alone. Others
there were again, as Hazlitt, who could not ignore the patent fact
that Napoleon was an international personage and had violated a
European compact, yet nevertheless longed for his triumph over the bad
old Governments and did not trouble much as to what would come next.
But, on the whole, the judgment of well-informed people may be summed
up in the conclusion of that keen lawyer, Crabb Robinson: "The
question is, peace with Bonaparte now, or war with him in Germany two
years hence."[469] The matter came to a test on April 28th, when
Whitbread's motion against war was rejected by 273 to 72.[470]

If that was the general opinion in days when Ministers and
diplomatists alone knew the secrets of the game, it was certain that
the initiated, who remembered his wrongheaded refusals to make peace
even in the depressing days of 1814, would strive to crush him before
he could gather all his strength. In vain did he protest that he had
learnt by sad experience and was a changed man. They interpreted his
pacific speeches by their experience of his actions; and thus his
overweening conduct in the past blotted out all hope of his crowning a
romantic career by a peaceful and benignant close. The declaration of
outlawry was followed, on March 25th, by the conclusion of treaties
between the Powers, which virtually renewed those framed at Chaumont.
In quick succession the smaller States gave in their adhesion; and
thus the coalition which tact and diplomacy had dissolved was
revivified by the fears which the mighty warrior aroused. Napoleon
made several efforts to sow distrust among the Powers; and chance
placed in his hands a veritable apple of discord.

The Bourbons in their hasty flight from Paris had left behind several
State papers, among them being the recent secret compact against
Russia and Prussia. Napoleon promptly sent this document to the Czar
at Vienna; but his hopes of sundering the allies were soon blighted.
Though Alexander and Metternich had for months refused to exchange a
word or a look, yet the news of Napoleon's adventure brought about a
speedy reconciliation; and when the compromising paper from Paris was
placed in the Czar's hands, he took the noble revenge of sending for
Metternich, casting it into the fire, and adjuring the Minister to
forget recent disputes in the presence of their common enemy. Napoleon
strove to detach Austria from the Coalition, as did also Fouché on his
own account; but the overtures led to no noteworthy result, except
that Napoleon, on finding out Fouché's intrigue, threatened to have
him shot--a threat which that necessary tool treated with quiet
derision.

A few acts of war occurred at once; but Austria and Russia pressed for
delay, the latter with the view of overthrowing Murat. That potentate
now drew the sword on behalf of Napoleon, and summoned the Italians to
struggle for their independence. But he was quickly overpowered at
Tolentino (May 3rd), and fled from his kingdom, disguised as a sailor,
to Toulon. There he offered his sword to Napoleon; but the Emperor
refused his offer and blamed him severely, alleging that he had
compromised the fortunes of France by rendering peace impossible. The
charge must be pronounced not proven. The allies had taken their
resolve to destroy Napoleon on March 13th, and Murat's adventure
merely postponed the final struggle for a month or so.

Napoleon used this time of respite to form his army and stamp out
opposition in France. The French royalist bands gave him little
trouble. In the south-west the _fleur-de-lys_ was speedily beaten
down; but in La Vendée royalism had its roots deep-seated. Headed by
the two Larochejacqueleins, the peasants made a brave fight; and
20,000 regulars failed to break them up until the month of June was
wearing on. What might not those 20,000 men, detained in La Vendée,
have effected on the crest of Waterloo?

Napoleon's preoccupation, however, was the conduct of the Jacobins in
France, who had been quickened to immense energy by the absurdities of
the royalist reaction and felt that they had the new ruler in their
power. A game of skill ensued, which took up the greater part of the
"Hundred Days" of Napoleon's second reign. His conduct proved that he
was not sure of success. He felt out of touch with this new
liberty-loving France, so different from the passively devoted people
whom he had left in 1814; he bridled his impetuous nature, reasoning
with men, inviting criticism, and suggesting doubts as to his own
proposals, in a way that contrasted curiously with the old
sledge-hammer methods.

    "He seemed," writes Mollien, "habitually calm, pensive, and
    preserved without affectation a serious dignity, with little of
    that old audacity and self-confidence which had never met with
    insuperable obstacles.... As his thoughts were cramped in a narrow
    space girt with precipices instead of soaring freely over a vast
    horizon of power, they became laborious and

This Pegasus in harness chafed at the unwonted yoke; and at times the
old instincts showed themselves. On one occasion, when the subject
turned on the new passion for liberty, he said to Lavalette with a
question in his voice: "All this will last two or three years?" "Your
Majesty," replied the Minister, "must not believe that. It will last
for ever."

The first grave difficulty was to frame a constitution, especially as
his Lyons decrees led men to believe that it would emanate from the
people, and be sanctioned by them in a great _Champ de Mai_. Perhaps
this was impossible. A great part of France was a prey to civil
strifes; and it was a skilful device to intrust the drafting of a
constitution to Benjamin Constant.

This brilliant writer and talker had now run through the whole gamut
of political professions. A pronounced Jacobin and free-thinker during
the Consulate, he subsequently retired to Germany, where he unlearnt
his politics, his religion, and his philosophy. The sight of
Napoleon's devastations made him a supporter of the throne and altar,
compelled him to recast his treatises, and drove him to consort with
the quaint circle of pietists who prayed and grovelled with Madame de
Krudener. Returning to France at the Restoration, he wielded his
facile pen in the cause of the monarchy, and fluttered after the
fading charms of Madame Récamier, confiding to his friend, De Broglie,
that he knew not whether to trust most to divine or satanic agencies
for success in this lawless chase. In March, 1815, he thundered in the
Press against the brigand of Elba--until the latter won him over in
the space of a brief interview, and persuaded him to draft, with a few
colleagues, the final constitution of the age.

Not that Constant had a free hand: he worked under imperial
inspiration. The present effort was named the Additional
Act--additional, that is, to the Constitutions of the Empire (April
22nd, 1815). It established a Chamber of Peers nominated by Napoleon,
with hereditary rights, and a Chamber of Representatives elected on
the plan devised in August, 1802. The Emperor was to nominate all the
judges, including the _juges de paix;_ the jury system was maintained,
and liberty of the Press was granted. The Chambers also gained
somewhat wider control over the Ministers.[471]

This Act called forth a hail of criticisms. When the Council of State
pointed out that there was no guarantee against confiscations,
Napoleon's eyes flashed fire, and he burst forth:

    "You are pushing me in a way that is not mine. You are weakening
    and chaining me. France looks for me and does not find me. Public
    opinion was excellent: now it is execrable. France is asking what
    has come to the Emperor's arm, this arm which she needs to master
    Europe. Why speak to me of goodness, abstract justice, and of
    natural laws? The first law is necessity: the first justice is the
    public safety."

The councillors quailed under this tirade and conceded the
point--though we may here remark that Napoleon showed a wise clemency
towards his foes, and confiscated the estates of only thirteen of
them.

Public opinion became more and more "execrable." Some historians have
asserted that the decline of Napoleon's popularity was due, not to the
Additional Act, but to the menaces of war from a united Europe: this
may be doubted. Miot de Melito, who was working for the Emperor in the
West, states that "never had a political error more immediate effects"
than that Act; and Lavalette, always a devoted adherent, asserts
That Frenchmen thenceforth "saw only a despot in the Emperor and forgot
about the enemy."

As a display of military enthusiasm, the _Champ de Mai_, of June 1st,
recalled the palmy days gone by. Veterans and conscripts hailed their
chief with jubilant acclaim, as with a few burning words he handed
them their eagles. But the people on the outskirts cheered only when
the troops cheered. Why should they, or the "electors" of France,
cheer? They had hoped to give her a constitution; and they were now
merely witnesses to Napoleon's oath that he would obey the
constitution of his own making. As a civic festival, it was a mockery
in the eyes of men who remembered the "Feast of Pikes," and were not
to be dazzled by the waving of banners and the gorgeous costumes of
Napoleon and his brothers. The opening of the Chambers six days later
gave an outlet to the general discontent. The report that Napoleon
designed his brother Lucien for the Presidency of the Lower House is
incorrect. That honest democrat Lanjuinais was elected. Everything
portended a constitutional crisis, when the summons to arms rang
forth; and the chief, warning the deputies not to imitate the Greeks
of the late Empire by discussing abstract propositions while the
battering-ram thundered at their gates, cut short these barren debates
by that appeal to the sword which had rarely belied his hopes.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXXIX

LIGNY AND QUATRE BRAS


A less determined optimist than Napoleon might well have hoped for
success over the forces of the new coalition. True, they seemed
overwhelmingly great. But many a coalition had crumbled away under the
alchemy of his statecraft; and the jealousies that had raged at the
Congress of Vienna inspired the hope that Austria, and perhaps
England, might speedily be detached from their present allies. Strange
as it seems to us, the French people opined that Napoleon's escape
from Elba was due to the connivance of the British Government; and
Captain Mercer states that, even at Waterloo, many of the French clung
to the belief that the British resistance would be a matter of form.
Napoleon cherished no such illusion: but he certainly hoped to
surprise the British and Prussian forces in Belgium, and to sever at
one blow an alliance which he judged to be ill cemented. Thereafter he
would separate Austria from Russia, a task that was certainly possible
if victory crowned the French eagles.[472]

His military position was far stronger than it had been since the
Moscow campaign. The loss of Germany and Spain had really added to his
power. No longer were his veterans shut up in the fortresses of Europe
from Danzig to Antwerp, from Hamburg to Ragusa; and the Peninsular War
no longer engulfed great armies of his choicest troops. In the eyes of
Frenchmen he was not beaten in 1814; he was only tripped up by a
traitor when on the point of crushing his foes. And, now that peace
had brought back garrisons and prisoners of war, as many as 180,000
well-trained troops were ranged under the imperial eagles. He hoped by
the end of June to have half a million of devoted soldiers ready for
the field.

The difficulties that beset him were enough to daunt any mind but his.
Some of the most experienced Marshals were no longer at his side. St.
Cyr, Macdonald, Oudinot, Victor, Marmont, and Augereau remained true
to Louis XVIII. Berthier, on hearing of Napoleon's return from Elba,
forthwith retired into Germany, and, in a fit of frenzy, threw himself
from the window of a house in Bamberg while a Russian corps was
passing through that town. Junot had lost his reason. Masséna and
Moncey were too old for campaigning; Mortier fell ill before the first
shots were fired. Worst of all, the unending task of army organization
detained Davoust at Paris. Certainly he worked wonders there; but, as
in 1813 and 1814, Napoleon had cause to regret the absence of a
lieutenant equally remarkable for his acuteness of perception and
doggedness of purpose, for a good fortune that rarely failed, and a
devotion that never faltered. Doubtless it was this last priceless
quality, as well as his organizing gifts, that marked him out as the
ideal Minister of War and Governor of Paris. Besides him he left a
Council charged with the government during his absence, composed of
Princes Joseph and Lucien and the Ministers.

But, though the French army of 1815 lacked some of the names far famed
in story, numbers of zealous and able officers were ready to take
their place. The first and second corps were respectively assigned to
Drouet, Count d'Erlon, and Reille, the former of whom was the son of
the postmaster of Varennes, who stopped Louis XVI.'s flight. Vandamme
commanded the third corps; Gérard, the fourth; Rapp, the fifth; while
the sixth fell to Mouton, better known as Count Lobau. Rapp's corps
was charged with the defence of Alsace; other forces, led by Brune,
Decaen, and Clausel, protected the southern borders, while Suchet
guarded the Alps; but the rest of these corps were gradually drawn
together towards the north of France, and the addition of the Guard,
20,800 strong, brought the total of this army to 125,000 men.

There was one post which the Emperor found it most difficult to fill,
that of Chief of the Staff. There the loss of Berthier was
irreparable. While lacking powers of initiative, he had the faculty of
lucidly and quickly drafting Napoleon's orders, which insures the
smooth working of the military machine. Who should succeed this
skilful and methodical officer? After long hesitation Napoleon chose
Soult. In a military sense the choice was excellent. The Duke of
Dalmatia had a glorious military record; in his nature activity was
blended with caution, ardour with method; but he had little experience
of the special duties now required of him; and his orders were neither
drafted so clearly nor transmitted so promptly as those of Berthier.

The concentration of this great force proceeded with surprising
swiftness; and, in order to lull his foes into confidence, the Emperor
delayed his departure from Paris to the last moment possible. As dawn
was flushing the eastern sky, on June 12th, he left his couch, after
four hours' sleep, entered his landau, and speedily left his
slumbering capital behind. In twelve hours he was at Laon. There he
found that Grouchy's four cavalry brigades were not sharing in the
general advance owing to Soult's neglect to send the necessary orders.
The horsemen were at once hurried on, several regiments covering
twenty leagues at a stretch and exhausting their steeds. On the 14th
the army was well in hand around Beaumont, within striking distance of
the Prussian vanguard, from which it was separated by a screen of
dense woods. There the Emperor mounted his charger and rode along the
ranks, raising such a storm of cheers that he vainly called out: "Not
so loud, my children, the enemy will hear you." There, too, on this
anniversary of Marengo and Friedland, he inspired his men by a
stirring appeal on behalf of the independence of Poles, Italians, the
smaller German States, and, above all, of France herself. "For every
Frenchman of spirit the time has come to conquer or die."

What, meanwhile, was the position of the allies? An Austro-Sardinian
force threatened the south-east of France. Mighty armies of 170,000
Russians and 250,000 Austrians were rolling slowly on towards Lorraine
and Alsace respectively; 120,000 Prussians, under Blücher, were
cantoned between Liège and Charleroi; while Wellington's composite
array of British, German, and Dutch-Belgian troops, about 100,000
strong, lay between Brussels and Mons.[473] The original plan of these
two famous leaders was to push on rapidly into France; but the
cautious influences of the Military Council sitting at Vienna
prevailed, and it was finally decided not to open the campaign until
the Austrians and Russians should approach the frontiers of France.
Even as late as June 15th we find Wellington writing to the Czar in
terms that assume a co-operation of all the allies in simultaneous
moves towards Paris--movements which Schwarzenberg had led him to
expect _would begin about the 20th of June_.[474]

From this prolonged and methodical warfare Europe was saved by
Napoleon's vigorous offensive. His political instincts impelled him to
strike at Brussels, where he hoped that the populace would declare for
union with France and severance from the detested Dutch. In this war
he must not only conquer armies, he must win over public opinion; and
how could he gain it so well as in the guise of a popular liberator?

But there were other advantages to be gained in Belgium. By flinging
himself on Wellington and the Prussians, and driving them asunder, he
would compel Louis XVIII. to another undignified flight; and he would
disorganize the best prepared armies of his foes, and gain the
material resources of the Low Countries. He seems even to have
cherished the hope that a victory over Wellington would dispirit the
British Government, unseat the Ministry, and install in power the
peace-loving Whigs.

And this victory was almost within his grasp. While his host drew near
to the Prussian outposts south of Charleroi and Thuin, the allies were
still spread out in cantonments that extended over one hundred miles,
namely, from Liège on Blücher's left to Audenarde on Wellington's
right. This wide dispersion of troops, when an enterprising foe was
known to be almost within striking distance, has been generally
condemned. Thus General Kennedy, in his admirable description of
Waterloo, admits that there was an "absurd extension" of the
cantonments. Wellington, however, was bound to wait and to watch the
three good high-roads, by any one of which Napoleon might advance,
namely, those of Tournay, Mons, and Charleroi. The Duke had other
causes for extending his lines far to the west: he desired to cover
the roads from Ostend, whence he was expecting reinforcements, and to
stretch a protecting wing over the King of France at Ghent.

There are many proofs, however, that Wellington was surprised by
Napoleon. The narratives of Sir Hussey Vivian and Captain Mercer show
that the final orders for our advance were carried out with a haste
and flurry that would not have happened if the army had been well in
hand, or if Wellington had been fully informed of Napoleon's latest
moves.[475] There is a wild story that the Duke was duped by Fouché,
on whom he was relying for news from Paris. But it seems far more
likely that he was misled by the tidings sent to Louis XVIII. at Ghent
by zealous royalists in France, the general purport of which was that
Napoleon _would wage a defensive campaign_.[476] On the 13th June,
Wellington wrote: "I have accounts  from Paris of the 10th, on which
day he [Bonaparte] was still there; and I judge from his speech to
the Legislature that his departure was not likely to be immediate.
I think we are now too strong for him here." And, in later years, he
told Earl Stanhope that Napoleon "was certainly wrong in attacking
at all"; for the allied armies must soon have been in great straits
for want of food if they had advanced into France, exhausted as she
was by the campaign of 1814. "But," he added, "the fact is,
Bonaparte never in his life had patience for a defensive war."

[Illustration: PLAN OF THE WATERLOO
CAMPAIGN]

The Duke's forces would, at the outset of the campaign, have been in
less danger, if the leaders at the Prussian outposts, Pirch II. and
Dörnberg of the King's German Legion, had warned him of the enemy's
massing near the Sambre early on the 15th. By some mischance this was
not done; and our leader only heard from Hardinge, at the Prussian
headquarters, that the enemy seemed about to begin the offensive. He
therefore waited for more definite news before concentrating upon any
one line.

About 6 p.m. on the 15th he ordered his divisions and brigades to
concentrate at Vilvorde, Brussels, Ninove, Grammont, Ath,
Braine-le-Comte, Hal, and Nivelles--the first four of which were
somewhat remote, while the others were chosen with a view to defending
the roads leading northwards from Mons. Not a single British brigade
was posted on the Waterloo-Charleroi road, which was at that time
guarded only by a Dutch-Belgian division, a fact which supports Mr.
Ropes's contention that no definite plan of co-operation had been
formed by the allied leaders. Or, if there was one, the Duke certainly
refused to act upon it until he had satisfied himself that the chief
attack was not by way of Mons or Ath. More definite news reached
Brussels near midnight of the 15th, whereupon he gave a general left
turn to his advance, namely, _towards Nivelles_.

Clausewitz maintains that he should already have removed his
headquarters to Nivelles; had he done so and hurried up all available
troops towards the Soignies-Quatre Bras line, his Waterloo fame would
certainly have gained in solidity. A dash of romance was added by his
attending the Duchess of Richmond's ball at Brussels on the night of
the 15th-16th; lovers of the picturesque will always linger over the
scene that followed with its "hurrying to and fro and tremblings of
distress"; but the more prosaic inquirer may doubt whether Wellington
should not then have been more to the front, feeling every throb of
Bellona's pulse.[477]

Blücher's army, comprising 90,000 men, also covered a great stretch of
country. The first corps, that of Ziethen, held the bridges of the
Sambre at and near Charleroi; but the corps of Pirch I. and Thielmann
were at Namur and Ciney; while, owing to a lack of stringency in the
orders sent by Gneisenau, chief of the staff, to Bülow, his corps of
32,000 men was still at Liège. Early on the 15th, Pirch I. and
Thielmann began hastily to advance towards Sombref; and Ziethen, with
32,000 men, prepared to hold the line of the Sambre as long as
possible. His chief of staff, General Reiche, states that one-third of
the Prussians were new troops, drafted in from the Landwehr; but all
the corps gloried in their veteran Field-Marshal, and were eager to
fight.

Such, then, was the general position. Wellington was unaware of his
danger; Blücher was straining every nerve to get his army together;
while 32,000 Prussians were exposed to the attack of nearly four times
their number. It is clear that, had all gone well with the French
advance, the fortunes of Wellington and Blücher must have been
desperate. But, though the concentration of 125,000 French troops near
Beaumont and Maubeuge had been effected with masterly skill (except
that Gérard's and D'Erlon's corps were late), the final moves did not
work quite smoothly. An accident to the officer who was to order
Vandamme's corps to march at 2 a.m. on the 15th caused a long delay to
that eager fighter.[478] The 4th corps, that of Gérard, was also
disturbed and delayed by an untoward event. General Bourmont, whose
old Vendéan opinions seemed to have melted away completely before the
sun of Napoleon's glory, rewarded his master by deserting with several
officers to the Prussians, very early on that morning. The incident
was really of far less importance than is assigned to it in the St.
Helena Memoirs, which falsely ascribe it to the 14th: the Prussians
were already on the _qui vive_ before Bourmont's desertion; but it
clogged the advance of Gérard's corps and fostered distrust among the
rank and file. When, on the morrow, Gérard rejoined his chief at the
mill of Fleurus, the latter reminded him that he had answered for
Bourmont's fidelity with his own head; and, on the general protesting
that he had seen Bourmont fight with the utmost devotion, Napoleon
replied: "Bah! A man who has been a white will never become a blue:
and a blue will never be a white." Significant words, that show the
Emperor's belief in the ineradicable strength of instinct and early
training.[479]

Despite these two mishaps, the French on the morning of the 15th
succeeded in driving Ziethen's men from the banks of the Sambre about
Thuin, while Napoleon in person broke through their line at Charleroi.
After suffering rather severely, the defenders fell back on Gilly,
whither Napoleon and his main force followed them; while the left wing
of the French advance, now intrusted to Ney, was swung forward against
the all-important position of Quatre Bras.

We here approach one of the knotty questions of the campaign. Why did
not Ney occupy the cross-roads in force on the evening of the 15th? We
may note first that not till the 11th had Napoleon thought fit to
summon Ney to the army, so that the Marshal did not come up till the
afternoon of this very day. He at once had an interview with the
Emperor, who, according to General Gourgaud, gave the Marshal verbal
orders to take command of the corps of Reille and D'Erlon, to push on
northwards, take up a position at Quatre Bras, and throw out advanced
posts beyond on the Brussels and Namur roads; but it seems unlikely
that the Emperor would have given one of the most venturesome of his
Marshals an absolute order to push on so far in advance, unless the
French right wing had driven the Prussians back beyond the Sombref
position. Otherwise, Ney would have been dangerously far in advance of
the main body and exposed to blows either from the Prussians or the
British.

However this may be, Ney certainly felt insecure, and did not push on
with his wonted dash; while, fortunately for the allies, an officer
was at hand Prince Bernard of Saxe-Weimar, who saw the need of holding
Quatre Bras at all costs.[480] The young leader imposed on the foe by
making the most of his men--they were but 4,500 all told, and had only
ten bullets apiece--and he succeeded. For once, Ney was prudent to a
fault, and did not push home the attack. In his excuse it may be said
that the men of Reille's corps, on whom he had to rely--for D'Erlon's
corps was still far to the rear--had been marching and fighting ever
since dawn, and were too weary for another battle. Moreover, the roar
of cannon on the south-east warned him that the right wing of the
French advance was hotly engaged between Gilly and Fleurus; until it
beat back the Prussians, his own position was dangerously "in the
air"; and, as but two hours of daylight remained, he drew back on
Frasnes. He is also said to have sent word to the Emperor that "he was
occupying Quatre Bras by an advanced guard, and that his main body was
close behind." If he deceived his chief by any such report, he
deserves the severest censure; but the words quoted above were written
later at St. Helena by General Gourgaud, when Ney had come to figure
as the scapegoat of the campaign.[481] Ney sent in a report on that
evening; but it has been lost.[482] Judging from the orders issued by
Napoleon and Soult early on the 16th, there was much uncertainty as to
Ney's position. The Emperor's letter bids him post his first division
"two leagues in front of les Quatres Chemins"; but Soult's letter to
Grouchy states that Ney is ordered _to advance to the cross-roads_.
Confusion was to be expected from the circumstances of the case. Ney
did not know his staff-officers, and he hastily took command of the
left wing when in the midst of operations whose success, as Janin
points out, largely depended on that of the right. He therefore played
a cautious game, when, as we now know, caution meant failure and
daring spelt safety.

Meanwhile the French right wing, of which Grouchy had received the
command, though Napoleon in person was its moving force, had been
pressing the Prussians hard near Gilly. Yet here, too, the assailants
were weakened by the absence of the corps of Vandamme and Gérard.
Irritated by Ziethen's skilful withdrawal, the Emperor at last
launched his cavalry at the Prussian rear battalions, four of which
were severely handled before they reached the covert of a wood. With
the loss, on the whole, of nearly 2,000 men, the Prussians fell back
towards Ligny, while Grouchy's vanguard bivouacked near the village of
Fleurus.

Napoleon might well be satisfied with the work done on June 15th: he
rode back to his headquarters at Charleroi, "exhausted with fatigue,"
after spending wellnigh eighteen hours in the saddle, but confident
that he had sundered the allies. This was certainly his aim now, as it
had been in the campaign of 1796. After two decisive blows at their
points of connection, he purposed driving them on divergent lines of
retreat, just as he had driven the Austrians and Sardinians down the
roads that bifurcate near Montenotte. True, there were in Belgium no
mountain spurs to prevent their reunion; but the roads on which they
were operating were far more widely divergent.[483] He also thought
lightly of Wellington and Blücher. The former he had pronounced
"incapable and unwise"; as for Blücher, he told Campbell at Elba that
he was "no general"; but that he admired the pluck with which "the old
devil" came on again after a thrashing.

Unclouded confidence is seen in every phrase of the letters that he
penned at Charleroi early on the 16th. He informs Ney that he intends
soon to attack the Prussians at Sombref, _if he finds them there_, to
clear the road as far as Gembloux, and then to decide on his further
actions as the case demands. Meanwhile Ney is to sweep the road in
front of Quatre Bras, placing his first division two leagues beyond
that position, if it seemed desirable, with a view to marching on
Brussels during the night with his whole force of about 50,000 men.
The Guard is to be kept in reserve as much as possible, so as to
support either Napoleon on the Gembloux road, or Ney on the Brussels
road; and "if any skirmish takes place with the English, it is
preferable that the work should fall on the Line rather than on the
Guard." As for the Prussian resistance, Napoleon rated it almost as
lightly as that of the English; for he regards it as probable that he
will in the evening _march on Brussels with his Guard_.

While he pictured his enemies hopelessly scattered or in retreat, they
were beginning to muster at the very points which he believed to be
within his grasp. At 11 a.m. only Ziethen's corps, now but 28,000
strong, was in position at Sombref, but the corps of Pirch I. and
Thielmann came up shortly after midday. Had Napoleon pushed on early
on the 16th, he must easily have gained the Ligny-Sombref position.
What, then, caused the delay in the French attack? It can be traced to
the slowness of Gérard's advance, to the Emperor's misconception of
the situation, and to his despatch to Grouchy.

[Illustration: BATTLE OF LIGNY.]

In this he reckoned the Prussians at
40,000 men, and ordered Grouchy to repair with the French right wing
to Sombref.

    " ... I shall be at Fleurus between 10 and 11 a.m.: I shall
    proceed to Sombref, leaving my Guard, both infantry and cavalry,
    at Fleurus: I would not take it to Sombref, unless it should be
    necessary. If the enemy is at Sombref, I mean to attack him: I
    mean to attack him even at Gembloux, and to gain this position
    also, my aim being, after having known about these two positions,
    to set out to-night, and to operate with my left wing, under the
    command of Marshal Ney, against the English."

The Emperor did not reach Fleurus until close on 11 a.m., and was
undoubtedly taken aback to find Grouchy still there, held in check by
the enemy strongly posted around Ligny. Grouchy has been blamed for
not having already attacked them; but surely his orders bound him to
wait for the Emperor before giving battle: besides, the corps of
Gérard, which had been assigned to him was still far away in the rear
towards Châtelet.[484] The absence of Gérard, and the uncertainty as
to the enemy's aims, annoyed the Emperor. He mounted the windmill
situated on the outskirts of Fleurus to survey the enemy's position.

It was a fair scene that lay before him. Straight in front ran the
high-road which joined the Namur-Nivelles _chaussée_, some six miles
away to the north-east. On either side stretched cornfields, whose
richness bore witness alike to the toils and the warlike passions of
mankind. Further ahead might be seen the dark lines of the enemy
ranged along slopes that formed an irregular amphitheatre, dotted with
the villages of Bry and Sombref. In the middle distance, from out a
hollow that lay concealed, rose the steeples and a few of the higher
roofs of Ligny. Further to the left and on higher ground lay St.
Amand, with its outlying hamlets. All was bathed in the shimmering,
sultry heat of midsummer, the harbinger, as it proved, of a violent
thunderstorm. The Prussian position was really stronger than it
seemed. Napoleon could not fully see either the osier beds that
fringed the Ligny brook, or its steep banks, or the many strong
buildings of Ligny itself. He saw the Prussians on the slope behind
the village, and was at first puzzled by their exposed position. "The
old fox keeps to earth," he was heard to mutter. And so he waited
until matters should clear up, and Gérard's arrival should give him
strength to compass Blücher's utter overthrow while in the act of
stretching a feeler towards Wellington. From the time when the Emperor
came on the scene to the first swell of the battle's roar, there was a
space of more than four hours.

This delay was doubly precious to the allies. It gave Blücher time to
bring up the corps of Pirch I. and Thielmann under cover of the high
ground near Sombref, thereby raising his total force to about 87,000
men; and it enabled the two allied commanders to meet and hastily
confer on the situation. Wellington had left Brussels that morning at
8 o'clock, and thanks to Ney's inaction, was able to reach the crest
south of Quatre Bras a little after 10, long before the enemy showed
any signs of life. There he penned a note to Blücher, asking for news
from him before deciding on his operations for the day.[485] He then
galloped over to the windmill of Bussy to meet Blücher.

It was an anxious meeting; the heads of the advancing French columns
were already in sight; and the Duke saw with dismay the position of
the Prussians on a slope that must expose them to the full force of
Napoleon's cannon--or, as he whispered to Hardinge, "they will be
damnably mauled if they fight here."[486] In more decorous terms, but
to the same effect, he warned Gneisenau, and said nothing to encourage
him to hold fast to his position. Neither did he lead him to expect
aid from Quatre Bras. The utmost that Gneisenau could get from him was
the promise, "Well! I will come provided I am not attacked myself."
Did these words induce the Prussians to accept battle at Ligny? It is
impossible to think so. Everything tends to show that Blücher had
determined to fight there. The risk was great; for, as we learn from
General Reiche, the position was seen to admit of no vigorous
offensive blows against the French. But fortune smiled on the veteran
Field-Marshal, and averted what might have been an irretrievable
disaster.[487]

It would seem that the inequalities of the ground hid the strength of
Pirch I. and Thielmann; for Napoleon still believed that he had ranged
against him at Ligny only a single corps. At 2 p.m. Soult informed Ney
that the enemy had united a _corps_ between Sombref and Bry, and that
in half an hour Grouchy would attack it. Ney was therefore to beat
back the foes at Quatre-Bras, and then turn to envelop the Prussians.
_But if these were driven in first, the Emperor would move towards Ney
to hasten his operations_.[488] Not until the battle was about to
begin does the Emperor seem to have realized that he was in presence
of superior forces.[489] But after 2 p.m. their masses drew down over
the slopes of Bry and Sombref, their foremost troops held the villages
of Ligny and St. Amand, while their left crowned the ridge of
Tongrines. Napoleon reformed his lines, which had hitherto been at
right angles to the main road through Fleurus. Vandamme's corps moved
off towards St. Amand; and Gérard, after ranging his corps parallel to
that road, began to descend towards Ligny, Grouchy meanwhile
marshalling the cavalry to protect their flank and rear. Behind all
stood the imposing mass of the Imperial Guard on the rising ground
near Fleurus.

The fiercest shock of battle fell upon the corps of Vandamme and
Gérard. Three times were Gérard's men driven back by the volleys of
the Prussians holding Ligny. But the French cannon open fire with
terrific effect. Roofs crumble away, and buildings burst into flame.
Once more the French rush to the onset, and a furious hand-to-hand
scuffle ensues. Half stifled by heat, smoke, and dust, the rival
nations fight on, until the defenders give way and fall back on the
further part of the village behind the brook; but, when reinforced,
they rally as fiercely as ever, and drive the French over its banks;
lane, garden, and attic once more become the scene of struggles where
no man thinks of giving or taking quarter.

Higher up the stream, at St. Amand, Vandamme's troops fared no better;
for Blücher steadily fed that part of his array. In so doing, however,
he weakened his reserves behind Ligny, thereby unwittingly favouring
Napoleon's design of breaking the Prussian centre, and placing its
wreckage and the whole of their right wing between two fires. The
Emperor expected that, by 6 o'clock, Ney would have driven back the
Anglo-Dutch forces, and would be ready to envelop the Prussian right.
That was the purport of Soult's despatch of 3.15 p.m. to Ney: "This
army [the Prussian] is lost, if you act with vigour. The fate of
France is in your hands."

But at 5.30, when part of the Imperial Guard was about to strengthen
Gérard for the decisive blow at the Prussian centre, Vandamme sent
word that a hostile force of some twenty or thirty thousand men was
marching towards Fleurus. This strange apparition not only unsteadied
the French left: it greatly perplexed the Emperor. As he had ordered
first Ney and then D'Erlon to march, not on Fleurus, but against the
rear of the Prussian right wing, he seems to have concluded that this
new force must be that of Wellington about to deal the like deadly
blow against the French rear.[490] Accordingly he checked the advance
of the Guard until the riddle could be solved. After the loss of
nearly two hours it was solved by an aide-de-camp, who found that the
force was D'Erlon's, and that it had retired.

Meanwhile the battle had raged with scarcely a pause, the French guns
working frightful havoc among the dense masses on the opposite slope.
And yet, by withdrawing troops to his right, Blücher had for a time
overborne Vandamme's corps and part of the Young Guard, unconscious
that his insistence on this side jeopardized the whole Prussian army.
His great adversary had long marked the immense extension of its
concave front, the massing of its troops against St. Amand, and the
remoteness of its left wing, which Grouchy's horsemen still held in
check; and he now planned that, while Blücher assailed St. Amand and
its hamlets, the Imperial Guard should crush the Prussian centre at
Ligny, thrust its fragments back towards St. Amand, and finally shiver
the greater part of the Prussian army on the anvil which D'Erlon's
corps would provide further to the west. He now felt assured of
victory; for the corps of Lobau was nearing Fleurus to take the place
of the Imperial Guard; and the Prussians had no supports. "They have
no reserve," he remarked, as he swept the hostile position with his
glass. This was true: their centre consisted of troops that for four
hours had been either torn by artillery or exhausted by the fiendish
strife in Ligny.

And now, as if the pent-up powers of Nature sought to cow rebellious
man into awe and penitence, the artillery of the sky pealed forth.
Crash after crash shook the ground; flash upon flash rent the
sulphur-laden rack; darkness as of night stole over the scene; and a
deluge of rain washed the blood-stained earth. The storm served but to
aid the assailants in their last and fiercest efforts. Amidst the
gloom the columns of the Imperial Guard crept swiftly down the slope
towards Ligny, gave new strength to Gérard's men, and together with
them broke through the defence. A little higher up the stream,
Milhaud's cuirassiers struggled across, and, animated by the Emperor's
presence, poured upon the shattered Prussian centre. No timely help
could it now receive either from Blücher or Thielmann; for the
darkness of the storm had shrouded from view the beginnings of the
onset, and Thielmann had just suffered from a heedless assault on
Grouchy's wing.

As the thunder-clouds rolled by, the gleams of the setting sun lit up
the field and revealed to Blücher the full extent of his error.[491]
His army was cut in twain. In vain did he call in his troops from St.
Amand: in vain did he gallop back to his squadrons between Bry and
Sombref and lead them forward. Their dashing charge was suddenly
checked at the brink of a hollow way; steady volleys tore away their
front; and the cuirassiers completed their discomfiture. Blücher's
charger was struck by a bullet, and in his fall badly bruised the
Field-Marshal; but his trusty adjutant, Nostitz, managed to hide him
in the twilight, while the cuirassiers swept onwards up the hill.
Other Prussian squadrons, struggling to save the day, now charged home
and drove back the steel-clad ranks. Some Uhlans and mounted Landwehr
reached the place where the hero lay; and Nostitz was able to save
that precious life. Sorely battered, but still defiant like their
chief, the Prussian cavalry covered the retreat at the centre; the
wings fell back in good order, the right holding on to the village of
Bry till past midnight; but several battalions of disaffected troops
broke up and did not rejoin their comrades. About 14,000 Prussians and
11,000 French lay dead or wounded on that fatal field.[492]

Napoleon, as he rode back to Fleurus after nightfall, could claim that
he had won a great victory. Yet he had not achieved the results
portrayed in Soult's despatch of 3.15 to Ney. This was due partly to
Ney's failure to fulfil his part of the programme, and partly to the
apparition of D'Erlon's corps, which led to the postponement of
Napoleon's grand attack on Ligny.

The mystery as to the movements of D'Erlon and his 20,000 men has
never been fully cleared up. The evidence collected by Houssaye leaves
little doubt that, as soon as the Emperor realized the serious nature
of the conflict at Ligny, he sent orders to D'Erlon, whose vanguard
was then near Frasnes, to diverge and attack Blücher's exposed flank.
That is to say, D'Erlon was now called on to deal the decisive blow
which had before been assigned to Ney, who was now warned, though very
tardily, not to rely on the help of D'Erlon's corps. Misunderstanding
his order, D'Erlon made for Fleurus, and thus alarmed Napoleon and
delayed his final blow for wellnigh two hours. Moreover, at 6 p.m.,
when D'Erlon might have assailed Blücher's right with crushing effect,
he received an urgent command from Ney to return. Assuredly he should
not have hesitated now that St. Amand was almost within cannon-shot,
while Quatre Bras could scarcely be reached before nightfall; but he
was under Ney's command; and, taking a rather pedantic view of the
situation, he obeyed his immediate superior. Lastly, no one has
explained why the Emperor, as soon as he knew the errant corps to be
that of D'Erlon, did not recall him at once, bidding him fall on the
exposed wing of the Prussians. Doubtless he assumed that D'Erlon would
now fulfil his instructions and march against Bry; but he gave no
order to this effect, and the unlucky corps vanished.

At that time a desperate conflict was drawing to a close at Quatre
Bras. Ney had delayed his attack until 2 p.m.; for, firstly, Reille's
corps alone was at hand--D'Erlon's rearguard early on that morning
being still near Thuin--and, secondly, the Marshal heard at 10 a.m.
that Prussian columns were marching westwards from Sombref, a move
that would endanger his rear behind Frasnes. Furthermore, the approach
to Quatre Bras was flanked by the extensive Bossu Wood, and by a
spinney to the right of the highway. Reille therefore counselled
caution, lest the affair should prove to be "a Spanish battle where
the English show themselves only when it is time." When, however,
Reille's corps pushed home the attack, the weakness of the defence was
speedily revealed. After a stout stand, the 7,000 Dutch-Belgians under
the Prince of Orange were driven from the farm of Gémioncourt, which
formed the key of the position, and many of them fled from the field.

But at this crisis the Iron Duke himself rode up; and the arrival of a
Dutch-Belgian brigade and of Picton's division of British infantry,
about 3 p.m., sufficed to snatch victory from the Marshal's
grasp.[493] He now opened a destructive artillery fire on our front,
to which the weak Dutch-Belgian batteries could but feebly reply.
Nothing, however, could daunt the hardihood of Picton's men. Shaking
off the fatigue of a twelve hours' march from Brussels under a burning
sun, they steadily moved down through the tall crops of rye towards
the farm and beat off a fierce attack of Piré's horsemen. On the
allied left, the 95th Rifles (now the Rifle Brigade) and Brunswickers
kept a clutch on the Namur road which nothing could loosen. But our
danger was mainly at the centre. Under cover of the farmhouse, French
columns began to drive in our infantry, whose ammunition was already
running low. Wellington determined to crush this onset by a
counter-attack in line of Picton's division, the "fighting division"
of the Peninsula. With threatening shouts they advanced to the charge;
and before that moving wall the foe fell back in confusion beyond the
rivulet.

Still, the French drove back the Dutch in the wood, and the
Brunswickers on its eastern fringe, killing the brave young Duke of
Brunswick as he attempted to rally his raw recruits. Into the gap thus
left the French horsemen pushed forward, making little impression upon
our footmen, but compelling them to keep in a close formation, which
exposed them in the intervals between the charges to heavy losses from
the French cannon.

So the afternoon wore on. Between 5 and 6 o'clock our weary troops
were reinforced by Alten's division. A little later, a brigade of
Kellermann's heavy cavalry came up from the rear and renewed Ney's
striking power--but again too late. Already he was maddened by the
tidings that D'Erlon's corps had been ordered off towards Ligny, and
next by Napoleon's urgent despatch of 3.15 p.m. bidding him envelop
Blücher's right. Blind with indignation at this seeming injustice, he
at once sent an imperative summons to D'Erlon to return towards Quatre
Bras, and launched a brigade of Kellermann's cuirassiers at those
stubborn squares.

The attack nearly succeeded. The horsemen rushed upon our 69th
Regiment just when the Prince of Orange had foolishly ordered it back
into line, caught it in confusion, and cut it up badly. Another
regiment, the 33rd, fled into the wood, but afterwards re-formed; the
other squares beat off the onset. The torrent, however, only swerved
aside: on it rushed almost to the cross-roads, there to be stopped by
a flanking fire from the wood and from the 92nd (Gordon) Highlanders
lining the roadway in front.--"Ninety-second, don't fire till I tell
you," exclaimed the Duke. The volley rang out when the horsemen were
but thirty paces off. The effect was magical. Their front was torn
asunder, and the survivors made off in a panic that spread to Foy's
battalions of foot and disordered the whole array.[494]

Ney still persisted in his isolated assaults; but reinforcements were
now at hand that brought up Wellington's total to 31,000 men, while
the French were less than 21,000. At nightfall the Marshal drew back
to Frasnes; and there D'Erlon's errant corps at last appeared. Thanks
to conflicting orders, it had oscillated between two battles and taken
part in neither of them.

Such was the bloody fight of Quatre Bras. It cost Wellington 4,600
killed and wounded, mainly from the flower of the British infantry,
three Highland regiments losing as many as 878 men. The French losses
were somewhat lighter. Few conflicts better deserve the name of
soldiers' battles. On neither side was the generalship brilliant.
Twilight set in before an adequate force of British cavalry and
artillery approached the field where their comrades on foot had for
five hours held up in unequal contest against cannon, sabre, and
lance. The victory was due to the strange power of the British soldier
to save the situation when it seems past hope.

Still less did it redound to the glory of Ney. Once more he had
merited the name of bravest of the brave. At the crisis of the fight,
when the red squares in front defied his utmost efforts, he brandished
his sword in helpless wrath, praying that the bullets that flew by
might strike him down. The rage of battle had, in fact, partly
obscured his reason. He was now a fighter, scarcely a commander; and
to this cause we may attribute his neglect adequately to support
Kellermann's charge. Had this been done, Quatre Bras might have ended
like Marengo. Far more serious, however, was his action in
countermanding the Emperor's orders' by recalling D'Erlon to Quatre
Bras; for, as we have seen, it robbed his master of the decisive
victory that he had the right to expect at Ligny. Yet this error must
not be unduly magnified. It is true that Napoleon at 3.15 sent a
despatch to Ney bidding him envelop Blücher's flank; but the order did
not reach him until some time after 5, when the allies were pressing
him hard, and when he had just heard of D'Erlon's deflection towards
the Emperor's battle.[495] He must have seen that his master misjudged
the situation at Quatre Bras; and in such circumstances a Marshal of
France was not without excuse when he corrected an order which he saw
to be based on a misunderstanding. Some part of the blame must surely
attach to the slow-paced D'Erlon and to the Emperor himself, who first
underrated the difficulties both at Ligny and Quatre Bras, and then
changed his plans when Ney was in the midst of a furious fight.

Nevertheless, the general results obtained on June the 16th were
enormously in favour of Napoleon. He had inflicted losses on the
Prussians comparable with those of Jena-Auerstädt; and he retired to
rest at Fleurus with the conviction that they must hastily fall back
on their immediate bases of supply, Namur and Liège, leaving
Wellington at his mercy. The rules of war and the dictates of humdrum
prudence certainly prescribed this course for a beaten army,
especially as Bülow's corps was known to be on the Liège road.

Scarcely had the Prussian retreat begun in the darkness, when officers
pressed up to Gneisenau, on whom now devolved all responsibility, for
instructions as to the line of march. At once he gave the order to
push northwards to Tilly. General Reiche thereupon pointed out that
this village was not marked upon the smaller maps with which colonels
were provided; whereupon the command was given to march towards the
town of Wavre, farther distant on the same road. An officer was posted
at the junction of roads to prevent regiments straying towards Namur;
but some had already gone too far on this side to be recalled--a fact
which was to confuse the French pursuers on the morrow. The greater
part of Thielmann's corps had fallen back on Gembloux; but, with these
exceptions, the mass of the Prussians made for Tilly, near which place
they bivouacked. Early on the next morning their rearguard drew off
from Sombref; and, thanks to the inertness of their foes, the line of
retreat remained unknown. During the march to Wavre, their columns
were cheered by the sight of the dauntless old Field-Marshal, who was
able to sit a horse once more. Thielmann's corps did not leave
Gembloux till 2 p.m., but reached Wavre in safety. Meanwhile Bülow's
powerful corps was marching unmolested from the Roman road near Hannut
to a position two miles east of Wavre, where it arrived at nightfall.
Equally fortunate was the reserve ammunition train, which, unnoticed
by the French cavalry, wound northwards by cross-roads through
Gembloux, and reached the army by 5 p.m.[496]

In his "Commentaries," written at St. Helena, Napoleon sharply
criticised the action of Gneisenau in retreating northwards to Wavre,
because that town is farther distant from Wellington's line of retreat
than Sombref is from Quatre Bras, and is connected with it only by
difficult cross-roads. He even asserted that the Prussians ought to
have made for Quatre Bras, a statement which presumes that Gneisenau
could have rallied his army sufficiently after Ligny to file away on
the Quatre Bras _chaussée_ in front of Napoleon's victorious legions.
But the Prussian army was virtually cut in half, and could not have
reunited so as to attempt the perilous flank march across Napoleon's
front. We shall, therefore, probably not be far wrong if we say of
this criticism that the wish was father to the thought. A march on
Quatre Bras would have been a safe means of throwing away the Prussian
army.[497]

To the present writer it seems probable that Gneisenau's action, in
the first instance, was undertaken as the readiest means of reuniting
the Prussian wings. But Gneisenau cannot have been blind to the
advantages of a reunion with Wellington, which a northerly march would
open out. The report which he sent to his Sovereign from Wavre shows
that by that time he believed the Prussian position to be "not
disadvantageous"; while in a private letter written at noon on the
17th he expressly states that the Duke will accept battle at Waterloo
if the Prussians help him with two army corps. Gneisenau's only doubts
seem to have been whether Wellington would fight and whether his own
ammunition would be to hand in time. Until he was sure on these two
points caution was certainly necessary.

The results of this prompt rally of the Prussians were infinitely
enhanced by the fact that Wellington soon found it out, while Napoleon
did not grasp its full import until he was in the thick of the battle
of Waterloo. To the final steps that led up to this dramatic finale we
must now briefly refer.

It is strange that Gneisenau, on the night of the 16th, took no steps
to warn his allies of the Prussian retreat, and merely left them to
infer it from his last message, that he must do so if he were not
succoured. Müffling, indeed, says that a Prussian officer was sent,
but was shot by the French on the British left wing. Seeing, however,
that Wellington had beaten back Ney's forces before the Prussian
retreat began, the story may be dismissed as a lame excuse of
Gneisenau's neglect.[498]

From the risk of being crushed by Napoleon, the Anglo-Dutch forces
were saved by the vigilance of their leader and the supineness of the
enemy. After a brief rest at Genappe, the Duke was back at the front
at dawn, and despatched two cavalry patrols towards Sombref to find
out the results of the battle. The patrol, which was accompanied by
the Duke's aide-de-camp, Colonel Gordon, came into touch with the
Prussian rear. On his return soon after 10, the staff-officer, Basil
Jackson, was at once sent to bid Picton immediately prepare to fall
back on Waterloo, an order which that veteran received very
sulkily.[499] Shortly after Gordon's return, a Prussian orderly
galloped up and confirmed the news of their retreat, which drew from
the Duke the remark: "Blücher has had a d---- d good licking and gone
back to Wavre.... As he has gone back, we must go too." The infantry
now began to file off by degrees behind hedges or under cover of a
screen of cavalry and skirmishers, these keeping Ney's men busy in
front, until the bulk of the army was well through the narrow and
crowded street of Genappe.

And how came it that Napoleon and Ney missed this golden opportunity?
In the first case, it was due to their chiefs of staff, who had not
sent overnight any tidings as to the results of their respective
battles. Until Count Flahaut returned to the Imperial headquarters
about 8 a.m., Napoleon knew nothing as to the position of affairs at
Quatre Bras; while a similar carelessness on Soult's part left Ney
powerless to attempt anything against Wellington until somewhat later
in the morning.

But Napoleon's inaction lasted nearly up to 11.30. How is this to be
accounted for? In reply, some attribute his conduct to illness of body
and torpor of mind--a topic that will engage our attention presently;
others assert that the army urgently needed rest; but the effective
cause was his belief that the Prussians were retreating eastwards away
from Wellington. This was the universal belief at headquarters. He had
ordered Grouchy to follow them at dawn; Grouchy's lieutenant, Pajol,
struck to the south-east, and by 4 a.m. reported that Blücher was
heading for Namur. Such was the news that the Emperor heard from
Grouchy about 8 a.m.--he refused to grant him an audience earlier.
Forthwith he dictated a letter to Ney to the following effect: that
the Prussians had been routed and were being pursued towards Namur;
that the British could not attack him (Ney) at Quatre Bras, for the
Emperor would in that case march on their flank and destroy them in an
instant; that he heard with pain how isolated Ney's troops had been on
the 16th, and ordered him to close up his divisions and occupy Quatre
Bras. If he could not effect that task, he must warn the Emperor, who
would then come. Finally, he warned him that "the present day is
needed to finish this operation, to complete the munitions of war, to
rally stragglers and call in detachments."

A singular day's programme this for the man who had trebled the
results of the victory of Jena by the remorseless energy of the
pursuit. After dictating this despatch, he ordered Lobau to take a
division of infantry for the support of Pajol on the Namur road. He
then set out for St. Amand in his carriage. On arriving at the place
of carnage he mounted his horse and rode slowly over the battle-field,
seeing to the needs of the wounded of both nations with kindly care,
and everywhere receiving the enthusiastic acclaim of his soldiery.
This done, he dismounted and talked long and earnestly with Grouchy,
Gérard, and others on the state of political parties at Paris. They
listened with ill-concealed restlessness. At Fleurus Grouchy asked for
definite orders, and received the brusque reply that he must wait. But
now, towards 11 o'clock, the Emperor hears that Wellington is still at
Quatre Bras, that Pajol has captured eight Prussian guns on the Namur
road, and that Excelmans has seen masses of the enemy at Gembloux. At
once he turns from politics to war.

His plan is formed. While he himself falls on the British, Grouchy is
to pursue the Prussians with the corps of Gérard and Vandamme, the
division of Teste (from Lobau's command), and the cavalry corps of
Pajol, Excelmans, and Milhaud. The Marshal begged to be relieved of
the task, setting forth the danger of pursuing foes that were now
reunited and far away. It was in vain. About 11.30 the Emperor
developed his verbal instructions in a written order penned by
Bertrand. It bade Grouchy proceed to Gembloux with the forces stated
above (except Milhaud's corps and a division of Vandamme's corps,
which were to follow Napoleon) to reconnoitre on the roads leading to
Namur and Maestricht, to pursue the enemy, and inform the Emperor as
to their intentions. If they have evacuated Namur, it is to be
occupied by the National Guards. "It is important to know what Blücher
and Wellington mean to do, and whether they propose reuniting their
armies in order to cover Brussels and Liège, by trying their fortune
in another battle...."[500]

As Napoleon's fate was to depend largely on an intelligent carrying
out of this order, we may point out that it consisted of two chief
parts, the general aim and the means of carrying out that aim. The aim
was to find out the direction of the Prussians' retreat, and to
prevent them joining Wellington, whether for the defence of Brussels
or of Liège. The means were an advance to Gembloux and scouting along
the Namur and Maestricht roads. The chance that the allies might
reunite for the defence of Brussels was alluded to, but no measures
were prescribed as to scouting in that direction: these were left to
Grouchy's discretion. It must be confessed that the order was not
wholly clear. To name the towns of Brussels and Liège (which are sixty
miles apart) was sufficiently distracting; and to suggest that only
the eastern and south-eastern roads should be explored was certain to
limit Grouchy's immediate attention to those roads alone. For he
distrusted alike his own abilities and the power of the force placed
at his disposal; and an officer thus situated is sure to inclose
himself in the strict letter of his instructions. This was what he
did, with disastrous results.

Grouchy had hitherto held no important command. As a cavalry general
he had done brilliant service; but now he was launched on a duty that
called for strategic insight. His force was scarcely equal to the
work. True, it was strong for scouting, having nearly 6,000 light
horse; but the 27,000 footmen of Vandamme's and Gérard's corps had
been exhausted by the deadly strife in the villages and were expecting
a day's rest. Their commanders also resented being placed under
Grouchy. In fact, leaders and men disliked the task, and set about it
in a questioning, grumbling way. The infantry did not start till about
3 o'clock and only reached Gembloux late that evening--nine miles in
six hours! The cavalry, too, was so badly handled by Excelmans around
Gembloux that Thielmann's corps slipped away northward. The rain fell
in torrents, obscuring the view; but it seems strange that the
direction of the Prussian retreat was not surmised until about
nightfall.

Meanwhile, on the French left wing, Ney had been equally lax. He must
have received Napoleon's order to occupy Quatre Bras, "if there was
only a rearguard there," a little before 10 a.m.; but he took no steps
beyond futile skirmishing, and apparently knew not that the British
were slipping away.

About 2 p.m., when the British cavalry was ready to turn rein, the
Duke and Sir H. Vivian saw the glint of cuirasses along the Sombref
road. It was the vanguard of the Emperor's advance. Furious that his
foes were escaping from his clutches, Napoleon had left his carriage
and was pressing on with the foremost horsemen. To Ney he sent an
imperative summons to advance, and when that Marshal came up, greeted
him with the words "You have ruined France." But it was time for
deeds, not words; and he now put forth all his strength. At once he
flung his powerful cavalry at the British rear; and even now it might
have gone hard with Wellington had not the lowering clouds burst in a
deluge of rain. Quickly the road was ploughed up; and the cornfields
became impassable for the French horsemen.

While the pursuers struggled in the mire and aimed wildly through the
pelting haze, the British rearguard raced for safety. Says Captain
Mercer of the artillery: "We galloped for our lives through the storm,
striving to gain the hamlets, Lord Uxbridge urging us on, crying 'Make
haste; for God's sake gallop, or you will be taken.'"[501] Gaining on
the pursuit, they reached Genappe, and, filing over its bridge and up
the narrow street, prepared to check the French. At this time the
Emperor galloped up, drenched to the skin, his gray overcoat streaming
with rain, his hat bent out of all shape by the storm.[502] He was
once more the artillery officer of Toulon. "Fire on them," he shouted
to his gunners, "they are English." A sharp skirmish ensued, in which
our 7th Hussars, charging down into the village, were worsted by the
French lancers, "an arm," says Cotton, "with which we were quite
unacquainted." In their retreat they were saved by the Life Guards,
whose weight and strength carried all before them.

At last, on the ridge of Waterloo, Wellington's force turned at bay.
Napoleon, coming up at 6.30 to the brow of the opposite slope, ordered
a strong force to advance into the sodden clay of the valley. It was
promptly torn by a heavy cannonade; and the truth was borne in on him
that the British had escaped him for that day.






NAPOLEON'S HEALTH IN THE WATERLOO CAMPAIGN


As many writers assert that Napoleon at this time was but the shadow
of his former self, we must briefly review the evidence of
contemporaries on this subject; for if the assertion be true, the
Battle of Waterloo deserves little notice.

It seems that for some time past there had been a slight falling off
in his mental and bodily powers; but when it began and how far it
progressed is matter of doubt. Some observers, including Chaptal, date
it from the hardships of the retreat from Moscow. This is very
doubtful. He ended that campaign in a better state of health than he
had enjoyed during the advance. Besides, in none of his wars did he
show such vitality and fertility of resource as in the desperate
struggle of 1814, which Wellington pronounced his masterpiece. After
this there seems to have been a period of something like relapse at
Elba. In September, 1814, Sir Neil Campbell reported: "Napoleon seems
to have lost all habits of study and sedentary application. He
occasionally falls into a state of inactivity never known before, and
sometimes reposes in his bedroom of late for several hours in the day;
takes exercise in a carriage and not on horseback. His health
excellent and his spirits not at all depressed" ("F.O.," France, No.
114). During his ten months at Elba he became very stout and his
cheeks puffy.

On his return to France he displayed his old activity; and the most
credible witnesses assert that his faculties showed no marked decline.
Guizot, who saw a good deal of him, writes: "I perceive in the
intellect and conduct of Napoleon during the Hundred Days no sign of
enfeebling: I find in his judgment and actions his accustomed
qualities." In a passage quoted above (p. 449) Mollien notes that his
master was a prey to lassitude after some hours of work, but he says
nothing on the subject of disease; and in a man of forty-six, who had
lived a hard life and a "fast" life, we should not expect to find the
capacity for the sustained intellectual efforts of the Consulate.
Méneval noticed nothing worse in his master's condition than a
tendency to "réverie": he detected no disease. The statement of
Pasquier that his genius and his physical powers were in a profound
decline is a manifest exaggeration, uttered by a man who did not once
see him before Waterloo, who was driven from Paris by him, and strove
to discourage his supporters. Still less can we accept the following
melodramatic description, by Thiébault, of Napoleon's appearance on
Sunday, June 11th: "His look, once so formidable and piercing, had
lost its strength and even its steadiness: his face had lost all
expression and all its force: his mouth, compressed, had none of its
former witchery: and his gait was as perplexed as his demeanour and
gestures were undecided: the ordinary pallor of his skin was replaced
by a strongly pronounced greenish tinge which struck me."

Let us follow this wreck of a man to the war and see what he
accomplished. At dawn on June 12th he entered his landau and drove to
Laon, a distance of some seventy miles. On the next day he got through
an immense amount of work, and proceeded to Beaumont. On the 15th of
June he was up at dawn, mounted his horse, and remained on horseback,
directing the operations against the Prussians, for nearly eighteen
hours. This time was broken by one spell of rest. Near Charleroi, says
Baudus, an officer of Soult's staff, he was overcome by sleep and
heeded not the cheers of a passing column: at this Baudus was
indignant, but most unjustly so. Napoleon needed these snatches of
sleep as a relief to prolonged mental tension. At night he returned to
Charleroi, "overcome with fatigue." On the next day he was still very
weary, says Ségur; he did not exert himself until the battle of Ligny
began at 2.30; but he then rode about till nightfall, through a time
of terrible heat. Fatigue showed itself again early on the morrow,
when he declined to see Grouchy before 8 a.m. Yet his review of the
troops and his long discussions on Parisian politics were clearly due,
not to torpor, but to the belief that he had sundered the allies, and
could occupy Brussels at will; for when he found out his mistake, he
showed all the old energy, riding with the vanguard from Quatre Bras
to La Belle Alliance through the violent rain.

Whatever, then, were his ailments, they were not incompatible with
great and sustained activity. What were those ailments? He is said to
have suffered from intermittent affections of the lower bowel, of the
bladder, and of the skin, the two last resulting in ischury (Dorsey
Gardner's "Quatre Bras, Ligny, and Waterloo," pp. 31-37; O'Connor
Morris, pp. 164-166, note). The list is formidable; but it contains
its own refutation. A man suffering from these diseases, unless in
their earliest and mildest stages, could not have done what Napoleon
did. Ischury, if at all pronounced, is a bar to horse exercise.
Doubtless his long rides aggravated any trouble that he had in this
respect, for Pétiet, who was attached to the staff, noticed that he
often dismounted and sat before a little table that was brought to him
for the convenience of examining maps; but Pétiet thought this was
due, not to ill health (about which he says nothing), but to his
corpulence ("Souvenirs militaires," pp. 196 and 212). Prince Jerome
and a surgeon of the imperial staff assured Thiers that Napoleon was
suffering from a disease of the bladder; but this was contradicted by
the valet, Marchand; and if he really was suffering from all, or any
one, of the maladies named above, it is very strange that the surgeon
allowed him to expose himself to the torrential rain of the night of
the 17th-18th for a purpose which a few trusty officers could equally
well have discharged (see next chapter). Furthermore, Baron Larrey,
Chief Surgeon of the army, who saw Napoleon before the campaign began
and during its course, _says not a word about the Emperor's health_
("Relation médicale des Campagnes, 1815-1840," pp. 5-11).

Again, the intervals of drowsiness on the 15th and 18th of June, on
which the theory of physical collapse is largely based, may be
explained far more simply. Napoleon had long formed the habit of
working a good deal at night and of seeking repose during a busy day
by brief snatches of slumber. The habit grew on him at Elba; and this,
together with his activity since daybreak, accounts for his sleeping
near Charleroi. The same explanation probably holds good as to his
occasional drowsiness at Waterloo. He scarcely closed his eyes before
3.30 a.m.; and he cannot have been physically fit for the unexpectedly
long and severe strain of that Sunday. That he began the day well we
know from a French soldier named Barral (grandfather of the author of
"L'Epopée de Waterloo"), who looked at him carefully at 9.30 a.m., and
wrote: "He seemed to me in very good health, extraordinarily active
and preoccupied." Decoster, the peasant guide who was with Napoleon
the whole day, afterwards told Sir W. Scott that he was calm and
confident up to the crisis. Gourgaud, who clung to him during the
flight to Paris and thence to Rochefort, notes nothing more serious
than great fatigue; Captain Maitland, when he received him on board
the "Bellerophon," thought him "a remarkably strong, well-built man."
During the voyage to St. Helena he suffered from nothing worse than
_mal de mer_; he ate meat in exceptional quantity, even in the
tropics.

Very noteworthy, too, is Lavalette's narrative. When he saw Napoleon
before his departure from Paris to the Belgian frontier, he found him
suffering from depression and a pain in the chest; but he avers that,
on the return from Waterloo, apart from one "frightful epileptic
laugh," Napoleon speedily settled down to his ordinary behaviour: not
a word is added as to his health. (Sir W. Scott, "Life of Napoleon,"
vol. viii., p. 496; Gourgaud, "Campagne de 1815," and "Journal de St.
Hélène," vol. ii., Appendix 32; "Narrative of Captain Maitland," p.
208; Lavalette, "Mems.," ch. xxxiii.; Houssaye ridicules the stories
of his ill-health.)

What is the upshot of it all? The evidence seems to show that,
whatever was Napoleon's condition before the campaign, he was in his
usual health amidst the stern joys of war. And this is consonant with
his previous experience: he throve on events which wore ordinary
beings to the bone: the one thing that he could not endure was the
worry of parliamentary opposition, which aroused a nervous irritation
not to be controlled and concealed without infinite effort. During the
campaign we find very few trustworthy proofs of his decline and much
that points to energy of resolve and great rallying power after
exertion. If he was suffering from three illnesses, they were
assuredly of a highly intermittent nature.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XL

WATERLOO


Would Wellington hold on to his position? This was the thought that
troubled the Emperor on the night after the wild chase from Quatre
Bras. Before retiring to rest at the Caillou farm, he went to the
front with Bertrand and a young officer, Gudin by name, and peered at
the enemy's fires dimly seen through the driving sheets of rain.
Satisfied that the allies were there, he returned to the farm,
dictated a few letters on odious parliamentary topics, and then sought
a brief repose. But the same question drove sleep from his eyes. At
one o'clock he was up again and with the faithful Bertrand plashed to
the front through long rows of drenched recumbent forms. Once more
they strained their ears to catch through the hiss of the rain some
sound of a muffled retirement. Strange thuds came now and again from
the depths of the wood of Hougoumont: all else was still. At last,
over the slope on the north-east crowned by the St. Lambert Wood there
stole the first glimmer of gray; little by little the murky void
bodied forth dim shapes, and the watch-fires burnt pale against the
orient gleams. It was enough. He turned back to the farm. Wellington
could scarcely escape him now.

While the Emperor was making the round of his outposts, a somewhat
cryptic despatch from Grouchy reached headquarters. The Marshal
reported from Gembloux, at 10 p.m. of the 17th, that part of the
Prussians had retired towards Wavre, seemingly with a view to joining
Wellington; that their centre, led by Blücher, had fallen back on
Perwez in the direction of Liège; while a column with artillery had
made for Namur; if he found the enemy's chief force to be on the Liège
_chaussée_, he would pursue them along that road; if towards Wavre, he
would follow them thither "in order that they may not gain Brussels,
and so as to separate them from Wellington." This last phrase ought
surely to have convinced Napoleon that Grouchy had not fully
understood his instructions; for to march on Wavre would not stop the
Prussians joining Wellington, if they were in force.[503]

Moreover, Napoleon now knew, what Grouchy did not know, that the
Prussians were in force at Wavre. It seems strange that the Emperor
did not send this important news to his Marshal; but perhaps we may
explain this by his absence at the outposts. As it was, no clear
statement of the facts of the case was sent off to Grouchy _until 10
a.m. of the 18th_. He then informed his Marshal that, according to all
the reports, three bodies of Prussians had made for Wavre. Grouchy
"must therefore move thither--in order to approach us, to put yourself
within the sphere of our operations, and to keep up your
communications with us, pushing before you those bodies of Prussians
which have taken this direction and which may have stopped at Wavre,
where you ought to arrive as soon as possible." Grouchy, however, was
not to neglect Blücher's troops that were on his right, but must pick
up their stragglers and keep up his communications with Napoleon.

Such was the letter; and again we must pronounce it far from clear.
Grouchy was not bidden to throw all his efforts on the side of Wavre;
and he was not told whether he must attack the enemy at that town, or
interpose a wedge between them and Wellington, or support Napoleon's
right. Now Napoleon would certainly have prescribed an immediate
concentration of Grouchy's force towards the north-west for one of the
last two objects, had he believed Blücher about to attempt a flank
march against the chief French army. Obviously it had not yet entered
his thoughts that so daring a step would be taken by a foe whom he
pictured as scattered and demoralized by defeat.[504]

As we have seen, the Prussians were not demoralized; they had not gone
off in three directions; and Blücher was not making for Liège. He was
at Wavre and was planning a master-stroke. At midnight, he had sent to
Wellington, through Müffling, a written promise that at dawn he would
set the corps of Bülow in motion against Napoleon's right; that of
Pirch I. was to follow; while the other two corps would also be ready
to set out. Wellington received this despatch about 3 a.m. of the
18th, and thereupon definitely resolved to offer battle. A similar
message was sent off from Wavre at 9.30 a.m., but with a postscript,
in which we may discern Gneisenau's distrust of Wellington, begging
Müffling to find out accurately whether the Duke really had determined
to fight at Waterloo. Meanwhile Bülow's corps had begun its march from
the south-east of Wavre, but with extreme slowness, which was due to a
fire at Wavre, to the crowded state of the narrow road, and also to
the misgivings of Gneisenau. It certainly was not owing to fear of
Grouchy; for at that time the Prussian leaders believed that only
15,000 French were on their track. Not until midday, when the
cannonade on the west grew to a roar, did Gneisenau decide to send
forward Ziethen's corps towards Ohain, on Wellington's left; but
thereafter the defence of the Dyle against Grouchy was left solely to
Thielmann's corps.[505]

While this storm was brewing in the east, everything in front of the
Emperor seemed to portend a prosperous day. High as he rated
Wellington's numbers, he had no doubt as to the result. "The enemy's
army," he remarked just after breakfast, "outnumbers ours by more than
a fourth; nevertheless we have ninety chances out of a hundred in our
favour." Ney, who then chanced to come in, quickly remarked: "No
doubt, sire, if Wellington were simple enough to wait for you; but I
come to inform you that he is retreating." "You have seen wrong," was
the retort, "the time is gone for that." Soult did not share his
master's assurance of victory, and once more begged him to recall some
of Grouchy's force; to which there came the brutal reply: "Because you
have been beaten by Wellington you think him a great general. And I
tell you that Wellington is a bad general, that the English are bad
troops, and that this will be the affair of a _déjeuner_." "I hope it
may," said Soult. Reille afterwards came in, and, finding how
confident the Emperor was, mentioned the matter to D'Erlon, who
advised his colleague to return and caution him. "What is the use,"
rejoined Reille; "he would not listen to us."

In truth, Napoleon was in no mood to receive advice. He admitted on
the voyage to St. Helena that "he had not exactly reconnoitred
Wellington's position."[506] And, indeed, there seemed to be nothing
much to reconnoitre. The Mont St. Jean, or Waterloo, position does not
impress the beholder with any sense of strength. The so-called valley,
separating the two arrays, is a very shallow depression, nowhere more
than fifty feet below the top of the northern slope. It is divided
about halfway across by an undulation that affords good cover to
assailants about to attack La Haye Sainte. Another slight rise crosses
the vale halfway between this farm and Hougoumont, and facilitates the
approach to that part of the ridge. In fact, only on their extreme
left could the defenders feel much security; for there the slope is
steeper, besides being protected in front by marshy ground, copses,
and the hamlets of Papelotte, La Haye, and Smohain.

Napoleon paid little attention to the left wing of the allies. The
centre and right centre were evidently Wellington's weak points, and
there, especially near the transverse rise, our leader chiefly massed
his troops. Yet there, too, the defence had some advantages. The front
of the centre was protected by La Haye Sainte, "a strong stone and
brick building," says Cotton, "with a narrow orchard in front and a
small garden in the rear, both of which were hedged around, except on
the east side of the garden, where there was a strong wall running
along the high-road." It is generally admitted that Wellington gave
too little attention to this farm, which Napoleon saw to be the key of
the allied position. Loopholes were made in its south and east walls,
but none in the western wall, and half of the barn-door opening on the
fields had been torn off for firewood by soldiers overnight. The place
was held at first by 376 men of the King's German Legion, who threw up
a barricade at the barn-door, as also on the high-road outside the
orchard; but, as the sappers and carpenters were removed to
Hougoumont, little could be done.

Far stronger was the château of Hougoumont, which had been built with
a view to defence. The outbuildings were now loopholed, and scaffolds
were erected to enable our men to fire over the garden walls which
commanded the orchard. The defence was intrusted to the light
companies of the second battalions of Coldstreams and Foot Guards (now
the Grenadier Guards); while the wood in front was held by Nassauers
and Hanoverians. Chassé's Dutch-Belgians were posted at the village of
Braine la Leud to give further security to Wellington's right.[507]
Napoleon's intention was to pierce the allied centre behind La Haye
Sainte, where their lines were thin. But he did not know that behind
the crest ran a sunken cross-road, which afforded excellent cover, and
that the ground, sloping away towards Wellington's rear, screened his
second line and reserves.

It was this peculiarity of the ground, so different from that of the
exposed slope behind Ligny, that helped the great master of defensive
tactics secretly to meet and promptly to foil every onset of his
mighty antagonist.

While under-estimating the strength of Wellington's position Napoleon
over-rated his numbers. As we have seen, he remarked that the allies
exceeded the French by more than a fourth. Now, as his own numbers
were fully 74,000, he credited the allies with upwards of 92,000. In
reality, they were not more than 67,000, as Wellington had left 17,000
at Hal; but if this powerful detachment had been included, Napoleon's
estimate would not have been far wrong. At St. Helena he gave out that
his despatch of cavalry towards Hal had induced Wellington to weaken
his army to this extent; but Houssaye has shown that the statement is
an entire fabrication. The Emperor certainly believed that all
Wellington's troops were close at hand.[508]

The Duke, on his side, would doubtless have retreated had he known
that the Prussian advance would be as slow as it was. His composite
forces, in which five languages were spoken, were unfit for a long
contest with Napoleon's army. The Dutch-Belgian troops, numbering
17,000, were known to be half-hearted; the 2,800 Nassauers, who had
served under Soult in 1813, were not above suspicion; the 11,000
Hanoverians and 5,900 Brunswickers were certain to do their best, but
they were mostly raw troops. In fact, Wellington could thoroughly rely
only on his 23,990 British troops and the 5,800 men of the King's
German Legion; and among our men there was a large proportion of
recruits or drafts from militia battalions. Events were to prove that
this motley gathering could hold its own while at rest; but during the
subsequent march to Paris Wellington passed the scathing judgment
that, with the exception of his Peninsular men, it was "the worst
equipped army, with the worst staff, ever brought together."[509] This
was after he had lost De Lancey, Picton, Ponsonby, and many other able
officers; but on the morning of the 18th there was no lack of skill in
the placing of the troops, witness General Kennedy's arrangement of
Alten's division so that it might readily fall into the "chequer"
pattern, which proved so effective against the French horsemen.

Napoleon's confidence seemed to be well founded: he had 246 cannon
against the allies' 156, and his preponderance in cavalry of the line
was equally great. Above all, there were the 13,000 footmen of the
Imperial Guard, flanked by 3,000 cavaliers. The effective strength of
the two armies has been reckoned by Kennedy as in the proportion of
four to seven. Why, then, did he not attack at once? There were two
good reasons: first that his men had scattered widely overnight in
search of food and shelter, and now assembled very slowly on the
plateau; second, that the rain did not abate until 8 a.m., and even
then slight drizzles came on, leaving the ground totally unfit for the
movements of horse and artillery. Leaving the troops time to form and
the ground to improve, the Emperor consulted his charts and took a
brief snatch of sleep. He then rode to the front; and, as the
gray-coated figure passed along those imposing lines, the enthusiasm
found vent in one rolling roar of "Vive l'Empereur," which was wafted
threateningly to the thinner array of the allies. There the leader
received no whole-hearted acclaim save from the men who knew him; but
among these there was no misgiving. "If," wrote Major Simmons of the
95th, "you could have seen the proud and fierce appearance of the
British at that tremendous moment, there was not one eye but gleamed
with joy."[510]

The first shots were fired at 11.50 to cover the assault on the wood
of Hougoumont by Prince Jerome Bonaparte's division of Reille's corps.
The Nassauers and Hanoverians briskly replied, and Cleeve's German
battery opened fire with such effect that the leading column fell
back. Again the assailants came on in greater force under shelter of a
tremendous cannonade: this time they gained a lodgment, and step by
step drove the defenders back through the copse. Though checked for a
time by the Guards, they mastered the wood south of the house by about
one o'clock. There they should have stopped. Napoleon's orders were
for them to gain a hold only on the wood and throw out a good line of
skirmishers: all that he wanted on this side was to prevent any
turning movement from Wellington's advanced outposts. Reille also sent
orders not to attack the château; but the Prince and his men rushed on
at those massive walls, only to meet with a bloody repulse. A second
attack fared no better; and though some 12,000 of Reille's men
Finally attacked the mansion on three sides, yet our Guards, when
reinforced, beat off every onset of wellnigh ten times their numbers.

For some time the Emperor paid little heed to this waste of energy; at
2 p.m. he recalled Jerome to his side. He now saw the need of
husbanding his resources; for a disaster had overtaken the French
right centre. He had fixed one o'clock for a great attack on La Haye
Sainte by D'Erlon's corps of nearly 20,000 men. But a delay occurred
owing to a cause that we must now describe.

Before his great battery of eighty guns belched forth at the centre
and blotted out the view, he swept the horizon with his glass, and
discerned on the skirts of the St. Lambert wood, six miles away, a
dark object. Was it a spinney, or a body of troops? His staff officers
could not agree; but his experienced eye detected a military
formation. Thereupon some of the staff asserted that they must be
Blücher's men, others that they were Grouchy's. Here he could scarcely
be in a doubt. Not long after 10 a.m. he received from Grouchy a
despatch, dated from Gembloux at 3 a.m., reporting that the Prussians
were retiring in force on Brussels to concentrate or to join
Wellington, and that he (Grouchy) was on the point of starting for
Sart-à-Walhain and Wavre. He said nothing as to preventing any flank
march that the enemy might make from Wavre with a view to joining
their allies straightway. Therefore he was not to be looked for on
this side of Wavre, and those troops must consequently be
Prussians.[511]

All doubts were removed when a Prussian hussar officer, captured by
Marbot's vedettes near Lasne, was brought to Napoleon. He bore a
letter from Bülow to Müffling, stating that the former was on the
march to attack the French right wing. In reply to Napoleon's
questions the captain stated that Bülow's whole corps was in motion,
but wisely said nothing about the other two corps that were following.
Such as it was, the news in no way alarmed the Emperor. As Bülow was
about to march against the French flank, Grouchy must march on his
flank and take his corps _en flagrant délit_. That is the purport of
the postscript added to a rather belated reply that was about to be
sent off to Grouchy at 1 p.m. It did not reach him till 5 p.m., too
late to influence the result, even had he desisted from his attack on
Wavre, which he did not.[512]

We return to the Emperor's actions at half-past one. Dumont's and
Subervie's light horsemen were sent out towards Frischermont to
observe the Prussians; the great battery of eighty guns, placed on the
intermediate rise, now opened fire; and under cover of its deadly
blasts D'Erlon's four divisions dipped down into the valley. They were
ranged in closely packed battalions spread out in a front of some two
hundred men, a formation that Napoleon had not suggested, but did not
countermand. The left column, that of Alix, was supported by cavalry
on its flank. Part of this division gained the orchard of La Haye
Sainte, and attacked the farm buildings on all sides. From his
position hard by a great elm above the farm, Wellington had marked
this onset, and now sent down a Hanoverian battalion to succour their
compatriots; but in the cutting of the main road it was charged and
routed by Milhaud's cuirassiers, who pursued them up the slope until
the rally sounded. Farther to the east, the French seemed still surer
of victory. Bylandt's Dutch-Belgians, some 3,000 strong, after
suffering heavily in their cruelly exposed position, wavered at the
approach of Donzelot's column, and finally broke into utter rout,
pelted in their flight with undeserved gibes from the British in their
rear. These consisted of Picton's division, the heroes of Quatre Bras.
Here they had as yet sustained little loss, thanks to the shelter of
the hollow cross-road and a hedge.

The French columns now topped the ridge, uttering shouts of triumph,
and began to deploy into line for the final charge. This was the time,
as Picton well knew, to pour in a volley and dash on with the cold
steel; but as he cheered on his men, a bullet struck him in the temple
and cut short his brilliant career. His tactics were successful at
some points while at others our thin lines barely held up against the
masses. Certainly no decisive result could have been gained but for
the timely onset of Ponsonby's Union Brigade--the 1st Royal Dragoons,
the Scots Greys, and the Inniskillings.

At the time when Lord Uxbridge gave the order, "Royals and
Inniskillings charge, the Greys support," Alix's division was passing
the cross-road. But as the Royals dashed in, "the head of the column
was seized with a panic, gave us a fire which brought down about
twenty men, then went instantly about and endeavoured to regain the
opposite side of the hedges; but we were upon and amongst them, and
had nothing to do but press them down the slope." So wrote Captain
Clark Kennedy, who sabred the French colour-bearer and captured the
eagle. Equally brilliant was the charge of the Inniskillings, in the
centre of the brigade. They rode down Donzelot's division, jostled its
ranks into a helpless mass, and captured a great number of prisoners.
The Scots Greys, too, succouring the hard-pressed Gordons, fell
fiercely on Marcognet's division. "Both regiments," wrote Major
Winchester of the 92nd, "charged together, calling out 'Scotland for
ever'; the Scots Greys actually walked over this column, and in less
than three minutes it was totally destroyed. The grass field, which
was only an instant before as green and smooth as Phoenix Park, was
covered with killed and wounded, knapsacks, arms, and
accoutrements."[513]

Meanwhile, on the left of the brigade, Vandeleur's horse and some
Dutch-Belgian dragoons drove back Durutte's men past Papelotte. On its
right, the 2nd Life Guards cut up the cuirassiers while disordered by
the sudden dip of the hollow cross-road; and further to the west, the
1st Dragoon Guards and 1st Life Guards met them at the edge of the
plateau, clashed furiously, burst through them, and joined in the wild
charge of Ponsonby's brigade up the opposite slope, cutting the traces
of forty French cannon and sabring the gunners.

But Napoleon was awaiting the moment for revenge, and now sent forward
a solid force of lancers and dragoons, who fell on our disordered
bands with resistless force, stabbing the men and overthrowing their
wearied steeds. Here fell the gallant Ponsonby with hundreds of his
men, and, had not Vandeleur's horse checked the pursuit, very few
could have escaped. Still, this brigade had saved the day. Two of
D'Erlon's columns had gained a hold on the ridge, until the sudden
charge of our horsemen turned victory into a disastrous rout that cost
the French upwards of 5,000 men.

As if exhausted by this eager strife, both armies relaxed their
efforts for a space and re-formed their lines. Wellington ordered
Lambert's brigade of 2,200 Peninsular veterans, who had only arrived
that morning, to fill the gaps on his left. The Emperor, too, was
uneasy, as he showed by taking copious pinches of snuff. He mounted
his horse and rode to the front, receiving there the cheers of his
blood-stained lancers and battered infantry. Having received another
despatch from Grouchy which gave no hope of his speedy arrival, he
ordered his cannon once more to waste the British lines and bombard
Hougoumont, while Ney led two of D'Erlon's brigades that were the
least shaken to resume the attack on La Haye Sainte. Once more they
were foiled at the farm buildings by the hardy Germans, to whom
Wellington had sent a timely reinforcement.[514] At Hougoumont also
the Guards held firm, despite the fierce conflagration in the barn and
part of the chapel. But while his best troops everywhere stood their
ground, the Duke saw with concern the gaps in his fighting line. Many
of the Dutch-Belgians had made off to the rear; and Jackson, when
carrying an order to a reserve Dutch battery to advance--an order that
was disobeyed--saw what had become of these malingerers. "I peeped
into the skirts of the forest and truly felt astonished: entire
companies seemed there with regularly piled arms, fires blazing under
cooking kettles, while the men lay about smoking!"[515]

Far different was the scene at the front. There the third act of the
drama was beginning. After half an hour of the heaviest cannonade ever
known, Wellington's faithful troops were threatened by an avalanche of
cavalry, and promptly fell into the "chequer" disposition previously
arranged for the most exposed division, that of Alten. Napoleon
certainly hoped either to crush Wellington outright by a mighty onset
of horse, or to strip him bare for the _coup de grâce_. At the Caillou
farm in the morning he said: "I will use my powerful artillery; my
cavalry shall charge; and I will advance with my Old Guard." The use
of cavalry on a grand scale was no new thing in his wars. By it he had
won notable advantages, above all at Dresden; and he believed that
footmen, when badly shaken by artillery, could not stand before his
squadrons. The French cavalry, 15,000 strong at the outset, had as yet
suffered little, and the way had been partly cleared by the last
assaults on Hougoumont and La Haye Sainte, where the defenders were
wholly occupied in self-defence.

But Ney certainly pressed the first charge too soon. Doubtless he was
misled by the retirement of our first line a little way behind the
crest to gain some slight shelter from the iron storm. Looking on this
prudent move as a sign of retreat he led forward the cuirassiers of
Milhaud; and as these splendid brigades trotted forward, the
_chasseurs à cheval_ of the Guard and "red" lancers joined them. More
than 5,000 strong, these horsemen rode into the valley, formed at the
foot of the slope, and then, under cover of their artillery, began to
breast the slope. At its crest the guns of the allies opened on them
point-blank; but, despite their horrible losses, they swept on,
charged through the guns and down the reverse slope towards the
squares. Volley after volley now tore through with fearful effect, and
the survivors swerved to the intervals. Their second and third lines
fared little better; astonished at so stout a stand, where they looked
to find only a few last despairing efforts, they fell into faltering
groups.

    "As to the so-called charges," says Basil Jackson, "I do not think
    that on a single occasion actual collision occurred. I many times
    saw the cuirassiers come on with boldness to within some twenty or
    thirty yards of a square, when, seeing the steady firmness of our
    men, they invariably edged away and retired. Sometimes they would
    halt and gaze at the triple row of bayonets, when two or three
    brave officers would advance and strive to urge the attack,
    raising their helmets aloft on their sabres--but all in vain, as
    no efforts could make the men close with the terrible bayonets,
    and meet certain destruction."[516]

After the fire of the rear squares had done its work, our cavalry fell
on the wavering masses; and, as they rode off, the gunners ran forth
from the squares and plied them with shot. In a few minutes the
mounted host that seemed to have swallowed up the footmen was gone,
the red and blue chequers stood forth triumphant, and the guns that
should have been spiked dealt forth death. Down below, the confused
mass shaped itself for a new charge while its supports routed our
horsemen.

In this second attack Ney received a powerful reinforcement. The
Emperor ordered the advance of Kellermann and of Guyot with the heavy
cavalry of the Guard, thus raising the number of horsemen to about
10,000. At the head of these imposing masses Ney again mounted the
slope. But Wellington had strengthened his line by fresh troops,
ordering up also Mercer's battery of six 9-pounders, to support two
Brunswick regiments that wavered ominously as the French cannon-balls
tore through them. Would these bewildered lads stand before the wave
of horsemen already topping the crest? It seemed impossible. But just
then Mercer's men thundered up between them with the guns, took post
behind the raised cross-road, and opened on the galloping horsemen
with case-shot. At once the front was strewn with steeds and men; and
gunners and infantry riddled the successive ranks, that rushed on only
to pile up writhing heaps and bar retreat to the survivors in front.
Some of these sought safety by a dash through the guns, while the
greater number struggled and even laid about with their sabres to hew
their way out of this _battue_.

Elsewhere the British artillery was too exposed to be defended, and
the gunners again fled back to the squares. Once more the cavalry
surrounded our footmen, like "heavy surf breaking on a coast beset
with isolated rocks, against which the mountainous wave dashes with
furious uproar, breaks, divides, and runs hissing and boiling far
beyond." Yet, as before, it failed to break those stubborn blocks, and
a perplexing pause occurred, varied by partial and spasmodic rushes.
"Will those English never show us their backs"--exclaimed the Emperor,
as he strained his eyes to catch the first sign of rout "I fear,"
replied Soult, "they will be cut to pieces first." For the present, it
was the cavalry that gave way. Foiled by that indomitable infantry,
they were again charged by British and German hussars and driven into
the valley.

Once more Ney led on his riders, gathering up all his reserves. But
the Duke had now brought up Adam's brigade and Duplat's King's Germans
to the space behind Hougoumont; their fire took the horsemen in flank:
the blasts of grape and canister were as deadly as before: one and
all, the squares held firm, beating back onset after onset: and by 6
o'clock the French cavalry fell away utterly exhausted.[517]

Who is to be held responsible for these wasteful attacks, and why was
not French infantry at hand to hold the ground which the cavaliers
seemed to have won? Undoubtedly, Ney began the first attack somewhat
too early; but Napoleon himself strengthened the second great charge
by the addition of Kellermann's and Guyot's brigades, doubtless in the
belief that the British, of whose tenacity he had never had direct
personal proof, must give way before so mighty a mass. Moreover, time
after time it seemed that the attacks were triumphant; the allied guns
on the right centre, except Mercer's, were nine or ten times taken,
their front squares as often enveloped; and more than once the cry of
victory was raised by the Emperor's staff.

Why, then, was not the attack clinched by infantry? To understand this
we must review the general situation. Hougoumont still defied the
attacks of nearly the whole of Reille's corps, and the effective part
of D'Erlon's corps was hotly engaged at and near La Haye Sainte. Above
all, the advent of the Prussians on the French right now made itself
felt. After ceaseless toil, in which the soldiers were cheered on by
Blücher in person, their artillery was got across the valley of the
Lasne; and at 4.30 Bülow's vanguard debouched from the wood behind
Frischermont. Lobau's corps of 7,800 men, which, according to Janin,
was about to support Ney, now swung round to the right to check this
advance.[518] Towards 5 o'clock the Prussian cannon opened fire on the
horsemen of Domont and Subervie, who soon fell back on Lobau.

Bülow pressed on with his 30,000 men, and, swinging forward his left
wing, gained a footing in the village of Planchenoit, while Lobau fell
back towards La Belle Alliance. This took place between 5.30 and 6
o'clock, and accounts for Napoleon's lack of attention to the great
cavalry charges. To break the British squares was highly desirable;
but to ward off the Prussians from his rear was an imperative
necessity. He therefore ordered Duhesme with the 4,000 footmen of the
Young Guard to regain Planchenoit. Gallantly they advanced at the
charge, and drove their weary and half-famished opponents out into the
open.

Satisfied with this advantage, the Emperor turned his thoughts to the
British and bade Ney capture La Haye Sainte at all costs. Never was
duty more welcome. Mistakes and failures could now be atoned by
triumph or a soldier's death. Both had as yet eluded his search. Three
horses had been struck to the ground under him, but, dauntless as
ever, he led Donzelot's men, with engineers, against the farm.
Begrimed with smoke, hoarse with shouting, he breathed the lust of
battle into those half-despondent ranks; and this time he succeeded.
For five hours the brave Germans had held out, beating off rush after
rush, until now they had but three or four bullets apiece left. The
ordinary British ammunition did not fit their rifles; and their own
reserve supply could not be found at the rear. Still, even when firing
ceased, bayonet-thrusts and missiles kept off the assailants for a
space, even from the half-destroyed barn-door, until Frenchmen mounted
the roof of the stables and burst through the chief gateway: then
Baring and his brave fellows fled through the house to the garden. "No
pardon to these green devils" was now the cry, and those who could not
make off to the ridge were bayoneted to a man.[519]

This was a grave misfortune for the allies. French sharpshooters now
lined the walls of the farm and pushed up the ridge, pressing our
front very hard, so that, for a time, the space behind La Haye Sainte
was practically bare of defenders. This was the news that Kennedy took
to Wellington. He received it with the calm that bespoke a mighty
soul; for, as Sir A. Frazer observed, however indifferent or
apparently careless he might appear at the beginning of battles, as
the crisis came he rose superior to all that could be imagined. Such
was his demeanour now. Riding to the Brunswickers posted in reserve,
he led them to the post of danger; Kennedy rallied the wrecks of
Alten's division and brought up Germans from the left wing; the
cavalry of Vandeleur and Vivian, moving in from the extreme left, also
helped to steady the centre; and the approach of Chassé's
Dutch-Belgian brigade, lately called in from Braine-la-Leud,
strengthened our supports.

Had Napoleon promptly launched his Old and Middle Guard at
Wellington's centre, victory might still have crowned the French
eagles. But to Ney's request for more troops he returned the petulant
answer: "Troops? where do you want me to get them from? Am I to make
them?" At this time the Prussians were again masters of Planchenoit.
Once more, then, he turned on them, and sent in two battalions, one of
the Old, the other of the Middle Guard. In a single rush with the
bayonet these veterans mastered the place and drove Bülow's men a
quarter of a mile beyond, while Lobau regained ground further north.
But the head of Pirch's corps was near at hand to strengthen Bülow;
while, after long delays caused by miry lanes and an order from
Blücher to make for Planchenoit, Ziethen's corps began to menace the
French right at Smohain. Reiche soon opened fire with sixteen cannon,
somewhat relieving the pressure on Wellington's left.[520]

Still the Emperor was full of hope. He did not know of the approach of
Pirch and Ziethen. Now and again the muttering of Grouchy's guns was
heard on the east, and despite that Marshal's last despatch, Napoleon
still believed that he would come up and catch the Prussians.
Satisfied, then, with holding off Bülow for a while, he staked all on
a last effort with the Old and Middle Guard. Leaving two battalions of
these in Planchenoit, and three near Rossomme as a last reserve, he
led forward nine battalions formed in hollow squares. A thrill ran
through the line regiments, some of whom were falling back, as they
saw the bearskins move forward; and, to revive their spirits, the
Emperor sent on Labédoyère with the news that Grouchy was at hand.

Thus the tension of hope long deferred, which renders Waterloo unique
among battles, rose to its climax. Each side had striven furiously for
eight hours in the belief that the Prussians, or Grouchy, must come;
and now, at the last agony, came the assurance that final triumph was
at hand. The troops of D'Erlon and Reille once more clutched at
victory on the crest behind La Haye Sainte or beneath the walls of
Hougoumont, while the squares of the Guard struck obliquely across the
vale in the track of the great cavalry charges. On the rise south-west
of La Haye Sainte, Napoleon halted one battalion and handed over to
Ney the command of the remaining eight, that hailed him as they passed
with enthusiastic shouts. Two aides-de-camp just then galloped up from
the right to tell him of the Prussian advance, but he refused to
listen to them and bent his eyes on the Guards.[521]

Under cover of a whirlwind of shot the veterans pressed on. Having
suffered very little at Ligny, they numbered fully 4,000, and formed
at first one column, some seventy men in width. The front battalions
headed for a point a little to the west of the present Belgian
monument, while for some unexplained reason the rear portion diverged
to the left, and breasted the slope later than the others and nearer
Hougoumont. Flanked by light guns that opened a brisk fire, and most
gallantly supported by Donzelot's division close on their right, the
leading column struggled on, despite the grape and canister which
poured from the batteries of Bolton and Bean, making it wave "like
corn blown by the wind." Friant, the Commander of the Old Guard, was
severely wounded; Ney's horse fell under him, but the gallant fighter
rose undaunted, and waved on his men anew. And now they streamed over
the ridge and through the British guns in full assurance of triumph.
Few troops seemed to be before them; for Maitland's men (2nd and 3rd
battalions of the 1st Foot Guards) had lain down behind the bank of
the cross-road to get some shelter from the awful cannonade. "Stand
up, Guards, and make ready," exclaimed the Duke when the French were
but sixty paces away. The volley that flashed from their lengthy front
staggered the column, and seemed to force it bodily back. In vain did
the French officers wave their swords and attempt to deploy into line.
Mangled in front by Maitland's brigade, on its flank by our 33rd and
69th Regiments drawn up in square, and by the deadly salvos of
Chassé's Dutch-Belgians,[522] that stately array shrank and shrivelled
up. "Now's the time, my boys," shouted Lord Saltoun; and the thin red
line, closing with the mass, drove it pell-mell down the slope.

Near the foot the victors fell under the fire of the rear portion of
the Imperial Guards, who, undaunted by their comrades' repulse, rolled
majestically upwards. Colborne now wheeled the 52nd (Oxfordshire)
Regiment on the crest in a line nearly parallel to their advance, and
opened a deadly fire on their flank, which was hotly returned;
Maitland's men, re-forming on the crest, gave them a volley in front;
and some Hanoverians at the rear of Hougoumont also galled their rear.
Seizing the favourable moment when the column writhed in anguish,
Colborne cheered his men to the charge, and, aided by the second 95th
Rifles, utterly overthrew the last hope of France. Continuing his
advance, and now supported by the 71st Regiment, he swept our front
clear as far as the orchard of La Haye Sainte.[523]

The Emperor had at first watched the charge with feelings of buoyant
hope; for Friant, who came back wounded, reported that success was
certain. As the truth forced itself on him, he turned pale as a
corpse. "Why! they are in confusion," he exclaimed; "all is lost for
the present." A thrill of agony also shot through the French lines.
Donzelot's onset had at one time staggered Halkett's brigade; but the
hopes aroused by the charge of the Guard and the rumour of Grouchy's
approach gave place to dismay when the veterans fell back and
Ziethen's Prussians debouched from Papelotte. To the cry of "The Guard
gives way," there succeeded shouts of "treason." The Duke, noting the
confusion, waved on his whole line to the longed-for advance. Menaced
in front by the thin red line, and in rear by Colborne's glorious
charge, D'Erlon's divisions broke up in general rout. For a time,
three rocks stood boldly forth above this disastrous ebb. They were
the battalions of the Guard previously repulsed, and that had rallied
around the Emperor on the rise south of La Haye Sainte. In front of
them the three regiments of Adam's brigade stopped to re-form; but at
the Duke's command--"Go on, go on: they will not stand"--Colborne
charged them, and they gave way.

And now, as the sun shot its last gleams over the field, the swords of
the British horsemen were seen to flash and fall with relentless
vigour. The brigades of Vandeleur and Vivian, well husbanded during
the day, had been slipped upon the foe. The effect was electrical. The
retreat became a rout that surged wildly around the last squares of
the Guard. In one of them Napoleon took refuge for a space, still
hoping to effect a rally, while outside Ney rushed from band to band,
brandishing a broken sword, foaming with fury, and launching at the
runaways the taunt, "Cowards! have you forgotten how to die?"[524]

But panic now reigned supreme. Adam's brigade was at hand to support
our horsemen; and shortly after nine there knelled from Planchenoit
the last stroke of doom, the shouts of Prussians at last victorious
over the stubborn defence. "The Guard dies and does not
surrender"--such are the words attributed by some to Michel, by others
to Cambronne before he was stretched senseless on the ground.[525]
Whether spoken or not, some such thought prompted whole companies to
die for the honour of their flag. And their chief, why did he not
share their glorious fate? Gourgaud says that Soult forced him from
the field. If so (and Houssaye discredits the story) Soult never
served his master worse. The only dignified course was to act up to
his recent proclamation that the time had come for every Frenchman of
spirit to conquer or die. To belie those words by an ignominious
flight was to court the worst of sins in French political life,
ridicule.

And the flight was ignominious. Wellington's weary troops, after
several times mistaking friends for foes in the dusk, halted south of
Rossomme and handed over the pursuit to the Prussians, many of whom
had fought but little and now drank deep the draught of revenge. By
the light of the rising moon Gneisenau led on his horsemen in a
pursuit compared with which that of Jena was tame. At Genappe Napoleon
hoped to make a stand: but the place was packed with wagons and
thronged with men struggling to get at the narrow bridge. At the blare
of the Prussian trumpets, the panic became frightful; the Emperor left
his carriage and took to horse as the hurrahs drew near. Seven times
did the French form bivouacs, and seven times were they driven out and
away. At Quatre Bras he once more sought to gather a few troops; but
ere he could do so the Uhlans came on. With tears trickling down his
pallid cheeks, he resumed his flight over another field of carnage,
where ghastly forms glinted on all sides under the pale light of dawn.
After further futile efforts at Charleroi, he hurried on towards
Paris, followed at some distance by groups amounting to about 10,000
men, the sorry remnant still under arms of the host that fought at
Waterloo: 25,000 lay dead or wounded there: some thousands were taken
prisoners: the rest were scattering to their homes. Wellington lost
10,360 killed and wounded, of whom 6,344 were British: the Prussian
loss was about 6,000 men.

The causes of Napoleon's overthrow are not hard to find. The lack of
timely pursuit of Blücher and Wellington on the 17th enabled those
leaders to secure posts of vantage and to form an incisive plan which
he did not fully fathom even at the crisis of the battle. Full of
overweening contempt of Wellington, he began the fight heedlessly and
wastefully. When the Prussians came on, he underrated their strength
and believed to the very end that Grouchy would come up and take them
between two fires. But, in the absence of prompt, clear, and detailed
instructions, that Marshal was left a prey to his fatal notion that
Wavre was the one point to be aimed at and attacked. Despite the heavy
cannonade on the west he persisted in this strange course; while
Napoleon staked everything on a supreme effort against Wellington.
This last was an act of appalling hardihood; but he explained to
Cockburn on the voyage to St. Helena that, still confiding in
Grouchy's approach, he felt no uneasiness at the Prussian movements,
"which were, in fact, already checked, and that he considered the
battle to have been, on the whole, rather in his favour than
otherwise." The explanation has every appearance of sincerity. But
would any other great commander have staked his last reserve and laid
bare his rear solely in reliance on the ability of an almost untried
leader who had sent not a single word that justified the hopes now
placed in him?

We here touch the weak points in Napoleon's intellectual armour.
Gifted with almost superhuman insight and energy himself, he too often
credited his paladins with possessing the same divine afflatus.
Furthermore, he had a supreme contempt for his enemies. Victorious in
a hundred fights over second-rate opponents in his youth, he could not
now school his hardened faculties to the caution needed in a contest
with Wellington, Gneisenau, and Blücher. Only after he had ruined
himself and France did he realize his own errors and the worth of the
allied leaders. During the voyage to England he confessed to Bertrand:
"The Duke of Wellington is fully equal to myself in the management of
an army, _with the advantage of possessing more prudence_."[526]

    NOTE ADDED TO THE FOURTH EDITION.--I have discussed several of the
    vexed questions of the Waterloo Campaign in an Essay, "The
    Prussian Co-operation at Waterloo," in my volume entitled
    "Napoleonic Studies" (George Bell and Sons, 1904). In that Essay I
    have pointed out the inaccuracy or exaggeration of the claims put
    forward by some German writers to the effect that (1) Wellington
    played Blücher false at Ligny, (2) that he did not expect Prussian
    help until late in the day at Waterloo, (3) that the share of
    credit for the victory rested in overwhelming measure with Blücher
    and Gneisenau.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XLI

FROM THE ELYSÉE TO ST. HELENA


Napoleon was far from accepting Waterloo as a final blow. At
Philippeville on the day after the battle, he wrote to his brother
Joseph that he would speedily have 300,000 men ready to defend France:
he would harness his guns with carriage-horses, raise 100,000
conscripts, and arm them with muskets taken from the royalists and
malcontent National Guards: he would arouse Dauphiné, Lyonnais, and
Burgundy, and overwhelm the enemy. "But the people must help me and
not bewilder me.... Write to me what effect this horrible piece of bad
luck has had on the Chamber. I believe the deputies will feel
convinced that their duty in this crowning moment is to rally round me
and save France."[527]

The tenacious will, then, is only bent, not broken. Waterloo is merely
a greater La Rothière, calling for a mightier defensive effort than
that of 1814. Such are his intentions, even when he knows not that
Grouchy is escaping from the Prussians. The letter breathes a firm
resolve. He has no scruples as to the wickedness of spurring on a
wearied people to a conflict with Europe. As yet he forms no
magnanimous resolve to take leave of a nation whom his genius may once
more excite to a fatal frenzy. He still seems unable to conceive of
France happy and prosperous apart from himself. In indissoluble union
they will struggle on and defy the world.

Such was the frame of mind in which he reached the Elysée Palace early
on the 21st of June. For a time he was much agitated. "Oh, my God!" he
exclaimed to Lavalette, raising his eyes to heaven and walking up and
down the room. But after taking a warm bath--his unfailing remedy for
fatigue--he became calm and discussed with the Ministers plans of a
national defence. The more daring advised the prorogation of the
Chambers and the declaration of a state of siege in Paris; but others
demurred to a step that would lead to civil war. The Council dragged
on at great length, the Emperor only once rousing himself from his
weariness to declare that all was not lost; that _he_, and not the
Chambers, could save France. If so, he should have gone to the
deputies, thrilled them with that commanding voice, or dissolved them
at once. Montholon states that this course was recommended by
Cambacérès, Carnot, and Maret, but that most of the Ministers urged
him not to expose his wearied frame to the storms of an excited
assembly. At St. Helena he told Gourgaud that, despite his fatigue, he
would have made the effort had he thought success possible, but he did
not.[528]

The Chamber of Deputies meanwhile was acting with vigour. Agonized by
the tales of disaster already spread abroad by wounded soldiers, it
eagerly assented to Lafayette's proposal to sit in permanence and
declare any attempt at dissolution an act of high treason. So
unblenching a defiance, which recalled the Tennis Court Oath of
twenty-six years before, struck the Emperor almost dumb with
astonishment. Lucien bade him prepare for a _coup d'état_: but
Napoleon saw that the days for such an act were passed. He had
squandered the physical and moral resources bequeathed by the
Revolution. Its armies were mouldering under the soil of Spain,
Russia, Germany, and Belgium; and a decade of reckless ambition had
worn to tatters Rousseau's serviceable theory of a military
dictatorship. Exhausted France was turning away from him to the prime
source of liberty, her representatives.

These were doubtless the thoughts that coursed through his brain as he
paced with Lucien up and down the garden of the Elysée. A crowd of
_fédérés_ and workmen outside cheered him frantically. He saluted them
with a smile; but, says Pasquier, "the expression of his eyes showed
the sadness that filled his soul." True, he might have led that
unthinking rabble against the Chambers; but that would mean civil war,
and from this he shrank. Still Lucien bade him strike. "Dare," he
whispered with Dantonesque terseness. "Alas," replied his brother, "I
have dared only too much already." Davoust also opined that it was too
late now that the deputies had firmly seized the reins and were
protected by the National Guards of Paris.

And so Napoleon let matters drift. In truth, he was "bewildered" by
the disunion of France. It was a France that he knew not, a land given
over to _idéalogues_ and traitors. His own Minister, Fouché, was
working to sap his power, and yet he dared not have him shot! What
wonder that the helpless autocrat paced restlessly to and fro, or sat
as in a dream! In the evening Carnot went to the Peers, Lucien to the
Deputies, to appeal for a united national effort against the
Coalition, but the simple earnestness of the one and the fraternal
fervour of the other alike failed. When Lucien finally exclaimed
against any desertion of Napoleon, Lafayette fiercely shot at him the
long tale of costly sacrifices which France had offered up at the
shrine of Napoleon's glory, and concluded: "We have done enough for
him: our duty is to save _la patrie_."

On the morrow came the news that Grouchy had escaped from the
Prussians; and that the relics of Napoleon's host were rallying at
Laon. But would not this encouragement embolden the Emperor to crush
the contumacious Chambers? Evidently the case was urgent. He must
abdicate, or they would dethrone him--such was the purport of their
message to the Elysée; but, as an act of grace, they allowed him _an
hour_ in which to forestall their action. Shortly after midday, on the
advice of his Ministers, he took the final step of his official
career. Lucien and Carnot begged him for some time to abdicate only in
favour of his son;[529] and he did so, but with the bitter remark: "My
son! What a chimera! No, it is for the Bourbons that I abdicate! They
at least are not prisoners at Vienna."

The deputies were of his opinion. Despite frantic efforts of the
Bonapartists, they passed over Napoleon II. without any effective
recognition, and at once appointed an executive Commission of
five--Carnot, Caulaincourt, Fouché, Grenier, and Quinette. Three of
them were regicides, and Fouché was chosen their President. We can
gauge Napoleon's wrath at seeing matters thus promptly rolled back to
where they were before Brumaire by his biting comment that he had made
way for the King of Rome, not for a Directory which included one
traitor and two babies. His indignation was just. An abdication forced
on by _idéalogues_ was hateful; to be succeeded by Fouché seemed an
unforgivable insult; but he touched the lowest depth of humiliation on
the 25th, when he received from that despicable schemer an order to
leave Paris.

He obeyed on that first Sunday after Waterloo, driving off quietly to
Malmaison, there to be joined by Hortense Beauharnais and a few
faithful friends. At that ill-omened abode, where Josephine had
breathed her last shortly after his first abdication, he spent four
uneasy days. At times he was full of fight. He sent to the "Moniteur"
a proclamation urging the army to make "some efforts more, and the
Coalition will be dissolved." The manifesto was suppressed by Fouché's
orders.

Meanwhile the invaders pressed on rapidly towards Compiègne. They met
with no attempts at a national rising, a fact which proves the welcome
accorded to Napoleon in March to have been mainly the outcome of
military devotion and of the dislike generally felt for the Bourbons.
It is a libel on the French people to suppose that a truly national
impulse in his favour would have vanished with a single defeat. In
vain did the Provisional Government sue for an armistice that would
stay the advance. Wellington refused outright; but Blücher declared
that he would consider the matter if Napoleon were handed over to him,
_dead or alive_. On hearing of this, Wellington at once wrote his ally
a private remonstrance, which drew from Gneisenau a declaration that,
as the Duke was held back _by parliamentary considerations and by the
wish to prolong the life of the villain whose career had extended
England's power_, the Prussians would see to it that Napoleon was
handed over to them for execution conformably to the declaration of
the Congress of Vienna.[530]

But the Provisional Government acted honestly towards Napoleon. On the
26th Fouché sent General Becker to watch over him and advise him to
set out for Rochefort, _en route_ to the United States, for which
purpose passports were being asked from Wellington. Becker found the
ex-Emperor a prey to quickly varying moods. At one time he seemed
"sunk into a kind of _mollesse_, and very careful about his ease and
comfort": he ate hugely at meals: or again he affected a rather coarse
joviality, showing his regard for Becker by pulling his ear. His plans
varied with his moods. He declared he would throw himself into the
middle of France and fight to the end, or that he would take ship at
Rochefort with Bertrand and Savary alone, and steal past the English
squadron; but when Mme. Bertrand exclaimed that this would be cruel to
her, he readily gave up the scheme.[531]

It is not easy to gauge his feelings at this time. Apart from one
outburst to Lavalette of pity for France, he seems not to have
realized how unspeakably disastrous his influence had been on the land
which he found in a victoriously expansive phase, and now left
prostrate at the feet of the allies and the Bourbons. Hatred and
contempt of the upper classes for their "fickle" desertion of him,
these, if we may judge from his frequent allusions to the topic during
the voyage, were the feelings uppermost in his mind; and this may
explain why he wavered between the thought of staking all on a last
effort against the allies and the plan of renewing in America the
career now closed to him in Europe.

He certainly was not a prey to torpor and dumb despair. His brain
still clutched eagerly at public affairs, as if unable to realize that
they had slipped beyond his control; and his behaviour showed that he
was still _un être politique_, with whom power was all in all. He
evinced few signs of deep emotion on bidding farewell to his devoted
followers: but whether this resulted from inner hardness, or
resentment at his fall, or a sense of dignified prudence, it is
impossible to say. When Denon, the designer of his medals, sobbed on
bidding him adieu, he remarked: _Mon cher, ne nous attendrissons pas:
il faut dans les crises comme celle-ci se conduire avec froid_. This
surely was one source of his power over an emotional people: his
feelings were the servant, not the master, of his reason.

Meanwhile the Prussians were drawing near to Paris. Early on the 29th
they were at Argenteuil, and Blücher detached a flying column to seize
the bridge of Chatou over the Seine near Malmaison and carry off
Napoleon on the following night. But Davoust and Fouché warded off the
danger. While the Marshal had the nearest bridges of the Seine
barricaded or burnt, Fouché on the night of the 28th-29th sent an
order to Napoleon to leave at once for Rochefort and set sail with two
frigates, even though the English passports had not arrived.

He received the news calmly, and then with unusual animation requested
Becker to submit to the Government a scheme for rapidly rallying the
troops around Paris, whereupon he, _as General Bonaparte_, would
surprise first Blücher and then Wellington--they were two days'
marches apart: then, after routing the foe, he would resume his
journey to the coast. The Commission would have none of it. The
reports showed that the French troops were so demoralized that success
was not to be hoped for.[532] And if a second Montmirail were snatched
from Blücher, would it bring more of glory to Napoleon or of useless
bloodshed to France? Those who look on the world as an arena for the
exploits of heroes at the cost of ordinary mortals may applaud the
scheme. But could men who were responsible to France regard it as
anything but a final proof of Napoleon's perverse optimism, or a flash
of his unquenchable ambition, or a last mad bid for power? He showed
signs of anger on hearing of their refusal, but set out for Rochefort
at 6 p.m.; and thus the Prussians were cheated of their prey by a few
hours. Bertrand, Savary, Gourgaud, and Becker accompanied him.

The cheers of troops and people at Niort, and again at Rochefort,
where he arrived on July 3rd, re-awakened his fighting instincts; and
as the westerly winds precluded all hope of the two frigates slipping
quickly down either of the practicable outlets so as to elude the
British cruisers, he again sought permission to take command of the
French forces, now beginning to fall back from Paris behind the line
of the Loire. Again his offer was refused; and messages came thick and
fast bidding Becker get him away from the mainland. Such was the
desire of his best friends. Paris capitulated to the allies on July
4th, and both French royalists and Prussians were eager to get hold of
him. Thus, while he sat weaving plans of a campaign on the Loire, the
tottering Government at Paris pressed on his embarkation, hinting that
force would be used should further delays ensue. Sadly, then, on July
8th, he went on board the "Saale," moored near L'Ile d'Aix, opposite
the mouth of the Charente.

He was now in sore straits. The orders from Paris expressly forbade
his setting foot again on the mainland, and most of the great towns
had already hoisted the white flag. In front of him was the Bay of
Biscay, swept by British cruisers, which the French naval officers had
scant hopes of escaping. There was talk among Napoleon's suite, which
now included Montholon, Las Cases, and Lallemand, of attempting flight
from the Gironde, or in the hold of a small Danish sloop then at
Rochefort, or on two fishing boats moored to the north of L'Ile de Ré;
but these plans were given up in consequence of the close watch kept
by our cruisers at all points. The next day brought with it a despatch
from Paris ordering the ex-Emperor to set sail within twenty-four
hours.

On the morrow Napoleon sent Savary and Las Cases with a letter to
H.M.S. "Bellerophon," then cruising off the main channel--that between
the islands of Oléron and Ré--asking whether the permits for
Napoleon's voyage to America had arrived, or his departure would be
prevented. Savary also inquired whether his passage on a merchant-ship
would be stopped. The commander, Captain Maitland, had received strict
orders to intercept Napoleon; but, seeking to gain time and to bring
Admiral Hotham up with other ships, he replied that he would oppose
the frigates by force: neither could he permit Napoleon to set sail on
a merchant-ship until he had the warrant of his admiral for so doing.
The "Bellerophon," "Myrmidon," and "Slaney" now drew closer in to
guard the middle channel, while a corvette watched each of the
difficult outlets on the north and south.[533]

Three days of sorrow and suspense now ensued. On the 12th came the
news of the entry of Louis XVIII. into Paris, the collapse of the
Provisional Government, and the general hoisting of the _fleur-de-lys_
throughout France. On the 13th Joseph Bonaparte came for a last
interview with his brother on the Ile d'Aix. Montholon states that the
ex-King offered to change places with the ex-Emperor and thus allow
him the chance of escaping on a neutral ship from the Gironde.
Gourgaud does not refer to any such offer, nor does Bertrand in his
letter of July 14th to Joseph. In any case, it was not put to the
test; for royalism was rampant on the mainland, and two of our
cruisers hovered about the Gironde. Sadly the two brothers parted, and
for ever. Then the other schemes were again mooted only to be given up
once more; and late on the 13th Napoleon dictated the following
letter, to be taken by Gourgaud to the Prince Regent:

    "Exposed to the factions which distract my country and to the
    enmity of the greatest Powers of Europe, I have closed my
    political career, and I come, like Themistocles, to throw myself
    upon the hospitality of the British people. I put myself under the
    protection of their laws, which I claim from your Royal Highness,
    as the most powerful, the most constant, and the most generous of
    my enemies."[534]

On the 14th Gourgaud and Las Cases took this letter to the
"Bellerophon," whereupon Maitland assured them that he would convey
Napoleon to England, Gourgaud preceding them on the "Slaney"; but that
the ex-Emperor _would be entirely at the disposal of our Government_.
This last was made perfectly clear to Las Cases, who understood
English, though at first he feigned not to do so; but, unfortunately,
Maitland did not exact from him a written acknowledgment of this
understanding. Gourgaud was transferred to the "Slaney," which soon
set sail for Torbay, while Las Cases reported to Napoleon on L'Ile
d'Aix what had happened. Thereupon Bertrand wrote to Maitland that
Napoleon would come on board on the morrow:

    " ... If the Admiral, in consequence of the demand that you have
    addressed to him, sends you the permits for the United States, His
    Majesty will go there with pleasure; but in default of them, he
    will go voluntarily to England as a private individual to enjoy
    the protection of the laws of your country."

Now, either Las Cases misinterpreted Maitland's words and acts, or
Napoleon hoped to impose on the captain by the statements just quoted.
Maitland had not sent to Hotham for permits; he held out no hopes of
Napoleon's going to America; he only promised to take him to England
_to be at the disposal of the Prince Regent_. Napoleon, taking no
notice of the last stipulation, now promised to go to England, not as
Emperor, but as a private individual. He took this step soon after
dawn on the 15th, when any lingering hopes of his escape were ended by
the sight of Admiral Hotham's ship, "Superb," in the offing. On
leaving the French brig, "Epervier," he was greeted with the last
cheers of _Vive l'Empereur_, cheers that died away almost in a wail as
his boat drew near to the "Bellerophon." There he was greeted
respectfully, but without a salute. He wore the green uniform, with
gold and scarlet facings, of a colonel of the Chasseurs à Cheval of
the Guard, with white waistcoat and military boots; and Maitland
thought him "a remarkably strong, well-built man." Keeping up a
cheerful demeanour, he asked a number of questions about the ship, and
requested to be shown round even thus early, while the men were
washing the decks. He inquired whether the "Bellerophon" would have
worsted the two French frigates and acquiesced in Maitland's
affirmative reply. He expressed admiration of all that he saw,
including the portrait of Maitland's wife hanging in the cabin; and
the captain felt the full force of that seductive gift of pleasing,
which was not the least important of the great man's powers.

He was accompanied by General and Mme. Bertrand, the former a tall,
slim, good-looking man, of refined manners and domestic habits, though
of a sensitive and hasty temper; his wife, a lady of slight figure,
but stately carriage, the daughter of a Irishman named Dillon, who
lost his life in the Revolution. Her vivacious manners bespoke a warm
impulsive nature, that had revelled in the splendour of her high
ceremonial station and now seemed strained beyond endurance by the
trials threatening her and her three children. The Bertrands had been
with Napoleon at Elba, and enjoyed his complete confidence. Younger
than they were General (Count) Montholon and his wife--he, a short but
handsome man, his consort, a sweet unassuming woman--who showed their
devotion to the ex-Emperor by exchanging a life of luxury for exile in
his service. Count Las Cases, a small man, whose thin eager face and
furtive glances revealed his bent for intrigue, was the eldest of the
party. He had been a naval officer, had then lived in England as an
_émigré_, but after the Peace of Amiens took civil service under
Napoleon; he now brought with him his son, a lad of fifteen, fresh
from the Lycée. We need not notice the figures of Savary and
Lallemand, as they were soon to part company. Maingaud the surgeon,
Marchand the head valet, several servants, and the bright little boy
of the Montholons completed the list.

The voyage passed without incident. Napoleon's health and appetite
were on the whole excellent, and he suffered less than the rest from
sea-sickness. The delicate Las Cases, who had donned his naval
uniform, was in such distress as to move the mirth of the crew,
whereupon Napoleon sharply bade him appear in plain clothes so as not
to disgrace the French navy. For the great man himself the crew soon
felt a very real regard, witness the final confession of one of them
to Maitland: "Well, they may abuse that man as much as they like, but
if the people of England knew him as well as we do, they would not
hurt a hair of his head."--What a tribute this to the mysterious power
of genius!

On passing Ushant, he remained long upon deck, silent and abstracted,
casting melancholy looks at the land he was never more to see. As they
neared Torbay, the exile was loud in praise of the beauty of the
scene, which he compared with that of Porto Ferrajo. Whatever
misgivings he felt before embarking on the "Bellerophon" had
apparently disappeared. He had been treated with every courtesy and
had met with only one rebuff. He prompted Mme. Bertrand, who spoke
English well, to sound Maitland as to the acceptance of a box
containing his (Napoleon's) portrait set in diamonds. This the captain
very properly refused.[535]

In Torbay troubles began to thicken upon the party. Gourgaud rejoined
them on the 24th: he had not been allowed to land. Orders came on the
26th for the "Bellerophon" to proceed to Plymouth; and the rumour
gained ground that St. Helena would be their destination. It was true.
On July 31st, Sir Henry Bunbury, Secretary to the Admiralty, and Lord
Keith, Admiral in command at Plymouth, laid before him in writing the
decision of our Government, that, in order to prevent any further
disturbance to the peace of Europe, it had been decided to restrain
his liberty--"to whatever extent may be necessary for securing that
first and paramount object"--and that St. Helena would be his place of
residence, as it was healthy, and would admit of a smaller degree of
restraint than might be necessary elsewhere.

Against this he made a lengthy protest, declaring that he was not a
prisoner of war, that he came as a passenger on the "Bellerophon"
"after a previous negotiation with the commander," that he demanded
the rights of a British citizen, and wished to settle in a country
house far from the sea, where he would submit to the surveillance of a
commissioner over his actions and correspondence. St. Helena would
kill him in three months, for he was wont to ride twenty leagues a
day; he preferred death to St. Helena. Maitland's conduct had been a
deliberate snare. To deprive him (Napoleon) of his liberty would be an
eternal disgrace to England; for in coming to our shores he had
offered the Prince Regent the finest page of his history.--Our
officials then bowed and withdrew. He recalled Keith, and when the
latter remarked that to go to St. Helena was better than being sent to
Louis XVIII. or to Russia, the captive exclaimed "Russia! God keep me
from that."[536]

It is unnecessary to traverse his statements at length. The foregoing
recital of facts will have shown that he was completely at the end of
his resources, and that Maitland had not made a single stipulation as
to his reception in England. Indeed, Napoleon never reproached
Maitland; he left that to Las Cases to do; and the captain easily
refuted these insinuations, with the approval of Montholon. If there
was any misunderstanding, it was certainly due to Las Cases.[537]

Indeed, the thought of Napoleon settling dully down in the Midlands is
ludicrous. How could a man who revelled in vast schemes, whose mind
preyed on itself if there were no facts and figures to grind, or
difficulties to overcome, ever sink to the level of a Justice Shallow?
And if he longed for repose, would the Opposition in England and the
malcontents in France have let him rest? Inevitably he would become a
rallying point for all the malcontents of Europe. Besides, our
engagements to the allies bound us to guard him securely; and we were
under few personal obligations to a man who, during the Peace of
Amiens, persistently urged us to drive forth the Bourbons from our
land, who at its close forcibly detained 10,000 Britons in defiance of
the law of nations, and whose ambition added £600,000,000 to our
National Debt.

Ministers had decided on St. Helena by July 28th. Their decision was
clinched by a Memorandum of General Beatson, late Governor of the
island, dated July 29th, recommending St. Helena, because all the
landing places were protected by batteries, and the semaphores
recently placed on the lofty cliffs would enable the approach of a
rescue squadron to be descried sixty miles off, and the news to be
speedily signalled to the Governor's House. Napoleon's appeal and
protests were accordingly passed over; and, in pursuance of advice
just to hand from Castlereagh at Paris, Ministers decided to treat
him, not as our prisoner, but as the prisoner of all the Powers. A
Convention was set in hand as to his detention; it was signed on
August 2nd at Paris, and bound the other Powers to send Commissioners
as witnesses to the safety of the custody.[538]

His departure from Plymouth was hastened by curious incidents. Crowds
of people assembled there to see the great man, and shoals of
boats--Maitland says more than a thousand on fine days--struggled and
jostled to get as near the "Bellerophon" as the guard-boats would
allow. Two or three persons were drowned; but still the swarm pressed
on. Many of the men wore carnations--a hopeful sign this seemed to Las
Cases--and the women waved their handkerchiefs when he appeared on the
poop or at the open gangway. Maitland was warned that a rescue would
be attempted on the night of the 3rd-4th; and certainly the Frenchmen
were very restless at that time. They believed that if Napoleon could
only set foot on shore he must gain the rights of Habeas Corpus.[539]
And there seemed some chance of his gaining them. Very early on August
4th a man came down from London bringing a subpoena from the Court of
King's Bench to compel Lord Keith and Captain Maitland to produce the
person of Napoleon Bonaparte for attendance in London as witness in a
trial for libel then pending. It appears that some one was to be sued
for a libel on a naval officer, censuring his conduct in the West
Indies; and it was suggested that if he (the defendant) could get
Napoleon's evidence to prove that the French ships were at that time
unserviceable, his case would be strengthened. An attorney therefore
came down to Plymouth armed with a subpoena, with which he chased
Keith on land and chased him by sea, until his panting rowers were
foiled by the stout crew of the Admiral's barge. Keith also found
means to let Maitland know how matters stood early on the 4th,
whereupon the "Bellerophon" stood out to sea, her guard-boat keeping
at a distance the importunate man with the writ.

The whole affair looks very suspicious. What defendant in a plain
straightforward case would ever have thought of so far-fetched a
device as that of getting the ex-Emperor to declare on oath that his
warships in the West Indies had been unseaworthy? The tempting thought
that it was a trick of some enterprising journalist in search of "copy
"must also be given up as a glaring anachronism. On the other hand,
it is certain that Napoleon's well-wishers in London and Plymouth were
moving heaven and earth to get him ashore, or delay his
departure.[540] In common with Sieyès, Lavalette, and Las Cases, he
had hoped much from the peculiarities of English law; and on July 28th
he dictated to Las Cases a paper, "suited to serve as a basis to
jurists," which the latter says he managed to send ashore.[541] If
this be true, Napoleon himself may have spurred on his friends to the
effort just described. Or else the plan may have occurred to some of
his English admirers who wished to embarrass the Ministry. If so,
their attempt met with the fate that usually befalls the efforts of
our anti-national cliques on behalf of their foreign heroes: it did
them harm: the authorities acted more promptly than they would
otherwise have done: the "Bellerophon" put to sea a few days before
the Frenchmen expected, with the result that they were exposed to a
disagreeable cruise until the "Northumberland" (the ship destined for
the voyage in place of the glorious old "Bellerophon") was ready to
receive them on board.[542]

Dropping down from Portsmouth, the newer ship met the "Bellerophon"
and "Tonnant," Lord Keith's ship, off the Start. The transhipment took
place on the 7th, under the lee of Berry Head, Torbay. After dictating
a solemn protest against the compulsion put upon him, the ex-Emperor
thanked Maitland for his honourable conduct, spoke of his having hoped
to buy a small estate in England where he might end his days in peace,
and declaimed bitterly against the Government.

Rear-Admiral Sir George Cockburn, of the "Northumberland," then came
by official order to search his baggage and that of his suite, so as
to withdraw any large sums of money that might be thereafter used for
effecting an escape. Savary and Marchand were present while this was
done by Cockburn's secretary with as much delicacy as possible: 4,000
gold Napoleons (80,000 francs) were detained to provide a fund for
part maintenance of the illustrious exile. The diamond necklace which
Hortense had handed to him at Malmaison was at that time concealed on
Las Cases, who continued to keep it as a sacred trust. The
ex-Emperor's attendants were required to give up their swords during
the voyage. Montholon states that when the same request was made by
Keith to Napoleon, the only reply was a flash of anger from his eyes,
under which the Admiral's tall figure shrank away, and his head, white
with years, fell on his breast. Alas, for the attempt at melodrama!
_Maitland was expressly told by Lord Keith not to proffer any such
request to the fallen chief_.

Apart from one or two exclamations that he would commit suicide rather
than go to St. Helena, Napoleon had behaved with a calm and serenity
that contrasted with the peevish gloom of his officers and the spasms
of Mme. Bertrand. This unhappy lady, on learning their fate, raved in
turn against Maitland, Gourgaud, Napoleon, and against her husband for
accompanying him, and ended by trying to throw herself from a window.
From this she was pulled back, whereupon she calmed down and secretly
urged Maitland to write to Lord Keith to prevent Bertrand accompanying
his master. The captain did so, but of course the Admiral declined to
interfere. Her shrill complaints against Napoleon had, however, been
heard on the other side of the thin partition, and fanned the dislike
which Montholon and Gourgaud had conceived for her, and in part for
her husband. These were the officers whom he selected as companions of
exile. Las Cases was to go as secretary, and his son as page.

Savary, Lallemand, and Planat having been proscribed by Louis XVIII.,
were detained by our Government, and subsequently interned at Malta.
On taking leave of Napoleon they showed deep emotion, while he
bestowed the farewell embrace with remarkable composure. The surgeon,
Maingaud, now declined to proceed to St. Helena, alleging that he had
wanted to go to America only because his uncle there was to leave him
a legacy! At the same time Bertrand asked that O'Meara, the surgeon of
the "Bellerophon," might accompany Napoleon to St. Helena. As
Maingaud's excuse was very lame, and O'Meara had had one or two talks
with Napoleon _in Italian_, Keith and Maitland should have seen that
there was some understanding between them; but the Admiral consented
to the proposed change. As to O'Meara's duplicity, we may quote from
Basil Jackson's "Waterloo and St. Helena": "I _know_ that he [O'Meara]
was _fully enlisted_ for Napoleon's service during the voyage from
Rochefort to England." The sequel will show how disastrous it was to
allow this man to go with the ex-Emperor.

In the Admiral's barge that took him to the "Northumberland" the
ex-Emperor "appeared to be in perfect good humour," says Keith,
"talking of Egypt, St. Helena, of my former name being Elphinstone,
and many other subjects, and joking with the ladies about being
seasick."[543] In this firm matter-of-fact way did Napoleon accept the
extraordinary change in his fortunes. At no time of his life, perhaps,
was he so great as when, forgetting his own headlong fall, he sought
to dispel the smaller griefs of Mmes. Bertrand and Montholon. A hush
came over the crew as Napoleon mounted the side and set foot on the
deck of the ship that was to bear him away to a life of exile. It was
a sight that none could behold unmoved, as the great man uncovered,
received the salute, and said with a firm voice: "Here I am, General,
at your orders."

The scene was rich, not only in personal interest and pathos, but also
in historic import. It marks the end of a cataclysmic epoch and the
dawn of a dreary and confused age. We may picture the Muse of History,
drawn distractedly from her abodes on the banks of the Seine, gazing
in wonder on that event taking place under the lee of Berry Head, her
thoughts flashing back, perchance, to the days when William of Orange
brought his fleet to shore at that same spot and baffled the designs
of the other great ruler of France. The glory of that land is now once
more to be shrouded in gloom. For a time, like an uneasy ghost, Clio
will hover above the scenes of Napoleon's exploits and will find
little to record but promises broken and development arrested by his
unteachable successors.

But the march of Humanity is only clogged: it is not stayed. Ere long
it breaks away into untrodden paths amidst the busy hives of industry
or in the track of the colonizing peoples. The Muse follows in
perplexity: her course at first seems dull and purposeless: her story,
when it bids farewell to Napoleon, suffers a bewildering fall in
dramatic interest: but at length new and varied fields open out to
view. Democracy, embattled for seven sad years by Napoleon against her
sister, Nationality, little by little awakens to a consciousness of
the mistake that has blighted his fortune and hers, and begins to ally
herself with the ill-used champion of the Kings. Industry, starved by
War, regains her strength and goes forth on a career of conquest more
enduring than that of the great warrior. And the peoples that come to
the front are not those of the Latin race, whom his wars have stunted,
but those of the untamable Teutonic stock, the lords of the sea and
the leaders of Central Europe.

       *       *       *       *       *

The treatment of the ex-Emperor henceforth differed widely from that
which had been hastily arranged by the Czar for his sojourn at Elba.
In that case he retained the title of Emperor; he reigned over the
island, and was free to undertake coasting trips. As these generous
arrangements had entailed on Europe the loss of more than 80,000 men
in killed and wounded, it is not surprising that the British Ministers
should now have insisted on far stricter rules, especially as they and
their Commissioner had been branded as accomplices in the former
escape. His comfort and dignity were now subordinated to security. As
the title of Emperor would enable him to claim privileges incompatible
with any measure of surveillance, it was firmly and consistently
denied to him; while he as persistently claimed it, and doubtless for
the same reason. He was now to rank as a General not on active
service; and Cockburn received orders, while treating him with
deference and assigning to him the place of honour at table, to
abstain from any acknowledgment of the imperial dignity. Napoleon soon
put this question to the test by rising from dinner before the others
had finished; but, with the exception of his suite, the others did not
accompany him on deck. At this he was much piqued, as also at seeing
that the officers did not uncover in his presence on the quarter-deck;
but when Cockburn's behaviour in this respect was found to be quietly
consistent, the anger of the exiles began to wear off--or rather it
was thrust down.

One could wish that the conduct of our Government in this matter had
been more chivalrous. It is true that we had only on two occasions
acknowledged the imperial title, namely during the negotiations of
1806 and 1814; and to recognize it after his public outlawry would
have been rather illogical, besides feeding the Bonapartists with
hopes which, in the interests of France, it was well absolutely to
close. Ministers might also urge that he himself had offered to live
in England _as a private individual_, and that his transference to St.
Helena, which allowed of greater personal liberty than could be
accorded in England, did not alter the essential character of his
detention. Nevertheless, their decision is to be regretted. The zeal
of his partisans, far from being quenched, was inflamed by what they
conceived to be a gratuitous insult; and these feelings, artfully
worked upon by tales, medals, and pictures of the modern Prometheus
chained to the rock, had no small share in promoting unrest in France.

Apart from this initial friction, Napoleon's relations to the Admiral
and officers were fairly cordial. He chatted with him at the
dinner-table and during the hour's walk that they afterwards usually
took on the quarter-deck. His conversations showed no signs of despair
or mental lethargy. They ranged over a great variety of topics,
general and personal. He discussed details of navigation and
shipbuilding with a minuteness of knowledge that surprised the men of
the sea.

From his political conversations with Cockburn we may cull the
following remarks. He said that he really meant to invade England in
1803-5, and to dictate terms of peace at London. He stoutly defended
his execution of the Duc d'Enghien, and named none of the paltry
excuses that his admirers were later on to discover for that crime.
Referring to recent events, he inveighed against the French Liberals,
declared that he had humoured the Chambers far too much, and dilated
on the danger of representative institutions on the Continent. However
much a Parliament might suit England, it was, he declared, highly
perilous in Continental States. With respect to the future of France,
he expressed the conviction that, as soon as the armies of occupation
were withdrawn, there would be a general insurrection owing to the
strong military bias of the people and their hatred of the Bourbons,
now again brought back by devastating hordes of foreigners.[544]

This last observation probably explains the general buoyancy of his
bearing. He did not consider the present settlement as final; and
doubtless it was his boundless fund of hope that enabled him to
triumph over the discomforts of the present, which left his companions
morose and snappish. "His spirits are even," wrote Glover, the
Admiral's secretary, at the equator, "and he appears perfectly
unconcerned about his fate."[545] His recreations were chess, which he
played with more vehemence than skill, and games of hazard, especially
_vingt-et-un_: he began to learn "le wisth" from our officers.
Sometimes he and Gourgaud amused themselves by extracting the square
and cube roots of numbers; he also began to learn English from Las
Cases. On some occasions he diverted his male companions with tales of
his adventures, both military and amorous. His interest in the ship
and in the events of the voyage did not flag. When a shark was caught
and hauled up, "Bonaparte with the eagerness of a schoolboy scrambled
on the poop to see it."

His health continued excellent. Despite his avoidance of vegetables
and an excessive consumption of meat, he suffered little from
indigestion, except during a few days of fierce sirocco wind off
Madeira. He breakfasted about 10 on meat and wine, and remained in his
cabin reading, dictating, or learning English, until about 3 p.m.,
when he played games and took exercise preparatory to dinner at 5.
After a full meal, in which he partook by preference of the most
highly dressed dishes of meat, he walked the deck for an hour or more.
On one evening, the Admiral begged to be excused owing to a heavy
equatorial rain-storm; but the ex-Emperor went up as usual, saying
that the rain would not hurt him any more than the sailors; and it did
not. The incident claims some notice: for it proves that, whatever
later writers may say as to his decline of vitality in 1815, he
himself was unaware of it, and braved with impunity a risk that a
vigorous naval officer preferred to avoid. Moreover, the mere fact
that he was able to keep up a heavy meat diet all through the tropics
bespeaks a constitution of exceptional strength, unimpaired as yet by
the internal malady which was to be his doom.

That one element of conviviality was not wanting at meals will appear
from the official return of the consumption of wine at the Admiral's
table by his seven French guests and six British officers: Port, 20
dozen; Claret, 45 dozen; Madeira, 22 dozen; Champagne, 13 dozen;
Sherry, 7 dozen; Malmsey, 5 dozen.[546] The "Peruvian" had been
detached from the squadron to Guernsey to lay in a stock of French
wines specially for the exiles; and 15 dozen of claret--Napoleon's
favourite beverage--were afterwards sent on shore at St. Helena for
his use.

Doubtless the evenness of his health, which surprised Cockburn,
Warden, and O'Meara alike, was largely due to his iron will. He knew
that his exile must be disagreeable, but he had that useful faculty of
encasing himself in the present, which dulls the edge of care.
Besides, his tastes were not so exacting, or his temperament so
volatile, as to shroud him in the gloom that besets weaker natures in
time of trouble. Alas for him, it was far otherwise with his
companions. The impressionable young Gourgaud, the thought-wrinkled
Las Cases, the bright pleasure-loving Montholons, the gloomy Grand
Marshal, Bertrand, and his mercurial consort, over whose face there
often passed "a gleam of distraction"--these were not fashioned for a
life of adversity. Thence came the long spells of _ennui_, broken by
flashes of temper, that marked the voyage and the sojourn at St.
Helena.

The storm-centre was generally Mme. Bertrand; her varying moods, that
proclaimed her Irish-Creole parentage, early brought on her the
hostility of the others, including Napoleon; and as the discovery of
her little plot to prevent Bertrand going to St. Helena gave them a
convenient weapon, the voyage was for her one long struggle against
covert intrigues, thinly veiled sarcasms, sea-sickness, and despair.
At last she has to keep to her cabin, owing to some nervous disorder.
On hearing of this Napoleon remarks that it is better she should
die--such is Gourgaud's report of his words. Unfortunately, she
recovers: after ten days she reappears, receives the congratulations
of the officers in the large cabin where Napoleon is playing chess
with Montholon. He receives her with a stolid stare and goes on with
the game. After a time the Admiral hands her to her seat at the
dinner-table, on the ex-Emperor's left. Still no recognition from her
chief! But the claret bottle that should be in front of him is not
there: she reaches over and hands it to him. Then come the looked-for
words: "Ah! comment se porte madame?"--That is all.[547]

For Bertrand, even in his less amiable moods, Bonaparte ever had the
friendly word that feeds the well-spring of devotion. On the
"Bellerophon," when they hotly differed on a trivial subject, Bertrand
testily replied to his dogmatic statements: "Oh! if you reply in that
manner, there is an end of all argument." Far from taking offence at
this retort, Napoleon soothed him and speedily restored him to good
temper--a good instance of his forbearance to those whom he really
admired.

Certainly the exiles were not happy among themselves. Even the amiable
Mme. Montholon was the cause of one quarrel at table. After leaving
Funchal, Cockburn states that a Roman Catholic priest there has
offered to accompany the ex-Emperor. Napoleon replies in a way that
proves his utter indifference; but the ladies launch out on the
subject of religion. The discussion waxes hot, until the impetuous
Gourgaud shoots out the remark that Montholon is wanting in respect
for his wife. Whereupon the Admiral ends the scene by rising from
table. Sir George Bingham, Colonel of the 53rd Regiment sailing in the
squadron, passes the comment in his diary: "It is not difficult to see
that envy, hatred, and all uncharitableness are firmly rooted in
Napoleon's family, and that their residence in St. Helena will be
rendered very uncomfortable by it."[548]

Intrigues there are of kaleidoscopic complexity, either against the
superior Bertrands or the rising influence of Las Cases. This official
has but yesterday edged his way into the Emperor's inner circle, and
Gourgaud frankly reminds him of the fact: "'If I have come [with the
Emperor] it is because I have followed him for four years, except at
Elba. I have saved his life; and one loves those whom one has
obliged.... But you, sir, he did not know you even by sight: then, why
this great devotion of yours?'--I see around me," he continues, "many
intrigues and deceptions. Poor Gourgaud, _qu'allais-tu faire dans
cette galère_?"[549]

The young aide-de-camp's influence is not allowed to wane for lack of
self-advertisement. Thus, when the battle of Waterloo is mentioned at
table, he at once gives his version of it, and stoutly maintains that,
_whatever Napoleon may say to the contrary_, he (Napoleon) did mistake
the Prussian army for Grouchy's force: and, waxing eloquent on this
theme, he exclaims to his neighbour, Glover, "that at one time he
[Gourgaud] might have taken the Duke of Wellington prisoner, but he
_desisted from it, knowing the effusion of blood it would have
occasioned_."[550]--It is charitable to assume that this utterance was
inspired by some liquid stronger than the alleged "stale water that
had been to India and back."

On the whole, was there ever an odder company of shipmates since the
days of Noah? A cheery solid Admiral, a shadowy Captain Ross who can
navigate but does not open his lips, a talkative creature of the
secretary type, the soldierly Bingham, the graceful courtly
Montholons, the young General who out-gascons the Gascons, the
wire-drawn subtle Las Cases, the melancholy Grand Marshal and his
spasmodic consort--all of them there to guard or cheer that pathetic
central figure, the world's conqueror and world's exile.

Meanwhile France was feeling the results of his recent enterprise.
Enormous armies began to hold her down until the Bourbons, whose
nullity was a pledge for peace, should be firmly re-established.
Blücher, baulked of his wish to shoot Bonaparte, was with difficulty
dissuaded by the protests of Wellington and Louis XVIII. from blowing
up the Pont de Jéna at Paris; and the fierce veteran voiced the
general opinion of Germans, including Metternich, that France must be
partitioned, or at least give back Alsace and Lorraine to the
Fatherland. Even Lord Liverpool, our cautious Premier, wrote on July
15th that, if Bonaparte remained at large, the allies ought to retain
all the northern fortresses as a security.[551] But the knowledge that
the warrior was in our power led our statesmen to bear less hardly on
France. From the outset Wellington sought to bring the allies to
reason, and on August 11th he wrote a despatch that deserves to rank
among his highest titles to fame. While granting that France was still
left "in too great strength for the rest of Europe," he pointed out
that "revolutionary France is more likely to distress the world, than
France, however strong in her frontier, under a regular Government;
and that is the situation in which we ought to endeavour to place
her."

This generous and statesmanlike judgment, consorting with that of the
Czar, prevailed over the German policy of partition; and it was
finally arranged by the Treaty of Paris of November 20th, 1815, that
France should surrender only the frontier strips around Marienburg,
Saarbrücken, Landau, and Chambéry, also paying war indemnities and
restoring to their lawful owners all the works of art of which
Napoleon had rifled the chief cities of the continent. In one respect
these terms were extraordinarily lenient. Great Britain, after bearing
the chief financial strain of the war, might have claimed some of the
French colonies which she restored in 1814, or at least have required
the surrender of the French claims on part of the Newfoundland coast.
Even this last was not done, and alone of the States that had suffered
loss of valuable lives, we exacted no territorial indemnity for the
war of 1815.[552] In truth, our Ministers were content with placing
France and her ancient dynasty in an honourable position, in the hope
that Europe would thus at last find peace; and the forty years of
almost unbroken rest that followed justified their magnanimity.

But there was one condition fundamental to the Treaty of Paris and
essential to the peace of Europe, namely, that Napoleon should be
securely guarded at St. Helena.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XLII

CLOSING YEARS


After a voyage of sixty-seven days the exiles sighted St.
Helena--"that black wart rising out of the ocean," as Surgeon Henry
calls it. Blank dismay laid hold of the more sensitive as they gazed
at those frowning cliffs. What Napoleon's feelings were we know not.
Watchful curiosity seemed to be uppermost; for as they drew near to
Jamestown, he minutely scanned the forts through a glass. Arrangements
having been made for his reception, he landed in the evening of the
17th October, so as to elude the gaze of the inhabitants, and entered
a house prepared for him in the town.

On the morrow he was up at dawn, and rode with Cockburn and Bertrand
to Longwood, the residence of the Lieutenant-Governor. The orders of
our East India Company, to which the island then belonged, forbade his
appropriation of Plantation House, the Governor's residence; and a
glance at the accompanying map will show the reason of this
prohibition. This house is situated not far from creeks that are
completely sheltered from the south-east trade winds, whence escape by
boat would be easy; whereas Longwood is nearer the surf-beaten side
and offers far more security. After conferring with Governor Wilks and
others, Cockburn decided on this residence.

    "At Longwood," wrote Cockburn, "an extent of level ground, easily
    to be secured by sentries, presents itself, perfectly adapted for
    horse exercise, carriage exercise, or for pleasant walking, which
    is not to be met with in all the other parts of the island. The
    house is certainly small; but ... I trust the carpenters of the
    'Northumberland' will in a little time be able to make such
    additions to the house as will render it, if not as good as might
    be wished, yet at least as commodious as necessary."[553]

[Illustration: ST. HELENA]

"Napoleon," wrote Glover, "seemed well satisfied with the situation of
Longwood, and expressed a desire to occupy it as soon as possible." As
he disliked the publicity of the house in Jamestown, Cockburn
suggested on their return that he should reside at a pretty little
bungalow, not far from the town, named "The Briars." He readily
assented, and took up his abode there for seven weeks, occupying a
small adjoining annexe, while Las Cases and his son established
themselves in the two garrets. A marquee was erected to serve as
dining-room. It was a narrow space for the lord of the Tuileries, but
he seems to have been not unhappy. There he dictated Memoranda to Las
Cases or Gourgaud in the mornings, and often joined the neighbouring
family of the Balcombes for dinner and the evening. Mr. Balcombe, an
elderly merchant, was appointed purveyor to the party; he and his wife
were most hospitable, and their two daughters, of fifteen and fourteen
years, frequently beguiled Napoleon's evening hours with games of
whist or naïve questions. On one supreme occasion, in order to please
the younger girl, Napoleon played at blindman's buff; at such times
she ventured to call him "Boney"; and, far from taking offence at this
liberty, he delighted in her glee. It is such episodes as these that
reveal the softer traits of his character, which the dictates of
policy had stunted but not eradicated.[554]

In other respects, the time at "The Briars" was dull and monotonous,
and he complained bitterly to Cockburn of the inadequate
accommodation. The most exciting times were on the arrival of
newspapers from Europe. The reports just to hand of riots in England
and royalist excesses in France fed his hopes of general disorders or
revolutions which might lead to his recall. He believed the Jacobins
would yet lord it over the Continent. "It is only I who can tame
them."

Equally noteworthy are his comments on the trials of Labédoyère and
Ney for their treason to Louis XVIII. He has little pity for them.
"One ought never to break one's word," he remarked to Gourgaud, "and I
despise traitors." On hearing that Labédoyère was condemned to death,
he at first shows more feeling: but he comes round to the former view:
"Labédoyère acted like a man without honour," and "Ney dishonoured
himself."[555]

We may hereby gauge the value which Napoleon laid on fidelity. For him
it is the one priceless virtue. He esteems those who staunchly oppose
him, and seeks to gain them over by generosity: for those who _come
over_ he ever has a secret contempt; for those who desert him, hatred.
Doubtless that is why he heard the news of Ney's execution unmoved.
Brilliantly brave as the Marshal was, he had abandoned him in 1814,
and Louis XVIII. in the Hundred Days. The tidings of Murat's miserable
fate, at the close of his mad expedition to Calabria, leave Napoleon
equally cold.--"I announce the fatal news," writes Gourgaud, "to His
Majesty, whose expression remains unchanged, and who says that Murat
must have been mad to attempt a venture like that."--Here again his
thoughts seem to fly back to Murat's defection in 1814. Later on, he
says he loved him for his brilliant bravery, and therefore pardoned
his numerous follies. But his present demeanour shows that he never
forgave that of 1814.[556]

Meanwhile, thanks to the energy of Cockburn and his sailors, Longwood
was ready for the party (December 9th, 1815), and the Admiral hoped
that their complaints would cease. The new abode contained five rooms
for Napoleon's use, three for the Montholons, two for the Las Cases,
and one for Gourgaud: it was situated on a plateau 1,730 feet above
the sea: the air there was bracing, and on the farther side of the
plain dotted with gum trees stretched the race-course, a mile and a
half of excellent turf. The only obvious drawbacks were the occasional
mists, and the barren precipitous ravines that flank the plateau on
all sides. Seeing, however, that Napoleon disliked the publicity of
Jamestown, the isolation of Longwood could hardly be alleged as a
serious grievance. The Bertrands occupied Hutt's Gate, a small villa
about a mile distant.

The limits within which Napoleon might take exercise unaccompanied by
a British officer formed a roughly triangular space having a
circumference of about twelve miles. Outside of those bounds he must
be so accompanied; and if a strange ship came in sight, he was to
return within bounds. The letters of the whole party must be
supervised by the acting Governor. This is the gist of the official
instructions. Napoleon's dislike of being accompanied by a British
officer led him nearly always to restrict himself to the limits and
generally to the grounds of Longwood.

And where, we may ask, could a less unpleasant place of detention have
been found? In Europe he must inevitably have submitted to far closer
confinement. For what safeguards could there have been proof against a
subtle intellect and a personality whose charm fired thousands of
braves in both hemispheres with the longing to start him once more on
his adventures? The Tower of London, the eyrie of Dumbarton Castle,
even Fort William itself, were named as possible places of detention.
Were they suited to this child of the Mediterranean? He needed sun; he
needed exercise; he needed society. All these he could have on the
plateau of Longwood, in a singularly equable climate, where the heat
of the tropics is assuaged by the south-east trade wind, and plants of
the sub-tropical and temperate zones alike flourish.[557]

But nothing pleased the exiles. They moped during the rains; they
shuddered at the yawning ravines; they groaned at the sight of the
red-coats; above all, they realized that escape was hopeless in face
of Cockburn's watchful care. His first steps on arriving at the island
were to send on to the Cape seventy-five foreigners whose presence was
undesirable. He also despatched the "Peruvian" to hoist the British
flag on the uninhabited island, Ascension, in order, as he wrote to
the Admiralty, "to prevent America or any other nation from planting
themselves [_sic_] there ... for the purpose of favouring sooner or
later the escape of General Bonaparte." Four ships of war were also
kept at St. Helena, and no merchantmen but those of the East India
Company were to touch there except under stress of weather or when in
need of water.

These precautions early provoked protests from the exiles. Bertrand
had no wish to draw them up in the trenchant style that the ex-Emperor
desired; but Gourgaud's "Journal" shows that he was driven on to the
task (November 5th). It only led to a lofty rejoinder from Cockburn,
in which he declined to relax his system, but expressed the wish to
render their situation "as little disagreeable as possible." On
December 21st, Montholon returned to the charge with a letter dictated
by Napoleon, complaining that Longwood was the most barren spot on the
island, always deluged with rain or swathed in mist; that O'Meara was
not to count as a British officer when they went beyond the limits,
and had been reprimanded by the Admiral for thus acting; and that the
treatment of the exiles would excite the indignation of all times and
all people. To this the Admiral sent a crushing rejoinder, declining
to explain why he had censured O'Meara or any other British subject:
he asserted that Longwood was "the most pleasant as well as the most
healthy spot of this most healthful island," expressed the hope that,
when the rains had ceased, the party would change their opinion of
Longwood, and declared that the treatment of the party would "obtain
the admiration of future ages, as well as of every unprejudiced person
of the present."

We now know that the Admiral's trust in the judicial impartiality of
future ages was a piece of touching credulity, and that the next
generation, like his own, was greedily to swallow sensational slander
and to neglect the prosaic truth. But, arguing from present signs, he
might well believe that Montholon's letter was a tissue of falsehoods;
for that officer soon confessed to him that "it was written in a
moment of petulance of the General [Bonaparte] ... and that he
[Montholon] considered the party to be in point of fact vastly well
off and to have everything necessary for them, though anxious that
there should be no restrictions as to the General going unattended by
an officer wherever he pleased throughout the island."[558] On the
last point Cockburn was inflexible.

The Admiral's responsibility was now nearly at an end. On April 14th,
1816, there landed at St. Helena Sir Hudson Lowe, the new Governor,
who was to take over the powers wielded both by Cockburn and Wilks.
The new arrival, on whom the storms of calumny were thenceforth
persistently to beat, had served with distinction in many parts. Born
in 1769, within one month of Napoleon, he early entered our army, and
won his commission by service in Corsica and Elba, his linguistic and
military gifts soon raising him to the command of a corps of Corsican
exiles who after 1795 enlisted in our service. With these "Corsican
Rangers" Lowe campaigned in Egypt and finally at Capri, their devotion
to him nerving them to a gallant but unavailing defence of this islet
against a superior force of Murat's troops in 1808.[559] In 1810 Lowe
and his Corsicans captured the Isle of Santa Maura, which he
thereafter governed to the full satisfaction of the inhabitants. Early
in 1813 he was ordered to Russia, and thereafter served as _attaché_
on Blücher's staff in the memorable advance to the Rhine and the
Seine. He brought the news of Napoleon's first abdication to England,
was knighted by the Prince Regent, and received Russian and Prussian
orders of distinction for his services. At the close of 1814 he was
appointed Quartermaster-General of our forces in the Netherlands and
received flattering letters of congratulation from Blücher and
Gneisenau, the latter expressing his appreciation of "Your rare
military talents, your profound judgment on the great operations of
war, and your imperturbable _sang froid_ in the day of battle. These
rare qualities and your honourable character will link me to you
eternally." In 1822, when O'Meara was slandering Lowe's character, the
Czar Alexander met his step-daughter, the Countess Balmain, at Verona,
and in reference to Sir Hudson's painful duties at St. Helena, said of
him: "Je l'estime beaucoup. Je l'ai connu dans les temps
critiques."[560]

Lowe's firmness of character, command of foreign languages, and
intimate acquaintance with Corsicans, seemed to mark him out as the
ideal Governor of St. Helena in place of the mild and scholarly Wilks.
And yet the appointment was in some ways unfortunate. Though a man of
sterling worth, Lowe was reserved, and had little acquaintance with
the ways of courtiers. Moreover, the superstitious might deem that all
the salient events of his career proclaimed him an evil genius dogging
the steps of Napoleon; and, as superstition laid increasing hold on
the great Corsican in his later years, we may reasonably infer that
this feeling intensified, if it did not create, the repugnance which
he ever manifested to _la figure sinistre_ of the Governor. Lowe also
at first shrank from an appointment that must bring on him the
intrigues of Napoleon and of his partisans in England. Only a man of
high rank and commanding influence could hope to live down such
attacks; and Lowe had neither rank nor influence. He was the son of an
army surgeon, and was almost unknown in the country which for
twenty-eight years he had served abroad.

His first visits to Longwood were unfortunate. Cockburn and he
arranged to go at 9 a.m., the time when Napoleon frequently went for a
drive. On their arrival they were informed that the Emperor was
indisposed and could not see them until 4 p.m. of the next day, and it
soon appeared that the early hour of their call was taken as an act of
rudeness. On the following afternoon Lowe and Cockburn arranged to go
in together to the presence; but as Lowe advanced to the chamber,
Bertrand stepped forward, and a valet prevented the Admiral's
entrance, an act of incivility which Lowe did not observe. Proceeding
alone, the new Governor offered his respects in French; but on
Napoleon remarking that he must know Italian, for he had commanded a
regiment of Corsicans, they conversed in Napoleon's mother-tongue. The
ex-Emperor's first serious observation, which bore on the character of
the Corsicans, was accompanied by a quick searching glance: "They
carry the stiletto: are they not a bad people?"--Lowe saw the snare
and evaded it by the reply: "They do not carry the stiletto, having
abandoned that custom in our service: I was very well satisfied with
them." They then conversed a short time about Egypt and other topics.
Napoleon afterwards contrasted him favourably with Cockburn: "This new
Governor is a man of very few words, but he appears to be a polite
man: however, it is only from a man's conduct for some time that you
can judge of him."[561]

Cockburn was indignant at the slight put upon him by Napoleon and
Bertrand, which succeeded owing to Lowe's want of ready perception;
but he knew that the cause of the exiles' annoyance was his recent
firm refusal to convey Napoleon's letter of complaint direct to the
Prince Regent, without the knowledge of the Ministry. Failing to bend
the Admiral, they then sought to cajole the retiring Governor, Wilks,
who, having borne little of the responsibility of their custody, was
proportionately better liked. First Bertrand, and then Napoleon,
requested him to take this letter _without the knowledge of the new
Governor_. Wilks at once repelled the request, remarking to Bertrand
that such attempts at evasion must lead to greater stringency in the
future. And this was the case.[562] The incident naturally increased
Lowe's suspicion of the ex-Emperor.

At first there was an uneasy truce between them. Gourgaud, though cast
down at the departure of the "adorable" Miss Wilks, found strength
enough to chronicle in his "Journal" the results of a visit paid by
Las Cases to Lowe at Plantation House (April 26th): the Governor
received the secretary very well and put all his library at the
disposal of the party; but the diarist also notes that Napoleon took
amiss the reception of any of his people by the Governor. This had
been one of the unconscious crimes of the Admiral. With the hope of
brightening the sojourn of the exiles, he had given several balls, at
which Mmes. Bertrand and Montholon shone resplendent in dresses that
cast into the shade those of the officers' wives. Their triumph was
short-lived. When _la grande Maréchale_ ventured to desert the
Emperor's table on these and other festive occasions, her growing
fondness for the English drew on her sharp rebukes from the ex-Emperor
and a request not to treat Longwood as if it were an inn.[563] Many
jottings in Gourgaud's diary show that the same policy was thenceforth
strictly maintained. Napoleon kept up the essentials of Tuileries
etiquette, required the attendance of his courtiers, and jealously
checked any familiarity with Plantation House or Jamestown.

On some questions Lowe was more pliable than the home Government,
notably in the matter of the declarations signed by Napoleon's
followers. But in one matter he was proof against all requests from
Longwood: this was the extension of the twelve-mile limit. It
afterwards became the custom to speak as if Lowe could have granted
this. Even the Duke of Wellington declared to Stanhope that he
considered Lowe a stupid man, suspicious and jealous, who might very
well have let Napoleon go freely about the island provided that the
six or seven landing-places were well guarded and that Napoleon showed
himself to a British officer every night and morning. Now, it is
futile to discuss whether such liberty would have enabled Napoleon to
pass off as someone else and so escape. What is certain is that our
Government, believing he could so escape, _imposed rules which Lowe
was not free to relax_.

Napoleon realized this perfectly well, but in the interview of April
30th, 1816, he pressed Lowe for an extension of the limits, saying
that he hated the sight of our soldiers and longed for closer
intercourse with the inhabitants. Other causes of friction occurred,
such as Lowe's withdrawal of the privilege, rather laxly granted by
Cockburn to Bertrand, of granting passes for interviews with Napoleon;
or again a tactless invitation that Lowe sent to "General Bonaparte"
to meet the wife of the Governor-General of India at dinner at
Plantation House. But in the midst of the diatribe which Napoleon
shortly afterwards shot forth at his would-be host--a diatribe
besprinkled with taunts that Lowe was sent to be his
_executioner_--there came a sentence which reveals the cause of his
fury: "If you cannot extend my limits, you can do nothing for
me."[564]

Why this wish for wider limits? It did not spring from a desire for
longer drives; for the plateau offered nearly all the best ground in
the island for such exercise. Neither was it due to a craving for
wider social intercourse. There can be little doubt that he looked on
an extension of limits as a necessary prelude to attempts at escape
and as a means of influencing the slaves at the outlying plantations.
Gourgaud names several instances of gold pieces being given to slaves,
and records the glee shown by his master on once slipping away from
the sentries and the British officer. These feelings and attempts were
perfectly natural on Napoleon's part; but it was equally natural that
the Governor should regard them as part of a plan of escape or
rescue--a matter that will engage our closer attention presently.

Napoleon had only two more interviews with Lowe namely, on July 17th
and August 18th. In the former of these he was more conciliatory; but
in the latter, at which Admiral Sir Pulteney Malcolm was present, he
assailed the Governor with the bitterest taunts. Lowe cut short the
painful scene by saying: "You make me smile, sir." "How smile, sir?"
"You force me to smile: your misconception of my character and the
rudeness of your manners excite my pity. I wish you good day." The
Admiral also retired.[565]

Various causes have been assigned for the hatred that Napoleon felt
for Lowe. His frequents taunts that he was no general, but only a
leader of Corsican deserters, suggests one that has already been
referred to. It has also been suggested that Lowe was not a gentleman,
and references have been approvingly made to comparisons of his
physiognomy with that of the devil, and of his eye with "that of a
hyæna caught in a trap." As to this we will cite the opinion of
Lieutenant (later Colonel) Basil Jackson, who was unknown to Lowe
before 1816, and was on friendly terms with the inmates both of
Longwood and of Plantation House:

    "He [Lowe] stood five feet seven, spare in make, having good
    features, fair hair, and eyebrows overhanging his eyes: his look
    denoted penetration and firmness, his manner rather abrupt, his
    gait quick, his look and general demeanour indicative of energy
    and decision. He wrote or dictated rapidly, and was fond of
    writing, was well read in military history, spoke French and
    Italian with fluency, was warm and steady in his friendships, and
    popular both with the inhabitants of the isle and the troops. His
    portrait, prefixed to Mr. Forsyth's book, is a perfect
    likeness."[566]

If overhanging eyebrows, a penetrating glance, and rather abrupt
manners be thought to justify comparisons with the devil or a hyæna,
the art of historical portraiture will assuredly have to be learnt
over again in conformity with impressionist methods. That Lowe was a
gentleman is affirmed by Mrs. Smith (_née_ Grant), who, in later
years, _when prejudiced against him by O'Meara's slanders_, met him at
Colombo without at first knowing his name:

    "I was taken in to dinner by a grave, particularly gentlemanly
    man, in a General's uniform, whose conversation was as agreeable
    as his manner. He had been over half the world, knew all
    celebrities, and contrived without display to say a great deal one
    was willing to hear.... Years before, with our Whig principles and
    prejudices, we had cultivated in our Highland retirement a horror
    of the great Napoleon's gaoler. The cry of party, the feeling for
    the prisoner, the book of Surgeon O'Meara, had all worked my
    woman's heart to such a pitch of indignation that this maligned
    name [Lowe] was an offence. We were to hold the owner in
    abhorrence. Speak to him, never! Look at him, sit in the same room
    with him, never! None were louder than I, more vehement; yet here
    was I beside my bugbear and perfectly satisfied with my position.
    It was a good lesson."[567]

The real cause of Napoleon's hatred of Lowe is hinted at by Sir George
Bingham in his Diary (April 19th). After mentioning Napoleon's
rudeness to Cockburn on parting with him, he proceeds:

    "You have no idea of the dirty little intrigues of himself
    [Napoleon] and his set: if Sir H. Lowe has firmness enough not to
    give way to them, he will in a short time treat him in the same
    manner. For myself, it is said I am a favourite [of Napoleon],
    though I do not understand the claim I have to such."[568]


Yes! Lowe's offence lay not in his manners, not even in his features,
but in his firmness. Napoleon soon saw that all his efforts to bend
him were in vain. Neither in regard to the Imperial title, nor the
limits, nor the transmission of letters to Europe, would the Governor
swerve a hair's breadth from his instructions. At the risk of giving a
surfeit of quotations, we must cite two more on this topic. Basil
Jackson, when at Paris in 1828, chanced to meet Montholon, and was
invited to his Château de Frémigny; during his stay the conversation
turned upon their sojourn at St. Helena, to the following effect:

    "He [Montholon] enlarged upon what he termed _la politique de
    Longwood_, spoke not unkindly of Sir Hudson Lowe, allowing he had
    a difficult task to execute, since an angel from Heaven, as
    Governor, could not have pleased them. When I more than hinted
    that nothing could justify detraction and departure from truth in
    carrying out a policy, he merely shrugged his shoulders and
    reiterated: '_C'était notre politique; et que voulez-vous?_' That
    he and the others respected Sir Hudson Lowe, I had not the shadow
    of a doubt: nay, in a conversation with Montholon at St. Helena,
    when speaking of the Governor, he observed that Sir Hudson was an
    officer who would always have distinguished employment, as all
    Governments were glad of the services of a man of his calibre.

    "Happening to mention that, owing to his inability to find an
    officer who could understand and speak French, the Governor was
    disposed to employ me as orderly officer at Longwood, Montholon
    said it was well for me that I was not appointed to the post, as
    they did not want a person in that capacity who could understand
    them; in fact, he said, we should have found means to get rid of
    you, and perhaps ruined you."[569]


Las Cases also, _in a passage that he found it desirable to suppress
when he published his "Journal"_ wrote as follows (November 30th,
1815):

    "We are possessed of moral arms only: and in order to make the
    most advantageous use of these it was necessary to reduce into _a
    system_ our demeanour, our words, our sentiments, _even our
    privations_, in order that we might thereby excite a lively
    interest in a large portion of the population of Europe, and that
    the Opposition in England might not fail to attack the Ministry on
    the violence of their conduct towards us."[570]

We are now able to understand the real nature of the struggle that
went on between Longwood and Plantation House. Napoleon and his
followers sought by every means to bring odium upon Lowe, and to
furnish the Opposition at Westminster with toothsome details that
might lead to the disgrace of the Governor, the overthrow of the
Ministry, and the triumphant release of the ex-Emperor. On the other
hand, the knowledge of the presence of traitors on the island, and of
possible rescuers hovering about on the horizon, kept Lowe ever at
work "unravelling the intricate plotting constantly going on at
Longwood," until his face wore the preoccupied worried look that
Surgeon Henry describes.

That both antagonists somewhat overacted their parts does not surprise
us when we think of the five years thus spent within a narrow space
and under a tropical sun. Lowe was at times pedantic, witness his
refusal to forward to Longwood books inscribed to the "Emperor
Napoleon," and his suspicions as to the political significance of
green and white beans offered by Montholon to the French Commissioner,
Montchenu. But such incidents can be paralleled from the lives of most
officials who bear a heavy burden of responsibility. And who has ever
borne a heavier burden?[571]

Napoleon also, in his calmer moods, regretted the violence of his
language to the Governor. He remarked to Montholon: "This is the
second time in my life that I have spoilt my affairs with the English.
Their phlegm leads me on, and I say more than I ought. I should have
done better not to have replied to him." This reference to his attack
on Whitworth in 1803 flashes a ray of light on the diatribe against
Lowe. In both cases, doubtless, the hot southron would have bridled
his passion sooner, had it produced any visible effect on the colder
man of the north. Nevertheless, the scene of August 18th, 1816, had an
abiding influence on his relations with the Governor. For the rest of
that weary span of years they never exchanged a word.

Lowe's official reports prove that he did not cease to consult the
comfort of the exiles as far as it was possible. The building of the
new house, however, remained in abeyance, as Napoleon refused to give
any directions on the subject: and the much-needed repairs to Longwood
were stopped owing to his complaints of the noise of the workmen. But
by ordering the claret that the ex-Emperor preferred, and by sending
occasional presents of game to Longwood, Lowe sought to keep up the
ordinary civilities of life; and when the home Government sought to
limit the annual cost of the Longwood household to £8,000, Lowe took
upon himself to increase that sum by one half.

Napoleon's behaviour in this last affair is noteworthy. On hearing of
the need for greater economy, he readily assented, sent away seven
servants, and ordered a reduction in the consumption of wine. A day or
two later, however, he gave orders that some of his silver plate
should be sold in order "to provide those little comforts denied
them." Balcombe was accordingly sent for, and, on expressing regret to
Napoleon at the order for sale, received the reply: "_What is the use
of plate when you have nothing to eat off it?_" Lowe quietly directed
Balcombe to seal up the plate sent to him, and to advance money up to
its value (£250); but other portions of the plate were broken and sold
later on. O'Meara reveals the reason for these proceedings in his
letter of October 10th: "In this he [Napoleon] has also a wish to
excite odium against the Governor by saying that he has been obliged
to sell his plate in order to provide against starvation, _as he
himself told me was his object_."[572]

Another incident that embittered the relations between Napoleon and
the Governor was the arrival from England of more stringent
regulations for his custody. The chief changes thus brought about
(October 9th, 1816) were a restriction of the limits from a
twelve-mile to an eight-mile circumference and the posting of a ring
of sentries at a slight distance from Longwood at sunset instead of at
9 p.m.[573] The latter change is to be regretted; for it marred the
pleasure of Napoleon's evening strolls in his garden; but, as the
Governor pointed out, the three hours after sunset had been the
easiest time for escape. The restriction of limits was needful, not
only in order to save our troops the labour of watching a wide area
that was scarcely ever used for exercise, but also to prevent
underhand intercourse with slaves.

Was there really any need for these "nation-degrading" rules, as
O'Meara called them? Or were they imposed in order to insult the great
man? A reference to the British archives will show that there was some
reason for them. Schemes of rescue were afoot that called for the
greatest vigilance.

As we have seen (page 527, note), a letter had on August 2nd, 1815,
been directed to Mme. Bertrand (really for Napoleon) at Plymouth,
stating that the writer had placed sums of money with well-known firms
of Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and Charlestown on his behalf, and
that he (Napoleon) had only to make known his wishes "_avec le thé de
la Chine ou les mousselines de l'Inde_": for the rest, the writer
hoped much from English merchantmen. This letter, after wide
wanderings, fell into our hands and caused our Government closely to
inspect all letters and merchandise that passed into, or out of, St.
Helena. Its attention was directed specially to the United States.
There the Napoleonic cult had early taken root, thanks to his
overthrow of the kings and his easy sale of Louisiana; the glorifying
haze of distance fostered its growth; and now the martyrdom of St.
Helena brought it to full maturity. Enthusiasm and money alike
favoured schemes of rescue.

In our St. Helena Records (No. 4) are reports as to two of them.
Forwarded by the Spanish Ambassador at Washington, the first reached
Madrid on May 9th, 1816, and stated that a man named Carpenter had
offered to Joseph Bonaparte (then in the States) to rescue Napoleon,
and had set sail on a ship for that purpose. This was at once made
known to Lord Bathurst, our Minister for War and the Plantations, who
forwarded it to Lowe. In August of that year our Foreign Office also
received news that four schooners and other smaller vessels had set
sail from Baltimore on June 14th with 300 men under an old French
naval officer, named Fournier, ostensibly to help Bolivar, but really
to rescue Bonaparte. These fast-sailing craft were to lie out of sight
of the island by day, creep up at night to different points, and send
boats to shore; from each of these a man, _in English uniform_, was to
land and proceed to Longwood, warning Napoleon of the points where the
boats would be ready to receive him. The report concludes:
"Considerable sums in gold and diamonds will be put at his disposal to
bribe those who may be necessary to him. They seem to flatter
themselves of a certain co-operation on the part of certain
individuals domiciled or employed at St. Helena."[574]

Bathurst sent on to Lowe a copy of this intelligence. Forsyth does not
name the affair, though he refers to other warnings, received at
various times by Bathurst and forwarded to the Governor, that there
were traitors in the island who had been won over by Napoleon's gold
to aid his escape.[575] I cannot find out that the plans described
above were put to the test, though suspicious vessels sometimes
appeared and were chased away by our cruisers. But when we are
considering the question whether Bathurst and Lowe were needlessly
strict or not, the point at issue is _whether plans of escape or
rescue existed, and if so, whether they knew of them_. As to this
there cannot be the shadow of doubt; and it is practically certain
that they were the cause of the new regulations of October 9th, 1816.

We have now traced the course of events during the first critical
twelvemonth; we have seen how friction burst into a flame, how the
chafing of that masterful spirit against all restraint served but to
tighten the inclosing grasp, and how the attempts of his misguided
friends in America and Europe changed a fairly lax detention into
actual custody. It is a vain thing to toy with the "might-have-beens"
of history; but we can fancy a man less untamable than Napoleon
frankly recognizing that he had done with active life by assuming a
feigned name (_e.g._, that of Colonel Muiron, which he once thought
of) and settling down in that equable retreat to the congenial task of
compiling his personal and military Memoirs. If he ever intended to
live as a country squire in England, there were equal facilities for
such a life in St. Helena, with no temptations to stray back into
politics. The climate was better for him than that of England, and the
possibilities for exercise greater than could there have been allowed.
Books there were in abundance--2,700 of them at last: he had back
files of the "Moniteur" for his writings, and copies of "The Times"
came regularly from Plantation House: a piano had been bought in
England for £120. Finally there were the six courtiers whose jealous
devotion, varying moods, and frequent quarrels furnished a daily
comedietta that still charms posterity.

What then was wanting? Unfortunately everything was wanting. He cared
not for music, or animals, or, in recent years, for the chase. He
himself divulged the secret, in words uttered to Gallois in the days
of his power: "_Je n'aime pas beaucoup les femmes, ni le jeu--enfin
rien: je suis tout à fait un être politique!_"--He never ceased to
love politics and power. At St. Helena he pictured himself as winning
over the English, had he settled there. Ah! if I were in England, he
said, I should have conquered all hearts.[576] And assuredly he would
have done so. How could men so commonplace as the Prince Regent,
Liverpool, Castlereagh, and Bathurst have made head against the
influence of a truly great and enthralling personality? Or if he had
gone to the United States, who would have competed with him for the
Presidency?

As it was, he chose to remain indoors, in order to figure as the
prisoner of Longwood,[577] and spent his time between intrigues
against Lowe and dictation of Memoirs. On the subject of Napoleon's
writings we cannot here enter, save to say that his critiques of
Cæsar, Turenne, and Frederick the Great, are of great interest and
value; that the records of his own campaigns, though highly
suggestive, need to be closely checked by the original documents,
seeing that he had not all the needful facts and figures at hand; and
that his record of political events is in the main untrustworthy: it
is an elaborate device for enhancing the Napoleonic tradition and
assuring the crown to the King of Rome.

We turn, then, to take a brief glance at his last years. The first
event that claims notice is the arrest of Las Cases. This subtle
intriguer had soon earned the hatred of Montholon and Gourgaud, who
detested "the little Jesuit" for his Malvolio-like airs of importance
and the hints of Napoleon that he would have ceremonial precedence
over them. His rapid rise into favour was due to his conversational
gifts, literary ability, and thorough knowledge of the English people
and language. This last was specially important. Napoleon very much
wished to learn our language, as he hoped that any mail might bring
news of the triumph of the Whigs and an order for his own departure
for England. His studies with Las Cases were more persevering than
successful, as will be seen from the following curious letter, written
apparently in the watches of the night: it has been recently
re-published by M. de Brotonne.

    "COUNT LASCASES,

    "Since sixt week y learn the English and y do not any progress.
    Sixt week do fourty and two day. If might have learn fivty word,
    for day, i could know it two thousands and two hundred. It is in
    the dictionary more of fourty thousand: even he could most twenty;
    bot much of tems. For know it or hundred and twenty week, which do
    more two years. After this you shall agree that the study one
    tongue is a great labour who it must do into the young aged."

How much farther Napoleon progressed in his efforts to absorb our
language by these mathematical methods we do not know; for no other
English letter of his seems to be extant. The arrest and departure of
his tutor soon occurred, and there are good grounds for assigning this
ultimately to the jealousy of the less cultured Generals. Thus, we
find Gourgaud asserting that Las Cases has come to St. Helena solely
"in order to get talked about, write anecdotes, and make money."
Montholon also did his best to render the secretary's life miserable,
and on one occasion predicted to Gourgaud that Las Cases would soon
leave the island.[578]

The forecast speedily came true. The secretary intrusted to his
servant, a dubious mulatto named Scott, two letters for Europe sewn up
in a waistcoat: one of them was a long letter to Lucien Bonaparte. The
servant showed the letters to his father, who in some alarm revealed
the matter to the Governor. It is curious as illustrating the state of
suspicion then prevalent at St. Helena, that Las Cases accused the
Scotts of being tools of the Governor; that Lowe saw in the affair the
frayed end of a Longwood scheme; while the residents there suspected
Las Cases of arranging matters as a means of departure from the
island. There was much to justify this last surmise. Las Cases and his
son were unwell; their position in the household was very
uncomfortable; and for a skilled intriguer to intrust an important
letter to a slave, who was already in the Governor's black books, was
truly a singular proceeding. Besides, after the arrest, when the
Governor searched Las Cases' papers in his presence, they were found
to be in good order, among them being parts of his "Journal." Napoleon
himself thought Las Cases guilty of a piece of extraordinary folly,
though he soon sought to make capital out of the arrest by comparing
the behaviour of our officers and their orderlies with "South Sea
savages dancing around a prisoner that they are about to devour."[579]
After a short detention at Ross Cottage, _when he declined the
Governor's offer that he should return to Longwood_, the secretary was
sent to the Cape, and thence made his way to France, where a judicious
editing of his "Memoirs" and "Journal" gained for their compiler a
rich reward.

Gourgaud is the next to leave. The sensitive young man has long been
tormented by jealousy. His diary becomes the long-drawn sigh of a
generous but vain nature, when soured by real or fancied neglect.
Though often unfair to Napoleon, whose egotism the slighted devotee
often magnifies into colossal proportions, the writer unconsciously
bears witness to the wondrous fascination that held the little Court
in awe. The least attention shown to the Montholons costs "Gogo" a fit
of spleen or a sleepless night, scarcely to be atoned for on the
morrow by soothing words, by chess, or reversi, or help at the
manuscript of "Waterloo." Again and again Napoleon tries to prove to
him that the Montholons ought to have precedence: it is in vain. At
last the crisis comes: it is four years since the General saved the
Emperor from a Cossack's lance at Brienne, and the recollection
renders his present "humiliations" intolerable. He challenges
Montholon to a duel; Napoleon strictly forbids it; and the aggrieved
officer seeks permission to depart.

Napoleon grants his request. It seems that the chief is weary of his
moody humours; he further owes him a grudge for writing home to his
mother frank statements of the way in which the Longwood exiles are
treated. These letters were read by Lowe and Bathurst, and their
general purport seems to have been known in French governmental
circles, where they served as an antidote to the poisonous stories
circulated by Napoleon and his more diplomatic followers. Clearly
nothing is to be made of Gourgaud; and so he departs (February 13th,
1818). Bidding a tearful adieu, he goes with Basil Jackson to spend
six weeks with him at a cottage near Plantation House, when he is
astonished at the delicate reserve shown by the Governor. He then sets
sail for England. The only money he has is _£100_ advanced by Lowe.
Napoleon's money he has refused to accept.[580]

And yet he did not pass out of his master's life. Landing in England
on May 1st, he had a few interviews with our officials, in which he
warned them that Napoleon's escape would be quite easy, and gave a
hint as to O'Meara being the tool of Napoleon. But soon the young
General came into touch with the leaders of the Opposition. No change
in his sentiments is traceable until August 25th, when he indited a
letter to Marie Louise, asserting that Napoleon was dying "in the
torments of the longest and most frightful agony," a prey to the
cruelty of England! To what are we to attribute this change of front?
The editors of Gourgaud's "Journal" maintain that there was no change;
they hint that the "Journal" may have been an elaborate device for
throwing dust into Lowe's eyes; and they point to the fact that before
leaving the island Gourgaud received secret instructions from Napoleon
bidding him convey to Europe several small letters sewn into the soles
of his boots. Whether he acted on these instructions may be doubted;
for at his departure he gave his word of honour to Lowe that he was
not the bearer of any paper, pamphlet, or letter from Longwood.
Furthermore, we hear nothing of these secret letters afterwards; and
he allowed nearly four months to elapse in England before he wrote to
Marie Louise. The theory referred to above seems quite untenable in
face of these facts.[581]

How, then, are we to explain Gourgaud's conduct at St. Helena and
afterwards? Now, in threading the mendacious labyrinths of St. Helena
literature it is hard ever to find a wholly satisfactory clue; but
Basil Jackson's "Waterloo and St. Helena" (p. 103) seems to supply it
in the following passage:

    "To finish about Gourgaud, I may add that on his reaching England,
    after one or two interviews with the Under-Secretary of State, he
    fell into the hands of certain Radicals of note, who represented
    to him the folly of his conduct in turning against Napoleon; that,
    as his adherent, he was really somebody, whereas he was only
    ruining himself by appearing inimical. In short, they so worked
    upon the poor weak man, that he was induced to try and make it
    appear that he was still _l'homme de l'Empereur:_ this he did by
    inditing a letter to Marie Louise, in which he inveighed against
    the treatment of Napoleon at the hands of the Government and Sir
    H. Lowe, which being duly published, Gourgaud fell to zero in the
    opinion of all right-minded persons."

This seems consonant with what we know of Gourgaud's character: frank,
volatile, and sensitive, he could never have long sustained a policy
of literary and diplomatic deceit. He was not a compound of Chatterton
and Fouché. His "Journal" is the artless outpouring of wounded vanity
and brings us close to the heart of the hero-worshipper and his hero.
At times the idol falls and is shivered but love places it on the
shrine again and again, until the fourth anniversary of Brienne finds
the spell broken. Even before he leaves St. Helena the old fascination
is upon him once more; and then Napoleon seeks to utilize his devotion
for the purpose of a political mission. Gourgaud declines the _rôle_
of agent, pledges his word to the Governor, and keeps it; but, thanks
to British officialism or the seductions of the Opposition,
hero-worship once more gains the day and enrolls him beside Las Cases
and Montholon. This we believe to be the real Gourgaud, a genuine,
lovable, but flighty being, as every page of his "Journal" shows.

One cannot but notice in passing the extraordinary richness of St.
Helena literature. Nearly all the exiles kept diaries or memoirs, or
wrote them when they returned to Europe. And, on the other hand, of
all the 10,000 Britons whom Napoleon detained in France for eleven
years, not one has left a record that is ever read to-day.
Consequently, while the woes of Napoleon have been set forth in every
civilized tongue, the world has forgotten the miseries causelessly
inflicted on 10,000 English families. The advantages possessed by a
memoir-writing nation over one that is but half articulate could not
be better illustrated. For the dumb Britons not a single tear is ever
shed; whereas the voluble inmates of Longwood used their pens to such
effect that half the world still believes them to have been bullied
twice a week by Lowe, plied with gifts of poisoned coffee, and nearly
eaten up by rats at night. On this last topic we are treated to tales
of part of a slave's leg being eaten off while he slept at
Longwood--nay, of a horse's leg also being gnawed away at night--so
that our feelings are divided between pity for the sufferers and envy
at the soundness of their slumbers.

Longwood was certainly far from being a suitable abode; but a word
from Napoleon would have led to the erection of the new house on a
site that he chose to indicate. The materials had all been brought
from England; but the word was not spoken until a much later time; and
the inference is inevitable that he preferred to remain where he was
so that he could represent himself as lodged in _cette grange
insalubre._[582] The third of the Longwood household to depart was the
surgeon, O'Meara. The conduct of this British officer in facilitating
Napoleon's secret correspondence has been so fully exposed by Forsyth
and Seaton that we may refer our readers to their works for proofs of
his treachery. Gourgaud's "Journal" reveals the secret influence that
seduced him. Chancing once to refer to the power of money over
Englishmen, Napoleon remarked that that was why we did not want him to
draw sums from Europe, and continued: "_Le docteur n'est si bien pour
moi que depuis que je lui donne mon argent. Ah! j'en suis bien sûr, de
celui-là!"_[583] This disclosure enables us to understand why the
surgeon, after being found out and dismissed from the service, sought
to blacken the character of Sir Hudson Lowe by every conceivable
device. The wonder is that he succeeded in imposing his version of
facts on a whole generation.

The next physician who resided at Longwood, Dr. Stokoe, was speedily
cajoled into disobeying the British regulations and underwent official
disgrace. An attempt was then made, through Montholon, to bribe his
successor, Dr. Verling, who indignantly repelled it and withdrew from
his duty.[584]

There can be no doubt that Napoleon found pleasure in these intrigues.
In his last interview with Stürmer, the Austrian Commissioner at St.
Helena, Gourgaud said, in reference to this topic: "However unhappy he
[Napoleon] is here, he secretly enjoys the importance attached to his
custody, the interest that the Powers take in it, and the care taken
to collect his least words." Napoleon also once remarked to Gourgaud
that it was better to be at St. Helena than as he was at Elba.[585] Of
the same general tenour are his striking remarks, reported by Las
Cases at the close of his first volume:

    "Our situation here may even have its attractions. The universe is
    looking at us. We remain the martyrs of an immortal cause:
    millions of men weep for us, the fatherland sighs, and Glory is in
    mourning. We struggle here against the oppression of the gods, and
    the longings of the nations are for us.... Adversity was wanting
    to my career. If I had died on the throne amidst the clouds of my
    omnipotence, I should have remained a problem for many men:
    to-day, thanks to misfortune, they can judge of me naked as I am."

In terseness of phrase, vividness of fancy, and keenness of insight
into the motives that sway mankind, this passage is worthy of
Napoleon. He knew that his exile at St. Helena would dull the memory
of the wrongs which he had done to the cause of liberty, and that from
that lonely peak would go forth the legend of the new Prometheus
chained to the rock by the kings and torn every day by the ravening
vulture. The world had rejected his gospel of force; but would it not
thrill responsive to the gospel of pity now to be enlisted in his
behalf? His surmise was amazingly true. The world was thrilled. The
story worked wonders, not directly for him, but for his fame and his
dynasty. The fortunes of his race began to revive from the time when
the popular imagination transfigured Napoleon the Conqueror into
Napoleon the Martyr. Viewed in this light, and thrown up into telling
relief against the sinister policy of the Holy Alliance of the
monarchs, the dreary years spent at St. Helena were not the least
successful of his career. Without them there could have been no second
Napoleonic Empire.

Not that his life there was a "long-drawn agony." His health was
fairly good. There were seasons of something like enjoyment, when he
gave himself up to outdoor recreations. Such a time was the latter
part of 1819 and the first half of 1820: we may call it the Indian
summer of his life, for he was then possessed with a passion for
gardening. Lightly clad and protected by a broad-brimmed hat, he went
about, sometimes spade in hand, superintending various changes in the
grounds at Longwood and around the new house which was being erected
for him hard by. Or at other times he used the opportunity afforded by
the excavations to show how infantry might be so disposed on a hastily
raised slope as to bring a terrific fire to bear on attacking cavalry.
Marshalling his followers at dawn by the sound of a bell, he made them
all, counts, valets, and servants, dig trenches as if for the front
ranks, and throw up the earth for the rear ranks: then, taking his
stand in front, as the shortest man, and placing the tallest at the
rear (his Swiss valet, Noverraz), he triumphantly showed how the
horsemen might be laid low by the rolling volleys of ten ranks.[586]
In May or June he took once more to horse exercise, and for a time his
health benefited from all this activity. His relations with the
Governor were peaceful, if not cordial, and the limits were about this
time extended.

Indoors there were recreations other than work at the Memoirs. He
often played chess and billiards, at the latter using his hand instead
of the cue! Dinner was generally at a very late hour, and afterwards
he took pleasure in reading aloud. Voltaire was the favourite author,
and Montholon afterwards confessed to Lord Holland that the same
plays, especially "Zaïre," were read rather too often.

    "Napoleon slept himself when read to, but he was very observant
    and jealous if others slept while he read. He watched his audience
    vigilantly, and _'Mme. Montholon, vous dormez'_ was a frequent
    ejaculation in the course of reading. He was animated with all
    that he read, especially poetry, enthusiastic at beautiful
    passages, impatient of faults, and full of ingenious and lively
    remarks on style."[587]

During this same halcyon season two priests, who had been selected by
the Bonapartes, arrived in the island, as also a Corsican doctor,
Antommarchi. Napoleon was disappointed with all three. The doctor,
though a learned anatomist, knew little of chemistry, and at an early
interview with Napoleon passed a catechism on this subject so badly
that he was all but chased from the room. The priests came off little
better. The elder of them, Buonavita by name, had lived in Mexico, and
could talk of little else: he soon fell ill, and his stay in St.
Helena was short. The other, a Corsican named Vignali, having neither
learning, culture, nor dialectical skill, was tolerated as a
respectable adjunct to the household, but had little or no influence
over the master. This is to be regretted on many grounds, and partly
because his testimony throws no light on Napoleon's religious views.

Here we approach a problem that perhaps can never be cleared up.
Unfathomable on many sides of his nature, Napoleon is nowhere more so
than when he confronts the eternal verities. That he was a convinced
and orthodox Catholic few will venture to assert. At Elba he said to
Lord Ebrington: "_Nous ne savons d'où nous venons, ce que nous
deviendrons_": the masses ought to have some "fixed point of faith
whereon to rest their thoughts."--"_Je suis Catholique parce que mon
père l'étoit, et parce que c'étoit la religion de la France_." He also
once or twice expressed to Campbell scorn of the popular creed: and
during his last voyage, as we have seen, he showed not the slightest
interest in the offer of a priest at Funchal to accompany him. At St.
Helena the party seems to have limited the observances of religion to
occasional reading of the Bible. When Mme. Montholon presented her
babe to the Emperor, he teasingly remarked that Las Cases was the most
suitable person to christen the infant; to which the mother at once
replied that Las Cases was not a good enough Christian for that.

Judging from the entries in Gourgaud's "Journal," this young General
pondered more than the rest on religious questions; and to him
Napoleon unbosomed his thoughts.--Matter, he says, is everywhere and
pervades everything; life, thought, and the soul itself are but
properties of matter, and death ends all. When Gourgaud points to the
majestic order of the universe as bearing witness to a Creator,
Napoleon admits that he believes in "superior intelligences": he avers
that he would believe in Christianity if it had been the original and
universal creed: but then the Mohammedans "follow a religion simpler
and more adapted to their morality than ours." In ten years their
founder conquered half the world, which Christianity took three
hundred years to accomplish. Or again, he refers to the fact that
Laplace, Monge, Berthollet, and Lagrange were all atheists, though
they did not proclaim the fact; as for himself, he finds the idea of
God to be natural; it has existed at all times and among all peoples.
But once or twice he ends this vague talk with the remarkable
confession that the sight of myriad deaths in war has made him a
materialist. "Matter is everything."--"Vanity of vanities!"[588]

Mirrored as these dialogues are in the eddies of Gourgaud's moods,
they may tinge his master's theology with too much of gloom: but,
after all, they are by far the most lifelike record of Napoleon's
later years, and they show us a nature dominated by the tangible. As
for belief in the divine Christ, there seems not a trace. A report has
come down to us, enshrined in Newman's prose, that Napoleon once
discoursed of the ineffable greatness of Christ, contrasting His
enduring hold on the hearts of men with the evanescent rule of
Alexander and Cæsar. One hopes that the words were uttered; but they
conflict with Napoleon's undoubted statements. Sometimes he spoke in
utter uncertainty; at others, as one who wished to believe in
Christianity and might perhaps be converted. But in the political
testament designed for his son, the only reference to religion is of
the diplomatic description that we should expect from the author of
the "Concordat": "Religious ideas have more influence than certain
narrow-minded philosophers are willing to believe: they are capable of
rendering great services to Humanity. By standing well with the Pope,
an influence is still maintained over the consciences of a hundred
millions of men."

Equally vague was Napoleon's own behaviour as his end drew nigh. For
some time past a sharp internal pain--the stab of a penknife, he
called it--had warned him of his doom; in April, 1821, when vomiting
and prostration showed that the dread ancestral malady was drawing on
apace, he bade the Abbé Vignali prepare the large dining-room of
Longwood as a _chapelle ardente_; and, observing a smile on
Antommarchi's face, the sick man hotly rebuked his affectation of
superiority. Montholon, on his return to England, informed Lord
Holland that extreme unction was administered before the end came,
Napoleon having ordered that this should be done as if solely on
Montholon's responsibility, and that the priest, when questioned on
the subject, was to reply that he had acted on Montholon's orders,
without having any knowledge of the Emperor's wishes. It was
accordingly administered, but apparently he was insensible at the
time.[589] In his will, also, he declared that he died in communion
with the Apostolical Roman Church, in whose bosom he was born. There,
then, we must leave this question, shrouded in the mystery that hangs
around so much of his life.

The decease of a great man is always affecting: but the death of the
hero who had soared to the zenith of military glory and civic
achievement seems to touch the very nadir of calamity. Outliving his
mighty Empire, girt around by a thousand miles of imprisoning ocean,
guarded by his most steadfast enemies, his son a captive at the Court
of the Hapsburgs, and his Empress openly faithless, he sinks from
sight like some battered derelict. And Nature is more pitiless than
man. The Governor urges on him the best medical advice: but he will
have none of it. He feels the grip of cancer, the disease which had
carried off his father and was to claim the gay Caroline and Pauline.
At times he surmises the truth: at others he calls out "_le foie_"
"_le foie_." Meara had alleged that his pains were due to a liver
complaint brought on by his detention at St. Helena; Antommarchi
described the illness as gastric fever (_febbre gastrica pituitosa_);
and not until Dr. Arnott was called in on the 1st of April was the
truth fully recognized.

At the close of the month the symptoms became most distressing,
aggravated as they were by the refusal of the patient to take medicine
or food, or to let himself be moved. On May 4th, at Dr. Arnott's
insistence, some calomel was secretly administered and with beneficial
results, the patient sleeping and even taking some food. This was his
last rally: on the morrow, while a storm was sweeping over the island,
and tearing up large trees, his senses began to fail: Montholon
thought he heard the words _France, armée, tête d'armée, Joséphine_:
he lingered on insensible for some hours: the storm died down: the sun
bathed the island in a flood of glory, and, as it dipped into the
ocean, the great man passed away.

By the Governor's orders Dr. Arnott remained in the room until the
body could be medically examined--a precaution which, as Montchenu
pointed out, would prevent any malicious attempt on the part of the
Longwood servants to cause death to appear as the result of poisoning.
The examination, conducted in the presence of seven medical men and
others, proved that all the organs were sound except the ulcerated
stomach; the liver was rather large, but showed no signs of disease;
the heart, on the other hand, was rather under the normal size. Far
from showing the emaciation that usually results from prolonged
inability to take food, the body was remarkably stout--a fact which
shows that that tenacious will had its roots in an abnormally firm
vitality.[590]

After being embalmed, the body was laid out in state, and all
beholders were struck with the serene and beautiful expression of the
face: the superfluous flesh sank away after death, leaving the
well-proportioned features that moved the admiration of men during the
Consulate.

Clad in his favourite green uniform, he fared forth to his
resting-place under two large weeping willow trees in a secluded
valley: the coffin, surmounted by his sword and the cloak he had worn
at Marengo, was borne with full military honours by grenadiers of the
20th and 66th Regiments before a long line of red-coats; and their
banners, emblazoned with the names of "Talavera," "Albuera,"
"Pyrenees," and "Orthez," were lowered in a last salute to our mighty
foe. Salvos of artillery and musketry were fired over the grave: the
echoes rattled upwards from ridge to ridge and leaped from the
splintery peaks far into the wastes of ocean to warn the world beyond
that the greatest warrior and administrator of all the ages had sunk
to rest.

His ashes were not to remain in that desolate nook: in a clause of his
will he expressed the desire that they should rest by the banks of the
Seine among the people he had loved so well. In 1840 they were
disinterred in presence of Bertrand, Gourgaud, and Marchand, and borne
to France. Paris opened her arms to receive the mighty dead; and Louis
Philippe, on whom he had once prophesied that the crown of France
would one day rest, received the coffin in state under the dome of the
_Invalides_. There he reposes, among the devoted people whom by his
superhuman genius he raised to bewildering heights of glory, only to
dash them to the depths of disaster by his monstrous errors.

       *       *       *       *       *

Viewing his career as a whole, it seems just and fair to assert that
the fundamental cause of his overthrow is to be found, not in the
failings of the French, for they served him with a fidelity that would
wring tears of pity from Rhadamanthus; not in the treachery of this or
that general or politician, for that is little when set against the
loyalty of forty millions of men; but in the character of the man and
of his age. Never had mortal man so grand an opportunity of ruling
over a chaotic Continent: never had any great leader antagonists so
feeble as the rulers who opposed his rush to supremacy. At the dawn of
the nineteenth century the old monarchies were effete: insanity
reigned in four dynasties, and weak or time-serving counsels swayed
the remainder. For several years their counsellors and generals were
little better. With the exception of Pitt and Nelson, who were carried
off by death, and of Wellington, who had but half an army, Napoleon
never came face to face with thoroughly able, well-equipped, and
stubborn opponents until the year 1812.

It seems a paradox to say that this excess of good fortune largely
contributed to his ruin: yet it is true. His was one of those
thick-set combative natures that need timely restraint if their best
qualities are to be nurtured and their domineering instincts curbed.
Just as the strongest Ministry prances on to ruin if the Opposition
gives no effective check, so it was with Napoleon. Had he in his early
manhood taken to heart the lessons of adversity, would he have
ventured at the same time to fight Wellington in Spain and the Russian
climate in the heart of the steppes? Would he have spurned the offers
of an advantageous peace made to him from Prague in 1813? Would he
have let slip the chance of keeping the "natural frontiers" of France
after Leipzig, and her old boundaries, when brought to bay in
Champagne? Would he have dared the uttermost at all points at
Waterloo? In truth, after his fortieth year was past, the fervid
energies of youth hardened in the mould of triumph; and thence came
that fatal obstinacy which was his bane at all those crises of his
career. For in the meantime the cause of European independence had
found worthy champions--smaller men than Napoleon, it is true, but men
who knew that his determination to hold out everywhere and yield
nothing must work his ruin. Finally, the same clinging to unreal hopes
and the same love of fight characterized his life in St. Helena; so
that what might have been a time of calm and dignified repose was
marred by fictitious clamours and petty intrigues altogether unworthy
of his greatness.

For, in spite of his prodigious failure, he was superlatively great in
all that pertains to government, the quickening of human energies, and
the art of war. His greatness lies, not only in the abiding importance
of his best undertakings, but still more in the Titanic force that he
threw into the inception and accomplishment of all of them--a force
which invests the storm-blasted monoliths strewn along the latter
portion of his career with a majesty unapproachable by a tamer race of
toilers. After all, the verdict of mankind awards the highest
distinction, not to prudent mediocrity that shuns the chance of
failure and leaves no lasting mark behind, but to the eager soul that
grandly dares, mightily achieves, and holds the hearts of millions
even amidst his ruin and theirs. Such a wonder-worker was Napoleon.
The man who bridled the Revolution and remoulded the life of France,
who laid broad and deep the foundations of a new life in Italy,
Switzerland, and Germany, who rolled the West in on the East in the
greatest movement known since the Crusades and finally drew the
yearning thoughts of myriads to that solitary rock in the South
Atlantic, must ever stand in the very forefront of the immortals of
human story.







APPENDIX I

LIST OF THE CHIEF APPOINTMENTS AND DIGNITIES BESTOWED BY NAPOLEON

[_An asterisk is affixed to the names of his Marshals_.]


   Arrighi.  Duc de Padua.
  *Augereau.  Duc de Castiglione.
  *Bernadotte.  Prince de Ponte Corvo.
  *Berthier.  Chief of the Staff.  Prince de Neufchâtel.  Prince
      de Wagram.
  *Bessières.  Duc d'Istria.  Commander of the Old Guard.
   Bonaparte, Joseph.  (King of Naples.) King of Spain.
      "       Louis.  King of Holland.
      "       Jerome.  King of Westphalia.
  *Brune.
   Cambacérès.  Arch-Chancellor.  Duc de Parma.
   Caulaincourt.  Duc de Vicenza.  Master of the Horse.  Minister
       of Foreign Affairs (1814).
   Champagny.  Duc de Cadore.  Minister of Foreign Affairs
       (1807-11).
   Chaptal.  Minister of the Interior.  Comte de Chanteloupe.
   Clarke.  Minister of War.  Duc de Feltre.
   Daru.  Comte.
  *Davoust.  Duc d'Auerstädt.  Prince d'Eckmühl.
   Drouet.  Comte d'Erlon.
   Drouot.  Comte.  Aide-Major of the Guard.
   Duroc.  Grand Marshal of the Palace.  Duc de Friuli.
   Eugène (Beauharnais).  Viceroy of Italy.
   Fesch (Cardinal).  Grand Almoner.
   Fouché.  Minister of Police (1804-10).  Duc d'Otranto.
  *Grouchy.  Comte.
   Jomini.  Baron.
  *Jourdan.  Comte.
   Junot.  Duc d'Abrantès.
  *Kellermann.  Duc de Valmy.
  *Lannes.  Duc de Montebello.
   Larrey.  Baron.
   Latour-Maubourg.  Baron.
   Lauriston.  Comte.
   Lavalette.  Comte.  Minister of Posts.
  *Lefebvre.  Duc de Danzig.
  *Macdonald.  Duc de Taranto.
   Maret.  Minister of Foreign Affairs (1811-14.) Duc de Bassano.
  *Marmont.  Duc de Ragusa.
  *Masséna.  (Duc de Rivoli.) Prince d'Essling.
   Miot.  Comte de Melito.
   Méneval.  Baron.
   Mollien.  Comte.  Minister of the Treasury.
  *Moncey.  Duc de Conegliano.
   Montholon.  Comte.
  *Mortier.  Duc de Treviso.
   Mouton.  Comte de Lobau.
  *Murat.  (Grand Duc de Berg.) King of Naples.
  *Ney.  (Duc d'Elchingen.) Prince de la Moskwa.
  *Oudinot.  Duc de Reggio.
   Pajol.  Baron.
   Pasquier, Duc de.  Prefect of Police.
  *Pérignon.
  *Poniatowski.
   Rapp.  Comte.
   Reynier.  Duc de Massa.
   Rémusat.  Chamberlain.
   Savary.  Duc de Rovigo.  Minister of Police (1810-14).
   Sébastiani.  Comte.
  *Sérurier.
  *Soult.  Duc de Dalmatia.
  *St. Cyr, Marquis de.
  *Suchet.  Duc d'Albufera.
   Talleyrand.  Minister of Foreign Affairs (1799-1807).  Grand
       Chamberlain (1804-8).  Prince de Benevento.
   Vandamme.  Comte.
  *Victor.  Duc de Belluno.





APPENDIX II

THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO


Some critics have blamed me for underrating the _rôle_ of the
Prussians at Waterloo; but after careful study I have concluded that
it has been overrated by some recent German writers. We now know that
the Prussian advance was retarded by Gneisenau's deep-rooted suspicion
of Wellington, and that no direct aid was given to the British left
until nearly the end of the battle. Napoleon always held that he could
readily have kept off the Prussians at Planchenoit, that the main
battle throughout was against Wellington, and that it was decided by
the final charge of British cavalry. The Prussians did not wholly
capture Planchenoit until the French opposing Wellington were in full
flight. But, of course, Blücher's advance and onset made the victory
the overwhelming triumph that it was.

An able critic in the "Saturday Review" of May 10, 1902, has charged
me with neglecting to say that the French left wing (Foy's and
Bachelu's divisions) supported the French cavalry at the close of the
great charges. I stated (p. 502) that French infantry was not "at hand
to hold the ground which the cavaliers seemed to have won." Let me
cite the exact words of General Foy, written in his Journal a few days
after the battle (M. Girod de L'Ain's "Vie militaire du General Foy,"
p. 278): "Alors que la cavalerie française faisait cette longue et
terrible charge, le feu de notre artillerie était déjà moins nourri,
et notre infanterie ne fit aucun mouvement. Quand la cavalerie fut
rentrée, et que l'artillerie anglaise, qui avait cessé de tirer
pendant une demi-heure, eut recommencé son feu, on donna ordre aux
divisions Foy et Bachelu d'avancer droit aux carrés qui s'y étaient
avancés pendant la charge de cavalerie et qui ne s'étaient pas
repliés. L'attaque fut formée en colonnes par échelons de régiment,
Bachelu formant les échelons les plus avancés. Je tenis par ma gauche
à la haie [de Hougoumont]: j'avais sur mon front un bataillon en
tirailleurs. Près de joindre les Anglais, nous avons reçu un feu très
vif de mitraille et de mousqueterie. C'était une grêle de mort. Les
carrés ennemis avaient le premier rang genoux en terre et présentaient
une haie de baïonettes. Les colonnes de la 1're division ont pris la
fuite les premières: leur mouvement a entraîné celui de mes colonnes.
En ce moment j'ai été blessé...."

This shows that the advance of the French infantry was far too late to
be of the slightest use to the cavalry. The British lines had been
completely re-formed.








FOOTNOTES TO VOLUME I:

[Footnote 1: From a French work, "Moeurs et Coutumes des Corses"
(Paris, 1802), I take the following incident. A priest, charged with
the duty of avenging a relative for some fourteen years, met his enemy
at the gate of Ajaccio and forthwith shot him, under the eyes of an
official--who did nothing. A relative of the murdered man, happening
to be near, shot the priest. Both victims were quickly buried, the
priest being interred under the altar of the church, "because of his
sacred character." See too Miot de Melito, "Mémoires," vol. i., ch.
xiii., as to the utter collapse of the jury system in 1800-1, because
no Corsican would "deny his party or desert his blood."]

[Footnote 2: As to the tenacity of Corsican devotion, I may cite a
curious proof from the unpublished portion of the "Memoirs of Sir
Hudson Lowe." He was colonel in command of the Royal Corsican Rangers,
enrolled during the British occupation of Corsica, and gained the
affections of his men during several years of fighting in Egypt and
elsewhere. When stationed at Capri in 1808 he relied on his Corsican
levies to defend that island against Murat's attacks; and he did not
rely in vain. Though confronted by a French Corsican regiment, they
remained true to their salt, even during a truce, when they could
recognize their compatriots. The partisan instinct was proof against
the promises of Murat's envoys and the shouts even of kith and kin.]

[Footnote 3: The facts as to the family of Napoleon's mother are given
in full detail by M. Masson in his "Napoléon Inconnu," ch. i. They
correct the statement often made as to her "lowly," "peasant" origin.
Masson also proves that the house at Ajaccio, which is shown as
Napoleon's birthplace, is of later construction, though on the same
site.]

[Footnote 4: See Jacobi, "Hist. de la Corse," vol. ii., ch. viii. The
whole story is told with prudent brevity by French historians, even by
Masson and Chuquet. The few words in which Thiers dismisses this
subject are altogether misleading.]

[Footnote 5: Much has been written to prove that Napoleon was born in
1768, and was really the eldest surviving son. The reasons, stated
briefly, are: (1) that the first baptismal name of Joseph Buonaparte
was merely _Nabulione_ (Italian for _Napoleon_), and that _Joseph_ was
a later addition to his name on the baptismal register of January 7th,
1768, at Corte; (2) certain statements that Joseph was born at
Ajaccio; (3) Napoleon's own statement at his marriage that he was born
in 1768. To this it maybe replied that: (_a_) other letters and
statements, still more decisive, prove that Joseph was born at Corte
in 1768 and Napoleon at Ajaccio in 1769; (_b_) Napoleon's entry in the
marriage register was obviously designed to lessen the disparity of
years of his bride, who, on her side, subtracted four years from her
age. See Chuquet, "La Jeunesse de Napoléon," p. 65.]

[Footnote 6: Nasica, "Mémoires," p. 192.]

[Footnote 7: Both letters are accepted as authentic by Jung,
"Bonaparte et son Temps," vol. i., pp. 84, 92; but Masson, "Napoléon
Inconnu," vol. i., p. 55, tracking them to their source, discredits
them, as also from internal evidence.]

[Footnote 8: Chaptal, "Mes Souvenirs sur Napoléon," p. 177.]

[Footnote 9: Joseph Buonaparte, "Mems.," vol. i., p. 29. So too Miot
de Melito, "Mems.," vol. i., ch. x.]

[Footnote 10: Chaptal, "Souvenirs sur Napoléon," p. 237. See too
Masson, "Napoléon Inconnu," vol. i., p. 158, note.]

[Footnote 11: In an after-dinner conversation on January 11th, 1803,
with Roederer, Buonaparte exalted Voltaire at the expense of Rousseau
in these significant words: "The more I read Voltaire, the more I like
him: he is always reasonable, never a charlatan, never a fanatic: he
is made for mature minds. Up to sixteen years of age I would have
fought for Rousseau against all the friends of Voltaire. Now it is the
contrary. _I have been especially disgusted with Rousseau since I
have seen the East. Savage man is a dog._" ("Oeuvres de Roederer,"
vol. iii., p. 461.)

In 1804 he even denied his indebtedness to Rousseau. During a family
discussion, wherein he also belittled Corsica, he called Rousseau "a
babbler, or, if you prefer it, an eloquent enough _idéalogue_. I never
liked him, nor indeed well understood him: truly I had not the courage
to read him all, because I thought him for the most part tedious."
(Lucien Buonaparte, "Mémoires," vol. ii., ch. xi.)

His later views on Rousseau are strikingly set forth by Stanislas
Girardin, who, in his "Memoirs," relates that Buonaparte, on his visit
to the tomb of Rousseau, said: "'It would have been better for the
repose of France that this man had never been born.' 'Why, First
Consul?' said I. 'He prepared the French Revolution.' 'I thought it
was not for you to complain of the Revolution.' 'Well,' he replied,
'the future will show whether it would not have been better for the
repose of the world that neither I nor Rousseau had existed.'" Méneval
confirms this remarkable statement.]

[Footnote 12: Masson, "Napoléon Inconnu," vol. ii., p. 53.]

[Footnote 13: Joseph Buonaparte, "Mémoires," vol. i, p. 44.]

[Footnote 14: M. Chuquet, in his work "La Jeunesse de Napoléon"
(Paris, 1898), gives a different opinion: but I think this passage
shows a veiled hostility to Paoli. Probably we may refer to this time
an incident stated by Napoleon at St. Helena to Lady Malcolm ("Diary,"
p. 88), namely, that Paoli urged on him the acceptance of a commission
in the British army: "But I preferred the French, because I spoke the
language, was of their religion, understood and liked their manners,
and I thought the Revolution a fine time for an enterprising young
man. Paoli was angry--we did not speak afterwards." It is hard to
reconcile all these statements.

Lucien Buonaparte states that his brother seriously thought for a time
of taking a commission in the forces of the British East India
Company; but I am assured by our officials that no record of any
application now exists.]

[Footnote 15: The whole essay is evidently influenced by the works of
the democrat Raynal, to whom Buonaparte dedicated his "Lettres sur la
Corse." To the "Discours de Lyons" he prefixed as motto the words
"Morality will exist when governments are free," which he modelled on
a similar phrase of Raynal. The following sentences are also
noteworthy: "Notre organisation animale a des besoins indispensables:
manger, dormir, engendrer. Une nourriture, une cabane, des vêtements,
une femme, sont donc une stricte nécessité pour le bonheur. Notre
organisation intellectuelle a des appétits non moins impérieux et dont
la satisfaction est beaucoup plus précieuse. C'est dans leur entier
développement que consiste vraiment le bonheur. Sentir et raisonner,
voilà proprement le fait de l'homme."]

[Footnote 16: Nasica; Chuquet, p. 248.]

[Footnote 17: His recantation of Jacobinism was so complete that some
persons have doubted whether he ever sincerely held it. The doubt
argues a singular _naïveté_ it is laid to rest by Buonaparte's own
writings, by his eagerness to disown or destroy them, by the testimony
of everyone who knew his early career, and by his own confession:
"There have been good Jacobins. At one time every man of spirit was
bound to be one. I was one myself." (Thibaudeau, "Mémoires sur le
Consulat," p. 59.)]

[Footnote 18: I use the term _commissioner_ as equivalent to the
French _représentant en mission,_ whose powers were almost limitless.]

[Footnote 19: See this curious document in Jung, "Bonaparte et son
Temps," vol. ii., p. 249. Masson ignores it, but admits that the
Paolists and partisans of France were only seeking to dupe one
another.]

[Footnote 20: Buonaparte, when First Consul, was dunned for payment by
the widow of the Avignon bookseller who published the "Souper de
Beaucaire." He paid her well for having all the remaining copies
destroyed. Yet Panckoucke in 1818 procured one copy, which preserved
the memory of Buonaparte's early Jacobinism.]

[Footnote 21: I have chiefly followed the careful account of the siege
given by Cottin in his "Toulon et les Anglais en 1793" (Paris, 1898).

The following official figures show the weakness of the British army.
In December, 1792, the parliamentary vote was for 17,344 men as
"guards and garrisons," besides a few at Gibraltar and Sydney. In
February, 1793, 9,945 additional men were voted and 100 "independent
companies": Hanoverians were also embodied. In February, 1794, the
number of British regulars was raised to 60,244. For the navy the
figures were: December, 1792, 20,000 sailors and 5,000 marines;
February, 1793, 20,000 _additional_ seamen; for 1794, 73,000 seamen
and 12,000 marines. ("Ann. Reg.")]

[Footnote 22: Barras' "Mémoires" are not by any means wholly his. They
are a compilation by Rousselin de Saint-Albin from the Barras papers.]

[Footnote 23: Jung, "Bonaparte et son Temps," vol. ii.]

[Footnote 24: M.G. Duruy's elaborate plea (Barras, "Mems.,"
Introduction, pp. 69-79) rests on the supposition that his hero
arrived at Toulon on September 7th. But M. Chuquet has shown
("Cosmopolis," January, 1897) that he arrived there not earlier than
September 16th. So too Cottin, ch, xi.]

[Footnote 25: As the burning of the French ships and stores has been
said to be solely due to the English, we may note that, _as early as
October 3rd_, the Spanish Foreign Minister, the Duc d'Alcuida,
suggested it to our ambassador, Lord St. Helens: "If it becomes
necessary to abandon the harbour, these vessels shall be sunk or set
on fire in order that the enemy may not make use of them; for which
purpose preparations shall be made beforehand."]

[Footnote 26: Thiers, ch. xxx.; Cottin, "L'Angleterre et les
Princes."]

[Footnote 27: See Lord Grenville's despatch of August 9th, 1793, to
Lord St. Helens ("F.O. Records, Spain," No. 28), printed by M. Cottin,
p. 428. He does not print the more important despatch of October 22nd,
where Grenville asserts that the admission of the French princes would
tend to invalidate the constitution of 1791, for which the allies were
working.]

[Footnote 28: A letter of Lord Mulgrave to Mr. Trevor, at Turin ("F.
O. Records, Sardinia," No. 13), states that he had the greatest
difficulty in getting on with the French royalists: "You must not send
us one _émigré_ of any sort--they would be a nuisance: they are all so
various and so violent, whether for despotism, constitution, or
republic, that we should be distracted with their quarrels; and they
are so assuming, forward, dictatorial, and full of complaints, that
no business could go on with them. Lord Hood is averse to receiving
any of them."

NOTE TO THE THIRD EDITION.--From the information which Mr. Spenser
Wilkinson has recently supplied in his article in "The Owens College
Hist. Essays" (1902), it would seem that Buonaparte's share in
deciding the fate of Toulon was somewhat larger than has here been
stated; for though the Commissioners saw the supreme need of attacking
the fleet, they do not seem, as far as we know, to have perceived that
the hill behind Fort L'Eguillette was the key of the position.
Buonaparte's skill and tenacity certainly led to the capture of this
height.]

[Footnote 29: Jung, "Bonaparte et son Temps," vol. ii., p. 430.]

[Footnote 30: "Mémorial," ch. ii., November, 1815. See also
Thibaudeau, "Mémoires sur le Consulat," vol. i., p. 59.]

[Footnote 31: Marmont (1774-1852) became sub-lieutenant in 1789,
served with Buonaparte in Italy, Egypt, etc., received the title Duc
de Ragusa in 1808, Marshal in 1809; was defeated by Wellington at
Salamanca in 1812, deserted to the allies in 1814. Junot (1771-1813)
entered the army in 1791; was famed as a cavalry general in the wars
1796-1807; conquered Portugal in 1808, and received the title Duc
d'Abrantès; died mad.]

[Footnote 32: M. Zivy, "Le treize Vendémiaire," pp.60-62, quotes the
decree assigning the different commands. A MS. written by Buonaparte,
now in the French War Office Archives, proves also that it was Barras
who gave the order to fetch the cannon from the Sablons camp.]

[Footnote 33: Buonaparte afterwards asserted that it was he who had
given the order to fire, and certainly delay was all in favour of his
opponents.]

[Footnote 34: I caution readers against accepting the statement of
Carlyle ("French Revolution," vol. iii. _ad fin_.) that "the thing we
specifically call French Revolution is blown into space by the whiff
of grapeshot." On the contrary, it was perpetuated, though in a more
organic and more orderly governmental form.]

[Footnote 35: Chaptal, "Mes Souvenirs sur Napoléon," p. 198.]

[Footntoe 36: Koch, "Mémoires de Masséna," vol. ii., p. 13, credits
the French with only 37,775 men present with the colours, the
Austrians with 32,000, and the Sardinians with 20,000. All these
figures omit the troops in garrison or guarding communications.]

[Footnote 37: Napoleon's "Correspondence," March 28th, 1796.]

[Footnote 38: See my articles on Colonel Graham's despatches from
Italy in the "Eng. Hist. Review" of January and April, 1899.]

[Footnote 39: Thus Mr. Sargent ("Bonaparte's First Campaign") says
that Bonaparte was expecting Beaulieu to move on Genoa, and saw herein
a chance of crushing the Austrian centre. But Bonaparte, in his
despatch of April 6th to the Directory, referring to the French
advance towards Genoa, writes: "J'ai été très fâché et extrêmement
mécontent de ce mouvement sur Gênes, d'autant plus déplacé qu'il a
obligé cette république à prendre une attitude hostile, et a réveillé
l'ennemi que j'aurais pris tranquille: ce sont des hommes de plus
qu'il nous en coûtera." For the question how far Napoleon was indebted
to Marshal Maillebois' campaign of 1745 for his general design, see
the brochure of M. Pierron. His indebtedness has been proved by M.
Bouvier ("Bonaparte en Italie," p. 197) and by Mr. Wilkinson ("Owens
Coll. Hist. Essays").]

[Footnote 40: Nelson was then endeavouring to cut off the vessels
conveying stores from Toulon to the French forces. The following
extracts from his despatches are noteworthy. January 6th, 1796: "If
the French mean to carry on the war, they must penetrate into Italy.
Holland and Flanders, with their own country, they have entirely
stripped: Italy is the gold mine, and if once entered, is without the
means of resistance." Then on April 28th, after Piedmont was
overpowered by the French: "We English have to regret that we cannot
always decide the fate of Empires on the Sea." Again, on May 16th: "I
very much believe that England, who commenced the war with all Europe
for her allies, will finish it by having nearly all Europe for her
enemies."]

[Footnote 41: The picturesque story of the commander (who was not
Rampon, but Fornésy) summoning the defenders of the central redoubt to
swear on their colours and on the cannon that they would defend it to
the death has been endlessly repeated by historians. But the documents
which furnish the only authentic details show that there was in the
redoubt no cannon and no flag. Fornésy's words simply were: "C'est
ici, mes amis, qu'il faut vaincre ou mourir"--surely much grander than
the histrionic oath. (See "Mémoires de Masséna," Vol. ii.;" Pièces
Just.," No. 3; also Bouvier, _op. cit._)]

[Footnote 42: Jomini, vol. viii., p. 340; "Pièces Justifs."]

[Footnote 43: "Un Homme d'autrefois," par Costa de Beauregard.]

[Footnote 44: These were General Beaulieu's words to Colonel Graham on
May 22nd.]

[Footnote 45: Periods of ten days, which, in the revolutionary
calendar, superseded the week.]

[Footnote 46: I have followed the accounts given by Jomini, vol.
viii., pp. 120-130; that by Schels in the "Oest. Milit. Zeitschrift"
for 1825, vol. ii.; also Bouvier "Bonaparte en Italie," ch. xiii.; and
J.G.'s "Etudes sur la Campagne de 1796-97." Most French accounts,
being based on Napoleon's "Mémoires," vol. iii., p. 212 _et seq_., are
a tissue of inaccuracies. Bonaparte affected to believe that at Lodi
he defeated an army of sixteen thousand men. Thiers states that the
French cavalry, after fording the river at Montanasso, influenced the
result: but the official report of May 11th, 1796, expressly states
that the French horse could not cross the river at that place till the
fight was over. See too Desvernois, "Mems.," ch, vii.]

[Footnote 47: Bouvier (p. 533) traces this story to Las Cases and
discredits it.]

[Footnote: 48 Directorial despatch of May 7th, 1796. The date rebuts
the statement of M. Aulard, in M. Lavisse's recent volume, "La
Révolution Française," p. 435, that Bonaparte suggested to the
Directory the pillage of Lombardy.]

[Footnote 49: "Corresp.," June 6th, 1797.]

[Footnote 50: "Corresp.," June 1st, 1796.]

[Footnote 51: Gaffarel, "Bonaparte et les Républiques Italiennes," p.
22.]

[Footnote 52: "Corresp.," May 17th, 1796.]

[Footnote 53: Virgil, Aeneid, x. 200.]

[Footnote 54: Colonel Graham's despatches.]

[Footnote 55: "Corresp.," June 26th, 1796.]

[Footnote 56: Despatch of Francis to Würmser, July 14th, 1796.]

[Footnote 57: Jomini (vol. viii., p. 305) blames Weyrother, the chief
of Würmser's staff, for the plan. Jomini gives the precise figures of
the French on July 25th: Masséna had 15,000 men on the upper Adige;
Augereau, 5,000 near Legnago; Sauret, 4,000 at Salo; Sérurier, 10,500
near Mantua; and with others at and near Peschiera the total fighting
strength was 45,000. So "J.G.," p. 103.]

[Footnote 58: See Thiébault's amusing account ("Memoirs," vol. i., ch.
xvi.) of Bonaparte's contempt for any officer who could not give him
definite information, and of the devices by which his orderlies played
on this foible. See too Bourrienne for Bonaparte's dislike of new
faces.]

[Footnote 59: Marbot, "Mémoires," ch. xvi. J.G., in his recent work,
"Etudes sur la Campagne de 1796-97," p. 115, also defends Augereau.]

[Footnote 60: Jomini, vol. viii., p. 321.]

[Footnote 61: "English Hist. Review," January, 1899]

[Footnote 62: Such is the judgment of Clausewitz ("Werke," vol. iv.),
and it is partly endorsed by J.G. in his "Etudes sur la Campagne de
1796-97." St. Cyr, in his "Memoirs" on the Rhenish campaigns, also
blames Bonaparte for not having _earlier_ sent away his siege-train to
a place of safety. Its loss made the resumed siege of Mantua little
more than a blockade.]

[Footnote 63: Koch, "Mémoires de Masséna," vol. i., p. 199.]

[Footnote 64: "Corresp.," October 21st, 1796.]

[Footnote 65: "Corresp.," October 24th, 1796. The same policy was
employed towards Genoa. This republic was to be lulled into security
until it could easily be overthrown or absorbed.]

[Footnote 66: "Ordre du Jour," November 7th, 1796.]

[Footnote 67: Marmont, "Mémoires," vol. i., p. 237. I have followed
Marmont's narrative, as that of the chief actor in this strange scene.
It is less dramatic than the usual account, as found in Thiers, and
therefore is more probable. The incident illustrates the folly of a
commander doing the work of a sergeant. Marmont points out that the
best tactics would have been to send one division to cross the Adige
at Albaredo, and so take Arcola in the rear. Thiers' criticism, that
this would have involved too great a diffusion of the French line, is
refuted by the fact that on the third day a move on that side induced
the Austrians to evacuate Arcola.]

[Footnote 68: Koch, "Mémoires de Masséna," vol. i., p. 255, in his
very complete account of the battle, gives the enemy's losses as
upwards of 2,000 killed or wounded, and 4,000 prisoners with 11
cannon. Thiers gives 40,000 as Alvintzy's force before the battle--an
impossible number. See _ante_.]

[Footnote 69: The Austrian official figures for the loss in the three
days at Arcola give 2,046 killed and wounded, 4,090 prisoners, and 11
cannon. Napoleon put it down as 13,000 in all! See Schels in "Oest.
Milit. Zeitschrift" for 1829.]

[Footnote 70: A forecast of the plan realized in 1801-2, whereby
Bonaparte gained Louisiana for a time.]

[Footnote 71: Estimates of the Austrian force differ widely. Bonaparte
guessed it at 45,000, which is accepted by Thiers; Alison says 40,000;
Thiébault opines that it was 75,000; Marmont gives the total as
26,217. The Austrian official figures are 28,022 _before_ the fighting
north of Monte Baldo. See my article in the "Eng. Hist. Review" for
April, 1899. I have largely followed the despatches of Colonel Graham,
who was present at this battle. As "J.G." points out (_op.cit. _, p.
237), the French had 1,500 horse and some forty cannon, which gave
them a great advantage over foes who could make no effective use of
these arms.]

[Footnote 72: This was doubtless facilitated by the death of the
Czarina, Catherine II., in November, 1796. She had been on the point
of entering the Coalition against France. The new Czar Paul was at
that time for peace. The Austrian Minister Thugut, on hearing of her
death, exclaimed, "This is the climax of our disasters."]

[Footnote 73: Hüffer, "Oesterreich und Preussen," p. 263.]

[Footnote 74: "Moniteur," 20 Floreal, Year V.; Sciout, "Le
Directoire," vol. ii., ch. vii.]

[Footnote 75: See Landrieux's letter on the subject in Koch's
"Mémoires de Masséna," vol. ii.; "Pièces Justif.," _ad fin._; and
Bonaparte's "Corresp.," letter of March 24th, 1797. The evidence of
this letter, as also of those of April 9th and 19th, is ignored by
Thiers, whose account of Venetian affairs is misleading. It is clear
that Bonaparte contemplated partition long before the revolt of
Brescia.]

[Footnote 76: Botta, "Storia d'Italia," vol. ii., chs. x., etc.; Daru,
"Hist. de Venise," vol. v.; Gaffarel, "Bonaparte et les Républiques
Italiennes," pp. 137-139; and Sciout, "Le Directoire," vol ii., chs.
v. and vii.]

[Footnote 77: Sorel, "Bonaparte et Hoche en 1797," p. 65.]

[Footnote 78: Letter of April 30th, 1797.]

[Footnote 79: Letter of May 13th, 1797.]

[Footnote 80: It would even seem, from Bonaparte's letter of July
12th, 1797, that not till then did he deign to send on to Paris the
terms of the treaty with Venice. He accompanied it with the cynical
suggestion that they could do what they liked with the treaty, and
even annul it!]

[Footnote 81: The name _Italian_ was rejected by Bonaparte as too
aggressively nationalist; but the prefix _Cis_--applied to a State
which stretched southward to the Rubicon--was a concession to Italian
nationality. It implied that Florence or Rome was the natural capital
of the new State.]

[Footnote 82: See Arnault's "Souvenirs d'un sexagénaire" (vol. iii.,
p. 31) and Levy's "Napoléon intime," p. 131.]

[Footnote 83: For the subjoined version of the accompanying new letter
of Bonaparte (referred to in my Preface) I am indebted to Mr. H.A.L.
Fisher, in the "Eng. Hist. Rev.," July, 1900:

     "Milan, 29 Thermidor [l'an IV.]

     "À LA CITOYENNE TALLIEN

     "Je vous dois des remerciements, belle citoyenne, pour le souvenir
     que vous me conservez et pour les choses aimables contenues dans
     votre apostille. Je sais bien qu'en vous disant que je regrette les
     moments heureux que j'ai passé dans votre société je ne vous répète
     que ce que tout le monde vous dit. Vous connaître c'est ne plus
     pouvoir vous oublier: être loin de votre aimable personne lorsque
     l'on a goûté les charmes de votre société c'est désirer vivement de
     s'en rapprocher; mais l'on dit que vous allez en Espagne. Fi! c'est
     très vilain à moins que vous ne soyez de retour avant trois mois,
     enfin que cet hiver nous ayons le bonheur de vous voir à Paris.
     Allez donc en Espagne visiter la caverne de Gil Blas. Moi je crois
     aussi visiter toutes les antiquités possibles, enfin que dans le
     cours de novembre jusqu'à février nous puissions raconter sans
     cesse. Croyez-moi avec toute la considération, je voulais dire le
     respect, mais je sais qu'en général les jolies femmes n'aiment pas
     ce mot-là.

     "BONAPARTE.

     "Mille e mille chose à Tallien."]

[Footnote 84: Lavalette, "Méms.," ch. xiii.; Barras, "Méms.," vol.
ii., pp. 511-512; and Duchesse d'Abrantès, "Méms.," vol. i., ch.
xxviii.]

[Footnote 85: Barras, "Méms.," vol. ii., ch, xxxi.; Madame de Staël,
"Directoire," ch. viii.]

[Footnote 86: "Mémoires de Gohier"; Roederer, "Oeuvres," tome iii., p.
294.]

[Footnote 87: Brougham, "Sketches of Statesmen"; Ste. Beuve,
"Talleyrand"; Lady Blennerhasset, "Talleyrand."]

[Footnote 88: Instructions of Talleyrand to the French envoys
(September 11th); also Ernouf's "Maret, Duc de Bassano," chs. xxvii.
and xxviii., for the _bona fides_ of Pitt in these negotiations.

It seems strange that Baron du Casse, in his generally fair treatment
of the English case, in his "Négociations relatives aux Traités de
Lunéville et d'Amiens," should have prejudiced his readers at the
outset by referring to a letter which he attributes to Lord
Malmesbury. It bears no date, no name, and purports to be "Une Lettre
de Lord Malmesbury, oubliée à Lille." How could the following
sentences have been penned by Malmesbury, and written to Lord
Grenville?--"Mais enfin, outre les regrets sincères de Méot et des
danseuses de l'Opéra, j'eus la consolation de voir en quittant Paris,
que des Français et une multitude de nouveaux convertis à la religion
catholique m'accompagnaient de leurs voeux, de leurs prières, et
presque de leurs larmes.... L'évènement de Fructidor porta la
désolation dans le coeur de tous les bons ennemis de la France. Pour
ma part, j'en fut consterné: _je ne l'avais point prévu_." It is
obviously the clumsy fabrication of a Fructidorian, designed for
Parisian consumption: it was translated by a Whig pamphleteer under
the title "The Voice of Truth!"--a fit sample of that partisan
malevolence which distorted a great part of our political literature
in that age.]

[Footnote 89: Bonaparte's letters of September 28th and October 7th to
Talleyrand.]

[Footnote 90: See too Marsh's "Politicks of Great Britain and France,"
ch. xiii.; "Correspondence of W.A. Miles on the French Revolution,"
letters of January 7th and January 18th, 1793; also Sybel's "Europe
during the French Revolution," vol. ii.]

[Footnote 91: Pallain, "Le Ministère de Talleyrand sous le
Directoire," p. 42.]

[Footnote 92: Bourrienne, "Memoirs," vol. i., ch. xii. See too the
despatch of Sandoz-Rollin to Berlin of February 28th, 1798, in
Bailleu's "Preussen und Frankreich," vol. i., No. 150.]

[Footnote 93: The italics are my own. I wish to call attention to the
statement in view of the much-debated question whether in 1804-5
Napoleon intended to invade our land, _unless he gained maritime
supremacy_. See Desbrière's "Projets de Débarquement aux Iles
Britanniques," vol. i., _ad fin_.]

[Footnote 94: Letter of October 10th, 1797; see too those of August
16th and September 13th.]

[Footnote 95: The plan of menacing diverse parts of our coasts was kept
up by Bonaparte as late as April 13th, 1798. In his letter of this
date he still speaks of the invasion of England and Scotland, and
promises to return from Egypt in three or four months, so as to
proceed with the invasion of the United Kingdom. Boulay de la Meurthe,
in his work, "Le Directoire et l'Expédition d'Egypte," ch. i., seems
to take this promise seriously. In any case the Directors' hopes for
the invasion of Ireland were dashed by the premature rising of the
Irish malcontents in May, 1798. For Poussielgue's mission to Malta,
see Lavalette's "Mems.," ch. xiv.]

[Footnote 96: Mallet du Pan states that three thousand Vaudois came to
Berne to join in the national defence: "Les cantons démocratiques sont
les plus fanatisés contre les Français"--a suggestive remark.]

[Footnote 97: Dändliker, "Geschichte der Schweiz," vol. iii., p. 350
(edition of 1895); also Lavisse, "La Rév. Franç.," p. 821.]

[Footnote 98: "Correspondance," No. 2676.]

[Footnote 99: "Foreign Office Records," Malta (No. 1). Mr. Williams
states in his despatch of June 30th, 1798, that Bonaparte knew there
were four thousand Maltese in his favour, and that most of the French
knights were publicly known to be so; but he adds: "I do believe the
Maltees [_sic_] have given the island to the French in order to get
rid of the knighthood."]

[Footnote 100: I am indebted for this fact to the Librarian of the
Priory of the Knights of St. John, Clerkenwell.]

[Footnote 101: See, for a curious instance, Chaptal, "Mes Souvenirs,"
p. 243.]

[Footnote 102: The Arab accounts of these events, drawn up by Nakoula
and Abdurrahman, are of much interest. They have been well used by M.
Dufourcq, editor of Desvernois' "Memoirs," for many suggestive
footnotes.]

[Footnote 103: Desgenettes, "Histoire médicale de l'Armée d'Orient"
(Paris, 1802); Belliard, "Mémoires," vol. i.]

[Footnote 104: I have followed chiefly the account of Savary, Duc de
Rovigo, "Mems.," ch. iv. See too Desvernois, "Mems.," ch. iv.]

[Footnote 105: See his orders published in the "Correspondance
officielle et confid. de Nap. Bonaparte, Egypte," vol. i. (Paris,
1819, p. 270). They rebut Captain Mahan's statement ("Influence of Sea
Power upon the Fr. Rev. and Emp.," vol. i., p. 263) as to Brueys'
"delusion and lethargy" at Aboukir. On the contrary, though enfeebled
by dysentery and worried by lack of provisions and the insubordination
of his marines, he certainly did what he could under the
circumstances. See his letters in the Appendix of Jurien de la
Graviere, "Guerres Maritimes," vol. i.]

[Footnote 106: Desvernois, "Mems.," ch. v.]

[Footnote 107: _Ib._, ch. vi.]

[Footnote 108: Order of July 27th, 1798.]

[Footnote 109: Ducasse, "Les Rois, Frères de Napoléon," p. 8.]

[Footnote 110: "Mémoires de Napoléon," vol. ii.; Bourrienne, "Mems.,"
vol. i., ch. xvii.]

[Footnote 111: "Méms. de Berthier."]

[Footnote 112: On November 4th, 1798, the French Government forwarded
to Bonaparte, in triplicate copies, a despatch which, after setting
forth the failure of their designs on Ireland, urged him either (1) to
remain in Egypt, of which they evidently disapproved, or (2) to march
towards India and co-operate with Tippoo Sahib, or (3) to advance on
Constantinople in order that France might have a share in the
partition of Turkey, which was then being discussed between the Courts
of Petersburg and Vienna. No copy of this despatch seems to have
reached Bonaparte before he set out for Syria (February 10th). This
curious and perhaps guileful despatch is given in full by Boulay de la
Meurthe, "Le Directoire et l'Expédition d'Egypte," Appendix, No. 5.

On the whole, I am compelled to dissent from Captain Mahan ("Influence
of Sea Power," vol. i., pp. 324-326), and to regard the larger schemes
of Bonaparte in this Syrian enterprise as visionary.]

[Footnote 113: Berthier, "Mémoires"; Belliard, "Bourrienne et ses
Erreurs," also corrects Bourrienne. As to the dearth of food, denied
by Lanfrey, see Captain Krettly, "Souvenirs historiques."]

[Footnote 114: Emouf, "Le General Kléber," p. 201.]

[Footnote 115: "Admiralty Records," Mediterranean, No. 19.]

[Footnote 116: "Corresp.," No. 4124; Lavalette, "Mems.," ch. xxi.]

[Footnote 117: Sidney Smith's "Despatch to Nelson" of May 30th, 1799.]

[Footnote 118: J. Miot's words are: "Mais s'il en faut croire cette
voix publique, trop souvent organe de la vérité tardive, qu'en vain
les grands espèrent enchaîner, c'est un fait trop avéré que quelques
blessés du Mont Carmel et une grande partie des malades à l'hôpital de
Jaffa ont péri par les médicaments qui leur ont été administrés." Can
this be called evidence?]

[Footnote 119: Larrey, "Relation historique"; Lavalette, "Mems.," ch.
xxi.]

[Footnote 120: See Belliard, "Bourrienne et ses Erreurs"; also a
letter of d'Aure, formerly Intendant General of this army, to the
"Journal des Débats" of April 16th, 1829, in reply to Bourrienne.]

[Footnote 121: "On disait tout haut qu'il se sauvait lâchement," Merme
in Guitry's "L'Armée en Egypte." But Bonaparte had prepared for this
discouragement and worse eventualities by warning Kléber in the letter
of August 22nd, 1799, that if he lost 1,500 men by the plague he was
free to treat for the evacuation of Egypt.]

[Footnote 122: Lucien Bonaparte, "Mémoires," vol. ii., ch. xiv.]

[Footnote 123: In our "Admiralty Records" (Mediterranean, No. 21) are
documents which prove the reality of Russian designs on Corsica.]

[Footnote 124: "Consid. sur la Rév. Française," bk. iii., ch. xiii.
See too Sciout, "Le Directoire," vol. iv., chs. xiii.-xiv.]

[Footnote 125: La Réveillière-Lépeaux, "Mems.," vol. ii., ch. xliv.;
Hyde de Neuville, vol. i., chs. vi.-vii.; Lavisse, "Rév. Française,"
p. 394.]

[Footnote 126: Barras, "Mems.," vol. iv., ch. ii.]

[Footnote 127: "Hist. of the United States" (1801-1813), by H. Adams,
vol. i., ch. xiv., and Ste. Beuve's "Talleyrand."]

[Footnote 128: Gohier, "Mems.," vol. i.; Lavalette's "Mems.," ch.
xxii.; Roederer, "OEuvres," vol. iii., p. 301; Madelin's "Fouché," p.
267.]

[Footnote 129: For the story about Aréna's dagger, raised against
Bonaparte see Sciout, vol. iv., p. 652. It seems due to Lucien
Bonaparte. I take the curious details about Bonaparte's sudden pallor
from Roederer ("Oeuvres," vol. iii., p. 302), who heard it from
Montrond, Talleyrand's secretary. So Aulard, "Hist, de la Rév. Fr.,"
p. 699.]

[Footnote 130: Napoleon explained to Metternich in 1812 why he wished
to silence the _Corps Législatif_; "In France everyone runs after
applause: they want to be noticed and applauded.... Silence an
Assembly, which, if it is anything, must be deliberative, and you
discredit it."--Metternich's "Memoirs," vol. i., p. 151.]

[Footnote 131: This was still further assured by the first elections
under the new system being postponed till 1801; the functionaries
chosen by the Consuls were then placed on the lists of notabilities of
the nation without vote. The constitution was put in force Dec. 25th,
1799.]

[Footnote 132: Roederer, "Oeuvres," vol. iii., p. 303. He was the
go-between for Bonaparte and Sieyès.]

[Footnote 133: See the "Souvenirs" of Mathieu Dumas for the skilful
manner in which Bonaparte gained over the services of this
constitutional royalist and employed him to raise a body of volunteer
horse.]

[Footnote 134: "Lettres inédites de Napoléon," February 21st, 1800;
"Mémoires du Général d'Andigné," ch. xv.; Madelin's "Fouché," p. 306.]

[Footnote 135: "Georges Cadoudal," par son neveu, G. de Cadoudal; Hyde
de Neuville, vol. i., p. 305.]

[Footnote 136: Talleyrand, "Mems.," vol. i., part ii.; Marmont, bk.
v.]

[Footnote 137: "F.O.," Austria, No. 58; "Castlereagh's Despatches," v.
_ad init._ Bowman, in his excellent monograph, "Preliminary Stages of
the Peace of Amiens" (Toronto, 1899), has not noted this.]

[Footnote 138: "Nap. Correspond.," February 27th 1800; Thugut,
"Briefe" vol. ii., pp. 444-446; Oncken, "Zeitalter," vol. ii. p. 45.]

[Footnote 139: A Foreign Office despatch, dated Downing Street,
February 8th, 1800, to Vienna, promised a loan and that 15,000 or
20,000 British troops should be employed in the Mediterranean to act
in concert with the Austrians there, and to give "support to the
royalist insurrections in the southern provinces of France." No
differences of opinion respecting Piedmont can be held a sufficient
excuse for the failure of the British Government to fulfil this
promise--a failure which contributed to the disaster at Marengo.]

[Footnote 140: Thiers attributes this device to Bonaparte; but the
First Consul's bulletin of May 24th ascribes it to Marmont and
Gassendi.]

[Footnote 141: Marbot, "Mems.," ch. ix.; Allardyce, "Memoir of Lord
Keith," ch. xiii.; Thiébault's "Journal of the Blockade of Genoa."]

[Footnote 142: That Melas expected such a march is clear from a letter
of his of May 23rd, dated from Savillan, to Lord Keith, which I have
found in the "Brit. Admiralty Records" (Mediterranean, No. 22), where
he says: "L'ennemi a cerné le fort de Bard et s'est avancé jusque sous
le château d'Ivrée. Il est clair que son but est de délivrer
Masséna."]

[Footnote 143: Bonaparte did not leave Milan till June 9th: see
"Correspondance" and the bulletin of June 10th. Jomini places his
departure for the 7th, and thereby confuses his description for these
two days. Thiers dates it on June 8th.]

[Footnote 144: Lord W. Bentinck reported to the Brit. Admiralty
("Records," Meditn., No. 22), from Alessandria, on June 15th: "I am
sorry to say that General Elsnitz's corps, which was composed of the
grenadiers of the finest regiments in the (Austrian) army, arrived
here in the most deplorable condition. His men had already suffered
much from want of provisions and other hardships. He was pursued in
his retreat by Genl. Suchet, who had with him about 7,000 men. There
was an action at Ponte di Nava, in which the French failed; and it
will appear scarcely credible, when I tell your Lordship, that the
Austrians lost in this retreat, from fatigue only, near 5,000 men; and
I have no doubt that Genl. Suchet will notify this to the world as a
great victory."]

[Footnote 145: The inaccuracy of Marbot's "Mémoires" is nowhere more
glaring than in his statement that Marengo must have gone against the
French if Ott's 25,000 Austrians from Genoa had joined their comrades.
As a matter of fact, Ott, with 16,000 men, had _already_ fought with
Lannes at Montebello; and played a great part in the battle of
Marengo.]

[Footnote 146: "Corresp.," vol. vi., p. 365. Fournier, "Hist. Studien
und Skizzen," p. 189, argues that the letter was written from Milan,
and dated from Marengo for effect.]

[Footnote 147: See Czartoryski's "Memoirs," ch. xi., and Driault's "La
Question d'Orient," ch. iii. The British Foreign Office was informed
of the plan. In its records (No. 614) is a memoir (pencilled on the
back January 31st, 1801) from a M. Leclerc to Mr. Flint, referring the
present proposal back to that offered by M. de St. Génie to Catherine
II., and proposing that the first French step should be the seizure of
Socotra and Perim.]

[Footnote 148: Garden, "Traités," vol. vi., ch. xxx.; Captain Mahan's
"Life of Nelson," vol. ii., ch. xvi.; Thiers, "Consulate," bk. ix. For
the assassination of the Czar Paul see "Kaiser Paul's Ende," von R.R.
(Stuttgart, 1897); also Czartoryski's "Memoirs," chs. xiii.-xiv. For
Bonaparte's offer of a naval truce to us and his overture of December,
1800, see Bowman, _op. cit_.]

[Footnote 149: Pasquier, " Mems.," vol. i., ch. ii., p. 299. So too
Mollien, "Mems.": "With an insatiable activity in details, a
restlessness of mind always eager for new cares, he not only reigned
and governed, he continued to administer not only as Prime Minister,
but more minutely than each Minister."]

[Footnote 150: Lack of space prevents any account of French finances
and the establishment of the Bank of France. But we may note here that
the collection of the national taxes was now carried out by a
State-appointed director and his subordinates in every Department--a
plan which yielded better results than former slipshod methods. The
_conseil général_ of the Department assessed the direct taxes among
the smaller areas. "Méms." de Gaudin, Duc de Gaëte.]

[Footnote 151: Edmond Blanc, "Napoléon I; ses Institutions," p. 27.]

[Footnote 152: Theiner, "Hist. des deux Concordats," vol. i., p. 21.]

[Footnote 153: Thibaudeau estimated that of the population of
35,000,000 the following assortment might be made: Protestants, Jews,
and Theophilanthropists, 3,000,000; Catholics, 15,000,000, equally
divided between orthodox and constitutionals; and as many as
17,000,000 professing no belief whatever.]

[Footnote 154: See Roederer, "Oeuvres," vol. iii., p. 475. On the
discontent of the officers, see Pasquier's "Mems.," vol. i., ch. vii.;
also Marmont's "Mems.," bk. vi.]

[Footnote 155: See the drafts in Count Boulay de la Meurthe's
"Négociation du Concordat," vol. ii., pp. 58 and 268.]

[Footnote 156: Theiner, vol. i., pp. 193 and 196.]

[Footnote 157: Méneval, "Mems.," vol. i., p. 81.]

[Footnote 158: Thiers omits any notice of this strange transaction.
Lanfrey describes it, but unfortunately relies on the melodramatic
version given in Consalvi's "Memoirs," which were written many years
later and are far less trustworthy than the Cardinal's letters written
at the time. In his careful review of all the documentary evidence,
Count Boulay de la Meurthe (vol. iii., p. 201, note) concludes that
the new project of the Concordat (No. VIII.) was drawn up by
Hauterive, was "submitted immediately to the approbation of the
First Consul," and thereupon formed the basis of the long and
heated discussion of July 14th between the Papal and French
plenipotentiaries. A facsimile of this interesting document, with all
the erasures, is appended at the end of his volume.]

[Footnote 159: Pasquier, "Mems.," vol. i., ch. vii. Two of the organic
articles portended the abolition of the revolutionary calendar. The
first restored the old names of the days of the week; the second
ordered that Sunday should be the day of rest for all public
functionaries. The observance of _décadis_ thenceforth ceased; but the
months of the revolutionary calendar were observed until the close of
the year 1805. Theophilanthropy was similarly treated: when its
votaries applied for a building, their request was refused on the
ground that their cult came within the domain of philosophy, not of
any actual religion! A small number of priests and of their
parishioners refused to recognize the Concordat; and even to-day there
are a few of these _anti-concordataires_.]

[Footnote 160: Chaptal, "Souvenirs," pp. 237-239. Lucien Bonaparte,
"Mems.," vol. ii., p. 201, quotes his brother Joseph's opinion of the
Concordat: "Un pas rétrograde et irréfléchi de la nation qui s'y
soumettait."]

[Footnote 161: Thibaudeau, "Consulat," ch. xxvi.]

[Footnote 162: "Code Napoléon," art. 148.]

[Footnote 163: In other respects also Bonaparte's influence was used
to depress the legal status of woman, which the men of 1789 had done
so much to raise. In his curious letter of May 15th, 1807, on the
Institution at Ecouen, we have his ideas on a sound, useful education
for girls: "... We must begin with religion in all its severity. Do
not admit any modification of this. Religion is very important in a
girls' public school: it is the surest guarantee for mothers and
husbands. We must train up believers, not reasoners. The weakness of
women's brains, the unsteadiness of their ideas, their function in the
social order, their need of constant resignation and of a kind of
indulgent and easy charity--all can only be attained by religion."
They were to learn a little geography and history, but no foreign
language; above all, to do plenty of needlework.]

[Footnote 164: Sagnac, "Législation civile de la Rév. Fr.," p. 293.]

[Footnote 165: Divorce was suppressed in 1816, but was re-established
in 1884.]

[Footnote 166: Sagnac, _op. cit._, p. 352.]

[Footnote 167: "The Life of Sir S. Romilly," vol. i., p. 408.]

[Footnote 168: Madelin in his "Fouché," ch. xi., shows how Bonaparte's
private police managed the affair. Harel was afterwards promoted to
the governorship of the Castle of Vincennes: the four talkers, whom he
and the police had lured on, were executed after the affair of Nivôse.
That dextrous literary flatterer, the poet Fontanes, celebrated the
"discovery" of the Aréna plot by publishing anonymously a pamphlet ("A
Parallel between Caesar, Cromwell, Monk, and Bonaparte") in which he
decided that no one but Caesar deserved the honour of a comparison
with Bonaparte, and that certain destinies were summoning him to a yet
higher title. The pamphlet appeared under the patronage of Lucien
Bonaparte, and so annoyed his brother that he soon despatched him on a
diplomatic mission to Madrid as a punishment for his ill-timed
suggestions.]

[Footnote 169: Thibaudeau, _op. cit_., vol. ii., p. 55. Miot de
Melito, ch. xii.]

[Footnote 170: It seems clear, from the evidence so frankly given by
Cadoudal in his trial in 1804, as well as from his expressions when he
heard of the affair of Nivôse, that the hero of the Chouans had no
part in the bomb affair. He had returned to France, had empowered St.
Réjant to buy arms and horses, "dont je me servirai plus tard"; and it
seems certain that he intended to form a band of desperate men who
were to waylay, kidnap, or kill the First Consul in open fight. This
plan was deferred by the bomb explosion for three years. As soon as he
heard of this event, he exclaimed: "I'll bet that it was that---- St.
Réjant. He has upset all my plans." (See "Georges Cadoudal," par G. de
Cadoudal.)]

[Footnote 171: Roederer, "Oeuvres," vol. iii., p. 352. For these
negotiations see Bowman's "Preliminary Stages of the Peace of Amiens"
(Toronto, 1899).]

[Footnote 172: Porter, "Progress of the Nation," ch. xiv.]

[Footnote 173: "New Letters of Napoleon I." See too his letter of June
17th.]

[Footnote 174: "Cornwallis Correspondence," vol. iii., pp. 380-382.
Few records exist of the negotiations between Lord Hawkesbury and M.
Otto at London. I have found none in the Foreign Office archives. The
general facts are given by Garden, "Traités," vol. vii., ch. xxxi.;
only a few of the discussions were reduced to writing. This seriously
prejudiced our interests at Amiens.]

[Footnote 175: Lefebvre, "Cabinets de l'Europe," ch. iv]

[Footnote 176: Chaptal. "Mes Souvenirs," pp. 287, 291, and 359.]

[Footnote 177: See Chapter XIV. of this work.]

[Footnote 178: Thibaudeau, _op. cit_., ch. xxvi.; Lavisse, "Napoléon,"
ch. i.]

[Footnote 179: "A Diary of St. Helena," by Lady Malcolm, p. 97.]

[Footnote 180: "The Two Duchesses," edited by Vere Foster, p. 172.
Lord Malmesbury ("Diaries," vol. iv., p. 257) is less favourable:
"When B. is out of his ceremonious habits, his language is often
coarse and vulgar."]

[Footnote 181: Jurien de la Graviere, "Guerres Maritimes," vol. ii.,
chap. vii.]

[Footnote 182: These facts were fully acknowledged later by Otto: see
his despatch of January 6th, 1802, to Talleyrand, published by Du
Casse in his "Négociations relatives au Traité d'Amiens," vol. iii.]

[Footnote 183: "F.O.," France, No. 59. The memoir is dated October
19th, 1801.]

[Footnote 184: "F.O.," France, No. 59.]

[Footnote 185: Castlereagh, "Letters and Despatches," Second Series,
vol. i., p. 62, and the speeches of Ministers on November 3rd, 1801.]

[Footnote 186: Cornwallis, "Correspondence," vol. iii., despatch of
December 3rd, 1801. The feelings of the native Maltese were strongly
for annexation to Britain, and against the return of the Order at all.
They sent a deputation to London (February, 1802), which was shabbily
treated by our Government so as to avoid offending Bonaparte. (See
"Correspondence of W.A. Miles," vol. ii., pp. 323-329, who drew up
their memorial.)]

[Footnote 187: Cornwallis's despatches of January 10th and 23rd,
1802.]

[Footnote 188: Project of a treaty forwarded by Cornwallis to London
on December 27th, 1801, in the Public Record Office, No. 615.]

[Footnote 189: See the "Paget Papers," vol. ii. France gained the
right of admission to the Black Sea: the despatches of Mr. Merry from
Paris in May, 1802, show that France and Russia were planning schemes
of partition of Turkey. ("F.O.," France, No. 62.)]

[Footnote 190: The despatches of March 14th and 22nd, 1802, show how
strong was the repugnance of our Government to this shabby treatment
of the Prince of Orange; and it is clear that Cornwallis exceeded his
instructions in signing peace on those terms. (See Garden, vol. vii.,
p. 142.) By a secret treaty with Prussia (May, 1802), France procured
Fulda for the House of Orange.]

[Footnote 191: Pasolini, "Memorie," _ad init_.]

[Footnote 192: "Lettres inédites de Talleyrand à Napoléon" (Paris,
1889).]

[Footnote 193: Mr. Jackson's despatch of February 17th, 1802, from
Paris. According to Miot de Melito ("Mems.," ch. xiv.), Bonaparte had
offered the post of President to his brother Joseph, but fettered it
by so many restrictions that Joseph declined the honour.]

[Footnote 194: Roederer tells us ("OEuvres," vol. iii., p. 428) that
he had drawn up two plans of a constitution for the Cisalpine; the one
very short and leaving much to the President, the other precise and
detailed. He told Talleyrand to advise Bonaparte to adopt the former
as it was "_short and_"--he was about to add "_clear_" when the
diplomatist cut him short with the words, "_Yes: short and obscure!_"]

[Footnote 195: Napoleon's letter of February 2nd, 1802, to Joseph
Bonaparte; see too Cornwallis's memorandum of February 18th.]

[Footnote 196: It is only fair to Cornwallis to quote the letter,
marked "Private," which he received from Hawkesbury at the same time
that he was bidden to stand firm:

"DOWNING STREET, _March 22nd_, 1802.

"I think it right to inform you that I have had a confidential
communication with Otto, who will use his utmost endeavours to induce
his Government to agree to the articles respecting the Prince of
Orange and the prisoners in the shape in which they are now proposed.
I have very little doubt of his success, and I should hope therefore
that you will soon be released. I need not remind you of the
importance of sending your most expeditious messenger the moment our
fate is determined. The Treasury is almost exhausted, and Mr.
Addington cannot well make his loan in the present state of
uncertainty."]

[Footnote 197: See the British notes of November 6th-16th, 1801, in
the "Cornwallis Correspondence," vol. iii. In his speech in the House
of Lords, May 13th, 1802, Lord Grenville complained that we had had to
send to the West Indies in time of peace a fleet double as large as
that kept there during the late war.]

[Footnote 198: For these and the following negotiations see Lucien
Bonaparte's "Mémoires," vol. ii., and Garden's "Traités de Paix," vol.
iii., ch. xxxiv. The Hon. H. Taylor, in "The North American Review" of
November, 1898, has computed that the New World was thus divided in
1801:

  Spain             7,028,000 square miles.
  Great Britain     3,719,000   "      "
  Portugal          3,209,000   "      "
  United States       827,000   "      "
  Russia              577,000   "      "
  France               29,000   "      "

[Footnote 199: "History of the United States, 1801-1813," by H. Adams,
vol. i, p. 409.]

[Footnote 200: Napoleon's letter of November 2nd, 1802.]

[Footnote 201: Merry's despatch of October 21st, 1802.]

[Footnote 202: The instructions which he sent to Victor supply an
interesting commentary on French colonial policy: "The system of this,
as of all our other colonies, should be to concentrate its commerce in
the national commerce: it should especially aim at establishing its
relations with our Antilles, so as to take the place in those colonies
of the American commerce.... The captain-general should abstain from
every innovation favourable to strangers, who should be restricted to
such communications as are absolutely indispensable to the prosperity
of Louisiana."]

[Footnote 203: Lucien Bonaparte, "Mémoires," vol. ii., ch. ix. He
describes Josephine's alarm at this ill omen at a time when rumours of
a divorce were rife.]

[Footnote 204: Harbé-Marbois, "Hist. de Louisiana," quoted by H.
Adams, _op. cit._, vol. ii., p. 27; Roloff, "Napoleon's Colonial
Politik."]

[Footnote 205: Garden, "Traités," vol. viii., ch. xxxiv. See too
Roederer, "Oeuvres," vol. iii., p. 461, for Napoleon's expressions
after dinner on January 11th, 1803: "Maudit sucre, maudit café,
maudites colonies."]

[Footnote 206: Cornwallis, "Correspondence," vol. iii., despatch of
December 3rd, 1801.]

[Footnote 207: See the valuable articles on General Decaen's papers in
the "Revue historique" of 1879 and of 1881.]

[Footnote 208: Dumas' "Précis des Événements Militaires," vol. xi., p.
189. The version of these instructions presented by Thiers, book xvi.,
is utterly misleading.]

[Footnote 209: Lord Whitworth, our ambassador in Paris, stated
(despatch of March 24th, 1803) that Decaen was to be quietly
reinforced by troops in French pay sent out by every French, Spanish,
or Dutch ship going to India, so as to avoid attracting notice.
("England and Napoleon," edited by Oscar Browning, p. 137.)]

[Footnote 210: See my article, "The French East India Expedition at
the Cape," and unpublished documents in the "Eng. Hist. Rev." of
January, 1900. French designs on the Cape strengthened our resolve to
acquire it, as we prepared to do in the summer of 1805.]

[Footnote 211: Wellesley, "Despatches," vol. iii., Appendix, despatch
of August 1st, 1803. See too Castlereagh's "Letters and Despatches,"
Second Series, vol. i., pp. 166-176, for Lord Elgin's papers and
others, all of 1802, describing the utter weakness of Turkey, the
probability of Egypt falling to any invader, of Caucasia and Persia
being menaced by Russia, and the need of occupying Aden as a check to
any French designs on India from Suez.]

[Footnote 212: Wellesley's despatch of July 13th, 1804: with it he
inclosed an intercepted despatch, dated Pondicherry, August 6th, 1803,
a "Mémoire sur l'Importance actuelle de l'Inde et les moyens les plus
efficaces d'y rétablir la Nation Française dans son ancienne
splendeur." The writer, Lieutenant Lefebvre, set forth the
unpopularity of the British in India and the immense wealth which
France could gain from its conquest.]

[Footnote 213: The report of the Imaum is given in Castlereagh's
"Letters," Second Series, vol. i., p. 203.]

[Footnote 214: "Voyage de Découverte aux Terres Australes sur les
Corvettes, le Géographe et le Naturaliste," rédigé par M.F. Péron
(Paris, 1807-15). From the Atlas the accompanying map has been
copied.]

[Footnote 215: His later mishaps may here be briefly recounted. Being
compelled to touch at the Ile de France for repairs to his ship, he
was there seized and detained as a spy by General Decaen, until the
chivalrous intercession of the French explorer, Bougainville, finally
availed to procure his release in the year 1810. The conduct of Decaen
was the more odious, as the French crews during their stay at Sydney
in the autumn of 1802, when the news of the Peace of Amiens was as yet
unknown, had received not only much help in the repair of their ships,
but most generous personal attentions, officials and private persons
at Sydney agreeing to put themselves on short rations in that season
of dearth in order that the explorers might have food. Though this
fact was brought to Decaen's knowledge by the brother of Commodore
Baudin, he none the less refused to acknowledge the validity of the
passport which Flinders, as a geographical explorer, had received from
the French authorities, but detained him in captivity for seven years.
For the details see "A Voyage of Discovery to the Australian Isles,"
by Captain Flinders (London, 1814), vol. ii., chs. vii.-ix. The names
given by Flinders on the coasts of Western and South Australia have
been retained owing to the priority of his investigation: but the
French names have been kept on the coast between the mouth of the
Murray and Bass Strait for the same reason.]

[Footnote 216: See Baudin's letter to King of December 23rd, 1803, in
vol. v. (Appendix) of "Historical Records of New South Wales," and the
other important letters and despatches contained there, as also
_ibid_., pp. 133 and 376.]

[Footnote 217: Mr. Merry's ciphered despatch from Paris, May 7th,
1802.]

[Footnote 218: It is impossible to enter into the complicated question
of the reconstruction of Germany effected in 1802-3. A general
agreement had been made at Rastadt that, as an indemnity for the
losses of German States in the conquest of the Rhineland by France,
they should receive the ecclesiastical lands of the old Empire. The
Imperial Diet appointed a delegation to consider the whole question;
but before this body assembled (on August 24th, 1802), a number of
treaties had been secretly made at Paris, with the approval of Russia,
which favoured Prussia and depressed Austria. Austria received the
archbishoprics of Trent and Brixen: while her Archdukes (formerly of
Tuscany and Modena) were installed in Salzburg and Breisgau. Prussia,
as the _protégé_ of France, gained Hildesheim, Paderborn, Erfurt, the
city of Münster, etc. Bavaria received Würzburg, Bamberg, Augsburg,
Passau, etc. See Garden, "Traités," vol. vii., ch. xxxii.; "Annual
Register" of 1802, pp. 648-665; Oncken, "Consulat und Kaiserthum,"
vol. ii.; and Beer's "Zehn Jahre Oesterreichischer Politik."]

[Footnote 219: The British notes of April 28th and May 8th, 1803,
again demanded a suitable indemnity for the King of Sardinia.]

[Footnote 220: See his letters of January 28th, 1801, February 27th,
March 10th, March 25th, April 10th, and May 16th, published in a work,
"Bonaparte, Talleyrand et Stapfer" (Zürich, 1869).]

[Footnote 221: Daendliker, "Geschichte der Schweiz," vol. iii., p.
418; Muralt's "Reinhard," p. 55; and Stapfer's letter of April 28th:
"Malgré cette apparente neutralité que le gouvernement français
déclare vouloir observer pour le moment, différentes circonstances me
persuadent qu'il a vu avec plaisir passer la direction des affaires
des mains de la majorité du Sénat [helvétique] dans celles de la
minorité du Petit Conseil."]

[Footnote 222: Garden, "Traités," vol. viii., p. 10. Mr. Merry, our
_chargé d'affaires_ at Paris, reported July 21st; "M. Stapfer makes a
boast of having obtained the First Consul's consent to withdraw the
French troops entirely from Switzerland. I learn from some
well-disposed Swiss who are here that such a consent has been given;
but they consider it only as a measure calculated to increase the
disturbances in their country and to furnish a pretext for the French
to enter it again."]

[Footnote 223: Reding, in a pamphlet published shortly after this
time, gave full particulars of his interviews with Bonaparte at Paris,
and stated that he had fully approved of his (Reding's) federal plans.
Neither Bonaparte nor Talleyrand ever denied this.]

[Footnote 224: See "Paget Papers," vol. ii., despatches of October
29th, 1802, and January 28th, 1803.]

[Footnote 225: Napoleon avowed this in his speech to the Swiss
deputies at St. Cloud, December 12th, 1802.]

[Footnote 226: Lord Hawkesbury's note of October 10th, 1802, the
appeal of the Swiss, and the reply of Mr. Moore from Constance, are
printed in full in the papers presented to Parliament, May 18th, 1803.

The Duke of Orleans wrote from Twickenham a remarkable letter to Pitt,
dated October 18th, 1802, offering to go as leader to the Swiss in the
cause of Swiss and of European independence: "I am a natural enemy to
Bonaparte and to all similar Governments....England and Austria can
find in me all the advantages of my being a French prince. Dispose of
me, Sir, and show me the way. I will follow it." See Stanhope's "Life
of Pitt," vol. iii., ch. xxxiii.]

[Footnote 227: See Roederer, "oeuvres," vol. iii., p. 454, for the
curious changes which Napoleon prescribed in the published reports of
these speeches; also Stapfer's despatch of February 3rd, 1803, which
is more trustworthy than the official version in Napoleon's
"Correspondance." This, however, contains the menacing sentence: "It
is recognized by Europe that Italy and Holland, as well as
Switzerland, are at the disposition of France."]

[Footnote 228: It is only fair to say that they had recognized their
mistake and had recently promised equality of rights to the formerly
subject districts and to all classes. See Muralt's "Reinhard," p.
113.]

[Footnote 229: See, _inter alia_, the "Moniteur" of August 8th,
October 9th, November 6th, 1802; of January 1st and 9th, February
19th, 1803.]

[Footnote 230: Lord Whitworth's despatches of February 28th and March
3rd, 1803, in Browning's "England and Napoleon."]

[Footnote 231: Secret instructions to Lord Whitworth, November 14th,
1802.]

[Footnote 232: "Foreign Office Records," Russia, No. 50.]

[Footnote 233: In his usually accurate "Manuel historique de Politique
Etrangère" (vol. ii., p. 238), M. Bourgeois states that in May, 1802,
Lord St. Helens succeeded in persuading the Czar _not_ to give his
guarantee to the clause respecting Malta. Every despatch that I have
read runs exactly counter to this statement: the fact is that the Czar
took umbrage at the treaty and refused to listen to our repeated
requests for his guarantee. Thiers rightly states that the British
Ministry pressed the Czar to give his guarantee, but that France long
neglected to send her application. Why this neglect if she wished to
settle matters?]

[Footnote 234: Castlereagh's "Letters and Despatches," Second Series,
vol. i., pp. 56 and 69; Dumas' "Evénements," ix. 91.]

[Footnote 235: Mémoire of Francis II. to Cobenzl (March 31st, 1801),
in Beer, "Die Orientalische Politik Oesterreichs," Appendix.]

[Footnote 236: "Memoirs," vol. i., ch. xiii.]

[Footnote 237: Ulmann's "Russisch-Preussische Politik, 1801-1806," pp.
10-12.]

[Footnote 238: Warren reported (December 10th, 1802) that Vorontzoff
warned him to be very careful as to the giving up of Malta; and, on
January 19th, Czartoryski told him that "the Emperor wished the
English to keep Malta." Bonaparte had put in a claim for the Morea to
indemnify the Bourbons and the House of Savoy. ("F.O.," Russia, No.
51.)]

[Footnote 239: Browning's "England and Napoleon," pp. 88-91.]

[Footnote 240: "F.O.," France, No. 72.]

[Footnote 241: We were undertaking that mediation. Lord Elgin's
despatch from Constantinople, January 15th, 1803, states that he had
induced the Porte to allow the Mamelukes to hold the province of
Assouan. (Turkey, No. 38.)]

[Footnote 242: Papers presented to Parliament on May 18th, 1803. I
pass over the insults to General Stuart, as Sebastiani on February 2nd
recanted to Lord Whitworth everything he had said, or had been made to
say, on that topic, and mentioned Stuart "in terms of great esteem."
According to Méneval ("Mems.," vol i., ch. iii.), Jaubert, who had
been with Sebastiani, saw a proof of the report, as printed for the
"Moniteur," and advised the omission of the most irritating passages;
but Maret dared not take the responsibility for making such omissions.
Lucien Bonaparte ("Mems.," vol. ii., ch. ix.) has another
version--less credible, I think--that Napoleon himself dictated the
final draft of the report to Sebastiani; and when the latter showed
some hesitation, the First Consul muttered, as the most irritating
passages were read out: "Parbleu, nous verrons si ceci--si cela--ne
décidera pas John Bull à guerroyer." Joseph was much distressed about
it, and exclaimed: "Ah, mon pauvre traité d'Amiens! Il ne tient plus
qu'à un fil."]

[Footnote 243: So Adams's "Hist, of the U.S.," vol. ii., pp. 12-21.]

[Footnote 244: Miot de Melito, "Mems.," vol. i, ch. xv., quotes the
words of Joseph Bonaparte to him: "Let him [Napoleon] once more drench
Europe with blood in a war that he could have avoided, and which, but
for the outrageous mission on which he sent his Sebastiani, would
never have occurred."

Talleyrand laboured hard to persuade Lord Whitworth that Sebastiani's
mission was "solely commercial": Napoleon, in his long conversation
with our ambassador, "did not affect to attribute it to commercial
motives only," but represented it as necessitated by our infraction of
the Treaty of Amiens. This excuse is as insincere as the former. The
instructions to Sebastiani were drawn up on September 5th, 1802, when
the British Ministry was about to fulfil the terms of the treaty
relative to Malta and was vainly pressing Russia and Prussia for the
guarantee of its independence]

[Footnote 245: Despatch of February 21st.]

[Footnote 246: "View of the State of the Republic," read to the Corps
Législatif on February 21st, 1803.]

[Footnote 247: Papers presented to Parliament May 18th, 1803. See too
Pitt's speech, May 23rd, 1803.]

[Footnote 248: See Russell's proclamation of July 22nd to the men of
Antrim that "he doubted not but the French were then fighting in
Scotland." ("Ann. Reg.," 1803, p. 246.) This document is ignored by
Plowden ("Hist. of Ireland, 1801-1810").]

[Footnote249: Despatch of March 14th, 1803. Compare it with the very
mild version in Napoleon's "Corresp.," No. 6636.]

[Footnote 250: Lord Hawkesbury to General Andreossy, March 10th.]

[Footnote 251: Lord Hawkesbury to Lord Whitworth, April 4th, 1803.]

[Footnote 252: Despatches of April 11th and 18th, 1803.]

[Footnote 253: Whitworth to Hawkesbury, April 23rd.]

[Footnote 254: Czartoryski ("Mems.," vol. i., ch. xiii.) calls him "an
excellent admiral but an indifferent diplomatist--a perfect
representative of the nullity and incapacity of the Addington Ministry
which had appointed him. The English Government was seldom happy in
its ambassadors." So Earl Minto's "Letters," vol. iii., p. 279.]

[Footnote 255: See Lord Malmesbury's "Diaries" (vol. iv., p. 253) as
to the bad results of Whitworth's delay.]

[Footnote 256: Note of May 12th, 1803: see "England and Napoleon," p.
249.]

[Footnote 257: "Corresp.," vol. viii., No. 6743.]

[Footnote 258: See Romilly's letter to Dumont, May 31st, 1803
("Memoirs," vol. i.).]

[Footnote 259: "Lettres inédites de Talleyrand," November 3rd, 1802.
In his letter of May 3rd, 1803, to Lord Whitworth, M. Huber reports
Fouché's outspoken warning in the Senate to Bonaparte: "Vous êtes
vous-même, ainsi que nous, un résultat de la révolution, et la guerre
remet tout en problème. On vous flatte en vous faisant compter sur les
principes révolutionnaires des autres nations: _le résultat de notre
révolution les a anéantis partout._"]

[Footnote 260: A copy of this letter, with the detailed proposals, is
in our Foreign Office archives (Russia, No. 52).]

[Footnote 261: Bourgeois, "Manuel de Politique Etrangère," vol. ii.,
p. 243.]

[Footnote 262: See Castlereagh's "Letters and Despatches," Second
Series, vol. i., pp. 75-82, as to the need of conciliating public
opinion, even by accepting Corfu as a set-off for Malta, provided a
durable peace could thus be secured.]

[Footnote 263: "Lettres inédites de Talleyrand," August 21st, 1803.]

[Footnote 264: Garden, "Traités," vol. viii., p. 191.]

[Footnote 265: Holland was required to furnish 16,000 troops and
maintain 18,000 French, to provide 10 ships of war and 350 gunboats.]

[Footnote 266: "Corresp.," May 23rd, 1803.]

[Footnote 267: Nelson's letters of July 2nd. See too Mahan's "Life of
Nelson," vol. ii., pp. 180-188, and Napoleon's letters of November
24th, 1803, encouraging the Mamelukes to look to France.]

[Footnote 268: "Foreign Office Records," Sicily and Naples, No. 55,
July 25th.]

[Footnote 269: Letter of July 28th, 1803.]

[Footnote 270: "Nap. Corresp.," August 23rd, 1803, and Oncken, ch. v.]

[Footnote 271: "Corresp.," vol. viii., No. 6627.]

[Footnote 272: Lefebvre, "Cabinets de l'Europe," ch. viii.; "Nap.
Corresp.," vol. viii., Nos. 6979, 6985, 7007, 7098, 7113.]

[Footnote 273: The French and Dutch ships in commission were: ships of
the line, 48; frigates, 37; corvettes, 22; gun-brigs, etc., 124;
flotilla, 2,115. (See "Mems. of the Earl of St. Vincent," vol. ii., p.
218.)]

[Footnote 274: Pellew's "Life of Lord Sidmouth," vol. ii., p. 239.]

[Footnote 275: Stanhope's "Life of Pitt," vol. iv., p. 213.]

[Footnote 276: Roederer, " OEuvres," vol. iii., p. 348; Méneval, vol.
i., ch. iv.]

[Footnote 277: Lucien ("Mems.," vol. iii., pp. 315-320) says at
Malmaison; but Napoleon's "Correspondance" shows that it was at St.
Cloud. Masson (" Nap. et sa Famille," ch. xii.) throws doubt on the
story.]

[Footnote 278:_Ibid_., p. 318. The scene was described by Murat: the
real phrase was _coquine_, but it was softened down by Murat to
_maîtresse_.]

[Footnote 279: Miot de Melito, "Mems.," vol. 1., ch. xv. Lucien
settled in the Papal States, where he, the quondam Jacobin and proven
libertine, later on received from the Pope the title of Prince de
Canino.]

[Footnote 280: "Lettres inédites de Napoléon," April 22nd, 1805.]

[Footnote 281: Pasquier, "Mems.," vol. i., p. 167, and Boulay de la
Meurthe, "Les dernières Années du duc d'Enghien," p. 299. An
intriguing royalist of Neufchâtel, Fauche-Borel, had been to England
in 1802 to get the help of the Addington Ministry, but failed. See
Caudrillier's articles in the "Revue Historique," Nov., 1900--March,
1901.]

[Footnote 282: Madelin's "Fouché," vol. i., p. 368, minimizes Fouché's
_rôle_ here.]

[Footnote 283: Desmarest, "Témoignages historiques," pp. 78-82.]

[Footnote 284: "Alliance des Jacobins de France avec le Ministère
Anglais."]

[Footnote 285: Brit. Mus., "Add. MSS.," Nos. 7976 _et seq_.]

[Footnote 286: In our Records (France, No. 71) is a letter of Count
Descars, dated London, March 25th, 1805, to Lord Mulgrave, Minister
for War, rendering an account for various sums advanced by our
Government for the royalist "army."]

[Footnote 287: "Paget Papers," vol. ii., p. 96.]

[Footnote 288: "Parl. Debates," April, 1804 (esp. April 16th). The
official denial is, of course, accepted by Alison, ch. xxxviii.]

[Footnote 289: The expression is that of George III., who further
remarked that all the ambassadors despised Hawkesbury. (Rose,
"Diaries," vol. ii., p. 157.) Windham's letter, dated Beaconsfield,
August 16th, 1803, in the Puisaye Papers, warned the French _émigrés_
that they must not count on any aid from Ministers, who had "at all
times shown such feebleness of spirit, that they can scarcely dare to
lift their eyes to such aims as you indicate. ("Add. MSS.," No.
7976.)]

[Footnote 290: See in chapter xxi., p. 488. Our envoy, Spencer Smith,
at Stuttgart, was also taken in by a French spy, Captain Rosey, whose
actions were directed by Napoleon. See his letter (No. 7669).]

[Footnote 291: "F.O.," Austria, No. 68 (October 31st, 1803).]

[Footnote 292: Lavalette, "Mems.," ch. xxiii.; "Georges Cadoudal," by
Georges de Cadoudal (Paris, 1887).]

[Footnote 293: See his letter of January 24th, 1804, to Réal,
instructing him to tell Méhée what falsehoods are to find a place in
Méhée's next bulletin to Drake! "Keep on continually with the affair
of my portfolio."]

[Footnote 294: Miot de Melito, vol. i., ch. xvi.; Pasquier, vol. i.,
ch. vii. See also Desmarest, "Quinze ans de la haute police": his
claim that the police previously knew nothing of the plot is refuted
by Napoleon's letters (e.g., that of November 1st, 1803); as also by
Guilhermy, "Papiers d'un Emigré," p. 122.]

[Footnote 295: Ségur, "Mems.," ch. x. Bonaparte to Murat and Harel,
March 20th.]

[Footnote 296: Letter to Réal, "Corresp.," No. 7639.]

[Footnote 297: The original is in "F.O." (Austria, No. 68).]

[Footnote 298: Pasquier, "Mémoires," vol. i., p. 187.]

[Footnote 299: The Comte de Mosbourg's notes in Count Murat's "Murat"
(Paris, 1897), pp. 437-445, prove that Savary did not draw his
instructions for the execution of the duke merely from Murat, but from
Bonaparte himself, who must therefore be held solely responsible for
the composition and conduct of that court. Masson's attempt ("Nap. et
sa Famille," ch. xiv.) to inculpate Murat is very weak.]

[Footnote 300: Hulin in "Catastrophe du duc d'Enghien," p. 118.]

[Footnote 301: Dupin in "Catastrophe du duc d'Enghien," pp. 101, 123.]

[Footnote 302: The only excuse which calls for notice here is that
Napoleon at the last moment, when urged by Joseph to be merciful, gave
way, and despatched orders late at night to Réal to repair to
Vincennes. Réal received some order, the exact purport of which is
unknown: it was late at night and he postponed going till the morrow.
On his way he met Savary, who came towards Paris bringing the news of
the duke's execution. Réal's first words, on hearing this unexpected
news, were: "How is that possible? I had so many questions to put to
the duke: his examination might disclose so much. Another thing gone
wrong; the First Consul will be furious." These words were afterwards
repeated to Pasquier both by Savary and by Real: and, unless Pasquier
lied, the belated order sent to Réal was not a pardon (and Napoleon on
his last voyage said to Cockburn it was not), but merely an order to
extract such information from the duke as would compromise other
Frenchmen. Besides, if Napoleon had despatched an order for the duke's
_pardon_, why was not that order produced as a sign of his innocence
and Réal's blundering? Why did he shut himself up in his private room
on March 20th, so that even Josephine had difficulty in gaining
entrance? And if he really desired to pardon the duke, how came it
that when, at noon of March 21st, Réal explained that he arrived at
Vincennes too late, the only words that escaped Napoleon's lips were
"C'est bien"? (See Méneval, vol. i, p. 296.) Why also was his
countenance the only one that afterwards showed no remorse or grief?
Caulaincourt, when he heard the results of his raid into Baden,
fainted with horror, and when brought to by Bonaparte, overwhelmed him
with reproaches. Why also had the grave been dug beforehand? Why,
finally, were Savary and Réal not disgraced? No satisfactory answer to
these questions has ever been given. The "Catastrophe du duc
d'Enghien" and Count Boulay de la Meurthe's "Les dernières Années du
duc d'Enghien" and Napoleon's "Correspondance" give all the documents
needed for forming a judgment on this case. The evidence is examined
by Mr. Fay in "The American Hist. Rev.," July and Oct., 1898. For the
rewards to the murderers see Masson, "Nap. et sa Famille," chap.
xiii.]

[Footnote 303: Ducasse, "Les Rois Frères de Nap.," p. 9.]

[Footnote 304: Miot de Melito; vol. ii., ch. i.; Pasquier, vol. i.,
ch. ix.]

[Footnote 305: I cannot agree with M. Lanfrey, vol. ii., ch. xi., that
the Empire was not desired by the nation. It seems to me that this
writer here attributes to the apathetic masses his own unrivalled
acuteness of vision and enthusiasm for democracy. Lafayette well sums
up the situation in the remark that he was more shocked at the
submission of all than at the usurpation of one man ("Mems.," vol. v.,
p. 239).]

[Footnote 306: See Aulard, "Rév. Française," p. 772, for the
opposition.]

[Footnote 307: Roederer, "oeuvres," vol. iii., p. 513.]

[Footnote 308: Macdonald, "Souvenirs," ch. xii.; Ségur, "Mems.," ch.
vii. When Thiébault congratulated Masséna on his new title, the
veteran scoffingly replied: "Oh, there are fourteen of us."
(Thiébault, "Mems.," ch. vii., Eng. edit.) See too Marmont ("Mems.,"
vol. ii., p. 227) on his own exclusion and the inclusion of
Bessières.]

[Footnote 309: Chaptal, "Souvenirs," p. 262. For Moreau's popularity
see Madelin's "Fouché," vol. i., p. 422.]

[Footnote 310: At the next public audience Napoleon upbraided one of
the judges, Lecourbe, who had maintained that Moreau was innocent, and
thereafter deprived him of his judgeship. He also disgraced his
brother, General Lecourbe, and forbade his coming within forty leagues
of Paris. ("Lettres inédites de Napoléon," August 22nd and 29th,
1805.)]

[Footnote 311: Miot de Melito, vol ii., ch. i.]

[Footnote 312: Napoleon to Roederer, "oeuvres," vol. iii., p. 514.]

[Footnote 313: Lafayette, "Mems.," vol. v., p. 182.]

[Footnote 314: "Mémoires de Savary, Duc de Rovigo." So Bourrienne, who
was informed by Rapp, who was present (vol. ii., ch. xxxiii.). The
"Moniteur" (4th Frimaire, Year XIII.) asserted that the Pope took the
right-hand seat; but I distrust its version.]

[Footnote 315: Mme. de Rémusat, vol. i., ch. x. As the _curé_ of the
parish was not present, even as witness, this new contract was held by
the Bonapartes to lack full validity. It is certain, however, that
Fesch always maintained that the marriage could only be annulled by an
act of arbitrary authority. For Napoleon's refusal to receive the
communion on the morning of the coronation, lest he, being what he
was, should be guilty of sacrilege and hypocrisy, see Ségur.]

[Footnote 316: Ségur, ch. xi.]

[Footnote 317: F. Masson's "Joséphine, Impératrice et Reine," p. 229.
For the Pitt diamond, see Yule's pamphlet and Sir M. Grant Duff's
"Diary," June 30, 1888.]

[Footnote 318: De Bausset, "Court de Napoléon," ch. ii.]

[Footnote 319: "Foreign Office Records," Intelligences, No. 426.]

[Footnote 320: "Life of Fulton," by Colden(1817); also one by Reigart
(1856).]

[Footnote 321: Jurien de la Gravière, "Guerres Maritimes," vol. ii.,
p. 75; Chevalier, "Hist. de la Marine Française," p. 105; Capt.
Desbrière's "Projets de Débarquement aux Iles Britanniques," vol. i.
The accompanying engraving shows how fantastic were some of the
earlier French schemes of invasion.]

[Footnote 322: "Mémoires du Maréchal Ney," bk. vii., ch. i.; so too
Marmont, vol. ii., p. 213; Mahan, "Sea Power," ch. xv.]

[Footnote 323: Roederer, "OEuvres," vol. iii., p. 494.]

[Footnote 324: Colonel Campbell, our Commissioner at Elba, noted in
his diary (December 5th, 1814): "As I have perceived in many
conversations, Napoleon has no idea of the difficulties occasioned by
winds and tides, but judges of changes of position in the case of
ships as he would with regard to troops on land."]

[Footnote 325: Jurien de la Gravière, vol. ii., p. 88, who says: "His
mild and melancholy disposition, his sad and modest behaviour, ill
suited the Emperor's ambitious plans."]

[Footnote 326: "Corresp.," No. 8063. See too No. 7996 for Napoleon's
plan of carrying a howitzer in the bows of his gun vessels so that his
projectiles might _burst in the wood_. Already at Boulogne he had
uttered the prophetic words: "We must have shells that will shiver the
wooden sides of ships."]

[Footnote 327: James, "Naval History," vol. iii., p. 213, and
Chevalier, p. 115, imply that Villeneuve's fleet from Toulon, after
scouring the West Indies, was to rally the Rochefort force and cover
the Boulogne flotilla: but this finds no place in Napoleon's September
plan, which required Gantheaume first to land troops in Ireland and
then convoy the flotilla across if the weather were favourable, or if
it were stormy to beat down the Channel with the troops from Holland.
See O'Connor Morris, "Campaigns of Nelson," p. 121.]

[Footnote 328: Colomb, "Naval Warfare," p. 18.]

[Footnote 329: Jurien de la Gravière, vol. ii., p. 100. Nelson was
aware of the fallacies that crowded Napoleon's brain: "Bonaparte has
often made his boast that our fleet would be worn out by keeping the
sea, and that his was kept in order and increasing by staying in port;
but he now finds, I fancy, if emperors hear truth, that his fleet
suffers more in a night than ours in one year."--Nelson to
Collingwood, March 13th, 1805.]

[Footnote 330: Garden, "Traités," vol. viii., pp. 276-290; also Capt.
Mahan, "Influence of Sea Power, etc.," vol. ii., ch. xv. _ad fin_. He
quotes the opinion of a Spanish historian, Don José de Couto: "If all
the circumstances are properly weighed ... we shall see that all the
charges made against England for the seizure of the frigates may be
reduced to want of proper foresight in the strength of the force
detailed to effect it."--In the Admiralty secret letters (1804-16) I
have found the instructions to Sir J. Orde, with the Swiftsure,
Polyphemus, Agamemnon, Ruby, Defence, Lively, and two sloops, to seize
the treasure-ships. No fight seems to have been expected.]

[Footnote 331: "Corresp.," No. 8379; Mahan, _ibid_., vol. ii., p.
149.]

[Footnote 332: Letter of April 29th, 1805. I cannot agree with Mahan
(p. 155) that this was intended only to distract us.]

[Footnote 333: "Lettres inédites de Talleyrand," p. 121.]

[Footnote 334: Jurien de la Gravière, vol. ii., p. 367.]

[Footnote 335: Thiers writes, most disingenuously, as though
Napoleon's letters of August 13th and 22nd could have influenced
Villeneuve.]

[Footnote 336: Dupin, "Voyages dans la Grande Bretagne" (tome i., p.
244), who had the facts from Daru. But, as Méneval sensibly says
("Mems.," vol. i., ch. v.), it was not Napoleon's habit dramatically
to dictate his plans so far in advance. Certainly, _in military
matters,_ he always kept his imagination subservient to facts. Not
until September 22nd, did he make any written official notes on the
final moves of his chief corps; besides, the Austrians did not cross
the Inn till September 8th.]

[Footnote 337: Diary of General Bingham, in "Blackwood's Magazine,"
October, 1896. The accompanying medal, on the reverse of which are the
words "frappée à Londres, en 1804," affords another proof of his
intentions.]

[Footnote 338: Marbot, "Mems.," ch. xix; Fouché, "Mems.," part 1; Miot
de Melito, "Mems.," vol. ii., ch. i.]

[Footnote 339: See Nelson's letters of August 25th, 1803, and May 1st,
1804; also Collingwood's of July 21st, 1805.]

[Footnote 340: In "F.O.," France, No. 71, is a report of a spy on the
interview of Napoleon with O'Connor, whom he made General of Division.
See Appendix, p. 510.]

       *       *       *       *       *





FOOTNOTES TO VOLUME II:


[Footnote 1: Armfeldt to Drake, December 24th, 1803 ("F.O.," Bavaria,
No. 27).]

[Footnote 2: Drake's despatch of December 15th, 1803, _ib_.]

[Footnote 3: Czartoryski, "Memoirs," vol. ii., ch. ii.]

[Footnote 4: The Czar's complaints were: the exile of the King of
Sardinia, the re-occupation of S. Italy by the French, the changes in
Italy, the violation of the neutrality of Baden, the occupation of
Cuxhaven by the French, and the levying of ransom from the Hanse Towns
to escape the same fate ("F.O.," Russia, No. 56).]

[Footnote 5: Lord Harrowby to Admiral Warren ("F.O.," Russia, No.
56).]

[Footnote 6: Garden, "Traités" vol. viii., p. 302; Ulmann,
"Russisch-Preussische Politik," p. 117]

[Footnote 7: See the letter in the "Paget Papers," vol. ii., p. 170.]

[Footnote 8: "F.O.," Russia, No. 55. See note on p. 28.]

[Footnote 9: Czartoryski's "Mems.," vol. ii., chs. ii.-iv.]

[Footnote 10: "Lettres inédites de Napoléon" (May 30th, 1805).]

[Footnote 11: See Novossiltzoff's Report in Czartoryski's "Memoirs,"
vol. ii., ch. iv., and Pitt's note developing the Russian proposals in
Garden's "Traités," vol. viii., pp. 317-323, or Alison, App. to ch.
xxxix. A comparison of these two memoranda will show that on
Continental questions there was no difference such as Thiers affected
to see between the generous policy of Russia and the "cold egotism" of
Pitt. As Czartoryski has proved in his "Memoirs" (vol. ii., ch. x.)
Thiers has erred in assigning importance to a mere first draft of a
conversation which Czartoryski had with that ingenious schemer, the
Abbé Piatoli. The official proposals sent from St. Petersburg to
London were very different; _e.g._, the proposal of Alexander with
regard to the French frontiers was this: "The first object is to bring
back France into its ancient limits or such other ones as might appear
most suitable to the general tranquillity of Europe." It is,
therefore, futile to state that this was solely the policy of Pitt
after he had "remodelled" the Russian proposals.]

[Footnote 12: "Corresp.," No. 8231. See too Bourrienne, Miot de
Melito, vol. ii., ch. iv., and Thiers, bk. xxi.]

[Footnote 13: This refusal has been severely criticised. But the
knowledge of the British Government that Napoleon was still
persevering with his schemes against Turkey, and that the Russians
themselves, from their station at Corfu, were working to gain a
foothold on the Albanian coast, surely prescribed caution ("F.O.,"
Russia, Nos. 55 and 56, despatches of June 26th and October 10th,
1804). It was further known that the Austrian Government had proposed
to the Czar plans that were hostile to Turkey, and were not decisively
rejected at St. Petersburg; and it is clear from the notes left by
Czartoryski that the prospect of gaining Corfu, Moldavia, parts of
Albania, and the precious prize of Constantinople was kept in view.
Pitt agreed to restore the conquests made from France (Despatch of
April 22nd).]

[Footnote 14: Garden, "Traités," vol. viii., pp. 328-333. It is clear
that Gustavus IV. was the ruler who insisted on making the restoration
of the Bourbons the chief aim of the Third Coalition. In our "F.O.
Records" (Sweden, No. 177) is an account (August 20th, 1804) of a
conversation of Lord Harrowby with the Swedish ambassador, who stated
that such a declaration would "palsy the arms of France." Our Foreign
Minister replied that it would "much more certainly palsy the arms of
England: that we made war because France was become too powerful for
the peace of Europe."]

[Footnote 15: "Corresp.," No. 8329.]

[Footnote 16: Bailleu, "Preussen und Frankreich," vol. ii., p. 354.]

[Footnote 17: Thiers (bk. xxi.) gives the whole text.]

[Footnote 18: The annexation of the Ligurian or Genoese Republic took
place on June 4th, the way having been prepared there by Napoleon's
former patron, Salicetti, who liberally dispensed bribes. A little
later the Republic of Lucca was bestowed on Elisa Bonaparte and her
spouse, now named Prince Bacciochi. Parma, hitherto administered by a
French governor, was incorporated in the French Empire about the same
time.]

[Footnote 19: Paget to Lord Mulgrave (March 19th, 1805).]

[Footnote 20: Beer, "Zehn Jahre oesterreich. Politik (1801-1810)." The
notes of Novossiltzoff and Hardenberg are printed in Sir G. Jackson's
"Diaries," vol i., App.]

[Footnote 21: See Bignon, vol. iv., pp. 271 and 334. Probably Napoleon
knew through Laforest and Talleyrand that Russia had recently urged
that George III. should offer Hanover to Prussia. Pitt rejected the
proposal. Prussia paid more heed to the offer of Hanover from Napoleon
than to the suggestions of Czartoryski that she might receive it from
its rightful owner, George III. Yet Duroc did not succeed in gaining
more from Frederick William than the promise of his neutrality (see
Garden, "Traités," vol. viii., pp. 339-346). Sweden was not a member
of the Coalition, but made treaties with Russia and England.

The high hopes nursed by the Pitt Ministry are seen in the following
estimate of the forces that would be launched against France: Austria,
250,000; Russia, 180,000; Prussia, 100,000 (Pitt then refused to
subsidize more than 100,000); Sweden, 16,000; Saxony, 16,000; Hesse
and Brunswick, 16,000; Mecklenburg, 3,000; King of Sardinia, 25,000;
Bavaria, Würtemberg, and Baden, 25,000; Naples, 20,000. In a P.S. he
adds that the support of the King of Sardinia would not be needed, and
that England had private arrangements with Naples as to subsidies.
This Memoir is not dated, but it must belong to the beginning of
September, before the defection of Bavaria was known ("F.O.," Prussia,
No. 70).]

[Footnote 22: "F.O.," Russia, No. 57; Gower's note of July 22nd,
1805.]

[Footnote 23: Colonel Graham's despatches, which undoubtedly
influenced the Pitt Ministry in favouring the appointment of Mack to
the present command. Paget ("Papers," vol. ii., p. 238) states that
the Iller position was decided on by Francis. The best analysis of
Mack's character is in Bernhardi's "Memoirs of Count Toll" (vol. i.,
p. 121). The State Papers are in Burke's "Campaign of 1805," App.]

[Footnote 24: Marmont, "Mems.," vol. ii., p. 310.]

[Footnote 25: See "Paget Papers," vol. ii., p. 224; also Schönhals
"Der Krieg 1805 in Deutschland," p. 67.]

[Footnote 26: "Corresp.," No. 9249. See too No. 9254 for the details
of the enveloping moves which Napoleon then (September 22nd)
accurately planned twenty-five days before the final blows were dealt:
yet No. 9299 shows that, even on September 30th, he believed Mack
would hurry back to the Inn. Beer, p. 145.]

[Footnote 27: Rüstow, "Der Krieg 1805." Hormayr, "Geschichte Hofers"
(vol. i., p. 96), states that, in framing with Russia the plan of
campaign, the Austrians forgot to allow for the difference (twelve
days) between the Russian and Gregorian calendars. The Russians
certainly were eleven days late.]

[Footnote 28: "Corresp.," No 9319; Sir G. Jackson's "Diaries," vol.
i., p. 334.]

[Footnote 29: _Ibid_.; also Metternich, "Mems.," vol. i., ch. iii. For
Prussia's protest to Napoleon, which pulverized the French excuses,
see Garden, vol. ix., p. 69.]

[Footnote 30: Schönhals; Ségur, ch. xvi., exculpates Murat and Ney.]

[Footnote 31: Schönhals, p. 73. Thiers states that Dupont's 6,000
gained a victory over 25,000 Austrians detached from the 60,000 who
occupied Ulm!]

[Footnote 32: Marmont, vol. ii., p. 320; Lejeune, "Memoirs," vol. i.,
ch. iii.]

[Footnote 33: Thiers, bk. xxii. During Mack's interview with Napoleon
(see "Paget Papers," vol. ii., p. 235), when the Emperor asked him why
he did not cut his way through to Ansbach, he replied, "Prussia would
have declared against us." To which the Emperor retorted: "Ah! the
Prussians do not declare so quickly."]

[Footnote 34: "Alexandre I et Czartoryski," pp. 32-34.]

[Footnote 35: See these terms compared with the Anglo-Russian treaty
of April 11th, 1805, in the Appendix of Dr. Hansing's "Hardenberg und
die dritte Coalition" (Berlin, 1899).]

[Footnote 36: Häusser, vol. ii., p. 617 (4th. edit.); Lettow-Vorbeck,
"Der Krieg von 1806-1807," vol. i., _ad init_.]

[Footnote 37: For the much more venial stratagem which Kutusoff played
on Murat at Hollabrunn, see Thiers, bk. xxiii.]

[Footnote 38: Lord Harrowby, then on a special mission to Berlin,
reports (November 24th) that this appeal of the Czar had been "coolly
received," and no Prussian troops would enter Bohemia until it was
known how Prussia's envoy to Napoleon, Count Haugwitz, had been
received.]

[Footnote 39: Thiers says December 1st, which is corrected by
Napoleon's letter of November 30th to Talleyrand.]

[Footnote 40: Thiébault, vol. ii., ch. viii.; Ségur, ch. xviii.; York
von Wartenburg, "Nap. als Feldherr," vol. i., p. 230.]

[Footnote 41: Davoust's reports of December 2nd and 5th in his
"Corresp."]

[Footnote 42: Ségur, Thiébault, and Lejeune all state that Napoleon in
the previous advance northwards had foretold that a great battle would
soon be fought opposite Austerlitz, and explained how he would fight
it.]

[Footnote 43: Thiébault wrongly attributes this succour to Lannes: for
that Marshal, who had just insulted and challenged Soult, Thiébault
had a manifest partiality. Savary, though hostile to Bernadotte, gives
him bare justice on this move.]

[Footnote 44: Harrowby evidently thought that Prussia's conduct would
depend on events. Just before the news of Austerlitz arrived, he wrote
to Downing Street: "The eyes of this Government are turned almost
exclusively on Moravia. It is there the fate of this negotiation must
be decided." Yet he reports that 192,000 Prussians are under arms
("F.O.," Prussia, No. 70).]

[Footnote 45: Jackson, "Diaries," vol. i., p. 137.]

[Footnote 46: "Lettres inédites de Talleyrand," pp. 205-208.]

[Footnote 47: Metternich, "Mems.," vol. i., ch. iii.]

[Footnote 48: Hanover, along with a few districts of Bavarian
Franconia, would bring to Prussia a gain of 989,000 inhabitants, while
she would lose only 375,000. Neufchâtel had offered itself to
Frederick I. of Prussia in 1688, and its proposed barter to France
troubled Hardenberg ("Mems.," vol. ii., p. 421).]

[Footnote 49: Gower to Lord Harrowby from Olmütz, November 25th, in
"F.O. Records," Russia, No. 59.]

[Footnote 50: "Lettres inédites de Tall.," p. 216.]

[Footnote 51: Printed for the first time in full in "Lettres inédites
de Tall.," pp. 156-174. On December 5th Talleyrand again begged
Napoleon to strengthen Austria as "a needful bulwark against the
barbarians, the Russians."]

[Footnote 52: I dissent, though with much diffidence, from M. Vandal
("Napoléon et Alexandre," vol. i., p. 9) in regard to Talleyrand's
proposal.]

[Footnote 53: Napoleon to Talleyrand (December 14th, 1805): "Sûr de la
Prusse, l'Autriche en passera par où je voudrai. Je ferai également
prononcer la Prusse contre l'Angleterre."]

[Footnote 54: Report of M. Otto, August, 1799.]

[Footnote 55: Czartoryski ("Mems.," vol. ii., ch. xii.) states that
England offered Holland to Prussia. I find no proof of this in our
Records. The districts between Antwerp and Cleves are Belgian, not
Dutch; and we never wavered in our support of the House of Orange.]

[Footnote 56: These proposals, dated October 27th, 1805, were modified
somewhat on the news of Mack's disaster and the Treaty of Potsdam.
Hardenberg assured Harrowby (November 24th) that, despite England's
liberal pecuniary help, Frederick William felt great difficulty in
assenting to the proposed territorial arrangements ("F.O.," Prussia,
No. 70).]

[Footnote 57: Hardenberg's "Memoirs," vol. ii., pp. 377, 382.]

[Footnote 58: Ompteda, p. 188. The army returned in February, 1806.]

[Footnote 59: "F.O.," Prussia, No. 70 (November 23rd).]

[Footnote 60: "Diaries of Right Hon. G. Rose," vol. ii., pp. 223-224.]

[Footnote 61: _Ib._, pp. 233-283; Rosebery, "Life of Pitt," p. 258.]

[Footnote 62: Lord Malmesbury's "Diary," vol. iv., p. 114.]

[Footnote 63: Letter of December 27th, 1805; Jackson, "Diaries," vol.
ii., p. 387.]

[Footnote 64: Mollien, "Mems.," vol. i. _ad fin_., and vol. ii., p.
80, for the budget of 1806; also, Fiévée, "Mes Relations avec
Bonaparte," vol. ii., pp. 180-203.]

[Footnote 65: The Court of Naples asserted that in the Convention with
France its ambassador, the Comte de Gallo, exceeded his powers in
promising neutrality. See Lucchesini's conversation with Gentz, quoted
by Garden, "Traités," vol. x., p. 129.]

[Footnote 66: See my article in the "Eng. Hist. Rev.," April, 1900.]

[Footnote 67: Ducasse, "Les Rois Frères de Napoléon," p. 11.]

[Footnote 68: Letter of February 7th, 1806. On the same day he blames
Junot, then commander of Parma, for too great lenience to some rebels
near that city. The Italians were a false people, who only respected a
strong Government. Let him, then, burn two large villages so that no
trace remained, shoot the priest of one village, and send three or
four hundred of the guilty to the galleys. "Trust my old experience of
the Italians."]

[Footnote 69: For a list of the chief Napoleonic titles, see Appendix,
_ad fin_.]

[Footnote 70: January 2nd, 1802; so too Fiévée, "Mes Relations avec
Bonaparte," vol. ii., p. 210, who notes that, by founding an order of
nobility, Napoleon ended his own isolation and attached to his
interests a powerful landed caste.]

[Footnote 71: Hardenberg's "Memoirs," vol. ii., p. 390-394.]

[Footnote 72: Hardenberg to Harrowby on January 7th, "Prussia," No.
70.]

[Footnote 73: I have not found a copy of this project; but in
"Prussia," No. 70 (forwarded by Jackson on January 27th, 1806), there
is a detailed "Mémoire explicatif," whence I extract these details, as
yet unpublished, I believe. Neither Hardenberg, Garden, Jackson, nor
Paget mentions them.]

[Footnote 74: Records, "Prussia," No. 70, dated February 21st.]

[Footnote 75: Hardenberg, "Mems.," vol. ii., pp. 463-469; "Nap.
Corresp.," No. 9742, for Napoleon's thoughts as to peace, when he
heard of Fox being our Foreign Minister.]

[Footnote 76: See "Nap. Corresp.," Nos. 9742, 9773, 9777, for his
views as to the weakness of England and Prussia. This treaty of
February 15th, 1806, confirmed the cession of Neufchâtel and Cleves to
France, and of Ansbach to Bavaria; but did not cede any Franconian
districts to Prussia's Baireuth lands. See Hardenberg, "Mémoires,"
vol. ii., p. 483, for the text of the treaty.]

[Footnote 77: The strange perversity of Haugwitz is nowhere more shown
than in his self-congratulation at the omission of the adjectives
_offensive et défensive_ from the new treaty of alliance between
France and Prussia (Hardenberg, vol. ii., p. 481). Napoleon was now
not pledged to help Prussia in the war which George III. declared
against her on April 20th.]

[Footnote 78: It is noteworthy that in all the negotiations that
followed, Napoleon never raised any question about our exacting
maritime code, which proves how hollow were his diatribes against the
tyrant of the seas at other times.]

[Footnote 79: Despatch of April 20th, 1806, in Papers presented to
Parliament on December 22nd, 1806.]

[Footnote 80: Czartoryski's "Mems.," vol. ii., ch. xiii.]

[Footnote 81: "I do not intend the Court of Rome to mix any more in
politics" (Nap. to the Pope, February 13th, 1806).]

[Footnote 82: I translate literally these N.B.'s as pasted in at the
end of Yarmouth's Memoir of July 8th ("France," No. 73). As Oubril's
instructions have never, I believe, been published, the passage given
above is somewhat important as proving how completely he exceeded his
powers in bartering away Sicily. The text of the Oubril Treaty is
given by De Clercq, vol. ii., p. 180. The secret articles required
Russia to help France in inducing the Court of Madrid to cede the
Balearic Isles to the Prince Royal of Naples; the dethroned King and
Queen were not to reside there, and Russia was to recognize Joseph
Bonaparte as King of the Two Sicilies.]

[Footnote 83: In conversing with our ambassador, Mr. Stuart, Baron
Budberg excused Oubril's conduct on the ground of his nervousness
under the threats of the French plenipotentiary, General Clarke, who
scarcely let him speak, and darkly hinted at many other changes that
must ensue if Russia did not make peace; Switzerland was to be
annexed, Germany overrun, and Turkey partitioned. That Clarke was a
master in diplomatic hectoring is well known; but, from private
inquiries, Stuart discovered that the Czar, in his private conference
with Oubril, seemed more inclined towards peace than Czartoryski: when
therefore the latter resigned, Oubril might well give way before
Clarke's bluster. (Stuart's Despatch of August 9th, 1806, F.O.,
Russia, No. 63; also see Czartoryski's "Mems.," vol. ii., ch. xiv.;
and Martens, "Traités," Suppl. vol. iv.)]

[Footnote 84: "Memoirs of Karl Heinrich, Knight of Lang."]

[Footnote 85: Garden, vol. ix., pp. 157, 189, 255.]

[Footnote 86: "Corresp.," Nos. 10522 and 10544. For a French account
see the "Mems." of Baron Desvernois, p. 288.]

[Footnote 87: "F.O. Records," Naples, No. 73.]

[Footnote 88: This was on Napoleon's advice. He wrote to Talleyrand
from Rambouillet on August 18th, to give as an excuse for the delay,
"The Emperor is hunting and will not be back before the end of the
week."]

[Footnote 89: So too Napoleon said at St. Helena to Las Cases: "Fox's
death was one of the fatalities of my career."]

[Footnote 90: Despatches of September 26th and October 6th.]

[Footnote 91: Bailleu, "Frankreich und Preussen," Introd.]

[Footnote 92: Decree of July 26th.]

[Footnote 93: See "Corresp." No. 10604, note; also Talleyrand's letter
of August 4th ("Lettres inédites," p. 245), showing the indemnities
that might be offered to Prussia after the loss of Hanover: they
included, of course, little States, Anhalt, Lippe, Waldeck, etc.]

[Footnote 94: Gentz, "Ausgew. Schriften," vol. v., p. 252.
Conversation with Lucchesini.]

[Footnote 95: "Corresp.," Nos. 10575, 10587, 10633.]

[Footnote 96: "Mems.," vol. iii., pp. 115, _et seq._ The
Prusso-Russian convention of July, by which these Powers mutually
guaranteed the integrity of their States, was mainly the work of
Hardenberg.]

[Footnote 97: Bailleu, pp. 540-552. See too Fournier's "Napoleon,"
vol. ii., p. 106.]

[Footnote 98: Bailleu, pp. 556-557. So too Napoleon's letter of
September 5th to Berthier is the first hint of his thought of a
Continental war.]

[Footnote 99: Queen Louisa said to Gentz (October 9th) that war had
been decided on, not owing to selfish calculations, but the sentiment
of honour (Garden, "Traités," vol. x., p. 133).]

[Footnote 100: A memorial was handed in to him on September 2nd. It
was signed by the King's brothers, Henry and William, also by the
leader of the warlike party, Prince Louis Ferdinand, by Generals
Rüchel and Phull, and by the future dictator, Stein. The King rebuked
all of them. See Pertz, "Stein," vol. i., p. 347.]

[Footnote 101: "F.O.," Russia, No. 64. Stuart's despatches of
September 30th and October 21st.]

[Footnote 102: Müffling, "Aus meinem Leben."]

[Footnote 103: Lettow-Vorbeck, "Der Krieg von 1806-7," p. 163.]

[Footnote 104: See Prince Hohenlohe's "Letters on Strategy" (p. 62,
Eng. ed.) for the effect of this rapid marching; Foucart's "Campagne
de Prusse," vol. i., pp. 323-343; also Lord Fitzmaurice's "Duke of
Brunswick."]

[Footnote 105: Höpfner, vol. i.p. 383; and Lettow-Vorbeck, vol. i., p.
345.]

[Footnote 106: Foucart, _op. cit._, pp. 606-623.]

[Footnote 107: Marbot says Rüchel was killed: but he recovered from
his wound, and did good service the next spring.

Vernet's picture of Napoleon inspecting his Guards at Jena before
their charge seems to represent the well-known incident of a soldier
calling out "_en avant_"; whereupon Napoleon sharply turned and bade
the man wait till he had commanded in twenty battles before he gave
him advice.]

[Footnote 108: Foucart, p. 671.]

[Footnote 109: Lang thus describes four French Marshals whom he saw at
Ansbach: "Bernadotte, a very tall dark man, with fiery eyes under
thick brows; Mortier, still taller, with a stupid sentinel look;
Lefebvre, an old Alsatian camp-boy, with his wife, former washerwoman
to the regiment; and Davoust, a little smooth-pated, unpretending man,
who was never tired of waltzing."]

[Footnote 110: Davoust, "Opérations du 3ème Corps," pp. 31-32. French
writers reduce their force to 24,000, and raise Brunswick's total to
60,000. Lehmann's "Scharnhorst," vol. i., p. 433, gives the details.]

[Footnote 111: Foucart, pp. 604-606, 670, and 694-697, who only blames
him for slowness. But he set out from Naumburg before dawn, and,
though delayed by difficult tracks, was near Apolda at 4 p.m., and
took 1,000 prisoners.]

[Footnote 112: For this service, as for his exploits at Austerlitz,
Napoleon gave few words of praise. Lannes' remonstrance is printed by
General Thoumas, "Le Maréchal Lannes," p. 169. The Emperor secretly
disliked Lannes for his very independent bearing.]

[Footnote 113: "Nap. Corresp.," November 21st, 1807; Baron Lumbroso's
"Napoleone I e l'Inghilterra," p. 103; Garden, vol. x., p. 307.]

[Footnote 114: This decree, of 10 Brumaire, an V, is printed in full,
and commented on by Lumbroso, _op. cit._, p. 49. See too Sorel,
"L'Europe et la Rév. Fr.," vol. iii., p. 389; and my article,
"Napoleon and English Commerce," in the "Eng. Hist. Rev." of October,
1893.]

[Footnote 115: This phrase occurs, I believe, first in the
conversation of Napoleon on May 1st, 1803: "We will form a more
complete coast-system, and England shall end by shedding tears of
blood" (Miot de Melito, "Mems.," vol. i., chap. xiv.).]

[Footnote 116: _E.g._, Fauchille, "Du Blocus maritime," pp. 93 _et
seq._]

[Footnote 117: See especially the pamphlet "War in Disguise, or the
Frauds of the Neutral Flags" (1805), by J. Stephen. It has been said
that this pamphlet was a cause of the Orders in Council. The whole
question is discussed by Manning, "Commentaries on the Law of Nations"
(1875); Lawrence, "International Law"; Mahan, "Infl. of Sea Power,"
vol. ii., pp. 274-277; Mollien, vol. iii., p. 289 (first edit.); and
Chaptal, p. 275.]

[Footnote 118: Hausser, vol. iii., p. 61 (4th edit.). The Saxon
federal contingent was fixed at 20,000 men.]

[Footnote 119: Papers presented to Parliament, December 22nd, 1806.]

[Footnote 120: After the interview of November 28th, 1801, Cornwallis
reports that Napoleon "expressed a wish that we could agree to remove
disaffected persons from either country ... and declared his
willingness to send away United Irishmen" ("F.O. Records," No. 615).]

[Footnote 121: Czartoryski, "Mems.," vol. ii., ch. xv.]

[Footnote 122: In our "F.O. Records," Prussia, No. 74, is a report of
Napoleon's reply to a deputation at Warsaw (January, 1807): "I warn
you that neither I nor any French prince cares for your Polish throne:
I have crowns to give and don't know what to do with them. You must
first of all think of giving bread to my soldiers--'Bread, bread,
bread.' ... I cannot support my troops in this country, where there is
no one besides nobles and miserable peasants. Where are your great
families? They are all sold to Russia. It is Czartoryski who wrote to
Kosciusko not to come back to Poland." And when a Galician deputy
asked him of the fate of his province, he turned on him: "Do you think
that I will draw on myself new foes for one province." Nevertheless,
the enthusiasm of the Poles was not wholly chilled. Their contingents
did good service for him. Somewhat later, female devotion brought a
beautiful young Polish lady to act as his mistress, primarily with the
hope of helping on the liberation of her land, and then as a willing
captive to the charm which he exerted on all who approached him. Their
son was Count Walewska]

[Footnote 123: Marbot, ch. xxviii.]

[Footnote 124: Lettow-Vorbeck estimates the French loss at more than
24,000; that of the Russians as still heavier, but largely owing to
the bad commissariat and wholesale straggling. On this see Sir R.
Wilson's "Campaign in Poland," ch. i.]

[Footnote 125: Napoleon on February 13th charged Bertrand to offer
_verbally, but not in writing_, to the King of Prussia a separate
peace, without respect to the Czar. Frederick William was to be
restored to his States east of the Elbe. He rejected the offer, which
would have broken his engagements to the Czar. Napoleon repeated the
offer on February 20th, which shows that, at this crisis, he did wish
for peace with Prussia. See "Nap. Corresp.," No. 11810; and Hausser,
vol. iii., p. 74.]

[Footnote 126: "I have been repeatedly pressed by the Prussian and
Russian Governments," wrote Lord Hutchinson, our envoy at Memel, March
9th, 1807, "on the subject of a diversion to be made by British troops
against Mortier.... Stettin is a large place with a small garrison and
in a bad state of defence" ("F.O.," Prussia, No. 74). in 1805 Pitt
promised to send a British force to Stralsund (see p. 17).]

[Footnote 127: Lord Cathcart's secret report to the War Office, dated
April 22nd, 1807, dealt with the appeal made by Lord Hutchinson, and
with a _Projet_ of Dumouriez, both of whom strongly urged the
expedition to Stralsund. On May 30th Castlereagh received a report
from a Hanoverian officer, Kuckuck, stating that Hanover and Hesse
were ripe for revolt, and that Hameln might easily be seized if the
North Germans were encouraged by an English force ("Castlereagh
Letters," vol. vi., pp. 169 and 211).]

[Footnote 128: "F.O.," Russia, No. 69.]

[Footnote 129: "Correspond.," No. 12563; also "La Mission du Gen.
Gardane en Perse," par le comte de Gardane. Napoleon in his
proclamation of December 2nd, 1806, told the troops that their
victories had won for France her Indian possessions and the Cape of
Good Hope.]

[Footnote 130: Wilson, "Campaign in Poland"; "Opérations du 3'me Corps
[Davoust's], 1806-1807," p. 199.]

[Footnote 131: "Corresp.," Nos. 12749 and 12751. Lejeune, in his
"Memoirs," also shows that Napoleon's chief aim was to seize
Königsberg.]

[Footnote 132: "Memoirs of Oudinot," ch. i]

[Footnote 133: The report is dated Memel, June 21st, 1807, in "F.O.,"
Prussia, No. 74. Hutchinson thinks the Russians had not more than
45,000 men engaged at Friedland, and that their losses did not exceed
15,000: but there were "multitudes of stragglers." Lettow-Vorbeck
gives about the same estimates. Those given in the French bulletin are
grossly exaggerated.]

[Footnote 134: On June 17th, 1807, Queen Louisa wrote to her father:"
... we fall with honour. The King has proved that he prefers honour to
shameful submission." On June 23rd Bennigsen professed a wish to
fight, while secretly advising surrender (Hardenberg, "Mems.," vol.
iii., p. 469).]

[Footnote 135: "F.O.," Russia, No. 69. Soult told Lord Holland
("Foreign Reminiscences," p. 185) that Bennigsen was plotting to
murder the Czar, and he (S.) warned him of it.]

[Footnote 136: "Lettres inédites de Talleyrand," p. 468; also Garden,
vol. x., pp. 205-210; and "Ann. Reg." (1807), pp. 710-724, for the
British replies to Austria.]

[Footnote 137: Canning to Paget ("Paget Papers," vol. ii., p. 324). So
too Canning's despatch of July 21st to Gower (Russia, No. 69).]


[Footnote 138: Stadion saw through it. See Beer, p. 243.]

[Footnote 139: "Nap. Corresp.," No. 11918.]

[Footnote 140: _Ib._, No. 12028. This very important letter seems to
me to refute M. Vandal's theory ("Nap. et Alexandre," ch. i.), that
Napoleon was throughout seeking for an alliance with _Austria_, or
Prussia, or Russia.]

[Footnote 141: Canning to Paget, May 16th, 1807 ("Paget Papers," vol.
ii., p. 290).]

[Footnote 142: Garden, vol. x., pp. 214-218; and Gower's despatch of
June 17th. 1807 (Russia, No. 69).]

[Footnote 143: All references to the story rest ultimately on Bignon,
"Hist. de France" (vol. vi., p. 316), who gives no voucher for it. For
the reasons given above I must regard the story as suspect. Among a
witty, phrase-loving people like the French, a good _mot_ is almost
certain to gain credence and so pass into history.]

[Footnote 144: Tatischeff, "Alexandre I et Napoléon" (pp. 144-148).]

[Footnote 145: Reports of Savary and Lesseps, quoted by Vandal, _op.
cit._, p. 61; "Corresp.," No. 12825.]

[Footnote 146: Vandal, p. 73, says that the news reached Napoleon at a
review when Alexander was by his side. If so, the occasion was
carefully selected with a view to effect; for the news reached him on,
or before, June 24th (see "Corresp.," No. 12819). Gower states that
the news reached Tilsit as early as the 15th; and Hardenberg secretly
proposed a policy of partition of Turkey on June 23rd ("Mems.," vol.
iii., p. 463). Hardenberg resigned office on July 4th, as Napoleon
refused to treat through him.]

[Footnote 147: "Corresp.," No. 12862, letter of July 6th.]

[Footnote 148: Tatischeff (pp. 146-148 and 163-168) proves from the
Russian archives that these schemes were Alexander's, and were in the
main opposed by Napoleon. This disproves Vandal's assertion (p. 101)
that Napoleon pressed Alexander to take the Memel and Polish
districts.]

[Footnote 149: "Erinnerungen der Gräfin von Voss."]

[Footnote 150: Probably this refers not to the restitution of Silesia,
which he politely offered to her (though he had previously granted it
on the Czar's request), but to Madgeburg and its environs west of the
Elbe. On July 7th he said to Goltz, the Prussian negotiator, "I am
sorry if the Queen took as positive assurances the _phrases de_
_politesse_ that one speaks to ladies" (Hardenberg's "Mems.," vol.
iii., p. 512).]

[Footnote 151: See the new facts published by Bailleu in the
"Hohenzollern Jahrbuch" (1899). The "rose" story is not in any German
source.]

[Footnote 152: In his "Memoirs" (vol. i., pt. iii.) Talleyrand says
that he repeated this story several times at the Tuileries, until
Napoleon rebuked him for it.]

[Footnote 153: Before Tilsit Prussia had 9,744,000 subjects;
afterwards only 4,938,000. See her frontiers in map on p. 215.]

[Footnote 154: The exact terms of the secret articles and of the
secret treaty have only been known since 1890, when, owing to the
labours of MM. Fournier, Tatischeff, and Vandal, they saw the light.]

[Footnote 155: Gower's despatch of July 12th. "F.O.," Russia, No. 69.]

[Footnote 156: De Clercq, "Traités," vol. ii., pp. 223-225; Garden,
vol. x., p. 233 and 277-290. Our envoy, Jackson, reported from Memel
on July 28th: "Nothing can exceed the insolence and extortions of the
French. No sooner is one demand complied with than a fresh one is
brought forward."]

[Footnote 157: That he seriously thought in November, 1807, of leaving
to Prussia less than half of her already cramped territories, is clear
from his instructions to Caulaincourt, his ambassador to the Czar: "Is
it not to Prussia's interest for her to place herself, at once, and
with entire resignation, among the inferior Powers?" A new treaty was
to be framed, under the guise of _interpreting_ that of Tilsit, Russia
keeping the Danubian Provinces, and Napoleon more than half of Prussia
(Vandal, vol. i., p. 509).]

[Footnote 158: Lucchesini to Gentz in October, 1806, in Gentz's
"Ausgewählte Schriften," vol. v., p. 257.]

[Footnote 159: See Canning's reply to Stahremberg's Note, on April
25th, 1807, in the "Ann. Reg.," p. 724.]

[Footnote 160: For Mackenzie's report and other details gleaned from
our archives, see my article "A British Agent at Tilsit," in the "Eng.
Hist. Rev." of October, 1901.]

[Footnote 161: James, "Naval History," vol. iv., p. 408.]

[Footnote 162: "F.O.," Denmark, No. 53.]

[Footnote 163: Garden, vol. x., p. 408.]

[Footnote 164: "Corresp.," No. 12962; see too No. 12936, ordering the
15,000 Spanish troops now serving him near Hamburg to form the nucleus
of Bernadotte's army of observation, which, "in case of events," was
to be strengthened by as many Dutch.]

[Footnote 165: "F.O.," Denmark, No. 53. I published this Memorandum of
Canning and other unpublished papers in an article, "Canning and
Denmark," in the "Eng. Hist. Rev." of January, 1896. The terms of the
capitulation were, it seems, mainly decided on by Sir Arthur
Wellesley, who wrote to Canning (September 8th): "I might have carried
our terms higher ... had not our troops been needed at home" ("Well.
Despatches," vol. iii., p. 7).]

[Footnote 166: Castlereagh's "Corresp.," vol. vi. So too Gower
reported from St. Petersburg on October 1st that public opinion was
"decidedly averse to war with England, ... and it appears to me that
the English name was scarcely ever more popular in Russia than at the
present time."]

[Footnote 167: Letters of July 19th and 29th.]

[Footnote 168: The phrase is that of Viscount Strangford, our
ambassador at Lisbon ("F.O.," Portugal, No. 55). So Baumgarten,
"Geschichte Spaniens," vol. i., p. 136.]

[Footnote 169: Report of the Portuguese ambassador, Lourenço de Lima,
dated August 7th, 1807, inclosed by Viscount Strangford ("F.O.,"
Portugal, No. 55).]

[Footnote 170: This statement as to the date of the summons to
Portugal is false: it was July 19th when he ordered it to be sent,
that is, long before the Copenhagen news reached him.]

[Footnote 171: "Corresp.," No. 12839.]

[Footnote 172: See Lady Blennerhasset's "Talleyrand," vol. ii., ch.
xvi., for a discussion of Talleyrand's share in the new policy. This
question, together with many others, cannot be solved, owing to
Talleyrand's destruction of most of his papers. In June, 1806, he
advised a partition of Portugal; and in the autumn he is said to have
favoured the overthrow of the Spanish Bourbons. But there must surely
be some connection between Napoleon's letter to him of July 19th,
1807, on Portuguese affairs and the resignation which he persistently
offered on their return to Paris. On August 10th he wrote to the
Emperor that that letter would be the last act of his Ministry
("Lettres inédites de Tall.," p. 476). He was succeeded by Champagny.]

[Footnote 173: "Corresp.," Nos. 13235, 37, 43.]

[Footnote 174: "Corresp.," Nos. 13314 and 13327. So too, to General
Clarke, his new Minister of War, he wrote: "Junot may say anything he
pleases, so long as he gets hold of the fleet" ("New Letters of Nap.,"
October 28th, 1807).]

[Footnote 175: Strangford's despatches quite refute Thiers' confident
statement that the Portuguese answers to Napoleon were planned in
concert with us. I cannot find in our archives a copy of the
Anglo-Portuguese Convention signed by Canning on October 22nd, 1807;
but there are many references to it in his despatches. It empowered us
to occupy Madeira; and our fleet did so at the close of the year. In
April next we exchanged it for the Azores and Goa.]

[Footnote 176: "Corresp.," July 22nd, 1807.]

[Footnote 177: Between September 1st, 1807, and November 23rd, 1807,
he wrote eighteen letters on the subject of Corfu, which he designed
to be his base of operations as soon as the Eastern Question could be
advantageously reopened. On February 8th, 1808, he wrote to Joseph
that Corfu was more important than Sicily, and that "_in the present
state of Europe, the loss of Corfu would be the greatest of
disasters_." This points to his proposed partition of Turkey.]

[Footnote 178: Letter of October 13th, 1807.]

[Footnote 179: "Ann. Register" for 1807, pp. 227, 747.]

[Footnote 180: _Ibid._, pp. 749-750. Another Order in Council
(November 25th) allowed neutral ships a few more facilities for
colonial trade, and Prussian merchantmen were set free (_ibid._, pp.
755-759). In April, 1809, we further favoured the carrying of British
goods on neutral ships, especially to or from the United States.]

[Footnote 181: Bourrienne, "Memoirs." The case against the Orders in
Council is fairly stated by Lumbroso, and by Alison, ch. 50.]

[Footnote 182: Gower reported (on September 22nd) that the Spanish
ambassador at St. Petersburg had been pleading for help there, so as
to avenge this insult.]

[Footnote 183: Baumgarten, "Geschichte Spaniens," vol. i., p. 138.]

[Footnote 184: "Nap. Corresp." of October 17th and 31st, November
13th, December 23rd, 1807, and February 20th, 1808; also Napier,
"Peninsular War," bk. i., ch. ii.]

[Footnote 185: Letter of January 10th, 1808.]

[Footnote 186: Letter of Charles IV. to Napoleon of October 29th,
1807, published in "Murat, Lieutenant de l'Empereur en Espagne,"
Appendix viii.]

[Footnote 187: "New Letters of Napoleon."]

[Footnote 188: "Corresp.," letter of February 25th.]

[Footnote 189: Murat in 1814 told Lord Holland ("Foreign
Reminiscences," p. 131) he had had no instructions from Napoleon.]

[Footnote 190: Thiers, notes to bk. xxix.]

[Footnote 191: "Mémoires pour servir à l'histoire de la Révolution
d'Espagne, par Nellerto"; also "The Journey of Ferdinand VII. to
Bayonne," by Escoiquiz.]

[Footnote 192: "Corresp.," No. 13696. A careful comparison of this
laboured, halting effusion, with the curt military syle*style of the
genuine letters--and especially with Nos. 93, 94, and 100 of the "New
Letters"--must demonstrate its non-authenticity. Thiers' argument to
the contrary effect is rambling and weak. Count Murat in his recent
monograph on his father pronounces the letter a fabrication of St.
Helena or later. It was first published in the "Mémorial de St.
Hélène," an untrustworthy compilation made by Las Cases after
Napoleon's death from notes taken at St. Helena.]

[Footnote 193: Napoleon had at first intended the Spanish crown for
Louis, to whom he wrote on March 27th: "The climate of Holland does
not suit you. Besides, Holland can never rise from her ruins." Louis
declined, on the ground that his call to Holland had been from heaven,
and not from Napoleon!]

[Footnote 194: Memoirs of Thiébault and De Broglie; so, too, De Rocca,
"La Guerre en Espagne."]

[Footnote 195: See the letter of an Englishman from Buenos Ayres of
September 27th, 1809, in "Cobbett's Register" for 1810 (p. 256),
stating that the new popular Government there was driven by want of
funds, "not from their good wishes to England," to open their ports to
all foreign commerce on moderate duties.]

[Footnote 196: Vandal, "Napoléon et Alexandre," ch. vii. It is not
published in the "Correspondence" or in the "New Letters."]

[Footnote 197: Vandal, "Napoléon et Alexandre," vol. i., ch. iv., and
App. II.]

[Footnote 198: In the conversations which Metternich had with Napoleon
and Talleyrand on and after January 22nd, 1808, he was convinced that
the French Emperor intended to partition Turkey as soon as it suited
him to do so, which would be after he had subjected Spain. Napoleon
said to him: "When the Russians are at Constantinople you will need
France to help you against them."--"Metternich Memoirs," vol. ii., p.
188.]

[Footnote 199: So Soult told Lord Holland ("Foreign Reminiscences," p.
171).]

[Footnote 200: Vandal, vol. i., p. 384.]

[Footnote 201: Metternich, "Mems.," vol. ii. p. 298 (Eng. edit.).]

[Footnote 202: I think that Beer (pp. 330-340) errs somewhat in
ranking Talleyrand's work at Erfurt at that statesman's own very high
valuation, which he enhanced in later years: see Greville's "Mems.,"
Second Part, vol. ii., p. 193.]

[Footnote 203: Vandal, vol. i., p. 307.]

[Footnote 204: Sklower, "L'Entrevue de Napoléon avec Goethe"; Mrs.
Austin's "Germany from 1760 to 1814"; Oncken, bk. vii., ch. i. For
Napoleon's dispute with Wieland about Tacitus see Talleyrand, "Mems.,"
vol. i., pt. 5. When the Emperors' carriages were ready for departure,
Talleyrand whispered to Alexander: "Ah! si Votre Majesté pouvait se
tromper de voiture."]

[Footnote 205: "F.O.," Russia, No. 74, despatch of December 9th, 1808.
On January 14th, 1809, Canning signed a treaty of alliance with the
Spanish people, both sides agreeing never to make peace with Napoleon
except by common consent. It was signed when the Spanish cause seemed
desperate; but it was religiously observed.]

[Footnote 206: Madelin's "Fouché," vol. ii., p. 80; Pasquier, vol. i.,
pp. 353-360.]

[Footnote 207: Seeley, "Life and Times of Stein," vol. ii., p. 316;
Hausser, vol. iii., p. 219 (4th edition).]

[Footnote 208: Our F.O. Records show that we wanted to help Austria;
but a long delay was caused by George III.'s insisting that she should
make peace with us first. Canning meanwhile sent £250,000 in silver
bars to Trieste. But in his note of April 20th he assured the Court of
Vienna that our treasury had been "nearly exhausted" by the drain of
the Peninsular War. (Austria, No. 90.)]

[Footnote 209: For the campaign see the memoirs of Macdonald, Marbot,
Lejeune, Pelet and Marmont. The last (vol. iii., p. 216) says that,
had the Austrians pressed home their final attacks at Aspern, a
disaster was inevitable; or had Charles later on cut the French
communications near Vienna, the same result must have followed. But
the investigations of military historians leave no doubt that the
Austrian troops were too exhausted by their heroic exertions, and
their supplies of ammunition too much depleted, to warrant any risky
moves for several days; and by that time reinforcements had reached
Napoleon. See too Angelis' "Der Erz-Herzog Karl."]

[Footnote 210: Thoumas, "Le Maréchal Lannes," pp. 205, 323 _et seq._
Desvernois ("Mems.," ch. xii.) notes that after Austerlitz none of
Napoleon's wars had the approval of France.]

[Footnote 211: For the Walcheren expedition see Alison, vol. viii.;
James, vol. iv.; as also for Gambier's failure at Rochefort. The
letters of Sir Byam Martin, then cruising off Danzig, show how our
officers wished to give timely aid to Schill ("Navy Records," vol.
xii.).]

[Footnote 212: Captain Boothby's "A Prisoner of France," ch. iii.]

[Footnote 213: For Charles's desire to sue for peace after the first
battles on the Upper Danube, see Häusser, vol. iii., p. 341; also,
after Wagram, _ib._, pp. 412-413.]

[Footnote 214: Napier, bk. viii., chs. ii. and iii. In the App. of
vol. iii. of "Wellington's Despatches" is Napoleon's criticism on the
movements of Joseph and the French marshals. He blames them for their
want of _ensemble_, and for the precipitate attack which Victor
advised at Talavera. He concluded: "As long as you attack good troops
like the English in good positions, without reconnoitring them, you
will lead men to death _en pure perte_."]

[Footnote 215: An Austrian envoy had been urging promptitude at
Downing Street. On June 1st he wrote to Canning: "The promptitude of
the enemy has always been the key to his success. A long experience
has proved this to the world, which seems hitherto not to have
profited by this knowledge." On July 29th Canning acknowledged the
receipt of the Austrian ratification of peace with us, "accompanied by
the afflicting intelligence of the armistice concluded on the 12th
instant between the Austrian and French armies."

Napoleon at St. Helena said to Montholon that, had 6,000 British
troops pushed rapidly up the banks of the Scheldt on the day that the
expedition reached Flushing, they could easily have taken Antwerp,
which was then very weakly held. See, too, other opinions quoted by
Alison, ch. lx.]

[Footnote 216: Beer, p. 441.]

[Footnote 217: Vandal, vol. ii., p. 161; Metternich, vol. i., p. 114.]

[Footnote 218: Letter of February 10th, 1810, quoted by Lanfrey. See,
too, the "Mems." of Prince Eugène, vol. vi., p. 277.]

[Footnote 219: "Memoirs," vol. ii., p. 365 (Eng. ed.).]

[Footnote 220: Bausset, "Mems.," ch. xix.]

[Footnote 221: Mme. de Rémusat, "Mems.," ch. xxvii.]

[Footnote 222: Tatischeff, "Alexandre et Napoléon," p. 519.
Welschinger, "Le Divorce de Napoléon," ch. ii.; he also examines the
alleged irregularities of the religious marriage with Josephine; Fesch
and most impartial authorities brushed them aside as a flimsy excuse.]

[Footnote 223: Metternich's despatch of December 25th, 1809, in his
"Mems.," vol. ii., § 150. The first hints were dropped by him to
Laborde on November 29th (Vandal, vol. ii., pp. 204, 543): they
reached Napoleon's ears about December 15th. For the influence of
these marriage negotiations in preparing for Napoleon's rupture with
the Czar, see chap, xxxii. of this work.]

[Footnote 224: "Conversations with the Duke of Wellington," p. 9. The
disobedience of Ney and Soult did much to ruin Masséna's campaign, and
he lost the battle of Fuentès d'Onoro mainly through that of
Bessières. Still, as he failed to satisfy Napoleon's maxim, "Succeed:
I judge men only by results," he was disgraced.]

[Footnote 225: Decree of February 5th, 1810. See Welschinger, "La
Censure sous le premier Empire," p. 31. For the seizure of Madame de
Staël's "Allemagne" and her exile, see her preface to "Dix Années
d'Exil."]

[Footnote 226: Mollien, "Mems.," vol. iii., p. 183.]

[Footnote 227: Fouché retired to Italy, and finally settled at Aix.
His place at the Ministry of Police was taken by Savary, Duc de
Rovigo. See Madelin's "Fouché," chap. xx.]

[Footnote 228: Porter, "Progress of the Nation," p. 388.]

[Footnote 229: Letters of August 6th, 7th, 29th. The United States had
just repealed their Non-Intercourse Act of 1807. For their relations
with Napoleon and England, see Channing's "The United States of
America," chs. vi. and vii.; also the Anglo-American correspondence in
Cobbett's "Register for 1809 and 1810."]

[Footnote 230: Mollien, "Mems." vol. i., p. 316.]

[Footnote 231: Tooke, "Hist. of Prices," vol. i., p. 311; Mollien,
vol. iii., pp. 135, 289; Pasquier, vol. i., p. 295; Chaptal, p. 275.]

[Footnote 232: Letter of August 6th, 1810, to Eugène.]

[Footnote 233: "Progress of the Nation," p. 148.]

[Footnote 234: So Mollien, vol. iii., p. 135: "One knows that his
powerful imagination was fertile in illusions: as soon as they had
seduced him, he sought with a kind of good faith to enhance their
prestige, and he succeeded easily in persuading many others of what he
had convinced himself. He braved business difficulties as he braved
dangers in war."] [Footnote 235: Miot de Melito, vol. ii., ch. xv. For
some favourable symptoms in French industry, see Lumbroso, pp.
165-226, and Chaptal, p. 287. They have been credited to the
Continental System; but surely they resulted from the internal free
trade and intelligent administration which France had enjoyed since
the Revolution.]

[Footnote 236: "Nap. Corresp.," May 8th, 1811.]

[Footnote 237: Goethe published the first part of "Faust," _in full_,
early in 1808.]

[Footnote 238: Baur, "Stein und Perthes," p. 85.]

[Footnote 239: Lavalette, "Mems.," ch. xxv.]

[Footnote 240: Letters of October 10th and 13th, 1810, and January
1st, 1811.]

[Footnote 241: Letter of September 17th, 1810.]

[Footnote 242: Letter of March 8th, 1811. For a fuller treatment of
the commercial struggle between Great Britain and Napoleon see my
articles, "Napoleon and British Commerce" and "Britain's Food Supply
during the French War," in a volume entitled "Napoleonic Studies"
(George Bell and Sons, 1904).]

[Footnote 243: Czartoryski, "Mems.," vol. ii., ch. xvii. At this time
he was taken back to the Czar's favour, and was bidden to hope for the
re-establishment of Poland by the Czar as soon as Napoleon made a
blunder.]

[Footnote 244: Tatischeff, p. 526; Vandal, vol. ii., ch. vii.]

[Footnote 245: "Corresp.," No. 16178; Vandal, vol. ii., ch. vii. The
_exposé_ of December 1st, 1809, had affirmed that Napoleon did not
intend to re-establish Poland. But this did not satisfy Alexander.]

[Footnote 246: Letters of October 23rd and December 2nd, 1810.]

[Footnote 247: Vandal, vol. ii., p. 529.]

[Footnote 248: Tatischeff, p. 555.]

[Footnote 249: Vandal, vol. ii., p. 535, admits that we had no hand in
it. But the Czar naturally became more favourable to us, and at the
close of 1811 secretly gave entry to our goods.]

[Footnote 250: Quoted by Garden, vol. xiii., p. 171.]

[Footnote 251: Bernhardi's "Denkwürdigkeiten des Grafen von Toll,"
vol. i. p. 223.]

[Footnote 252: Czartoryski, vol. ii., ch. xvii. At Dresden, in May,
1812, Napoleon admitted to De Pradt, his envoy at Warsaw that Russia's
lapse from the Continental System was the chief cause of war; "Without
Russia, the Continental System is absurdity."]

[Footnote 253: For the overtures of Russia and Sweden to us and their
exorbitant requests for loans, see Mr. Hereford George's account in
his careful and systematic study, "Napoleon's Invasion of Russia," ch.
iv. It was not till July, 1812, that we formally made peace with
Russia and Sweden, and sent them pecuniary aid. We may note here that
Napoleon, in April, 1812, sent us overtures for peace, if we would
acknowledge Joseph as King of Spain and Murat as King of Naples, and
withdraw our troops from the Peninsula and Sicily: Napoleon would then
evacuate Spain. Castlereagh at once refused an offer which would have
left Napoleon free to throw his whole strength against Russia (Garden,
vol. xiii., pp. 215, 254).]

[Footnote 254: Garden, vol. xiii., p. 329.]

[Footnote 255: Hereford George, _op. cit._, pp. 34-37. Metternich
("Memoirs," vol. ii., p. 517, Eng. ed.) shows that Napoleon had also
been holding out to Austria the hope of gaining Servia, Wallachia and
Moldavia (the latter of which were then overrun by Russian troops), if
she would furnish 60,000 troops: but Metternich resisted
successfully.]

[Footnote 256: See his words to Metternich at Dresden, Metternich's
"Mems.," vol. i., p. 152; as also that he would not advance beyond
Smolensk in 1812.]

[Footnote 257: Bernhardi's "Toll," vol. i., p. 226; Stern,
"Abhandlungen," pp. 350-366; Müffling, "Aus meinem Leben"; L'Abbé de
Pradt, "L'histoire de l'Ambassade de Varsovie."]

[Footnote 258: "Erinnerungen des Gen. von Boyen," vol. ii., p. 254.
This, and other facts that will later be set forth, explode the story
foisted by the Prussian General von dem Knesebeck in his old age on
Müffling. Knesebeck declared that his mission early in 1812 to the
Czar, which was to persuade him to a peaceful compromise with
Napoleon, was directly controverted by the secret instructions which
he bore from Frederick William to Alexander. He described several
midnight interviews with the Czar at the Winter Palace, in which he
convinced him that by war with Napoleon, and by enticing him into the
heart of Russia, Europe would be saved. Lehmann has shown ("Knesebeck
und Schön") that this story is contradicted by all the documentary
evidence. It may be dismissed as the offspring of senile vanity.]

[Footnote 259: "Toll," vol. i., pp. 256 _et seq._ Müffling was assured
by Phull in 1819 that the Drissa plan was only part of a grander
design which had never had a fair[*Scanner's note: fair is correct]
chance!]

[Footnote 260: Bernhardi's "Toll" (vol. i., p. 231) gives Barclay's
chief "army of the west" as really mustering only 127,000 strong,
along with 9,000 Cossacks; Bagration, with the second "army of the
west," numbered at first only 35,000, with 4,000 Cossacks; while
Tormasov's corps observing Galicia was about as strong. Clausewitz
gives rather higher estimates.]

[Footnote 261: Labaume, "Narrative of 1812," and Ségur.]

[Footnote 262: See the long letter of May 28th, 1812, to De Pradt;
also the Duc de Broglie's "Memoirs" (vol. i., ch. iv.) for the
hollowness of Napoleon's Polish policy. Bignon, "Souvenirs d'un
Diplomate" (ch. xx.), errs in saying that Napoleon charged De
Pradt--"Tout agiter, tout enflammer." At St. Helena, Napoleon said to
Montholon ("Captivity," vol. iii., ch. iii.): "Poland and its
resources were but poetry in the first months of the year 1812."]

[Footnote 263: "Toll," vol. i., p. 239; Wilson, "Invasion of Russia,"
p. 384.]

[Footnote 264: We may here also clear aside the statements of some
writers who aver that Napoleon intended to strike at St. Petersburg.
Perhaps he did so for a time. On July 9th he wrote at Vilna that he
proposed to march _both on Moscow and St. Petersburg_. But that was
while he still hoped that Davoust would entrap Bagration, and while
Barclay's retreat on Drissa seemed likely to carry the war into the
north. Napoleon always aimed first at the enemy's army; and Barclay's
retreat from Drissa to Vitepsk, and thence to Smolensk, finally
decided Napoleon's move towards Moscow. If he had any preconceived
scheme--and he always regulated his moves by events rather than by a
cast-iron plan--it was to strike at Moscow. At Dresden he said to De
Pradt: "I must finish the war by the end of September.... I am going
to Moscow: one or two battles will settle the business. I will burn
Tula, and Russia will be at my feet. Moscow is the heart of that
Empire. I will wage war with Polish blood." De Pradt's evidence is not
wholly to be trusted; but I am convinced that Napoleon never seriously
thought of taking 200,000 men to the barren tracts of North Russia
late in the summer, while the English, Swedish, and Russian fleets
were ready to worry his flank and stop supplies.]

[Footnote 265: Letter of August 24th to Maret; so too Labaume's
"Narrative," and Garden, vol. xiii., p. 418. Mr. George thinks that
Napoleon decided on August 21st to strike at Moscow on grounds of
general policy.]

[Footnote 266: Labaume, "Narrative"; Lejeune's "Mems.," vol. ii., ch.
vi.]

[Footnote 267: Marbot's "Mems." Bausset, a devoted servant to
Napoleon, refutes the oft-told story that he was ill at Borodino. He
had nothing worse than a bad cold. It is curious that such stories are
told about Napoleon after every battle when his genius did not shine.
In this case, it rests on the frothy narrative of Ségur, and is out of
harmony with those of Gourgaud and Pelet. Clausewitz justifies
Napoleon's caution in withholding his Guard.]

[Footnote 268: Bausset, "Cour de Napoléon." Tolstoi ("War and
Liberty") asserts that the fires were the work of tipsy pillagers. So
too Arndt, "Mems.," p. 204. Dr. Tzenoff, in a scholarly monograph
(Berlin, 1900), comes to the same conclusion. Lejeune and Bourgogne
admit both causes.]

[Footnote 269: Garden, vol. xiii., p. 452; vol. xiv., pp. 17-19.]

[Footnote 270: Cathcart, p. 41; see too the Czar's letters in Sir Byam
Martin's "Despatches," vol. ii., p. 311. This fact shows the
frothiness of the talk indulged in by Russians in 1807 as to "our
rapacity and perfidy" in seizing the Danish fleet.]

[Footnote 271: _E.g._, the migration of Rostopchin's serfs _en masse_
from their village, near Moscow, rather than come under French
dominion (Wilson, "French Invasion of Russia," p. 179).]

[Footnote 272: Letter of October 16th; see too his undated notes
("Corresp.," No. 19237). Bausset and many others thought the best plan
would be to winter at Moscow. He also says that the Emperor's
favourite book while at Moscow was Voltaire's "History of Charles
XII."]

[Footnote 273: Lejeune, vol. ii., chap. vi. As it chanced, Kutusoff
had resolved on retreat, if Napoleon attacked him. This is perhaps the
only time when Napoleon erred through excess of prudence. Fezensac
noted at Moscow that he would not see or hear the truth.]

[Footnote 274: It has been constantly stated by Napoleon, and by most
French historians of this campaign, that his losses were mainly due to
an exceptionally severe and early winter. The statement will not bear
examination. Sharp cold usually sets in before November 6th in Russia
at latitude 55°; the severe weather which he then suffered was
succeeded by alternate thaws and slighter frosts until the beginning
of December, when intense cold is always expected. Moreover, the bulk
of the losses occurred before the first snowstorm. The Grand Army
which marched on Smolensk and Moscow may be estimated at 400,000
(including reinforcements). At Viasma, _before severe cold set in_, it
had dwindled to 55,000. We may note here the curious fact,
substantiated by Alison, that the French troops stood the cold better
than the Poles and North Germans. See too N. Senior's "Conversations,"
vol. i., p. 239.]

[Footnote 275: Bausset, "Cour de Napoléon"; Wilson, pp. 271-277.]

[Footnote 276: Oudinot, "Mémoires."]

[Footnote 277: Hereford George, pp. 349-350.]

[Footnote 278: Bourgogne, ch. viii.]

[Footnote 279: Pasquier, vol. ii., _ad init._]

[Footnote 280: Colonel Desprez, who accompanied the retreat, thus
described to King Joseph its closing scenes: "The truth is best
expressed by saying that _the army is dead_. The Young Guard was 8,000
strong when we left Moscow: at Vilna it scarcely numbered 400.... The
corps of Victor and Oudinot numbered 30,000 men when they crossed the
Beresina: two days afterwards they had melted away like the rest of
the army. Sending reinforcements only increased the losses."

The following French official report, a copy of which I have found in
our F.O. Records (Russia, No. 84), shows how frightful were the losses
after Smolensk. But it should be noted that the rank and file in this
case numbered only 300 at Smolensk, and had therefore lost more than
half their numbers--and this in a regiment of the Guard.

    GARDE IMPÉRIALE: 6ème RÉGIMENT DE TIRAILLEURS.
    _lère Division. Situation à l'époque du 19 Décembre, 1812_.

  |---------------------------------------------------------------------------------|
  |             |     Perte depuis le départ de Smolensk                            |
  |             |------------|-----------|-----------|-----------|---------|--------|
  |Présents sous|Restés sur  |Blessés qui|Morts de   |Restés en  |Total des|Reste   |
  |les armes au |le champ    |n'ont pu   |froid ou de|en arrière |Pertes   |présents|
  |départ de    |de bataille |suivre,    |misère     |gelés, ou  |         |sous les|
  |Smolensk     |            |restés au  |           |pour cause |         |armes   |
  |             |            |pouvoir de |           |de maladie |         |        |
  |             |            |l'ennemi   |           |au pouvoir |         |        |
  |             |            |           |           |de l'ennemi|         |        |
  |-----|-------|------------|------|--- |------|----|------|----|-----|---|----|---|
  | Off.|Tr.    | Off. |Tr.  | Off. |Tr. | Off. |Tr. | Off. |Tr. | Off.|Tr.|Off.|Tr.|
  | 31  |300    |  --  |13   |  4   | 52 |  --  | 24 |  13  |201 | 17  |290| 14 |10 |
  |-----|-------|------|-----|------|----|------|----|------|----|-----|---|----|---|
                          _Signé_ le Colonel Major Commandant
                                         le dit Regiment.  CARRÉ.

    Les autres régiments sont plus
    ou moins dans le même état.]

[Footnote 281: "Corresp.," December 20th, 1812. For the so-called
Concordat of 1813, concluded with the captive Pius VII. at
Fontainebleau, see "Corresp." of January 25th, 1813. The Pope
repudiated it at the first opportunity. Napoleon wanted him to settle
at Avignon as a docile subject of the Empire.]

[Footnote 282: Mollien, vol. iii., _ad fin._ For his vague offers to
mitigate the harsh terms of Tilsit for Prussia, and to grant her a
political existence if she would fight for him, see Hardenberg,
"Mems.," vol. iv., p. 350.]

[Footnote 283: Walpole reports (December 19th and 22nd, 1812)
Metternich's envy of the Russian successes and of their occupation of
the left bank of the Danube. Walpole said he believed Alexander would
grant Austria a set-off against this; but Metternich seemed entirely
Bonapartist ("F.O.," Russia, No. 84). See too the full account, based
on documentary evidence, in Luckwaldt's "Oesterreich und die Anfange
des Befreiungskrieges" (Berlin, 1898).]

[Footnote 284: Hardenberg, "Mems.," vol. iv., p. 366.]

[Footnote 285: Oncken, "Oesterreich und Preussen," vol. ii.; Garden,
vol. xiv., p. 167; Seeley's "Stein," vol. ii., ch. iii.]

[Footnote 286: Arndt, "Wanderungen"; Steffens, "Was ich erlebte."]

[Footnote 287: At this time she had only 61,500 men ready for the
fighting line; but she had 28,000 in garrison and 32,000 in Pomerania
and Prussia (Proper), according to Scharnhorst's report contained in
"F.O.," Russia, No. 85.]

[Footnote 288: Letters of March 2nd and 11th.]

[Footnote 289: Metternich's "Memoirs," vol. i., p. 159; Luckwaldt,
_op. cit._, ch. vi.]

[Footnote 290: See the whole note in Luckwaldt, Append. No. 4.]

[Footnote 291: Oncken, _op. cit._, vol. ii., p. 205. So too
Metternich's letter to Nesselrode of April 21st ("Memoirs," vol. i.,
p. 405, Eng. ed.): "I beg of you to continue to confide in me. If
Napoleon will be foolish enough to fight, let us endeavour not to meet
with a reverse, which I feel to be only too possible. One battle lost
for Napoleon, and all Germany will be under arms."]

[Footnote 292: "F.O.," Austria, No. 105. Doubtless, as Oncken has
pointed out with much acerbity, Castlereagh's knowledge that Austria
would suggest the modification of our maritime claims contributed to
his refusal to consider her proposal for a general peace: but I am
convinced, from the tone of our records, that his chief motive was his
experience of Napoleon's intractability and a sense of loyalty to our
Spanish allies: we were also pledged to help Sweden and Russia.]

[Footnote 293: Letters of April 24th.]

[Footnote 294: Napoleon's troops in Thorn surrendered on April 17th;
those in Spandau on April 24th (Fain, "Manuscrit de 1813," vol. ii.,
ch. i.).]

[Footnote 295: Oncken, vol. ii., p. 272.]

[Footnote 296: Cathcart's report in "F.O.," Russia, No. 85. Müffling
("Aus meinem Leben") regards the delay in the arrival of
Miloradovitch, and the preparations for defence which the French had
had time to make at Gross Görschen, as the causes of the allies'
failure. The chief victim on the French side was Bessières, commander
of the Guard.]

[Footnote 297: "Corresp.," Nos. 20017-20031. For his interview with
Bubna, see Luckwaldt, p. 257.]

[Footnote 298: Bernhardi's "Toll," vol. iii., pp. 490-492. Marmont
gives the French 150,000; Thiers says 160,000.]

[Footnote 299: In his bulletin Napoleon admitted having lost 11,000 to
12,000 killed and wounded in the two days at Bautzen; his actual
losses were probably over 20,000. He described the allies as having
150,000 to 160,000 men, nearly double their actual numbers.]

[Footnote 300: Müffling, "Aus meinem Leben."]

[Footnote 301: "Lettres inédites." So too his letters to Eugène of
June 11th and July 1st; and of June 11th, 17th, July 6th and 29th, to
Augereau, who was to threaten Austria from Bavaria.]

[Footnote 302: See his conversation with our envoy, Thornton, reported
by the latter in the "Castlereagh Letters," 2nd series, vol. iv., p.
314.]

[Footnote 303: "Castlereagh Letters," 2nd series, vol. iv., p. 344.]

[Footnote 304: Garden, vol. xiv., p. 356. We also stipulated that
Sweden should not import slaves into Guadeloupe, and should repress
the slave trade. When, at the Congress of Vienna, that island was
given back to France, we paid Bernadotte a money indemnity.]

[Footnote 305: "Lettres inédites de Napoléon," June 18th, 1813. See
too that of July 16th, _ibid._]

[Footnote 306: Letters of F. Perthes.]

[Footnote 307: Joseph to Marmont, July 21st, 1812.]

[Footnote 308: "Méms. du Roi Joseph," vols. viii. and ix.; Napier,
book xix., ch. v.]

[Footnote 309: "Mémoires du Roi Joseph," vol. ix., p. 195.]

[Footnote 310: Napier and Alison say March 18th, which is refuted by
the "Méms. du Roi Joseph," vol. ix., p. 131.]

[Footnote 311: _Ibid._, vol. ix., p. 464.]

[Footnote 312: As a matter of fact he had 50,000 there for three
months, and did not succeed. See Clarke's letter to Clausel, "Méms. du
Roi Joseph," vol. ix., p. 251.]

[Footnote 313: Stanhope's "Conversations with Wellington," p. 20.]

[Footnote 314: "Mémoires du Roi Joseph," vol. ix., p. 60.]

[Footnote 315: Thiers, bk. xlix.; "Nap. Corresp.," No. 20019;
Baumgarten vol i., p. 577.]

[Footnote 316: "Mémoires du Roi Joseph," vol. ix., pp. 284, 294.
Joseph's first order to Clausel was sent under protection of _an
escort of 1,500 men_.]

[Footnote 317: See Lord Melville's complaint as to Wellington's
unreasonable charges on this head in the "Letters of Sir B. Martin"
("Navy Records," 1898).]

[Footnote 318: Miot de Melito, vol. ii., ch. xviii.]

[Footnote 319: Clausel afterwards complained that if he had received
any order to that effect he could have pushed on so as to be at
Vittoria ("Méms. du Roi Joseph," vol. ix., p. 454). The muster-rolls
of the French were lost at Vittoria. Napier puts their force at
70,000; Thiers at 54,000; Jourdan at 50,000.]

[Footnote 320: Wellington's official account of the fight states that
the French got away only two of their cannon; and Simmons, "A British
Rifleman," asserts that the last of these was taken near Pamplona on
the 24th. Wellington generously assigned much credit to the Spanish
troops--far more than Napier will allow.]

[Footnote 321: Ducasse, "Les rois, frères de Napoléon."]

[Footnote 322: "Lettres inédites de Napoléon," July 1st, 3rd, 15th,
and 20th.]

[Footnote 323: Stadion to Metternich, May 30th, June 2nd and 8th; in
Luckwaldt, p. 382.]

[Footnote 324: Cathcart's "most secret" despatch of June 4/16* from
Reichenbach. Just a month earlier he reported that the Czar's
proposals to Austria included all these terms in an absolute form, and
also the separation of Holland from France, the restoration of the
Bourbons to Spain, and "L'Italie libre dans toutes ses parties du
Gouvernement et de l'influence de la France." Such were also
Metternich's _private_ wishes, with the frontier of the Oglio on the
S.W. for Austria. See Oncken, vol. ii., p. 644. The official terms
were in part due to the direct influence of the Emperor Francis.]

[Footnote 325: In a secret article of the Treaty we promised to
advance to Austria a subsidy of £500,000 as soon as she should join
the allies.]

[Footnote 326: Martens, vol. ix., pp. 568-575. Our suspicion of
Prussia reappears (as was almost inevitable after her seizure of
Hanover), not only in the smallness of the sum accorded to her--for we
granted £2,000,000 in all to the Swedish, Hanseatic, and Hanoverian
contingents--but also in the stipulation that she should assent to the
eventual annexation of the formerly Prussian districts of East Frisia
and Hildesheim to Hanover. We also refused to sign the Treaty of
Reichenbach until she, most unwillingly, assented to this prospective
cession. This has always been thought in Germany a mean transaction;
but, as Castlereagh pointed out, those districts were greatly in the
way of the development of Hanover. Prussia was to have an indemnity
for the sacrifice; and we bore the chief burden in the issue of
"federative paper notes," which enabled the allies to prepare for the
campaign ("Castlereagh Papers," 2nd series, vol. iv., p. 355; 3rd
series, vol. i., pp. 7-17; and "Bath Archives," vol. ii., p. 86).
Moreover, we were then sending 30,000 muskets to Stralsund and Colberg
for the use of Prussian troops (Despatch from "F.O.," July 28th, to
Thornton, "Sweden," No. 79). On July 6th we agreed to pay the cost of
a German Legion of 10,000 men under the Czar's orders. Its Commissary
was Colonel Lowe.]

[Footnote 327: For the official reports see Garden, vol. xiv., pp.
486-499; also Bausset's account, "Cour de Napoléon."]

[Footnote 328: Any account of a private interview between two astute
schemers must be accepted with caution; and we may well doubt whether
Metternich really was as firm, not to say provocative, as he
afterwards represented in his "Memoirs." But, on the whole, his
account is more trustworthy than that of Fain, Napoleon's secretary,
in his "Manuscrit de 1813," vol. ii., ch. ii. Fain places the
interview on June 28th; in "Napoleon's Corresp." it is reprinted, but
assigned to June 23rd. The correct date is shown by Oncken to have
been June 26th. Bignon's account of it (vol. xii., ch. iv.) is marked
by his usual bias.]

[Footnote 329: Cathcart reported, on July 8th, that Schwarzenberg had
urged an extension of the armistice, so that Austria might meet the
"vast and unexpected" preparations of France ("Russia," No. 86).]

[Footnote 330: "Russia," No. 86.]

[Footnote 331: Thornton's despatch of July 12th ("Castlereagh Papers,"
2nd Series, vol. iv., _ad fin._).]

[Footnote 332: _Ibid._, pp. 383 and 405.]

[Footnote 333: For details see Oncken, Luckwaldt, Thiers, Fain, and
the "Mems." of the Duc de Broglie; also Gentz, "Briefe an Pilat," of
July 16th-22nd, 1813. Humboldt, the Prussian ambassador, reported on
July 13th to Berlin that Metternich looked on war as quite
unavoidable, and on the Congress merely as a means of convincing the
Emperor Francis of the impossibility of gaining a lasting peace.]

[Footnote 334: Thiers; Ernouf's "Maret, Duc de Bassano," p. 571.]

[Footnote 335: Bignon "Hist. de France," vol. xii., p. 199; Lefebvre,
"Cabinets de l'Europe," vol. v., p. 555.]

[Footnote 336: Letter of July 29th.]

[Footnote 337: Gentz to Sir G. Jackson, August 4th ("Bath Archives,"
vol. ii., p. 199). For a version flattering to Napoleon, see Ernouf's
"Maret" (pp. 579-587), which certainly exculpates the Minister.]

[Footnote 338: Metternich, "Memoirs," vol. ii., p. 546 (Eng. ed.).]

[Footnote 339: "F.O.," Russia, No. 86. A letter of General Nugent
(July 27th), from Prague, is inclosed. When he (N.) expressed to
Metternich the fear that Caulaincourt's arrival there portended peace,
M. replied that this would make no alteration, "as the proposals were
such that they certainly would not be accepted, and they would even be
augmented."]

[Footnote 340: "Souvenirs du Duc de Broglie," vol. i., ch. v.]

[Footnote 341: British aims at this time are well set forth in the
instructions and the accompanying note to Lord Aberdeen, our
ambassador designate at Vienna, dated Foreign Office, August 6th,
1813: " ... Your Lordship will collect from these instructions that a
general peace, in order to provide adequately for the tranquillity and
independence of Europe, ought, in the judgment of His Majesty's
Government, to confine France at least within the Pyrenees, the Alps,
and the Rhine: and if the other Great Powers of Europe should feel
themselves enabled to contend for such a Peace, Great Britain is fully
prepared to concur with them in such a line of policy. If, however,
the Powers most immediately concerned should determine, rather than
encounter the risks of a more protracted struggle, to trust for their
own security to a more imperfect arrangement, it never has been the
policy of the British Government to attempt to dictate to other States
a perseverance in war, which they did not themselves recognize to be
essential to their own as well as to the common safety." As regards
details, we desired to see the restoration of Venetia to Austria, of
the Papal States to the Pope, of the north-west of Italy to the King
of Sardinia, but trusted that "a liberal establishment" might be found
for Murat in the centre of Italy. Napoleon knew that we desired to
limit France to the "natural frontiers" and that we were resolved to
insist on our maritime claims. As our Government took this unpopular
line, and went further than Austria in its plans for restricting
French influence, he had an excellent opportunity for separating the
Continental Powers from us. But he gave out that those Powers were
bought by England, and that we were bent on humiliating France.]

[Footnote 342: Boyen, "Erinnerungen," Pt. III., p. 66.]

[Footnote 343: Fain, vol. ii., p. 27. The italicized words are given
thus by him; but they read like a later excuse for Napoleon's
failures.]

[Footnote 344: "Commentaries on the War in Russia and Germany," p.
195.]

[Footnote 345: In his letters of August 16th to Macdonald and Ney he
assumed that the allies might strike at Dresden, or even as far west
as Zwickau: but meanwhile he would march "pour enlever Blücher."]

[Footnote 346: "Lettres inédites de Napoléon." The Emperor forwarded
this suggestion to Savary (August 11th): it doubtless meant an issue
of false paper notes, such as had been circulated in Russia the year
before.]

[Footnote 347: Cathcart, "Commentaries," p. 206.]

[Footnote 348: "Extrait d'un Mémoire sur la Campagne de 1813." With
characteristic inaccuracy Marbot remarks that the defection of Jomini,
_with Napoleon's plans_, was "a disastrous blow." The same is said by
Dedem de Gelder, p. 328.]

[Footnote 349: The Emperor's eagerness is seen by the fact that on
August 21st he began dictating despatches, at Lauban, at 3 a.m. On the
previous day he had dictated seventeen despatches; twelve at Zittau,
four after his ride to Görlitz, and one more on his arrival at Lauban
at midnight.]

[Footnote 350: Letters of August 23rd to Berthier.]

[Footnote 351: Boyen, vol. iii., p. 85. But see Wiehr, "Nap. und
Bernadotte in 1813," who proves how risky was B.'s position, with the
Oder fortresses, held by the French, on one flank, and Davoust and the
Danes on the other. He disposes of many of the German slanders against
Bernadotte.]

[Footnote 352: Hausser, pp. 260-267. Oudinot's "Memoirs" throw the
blame on the slowness of Bertrand in effecting the concentration on
Grossbeeren and on the heedless impetuosity of Reynier. Wiehr (pp.
74-116) proves from despatches that Bernadotte meant to attack the
French _south of Berlin_: he discredits the "bones" anecdote.]

[Footnote 353: Letters of August 23rd.]

[Footnote 354: So called to distinguish it from the two other Neisses
in Silesia.]

[Footnote 355: Blasendorfs "Blücher"; Müffling's "Aus meinem Leben"
and "Campaigns of the Silesian Army in 1813 and 1814"; Bertin's "La
Campagne de 1813." Hausser assigns to the French close on 60,000 at
the battle; to the allies about 70,000.]

[Footnote 356: Jomini, "Vie de Napoléon," vol. iv., p. 380; "Toll,"
vol. iii., p. 124.]

[Footnote 357: "Toll," vol. iii., p. 144. Cathcart reports (p. 216)
that Moreau remarked to him: "We are already on Napoleon's
communications; the possession of the town [Dresden] is no object; it
will fall of itself at a future time." If Moreau said this seriously
it can only be called a piece of imbecility. The allies were far from
safe until they had wrested from Napoleon one of his strong places on
the Elbe; it was certainly not enough to have seized Pirna.]

[Footnote 358: "Corresp." No. 20461.]

[Footnote 359: Cathcart's "Commentaries," p. 230: Bertin, "La Campagne
de 1813," p. 109; Marmont, "Mems.," bk. xvii.; Sir Evelyn Wood's
"Achievements of Cavalry."]

[Footnote 360: It is clear from Napoleon's letters of the evening of
the 27th that he was not quite pleased with the day's work, and
thought the enemy would hold firm, or even renew the attack on the
morrow. They disprove Thiers' wild statements about a general pursuit
on that evening, thousands of prisoners swept up, etc.]

[Footnote 361: Vandamme on the 28th received a reinforcement of
eighteen battalions, and thenceforth had in all sixty-four; yet Marbot
credits him with only 20,000 men.]

[Footnote 362: Thiers gives Berthier's despatch in full. See also map,
p. 336.]

[Footnote 363: Marmont, bk. xvii., p. 158. He and St. Cyr ("Mems.,"
vol. iv., pp. 120-123) agree as to the confusion of their corps when
crowded together on this road. Napoleon's aim was to insure the
capture of all the enemy's cannon and stores; but his hasty orders had
the effect of blocking the pursuit on the middle road. St. Cyr sent to
headquarters for instruction; but these were now removed to Dresden;
hence the fatal delay.]

[Footnote 364: Thiers has shown that Mortier did not get the order
from Berthier to support Vandamme _until August 30th_. The same is
true of St. Cyr, who did not get it till 11.30 a.m. on that day. St.
Cyr's best defence is Napoleon's letter of September 1st to him
("Lettres inédites de Napoléon"): "That unhappy Vandamme, who seems to
have killed himself, had not a sentinel on the mountains, nor a
reserve anywhere.... I had given him positive orders to intrench
himself on the heights, to encamp his troops on them, and only to send
isolated parties of men into Bohemia to worry the enemy and collect
news." With this compare Napoleon's approving statement of August 29th
to Murat ("Corresp.," No. 20486): "Vandamme was marching on Teplitz
_with all his corps_."]

[Footnote 365: "Lettres inédites de Napoléon," September 3rd.]

[Footnote 366: Häusser, vol. iv., p. 343, and Boyen, "Erinnerungen,"
vol. ii., pp. 345-357, for Bernadotte's suspicious delays on this day;
also Marmont, bk. xviii., for a critique on Ney. Napoleon sent for
Lejeune, then leading a division of Ney's army, to explain the
disaster; but when Lejeune reached the headquarters at Dohna, south of
Dresden, the Emperor bade him instantly return--a proof of his
impatience and anger at these reverses.]

[Footnote 367: Thornton, our envoy at Bernadotte's headquarters, wrote
to Castlereagh that that leader's desire was to spare the Swedish
corps; he expected that Bernadotte would aim at the French crown
("Castlereagh Papers," 3rd series, vol. i., pp. 48-59). See too Boyen,
vol. ii., p. 378.]

[Footnote 368: Letter of October 10th to Reynier. This and his letter
to Maret seem to me to refute Bernhardi's contention ("Toll," vol.
iii., pp. 385-388) that Napoleon only meant to drive the northern
allies across the Elbe, and then to turn on Schwarzenberg. The
Emperor's plans shifted every few hours: but the plan of crossing the
Elbe in great force was distinctly prepared for.]

[Footnote 369: Thiers asserts that he had. But if so, how could the
Emperor have written to Macdonald (October 2nd) that the Silesian army
had made a move on Grossenhain: "It appears that this is so as to
attack the intrenched camp [at Dresden] by the side of the plain, by
the roads of Berlin and Meissen."? On the same day he scoffs at
Lefebre-Desnoëttes for writing that Bernadotte had crossed the Elbe,
and retorts that if he had, it would be so much the worse for him: the
war would soon be over.}

[Footnote 370: Letter of October 10th to Reynier. This and his letter
to Maret seem to me to refute Bernhardi's contention ("Toll," vol.
iii., pp. 385-388) that Napoleon only meant to drive the northern
allies across the Elbe, and then to turn on Schwarzenberg. The
Emperor's plans shifted every few hours: but the plan of crossing the
Elbe in great force was distinctly prepared for.]

[Footnote 371: Martens, "Traités," vol. ix., p. 610. This secret
bargain cut the ground from under the German unionists, like Stein,
who desired to make away with the secondary princes, or strictly to
limit their powers.]

[Footnote 372: Thiers and Bernhardi ("Toll," vol. iii., p. 388) have
disposed of this fiction.]

[Footnote 373: Sir E. Wood, "Achievements of Cavalry."]

[Footnote 374: "Corresp.," No. 20814. Marmont, vol. v., p. 281,
acutely remarks that Napoleon now regarded as true only that which
entered into his combinations and his thoughts.]

[Footnote 375: Bernadotte was only hindered from retreat across the
Elbe by the remonstrances of his officers, by the forward move of
Blücher, and by the fact that the Elbe bridges were now held by the
French. For the council of war at Köthen on October 14th, see Boyen,
vol. ii., p. 377.]

[Footnote 376: Müffling, "Campaign of 1813."]

[Footnote 377: Colonel Lowe, who was present, says it was won and lost
five times (unpublished "Memoirs").]

[Footnote 378: Napoleon's bulletin of October 16th, 1813, blames Ney
for this waste of a great corps; but it is clear, from the official
orders published by Marmont (vol. v., pp. 373-378), that Napoleon did
not expect any pitched battle on the north side on the 16th. He
thought Bertrand's corps would suffice to defend the north and west,
and left the defence on that side in a singularly vague state.]

[Footnote 379: Dedem de Gelder, "Mems.," p. 345, severely blames
Napoleon's inaction on the 17th; either he should have attacked the
allies before Bennigsen and Bernadotte came up, or have retreated
while there was time.]

[Footnote 380: Lord Burghersh, Sir George Jackson, Odeleben, and Fain
all assign this conversation to the night of the 16th; but Merveldt's
official account of it (inclosed with Lord Cathcart's despatches),
gives it as on October 17th, at 2 p.m. ("F.O.," Russia, No. 86). I
follow this version rather than that given by Fain.]

[Footnote 381: That the British Ministers did not intend anything of
the kind, even in the hour of triumph, is seen by Castlereagh's
despatch of November 13th, 1813, to Lord Aberdeen, our envoy at the
Austrian Court: "We don't wish to impose any dishonourable condition
upon France, which limiting the number of her ships would be: but she
must not be left in possession of this point [Antwerp]" ("Castlereagh
Papers," 3rd series, vol. i., p. 76).]

[Footnote 382: Boyen describes the surprising effects of the fire of
the British rocket battery that served in Bernadotte's army. Captain
Bogue brought it forward to check the charge of a French column
against the Swedes. He was shot down, but Lieutenant Strangways poured
in so hot a fire that the column was "blown asunder like an ant-heap,"
the men rushing back to cover amidst the loud laughter of the allies.]

[Footnote 383: The premature explosion was of course due, not to
Napoleon, but to the flurry of a serjeant and the skilful flanking
move of Sacken's light troops, for which see Cathcart and Marmont. The
losses at Leipzig were rendered heavier by Napoleon's humane refusal
to set fire to the suburbs so as to keep off the allies. He rightly
said he could have saved many thousand French had he done so. This is
true. But it is strange that he had given no order for the
construction of other bridges. Pelet and Fain affirm that he gave a
verbal order; but, as Marbot explains, Berthier, the Chief of the
Staff, had adopted the pedantic custom of never acting on anything
less than _a written order_, which was not given. The neglect to
secure means for retreat is all the stranger as the final miseries at
the Beresina were largely due to official blundering of the same kind.
Wellington's criticism on Napoleon's tactics at Leipzig is severe
(despatch of January 10th, 1814): "If Bonaparte had not placed himself
in a position that every other officer would have avoided, and
remained in it longer than was consistent with any ideas of prudence,
he would have retired in such a state that the allies could not have
ventured to approach the Rhine."]

[Footnote 384: Sir Charles Stewart wrote (March 22nd, 1814): "On the
Elbe Napoleon was quite insane, and his lengthened stay there was the
cause of the Battle of Leipzig and all his subsequent misfortunes"
("Castlereagh Papers," vol. ix., p. 373).]

[Footnote 385: Napier, vol. v., pp. 368-378.]

[Footnote 386: On November 10th Lord Aberdeen, our ambassador at the
Austrian Court, wrote to Castlereagh: " ... As soon as he [Murat]
received the last communication addressed to him by Prince Metternich
and myself at Prague, he wrote to Napoleon and stated that the affairs
of his kingdom absolutely demanded his presence. Without waiting for
any answer, he immediately began his journey, and did not halt a
moment till he arrived at Basle. While on the road he sent a cyphered
dispatch to Prince Cariati, his Minister at Vienna, in which he
informs him that he hopes to be at Naples on the 4th of this month:
that he burns with desire to revenge himself of [_sic_] all the
injuries he has received from Bonaparte, and to connect himself with
the cause of the allies in contending for a just and stable peace. He
proposes to declare war on the instant of his arrival." Again, on
December 19th, Aberdeen writes: "You may consider the affair of Murat
as settled.... It will probably end in Austria agreeing to his having
a change of frontier on the Papal territory, just enough to satisfy
his vanity and enable him to show something to his people. I doubt
much if it will be possible, with the claims of Sicily, Sardinia, and
Austria herself in the north of Italy, to restore to him the three
Legations: but something adequate must be done" ("Austria," No. 102).
The disputes between Murat and Napoleon will be cleared up in Baron
Lumbroso's forthcoming work, "Murat." Meanwhile see Bignon, vol.
xiii., pp. 181 _et seq._; Desvernois, "Mems.," ch. xx.; and Chaptal
(p. 305), for Fouché's treacherous advice to Murat.]

[Footnote 387: Lady Burghersh's "Journal," p. 182.]

[Footnote 388: Fain, "Manuscrit de 1814," pp. 48-63. Ernouf, "Vie de
Maret," p. 606, states that Napoleon touched up Maret's note; the
sentence quoted above is doubtless the Emperor's. The same author
proves that Maret's advice had always been more pacific than was
supposed, and that now, in his old position of Secretary of State, he
gave Caulaincourt valuable help during the negotiations at Châtillon.]

[Footnote 389: "Castlereagh Papers," 3rd series, vol. i., p. 74. This
was written, of course, before he heard of the Frankfurt proposals;
but it anticipates them in a remarkable way. Thiers states that
Castlereagh, after hearing of them, sent Aberdeen new instructions. I
cannot find any in our archives. This letter warned Aberdeen against
any compromise on the subject of Antwerp; but it is clear that
Castlereagh, when he came to the allied headquarters, was a partisan
of peace, as compared with the Czar and the Prussian patriots.
Schwarzenberg wrote (January 26th) at Langres: "We ought to make peace
here: our Kaiser, also Stadion, Metternich, even Castlereagh, are
fully of this opinion--but Kaiser Alexander!"]

[Footnote 390: Fournier, "Der Congress von Châtillon," p. 242.]

[Footnote 391: "Castlereagh Papers," _loc. cit._, p. 112.]

[Footnote 392: Metternich. "Memoirs," vol. i., p. 214.]

[Footnote 393: "F.O.," Austria, No. 102.]

[Footnote 394: "Lettres inédites" (November 6th, 1813).]

[Footnote 395: The memorandum is endorsed, "Extract of Instructions
delivered to me by Gen. Pozzo di Borgo, 18 Dec, 1813" ("Russia," No.
92).]

[Footnote 396: Metternich's letter to Hudelist, in Fournier, p. 242.]

[Footnote 397: Houssaye's "1814," p. 14; Metternich, "Memoirs," vol.
i., p. 308.]

[Footnote 398: "Our success and everything depend upon our moderation
and justice," he wrote to Lord Bathurst (Napier, bk. xxiii., ch.
ii.).]

[Footnote 399: "Lettres inédites" (November 12th). The date is
important: it refutes Napier's statement (bk. xxiii., ch. iv.) that
the Emperor had planned that Ferdinand should enter Spain early in
November when the disputes between Wellington and the Cortès at Madrid
were at their height. Bignon (vol. xiii., p. 88 _et seq._) says that
Talleyrand's indiscretion revealed the negotiations to the Spanish
Cortès and Wellington; but our general's despatches show that he did
not hear of them before January 9th or 10th. He then wrote: "I have
long suspected that Bonaparte would adopt this expedient; and if he
had had less pride and more common sense, it would have succeeded."]

[Footnote 400: On January 14th the Emperor ordered Soult, as soon as
the ratification of the treaty*treatry was known, to set out
northwards from Bayonne "with all his army, only leaving what is
necessary to form a screen." Suchet was likewise to hurry with 10,000
foot, _en poste_, and two-thirds of his horse, to Lyons. On the 22nd
the Emperor blames both Marshals for not sending off the infantry,
though the Spanish treaty had _not_ been ratified. After long delays
Ferdinand set out for Spain on March 13th, when the war was almost
over.]

[Footnote 401: Houssaye's "1814," ch. ii.; Müffling's "Campaign of
1814."]

[Footnote 402: Letter of January 31st to Joseph.]

[Footnote 403: "Méms. de Langeron" in Houssaye, p. 62; but see
Müffling.]

[Footnote 404: Letter of February 2nd to Clarke.]

[Footnote 405: Metternich said of Castlereagh, "I can't praise him
enough: his views are most peaceful, in our sense" (Fournier, p.
252).]

[Footnote 406: Castlereagh to Lord Liverpool, January 22nd and 30th,
1814.]

[Footnote 407: Letter to Hudelist (February 3rd), in Fournier, p.
255.]

[Footnote 408: Stewart's Mem. of January 27th, 1814, in "Castlereagh
Papers," vol. ix., p. 535. On that day Hardenberg noted in his diary:
"Discussion on the plan of operations, and misunderstandings. Intrigue
of Stein to get the army straight to Paris, as the Czar wants. The
Austrians oppose this: others don't know what they want" (Fournier, p.
361).]

[Footnote 409: Stewart's notes in "Castlereagh Papers," pp. 541-548.
On February 17th Castlereagh promised to give back all our conquests
in the West Indies, except Tobago, and to try to regain for France
Guadaloupe and Cayenne from Sweden and Portugal; also to restore all
the French possessions east of the Cape of Good Hope except the Iles
de France (Mauritius) and de Bourbon (Fournier, p. 381).]

[Footnote 410: Letters of January 31st and February 2nd to Joseph.]

[Footnote 411: Printed in Napoleon's "Corresp." of February 17th. I
cannot agree with Ernouf, "Vie de Maret," and Fournier, that
Caulaincourt could have signed peace merely on Maret's "carte blanche"
despatch. The man who had been cruelly duped by Napoleon in the
D'Enghien affair naturally wanted an explicit order now.]

[Footnote 412: Given by Ducasse, "Les Rois Frères de Napoléon," p.
64.]

[Footnote 413: Hausser, p. 503. According to Napoleon, 6,000 men and
forty cannon were captured!]

[Footnote 414: Letter of February 18th, 1814.]

[Footnote 415: At Elba Napoleon told Colonel Campbell that he would
have made peace at Châtillon had not England insisted on his giving up
Antwerp, and that England was therefore the cause of the war
continuing. This letter, however, proves that he was as set on
retaining Mainz as Antwerp. Caulaincourt then wished him to make peace
while he could do so with credit ("Castlereagh Papers," vol. ix., p.
287).]

[Footnote 416: Fournier, pp. 132-137, 284-294, 299.]

[Footnote 417: See Metternich's letter to Stadion of February 15th in
Fournier, pp. 319, 327.]

[Footnote 418: Houssaye, p. 102.]

[Footnote 419: Instructions of February 24th to Flahaut, "Corresp.,"
No. 21359; Hardenberg's "Diary," in Fournier, pp. 363-364.]

[Footnote 420: Fournier, pp. 170, 385.]

[Footnote 421: _Ibid._, pp. 178-181, 304; Martens, vol. ix., p. 683.
Castlereagh, vol. ix., p. 336, calls it "my treaty," and adds that
England was practically supplying 300,000 men to the Coalition. One
secret article invited Spain and Sweden to accede to the treaty;
another stated that Germany was to consist of a federation of
sovereign princes, that Holland must receive a "suitable" military
frontier, and that Italy, Spain, and Switzerland must be independent,
that is, of France; a third bound the allies to keep their armies on a
war footing for a suitable time after the peace.]

[Footnote 422: See his instructions of March 2nd to Caulaincourt:
"Nothing will bring France to do anything that degrades her national
character and deposes her from the rank she has held in the world for
centuries." But it was precisely that rank which the allies were
resolved to assign to her, neither more nor less. The joint allied
note of February 29th to the negotiators at Châtillon bade them
"announce to the French negotiator that you are ready to discuss, in a
spirit of conciliation, every modification that he might be authorized
to propose"; but that any essential departure from the terms already
proposed by them must lead to a rupture of the negotiations.]

[Footnote 423: Letters of March 2nd, 3rd, 4th, to Clarke.]

[Footnote 424: Houssaye, p. 156, note. So too Müffling, "Aus meinem
Leben," shows that Blücher could have crossed the Aisne there or at
Pontavaire or Berry-au-Bac.]

[Footnote 425: See Napoleon's letters to Clarke of March 4th-6th.]

[Footnote 426: Houssaye, pp. 176-188.]

[Footnote 427: Müffling says that Blücher and Gneisenau feared an
attack by _Bernadotte_ on their rear. Napoleon on February 25th
advised Joseph to try and gain over that prince, who had some very
suspicious relations with the French General Maison in Belgium.
Probably Gneisenau wished to spare his men for political reasons.]

[Footnote 428: Bernhardi's "Toll," vol. iv., p. 697. Lord Burghersh
wrote from Troyes (March 12th): "I am convinced this army will not be
risked in a general action.... S. would almost wish to be back upon
the Rhine." So again on the 19th he wrote to Colonel Hudson Lowe from
Pougy: "I cannot say much for our activity; I am unable to explain the
causes of our apathy--the facts are too evident to be disputed. We
have been ten days at Troyes, one at Pont-sur-Seine, two at Arcis, and
are now at this place. We go tomorrow to Brienne" ("Unpublished Mems.
of Sir H. Lowe"). Stewart wittily said that Napoleon came to Arcis to
feel Schwarzenberg's pulse.]

[Footnote 428: Letters of March 20th to Clarke.]

[Footnote 430: "Castlereagh Papers," vol. ix., pp. 325, 332.]

[Footnote 431: These letters were written in pairs--the one being
official, the other confidential. Caulaincourt's replies show that he
appreciated them highly (see Fain, Appendix).]

[Footnote 432: From Caulaincourt's letter of March 3rd to Napoleon;
Bignon, vol. xiii., p. 379.]

[Footnote 433: "Castlereagh Papers," vol. ix., p. 555.]

[Footnote 434: "Castlereagh Papers," vol. ix., pp. 335, 559.
Caulaincourt's project of March 15th much resembled that dictated by
Napoleon three days later; Austria was to have Venetia as far as the
Adige, the kingdom of Italy to go to Eugène, and the duchy of Warsaw
to the King of Saxony, etc. The allies rejected it (Fain, p. 388).]

[Footnote 435: Fournier, p. 232, rebuts, and I think successfully,
Houssaye's objections (p. 287) to its genuineness. Besides, the letter
is on the same moral level with the instructions of January 4th to
Caulaincourt, and resembles them in many respects. No forger could
have known of those instructions. At Elba, Napoleon admitted that he
was wrong in not making peace at this time. "_Mais je me croyais assez
fort pour ne pas la faire, et je me suis trompé_" (Lord Holland's
"Foreign Rem.," p. 319). The same writer states (p. 296) that he saw
the official correspondence about Châtillon: it gave him the highest
opinion of Caulaincourt, but N.'s conduct was "full of subterfuge and
artifice."]

[Footnote 436: Castlereagh to Clancarty, March 18th.]

[Footnote 437: Napier, bk. xxiv., ch. iii. Wellington seems to have
thought that the allies would probably make peace with Napoleon.]

[Footnote 438: Broglie, "Mems.," bk. iii., ch. i.]

[Footnote 439: Letter of February 25th to Joseph. Thiébault gives us
an odd story that Bernadotte sent an agent, Rainville, to persuade
Davoust to join him in attacking the rear of the allies; but that
Rainville's nerve so forsook him in Davoust's presence that he turned
and bolted for his life!]

[Footnote 440: Caulaincourt to Metternich on March 25th: "Arrived only
this [last] night near the Emperor, His Majesty has ... given me all
the powers necessary to sign peace with the Ministers of the allied
Courts" (Fain, p. 345; Ernouf, "Vie de Maret," p. 634).

Thiers does not mention these overtures of Napoleon, which are surely
most characteristic. His whole eastward move was motived by them.
Efforts have been made (_e.g._, by M. de Bacourt in Talleyrand's
"Mems.," pt. vii., app. 4) to prove that on the 25th Napoleon was
ready to agree to all the allied terms, and thus concede more than was
done by Louis XVIII. But there is no proof that he meant to do
anything of the sort. The terms of Caulaincourt's note were perfectly
vague. Moreover, even on the 28th, when Napoleon was getting alarmed,
he had an interview with a captured Austrian diplomatist, Wessenberg,
whom he set free in order that he might confer with the Emperor
Francis. He told the envoy that France would yet give him support: he
wanted the natural frontiers, but would probably make peace on less
favourable terms, as he wished to end the war: "I am ready to renounce
all the French colonies if I can thereby keep the mouth of the Scheldt
for France. England will not insist on my sacrificing Antwerp if
Austria does not support her" (Arneth's "Wessenberg," vol. i., p.
188). This extract shows no great desire to meet the allied terms, but
rather to separate Austria from her allies. According to Lady
Burghersh ("Journals," p. 216), Napoleon admitted to Wessenberg that
his position was desperate. I think this was a pleasing fiction of
that envoy. There is no proof that Napoleon was wholly cast down till
the 29th, when he heard of La Fère Champenoise (Macdonald's
"Souvenirs").]

[Footnote 441: Bignon, vol. xiii., pp. 436, 437.]

[Footnote 442: On hearing of their withdrawal Stein was radiant with
joy: "Now, he said, the Czar will go on to Paris, and all will soon be
at an end" (Tourgueneff quoted by Häusser, vol. iv., p. 553).]

[Footnote 443: Bernhardi's "Toll," vol. iv., pp. 737 _et seq._;
Houssaye, pp. 354-362; also Nesselrode's communication published in
Talleyrand's "Mems." Thielen and Radetzky have claimed that the
initiative in this matter was Schwarzenberg's; and Lord Burghersh, in
his despatch of March 25th ("Austria," No. 110), agrees with them.
Stein supports Toll's claim. I cannot agree with Houssaye (p. 407)
that "Napoleon had resigned himself to the sacrifice of Paris." His
intercepted letter, and also the official letters, Nos. 21508, 21513,
21516, 21526, 21538, show that he believed the allies would retreat
and that his communications with Paris would be safe.]

[Footnote 444: I take this account largely from Sir Hudson Lowe's
unpublished memoirs. Napoleon blamed Marmont for not marching to
Rheims as he was ordered to do. At Elba, Napoleon told Colonel
Campbell that Marmont's disobedience spoilt the eastern movement, and
ruined the campaign. But had Marmont and Mortier joined Napoleon at
Vitry, Paris would have been absolutely open to the allies.]

[Footnote 445: Houssaye, pp. 485 _et seq._; Napoleon's letters of
February 8th and March 16th; Mollien, vol. iv., p. 128. In Napoleon's
letter of April 2nd to Joseph ("New Letters") there is not a word of
reproach to Joseph for leaving Paris.]

[Footnote 446: "Castlereagh Papers," vol. ix., p. 420; Pasquier, vol.
iii., ch. xiii.]

[Footnote 447: We do not know definitely why Alexander dropped
Bernadotte so suddenly. On March 17th he had assured the royalist
agent, Baron de Vitrolles, that he would not hear of the Bourbons, and
that he had first thought of establishing Bernadotte in France, and
then Eugène. We do know, however, that Bernadotte had made suspicious
overtures to the French General Maison in Belgium ("Castlereagh
Papers," vol. ix., pp. 383, 445, 512).]

[Footnote 448: De Pradt, "Restauration de la Royauté, le 31 Mars,
1814"; Pasquier, vol. iii., ch. xiii. Vitrolles ("Mems.," vol. i., pp.
95-101) says that Metternich assured him on March 15th that Austria
would not insist on the Regency of Marie Louise, but would listen to
the wishes of France.]

[Footnote 449: For the first draft of this Declaration, see
"Corresp.," No. 21555 (note).]

[Footnote 450: Pasquier, vol. iii., ch. xv.; Macdonald, "Souvenirs."]

[Footnote 451: Houssaye, pp. 593-623; Marmont, vol. vi., pp. 254-272;
Macdonald, chs. xxvii.-xxviii. At Elba, Napoleon told Lord Ebrington
that Marmont's troops were among the best, and his treachery ruined
everything ("Macmillan's Mag.," Dec, 1894).]

[Footnote 452: Pasquier, vol. iii., ch. xvi.; "Castlereagh Papers,"
vol. ix., p. 442. Alison wrongly says that _Napoleon_ chose Elba.]

[Footnote 453: Martens, vol. ix., p. 696.]

[Footnote 454: Thiers and Constant assign this event to the night of
11th-12th. I follow Fain and Macdonald in referring it to the next
night.]

[Footnote 455: Bausset, "Cour de Napoléon."]

[Footnote 456: Sir Neil Campbell's "Journal," p. 192.]

[Footnote 457: Ussher, "Napoleon's Last Voyages," p. 29.]

[Footnote 458: A quondam Jacobin, Pons (de l'Hérault), Commissioner of
Mines at Elba, has left "Souvenirs de l'Ile d'Elbe," which are of
colossal credulity. In chap. xi. he gives tales of plots to murder
Napoleon--some of them very silly. In part ii., chap, i., he styles
him "essentiellement religieux," and a most tender-hearted man, who
was compelled by prudence to hide his sensibility! Yet Campbell's
official reports show that Pons, _at that time_, was far from admiring
Napoleon.]

[Footnote 459: "F.O.," Austria, No. 117. Talleyrand, in his letters to
Louis XVIII., claims to have broken up the compact of the Powers. But
it is clear that fear of Russia was more potent than Talleyrand's
_finesse_. Before the Congress began Castlereagh and Wellington
advised friendship with France so as to check "undue pretensions"
elsewhere.]

[Footnote 460: Stanhope's "Conversations," p. 26. In our archives
("Russia," No. 95) is a suspicious letter of Pozzo di Borgo, dated
Paris, July 10/22, 1814, to Castlereagh (it is not in his Letters)
containing this sentence: "_L'existence de Napoléon_, comme il était
aisé à prévoir, est un inconvénient qui se rencontre partout." For
Fouché's letter to Napoleon, begging him voluntarily to retire to the
New World, see Talleyrand's "Mems.," pt. vii., app. iv. Lafayette
("Mems.," vol. v., p. 345) asserts that French royalists were plotting
his assassination. Brulart, Governor of Corsica, was suspected by
Napoleon, but, it seems, wrongly (Houssaye's "1815," p. 172).]

[Footnote 461: Pallain, "Correspondance de Louis XVIII avec
Talleyrand," pp. 307, 316.]

[Footnote 462: "Recollections," p. 16; "F.O.," France, No. 114. The
facts given above seem to me to refute the statements often made that
the allies violated the Elba arrangement and so justified his escape.
The facts prove that the allies sought to compel Louis XVIII. to pay
Napoleon the stipulated sum, and that the Emperor welcomed the
non-payment. His words to Lord Ebrington on December 6th breathe the
conviction that France would soon rise.]

[Footnote 463: Fleury de Chaboulon's "Mems.," vol. i., pp. 105-140;
Lafayette, vol. v., p. 355.]

[Footnote 464: Campbell's "Journal"; Peyrusse, "Mémorial," p. 275.]

[Footnote 465: Houssaye's "1815," p. 277.]

[Footnote 466: Guizot, "Mems.," ch. iii.; De Broglie, "Mems.," bk.
ii., ch. ii.; Fleury, vol. i., p. 259.]

[Footnote 467: Peyrusse, "Mémorial," p. 277.]

[Footnote 468: As Wellington pointed out ("Despatches," May 5th,
1815), the phrase "il s'est livré à la vindicte publique" denotes
public justice, _not_ public vengeance. At St. Helena, Napoleon told
Gourgaud that he came back _too soon_ from Elba, _believing that the
Congress had dissolved!_ (Gourgaud's "Journals," vol. ii., p. 323.)]

[Footnote 469: "Diary," April 15th and 18th, 1815.]

[Footnote 470: "Parl. Debates"; Romilly's "Diary," vol. ii., p. 360.]

[Footnote 471: Napoleon told Cockburn during his last voyage that he
bestowed this constitution, not because it was a wise measure, but as
a needful concession to popular feeling. The continental peoples were
not fit for representative government as England was ("Last Voyages of
Nap.," pp. 115, 137). So, too, he said to Gourgaud he was wrong in
summoning the Chambers at all "_especially as I meant to dismiss them
as soon as I was a conqueror_" (Gourgaud, "Journal," vol. i., p. 93).]

[Footnote 472: Mercer's "Waterloo Campaign," vol. i., p. 352. For
Fleury de Chaboulon's mission to sound Austria, see his "Mems.," vol.
ii., and Madelin's "Fouché," ch. xxv.]

[Footnote 473: In the "English Hist. Review" for July, 1901, I have
published the correspondence between Sir Hudson Lowe
(Quartermaster-General of our forces in Belgium up to May, 1815) and
Gneisenau, Müffling, and Kleist. These two last were _most reluctant_
to send forward Prussian troops into Belgium to guard the weak
frontier fortresses from a _coup de main_: but Lowe's arguments
prevailed, thus deciding the main features of the war.]

[Footnote 474: "F.O.," France, No. 116. On June 9th the Duke charged
Stuart, our envoy at Ghent, to defend this course, on the ground that
Blücher and he had many raw troops, and could not advance into France
with safety and invest fortresses until the Russians and Austrians
co-operated.]

[Footnote 475: Sir H. Vivian states ("Waterloo Letters," No. 70) that
the Duke intended to give a ball on June 21st, the anniversary of
Vittoria. See too Sir E. Wood's "Cavalry in the Waterloo Campaign,"
ch. ii.]

[Footnote 476: "F.O.," France, No. 115. A French royalist sent a
report, dated June 1st, recommending "point d'engagement avec
Bonaparte.... Il faut user l'armée de Bonaparte: elle ne peut plus se
recruter."]

[Footnote 477: Ropes's "Campaign of Waterloo," ch. v.; Chesney,
"Waterloo Lectures," p. 100; Sir H. Maxwell's "Wellington" (vol. ii.,
p. 14); and O'Connor Morris, "Campaign of 1815," p. 97.]

[Footnote 478: Janin, "Campagne de Waterloo," p. 7.]

[Footnote 479: Pétiet, "Souvenirs militaires," p. 195.]

[Footnote 480: Credit is primarily due to Constant de Rebecque, a
Belgian, chief of staff to the Prince of Orange, for altering the
point of concentration from Nivelles, as ordered by Wellington, to
Quatre Bras; also to General Perponcher for supporting the new
movement. The Belgian side of the campaign has been well set forth by
Boulger in "The Belgians at Waterloo" (1901).]

[Footnote 481: Gourgaud, "Campagne de 1815," ch. iv.]

[Footnote 482: Houssaye, "1815," pp. 133-138, 186, notes.]

[Footnote 483: Hamley, "Operations of War," p. 187.]

[Footnote 484: For Gérard's delays see Houssaye, p. 158, and
Horsburgh, "Waterloo," p. 36. Napoleon's tardiness is scarcely noticed
by Houssaye or by Gourgaud; but it has been censured by Jomini,
Charras, Clausewitz, and Lord Wolseley.]

[Footnote 485: Ollech (p. 125) sees in it a conditional offer of help
to Blücher. But on what ground? It states that the Prince of Orange
has one division at Quatre Bras and other troops at Nivelles: that the
British reserve would reach Genappe at noon, and their cavalry
Nivelles at the same hour. How could Blücher hope for help from forces
so weak and scattered? See too Ropes (note to ch. x.). Horsburgh (ch.
v.) shows that Wellington believed his forces to be more to the front
than they were: he traces the error to De Lancey, chief of the staff.
But it is fair to add that Wellington thought very highly of De
Lancey, and after his death at Waterloo severely blamed subordinates.]

[Footnote 486: Stanhope, "Conversations," p. 109.]

[Footnote 487: Reiche, "Memoiren," vol. ii., p. 183.]

[Footnote 488: The term _corps_ is significant. Not till 3.15 did
Soult use the term _armée_ in speaking of Blücher's forces. The last
important sentence of the 2 p.m. despatch is not given by Houssaye (p.
159), but is printed by Ropes (p. 383), Siborne (vol. i., p. 453),
Charras (vol. i., p. 136), and Ollech (p. 131). It proves that _as
late as 2 p.m._ Napoleon expected an easy victory over the Prussians.]

[Footnote 489: The best authorities give the Prussians 87,000 men, and
the French 78,000; but the latter estimate includes the corps of
Lobau, 10,000 strong, which did not reach Fleurus till dark.]

[Footnote 490: I follow Houssaye's solution of this puzzle as the
least unsatisfacty, but it does not show why Napoleon should have been
so perplexed. D'Erlon debouched from the wood of Villers Perwin
_exactly where he might have been expected_. Was Napoleon puzzled
because the corps was heading south-east instead of east?]

[Footnote 491: Delbrück ("Gneisenau," vol. ii., p. 190) shows how the
storm favoured the attack.]

[Footnote 492: I here follow Delbrück's "Gneisenau" (vol. ii., p. 194)
and Charras (vol. i., p. 163). Reiche ("Mems.," vol ii., p. 193) says
that his corps of 30,800 men lost 12,480 on the 15th and 16th: he
notes that Blücher and Nostitz probably owed their escape to the
plainness of their uniforms and headgear.]

[Footnote 493: "Waterloo Letters," Nos. 163 and 169, prove that the
time was 3 p.m. and not 3.30; see also Kincaid's account in Fitchett's
"Wellington's Men" (p. 120).]

[Footnote 494: "Waterloo Letters," No. 169.]

[Footnote 495: See Houssaye, p. 205, for the sequence of these
events.]

[Footnote 496: Ollech, pp. 167-171. Colonel Basil Jackson, in his
"Waterloo and St. Helena" (printed for private circulation), p. 64,
states that he had been employed in examining and reporting on the
Belgian roads, and did so on the road leading south from Wavre. This
report had been sent to Gneisenau, and must have given him greater
confidence on the night of the 16th.]

[Footnote 497: O'Connor Morris, p. 176, approves Napoleon's criticism,
and censures Gneisenau's move on Wavre: but surely Wavre combined more
advantages than any other position. It was accessible for the whole
Prussian army (including Bülow); it was easily defensible (as the
event proved); and it promised a reunion with Wellington for the
defence of Brussels. Houssaye says (p. 233) that Gneisenau did not at
once foresee the immense consequences of his action. Of course he did
not, because he was not sure of Wellington; but he took all the steps
that might lead to immense consequences, if all went well.]

[Footnote 498: Müffling, "Passages," p. 238: Charras, vol. i., p. 226,
discredits it.]

[Footnote 499: Basil Jackson, _op. cit._, p. 24; Cotton, "A Voice from
Waterloo," p. 20.]

[Footnote 500: Grouchy suppressed this despatch, but it was published
in 1842.]

[Footnote 501: Mercer, vol. i., p. 270.]

[Footnote 502: Pétiet, "Souvenirs militaires," p. 204.]

[Footnote 503: Ropes, pp. 212, 246, 359. I follow the "received"
version of this despatch. For a comparison of it with the "Grouchy"
version see Horsburgh, p. 155, note.]

[Footnote 504: Ropes, pp. 266, 288; Houssaye, p. 316, with a good
note.]

[Footnote 505: Ollech, pp. 187-192; Delbrück's "Gneisenau," vol. ii.,
p. 205. I cannot credit the story told by Hardinge in 1837 to Earl
Stanhope ("Conversations," p. 110), that, on the night of the 16th
June, Gneisenau sought to dissuade Blücher from joining Wellington.
Hardinge only had the story at second hand, and wrongly assigns it to
Wavre. On the afternoon of the 17th Gneisenau ordered Ziethen _to keep
open communications with Wellington_ (Ollech, p. 170). The story that
Wellington rode over to Wavre on the night of the 18th on his horse
"Copenhagen" is of course a myth.]

[Footnote 506: "Blackwood's Magazine," October, 1896; "Cornhill,"
January, 1901.]

[Footnote 507: Beamish's "King's German Legion," vol. ii., p. 352. Sir
Hussey Vivian asserts that the allied position was by no means strong;
but General Kennedy, in his "Notes on Waterloo" (p. 68), pronounces it
"good and well occupied." A year previously Wellington noted it as a
good position. Sir Hudson Lowe then suggested that it should be
fortified: "Query, in respect to the construction of a work at Mt.
Jean, being the commanding point at the junction of two principal
chaussées" ("Unpublished Memoirs").]

[Footnote 508: Wellington has been censured by Clausewitz, Kennedy and
Chesney for leaving so large a force at Hal. Perhaps he desired to
protect the King of France at Ghent, though he was surely relieved of
responsibility by his despatch of June 18th, 3 a.m., begging the Duc
de Berri to retire with the King to Antwerp. It seems to me more
likely that he was so confident of an early advance of the Prussians
(see his other despatch of the same hour and Sir A. Frazer's
statement--"Letters," p. 553--"We expected the Prussian co-operation
early in the day") as to assume that Napoleon would stake all on an
effort against his right; and in that case the Hal force would have
crushed the French rear, though it was very far off.]

[Footnote 509: Wellington to Earl Bathurst, June 25th, 1815. The Earl
of Ellesmere, who wrote under the Duke's influence, stated that not
more than 7,000 of the British troops had seen a shot fired. This is
incorrect. Picton's division, still 5,000 strong, was almost wholly
composed of tried troops; and Lambert's brigade counted 2,200
veterans; many of the Guards had seen fire, and the 52nd was a
seasoned regiment. Tomkinson (p. 296) reckons all the 5,220 British
and 1,730 King's German troopers as "efficient," and Wellington
himself, so Mercer affirms, told Blücher he had 6,000 of the finest
cavalry in the world.]

[Footnote 510: "A British Rifleman," p. 367.]

[Footnote 511: I distrust the story told by Zenowicz, and given by
Thiers, that Napoleon at 10 a.m. was awaiting Grouchy with impatience;
also Marbot's letter referred to in his "Memoirs," _ad fin._, in which
he says the Emperor bade him push on boldly towards Wavre, as the
troops near St. Lambert "could be nothing else than the corps of
Grouchy." Grouchy's despatch and the official reply show that Napoleon
knew Grouchy to be somewhere between Gembloux and Wavre. Besides,
Bülow's report (Ollech, p. 192) states that, while at St. Lambert, he
sent out two strong patrols to the S.W., and was not observed by the
French, "who appeared to have no idea of our existence." This
completely disposes of Marbot's story.]

[Footnote 512: Houssaye, ch. vii. In the "Eng. Hist. Rev." for
October, 1900, p. 815, Mr. H. George gives a proof of this, citing the
time it took him to pace the roads by which Grouchy might have
advanced.]

[Footnote 513 "Waterloo Letters," pp. 60-63, 70-77, 81-84, 383. The
whole brigade was hardly 1,000 sabres strong. Sir E. Wood, pp.
126-146; Siborne, vol. ii., pp. 20-45.]

[Footnote 514: Houssaye, pp. 354, 499, admits the repulse.]

[Footnote 515 B. Jackson, p. 34. Müffling says the defaulters numbered
10,000! While sympathizing with the efforts of Dutch-Belgian writers
on behalf of their kin, I must accept Jackson's evidence as conclusive
here. See also Mr. Oman's article in "Nineteenth Century," Oct.,
1900.]

[Footnote 516: B. Jackson, p. 35; "Waterloo Letters," pp. 129-144,
296; Cotton, p. 79.]

[Footnote 517: Houssaye, pp. 365, 371-376; Kennedy, pp. 117-120;
Mercer, vol. i., pp. 311-324.]

[Footnote 518: Gourgaud (ch. vi.) states that the time of Lobau's move
was 4.30, though he had reconnoitred on his right earlier. Napoleon's
statements on this head at St. Helena are conflicting. One says that
Lobau moved at 1.30, another at 4.30. Perhaps Janin's statement
explains why Lobau did nothing definite till the later hour.]

[Footnote 519: Baring's account ("King's German Legion," App. xxi.)
shows that the farm was taken about the time of the last great cavalry
charge. Kennedy (p. 122) and Ompteda (_ad fin._) are equally explicit;
and the evidence of the French archives adduced by Houssaye (p. 378)
places the matter beyond doubt.]

[Footnote 520: Ollech, pp. 243-246. Reiche's exorbitant claims (vol.
ii., pp. 209-215) are refuted by "Waterloo Letters," p. 22.]

[Footnote 521: Lacoste (Decoster), Napoleon's Flemish guide, told this
to Sir W. Scott, "Life of Napoleon," vol. viii., p. 496.]

[Footnote 522: See Boulger's "The Belgians at Waterloo" (1901), p.
33.]

[Footnote 523: The formation and force of the French Guards in this
attack have been much discussed. Thiers omits all notice of the second
column; Houssaye limits its force to a single battalion, but his
account is not convincing. On p. 385 he says nine battalions of the
Guard advanced into the valley, but, on p. 389, he accounts only for
six. Other authorities agree that eight joined in the attack. As to
their formation, Houssaye advances many proofs that it was in hollow
squares. Here is one more. On the 19th Basil Jackson rode along the
slope and ridge near the back of Hougoumont and talked with some of
the wounded of the Imperial Guard. "As they lay they formed large
squares, of which the centres were hollow" (p. 57). Maitland
("Waterloo Letters," p. 244.) says: "There was one great column at
first, which separated into two parts." Gawler (p. 292) adds that:
"The second column was subdivided in two parts, close together, and
that _its whole flank was much longer than the front of our 52nd
regiment_." It is difficult to reconcile all this with the attack in
hollow squares; but probably the squares (or oblongs?) followed each
other so closely as to seem like a serried column. None of our men
could see whether the masses were solid or hollow, but naturally
assumed them to be solid, and hence greatly over-estimated their
strength. A column made up of hollow squares is certainly an odd
formation, but perhaps is not unsuitable to withstand cavalry and
overthrow infantry.

I cannot accept Houssaye's statement (p. 393) that the French squares
attacked our front at four different places, from the 52nd regiment on
our right to the Brunswickers in our centre, a quarter of a mile to
the east. The only evidence that favours this is Macready's ("Waterloo
Letters," p. 330); he says that the men who attacked his square (30th
and 73rd regiments) were of the Middle Guard; for their wounded said
so; but Kelly, of the same square, thought they were Donzelot's men,
who certainly attacked there. Siborne, seemingly on the strength of
Macready's statement, says that part of the Guards' column diverged
thither: but this is unlikely. Is it credible that the Guards, less
than 4,000 strong, should have spread their attacks over a quarter of
a mile of front? Was not the column the usual method of attack? I
submit, then, that my explanation of the Guard attacking in hollow
oblongs, formed in two chief columns, harmonizes the known facts. See
Petit's "Relation" in "Eng. Hist. Rev.," April, 1903.]

[Footnote 524: Janin, p. 45.]

[Footnote 525: Bertrand at St. Helena said he _heard_ Michel utter
these words (Montholon, vol. iii., ch. iv.).]

[Footnote 526: Maitland's "Narrative," p. 222. Basil Jackson, who knew
Gourgaud well at St. Helena, learnt from him that he could not finish
his account of Waterloo, "as Napoleon could never decide on the best
way of ending the great battle: that he (Gourgaud) had suggested no
less than six different ways, but none were satisfactory" ("Waterloo
and St. Helena," p, 102). Gourgaud's "Journal" shows that Napoleon
blamed in turn the rain, Ney, Grouchy, Vandamme, Guyot, and Soult; but
he ends--"it was a fatality; for in spite of all, I should have won
that battle."]

[Footnote 527: "Lettres inédites de Napoléon."]

[Footnote 528: Gourgaud, "Journal inédit de Ste. Hélène," vol. ii., p.
321, small edit.]

[Footnote 529: Lucien, "Mems.," vol. iii., p. 327.]

[Footnote 530: Stuart's despatch of June 28th, "F.O.," France, No.
117; Gneisenau to Müffling, June 27th, "Passages," App.]

[Footnote 531: Croker ("Papers," vol. iii., p. 67) had this account
from Jaucourt, who had it from Becker.]

[Footnote 532: Ollech, pp. 350-360. The French cavalry success near
Versailles was due to exceptional circumstances.]

[Footnote 533: Maitland's "Narrative," pp. 23-39, disproves Thiers'
assertion that Napoleon was not expected there. Maitland's letter of
July 10th to Hotham ("F.O.," France, No. 126, not in the "Narrative")
ends: "It appears to me from the anxiety the bearers express to get
away, that they are very hard pressed by the Government at Paris."
Hotham's instructions of July 8th to Maitland were most stringent. See
my Essay in "Napoleonic Studies" (1904).]

[Footnote 534: The date of the letter disproves Las Cases' statement
that it was written _after_ his second interview with Maitland, and
_in consequence of_ the offers Maitland had made!

Napoleon's reference to Themistocles has been much admired. But why?
The Athenian statesman was found to have intrigued with Persia against
Athens in time of peace; he fled to the Persian monarch and was richly
rewarded _as a renegade_. No simile could have been less felicitous.]

[Footnote 535: "Narrative," p. 244. [This work has been republished by
Messrs. Blackwood, 1904.]]

[Footnote 536: "F.O.," France, No. 126; Allardyce, "Mems. of Lord
Keith."]

[Footnote 537: Maitland, pp. 206, 239-242; Montholon, vol. i., ch.
iii.]

[Footnote 538: "Castlereagh Papers," 3rd series, vol. ii., pp.
434,438. Beatson's Mem. is in "F.O.," France, No. 123. This and other
facts refute Lord Holland's statement ("Foreign Reminiscences," p.
196) that the Government was treating for the transfer of St. Helena
from the East India Company _early in_ 1815.--Why does Lord Rosebery,
"Napoleon: last Phase," p. 58, write that Lord Liverpool thought that
Napoleon should either (1) be handed over to Louis XVIII. to be
treated as a rebel; or (2) treated as vermin; or (3) that we would
(regretfully) detain him? In his letters to Castlereagh at Paris,
Liverpool expressly says it would be better for us, rather than any
other Power, to detain him, and writes not a word about treating him
as vermin. Lord Rosebery is surely aware that our Government and
Wellington did their best _to preclude the possibility of the
Prussians treating him as vermin_.]

[Footnote 539: Keith's letter of August 1st, in "F.O.," France, No.
123: "The General and many of his suite have an idea that if they
could but put foot on shore, no power could remove them, and they are
determined to make the attempt if at all possible: they are becoming
most refractory."]

[Footnote 540: In our Colonial Office archives, St. Helena, No. 1, is
a letter of August 2nd, 1815, from an Italian subject of Napoleon
(addressed] to Mme. Bertrand, but really for him), stating that
£16,000 had been placed in good hands for his service, one-fourth of
which would be at once intrusted to firms at New York, Boston,
"Philadelfi," and Charlestown, to provide means for effecting his
escape, and claiming again "le plus beau trône de l'univers." It begs
him to get his departure from Plymouth put off, for a plot had been
formed by discontented British officers to get rid of the Premier and
one other Minister. Napoleon must not build any hopes on the Prince
Regent: "Le Silène de cette isle.... Je fonds donc mon espoir avant
tout sur les navires marchands, Anglais comme autres, par l'apas du
gain." The writer's name is illegible: so is the original postmark:
the letter probably came from London: it missed Mme. Bertrand at
Plymouth, followed her to St. Helena, and was opened by Sir G.
Cockburn, who sent it back to our Government. I have published it _in
extenso_ in my volume, "Napoleonic Studies " (1904), as also an
accompanying letter from Miss McKinnon of Binfield, Berks, to
Napoleon, stating that her mother, still living, had known him and
given him hospitality when a lieutenant at Valence.]

[Footnote 541: Las Cases, "Mémorial," vol, i., pp. 55, 65.]

[Footnote 542: I wish I had space to give a whole chapter to the
relations between Napoleon and the Whigs, and to show how their
championship of him worked mischief on both sides in 1803-21, enticing
him on to many risky ventures, and ruining the cause of Reform in
England for a generation.]

[Footnote 543: "F.O.," France, No. 123. Keith adds: "I accompanied him
to look at the accommodation on board the 'Northumberland,' with which
he appeared to be well satisfied, saying, 'the apartments are
convenient, and you see I carry my little tent-bed with me.'" The
volume also contains the letter of Maingaud, etc. Bertrand requested
permission from our Government to return in a year; Gourgaud, when his
duty to his aged mother recalled him; O'Meara stipulated that he
should still be a British surgeon on full pay and active service.]

[Footnote 544: "Extract from a Diary of Sir G. Cockburn," pp. 21, 51,
94.]

[Footnote 545: "Napoleon's last Voyages," p. 163.]

[Footnote 546: I found this return in "Admiralty Secret Letters,"
1804-16.

Lord Rosebery, in his desire to apologize for our treatment of
Napoleon at every point, says ("Nap.: last Phase," p. 64): "They [the
exiles] were packed like herrings in a barrel. The 'Northumberland,'
it was said, had been arrested on her way back from India in order to
convey Napoleon: all the water on board, it was alleged, had also been
to India, was discoloured and tainted, as well as short in
quantity."--On the contrary, the diary of Glover, in "Last Voyages of
Nap.," p. 91, shows that the ship was in the Medway in July, and was
fitted out at Portsmouth (where it was usual to keep supplies of
water): also (p. 99) that Captain Ross gave up his cabin to the
Bertrands, and Glover his to the Montholons: Gourgaud and Las Cases
slept in the after cabin until cabins could be built for them. We have
already seen (p. 529) that Napoleon was well satisfied with his own
room. Water, wine, cattle, and fruit were taken in at Funchal in spite
of the storm.]

[Footnote 547: Gourgaud, "Journal," vol. i., pp. 47, 59 (small
edition); "Last Voyages of Nap.," p. 198.]

[Footnote 548: Sir G. Bingham's Diary in "Blackwood's Mag.," October,
1896, and "Cornhill," January, 1901.]

[Footnote 549: Gourgaud, "Journal," vol. i., p. 64.]

[Footnote 550: "Last Voyages," p. 130.]

[Footnote 551: "Castlereagh Papers," 3rd series, vol. ii., pp. 423,
433, 505; Seeley's "Stein," vol. iii., pp. 333-344.]

[Footnote 552: See Gourgaud's "Journal," vol. ii., p. 315, for
Napoleon's view as to our stupidity then: "In their place I would have
stipulated that I alone could sail and trade in the eastern seas. It
is ridiculous for them to leave Batavia (Java) to the Dutch and L'Ile
de Bourbon to the French."]

[Footnote 553: Forsyth, "Captivity of Napoleon," vol. i., p. 218.
Plantation House was also the centre of the semaphores of the island.]

[Footnote 554: Mrs. Abell ("Betsy" Balcombe), "Recollections," ch.
vii. These were compiled twenty-five years later, and are not, as a
rule, trustworthy, but the "blindman's buff" is named by Glover.
Balcombe later on infringed the British regulations, along with
O'Meara.]

[Footnote 555: Gourgaud, "Journal," vol. i., pp. 77, 94, 136, 491.]

[Footnote 556: Gourgaud, "Journal," vol. i., pp. 135, 298. See too
"Cornhill" for January, 1901.]

[Footnote 557: Surgeon Henry of the 66th, in "Events of a Military
Life," ch. xxviii., writes that he found side by side at Plantation
House the tea shrub and the English golden-pippin, the bread-fruit
tree and the peach and plum, the nutmeg overshadowing the gooseberry.
In ch. xxxi. he notes the humidity of the uplands as a drawback, "but
the inconvenience is as nothing compared with the comfort, fertility,
and salubrity which the clouds bestow." He found that the soldiers
enjoyed far better health at Deadwood Camp, behind Longwood, than down
in Jamestown.]

[Footnote 558: Despatch of Jan. 12th, 1816, in Colonial Office, St.
Helena, No. 1.]

[Footnote 559: Lord Rosebery ("Napoleon: last Phase," p. 67),
following French sources, assigns the superiority of force to Lowe;
but the official papers published by Forsyth, vol. i., pp. 397-416,
show that the reverse was the case. Lowe had 1,362 men; the French,
about 3,000.]

[Footnote 560: From a letter in the possession of Miss Lowe.]

[Footnote 561: Forsyth, vol. i., pp. 139-147.]

[Footnote 562: See the interview in "Monthly Rev.," Jan., 1901.]

[Footnote 563: Bingham's Diary in "Cornhill" for Jan., 1901; Gourgaud,
vol. i., pp. 152, 168.]

[Footnote 564: Forsyth, vol. i., pp. 171-177.]

[Footnote 565: Lowe's version (Forsyth, vol. i., pp. 247-251) is fully
borne out by Admiral Malcolm's in Lady Malcolm's "Diary of St.
Helena," pp. 55-65; Gourgaud was not present.]

[Footnote 566: B. Jackson's "Waterloo and St. Helena," pp. 90-91. The
assertion in the article on B. Jackson, in the "Dict. of Nat.
Biography," that he was related to Lowe, and therefore partial to him,
is incorrect. Miss Lowe assures me that he did not see her father
before the year 1815.]

[Footnote 567: "Mems. of a Highland Lady," p. 459.]

[Footnote 568: In "Blackwood's," Oct., 1896, and "Cornhill," Jan.,
1901. I cannot accept Stürmer's hostile verdict on Lowe as that of an
impartial witness. The St. Helena Records show that Stürmer persisted
in evading the Governor's regulations by secretly meeting the French
Generals. He was afterwards recalled for his irregularities. Balmain,
the Russian, and Montchenu, the French Commissioner, are fair to him.
The latter constantly pressed Lowe _to be stricter with Napoleon_! See
M. Firmin-Didot's edition of Montchenu's reports in "La Captivité de
Ste. Hélène," especially App. iii. and viii.]

[Footnote 569: "Waterloo and St. Helena," p. 104.]

[Footnote 570: Lowe had the "Journal" copied out when it came into his
hands in Dec., 1816. This passage is given by Forsyth, vol. i., p. 5,
and by Seaton, "Sir H. Lowe and Napoleon," p. 52.]

[Footnote 571: An incident narrated to the present writer by Sir
Hudson Lowe's daughter will serve to show how anxious was his
supervision of all details and all individuals on the island. A
British soldier was missed from the garrison; and as this occurred at
the time when Napoleon remained in strict seclusion, fear was felt
that treachery had enabled him to make off in the soldier's uniform.
The mystery was solved a few days after, when a large shark was caught
near the shore, and on its being cut open the remains of the soldier
were found!

It should be remembered that Lowe prevailed on the slave-owners of the
island to set free the children of slaves born there on and after
Christmas Day, 1818.]

[Footnote 572: Quoted by Forsyth, vol. i., p. 289. This letter of
course finds no place in O'Meara's later malicious production, "A
Voice from St. Helena"; the starvation story is there repeated _as if
it were true_!--That Napoleon was fastidious to the last is proved by
the archives of our India Office, which contain the entry (Dec. 11th,
1820): "The storekeeper paid in the sum of £105 on account of 48 dozen
of champagne rejected by General Bonaparte" (Sir G. Birdwood's "Report
on the Old Records of the India Office," p. 97).]

[Footnote 573: Forsyth, vol. i., pp. 330-343, 466-475.]

[Footnote 574: I have quoted this _in extenso_ in "The Owens College
Historical Essays." May not the words "domiciled" and "employed" have
aroused Lowe's suspicions of Balcombe and O'Meara? Napoleon always
said that he did not wish to escape, and hoped only for a change of
Ministry in England. But what responsible person could trust his words
after Elba, where he repeatedly told Campbell that he had done with
the world and was a dead man?]

[Footnote 575: Forsyth, vol. i., p. 310, vol. ii., p. 142, vol. iii.,
pp. 151, 250; Montholon, "Captivity of Napoleon," vol. iii., ch. v.;
Firmin-Didot, App. vi. The schemes named by Forsyth are ridiculed by
Lord Rosebery ("Last Phase," p. 103). But would he have ignored them,
had he been in Bathurst's place?]

[Footnote 576: Gourgaud, "Journal," vol. i., p. 105.]

[Footnote 577: He said to Gourgaud that, _if he had the whole island
for exercise he would not go out_ (Gourgaud's "Journal," vol. ii., p.
299).]

[Footnote 578: Gourgaud's "Journal," vol. i., pp. 262-270, 316. Yet
Montholon ("Captivity of Napoleon," vol. i., ch. xiii.), afterwards
wrote of Las Cases' departure: "_We all loved the well-informed and
good man, whom we had pleasure in venerating as a Mentor.... He was an
immense loss to us!_"]

[Footnote 579: Gourgaud, vol. i., p. 278; Forsyth, vol. i., pp.
381-384, vol. ii., p. 74. Bonaparte wanted this "Journal" to be given
back to him: but Las Cases would not hear of this, as it contained
"_ses pensées_." It was kept under seal until Napoleon's death, and
then restored to the compiler.]

[Footnote 580: Henry, vol. ii., p. 48; B. Jackson, pp. 99-101; quoted
by Seaton, pp. 159-162.]

[Footnote 581: Forsyth, vol. iii., p. 40; Gourgaud's "Journal," vol.
ii., pp. 531-537.]

[Footnote 582: "Apostille" of April 27th, 1818. As to the new house,
see Forsyth, vol. i., pp. 212, 270; vol. iii., pp. 51,257; it was
ready when Napoleon's illness became severe (Jan., 1821).

If the plague of rats was really very bad, why is it that Gourgaud
made so little of it?]

[Footnote 583: "Journal" of Oct. 4th, 1817. On the return voyage to
England Mme. Bertrand told Surgeon Henry that secret letters had
constantly passed between Longwood and England, through two military
officers; but the passage above quoted shows who was the culprit.]

[Footnote 584: Forsyth, vol. iii., pp. 153, 178-181.]

[Footnote 585: Stürmer's "Report" of March 14th, 1818; Gourgaud's
"Journal" of Sept. 11th and 14th, 1817.]

[Footnote 586: Described by Bertrand to Lowe on May 12th, 1821 ("St.
Helena Records," No. 32).]

[Footnote 587: Lord Holland, "Foreign Reminiscences," p. 305.]

[Footnote 588: Gourgaud, vol. i., pp. 297, 540, 546; vol. ii., pp. 78,
130, 409, 425. See Las Cases, "Mémorial," vol. iv., p. 124, for
Napoleon's defence of polygamy. See an Essay on Napoleon's religion in
my "Napoleonic Studies" (1904).]

[Footnote 589: Lord Holland's "Foreign Reminiscences," p. 316; Colonel
Gorrequer's report in "Cornhill" of Feb., 1901.]

[Footnote 590: "Colonial Office Records," St. Helena, No. 32; Henry,
"Events of a Military Life," vol. ii., pp. 80-84: h also states that
Antommarchi, when about to sign the report agreed on by the English
doctors, was called aside by Bertrand and Montholon, and thereafter
declined to sign it: Antommarchi afterwards issued one of his own,
laying stress on cancer _and enlarged liver_, thus keeping up
O'Meara's theory that the illness was due to the climate of St. Helena
and want of exercise. In our records is a letter of Montholon to his
wife of May 6th, 1821, which admits the contrary: "C'est dans notre
malheur une grande consolation pour nous d'avoir acquis la preuve que
sa mort n'est, et n'a pu être, en aucune manière le résultat de sa
captivité." Yet, on his return to Europe, Montholon stoutly maintained
that the liver complaint endemic to St. Helena had been the death of
his master. It is, however, noteworthy that on his death-bed Napoleon
urged Bertrand to be reconciled to Lowe. He and Montholon accordingly
went to Plantation House, where, according to all appearance, the dead
past was buried.]

       *       *       *       *       *




INDEX


  Abdication, the Second, ii. 515.

  Abell, Mrs., ii. 541.

  Aberdeen, Lord, ii. 361, 369, 371, 372, 374-375. 390, 410.

  Aboukir, i. 192-193, 201.

  Aboukir, battle of, i. 213.

  Abrantès, Duchesse d', i. 426.

  Acre, i. 201, 204-210, 413.

  Acton, Gen., i. 435.

  Adams, Gen., ii. 502, 508.

  Adda River, i. 93.

  Addington, i. 310, 321, 402, 420-427, 452.

  Additional Act, the, ii. 450-451.

  Adige, i. 101, 107, 122, 123, 124, 132;
    River, i. 263.

  Adye, Capt., ii. 441-442.

  Ajaccio, i. 4-6, 12, 30-32, 34, 36, 38-41, 215.

  Alessandria, i. 88, 250-258, 259.

  Alexander I., i. 339.

  Alexander, Czar, i. 263, 333, 338-340, 387-388, 395, 406-408, 419-425,
    430-432; ii. 1-3, 5-11, 20, 29-31, 33-36, 42, 58, 63,
    81, 82, 86-87, 90, 108, 110, 114-116, 125-132, 134-137,
    144-145, 175, 179-183, 185-186, 202, 205-207, 209, 229,
    231-236, 241-243, 258-259, 273-276, 285, 290, 296-297,
    316-318, 321-322, 335, 344-345, 347, 372, 374, 381,
    386-388, 400, 408, 415-420, 423-424, 426-430, 433, 437,
    447, 448, 538, 546.

  Alexander the Great, i. 33, 202, 213.

  Alexandria, i. 187-189, 192, 214.

  Algesiras, i. 313.

  Alix, Gen., ii. 496, 497.

  Alkmaar, i. 217.

  Alps, the, i. 92.

  Alten, Gen., ii. 474, 499, 504.

  Alvintzy, i. 121, 131-136.

  Amiens, Treaty of, i. 331, 336-354, 405.

  _Ancien régime, L'_, i. 25, 27, 31.

  Andréossi, i. 215.

  Angoulême, Duc d', ii. 414-415.

  Ansbach, ii. 20, 30, 44.

  Antibes, i. 60; ii. 442.

  Antigua, i. 498.

  Antommarchi, ii. 568, 570.

  Antwerp, i. 439; ii. 399.

  Apennines, i. 90, 91, 92.

  Arcis, battle of, ii. 409.

  Arcola, i. 123-128.

  Aréna, i. 303-304, 307.

  Argaum, i. 377.

  Arisch, El, i. 203-204.

  Armed Neutrality League, i. 263, 331.

  Armenia, i. 201.

  Arndt, ii. 274, 278, 373.

  Arnott, Dr., ii. 571.

  Arrighi, ii. 404.

  Arrondissements, i. 268, 269, 323-324.

  Artois, Comte d', i. 54-55, 451, 456, 462; ii. 414, 416, 437, 443.

  Aspern-Essling, battle of, ii. 192.

  Assaye, i. 377.

  Assignats, i. 62.

  Astrakan, i. 262.

  Auerstädt, battle of, ii. 97, 98.

  Augereau, i. 82, 85, 101, 108-115, 124, 138, 161, 162,
    168, 449, 469-470, 491, 511 (App.); ii. 18, 91, 96, 97,
    101, 112, 295, 355-356, 408, 415, 422, 454.

  Aulic Council, i. 106, 121, 131.

  Austerlitz, battle of, 37-42.

  Australia, i. 379-385, 428; ii. 107, 174.

  Austria,i. 35, 37, 52, 56, 57, 77, 79, 87, 89, 96, 100, 101,
    105, 120, 128, 129, 137, 163, 164, 166-170, 183, 216,
    219, 240, 263, 265, 352, 395, 414, 500; ii. 1-3, 5-6,
    9-11, 12, 13-14, 18-26, 30-31, 42, 45-50, 58, 90-91,
    110-111, 114-115, 126-128, 155, 177-182, 187, 189-202,
    206-207, 271-272, 281-284, 289-290, 294-296, 315-317,
    324-328, 331, 354-355, 365, 380, 385-389, 399-400,
    402-403, 438, 453.

  Austrian Netherlands, i. 141.

  Auxonne, i. 22, 32-33.

  Avignon, i. 137.


  Babeuf, i. 157, 305.

  Bacciocchi, i. 153.

  Badajoz, Treaty of, i. 311.

  Baden, ii. 46, 60.

  Bagration, ii. 244, 248-249, 251-252.

  Balcombe, Mr., ii. 541, 555.

  Balearic Isles, ii. 74

  Balmain, ii. 552.

  Barbé-Marbois, ii. 60.

  Barclay, Gen., ii. 244, 248-254, 291-292, 294, 335, 419.

  Barras, i. 49, 50, 69, 70, 71, 74, 158, 159, 160, 167, 173,
    180-181, 220-221, 223, 451.

  Barrère, i. 59.

  Bartenstein, Treaty of, ii. 141.

  Barthélemy, i. 158, 162.

  Bassano, i. 117.

  Bastia, i. 30, 41.

  Batavian Republic. _See_ Holland.

  Bathurst, Earl, ii. 493, 556, 557, 558, 562.

  Baudin, Commodore, ii. 380-382.

  Baudus, Col., ii. 485.

  Bausset, i. 483; ii. 204, 255, 257, 433.

  Bautzen, battle of, ii. 291-293.

  Bavaria, ii. 46, 59, 65, 69, 189-191, 201, 354-355.

  Baylen, ii. 177.

  Baylen, battle of, ii. 170.

  Bayonne, Conventions of, ii. 166, 379 (battles of).


  Beatson, Gen., ii. 525.

  Beauharnais,Eugène, i. 215, 468, 501; ii. 10, 12, 85, 154, 195,
    216, 254-255, 260, 279-281, 284-285, 287, 294, 369,
    375, 380, 397, 411.

  Beauharnais, Hortense, i. 215, 442; ii. 515.

  Beaulieu, i. 82, 83, 85, 86, 92, 93, 101, 102.

  Becker, Gen., ii. 516-518.

  Beethoven, i. 481.

  Beet-root, ii. 223.

  Belgium, i. 141, 308; ii. 35, 54, 373, 387, 392, 399,
    402, 412, 436, 438, 441, 456-457.

  Belliard, Gen., ii. 423.

  Bennigsen, Gen., ii. 111, 114, 118-120, 123-124, 126, 140, 250, 359, 362.

  Beresford, ii. 414-415.

  Beresina, crossing of, ii. 264.

  Berg, Grand Duchy of, ii. 64.

  Berlier, i. 302.

  Berlin,
    decree of, ii. 103-105;
    University of, ii. 226, 275.

  Bernadotte,i. 220, 222, 246, 449, 451, 469-470; ii. 18-21, 36, 38,
    40, 63, 91, 94, 99-100, 111, 142, 229, 238, 296-298,
    321-323, 332-333, 335, 337-338, 350, 352, 353-354,
    357-360, 362, 369, 380, 387, 401, 416, 424.

  Bernard, Prince, ii. 462.

  Berne, i. 180, 391-395, 398-399.

  Bernier, i. 236, 274.

  Berthier, i. 76, 95, 109, 134, 135, 158, 179, 194, 214,
    234, 246, 249, 276, 468-470; ii. 64, 113, 200, 207,
    260, 335, 348, 363, 364, 392, 416, 427, 431, 432, 454,
    455.

  Berthollet, i. 182, 195, 215, 285, 487; ii. 569.

  Bertrand, ii. 18, 32, 113, 280, 292, 332-333, 337-338,
    354, 358, 359, 433, 434, 441, 481, 487, 516, 520-524,
    529-530, 535-537, 539, 542, 544, 547, 567, 572.

  Bertrand, Mme., ii. 522, 523, 527, 528, 529-530, 535-537, 542, 548.

  Bessarabia, ii. 238.

  Bessières, i. 194, 215, 258, 469-470; ii. 18, 41, 169,
    211, 255, 260, 288.

  Beyme, ii. 90.

  Bialystock, ii. 134.

  Bingham, Sir George, ii. 536, 548, 551.

  Black Forest, ii. 14-16.

  Blücher, ii. 83, 92, 98, 100, 285-286, 288, 292,
    332-333, 335-336, 338-34O, 350-352, 353-354, 356, 358,
    360, 361, 362, 364, 366, 381-384, 389, 392-396, 401,
    404-407, 414, 416-419, 423, 456-457, 460, 467-473,
    476-477, 479, 480, 481, 489, 502, 510, 516-518, 537,
    545, 546.

  Bologna, i. 78, 103, 119, 128, 131.

  Bon, i. 182, 209.

  Bonaparte, Caroline, ii. 571.

  Bonaparte, Charles, i. 5-10.

  Bonaparte, Elise, i. 37, 153; ii. 10.

  Bonaparte family, the, i. 2-12, 17.

  Bonaparte, Jerome, i. 444-445, 473-474; ii. 135, 154,
    194, 216, 248-249, 352. 423, 485, 494-495.

  Bonaparte, Joseph, i. 7, 10, 13, 23, 30, 32, 73, 153,
    341, 351-354, 369-371, 424-426, 443-444, 465, 468,
    473-475; ii. 9-10, 62, 63, 85, 135, 168, 169-171, 181,
    185, 198, 201, 210, 269, 300-304, 305-313, 382, 393,
    396, 412, 416, 421-422, 423, 454, 512, 520.

  Bonaparte, Josephine, i. 73-74, 153-156, 215, 221, 304,
    327, 329, 459, 462, 472-474, 477-480; ii. 129, 133,
    182, 204-207, 515, 571.

  Bonaparte, Letizia (Madame Mère), i. 5-7, 23, 41, 468; ii. 440.

  Bonaparte, Louis, i. 32, 61, 125, 153, 442, 468, 473-475; ii. 10,
            168, 212-214, 393, 423.

  Bonaparte, Lucien, i. 21, 31, 39, 40, 179, 214,
    223-226, 228, 234, 295, 311, 369-371, 442-444, 473-475;
    ii. 162, 452, 454, 513, 514, 560.

  Bonaparte, Pauline, i. 153, 360, 363, 442; ii. 436, 440, 571.

  Borghese, Prince, i. 442.

  Borodino, battle of, ii. 254-256.

  Boulay de la Meurthe, i. 229, 234, 302, 305.

  Boulogne, i. 313, 485-503.

  Bourbon, Ile de, i. 358, 372; ii. 390, 538.

  Bourgogne, Serg., ii. 257, 261.

  Bourmont, Gen., i. 237; ii. 461.

  Bourrienne, i. 12, 13, 72, 175, 180-181, 215, 245, 303;
    ii. 157, 222.

  Boyen, Gen. von, ii. 330.

  Breisgau, i. 170, 263.

  Brescia, i. 101, 107, 108, 109, 113, 143, 144, 259.

  Breslau, Convention of, ii. 277.

  Brest, i. 160, 375.

  Brienne, battle of, ii. 383.

  Brienne, Napoleon at, i. 10-14.

  Broglie, Duc de, i. 162; ii. 246, 327, 450.

  Brueys, Admiral, i. 182-183, 192, 229.

  Bruix, i. 214, 487.

  Brulart, ii. 439.

  Brumaire, _coup d'état_ of, i. 222-228.

  Brune, Marshal, i. 70, 180, 237, 469; ii. 144, 454.

  Brunswick, Duke of, ii. 31, 91-94, 97-98, 100.

  Brunswick-Oels, Duke of, ii. 194, 474.

  Bubna, Count, ii. 289-290, 314, 321, 328.

  Budberg, Baron, ii. 74.

  Bülow, Gen. von, ii. 338, 350, 352, 381, 392, 401, 405,
    414, 460, 489, 495, 496, 502, 503, 504.

  Buonavita, ii. 568.

  Burghersh, Lady, ii. 370, 417.

  Burghersh, Lord, ii. 360, 419.

  Busaco, battle of, ii. 209.

  Buttafuoco, Comte de, i. 31.

  Bylandt, Gen., ii. 496.


  Cadiz, i. 499-502, 507.

  Cadoudal, Georges, i. 236-238, 446, 453-456, 458, 471-472.

  Cæsar, i. 187.

  Caffarelli, i. 183-184, 190, 195, 209.

  Cairo, i. 189-191, 197-199.

  Calder, i. 499, 502-504.

  Caldiero, i. 122, 123.

  Cambacérès, i. 222, 234, 289, 302, 321-322, 458,
    467-468; ii. 312, 370, 395. 513.

  Cambronne, Gen., ii. 509.

  Camel corps, i. 197.

  Campbell, Col., i. 489; ii. 420, 434, 435, 440-442.

  Campbell, Sir Neil, ii. 484, 485.

  Camperdown, i. 175.

  Campo Formio, Treaty of, i. 170-172, 263.

  Canning, ii. 116, 126, 141-143, 145, 148, 152, 169,
    185-186, 190, 199, 208.

  Cape of Good Hope, i. 166, 311-312, 314, 333, 375, 396,
    405-406, 420, 428; ii. 54, 73, 81, 82, 221, 229, 436.

  Caprara, i. 274.

  Capri, i. 4; ii. 80, 545.

  Carmel, Mount, i. 206.

  Carnot, i. 74, 75, 162, 234, 322, 451, 467, 471; ii. 446, 513, 515.

  Carteaux, i. 47, 49, 52, 70.

  Castiglione, i. 110.

  Castlereagh, i. 336; ii. 56, 116, 145, 208, 283, 296,
    322, 361, 369, 372, 386-389, 390, 400, 403, 410-411,
    426, 436, 437, 439-440, 525, 558.

  Catalonia, annexation of, ii. 210.

  Cathcart, Lord, ii. 116, 144-145, 277, 287-288,
    316-317, 321, 326, 332, 334, 364. 390.

  Catherine II., i. 138; ii. 273.

  Cattaro, i. 170.

  Caulaincourt, i. 458, 462, 468; ii. 34, 182-183, 205,
    290, 295, 323-324, 327, 354, 370-371, 374-375, 389-392,
    401, 410-413, 416-418, 422, 423, 426-428, 431-432, 444,
    515.

  Certificates of origin, ii. 104, 156, 233.

  Cervoni, i. 95.

  Ceva, i. 85, 86, 87.

  Ceylon, i. 311-312, 314-315, 333, 343.

  Chaboulon, Fleury de, ii. 441.

  Chamber of Peers, ii. 451.

  Chamber of Representatives, ii. 451.

  Champ de Mai. ii. 444, 450, 452.

  Champagny, ii. 149, 181, 185, 213.

  Champaubert, battle of, ii. 393.

  Channel Islands, the, i. 166, 175.

  Chaptal, i. 234, 285, 304-306, 316; ii. 216, 219, 224, 484.

  Charlemagne, i. 478-479; ii. 191, 227-228.

  Charles, Archduke, i. 121, 137, 196; ii. 11, 13-14, 22,
    26, 31-33, 35, 189-192, 194-195, 201.

  Charles IV., ii. 159, 161-166.

  Charles XIII., ii. 202, 238.

  Charlotte, Queen, i. 435.

  Chassé, Gen., ii. 491, 504, 506.

  Chastel, ii. 255.

  Chateaubriand, i. 282, 298, 463.

  Chatham, Earl, ii. 199.

  Châtillon, Congress of, ii. 389-392, 400, 409-412.

  Chaumont, Treaty of, ii. 402-403, 448.

  Chénier, i. 451.

  Cherasco, i. 88, 89.

  Chouans, i. 305-307.

  Cintra, Convention of, ii. 172.

  Cisalpine Republic, i. 142, 151-152, 166, 168-170,
    251-252, 264, 319, 345-349.

  Cispadane Republic, i. 119-120, 131, 142, 149, 152.

  Ciudad Rodrigo, ii. 302.

  Clarke, Gen., i. 128, 129, 130, 140, 158, 164; ii. 74,
    295, 302-303, 325, 363, 404, 421.

  Clausel, ii.  303-304, 306-307, 309, 313, 454.

  Clausewitz, ii. 244, 250, 255 _n._, 459, 466, 492.

  Clichy Club, i. 158, 161.

  Cleves, ii. 44.

  Coalition, Second, 209, 213, 216, 240-243.

  Coalition, Third, i. 500; ii. 1, 5-12, 42, 58.

  Cobenzl, Count, i. 162, 263; ii. 1, 3, 45.

  Cockburn, Admiral, ii. 451, 510, 527, 528, 531-532,
    534-535, 539-549, 545, 547.

  Code Napoleon, i. 287-294, 466; ii. 77.

  Coffee, price of, ii. 218, 223.

  Collingwood, i. 488.  Colloredo, ii. 359.

  Commercial prohibition, i. 401-402; ii. 104-106,
    156-157, 217-220, 224.

  Committee of Public Safety, i. 44, 65, 67, 162.

  Concordat, the (of 1802), i. 21, 271-284, 476; ii. 570.

  Condorcet, i. 295.

  Confederation of the Rhine, ii. 75-78, 83-84, 91, 103,
    135, 195, 229, 240, 277, 316, 324, 329-330.

  Coni, i. 88.

  Consalvi, Cardinal, i. 274-279.

  Constant, Benjamin, i. 163, 238, 320; ii. 450.

  Constant (the Valet), ii. 432.

  Constantine, Grand Duke, ii. 250.

  Constantinople, i. 182, 201-203, 210; ii. 128, 136, 175.

  Constitution of 1795, i. 66, 159, 218, 221.

  Constitution of 1799 (Year VIII.), i. 229-233, 238.

  Constitutional priests, i. 28, 164, 272, 273-277, 282.

  Consul, First, powers of, i. 231-233.

  Consulate for life, i. 321-324, 326.

  Continental System, i. 176, 436; ii. 28, 48, 49, 77,
    103-107, 144, 153-158, 174, 189-190, 193, 211-223,
    233-235, 236-237.

  "Contrat Social, Le," i. 17, 20, 26, 43, 466.

  Convention, the, i. 37, 40, 54, 57, 58, 66, 67, 68, 69, 72, 289.

  Copenhagen, bombardment of, ii. 142.

  Corbineau, Gen., ii. 263.

  Corfu, i. 168, 192-193, 413, 420-422, 434, 488; ii. 17,
    62, 82, 154, 430.

  Cornwallis, Lord, i. 337, 341, 343, 350-354, 372.

  Cornwallis, Admiral, i. 440, 491-492, 499, 502-504.

  Coronation, i. 476-477, 479-480.

  Corps Législatif, i. 230, 270, 305, 320, 321-324; ii. 377.

  Corsica, i. 1, 3-11, 14, 16, 17, 22, 23, 28-32, 34-35,
    37, 38-43, 56, 60, 61, 217, 241; ii. 430.

  Cortès, ii. 301, 379, 380.

  Corvisart, ii. 205.

  Cotton, ii. 483, 491.

  Cotton, price of, ii. 218.

  Council of Ancients, i. 66, 223-224.

  Council of Five Hundred, i. 67, 158, 162, 217, 223-226.

  Council of State, i. 230, 234, 238, 266, 269, 287,
    304-306, 320, 467, 475; ii. 451.

  Court, Mr. à, i. 435.

  Craonne, battle of, ii. 406-407, 411.

  Croatia, ii. 201.

  Croker, ii. 516.

  Cromwell, i. 33.

  Cuesta, ii. 198.

  Curaçoa, i. 311-312, 333; ii. 436.

  Cyprus, i. 215.

  Czartoryski, i. 262, 409-410, 423; ii. 5-9, 29, 54, 71,
    74, 110, 232.


  Dalberg, ii. 424-425.

  Dallemagne, i. 95.

  Dalmatia, i. 142, 168-170; ii. 45-48, 201.

  Dandolo, i. 170-172.

  Danton, i. 63.

  Dantzig, siege of, ii. 284.

  Danubian provinces, ii. 47, 135, 138, 185.

  Daru, i. 503.

  David, i. 248.

  Davidovich, i. 107, 121, 122, 127.

  Davoust, i. 182, 438, 469-470; ii. 18, 38, 91, 94,
    98-101, 112, 113, 119, 122, 193, 195, 248-249, 251-252,
    280, 296, 298-299, 325, 332, 337-338, 350, 352, 360,
    369, 408, 416, 432, 446, 454, 514, 5I7.

  Decaen, Gen., i. 373-375, 378, 381, 419, 433; ii. 454.

  Decoster, ii. 486.

  Decrès, i. 358, 363, 487, 497; ii. 176, 446.

  Dedem de Gelder, ii. 360.

  Defermon, i. 234.

  Dego, i. 85, 86.

  Delhi, i. 201.

  Demerara, i. 311-312, 333, 439; ii. 436.

  D'Enghien, Duc, i. 446, 457-463; ii. 532.

  Denmark, i. 64, 263; ii. 114, 136, 140-144, 152-153, 221,
    296-297, 380.

  Dennewitz, battle of, ii. 350.

  Denon, i. 215; ii. 517.

  Departments, French, i. 27.

  D'Erlon, Count, ii. 454, 460, 462, 470, 472-473,
    474-476, 490, 495, 498, 502, 505, 508.


  Desaix, i. 181, 182, 191, 199, 214-215, 254, 259.

  Desgenettes, i. 212.

  Desprez, Col., ii. 305.

  Diebitsch, ii. 419.

  Dijon, i. 246.

  Directors, the, i. 97, 104, 146, 218-224, 226.

  Directory, the, i. 67, 68, 75, 87, 97, 98, 99, 119,
    129, 130, 140, 143, 148, 157-160, 167-172, 177-181,
    214, 228, 300, 326.

  Divorce, i. 292.

  Divorce, the Imperial, ii. 204-205, 327.

  Dolder, i. 393.

  Dommartin, i. 47, 87, 183.

  Domont, Gen., ii. 496, 503.

  Donzelot, ii. 497, 503, 506, 507, 508.

  Doppet, i. 49, 52.

  Dörnberg, ii. 459.

  Douglas, Col., i. 208.

  Drake, Francis, i. 55, 453-454; ii. 2, 62.

  Dresden, battle of, ii. 342-347.

  Drissa, camp of, ii. 243, 249-250.

  Drouot, ii. 395, 422, 434.

  Ducos, Roger, i. 220, 223, 228, 233, 239.

  Dugommier, i. 52, 53.

  Duhesme, ii. 503.

  Dumas, Gen., i. 115, 182, 194, 285.

  Dumouriez, Gen., i. 90, 457-459, 486.

  Dundas, i. 441.

  Dunkirk, i. 175.

  Duphot, i. 179.

  Dupont, Gen., i. 70; ii. 22-23, 123, 169-170, 173.

  Duroc, i. 76, 172, 215, 327, 409, 443, 468; ii. 12, 20,
    40, 59, 101, 134, 150, 293.


  Eastern Question, i. 340, 406, 408-410, 428; ii. 47-48, 108.

  East Indies, i. 497-499.

  Ebrington, Lord, ii. 568.

  Eckmühl, battle of, ii. 191.

  Economists, i. 174.

  Education, national, i. 295-298.

  Egypt, i. 168, 175-200, 201-203, 261, 312-313, 314,
    355, 369, 411-416, 420-422, 434, 488; ii. 139, 174,
    176, 229, 529.


  Elba, i. 264, 314, 389; ii. 430, 435-442.

  Elchingen, ii. 24.

  Ellesmere, Earl of, ii. 493.

  Emmett, i. 510 (App.).

  England, i. 22, 25, 39, 41, 42, 46, 48, 54-56, 166-167,
    174, 178, 200, 216, 240, 261, 265, 307-315, 321,
    331-338, 350-354, 358, 361-363, 364, 372-378, 387-388,
    401-408, 413-438, 436-441, 450-454, 460-461, 509-510
    (App.); ii. 2, 4-9, 48, 55-58, 65-67, 69-74, 81-83,
    87-89, 90, 104-107, 114-115, 125-128, 136, 138-148,
    155-158, 185-186, 190, 199-200, 208, 211-212, 216-223,
    229, 233, 283, 317, 322, 327-328, 334, 361, 372,
    386-387, 389, 399, 402-403, 417, 432, 436-438, 447,
    453, 532, 538-539.


  England, invasion of, i. 175-178, 438-441, 482, 485-499.

  Ense, Varnhagen von, ii. 101, 177, 225.

  Erfurt, meeting at, ii. 179-185, 189, 231, 235.

  Escoiquiz, ii. 165.

  Esterhazy, Prince, ii. 410.

  Etruria,  kingdom of, i. 264, 334, 389, 420; ii. 150, 153-158.

  Eugène, Prince, of Wurtemberg, ii. 347-348.

  Eylau, battle of, ii. 111-114.

  Excelmans, Gen., ii. 481-482.


  Fain, ii. 360, 364, 371.

  Faypoult, i. 148.

  Ferdinand, Archduke, ii. 14-16, 19, 21, 24, 35.

  Ferdinand, Prince Louis, ii. 93.

  Ferdinand IV., i. 77.

  Ferdinand VII. (Spain), ii. 161-166, 379-380.

  Ferrara, i. 78, 119.

  Fesch, Cardinal, i. 468, 477; ii. 206.

  Feudalism, i. 120, 288; ii. 77-78, 178, 187.

  Fichte, ii. 177, 184, 226, 237, 286.

  Finland, ii. 175, 176, 185, 235-236.

  Fiorella, i. 114.

  Flahaut, Count, ii. 422, 479.

  Flinders, Capt., i. 380-381.

  Florence, i. 77, 104.

  Florence, Buonapartes at, i. 2, 6.

  Florence, Treaty of, i. 264.

  Florida, i. 364, 368.

  Flotilla, the Boulogne, i. 483-499.

  Fombio, i. 92, 93.

  Fontainebleau, Convention of, ii. 150, 160.

  Fontainebleau, decree of, ii. 217.

  Fontanes, i. 481.

  Forfait, i. 234.

  Forsyth, ii. 540, 550, 555, 557.

  Fouché, i. 227, 234, 302, 304, 427, 449, 451, 463,
    466-467, 472, 504; ii. 6, 182, 187-188, 213, 334, 439,
    446, 448, 514, 515, 517.

  Fox, i. 294, 414, 441; ii. 59, 70-72, 81, 83, 105, 330.

  Foy, Gen., ii. 307.

  France, i. 314.

  France, Ile de, i. 358, 372, 380; ii. 390, 412.

  France, Protestantism in, i. 283-284.

  France, University of, i. 296-297.

  Francis II., Emperor, i. 105, 117, 120, 121, 140-142,
    170, 263, 264, 406, 482; ii. 3, 9-10, 14-16, 34, 42,
    76, 197, 200-203, 239, 272-273, 283, 289, 314-315, 321,
    326, 335, 386-388, 399, 410, 417, 422, 426, 433, 436.

  Frazer, Sir A., ii. 492.

  Frederick William III., ii. 4, 30-32, 33, 42-45, 51-55,
    65, 83-87, 89-94, 98-100, 108, 127, 129-131, 177-178,
    237, 270-271, 273-277, 285, 316-317, 335, 344-345, 347,
    373, 386-388, 433.

  French Colonies, i. 357-383.

  French Republic, the, i. 38, 42, 45, 48.

  Fréjus, i. 215-217.

  Fréron, i. 54.

  Friant, ii. 36, 38, 350, 506.

  Friedland, battle of, ii. 119-124.

  Frotté, i. 235, 237.

  Fructidor, _coup d'état_, i. 157, 161-164, 217, 272.

  Fulton, i. 483-484.


  Gallican Church, i. 274.

  Gallois, M., ii. 558.

  Gantheaume, Admiral, i. 215, 234, 372, 485, 487, 489, 491-492,
    495-498.

  Garda, Lake, i. 100, 101, 106, 108, 112.

  Gardane, Gen., i. 254; ii. 117-118.

  Gaudin, i. 234, 270; ii. 446.

  Geneva, i. 180, 246, 390.

  Genoa, i. 5, 7, 55, 59, 60, 75, 82, 83, 121, 147, 182, 216,
    241, 243, 250, 334, 504; ii. 11-12.

  Gentz, ii. 91, 314, 323.

  Gérard, ii. 454, 460-461, 463, 466, 469-471, 480-482.

  Gezzar, i. 204-209.

  Gibraltar, i. 167, 175; ii. 150.

  Girard, Gen., ii. 338.

  Girondins, i. 44-46, 63, 218, 301.

  Glover, ii. 533, 534, 540, 541.

  Gneisenau, ii. 92, 125, 237, 286, 351, 366, 456, 460, 468, 476-479,
    481, 509, 516, 546.

  Godoy, i. 365-368, 437; ii. 146, 149-150, 159-161, 163-166.

  Goethe, ii. 3, 183-184, 278.

  Gohier, i. 220, 221, 223-224.

  Gourgaud, Gen., ii. 451, 461, 463, 486, 503, 509, 513,
    518, 520-524, 528, 529, 533, 535-537, 541, 542, 544,
    548, 549, 560, 561-564, 569, 572.

  Government, local, i. 267-271.

  Gower, Lord Leveson, ii. 45, 126, 128, 130, 145, 160.

  Graham, i. 83, 111, 114; ii. 310, 381.

  Great Britain. _See_ England.

  Great St. Bernard, i. 245-248.

  Grégoire, i. 467.

  Grenoble, Napoleon at, ii. 443.

  Grenville, Lord, i. 55, 166, 242, 414; ii. 59.

  Gross Görschen, ii. 287-289.

  Grossbeeren, battle of, ii. 338.

  Grouchy, ii. 120, 124, 255-256, 395, 407, 455, 463,
    464, 466, 469, 470, 480, 481, 482, 485, 487-489, 495,
    496, 505, 508, 510, 514.

  Guadeloupe, i. 358; ii. 296-297.

  Guards, National, i. 62, 69, 71.

  Gudin, ii. 487.

  Guiana, French, i. 358.

  Guizot, ii. 484.

  Gustavus IV., ii. 2, 4, 5, 144, 202, 238.

  Guyot, ii. 501, 502.


  Hagelberg, battle of, ii. 338.

  Hainau, ambush at, ii. 294.

  Hal, Wellington's force at, ii. 492.

  Halkett, ii. 508.

  Hamburg. _See_ Hanse Towns.

  Hameln, ii. 34.

  Hammond, Lord, i. 450.

  Hanau, battle of, ii. 365.

  Hanover, i. 64, 176, 436; ii. 9, 17, 30, 34, 44, 45-48, 53-57,
    65-69, 82-85, 88, 91, 135, 199, 277, 317, 361, 386.

  Hanse Towns, i. 176; ii. 73-74, 213, 214 (annexation of); 226,
            280-281, 297-299, 316, 361, 369.

  Hardenberg, ii. 11, 55, 65, 68, 89, 129, 270, 274, 276, 373, 400.

  Hardinge, ii. 459, 468, 489.

  Harel, i. 459.

  Harrowby, Earl of, ii. 5, 42, 53, 56, 57.

  Hasslach, ii. 22.

  Hatzfeld, Prince, ii. 271.

  Haugwitz, i. 432; ii. 20, 30-31, 34, 43-46, 53-55, 65-69, 83-84, 86,
    89-90.

  Hauterive, i. 278-279; ii. 149.

  Hawkesbury, Lord, i. 310, 312-314, 333-334, 338-340, 350-354, 396,
            405, 422, 431, 450, 452; ii. 56.

  Hayti. _See_ Domingo.

  Hazlitt, ii. 447.

  Heilsberg, battle of, ii. 118-119.

  Heligoland, ii. 380.

  Helvetic Republic. _See_ Switzerland.

  Henry, Surgeon, ii. 539, 543, 553, 571.

  Hesse-Cassel, i. 64; ii. 84.

  Hill, Gen., ii. 309.

  Hobart, Lord, i. 377, 382.

  Hoche, i. 63, 65, 160, 168.

  Hofer, ii. 193, 201-202.

  Hohenlinden, i. 260.

  Hohenlohe, ii. 93-97, 97-100.

  Holkar, i. 374, 377.

  Holland, i. 39, 166, 178, 242, 265, 293, 308, 314-315,
    327, 334-338, 344, 345, 376-377, 403, 405, 416, 420,
    425, 428, 433, 438, 485-486, 493, 503, ii. 1, 6, 8, 18,
    30, 35, 54, 55, 69, 103, 134, 135-137, 212-214, 361,
    369, 373, 375-376, 381, 403, 412, 436-438.

  Holland, Lord, ii. 126, 413, 567, 570.

  Holy Alliance, ii. 566.

  Holy Roman Empire, i. 141, 170, 264, 387, 478; ii. 75-76.

  Hood, Admiral, i. 50, 54-55.

  Hostages, law of, i. 220, 229.

  Hotham, Admiral, ii. 519-521.

  Hougoumont, ii. 490-491, 499, 500-505.

  Howick, Earl, ii. 116.

  Hulin, Gen., i. 460-461.

  Humbert, Gen., i. 511 (App.).

  Humboldt, ii. 226, 323.

  Hutchinson, Lord, ii. 124.

  Hyde de Neuville, i. 220, 236-237.


  Ibrahim, i. 188-191.

  Illyria, ii. 315-316, 320, 324, 326, 328.

  Imam of Muscat, i. 200.

  India, i. 176, 189, 194, 200, 210, 262, 342, 372-379,
    396, 419-420, 428-429, 431, 434; ii. 117-118, 139,
    174-176, 230.

  Ionian Isles, the, i. 168-170, 177, 314, 428, 432; ii. 9, 74, 135.

  Ireland, i. 160, 202-203, 309, 331-332, 417, 488-489, 491,
    505-506, 510-512 (App.); ii. 229.

  Iron Cross, Order of the, ii. 277.

  Istria, i. 142, 168-170; ii. 46-47.

  Italian Republic, i. 388, 420.
    Italy, i. 77, 79, 96, 100, 213, 263, 265, 345-349, 388,
    433-435, 438, 493, 497; ii. 1, 6, 10-11, 17, 46-48, 69,
    88, 103, 150, 154, 202, 324, 361, 373, 375, 380, 397,
    411, 438-439, 440.


  Italy, army of, i. 57, 61, 64, 74, 75, 76, 80, 82, 122.

  Izquierdo, Don, ii. 150, 163.


  Jackson, Col. Basil, ii. 477, 479, 499, 500, 507, 529,
    550, 552, 563.

  Jackson, Sir G., ii. 43, 314, 360, 447.

  Jacobins, the, i. 31, 35, 37, 42, 45, 47, 49, 53, 59,
    63, 64, 69, 149, 161, 218, 223, 226-228, 260, 267, 281,
    301, 302-306, 401, 427, 465-466; ii. 449.


  Jaffa, i. 201, 203-204, 211-213.

  Jamaica, i. 361.

  Janin, Count, ii. 502.

  Jaubert, i. 412.

  Java, ii. 538.

  Jefferson, i. 367, 369.

  Jena, battle of, ii. 94-97.

  Jews, the, i. 284.

  John, Archduke, ii. 195-196.

  Jomini, ii. 335, 340, 342, 466.

  Jonan, Golfe de, ii. 442.

  Joubert, i. 131, 135, 138, 219.

  Jouberthon, Madame, i. 443.

  Jourdan, i. 222, 469-470; ii. 198, 305, 307, 308-310.

  _Juges de paix_, i. 270, 323; ii. 451.

  Junot, i. 60, 61, 76, 112, 136, 138, 207, 426; ii. 151,
    160, 162, 172, 454.

  Junot, Madame, i. 64, 181, 426.


  Kalckreuth, ii. 91, 137.

  Kalisch, Treaty of, ii. 276-277.

  Katzbach, battle of the, ii. 339.

  Keith, Lord, i. 250-251, 440; ii. 526, 528, 529-530.

  Kellermann, i. 89, 90, 256, 258-259, 469; ii. 40, 474, 501, 502.

  Kennedy, Gen., ii. 457, 492, 493, 504.

  Kilmaine, i. 143.

  King's German Legion, ii. 493, 502.

  Kléber, i. 63, 182, 189, 204, 207-208, 213, 215.

  Kleist, ii. 292, 347-348, 456.

  Knesebeck, Gen., ii. 242, 275, 276, 335.

  Koran, i. 185.

  Körner, ii. 278.

  Krasnoe, battle of, ii. 262.

  Kray, Gen., i. 244.

  Krudener, Madame de, ii. 450.

  Kulm, battle of, ii. 347-349.

  Kurakin, Prince, ii. 239.

  Kutusoff, ii. 33, 36, 38, 39, 254-255, 258-262, 274, 285.


  Labaume, ii. 245, 253, 260.

  Labédoyère, ii. 505, 541.

  Laborde, ii. 206.

  Labouchere, ii. 213.

  Labrador, ii. 165.

  Lafayette, i. 476; ii. 439, 513, 514.

  La Fère Champenoise, battle of, ii. 419-420, 422.

  La Fère regiment, the, i. 15-17.

  Laffray, defile of, ii. 443.

  Laforest, ii. 65, 66, 84, 87.

  Lagrange, i. 285; ii. 569.

  Laharpe, i. 395, 408, 512 (App.); ii. 231, 400.

  La Haye Sainte, ii. 490-491, 495, 496, 499, 500-505, 507, 508.

  Lainé, ii. 377.

  Lajolais, Gen., i. 455.

  Lake, Gen., i. 377.

  Lallemand, Count, ii. 519, 529.

  Lambert, Gen., ii. 493, 498.

  Lampedusa, i. 422, 425.

  Lancey, De, ii. 467, 493.

  Landrieux, i. 110, 111, 115, 143, 144.

  Langeron, Gen. ii. 339.

  Lanjuinais, i. 321, 467; ii. 452.

  Lannes, i. 92, 95, 102, 138, 183, 194, 209, 213, 215,
    249, 252, 256, 451, 469; ii. 18, 21, 24, 26,32, 40, 91,
    94-97, 100, 118-124, 192-193.

  Laplace, i. 285, 484; ii. 569.

  Larochejacquelein, ii. 449.

  La Rothière, battle of, ii. 383.

  Larrey, i. 212; ii. 485.

  Las Cases, Count, i. 212; ii. 519, 520-524, 527, 528,
    529, 533, 535-537, 541, 542, 548, 553, 559-561,
    564, 566, 568.


  Latouche-Tréville, i. 489-490.

  Latour-Maubourg, ii. 123, 337, 342, 345, 358.

  Lauderdale, Earl of, ii. 81-82.

  Lauriston, ii. 235, 258, 281, 291, 332, 340, 364.

  Lavalette, i. 148, 159, 161, 163, 168, 215; ii. 415,
    445, 450, 451, 486, 513, 516, 526.

  Lebanon, i. 201, 211.

  Lebrun, i. 234, 302, 458, 468.

  Leclerc, i. 135, 182, 225, 360-363.

  Lefebvre, i. 469; ii. 422.

  Lefebvre-Desnoëttes, ii. 353, 422, 427, 431.

  Legations, i. 78, 142, 145, 169, 275, 346; ii. 54.

  Leghorn, i. 103.

  Legion of Honour, i. 284-287, 327, 449; ii. 184.

  Législatif Corps, i. 467, 481.

  Legnago, i. 107, 114, 126, 131.

  Leipzig, battle of, ii. 356-363.

  Lejeune, ii. 37, 192, 257, 351.

  Leoben, i. 138, 140, 145.

  Lépeaux-Réveillière, La, i. 74, 158, 178, 220, 274.

  Lestocq, Gen., ii. 113.

  Letourneur, i. 74.

  Liberty of the press, i. 239; ii. 211, 451.

  Licences, commercial, ii. 220, 222-223.

  Lichtenstein, ii. 424.

  Ligny, battle of, ii. 468-473.

  Ligurian Republic, i. 148, 264, 345, 420, 504; ii. 6, 10.

  Lille, i. 164, 166-167.

  Lindet, i. 220.

  Linois, Admiral, i. 313, 376; ii. 81.

  Liptay, i. 92, 93.

  Lithuania, ii. 244-246, 248.

  Liverpool, Earl of, ii. 447, 525, 537, 538.

  Lobau, ii. 469, 480-482, 502, 503, 504.

  Lobau, Isle of, ii. 192-193, 195.

  Lodi, battle of, i. 93-95, 97.

  Loison, i. 70.

  Lombardy, i. 90, 91, 96, 142, 436; ii. 21, 55.

  Lonato, i. 110, 112, 113.

  London, Preliminaries of, i. 314, 331-336.

  Louis, Baron, ii. 424.

  Louis XIV., i. 24, 283.

  Louis XV., i. 283, 364.

  Louis XVI., i. 26, 29, 35-36, 42, 71, 283.

  Louis XVII, i. 54-55, 65.

  Louis XVIII., ii. 415, 424-425, 439-440, 457-458, 537, 541, 542.

  Louisa, Queen, ii. 85-86, 125, 132-134, 226.

  Louisiana, i. 264, 334, 364-372, 414, 421, 509-510; ii. 153.

  Lowe, Sir Hudson, i. 4; ii. 291, 359, 395, 409, 419-420, 456, 492,
            545, 561-566, 570, 572.

  Lucca, i. 77.

  Lucchesini, ii. 83-85, 87, 138.

  Lucerne, i. 180.

  Luddite riot, ii. 220.

  Lunéville, Treaty of, i. 263.

  Lützen, battle of, ii. 285, 287-289.

  Lützow, ii. 278, 318.

  Luxemburg, i. 141.

  Lycées, i. 295-297.

  Lyons, i. 16, 46, 48, 319.

  Lyons, Consulta of, i. 346-348.


  Macdonald, i. 260, 449, 469, 471; ii. 192, 195, 197,
    270, 288, 332, 335-336, 338-340, 357, 362, 381, 392,
    393-394, 408, 409, 418, 427, 428, 443, 454.

  Mack, ii. 14-16, 18-26, 365.

  Mackenzie, Mr., ii. 140.

  Madalena Isles, the, i. 38-39.

  Madras, i. 376.

  Mahrattas, the, i. 374, 377-378, 416; ii. 117.

  Maida, battle of, ii. 79-80.

  Maingaud, ii. 529.

  Maitland, Capt., ii. 486, 519, 520-524, 525, 526, 529-530.

  Maitland, Gen., ii. 506, 507.

  Malcolm, Sir Pulteney, ii. 550.

  Malet Conspiracy, the, ii. 265, 267.

  Mallet du Pan, i. 180.

  Malmaison, Napoleon at, ii. 515-518.

  Malmesbury, Lord, i. 166-167.

  Malo-Jaroslavitz, battle of, ii. 260.

  Malta, i. 168, 181, 217, 260-263, 307, 311-12, 314,
    333, 338-341, 351-353, 404, 406-408, 415-416, 419-425,
    430-431, 434; ii. 7-9, 17, 54, 62, 73, 225.

  Mamelukes, i. 188-191, 199, 412.

  Manin, i. 169.

  Mantua, i. 77, 79, 89, 90, 95, 100, 101, 102, 105-118,
    124, 130, 131, 136, 216, 259.


  Marbot, i. 254, 504; ii. 41, 192, 335, 364, 495, 496.

  Marchand (the valet), ii. 485, 572.

  Marchand, Gen., ii. 443, 528.

  Marengo, battle of, i. 254-260.

  Maret, i. 166-167, 278-279; ii. 235, 259, 265, 271,
    295, 370, 371, 391-392, 401, 411, 412, 446, 513.

  Marie Louise, ii. 206-207, 227, 370, 382, 388, 418,
    426, 431, 432-433, 436, 562-563.

  Marmont, i. 60, 61, 64, 76, 99, 114, 124, 126, 138,
    153, 215, 247, 257, 483, 484; ii. 18, 115, 192, 256,
    259, 292, 300, 332-333, 348-349, 351, 356, 357,
    358-359, 362, 364, 381, 383, 393-394, 404, 406,
    407-408, 418, 420-421, 423, 427, 429-430, 454.

  Marseilles, i. 35, 45, 49, 57, 182.

  Martinique, i. 311-312, 314, 333, 496-497.

  Masséna, i. 57, 82, 84, 85, 95, 102, 107, 110, 112,
    114, 117, 118, 122, 124, 134, 135, 138, 217, 243-244,
    250, 451, 469, 471; ii. 17, 26, 31, 61, 80, 192-193,
    195, 209, 304, 432, 454.

  Mauritius, ii. 436.

  Mediatization, ii. 77.

  Méhée de la Touche, i. 449-450, 453-455, 457.

  Melas, i. 244-245, 249-259.

  Melito, Miot de, i. 103, 130, 150, 187, 468; ii. 62, 451.

  Melzi, i. 150, 456; ii. 378.

  Memel, decrees of, ii. 178.

  Memmingen, ii. 14, 18, 23-24.

  Memphis, i. 195.

  Mercer, Capt., ii. 453, 457, 483, 501, 502.

  Merlin, i. 302.

  Merry, Mr., i. 337, 393, 406, 411-412.

  Menou, Gen., i. 70, 182, 189, 313.

  Merveldt, Gen., ii. 360-361, 375.

  Metternich, ii. 177, 200, 202-203, 206, 241, 253,
    271-272, 273, 281-283, 289-290, 314-316, 318-320, 323,
    325-327, 368, 370-371, 374-376, 386-389, 391, 400, 410,
    413, 417-418, 422, 426, 438-439, 446, 448, 537.

  Milan, i. 77, 79, 93, 96, 105, 107, 108, 143, 146, 151, 172.

  Milan decrees, ii. 157.

  Milhaud, Count, ii. 471, 481-482, 496, 500.

  Miller, Capt., i. 206.

  Millesimo, i. 85.

  Miloradovitch, ii. 287.

  Mina, ii. 301, 303.

  Mincio, i. 100, 101, 105, 107, 108, 109, 110.

  Minto, Earl, i. 423.

  Miquelon, i. 342.

  Mirabeau, i. 29.

  Missiessy, i. 490, 492; ii. 7.

  Möckern, battle of, ii. 359.

  Modena, i. 77, 118, 119, 145, 170, 264, 346.

  Modena, Duke of, i. 100.

  Mollien, i. 267; ii. 60, 88, 217, 269, 421, 445, 449, 484.

  Moltke, Von, i. 106.

  Moncey, i. 250, 469; ii. 421-422, 454.

  Mondovi, i. 87.

  Monge, i. 150, 182, 195, 215, 285, 484; ii. 569.

  Monroe, i. 369.

  Montagu, Admiral, i. 485.

  Montchenu, ii. 552, 553, 571.

  Montebello, Castle of, i. 148, 158, 252.

  Montechiaro, i. 107, 110.

  Montenotte, i. 79, 83, 84, 85.

  Montereau, battle of, ii. 397.

  Montesquieu, i. 25, 27, 42, 185.

  Montholon, ii. 513, 519-529, 535-537, 542, 544, 545,
    552, 553, 557, 560, 561, 564, 567, 570, 572.

  Montholon, Mme., ii. 530, 536, 542, 548.

  Montmirail, battle of, ii. 394.

  Morea, the, i. 410, 422, 488-489.

  Moreau, i. 63, 102, 105, 141, 219, 244-245, 449-452, 470-472;
            ii. 298, 335, 341, 345.

  Morfontaine, i. 264.

  Morillo, Gen., ii. 309.

  Mortier, i. 469; ii. 115, 117, 120, 345, 349, 394, 404, 406, 408,
            420-421, 422-423, 454.

  Moscow, burning of, ii. 256-257.

  Moulin, i. 220, 223-224.

  Mouton, i. 482; ii. 192. _See_ Lobau.

  Müffling, Gen. von, ii. 92, 241, 243, 294, 339, 456, 479, 489,
    496, 499.

  Muiron, i. 53, 124, 125; ii. 558.

  Murad, i. 188-191.

  Murat, i. 71, 76, 138, 182, 194, 213, 215, 225, 252,
    276, 422, 458, 460, 468-469; ii. 19, 21, 22, 24, 26,
    32, 40, 64, 83, 85, 97, 100, 112, 119, 122, 135,
    162-164, 166-168, 176, 187, 216, 252-256, 259, 260,
    265, 328, 331, 345-346, 348, 353, 355, 358, 362,
    369-370, 380, 438, 448, 449, 542, 545.

  Muscat, i. 378-379.


  Nablûs, i. 204.

  Nansouty, ii. 345.

  Naples, i. 128, 196, 216, 264, 308, 314, 433; ii. 30,
    59, 60, 61, 63, 115, 134.

  Napoleon, first abdication of, ii. 430.

  Narbonne, ii. 323-324.

  National Assembly, i. 27, 28, 29, 36.

  National Guard, i. 28-29, 34-35, 39, 62, 71.

  Nazareth, i. 207.

  Necker, i. 159.

  Neipperg, Count de, ii. 382, 433, 436.

  Nelson, i. 84, 187, 192-194, 196, 202, 206, 263, 310,
    313, 333, 434, 440, 453, 484, 488; ii. 573.

  Nepean, i. 451.

  Nesselrode, Count, ii. 371, 372, 424.

  Neufchâtel, ii. 44.

  Newfoundland, i. 175, 314, 342; ii. 538.

  Ney, i. 396, 438, 469-470, 487; ii. 18, 21, 24, 91, 96,
    97, 113, 120-122, 194, 211, 245, 252-256, 262-263, 287,
    289, 291-292, 322, 335, 350, 353, 354, 356, 359, 362,
    381, 404, 407, 408, 427, 428, 431, 444, 461-463, 466,
    467, 469, 472, 473-479, 482-483, 490, 498,
    500-505, 541, 542.

  Nisas, ii. 318.

  Nice, i. 48, 57, 60, 76, 78, 80, 87, 232, 243, 244-245, 312.

  Nile, battle of the, i. 192-194.

  Nivelle, battle of the, ii. 369.

  Nivôse, affair of, i. 303-306.

  Non-intercourse Act, ii. 156.

  Non-jurors, i. 28, 272.

  Norway, ii. 2, 238, 296-297, 380.

  Noverraz, ii. 567.

  Novi, i. 216, 219.

  Novossiltzoff, ii. 5, 7, 11.


  O'Connor, i. 510-512 (App.).  Odeleben, Col. von, ii. 288, 353,
    360.

  Oglio, i. 142.  O'Hara, i. 52, 54.

  Oldenburg, ii. 134-135.

  Oldenburg, annexation of, ii. 214, 234-236.

  Oldenburg, Duchy of, ii. 183, 206.

  Old Guard, ii. 471, 504-507.

  Olivenza, i. 311, 314.

  O'Meara, ii. 529-530, 534, 541, 544, 546, 551, 555,
    562, 565, 571, 572.

  Ompteda, ii. 55.

  Oporto, ii. 194.

  Orange, Prince of, ii. 467, 473.

  Ordener, Gen., i. 458.

  Orders in Council, ii. 105-107, 155-157, 222.

  "Organic" articles, i. 281.

  Orleans, New, i. 364, 368-369, 510 (App.).

  Orthez, battle of, ii. 414.

  Ossian, i. 185.

  Ostermann, ii. 347.

  Otto, i. 256, 310, 313, 314, 333, 341.

  Oubril, ii. 71-75, 81.

  Oudinot, i. 243; ii. 32, 38-39, 120, 124, 195, 231,
    250, 253, 263-264, 266, 292, 332-333, 337-338, 350,
    408, 409, 427, 431, 454.

  Ouvrard, ii. 60, 213.


  Pacthod, Gen., ii. 420.

  Pahlen, ii. 358.

  Pajol, ii. 358, 397, 480, 481.

  Palais Royal, the, i. 16.

  Palm, ii. 89, 184.

  Paoli, i. 5, 18, 29, 30, 31, 34, 35, 38-42, 59.

  Papal States, i. 78; ii. 154, 228.

  Paris, i. 13-16, 35-36, 44-47, 62, 64, 66, 172, 260.

  Paris, Treaties of (1814), ii. 436.

  Paris, Treaty of (1815), ii. 538.

  Parlements, i. 27, 268, 269.

  Parma, i. 78, 366-369, 389.

  Parma, Duke of, i. 100, 129, 264.

  Parthenopæan Republic, i. 216.

  Pasquier, i. 267; ii. 149, 279, 484, 514.

  Passeriano, i. 156, 169-170.

  Paterson, Miss, i. 414-415; ii. 154.

  Paul, Czar, i. 183, 217, 260-263, 310.

  Pavia, i. 92, 96, 98.

  Pelet, ii. 364.

  Peltier, i. 402.

  Peninsular War, ii. 171-173, 186-188, 194, 197-199,
    209-211, 300-313, 368-369.

  Perim, i. 262.

  Permoa, Madame, i. 64, 73.

  Perponcher, Gen., ii. 462.

  Perron, i. 364, 377.

  Persia, i. 262; ii. 9, 110.

  Persia, Shah of, ii. 117-118.

  Perthes, ii. 299.

  Peschiera, i. 101, 112, 113.

  Pétiet, ii. 485.

  Petit, Gen., ii. 433.

  Phélippeaux, i. 207-208.

  Phillip, Port, i. 380, 382.

  Phull, Gen. von, ii. 242-243, 248-250.

  Piacenza, i. 92, 93.

  Pichegru, i. 63, 158, 162, 451, 456-457, 463-464, 471.

  Picton, Gen., ii. 311, 473, 479, 490, 493, 497.

  Piedmont, i. 47, 64, 241, 245.

  Piombino, i. 264.

  Pirch I., ii. 460, 464, 467, 468, 489, 504, 505.

  Pirch II., ii. 459.

  Pitt, i. 54-56, 166-167, 243, 310, 414, 441, 452; ii.
    5, 7, 13, 14, 53, 55-58, 573.

  Pope Pius VI., i. 78, 102, 103, 120, 121, 137, 179,
    261.

  Pope Pius VII., i. 274-277, 280-281, 476-467, 480; ii.
    72, 88, 153-154, 191, 211, 227-228, 380.

  Pizzighetone, i. 93.

  Plague, the, i. 204, 209-212.

  Po, River, i. 79, 88, 92, 100.

  Poischwitz, Armistice of, ii. 296, 320.

  Poland, ii. 109-111, 131-132, 193, 201, 232-233, 236, 244-246, 272,
            273-274, 294, 330, 387-388, 437.

  Polignacs, i. 456, 458, 472.

  Pondicherry, i. 372.

  Poniatowski, ii. 252, 254, 284, 332, 362, 364.

  Pons (de l'Hérault), ii. 436.

  Ponsonby, ii. 490, 493, 497, 498.

  Portalis, i. 289.

  Portland, Duke of, ii. 116, 208.

  Porto Ferrajo, ii. 435, 441-442.

  Portugal, i. 216, 308, 311-312, 437-438; ii. 106, 145-153, 160, 170-171,
            209-210, 306.

  Potsdam, Treaty of, ii. 30, 44.

  Poussielgue, i. 178.

  Power-looms, ii. 220.

  Pozzo di Borgo, ii. 376, 424, 428, 439.

  _Praams_, i. 485-486.

  Pradt, Abbé de, ii. 246, 253, 258, 267, 424.

  Prague, Congress of, ii. 323-324, 326, 329, 435.

  Prefect, office of, i. 268, 269.

  Press, the, i. 319.

  Press, liberty of the, i. 239; ii. 211, 451.

  Pressburg, Treaty of, ii. 46-48.

  Priests, orthodox, i. 272, 273-277, 282.

  Provence, i. 32, 44, 244.

  Provence, Comte de, i. 54-55, 66, 143.

  Provera, i. 85, 131, 136.

  Prussia, i. 37, 64, 219, 263, 352, 422, 436; ii. 1,
    4-5, 9, 11, 20, 29-30, 34, 42-45, 48, 49, 51-55, 64-69,
    83-101, 110, 114-115, 126-127, 131-132, 134-137,
    177-178, 182, 193, 221, 226, 237-240, 241, 269-271,
    273-278, 280, 282, 316-317, 385-389, 402-403,
    423-424, 437, 448.


  Public works, i. 316-317.

  Puisaye Papers, i. 450, 452.

  Pyrenees, battle of the, ii. 368.

  Pyramids, battle of the, i. 190-191.



  Quatre Bras, battle of, ii. 473-475, 509.

  Quosdanovich, i. 107, 109, 110, 114, 115, 116.



  Rapp, ii. 41, 454.

  Rastadt, Congress of, i. 170, 176.

  Ratisbon, battle of, ii. 191.

  Raynal, M., i. 34.

  Réal, i. 222, 302, 449, 458, 460, 462-463.

  Rebecque, Constant de, ii. 462.

  Reding, i. 392-394.

  Red Sea, i. 181, 200.

  Reggio, i. 118.

  Regnier, i. 449, 454.

  Reiche, Gen., ii. 460, 468, 476, 505.

  Reichenbach, Treaty of, ii. 317.

  Reille, Gen., ii. 309-311, 454, 462, 473, 490, 494, 495, 505.

  Religion, Napoleon's, i. 19-21.

  Rémusat, Madame de, i. 329-330, 459.

  Revolution, French, i. 465-466.

  Rewbell, i. 74, 158, 181, 219, 451.

  Reynier, i. 182, 191; ii. 79-80, 332-333, 337-338, 354, 356, 360,
    362, 364.

  Richter, Jean Paul, ii. 177.

  Rivière, Marquis de, i. 456, 458.

  Rivoli, battle of, i. 131-136.

  Robespierre, i. 57, 59, 60, 62, 63, 70, 82, 174.

  Robespierre, the younger, i. 57, 58, 59, 60.

  Roederer, i. 222, 233-234, 304-305, 308, 399, 473; ii. 375.

  Rohan, Charlotte de, i. 457.

  Roland, Mme., i. 46.

  Roll, Baron de, i. 450.

  Roman Catholic Church, i. 271.

  Romantzoff, ii. 144, 180, 269, 274.

  Rome, i. 100, 129, 179, 275-277.

  Rome, King of, ii. 227, 382, 421.

  Romilly, i. 294, 318.

  Rose, George, ii. 56.

  Rosetta, i. 189.

  Rossbach, battle of, ii. 282.

  Rousseau, i. 17-21, 25, 26-27, 42-43.

  Rüchel, Gen., ii. 91-92, 94, 97.

  Rue St. Honoré, i. 72.

  Rumbold, Sir George, ii. 4.

  Russell, Lord John, ii. 440.

  Russia, i. 183, 216, 243, 260-263, 315, 333, 339-340,
    352, 387, 422, 425, 430-432, 458, 500, 511 (App.); ii.
    1, 4-13, 29-30, 47-48, 54, 86, 87, 90, 110, 114-115,
    130-132, 134-137, 185, 221, 223, 233, 269, 270-272,
    273, 275-276, 282, 317, 385-389, 402-403, 448.




  Saalfeld, battle of, ii. 93.

  Sacken, Gen., ii. 339, 364, 393-394.

  St. Aignan, Baron, ii. 370, 374.

  St. Cloud, i. 223-227, 225.

  St. Cyr, i. 469; ii. 17, 61-62, 253, 332-334, 337,
    340-349, 353, 360, 408, 454.


  St. Domingo, i. 312, 358-364, 368, 440, 490, 509 (App.); ii. 81.

  St. Gotthard, i. 245-250.


  St. Helena, ii. 439, 539-574.

  St, Ildefonso, Convention of, i. 366.

  St. John, Knights of. _See_ Malta.

  St. Just, i. 59, 174.

  St. Lucia, i. 439; ii. 436.

  St. Marsan, ii. 241, 270, 276.

  St. Pierre, i. 342.

  Salamanca, battle of, ii. 256, 300.

  Salicetti, i. 39-40, 47, 49, 57, 60, 104, 121, 147, 148; ii. 10.

  Salo, i. 110.

  Salvatori, i. 144.

  Salzburg, i. 129, 170; ii. 46, 54, 201.

  Saragossa, ii. 170, 177.

  Sardinia, i. 38-39, 54-57, 78, 83, 85, 86, 87, 89, 90,
    167-168, 216, 241, 245, 261, 312, 388, 430; ii. 6,
    8, 30, 115.


  Sarzana, i. 2, 3.

  Savary, i. 200, 258, 456, 458, 460-463; ii. 35, 41, 96, 144, 165,
    170-171, 298, 313, 334, 380, 415, 426, 446, 516, 519, 528, 529.

  Savona, i. 79, 80, 82, 83, 84, 243, 259.

  Savoy, i. 37, 78, 89, 244-245.

  Savoy, House of, i. 87, 90, 338, 344, 388.

  Saxony, i. 64; ii. 84, 88, 91, 93, 108, 134-135, 194, 207, 275,
    284-285, 289, 295, 355, 366, 385, 387-388, 411, 437.

  Scharnhorst, ii. 92, 178, 237, 242, 250, 280, 286.

  Schérer, i. 61, 75.

  Schill, ii. 193.

  Schiller, ii. 184.

  Schleiermacher, ii. 286.

  Schönbrunn, Treaty of, ii. 43-45, 201.

  Schwarzenberg, Prince, ii. 24, 281-282, 321, 335-336,
    341-346, 351, 354, 356, 366, 368, 373, 381, 383, 384,
    386-389, 396, 402, 404-405, 408-409, 413-414, 417, 418,
    423-424, 429, 456.

  Scindiah, i. 374, 377-378.

  Sebastiani, Gen., i. 411-413; ii. 339.

  Sebottendorf, i. 94.

  Secularizations, i. 387-388; ii. 52.

  Ségur, Count, ii. 37, 245, 252, 485.

  Ségur, Mme. de, i. 479.

  Sénarmont, ii. 123.

  Senate, i. 230-232, 287, 305-306, 320, 321-325, 466-468, 475; ii.
    377, 425, 444.

  _Senatus Consultum_, i. 306, 322, 324-325, 468.

  Senegal, i. 358.

  Sérurier, i. 87, 108, 114, 469.

  Servan, i. 36.

  Sicily, i. 77; ii. 72-74, 79-83, 85, 88, 135, 176, 213.

  Sièyes, i. 219-226, 228-233, 451, 467; ii. 526.

  Silesia, ii. 282, 284, 291, 294.

  Silesia, army of, ii. 332, 338-340, 381, 395.

  Silk industry, ii. 224.

  Simmons, Major, ii. 307, 494.

  Simplon, i. 245, 246, 316.

  Sinai, Mount, i. 200.

  Slavery, in French colonies, i. 360-363.

  Smith, Sir Sidney, i. 202, 204-215; ii. 80.

  Smolensk, ii. 251-252.

  Smorgoni, ii. 265.

  Socotra, i. 262.

  Soissons, surrender of, ii. 405-406.

  Sommepuis, council at, ii. 419.

  Somosierra, battle of, ii. 186.

  Souham, Gen., ii. 287, 339.

  Soult, i. 243, 469-470; ii. 18, 21, 38-41, 91, 96, 97,
    100, 122, 126, 180, 194, 198, 209, 256, 300-301,
    304-306, 312-313, 325, 368, 379, 384, 408, 414, 432,
    455, 469, 472, 479, 490, 501, 509.


  "Souper de Beaucaire, Le," i. 45-46.

   Spain, i. 46-47, 54-56, 64, 129, 166, 178, 214, 264,
    265, 294, 308, 311-312, 314-315, 334, 352, 364-370,
    422, 437-438, 493-496; ii. 69, 74, 106, 146, 149-151,
    153, 176, 177, 181-182, 186-187, 209-211, 215, 300,
    361, 368, 379, 403.

  Spina, Monseigneur, i. 274-276.

  Stadion, Count, ii. 197, 202, 289, 315, 326, 410.


  Staël, Madame de, i. 73, 163-164, 180, 217, 298.

  Stapfer, i. 391-395, 400.

  Staps, ii. 200.

  Steffens, ii. 274-275, 276.

  Stein, ii. 130, 177, 190, 237, 273-274, 276-277, 373, 387.

  Stewart, Sir Charles, ii. 358, 366, 390, 410, 423, 437.

  Stockholm, Treaty of, ii. 297.

  Stokoe, Dr., ii. 565.

  Stradella, i. 252.

  Stralsund, battle at, ii. 193.

  Strangford, Viscount, ii. 146-148, 152.

  Stuart, Sir John, i. 412; ii. 79-80.

  Stürmer, ii. 565.

  Subervie, Gen., ii. 496, 502.

  Suchet, Marshal, i. 243-244, 250-257, 469;
    ii. 300-301, 305-306, 313, 379-380, 408, 414, 415, 455.

  Suez, i. 181, 194, 197, 199.

  Sugar, price of, ii. 218.

  Suvoroff, i. 216.

  Swabia, i. 244, 246; ii. 45-48.

  Sweden, i. 263; ii. 1-2, 5-6, 13, 114,
    136, 140-141, 143-144, 208, 223,
    237-239, 296-298, 322, 380.

  Swiss Guards, the, i. 36.

  Switzerland, i. 64, 179, 243, 244, 265, 294, 308, 334,
    336, 377, 389-400, 403, 405, 416, 420;
    ii. 1, 6, 8, 103, 215, 381, 403.

  Sydney, i. 379-382.

  Syria, i. 201-215; ii. 229.


  Tabor, Mount, i. 207.

  Talavera, battle of, ii. 198-199.

  Talleyrand, i. 150, 163-166, 168, 175, 177, 222, 234,
    278, 294, 304, 306, 337, 341-343, 357, 361, 365-371,
    395, 417, 423-426, 432, 458, 459, 463, 468, 500; ii.
    18, 35, 44, 46, 47-49, 63, 66-67, 70-72, 79, 82-84, 87,
    127, 141, 146, 149, 166, 180-182, 187, 205, 368, 415,
    424-426, 437, 439-440, 446-447.


  Tallien, i. 156, 451.

  Tallien, Madame, i. 73, 155, 443.

  Tauenzien, ii. 350.

  Terror, the, i. 58, 59, 62, 68, 267.

  Tettenborn, ii. 280.

  Théo-philanthropie, i. 179, 272, 273-277.

  Thibaudeau, i. 290, 305, 467.

  Thiébault, i. 71, 111; ii. 37, 39, 40, 416, 484.

  Thielmann, Gen., ii. 460, 467, 468, 471, 477, 482, 489.

  Thornton, Mr., ii. 318, 321-322, 352.

  Thugut, i. 142.

  Ticino, i, 92.

  Tilsit, ii. 123, 126-128.

  Tilsit, Treaty of, ii. 134-137, 145, 155.

  Tippoo Sahib, i. 200, 373.

  Tobago, i. 311-312, 314, 333, 341, 439; ii. 390, 436.

  Tolentino, i. 137.

  Toll, ii. 335, 340, 341, 419.

  Tomkinson, Col., ii. 307, 493.

  Tormassov, ii. 244.

  Torres Vedras, ii. 209.

  Tortona, i. 88, 252.

  Toulon, i. 39, 40, 44, 46-56, 70, 80, 180-182.

  Toussaint l'Ouverture, i. 359-362, 367.

  Trachenberg, compact of, ii. 321-323, 332.

  Trafalgar, battle of, ii. 26-28.

  Trèves, i. 141.

  Trianon Decree, the, ii. 214, 216.

  Tribunate, i. 230, 238, 270, 286-287, 305, 319-324, 467.

  Trieste, i. 121; ii. 201.

  Trinidad, i. 166, 311-312, 314-315, 333, 343, 495; ii. 150.

  Tronchet, i. 289, 321.

  Tugendbund, ii. 184, 237.

  Tuileries, i. 71, 162.

  Turin, i. 79, 85, 87, 89, 250.

  Turkey, i. 65, 183, 188, 201, 216,
    261, 343, 389, 408-410, 420, 428, 431-432;
    ii. 44, 72-73, 108, 110,
    114, 130-131, 135-137, 175-176,
    181, 182, 207, 208, 236, 238, 272.

  Tuscany, i. 64, 103, 129, 263, 264, 312, 366-369.

  Tyrol, i. 101; ii. 45-48, 193.

  Tyrolese, ii. 189, 201.


  Ulm, ii. 14-16, 18-20.

  United States, i. 264, 365-372, 509-510 (App.);
    ii. 156, 212-213, 221, 269.

  Uxbridge, Lord, ii. 483.


  Valais, i. 392; ii. 214.

  Valeggio, i. 101.

  Valençay, Treaty of, ii. 379.

  Valence, i. 14-16, 18.

  Valenza, i. 88, 89, 92.

  Valetta, i. 110.

  Valteline, i. 152.

  Valutino, battle of, ii. 253.

  Vandamme, ii. 39-40, 41, 296, 332-333,
    342, 344, 346-349, 408, 454, 460, 463, 469, 470.

  Vandeleur, ii. 498, 504, 508.

  Van Diemen's Land, i. 379-382.

  Vaubois, i. 122, 127.

  Vauchamps, battle of, ii. 394.

  Vaud, i. 180, 397.

  Vendée, La, i. 47, 61, 64, 65; ii. 268, 449.

  Vendémiaire, the affair of, i. 68-73.

  Vendetta, i. 3, 4.

  Venetia, ii. 45-48, 438.

  Venice, i. 101, 142, 168-172.

  Verdier, i. 111, 115; ii. 120.

  Verling, Dr., ii. 565.

  Verona, i. 122, 124, 144, 145.

  Viasma, battle of, ii. 260.

  Vicenza, i. 126.

  Victor, Gen., i. 52, 138, 369;
    ii. 120-122, 198, 254, 264, 266, 332, 345,
    362, 381, 396, 397, 404, 407, 408, 431, 454.

  Victor Amadeus III., i. 78.

  Vienna, Congress of, ii. 437-439, 453.

  Villeneuve, i. 490-493, 495-503, 506; ii. 12, 26-27.

  Vimiero, battle of, ii. 172.

  Vincent, Baron, ii. 181.

  Visconti, i. 151.

  Vitrolles, Count de; ii. 413, 419.

  Vittoria, battle of, ii. 308-313.

  Vivian, Sir Hussey, ii. 457, 482, 491, 508.

  Volney, i. 75, 182, 206, 484.

  Voltaire, i. 21, 25-27; ii. 179, 567.

  Voltri, i. 82, 83.

  Voss, Countess von, ii. 132-133.


  Wagram, battle of, ii. 195-197.

  Walcheren, expedition of, ii. 200.

  Walewska, Countess of, ii. 111, 436.

  Walmoden, Gen., ii. 352.

  Walpole, Lord, ii. 272, 283.

  Warden, Surgeon, ii. 534.

  Warren, Admiral, i. 406, 410, 423; ii. 81.

  Warsaw, Duchy of, ii. 134, 411.

  Waterloo, the position at, ii. 490-492.

  Wavre, movement on, ii. 488.

  Wellesley, Marquis, i. 373, 377-379, 440.

  Wellesley, Sir Arthur. _See_ Wellington.

  Wellington, i. 332; ii. 143, 171-172,
    194-197, 209, 229, 256, 299, 301-304
    306, 364, 368, 378-379, 414-415,
    418, 429, 437, 439, 446, 456,
    460, 464, 473-475, 481, 489, 499,
    501, 504, 506-511, 516, 537-538, 548, 573.

  Wertingen, ii. 21.

  Wessenberg, Count, ii. 283, 417.

  West Indies, i. 490-492, 496-499; ii. 229, 390.

  West Indies, French, ii. 56.

  Westphalia, ii. 134, 194.

  Weyrother, ii. 36.

  Whigs, the, i. 22, 167, 427, 452, 494;
    ii. 209, 447, 457, 527, 559.

  Whitbread, Mr., M.P., ii. 447.

  Whitworth, Lord, i. 403-404, 415-416, 418-425.

  Wieland, ii. 183-184.

  Wilks, Governor, 539, 545, 546, 547.

  Wilson, Sir R., ii. 258, 262.

  Windham, i. 452.

  Winzingerode, ii. 401, 405-406.

  Wittgenstein, ii. 250, 254, 287-288, 294, 335, 341, 345.

  Wrede, ii. 419.

  Wright, Capt, i. 451-452, 456.

  Würmser, i. 105-107, 110-117, 127, 136.


  Würtemberg, ii. 46, 59-60.

  Würzburg, ii. 46.



  Yarmouth, Lord, ii. 72, 79, 81-83, 85.

  Yorck, Gen., ii. 270, 339, 358-359, 392, 393-394, 407.

  York, Duke of, i. 217, 261.

  Yorke, i. 450.

  Young Guard, ii. 503.



  Zach, i. 257.

  Ziethen, Gen., ii. 460, 461, 463, 464, 505, 508.

  Znaim, Armistice of, ii. 197.

  Zürich, battle of, i. 180, 217.

       *       *       *       *       *


CHISWICK PRESS: PRINTED BY CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO.

TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.






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