IB © M A A A )& A

329 & 331 PEARL STREET,
FRANKLIN SQUARE.
1855.

THE

HISTORY

OF

NAPOLEOI BONAPARTE.

BY

JOHN S. C. ABBOTT.
" La verite, rien que la verite."
" Magna est Veritas et prevalebit."

fBrfy Map ml Mminimm.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.

NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
329 & 331 PEARL STREET,
FRANKLIN SQUARE.
1855.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight
hundred and fifty-five, by
HARPER & BROTHERS,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of
New York.

f)o(,1 A54,

PREFACE.

The history of Napoleon has often been written by his enemies. This
narrative is from the pen of one who reveres and loves the Emperor. The
writer admires Napoleon because he abhorred war, and did every thing in
his power to avert that dire calamity ; because he merited the sovereignty
to which the suffrages of a grateful nation elevated him ; because he conse
crated the most extraordinary energies ever conferred upon a mortal to pro
mote the prosperity of his country ; because he was regardless of luxury, and
cheerfully endured all toil and all hardships that he might elevate and bless
the masses of mankind ; because he had a high sense of honor, revered re
ligion, respected the rights of conscience, and nobly advocated equality of
privileges and the universal brotherhood of man. Such was the true char
acter of Napoleon Bonaparte. The narrative contained in these pages is
offered as a demonstration of the truth of this assertion.
The world has been bewildered by the contradictory views which have
been presented of Napoleon. Hostile historians have stigmatized him as a
usurper, while admitting that the suffrages of the nation placed him on the
throne ; they have denounced him a tyrant inexorable as Nero, while admit
ting that he won the adoring love of his subjects ; he is called a bloodthirsty
monster, delighting in war, yet it is confessed that he was, in almost every
conflict, struggling in self-defense and imploring peace ; it is said that his
insatiable ambition led him to trample remorselessly upon the rights of other
nations, while it is confessed that Europe was astonished by his moderation
and generosity in every treaty which he made with his vanquished foes ; he
is described as a human butcher, reckless of suffering, who regarded his sol
diers merely as food for powder, and yet, on the same page, we are told that
he wept over the carnage of the battle-field, tenderly pressed the hand of
the dying, and won from those soldiers who laid down their lives in his serv
ice a fervor of love which earth has never seen paralleled; it is recorded that
France at last became weary of him and drove him from the throne, and in
the next paragraph we are informed that, as soon as the bayonets of the
Allies had disappeared from France, the whole nation rose to call him back
from his exile, with unanimity so unprecedented, that without the shedding
of one drop of blood he traversed the whole of France, entered Paris, and
reascended the throne ; it is affirmed that a second time France, weary of
his despotism, expelled him, and yet it is at the same time recorded that

iv PREFACE.
this same France demanded of his executioners his beloved remains, re
ceived them with national enthusiasm, consigned them to a tomb in the very
bosom of its capital, and has reared over them such a mausoleum as honors
the grave of no other mortal. Such is Napoleon as described by his enemies.
The judgment which the reader will form of the Emperor will depend
upon the answer he gives to the three following questions :
1. Did Napoleon usurp the sovereignty of France ?
2. Having attained the supreme power, was he a tyrant, devoting that
power to the promotion of his own selfish aggrandizement ?
3. Were the wars in which he was incessantly engaged provoked by his
arrogance ?
These are the questions to be settled ; and documentary evidence is so
strong upon these points, that even the blindest prejudice must struggle with
desperation to resist the truth. The reason is obvious why the character
of Napoleon should have been maligned. He was regarded justly as the
foe of aristocratic privilege. The English oligarchy was determined to crush
him. After deluging Europe in blood and woe, during nearly a quarter of
a century, for the accomplishment of this end, it became necessary to prove
to the world, and especially to the British people, who were tottering beneath
the burden of taxes which these wars engendered, that Napoleon was a ty
rant, threatening the liberties of the world, and that he deserved to be crush
ed. All the Allies who were accomplices in this iniquitous crusade were
alike interested in consigning to the world's execration the name of their
victim ; and even in France, the reinstated Bourbons, sustained upon the
throne by the bayonets of the Allies, silenced every voice which would speak
in favor of the monarch of the people, and rewarded with smiles, and opu
lence, and honor, all who would pour contempt upon his name. Thus we
have the unprecedented spectacle of all the monarchies of Europe most
deeply interested in calumniating one single man, and that man deprived
of the possibility of reply. The writer surely does not expect that he can
thus speak in behalf of the Emperor and not draw upon himself the most
vehement assaults. Claiming the privilege of expressing his own views
freely, he cheerfully grants that privilege to others. It is even pleasant to
share the reproach of one who is unjustly assailed.
It would, indeed, be a bitter disappointment to the author of this work
should it not prove to be a powerful advocate of the cause of p«ace. It is
impossible to frame a more impressive argument against the folly of war
than the details of the crimes and woes of these awful wars waged by the
Allies against the independence of France. All who engaged in them alike
suffered. Multitudes which can not be numbered perished in every form
of mutilation and agony upon the field of battle. From millions of homes
a wail of anguish was extorted from the hearts of widows and orphans louder
than the thunders of Marengo or of Waterloo. All Europe was impoverish-

PREFACE. v
ed. Brutal armies swept, like demons of destruction, over meadows and
hill sides, trampling the harvest of the husbandman, burning villages, bom
barding cities, and throwing shot and shells into thronged streets, into gal
leries of art, and into nurseries where mothers, and maidens, and infants
cowered in an agony of terror.
War is the science of destruction. Millions were absolutely beggared.
Every nation was, in turn, humiliated and weakened. England, the soul
of this conflict, the unrelenting inciter of these wars, protected by her navy
and by her insular position, succeeded, by the aid of enormous bribes, in in
ducing other nations to attack France in the rear, and thus to draw the
armies of the Emperor from the shores of Britain. Thus the hour of her
punishment was postponed. But the day of retribution is at hand. England
now groans beneath the burden of four thousand million dollars of debt.
This weighs upon her children with a crushing pressure which is daily be
coming more insupportable.
The plan of this book is very simple. It is a plain narrative of what Na
poleon did, with the explanations which he gave of his conduct, and with
the record of such well-authenticated anecdotes and remarkable sayings as
illustrate his character. The writer believes that every incident here re
corded, and every remark attributed to Napoleon, are well authenticated.
He is not aware of any well-established incident or remark which would
cast a different shade upon his character that has been omitted. The his
torian is peculiarly liable to the charge of plagiarism. He can only record
facts and describe scenes which he gleans from public documents and from
the descriptions of others. There is no fact, incident, or conversation nar
rated in these pages which may not be found elsewhere ; and it is impossi
ble to narrate events already penned by the ablest writers, and to avoid all
similarity of expression.
The writer can not conclude this Preface without expressing his obliga
tions to Mr. C. E. Doepler, for the beautiful series of illustrations which ac
company the work, and also to Mr. Jacob Wells for the maps which he has
so accurately constructed.
It has been the endeavor of the author, during the progress of the work,
not to write one line which, dying, he would wish to blot. In that solemn
hour it will be a solace to him to reflect that he has done what he could to
rescue one of the greatest and noblest of names from unmerited obloquy.
John S. C. Abbott.
Brunswick, Maine, 1854.

CONTENTS TO VOL. I

CHAPTER I.
CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH.
Corsica — Charles Bonaparte — Family Home — Birth of Napoleon — Death of his Father — Napo
leon's Estimate of Maternal Influence — Country Residence — Napoleon's Grotto — His Disposi
tion — His Mother's Dignity — Her Character drawn by Napoleon — Anecdote — Count Marbceuf
— Giacominetta — Napoleon enters the School at Brienne — Early Espousal of Republican Prin
ciples — Love of severe Study — Contempt for Novel Reading — Religious Education — Snow
Fortification — The disobedient General — Intimacy of Paoli and Napoleon — The Writing-master
— Love of Retirement — Appointment in the Army — Mademoiselle de Colombier — Kindness of a
Genoese Lady and its Requital — Avowal of Republican Sentiments — Anecdote — Serious Em
barrassment — Soiree at M. Neckar's — Napoleon's Reply to the Bishop of Autun — Its Effect —
Visit to Corsica — The Water Excursion  Page 17
CHAPTER II.
DAWNING GREATNESS.
Salicetti — Magnanimous Revenge — Attack upon the Tuileries — Key to the Character of Napleon
— Foundation of the American Republic — Anecdotes — Interview between Paoli and Napoleon —
Napoleon taken Prisoner — Paoli and Madame Letitia — Embarkation of the Bonaparte Family —
The English conquer Corsica — Love of Napoleon for his Island Home — Surrender of Toulon
to England — The French besiege Toulon — Napoleon's Plan for its Capture — his indomitable
Energy — Regardlessness of himself — The Volunteers — Junot — Assault and Capture of Little
Gibraltar — Evacuation of Toulon — Lawlessness of the Soldiers — Inhuman Execution — Anec
dote  41
CHAPTER III.
THE AUSTRIANS REPULSED, AND THE INSURRECTION QUELLED.
Ceaseless Activity of Napoleon — Promotion — Departure for Nice — Attack upon the Austrians —
Arrest of Napoleon and Deprival of his Commission — Temptation and Relief — Defeat of the
Army of Italy — Studious Character of Bonaparte — His Kindness of Heart — Infidelity in France
—New Constitution — Terror of the Convention — Napoleon is presented to the Convention —
Preparations — Results — New Government — ¦ Napoleon's Attention to his Mother — Pithy
Speech  58
CHAPTER IV.
FIRST CAMPAIGN IN ITALY.  PIEDMONT.
Napoleon's Appearance and Character — His Benevolence — Josephine Beauharnais — Eugene —
Marriage of Napoleon and Josephine — Napoleon takes Command of the Army of Italy — Depart
ure from Paris — Feeling in England — State of the Army at Nice — Ascendency of Napoleon over
his Generals and Soldiers — Influence of Letitia — Napoleon's Designs — His Proclamation — Toils
and Sufferings of the Army — Efforts to win the Friendship of the Italians — Battle at Cera —
Haughty Treatment of the Sardinian Commissioners — Proclamations  71
CHAPTER V.
PURSUIT OF THE AUSTRIANS.
Strong Temptation of Napoleon — His Wishes for Italy — Sensation in Paris — Remembrance of
Josephine — Conditions with the Duke of Parma — Napoleon outgenerals Beaulieu — The Bridge
of Lodi — Its terrible Passage — Entrance into Milan — Support of the Army — The Courier — Let
ter to Oriani — Appointment of Kellerman — Insurrection at Milan — Banasco — Pavia — The Vene
tian Bribe — Lofty Ambition — Origin of the Imperial Guard — Terms with the Pope  88

viii CONTENTS.

CHAPTER VI.
SIEGE OF MANTUA.

Mantua— Trent— Raising the Siege of Mantua— Lonato— Castiglione— Letter to the People of
Lombardy— The Austrian Flag of Truce— The faithful Sentinel— Movements of Wurmser—
Battle of St George — Anecdotes — Love of the Soldiers for their General — Influence of En
gland — New Austrian Army collected — Appeal to the Directory — Herculean Labors — Cispadane
Republic — Napoleon's attachment to Corsica  Page 109
CHAPTER VII.
THE CAPTURE OF MANTUA.
Napoleon at Verona — Rebuke of Vaubois' Division — The intercepted Messenger — The Storm of
the Elements and of War — The Retreat — Battle of Areola — Devotion of Napoleon's Generals —
Letter to the Widow of Muiron — The Miniature — Message to the Pope — Madame De Stael —
Napoleon's Frugality — Threat of Alvinzi, and Retort of Napoleon — Rivoli — The Capitulation —
Napoleon's Delicacy toward Wurmser — The Papal States humbled — The Image at Loretto —
Prince Pignatelli — Terror of Pius VI. — Singular Moderation of the Conqueror  125
CHAPTER VIII.
THE MARCH UPON VIENNA.
Humane Advice to Venice — Honor to Virgil — Proclamation — Prince Charles — Tagliamento —
Stratagem — Enthusiasm of the Soldiers — Battle of Tarwis — Retreat of the Archduke. — Refusal
of Napoleon's Overtures for Peace — Consternation in Vienna — Negotiations for Peace — Re
volt of Venice — Venetian Envoys — Napoleon Conqueror of Italy— Valteline — Power of Napo
leon  145
CHAPTER IX.
THE COURT OF MILAN.
Napoleon's tireless Activity — Conference at Campo Formio — The Court of Milan — Happiness of
Josephine — Temptations — Jealousy of the Directory — Proclamation — Appearance of the young
General — Rastadt — Advice to his Troops — Arrival at Paris — Quiet private Life — Delivery of the
Treaty — Reply to the Institute — England pertinaciously refuses Peace — Abuse of Napoleon by
the English Press — Uneasiness of the Directory in view of the Popularity of Napoleon. . . . 158
CHAPTER X.
THE EXPEDITION TO EGYPT.
Dreams of Napoleon's Boyhood — Decision respecting England— Egypt — Napoleon's Plea  His
grand Preparations— Proclamation to his Soldiers — Advice to the Commissioners at Toulon 
Embarkation— Napoleon's Power of Fascination— Surrender of Malta— Preparations for meeting
Nelson's Squadron — Disembarkation at Alexandria — Proclamation to the Soldiers  173
CHAPTER XI.
THE MARCH TO CAIRO.
Sentiments of the Turks toward Napoleon— Proclamation to the Egyptians— Napoleon's Views ot
Religion— Labors in Alexandria— Order to Brueys— March across the Desert— Mameluke Horse
men—Joy of the Army on seeing the Nile— Repulse of the Mamelukes— Arab Sheik— Cairo-
Charge of Mourad Bey— Entrance into Cairo— Love of the Egyptians— Battle of the Nile-
Touching Letter to Madame Brueys  , fifi
CHAPTER XII.
THE SYRIAN EXPEDITION.
Government of Desaix-Excursion to the Red Sea-Combination against Napoleon-Insurrection
,n Cairo-The Dromedary Regiment-Terrible Safferings-El Arish-Dilemma-Joy of the Sol
diers at Rain-Jaffa-Council of War-Statement of Bourrieune-March upon Acre-Letter to
Achmet-Plague— Charge upon the Band of Kleber— Arrival of Napoleon— Tempting Offer of
Sir Sydney Smith— The Bomb-shell  . . . 204

CONTENTS. ix
CHAPTER XIII.
THE SIEGE ABANDONED.
Terrible Butchery— Bitter Disappointment— Napoleon's Magnanimity to his Foes— Hostility
against Dueling — Proclamation — The French retire from Acre — Humanity of Napoleon to the
Sick — Baron Larrey — Indignation of Napoleon— He arrives at Cairo — The Arab Courier-
Land Victory at Aboukir — Bonaparte determines on returning to France  Page 223
CHAPTER XIV.
THE RETURN FROM EGYPT.
Political State of France— Napoleon's Estimate of Men— Peril of the Voyage— Napoleon's Devo
tion to Study— Answer to the Atheists— Testimony to the Religion of Jesus Christ— Arrival
at Corsica— Landing at Frejus— Sensation at Paris on receiving the News— Enthusiasm of the
Populace — Anguish of Josephine — Enthusiastic Reception of Napoleon by the Parisians — In
terview between Napoleon and Josephine  238
CHAPTER XV.
THE OVERTHROW OF THE DIRECTORY.
Political Intrigues— Efforts for the Overthrow of the Directory— Affectionate Remembrance of Jo
sephine— Success of Napoleon's Plans— Bonaparte in the Hall of Ancients— His Calmness in
the Council of Five Hundred— His Humanity— Delicate Attention to Josephine— Alison's Trib
ute to Napoleon  258
CHAPTER XVI.
THE CONSULAR THRONE.
Causes of the Failure of Republicanism in France — Meeting of the three Consuls — The Consuls
and the Gold — Napoleon visits the Temple — Recalls the banished Priests — The shipwrecked
Emigrants — Liberty of Conscience — Constitution presented by Napoleon — Removal to the Tuil
eries — Selection of state Officers — Sympathy with the People — Emptiness of Bonaparte's pri
vate Purse — Thoughts on Washington and the United States — Vast Plans of Improvement —
War in La Vendee  272
CHAPTER XVII.
PACIFIC OVERTURES OF NAPOLEON.
Letter of Napoleon to the King of England — Lord Grenville's Reply — Dignified Answer through
Talleyrand — Irritating Response of Lord Grenville — Desires of the French respecting their Gov
ernment — Remarks of Mr. Fox in the British Parliaments — Reply of William Pitt — Letter to the
Emperor of Austria — Renewed Endeavors of the Allies to conquer Napoleon  291
CHAPTER XVIII.
COURT OF THE FIRST CONSUL.
Letter of Louis XVIII. to Napoleon— His Reply — The Duchess of Guiche— Conversation of Na
poleon and Bourrienne — Memorable Words of the First Consul— M. Defeu — The wealthy Noble
man — Magnanimous Conduct of the First Consul — A Day at the Tuileries — Napoleon's prompt
Measures for the Purity of his Court  299
CHAPTER XIX.
CROSSING THE ALPS.
Renewed Attacks by England and Austria — Proclamation — Generosity to Moreau — Napoleon's
Plans for himself — English Caricatures — Pass of the Great St. Bernard — Grand Preparations —
Enthusiastic Toil of the Soldiers — The young Peasant  310
CHAPTER XX.
MARENGO.
The Fort of Bard — Consternation of Melas — Solicitude of Napoleon — Proclamation — Desaix—
Montebello — Arrival of Desaix — Terrific Battle — Death of Desaix— Consequences of War —

x CONTENTS.
Instinctive outburst of Emotion— Letter to the Emperor of Austria — Terms of Capitulation —
Napoleon enters Milan — Enthusiastic Reception in Paris  Page 320
CHAPTER XXI.
HOHENLINDEN.
Duplicity of Austria — Obstinacy of England — Responsibility of Pitt — Battle of Hohenlinden —
Treaty of Luneville — Testimony of Scott and Alison — Universality of Napoleon's Genius — Let
ter of General Durosel — The infernal Machine — Josephine's Letter — Absurd Reports — Madame
Junot — Hortense  333
CHAPTER XXII.
PEACE WITH ENGLAND.
Treaty with the United States — Election of Pope — The Queen of Naples — Coronation of the King
and Queen of Etruria — Madame de Montesson — Right of Search — Heroism of Nelson — Death
of the Emperor Paul — Succors for Egypt — Condition of England — Determination of Napoleon —
Uneasiness in England — The Sailor's Mistake — Cornwallis — Terms of Peace — Napoleon's At
tachment to Fox  348
CHAPTER XXIII.
NATIONAL REFORMS.
General Exultation — Lord Cornwallis — Mr. Fox — Deputies from Switzerland — Intellectual Su
premacy of Napoleon — Address to the Swiss Deputies — The English in Paris — Dissatisfaction
of the English Aristocracy — Joy of the People — Napoleon's Defense of Christianity — Testimony
of the Encyclopaedia Americana and of Mr. Fox — The Tones of the Church Bell — The New
Pope — Religious Library of Napoleon — Re-establishment of Christianity — Noble Proclamation —
Religious Fete — Triumphal Monument proposed — Testimony of Lady Morgan — Moral Reforms
— Testimony of Ingersoll  363
CHAPTER XXIV.
'FIRST CONSUL FOR LIFE.
Peace in France — Trials of Josephine — State of Morals — Josephine's Plans for Hortense  Louis
Bonaparte — Italian Republic — Congress at Lyons — Incessant Activity of Napoleon  Solicitude
of England — Schools — Origin of the Decoration of the Legion of Honor — Election as First Con
sul for Life — Reproof to Lucien and Eliza — Review — Renewal of Difficulties with England . 374
CHAPTER XXV.
RUPTURE OF THE PEACE OF AMIENS.
Congratulations sent to Napoleon — Dissatisfaction of the English Government  Peltier the Bour
bon Pamphleteer — The Algerines — Violation of the Treaty of Amiens by England  Remon
strances of Fox — Indignation of Napoleon — Defenseless Condition of France  Interview with
Lord Whitworth — England commences the War — Testimony of Ingersoll — of Thiers  of Ha2-
litt — of Scott — of Alison — of Lockhart — Remarks of Napoleon  394
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE CAMP AT BOULOGNE.
Verdict of History— Power of England— Seizure of French Ships— Retaliatory Seizure of English
Travelers— Preparations for the Invasion of England — Tour through Belgium  Plans for crossing
the Straits of Dover— The young English Sailor— The Secretary— The Camp at Boulogne— Con
sternation of England— Testimony of Wellington— Plans for the Assassination of Bonaparte 406
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE BOURBON CONSPIRACY.
Conspiracies in London— Countenanced by the British Ministers— Jealousy of Moreau— Plan of
the Conspirators— Moreau and Pichegru— Clemency of Napoleon— Evidence against the Duke
d'Enghien— Arrest of the Duke— His Trial— Condemnation— Execution— Trial of Moreau— His
Exile— Testimony of Joseph Bonaparte— Remarks from Encyclopaedia Americana— Extravagant
Denunciation of Lamartine  . , „

CONTENTS. xi
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE IMPERIAL THRONE.
Desire for the Empire — Decree of the Senate — Address of Cambaceres — Reply of Napoleon — Fete
at Boulogne — Naval Battle — Letter to the Pope — His Reception at Paris — Religious Sanction of
the Marriage of Napoleon and Josephine — Coronation — The Empire  Page 439
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE THRONE OF ITALY.
Napoleon's Letter to the King of England — Wishes of the Cisalpine Republic — Journey of the
Emperor and Empress to Italy — Coronation at Milan — Dispatches Intercepted — Napoleon and
the Peasant — Picture of a Day — Napoleon's Designs for France — Anecdotes — Conversation with
Las Casas  449
CHAPTER XXX.
CAMPAIGN OF ULM.
Causes for the Misrepresentations of Napoleon's Character — Independence of the American Historian
— Admission of Napier — Treachery of Austria — Breaking up from Boulogne — Address to the
Senate — Comparison of Forces — Proclamation — Anecdote — Reply to the Austrian Officer —
Madame Marbcsuf — Interview of the Emperor and the Austrian Prince — Conference with Gen
eral Mack — Address to the Austrian Officers — Proclamation — Testimony of Bourrienne — The
young Engineer — Justice of Napoleon  461
CHAPTER XXXI.
AUSTERLITZ.
Peril of the Emperor — Oath of Alexander and Frederick William — Daring Energy of Napoleon —
Anniversary of the Coronation — Untiring Activity of Napoleon — Proclamation — His Vigilance —
Battle of Austerlitz — Interview between the French and Austrian Emperors — Touching Anec
dote — Magnanimity of Napoleon — Proclamation — Disappointment of the Authorities at Paris —
William Pitt — Generosity of the Emperor — Letters to Josephine  475
CHAPTER XXXII.
ANNEXATIONS AND ALLIANCES.
The Emperor on his Return from Austerlitz — Letter to the Minister of Finance — Napoleon's La
bors for the Improvement of France — Religious Character and Thoughts of the Emperor — Depu
tation from Genoa — Its Annexation to France — Conduct of Naples — Insolence of the European
Kings — Proclamation — Dilemma — Holland — Cisalpine Republic — The Government of Eugene —
Piedmont — Ambition of Napoleon — Necessity of Allies for France — Consciousness of the Em
peror of the Uncertainty of his Position — Confederation of the Rhine — Attack on Spanish Ships
— Battle of Trafalgar — Fox — Difficulty of making Peace with England — Death of Fox .... 487
CHAPTER XXXIII.
JENA AND AUERSTADT.
A new Coalition formed against France — Remarks in the Moniteur — The two antagonistic Forces
existing in Europe — Letter to the King of Prussia — Ascent of the Landgrafenberg — Perfidy of
Spain — Intercepted Dispatches — Battles of Jena and Auerstadt — Peril of the Prussian King —
Amazing Victory of Napoleon — Address to the Saxons — The Duchess of Weimar — Opinion of
Women — Sword of Frederick the Great — Letters to Josephine  503
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE FIELD OF EYLAU.
Unavailing Appeal of Napoleon — Paper Blockade — Report of the French Minister — The Berlin
Decree — Retaliatory Measures of France and England — Testimony of Alison — Proclamation to
the desponding Soldiers — Message to the Senate — Petitions of the Poles — Embarrassing Situa
tion of Napoleon — Encampment on the Vistula — Care for the Soldiers — Battle of Eylau — The
old Grenadier — Touching Anecdotes — Letters to Josephine  519

xij CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXXV.
THE MARCH TO FRIEDLAND.
Renewed Offers of Peace — Address to the Legislative Body in Paris — Proclamation — Offers of
Austria— Napoleon's Reply— Employments at Osterode— Madame de Stael— Temple of the
Madeleine — Foresight of the Emperor — Letters — English Diplomacy at Constantinople — Dant-
zic — Attack of the Allies— Friedland — Russia sues for Peace — Address to the Army . . Page 538
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE PEACE OF TILSIT.
Proposals for Peace — Raft at Tilsit — Intimacy of Napoleon and Alexander — The King of Prussia-
Chagrin of the Queen — Treaty of Tilsit — Unfair Representations of English Historians — Return
to Paris — General Rejoicing  557
CHAPTER XXXVII.
POLITICAL VIEWS.
Letter to Louis Bonaparte — Jerome Bonaparte — Abolition of the Tribunate — Napoleon in Council
— Care of the Children of deceased Officers and Soldiers — Far-sighted Policy — Report of the
Minister of the Interior  567
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
NAPOLEON IN COUNCIL.
Untiring Industry of Napoleon — Letter to the Minister of the Interior — The Secretary — Meeting
of the Institute— Expenditures for the Improvement of the City of Paris — The Code Napoleon
— The Writings of the Emperor — The Painting by David — Plans for establishing a Democratic
Aristocracy — Calumniations of Napoleon — Goldsmith's Life of the Emperor  579
CHAPTER XXXIX.
SCENES- IN PARIS.
Levee at the Tuileries— The little Boy— Address to the Council of State— Speech of the Presi
dent — Visit of the Emperor to the Female School — Heroism of a young Lady — Advice to Je
rome, King of Westphalia— Napoleon's Remarks at St. Helena— Testimony of Lockhart— Sir
Richard Cobden  592
CHAPTER XL.
NEGOTIATIONS WITH ALEXANDER.
England still rejects Peace — Bombardment of Copenhagen — Hopes of Peace blasted — Desires of
Alexander— Communications with Caulaincourt — Proposed Conference — Decision of Napoleon
respecting Turkey— Perplexity of Austria  600

ILLUSTRATIONS IN VOL. I.

1. The Birth-house of Napoleon  18
2. The Bonaparte Children  19
3. Napoleon at Brienne  24
4. The Snow Fort  26
5. Lieutenant Bonaparte  33
6. The Water Excursion  40
7. The Attack upon the Tuileries  45
8. The Emigrants  49
9. The Volunteer Gunners  53
10. Night Studies  60
11. Napoleon before the Convention  67
12. The Amazon Discomfited  70
13. Napoleon and Eugene  78
14. Napoleon and his Generals  82
15. Napoleon on Mount Zemolo  85
16. The terrible Passage of the Bridge of
Lodi  94
17. Napoleon and the Courier  100
18. The Burning of Banasco  103
19. The Encampment  109
20. The Little Corporal and the Sentinel . . 115
21. The Solitary Bivouac  118
22. The dead Soldier and his Dog  120
23. The Marshes of Areola  129
24. The Passage of the Tagliamento  149
25. The Gorge of Neumarkt  152
26. The Venetian Envoys  154
27. The Conference Dissolved  159
28. The Court at Milan  161
29. The Triumphal Journey  164
30. The Delivery of the Treaty  166
31. The Pyramids  173
32. The Embarkation  178
33. The Distant Alps  179
34. The Disembarkation  184
35. The March through the Desert  190
36. Battle of the Pyramids  195
37. Studying the Ruins  203
38. The Escape from the Red Sea  205
39. The Dromedary Regiment  208
40. The Plague Hospital  216
41. The Bomb-shell  222
42. Arrival of the Courier  233
43. Napoleon and Kleber  236
44. The Return  238
45. The Return Voyage  243
46. Napoleon and the Atheists  245
47. The Landing at Frejus  251
48. The Reconciliation  257
49. The Morning Levee  263
50. Napoleon oh the Way to St. Cloud  267
51. Napoleon in the Council of Five Hundred 270

52. The Consuls and the Gold  275
53. Napoleon in the Temple  276
54. Napoleon's Entrance into the Tuileries 283
55. Napoleon and the Vendeean Chief. . . . 290
56. Napoleon and the Duchess of Guiche . 300
57. Napoleon and Bourrienne  302
58. Unavailing Intercession of Josephine . 304
59. Drawing a Gun over Great St. Bernard 317
60. Napoleon ascending the Alps  319
61. Passing the Fort of Bard  321
62. Napoleon planning a Campaign  332
63. Death at Hohenlinden  337
64. The Infernal Machine  341
65. Review at Lyons  378
66. Reception at the Tuileries  385
67. Malmaison  387
68. Election of Consul for Life  389
69. Napoleon and the British Embassador 398
70. Scene in the Louvre  403
71. Sea Combat  408
72. Napoleon's Hut at Boulogne  416
73. Arrest of Cadoudal  425
74. Arrest of the Duke d'Enghien  429
75. Execution of the Duke d'Enghien. . . . 430
76. Madame Polignac interceding for her
Husband  433
77. The Fete at Boulogne  442
78. The Gun-boats and the Frigate  443
79. The Pope at the Tuileries  445
80. The Coronation  447
81. Napoleon and the Peasant  453
82. Napoleon in the Saloon of Josephine . . 454
83. Breaking up from Boulogne  465
84. Napoleon before Ulm  470
85. Napoleon at the Bridge of Kehl  473
86. The Bivouac  474
87. The Sun of Austerlitz  479
88. Napoleon and the Emperor Francis I. 481
89. Monument in the Place VendSme. . . . 489
90. Annexation of Genoa  492
91. Ascent of the Landgrafenberg  507
92. Napoleon and his Guard  510
93. Cavalry Charge  511
94. Napoleon at the Tomb of Frederick the
Great  516
95. The March to the Vistula  527
96. Encampment on the Vistula  528
97. Bivouac before Eylau  531
98. Morning after the Battle of Eylau  534
99. Removing the Wounded  540
100. Head-quarters at Osterode  543
101. The Madeleine  546

ILLUSTRATIONS AND MAPS.

102. The Raft at Tilsit  558
103. The three Sovereigns  562
104. Napoleon in Council  571
105. Arch of the Carrousel  575
106. Arch de l'Etoile  576
107. St. Cloud  579

Page
108. Napoleon and his Secretary  583
109. The Passages  585
110. Napoleon in the Studio of David  587
111. Napoleon and the Child  593
112. Napoleon at the Female School  594
113. The Bombardment  602

MAPS.

Map to illustrate the Italian Campaigns 84
The Countries between Paris and Na
ples  93
Mantua and Venice  Ill
Map to illustrate the March to Vienna 147
Map of Venice  153
Campaign in Egypt  182
Battle of the Pyramids  194
Bay of Aboukir  200
Lower Egypt and Syria  209
Siege of Acre  221

11. Campaign in Egypt  247
12. The Environs of Paris  265
13. Map to illustrate the Campaign of Ma
rengo  313
14. The Camp at Boulogne  412
15. Ulm and Austerlitz  467
16. Battle of Trafalgar  500
17. Jena and Auerstadt  508
18. Eylau and Friedland  532
19. Copenhagen Harbor  601

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

VOLUME I.

NAPOLEON BONAPABTE.

CHAPTER I.
CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH.

Corsica — Charles Bonaparte — Family Home — Birth of Napoleon — Death of his Father — Napo
leon's Estimate of Maternal Influence — Country Residence — Napoleon's Grotto — His Disposi
tion — His Mother's Dignity — Her Character drawn by Napoleon — Anecdote — Count Marbceuf
— Giacominetta — Napoleon enters the School at Brienne — Early Espousal of Republican Prin
ciples — Love of severe Study — Contempt for Novel Reading — Religious Education — Snow
Fortification — The disobedient General — Intimacy of Paoli and Napoleon — The Writing-master
— Love of Retirement — Appointment in the Army — Mademoiselle de Colombier — Kindness of a
Genoese Lady and its Requital — Avowal of Republican Sentiments — Anecdote — Serious Em
barrassment — Soiree at M. Neckar's — Napoleon's Reply to the Bishop of Autun — Its Effect —
Visit to Corsica — The Water Excursion.
THE island of Corsica, sublimely picturesque with its wild ravines and
rugged mountains, emerges from the bosom of the Mediterranean Sea,
about one hundred miles from the coast of France. It was formerly a prov
ince of Italy, and was Italian in its language, sympathies, and customs. In
the year 1767 it was invaded by a French army, and, after several most san
guinary conflicts, the inhabitants were compelled to yield to superior power,
and Corsica was annexed to the empire of the Bourbons.
At the time of this invasion there was a young lawyer, of Italian extrac
tion, residing upon the island, whose name was Charles Bonaparte. He
was endowed with commanding beauty of person, great vigor of mind, and
his remote lineage was illustrious. But the opulence of the noble house
had passed away. The descendant of a family, whose line could be traced
far back into the twilight of the Dark Ages, was under the fortunate neces
sity of being dependent for his support upon the energies of his own mind.
He had married Letitia Raniolini, one of the most beautiful and accom
plished of the young ladies of Corsica. Of thirteen children born to them,
eight survived to attain majority. As a successful lawyer, the father of this
large family was able to provide them with an ample competence. His illus
trious descent gave him an elevated position in society, and the energies of
his mind, ever vigorous in action, invested him with powerful influence.
The family occupied a town house, an ample stone mansion, in Ajaccio,
the principal city of the island. They also enjoyed a very delightful country
retreat near the sea-shore, a few miles from their city residence. This rural
home was the favorite resort of the children during the heats of summer.
When the French invaded Corsica, Charles Bonaparte, then quite a young
man, having been married but a few years, abandoned the peaceful profession
Vol. I.Ab

13

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. I.

of the law-, and, grasping his sword, united with his countrymen, under the
banner of General Paoli, to resist the invaders. His wife, Letitia, had then
but one child, Joseph. She was expecting soon to give birth to another.
Civil war was desolating the little island. Paoli and his band of patriots,
defeated again and again, were retreating before their victorious foes into
the fastnesses of the mountains. Letitia followed the fortunes of her hus
band, and, notwithstanding the embarrassment of her condition, accompanied
him on horseback in these perilous and fatiguing expeditions. The conflict,
however, was short. By the energies of the sword, Corsica became a prov
ince of France, and the Italians, who inhabited the island, became the un
willing subjects of the Bourbon throne. On the 15th of August, 1769, in
anticipation of her confinement, Letitia had taken refuge in her town house

THE BIRTH-HOUSE OF NAPOLEON.
at Ajaccio. On the morning of that day she attended church, but, durino-
the service, admonished by approaching pains, she was obliged suddenly to
return home, and, throwing herself upon a couch, covered with an ancient
piece of tapestry, upon which was embroidered the battles and the heroes
of the Iliad, she gave birth to her second son, Napoleon Bonaparte. Had
the young Napoleon seen the light two months earlier, he would have been
by birth an Italian, not a Frenchman, for but eight weeks had then elapsed
since the island had been transferred to the dominion of France.
The father of Napoleon died not many years after the birth of that child
whose subsequent renown has filled the world. He is said to have appre
ciated the remarkable powers of his son, and, in the delirium winch preceded
his death, he was calling upon Napoleon to help him. Madame Bonaparte
by this event, was left a widow with eight children, Joseph, Napoleon, Lucien'
Louis, Jerome, Eliza, Pauline, and Caroline. Her means were limited but
her mental endowments were commensurate with the weighty responsibili

1769-1791. J CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. 19
ties which devolved upon her. Her children all appreciated the superiority
of her character, and yielded, with perfect and unquestioning submission, to
her authority.
Napoleon, in particular, ever regarded his mother with the most profound
respect and affection. He repeatedly declared that the family were entirely
indebted to her for that physical, intellectual, and moral training, which pre
pared them to ascend the lofty summits of power to which they finally at
tained. He was so deeply impressed with the sense of these obligations, that
he often said, " My opinion is, that the future good or bad conduct of a child
depends entirely upon its mother." One of his first acts, on attaining power,
was to surround his mother with every luxury which wealth could furnish.
And when placed at the head of the government of France, he immediately
and energetically established schools for female education, remarking that
France needed nothing so much to promote its regeneration as good mothers.

MIT --«S»

-...A-,

J^fe *JPi

THE BONAPARTE CHILDREN

Madame Bonaparte,^after the death of her husband, resided with her chil
dren in their country house. It was a retired residence, approached by an
avenue overarched by lofty trees, and bordered by flowering shrubs. A
smooth, sunny lawn, which extended in front of the house, lured these chil
dren, so unconscious of the high destinies that awaited them, to their infan
tile sports. They chased the butterfly ; they played in the little pools of
water with their naked feet*; .in childish gambols they rode upon the back
of the faithful dog, as happy as if their brows were never to ache beneath
the burden of a crown. How mysterious the designs of that inscrutable
Providence, which, in the island of Corsica, under the sunny skies of the
Mediterranean, was thus rearing a Napoleon, and far away, beneath the burn
ing sun of the tropics, under the shade of the cocoa-groves and orange-trees
of the West Indies, was moulding the person and ennobling the affections of

20 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. I.
the beautiful and lovely Josephine ! It was by a guidance which neither of
these children sought, that they were conducted from their widely-separated
and obscure homes to the metropolis of France. There, by their united
energies, which had been fostered in solitary studies and deepest musings,
they won for themselves the proudest throne upon which the sun has ever
risen — a throne which, in power and splendor, eclipsed all that had been
told of Roman, or Persian, or Egyptian greatness.
The dilapidated villa in Corsica, where Napoleon passed his infantile years,
still exists, and the thoughtful tourist loses himself in pensive reverie as he
wanders over the lawn where those children have played — as he passes
through the vegetable garden in the rear of the house, which enticed them
to toil with their tiny hoes and spades, and as he struggles through the wil
derness of shrubbery, now running to wild waste, in the midst of which once
could have been heard the merry shouts of these infantile kings and queens.
Their voices are now hushed in death. But the records of earth can not
show a more eventful drama than that enacted by these young Bonapartes
between the cradle and the. grave.
There is, in a sequestered and romantic spot upon the ground, an isolated
granite rock, of wild and rugged form, in the fissures of which there is some
thing resembling a cave, which still retains the name of "Napoleon's Grotto."
This solitary rock was the favorite resort of the pensive and meditative child,
even in his earliest years. When his brothers and sisters were in most happy
companionship in the garden or on the lawn, and the air resounded with
their mirthful voices, Napoleon would steal away alone to his loved retreat.
There, in the long and sunny afternoons, with a book in his hand, he would
repose, in a recumbent posture, for hours, gazing upon the broad expanse
of the Mediterranean spread out before him, and upon the blue sky, which
overarched his head. Who can imagine the visions which in those hours
arose before the expanding energies of that wonderful mind ?
Napoleon could not be called an amiable child. He was silent and retir
ing in his disposition, melancholy and irritable in his temperament, and im
patient of restraint. He was not fond of companionship or of play. He
had no natural joyousness or buoyancy of spirit, no frankness of disposition.
His brothers and sisters were not fond of him, though they admitted his
superiority. " Joseph," said an uncle at that time, " is the eldest of the
family, but Napoleon is its head." His passionate energy and decision of
character were such, that his brother Joseph, who was a mild amiable and
unassuming boy, was quite in subjection to his will. It was observed that
his proud spirit was unrelenting under any severity of punishment. With
stoical firmness, and without the shedding of a tear, he would endure any
inflictions. At one time he was unjustly accused of a fault which another
had committed. He silently endured the punishment and submitted to the
disgrace, and to the subsistence for three days on the coarsest fare rather
than betray his companion ; and he did this, not from any special friendship
for the one in the wrong, but from an innate pride and firmness of spirit
Impulsive in his disposition, his anger was easily and violently aroused and
as rapidly passed away. There were no tendencies to cruelty in his nature
and no malignant passion could long hold him in subjection.

1769-1791.] CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. 21
There is still preserved upon the island of Corsica, as an interesting relic,
a small brass cannon, weighing about thirty pounds, which was the early and
favorite plaything of Napoleon. Its loud report was music to his childish
ears. In imaginary battle, he saw whole squadrons mown down by the dis
charges of his formidable piece of artillery. Napoleon was the favorite child
of his father, and had often sat upon his knee ; and, with a throbbing heart,
a heaving bosom, and a tearful eye, listened to his recital of those bloody
battles in which the patriots of Corsica had been compelled to yield to the
victorious French. Napoleon hated the French. He fought those battles
over again. He delighted, in fancy, to sweep away the embattled host with
his discharges of grape-shot ; to see the routed foe flying over the plain, and
to witness the dying and the dead covering the ground. He left the bat and
the ball, the kite and the hoop for others, and in this strange divertisement
found exhilarating joy.
He loved to hear, from his mother's lips, the story of her hardships and suf
ferings, as, with her husband and the vanquished Corsicans, she fled from vil
lage to village, and from fastness to fastness before their conquering enemies.
The mother was probably but little aware of the warlike spirit she was thus
nurturing in the bosom of her son, but with her own high mental endowments,
she could not be insensible to the extraordinary capacities which had been
conferred upon the silent, thoughtful, pensive listener. There were no mirth
ful tendencies in the character of Napoleon ; no tendencies in childhood,
youth, or manhood to frivolous amusements or fashionable dissipation. " My
mother," said Napoleon, at St. Helena, "loves me. She is capable of sell
ing every thing for me, even to her last article of clothing." This distin
guished lady died at Marseilles in the year 1822, about a year after the death
of her illustrious son upon the island of St. Helena. Seven of her children
were still living, to each of whom she bequeathed nearly two millions of dol
lars ; while to her brother, Cardinal Fesch, she left a superb palace, embel
lished, with the most magnificent decorations of furniture, paintings, and
sculpture which Europe could furnish. The son, who had conferred all this
wealth — to whom the family was indebted for all this greatness, and who
had filled the world with his renown, died a prisoner in a dilapidated stable,
upon the most bleak and barren isle of the ocean. The dignified character
of this exalted lady is illustrated by the following anecdote : Soon after Na
poleon's assumption of the imperial purple, he happened to meet his mother
in the gardens of St. Cloud. The Emperor was surrounded with his cour
tiers, and half playfully extended his hand for her to kiss. " Not so, my son,"
she gravely replied, at the same time presenting her hand in return, "it is
your duty to kiss the hand of her who gave you life."
" Left without guide, without support," says Napoleon, " my mother was
obliged to take the direction of affairs upon herself. But the task was not
above her strength. She managed every thing, provided for every thing with
a prudence which could neither have been expected from her sex nor from
her age. Ah, what a woman ! where shall we look for her equal ? She
watched over us with a solicitude unexampled. Every low sentiment, every
ungenerous affection, was discouraged and discarded. She suffered nothing
but that which was grand and elevated to take root in our youthful under-

22 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. I.
standings. She abhorred falsehood, and would not tolerate the slightest act
of disobedience. None of our faults were overlooked. Losses, privations,
fatigue, had no effect upon her. She endured all, braved all. She had the
ener°y of a man, combined with the gentleness and delicacy of a woman."
A "bachelor uncle owned the rural retreat where the family resided. He
was very wealthy, but very parsimonious. The young Bonapartes, though
livino- in the abundant enjoyment of all the necessaries of life, could obtain
but little money for the purchase of those thousand little conveniences and
luxuries which every boy covets. Whenever they ventured to ask their un
cle for coppers, he invariably pleaded poverty, assuring them that though he
had lands and vineyards, goats and poultry, he had no money. At last the
boys discovered a bag of doubloons secreted upon a shelf. They formed a
conspiracy, and, by the aid of Pauline, who was too young to understand the
share which she had in the mischief, they contrived, on a certain occasion,
when the uncle was pleading poverty, to draw down the bag, and the glitter
ing gold rolled over the floor. The boys burst into shouts of laughter, while
the good old man was almost choked with indignation. Just at that moment
Madame Bonaparte came in. Her presence immediately silenced the mer
riment. She severely reprimanded her sons for their improper behavior, and
ordered them to collect again the scattered doubloons.
When the island of Corsica was surrendered to the French, Count Mar-
bceuf was appointed, by the Court at Paris, as its governor. The beauty of
Madame Bonaparte, and her rich intellectual endowments, attracted his ad
miration, and they frequently met in the small but aristocratic circle of so
ciety which the island afforded. He became a warm friend of the family,
and manifested much interest in the welfare of the little Napoleon. The
gravity of the child, his air of pensive thoughtfulness, the oracular style of
his remarks, which characterized even that early period of life, strongly at
tracted the attention of the governor, and he predicted that Napoleon would
create for himself a path through life of more than ordinary splendor.
When Napoleon was but five or six years of age, he was placed in a school
with a number of other children. There a fair-haired little maiden won his
youthful heart. It was Napoleon's first love. His impetuous nature was all
engrossed by this new passion, and he inspired as ardent an affection in the
bosom of his loved companion as that which she had enkindled in his own
He walked to and from school, holding the hand of Giacominetta. He aban
doned all the plays and companionship of the other children to talk and muse
with her. The older boys and girls made themselves very merry with the
display of affection which the loving couple exhibited. Their mirth how
ever, exerted not the slightest influence to abash Napoleon, though often his
anger would be so aroused by their insulting ridicule, that, regardless of the
number or the size of his adversaries, with sticks, stones, and every other im
plement which came in his way, he would rush into the midst of his foes
and attack them with such a recklessness of consequences, that they were
generally put to flight. Then, with the pride of a conqueror, he would take
the hand of his infantile friend. The little Napoleon was, at this period of
his life, very careless in his dress, and almost invariably appeared with his
stockings slipped down about his heels. Some witty boy formed a couplet

1769-1791. J CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. 23
which was often shouted upon the play-ground, not a little to the annoyance
of the young lover. Napoleone di mezza calzetta
Fa l'amore a. Giacominetta.
Napoleon with his stockings half off
Makes love to Giacominetta.
When Napoleon was about ten years of age, Count Ma'rbceuf obtained for
him admission to the military school at Brienne, near Paris. Forty years
afterward Napoleon remarked that he never could forget the pangs which
he then felt, when parting from his mother. Stoic as he was, his stoicism
then forsook him, and he wept like any other child. His journey led him
through Italy, and crossing France, he entered Paris. Little did the young
Corsican then imagine, as he gazed awe-stricken upon the splendors of the
metropolis, that all those thronged streets were yet to resound with his
name, and that in those gorgeous palaces, the proudest kings and queens
of Europe were to bow obsequiously before his unrivaled power.
The ardent and studious boy was soon established in school. His compan
ions regarded him as a foreigner, as he spoke the Italian language, and the
French was to him almost an unknown tongue. He found that his asso
ciates were composed mostly of the sons of the proud and wealthy nobility
of France. Their pockets were filled with money, and they indulged in the
most extravagant expenditures. The haughtiness with which these worthless
sons of imperious but debauched and enervated sires affected to look down
upon the solitary and unfriended alien, produced an impression upon his
mind which was never effaced. The revolutionary struggle, that long and
lurid day of storms and desolation, was just beginning darkly to dawn ; the
portentous rumblings of that approaching earthquake, which soon uphove
both altar and throne, and overthrew all of the most sacred institutions of
France in chaotic ruin, fell heavily upon the ear.
The young noblemen at Brienne taunted Napoleon with being the son of
a Corsican lawyer ; for in that day of aristocratic domination the nobility
regarded all with contempt who were dependent upon any exertions of their
own for support. They sneered at the plainness of Napoleon's dress, and at
the emptiness of his purse. His proud spirit was stung to the quick by these
indignities, and his temper was roused by that disdain to which he was com
pelled to submit, and from which he could find no refuge. Then it was that
there was implanted in his mind that hostility which he ever afterward so
signally manifested to rank, founded, not upon merit, but upon the accident
of birth. He thus early espoused this prominent principle of republicanism :
" I hate those French," said he, in an hour of bitterness, " and I will do them
all the mis chief in my power."
Thirty years after this Napoleon said, " Called to the throne by the voice
of the people, my maxim has always been, 'A career open to talent,'' without
distinction of birth."
In consequence of this state of feeling, he secluded himself almost entire
ly from his fellow-students, and buried himself in the midst'of his books and
his maps. While they were wasting their time in dissipation and in frivo
lous amusements, he consecrated his days and his nights with untiring assidu-

24

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. I.
ity to study. He almost immediately elevated himself above his companions,
and, by his superiority, commanded their respect. Soon he was regarded as
the brightest ornament of the institution, and Napoleon exulted in his con-

NAPOLEON AT BRIENNE,

scious strength and his undisputed exaltation. In all mathematical studies
he became highly distinguished. All books upon history, upon government,
upon the practical sciences, he devoured with the utmost avidity. The po
etry of Homer and of Ossian he read and re-read with great delight. His
mind combined the poetical and the practical in most harmonious blending.
In a letter written to his mother at this time, he says, "With my sword by my
side, and Homer in my pocket, I hope to carve my way through the world."
Many of his companions regarded him as morose and moody, and though they
could not but respect him, they still disliked his recluse habits, and his refusal
to participate in their amusements. He was seldom seen upon the play
ground, but every leisure hour found him in the library. The Lives of Plu
tarch he studied so thoroughly, and with such profound admiration, that his
whole soul became imbued with the spirit of these illustrious men. All the
thrilling scenes of Grecian and Roman story, the rise and fall of empires, and
deeds of heroic daring absorbed his contemplation. So great was his ardor
for intellectual improvement, that he considered every day as lost in which
he had not made perceptible progress in knowledge. By this rigid mental
discipline he acquired that wonderful power of concentration, by which he
was ever enabled to simplify subjects the most difficult and complicated.
He made no efforts to conciliate the good-will of his fellow-students ; and
he was so stern in his morals, and so unceremonious in his manners, that he
was familiarly called the Spartan. At this time he was distinguished by his
Italian complexion, a piercing eagle eye, and by that energy of conversation
al expression -which, through life, gave such an oracular import to all his ut-

1769-1791. J CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. 25
terances. His unremitting application to study probably impaired his growth,
for his fine head was developed disproportionately with his small stature.
Though stubborn and self-willed in his intercourse with his equals, he was a
firm friend of strict discipline, and gave his support to established authority.
This trait of character, added to his diligence and brilliant attainments, made
him a great favorite with the professors. There was, however, one excep
tion. Napoleon took no interest in the study of the German language. The
German teacher, consequently, entertained a very contemptible opinion of
the talents of his pupil. It chanced that upon one occasion Napoleon was
absent from the class. M. Bouer, upon inquiring, ascertained that he was
employed that hour in the class of engineers. " Oh ! he does learn some
thing, then," said the teacher, ironically. " Why, sir !" a pupil rejoined, "he
is esteemed the very first mathematician in the school." " Truly," the irri
tated German replied, " I have always heard it remarked, and have uniform
ly believed, that any fool could learn mathematics." Napoleon afterward
relating this anecdote, laughingly said, " It would be curious to ascertain
whether M. Bouer lived long enough to learn my real character, and enjoy
the fruits of his own judgment."
Each student at Brienne had a small portion of land allotted to him, which
he might cultivate or not, as he pleased. Napoleon converted his little field
into a garden. To prevent intrusion, he surrounded it with palisades, and
planted it thickly with trees. In the centre of this his fortified camp, he con
structed a pleasant bower, which became to him a substitute for the beloved
grotto he had left in Corsica. To this grotto he was wont to repair to study
and to meditate, where he was exposed to no annoyances from his frivolous
fellow-students. In those trumpet-toned proclamations which subsequently
so often electrified Europe, one can see the influence of these hours of unre
mitting mental application.
At that time he had few thoughts of any glory but military glory. Young
men were taught that the only path to renown was to be found through fields
of blood. All the peaceful arts of life, which tend to embellish the world
with competence and refinement, were despised. He only was the chivalric
gentleman, whose career was marked by conflagrations and smouldering ru
ins, by the despair of the maiden, the tears and woe of widows and orphans,
and by the shrieks of the wounded and the dying. Such was the school in
which Napoleon was trained. The writings of Voltaire and Rousseau had
taught France that the religion of Jesus Christ was but a fable ; that the idea
of accountability at the bar of God was a foolish superstition ; that death was
a sleep from which there was no waking ; that life itself, aimless and object
less, was so worthless a thing, that it was a matter of most trivial importance
how soon its- vapor should pass away.
These peculiarities in the education of Napoleon must be taken into ac
count in forming a correct estimate of his character. It could hardly be said
that he was educated in a Christian land. France renounced Christianity,
and plunged into the blackest of Pagan darkness, without any religion, and
without a God. Though the altars of religion were not, at this time, entirely
swept away, they were thoroughly undermined by that torrent of infidelity
which, in crested billows, was surging over the land. Napoleon had but lit-

26

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. I.

tie regard for the lives of others, and still less for his own. He never com
manded the meanest soldier to go where he was not willing to lead him.
Having never been taught any correct ideas of probation or retribution, the
question whether a few thousand illiterate peasants should eat, drink, and
sleep for a few years more or less, was in his view of little importance com
pared with those great measures of political wisdom which should meliorate
the condition of Europe for ages.
It is Christianity alone which stamps importance upon each individual life,
and which invests the apparent trivialities of time with the sublimities of
eternity. It is, indeed, strange that Napoleon, graduating at the schools of
infidelity and of war, should have cherished so much of the spirit of human
ity, and should have formed so many just conceptions of right and wrong.
It is indeed strange, that, surrounded by so many allurements to entice him
to voluptuous indulgence and self-abandonment, he should have retained a
character so immeasurably superior, in all moral worth, to that of nearly all
the crowned heads who occupied the thrones around him.
The winter of 1784 was one of unusual severity. Large quantities of
snow fell, which so completely blocked up the walks that the students at
Brienne could find but little amusement without doors. Napoleon proposed
that, to beguile the weary hours, they should erect an extensive fortification
of snow, with intrenchments and bastions, parapets, ravelins, and horn-works.

' -A

THE SNOW FORT.

He had studied the science of fortification with the utmost diligence, and, un
der his superintendence, the works were conceived and executed according
to the strictest rules of art. The power of his mind now displayed itself.
No one thought of questioning the authority of Napoleon. He planned and
directed, while a hundred busy hands, with unquestioning alacrity, obeyed his
will. The works rapidly rose, and in such perfection of science as to attract
crowds of the inhabitants of Brienne for their inspection. Napoleon divided

1769-1791.] CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. 27
the school into two armies, one being intrusted with the defense of the works,
while the other composed the host of the besiegers. He took upon himself
the command of both bodies, now heading the besiegers in the desperate as
sault, and now animating the besieged to an equally vigorous defense For
several weeks this mimic warfare continued, during which time many severe
wounds were received on each side. In the heat of the battle, when the bul
lets of snow were flying thick and fast, one of the subordinate officers, ven
turing to disobey the commands of his general^ Napoleon felled him to the
earth, inflicting a wound which left a scar for life.
In justice to Napoleon, it must be related, that when he had attained the
highest pitch of grandeur, this unfortunate school-boy, who had thus experi
enced the rigor of Napoleon's military discipline, sought to obtain an audi
ence with the Emperor. Calamities had darkened the path of the unfortu
nate man, and he was in poverty and obscurity. Napoleon, not immediately
recalling ,1ns name to mind, inquired if the applicant could designate some
incident of boyhood which would bring him to his recollection. " Sire !" re
plied the courtier, "he has a deep scar upon his forehead which he says
was inflicted by your hand." " Ah !" rejoined Napoleon, smiling ; " I know
the meaning of that scar perfectly well. It was caused by an ice bullet
which I hurled at his head. Bid him enter." The poor man made his ap
pearance, and immediately obtained from Napoleon every thing that he re
quested. At one time the students at Brienne got up a private theatre for their en
tertainment. The wife of the porter of the school, who sold the boys cakes
and apples, presented herself at the door of the theatre to obtain admission
to see the play of the death of Caesar, which was to be performed that even
ing. Napoleon's sense of decorum was shocked at the idea of the presence
of a female among such a host of young men, and he indignantly exclaimed,
in characteristic language, " Remove that woman, who brings here the li
cense of camps."
Napoleon remained in the school at Brienne for five years, from 1779 till
1784. His vacations were usually spent in Corsica. He was enthusiastic
ally attached to his native island, and enjoyed exceedingly rambling over its
mountains and through its valleys, and listening at humble firesides to those
traditions of violence and crime with which every peasant was familiar. He
was a great admirer of Paoli, the friend of his father and the hero of Cor
sica. At Brienne the students were invited to dine, by turns, with the prin
cipal of the school. One day, when Napoleon was at the table, one of the
professors, knowing his young pupil's admiration for Paoli, spoke disrespect
fully of the distinguished general, that he might tease the sensitive lad. Na
poleon promptly and energetically replied, "Paoli, sir, was a great man ! he
loved his country ; and I never shall forgive my father for consentin 5 to the
union of Corsica with France. He ought to have followed Paoli's fortunes,
and to have fallen with him."
Paoli, who upon the conquest of Corsica had fled to England, was after
ward permitted to return to his native island. Napoleon, though, in years
but a boy, was in mind a full-grown man. He sought the acquaintance of
Paoli, and they became intimate friends. The veteran general and the

28 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. I.
manly boy took many excursions together over the island , and Paoli point
ed out to his intensely-interested companion the fields where sanguinary
battles had been fought, and the positions which the little army of Corsicans
had occupied in the struggle for independence. The energy and decision
of character displayed by Napoleon produced such an impression upon the
mind of this illustrious man, that he at once exclaimed, " Oh, Napoleon !
you do not at all resemble the moderns. You belong only to the heroes of
Plutarch." Pichegru, who afterward became so celebrated as the conqueror of Hol
land, and who came to so melancholy a death, was a member of the school
at Brienne at the same time with Napoleon. Being several years older than
the young Corsican, he instructed him in mathematics. The commanding
talents and firm character of his pupil deeply impressed the mind of Piche
gru. Many years after, when Napoleon was rising rapidly to power, the
Bourbons proposed to Pichegru, who had espoused the Royalist cause, to
sound Napoleon, and ascertain if he could be purchased to advocate their
claims. "It will be but lost time to attempt it," said Pichegru : "I knew
him in his youth. His character is inflexible. He has taken his side, and
he will not change it."
His character for integrity and honor ever stood very high. At Brienne
he was a great favorite with the younger boys, whose rights he defended
against the invasions of the older. The indignation which Napoleon felt at
this time, in view of the arrogance of the young nobility, produced an im
pression upon his character, the traces of which never passed away. When
his alliance with the royal house of Austria was proposed, the Emperor
Francis, whom Napoleon very irreverently called "an old granny," was
extremely anxious to prove the illustrious descent of his prospective son-in-
law. He accordingly employed many persons to make researches among the
records of genealogy, to trace out the grandeur of his ancestral line. Napo
leon refused to have the account published, remarking, " I had rather be the
descendant of an honest man than of any petty tyrant of Italy. I wish my
nobility to commence with myself, and to derive all my titles from the French
people. I am the Rodolph of Hapsburg of my family. My patent of nobil
ity dates from the battle of Montenotte."*
Upon the occasion of this marriage, the Pope, in order to render the pedi
gree of Napoleon more illustrious, proposed the canonization of a poor monk
by the name of Bonaparte, who for centuries had been quietly reposing in his
grave. " Holy Father /" exclaimed Napoleon, " I beseech you, spare me the
ridicule of that step. You being in my power, all the world will say that I
forced you to create a saint out of my family" To some remonstrances
which were made against this marriage, Napoleon coolly replied, " I certain
ly should not enter into this alliance if I were not aware of the origin of Ma
ria Louisa being equally as noble as my own."
Still Napoleon was by no means regardless of that mysterious influence
_ * Rodolph of Hapsburg was a gentleman who by his own energies had elevated himself to the
imperial throne of Germany, and became the founder of the house of Hapsburg. He was the an
cestor to whom the Austrian kings looked back with the loftiest pride

1769-1791.] CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. 29
which illustrious descent invariably exerts over the human mind. Through
his life one can trace the struggles of those conflicting sentiments. The
marshals of France, and the distinguished generals who surrounded his
throne, were raised from the rank and file of the army by their own merit ;
but he divorced his faithful Josephine, and married a daughter of the Caesars,
that by an illustrious alliance he might avail himself of this universal and
innate prejudice. No power of reasoning can induce one to look with the
same interest upon the child of Caesar and the child of the beggar.
Near the close of Napoleon's career, while Europe in arms was crowding
upon him, the Emperor found himself in desperate and hopeless conflict on
that very plain at Brienne, where in childhood he had reared his fortification
of snow. He sought an interview with the old woman whom he had eject
ed from the theatre, and from whom he had often purchased milk and fruit.
" Do you remember a boy by the name of Bonaparte," inquired Napoleon,
"who formerly attended this school?"
" Yes ! very well," was the answer.
" Did he always pay you for what he bought ?"
" Yes," replied the old woman, " and he often compelled the other boys to
pay, when they wished to defraud me."
"Perhaps he may have forgotten a few sous," said Napoleon, "and here
is a purse of gold to discharge any outstanding debt which may remain be
tween us."
At this same time he pointed out to his companion a tree, under which, with
unbounded delight, he read, when a boy, Jerusalem Delivered, and where, in
the warm summer evenings, with indescribable luxury of emotion, he listen
ed to the tolling of the bells on the distant village-church spires. To such
impressions his sensibilities were peculiarly alive. The monarch then turn
ed away sadly from these reminiscences of childhood, to plunge, seeking
death, into the smoke and the carnage of his last and despairing conflicts.
It was a noble trait in the character of Napoleon that, in his day of power,
he so generously remembered even the casual acquaintances of his early
years. He ever wrote an exceedingly illegible hand, as his impetuous and
restless spirit was such that he could not drive his pen with sufficient rapid
ity over his paper. The poor writing-master at Brienne was in utter despair,
and could do nothing with his pupil. Years after, Napoleon was sitting one
day with Josephine, in his cabinet at St. Cloud, when a poor man, with
thread-bare coat, was ushered into his presence. Trembling before his for
mer pupil, he announced himself as the writing-master of Brienne, and so
licited a pension from the Emperor. Napoleon affected anger, and said,
" Yes, you were my writing-master, were you ? and a pretty chirographist
you made of me too. Ask Josephine, there, what she thinks of my hand
writing !" The Empress, with that amiable tact which made her the most
lovely of women, smilingly replied,
" I assure you, sir, his letters are perfectly delightful." The Emperor
laughed cordially at the well-timed compliment, and made the old man com
fortable for the rest of his days.
In the days of his prosperity, amid all the cares of empire, Napoleon re
membered the poor Corsican woman who was the nurse of his infancy, and

30 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [ChaP. I.
settled upon her a pension of two hundred dollars a year. Though far ad
vanced in life, the good woman was determined to see her little nursling, in
the glory of whose exaltation her heart so abundantly shared. With this
object in view she made a journey to Paris. The Emperor received her
most kindly, and transported the happy woman home again with her pension
doubled. In one of Napoleon's composition exercises at Brienne, he gave rather
free utterance to his republican sentiments, and condemned the conduct of
the royal family. The professor of rhetoric rebuked the young republican
severely for the offensive passage, and, to add to the severity of the rebuke,
compelled him to throw the paper into the fire. Long afterward, the pro
fessor was commanded to attend a levee of the First Consul, to receive Na
poleon's younger brother Jerome as a pupil. Napoleon received him with
great kindness, but, at the close of the business, very good-humoredly re
minded him that times were very considerably changed since the burning of
that paper.
He had just entered his fifteenth year, when he was promoted to the mili
tary school at Paris. Annually, three of the best scholars from each of the
twelve provincial military schools of France were promoted to the military
school at Paris. This promotion, at the earliest possible period in which his
age would, allow his admission, shows the high rank, as a scholar, which
Napoleon sustained. The records of the Minister of War contain the fol
lowing interesting entry.
" State of the king's scholars eligible to enter into service, or to pass to
the school at Paris : Monsieur de Bonaparte (Napoleon), born 15th August,
1769 ; in height five feet six and a half inches ; has finished his fourth sea
son ; of a good constitution, health excellent, character mild, honest, and
grateful ; conduct exemplary ; has always distinguished himself by applica
tion to mathematics ; understands history and geography tolerably well ; is
indifferently skilled in merely ornamental studies, and in Latin, in which he
has only finished his fourth course ; would make an excellent sailor ; de
serves to be passed to the school at Paris."
The military school at Paris, which Napoleon now entered, was furnished
with all the appliances of aristocratic luxury. It had been founded for the
sons of the nobility, who had been accustomed to every indulgence. Each
of the three hundred young men assembled in this school had a servant to
groom his horse, to polish his weapons, to brush his boots, and to perform
all other necessary menial services. The cadet reposed on a luxurious bed,
and was fed with sumptuous viands. There are few lads of fifteen who
would not have been delighted with the dignity, the ease, and the independ
ence of the style of living. Napoleon, however, immediately saw that this
was by no means the training requisite to prepare officers for the toils and
hardships of war. He addressed an energetic memorial to the governor,
urging the banishment of this effeminacy and voluptuousness from the mili
tary school. He argued that the students should learn to groom their own
horses, to clean their armor, and to perform all those services, and to inure
themselves to those privations which would prepare them for the exposure
and the toils of actual service.

1769-1791.] CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. 3j
No incident in the childhood or in the life of Napoleon shows more decis
ively than this his energetic, self-reliant, commanding character. The wis
dom, the fortitude, and the foresight, not only of mature years, but of the
mature years of the most powerful intellect, were here exhibited. The mili
tary school which he afterward established at Fontainebleau, and which ob
tained 'such world-wide celebrity, was founded upon the model of this youth
ful memorial. And one distinguishing cause of the extraordinary popularity
which Napoleon afterward secured, was to be found in the fact that, through
life, he called upon no one to encounter perils or to endure hardships which
he was not perfectly ready himself to encounter or to endure.
At Paris, the elevation of his character, his untiring devotion to study, his
peculiar conversational energy, and the almost boundless information he had
acquired, attracted much attention. His solitary and recluse habits, and his
total want of sympathy with most of his fellow-students in their idleness and
in their frivolous amusements, rendered him far from popular with the multi
tude. His great superiority was, however, universally recognized. He press
ed on in his studies with as much vehemence as if he had been forewarned
of the extraordinary career before him, and that but a few months were left
in which to garner up those stores of knowledge with which he was to re
model the institutions of Europe, and almost change the face of the world.
About this time he was at Marseilles on some day of public festivity. A
large party of young gentlemen and ladies were amusing themselves with
dancing. Napoleon was rallied upon his want of gallantry in declining to
participate in the amusements of the evening. He replied, " It is not by
playing and dancing that a man is to be formed." Indeed, he never, from
childhood, took any pleasure in fashionable dissipation. He had not a very
high opinion of men or women in general. He was perfectly willing to pro
vide amusements which he thought adapted to the capacities of the mascu
line and feminine minions flitting about the court, but his own expanded mind
was so engrossed with vast projects of utility and renown, that he found no
moments to spare in cards and billiards, and he was at the furthest possible
remove from what may be called a lady's man.
On one occasion, a mathematical problem of great difficulty having been
proposed to the class, Napoleon, in order to solve it, secluded himself in his
room for seventy-two hours ; and he solved the problem. This extraordinary
faculty of intense and continuous exertion, both of mind and body, was his
distinguishing characteristic through life. Napoleon did not blunder into
renown. His triumphs were not casualties ; his achievements were not ac
cidents ; his grand conceptions were not the brilliant flashes of unthinking
and unpremeditated genius. Never did man prepare the way for greatness
by more untiring devotion to the acquisition of all useful knowledge, and to
the attainment of the highest possible degree of mental discipline. That he
possessed native powers of mind of extraordinary vigor is true, but those
powers were expanded and energized by herculean study. His mighty
genius impelled to the sacrifice of every indulgence, and to sleepless toil.
The vigor of Napoleon's mind, so conspicuous in conversation, was equally
remarkable in his exercises in composition. His professor of Belles-Lettres
remarked that Napoleon's amplifications ever reminded him of "flaming

32 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. I.
missiles ejected from a volcano." While in the military school at Pans,
the Abbe Raynal became so forcibly impressed with his astonishing mental
acquirements, and the extent of his capacities, that he frequently invited
him, though Napoleon was then but a lad of sixteen, to breakfast at his
table with other illustrious guests. His mind was at that time character
ized by great logical accuracy, united with the most brilliant powers of
masculine imagination. His conversation, laconic, graphic, oracular, arrest
ed every mind. Had the vicissitudes of life so ordered his lot, he would
undoubtedly have been as distinguished in the walks of literature and in
the halls of science as he became in the field and in the cabinet. That he
was one of the profoundest of thinkers, all admit ; and his trumpet-toned
proclamations resounded through Europe, rousing the army to almost a
phrensy of enthusiasm, and electrifying alike the peasant and the prince.
Napoleon had that comprehensive genius which would have been pre-emi
nent in any pursuit to which he had devoted the energies of his mind.
Great as were his military victories, they were by no means the greatest of
his achievements.
In September, 1785, Napoleon, then but sixteen years of age, was exam
ined to receive an appointment in the army. The mathematical branch of
the examination was conducted by the celebrated La Place. Napoleon pass
ed the ordeal triumphantly. In history he had many very extensive attain
ments. His proclamations, his public addresses, his private conferences with
his ministers in his cabinet, all attest the philosophical discrimination with
which he had pondered the records of the past, and had studied the causes
of the rise and fall of empires. At the close of his examination in history,
the historical professor, Monsieur Keruglion, wrote opposite to the signature
of Napoleon, " A Corsican by character and by birth. This young man will
distinguish himself in the world, if favored by fortune." This professor was
very strongly attached to his brilliant pupil. He often invited him to din
ner, and cultivated his confidence. Napoleon in later years did not forget
this kindness, and many years after, upon the death of the professor, settled
a very handsome pension upon his widow. Napoleon, as the result of this
examination, was appointed a second lieutenant in a regiment of artillery.
He was exceedingly gratified in becoming thus early in life an officer in the
army. To a boy of sixteen it must have appeared the attainment of a very
high degree of human grandeur.
That evening, arrayed in his new uniform, with epaulets and the enor
mous boots which at that time were worn by the artillery, in an exuber
ant glow of spirits, he called upon a female friend, Mademoiselle Permon,
who afterward became Duchess of Abrantes, and who was regarded as
one of the most brilliant wits of the imperial court. A younger sister
of this lady, who had just returned from a boarding-school, was so much
struck with the comical appearance of Napoleon, whose feminine propor
tions so little accorded with his military costume, that she burst into an im
moderate fit of laughter, declaring that he resembled nothing so much as
" Puss in Boots." The raillery was too just not to be felt. Napoleon
struggled against his sense of mortification, and soon regained his accus
tomed equanimity. A few days after, to prove that he cherished no rancor-

1769-1791.]

CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH.

33

ous recollection of the occurrence, he presented the mirthful maiden with
an elegantly bound copy of Puss in Boots.
Napoleon soon, exulting in his new commission, repaired to Valence to join
his regiment. His excessive devotion to study had impeded the full develop
ment of his physical frame. Though exceedingly thin and fragile in figure,
there was a girlish gracefulness and beauty in his form ; and his noble brow

LIEUTENANT BONAPARTE.

and piercing eye attracted attention and commanded respect. One of the
most distinguished ladies of the place, Madame du Colombier, became much
interested in the young lieutenant, and he was frequently invited to her
house. He was there introduced to much intelligent and genteel society.
In after life he frequently spoke with gratitude of the advantages he derived
from this early introduction to refined and polished associates. Napoleon
formed a strong attachment for a daughter of Madame du Colombier, a
young lady of about his own age,. and possessed of many accomplishments.
They frequently enjoyed morning and evening rambles through the pleasant
walks in the environs of Valence.
Napoleon subsequently, speaking of this youthful attachment, said, "Wo
were the most innocent creatures imaginable. We contrived short inter
views together. I well remember one which took place, on a midsummer's
morning, just as the light began to dawn. It will scarcely be credited thai
all our felicity consisted in eating cherries together." The vicissitudes of
life soon separated these young friends from each other, and they met no1
again for ten years. Napoleon, then Emperor of France, was, with a mag
nificent retinue, passing through Lyons, when this young lady, who had since
been married, and who had encountered many misfortunes, with some diffi
culty gained access to him, environed as he was with all the etiquette of roy
alty. Napoleon instantly recognized his former friend, and inquired minutely
Vol. I.— C

34 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. I.
respecting all her joys and griefs. He immediately assigned to her husband
a post which secured for him an ample competence, and conferred upon her
the situation of a maid of honor to one of his sisters.
From Valence Napoleon went to Lyons, having been ordered, with his reg
iment, to that place, in consequence of some disturbance which had broken
out there. His pay as lieutenant was quite inadequate to support him in the
rank of a gentleman. His widowed mother, with six children younger than
Napoleon, who was then but seventeen years of age, was quite unable to sup
ply him with funds. This pecuniary embarrassment often exposed the high-
spirited young officer to the keenest mortification. It did not, however, in
the slightest degree impair his energies or weaken his confidence in that pe
culiar consciousness, which from childhood he had cherished, that he was
endowed with extraordinary powers, and that he was born to an exalted des
tiny. He secluded himself from his brother officers, and, keeping aloof from
all the haunts of amusement and dissipation, cloistered himself in his study,
and with indefatigable energy devoted himself anew to the acquisition of
knowledge, laying up those inexhaustible stores of information, and gaining
that mental discipline which proved of such incalculable advantage to him in
the brilliant career upon which he subsequently entered.
While at Lyons, Napoleon, friendless and poor, was taken sick. He had
a small room in the attic of a hotel, where, alone, he lingered through the
weary hours of languor and pain. A lady from Geneva, visiting some friends
at Lyons, happened to learn that a young officer was sick in the hotel. She
could only ascertain respecting him that he was quite young, that his name
was Bonaparte — then an unknown name, and that his purse was very scant
ily provided. Her benevolent feelings impelled her to his bedside. She im
mediately felt the fascination with which Napoleon could ever charm those
who approached him. With unremitting kindness she nursed him, and had
the gratification of seeing him so far restored as to be able to rejoin his reg
iment. Napoleon took his leave of the benevolent lady with many expres
sions of gratitude for the kindness he had experienced.
After the lapse of years, when Napoleon had been crowned Emperor, he
received a letter from this lady, congratulating him upon the eminence he
had attained, and informing him that disastrous days had darkened around
her. Napoleon immediately returned an answer, containing two thousand
dollars, and expressing the most friendly assurances of his immediate atten
tion to any favors she might in future solicit.
The Academy at Lyons offered a prize for the best dissertation upon the
question, "What are the institutions most likely to contribute to human
happiness ?" Napoleon wrote upon the subject, and though there were many
competitors, the prize was awarded to him. Many years afterward when
seated upon the throne, his minister Talleyrand sent a courier to Lyons and'
obtained the manuscript. Thinking it would please the Emperor he one'day
when they were alone, put the essay into Napoleon's hands, asking him if he
knew the author. Napoleon, immediately recognizing the writing threw it
into the flames, saying, at the same time, that it was a boyish production full
of visionary and impracticable schemes. He also, in those hours of unceas
ing study, wrote a History of Corsica, which he was preparing to publish

1769-1791.] CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. 35
when the rising storms of the times led him to lay aside his pen for the
sword. Two great parties, the Royalists and the Republicans, were now through
out France contending for the supremacy. Napoleon joined the Republican
side. Most of the officers in the army, being sons of the old nobility, were
of the opposite party, and this made him very unpopular with them. He,
however, with great firmness, boldly avowed his sentiments, and eagerly
watched the progress of those events which he thought would open to him a
career of fame and fortune. He still continued to prosecute his studies with
untiring diligence. He was, at this period of his life, considered proud,
haughty, and irascible, though he was loved with great enthusiasm by the
few whose friendship he chose to cultivate. His friends appreciated his dis
tinguished character and attainments, and predicted his future eminence.
His remarkable logical accuracy of mind, his lucid and energetic expressions,
his immense information upon all points of history, and upon every subject
of practical importance, his extensive scientific attainments, and his thorough
accomplishments as an officer, rendered him an object of general observa
tion, and secured for him the respect even of the idlers who disliked his un
social habits.
About this time, in consequence of some popular tumults at Auxonne, Na
poleon, with his regiment, was ordered to that place. He, with some subal
tern officers, was quartered at the house of a barber. Napoleon, as usual,
immediately, when off of duty, cloistered himself in his room with his law
books, his scientific treatises, his histories, and his mathematics. His asso
ciate officers loitered through the listless days, coquetting with the pretty
wife of the barber, smoking cigars in the shop, and listening to the petty
gossip of the place. The barber's wife was quite annoyed at receiving no
attentions from the handsome, distinguished, but ungallant young lieutenant.
She accordingly disliked him exceedingly. A few years after, as Napoleon,
then commander of the army of Italy, was on his way to Marengo, he passed
through Auxonne. He stopped at the door of the barber's shop, and asked
his former hostess if she remembered a young officer by the name of Bona
parte, who was once quartered in her family. " Indeed I do," was the pet
tish reply, " and a very disagreeable inmate he was. He was always either
shut up in his room, or, if he walked out, he never condescended to speak to
any one." " Ah ! my good woman," Napoleon rejoined, " had I passed my
time as you wished to have me, I should not now have been in command of
the army of Italy."
The higher nobility and most of the officers in the army were in favor of
Royalty. The common soldiers and the great mass of the people were ad
vocates of Republicanism. Napoleon's fearless avowal, under all circum
stances, of his hostility to monarchy and his approval of popular liberty, often
exposed him to serious embarrassments. He has himself given a very glow
ing account of an interview at one of the fashionable residences at Auxonne,
where he had been invited to meet an aristocratic circle. The Revolution
was just breaking out in all its terror, and the excitement was intense through
out France. In the course of conversation, Napoleon gave free utterance to
his sentiments. They all instantly assailed him, gentlemen and ladies, pell-

3g NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. 1.
mell. Napoleon was not a man to retreat. His condensed sentences fell
like hot shot among the crowd of antagonists who surrounded him. The
battle waxed warmer and warmer. There was no one to utter a word in
favor of Napoleon. He was a young man of twenty, surrounded by veteran
o-enerals and distinguished nobles. Like Wellington at Waterloo, he was
wishing that some " Blucher or night were come." Suddenly the door was
opened, and the mayor of the city was announced. Napoleon began to flat
ter himself that a rescue was at hand, when the little great man, in pompous
dignity, joined the assailants, and belabored the young officer at bay more
mercilessly than all the rest. At last the lady of the house took compassion
upon her defenseless guest, and interposed to shield him from the blows
which he was receiving in the unequal contest.
One evening, in the year 1790, there was a very brilliant party in the
drawing-rooms of M. Neckar, the celebrated financier. The Bastile had
just been demolished. The people, exulting in newly found power, and
dimly discerning long defrauded rights, were trampling beneath their feet,
indiscriminately, all institutions, good and bad, upon which ages had left
their sanction. The gay and fickle Parisians, notwithstanding the portentous
approachings of a storm, the most fearful earth has ever witnessed, were
pleased with change, and with reckless curiosity awaited the result of the
appalling phenomenon exhibited around them. Many of the higher nobility,
terrified at the violence, daily growing more resistless and extended, had
sought personal safety in emigration. The tone of society in the metropolis
had, however, become decidedly improved by the greater commingling, in
all the large parties, of men eminent in talents and in public services, as well
as of those illustrious in rank.
The entertainments given by M. Neckar, embellished by the presence, as
the presiding genius, of his distinguished daughter, Madame de Stael,* were
brilliant in the extreme, assembling all the noted gentlemen and ladies of the
metropolis. On the occasion to which we refer, the magnificent saloon was
filled with men who had attained the highest eminence in literature and sci
ence, or who, in those troubled times, had ascended to posts of influence and
honor in the state. Mirabeau was there,! with his lofty brow and thunder
* Napoleon, at St. Helena, gave the following graphic and most discriminating sketch of the
character of Madame de Stael. " She was a woman of considerable talent and great ambition ;
but so extremely intriguing and restless, as to give rise to the observation that she would throw
her friends into the sea, that, at the moment of drowning, she might have an opportunity of savins
them. Shortly after my return from the conquest of Italy, I was accosted by her in a large com
pany, though at that time I avoided going out much in public. She followed me every where and
stuck so close that I could not shake her off. At last she asked me, ' Who is at this moment the
first woman in the world? intending to pay a compliment to me, and thinking that I would return
it. I looked at her, and replied, ' She, Madame, who has borne the greatest number of children '
an answer which gTeatly confused her." From this hour she became the unrelenting enemy of
Napoleon. t "Few persons," said Mirabeau, "comprehend the power of my ugliness." " If you would
form an idea of my looks," he wrote to a lady who had never seen him, "you must imagine a tiger
who has had the small-pox." "The life of Mirabeau," says Sydney Smith, " should embrace all
the talents and all the vices, every merit and every defect, every glory and every disgrace. He was
student, voluptuary, soldier, prisoner, author, diplomatist, exile, pauper, courtier, democrat, orator,
statesman, traitor. He has seen more, suffered more, learned more, felt more, done more, than any
man of his own or any other age."

1769-1791.] CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. 37
tones, proud of his very ugliness. Talleyrand* moved majestically through
the halls, conspicuous for his gigantic proportions and courtly bearing. La
Fayette, rendered glorious as the friend of Washington, and his companion
in arms, had gathered around him a group of congenial spirits. In the em
brasure of a window sat Madame de Stael. By the brilliance of her con
versational powers she had attracted to her side St. Just, who afterward ob
tained such sanguinary notoriety ; Malesherbes, the eloquent and intrepid
advocate of royalty ; Lalande, the venerable astronomer ; Marmontel and
Lagrange, illustrious mathematicians, and others, whose fame was circulat
ing through Europe.
In one corner stood the celebrated Alfieri, reciting with almost maniacal
gesticulation his own poetry to a group of ladies. The grave and philosoph
ical Neckar was the centre of another group of careworn statesmen, discuss
ing the rising perils of the times. It was an assemblage of all which Paris
could afford of brilliance in rank, talent, or station. About the middle of the
evening, Josephine, the beautiful, but then neglected wife of M. Beauharnais,
was announced, accompanied by her little son Eugene. Madame de Genlis
soon made her appearance, attended by the brother of the king ; and, con
scious of her intellectual dignity, floated through that sea of brilliance, recog
nized wherever she approached by the abundance of perfumery which her
dress exhaled. Madame Campan, the friend and companion of Maria An
toinette, and other ladies and gentlemen of the Court, were introduced, and
the party now consisted of a truly remarkable assemblage of distinguished
men and women. Parisian gayety seemed to banish all thoughts of the
troubles of the times, and the hours were surrendered to unrestrained hilar
ity. Servants were gliding through the throng, bearing a profusion of re
freshments; consisting of delicacies gathered from all quarters of the globe.
As the hour of midnight approached, there was a lull in the buzz of con
versation, and the guests gathered in silent groups to listen to a musical en
tertainment. Madame de Stael took her seat at the piano, while Josephine
prepared to accompany her with the harp. They both were performers of
singular excellence, and the whole assembly was hushed in expectation. Just,
as they had commenced the first notes of a charming duet, the door of the
saloon was thrown open, and two new guests entered the apartment. The
one was an elderly gentleman, of very venerable aspect, and dressed in the
extreme of simplicity. The other was a young man, very small, pale, and
slender. The elderly gentleman was immediately recognized by all as the
Abbe Raynal, one of the most distinguished philosophers of France ; but no
one knew the pale, slender, fragile youth who accompanied him. They
both, that they might not interrupt the music, silently took seats near the
door. As soon as the performance was ended, and the ladies had received
those compliments which their skill and taste elicited, the Abbe approached
Madame de Stael, accompanied by his young protege, and introduced him
* Talleyrand, one of the most distinguished diplomatists, was afterward elevated by the Em
peror Napoleon to be Grand Chamberlain of the Empire. He was celebrated for his witticisms.
One day Mirabeau was recounting the qualities which, in those difficult times, one should possess
to be minister of state. He was evidently describing his own character, when, to the great mirth
of all present, Talleyrand archly interrupted him with the inquiry, " He'should also le pitted with
the small-pox, should he not ?"

38 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. I.
as Monsieur Napoleon Bonaparte. Bonaparte ! that name which has since
filled the world, was then plebeian and unknown, and upon its utterance
many of the proud aristocrats in that assembly shrugged their shoulders, and
turned contemptuously away to their conversation and amusement.
Madame de Stael had almost an instinctive perception of the presence of
genius. Her attention was instantly arrested by the few remarks with which
Napoleon addressed her. They were soon engaged in very animated con
versation. Josephine and several other ladies joined them. The group
grew larger and larger as the gentlemen began to gather around the increas
ing circle. " Who is that young man who thus suddenly has gathered such
a group around him V the proud Alfieri condescended to ask of the Abbe
Raynal. " He is," replied the Abbe', " a protege of mine, and a young man
of very extraordinary talent. He is very industrious, well read, and has
made remarkable attainments in history, mathematics, and all military sci
ence." Mirabeau came stalking across the room, lured by curiosity to see
what could be the source of the general attraction. " Come here ! come
here!" said Madame de Stael, with a smile, and in an under tone. "We
have found a little great man. I will introduce him to you, for I know that
you are fond of men of genius."
Mirabeau very graciously shook hands with Napoleon, and entered into
conversation with the untitled young man, without assuming any airs of su
periority. A group of distinguished men now gathered round them, and the
conversation became in some degree general. The Bishop of Autun com
mended Fox and Sheridan for having asserted that the French army, by re
fusing to obey the orders of their superiors to fire upon the populace, had
set a glorious example to all the armies of Europe ; because, by so doing,
they had shown that men by becoming soldiers did not cease to be citizens.
" Excuse me, my lord," exclaimed Napoleon, in tones of earnestness which
arrested general attention, "if I venture to interrupt you ; but as I am an
officer, I must claim the privilege of expressing my sentiments. It is true
that I am very young, and it may appear presumptuous in me to address so
many distinguished men ; but during the last three years I have paid in
tense attention to our political troubles. I see with sorrow the state of our
country, and I will incur censure rather than pass unnoticed principles which
are not only unsound, but which are subversive of all government. As much
as any one I desire to see all abuses, antiquated privileges, and usurped
rights annulled. Nay ! as I am at the commencement of my career, it will
be my best policy, as well as my duty, to support the progress of popular in
stitutions, and to promote reform in every branch of the public administration.
But as in the last twelve months I have witnessed repeated alarming popular
disturbances, and have seen our best men divided into factions which threaten
to be irreconcilable, I sincerely believe that now, more than ever, a strict dis
cipline in the army is absolutely necessary for the safety of our constitu
tional government, and for the maintenance of order. Nay ! if our troops
are not compelled unhesitatingly to obey the commands of the executive
we shall be exposed to the blind fury of democratic passions, which will ren
der France the mosf miserable country on the globe. The ministry may be
assured that, if the daily increasing arrogance of the Parisian mob is not re-

1769-1791.] CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. 39
pressed by a strong arm, and social order rigidly maintained, we shall see
not only this capital, but every other city in France, thrown into a state of
indescribable anarchy, while the real friends of liberty, the enlightened pa
triots, now working for the best good of our country, will sink beneath a set
of demagogues, who, with louder outcries for freedom on their tongues, will
be, in reality, but a horde of savages, worse than the Neros of old."
These emphatic sentences, uttered by Napoleon with an air of authority
which seemed natural to the youthful speaker, caused a profound sensation.
For a moment there was a perfect silence in the group, and every eye was
riveted upon the pale and marble cheek of Napoleon. Neckar and La Fay
ette listened with evident uneasiness to his bold and weighty sentiments, as
if conscious of the perils which his words so forcibly portrayed. Mirabeau
nodded once or twice significantly to Talleyrand, seeming thus to say "that
is exactly the truth." Some turned upon their heels, exasperated at this
fearless avowal of hostility to democratic progress. Alfieri, one of the
proudest of aristocrats, could hardly restrain his delight, and gazed with
amazement upon the intrepid young man. " Condorcet," says an eye-wit
ness, " nearly made me cry out by the squeezes /which he gave my hand at
every sentence uttered by the pale, slender, youthful speaker."
As soon as Napoleon had concluded, Madame de Stael, turning to the Abbe
Raynal, cordially thanked him for having introduced her to the acquaintance
of one cherishing views as a statesman so profound, and so essential to
present emergencies. Then turning to her father and his colleagues, she
said, with her accustomed air of dignity and authority, " Gentlemen, I hope
that you will heed the important truths that you have now heard uttered."
The young Napoleon, then but twenty-one years of age, thus suddenly be
came the most prominent individual in that whole assembly. Wherever he
moved, many eyes followed him. He had none of the airs of a man of
fashion. He made no attempts at displays of gallantry. A peaceful mel
ancholy seemed to overshadow him, as, with an abstracted air, he passed
through the glittering throng, without being in the slightest degree dazzled
by its brilliance. The good old Abbe" Raynal appeared quite enraptured in
witnessing this triumph of his young protege'.*
Soon after this, in September, 1791, Napoleon, then twenty-two years of
age, on furlough, visited his native land. He had recently been promoted
to a first lieutenancy. Upon returning to the home of his childhood, to spend
a few months in rural leisure, the first object of his attention was to prepare
for himself a study, where he could be secluded from all interruption. For
this purpose, he selected a room in the attic of the house, where he would be
removed from all the noise of the family. Here, with his books spread out
before him, he passed days and nights of the most incessant mental toil. He
sought no recreation ; he seldom went out ; he seldom saw any company.
Had some guardian angel informed him of the immense drafts which, in the
future, were to be made upon his mind, he could not have consecrated him
self with more sleepless energy to prepare for the emergency. The life of
Napoleon presents the most striking illustration of the truth of the sentiment,
* This narrative was communicated to Chambers' Edinburgh Journal by an Italian gentleman, a
pupil of Condorcet, who was present at the interview at M. Neckar's.

40 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. I.
" The heights by great men reached and kept
Were not attained by sudden flight ;
But they, while their companions slept,
Were toiling upward in the night."
One cloudless morning, just after the sun had risen, he was sauntering along
by the sea-shore, in solitary musings, when he chanced to meet a brother of
ficer, who reproached him with his unsocial habits, and urged him to indulge,
for once, in a pleasant excursion. Napoleon, who had for some time been
desirous of taking a survey of the harbor, and of examining some heights upon
the opposite side of the gulf, which, in his view, commanded the town of
Ajaccio, consented to the proposal, upon the condition that his friend should
accompany him upon the water. They made a signal to some sailors on
board a vessel riding at anchor at some distance from the shore, and were
soon in a boat propelled by vigorous rowers. Napoleon seated himself at
the stern, and taking from his pocket a ball of pack-thread, one end of which
he had fastened upon the shore, commenced the accurate measurement of
the width of the gulf. His companion, feeling no interest in the survey, and

THE WATER EXCURSION.

seeking only listless pleasure, was not a little annoyed in having his amuse
ment thus converted into a study for which he had'no relish. When they
arrived at the opposite side of the bay, Napoleon insisted upon climbing the
heights. Regardless of the remonstrances of his associate, who complained
of hunger, and of absence from the warm breakfast which was in readiness
for him, Napoleon persisted in exploring the ground.
Napoleon, in describing the scene, says : " My companion, quite uninterest
ed in researches of this kind, begged me to desist. I strove to divert him
and to gam time to accomplish my purpose, but appetite made him deaf If
I spoke to him of the width of the bay, he replied that he was huno-ry' and

1791.] DAWNING GREATNESS. 41
that his warm breakfast was cooling. If I pointed out to him a church
steeple or a house which I could reach with my bomb-shells, he replied, ' Yes,
but I have not breakfasted.' At length, late in the morning, we returned, but
the friends with whom he was expecting to breakfast, tired of the delay, had
finished their repast, so that on his arrival he found neither guests nor ban
quet. He resolved to be more cautious in future as to the companion he
would choose, and the hour in which he would set out, on an excursion of
pleasure." Subsequently, the English surmounted these very heights by a redoubt,
and then Napoleon had occasion to avail himself, very efficiently, of the in
formation acquired upon this occasion.

CHAPTER II.
DAWK1MG GREATNESS.
Salicetti — Magnanimous Revenge — Attack upon the Tuileries — Key to the Character of Napleon
— Foundation of the American Republic — Anecdotes — Interview between Paoli and Napoleon —
Napoleon taken Prisoner — Paoli and Madame Letitia — Embarkation of the Bonaparte Family —
The English conquer Corsica — Love of Napoleon for his Island Home — Surrender of Toulon
to England — The French besiege Toulon — Napoleon's Plan for its Capture — his indomitable
Energy — Regardlessness of himself — The Volunteers — Junot — Assault and Capture of Little
Gibraltar — Evacuation of Toulon — Lawlessness of the Soldiers — Inhuman Execution — Anecdote.
While Napoleon was spending his few months of furlough in Corsica, he
devoted many hours every day to the careful composition, after the manner
of Plutarch, of the lives of illustrious Corsicans. Though he had made con
siderable progress in the work, it was lost in the subsequent disorders of
those times. He also established a debating club, composed of the several
officers in the army upon the island, to discuss the great political questions
which were then agitating Europe. These subjects he studied with most
intense application. In this club he was a frequent speaker, and obtained
much distinction for his argumentative and oratorical powers. Napoleon, at
•this time, warmly espoused the cause of popular liberty, though most sternly
hostile to lawless violence. As the Reign of Terror began to shed its gloom
on Paris, and each day brought its tidings of Jacobin cruelty and carnage,
Napoleon imbibed that intense hatred of anarchy which he ever after mani
fested, and which no temptation could induce him to disguise. One day he
expressed himself in the club so vehemently, that an enemy, Salicetti, report
ed him to the government as a traitor. He was arrested, taken to Paris, and
obtained a triumphant acquittal.
Some years after he had an opportunity to revenge himself, most magnani
mously, upon his enemy who had thus meanly sought his life, and whom he
could not but despise. Salicetti, in his turn, became obnoxious to the Jaco
bins, and was denounced as an outlaw. The officers of police were in pur
suit of him, and the guillotine was ravenous for his blood. He ungenerously
sought concealment under the roof of Madame Permon, the mother of the
young lady who had suggested to Napoleon the idea of " Puss in Boots." By
this act he exposed to the most imminent peril the lives of Madame Permon

42 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. II.
and of all the members of her household. Napoleon was on terms of familiar
intimacy with the family, and Salicetti was extremely apprehensive that he
might discover his retreat, and report him to the police. Madame Permon,
also, knowing the hatred with which Salicetti had sought Napoleon's life,
participated in these fears.
The very next morning Napoleon made his appearance in the saloon of
Madame Permon.
"Well, Madame Permon," said he, "Salicetti will now, in his turn, be
able to appreciate the bitter fruits of arrest. And to him they ought to be
the more bitter, since he aided, with his own hand, to plant the trees which
bear them."
" How !" exclaimed Madame Permon, with an air of affected astonishment,
"is Salicetti arrested?"
"And is ft possible," replied Napoleon, "that you do not know that he
has been proscribed 1 I presumed that you were aware of the fact, since it
is in your house that he is concealed."
" Concealed in my house !" she cried ; " surely, my dear Napoleon, you
are mad. I entreat you, do not repeat such a joke in any other place. I
assure you it would peril my life."
Napoleon rose from his seat, advanced slowly toward Madame Permon,
folded his arms upon his breast, and, fixing his eyes in a steadfast gaze upon
her, remained for a moment in perfect silence.
" Madame Permon !" he then said, emphatically, " Salicetti is concealed
in your house. Nay, do not interrupt me. I know that yesterday, at five
o'clock, he was seen proceeding from the Boulevard in this direction. It is
well known that he has not in this neighborhood any acquaintances, you ex
cepted, who would risk their own safety, as well as that of their friends, by
secreting him."
"And by what right," Madame Permon replied, with continued duplicity,
" should Salicetti seek an asylum here 1 He is well aware that our political
sentiments are at variance, and he also knows that I am on the point of leav
ing Paris."
"You may well ask," Napoleon rejoined, "by what right he should apply,
to you for concealment. To come to an unprotected woman, who might
be compromised by affording a few hours of safety to an outlaw who merits
his fate, is an act of baseness to which no consideration ought to have driven
him." " Should you repeat abroad this assertion," she replied, " for which there
is no possible foundation, it would entail the most serious consequences
upon me."
Again Napoleon, with much apparent emotion, fixed his steadfast gaze
upon Madame Permon, and exclaimed, "You, Madame, are a generous
woman, and Salicetti is a villain. He was well aware that you could not
close your doors against him, and he would selfishly allow you to peril your
own life and that of your child for the sake of his safety. I never liked him.
Now I despise him."
With consummate duplicity Madame Permon took Napoleon's hand, and
fixing her eye, unquailing, upon his, firmly uttered the falsehood, " I assure

1791.] DAWNING GREATNESS. 43
you, Napoleon, upon my honor, that Salicetti is not in my apartments. But
stay — shall I tell you all ?"
"Yes ! all ! all !" he vehemently rejoined.
"Well, then," she continued, with great apparent frankness, "Salicetti
was, I confess, under my roof yesterday at six o'clock, but he left in a few
hours after. I pointed out to him the moral impossibility of his remaining
concealed with me, living as publicly as I do. Salicetti admitted the justice
of my objection, and took his departure."
Napoleon, with hurried step, traversed the room two or three times, and
then exclaimed, "It is just as I suspected. He was coward enough to say
to a woman, ' Expose your life for mine.' But," he continued, stopping
before Madame Permon, and fixing a doubting eye upon her, "you really
believe, then, that he left your house and returned home ?"
"Yes," she replied; "I told him that, since he must conceal himself in
Paris, it were best to bribe the people of his own hotel, because that would
be the last place where his enemies would think of searching for him."
Napoleon then took his leave, and Madame Permon opened the door of
the closet where Salicetti was concealed. He had heard every word of the
conversation, and was sitting on a small chair, his head leaning upon his
hand, which was covered with blood, from a hemorrhage with which he had
been seized. Preparations were immediately made for an escape from Paris,
and passports were obtained for Salicetti as the valet de chambre of Madame
Permon. In the early dawn of the morning they left Paris, Salicetti, as a
servant, seated upon the box of the carriage. When they had arrived at the
end of the first stage, several miles from the city, the postillion came to the
window of the coach, and presented Madame Permon with a note, which, he
said, a young man had requested him to place in her hands at that post. It
was from Napoleon. Madame Permon opened it and read as follows :
" I never like to be thought a dupe. I should appear to be such to you,
did I not tell you that I knew perfectly well of Salicetti's place of conceal
ment. You see, then, Salicetti, that I might have returned the ill you did
to me. In so doing I should only have avenged myself. But you sought
my life when I never had done aught to harm you. Which of us stands in
the preferable point of view at the present moment ? I might have avenged
my wrongs, but I did not. Perhaps you may say that it was out of regard
to your benefactress that I spared you. That consideration, I confess, was
powerful. But you, alone, unarmed, and an outlaw, would never have been
injured by me. Go in peace, and seek an asylum where you may cherish
better sentiments. On your name my mouth is closed. Repent, and ap
preciate my motives.
" Madame Permon ! my best wishes are with you and your child. You
are feeble and defenseless beings. May Providence and a friend's prayers
protect you ! Be cautious, and do not tarry in the large towns through which
you may have to pass. Adieu !"
Having read the letter, Madame Permon turned to Salicetti, and said,
" You ought to admire the noble conduct of Bonaparte . It is most generous ."
" Generous !" he replied, with a contemptuous smile ; "what would you
have had him to do ? Would you have wished him to betray me ?"

44 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. II.
The indignant woman looked upon him with disgust, and said, " I do not
know what I might expect you to do ; but this I do know, that it would be
pleasant to see you manifest a little gratitude."
When they arrived at a sea-port, as Salicetti embarked on board a small
vessel which was to convey him to Italy, he seemed' for a moment not to be
entirely unmindful of the favors he had received. Taking Madame Per-
mon's hands in his, he said, " I should have too much to say were I to at
tempt to express to you my gratitude by words. As to Bonaparte, tell him
I thank him. Hitherto I did not believe him capable of generosity. I am
now bound to acknowledge my mistake. I thank him."*
Napoleon, after his acquittal from the charges brought against him by
Salicetti, remained in Paris for two or three months. He lived in the most
frugal manner, spending no money or time in dissipation or amusements.
He passed most of his hours in the libraries, reading volumes of solid worth,
and seeking the conversation of distinguished men. Without any exhibition
of vanity, he seemed to repose great reliance upon his own powers, and was
never abashed in the slightest degree by the presence of others, of whatever
rank or attainments. Indeed he seemed, even then, to be animated by the
assurance that he was destined for some great achievements. His eye was
surveying the world. He was meditating upon the rise and fall of empires.
France, Europe even, seemed too small for his majestic designs. He studied
with intense interest the condition of the countless myriads of men who
swarm along the rivers and the hill-sides of internal Asia, and dreamed of
being himself the founder of an empire there, in comparison with which the
dynasties of Europe should be insignificant. Indeed he never, in all his sub
sequent career, manifested the least surprise in view of his elevation. He
rose from step to step, regarding each ascent as a matter of course, never
shrinking in the least degree from assuming any weight of responsibility, and
never manifesting the slightest embarrassment in taking the command from
the hands of gray-headed veterans.
While in Paris, he was, on the famous morning of the 20th of June, 1792,
walking, with his friend Bourrienne, along the banks of the Seine, when he
saw a vast mob of men, women, and boys, with hideous yells and frantic
gestures, and brandishing weapons of every kind, rolling like an inundation
through the streets of the metropolis, and directing their steps toward the
palace of the imprisoned monarch. Napoleon ran before them that he might
witness their proceedings. Climbing, by an iron fence, upon the balustrade
of a neighboring building, he saw the squalid mass of thirty thousand mis
creants break into the garden of the Tuileries, swarm through the doors of
the regal mansion, and at last compel the insulted and humiliated king, driven
into the embrasure of a window, to put the filthy red cap of Jacobinism upon
his brow. This triumph of the drunken vagrants, from the cellars and gar
rets of infamy, over all law and justice, and this spectacle of the degradation
of the acknowledged monarch of one of the proudest nations on the globe,
excited the indignation of Napoleon to the highest pitch. He turned away
from the sight as unendurable, exclaiming, " The wretches ! how could they
suffer this vile mob to enter the palace ! They should have swept down
* Memoirs of the Duchess of Abrantes, p. 95-103.

1792.]

DAWNING GREATNESS.

45

the first five hundred with grapeshot, and the rest would have soon taken
to flight."
New scenes of violence were now daily enacted before the eyes of Na
poleon in the streets of Paris, until the dreadful 10th of August arrived. He
then again saw the triumphant and unresisted mob sack the palace of the
Tuileries. He witnessed the king and the royal family driven from the halls

THE ATTACK UPON THE TUILERIES.

of their ancestors, and followed by the phrensied multitude, with hootings, and
hissings, and every conceivable insult, in momentary peril of assassination,
until they took refuge in the Assembly. He saw the merciless massacre of
the faithful guards of the king, as they were shot in the garden, as they were
pursued and poniarded in the streets, as they were pricked down with bay
onets from the statues upon which they had climbed for protection, and in
cold blood butchered. He saw, with his bosom glowing with shame and in
dignation, the drunken rioters marching exultingly through the streets of the
metropolis, with the ghastly heads of the slaughtered guards borne aloft upon
the points of their pikes as the trophies of their victory.
These hideous spectacles wrought quite a revolution in the mind of Na
poleon. He had been a great admirer of constitutional liberty in England,
and a still greater admirer of republican liberty in America. He now became
convinced that the people of France were too ignorant and degraded for
self-government — that they needed the guidance and control of resistless law.
He hated and despised the voluptuousness, the imbecility, and the tyranny
of the effete monarchy. He had himself suffered most keenly from the su
perciliousness of the old nobility, who grasped at all the places of profit and
honor merely to gratify their own sensuality, and left no career open to mer
it. Napoleon had his own fortune to make, and he was glad to see all these
bulwarks battered down, which the pride and arrogance of past ages had

4g NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. II.
reared to foster a worthless aristocracy, and to exclude the energetic and the
aspiring, unaided by wealth and rank, from all the avenues of influence and
celebrity. On the other hand, the dominion of the mob appeared to him so
execrable, that he said, " I frankly declare that if I were compelled to choose
between the old monarchy and Jacobin misrule, I should infinitely prefer the
former." Openly and energetically, upon all occasions, fearless of conse
quences, he expressed his abhorrence of those miscreants who were tram
pling justice and mercy beneath their feet, and who were, by their atrocities,
making France a by-word among all nations.
This is a key to the character of Napoleon. These opposing forces guided
his future career. He ever, subsequently, manifested the most decisive res
olution to crush the Jacobins. He displayed untiring energy in reconstruct
ing in France a throne invincible in power, which should govern the peo
ple, which should throw every avenue to greatness open to all competi
tors, making wealth, and rank, and influence, and power the reward of mer
it. Napoleon openly avowed his conviction that France, without education,
and without religion, was not prepared for the republicanism of the United
States. In this sentiment La Fayette, and most of the wisest men of the
French nation, fully concurred. With an arm of despotic power he crushed
every lawless outbreak. And he gathered around his throne eminent abili
ties, wherever he could find them, in the shop of the artisan, in the ranks of
the army, and in the hut of the peasant. In France, at this time, there was
neither intelligence, religion, nor morality among the masses. There was
no reverence for law, either human or divine. Napoleon expressed his high
approval of the constitutional monarchy of England, and declared that to be
the model upon which he would have the new government of France con
structed. He judged that France needed an imposing throne, supported by
an illustrious nobility, and by a standing army of invincible power, with civil
privileges cautiously and gradually disseminated among the people. And
though subsequent events rendered it necessary for him to assume dictato
rial power, few persons could have manifested, during so long a reign, and
through the temptations of so extraordinary a career, more unwavering con
sistency. One evening he returned home from a walk through the streets of the
tumultuous metropolis, in which his ears had been deafened by the shouts
of the people in favor of a new republican constitution. It was in the midst
of the Reign of Terror, and the guillotine was drenched in blood. "How do
you like the new constitution ?" said a lady to him. He replied hesitating
ly, "Why, it is good in one sense, to be sure ; but all that is connected with
carnage is bad ;" and then, as if giving way to an outburst of sincere feeling,
exclaimed emphatically, " No ! no! no! away with this constitution! 1 do
not like it."
The republicanism of the United States is founded on the intellio-ence the
Christianity, and the reverence for law so generally prevalent throughout
the whole community. And should that dark day ever come in which the
majority of the people will be unable to read the printed vote which is placed
in their hands, and lose all reverence for earthly law, and believe not in God
before whose tribunal they must finally appear, it is certain that the repub-

1793.] DAWNING GREATNESS. 47
lie can no longer stand. Anarchy must ensue, from which there can be no
refuge but in a military despotism.
In these days of pecuniary embarrassment, Napoleon employed a boot
maker, a very awkward workman, but a man who manifested very kindly
feelings toward him, and accommodated him in his payments. When dig
nity and fortune were lavished upon the First Consul and the Emperor, he
was frequently urged to employ a more fashionable workman. But no per
suasions could induce him to abandon the humble artisan who had been the
friend of his youthful days. Instinctive delicacy told him that the man
would be more gratified by being the shoemaker of the Emperor, and that
his interests would thus be better promoted than by any other favors he
could confer.
A silver-smith, in one of Napoleon's hours of need, sold him a dressing-
case upon credit. The kindness was never forgotten. Upon his return from
the campaign of Italy, he called upon the artisan, rewarded him liberally, ever
after employed him, and also recommended him to his marshals and to his
court in general. In consequence, the jeweler acquired an immense fortune.
Effects must have their causes. Napoleon's boundless popularity in the
army and in the nation was not the result of accident, the sudden outbreak
of an insane delusion. These exhibitions of an instinctive and unstudied
magnanimity won the hearts of the people as rapidly as his transcendent
abilities and herculean toil secured for him renown.
Napoleon, with his political principles modified by the scenes of lawless
violence which he had witnessed in Paris, returned again to Corsica. Soon
after his return to his native island, in February, 1793, he was ordered, at the
head of two battalions, in co-operation with Admiral Turget, to make a de
scent upon the island of Sardinia. Napoleon effected a landing, and was en
tirely successful in the accomplishment of his part of the expedition. The
admiral, however, failed, and Napoleon, in consequence, was under the ne
cessity of evacuating the positions where he had intrenched himself, and of
returning to Corsica.*
He found France still filled with the most frightful disorders. The king
and queen had both fallen upon the scaffold. Paoli, disgusted with the po
litical aspect of his own country, treasonably plotted to surrender Corsica,
over which he was the appointed governor, to the crown of England. It was
a treacherous act, and was only redeemed from utter infamy by the brutal
outrages with which France was disgraced. A large party of the Corsicans
rallied around Paoli. He exerted all the influence in his power to induce
Napoleon, the son of his old friend and comrade, and whose personal qualities
he greatly admired, to join his standard. Napoleon, on the other hand, with
far greater penetration into the mysteries of the future, entreated Paoli to
abandon the unpatriotic enterprise. He argued that the violence with which
* "I will not detain you, sir, by entering into the long detail which has been given of their
aggressions and their violences. But let me mention Sardinia as one instance which has been
strongly insisted upon. Did the French attack Sardinia when at peace with them 1 No such
thing. The King of Sardinia had accepted a subsidy from Great Britain ; and Sardinia was to all
intents and purposes a belligerent power." — Speech in the British Parliament by Hon. Charles J.
Fox, Feb. 3, 1800.

48 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. II.
France was filled was too terrible to be lasting, and that the nation must soon
return again to reason and to law. He represented that Corsica was too
small and feeble to think of maintaining independence in the midst of the
powerful empires of Europe ; that in manners, language, customs, and relig
ion, it could never become a homogeneous part of England ; that the natural
connection of the island was with France, and that its glory could only be
secured by its being embraced as a province of the French empire ; and
above all, he argued that it was the duty of every good citizen, in such hours
of peril, to cling firmly and fearlessly to his country, and to exert every nerve
to cause order to emerge from the chaos into which all things had fallen.
These were unanswerable arguments ; but Paoli had formed strong attach
ments in England, and remembered, with an avenging spirit, the days in
which he had fled before the conquering armies of France.
The last interview which took place between these distinguished men
was at a secluded convent in the interior of the island. Long and earn
estly they argued with each other, for they were devoted personal friends.
The veteran governor was eighty years of age, and Napoleon was but twen
ty-four. It was with the greatest reluctance that either of them could con
sent to draw the sword against the other. But there was no alternative.
Paoli was firm in his determination to surrender the island to the English.
No persuasions could induce Napoleon to sever his interests from those of
his native country. Sadly they separated, to array themselves against each
other in civil war.
As Napoleon, silent and thoughtful, was riding home alone, he entered a
wild ravine among the mountains, when suddenly he was surrounded by a
party of mountaineers, in the employ of Paoli, and taken prisoner. By strat
agem he effected his escape, and placed himself at the head of the battalion
of National Guards, over which he had been appointed commander. Hostili
ties immediately commenced. The governor, who, with his numerous forces,
had possession of the town of Ajaccio, invited the English into the harbor,
surrendering to them the island. The English immediately took possession
of those heights on the opposite side of the gulf which it will be remember
ed that Napoleon had previously so carefully examined. The information
he gained upon this occasion was now of special service to him. One dark
and stormy night he embarked in a frigate, with a few hundred soldiers,
landed near the intrenchments, guided the party in the darkness over the
ground, with which he was perfectly familiar, surprised the English in their
sleep, and, after a short but sanguinary conflict, took possession of the fort.
The storm, however, increased to a gale, and when the morning dawned,
they strained their eyes in vain through the driving mist to discern the frig
ate. It had been driven by the tempest far out to sea. Napoleon and his
little band were immediately surrounded by the allied English and Corsicans
and their situation seemed desperate. For five days they defended them
selves most valiantly, during which time they were under the necessity of
killing their horses for food to save themselves from starvation. At last the
frigate again appeared. Napoleon then evacuated the town, in which he had
so heroically contended against vastly outnumbering foes, and, after an in
effectual attempt to blow up the fort, succeeded in safely effecting an em-

1793.]

DAWNING GREATNESS.

49

barkation. The strength of Paoli was daily increasing, and the English in
greater numbers were crowding to his aid. Napoleon saw that it was in vain
to attempt further resistance, and that Corsica was no longer a safe residence
for himself or for the family. He accordingly disbanded his forces and pre
pared to leave the island.
Paoli called upon Madame Letitia, and exhausted his powers of persuasion
in endeavoring to induce the family to unite with him in the treasonable sur
render of the island to the English. " Resistance is hopeless," said he, "and
by this perverse opposition you are bringing irreparable ruin and misery on
yourself and family." " I know of but two laws," replied Madame Letitia,
heroically, " which it is necessary for me to obey, the laws of honor and of
duty." A decree was immediately passed banishing the family from the
island. One morning Napoleon hastened to inform his mother that several
thousand peasants, armed with all the implements of revolutionary fury,
were on the march to attack the house. The family fled precipitately, with
such few articles of property as they could seize at the moment, and for sev
eral days wandered, houseless and destitute, on the sea-shore, until Napoleon
could make arrangements for their embarkation. The house was sacked by
the mob, and the furniture entirely destroyed.
It was midnight when an open boat, manned by four strong rowers, with
muffled oars, approached the shore in the vicinity of the pillaged and batter
ed dwelling of Madame Letitia. A dim lantern was held by an attendant

A

M

THE EMIGRANTS.

as the Bonaparte family, in silence and in sorrow, with the world, its pov
erty and all its perils, wide before them, entered the boat. A few trunks
and bandboxes contained all their available property. The oarsmen pulled
out into the dark and lonely sea. Earthly boat never before held such a
band of emigrants. Little did those poor and friendless fugitives then im-
Vol. I.— D

50 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. Chap. II.
agine that all the thrones of Europe were to tremble before them, and that
their celebrity was to fill the world. Napoleon took his stand at the bows,
for although the second son, he was already the commanding spirit of the
family.* They soon ascended the sides of a small vessel which was waiting
for them in the offing, with her sails fluttering in the breeze, and when the
morning sun arose over the blue waters of the Mediterranean, they were ap
proaching the harbor of Nice. Here they remained but a short time, when
they removed to Marseilles, where the family resided in great pecuniary em
barrassment until relieved by the rising fortunes of Napoleon.
The English immediately took possession of the island, and retained it for
two years. The fickle Corsicans soon grew weary of their new masters, in
whose language, manners, and religion they found no congeniality, and a
general rising took place. A small force from France effected a landing,
notwithstanding the vigilance of the English cruisers. Beacon fires, the sig
nals of insurrection, by previous concert, blazed from every hill, and the
hoarse sound of the horn, echoing along the mountain sides and through the
ravines, summoned the warlike peasants to arms. The English were driven
from the island with even more precipitation than they had taken possession
of it. Paoli retired with them to London, deeply regretting that he had not
followed the wise counsel of young Napoleon.
Bonaparte visited Corsica but once again. He could not love the people
in whose defense he had suffered such injustice. To the close of life, how
ever, he retained a vivid recollection of the picturesque beauties of his native
island, and often spoke, in most animating terms, of the romantic glens, and
precipitous cliffs, and glowing skies, endeared to him by all the associations
of childhood. The poetic and the mathematical elements were both com
bined, in the highest degree, in the mind of Napoleon, and though his manly
intellect turned away in disgust from mawkish and effeminate sentimental-
ism, he enjoyed the noble appreciation of all that is beautiful and all that is
sublime. His retentive memory was stored with the most brilliant passages
from the tragedies of Corneille, Racine, and Voltaire, and no one could quote
them with more appropriateness.
We now approach more eventful scenes in the life of this extraordinary
man. Many of the monarchies of Europe were allied against the French
Revolution, and slowly, but resistlessly, their combined armies were march
ing upon Paris. The emigrant nobles and Royalists, many thousands in num
ber, were incorporated into the embattled hosts of these allies. The spirit
of insurrection against the government began to manifest itself very strongly
in several important cities. Toulon, on the shores of the Mediterranean, was
the great naval ddjpot and arsenal of France. It contained a population of
about twenty-five thousand inhabitants. More than fifty ships of the line
and frigates were riding at anchor in its harbor, and an immense quantity
* Louis Bonaparte, in his Response to Sir Walter Scott, correcting some slight inaccuracies
which have crept into history respecting this flight, says, " Though but a child, I was with my
mother at that time. It was not Lucien who accompanied Napoleon, but Joseph ; Jerome, who
was but seven years of age, and Caroline, who was eight, remained at Ajaccio, and did not join us
until some time afterward, though I remained with my mother, as did my uncle, the Archdeacon
Fesch." — Reponse a Sir Walter Scott, s-iir son Histoire de Napoleon, par Louis Bonaparte, p. 13.

1793.] DAWNING GREATNESS. 51
of military and naval stores of every description was collected in its spacious
magazines. The majority of the inhabitants of this city were friends of the old mon
archy. Some ten thousand of the Royalists of Marseilles, Lyons, and other
parts of the south of France, took refuge within the walls of Toulon, and,
uniting with the Royalist inhabitants, surrendered the city, its magazines, its
ships, and its forts, to the combined English and Spanish fleet, which was
cruising outside of its harbor. The English ships sailed triumphantly into
the port, landed five thousand English troops, and eight thousand Spaniards,
Neapolitans, and Piedmontese, and took possession of the place. This
treacherous act excited to the highest pitch the alarm and the indignation
of the revolutionary government ; and it was resolved that, at all hazards,
Toulon must be retaken, and the English driven from the soil of France.
But the English are not easily expelled from the posts which they once have
occupied ; and it was an enterprise of no common magnitude to displace
them, with their strong army and their invincible navy, from fortresses so
impregnable as those of Toulon, and where they found stored up for them,
in such profuse abundance, all the munitions of war.
Two armies were immediately marched upon Toulon, the place invested,
and a regular siege commenced. Three months had passed away, during
which time no apparent progress had been effected toward the capture of
the town. Every exertion was made by the allied troops and the Royalist
inhabitants to strengthen the defenses, and especially to render impregnable
a fort called the Little Gibraltar, which commanded the harbor and the town.
The French besieging force, amounting to about forty thousand men, were
wasting their time outside of the intrenchments, keeping very far away from
the reach of cannon balls. The command of these forces had been intrust
ed to General Cartaux, a portrait-painter from Paris, as ignorant of all mili
tary science as he was self-conceited.
Matters were in this state when Napoleon, whose commanding abilities
were now beginning to attract attention, was promoted to the rank of Brig
adier-general, and invested with the command of the artillery train at Tou
lon. He immediately hastened to the scene of action, and beheld, with utter
astonishment, the incapacity with which the siege was conducted. He found
batteries erected which would not throw their balls one half the distance
between the cannon and the points they were designed to command. Balls
also were heated in the peasants' houses around, at perfectly ridiculous dis
tances from the guns, as if they were articles to be transported at one's leis
ure. Napoleon requested the commander-in-chief, at whose direction these
batteries were reared, to allow him to witness the effect of a few discharges
from the guns. With much difficulty he obtained consent. And when the
general saw the shot fall more than half-way short of the mark, he turned
upon his heel, and said, " These aristocrats have spoiled the quality of the
powder with which I am supplied."
Napoleon respectfully, but firmly, made his remonstrance to the Conven
tion, assuring them that the siege must be conducted with far more science.
and energy if a successful result was to be expected. He recommended
that the works against the city itself should be comparatively neglected, and

52 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. II.
that all the energies of the assaults should be directed against Little Gibral
tar. That fort once taken, it was clear to his mind that the Enghsh fleet,
exposed to a destructive fire, must immediately evacuate the harbor, and
that the town would no longer be defensible. In fact, he pursued precisely
the course by which Washington had previously driven the British from Bos
ton. The distinguished American general turned aside from the city itself,
and by a masterly movement planted his batteries on Dorchester heights,
from which he could rain down a perfect tempest of balls upon the decks of
the English ships. The invaders were compelled to fly, and to take with
them their Tory allies. Napoleon did the same thing at Toulon. The en
terprise was, however, vastly more arduous, since the English had foreseen
the importance of that post, and had surrounded it with works so unap
proachable that they did not hesitate to call it their Little Gibraltar.
Napoleon undertook their dislodgment. Dugommier, a scarred and war
worn veteran, was now placed in the supreme command, and cordially sym
pathized with his young artillery officer in all his plans. The agents of
the Convention, who were in the camp as spies to report proceedings to the
government, looked with much incredulity upon this strange way of captur
ing Toulon. One morning some of these commissioners ventured to criti
cise the position of a gun which Napoleon was superintending. "Do you,"
he tartly replied, "attend to your duty as national commissioners, and I will
be answerable for mine with my head."
Napoleon's younger brother, Louis, visited him during this siege. They
walked out one morning to a place where an unavailing assault had been
made by a portion of the army, and two hundred mangled bodies of French
men were strewn over the ground. On beholding the slaughter which had
taken place, Napoleon exclaimed, " All those men have been needlessly sac
rificed. Had intelligence commanded here, none of these lives need have
been lost. Learn from this, my brother, how indispensable and imperative
ly necessary it is that those should possess knowledge who aspire to assume
the command over others."
Napoleon, with an energy which seemed utterly exhaustless, devoted him
self to the enterprise he had undertaken. He shared all the toils and all the
perils of his men. He allowed himself but a few hours' sleep at night, and
then, wrapped in his cloak, threw himself under the guns. By the utmost
exertions, he soon obtained, from all quarters, a train of two hundred heavy
battering cannon. In the midst of a storm of shot and shells incessantly
falling around him, he erected five or six powerful batteries, within point-
blank range of the works he would assail. One battery in particular which
was masked by a plantation of olives, he constructed very near the intrench
ments of the enemy. He seemed utterly regardless of his own safety, had
several horses shot from under him, and received from an Englishman so
serious a bayonet wound in his left thigh, that for a time he was threatened
with the necessity of amputation. All these operations were carried on in
the midst of the storms of battle. There were daily and nightly skirmishes,
and sallies, and deadly assaults, and the dreadful tide of successful and un
successful war ever ebbed and flowed. One day an artilleryman was shot
'down by his side, and the ramrod which he was using was drenched with

1793.]

DAWNING GREATNESS.

53

blood. Napoleon immediately sprang into the dead man's place, seized the
rod, and, to the great encouragement of the soldiers, with his own hand re
peatedly charged the gun.
While the siege was in progress, one day fifteen carriages from Paris sud
denly made their appearance in the camp, and about sixty men, alighting from
them, dressed in gorgeous uniform, and with the pomp and important air of
embassadors from the revolutionary government, demanded to be led into the
presence of the commander-in-chief.
"Citizen-general," said the orator of the party, "we come from Paris. The
patriots are indignant at your inactivity and delay. The soil of the Repub
lic has been violated. She trembles to think that the insult still remains un
avenged. She asks, Why is Toulon not yet taken ? why is the English fleet
not yet destroyed ? In her indignation she has appealed to her brave sons.
We have obeyed her summons, and burn with impatience to fulfill her expect
ations. We are volunteer gunners from Paris. Furnish us with arms. To
morrow we will march against the enemy."
The general was not a little disconcerted by this pompous and authori
tative address. But Napoleon whispered to him, " Turn those gentlemen
over to me. I will take care of them." They were very hospitably enter
tained, and the next morning, at daybreak, Napoleon conducted them to the
sea-shore, and gave them charge of several pieces of artillery, which he had
placed there during the night, and with which he requested them to sink an
English frigate, whose black and threatening hull was seen, through the haze

THE VOLUNTEER GUNNERS.

of the morning, at anchor some distance from the shore. The trembling vol
unteers looked around with most nervous uneasiness in view of their exposed
situation, and anxiously inquired if there was no shelter behind which they
could stand. Just then a whole broadside of cannon balls came whistling

54 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. II.
over their heads. This was not the amusement they had bargained for, and
the whole body of braggadocios took to precipitate flight. Napoleon sat
quietly upon his horse, without even a smile moving his pensive and marble
features, as he contemplated, with much satisfaction, the dispersion of such
troublesome allies.
Upon another occasion, when the enemy were directing their fire upon the
works which he was constructing, having occasion to send a dispatch from
the trenches, he called for some one who could write, that he might dictate
an order. A young private stepped out from the ranks, and, resting the pa
per upon the breast-work, began to write, as Napoleon dictated. While thus
employed, a cannon-ball from the enemy's battery struck the ground but a
few feet from them, covering their persons and the paper with the earth.
"Thank you," said the soldier, gayly, "we shall need no more sand upon
this page." The instinctive fearlessness and readiness thus displayed ar
rested the attention of Napoleon. He fixed his keen and piercing eye upon
him for a moment, as if scrutinizing all his mental and physical qualities,
and then said, " Young man ! what can I do for you ?" The soldier blushed
deeply, but promptly replied, " Every thing ;" and then, touching his left
shoulder with his hand, he added, "you can change this worsted into an
epaulet." A few days after, Napoleon sent for the same soldier to recon
noitre the trenches of the enemy, and suggested that he should disguise his
dress, as his exposure would be very great. " Never," replied the soldier ;
" do you take me for a spy ? I will go in my uniform, though I should nev
er return." He set out immediately, and fortunately escaped unharmed.
These two incidents revealed character, and Napoleon immediately recom
mended him for promotion. This was Junot, afterward Duke of Abrantes,
and one of the most efficient friends of Napoleon. " I love Napoleon," said
Junot afterward, most wickedly, " as my God. To him I am indebted for
all that I am."*
At last the hour arrived when all things were ready for the grand attempt.
It was in the middle watches of the night of the 17th of December, 1793,
when the signal was given for the assault. A cold storm of wind and rain
was wailing its midnight dirges in harmony with the awful scene of carnage,
destruction, and woe about to ensue. The genius of Napoleon had arranged
every thing and inspired the desperate enterprise. No pen can describe the
horrors of the conflict. All the energies of both armies were exerted to the
utmost in the fierce encounter. To distract the attention of the enemy, the
fortifications were every where attacked, while an incessant shower of bomb
shells was rained down upon the devoted city, scattering dismay and death
in all directions. In the course of a few hours, eight thousand shells, from
the effective batteries of Napoleon, were thrown into Little Gibraltar, until
the massive works were almost one pile of ruins. In the midst of the dark
ness, the storm, the drenching rain, the thunder of artillery, and the gleam
ing light of bomb-shells, the French marched up to the very muzzles of the
English guns, and were mown down like grass before the scythe by the tre-
* It is pleasant to witness manifestations of gratitude. God frowns upon impiety. The weal
thy, illustrious, and miserable Junot, in a paroxysm of insanity, precipitated himself from his cham
ber window, and died in agony upon the pavement.

1793.] DAWNING GREATNESS. 55
mendous discharges of grape-shot and musketry. The ditches were filled
with the dead and the dying. Again and again the French were repulsed,
only to return again and again to the assault.
Napoleon was every where present, inspiring the onset, even more reck
less of his own life than of the lives of his soldiers. For a long time the
result seemed very doubtful. But the plans of Napoleon were too carefully
laid for final discomfiture. His mangled, bleeding columns rushed in at the
embrasures of the rampart, and the whole garrison were in a few moments
silent and still in death. "General," said Bonaparte to Dugommier, as he
raised the tri-colored flag over the crumbling walls of the rampart, " go and
sleep. We have taken Toulon." " It was," says Scott, " upon this night
of terror, conflagration, tears, and blood, that the star of Napoleon first
ascended the horizon, and, though it gleamed over many a scene of horror
ere it set, it may be doubted whether its light was ever blended with that of
one more dreadful."
Though Little Gibraltar was thus taken, the conflict continued all around
the city until morning. Shells were exploding, and hot shot falling in the
thronged dwellings. Children in the cradle, and maidens in their chambers,
had limb torn from limb by the dreadful missiles. Conflagrations were con
tinually bursting forth, burning the mangled and the dying, while piercing
shrieks of dismay and of agony arose, even above the thunders of the terrific
cannonade. The wind howled in harmony with the awful scene, and a cold
and drenching rain swept the streets. One can not contemplate such a con
flict without wondering that a God of mercy could have allowed his children
thus brutally to deform this fair creation with the spirit of the world of woe.
For the anguish inflicted upon suffering humanity that night, a dread respon
sibility must rest somewhere. A thousand houses were made desolate.
Thousands of hearts were lacerated and crushed, with every hope of life
blighted forever. The English government thought that they did right, un
der the circumstances of the case, to send their armies and take possession
of Toulon. Napoleon deemed that he was nobly discharging his duty in
the herculean and successful endeavors he made to drive the invaders from
the soil of France. It is not easy for man, with his limited knowledge, to
adjust the balance of right and wrong. But here was a crime of enormous
magnitude committed — murder, and robbery, and arson, and violence — the
breaking of every commandment of God upon the broadest scale ; and a day
of judgment is yet to come, in which the responsibility will be, with precise
and accurate justice, awarded.
The direful tragedy was, however, not yet terminated. When the morn
ing sun dawned dimly and coldly through the lurid clouds, an awful spec
tacle was revealed to the eye. The streets of Toulon were red with blood,
while thousands of the mangled and the dead, in all the most hideous forms
of mutilation, were strewed through the dwellings and along the streets.
Fierce conflagrations were blazing in many parts of the city, while smoul
dering ruins and shattered dwellings attested the terrific power of the mid
night storm of man's depravity. The cannonade was still continued, and
shells were incessantly exploding among the terrified and shrieking inhab
itants.

56 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. II.
Napoleon, having accomplished the great object of his exertions, the cap
ture of Little Gibraltar, allowed himself not one moment for triumph, or
repose, or regret. He immediately prepared his guns to throw their balls
into the English ships, and to harass them at every point of exposure. No
sooner did Lord Howe see the tri-colored flag floating from the parapets of
Little Gibraltar, than, conscious that the city was no longer tenable, he made
signal for the fleet to prepare for immediate evacuation. The day was passed
by the English in filling their ships with stores from the French arsenals, they
having determined to destroy all the munitions of war which they could not
carry away. The victorious French were straining every nerve in the erec
tion of new batteries, to cripple, and, if possible, to destroy the retiring foe.
Thus passed the day, when another wintry night settled gloomily over the
beleaguered and woe-exhausted city. The terror of the Royalists was dread
ful. They saw, by the embarkation of the British sick and wounded, the in
dications that the English were to evacuate the city, and that they were to
be left to their fate. And full well they knew what doom they, and their
wives and their children, were to expect from Republican fury in those days
of unbridled violence. The English took as many of the French ships of the
line as could be got ready for sea, to accompany them in their escape. The
rest, consisting of fifteen ships of the line and eight frigates, were collected
to be burned. A fire-ship, filled with every combustible substance, was towed
into their midst, and at ten o'clock the torch was applied. The night was
dark and still. The flames of the burning ships burst forth like a volcano
from the centre of the harbor, illuminating the scene with lurid and almost
noonday brilliance. The water was covered with boats, crowded with fugi
tives, hurrying, frantic with despair, to the English and Spanish ships. More
than twenty thousand Loyalists, men, women, and children, of the highest
rank, crowded the beach and the quays, in a state of indescribable conster
nation, imploring rescue from the infuriate army, which, like wolves, were
howling around the walls of the city, eager to get at their prey.
To increase the horror of the scene, a furious cannonade was in progress
all the time from every ship and every battery. Cannon-balls tore their
way through family groups. Bombs exploded upon the thronged decks of
the ships, and in the crowded boats. Many boats were thus sunk, and the
shrieks of drowning women and children pierced through the heavy thun
ders of the cannonade. Husbands and wives, parents and children, brothers
and sisters, were separated from each other, and ran to and fro upon the
shore in delirious agony. The daughter was left mangled and dying upon
the beach ; the father was borne by the rush into one boat, the wife into an
other, and no one knew who was living, and who, mercifully, was dead. The
ships, the magazines, the arsenals, were all now in flames. The Jacobins of
Toulon began to emerge from garrets and cellars, and, phrensied with intox
ication, like demons of darkness, with torch and sword, rioted through the
city, attacked the flying Royalists, tore their garments from their backs, and
inflicted upon maids and matrons every conceivable brutality. A little after
midnight, two frigates, each containing many thousand barrels of gunpowder,
blew up, with an explosion so terrific that it seemed to shake, like an earth
quake, even the solid hills. As, at last, the rear-guard of the English aban-

1793.] DAWNING GREATNESS. 57
doned the ramparts and hurried to their boats, the triumphant Republican
army, nearly forty thousand strong, came rushing into the city at all points.
The allied fleet, with favorable winds, spread its sails, and soon disappeared
beneath the horizon of the silent sea, bearing away nearly twenty thousand
wretched exiles to homelessness, penury, and a life-long woe.*
Dugommier, the commander of the Republican army, notwithstanding all
his exertions, found it utterly impossible to restrain the passions of his victo
rious soldiers, and for many days violence and crime ran rampant in the
doomed city. The offense of having raised the flag of Royalty, and of hav
ing surrendered the city and its stores to the foe, was one not to be forgiven.
The Jacobin government in Paris sent orders for a bloody and a terrible
vengeance, that the Loyalists all over France might be intimidated from
again conspiring with the enemy. Napoleon did every thing in his power
to protect the inhabitants from the fury which was wreaked upon them.
He witnessed, with anguish, scenes of cruelty which he could not repress.
An old merchant, eighty-four years of age, deaf, and almost blind, was
guilty of the crime of being worth five millions of dollars. The Convention,
coveting his wealth, sentenced him to the scaffold. "When I witnessed the
inhuman execution of this old man," said Napoleon, " I felt as if the end of
the world was at hand." He exposed his own life to imminent peril in his
endeavors to save the helpless from Jacobin rage. One day a Spanish prize
was brought into the harbor, on board of which had been taken the noble
family of Chabrillant, well-known Loyalists, who were escaping from France.
The mob, believing that they were fleeing to join the emigrants and the
allied army in their march against Paris, rushed to seize the hated aristo
crats, and to hang them, men and women, at the nearest lamp-posts. The
guard came up for their rescue, and were repulsed. Napoleon saw among
the rioters several gunners who had served under him during the siege.
He mounted a platform, and their respect for their general secured him a
hearing. He induced them, by those powers of persuasion which he so em
inently possessed, to intrust the emigrants to him, to be tried and sentenced
the next morning. At midnight he placed them in an artillery wagon, con
cealed among barrels of powder and casks of bullets, and had them convey
ed out of the city as a convoy of ammunition. He also provided a boat to
be in waiting for them on the shore, and they embarked and were saved.
Though the representatives of the Convention made no allusion to Napo
leon in their report, he acquired no little celebrity among the officers in the
army by the energy and skill he had manifested. One of the deputies, how
ever, wrote to Carnot, " I send you a young man who distinguished himself
very much during the siege, and earnestly recommend to you to advance
him speedily. If you do not, he will most assuredly advance himself."
Soon after the capture of Toulon, Napoleon accompanied General Dugom-
* " Thus terminated this memorable campaign, the most remarkable in the annals of France,
perhaps in the history of the world. From a state of unexampled peril, from the attack of forces
which would have crushed Louis XIV. in the plenitude of his power, from civil dissensions which
threatened to dismember the state, the republic emerged triumphant. Yet what fair opportunities,
never again to recur, were then afforded to crush the hydra in its cradle ! If thirty thousand Brit
ish troops had been sent to Toulon, the constitutional throne would have been at once estabhshed
in all the south of France." — Alison, vol. i., p. 293.

5g NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. III.
mier to Marseilles. He was in company with him there, when some one,
noticing his feminine figure, inquired, "Who is that little bit of an officer,
and where did you pick him up ?" " That officer's name," gravely replied
General Dugommier, " is Napoleon Bonaparte. I picked him up at the siege
of Toulon, to the successful termination of which he eminently contributed.
And you will probably one day see that this little bit of an officer is a great
er man than any of us."

CHAPTER III.
the austrians repulsed, and the insurrection quelled.
Ceaseless Activity of Napoleon — Promotion — Departure for Nice — Attack upon the Austrians —
Arrest of Napoleon and Deprival of his Commission — Temptation and Relief — Defeat of the
Army of Italy — Studious Character of Bonaparte — His Kindness of Heart — Infidelity in France
¦ — New Constitution — Terror of the Convention — Napoleon is presented to the Convention —
Preparations — Results — New Government — Napoleon's Attention to his Mother — Pithy Speech.
Napoleon was immediately employed in fortifying the maritime coast of
Southern France, to afford the inhabitants protection against attacks from
the allied fleet. With the same exhaustless, iron diligence which had sig
nalized his course at Toulon, he devoted himself to this new enterprise.
He climbed every headland, explored every bay, examined all soundings.
He allowed himself no recreation, and thought not of repose. It was win
ter, and cold storms of wind and rain swept the bleak hills. But the ener
gies of a mind more intense and active than was perhaps ever before encased
in human flesh, rendered this extraordinary man, then but twenty-four years
of age, perfectly regardless of all personal indulgences. Drenched with rain,
living upon such coarse fare as he chanced to meet in the huts of fishermen
and peasants, throwing himself, wrapped in his cloak, upon any poor cot, for
a few hours of repose at night, he labored, with both body and mind, to a de
gree which no ordinary constitution could possibly have endured, and which
no ordinary enthusiasm could have inspired.
In a few weeks he accomplished that to which others would have devoted
years of energetic action. It seems incredible that a human mind, in so
short a time, could have matured plans so comprehensive and minute, and
could have achieved such vast results. While other young officers of his
age were sauntering along the windings of mountain streams with hook and
line, or strolling the field with fowling-pieces, or, in halls of revelry, with
mirthful maidens, were accomplishing their destiny in cotillons and waltzes,
Napoleon, in herculean toil, was working day and night, with a sleepless en
ergy which never has been surpassed. He divided the coast battery into
three classes; those for the defense of men-of-war in important harbors;
those for the protection of merchant vessels ; and those reared upon promon
tories and headlands, under whose guns the coasting-trade could hover.
Having accomplished this vast undertaking in the two wintry months of
January and February, early in March, 1794, he joined the head-quarters of
the army of Italy in Nice, promoted to the rank of Brigadier-general of Ar
tillery. The personal appearance of Napoleon, at this time, was any thing

1794.] REPULSE OF THE AUSTRIANS. 59
but prepossessing. He was diminutive in stature, and thin and emaciated in
the extreme. His features were angular and sharp, and his complexion sal
low. His hair, contrary to the fashion of the times, was combed straight
over his forehead. His hands were perfectly feminine in their proportions.
Quite regardless of the display of dress, he usually appeared without gloves,
which, he said, were a useless luxury, in a plain round hat, with boots clum
sily fitted to his feet, and with a gray great-coat, which afterward became
as celebrated as the white plume of Henry IV. His eye, however, was brill
iant, and his smile ever peculiarly winning.*
Napoleon, upon his arrival at Nice, found the French army idly reposing
in their intrenchments among the Maritime Alps, and surrounded by superior
forces of Austrians and Sardinians. General Dumerbion, who was in com
mand, was a fearless and experienced soldier, but aged and infirm, and suffer
ing severely from the gout. The sun of returning spring was causing the
hills and the valleys to rejoice. Mild airs from the south were breathing
gently over the opening foliage, and the songs of birds and the perfume of
flowers lured to listless indulgence. Napoleon was pale and emaciate from
the toils of his batteries at Toulon, and from his sleepless exertions in forti
fying the coast. He now had an opportunity for repose, and for the recruit
ing of his apparently exhausted frame. He, however, did not allow himself
one single day of recreation or of rest. The very hour of his arrival found
him intensely occupied in informing himself respecting all the particulars of
the numbers, positions, the organization, and the available resources of the
two armies. He carefully examined every outpost of the French, and recon-
noitered, with the most scrutinizing attention, the line occupied by the oppos
ing hosts. He studied the map of the country. He galloped hour after hour,
and day after day, through the ravines and over the mountains, to make him
self perfectly familiar with all the localities of the region. After a day of
incessant toil, he would spend the night with his maps and charts before him,
with every meandering stream, every valley, every river carefully laid down,
and with pins, the heads of some covered with red sealing-wax to represent
the French, and others with blue to designate the enemy, he would form all
possible combinations, and study the advantages or the perils of the different
positions which the Republican army might assume. Having thrown him
self upon his cot for a few hours of repose, the earliest dawn of the morning
would find him again upon his horse's back, exploring all the intricate and
perilous fastnesses of the Alps.
A large force of Austrians were intrenched near Saorgia, along the banks
* Lieutenant and Captain Bonaparte was one of the most exemplary young men of his age ; not
addicted to any of the usual vices or follies of young officers — no gambling, quarreling, dueling, or
dissipation of any kind discredited his first years in the army. His morals were as pure as his tal
ents were superior, and his temper amiable. That such undeniable youth should ripen to the
wicked maturity so profusely imputed to him, seems contrary to nature. At school he was a fa
vorite with his school-fellows, and in their choice of boys to preside at sports, or on other occa
sions, Napoleon was mostly elected. In the army he was as generally esteemed. His popularity,
as commander, with the soldiers is well known ; his uniform and cordial kindness, attention to their
wants and comforts, and studying their welfare more than that of the officers. Yet at school, and
in all military grades, he was a strict disciplinarian ; never courted favor by unworthy or unmanly
condescension ; but, throughout his whole life, was authoritative, direct, simple, systematic, kind,
and considerate." — Ingersoll's Second War, vol. i., p. 150, second series.

60

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. III.
of the fertile Roya, in the enjoyment of ease and abundance, and dreaming
not of peril. Napoleon, with great deliberation, formed his plan. He had
foreseen all probable contingencies, and guarded against every conceivable

NIGHT STUDIES.

danger. A council was assembled. He presented his suggestions so forci
bly and so clearly as to insure their immediate adoption. Massena,* with
fifteen thousand men, secretly and rapidly was to ascend the banks of the
Oreglia, a stream running parallel with the Roya, till, far up near the sources
of the two rivers, crossing over to the Roya, he was to descend that valley
and fall unexpectedly upon the Austrians in the rear. At the same time,
General Dumerbion, the commander-in-chief, with ten thousand men, was to
assail the enemy in front. Napoleon, with ten thousand men, marching nearer
to the Mediterranean coast, was to seize the important posts there, and cut
off, from the fertile plains of the south, the retreat of the enemy. Thus, in
three weeks after Napoleon had made his appearance at the head-quarters
of the army in Nice, the whole force of the French was in motion.
* Andre Massena rose from a common soldier to the rank of a commander, and became Duke of
Rivoli and Marshal of France. " He was," said Napoleon, " a man of superior talent. He gener
ally, however, made bad dispositions previously to a battle. It was not until the dead began to fall
about him that he began to act with that judgment which he ought to have displayed before. In
the midst of the dying and the dead, and of balls sweeping away those who encircled him, he gave
his orders, and made his dispositions with the most perfect coolness and judgment. It was truly
said of him that he never began to act with skill until the battle was going against him. He was,
however, a robber. He went halves with the contractors and commissaries of the army. I signi
fied to him often, that if he would discontinue his peculations, I would make him a present of a
hundred and fifty or two hundred thousand dollars, but he had acquired such a habit that he could
not keep his hands from money. On this account he was hated by the soldiers, who mutinied
against him three or four times. However, considering the circumstances of the times, he was
precious. Had not his bright parts been sullied by avarice, he would have been a great man."
Massena lived through all the wars of Napoleon, and died of chagrin when the master whom he
adored was an exile in St. Helena.

1794.] REPULSE OF THE AUSTRIANS. 61
The energy of the youthful general was immediately communicated to the
entire army. Desperate and sanguinary conflicts ensued, but the plan was
triumphantly successful. The Piedmontese troops, twenty thousand strong,
amazed at the storm thus suddenly bursting upon them, precipitately fled.
Saorgia, the principal depot of the allied forces, and well stored with provi
sions and ammunition of every kind, was taken by the French. Before the
end of May, the French were masters of all the passes of the Maritime Alps,
and their flags were waving in the breeze from the summits of Mont Cenis,
Mont Tende, and Mont Finisterre. The news of these sudden and unex
pected victories went with electric speed through France. With the nation
in general the honor redounded to Dumerbion alone, the commander-in-chief.
But in the army it was well understood to whose exertions and genius the
achievements were to be attributed. Though, as yet, the name of Napoleon
had hardly been pronounced in public, the officers and soldiers in the army
were daily contemplating, with increasing interest, his rising fame. Indeed
General Dumerbion was so deeply impressed by the sagacity and military
science displayed by his brigadier general, that he unresistingly surrendered
himself to the guidance of the mind of Napoleon.
The summer months rapidly passed away, while the French, upon the
summits of the mountains, were fortifying their positions to resist the attacks
of a formidable army of Austrians and Piedmontese combining to displace
them. Napoleon was still indefatigable in obtaining a familiar acquaintance
with all the natural features of the country, in studying the modes of mov
ing, governing, and provisioning armies, and eagerly watching for opportu
nities to work out his destiny of renown, for which he now began to believe
that he was created.
But suddenly he was arrested on the following extraordinary charge, and
narrowly escaped losing his head on the guillotine. When Napoleon, dur
ing the preceding winter, was engaged in the fortification of the maritime
frontier, he proposed repairing an old state prison at Marseilles, that it might
serve as a powder magazine. His successor on that station proceeded to
the execution of this plan, so evidently judicious. Some disaffected persons
represented this officer to the Committee of Public Safety as building a sec
ond Bastile, in which to imprison patriotic citizens. He was accordingly
at once arrested and brought before the Revolutionary Tribunal. Here he
so clearly proved that the plan was not his own, but that he was merely
carrying out the suggestions of his predecessor, that he was released, and or
ders were sent for the arrest of Napoleon. He was seized, and for fifteen
days held under arrest. An order, however, soon came from Paris for his
release. An officer, entering his room a couple of hours after midnight to
communicate the tidings, found, much to his astonishment, Napoleon dressed
and seated at his table, with maps, books, and charts spread out before him.
"What !" inquired his friend, " are you not in bed yet ?"
" In bed !" Napoleon replied. " I have had my sleep and am already risen."
"What, so early !" the other rejoined.
"Yes," continued Napoleon, " so early. Two or three hours of sleep are
enough for any man."
Though the representatives of the government, conscious of the value of

62 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. III.
Napoleon's services, had written to the Convention, making such an expla
nation of the facts that he was immediately set at liberty, still they saw fit,
in an ungenerous attempt at self-justification, to deprive him of his rank as
general of artillery, and to assign him a post in the infantry in its stead.
Napoleon, regarding this transfer as an insult, threw up his commission in
disgust, and retired, in comparative indigence, to join his mother and the
rest of the family, who were now residing at Marseilles. This was in the
autumn of 1794. He spent the winter in comparative inaction, but carefully
studying the convulsions of the times, the history of past revolutions, and
the science of government.
Tired of inactivity, early in May, Napoleon, then twenty-five years of age,
proceeded to Paris to seek employment. He was, however, unsuccessful.
The government had its favorites to reward and promote, and Napoleon,
deeply chagrined and mortified, found all his offers of service rejected. An
old officer of artillery, who had seen but little active service, was president
of the military committee. Rather superciliously he remarked to Napoleon,
whose feminine and youthful appearance did not indicate that he wras born
to command, "You are too young to occupy a station of such responsibility
as you seek." Napoleon imprudently retorted, " Presence in the field of
battle, sir, ought to anticipate the claim of years." This personal reflection
so annoyed the president, that he sought rather to obstruct than to aid the
aspirations of the young officer. His situation became daily more painful,
as his scanty funds were rapidly failing. He even formed the plan of going
to Turkey to offer his services to the Grand Seignior. " How singular it
would be," said he, at this time, to a companion, " if a little Corsican officer
were to become King of Jerusalem !"
One gloomy night at St. Helena, when Napoleon, unable to sleep, was en
deavoring to beguile the weary hours by conversation, he narrated the follow
ing anecdote, illustrative of his destitution and his distress in these early days
of adversity. " I was at this period, on one occasion, suffering from that ex
treme depression of spirits which suspends the faculties of the brain, and ren
ders life a burden too heavy to be borne. I had just received a letter from
my mother, revealing to me the utter destitution into which she was plunged.
She had been compelled to flee from the war with which Corsica was des
olated, and was then at Marseilles, with no means of subsistence, and having
naught but her heroic virtues to defend the honor of her daughters ao-ainst
the misery and the corruption of all kinds existing in the manners of that
epoch of social chaos. I also, deprived of my salary and with exhausted re
sources, had but one single dollar in my pocket. Urged by animal instinct
to escape from prospects so gloomy, and from sorrows so unendurable, I
wandered along the banks of the river, feeling that it was unmanly to com
mit suicide, and yet unable to resist the temptation to do so. In a few more
moments I should have thrown myself into the water, when I ran against an
individual dressed like a simple mechanic, who, recognizing me, threw him
self upon my neck, and cried, ' Is it you, Napoleon ? How glad' I am to see
you again !' It was Demasis, an old friend and former comrade of mine in
the artillery regiment. He had emigrated, and had afterward returned to
France, in disguise, to see his aged mother.

1794.] REPULSE OF THE AUSTRIANS. 63
" He was about to leave me, when stopping, he exclaimed, ' But what is
the matter, Napoleon 1 You do not listen to me ! You do not seem glad to
see me ! What misfortune threatens you ? You look to me like a madman
about to kill himself.' This direct appeal to the feelings which had seized
upon me, produced such an effect upon my mind, that, without hesitation, I
revealed to him every thing. ' Is that all ?' said he, unbuttoning his coarse
waistcoat, and detaching a belt, which he placed in my hands. ' Here are
six thousand dollars in gold, which I can spare without any inconvenience.
Take them and relieve your mother.' I can not to this day explain to my
self how I could have been willing to receive the money, but I seized the
gold as by a convulsive movement, and, almost frantic with excitement, ran
to send it to my distressed mother.
" It was not until the money had left my hands and was on its way to
Marseilles that I reflected upon what I had done. I hastened back to the
spot where I had left Demasis, but he was no longer there. For several
days continuously, I went out in the morning and returned not till evening,
searching every place in Paris where I could hope to find him. All the re
searches I then made, as well as those I made after my accession to power,
were in vain. It was not till the empire was approaching its fall that I
again discovered Demasis. It was now my turn to question him, and to ask
him what he had thought of my strange conduct, and why I had never heard
even his name for fifteen years. He replied, that as he had been in no need
of money, he had not asked me to repay the loan, although he was well as
sured that I should find no difficulty in reimbursing him. But he feared
that, if he made himself known, I should force him to quit the retirement
in which he lived happily, occupying himself with horticulture. I had very
great difficulty in making him accept sixty thousand dollars as an imperial
reimbursement for the six thousand lent to his comrade in distress. I also
made him accept the office of director general of the crown gardens, with a
salary of six thousand dollars a year, and the honors of an officer of the
household. I also provided a good situation for his brother.
" Two of my comrades in the military school, and the two to whom I was
most closely united by the sympathies of early friendship, had, by one of
those mysteries of Providence which we often witness, an immense influence
upon my destiny. Demasis arrested me at the moment when I was about to
commit suicide ; and Philippeau prevented my conquest of St. Jean d'Acre.
Had it not been for him, I should have been master of this key of the East.
I should have marched upon Constantinople, and have established an empire
in Asia."*
But reverses began now to attend the army in Italy. Defeat followed de
feat. They were driven by the Austrians from the posts to which Napoleon
had conducted them, and were retreating before their foes. The Committee
of Public Safety was in great trepidation. In their ignorance, they knew
not what orders to issue. Some one who had heard of Napoleon's achieve
ments among the Alps suggested his name. He was called into the meet
ings of the committee for advice. The local and technical information he
* Captivity of Napoleon, by General Count Montholon.

64 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. III.
had acquired, his military science, and the vast resources of his highly culti
vated mind, placed him immediately at the head of the committee.
Though young in years, and still more youthful in appearance, his gravity,
his serious and pensive thoughtfulness, gave oracular weight to his counsels,
and his plans were unhesitatingly adopted. He had studied the topography
of the Maritime Alps with enthusiastic assiduity, and was familiar with the
windings and characteristics of every stream, and the course of mountain
ranges, and with the military capabilities of the ravines and glens. The ju
dicious dispositions which he proposed of the various divisions of the army
arrested the tide of Austrian conquest, and enabled the French, though much
inferior in number to their allied foes, to defend the positions they had been
directed to occupy.
During all this time, however, while Napoleon, in the committee-room in
Paris, was guiding the movements of the army in Italy, he was studying in
the public libraries, during every leisure moment, with an assiduity so intense
and inexhaustible that it could not have been surpassed, had he been inspired
with the highest ambition for literary and scientific honors.
In his occasional evening saunterings along the boulevards, as he saw the
effeminate young men of that metropolis rolling in luxury, and in affected
speech criticising the tones of an opera singer, or the exquisite moulding of
a dancer's limbs, he could not refrain from giving utterance to his contempt.
When he was thus, one evening, treading the dusty thoroughfares, and look
ing upon such a spectacle, he impatiently exclaimed, " Can it be that upon
such creatures Fortune is willing to lavish her favors ! How contemptible is
human nature !" Though Napoleon excluded himself entirely from haunts
of revelry and scenes of dissipation, and from all those dissolute courses into
which the young men of those days so recklessly plunged, he adopted this
course, not apparently from any conscientious desire to do that which is
right in the sight of God, but from what has been called "the expulsive
power of new affection." Ambition seemed to expel from his mind every
other passion. The craving to obtain renown by the performance of great
and glorious deeds ; the desire to immortalize his name, as one of the dis
tinguished men and illustrious benefactors of the human race, had infused
itself so intensely throughout his whole nature, that animal passion even was
repressed, and all the ordinary pursuits of worldly pleasure became in his
view frivolous and contemptible.
The Duchess of Abrantes narrates the following incident, which pleasingly
illustrates Napoleon's kind and sympathizing disposition. Her father was
sick, and tumultuous Paris was in a state of anarchy.
" Bonaparte, apprised by my brother, came immediately to see us. He
appeared to be affected by the state of my father, who, though in great pain,
insisted on seeing him. He came every day ; and in the morning he sent,
or called himself, to inquire how he had passed the night. I can not recol
lect his conduct at that period without sincere gratitude.
" He informed us that Paris was in such a state as must necessarily lead
to a convulsion. The Convention, by incessantly repeating to the people that
it was their master, had taught them the answer which they made it in their
turn. The sections were in, if not open, at least almost avowed insurrection.

1794.] REPULSE OF THE AUSTRIANS. 65
The section Lepelletier, which was ours, was the most turbulent, and, in fact,
the most to be dreaded ; its orators did not scruple to deliver the most incen
diary speeches. They asserted that the power of the assembled people was
above the laws. ' Matters are getting from bad to worse,' said Bonaparte ;
' the counter-revolution will shortly break forth, and it will, at the same time,
become the source of disasters.'
" As I have said, he came every day ; he dined with us, and passed the
evening in the drawing-room, talking in a low tone beside the chair of my
mother, who, worn out with fatigue, dozed for a few moments to recruit her
strength, for she never quitted my father's pillow. I recollect that one even
ing, my father being very ill, my mother was weeping and in great tribulation.
It was ten o'clock. At that time it was impossible to induce any of the serv
ants of the hotel to go out after nine. Bonaparte said nothing. He ran down
stairs, and posted away to Duchannois, whom he brought back with him, in
spite of his objections. The weather was dreadful. The rain poured in tor
rents. Bonaparte had not been able to meet with a hackney-coach to go to
M. Duchannois ; he was wet through. Yes, indeed, at that period Bonaparte
had a heart susceptible of attachment !"
At this time it can hardly be said that there was any religion in France.
Christianity had been all but universally discarded. The priests had been
banished ; the churches demolished or converted into temples of science or
haunts of merriment. The immortality of the soul was denied, and upon the
gateways of the grave-yards there was inscribed, " Death is an eternal sleep !"
Napoleon was consequently deprived of all the influences of religion in the
formation of his character. And yet his mind was naturally, if it be proper
so to speak, a devotional mind. His temperament was serious, thoughtful,
and pensive. The grand and the mysterious engrossed and overawed him.
Even his ambition was not exulting and exhilarating, but sombre, majestic,
and sublime. He thought of herculean toil, of sleepless labor, and of heroic
deeds. For ease, and luxury, and self-indulgence he had no desire, but he
wished to be the greatest of men by accomplishing more than any other
mortal had ever accomplished. Even in youth, life had but few charms for
him, and he took a melancholy view of man's earthly pilgrimage, often assert
ing that existence was not a blessing. And when drawing near to the close
of life, he claimed that he had known but few happy moments upon earth, and
that for those few he was indebted to the love of Josephine.
The National Convention now prepared another constitution for the adop
tion of the people of France. The executive power, instead of being placed
in the hands of one king, or president, was intrusted to five chiefs, who were
to be called Directors. The legislative powers were committed to two bodies,
as in the United States. The first, corresponding to the United States Sen
ate, was to be called the Council of Ancients. It was to consist of two hund
red and fifty members, each of whom was to be at least forty years of age,
and a married man or a widower. An unmarried man was not considered
worthy of a post of such responsibility in the service of the state. The sec
ond body was called the Council of Five Hundred, from the number of mem
bers of which it was to be composed. It corresponded with our House of Rep
resentatives, and each of its members was to be at least thirty years of age.
Vol. I.— E

66 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. III.
This constitution was far superior to any other which had yet been formed.
It was framed by the moderate Republicans, who wished to establish a Repub
lican government, protecting France on the one hand from the Royalists, who
would re-establish the Bourbons upon the throne, and on the other hand from
the misrule of the violent Jacobins, who wished to perpetuate the Reign of
Terror. This constitution was sent down to the primary assemblies of the
people, for their adoption or rejection. It was accepted promptly in nearly
all the rural districts, and was adopted by acclamation in the army.
The city of Paris was divided into ninety-six sections or wards, in each of
which, as in our cities, the inhabitants of that particular ward assembled at
the polls. When the constitution was tendered to these several sections of
Paris, forty-eight of them voted in its favor, while forty-six rejected it. The
Royalists and the Jacobins, the two extremes, united in the opposition, each
party hoping that by the overthrow of the Convention its own views might ob
tain the precedence. The Convention declared that the majority of the nation
had every where pronounced in favor of the new constitution, and they pre
pared to carry its provisions into effect. The opposing sections, now thor
oughly aroused, began to arm, resolved upon violent resistance. The Parisian
mob, ever ready for an outbreak, joined most heartily with their more aris
tocratic leaders, and all Paris seemed to be rousing to.attackthe Convention.
The National Guard, a body of soldiers corresponding with the American mi
litia, though far better officered, equipped, and drilled, joined promptly the in
surgents. The insurrection-gun was fired, the tocsin tolled, and the gloomy,
threatening masses, marshaled under able leaders, swarmed through the streets.
The Convention was in the utmost state of trepidation ; for in those days
of anarchy blood flowed like water, and life had no sacredness. It was not
a mob of a few hundred straggling men and boys, who, with hootings, were to
surround their hall and break their windows, but a formidable army of forty
thousand men, in battle array, with artillery and musketry, headed by veteran
generals who had fought the battles of the old monarchy, with gleaming ban
ners and trumpet tones were marching down from all quarters of the city
upon the Tuileries. To meet this foe, the Convention had at its command
but five thousand regular troops ; and it was uncertain but that they, in the
moment of peril, might fraternize with the insurgents. General Menou was
appointed by the Convention to quell the insurrection. He marched to meet
the enemy. Napoleon, intensely interested in the passing scenes, followed
the solid columns of Menou. But the general, a mild and inefficient man
with no nerve to meet such a crisis, was alarmed in view of the numbers and
the influence of his antagonists, and retired before them. Shouts of victory
resounded from the National Guard through all the streets of Paris They
were greatly emboldened by this triumph, and felt confident that the regular
troops would not dare to fire upon the citizens.
The shades of night were now settling down over the agitated city Na
poleon, having witnessed the unsuccessful mission of Menou ran through the
streets to the Tuileries, and ascending the gallery where the Convention was
assembled, contemplated, with a marble brow and a heart apparently uns
tated the scene of consternation there. It was now eleven o'clock at nio-h
and the doom of the Convention seemed sealed. In the utmost alarm Menou

1794.]

THE INSURRECTION QUELLED.

67

was dismissed, and the unlimited command of the troops intrusted to Barras.
The office was full of peril. Successful resistance seemed impossible, and
unsuccessful was certain death. Barras hesitated, when suddenly he recol
lected Napoleon, whom he had known at Toulon, and whose military science
and energy, and reckless disregard of his own life, and of the lives of all
others, he well remembered. He immediately exclaimed, " I know the man
who can defend us, if any one can. It is a young Corsican officer, Napoleon
Bonaparte, whose military abilities I witnessed at Toulon. He is a man that
will not stand upon ceremony." Napoleon was in the gallery at the time,
and it is not impossible that the eye of Barras chancing to light upon him
caused the suggestion.
He was immediately introduced to the Convention. They expected to see
llSlllfciiliii^

NAPOLEON BEFORE THE CONVENTION.

a man of gigantic frame and soldierly bearing, brusque and imperious. To
their surprise, there appeared before them a small, slender, pale-faced,
smooth-cheeked young man, apparently about eighteen years of age. The
president said, "Are you willing to undertake the defense of the Conven
tion?" "Yes !" was the calm, laconic reply. After a moment's hesitation,
the president continued, "Are you aware of the magnitude of the undertak
ing?" Napoleon fixed that eagle glance upon him, which few could meet
and not quail before it, and replied, " Perfectly ; and I am in the habit of
accomplishing that which I undertake." There was something in the tone
and the manner of this extraordinary man which secured for him immedi
ately the confidence of all the members of the House. His spirit, so calm
and imperturbable in the midst of a scene so exciting, impressed them with
the conviction that they were in the presence of one of no common powers.
After the exchange of a few more words, Napoleon said, " One condition is
indispensable. I must have the unlimited command, entirely untrammeled

gg NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. III.
by any orders from the Convention." It was no time for debate, and there
was unhesitating acquiescence in his demand.
The promptness, energy, and unfailing resources of Napoleon were now
most conspicuously displayed. At Sablons, about five miles from Paris, there
was a powerful park of artillery, consisting of fifty heavy guns. Napoleon
instantly dispatched Murat, with a party of dragoons, to take those guns, and
bring them to the Tuileries. They were seized by the mounted troops but
a few moments before a party of infantry arrived from the sections for the
same purpose. The insurgents, though more numerous, dared not attack
the dragoons, and the guns were taken in safety to Napoleon. He disposed
them, heavily charged with grape-shot, in such a way as to sweep all the
avenues leading to the Convention.
The activity of the young general knew not a moment's intermission. He
was every where during the night, giving directions, infusing energy, and in
spiring courage. He was well aware of the fearful odds againsf him; for
with five thousand troops he was to encounter forty thousand men, well
armed, well disciplined, and under experienced officers. They could easily
besiege him, and starve him into surrender. They could, from behind barri
cades, and from housetops and chamber windows, so thin out his ranks, that
resistance would be hopeless. The officers of the National Guard, however,
had no conception of the firm, indomitable, unflinching spirit which they
were to encounter. They did not believe that any one would dare to fire
upon the citizens of Paris. The Convention were aroused to a most lively
sense of the serious aspect of affairs when, in the gloom of night, eight hun
dred muskets were brought in, with an abundant supply of cartridges, by or
der of Napoleon, to arm themselves as a corps of reserve. This precaution
indicated to them the full extent of the danger, and also the unwavering de
termination of the one who was intrusted with their defense. As the light
of morning dawned upon the city, the Tuileries presented the aspect of an
intrenched camp. Napoleon had posted his guns so as to sweep all the
bridges and all the avenues through which an opposing force could approach
the capital. His own imperturbable calmness, and firmness, and confidence
communicated itself to the troops he commanded. The few laconic words
with which he addressed them, like electric fire penetrated their hearts, and
secured devotion, even to death, to his service.
The alarm bells Were now ringing, and the generate beating in all parts of
the city. The armed hosts, in dense black masses, were mustering at their
appointed rendezvous, and preparing to march in solid columns upon the
Convention. The members in their seats, in silence and awe, awaited the
fearful assault, upon the issue of which their lives were suspended. Napoleon,
pale and solemn, and perfectly calm, had completed all his arrangements, and
was waiting, resolved that the responsibility of the first blow should fall upon
his assailants, and that he would take the responsibility of the second.
Soon the enemy were seen advancing from every direction, in masses
which perfectly filled the narrow streets of the city. With exultant music
and waving banners, they marched proudly on to attack the besieged band
upon every side, and confident, from their overpowering numbers, of an easy
victory. They did not believe that the few and feeble troops of the Con-

1794.] THE INSURRECTION QUELLED. 69
vention would dare to resist the people, but cherished the delusion that a
very few shots from their own side would put all opposition to flight. Thus,
unhesitatingly, they came within the sweep of the grape-shot, with which
Napoleon had charged his guns to the muzzle.
But seeing that the troops of the Convention stood firm, awaiting their ap
proach, the head of one of the advancing columns leveled their muskets and
discharged a volley of bullets at their enemies. It was the signal for an in
stantaneous discharge, direct, sanguinary, merciless, from every battery. In
quick" succession, explosion followed explosion, and a perfect storm of grape-
shot swept the thronged streets. The pavements Were covered with the
mangled and the dead. The columns wavered — the storm still continued ;
they turned — the storm still raged unabated ; they fled in utter dismay in
every direction ; the storm still pursued them. Then Napoleon commanded
his little division impetuously to follow the fugitives, and to continue the dis
charge, but with blank cartridges. As the thunder of these heavy guns re
verberated along the streets, the insurgents dispersed through every avail
able lane and alley, and in less than an hour the foe was nowhere to be
found. Napoleon sent his division into every section and disarmed the in
habitants, that there could be no regathering. He then ordered the dead to
be buried, and the wounded to be conveyed to the hospitals, and then, with
his pale and marble brow as unmoved as if no event of any great importance
had occurred, he returned to his head-quarters at the Tuileries.
" How could you," said a lady, "thus mercilessly fire upon your own coun
trymen ?'r " A soldier," he coolly replied, " is but a machine to obey orders.
This is my seal, which I have impressed upon Paris." Subsequently, Na
poleon never ceased to regret the occurrence ; and tried to forget, and to
have others forget, that he had ever deluged the streets of Paris with the
blood of Frenchmen.
Thus Napoleon established the new government of France, called the Di
rectory, from the five 'Directors who composed its executive. But a few
months passed away before Napoleon, by moral power, without the shedding
of a drop of blood, overthrew the constitution which his unpitying artillery
had thus established. Immediately after the quelling of the sections, Napo
leon was triumphantly received by the Convention. It was declared, by
unanimous resolve, that his energy had saved the Republic. His friend Bar
ras became one of the Directors, and Napoleon was appointed Commander-
in-chief of the Army of the Interior, and intrusted with the military defense
and government of the metropolis.
The defeat of the insurgents was the death-blow to all the hopes of the
Royalists, and seemed to establish the republic upon a firm foundation. Na
poleon manifested the natural clemency of his disposition very strongly in
this hour of triumph. When the Convention would have executed Menou
as a traitor, he pleaded his cause and obtained his acquittal. He urged, and
successfully, that as the insurgents were now harmless, they should not be
punished, but that a vail of oblivion should be thrown over all their deeds.
The Convention, influenced not a little by the spirit of Napoleon, now hon
orably dissolved itself, by passing an act of general amnesty for all past of
fenses, and surrendering the government to the Directory

70 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. III.
The situation of Napoleon was now flattering in the extreme. He was
but twenty-five years of age. The distinguished services he had rendered,
the high rank he had attained, and the ample income at his disposal, gave
him a very elevated position in public view. The eminence he had now at
tained was not a sudden and accidental outbreak of celebrity. It was the re
sult of long years of previous toil. He was now reaping the fruit of the seed
which he had sown in his incessant application to study in the military
school ; in his continued devotion to literary and scientific pursuits after he
became an officer ; in his energy, and fearlessness, and untiring assiduity at
Toulon ; in his days of wintry exposure, and nights of sleeplessness, in forti
fying the coast of France, and in his untiring toil among the fastnesses of the
Alps. Never was reputation earned and celebrity attained by more hercu
lean labor. If Napoleon had extraordinary genius, as unquestionably he had,
this genius stimulated him to extraordinary exertions.
Immediately upon the attainment of this high dignity and authority, with
the ample pecuniary resources accompanying it, Napoleon hastened to Mar
seilles to place his mother in a position of perfect comfort. And he con
tinued to watch over her with most filial assiduity, proving himself an affec
tionate and dutiful son. From this hour the whole family, mother, brothers,
and sisters, were taken under his protection, and all their interests blended
with his own.
The post which Napoleon now occupied was one of vast responsibility, de
manding incessant care, moral courage, and tact. The Royalists and the
Jacobins were exceedingly exasperated. The government was not consoli
dated, and had obtained no command over the public mind. Paris was filled

Silll1

THE AMAZON DISCOMFITED.

with tumult and disorder. The ravages of the Revolution had thrown hund
reds of thousands out of employment, and starvation was stalking through

1796.] FIRST CAMPAIGN IN ITALY.— PIEDMONT. 71
the streets of the metropolis. It became necessary for the government, al
most without means or credit, to feed the famishing. Napoleon manifested
great skill and humanity, combined with unflinching firmness in repressing
disorders. It was not unfrequently necessary to appeal to the strong arm
of military power to arrest the rising array of lawless passion. Often his
apt and pithy speeches would promote good nature and disperse the crowd.
On one occasion, a fish-woman, of enormous rotundity of person, exhorted
the mob, with the most vehement volubility, not to disperse, exclaiming,
" Never mind those coxcombs with epaulets upon their shoulders ; they care
not if we poor people all starve, if they can but feed well and grow fat."
Napoleon, who was as thin and meagre as a shadow, turned to her and said,
" Lobk at me, my good woman, ahd tell me which of us two is the fatter."
The Amazon was completely disconcerted by this happy repartee, and the
crowd in good humor dispersed.

CHAPTER IV.
FIRST CAMPAIGN IN ITALY.  PIEDMONT.
Napoleon's Appearance and Character — His Benevolence — Josephine Beauharnais — Eugene —
Marriage of Napoleon and Josephine — Napoleon takes Command of the Army of Italy — Depart
ure from Paris — Feeling in England — State of the Army at Nice — Ascendency of Napoleon over
his Generals and Soldiers — Influence of Letitia — Napoleon's Designs — His Proclamation — Toils
and Sufferings of the Army — Efforts to win the Friendship of the Italians — Battle at Cera —
Haughty Treatment of the Sardinian Commissioners — Proclamations.
The discomfiture of the insurgent sections in Paris, and the energy, tact,
and humanity which Napoleon displayed in the subsequent government of
the tumultuous city, caused his name to be familiar as a household word in
all parts of the metropolis. His slight and slender figure, so feminine and
graceful in its proportions ; his hand, so small, and white, and soft that any
lady might covet it ; his features, so mild and youthful in their expression ;
and all these combined in strange alliance with energies as indomitable, and
a will as imperious, as were ever enshrined in mortal form, invested the
young general with a mysterious and almost supernatural fascination.
Famine was rioting in the streets of Paris. All industry was at an end.
The poor,- unemployed, were perishing. The rich were gathering the wrecks
of their estates, and flying from France. There was no law but such as was
proclaimed by the thunders of Napoleon's batteries. The National Guard
he immediately reorganized, and soon efficient order was established. Na
poleon was incessantly occupied in visiting all parts of the city. Words of
kindness and sympathy with suffering he combined with the strong and inex
orable arm of military rule. More than a hundred families, says the Duchess
of Abrantes, were saved from perishing by his personal exertions. He him
self climbed to the garrets of penury, and penetrated the cellars of want and
woe, and, with a moistened eye, gazed upon the scenes of fearful wretched
ness with which Paris was filled. He caused wood and bread to be distrib
uted to the poor, and, totally regardless of ease and Self-indulgence, did every
thing in his power to alleviate suffering.

72 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. IV
One day, when alighting from his carriage to dine at Madame Permon's,
he was addressed by a woman who held a dead infant in her arms. Grief
and hunger had dried up the fountain of life in her bosom, and her unweaned
child had perished of starvation. Her husband was dead, and five children
were moaning for food at home. " If I can not obtain relief," said the fam
ished mother, " I must take my remaining five children and drown myself
with them." Napoleon questioned her very minutely, ascertained her place
of residence, and, giving her some money to meet her immediate wants, en
tered the house, and sat down with the guests at the brilliant entertainment.
He was, however, so deeply impressed with the scene of wretchedness which
he had just witnessed, that he could not obliterate it from his mind, and all
were struck with his absent manner and the sadness of his countenance. Im
mediately after dinner, he took measures to ascertain the truth of the state
ments which the poor woman had made to him, and, finding all her asser
tions verified, he took the family immediately under his protection. He ob
tained employment for the girls in needle-work among his friends, and the
family ever expressed the most profound gratitude for their preserver. It
was by the unceasing exhibition of such traits of character that Napoleon
entwined around him the hearts of the French people.
There was at this time, in Paris, a lady, who was rendered quite promi
nent in society by her social attractions, her personal loveliness, and her
elevated rank. She was a widow, twenty-eight years of age. Her husband,
the Viscount Beauharnais, had recently perished upon the scaffold, an illus
trious victim of revolutionary fury. Josephine Tascher Beauharnais, who
subsequently became the world-renowned bride of Napoleon, was born on
the island of Martinico, in the West Indies. When almost a child, she was
married to the Viscount Beauharnais, who had visited the island on business,
and was captivated by the loveliness of the fair young Creole. Upon enter
ing Paris, she was immediately introduced to all the splendors of the court
of Maria Antoinette. The revolutionary storm soon burst upon her dwelling
with merciless fury. She experienced the most afflictive reverses of friend-
lessness, bereavement, imprisonment, and penury. The storm had, how
ever, passed over her, and she was left a widow, with two children, Eugene
and Hortense. From the wreck of her fortune she had saved an ample com
petence, and was surrounded by influential and admiring friends.
Napoleon, in obedience to the orders of the Convention, to prevent the
possibility of another outbreak of lawless violence, had proceeded to the
disarming of the populace of Paris. In the performance of this duty, the
sword of M. Beauharnais was taken. A few days afterward, Eugene, a very
intelligent and graceful child, twelve years of age, obtained access to Napo
leon, and, with most engaging artlessness and depth of emotion, implored
that the sword of his father might be restored to him. Napoleon had no
heart to deny such a request. He sent for the sword, and, speaking with
kind words of commendation, presented it with his own hand, to Eugene.
The grateful boy burst into tears, and, unable to articulate a word, pressed
the sword to his bosom, bowed in silence, and retired. Napoleon was much
interested in this exhibition of filial love, and his thoughts were immediately
directed to the mother who had formed the character of such a child. Jose-

1796.]

FIRST CAMPAIGN IN ITALY.-PIEDMONT.

73

phine, whose whole soul was absorbed in love for her children, was so grate
ful for the kindness with which the distinguished young general had treated
her fatherless Eugene, that she called in her carriage, the next day, to express

NAPOLEON AND EUGENE.

to him a mother's thanks. She was dressed in deep mourning. Her pecul
iarly musical voice was tremulous with emotion. The fervor and the deli
cacy of her maternal love, and the perfect grace of manner and of language
with which she discharged her mission, excited the admiration of Napoleon.
He soon called upon her. The acquaintance rapidly ripened into an unusu
ally strong and ardent affection.
Josephine was two years older than Napoleon ; but her form and features
had resisted the encroachments of time, and her cheerfulness and vivacity
invested her with all the charms of early youth. Barras, now one of the
five Directors, who had been established in power by the guns of Napoleon,
was a very ardent friend of Josephine. He warmly advocated the contem
plated connection, deeming it mutually advantageous. Napoleon would
greatly increase his influence by an alliance with one occupying so high a
position in society, and surrounded by friends so influential. And Barras
clearly foresaw that the energetic young general possessed genius which
would insure distinction. Josephine thus speaks, in a letter to a friend, of
her feelings in view of the proposed marriage :
" I am urged to marry again. My friends counsel the measure, my aunt
almost lays her injunctions to the same effect, and my children entreat my
compliance. You have met General Bonaparte at my house. He it is who
would supply a father's place to the orphans of Alexander Beauharnais, and
a husband's to his widow. I admire the general's courage, the extent of his
information, for on all subjects he talks equally well, and the quickness of

74 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. IV.
his judgment, which enables him to seize the thoughts of others almost
before they are expressed. But I confess that I shrink from the despotism
he seems desirous of exercising over all who approach him. His searching
glance has something singular and inexplicable, which imposes even upon
our Directors ; judge if it may not intimidate a woman.
" Barras gives assurance that if I marry the general, he will secure his
appointment to the command of the army of Italy. Yesterday, Bonaparte,
speaking of this favor, said to me, ' Think they, then, that I have need of
their protection to arrive at power? Egregious mistake ! They will all be
but too happy, one day, should I condescend to grant them mine.'
" What think you of this self-confidence ? Is it not a proof of excess of
vanity ? A general of brigade to protect the heads of government ! That,
truly, is an event highly probable ! I know not how it is, but sometimes
this waywardness gains upon me to such a degree that almost I believe pos
sible whatever this singular man may take into his head to attempt. And
with his imagination, who can calculate what he will not undertake ?"
Though the passion with which Josephine had inspired Napoleon was
ardent and impetuous in the highest degree, it interfered not in the least
with his plans of towering ambition. During the day he was vigorously
employed in his professional duties and in persevering study. But each
evening found him at the mansion of Josephine, where he met and dazzled,
by his commanding genius and his brilliant conversational powers, the most
distinguished and the most influential men of the metropolis. In these
social entertainments, Josephine testified that Napoleon possessed unlimited
powers of fascination, whenever he saw fit to employ them. His acquaint
ance and his influence was thus extended among those who would be most
available in the furtherance of his plans.
On the 6th of March, 1796, Napoleon and Josephine were married, Napo
leon being then twenty-six years of age. It was a union of very sincere af
fection on both sides. It can not be doubted that, next to ambition, Jose
phine was to Napoleon the dearest object of his admiration and homage.
Marriage had then ceased to be regarded in infidel France as a religious rite.
It was a mere partnership, which any persons could form or dissolve at pleas
ure. The revolutionary tribunals had closed the churches, banished the
clergy, and dethroned God. The parties contemplating marriage simply re
corded their intention in the state register of Paris, with two or three friends
to sign the record as witnesses. By this simple ceremony Napoleon was
united to Josephine. But neither of the parties approved of this mercantile
aspect of a transaction so sacred. They were both in natural disposition
serious, thoughtful, and prone to look to the guidance of a power higher than
that of man. Surrounded by infidelity, and by that vice with which public
infidelity is invariably accompanied, they both instinctively reverenced all
that is grand and imposing in the revelations of Christianity.
" Man, launched into life," said Napoleon, " asks himself, Whence do I
come? what am I? whither do I go ?— mysterious questions which draw
him toward religion ; our hearts crave the support and guidance of religious
faith. We believe in the existence of God, because every thing around us
proclaims his being. The greatest minds have cherished this conviction—

1796.] FIRST CAMPAIGN IN ITALY.— PIEDMONT. 75
Bossuet, Newton, Leibnitz. The heart craves faith as the body food; and,
without doubt, we believe most frequently without exercising our reason.
Faith wavers as soon as we begin to argue. But even then our hearts say,
' Perhaps I shall again believe instinctively. God grant it !' For we feel
that this belief in a protecting deity must be a great happiness ; an immense
consolation in adversity, and a powerful safeguard when tempted to immo
rality. " The virtuous man never doubts of the existence of God ; for if his reason
does not suffice to comprehend it, the instinct of his soul adopts the belief.
Every intimate feeling of the soul is in sympathy with the sentiments of re
ligion." These are profound thoughts ; and it is strange that they should have
sprung up in the mind of one educated in the midst of the violence, and the
clangor, and the crime of battle, and accustomed to hear from the lips of all
around him every religious sentiment ridiculed as the superstition of the most
weak and credulous.
When at St. Helena, Napoleon one evening called for the New Testament,
and read to his friends the address of Jesus to his disciples upon the mount
ain. He expressed himself as having ever been struck with the highest ad
miration in view of the purity, the sublimity, and the beauty of the morality
which it contained. Napoleon seldom spoke lightly even of the corruptions
of the Church. But he always declared his most exalted appreciation of the
religion of Jesus Christ.
When Napoleon was crowned Emperor, he was privately married again
by Cardinal Fesch, in accordance with the forms of the Church, which the
Emperor had re-established. " Josephine," said Napoleon, " was truly a
most lovely woman, refined, affable, and charming. She was the goddess
of the toilet. All the fashions originated with her. Every thing she put on
appeared elegant. She was so kind, so humane — she was the most graceful
lady and the best woman in France. I never saw her act inelegantly dur
ing the whole time we lived together. She possessed a perfect knowledge
of the different shades of my character, and evinced the most exquisite tact
in turning this knowledge to the best account. For example, she never so
licited any favor for Eugene, or thanked me for any that I conferred upon
him. She never showed any additional complaisance or assiduity when he
was receiving from me the greatest honors. Her grand aim was to assume
that all this was my affair — that Eugene was our son, not hers. Doubtless
she entertained the idea that I would adopt Eugene as my successor." A
more beautiful exhibition of exquisite delicacy on the one part, and of full
appreciation on the other, history has not recorded.
Again, he said of Josephine, "We livedttogether like honest citizens in our
mutual relations, and always retired together till 1805, a period in which po
litical events obliged me to change my habits, and to add the labors of the
night to those of the day. This regularity is the best guarantee for a good
establishment. It insures the respectability of the wife, the dependence of
the husband, and maintains intimacy of feelings and good morals. If this is
not the case, the smallest circumstances make people forget each other.
"A son by Josephine would have rendered me happy, and would have se-

76 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. IV.
cured the reign of my dynasty. The French would have loved him very
much better than they could love the son of Maria Louisa ; and I never
would have put my foot on that abyss covered with flowers, which was my
ruin. Let no one, after this, rely on the wisdom of human combinations.
Let no one venture to pronounce, before its close, upon the happiness or mis
ery of life. My Josephine had the instinct of the future when she became
terrified at her own sterility. She knew well that a marriage is only real
when there is an offspring ; and in proportion as fortune smiled her anxiety
increased. I was the object of her deepest attachment. If I went into my
carriage at midnight for a long journey, there, to my surprise, I found her,
seated before me, and awaiting my arrival. If I attempted to dissuade her
from accompanying me, she had so many good and affectionate reasons to
urge, that it was almost always necessary to yield. In a word, she always
proved to me a happy and affectionate wife, and I have preserved the ten-
derest recollections of her.
" Political motives induced me to divorce Josephine, whom I most tender
ly loved. She, poor woman, fortunately for herself, died in time to prevent
her from witnessing the last of my misfortunes. After her forcible separation
from me, she avowed, in most feeling terms, her ardent desire to share with
me my exile, and extolled, with many tears, both myself and my conduct to
her. The English have represented me as a monster of cruelty. Is this
the result of the conduct of a merciless, unfeeling tyrant ? A man is known
by the treatment of his wife, of his family, and of those under him."*
Just before his marriage, Napoleon received the appointment, to him most
gratifying, of Commander-in-chief of the Army of Italy. His predecessor
had been displaced in consequence of excessive intemperance. Napoleon
was but twenty-six years of age when placed in this responsible post. " You
are rather young," said one of the Directors, "to assume responsibilities so
weighty, and to take the command over veteran generals." " In one year,"
Napoleon replied, " I shall be either old or dead." "We can place you in
the command of men alone," said Carnot, " for the troops are destitute of
every thing, and we can furnish you with no money to provide supplies."
" Give me only men enough," Napoleon replied, " and I ask for nothing
more ; I will be answerable for the result."
A few days after Napoleon's marriage, he left his bride in Paris, and set
* " Nearly six hundred unpublished and most confidential letters to his brother Joseph, written
with heart in hand, calculated to throw the truest light on Napoleon's real character, sentiments
and purposes, and dispel clouds of prejudices, with difficulty concealed by Joseph in Europe, and
brought to this country for safe keeping, were, after his death, by my instrumentality, deposited in
the United States Mint at Philadelphia, as a place of security, and after four years' safe keeping
there, on the 23d of October, 1849, in my presence, surrendered by Joseph's testamentary executor
to his grandson Joseph, then twenty-five years of age, according to his grandfather's will which
bequeaths to that grandson those precious developments, together with other unpublished' manu
scripts, among them part of Joseph's life, dictated by himself, and the republican Marshal Jour-
dam's memoirs written by himself. These perfectly unreserved and brotherly confidential letters,
several hundred m Napoleon's own handwriting, written before he became great, will demonstrate
his real sentiments and character when too young for dissembling, and quite unreserved with his
correspondent. Joseph relied upon them to prove, what he always said and often told me that Na
poleon was a man of warm attachments, tender feelings, and honest purposes."— IngersoWs Second
War, vol. i., p. 152, second series.

1796.] FIRST CAMPAIAGN IN ITALY.— PIEDMONT. 77
out for Nice, the head-quarters of the army of Italy. He passed through
Marseilles, that he might pay a short visit to his mother, whose love he ever
cherished with the utmost tenderness, and on the 27th of March arrived at
the cold and cheerless camps, where the dejected troops of France were en
during every hardship. They were surrounded by numerous foes, who had
driven them from the fertile plains of Italy into the barren and dreary fast
nesses of the Alps. The Austrian armies, quartered in opulent cities, or en
camped upon sunny and vine-clad hillsides, were living in the enjoyment
of security and abundance, while the troops of the distracted and impover
ished republic were literally freezing and starving. But here let us pause
for a moment to consider the cause of the war, and the motives which an
imated the contending armies.
France, in the exercise of a right which few in America will question,
had, in imitation of the United States, and incited by their example, renounced
the monarchical form of government and established a republic. For centu
ries uncounted, voluptuous kings and licentious nobles had trampled the op
pressed millions into the dust. But now these millions had risen in their
majesty, and, driving the king from his throne and the nobles from their wide
domains, had taken their own interests into their own hands. They were
inexperienced and unenlightened in the science of government, and they
made many and lamentable mistakes. They were terrified in view of the
powerful combination of all the monarchs and nobles of Europe to overwhelm
them with invading armies, and in their paroxysms of fear, when destruction
seemed to be coming like an avalanche upon them, they perpetrated many
deeds of atrocious cruelty. , They simply claimed the right of self-govern
ment, and when assailed, fell upon their assailants with blind and merciless
fury. The kings of Europe contemplated this portentous change with inexpress
ible alarm. In consternation they witnessed the uprising of the masses in
France, and saw one of their brother monarchs dragged from his palace and
beheaded upon the guillotine. The successful establishment of the French
Republic would very probably have driven every king in Europe from his
throne. England was agitated through all her counties. From the mud
cabins of Ireland, from the dark and miry mines, from the thronged streets
of the city, and the crowded work-shops all over the kingdom, there was a
clamorous cry ascending for liberty and equality. The spirit of democracy,
radiating from its soul in Paris, was assailing every throne in Europe. There
was no alternative for these monarchs but to crush this new power, or to
perish before it.
There can be no monarchist whose sympathies will not beat high with the
allied kings in the fearful conflict which ensued. There can be no Repub
lican who will not pray, " God speed the Eagles of France !" Both parties
believed that they were fighting in self-defense. The kings were attacked
by principles, triumphant in France, which were undermining their thrones.
The French were attacked by bayonets and batteries — by combined armies
invading their territories, bombarding their cities, and endeavoring, by force
of arms, to compel a proud n ation of thirty millions of inhabitants to reinstate,
at foreign dictation, the rejected Bourbons upon the throne. The Allies called

78 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. IV
upon all the Loyalists scattered over France to grasp their arms, to rally be
neath the banner of friends coming to their rescue, and to imbrue their coun
try in the blood of a civil war. The French, in trumpet tones, summoned
the people of all lands to hail the tri-colored flag as the harbinger of their de
liverance from the servitude of ages.
From every city in Europe which Napoleon approached with his conquer
ing armies, the Loyalists fled, while the Republicans welcomed him with an
adulation amounting almost to religious homage ; and the troops of the Al
lies were welcomed, in every city of France which they entered, with tears
of gratitude from the eyes of those who longed for the restoration of the
monarchy. It was a conflict between the spirit of republicanism on the one
side, and of monarchical and ecclesiastical domination upon the other.
England, with her invincible fleet, was hovering around the coasts of the
Republic, assailing every exposed point, landing troops upon the French ter
ritory, and arming and inspiriting the Loyalists to civil war. Austria had
marched an army of nearly two hundred thousand men upon the banks of
the Rhine, to attack France upon the north. She had called into requisition
all her Italian possessions, and in alliance with the British navy, and the ar
mies of the King of Sardinia, and the fanatic legions of Naples and Sicily,
had gathered eighty thousand men upon the Alpine frontier. This host was
under the command of experienced generals, and was abundantly provided
with all the munitions of war. These were the invading foes whom Na
poleon was to encounter in fields of blood.
It was purely a war of self-defense on the part of the French people.
They were contending against the bullets and the bayonets of the armies
of monarchical Europe, assailing them at every point. The allied kings
felt that they, also, were engaged in a war of self-defense — that they were
struggling against -principles which threatened to undermine their thrones.
Strange as the declaration to some may appear, it is extremely difficult for
a candid and an impartial man severely to censure either side. It is not
strange, contemplating frail human nature as it is, that the monarchs of
Europe, born to a kingly inheritance, should have made every exertion to
retain their thrones, and to secure their kingdoms from the invasion of repub
lican principles. It is not strange that republicanized France, having burst
the chains of an intolerable despotism, should have resolved to brave all the
horrors of the most desperate war rather than surrender the right of choos
ing its own form of government. The United States were protected from a
similar onset, on the part of allied Europe, only by the wide barrier of the
ocean. And had the combined armies of monarchical Europe crossed that
barrier, and invaded our shores, to compel us to replace George III. upon his
American throne, we should have blessed the Napoleon emerging from our
midst, who, contending for the liberties of his country, had driven them back
into the sea.
When Napoleon arrived at Nice, he found that he had but thirty thousand
men with whom to repel the eighty thousand of the Allies. The government
was impoverished, and had no means to pay the troops. The soldiers were
dejected, emaciate, and ragged. The cavalry horses had died upon the bleak
and frozen summits of the mountains, and the army was almost entirely des

1796.] THE CAMPAIGN IN ITALY.— PIEDMONT. 79
titute of artillery. The young commander-in-chief, immediately upon his
arrival, summoned his generals before him. Many of them were veteran
soldiers, and they were not a little chagrined in seeing a youth, whom they
regarded almost as a beardless boy, placed over them in command. But in
the very first hour in which he met them his superiority was recognized, and
he gained a complete and an unquestioned ascendency over all. Berthier,
Massena, Augereau, Serrurier, and Lannes were there, men who had already
attained renown, and who were capable of appreciating genius. " This is
the leader," said one, as he left this first council, " who will surely guide us
to fame and to fortune."
The French were on the cold crests of the mountains. The Allies were
encamped in the warm and fertile valleys which opened into the Italian
plains. The untiring energy of the youthful general, his imperial mind, his
unhesitating reliance upon his own mental resources, his perfect acquaintance
with the theatre of war, as the result of his previous explorations, his gravity
and reserve of manners, his spotless morality, so extraordinary in the midst
of all the dissipated scenes of the camp, commanded the reverence of the
dissolute and licentious,, though brave and talented^renerals who surrounded
him. There was an indescribable something in his manner which imme
diately inspired respect and awe, and which kept all familiarity at a distance.
Decres had known Napoleon well in Paris, and had been on terms of per
fect intimacy with him. He was at Toulon when he heard of Napoleon's
appointment to the command of the army of Italy. "When I learned," said
he, " that the new general was about to pass through the city, I immediately
proposed to introduce my comrades to him, and to turn my acquaintance to
the best account. I hastened to meet him, full of eagerness and joy. The
door of the apartment was thrown open, and I was upon the point of rush
ing to him with my wonted familiarity. But his attitude, his look, the tone
of his voice, suddenly deterred me. There was nothing haughty or offens
ive in his appearance or manner, but the impression he produced was suf-
ficent to prevent me from ever again attempting to encroach upon the dis
tance which separated us."*
A similar ascendency, notwithstanding his feminine stature and the extreme
youthfulness of his appearance, he immediately gained over all the soldiers
and all the generals of the army. Every one who entered his presence was
awed by the indescribable influence of his imperial mind. No one ventured
to contend with him for the supremacy. He turned with disgust from the
licentiousness and dissipation which ever disgrace the presence of an army,
and, with a sternness of morality which would have done honor to any of
the sages of antiquity, secured' that respect which virtue ever commands.
* Decres was afterward elevated by Napoleon to a dukedom, and appointed Minister of the Ma
rine. He was strongly attached to his benefactor. At the time of Napoleon's downfall, he was
sounded in a very artful way as to his willingness to conspire against the Emperor. Happening
to visit a person of celebrity, the latter drew him aside to the fire-place, and, taking up a book,
said, " I have just now been reading something that struck me very forcibly. Montesquieu here
remarks, ' When tb.e prince rises above the laws, when tyranny becomes insupportable, the op
pressed have no alternative but — ' " " Enough !" exclaimed Decres, putting his hand before the
mouth of the reader, " I will hear no more. Close the book." The other coolly laid down the
volume, as though nothing particular had occurred, and began to talk on a totally different subject.

80 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. IV
There were many very beautiful and dissolute females in Nice, opera
singers and dancing girls, who, trafficking in their charms, were living in
great wealth and voluptuousness. They exhausted all their arts of entice
ment to win the attention of the young commander-in-chief. But their al
lurements were unavailing. Napoleon proved a Samson whom no Delilah
could seduce. And this was the more extraordinary, since his natural tem
perament was glowing and impetuous in the extreme, and he had no relig
ious scruples to interfere with his indulgences. " My extreme youth," said
he, afterward, "when I took command of the army of Italy, rendered it nec
essary that I should evince great reserve of manners and the utmost severity
of morals. This was indispensable to enable me to sustain authority over
men so greatly my superiors in age and experience. I pursued a line of
conduct in the highest degree irreproachable and exemplary. In spotless
morality I was a Cato, and must have appeared such to all. I was a phi
losopher and a sage. My supremacy could be retained only by proving my
self a better man than any other man in the army. Had I yielded to human
weaknesses, I should have lost my power."
He was temperate in the extreme, seldom allowing himself to take even
a glass of wine, and never did he countenance by his presence any scene of
bacchanalian revelry. For gaming, in all its branches, he manifested then,
and through the whole of his life, the strongest disapproval. He ever refused
to repose confidence in any one who was addicted to that vice. One day,
at St. Helena, he was conversing with Las Casas, when some remark which
was made led Napoleon to inquire, "Were you a gamester ?" "Alas, sire !"
Las Casas replied, " I must confess that I was, but only occasionally." " I
am very glad," Napoleon rejoined, "that I knew nothing of it at the time.
You would have been ruined in my esteem. A gamester was sure to forfeit
my confidence. The moment I heard that a man was addicted to that vice,
I placed no more confidence in him."
From what source did this young soldier imbibe these elevated principles ?
Licentiousness, irreligion, gambling, had been the trinity of revolutionary
France— the substitute which rampant infidelity had adopted for a benignant
Father, a pleading Savior, a sanctifying Spirit. Napoleon was reared in the
midst of these demoralizing influences. And yet how unsullied does his
character appear when compared with that of his companions in the camp
and on the throne ! Napoleon informs us that to his mother he was indebt
ed for every pure and noble sentiment which inspired his bosom.
Letitia, the mother of Napoleon, was a woman of extraordinary endow
ments. She had herself hardly passed the period of childhood, being but
nineteen years of age, when she heard the first wailing cry of Napoleon, her
second-born, and pressed the helpless babe, with thanksgiving and prayer
to her maternal bosom. She was a young mother to train and educate such
a child for his unknown but exalted destiny. She encircled, in protecting
arms, the nursing babe, as it fondled a mother's bosom with those little hands
which, in after years, grasped sceptres, and uphove thrones, and hewed down
armies with resistless sword. She taught those infant lips to lisp " papa"—
"mamma"— those lips at whose subsequent command all Europe was moved
and whose burning, glowing, martial words fell like trumpet-tones upon the'

1796.] FIRST CAMPAIGN IN ITALY.— PIEDMONT. 81
world, hurling nation upon nation in the shock of war. She taught those
feeble feet to make their first trembling essays upon the carpet, rewarding
the successful endeavor with a mother's kiss and a mother's caress — those
feet which afterward strode over the sands of the desert, and waded through
the blood-stained snows of Russia, and tottered, in the infirmities of sickness
and death, on the misty, barren, storm-swept crags of St. Helena. She
instilled into the bosom of her son those elevated principles of honor and
self-respect which, when surrounded by every temptation earth could pre
sent, preserved him from the degraded doom of the inebriate, of the volup
tuary, and of the gamester, and which made the court of Napoleon, when
the most brilliant court this world has ever known, also the most illustrious
for the purity of its morals and the decorum of its observances.
The sincere, unaffected piety of Letitia rose so high above the corruptions
of a degenerate and profligate Church, that her distinguished son, notwith
standing the all but universal infidelity of the times, was compelled to respect
a religion which had embellished a beloved mother's life. He was thus
induced, in his day of power, to bring back a wayward nation of thirty mill
ions from cheerless, brutalizing, comfortless unbelief, to all the consoling,
ennobling, purifying influences of Christianity. When, at the command of
Napoleon, the church bells began again to toll the hour of prayer on every
hillside, and through every valley in France, and the dawn of the Sabbath
again guided rejoicing thousands in the crowded city and in the silent coun
try to the temples of religion — when the young in. their nuptials, and the
aged in their death, were blessed by the solemnities of Gospel ministrations,
it was a mother's influence which inspired a dutiful son to make the magic
change which thus, in an hour, transformed France from a pagan to nom
inally a Christian land. It was the calm, gentle, persuasive voice of Letitia
which was embodied in the consular decree. Honor to Letitia, the mother
of Napoleon !
The first interview between this almost beardless youth and the veteran
generals whom he was to command, must have presented a singular scene.
These scarred and war-worn chiefs, when they beheld the " stripling," were
utterly amazed at the folly of the Directory in sending such a youth to com
mand an army in circumstances so desperate. Rampon undertook to give
the young commander some advice. Napoleon, who demanded obedience,
not advice, impatiently brushed him away, exclaiming, " Gentlemen ! the
art of war is in its infancy. The time has passed in which enemies are
mutually to appoint the place of combat, advance, hat in hand, and say,
'Gentlemen, will you have the goodness to fire V We must cut the enemy in
pieces, precipitate ourselves like a torrent upon their battalions, and grind
them to powder. Experienced generals conduct the troops opposed to us !
So much the better — so much the better. It is not their experience which
will avail them against me. Mark my words ; they will soon burn their
books on tactics, and know not what to do. Yes, gentlemen ! the first onset
of the Italian army will give birth to a new epoch in military affairs. As for
us, we must hurl ourselves on the foe like a thunderbolt, and smite like it.
Disconcerted by our tactics, and not daring to put them into execution, they
will fly before us as the shades of night before the uprising sun."
Vol. I.— F

82

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. IV.

The commanding and self-confident tone in which Napoleon uttered these
glowing sentences silenced and confounded the generals. They felt that

NAPOLEON AND HIS GENERALS.

they had indeed a master. " Well," said Augereau, as he left the council,
nodding very significantly to Massena, " we have a man here who will cut
out some work for government, I think." " It was necessary for me," Na
poleon afterward remarked, "to be a little austere, to prevent my generals
from slapping me upon the shoulder."
The objects which Napoleon had in view in this campaign were, first, to
compel the King of Sardinia to abandon the alliance with Austria ; secondly,
to assail the Austrians with such vigor as to compel the Emperor to call to
his aid the troops upon the Rhine, and thus weaken the powerful hosts there
marching against the republic ; and, thirdly, to humble the Pope, who was
exerting all his spiritual power to aid the Bourbons in fighting their way
back to the throne of France.
The Pope had offered an unpardonable insult to the republic. The French
embassador sent to Rome had been attacked in the streets and chased home.
The mob broke into his house and cruelly assassinated him, unarmed and un
resisting. The murderers remained unpunished, and no atonement had been
made for the atrocious crime. But how, with thirty thousand troops, unpaid,
dejected, famished, and unprovided with the munitions of war, was mortal
man to accomplish such results, in the face of a foe eighty thousand strong,
living in abundance, and flushed with victory ?
Napoleon issued his first proclamation. It was read to every regiment in
the army, and rang like trumpet-notes upon the ears of the troops. " Sol
diers ! you are hungry and naked ; the government owes you much, and can
pay you nothing. Your patience, your courage, in the midst of these rocks,
are admirable, but they reflect no splendor upon your arms. I come to lead

1796.] FIRST CAMPAIGN IN ITALY.— PIEDMONT. 83
you into the most fertile plains the sun beholds. Rich provinces, opulent
cities, will soon be at your disposal. There you will find abundant harvests,
honor, and glory. Soldiers of Italy, will you fail in courage ?"
It is not strange that such words, from their young and fearless leader,
should have inspired enthusiasm, and should have caused the hearts of the
desponding to leap high with hope and confidence. The simple plan which
Napoleon adopted was to direct his whole force against detached portions of
the Austrian army, and thus by gaining, at the point of attack, a superiority
in numbers, to destroy them by piecemeal. "War," said the young soldier,
" is the science of barbarians ; and he who has the heaviest battalions will
conquer." The whole army was instantly on the move. The generals, appreciating
the wisdom and the fearlessness of their indomitable leader, imbibed his
spirit and emulated his zeal. Napoleon was on horseback night and day.
He seemed to take no time to eat or to sleep. He visited the soldiers, sym
pathized with them in their sufferings, and revealed to them his plans. It
was early in the spring. Bleak glaciers and snow-covered ridges of the Alps
were between Napoleon and the Austrians. Behind this curtain he assem
bled his forces. Enormous sacrifices were required to enable the soldiers to
move from point to point with that celerity which was essential in operations
so hazardous. He made no allowance for any impediments or obstacles.
At a given hour, the different divisions of the army, by various roads, were to
be at a designated point. To accomplish this, every sacrifice was to be
made of comfort and of life. If necessary to the attainment of this end,
stragglers were to be left behind, baggage abandoned, artillery even to be
left in the ruts, and the troops were to be, without fail, at the designated
place at the appointed hour. Through storms of rain and snow, over mount
ain and moor, by night and by day, hungry, sleepless, wet, and cold, the en
thusiastic host pressed on. It seems incredible that the young Napoleon, so
instantaneously as it were, should have been enabled to infuse his almost su
pernatural energy into the whole army. He had neither mules with which
to attempt the passage of the Alps, nor money to purchase the necessary
supplies. He therefore decided to turn the mountains, by following down
the chain along the shores of the Mediterranean, to a point where the lofty
ridges sink almost to a plain.
The army of Beaulieu was divided into three corps. His centre, ten
thousand strong, was at the small village of Montenotte. The night of the
11th of April was dark and tempestuous. Torrents of rain were falling, and
the miry roads were almost impassable. But through the long hours of this
stormy night, while the Austrians were reposing warmly in their tents, Na
poleon and his soldiers, drenched with rain, were toiling through the muddy
defiles of the mountains, wading the swollen streams, and climbing the slip
pery cliffs. Just as the day began to dawn through the broken clouds, the
young general stood upon the heights in the rear of Montenotte, and looked
down upon the encamped host whom he was now for the first time to en
counter in decisive conflict. He had so maneuvered as completely to en
velop his unsuspecting enemy.
Allowing his weary troops not an hour for repose, he fell upon the allied

84

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. IV.

Austrians and Sardinians like a whirlwind, attacking them, at the same mo
ment, in front, flank, and rear. The battle was long and bloody. The de
tails of these horrid scenes of carnage are sickening. The shout of onset ;
the shriek of agony ; the mutilated and the mangled forms of the young and
the noble, trampled beneath the iron hoofs of rushing squadrons ; the wound
ed crushed into the mire, with their bones ground to powder as the wheels
of ponderous artillery were dragged mercilessly over them, and the wailing
echo of widows and orphans in their distant homes, render these battle-fields
revolting to humanity. At length the Austrians were broken and complete
ly routed. They fled in dismay, leaving three thousand dead and wounded
upon the field, and their cannon and colors in possession of the French. This
was the first battle in which Napoleon had the supreme command ; the first
victory in which the honor redounded to himself. " My title of nobility,"
said he afterward, proudly, to the Emperor of Austria, "dates from the battle
of Montenotte." The Austrians fled in one direction
to Dego, to meet re-enforcements com
ing to their aid, and to protect Milan.
The Sardinians retreated in another
direction to Millesimo, to cover their
own capital of Turin. Thus the two
armies were separated as Napoleon de
sired. The indefatigable general, al
lowing his exhausted and bleeding army
but a few hours of repose, and himself
not one, resolved, while his troops were
flushed with victory, and the enemy
were depressed by defeat and loss, to
attack both armies at once. The 13th
and the 14th of April were passed in
one incessant conflict. The Austrians
and Sardinians, intrenching themselves
in strong fortresses and upon craggy
hill-sides, and every hour receiving re-enforcements pressing on to their
aid, cast showers of stones and rolled heavy rocks upon their assailants,
sweeping away whole companies at a time. ' Napoleon was every where,
sharing the toil, incurring the danger, and inspiring his men with his own en
thusiastic ardor and courage. In both battles the French were entirely vic
torious. At Dego, the Austrians were compelled to abandon their artillery
and baggage, and escape as they could over the mountains, leaving three
thousand prisoners in the hands of the conqueror. At Millesimo fifteen
hundred Sardinians were compelled to surrender. Thus, like a thunderbolt
Napoleon opened the campaign. In three days, three desperate battles had
been fought and three decisive victories gained.
Still Napoleon's situation was perilous in the extreme. He was surround
ed by forces vastly superior to his own, crowding down upon him. The Aus
trians were amazed at his audacity. They deemed it the paroxysm of a
madman, who throws himself single-handed into the midst of an armed host

MONTENOTTE AND ITS VICINITY.

1769]

FIRST CAMPAIGN IN ITALY.— PIEDMONT.

85

His destruction was sure, unless, by almost supernatural rapidity of march
ing, he could prevent the concentration of these forces and bring superior
numbers to attack and destroy the detached portions. A day of inaction, an
hour of hesitancy, might have been fatal. It was in the battle at Dego that
Napoleon was first particularly struck with the gallantry of a young officer
named Lannes. In nothing was the genius of this extraordinary man more
manifest than in the almost intuitive penetration with which he discovered
character. Lannes became subsequently Duke of Montebello, and one of
the marshals of the Empire.*
In the midst of these marches and countermarches, and these incessant
battles, there had been no opportunity to distribute regular rations among the
troops. The soldiers, destitute of every thing, began to pillage. Napoleon,
who was exceedingly anxious to win the good-will of the people of Italy, and
to be welcomed by them as their deliverer from proud oppressors, proceed
ed against the culprits with great severity, and immediately re-established
the most rigid discipline in the army.
He had now advanced to the summit of Mount Zemolo. From that em
inence the troops looked down upon the lovely plains of Italy, opening like
a diorama beneath them. The poetic sensibilities of Napoleon were deeply

I nsS!NG:BARR1TT
NAPOLEON ON MOUNT ZEMOLO.

moved by the majestic spectacle. Orchards and vineyards, and fertile fields
¦and peaceful villages, lay spread out, a scene of enchantment in the extend-

* " The education of Lannes had been much neglected, but his mind rose to the level of his
courage. He became a giant. He adored me as his protector, his superior being, his providence.
In the impetuosity of his temper, he sometimes allowed hasty expressions against me to escape
his lips, but he would probably have broken the head of any one who had joined him in his re
marks. When he died, he had been in fifty-four pitched battles, and three hundred combats of
different kinds." — Napoleon.

86 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. IV.
ed valley. Majestic rivers, reflecting the rays of the sun like ribbons of
silver, meandered through meadow and forest, encircling the verdant hill
sides, and bathing the streets of opulent cities. In the distance, stupendous
mountains, hoary with eternal ice and snow, bounded and seemed to embrace
in protecting arms this land of promise. Napoleon, sitting upon his horse,
gazed for some time in silent and delighted admiration upon the scene.
" Hannibal," he exclaimed, " forced the Alps ; but we have turned them."
There was, however, not a moment to be lost in rest or reverie. From
every direction the Austrians and Sardinians were hurrying to their appoint
ed rendezvous, to combine and destroy this audacious band, which had so
suddenly and fatally plunged into their midst. The French troops rushed
down the declivities of the mountains, and, crossing the Tanaro, rejoiced with
trembling as they found themselves in the sunny plains of Italy. Dispatch
ing Augereau to pursue the Austrian army, now effectually separated from
their allies, Napoleon, with indefatigable perseverance, pursued the Sardin
ians in their flight toward Turin. He came up with them on the 18th at
Ceva, where they had intrenched themselves, eight thousand strong.
He immediately attacked them in their intrenchments, and during the re
mainder of the day the sanguinary battle raged without any decisive result.
The flash and the roar of artillery and of musketry did not cease till the
darkness rendered it impossible to distinguish friend from foe. The French
slept upon their arms, ready to resume the combat in the earliest dawn of
the morning. In the night the Sardinians fled, and again took a strong po
sition behind the deep and foaming torrent of the Carsuglia. On the even-
, ing of the ensuing day Napoleon again overtook them. A single brigade
crossed the rapid torrent. The Sardinians were so strongly posted that it
seemed impossible that they could be dislodged. Large detachments were
hastening to re-enforce them. The Austrians were accumulating in great
strength in Napoleon's rear, and, notwithstanding all these brilliant victories,
the situation of the French was perilous in the extreme. A council of war
was held in the night, and it was decided, regardless of the extreme exhaus
tion of the troops, to make an assault upon the bridge as soon as the morn
ing should dawn. Before the first gray of the morning, the French, in bat
tle array, were moving down upon the bridge, anticipating a desperate strug
gle. But the Sardinians, in a panic, had again fled during the night, and
Napoleon, rejoicing at his good fortune, passed the bridge unobstructed.
The indefatigable victor pressed onward in the pursuit, and before nightfall
again overtook his fugitive foes, who had intrenched themselves upon some
almost inaccessible hills near Mondovi.
The French immediately advanced to the assault. The Sardinians fought
with desperation, but the genius of Napoleon triumphed, and a°-ain the Sar
dinians fled, leaving two thousand men, eight cannon, and eleven standards in
the hands of the conqueror, and one thousand dead upon the field. Napoleon
pursued the fugitives to Cherasco, and took possession of the place. He was
now within twenty miles of Turin, the capital of the kingdom of Sardinia.
All was commotion in the metropolis. There were thousands there who had
imbibed the revolutionary spirit, who were ready to welcome Napoleon as
their deliverer, and to implore him to aid them in the establishment of a re-

1796.] FIRST CAMPAIGN IN ITALY.— PIEDMONT. 87
public. The king and the nobles were in consternation. The English and
Austrian ministers entreated the king to adhere to the alliance, abandon his
capital, and continue the conflict. They assured him that the rash and
youthful victor was rushing into difficulties from which he could by no pos
sibility extricate himself. But he, trembling for his throne and his crown,
believing it to be impossible to resist so rapid a conqueror, and fearing that
Napoleon, irritated by a protracted conflict, would proclaim political liberty
to the people and revolutionize the kingdom, determined to throw himself
into the arms of the French, and to appeal to the magnanimity of the foe
whose rights he had so unpardonably assailed. By all human rules he de
served the severest punishment. He had united with two powerful nations,
England and Austria, to chastise the French for preferring a republic to a
monarchy, and had sent an invading army to bombard the cities of France,
and instigate the Royalists to rise in civil war against the established gov
ernment of the country.
It was with lively satisfaction that Napoleon received the advances of the
Sardinian king, for he was fully aware of the peril in which he was placed.
The allied armies were still far more numerous than his own. He had
neither heavy battering cannon nor siege equipage to reduce Turin and the
other important fortresses of the kingdom. He was far from home, could
expect no immediate re-enforcements from France, and his little army was
literally in destitution and rags. The Allies, on the contrary, were in the
enjoyment of abundance. They could every day augment their strength,
and their resources were apparently inexhaustible.
"The King of Sardinia," says Napoleon, "had still a great number of for
tresses left ; and, in spite of the victories which had been gained, the slightest
check, one caprice of fortune, would have undone every thing." Napoleon,
however, toward the commissioners that had been sent to treat with him, as
sumed a very confident and imperious tone. He demanded, as a prelimin
ary to any armistice, that the important fortresses of Coni, Tortona, and Al
exandria — "the keys of the Alps" — should be surrendered to him. The com
missioners hesitated to comply with these requisitions, which would place
Sardinia entirely at his mercy, and proposed some modifications.
"Your ideas are absurd," exclaimed Napoleon, sternly: "it is for me to
state conditions. Listen to the laws which I impose upon you in the name
of the government of my country, and obey, or to-morrow my batteries are
erected, and Turin is in flames." The commissioners were overawed, and a
treaty was immediately concluded, by which the King of Sardinia abandoned
the alliance, surrendered the three fortresses, with all their artillery and mili
tary stores, to Napoleon, sent an embassador to Paris to conclude a definitive
peace, left the victors in possession of all the places they had already taken,
disbanded the militia and dispersed the regular troops, and allowed the French
free use of the military roads to carry on the war with Austria. Napoleon
then issued to his soldiers the following soul-stirring proclamation :
" Soldiers ! you have gained in fifteen days six victories, taken one-and-
twenty standards, fifty-five pieces of cannon, many strong places, and have
conquered the richest part of Piedmont. You have made fifteen thousand
prisoners, and killed or wounded ten thousand men. Hitherto you have

88 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. V.
fought on sterile rocks, illustrious, indeed, by your courage, but of no avail.
Now you rival by your services the armies of Holland and of the Rhine.
You were utterly destitute ; you have supplied all your wants. You have
gained battles without cannon ; passed rivers without bridges ; made forced
marches without shoes ; bivouacked without bread. The phalanxes of the
republic, the soldiers of liberty, were alone capable of such services. But,
soldiers ! you have accomplished nothing while any thing remains to be done.
Neither Turin nor Milan is in your hands. I am told that there are some
among you whose courage is failing, who wish to return to the summits of
the Alps and the Apennines. No ! I can not believe it. The conquerors
of Montenotte, of Millesimo, of Dego, of Mondovi, burn to carry still further
the glories of the French name. But, ere I lead you to conquest, there is
one condition you must promise to fulfill ; that is, to protect the people whom
you liberate, and to repress all acts of lawless violence. Without this, you
would not be the deliverers, but the scourge of nations. Invested with the
national authority, strong in justice and law, I shall not hesitate to enforce
the requisitions of humanity and of honor. I will not suffer robbers to sully
your laurels. Pillagers shall be shot without mercy.
" People of Italy ! The French army advances to break your chains.
The French people are the friends of all nations. In them you may confide.
Your property, your religion, your customs shall be respected. We will only
make war as generous foes. Our sole quarrel is with the tyrants who en
slave you."

CHAPTER V.
pursuit of the austrians.

Strong Temptation of Napoleon — His Wishes for Italy— Sensation in Paris — Remembrance of
Josephine — Conditions with the Duke of Parma — Napoleon outgenerals Beaulieu — The Bridge
of Lodi — Its terrible Passage — Entrance into Milan — Support of the Army — The Courier — Let
ter to Oriani — Appointment of Kellerman — Insurrection at Milan — Banasco — Pavia  The Vene
tian Bribe — Lofty Ambition — Origin of the Imperial Guard — Terms with the Pope.
A large majority of Napoleon's soldiers and officers severely condemned
any treaty of peace with a monarchical government, and were clamorous for
the dethronement of the King of Sardinia, and the establishment of a repub
lic. The people thronged Napoleon with the entreaty that he would lend
them his countenance that they might revolutionize the kingdom. They
urged that, by the banishment of the king and the nobles, they could estab
lish a free government, which should be the natural and efficient ally of re
publican France. He had but to say the word and the work was done. The
temptation to utter that word must have been very strong. It required no
common political foresight to nerve Napoleon to resist that temptation.
But he had a great horror of anarchy. He had seen enough of the work
ing of Jacobin misrule in the blood-deluged streets of Paris. He did not
believe that the benighted peasants of Italy possessed either the intellio-ence
or the moral principle essential to the support of a well-organized republic.

1796.] PURSUIT OF THE AUSTRIANS. 89
Consequently, notwithstanding the known wishes of the Directory, the de
mands of the army, and the entreaties of the populace, with heroic firmness
he refused to allow the overthrow of the established government. He di
verted the attention of his soldiers from the subject by plunging them into
still more arduous enterprises, and leading them to yet more brilliant victories.
Napoleon had no desire to see the Reign of Terror re-enacted in the cities
of Italy. He was in favor of reform, not of revolution. The kings and the
nobles had monopolized wealth and honor, and nearly all the most precious
privileges of life. The people were merely hewers of wood and drawers of
water. Napoleon wished to break down this monopoly, and to emancipate
the masses from the servitude of ages. He would do this, however, not by
the sudden upheaving of thrones and the transfer of power to unenlightened
and inexperienced democracy, but by surrounding the thrones with republic
an institutions, and conferring upon all people a strong and well-organized
government, with constitutional liberty. Eloquently he says, "It would be
a magnificent field for speculation to estimate what would have been the des
tinies of France and of Europe, had England satisfied herself with denouncing
the murder of Louis XVI., which would have been for the interests of public
morality, and listened to the councils of a philanthropic policy, by accepting
revolutionized France as an ally. Scaffolds would not then have been erected
over the whole country, and kings would not have trembled on their thrones ;
but their states would all have passed, more or less, through a revolutionary
process, and the whole of Europe, without a convulsion, would have become
constitutional and free."
The kingdom of Sardinia was composed of the provinces of Nice, Piedmont,
Savoy, and Montferrat. It contained three millions of inhabitants. The king,
by extraordinary efforts and by means of subsidies from England, had raised
an army of sixty thousand men, trained to service in long-continued wars_.
His numerous fortresses, well armed and amply provisioned, situated at the
defiles of all the mountains, placed his frontier in a state which was regarded
as impregnable. He was the father-in-law of both of the brothers of Louis
XVI., which brothers subsequently ascended the throne of France as Louis
XVIII. and as Charles X. He had welcomed them in their flight from
France to his court in Turin, and had made his court a place of refuge for
the emigrant noblesse, where, in fancied security, they matured their plans
and accumulated their resources for the invasion of France, in connection
with the armies of the Allies. And yet Napoleon, with thirty thousand half-
starved men, had, in one short fortnight, dispersed^his troops, driven the Aus
trians from the kingdom, penetrated to the very heart of the state, and was
threatening the bombardment of his capital. The humiliated monarch, trem
bling for his crown, was compelled to sue for peace at the feet of an unknown
young man of twenty-six. His chagrin was so great, in view of his own fallen
fortunes and the hopelessness of his sons-in-law ever attaining the throne of
France, that he died, a few days after signing the treaty of Cherasco, of a
broken heart.
Napoleon immediately dispatched Murat, his first aid-de-camp, to Paris,
with a copy of the armistice, and with twenty-one standards taken from the
enemy. The sensation which was produced in France by this rapid succes-

90 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. V.
sion of astonishing victories was intense and universal. The spirit of antique
eloquence which imbued the proclamations of the young conqueror ; the
modest language of his dispatches to the Directory ; the entire absence of
boasting respecting his own merits ; and the glowing commendation of the
enthusiastic bravery of his soldiers and of his generals, excited profound ad
miration. Napoleon Bonaparte was a foreign — an Italian name. Few in
France had ever heard it, and it was not easily pronounced. It was sonorous
and imposing. Every one inquired, Who is this young general, whose tal
ents thus suddenly, with such meteoric splendour, have blazed upon Europe ?
His name and his fame were upon every lip, and the eyes of all Europe were
concentered upon him. Three times in the course oi fifteen days the Coun
cil of Ancients and the Five Hundred had decreed that the army of Italy de
served well of their country, and had appointed festivals to victory in their
honor. In very imposing ceremony, Murat presented the captured standards
to the Directory. Several foreign embassadors were present on the occasion.
The republic, thus triumphant, was invested with new dignity, and elevated,
by the victories of the young general, to a position of respect and considera
tion which it had never attained before.
While these scenes were transpiring, Napoleon did not forget the bride he
had left in Paris. Though for seven days and nights he had allowed himself
no quiet meal, no regular repose, and had not taken off either his coat or his
boots, he found time to send frequent and most affectionate, though very-
short, notes to Josephine. This delicacy of attention Napoleon ever mani
fested toward Josephine, even after their unhappy divorce, and until the hour
of her death.
Napoleon having, by an advantageous treaty with Sardinia, secured his
rear from assault, without a day's delay commenced the pursuit of the dis
comfited remains of the Austrian army. Under their commander-in-chief
Beaulieu, they had retreated behind the Po, where they strongly intrenched
themselves, awaiting the re-enforcements which were hurrying to their aid.
Upon leaving the kingdom of Sardinia, Napoleon first entered the states
of Parma. The Duke of Parma, who had united with his more powerful
neighbors in the alliance against France, reigned over a population of but
about five hundred thousand, and could furnish to the Allies but three thou
sand troops. He was, of course, powerless, and sent envoys to solicit the
clemency of the conqueror. He had joined his armies with those of Austria
for the invasion of France. It was just that he should be compelled to aid
in defraying the expenses which France was consequently forced to incur to
repel the invasion. Napoleon granted him an armistice upon his paying five
hundred thousand dollars in silver, sixteen hundred artillery horses, and a
large supply of corn and provisions.
And here commenced one of those characteristic acts of the youno- general
which have been greatly admired by some, and most severely censured by
others. Napoleon, a lover and connoisseur of the arts, conscious of the addi
tion they contribute to the splendor of an empire, and of the effect which
they produce upon the imagination of men, demanded twenty of the choicest
pictures m the galleries of the duke, to be sent to the Museum at Paris To
save one of these works of art, the celebrated picture of St. Jerome the

1796.] PURSUIT OF THE AUSTRIANS. 91
duke offered two hundred thousand dollars. Napoleon declined the money,
stating to the army, " The sum which he offers us will soon be spent ; but
the possession of such a master-piece at Paris will adorn that capital for
ages, and give birth to similar exertions of genius."
No one objects, according to the laws of war, to the extortion of the money,
the horses, the corn, and the beef, but it is represented by some as an un
pardonable act of spoliation and rapacity to have taken the pictures. If con
quest confers the right to the seizure of any species of property, it is difficult
to conceive why works of art, which are subject to barter and sale, should
claim exemption. Indeed, there seems to be a peculiar propriety in taking
luxuries rather than necessaries. The extortion of money only inflicted a tax
upon the people, who were the friends of Napoleon and of his cause. The
selection of the paintings and the statuary deprived not the people of their
food, but caused that very class in the community to feel the evils of war
who had originated the conflict. It was making requisition upon the palace,
and not upon the cottage. But war, with its extortion, robbery, cruelty, and
blood, involves all our ideas of morality in confusion. Whatever may be
the decision of posterity respecting the propriety of including works of genius
among the trophies of war, the occurrence surely exhibits Napoleon as a man
of refined and elevated tastes. An ignoble spirit, moved by avarice, would
have grasped the money. Napoleon, regardless of personal indulgence,
sought only the glory of France. There is, at least, grandeur in the motive
which inspired the act.
The Austrians were now re-enforced to the amount of forty thousand men,
and had intrenched themselves upon the other side of the Po, having this
magnificent stream flowing between them r.nd the French. It is one of the
most difficult operations in war to cross a river in the face of an opposing
army. It was difficult to conceive how Napoleon could effect the enter
prise. He, however, marched resolutely on toward Valenza, making every
demonstration of his intention to cross at that point, in defiance of the foe,
arrayed in vastly superior numbers to contest the passage. The Austrians
concentrated their strength to give him a warm reception. Suddenly, by
night, Napoleon turned down the river, and with amazing celerity made a
march of eighty miles in thirty-six hours, seizing every boat upon the stream
as he passed along. He had timed the march of the several divisions of his
army so precisely, that all of his forces met at the appointed rendezvous
within a few hours of each other. Rapidly crossing the river in boats, he
found himself and his army, without the loss of a single man, in the plains
of Lombardy.
This beautiful and productive country had been conquered by the Austri
ans, and was governed by an archduke. It contained one million two hund
red thousand inhabitants, and was one of the most fertile and rich provinces
in the world. Its inhabitants were much dissatisfied with their foreign mas
ters, and the great majority, longing for political regeneration, were ready to
welcome the armies of France. As soon as Beaulieu, who was busily at
work upon his fortifications at Valenza, heard that Napoleon had thus out
generaled him, and had crossed the river, he immediately collected all his
forces and moved forward to meet him. The advanced divisions of the hos-

92 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chaf. V.
tile armies soon met at Fombio. The Austrians stationed themselves in the
steeples, and at the windows, and upon the roofs of the houses, and com
menced a destructive fire upon the French, crowding into the streets. They
hoped to arrest their progress until the commander-in-chief could arrive with
the main body of the army. The French, however, rushed impetuously on
with their bayonets, and the Austrians were driven before them, leaving two
thousand prisoners in the hands of Napoleon, and the ground covered with
their dead.
The French pursued closely upon the heels of the Austrians, from every
eminence plunging cannon-balls into their retreating ranks, and assailing
them with the most destructive fire at every possible point of attack. In
the evening of the same day, the exhausted and bleeding columns of the
enemy arrived at Lodi, a small town upon the banks of the Adda. Passing
directly through the town, they crossed the river, which was about two
hundred yards in width, by a narrow wooden bridge, about thirty feet wide.
They were there received by the main body of the army of Beaulieu, which
was strongly intrenched upon the opposite bank. The whole French army
rushed into the town, and sheltering themselves behind the walls of the
houses from the incessant fire of the Austrian batteries, awaited the com
mands of their youthful leader, whom they now began to think invincible.
Napoleon's belief in destiny was so strong that he was an entire stranger
to bodily fear. He immediately sallied from the town and reconnoitered
the banks of the river, amid a shower of balls and grape-shot. The pros
pect before him would have been to most persons appalling. The Austri
ans, sixteen thousand strong, with twelve thousand infantry and four thou
sand cavalry, and thirty pieces of heavy artillery, were posted upon the
opposite bank in battle array, with their batteries so arranged as to com
mand the whole length of the bridge by a raking fire. Batteries station
ed above and below also swept the narrow passage by cross-fires, while
sharp-shooters, in bands of thousands, were posted at every available point,
to drive a storm of musket-balls into the face of any who should approach
the structure.
Beaulieu conceived his position so impregnable that he had not thought
it necessary to destroy the bridge, as he easily could have done. He de
sired nothing more earnestly than that the French might attempt the pass
age, for he was confident that their discomfiture would be both signal and
awful. Napoleon immediately placed as many guns as possible in opposi
tion to the Austrian batteries, directing with his own hands, in the midst of
the hottest fire, some cannon in such a manner as to prevent the Austrians
from approaching to blow up the arches. He then entered the town '"assem
bled his general officers, and informed them that he had resolved immediate
ly to storm the bridge. The bravest of them recoiled from the undertaking
and they unanimously disapproved of the plan as impracticable
"It is impossible," said one, "that any men can force their' way across
that narrow bridge, m the face of such an annihilating storm of balls" as must
be encountered. " How ! impossible !" exclaimed Napoleon ; " that word is
not French The self-reliant mind of the young conqueror was seldom
moved by the opinion of others. Regardless of the disapproval of his gen

1796.]

PURSUIT OF THE AUSTRIANS.

94

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. V.

erals, he assembled six thousand picked troops, and addressing them in those
marked tones of martial eloquence eminently at his command, so effectually
roused their pride and enthusiasm that they were clamorous to be led to the
assault. He unfolded to them fully the peril which attended the enterprise,
and animated them by reference to the corresponding glory which would
attend the achievement. He knew that thousands must perish. But plac
ing only a slight value upon his own life, he regarded as little the lives of
others, and deemed the object to be gained worthy of the terrible price which
was to be paid. There probably was not another man in either of those ar
mies who would have ventured upon the responsibility of an enterprise ap
parently so desperate.
Secretly dispatching a large body of cavalry to cross the river at a very
difficult ford, about three miles above the town, which by some inconceiva
ble oversight the Austrians had neglected to protect, he ordered them to
come down the river and make the most desperate charge upon the rear of
the enemy. At the same time, he formed his troops into a line, under the
shelter of one of the streets nearest the point of attack. It was the evening
of the 10th of May. The sun was just sinking behind the Tyrolean hills,
enveloping in soft twilight the scene of rural peace and beauty, and of man's
depravity. Not a breath of air rippled the smooth surface of the water, or
agitated the bursting foliage of the early spring.
The moment that Napoleon perceived, by the commotion among the Aus
trians, that the cavalry had effected the passage of the river, he ordered the
trumpets to sound the charge. The line wheeled instantly into a dense and
solid column, crowding the street with its impenetrable mass. Emerging

THE TEKKIBLE PASSAGE OF THE BRIDGE OF LODI.

from the shelter upon the full run, while rending the air with their enthusi
astic shouts, they rushed upon the bridge. They were met by a murderous

^796.] PURSUIT OF THE AUSTRIANS. 95
discharge of every missile of destruction, sweeping the structure like a whirl
wind. The whole head of the column was immediately cut down like grass
before the scythe, and the progress 'of those in the rear was encumbered by
piles of the dead. Still the column pressed on, heedless of the terrific storm
of iron and of lead, until it had forced its way into the middle of the bridge.
Here it hesitated, wavered, and was on the point of retreating before volcanic
bursts of fire too terrible for mortal man to endure, when Napoleon, seizing
a standard, and followed by Lannes, Massena, and Berthier, plunged through
the clouds of smoke which now enveloped the bridge in almost midnight
darkness, placed himself at the head of the troops, and shouted, " Follow
your general !" The bleeding, mangled column, animated by this example,
rushed with their bayonets upon the Austrian gunners. At the same mo
ment, the French cavalry came dashing upon the batteries in the rear, and
the bridge was carried. The French army now poured across the narrow
passage like a torrent, and debouched upon the plain. Still the battle raged
with unmitigated fury. The Austrians hurled themselves upon the French
with the energy of despair. But the troops of Napoleon, intoxicated with
their amazing achievement, set all danger at defiance, and seemed as regard
less of bullets and of shells as if they had been snow-balls in the hands of
children. In the midst of the thunders of the terrific cannonade, a particular battery
was producing terrible havoc among the ranks of the French. Repeated
attempts had been made to storm it, but in vain. An officer rode up to Na
poleon in the midst of the confusion and horror of the battle, and repre
sented the importance of making another effort to silence the destructive
battery. " Very well," said Napoleon, who was fond of speaking as well as
acting the sublime, " let it be silenced then." Turning to a body of dragoons
near by, he exclaimed, "Follow your general." As gayly as if it were the
pastime of a holiday, the dragoons followed their leader in the impetuous
charge, through showers of grape-shot, dealing mutilation and death into
their ranks. The Austrian gunners were instantly sabred, and their guns
turned upon the foe.
Lannes was the first to cross the bridge, and Napoleon the second. Lan
nes, in utter recklessness and desperation, spurred his maddened horse into
the very midst of the Austrian ranks, and grasped a banner. At that mo
ment, his horse fell dead beneath him, and half a dozen swords glittered
above his head. With herculean strength and agility, he extricated himself
from his fallen steed, leaped upon the horse of an Austrian officer behind
the rider, plunged his sword through the body of the officer, and hurled him
from his saddle ; taking his seat, he fought his way back to his followers, hav
ing slain in the melee six of the Austrians with his own hand. This deed
of demoniac energy was performed under the eye of Napoleon, and he pro
moted Lannes on the spot.
The Austrians now retreated, leaving two thousand prisoners and twenty
pieces of cannon in the hands of the victors, and two thousand five hundred
men and four hundred horses dead upon the plain. The French probably
lost, in dead and wounded, about the same number, though Napoleon, in his
report of the battle, acknowledged the loss of but four hundred. The Aus-

96 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. V.
trians claimed that the French won the victory at the expense of four thou
sand men. It was, of course, the policy of the conqueror to have it under
stood that his troops were the executors, not the victims of slaughter. " As
false as a bulletin," has become a proverb. The necessity of uttering false
hood and practicing deception, in all their varied forms, is one of the smallest
of the innumerable immoralities attendant upon war. From time immemo
rial, it has been declared that the weapons of deception and of courage are
equally allowable to the soldier : "An virtus, an dolos, quis ab hoste requirat."
If an enemy can be deceived by a false bulletin, there are few generals so
conscientious as to reject the stratagem. Napoleon certainly never hesi
tated to avail himself of any of those artifices, which- in war are considered
honorable, to send dismay into the hearts of his foes. Truthfulness is not
one of the virtues which thrives in a camp.
" It was a strange sight," says a French veteran who was present at this
battle, "to see Napoleon that day, on foot on the bridge, under an infernal
fire, and mixed up with our tall grenadiers. He looked like a little boy."
" This beardless youth," said an Austrian general, indignantly, " ought to
have been beaten over and over again ; for who ever saw such tactics ! The
blockhead knows nothing of the rules of war. To-day he is in our rear, to
morrow on our flank, and the next day again in our front. Such gross viola
tions of the established principles of war are insufferable."
When Napoleon was in exile at St. Helena, some one read an account of
the battle of Lodi, in which it was stated that Napoleon displayed great cour
age in being the first to cross the bridge, and that Lannes passed it after him.
" Before me ! before me !" exclaimed Napoleon, earnestly. " Lannes passed
first, and I only followed him. It is necessary to correct that error upon the
spot." The correction was made in the margin. This victory produced a
very extraordinary effect upon the whole French army, and inspired the sol
diers with unbounded confidence in their young leader.
Some of the veterans of the army, immediately after the battle, met togeth
er and jocosely promoted their general, who had so distinguished himself by
his bravery, and who was so juvenile in his appearance, to the rank of cor
poral. When Napoleon next appeared upon the field, he was greeted with
enthusiastic shouts by the whole army, " Long live our little corporal !"
Ever after this he was the perfect idol of the troops, and never lost, even in
the dignity of Consul and Emperor, this honorary and affectionate nickname.
" Neither the quelling of the sections," said Napoleon, " nor the victory of
Montenotte, induced me to think myself a superior character. It was not till
after the terrible passage of the Bridge of Lodi that the idea shot across my
mind that I might become a decisive actor in the political arena. Then arose,
for the first time, the spark of great ambition."
Lombard}' was now at the mercy of Napoleon, and the discomfited Aus
trians fled into the Tyrol. The Archduke Ferdinand and his duchess, with
tears in their eyes, abandoned to the conqueror their beautiful capital of Mi
lan, and sought refuge with their retreating friends.
As the carriages of the ducal pair and those of their retinue passed sadly
through the streets of the metropolis, the people looked on in silence, utter
ing not a word of sympathy or of insult ; but the moment they had departed,

1796.] PURSUIT OF THE AUSTRIANS. 9-
republican zeal burst forth unrestrained. The tri-colored cockade seemed
suddenly to have fallen, as by magic, upon the hats and the caps of the mul
titude, and the great mass of the people prepared to greet the French Re
publicans with every demonstration of joy. A placard was put upon the pal
ace — " This house to let ; for the keys, apply to the French Commissioner."
On the 15th of May, just one month after the opening of the campaign at
Montenotte, Napoleon entered Milan in triumph. He was welcomed by the
great majority of the inhabitants as a deliverer. The patriots, from all parts
of Italy, crowded to the capital, sanguine in the hope that Napoleon would
secure their independence, and confer upon them a republican government,
in friendly alliance with France. A numerous militia was immediately or
ganized, called the National Guard, and dressed in three colours, blue, red,
and white, in honor of the tri-colored flag. A triumphal arch was erected in
homage of the conqueror. The whole population of the city marched out to
bid him welcome ; flowers were scattered in his path ; ladies thronged the
windows as he passed, and greeted him with smiles and fluttering handker
chiefs, and with a shower of bouquets rained down at his feet. Amid all the
pomp of martial music and waving banners, the ringing of bells, the thunders
of saluting artillery, and the acclamations of an immense concourse of spec
tators, Napoleon took possession of the palace from whence the duke had fled.
" If you desire liberty," said the victor to the Milanese, " you must deserve
it by assisting to emancipate Italy forever from Austria." The wealthy and
avaricious Duke of Modena, whose states bordered upon those of Parma, dis
patched envoys to sue for peace. Napoleon granted him an armistice, upon
the payment of two millions of dollars, twenty of his choicest pictures, and
an abundant supply of horses and provisions. When in treaty with the Duke
of Modena, the Commissary of the French army came to Napoleon, and said,
" The brother of the duke is here with eight hundred thousand dollars in
gold, contained in four chests. He comes, in the name of the duke, to beg
you to accept them, and I advise you to do so. The money belongs to you.
Take it without scruple. A proportionate diminution will be made in the
duke's contribution, and he will be very glad to have obtained a protector."
" I thank you," replied Napoleon, coolly ; " I shall not, for that sum, place
myself in the power of the Duke of Modena." The whole contribution went
into the army-chest, Napoleon refusing to receive for himself a single dollar.
Napoleon now issued another of those spirit-stirring proclamations, which
roused such enthusiasm among his own troops, and which so powerfully elec
trified the ardent imagination of the Italians. " Soldiers ! you have descend
ed like a torrent from the Apennines. You have overwhelmed every thing
which opposed your progress. Piedmont is delivered from the tyranny of
Austria, Milan is in your hands, and the republican standards wave over the
whole of Lombardy. The Dukes of Parma and Modena owe their existence
to your generosity. The army, which menaced you with so much pride, can
no longer find a barrier to protect itself against your arms. The Po, the Ti-
cino, the Adda, have not been able to stop you a single day. These boasted
bulwarks of Italy have proved as nugatory as the Alps. Such a career of
success has carried joy into the bosom of your country. Fetes in honor of
your victories have been ordered in all the communes of the republic.
Vol. I.— G

o

98

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. V.

There your parents, your wives, your sisters, your lovers rejoice m your
achievements, and boast with pride that you belong to them. Yes, soldiers !
you have indeed done much, but much remains still to be done. Shall pos
terity say that we knew how to conquer, but knew not how to improve vic
tory ? Shall we find a Capua in Lombardy ? We have forced marches to
make, enemies to subdue, laurels to gather, injuries to revenge. Let those
who have whetted the daggers of civil war m France — who have assassin
ated our ministers — who have burned our ships at Toulon — let those trem
ble ; the hour of vengeance has struck. But let not the people be alarmed.
We are the friends of the people every where ; particularly of the Brutuses,
the Scipios, and the great men whom we have taken for our models. To
re-establish the Capitol ; to replace the statues of the heroes who rendered
it illustrious ; to rouse the Romans, stupefied by centuries of slavery — such
will be the fruit of our victories. They will form an epoch with posterity.
To you will pertain the immortal glory of changing the face of the finest por
tion of Europe. The French people, free and respected by the whole world,
will give to Europe a glorious peace. You will then return to your homes,
and your fellow-citizens will say, pointing to you, 'He belonged to the army
of Italy:"
Such were the proclamations which Napoleon dashed off, with inconceiv
able rapidity, in the midst of all the care, and peril, and clangor of battle.
Upon reading these glowing sentences over at St. Helena, twenty years after
they were written, he exclaimed, " And yet they had the folly to say that I
could not write." He has been represented by some as illiterate — as unable.
to spell. On the contrary, he was a ripe and an accomplished scholar. His
intellectual powers and his intellectual attainments were of the very highest
order. His mind had been trained by the severest discipline of intense and
protracted study. " Do you write orthographically ?" said he, one day, to his
amanuensis at St. Helena. "A man occupied with public business can not
attend to orthography. His ideas must flow faster than his hand can trace.
He has only time to place his points. He must compress words into letters
and phrases into words, and let the scribes make it out afterward." Such
was the velocity with which Napoleon wrote. His handwriting was com
posed of the most unintelligible hieroglyphics. He often could not decipher
it himself. Lombardy is the garden of Italy. The whole of the extensive valley from
the Alps to the Apennines is cultivated to the highest degree, presenting in
its vineyards, its orchards, its waving fields of grain, its flocks and herds, one
of the most rich and attractive features earth can exhibit. Milan, its beauti
ful capital, abounding in wealth and luxury, contained a population of one
hundred and twenty thousand souls. Here Napoleon allowed his weary
troops, exhausted by their unparalleled exertions, to repose for six days.
Napoleon himself was received by the inhabitants with the most unbounded
enthusiasm and joy. He was regarded as the liberator of Italy — the youth
ful hero, who had come, with almost supernatural powers, to reintroduce to
the country the reign of Roman greatness and virtue. His o-lowino- words
his splendid achievements, his high-toned morals, so pure and spotless the
grace and beauty of his feminine figure, his prompt decisions, his imperial

1796.] PURSUIT OF THE AUSTRIANS. 99
will, and the antique cast of his thoughts, uttered in terse and graphic lan
guage, which passed, in reiterated quotation, from lip to lip, diffused a uni
versal enchantment. From all parts of Italy, the young and the enthusiastic
flocked to the metropolis of Lombardy. The language of Italy was Napo
leon's mother tongue. His name and his origin were Italian, and they re
garded him as a countryman. They crowded his footsteps, and greeted him
with incessant acclamations. He was a Cato, a Scipio, a Hannibal. The
ladies, in particular, lavished upon him adulations without any bounds.
But Napoleon was compelled to support his own army from the spoils of
the vanquished. He could not receive a dollar from the exhausted treasury
of the French republic. "It is very difficult," said he, "to rob a people of
their substance, and at the same time to convince them that you are their
friend and benefactor." Still he succeeded in doing both. With great re
luctance, he imposed upon the Milanese a contribution of four millions of dol
lars, and selected twenty paintings from the Ambrosian Gallery, to send to
Paris as the trophies of his victory. It was with extreme regret that he ex
torted the money, knowing that it must check the enthusiasm with which the
inhabitants were rallying around the republican standard. It was, howev
er, indispensable for the furtherance of his plans. It was his only refuge from
defeat and from absolute destruction. . The Milanese patriots also felt that it
was just that their government should defray the expenses of a war which
they had provoked ; that since Lombardy had allied itself with the powerful
and wealthy monarchies of Europe to invade the infant republic in its weak
ness and its poverty, Napoleon was perfectly justifiable in feeding and cloth
ing his soldiers at the expense of the invaders whom he had repelled. The
money was paid, and the conqueror was still the idol of the people.
His soldiers were now luxuriating in the abundance of bread, and meat,
and wine. They were, however, still in rags, wearing the same war-worn
and tattered garments with which they had descended from the frozen sum
mits of the Alps-. With the resources thus obtained, Napoleon clothed all
his troops abundantly, filled the chests of the army, established hospitals and
large magazines, proudly sent a million of dollars to the Directory in Paris,
as an absent father would send funds to his helpless family, forwarded two
hundred and fifty thousand dollars to Moreau, who, with an impoverished
army, upon the Rhine, was contending against superior forces of the Aus
trians. He also established an energetic and efficient municipal government
in Milan, and made immediate arrangements for the organization and thor
ough military discipline of the militia in all parts of Lombardy.
This was the work of five days, and of five days succeeding a month of
such toil of body and of mind as, perhaps, no mortal ever endured before.
Had it not been for a very peculiar constitutional temperament, giving Na
poleon the most extraordinary control over his own mind, such herculean
labors could not have been performed.
"Different, affairs are arranged in my head," said he, "as in drawers.
When I wish to interrupt one train of thought, I close the drawer which con
tains that subject, and open that which contains another. They do not mix
together, and do not fatigue me or inconvenience me. I have never been
kept awake by an involuntary preoccupation of the mind. If I wish repose,

100

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. V.

I shut up all the drawers, and I am asleep. I have always slept when I
wanted rest, and almost at will."
After spending several successive days and nights without sleep, in prep
aration for a decisive conflict, he has been known repeatedly to fall asleep
in the midst of the uproar and horror of the field of battle, and when the
balls of the enemy were sweeping the eminence upon* which he stood.
" Nature has her rights," said he, " and will not be defrauded with impu
nity. I feel more cool to receive the reports which are brought to me and
to give fresh orders, when awaking in this manner from a transient slum
ber." While in Milan, one morning, just as he had mounted his horse, a dragoon
presented himself before him, bearing dispatches of great importance. Na
poleon read them upon the saddle, and giving a verbal answer, told the cou
rier to take it back with all possible dispatch.
"I have no horse," the man replied; "the one I rode, in consequence of
forced speed, fell dead at the gate of your palace."
" Take mine, then," rejoined Napoleon, instantly alighting.
The man hesitated to mount the magnificent charger of the general-in-
chief. " You think him too fine an animal," said Napoleon, " and too splendidly
caparisoned. Never mind, comrade, there is nothing too magnificent for a
French soldier."
Incidents like this, perpetually occurring, were narrated, with all conceiv
able embellishments, around the camp-fires, and they conferred upon the
young general a degree of popularity almost amounting to adoration.

MmSM

|| 'Sal

¦ a m

NAPOLEON AND THE COURIER.

The lofty intellectual character of Napoleon was also developed at the
same time, in the midst of all the cares, perplexities, and perils of these most

1796.] PURSUIT OF THE AUSTRIANS. 101
terrible conflicts, in a letter publicly addressed to Oriani, the celebrated
mathematician. " Hitherto," he writes, " the learned in Italy have not enjoyed the con
sideration to which they were entitled. They lived secluded in their libra
ries, too happy if they could escape the persecution of kings and priests. It
is so .no longer. Religious inquisition and despotic power are at an end.
Thought is free in Italy. I invite the literary and the scientific to consult
together, and propose to me their ideas on the subject of giving new life and
vigor to the fine arts and sciences. All who desire to visit France will be
received with distinction by the government. The citizens of France have
more pride in enrolling among their citizens a skillful mathematician, a
painter of reputation, a distinguished man in any class of letters, than in
adding to their territories a large and wealthy city."
Napoleon, having thus rapidly organized a government for Lombardy, and
having stationed troops in different places to establish tranquillity, turned his
attention again to the pursuit of the Austrians. But by this time the Direct
ory in Paris were thoroughly alarmed in view of the astonishing influence
and renown which Napoleon had attained. In one short month he had filled
Europe with his name. They determined to check his career. Kellerman,
a veteran general of great celebrity, they consequently appointed his asso
ciate in command to pursue the Austrians with a part of the army, while
Napoleon, with the other part, was to march down upon the States of the
Pope. This division would have insured the destruction of the army. Na
poleon promptly but respectfully tendered his resignation, saying, " One bad
general is better than two good ones. War, like government, is mainly de
cided by tact." This decision brought the Directory immediately to terms.
The commander-in-chief of the army of Italy was now too powerful to be
displaced, and the undivided command was immediately restored to him.
In the letter he wrote to the Directory at this time, and which must have
been written with the rapidity of thought, he observes, with great force of
language and strength of argument, " It is in the highest degree impolitic to
divide into two the army of Italy, and not less adverse to place at its head
two different generals. The expedition to the Papal States is a very incon
siderable matter, and should be made by divisions in echelon, ready at any
moment to wheel about and face the Austrians. To perform it with success,
both armies must be under one general. I have hitherto conducted the cam
paign without consulting any one. The result would have been very differ
ent if I had been obliged to reconcile my views with those of another. If
you impose upon me embarrassments of various kinds ; if I must refer all my
steps to the commissaries of government ; if they are authorized to change
my movements, to send away my troops, expect no further success. If you
weaken your resources by dividing your forces, if you disturb in Italy the
unity of military thought, I say it with grief, you will lose the finest oppor
tunity that ever occurred of giving laws to that fine peninsula. In the pres
ent posture of the affairs of the republic, it is indispensable that you possess
a general who enjoys your confidence. If I do not do so, I shall not com
plain. Every one has his own method of carrying on war. Kellerman has
more experience, and may do it better than I. Together we should do noth-

j 02 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. V.
ing but mischief. Your decision on this matter is of more importance than
the fifteen thousand men the Emperor of Austria has sent to Beaulieu."
On the 22d of May, Napoleon left Milan in pursuit of the Austrians.
Beaulieu, in his retreat to the mountains of the Tyrol, had thrown fifteen
thousand men into the almost impregnable fortress of Mantua, to arrest the
progress of the conqueror. He knew that Napoleon could not follow, him,
leaving such a fortress in the possession of his enemies in his rear. Austria
was raising powerful re-enforcements, and the defeated general intended soon
to return with overwhelming numbers and crush his foe. Napoleon had
hardly advanced one day's march from Milan when a formidable insurrection
broke out. The priests, incited by the Pope, had roused the peasants, who
were very much under their influence, to rise and exterminate the French.
They appealed to all the motives of fanaticism which the Papal Church has
so effectually at its command to rouse their military ardor. They assured
the ignorant peasants that Austria was pouring down an overwhelming army
upon the invader ; that all Italy was simultaneously rising in arms ; that
England, with her powerful fleet, was landing troops innumerable upon the
coasts of Sardinia ; that God, and all his angels, were looking down from the
windows of heaven to admire the heroism of the faithful in ridding the earth
of the enemies of the true religion ; and that the destruction of Napoleon was
sure. The enthusiasm spread from hamlet to hamlet like a conflagration.
The friends of republicanism were, for the most part, in the cities. The
peasantry were generally strongly attached to the Church, and looked up
with reverence to the nobles. The tocsin was sounded in every village. In
a day, thirty thousand peasants, roused to phrensy, grasped their arms. The
danger was imminent.
Napoleon felt that not an hour was to be lost. He took with him twelve
hundred men and six pieces of cannon, and instantly turned upon his track.
He soon came up with eight hundred of the insurgents, who were intrench
ing themselves in the small village of Banasco. There was no parleying.
There was no hesitancy. The ear was closed to all the appeals of .mercy.
The veteran troops,' inured to their work, rushed with bayonet and sabre
upon the unwarlike Italians, and in a few moments hewed the peasants to
pieces. The women and children fled in every direction, carrying the tidings
of the dreadful massacre. The torch was applied to the town, and the dense
volumes of smoke, ascending into the serene and cloudless skies from this
altar of vengeance, proclaimed, far and wide over the plains of Italy, how
dreadful a thing it was to incur the wrath of the conqueror.
Napoleon and his troops, their swords still dripping in blood, tarried not,
but, moving on with the sweep of a whirlwind, came to the gates of Pavia.
This city had become the head-quarters of the insurgents. It contained
thirty thousand inhabitants. Napoleon had left there a garrison of three
hundred men. The insurgents, eight thousand strong, had thrown themselves
into the place, and, strengthened by all of the monarchical party, prepared
for a desperate resistance. Napoleon sent the Archbishop of Milan with a
flag of truce, offering pardon to all who would lay down their arms.
" May the terrible example of Banasco," said he, " open your eyes. Its
fate shall be that of every town which persists in revolt."

1796.]

PURSUIT OF THE AUSTRIANS.

103

THE BURNING OF BANASCO.

"While Pavia has walls," the insurgents bravely replied, "we will not
surrender." Napoleon rejoined in the instantaneous thunders of his artillery. He
swept the ramparts with grape-shot, while the soldiers, with their hatchets,
hewed down the gates.
They rushed like an inundation into the city. The peasants fought with
desperation from the windows and roofs of the houses, hurling down upon
the French every missile of destruction. The sanguinary conflict soon ter
minated in favor of the disciplined valor of the assailants. The wretched
peasants were pursued into the plain, and cut down without mercy. The
magistrates of the city were shot, the city itself given up to pillage.
"The order," said Napoleon to the inhabitants, "to lay the city in ashes
was just leaving my lips, when the garrison of the castle arrived, and hast
ened, with cries of joy, to embrace their deliverers. Their names were call
ed over, and none found missing. If the blood of a single Frenchman had
been shed, my determination was to erect a column on the ruins of Pavia,
bearing this inscription, 'Here stood the city of Pavia !' " He was extremely
indignant with the garrison for allowing themselves to be made prisoners.
" Cowards !" he exclaimed, " I intrusted you with a post essential to the safe
ty of an army, and you have abandoned it to a mob of wretched peasants,
without offering the least resistance." He delivered the captain over to a
council of war, and he was shot.
This terrible example crushed the insurrection over the whole of Lom
bardy. Such are the inevitable and essential horrors of war. Napoleon had
no love for cruelty. But in such dreadful scenes, he claimed to be acting
upon the same principle which influences the physician to cut, with an un
flinching hand, through nerves and tendons, for the humane design of saving
life.

104 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. V.
This bloody vengeance was deemed necessary for the salvation of Napo
leon's army. He was about to pursue the Austrians far away into the mount
ains of the Tyrol, and it was necessary to his success that, by a terrible ex
ample, he should teach those whom he left behind that they could not rise
upon him with impunity. War is necessarily a system of cruelty and of
blood. Napoleon was an energetic warrior. " A man of refined sensibili
ties," says the Duke of Wellington, "has no right to meddle with the pro
fession of a soldier." "Pavia," said Napoleon, "is the only place I ever
gave up to pillage. I promised that the soldiers should have it at their mer
cy for twenty-four hours ; but, after three hours, I could bear such scenes of
outrage no longer, and put an end to them. Policy and morality are equally
opposed to the system. Nothing is so certain to disorganize and completely
ruin an army."
It is wonderfully characteristic of this extraordinary man that, in the midst
of these terrible scenes, and when encompassed by such perils and pressed
by such urgent haste, he could have found time and the disposition to visit
a literary institution. When the whole city of Pavia was in consternation,
he entered the celebrated university, accompanied by his splendid military
suite. With the utmost celerity, he moved from class to class, asking ques
tions with such rapidity that the professors could hardly find time or breath
to answer him. "What class is this?" he inquired, as he entered the first
recitation-room. " The class of metaphysics," was the reply. Napoleon,
who had but little respect for the uncertain deductions of mental philosophy,
exclaimed, very emphatically, " Bah !" and took a pinch of snuff. Turning
to one of the pupils, he inquired, "What is the difference between sleep and
death ?" The embarrassed pupil turned to the professor for assistance. The
professor plunged into a learned disquisition upon death. The uncourteous
examiner left him in the midst of his sentence, and hastened to another
room. "What class is this ?" he said. " The mathematical class," he was
answered. It was his favorite science. His eye sparkled with pleasure,
and seizing a book from one of the pupils, he hastily turned over the leaves,
and gave him a very difficult problem to solve. He chanced to fall upon an
excellent scholar, who did the work very promptly and correctly. Napoleon
glanced his eye over the work, and said, "You are wrong." The pupil
insisted that he was right. Napoleon took the slate and sat down to work
the problem himself. In a moment he saw his own error, and, returning the
slate to the pupil, with ill-concealed chagrin, exclaimed, "Yes,! yes! you
are right." He then proceeded to another room, where he met the cele
brated Volta, "the Newton of electricity." Napoleon was delighted to see
the distinguished philosopher, and ran and threw his arms around his neck,
and begged him immediately to draw out his class. The president of the
-university, in a very eulogistic address to the young general, said, " Charles
the Great laid the foundation of this university. May Napoleon the Great
give it the completion of its glory."
Having quelled the insurrection in flames and blood, the only way in
which, by any possibility, it could have been quelled, Napoleon turned
proudly again, with his little band, to encounter the whole power of the
Austrian empire, now effectually aroused to crush him. The dominions of

1796.] PURSUIT OF THE AUSTRIANS. 105
Venice contained three millions of souls. Its fleet ruled the Adriatic, and it
could command an army of fifty thousand men. The Venetians, though
unfriendly to France, preferred neutrality. Beaulieu had fled through their
territories, leaving a garrison at Mantua. Napoleon pursued them.
To the remonstrances of the Venetians, he replied: "Venice has either
afforded refuge to the Austrians, in which case it is the enemy of France, or
it was unable to prevent the Austrians from invading its territory, and is,
consequently, too weak to claim the right of neutrality." The government
deliberated in much perplexity whether to throw themselves as allies into
the arms of France or of Austria. They at last decided, if possible, to con
tinue neutral. They sent to Napoleon twelve hundred thousand dollars, as
a bribe or present to secure his friendship. He decisively rejected it. To
some friends, who urged the perfect propriety of his receiving the money, he
replied : " If my commissary should see me accept this money, who can tell
to what lengths he might go ?" The Venetian envoys retired from their mis
sion deeply impressed with the genius of Napoleon. They had expected to
find only a stern warrior. To their surprise, they met a statesman whose
profoundness of views, power of eloquence, extent of information, and
promptness of decision excited both their admiration and amazement. They
were venerable men, accustomed to consideration and power. Yet the vet
erans were entirely overawed by his brilliant and commanding powers.
" This extraordinary young man," they wrote to the senate, " will one day
exert great influence over his country."
No man ever had more wealth at his disposal than Napoleon, or was more
scrupulous as to the appropriation of any of it to himself. For two years he
maintained the army in Italy, calling upon the government for no supplies
whatever. He sent more than two millions of dollars to Paris to relieve the
Directory from its embarrassments. Without the slightest difficulty, he
might have accumulated millions of dollars for his own private fortune.
His friends urged him to do so, assuring him that the Directory, jealous of
his fame and power, would try to crush rather than to reward him. But he
turned a deaf ear to all such suggestions, and returned to Paris from this
most brilliant campaign comparatively a poor man.
He had clothed the armies of France, and replenished the impoverished
treasury of the republic, and filled the Museum of Paris with paintings and
statuary. But all was for France. He reserved neither money, nor paint
ing, nor statue for himself. " Every one," said he afterward, " has his rela
tive ideas. I have a taste for founding, not for possessing. My riches con
sist in glory and celebrity. The Simplon and the Louvre were, in the eyes
of the people and of foreigners, more my property than any private domains
could possibly have been." This was surely a lofty and a noble ambition.
Napoleon soon overtook the Austrians. He found a division of the army
strongly intrenched upon the banks of the Mincio, determined to arrest his
passage. Though the Austrians were some fifteen thousand strong, and
though they had partially demolished the bridge, the march of Napoleonwas
retarded scarcely an hour. Napoleon was that day sick, suffering from a
violent headache. Having crossed the river, and concerted all his plans for
the pursuit of the flying enemy, he went into an old castle by the river's side

106 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. V.
to try the effect of a foot-bath. He had but a small retinue with him, his
troops being dispersed in pursuit of the fugitives. He had but just placed
his feet in the warm water when he heard the loud clatter of horses' hoofs,
as a squadron of Austrian dragoons galloped into the court-yard. The sen
tinel at the door shouted, " To arms ! to arms ! the Austrians !" Napoleon
sprang from the bath, hastily drew on one boot, and, with the other in his
hand, leaped from the window, escaped through the back gate of the garden,
mounted a horse, and galloped to Massena's division, who were cooking their
dinner at a little distance from the castle. The appearance of their com
mander-in-chief among them in such a plight roused the soldiers from their
camp-kettles, and they rushed in pursuit of the Austrians, who, in their turn,
retreated. This personal risk induced Napoleon to establish a body-guard,
to consist of five hundred veterans, of at least ten years' service, who were
ever to accompany him. This was the origin of that Imperial Guard which,
in the subsequent wars of Napoleon, obtained such a world-wide renown.
Napoleon soon encamped before the almost impregnable fortress of Man
tua. About twenty thousand men composed its garrison. As it was impos
sible to surmount such formidable defenses by assault, Napoleon was com
pelled to have recourse to the more tedious operations of a siege.
The Austrian government, dissatisfied with the generalship of Beaulieu,
withdrew him from the service, and sent General Wurmser to assume the
command, with a re-enforcement of sixty thousand men. Napoleon's army
had also been re-enforced, so that he had about thirty thousand men with
whom to meet the eighty thousand which would compose the Austrian army
when united. It would require, however, at least a month before Wurmser
could arrive at the gates of Mantua. Napoleon resolved to improve the mo
ments of leisure in disarming his enemies in the south of Italy.
The kingdom of Naples, situated at the southern extremity of the penin
sula, is the most powerful state in Italy. A Bourbon prince, dissolute and
effeminate, sat upon the throne. Its fleet had been actively allied with the
English in the attack upon Toulon. Her troops were now associated with
the Austrians in the warfare against France. The king, seeing the Austrians,
and his own troops united with them, driven from every part of Italy except
the fortress of Mantua, was exceedingly alarmed, and sent to Napoleon im
ploring peace. Napoleon, not being able to march an army into his territory
to impose contributions, and yet being very anxious to detach from the alli
ance the army of sixty thousand men which Naples could bring into the field,
granted an armistice upon terms so easy as to provoke the displeasure of the
Directory. But Napoleon was fully aware of the impending peril, and de
cided wisely.
The Pope, now abandoned by Naples, was in consternation. He had
anathematized republican France. He had preached a crusade against her,
and had allowed her embassador to be assassinated in the streets of Rome'.
He was conscious that he deserved chastisement, and he had learned that
the young conqueror, in his chastisings, inflicted very heavy blows. Napo
leon, taking with him but six thousand men, entered the States of the Pope
The provinces subject to the Pope's temporal power contained a population
of two and a half millions, most of whom were in a state of disgraceful bar-

1796.] PURSUIT OF THE AUSTRIANS. 107
barism. He had an inefficient army of four or five thousand men. His
temporal power was nothing. It was his spiritual power alone which ren
dered the Pope formidable.
The Pontiff immediately sent an embassador to Bologna, to implore the
clemency of the conqueror. Napoleon referred the Pope to the Directory in
Paris for the terms of a permanent peace, granting him, however, an armis
tice, in consideration of which he exacted the surrender of Ancona, Bologna,
and Ferrara to a French garrison, the payment of four millions of dollars in
silver and gold, and the contribution of one hundred paintings or statues, and
five hundred ancient manuscripts, for the Museum in Paris. The Pope,
trembling in anticipation of the overthrow of his temporal power, was de
lighted to escape upon such easy terms. The most enlightened of the in
habitants of these degenerate and wretchedly governed states welcomed the
French with the utmost enthusiasm. They hated the Holy See implacably,
and entreated Napoleon to grant them independence. But it was not Napo
leon's object to revolutionize the States of Italy, and though he could not but
express his sympathy in these aspirations for political freedom, he was un
willing to take any decisive measures for the overthrow of the established
government. He was contending simply for peace.
Tuscany had acknowledged the French Republic, and remained neutral in
this warfare. But England, regardless of the neutrality of this feeble state,
had made herself master of the port of Leghorn, protected by the governor
of that city, who was inimical to the French. The frigates of England rode
insultingly in the harbor, and treated the commerce of France as that of an
enemy. Napoleon crossed the Apennines, by forced marches proceeded to
Leghorn, and captured English goods to the amount of nearly three millions
of dollars, notwithstanding a great number of English vessels escaped from
the harbor but a few hours before the entrance of the French. England was
mistress of the sea, and she respected no rights of private property upon her
watery domain. Wherever her fleets encountered a merchant ship of th«
enemy, it was taken as fair plunder. Napoleon, who regarded the land as
his domain, resolved that he would retaliate by the capture of English prop
erty wherever his army encountered it upon the Continent. It was robbery
in both cases, and in both cases equally unjustifiable ; and yet such is, to a
certain degree, one of the criminal necessities of war.*
* "But was it only to Switzerland that this sort of language was held1? What was our lan
guage also to Tuscany and Genoa 1 An honorable gentleman (Mr. Canning) has denied the au
thenticity of a pretended letter which has been circulated and ascribed to Lord Harvey. He says
it is all a fable and a forgery. Be it so ; but is it also a fable that Lord Harvey did speak in terms
to the Grand Duke which he considered as offensive and insulting 1 I can not tell, for I was not
present ; but was it not, and is it not believed 1 Is it a fable that Lord Harvey went into the
closet of the Grand Duke, laid his watch on the table, and demanded in a peremptory manner that
he should, within a certain number of minutes — I think I have heard within a quarter of an hour
— determine, ay or no, to dismiss the French minister, and order him out of his dominions, with
the menace that, if he did not, the English fleet should bombard Leghorn 1 Will the honorable
gentleman deny this also 1 I certainly do not know it from my own knowledge ; but I know that
persons of the first credit, then at Florence, have stated these facts, and that they have never been
contradicted. It is true that, upon the Grand Duke's complaint of this indignity, Lord Harvey
was recalled ; but was the principle recalled? was the mission recalled? Did not ministers persist
in the demand which J^ord Harvey had made, perhaps ungraciously ? and was not the Grand Duke
forced, in consequence, to dismiss the French minister? and did they not drive him to enter into

10g NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. V
He seized the inimical governor, and sent him in a post-chaise to the
Grand Duke at Florence, saying, " The governor of Leghorn has violated
all the rights of neutrality, by oppressing French commerce, and by afford
ing an asylum to the emigrants and to all the enemies of the republic. Out
of respect to your authority, I send the unfaithful servant to be punished at
your discretion." The neutral states were thus energetically taught that
they must respect their neutrality. He left a garrison at Leghorn, and then
proceeded to Florence, the capital of Tuscany, where the Duke, brother of
the Emperor of Austria, received him with the greatest cordiality, and gave
him a magnificent entertainment. He then returned to Mantua, having been
absent just twenty days, and in that time, with one division of his army, hav
ing overawed all the states of Southern Italy, and secured their tranquillity
during the tremendous struggles which he had still to maintain against Aus
tria. In these fearful and bloody conflicts, Napoleon was contending only
to protect his country from those invading armies which were endeavoring
to force upon France the despotism of the Bourbons. He repeatedly made
the declaration that he wished only for peace ; and in every case, even when
states, by the right of conquest, were entirely in his power, he made peace*
upon the most lenient terms for them, simply upon condition that they should
cease their warfare against France. " Such a rapid succession of brilliant
victories," said Las Casas to Napoleon at St. Helena, "filling the world with
your fame, must have been a source of great delight to you." " By no means,"
Napoleon replied ; " they who think so know nothing of the peril of our sit
uation. The victory of to-day was instantly forgotten in preparation for the
battle which was to be fought on the morrow. The aspect of danger was
continually before me. I enjoyed not one moment of repose."
an unwilling war with the republic 1 It is true that he afterward made his peace, and that, having
done so, he was treated severely and unjustly by the French ; but what do I conclude from all this
but that we have no right to be scrupulous, we who have violated the respect due to peaceable
powers ourselves in this war, which, more than any other that ever afflicted human nature, has
been distinguished by the greatest number of disgusting and outrageous insults by the great to
the smaller powers And I infer from this, also, that the instances not being confined to the
French, but having been perpetrated by every one of the allies, and by England as much as by
others, we have no right, either in personal character or from our own deportment, to refuse to
treat with the French on this ground. Need I speak of your conduct to Genoa also 1 Perhaps the
note delivered by Mr. Drake was also a forgery. Perhaps the blockade of the port never took place.
It is impossible to deny the facts, which were so glaring at the time. It is a painful thing to me,
sir, to be obliged to go back to these unfortunate periods of the history of this war, and of the con
duct of this country ; but I am forced to the task by the use which has been made of the atrocities
of the French as an argument against negotiation. I think I have said enough to prove that, if the
French have been guilty, we have not been innocent. Nothing but determined incredulity can
make us deaf and blind to our own acts, when we are so ready to yield an assent to all the reproaches
which are thrown out on the enemy, and upon which reproaches we are gravely told to continue
the war." — Speech in Parliament by the Honorable Charles J. Fox.

1796.]

SIEGE OF MANTUA.

109

CHAPTER VI.

IEGE OF MANTUA.

Mantua — Trent — Raising the Siege of Mantua — Lonato — Castiglione — Letter to the People of
Lombardy — The Austrian Flag of Truce — The faithful Sentinel — Movements of Wurmser —
Battle of St. George — Anecdotes — Love of the Soldiers for their General — Influence of En
gland — New Austrian Army collected — Appeal to the Directory — Herculean Labors — Cispadane
Republic — Napoleon's attachment to Corsica.
Early in July, 1796, the eyes of all Europe were turned to Mantua.
Around its walls those decisive battles were to be fought which were to es
tablish the fate of Italy. This bulwark of Lombardy was considered almost
impregnable. It was situated upon an island formed by lakes and by the
expansion of the River Mincio. It was approached only by five long and
narrow causeways, which were guarded by frowning batteries. To take the
place by assault was impossible. Its reduction could only be accomplished
by the slow, tedious, and enormously expensive progress of a siege.
Napoleon, in his rapid advances, had not allowed his troops to encumber
themselves with tents of any kind. After marching all day, drenched with
rain, they threw themselves down at night upon the wet ground, with no pro
tection whatever from the pitiless storm which beat upon them. " Tents are

THE ENCAMPMENT.

always unhealthy," said Napoleon at St. Helena. " It is much better for the
soldier to bivouac in the open air, for then he can build a fire and sleep with

HO NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VI.
warm feet. Tents are necessary only for the general officers, who are obliged
to read and consult their maps." All the nations of Europe, following the
example which Napoleon thus established, have now abandoned entirely the
use of tents.
The sick, the wounded, the exhausted, to the number of fifteen thousand,
filled the hospitals. Death, from such exposures, and from the bullet and
sword of the enemy, had made fearful ravages among his troops. Though
Napoleon had received occasional re-enforcements from France, his losses
had kept pace with his supplies, and he had now an army of but thirty thou
sand men with which to retain the vast extent of country he had overrun, to
keep down the aristocratic party, ever upon the eve of an outbreak, and to
encounter the formidable legions which Austria was marshaling for his de
struction. Immediately upon his return from the south of Italy, he was com
pelled to turn his eyes from the siege of Mantua, which he was pressing with
all possible energy, to the black and threatening cloud gathering in the North.
An army of sixty thousand veteran soldiers, under General Wurmser, an offi
cer of high renown, was accumulating its energies in the wild fastnesses of
the Northern Alps, to sweep down like a whirlwind "upon the French through
the gorges of the Tyrol.
About sixty miles north of Mantua, at the northern extremity of Lake
Garda, imbosomed among the Tyrolean hills, lies the walled town of Trent.
Here Wurmser had assembled sixty thousand men, abundantly provided
with all the munitions of war, to march down to Mantua, and co-operate
with the twenty thousand within its walls in the annihilation of the audacious
foe. The fate of Napoleon was now considered as sealed. The Republicans
in Italy were in deep dismay. " How is it possible," said they, " that Napo
leon, with thirty thousand men, can resist the combined onset of eighty thou
sand veteran soldiers ?" The aristocratic party were in great exultation, and
were making preparations to fall upon the French the moment they should
see the troops of Napoleon experiencing the slightest, reverse. Rome, Ven
ice, Naples, began to incite revolt, and secretly to assist the Austrians. The
Pope, in direct violation of his plighted faith, refused any further fulfillment
of the conditions of the armistice, and sent Cardinal Mattei to negotiate with
the enemy. This sudden development of treachery, which Napoleon aptly
designated as a " Revelation," impressed the young conqueror deeply with a
sense of his hazardous situation.
Between Mantua and Trent there lies, extended among the mountains the
beautiful Lake of Garda. This sheet of water, almost fathomless, and clear
as crystal, is about thirty miles in length, and from four to twelve in breadth
Wurmser was about fifteen miles north of the head of this lake at Trent ¦
Napoleon was at Mantua, fifteen miles south of its foot. The Austrian gen'
eral, eighty years of age, a brave and generous soldier, as he contemplated
his mighty host, complacently rubbed his hands, exclaiming "We shall soon
have the boy now !" He was very fearful, however, that Napoleon, conscious
of the impossibility of resisting such numbers, might, by a precipitate flight
escape. To prevent this, he disposed his army at Trent in three divisions
of twenty thousand each. One division, under General Quasdanovich was
directed to march down the western bank of the lake, to cut off the retreat

1796.]

SIEGE OF MANTUA.

Ill

MANTUA AND VENICE.

of the French by the way of Milan. General Wurmser, with another division
of twenty thousand, marched down the eastern shore of the lake to relieve
Mantua. General Melas, with another division, followed down the valley of
the Adige, which ran parallel with the shores of the lake, and was separated
from it by a mountain ridge, but about two miles in width. A march of a
little more than a day would reunite those vast forces, thus for the moment
separated. Having prevented the escape of their anticipated victims, they
could fall upon the French in a resistless attack.
The sleepless vigilance and the eagle eye of Napoleon instantly detected
the advantage thus presented to him. It was in the evening of the 31st of
July that he first received the intimation from his scouts of the movements
of the enemy. Instantly he formed his plan of operations, and in an hour
the whole camp was in commotion. He gave orders for the immediate aban
donment of the siege of Mantua, and for the whole army to arrange itself in
marching order. It was an enormous sacrifice. He had been prosecuting
the works of the siege with great vigor for two months. He had collected
there, at vast labor and expense, a magnificent battering train and immense
stores of ammunition. The city was on the very point of surrender. By
abandoning his works, all would be lost"; the city would be revictualed, and
it would be necessary to commence the whole arduous enterprise of the siege
anew. The promptness with which Napoleon decided to make the sacrifice,
and the unflinching relentlessness with which the decision was executed, in
dicated the energetic action of a genius of no ordinary mould.
The sun had now gone down, and gloomy night brooded over the agitated
camp. But not an eye was closed. Under cover of the darkness, every one
was on the alert. The platforms and gun-carriages were thrown upon the

112 NAPOLEON. BONAPARTE. [Chap. VI.
camp-fires. Tons of powder were cast into the lake. The cannon were
spiked, and the shot and shells buried in the trenches. Before midnight the
whole army was in motion. Rapidly they directed their steps to the western
shore of Lake Garda, to fall like an avalanche upon the division of Quasdan-
ovich, who dreamed not of their danger. When the morning sun arose over
the marshes of Mantua, the whole embattled host, whose warlike array had
reflected back the beams of the setting sun, had disappeared. The besieged,
who were half famished, and who were upon the eve of surrender, as they
gazed, from the steeples of the city, upon the scene of solitude, desolation,
and abandonment, could hardly credit their eyes.
At ten o'clock in the morning, Quasdanovich was marching quietly along,
not dreaming that any foe was within thirty miles of him, when suddenly the
whole French army burst like a whirlwind upon his astonished troops. Had
the Austrians stood their ground, they must have been entirely destroyed ;
but, after a short and most sanguinary conflict, they broke in wild confusion,
and fled. Large numbers were slain, and many prisoners were left in the
hands of the French. The discomfited Austrians retreated, to find refuge
among the fastnesses of the Tyrol, from whence they had emerged. Napo
leon had not one moment to lose in pursuit. The two divisions which were
marching down the eastern side of the lake, heard across the water the deep
booming of the guns, like the roar of continuous thunder, but they were en
tirely unable to render any assistance to their friends. They could not even
imagine from whence the foe had come whom Quasdanovich had encoun
tered. That Napoleon would abandon all his accumulated stores and costly
works at Mantua, was to them inconceivable. They hastened along with the
utmost speed to reunite their forces, still forty thousand strong, at the foot of
the lake. Napoleon also turned upon his track, and urged his troops almost
to the full run. The salvation of his army depended upon the rapidity of his
march enabling him to attack the separated divisions of the enemy before
they should reunite at the foot of the mountain range which separated them.
"Soldiers !" he exclaimed, in hurried accents, " it is with your legs alone that
victory can now be secured. Fear nothing. In three days the Austrian army
shall be destroyed. Rely only on me. You know whether or not I am in
the habit of keeping my word."
Regardless of hunger, sleeplessness, and fatigue, unencumbered by bag
gage or provisions, with a celerity which to the astonished Austrians seemed
miraculous, he pressed on, with his exhausted, bleeding troops, all the after
noon, and deep into the darkness of the ensuing night. He allowed his men,
at midnight, to throw themselves upon the ground an hour for sleep, but he
did not indulge himself in one moment of repose.
Early in the morning of the 3d of August, Melas, who but a few hours be
fore had heard the thunder of Napoleon's guns over the mountains, and upon
the opposite shore of the lake, was astonished to see the solid columns of
the whole French army marching majestically upon him. Five thousand of
Wurmser's division had succeeded in joining him, and he consequently had
twenty-five thousand fresh troops drawn up in battle array. Wurmser him
self was at but a few hours' distance, and was hastening with all possible
speed to his aid, with fifteen thousand additional men. Napoleon had but

1796.] SIEGE OF MANTUA. 113
twenty-two thousand with whom to meet the forty thousand whom, his foes
would thus combine. Exhausted as his troops were with the herculean toil
they had already endured, not one moment could be allowed for rest.
It was at Lonato. In a few glowing words, he announced to his men
their peril, the necessity for their utmost efforts, and his perfect confidence
in their success. They now regarded their young leader as invincible, and
wherever he led they were prompt to follow. With delirious energy they
rushed upon the foe. The pride of the Austrians was roused, and they fought
with desperation. The battle was long and bloody. Napoleon, as cool and
unperturbed as if making the movements in a game of chess, watched the
ebb and the flow of the conflict. His eagle eye instantly detected the point
of weakness and exposure. The Austrians were routed, and in wild disorder
took to flight over the plains, leaving the ground covered with the dead, and
five thousand prisoners and twenty pieces of cannon in the hands of the vic
tors. Junot, with a regiment of cavalry, dashed at full gallop into the midst
of the fugitives rushing over the plain, and the wretched victims of war were
sabred by thousands, and trampled under iron hoofs.
The battle raged until the sun disappeared behind the mountains of the
Tyrol, and another night, dark and gloomy, came on. The groans of the
wounded and, of the dying, and the fearful shrieks of dismembered and
mangled horses, struggling in their agony, filled the night air for leagues
around. The French soldiers, utterly exhausted, threw themselves upon the
gory ground by the side of the mutilated dead, the victor and the bloody
corpse of the foe reposing side by side, and forgot the horrid butchery in
leaden sleep. But Napoleon slept not. He knew that before the dawn of
another morning a still more formidable host would be arrayed against him,
and that the victory of to-day might be followed by a dreadful defeat upon
the morrow. The vanquished army were falling back, to be supported by
the division of Wurmser coming to their rescue. All night Napoleon was
on horseback, galloping from post to post, making arrangements for the des
perate battle to which he knew that the morning's sun must guide him.
Four or five miles from Lonato lies the small walled town of Castiglione.
Here Wurmser met the retreating troops of Melas, and rallied them for a
decisive conflict. With thirty thousand Austrians, drawn up in line of battle,
he awaited the approach of his indefatigable foe. Long before the morning
dawned, the French army was again inmotion. Napoleon, urging his horse
to the very utmost of his speed, rode in every direction to accelerate the
movements of his troops. The peril was too imminent to allow him to in
trust any one else with the execution of his all-important orders. Five horses
successively sank dead beneath him from utter exhaustion. Napoleon was
every where, observing all things, directing all things, animating all things.
The whole army was inspired with the indomitable energy and ardor of their
young leader. Soon the two hostile hosts were facing each other, in the
dim and misty haze of the early dawn, ere the sun had arisen to look down
upon the awful scene of man's depravity about to ensue.
A sanguinary and decisive conflict, renowned in history as the battle of
Castiglione, inflicted the final blow upon the Austrians. They were, routed
with terrible slaughter. The French pursued them, with merciless massacre,
Vol. I.— H

114 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VI.
through the whole day, in their headlong.flight, and rested not until the dark
ness of night shut out the panting, bleeding fugitives from their view. Less
than one week had elapsed since that proud army, sixty thousand strong, had
marched from the walls of Trent, with gleaming banners and triumphant
music, flushed with anticipated victory. In six days it had lost, in killed,
wounded, and prisoners, forty thousand men, ten thousand more than the
whole army which Napoleon had at his command. But twenty thousand
tattered, exhausted, war-worn fugitives effected their escape.
In the extreme of mortification and dejection, they returned to Trent, to
bear themselves the tidings of their swift and utter discomfiture. Napoleon,
in these conflicts, lost but seven thousand men. These amazing victories
were to be attributed entirely to the genius of the conqueror. Such achieve
ments history had never before recorded. The victorious soldiers called it
"The six days' campaign." Their admiration of their invincible chief now-
passed all bounds. The veterans who had honored Napoleon with the title
of corporal, after "the terrible passage of the bridge of Lodi," now enthusi
astically promoted him to the rank of sergeant, as his reward for the signal
victories of this campaign.
The aristocratic governments of Rome, Venice, and Naples, which, upon
the marching of Wurmser from Trent, had perfidiously violated their faith,
and turned against Napoleon, supposing that he was ruined, were now terror-
stricken, anticipating the most appalling vengeance. But the conqueror treat
ed them with the greatest clemency, simply informing them that he was fully
acquainted with their conduct, and that he should hereafter regard them with
a watchful eye. He, however, summoned Cardinal Mattei, the legate of the
perjured Pope, to his head-quarters. The cardinal, conscious that not a word
could be uttered in extenuation of his guilt, attempted no defense. The old
man, high in authority and venerable in years, bowed with the humility of a
child before the young victor, and exclaimed, "Peccavi ! peccavi !" — "I have
sinned! I have sinned!" This apparent contrition disarmed Napoleon, and
in jocose and contemptuous indignation, he sentenced him to do penance
for three months, by fasting and prayer, in a convent.
During these turmoils, the inhabitants of Lombardy remained faithful in
their adherence to the French interests. In a delicate and noble letter which
he addressed to them, he said, " When the French army retreated, and the
partisans of Austria considered that the cause of liberty was crushed, you,
though you knew not that this retreat was merely a stratagem, still proved
constant in your attachment to France and your love of freedom. You have
thtis deserved the esteem of the French nation. Your people daily become
more worthy of liberty, and will shortly appear with glory on the theatre of
the world. Accept the assurances of my satisfaction, and of the sincere
wishes of the French people to see you free and happy."
In the midst of the tumultuous scenes of these days of incessant battle.
when the broken divisions of the enemy were in bewilderment, wandering in
every direction, attempting to escape from the terrible energy with which
they were pursued, Napoleon, by mere accident, came very near being taken
a prisoner. He escaped by that intuitive tact and promptness of decision
which never deserted him. In conducting the operations of the pursuit, he

1796.] SIEGE OF MANTUA. 115
had entered a small village, upon the full gallop, accompanied only by his
staff and guards. A division of four thousand of the Austrian army, sepa
rated from the main body, had been wandering all night among the mountains.
They came suddenly and unexpectedly upon this httle band of a thousand
men, and immediately sent an officer with a flag of truce, demanding then-
surrender. Napoleon, with wonderful presence of mind, commanded his nu
merous staff immediately to mount on horseback, and gathering his guard
around him, ordered the flag of truce to be brought into his presence. The
officer was introduced, as is customary, blindfolded. When the bandage was
removed, to his utter amazement, he found himself before the commander-
in-chief of the French army, surrounded by his whole brilliant staff.
"What means this insult?" exclaimed Napoleon, in tones of affected in
dignation. " Have you the insolence to bring a summons of surrender to the
French commander-in-chief, in the middle of his army ! Say to those who
sent you, that unless in five minutes they lay down their arms, every man
shall be put to death." The bewildered officer stammered out an apology.
" Go !" Napoleon sternly rejoined ; "unless you immediately surrender at dis
cretion, I will, for this insult, cause every man of you to be shot." The Aus
trians, deceived by this air of confidence, and disheartened by fatigue and
disaster, threw down their arms. They soon had the mortification of learn
ing that they had capitulated to one fourth of their own number, and that
they had missed making prisoner the conqueror before whose blows the very
throne of their empire was trembling.
It was during this campaign that one night Napoleon, in disguise, was go
ing the rounds of the sentinels, to ascertain if, in their peculiar peril, proper
vigilance was exercised. A soldier, stationed at the junction of two roads,
had received orders not to let any one pass either of those routes. When
Napoleon made his appearance, the soldier, unconscious of his rank, present-

THE LITTLE CORPORAL AND THE SENTINEL.

116 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VI.
ed his bayonet and ordered him back. "lama general officer," said Na
poleon, " going the rounds to ascertain if all is safe." " I care not," the sol
dier replied ; " my commands are to let no one go by ; and if you were the
Little Corporal himself, you should not pass." The general was consequent
ly under the necessity of retracing his steps. The next day he made in
quiries respecting the character of the soldier, and hearing a good report of
him, he summoned him to his presence, and extolling his fidelity, raised him
to the rank of an officer.
Napoleon and his victorious army again returned to Mantua. The be
sieged, during his absence, had emerged from the walls and destroyed all his
works. They had also drawn all his heavy battering train, consisting of one
hundred and forty pieces, into the city, obtained large supplies of provisions,
over sixty thousand shot and shells, and had received a re-enforcement of
fifteen thousand men. There was no suitable siege equipage which Napo
leon could command, and he was liable at any moment to be again summon
ed to encounter the formidable legions which the Austrian empire could again
raise to crowd down upon him. He therefore simply invested the place by
blockade. After the terrible struggle through which they had just passed,
the troops, on both sides, indulged themselves in repose for three weeks.
The Austrian government, with inflexible resolution, still refused to make
peace with France. It had virtually inserted upon its banners, "Gallia de-
lenda est"—" The French Republic shall be destroyed." Napoleon had
now cut up two of their most formidable armies, each of them nearly three
times as numerous as his own.
The pride and the energy of the whole empire were aroused in organizing
a third army to crush republicanism. In the course of three weeks, Wurm
ser found himself again in command of fifty-five thousand men at Trent.
There were twenty thousand troops in Mantua, giving him a force of seven
ty-five thousand combatants. Napoleon had received re-enforcements only
sufficient to repair his losses, and was again in the field with but thirty thou
sand men. He was surrounded by more than double that number of foes.
Early in September the Austrian army was again in motion, passing down
from the Tyrol for the relief of Mantua. Wurmser left Davidovitch at Ro-
veredo, a very strong position, about ten miles south of Trent, with twenty-
five thousand men, to prevent the incursions of the French into the Tyrol.
With thirty thousand men, he then passed over to the valley of the Brenta,
to follow down its narrow defile, and convey relief to the besieged fortress!
There were twenty thousand Austrians in' Mantua. These, co-operating
with the thirty thousand under Wurmser, would make an effective force of
fifty thousand men to attack Napoleon in front and rear.
Napoleon contemplated with lively satisfaction this renewed division of the
Austrian force. He quietly collected all his resources, and prepared for a
deadly spring upon the doomed division left behind. As soon as Wurmser
had arrived at Bassano, following down the valley of the Brenta, about sixty
miles from Roveredo, where it was impossible for him to render any assist
ance to the victims upon whom Napoleon was about to pounce, the whole
French army was put in motion. They rushed, at double quick step, up the "
parallel valley of the Adige, delaying hardly one moment either for food or

1796.] SIEGE OF MANTUA. 117
repose. Early on the morning of the 4th of September, just as the first gray
of dawn appeared in the east, he burst like a tempest upon the astounded foe.
The battle was short, bloody, decisive. The Austrians were routed with
dreadful slaughter. As they fled in consternation, a rabble rout, the French
cavalry rushed in among them with dripping sabres, and for leagues the
ground was covered with the bodies of the slain. Seven thousand prisoners
and twenty pieces of cannon graced the triumph of the victor. The discom
fited remains of this unfortunate corps retired far back into the gorges of the
mountains. Such was the battle of Roveredo, which Napoleon ever regarded
as one of his most brilliant victories. Next morning, Napoleon, in triumph,
entered Trent. He immediately issued one of his glowing proclamations to
the inhabitants of the Tyrol, assuring them that he was fighting, not for con
quest, but for peace ; that he was not the enemy of the people of the Tyrol ;
that the Emperor of Austria, incited and aided by British gold, was waging
relentless warfare against the French Republic ; and that, if the inhabitants
of the Tyrol would not take up arms against him, they should be protected
in their persons, their property, and in all their political rights. He invited
the people, in the emergence, to arrange for themselves the internal govern
ment of the country, and intrusted them with the administration of their
own laws.
Before the darkness of the ensuing night had passed away, Napoleon was
again at the head of his troops, and the whole French army was rushing down
the defiles of the Brenta, to surprise WuYmser in his straggling march. The
Austrian general had thirty thousand men. Napoleon could take with him
but twenty thousand. He, however; was intent upon gaining a correspond
ing advantage by falling upon the enemy by surprise.
The march of sixty miles was accomplished with a rapidity such as no
army had ever attempted before. On the evening of the 6th, Wurmser heard
with consternation that the corps of Davidovitch was annihilated. He was
awaked from his slumbers before the dawn of the next morning by the thun
ders of Napoleon's cannon in his rear. The brave old veteran, bewildered
by tactics so strange and unheard of, accumulated his army as rapidly as pos
sible in battle array at Bassano. Napoleon allowed him but a few moments
for preparation. The troops on both sides now began to feel that Napoleon
was invincible. The French were elated by constant victory. The Austri
ans were disheartened by uniform and uninterrupted defeat. The battle at
Bassano was but a renewal of the sanguinary scene at Roveredo. The sun
went down as the horrid carnage continued, and darkness vailed the awful
spectacle from human eyes. Horses and men, the mangled, the dying, the
dead, in indiscriminate confusion, were piled upon each other. The groans
of the wounded swelled upon the night air ; while in the distance the deep
booming of the cannon of the pursuers and the pursued echoed along the
mountains. There was no time to attend to the claims of humanity. The
dead were left unburied, and not a combatant could be spared from the ranks
to give a cup of water to the wounded and the dying. Destruction, not sal
vation, was the business of the hour.
Wurmser, with but sixteen thousand men remaining to him of the proud
array of fifty-five thousand with which, but a few days before, he had march-

118 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VI.
ed from Trent, retreated to find shelter within the walls of Mantua. Napo
leon pursued him with the most terrible energy, from every eminence plung
ing cannon-balls into his retreating ranks. When Wurmser arrived at Man
tua, the garrison sallied out to aid him. Unitedly they fell upon Napoleon.
The battle of St. George was fought, desperate and most bloody. The Aus
trians, routed at every point, were driven within the walls. Napoleon re
sumed the siege. Wurmser, with the bleeding fragment of his army, was
held a close prisoner. Thus terminated this campaign of ten days. In this
short time Napoleon had destroyed a third Austrian army, more than twice
as numerous as his own. The field was swept clean of his enemies. Not
a man was left to oppose him. Victories so amazing excited astonishment
throughout Europe. Such results had never before been recorded in tho
annals of ancient or modern warfare.
While engaged in the rapid march from Roveredo, a discontented soldier,
emerging from the ranks, addressed Napoleon, pointing to his tattered gar
ments, and said, "We soldiers, notwithstanding all our victories, are clothed
in rags." Napoleon, anxious to arrest the progress of discontent among his
troops, with that peculiar tact which he had ever at command, looked kindly
upon him, and said, "You forget, my brave friend, that with a new coat
your honorable scars would no longer be visible." This well-timed compli
ment was received with shouts of applause from the ranks. The anecdote
spread like lightning among the troops, and endeared Napoleon still more to
every soldier in the army.
The night before the battle of Bassano, in the eagerness of the march, Na
poleon had advanced far beyond the main column of the army. He had re
ceived no food during the day, and had enjoyed no sleep for several nights.

I

THE SOLITARY BIVOUAC.

A poor soldier had a crust of bread in his knapsack. He broke it in two and
gave his exhausted and half-famished general one half. After this frugal

1796.] SIEGE OF MANTUA. 119
supper, the commander-in-chief of the French army wrapped himself in his
cloak, and threw himself unprotected upon the ground, by the side of the sol
dier, for an hour's slumber. After ten years had passed away, and Napoleon,
then Emperor of France, was making a triumphal tour through Belgium, the
same soldier stepped out from the ranks of a regiment which the Emperor
was reviewing, and said, " Sire ! on the eve of the battle of Bassano, I shared
with you my crust of bread, when you were hungry. I now ask from you
bread for my father, who is worn down with age and poverty." Napoleon
immediately settled a pension upon the old man, and promoted the soldier
to a lieutenancy.
After the battle of Bassano, in the impetuosity of the pursuit, Napoleon,
spurring his. horse to the utmost speed, accompanied but by a few followers,
entered a small village quite in advance of the main body of his army.
Suddenly Wurmser, with a strong division of the Austrians, debouched upon
the plain. A peasant woman informed him that but a moment before Napo
leon had passed her cottage. Wurmser, overjoyed at the prospect of obtain
ing a prize which would remunerate him for all his losses, instantly dispatch
ed parties of cavalry in every direction for his capture. So sure was he of
success, that he strictly enjoined it upon them to bring him in alive. The
fleetness of Napoleon's horse saved him.
In the midst of these terrible conflicts, when the army needed every pos
sible stimulus to exertion, Napoleon exposed himself, like a common soldier,
at every point where danger appeared most imminent. On one of these
occasions, a pioneer, perceiving the extreme peril in which the commander-
in-chief had placed himself, abruptly and authoritatively exclaimed to him,
" Stand aside !" Napoleon fixed his keen glance upon him, when the veteran,
with a strong arm, thrust him away, saying, " If thou art killed, who is to
rescue us from this jeopardy ?" and placed his own body before him. Napo
leon appreciated the sterling value of the action, and uttered no reproof.
After the battle, he ordered the pioneer to be sent to his presence. Placing
his hand kindly upon his shoulder, he said, " My friend, your noble boldness
claims my esteem. Your bravery demands a recompense. From this hour,
an epaulet instead of a hatchet shall grace your shoulder." He was imme
diately raised to the rank of an officer.
The generals in the army were overawed by the genius and the magna
nimity of their young commander. They fully appreciated his vast supe
riority, and approached him with restraint and reverence. The common
soldiers, however, loved him as a father, and went to him freely with the
familiarity of children. In one of those terrific battles, when the result had
been long in suspense, just as the searching glance of Napoleon had detect
ed a fault in the movements of the enemy, of which he was upon the point
of taking the most prompt advantage, a private soldier, covered with the
dust and the smoke of the battle, sprang from the ranks, and exclaimed,
"General, send a squadron there, and the victory is ours." "You rogue !"
rejoined Napoleon, "where did you get my secret ?" In a few moments the
Austrians were flying in dismay before the impetuous charges of the French
cavalry. Immediately after the battle, Napoleon sent for the soldier who
had displayed such military genius. He was found dead upon the field.

120 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VI.
A bullet had pierced his brain. Had he lived, he would but have added
another star to that brilliant galaxy with which the throne of Napoleon was
embellished. " Perhaps in that neglected spot is laid
A heart once pregnant with celestial fire,
Hands which the rod of empire might have swayed,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre."
The night after the battle of Bassano, the moon rose cloudless and brilliant
oyer the sanguinary scene. Napoleon, who seldom exhibited any hilarity or
even exhilaration of spirits in the hour of victory, rode, as was his custom,
over the plain, covered with the bodies of the dying and the dead, and, silent
and thoughtful, seemed lost in painful reverie.
It was midnight. The confusion and the uproar of the battle had passed
away, and the deep silence of the calm, starlight night was only disturbed
by the moans of the wounded and the dying. Suddenly a dog sprang from
beneath the cloak of his dead master, and rushed to Napoleon, as if frantic
ally imploring his aid, and then rushed back again to the mangled corpse,
licking the blood from the face and the hands, and howling most piteously.

THE DEAD SOLDIER AND HIS DOG.

Napoleon was deeply moved by the affecting scene, and involuntarily stop
ped his horse to contemplate it. In relating the event many years after
ward, he remarked, " I know not how it was, but no incident upon any field
of battle ever produced so deep an impression upon my feelings. This man,
thought I, must have had among his comrades friends, and yet here he lies
forsaken by aU except his faithful dog. What a strange being is man ! How
mysterious are his impressions ! I had, without emotion, ordered battles
which had decided the fate of armies. I had, with tearless eyes, beheld the
execution of those orders in which thousands of my countrymen were slain.

1796.] SIEGE OF MANTUA. 121
And yet here my sympathies were most deeply and resistlessly moved by
the mournful howling of a dog ! Certainly in that moment I should have
been unable to refuse any request to a suppliant enemy."
Austria was still unsubdued. With a perseverance worthy of all admira
tion, had it been exercised in a better cause, the Austrian government still
refused to make peace with republican France. The energies of the empire
were aroused anew to raise a fourth army. England, contending against
France wherever her navy or her troops could penetrate, was the soul of
this warfare. She animated the cabinet of Vienna, and aided the Austrian
armies with her strong co-operation and her gold. The people of England,
republican in their tendencies, and hating the utter despotism of the old
monarchy of France, were clcRnorous for peace. But the royal family, and
the aristocracy in general, were extremely unwilling to come to any amicable
terms with the nation which had been guilty of the crime of renouncing mon
archy. All the resources of the Austrian government were now devoted to recruit
ing and equipping a new army. With the wrecks of Wurmser's troops,
with detachments from the Rhine, and fresh levies from the bold peasants
of the Tyrol, in less than a month an army of nearly one hundred thousand
men was assembled. The enthusiasm throughout Austria, in raising and
animating these recruits, was so great, that the city of Vienna alone contrib
uted four battalions. The empress, with her own hand, embroidered their
colors, and presented them to the troops. All the noble ladies of the realm
devoted their smiles and their aid to inspire the enterprise. About seventy-
five thousand men were assembled in the gorges of the northern Tyrol,
ready to press down upon Napoleon from the north, while the determined
garrison of twenty -five thousand men, under the brave Wurmser, cooped up
in Mantua, were ready to emerge at a moment's warning. Thus, in about
three weeks, another army of one hundred thousand men was ready to fall
upon Napoleon.
His situation now seemed absolutely desperate. The re-enforcements he
had received from France had been barely sufficient to repair the losses sus
tained by disease and the sword. He had but thirty thousand men. His
funds were all exhausted. His troops, notwithstanding they were in the
midst of the most brilliant blaze of victories, had been compelled to strain
every nerve of exertion. They were also suffering the severest privations,
and began loudly to murmur. " Why," they exclaimed, " do we not receive
succor from France ? We 'can not alone contend against all Europe. We
have already destroyed three armies, and now a fourth, still more numerous,
is rising against us. Is there to be no end to these interminable battles ?"
Napoleon was fully sensible of the peril of his position, and, while he
allowed his troops a few weeks of repose, his energies were strained to their
very utmost tension in preparing for the all but desperate encounter now
before him. The friends and the enemies of Napoleon alike regarded his
case as nearly hopeless. The Austrians had by this time learned that it
was not safe to divide their forces in the, presence of so vigilant a foe.
Marching down upon his exhausted band with seventy-five thousand men
to attack him in front, and with twenty-five thousand veteran troops, under

122 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VI.
the brave Wurmser, to sally from the ramparts of Mantua and assail him in
the rear, it seemed, to all reasonable calculation, that the doom of the French
army was sealed. Napoleon, in the presence of his army, assumed an air
of most perfect confidence, but he was fearfully apprehensive that, by the
power of overwhelming numbers, his army would be destroyed.
The appeal which, under the circumstances, he wrote to the Directory
for re-enforcements, is sublime in-its dignity and its eloquence. " All of our
superior officers, all of our best generals, are either dead or wounded. The
army of Italy, reduced to a handful of men, is exhausted. The heroes of
Millesimo, of Lodi, of Castiglione, of Bassano, have died for their country,
or are in the hospitals. Nothing is left to the army but its glory and its
courage. We are abandoned at the extremity of Italy. The brave men
who are left me have no prospect but inevitable death amid changes so
continual and with forces so inferior. Perhaps the hour of the brave Auge-
reau, of the intrepid Massena, is about to strike. This consideration renders
me cautious. I dare not brave death, when it would so certainly be the ruin
of those who have been so long the object of my solicitude. The army has
done its duty. I do mine. My conscience is at ease, but my soul is lacer
ated. I never have received a fourth part of the succors which the Minister
of War has announced in his dispatches. My health is so broken, that I can
with difficulty sit upon horseback. The enemy can now count our dimin
ished ranks. Nothing is left me but courage ; but that alone is not sufficient
for the post which I occupy. Troops, or Italy is lost !"
Napoleon addressed his soldiers in a very different strain, endeavoring to
animate their courage by cpncealing from them his anxieties. " We have
but one more effort to make," said he, " and Italy is our own. True, the
enemy is more numerous than we ; but half his troops are recruits, who can
never stand before the veterans of France. When Alvinzi is beaten, Mantua
must fall, and our labors are at an end. Not only Italy, but a general peace,
is to be gained by the capture of Mantua."
During the three weeks in which the Austrians were recruiting their army
and the French were reposing around the walls of Mantua, Napoleon made
the most herculean exertions to strengthen his position in Italy, and to
disarm those states which were manifesting hostility against him. During
this period, his labors as a statesman and a diplomatist were even more se
vere than his toils as a general. He allowed himself no stated time for food
or repose, but clay and night devoted himself incessantly to his work. Horse
after horse sunk beneath him, in the impetuous speed with which he passed
from place to place. He dictated innumerable communications to the Di
rectory, respecting treaties of peace with Rome, Naples, Venice, Genoa.
He despised the feeble Directory, with its shallow views, conscious that un
less wiser counsels than they proposed should prevail, the republic would be
ruined. " So long," said he, " as your general shall not be the centre of all
influence in Italy, every thing will go wrong. It would be easy to accuse
me of ambition, but I am satiated with honor, and worn clown with care.
Peace with Naples is indispensable. You must conciliate Venice and Genoa.
The influence of Rome is incalculable. You did wrong to break with that
power. We must secure friends for the Italian army, both amono- kings and

1796.] SIEGE OF MANTUA. 123
people. The general in Italy must be the fountain-head of negotiation as
well as of military operations." These were bold assumptions for a young
man of twenty-seven. But Napoleon was conscious of his power. Fie now
listened to the earnest entreaties of the people of the Duchy of Modena and
of the Papal States of Bologna and Ferrara, and, in consequence of treachery
on the part of the Duke of Modena and the Pope, emancipated those states,
and constituted them into a united and independent republic. As the whole
territory included under this new government extended south of the Po, Na
poleon named it the Cispadane Republic, that is, the This side of the Po Re
public. It contained about a million and a half of inhabitants, compactly
gathered in one of the most rich, and fertile, and beautiful regions of the
globe. The joy and the enthusiasm of the people, thus blessed with a free govern
ment, surpassed all bounds. Wherever Napoleon appeared, he was greeted
with every demonstration of affection. He assembled at Modena a conven
tion, composed of lawyers, landed proprietors, and merchants, to organize the
government. All leaned upon the mind of Napoleon, and he guided their
counsels with the most consummate wisdom. Napoleon's abhorrence of the
anarchy which had disgraced the Jacobin reign in France, and his reverence
for law, were made very prominent on this occasion.
"Never forget," said he, in an address to the Assembly, "that laws are
mere nullities without the necessary force to sustain them. Attend to your
military organization, which you have the means of placing upon a respect
able footing. You will then be more fortunate than the people of France ;
yom will attain liberty without passing through the ordeal of revolution."
The Italians were an effeminate people, and quite unable to cope in arms
with the French or the Austrians. Yet the new republic manifested its zeal
and attachment for its youthful founder so strongly that, a detachment of
Austrians having made a sally from Mantua, they immediately sprang to
arms, took it prisoner, and conducted it in triumph to Napoleon. When the
Austrians saw that Napoleon was endeavoring to make soldiers of the Ital
ians, they ridiculed the idea, saying that they had tried the experiment in vain,
and that it was not possible for an Italian to make a good soldier.
" Notwithstanding this," said Napoleon, " I raised many thousands of Ital
ians who fought with a bravery equal to that of the French, and who did not
desert me even in adversity. What was the cause ? I abolished flogging.
Instead of the lash, I introduced the stimulus of honor. Whatever debases
a man can not be serviceable. What honor can a man possibly have who is
flogged before his comrades ? When a soldier has been debased by stripes,
he cares little for his own reputation or for the honor of his country. After
an action, I assembled the officers and soldiers, and inquired who had proved
themselves heroes. Such of them as were able to read and write, I pro
moted. Those who were not, I ordered to study five hours a day, until they
had learned a sufficiency, and then promoted them. Thus I substituted hon
or and emulation for terror and the lash."
He bound the Duke of Parma and the Duke of Tuscany to him by ties
of friendship. He cheered the inhabitants of Lombardy with the hope that,
as soori as extricated from his present embarrassments, he would do some-

124 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VI.
thing for the promotion of their independence. Thus, with the skill of a vet
eran diplomatist, he raised around him friendly governments, and availed him
self of all the resources of politics, to make amends for the inefficiency of the
Directory. Never was a man placed in a situation where more delicacy of
tact was necessary. The Republican party in. all the Italian States were
clamorous for the support of Napoleon, and waited but his permission to
raise the standard of revolt. Had the slightest encouragement been given,
the whole peninsula would have plunged into the horrors of civil war, and
the awful scenes which had been enacted in Paris would have been re-en
acted in every city in Italy. The aristocratic party would have been roused
to desperation, and the situation of Napoleon would have been still more
precarious. It required consummate genius as a statesman, and moral courage of the
highest order, to wield such opposing influences. But the greatness of Na
poleon shone forth even more brilliantly in the cabinet than in the field.
The course which he had pursued had made him extremely popular with
the Italians. They regarded him as their countryman. They were proud
of his fame. He was driving from their territory the haughty Austrians,
whom they hated. He was the enemy of despots, the friend of the people.
Their own beautiful language was his mother tongue. He was familiar
with their manners and customs, and they felt flattered by his high appre
ciation of their literature and arts.
Napoleon, in the midst of these stormy scenes, also dispatched an arma
ment from Leghorn, to wrest his native island of Corsica from the dominion
of the English. Sir Walter Scott, in allusion to the fact that Napoleon never
manifested any special attachment for the obscure island of his birth, beau
tifully says, " He was like the young lion, who, while he is scattering the
herds and destroying the hunters, thinks little of the forest cave in which he
first saw the light."
But at St. Helena Napoleon said, and few will read his remarks without
emotion, "What recollections of childhood crowd upon my memory, when
my thoughts are no longer occupied with political subjects, or with the in
sults of my jailer upon this rock ! I am carried back to my first impres
sions of the life of man. It seems to me always, in these moments of calm,
that I should have been the happiest man in the world, with an income of
twenty-five hundred dollars a year, living as the father of a family, with my
wife and son, in our old house at Ajaccio. You, Montholon, remember its
beautiful situation. You have often despoiled it of its finest bunches of •
grapes, when you ran off with Pauline to satisfy your childish appetite.
Happy hours ! The natal soil has infinite charms. Memory embellishes it
with all its attractions, even to the very odor of the ground, which one can
so realize to the senses, as to be able, with the eyes shut, to tell the spot
first trodden by the foot of childhood. I still remember with emotion the
most minute details of a journey in which I accompanied Paoli. More than
five hundred of us, young persons of the first families in the island, formed
his guard of honor. I felt proud of walking by his side, and he appeared to
take pleasure in pointing out to me, with paternal affection, the passes of
our mountains which had been witnesses of the heroic struggle of our coun-

1796.] THE CAPTURE OF MANTUA. 125
trymen for independence. The impression made upon me still vibrates in
my heart.
" Come, place your hand," said he to Montholon, " upon my bosom ! See
how it beats !" " And it was true," Montholon remarks ; " his heart did beat
with such rapidity as would have excited my astonishment, had I not been
acquainted with his organization, and with the kind of electric commotion
which his thoughts communicated to his whole being." " It is like the sound
of a church bell," continued Napoleon. " There is none upon this rock. I
am no longer accustomed to hear it. But the tones of a bell never fall upon
my ear without awakening within me the emotions of childhood. The An-
gelus bell transported me back to pensive yet pleasant memories, when, in
the midst of earnest thoughts, and burdened with the weight of an imperial
crown, I heard its first sounds under the shady woods of St. Cloud ; and
often have I been supposed to have been revolving the plan of a campaign
or digesting an imperial law, when my thoughts were wholly absorbed in
dwelling upon the first impressions of my youth. Religion is, in fact, the
dominion of the soul. It is the hope of life, the anchor of safety, the de
liverance from evil. What a service has Christianity rendered to human
ity ! What a power would it still have, did its ministers comprehend their
mission !"

CHAPTER VII.
THE CAPTURE OF MANTUA.
Napoleon at Verona — Rebuke of Vaubois' Division — The intercepted Messenger — The Storm of
the Elements and of War — The Retreat — Battle of Areola — Devotion of Napoleon's Generals —
Letter to the Widow of Muiron — The Miniature — Message to the Pope — Madame De Stael —
Napoleon's Frugality — Threat of Alvinzi, and Retort of Napoleon — Rivoli — The Capitulation —
Napoleon's Delicacy toward Wurmser — The Papal States humbled — The Image at Loretto —
Prince Pignatelli — Terror of Pius VI. — Singular Moderation of the Conqueror.
Early in November the Austrians commenced their march. The cold
winds of winter were sweeping through the defiles of the Tyrol, and the
summits of the mountains were white with snow ; but it was impossible to
postpone operations ; for, unless Wurmser were immediately relieved, Man
tua must fall, and with it would fall all hopes of Austrian dominion in Italy.
The hardy old soldier had killed all his horses, and salted them down for
¦ provisions ; but even that coarse fare was nearly exhausted, and he had suc
ceeded in sending word to Alvinzi that he could not possibly hold out more
than six weeks longer.
Napoleon, the moment he heard that the Austrians were on the move,
hastened to the head-quarters of the army at Verona. He had stationed
General Vaubois, with twelve thousand men, a few miles north of Trent, in
a narrow defile among the mountains, to watch the Austrians, and to arrest
their first advances. Vaubois and his division, overwhelmed by numbers, re
treated, and thus vastly magnified the power of the army. The moment Na
poleon received the disastrous intelligence, he hastened, with such troops as
he could collect, like the sweep of the wind, to rally the retreating forces,,

126 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VII.
and check the progress of the enemy. And here he signally displayed that
thorough knowledge of human nature, which enabled him so effectually to
control and to inspire his army. Deeming it necessary, in the peril which
then surrounded him, that every man should be a hero, and that every regi
ment should be nerved by the determination to conquer or to die, he resolved
to make a severe example of those whose panic had proved so nearly fatal to
the army. Like a whirlwind, surrounded by his staff, he swept into the camp,
and ordered immediately the troops to be collected in a circle around him.
He sat upon his horse, and every eye was fixed upon the pale, wan, and wasted
features of their young and adored general. With a stern and saddened
voice he exclaimed, " Soldiers ! I am displeased with you. You have evinced
neither discipline nor valor. You have allowed yourselves to be driven from
positions where a handful of resolute men might have arrested an army.
\ ou are no longer French soldiers ! Chief of the staff, cause it to be writ
ten on their standards, 'They are no longer of the army of Italy? "
The influence of these words upon those impassioned men, proud of their
renown and proud of their leader, was almost inconceivable. The terrible
rebuke fell upon them like a thunder-bolt. Tears trickled down the cheeks
of these battered veterans. Many of them actually groaned aloud in their
anguish. The laws of discipline could not restrain the grief which burst from
their ranks. They broke their array, crowded around the general, exclaim
ing, "We have been misrepresented ; the enemy were three to our one; try
us once more ; place us in the post of danger, and see if we do not belono-
to the army of Italy !"
Napoleon relented, and spoke kindly to them, promising to afford them an
early opportunity to retrieve their reputation. In the next battle he placed
them in the van. Contending against fearful odds, they accomplished all
that mortal valor could accomplish, rolling back upon the Austrians the tide
of victory. Such was the discipline of Napoleon. He needed no blood
stained lash to scar the naked backs of his men. He ruled over-mind. His
empire was in the soul. " My soldiers," said he, " are my children." The
effect of this rebuke was incalculable. There was not an officer or a soldier
in the army who was not moved by it. It came exactly at the right moment,
when it was necessary that every man in the army should be inspired with
absolute desperation of valor.
Alvinzi sent a peasant across the country to carry dispatches to Wurmser
in the beleaguered city. The information of approaching relief was written
upon very thin paper, in a minute hand, and inclosed in a ball of wax not
much larger than a pea. The spy was intercepted. He was seen to swallow
the ball. The stomach was compelled to surrender its trust, and Napoleon
became acquainted with Alvmzi's plan of operation. He left ten thousand
men around the walls of Mantua to continue the blockade, and assembled the
rest of his army, consisting only of fifteen thousand, in the vicinity of Verona
1 he whole valley of the Adige was now swarming with the Austrian battalions.
At night the wide horizon seemed illuminated with the blaze of their camp-fires.
fhe Austrians, conscious of their vast superiority in numbers, were hastening
° T"i 7 f fZ , Already fOTty th0usand men ™ circling -around
the httle band of fifteen thousand who were rallied under the eagles of France.

1796.] THE CAPTURE OF MANTUA. ' 127
The Austrians, wary in consequence of their past defeats, moved with the
utmost caution, taking possession of the most commanding positions. Napo
leon, with sleepless vigilance, watched for some exposed point, but in vain.
The soldiers understood the true posture of affairs, and began to feel dis
heartened, for their situation was apparently desperate. The peril of the
army was so great, that even the sick and the wounded in the hospitals at
Milan, Pavia, and Lodi voluntarily left their beds, and hastened, emaciate
with suffering, and many of them with their wounds still bleeding, to resume
their station in the ranks. The soldiers were deeply moved by this affecting
spectacle, so indicative of their fearful peril, and of the devotion of their com
rades to the interests of the army. Napoleon resolved to give battle imme
diately, before the Austrians should accumulate in still greater numbers.
A dark, cold winter's storm was deluging the ground with rain as Napo
leon roused his troops from the drenched sods upon which they were slum
bering. The morning had not yet dawned through the surcharged clouds,
and the freezing wind, like a tornado, swept the bleak hills. It was an aw
ful hour in which to go forth to encounter mutilation and death. The enter
prise was desperate. Fifteen thousand Frenchmen, with phrensied violence,
were to hurl themselves upon the serried ranks of forty thousand foes. The
horrid carnage soon began. The roar of the battle, the shout of onset, and
the shriek of the dying, mingled, in midnight gloom, with the appalling rush
and wail of the tempest. The ground was so saturated with rain, that it was
almost impossible for the French to drag their cannon through the miry ruts.
As the darkness of night passed, and the dismal light of a stormy day was
spread around them, the rain changed to snow, and the struggling French
were smothered and blinded by the storm of sleet whirled furiously into their
faces. Through the livelong day this terrific battle of man and of the ele
ments raged unabated. When night came, the exhausted soldiers, drenched
with rain and benumbed with cold, threw themselves upon the blood-stained
snow in the midst of the dying and of the dead. Neither party claimed the
victory, and neither acknowledged defeat.
No pen can describe, nor can imagination conceive, the horrors of the dark
and wailing night of storm and sleet which ensued. Through the long hours
the groans of the wounded, scattered over many miles swept by the battle,
blended in mournful unison with the wailings of the tempest. Two thousand
of Napoleon's little band were left dead upon the field, and a still larger num
ber of Austrian corpses were covered with the winding-sheet of snow. Many
a blood-stained drift indicated the long and agonizing struggle of the wound
ed ere the motionlessness of death consummated the dreadful tragedy. It is
hard to die even in the curtained chambers of our ceiled houses, with sym
pathizing friends administering every possible alleviation. Cold must have
been those pillows of snow, and unspeakably dreadful the solitude of those
death-scenes, on the bleak hillsides and in the muddy ravines, where thou
sands of the young, the hopeful, the sanguine, in horrid mutilation, struggled
through the long hours of the tempestuous night in the agonies of dissolution.
Many of these young men were from the first families in Austria and in
France, and had been accustomed to every indulgence. Far from mother,
sister, brother, drenched with rain, covered with the drifting snow, alone —

128 ' NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VII.
all alone with the midnight darkness and the storm — they writhed and
moaned through lingering hours of agony.
The Austrian forces still were accumulating, and the next day Napoleon
retired within the walls of Verona. It was the first time he had seemed to
retreat before his foes. His star began to wane. The soldiers were silent
and dejected. An ignominious retreat, after all their victories, or a still more
ignominious surrender to the Austrians, appeared their only alternative.
Night again came. The storm had passed away. The moon rose clear and
cold over the frozen hills. Suddenly the order was proclaimed, in the early
darkness, for the whole army, in silence and celerity, to be upon the march.
Grief sat upon every countenance. The western gates of the city, looking
toward France, were thrown open. The rumbling of the artillery wheels
and the sullen tramp of the dejected soldiers fell heavily upon the night air.
Not a word was spoken. Rapidly the army emerged from the gates, crossed
the river, and pressed along the road toward France, leaving their foes slum
bering behind them, unconscious of their flight.
The depression of the soldiers, thus compelled at last, as they supposed,
to retreat, was extreme. Suddenly, and to the perplexity of all, Napoleon
wheeled his columns into another road, which followed down the valley of
the Adige. No one could imagine whither he was leading them. He hast
ened along the banks of the river, in most rapid march, about fourteen miles,
and, just at midnight, recrossed the stream, and came upon the rear of the
Austrian army. Here the soldiers found a vast morass, many miles in ex
tent, traversed by several narrow causeways. In these immense marshes,
superiority in number was of little avail, as the heads of the columns only
could meet. The plan of Napoleon instantly flashed upon the minds of the
intelligent French soldiers. They appreciated at once the advantage he had
thus skillfully secured for them. Shouts of joy ran through the ranks. Their
previous dejection was succeeded by corresponding elation.
It was midnight. Far and wide along the horizon blazed the fires of the
Austrian camps, while the French were in utter darkness. Napoleon, ema
ciate with care and toil, and silent in intensity of thought, as calm and un
perturbed as the clear, cold, serene winter's night, stood upon an eminence,
observing the position, and estimating the strength of his foes. He had but
thirteen thousand troops. Forty thousand Austrians, crowding the hillsides
with their vast array, were maneuvering to envelop and to crush him. But
now indescribable enthusiasm animated the French army. They no longer
doubted of their success. Every man felt confident that the Little Corporal
was leading them again to a glorious victory.
In the centre of these wide-spreading morasses was .the village of Areola,
approached only by narrow dikes, and protected by a stream crossed by a
small wooden bridge. A strong division of the Austrian army was stationed
here. It was of the first importance that this position should be taken from
the enemy. Before the break of day, the solid columns of Napoleon were
moving along the narrow passages, and the fierce strife commenced. The
soldiers, with loud shouts, rushed upon the bridge. In an instant the whole
head of the column was swept away by a volcanic burst of fire. Napoleon
sprung from his horse, seized a standard, and shouted, " Conquerors of Lodi

1796.] THE CAPTURE OF MANTUA. 129
follow your general !" He rushed at the head of the column, leading his
impetuous troops through a hurricane of balls and bullets, till he arrived at
the centre of the bridge.
Here the tempest of fire was so dreadful that all were thrown into confu
sion. Clouds of smoke enveloped the bridge in almost midnight darkness.
The soldiers recoiled, and, trampling over the dead and dying in wild disor
der, retreated. The tall grenadiers seized the fragile and wasted form of
Napoleon in their arms as if he had been a child, and, regardless of their
own danger, dragged him from the mouth of this terrible battery. But in
the tumult they were forced over the dike, and Napoleon was plunged into
the morass, and was left almost smothered in the mire. The Austrians
were already between Napoleon and his column, when the anxious soldiers
perceived, in the midst of the darkness and the tumult, that their beloved
chief was missing. The wild cry arose, " Forward to save your general !"
Every heart thrilled at this cry. The whole column instantly turned, and, re
gardless of death, inspired by love for their general, rushed impetuously, irre
sistibly upon the bridge. Napoleon was extricated, and Areola was taken.
As soon as the morning dawned, Alvinzi perceived that Verona was evac
uated, and in astonishment he heard the thunder of Napoleon's guns rever
berating over the marshes which surrounded Areola. He feared the genius

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THE MARSHES OF ARCOLA.

of his adversary, and his whole army was immediatly in motion. All day
long the battle raged on those narrow causeways, the heads of the columns
rushing against each other with indescribable fury, and the dead and the
dying filling the morass. The terrible rebuke which had been inflicted upon
the division of Vaubois still rung in the ears of the French troops, and every
officer and every man resolved to prove that he belonged to the army of
Italy. Said Augereau, as he rushed into the mouth of a perfect volcano of
flame and fire, " Napoleon may break my sword over my dead body, but he
Vol. I.— I

13q NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VII.
shall never cashier me in the presence of my troops." Napoleon was every
where, exposed to every danger, now struggling through the dead and the
dying on foot, heading the impetuous charge, now galloping over the dikes,
with the balls from the Austrian batteries plowing the ground around him.
Wherever his voice was heard and his eye fell, tenfold enthusiasm inspired
his men. Lannes, though severely wounded, had hastened from the hospi
tal at Milan to aid the army in this terrible emergence. He received three
wounds in endeavoring to protect Napoleon, and never left his side till the
battle was closed.
Muiron, another of those gallant spirits, bound to Napoleon by those mys
terious ties of affection which this strange man inspired, seeing a bomb-shell
about to explode, threw himself between it and Napoleon, saving the life of
his beloved general by the sacrifice of his own. The darkness of night sep
arated the combatants for a few hours, but before the dawn of the morning,
the murderous assault was renewed, and continued with unabated violence
through the whole ensuing day. The French veterans charged with the
bayonet, and hurled the Austrians with prodigious slaughter into the marsh.
Another night came and went. The gray light of another cold winter's
morning appeared faintly in the east, when the soldiers sprang again from
their freezing, marshy beds, and, in the dense clouds of vapor and of smoke
which had settled down over the morass, with the fury of blood-hounds rush
ed again to the assault. In the midst of this terrible conflict, a cannon-ball
fearfully mangled the horse upon which Napoleon was riding. The power
ful animal, frantic with pain and terror, became perfectly unmanageable.
Seizing the bit in his teeth, he rushed through the storm of bullets directly
into the midst of the Austrian ranks. He then, in the agonies of death,
plunged into the morass and expired. Napoleon was left struggling in the
swamp, up to his neck in the mire. Being perfectly helpless, he was ex
pecting every moment either to sink and disappear in that inglorious grave,
or that some Austrian dragoon would sabre his head from his body, or with
a bullet pierce his brain.
Enveloped in clouds of smoke, in the midst of the dismay and the uproar
of the terrific scene, he chanced to evade observation until his own troops,
regardless of every peril, forced their way to his rescue. Napoleon escaped
with but a few slight wounds. Through the long day the tide of war con
tinued to ebb and flow upon these narrow dikes. Napoleon now carefully
counted the number of prisoners taken, and estimated the amount of the
slain. Computing thus that the enemy did not outnumber him by more than
a third, he resolved to march out into the open plain for a decisive conflict.
He relied upon the enthusiasm and the confidence of his own troops, and the
dejection with which he knew that the Austrians were oppressed. In these
impassable morasses it was impossible to operate with the cavalry. Three
days of this terrible conflict had now passed. In the horrible carnage of
these days, Napoleon had lost eight thousand men, and he estimated that
the Austrians could not have lost less, in killed, wounded, and prisoners,
than twenty thousand. Both armies were utterly exhausted, and those
hours of dejection and lassitude had ensued in which every one wished that
the battle was at an end.

1796.] THE CAPTURE OF MANTUA. . ]31
It was midnight. Napoleon, sleepless and fasting, seemed insensible to
exhaustion either of body or of mind. He galloped along the dikes from
post to post, with his whole soul engrossed with preparations for the renew
al of the conflict. Now he checked his horse to speak in tones of consola
tion to a wounded soldier, and again, by a few words of kind encouragement,
animated an exhausted sentinel. At two o'clock in the morning, the whole
army, with the ranks sadly thinned, was again roused and ranged in battle
array. It was a cold, damp morning, and the weary and half-famished sol
diers shivered in their lines. A dense, oppressive fog covered the flooded
marsh, and added to the gloom of the night. Napoleon ordered fifty of the
guards to struggle with their horses through the swamp, and conceal them
selves in the rear of the enemy. With incredible difficulty, most of them
succeeded in accomplishing this object. Each dragoon had a trumpet.
Napoleon commenced a furious attack along the whole Austrian front.
When the fire was the hottest, at an appointed signal, the mounted guards
sounded with their trumpets loudly the charge, and with perfect desperation
plunged into the ranks of the enemy. The Austrians, in the darkness and
confusion of the night, supposing that Murat,* with his whole body of caval
ry, was thundering down upon their rear, in dismay broke and fled. With
demoniacal energy, the French troops pursued the victory, and before that
day's sun went down, the proud army of Alvinzi, now utterly routed, and
having lost nearly thirty thousand men, marking its path with a trail of
blood, was retreating int» the mountains of Austria. Napoleon, with stream
ing banners and exultant music, marched triumphantly back into Verona by
the eastern gates, directly opposite those from which, three days before, he
had emerged. He was received by the inhabitants with the utmost enthu
siasm and astonishment. Even the enemies of Napoleon so greatly admired
the heroism and the genius of this wonderful achievement, that they added
their applause to that of his friends. This was the fourth Austrian army
which Napoleon had overthrown in less than eight months, and each of them
more than twice as numerous as his own. In Napoleon's dispatches to the
Directory, as usual silent concerning himself, and magnanimously attribut
ing the victory to the heroism of the troops, he says, " Never was a field of
battle more valiantly disputed than the conflict at Areola. I have scarcely
any generals left. Their bravery and their patriotic enthusiasm are without
example." In the midst of all these cares, he found time to write a letter of sympathy
to the widow of the brave Muiron. " You," he writes, " have lost a husband
who was dear to you, and I am bereft of a friend to whom I have been long
and sincerely attached ; but our country has suffered more than us both, in
being deprived of an officer so pre-eminently distinguished for his talents and
dauntless bravery. If it lies within the scope of my ability to yield assist
ance to yourself or your infant, I beseech you to reckon upon my utmost
exertions." * Joachim Murat subsequently married Caroline, the youngest sister of Napoleon, and became
Marshal of France, and finally King of Sicily. After the fall of Napoleon, he lost his throne, and
was shot by command of the King of Naples. " Murat," said Napoleon, " was one of the most
brilliant men I ever saw upon a field of battle. It was really a magnificent spectacle to see him
heading the cavalry in a charge.''

132 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VII.
It is affecting to record, that in a few weeks the woe-stricken widow
gave birth-to a lifeless babe, and she and her little one sank into an untimely
grave together. The woes of war extend far and wide beyond the blood
stained field of battle. Twenty thousand men perished around the marshes
of Areola ; and after the thunders of the strife had ceased, and the groans
of the dying were hushed in death, in twenty thousand distant homes, far
away on the plains of France, or in the peaceful glens of Austria, the agony
of that field of blood was renewed as the tidings reached them, and a wail
burst forth from crushed and lacerated hearts, which might almost have
drowned the roar of that deadly strife.
How Napoleon could have found time, in the midst of such terrific scenes,
for the delicate attentions of friendship, it is difficult to conceive. Yet to a
stranger he wrote, announcing the death of a nephew, in the following affect
ing terms : " He fell with glory and in the face of the enemy, without suffer
ing a moment of pain. Where is the man who would not envy such a death ?
Who would not gladly accept the choice of thus escaping from the vicissi
tudes of an unsatisfying world ? Who has not often regretted that he has not
been thus withdrawn from the calumny, the envy, and all the odious passions
which seem the almost exclusive directors of the conduct of mankind ?" It
was in this pensive strain that Napoleon wrote, when a young man of twenty-
seven, and in the midst of a series of the most brilliant victories which mor
tal man had ever achieved.
The moment the Austrians broke and fled, while the thunders of the pur
suing cannonade were reverberating over the plains, Napoleon seized a pen,
and wrote to his faithful Josephine with that impetuous energy in which
" sentences were crowded into words, and words into letters." The courier
was dispatched, at the top of his speed, with the following lines, which Jose
phine with no little difficulty deciphered. She deemed them worth the study.
" My adored Josephine ! at length I live again. Death is no longer before
me, and glory and honor are still in my breast. The enemy is beaten. Soon
Mantua will be ours. Then thy husband will fold thee in his arms, and give
thee a thousand proofs of his ardent affection. I am a little fatigued. I
have received letters from Eugene and Hortense. I am delighted with the
children. Adieu, my adorable Josephine. Think of me often. Should your
heart grow cold toward me, you will be indeed cruel and unjust. But I am
sure that you will always continue my faithful friend, as I shall ever continue
your fond lover. Death alone can break the union which love, sentiment,
and sympathy have formed. Let me have news of your health. A thousand
and a thousand kisses."
A vein of superstition pervaded the mind of this extraordinary man. He
felt that he was the child of destiny — that he was led by an arm more power
ful than his own, and that an unseen guide was conducting him along his per
ilous and bewildering pathway. He regarded life as of little value, and con
templated death without any dread. " I am," said he, " the creature of cir
cumstances. I do but go where events point out the way. I do not give
myself any uneasiness about death. When a man's time is come, he must
go." " Are you a Predestinarian ?" inquired O'Meara. " As much so," Na
poleon replied, " as the Turks are. I have been always so. When destiny

1796.] THE CAPTURE OF MANTUA. I33
wills, it must be obeyed. I will relate an example. At the siege of Toulon
I observed an officer very careful of himself, instead of exhibiting an example
of courage to animate his men. ' Mr. Officer,' said I, ' come out and observe
the effect of your shot. You know not whether your guns are well pointed
or not.' Very reluctantly he came outside of the parapet, to the place where
I was standing. Wishing to expose as little of his body as possible, he stoop
ed down, and partially sheltered himself behind the parapet, and looked un
der my arm. Just then a shot came close to me, and low down, which
knocked him to pieces. Now if this man had stood upright, he would
have been safe, as the ball would have passed between us without hurting
either." Maria Louisa, upon her marriage with Napoleon, was greatly surprised to
find that no sentinels slept at the door of his chamber ; that the doors even
were not locked ; and that there were no guns or pistols in the room where
they slept. "Why," said she, " you do not take half so many precautions as
my father does." " I am too much of a Fatalist," he replied, " to take any
precautions against assassination." O'Meara, at St. Helena, at one time
urged him to take some medicine. He declined, and calmly raising his eyes
to heaven, said, "That which is written is written. Our days are number
ed." Strange and inconsistent as it may seem, there is a form which the
doctrine of Predestination assumes in the human mind, which arouses one to
an intensity of exertion which nothing else could inspire. Napoleon felt
that he was destined to the most exalted achievements. Therefore he con
secrated himself, through days of toil and nights of sleeplessness, to the most
herculean exertions that he might work out his destiny. This sentiment,
which inspired Napoleon as a philosopher, animated Calvin as a Christian.
Instead of cutting the sinews of exertion, as many persons would suppose it
must, it did but strain those sinews to their utmost tension.
•Napoleon had obtained, at the time of his marriage, an exquisite miniature
of Josephine. This, in his romantic attachment, he had suspended by a rib
bon about his neck, and the cheek of Josephine ever rested upon the pulsa
tions of his heart. Though living in the midst of the most exciting tumults
earth has ever witnessed, his pensive and reflective mind was solitary and
alone. The miniature of Josephine was his companion, and often during the
march, and in the midnight bivouac, he gazed upon it most fondly.
" By what art is it," he once passionately wrote, " that you, my sweet love,
have been able to captivate all my faculties, and to concentrate in yourself
my mortal existence? It is a magic influence, which will terminate only
with my life. My adorable wife ! I know not what fate awaits me, but if it
keep me much longer from you, it will be insupportable. There was a time
when I was proud of my courage ; when, contemplating the various evils to
which we are exposed, I could fix my eyes steadfastly upon every conceiv
able calamity without alarm or dread. But now the idea that Josephine may
be ill, and, above all, the cruel thought that she may love me less, withers
my soul, and leaves me not even the courage of despair. Formerly I said'
to myself, Man can not hurt him who can die without regret. But now to
die without being loved by Josephine is torment. My incomparable com
panion ! thou whom Fate has destined to make, along with me, the painful.

]34 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VII.
journey of life ! the day on which I cease to possess thy heart will be to
me the day of utter desolation."
On one occasion the glass covering the miniature was found toJ)e broken.
Napoleon considered the accident a fearful omen of calamity to the beloved
orio-inal. He was so oppressed with this presentiment, that a courier was
immediately dispatched to bring him tidings from Josephine.
It is not surprising that Napoleon should thus have won in the heart of
Josephine the most enthusiastic love. "He is," said she, "the most fasci
nating of men."
" It is impossible," wrote the Duchess of Abrantes, " to describe the charm
of Napoleon's countenance when he smiled. His soul was upon his lips and
in his eyes."
"I never," said the Emperor Alexander, " loved any man as I did that man."
"I have known," says the Duke of Vicenza, "nearly all the crowned
heads of the present day — all our illustrious contemporaries. I have lived
with several of those great historical characters on a footing quite distinct
from my diplomatic duties. I have had every opportunity of comparing and
judging ; but it is impossible to institute any comparison between Napoleon
and any other man. They who say otherwise did not know him."
" Napoleon," says Duroc, " is endowed with a variety of faculties, any
one of which would suffice to distinguish a man from the multitude. He is
the greatest captain of the age He is a statesman who directs the whole
business of the country, and superintends every branch of the service. He
is a sovereign whose ministers are merely his clerks. And yet this Colossus
of gigantic proportions can descend to the most trivial details of private life.
He can regulate the expenditure of his household as he regulates the finances
of the empire."
Notwithstanding Napoleon had now destroyed four Austrian armies, the
imperial court was still unsubdued, and still pertinaciously refused to make
peace with Republican France. Herculean efforts were immediately made
to organize a fifth army to march again upon Napoleon. These exciting
scenes kept all Italy in a state of extreme fermentation. Every day the
separation between the aristocratic and the Republican party became more
marked and rancorous. Austria and England exerted all their arts of diplo
macy to arouse the aristocratic governments of Rome, Venice, and Naples to
assail Napoleon in the rear, and thus to crush that spirit of republican lib
erty so rapidly spreading through Italy, and which threatened the speedy
overthrow of all their thrones. Napoleon, in self-defense, was compelled to
call to his aid the sympathies of the Republican party, and to encourage their
ardent aspirations for free government.
And here, again, the candid mind is compelled to pause, and almost to yield
its assent to that doctrine of destiny which had obtained so strono- a hold
upon the mind of Napoleon. How could it be expected that those monarchs
with their thrones, their wealth, their pride, their power, their education'
their habits, should have submissively relinquished their exalted inheritance'
and have made an unconditional surrender to triumphant democracy. Kings'
nobles, priests, and all the millions whose rank and property were suspended
upon the perpetuity of those old monarchies, could by no possibility have

1796.] THE CAPTURE OF MANTUA. 135
been led to such a measure. Unquestionably, many were convinced that the
interests of humanity demanded the support of the established governments.
They had witnessed the accomplishments of democracy in France — a phren-
sied mob sacking the palace, dragging the royal family, through every con
ceivable insult, to dungeons and a bloody death, burning the chateaus of the
nobles, braining upon the pavements, with gory clubs, the most venerable in
rank and the most austere in virtue ; dancing in brutal orgies around the dis
severed heads of the most illustrious and lovely ladies of the realm, and drag
ging their dismembered limbs in derision through the streets. Priests crowd
ed the churches, praying to God to save them from the horrors of democracy.
Matrons and maidens trembled in their chambers as they wrought with their
own hands the banners of royalty, and with moistened eyes and palpitating
hearts they presented them to their defenders.
On the other hand, how could Republican France tamely succumb to her
proud and aristocratic enemies ? " Kings," said a princess of the house of
Austria, " should no more regard the murmurs of the people than does the
moon the barking of dogs." How could the triumphant millions of France,
who had just overthrown this intolerable despotism, and whose hearts were
glowing with aspirations for liberty and equal rights, yield without a strug
gle all they had attained at such an enormous expense of blood and misery.
They turned their eyes hopefully to the United States, where our own Wash
ington and their own La Fayette had fought side by side, and had establish
ed liberty gloriously ; and they could not again voluntarily place their necks
beneath the yoke of kingly domination. Despotism engenders ignorance and
cruelty ; and despotism did but reap the awful harvest of blood and woe, of
which, during countless ages of oppression, it had been scattering broadcast
the seed.
The enfranchised people could not allow the allied monarchs of Europe
to rear again, upon the soil of Republican France, and in the midst of thirty
millions of freemen, an execrated and banished dynasty. This was not a
warfare of republican angels against aristocratic fiends, or of refined, benev
olent, intellectual Loyalists against rancorous, reckless, vulgar Jacobins. It
was a warfare of frail and erring man against his fellow* — many, both Mon
archists and Republicans, perhaps animated by motives as corrupt as can in
fluence the human heart. But it can not be doubted that there were others
on each side who were influenced by considerations as pure as can glow in
the bosom of humanity.
Napoleon recognized and respected these verities. While he had no scru
ples respecting his own duty to defend his country from the assaults of the
allied kings, he candidly respected his opponents. Frankly he said, " Had I
been surrounded by the influences which have environed these gentlemen, I
should doubtless have been fighting beneath their banners."
There is probably not a reader of these pages who, had he been an English
or an Austrian noble, would not have fought those battles of the monarchy,
upon which his fortune, his power, and his rank were suspended ; and there
probably is not a noble upon the banks of the Danube or the Thames, who,
had he been a young lawyer, merchant, or artisan, with all his prospects in
life depending upon his own merit and exertions, would not have strained

136 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VII.
every nerve to hew down those bulwarks of exclusive privileges which the
pride and oppression of ages had reared. Such is man, and such his melan
choly lot. We would not detract from the wickedness of these wars, delu
ging Europe with blood and woe ; but God alone can award the guilt. We
would not conceal that all our sympathies are with the Republicans strug
gling for their unquestionable rights ; but we may also refrain from casting
unmerited obloquy upon those who were likewise struggling for every thing
dear to them in life.
The Directory, trembling in view of the vast renown Napoleon was ac
quiring, and not at all relishing the idea of having the direction of affairs
thus unceremoniously taken from their hands, sent General Clarke, as an
envoy, to Napoleon's head-quarters, to conduct negotiations with the Aus
trians. Napoleon received him with great external courtesy, but, that there
might be no embarrassing misunderstanding between them, informed him in
so many words, "If you come here to obey me, I shall always see you with
pleasure ; if not, the sooner you return to those who sent you, the better."
The proud envoy yielded at once to the master-mind, and so completely was
he brought under the influence of its strange fascination, that he became a
most enthusiastic admirer of Napoleon, and wrote to the Directory, " It is
indispensable that the general-in-chief should conduct all the diplomatic op
erations in Italy."
While Alvinzi had been preparing his overwhelming host to crush Napo
leon, the Pope also, in secret alliance, had been collecting his resources to
attack the common foe. It was an act of treachery. Napoleon called Mat
tei from his fastings and penance in the convent, and commissioned him to
go and say to the Pope : " Rome desires war. It shall have war. But first
I owe it to humanity to make a final effort to recall the Pope to reason. My
army is strong ; I have but to will it, and the temporal power of the Pope is
destroyed. Still, France permits me to listen to words of peace. War, so
cruel for all, has terrible results for the vanquished. I am anxious to close
this struggle by peace. War has for me now neither danger nor glory."
The Pope, however, believing that Austria would still crush Napoleon, met
these menaces with, defiance. Napoleon, conscious that he could not then
march upon Rome, devoted all his energies to prepare for the onset of the
Austrians, while he kept a vigilant eye upon his enemies in the south. Some
he overawed. Others, by a change of government, he transformed into fast
friends. Four weeks passed rapidly away, and another vast Austrian army
was crowding down from the north with gigantic steps to relieve Mantua,
now in the last stage of starvation. Wurmser had succeeded in sending a
spy through the French lines, conveying the message to Alvinzi that, unless
relieved, he could not possibly hold out many days longer.
Josephine had now come, at Napoleon's request, to reside at the head
quarters of the army, that she might be near her husband. Napoleon had
received her with the most tender affection, and his exhausted frame was re-
invigorated by her soothing cares. He had no tendencies to gallantry, which
provoked Madame de Stael once to remark to him, "It is reported that yox.
are not yery partial to the ladies." " I am very fond of my wife, Madame "
was h,s laconic reply. Napoleon had not a high appreciation of the female

1797.] THE CAPTURE OF MANTUA. 137
character in general, and yet he highly valued the humanizing and refining
influence of polished female society.
"The English," said he, "appear to prefer the bottle to the society of
their ladies ; as is exemplified by dismissing the ladies from the table, and
remaining for hours to drink and intoxicate themselves. Were I in England,
I should certainly leave the table with the ladies. You do not treat them
with sufficient regard. If your object is to converse instead of to drink, why
not allow them to be present. Surely, conversation is never so lively or so
witty as when ladies take a part in it. Were I an English woman, I should
feel very discontented at being turned out by the men, to wait for two or
three hours while they were guzzling their wine. In France, society is noth
ing unless ladies are present. They are the life of conversation."
At one time Josephine was defending her sex from some remarks which
he had made respecting their frivolity and insincerity. "Ah ! my dear Jose-
sephine," he replied, "they are all nothing compared with you."
Notwithstanding the boundless wealth at Napoleon's disposal, when Jose
phine arrived at the head-quarters of the army, he lived in a very simple and
frugal manner. Though many of his generals were rolling in voluptuousness,
he indulged himself in no ostentation in dress or equipage; The only relax
ation he sought was to spend an occasional hour in the society of Josephine.
In the midst of the movements of these formidable armies, and just before a
decisive battle, it was necessary that she should take her departure to a place
of greater safety. As she was bidding her husband adieu, a cart passed by
loaded with the mutilated forms of the wounded. The awful spectacle, and
the consciousness of the terrible peril of her husband, moved her tender feel
ings. She threw herself upon his neck and wept most bitterly. Napoleon
fondly encircled her in his arms, and said, " Wurmser shall pay dearly for
those tears which he causes thee to shed." Napoleon's appearance at this
time was deplorable in the extreme. His cheeks were pallid and wan. He
was as thin as a skeleton. His bright and burning eye alone indicated that
the fire of his soul was unextinguished. The glowing ^energies of his mind
sustained his emaciated and exhausted body. The soldiers took pleasure in
contrasting his mighty genius and his world-wide renown, with his effemin
ate stature and his wasted and enfeebled frame.
In allusion to the wonderful tranquillity of mind which Napoleon retained
in the midst of his harassments, disasters, and perils, he remarked, "Nature
seems to have calculated that I should endure great reverses. She has
given me a mind of marble. Thunder can not ruffle it. The shaft merely
glides along."
Early in January, Alvinzi descended toward Mantua from the mountains
of Austria. It was the fifth army which the Imperial Court had sent for the
destruction of the Republicans. The Tyrol was in the hands of the French.
Napoleon, to prevent the peasants from rising in guerrilla bands, issued a de
cree that every Tyrolese taken in arms should be shot as a brigand. Alvinzi
replied, that for every peasant shot he would hang a French prisoner of war.
Napoleon rejoined, that for every French prisoner thus slain he would gib
bet an Austrian officer, commencing with Alvinzi's own nephew, who was in
his hands. A little reflection taught both generals that it was not best to

13g NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VII.
add to the inevitable horrors of war by the execution of these sanguinary
threats . With the utmost vigilance, Napoleon, with his army gathered around
him in the vicinity of Mantua, was watching the movements of his. formida
ble enemy, uncertain respecting his fine of march, or upon what points the
terrible onset was to fall.
The 12th of January, 1797, was a dark, stormy winter's day. The sleet,
swept by the gale over the bleak mountains, covered the earth with an icy
mantle. The swollen streams, clogged with ice, roared through the ravines.
As the sun went down, a clear belt of cloudless sky appeared brilliant in the
west. The storm passed away. The cold north wind blew furiously, and
the stars, with unwonted lustre, adorned the wintry night. As the twilight
was fading, a courier galloped into the camp with the intelligence that the
Austrians had made their appearance in vast numbers upon the plains
of Rivoli, and that they were attacking with great fury the advanced
post of the French stationed there. At the same time, another courier
arrived, informing him that a powerful division of the Austrian army was
moving in another direction, to carry relief to Mantua. It was a fearful di
lemma. Should Napoleon wait for these two armies to form a junction and to as
sail him in front, while the garrison of Mantua, emerging from the walls,
should attack him in the rear, his situation would be hopeless. Should he
march to attack one army, he must leave the road open for the other to en
ter Mantua with re-enforcements and relief. But Napoleon lost not one mo
ment in deliberation. Instinctively he decided upon the only course to be
pursued. "The French," said the Austrians, "do not march; they fly."
With a rapidity of movement which seems almost miraculous, before two
o'clock in the morning, Napoleon, with thirty thousand men, stood upon the
snow-clad heights overlooking the encampment of his sleeping foes. It was
a sublime and an appalling spectacle which burst upon his view. For miles
and miles the watch-fires of the mighty host filled the extended plain. The
night was clear, cold, and beautiful. Gloomy firs and pines frowned along
the sides of the mountains, silvered by the rays of an unclouded moon. The
keen eye of Napoleon instantly detected that there were fifty thousand men,
in five divisions of ten thousand each, whom he, with thirty thousand, was to
encounter upon that plain. He also correctly judged, from the position of
the divisions, that the artillery had not arrived, and resolved upon an imme
diate attack.
At four o'clock in the morning, the Austrians were roused from their slum
bers by the rush of Napoleon's battalions, and by the thunders of his artillery.
The day of Rivoli ! It was a long, long day of blood and woe. The tide of
victory ebbed and flowed. Again and again Napoleon seemed ruined. Night
came, and the genius of Napoleon had again triumphed. The whole plain
was covered with the dead and the dying. The Austrians, in wild terror,
were flying before the impetuous charges of the French cavalry, while from
every eminence cannon-balls were plunged into the dense ranks of the fugi
tives. The genius of this stern warrior never appeared more terrible than
in the unsparing energy with which he rained down his blows upon a defeat
ed army. Napoleon had three horses shot under him during the day. " The

1797.] THE CAPTURE OF MANTUA. 139
Austrians," said he, "maneuvered admirably, and failed only because they
are incapable of calculating the value of minutes."
An event occurred in the very hottest of the battle which singularly illus
trates Napoleon's wonderful presence of mind. The Austrians had complete
ly enveloped him, cutting off his retreat, and attacking him in front, flanks,
and rear ; the destruction of the army seemed inevitable. Napoleon, to gain
time, instantly sent a flag of truce to Alvinzi, proposing a suspension of arms
for half an hour, to attend to some propositions to be made in consequence of
dispatches just received from Paris. The Austrian general fell into the snare.
The roar of battle ceased, and the bloodstained combatants rested upon their
guns. Junot repaired to the Austrian head-quarters, and kept Alvinzi busy
for half an hour in discussing the terms of accommodation. In the mean
time, Napoleon had re-arranged his army to repel these numerous attacks.
As was to be expected, no terms could be agreed upon, and immediately the
murderous onset was renewed.
The scene displayed at the close of this battle was awful in the extreme.
The fugitive army, horse, foot, cannon, baggage-wagons, and ammunition-
carts, struggled along in inextricable confusion through the narrow passes,
while a plunging fire from the French batteries produced frightful havoc in
the crowd. The occasional explosion of an ammunition-wagon under this
terrific fire opened in the dense mass a gap like the crater of a volcano, scat
tering far and wide over the field the mangled limbs of the dead. The bat
tle of Rivoli Napoleon ever regarded as one of the most dreadful battles he
ever fought, and one of the most signal victories he ever won.
Leaving a few troops to pursue and harass the fugitives, Napoleon, that
very night, with the mass of his army, turned to arrest the Austrian division
of twenty thousand men under Provera, hastening to the re-enforcement of
Mantua. He had already marched all of one night, and fought all of the en
suing day. He allowed his utterly exhausted troops a few hours for sleep,
but closed not his own eyes. He still considered the peril of his army so
great as to demand the utmost vigilance. So intense was his solicitude, that
he passed the hours of the night,' while the rest were sleeping, in walking
about the outposts.
The hour of midnight had hardly passed before the whole army was again
in motion. The dawn of the morning found them pressing on with all pos
sible speed, hoping to arrive at Mantua before the Austrian force should have
effected an entrance into the beleaguered city. 4-11 the day long they hur
ried on their way, and just as the sun was setting they heard the roar of the
conflict around the ramparts of Mantua. Provera was attacking the French
in their intrenchments upon one side. The brave old Wurmser was march
ing from the city to attack them upon the other. An hour might have set
tled the unequal conflict. Suddenly Napoleon, like a thunderbolt, plunged
into the midst of the foe. Provera's band was scattered like chaff before the
whirlwind. Wurmser and his half-starved men were driven back to their
fortress and their prison. Thus terminated this signal campaign of three
days, during which the Austrians lost twenty-five thousand prisoners, twenty-
five standards, sixty pieces of cannon, and six thousand men in killed and
wounded. The Austrian army was again destroyed, and the French re-

140 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VII.
mained in undisputed possession of Italy. Such achievements filled the
world with astonishment. Military men of all lands have regarded these
brilliant operations of Napoleon as the most extraordinary which history has
recorded. Wurmser's situation was now hopeless, and no resource was left him but
to capitulate. One half of his once numerous garrison were in the hospital.
The horses which had been killed and salted down were all consumed. Fam
ine was now staring the garrison in the face. Wurmser sent an aid-de-camp
to the tent of Serrurier to propose terms of capitulation. Napoleon was sit
ting in a corner of the tent unobserved, wrapped in his cloak. The aid, with
the artifice usual on such occasions, expatiated on the powerful means of re
sistance Wurmser still enjoyed, and the large stores of provisions still in the
magazine. Napoleon, without making himself known, listened to the con
versation, taking no part in it. At last he approached the table, silently
took the paper containing Wurmser's propositions, and, to the astonishment
of the aid, wrote upon the margin his answer to all the terms suggested.
"There," said he, "are the conditions which I grant to your marshal. If
he had provisions but for a fortnight and could talk of surrender, he would
not deserve an honorable capitulation. As he sends you, he must be reduced
to extremity. I respect his age, his valor, his misfortunes. Carry to him
the terms which I grant. Whether he leaves the place to-morrow, in a
month, or in six months, he shall have neither better nor worse conditions.
He may stay as long as his sense of honor demands."
The aid now perceived that he was in the presence of Napoleon. Glan
cing his eye over the terms of capitulation, he was surprised at the liberality
of the victor, and, seeing that dissimulation was of no further avail, he con
fessed that Wurmser had provisions but for three days. The brave old mar
shal was deeply moved with gratitude in acknowledging the generosity with
which he was treated by his young adversary. Wurmser was entirely in his .
power, and must have surrendered at discretion. Yet Napoleon, to spare
the feelings of his foe, allowed him to march out of the place with all his
staff, and to retire unmolested to Austria. He even granted him two hund
red horse and five hundred men, to be chosen by himself, and six pieces of
cannon, to render his departure less humiliating. Wurmser most gratefully
v accepted this magnanimous offer, and, to prove his gratitude, informed Na
poleon of a plan laid in the Papal States for poisoning him, and thus un
doubtedly saved his life. The remainder of the garrison, twenty thousand
strong, surrendered their arms, and were retained as prisoners of war. Fif
teen standards, a bridge equipage, and about five hundred pieces of artillery,
fell into the hands of the victor.
On the following morning, the Austrian army, emaciate, humiliated, and
dejected, defiled from the gates of Mantua to throw down their arms at the
feet of the triumphant Republicans. But on this occasion also, Napoleon
displayed that magnanimity and delicacy of mind which accorded so well
with the heroism of his character and the grandeur of his achievements
Few young men, twenty-seven years of age, at the termination of so terrific
a campaign, would have deprived themselves of the pleasure of seeing the
veteran Austrian marshal and his proud array pass vanquished before him

1797.] THE CAPTURE OF MANTUA. 141
But on the morning of that day Napoleon mounted his horse, and, heading a
division of his army, disappeared from the ground and marched for the Papal
States. He left Serrurier to receive the sword of Wurmser. He would not
add to the mortification of the vanquished general by being present in the
hour of his humiliation. Delicacy so rare and so noble attracted the atten
tion of all Europe. This magnanimous and dignified conduct extorted re
luctant admiration even from the bitterest enemies of the young Republican
general. The Directory, unable to appreciate such nobility of spirit, were dissatis
fied with the liberal terms which had been granted Wurmser. Napoleon
treated their remonstrances with scorn, and simply replied, "I have granted
the Austrian general such terms as, in my judgment, were due to a brave
and honorable enemy, and to the dignity of the French Republic."
The Austrians were now driven out of Italy. Napoleon commenced the
campaign with thirty thousand men. He received, during the progress of
these destructive battles, twenty-five thousand recruits. Thus, in ten months,
Napoleon, with fifty -five thousand men, had conquered five armies under vet
eran generals, and composed of more than two hundred thousand highly dis
ciplined Austrian troops. He had taken one hundred thousand prisoners,
and killed and wounded thirty-five thousand men. These were great vic
tories, and " a great victory," said the Duke of Wellington, nobly, " is the
most awful thing in the world excepting a great defeat."
Napoleon now prepared to march boldly upon Vienna itself, and to compel
the emperor, in his own palace, to make peace with insulted France. Such
an idea he had not conceived at the commencement of the campaign ; cir
cumstances, however, or, as Napoleon would say, his destiny, led him on.
But first it was necessary to turn aside to humble the Pope, who had been
threatening Napoleon's rear with an army of forty thousand men, but who
was now in utter consternation in view of the hopeless defeat of the Austri
ans. Napoleon issued the following proclamation : " The French army is
about to enter the Pope's territories. It will protect religion and the people.
The French soldier carries in one hand the bayonet as the guarantee of vic
tory ; in the other, the olive branch, a symbol of peace and a pledge of pro
tection. Woe to those who shall provoke the vengeance of this army. To
the inhabitants of every town and village, peace, protection, and security are
offered." All the spiritual machinery of the Papal Church had been put into requi
sition to rouse the people to phrensy. The tocsin had been tolled in every
village, forty hours' prayer offered, indulgences promised, and even miracles
employed to inspire the populace with delirious energy. Napoleon took
with him but four thousand five hundred French soldiers, aided by four thou
sand Italian recruits. He first encountered the enemy, seven thousand
strong, under Cardinal Busca, intrenched upon the banks of the Senio. It
was in the evening twilight of a pleasant spring day when the French ap
proached the river. The ecclesiastic, bnt little accustomed to the weapons
of secular warfare, sent a flag of truce, who very pompously presented him
self before Napoleon, and declared, in the name of the cardinal-in-chief, that
if the French continued to advance he should certainly fire upon them. The

142 - NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VII.
terrible menace was reported through the French lines, and was received
with perfect peals of merriment. Napoleon replied that he should be ex
tremely sorry to expose himself to the cardinal's fire, and that therefore, as
the army was very much fatigued, with the cardinal's leave it would take up
its quarters for the night.
In the darkness, a division of the French army was sent across the stream
by a ford, to cut off the retreat of the Papal troops, and in the morning the
bloody conflict of an hour left nearly every man dead upon the field or a pris
oner in the hands of Napoleon. Pressing rapidly on, the French arrived the
same day at Faenza. The gates were shut, the ramparts manned with can
non, and the multitude, in fanatical enthusiasm, exasperated the French sol
diers with every species of exulting defiance. The gates were instantly bat
tered down, and the French rushed into the city. They loudly clamored for
permission to pillage. ""The case," said they, "is the same as that of Pa
via." " No !" replied Napoleon ; " at Pavia, the people, after having taken an
oath of obedience, revolted, and attempted to murder our soldiers, who were
their guests. These people are deceived, and must be subdued by kindness."
All the prisoners taken here, and in the battle of the Senio, were assembled
in a large garden of one of the convents of Faenza. Napoleon had been rep
resented to them as a monster of atheism, cruelty, and crime. They were
in a perfect paroxysm of terror, not doubting that they were gathered there
to be shot. Upon the approach of Napoleon, they fell upon their knees, with
loud cries for mercy. He addressed them in Italian, and in those tones of
kindness which seemed to have a magic power over the human heart.
" I am the friend," said he, "of all the people of Italy. I come among you
for your good. You are all free. Return to the bosom of your families, and
tell them that the French are the friends of religion and of order, and of all
the poor and the oppressed." From the garden he went to the refectory of
the convent, where the captured officers were assembled. Familiarly he
conversed with them a long time, as with friends and equals. He explained
to them his motives and his wishes ; spoke of the liberty of Italy, of tlie
abuses of the pontifical government, of its gross violation of the spirit of the
Gospel, and of the blood which must be vainly expended in the attempt to re
sist such a victorious and well-disciplined army as he had at his disposal.
He gave them all permission to return to their homes, and simply requested
them, as the price of his clemency, to make known to the community the sen
timents with which he was animated. These men now became as enthusi
astic in their admiration of Napoleon as they had previously been exasper
ated against him. They dispersed through the cities and villages of Italy,
never weary in eulogizing the magnanimity of their conqueror
He soon met another army of the Romans at Ancona. He cautiously
surrounded them, and took them all prisoners without injuring a man, and
then, by a few of his convincing words, sent them through the country as
missionaries, proclaiming his clemency and the benevolence of the com
mander-in-chief of the Republican army. Ancona was so situated as to be
one of the most important ports of the Adriatic. Its harbor, however, was
in such a neglected condition, that not even a frigate could enter. He im
mediately decided what ought to be done to fortify the place and to improve

1797.] THE CAPTURE OF MANTUA. 143
the port. The great works whieh he consequently afterward executed at
Ancona will remain a perpetual memorial of his foresight and genius. The
largest three-decker can now ride in its harbor with perfect safety.
At Loretto there was an image of the Virgin, which the Church repre
sented as of celestial origin, and which, to the great edification of the popu
lace, seemed miraculously to shed tears in view of the perils of the Papacy.
Napoleon sent for the sacred image, exposed the deception by which, through
the instrumentality of a string of glass beads, tears appeared to flow, and
imprisoned the priests for deluding the people with trickery, which tended
to bring all religion into contempt.
The Papal States were full of the exiled French priests. The Directory
enjoined it upon Napoleon to drive them out of the country. These unhappy
men were in a state of despair. Long inured to Jacobin fury, they supposed
that death was now their inevitable doom. One of the fraternity, weary of
years of exile, and frantic in view of his supposed impending fate, presented
himself to Napoleon, announced himself as an emigrant priest, and implored
that his doom of death might be immediately executed. The bewildered
man thought it the delirium of a dream when Napoleon, addressing him in
terms of courtesy and of heartfelt sympathy, assured him that he and all
his friends should be protected from harm. He issued a proclamation enjoin
ing it upon the army to regard these unfortunate men as countrymen and as
brothers, and to treat them with all possible kindness. The versatile troops
instantly imbibed the humane spirit of their beloved chief. This led to a
number of very affecting scenes. Many of the soldiers recognized their
former pastors, and these unhappy exiles, long accustomed to scorn and
insult, wept with gratitude in being again addressed in terms of respect and
affection. Napoleon was censured for this clemency. " How is it possible," he wrote
to the Directory, "not to pity these unhappy men ? They weep on seeing us."
The French emigrant priests were quite a burden upon the convents in Italy,
where they had taken refuge, and the Italian priests were quite ready, upon
the arrival of the French army, to drive them away, on the pretext that, by
harboring the emigrants, they should draw down upon themselves the venge
ance of the Republican army. Napoleon issued a decree commanding the
convents to receive them, and to furnish them with every thing necessary
for their support and comfort. In that singular vein of latent humor which
pervaded his nature, he enjoined that the French priests should make remu
neration for this hospitality in prayers and masses at the regular market-
price. He found the Jews in Ancona suffering under the most intolerable
oppression, and immediately released them from all their disabilities.
The court of Naples, hoping to intimidate Napoleon from advancing upon
the holy city, and not venturing openly to draw the sword against him, sent
a minister to his camp, to act in the capacity of a spy. This envoy, Prince
Pignatelli, assuming an air of great mystery and confidential kindness, showed
Napoleon a letter from the Queen of Naples, proposing to send an army of
thirty thousand men to protect the Pontiff. "I thank you," said Napoleon,
"for this proof of your confidence, and will repay you in the same way."
Opening the port-folio of papers relating to Naples, he exhibited to him a copy

!44 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VII.
of a dispatch, in which the contemplated movement was not only anticipated,
but provision made, m case it should be attempted, for marching an army
of twenty-five thousand men to take possession of the capital, and compel
the royal family to seek refuge in Sicily. An extraordinary courier was
dispatched in the night to inform the queen of the manner in which the insin
uation had been received. Nothing more was heard of the Neapolitan inter
ference. Napoleon was now within three days' march of Rome. Consternation
reigned in the Vatican. Embassadors were hastily sent to Napoleon's head
quarters at Tolentino to implore the clemency of the conqueror. The horses
were already harnessed to the state carriages, and Pope Pius the Sixth was
just descending the stairs for flight, when a messenger arrived from Napo
leon informing the Pope that he need apprehend no personal violence — that
Napoleon was contending only for peace.
The Directory, exasperated by the unrelenting hostility and treachery of
the Pope, enjoined it upon Napoleon to enter into no negotiations with him,
but immediately to deprive him of all temporal power. Napoleon, however,
understood fanatical human nature too well to attempt such a revolution.
Disregarding the wishes of the government at home, he treated the Pope with
that gentlemanly deference and respect which was due to his exalted rank as a
temporal and a spiritual prince. The treaty of Tolentino was soon concluded.
Its simple terms were, peace with France, the acknowledgment of the Cis-
padane Republic, and a renewed promise that the stipulations of the preceding
armistice should be faithfully performed. Even the Pope could not refrain
from expressions of gratitude in view of the moderation of his victor. Napo
leon insisted for a long time upon the suppression of the Inquisition ; hut, out
of complaisance to the Pope, who earnestly entreated that it might not be sup
pressed, assuring Napoleon that it no longer was what it had been, but that
it was now rather a tribunal of police than of religious opinion, Napoleon de
sisted from pressing the article. All this was achieved in nine days. Napo
leon now returned to Mantua, and prepared for his bold march upon Vienna.
Notwithstanding the singular moderation displayed by Napoleon in these
victories, the most atrocious libels respecting his conduct were circulated by
his foes throughout Europe. To exasperate the Catholics, he was reported
to have seized the venerable Pope by his gray hairs, and thus to have drag
ged him about the room. One day Napoleon was reading one of these vir
ulent libels, describing him as a perfect monster of licentiousness, blood-
thirstiness, and crime. At times he shrugged his shoulders, and again
laughed heartily, but did not betray the least sign of anger. To one who
expressed surprise at this, he said,
" It is the truth only which gives offense. Every body knows that I was
not by nature inclined to debauchery, and, moreover, the multiplicity of my
affairs allowed me no time for such vices. Still, persons will be found who
will believe these things. But how can that be helped ? If it should enter
any one's head to put in print that I had grown hairy and walked on four
paws, there are people who would believe it, and who would say that God
had punished me as he did Nebuchadnezzar. And what could I do ? There
is no remedy in such cases."

1797.] MARCH UPON VIENNA. 145

CHAPTER VIII.
THE MARCH "UPON VIENNA.
Humane Advice to Venice — Honor to Virgil — Proclamation — Prince Charles — Tagliamento —
Stratagem — Enthusiasm of the Soldiers — Battle of Tarwis — Retreat of the Archduke. — Refusal
of Napoleon's Overtures for Peace — Consternation in Vienna — Negotiations for Peace — Revolt
of Venice — Venetian Envoys — Napoleon Conqueror of Italy — Valteline — Power of Napoleon.
Mantua had now fallen. The Austrians were driven from Italy. The
Pope, with the humility of a child, had implored the clemency of the con
queror. Still, Austria refused to make peace with Republican France, and,
with indomitable perseverance, gathered her resources for another conflict.
Napoleon resolved to march directly upon Vienna. His object was peace,
not conquest. In no other possible way could peace be attained. It was a
bold enterprise. Leaving the whole breadth of Italy between his armies
and France, he prepared to cross the rugged summits of the Carnic Alps,
and to plunge, with an army of but fifty thousand men, into the very heart
of one of the most proud and powerful empires upon the globe, numbering
twenty millions of inhabitants. Napoleon wished to make an ally of Venice.
To her government he said, " Your whole territory is imbued with revolu
tionary principles. One single word from me will excite a blaze of insurrec
tion through all your provinces. Ally yourself with France, make a few
modifications in your government, such as are indispensable for the welfare
of the people, and we will pacify pubhc opinion and will sustain your author
ity." Advice more prudent and humane could not have been given.
The haughty aristocracy of Venice refused the alliance, raised an army
of sixty thousand men, ready at any moment to fall upon Napoleon's rear,
and demanded neutrality. " Be neutral, then," said Napoleon ; " but remem
ber, if you violate your neutrality, if you harass my troops, if you cut off my
supplies, I will take ample vengeance. I march upon Vienna. Conduct
which could be forgiven were I in Italy, will be unpardonable when I am in
Austria. The hour that witnesses the treachery of Venice shall terminate
her independence."
Mantua was the birth-place of Virgil. During centuries of wealth and lux
urious ease, neither Italy nor Austria had found time to rear any monument
in honor of the illustrious Mantuan bard ; but hardly had the cannon of Na
poleon ceased to resound around the beleaguered city, and the smoke of the
conflict had hardly passed away, ere the young conqueror, ever more inter
ested in the refinements of peace than in the desolations of war, in the midst
of the din of arms, and contending against the intrigues of hostile nations,
reared a mausoleum and arranged a gorgeous festival in honor of the im
mortal poet. Thus he endeavored to shed renown upon intellectual great
ness, and to rouse the degenerate Italians to appreciate and to emulate the
glory of their fathers. From these congenial pursuits of peace he again
Vol. I.— K

,g NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VIII.
turned, with undiminished energy, to pursue the unrelenting assailants of
his country. .,, T, ,
Leavino- ten thousand men in garrison to watch the neutrality ot the Ital
ian o-overnments, Napoleon, early in March, removed his head-quarters to
Bassano. He then issued to his troops the following martial proclamation,
which, like bugle-notes of defiance, reverberated over the hostile and aston
ished monarchies of Europe.
" Soldiers ! the campaign just ended has given you imperishable renown.
You have been victorious in fourteen pitched battles and seventy actions.
You have taken more than a hundred thousand prisoners, five hundred field-
pieces, two thousand heavy guns, and four pontoon trains. You have main
tained the army during the whole campaign. In addition to this, you have
sent six millions of dollars to the public treasury, and have enriched the
National Museum with 'three hundred master-pieces of the arts of ancient
and modern Italy, which it has required thirty centuries to produce. You
have conquered the finest countries in Europe. The French flag w-aves for
the first time upon the Adriatic, opposite to Macedon, the native country of
Alexander. Still higher destinies await you. I know that you will not
prove unworthy of them. Of all the foes that conspired to stifle the repub
lic in its birth, the Austrian emperor alone remains before you. To obtain
peace, we must seek it in the heart of his hereditary state. You will there
find a brave people, whose religion and customs you will respect, and whose
property you will hold sacred. Remember that it is liberty you carry to
the brave Hungarian nation."
The Archduke Charles, brother of the king, was now intrusted with the
command of the Austrian army. His character can not be better described
than in the language of his magnanimous antagonist. " Prince Charles,"
said Napoleon, " is a man whose conduct can never attract blame. His
soul belongs to the heroic age, but his heart to that of gold. More than all,
he is a good man, and that includes every thing when said of a prince."
Early in March, Prince Charles, a young man of about Napoleon's age,
who had already obtained renown upon the Rhine, was in command of an
army of fifty thousand men, stationed upon the banks of the Piave. From
different parts of the empire, forty thousand men were on the march to join
him. This would give him ninety thousand troops to array against the
French. Napoleon, with the recruits which he had obtained from France
and Italy, had now a force of fifty thousand men with which to undertake
this apparently desperate enterprise. The eyes of all Europe were upon the
two combatants. It was the almost universal sentiment that, intoxicated
with success, Napoleon was rushing to irretrievable ruin. But Napoleon
never allowed enthusiasm to run away with his judgment. His plans were
deeply laid, and all the combinations of chance were carefully calculated.
The storms of winter were still howling around the snow-clad summits of
the Alps, and it was not thought possible that thus early in the season he
would attempt the passage of so formidable a barrier. A dreadful tempest of
wind and rain swept earth and sky when Napoleon gave the order to march.
The troops, with their accustomed celerity, reached the banks of the Piave.
The Austrians, astonished at the sudden apparition of the French in the midst

1797.]

MARCH UPON VIENNA.

147

j 48 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VIII.
of the elemental warfare, and unprepared to resist them, hastily retired some
forty miles to the eastern banks of the Tagliamento. Napoleon closely fol
lowed the retreating foe. At nine o'clock in the morning of the 10th of
March, the French army arrived upon the banks of the river. Here they
found a wide stream, rippling over a gravelly bed, with difficulty fordable.
The imperial troops, in magnificent array, were drawn up upon an extended
plain on the opposite shore. Parks of artillery were arranged to sweep with
grape-shot the whole surface of the water. In long lines the infantry, with
bristling bayonets, and prepared to rain down upon their foes a storm of bul
lets, presented apparently an invincible front. Upon the two wings of this
imposing army, vast squadrons of cavalry awaited the moment, with restless
steeds, when they might charge upon the foe, should he effect' a landing.
The French army had been marching all night over miry roads and through
mountain defiles. With the gloom of the night the storm had passed away,
and the cloudless sun of a warm spring morning dawned upon the valley as
the French troops arrived upon the banks of the river. Their clothes were
torn, and drenched with rain, and soiled with mud. And yet it was an im
posing array, as forty thousand men, with plumes and banners, and proud
steeds, and the music of a hundred bands, marched down, in that bright sun
shine, upon the verdant meadows which skirted the Tagliamento. But it
was a fearful barrier which presented itself before them. The rapid river,
the vast masses of the enemy in their strong intrenchments, the frowning
batteries, whose guns were loaded to the muzzle with grape-shot to sweep
the advancing ranks, the well-fed war-horses in countless numbers, prancing
for the charge, apparently presented an obstacle which no human energy
could surmount.
Napoleon, seeing the ample preparations made to oppose him, ordered his
troops to withdraw beyond the reach of the enemies' fire, and to prepare for
breakfast. As by magic, the martial array was at once transformed into a
peaceful picnic scene. Arms were laid aside. The soldiers threw them
selves upon the green grass, just sprouting in the valley, beneath the rays
of the sun of early spring. Fires were kindled, kettles boiling, knapsacks
opened, and groups, in carelessness and joviality, gathered around fragments
of bread and meat.
The Archduke Charles, seeing that Napoleon declined the attempt to pass
the river until he had refreshed his exhausted troops, withdrew his forces
also into the rear, to their encampments. When all was quiet, and the Aus
trians were thrown completely off their guard, suddenly the trumpets sound
ed the preconcerted signal. The French troops, disciplined to prompt move
ments, sprang to arms, instantly formed in battle array, plunged into the
stream, and, before the Austrians had recovered from their astonishment,
were half across the river.
This movement was executed with such inconceivable rapidity as to ex
cite the admiration as well as the consternation of their enemies. With the
precision and beauty of the parade ground, the several divisions of the army
gained the opposite shore. The Austrians rallied as speedily as possible ;
but it was too late. A terrible battle ensued. Napoleon was victor at every
point. The imperial army, with their ranks sadly thinned, and leaving the

1797.] MARCH UPON VIENNA. 149
ground gory with the blood of the slain, retreated in confusion, to await the
arrival of the re-enforcements coming to their aid. Napoleon pressed upon

THE PASSAGE OF THE TAGLIAMENTO.

their rear, every hour attacking them, and not allowing them one moment to
recover from their panic.
The Austrian troops, thus suddenly and unexpectedly defeated, were
thrown into the extreme of dejection. The exultant French, convinced of
the absolute invincibility of their beloved chief, ambitiously sought out points
of peril and adventures of desperation, and with shouts of laughter, and jokes,
and making the welkin ring with songs of liberty, plunged into the densest
masses of the foes. The different divisions of the army vied with each other
in their endeavor to perform feats of the most romantic valor, and in the dis
play of the most perfect contempt of life. In every fortress, at every mount
ain pass, upon every rapid stream, the Austrians made a stand to arrest the
march of the conqueror ; but with the footsteps of a giant Napoleon crowded
upon them, pouring an incessant storm of destruction upon their fugitive
ranks. He drove the Austrians to the foot of the mountains. He pursued
them up the steep acclivities. He charged the tempests of wind and smoth
ering snow with the sound of the trumpet, and his troops exulted in waging
war with combined man and the elements. Soon both pursuers and pursued
stood upon the summit of the Carmc Alps. They were in the region of al
most perpetual snow. The vast glaciers, which seemed memorials of eter
nity, spread bleak and cold around them. The clouds floated beneath their
feet. The eagle wheeled and screamed as he soared over the sombre firs
and pines far below on the mountain sides.
Here the Austrians made a desperate stand. On the storm-washed crags
of granite, behind fields of ice and drifts of snow which the French cavalry
could not traverse, they sought to intrench themselves against their tireless
pursuer. To retreat down the long and narrow defiles of the mountains,

150 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VIII.
with the French in hot pursuit behind, hurling upon them every missile of
destruction, bullets and balls, and craggy fragments of the cliffs, was a ca
lamity to be avoided at every hazard. Upon the summit of Mount Tarwis
the battle decisive of this fearful question was to be fought. It was an ap
propriate arena for the fell deeds of war. Wintry winds swept the bleak and
icy eminence, and a clear, cold, cloudless sky canopied the two armies, as,
with fiend-like ferocity, they hurled themselves upon each other. The thun
der of artillery reverberated above the clouds. The shout of onset and the
shrieks of the wounded were heard upon eminences which even the wing of
the eagle had rarely attained. Squadrons of cavalry fell upon fields of ice,
and men and horses were precipitated into fathomless depths below. The
snow-drifts of Mount Tarwis were soon crimsoned with blood, and the warm
current from human hearts congealed with the eternal glaciers, and there,
embalmed in ice, it long and mournfully testified of man's inhumanity to man.
The Archduke Charles, having exhausted his last reserve, was compelled
to retreat. Many of the soldiers threw away their arms, and escaped over
the crags of the mountains ; thousands were taken prisoners ; multitudes
were left dead upon the ice, and half buried in the drifts of snow. But
Charles, brave and energetic, still kept the mass of his army together, and
with great skill conducted his precipitate retreat. With merciless vigor the
French troops pursued, pouring down upon the retreating masses a storm of
bullets, and rolling over the precipitous sides of the mountains huge rocks,
which swept away whole companies at once. The bleeding, breathless fu
gitives at last arrived in the valley below. Napoleon followed close in their
rear. The Alps were now passed. The French were in Austria. They
heard a new language. The scenery, the houses, the customs of the inhab
itants, all testified that they were no longer in Italy. They had, with unpar
alleled audacity, entered the very heart of the Austrian empire, and with un
flinching resolution were marching upon the capital of twenty millions of peo
ple, behind whose ramparts, strengthened by the labor of ages, Maria There
sa had bidden defiance to the invading Turk.
Twenty days had now passed since the opening of the campaign, and the
Austrians were already driven over the Alps, and, having lost a fourth of their
numbers in the various conflicts which had occurred, dispirited by disaster,
were retreating to intrench themselves for a final struggle within the walls
pf Vienna. Napoleon, with forty-five thousand men flushed with victory,
was rapidly descending the fertile streams which flow into the Danube.
Under these triumphant circumstances, Napoleon showed his humanity,
and his earnest desire for peace, in dictating the following letter, so charac
teristic of his strong and glowing intellect. It was addressed to his illustri
ous adversary, the Archduke Charles.
"General-in-chief. Brave soldiers, while they make war, desire peace
Has not this war already continued six years ? Have we not slain enough
of our fellow-men'' Have we not inflicted a sufficiency of woes upon suffer
ing humanity? It demands repose upon all sides Europe, which took up
arms against the French Republic, has laid them aside. Your nation alone
remains hostile, and blood is about to flow more copiously than ever This
sixth campaign has commenced with sinister omens. Whatever may be ™

1797.] MARCH UPON VIENNA. 151
issue, many thousand men, on the one side and the other, must perish ; and
after all, we must come to an accommodation, for every thing has an end,
not even excepting the passion of hatred. You, general, who by birth ap
proach so near the throne, and are above all the little passions which too
often influence ministers and governments, are you resolved to deserve the
title of benefactor of humanity, and of the real savior of Austria ? Do not
imagine that I deny the possibility of saving Austria by the force of arms.
But even in such an event your country will not be the less ravaged. As
for myself, if the overture which I have the honor to make shall be the
means of saving a single life, I shall be more proud of the civic crown which
I shall be conscious of having deserved, than of all the melancholy glory
which military success can confer."
To these magnanimous overtures the archduke replied : " In the duty as
signed to me there is no power either to scrutinize the causes or to terminate
the duration of the war ; I am not invested with any authority in that respect,
and therefore can not enter into any negotiation for peace."
In this interesting correspondence, Napoleon, the plebeian general, speaks
with the dignity and the authority of a sovereign — with a natural, unaffected
tone of command, as if accustomed from infancy to homage and empire.
The brother of the king is compelled to look upward to the pinnacle upon
which transcendent abilities have placed his antagonist. The conquering
Napoleon pleads for peace ; but Austria hates republican liberty even more
than war. Upon the rejection of these proposals, the thunders of Napoleon's
artillery were again heard, and over the hills and through the valleys, on
ward he rushed with his impetuous troops, allowing his foe no repose.
At every mountain gorge, at every rapid river, the Austrians stood, and
were slain. Each walled town was the scene of a sanguinary conflict, and
the Austrians were often driven in the wildest confusion through the streets,
trampled by the hoofs of the pursuing squadrons. At last they approached
another mountain range, called the Stipian Alps. Here, at the frightful
gorge of Neumarkt, a defile so gloomy and terrific that even the peaceful
tourist can not pass through it unawed, the Archduke Charles again made
a desperate effort to arrest his pursuers. It was of no avail. Blood flowed
in torrents ; thousands were slain. The Austrians, encumbered with bag
gage-wagons and artillery, choked the narrow passages, and a scene of in
describable horror ensued. The French cavalry made destructive charges
upon the dense masses. Cannon-balls plowed their way through the con
fused ranks, and the Austrian rear and the French van struggled hand to
hand in the blood-red gorge. But the Austrians were swept along like
withered leaves before the mountain gales. Napoleon was now at Leoben.
From the eminences around the city, with the telescope, the distant spires
of Vienna could be discerned. Here the victorious general halted for a day,
to collect his scattered forces. The archduke hurried along the great road
to the capital, with the fragments of his army, striving to concentrate all the
strength of the empire within those venerable and hitherto impregnable for
tifications. All was consternation in Vienna. The king, dukes, nobles, fled like deer
before approaching hounds, seeking refuge in the distant wilds of Hungary..

i .">•:

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. VIII.

The Danube was covered with boats, conveying the riches of the city and
the terrified families out of the reach of danger. Among the illustrious fugi
tives was Maria Louisa, then a child but six years of age, flying from that
dreaded Napoleon whose bride she afterward became. All the military re-

THE GORGE OF NEUMARKT.

sources of Austria were immediately called into requisition ; the fortifica
tions were repaired ; the militia organized and drilled ; and in the extremity
of mortification and despair, all the energies of the empire were roused for
final resistance. Charles, to gain time, sent a flag of truce, requesting a
suspension of arms for twenty-four hours. Napoleon, too wary to be caught
in a trap which he had recently sprung upon his foes, replied that moments
were precious, and that they might fight and negotiate at the same time.
Napoleon also issued to the Austrian people one of his glowing proclama
tions, which he caused to be circulated all over the region he had overrun.
Me assured the people that he was their friend ; that he was fighting, not for
conquest, but for peace; that the Austrian government, bribed by British
gold, was waging an unjust war against France ; that the people 'of Austria
should find in him a proledor, who would respect their religion, and defend
them in all their rights. His deeds were in accordance with his words.
The French soldiers, inspired by the example of their beloved chief, treated
the unarmed Austrians as friends, and nothing was taken from them with
out ample remuneration.
The people of Austria now began to clamor loudly for peace. The Arch
duke Charles, seeing the desperate posture of affairs, earnestly urged it upon
his brother, the emperor, declaring that the empire could no lono-er be saved
by arms. Embassadors were immediately dispatched from the imperial court.
authorized to settle the basis of peace. They implored a suspension of arms
for five days, to settle the preliminaries. Napoleon nobly replied, "In the
(present posture of our military affairs, a suspension of hostilities must be very

1797.] MARCH UPON VIENNA. I53
seriously adverse to the interests of the French army. But if, by such a sac
rifice, that peace, which is so desirable and so essential to the happiness of
the people, can be secured, I shall not regret consenting to your desires."
A garden in the vicinity of Leoben was declared neutral ground, and here,
in the midst of the bivouacs of the French army, the negotiations were con
ducted. The Austrian commissioners, in the treaty which they proposed,
had set down as the first article that the Emperor recognized the French
Republic. "Strike that out," said Napoleon, proudly. "The Republic is like the
sun ; none but the blind can fail to see it. We are our own masters, and
shall establish any government we prefer." This exclamation was not mere
ly a burst of romantic enthusiasm, but it was dictated by a deep insight into
the probabilities of the future. " If one day the French people," he after
ward remarked, " should wish to create a monarchy, the Emperor might
object that he had recognized a republic."
Both parties being now desirous of terminating the war, the preliminaries
were soon settled. Napoleon, as if he w_ere already the Emperor of France,
waited not for the plenipotentiaries from Paris, but signed the treaty in his
own name. He thus placed himself upon an equal footing with the Emperor
of Austria. The equality was unhesitatingly recognized by the imperial gov
ernment. In the settlement of the difficulties between these two majestic
powers, neither of them manifested much regard for the minor states. Na
poleon allowed Austria to take under her protection many of the states of
Venice, for Venice had proved treacherous to her professed neutrality, and
merited no protection from his hands.
Napoleon, having thus conquered peace, turned to lay the rod upon treni-

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MAP OF VENICE.

154

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. VIII.

Wins' Venice. Richly did Venice deserve his chastising blows. In those days
when rail-roads and telegraphs were unknown, the transmission of intelligence
was slow. The little army of Napoleon had traversed weary leagues of
mountains and vales, and, having passed beyond the snow-clad summits of
the Alps, were lost to Italian observation, far away upon the tributaries of
the Danube. Rumor, with her thousand voices, filled the air. It was re
ported that Napoleon was defeated — that he was a captive — that his army
was destroyed. The Venetian oligarchy, proud, cowardly, and revengeful,
now raised the cry, " Death to the French !" The priests incited the peas
ants to phrensy. They attacked unarmed Frenchmen in the streets, and
murdered them. They assailed the troops in garrison with overwhelming
numbers. The infuriated populace even burst into the hospitals, and poniard
ed the wounded and the dying in their beds.
Napoleon, who was by no means distinguished for meekness and long-
sufferino-, turned sternly to inflict upon them punishment which should long
be remembered. The haughty oligarchy was thrown into a paroxysm of
terror when it was announced that Napoleon was victor instead of van
quished, and that, having humbled the pride of Austria, he was now return-
ih.o", with an indignant and triumphant army burning for vengeance. The
Venetian Senate, bewildered with fright, dispatched agents to deprecate his
wrath. Napoleon, with a pale and marble face, received them. Without
uttering a word, he listened to their awkward attempts at an apology, heard
their humble submission, and even endured in silence their offer of millions
of gold to purchase his pardon. Then, in tones of firmness, which sent pale
ness to their cheeks and palpitation to their hearts, he exclaimed,

THE VENETIAN ENVOYS.

" If you could proffer me the treasures of Peru, could you strew your whole
country with gold, it would not atone for the blood which has been treacher-

1797.] MARCH UPON VIENNA. 155
ously spilled. You have murdered my children. The lion of St. Mark*
must lick the dust. Go." '
The Venetians, in their terror, sent enormous sums to Paris, and succeed
ed in bribing the Directory, ever open to such appeals. Orders were ac
cordingly transmitted to Napoleon to spare the ancient Senate and aristoc
racy of Venice ; but Napoleon, who despised the Directory, and who was prob
ably already dreaming of its overthrow, conscious that he possessed powers
which they could not shake, paid no attention to their orders. He marched
resistlessly into the dominions of the Doge. The thunders of Napoleon's can
non were reverberating across the lagoons which surround the Queen of the
Adriatic. The Doge, pallid with consternation, assembled the Grand Coun
cil, and proposed the surrender of their institutions to Napoleon, to be remod
eled according to his pleasure. While they were deliberating, the uproar
of insurrection was heard in the streets. The aristocrats and the Republicans
fell furiously upon each other. The discharge of fire-arms was heard under
the very windows of the council-house. Opposing shouts of " Liberty for
ever!" and "Long, live St. Mark!" resounded through the streets. The city
was threatened with fire and pillage.
Amid this horrible confusion, three thousand French soldiers crossed the
lagoons in boats and entered the city. They were received with loud and
long shouts of welcome by the populace, hungering for Republican liberty.
Resistance was hopeless. An unconditional surrender was made to Napo
leon, and thus fell one of the most execrable tyrannies this world has ever
known. The course Napoleon then pursued was so magnanimous as to ex
tort praise from his bitterest foes. He immediately threw open the prison
doors to all who were suffering for political opinions. He pardoned all of
fenses against himself. He abolished aristocracy, and established a popular
government, which should fairly represent all classes of the community.
The public debt was regarded as sacred, and even the pensions continued to
the poor nobles. It was a glorious reform for the Venetian nation ; it was a
terrible downfall for the Venetian aristocracy. The banner of the new Re
public now floated from the windows of the palace, and as it waved exult-
ingly in the breeze, it was greeted with the most enthusiastic acclamations
by the people, who had been trampled under the foot of oppression for fif
teen hundred years.
All Italy was now virtually at the feet of Napoleon. Not a year had yet
elapsed since he, a nameless young man of twenty-six years of age, with thir
ty thousand ragged and half-starved troops, had crept along the shores of the
Mediterranean, hoping to surprise his powerful foes. He had now traversed
the whole extent of Italy, compelled all its hostile states to respect Repub
lican France, and had humbled the Emperor of Austria' as emperor had rare
ly been humbled before. The Italians, recognizing him as a countryman,
and proud of his world-wide renown, regarded him, not as a conqueror, but as
a liberator. His popularity wTas boundless. Wherever he appeared, the most
enthusiastic acclamations welcomed him. Bonfires blazed upon every hill
in honor of his movements. The bells rang their merriest peals wherever
* The armorial bearing of Venice.

156 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. VIII.
he appeared. Long lines of maidens strewed roses in his path. The rever
berations of artillery and the huzzas of the populace saluted his footsteps.
Europe was at peace ; and Napoleon was the great pacificator. For this
object, he had contended against the most formidable coalitions. He had
sheathed his victorious sword the very moment his enemies were willing to
retire from the strife.
Still, the position of Napoleon required the most consummate firmness and
wisdom. All the states of Italy — Piedmont, Genoa, Naples, the States of the
Church, Parma, Tuscany — were agitated with the intense desire for liberty.
Napoleon was unwilling to encourage insurrection. He could not lend his
arms to oppose those who were struggling for popular rights.
In Genoa, the patriots rose. The haughty aristocracy fell, in revenge, upon
the French who chanced to be in the territory. Napoleon was thus com
pelled to interfere. The Genoese aristocracy were forced to abdicate, and
the patriot party, as in Venice, assumed the government ; but the Genoese
democracy began now, in their turn, to trample upon the rights of their for
mer oppressors. The revolutionary scenes which had disgraced Paris began
to be re-enacted in the streets of Genoa. They excluded the priests and
the nobles from participating in the government, as the nobles and priests had
formerly excluded them. Acts of lawless violence passed unpunished. The
religion of the Catholic priests was treated with derision. Napoleon, earnest
ly and eloquently, thus urged upon them a more humane policy.
" I will respond, citizens, to the confidence you have reposed in me. It is
not enough that you refrain from hostility to religion. You should do noth
ing which can cause inquietude to tender consciences. To exclude the no
bles from any public office is an act of extreme injustice. You thus repeat
the wrong which you condemn in them. Why are the people of Genoa so
changed ? Their first impulses of fraternal kindness have been succeeded
by fear and terror. Remember that the priests were the first who rallied
around the tree of liberty. They first told you that the morality of the Gos
pel is democratic. Men have taken advantage of the faults, perhaps of the
crimes of individual priests, to unite against Christianity. You have pro
scribed without discrimination. When a state becomes accustomed to con
demn without hearing, to applaud a discourse because it is impassioned ; when
exaggeration and madness are called virtue, moderation and equity desig
nated as crimes, that state is near its ruin. Believe me, I shall consider that
one of the happiest moments of my life in which I hear that the people of
Genoa are united among themselves and live happily."
This advice, thus given to Genoa, was intended to react upon France, for
the Directory then had under discussion a motion for banishing all the nobles
from the republic. The voice of Napoleon was thus delicately and effi
ciently introduced into the debate, and the extreme and terrible measure was
at once abandoned.
Napoleon performed another act at this time which drew down upon him
a very heavy load of obloquy from the despotic governments of Europe, but
which must secure the approval of every generous mind. There was a small
state in Italy called the Valteline, eighteen miles wide, and fifty-four miles
long, containing one hundred and sixty thousand inhabitants. These unfor-

1797.] MARCH UPON VIENNA. ' 157
tunate people had become subjects to a German state called the Grisons, and,
deprived of all political privileges, were ground down by the most humilia
ting oppression. The inhabitants of the Valteline, catching the spirit of lib
erty, revolted, and addressed a manifesto to all Europe setting forth their
wrongs, and declaring their determination to recover those rights of which
they had been defrauded. Both parties sent deputies to Napoleon soliciting
his interference, virtually agreeing to abide by his decision. Napoleon, to
promote conciliation and peace, proposed that the Valtelines should remain
with the Grisons as one people, and that the Grisons should confer upon them
equal political privileges with themselves. Counsel more moderate and ju
dicious could not have been given ; but the proud Grisons, accustomed to
trample upon their victims, with scorn refused to share with them the rights
of humanity. Napoleon then issued a decree, saying, "It is not just that one
people should be subject to another people. Since the Grisons have refused
equal rights to the inhabitants of the Valteline, the latter are at liberty to
unite themselves with the Cisalpine Republic." This decision was received
with bursts of enthusiastic joy by the liberated people, and they were imme
diately embraced within the borders of the new republic.
The great results we have thus far narrated in this chapter were accom
plished in six weeks. In the face of powerful armies, Napoleon had trav
ersed hundreds of miles of territory. He had forded rivers, with the storm
of lead and iron falling pitilessly around him. He had crossed the Alps,
dragging his artillery through snow three feet in depth, scattered the armies
of Austria to the winds, imposed peace upon that proud and powerful em
pire, recrossed the Alps, laid low the haughty despotism of Venice, estab
lished a popular government in the emancipated provinces, and revolution
ized Genoa.
Josephine was now with him in the palace of Milan. From every state in
Italy couriers were coming and going, deprecating his anger, soliciting his
counsel, imploring his protection. The destiny of Europe seemed to be sus
pended upon his decisions. His power transcended that of all the potentates
in Europe. A brilliant court of beautiful ladies surrounded Josephine, and
all vied to do homage to the illustrious conqueror. The enthusiastic Italians
thronged his gates, and waited for hours to catch a glance of the youthful
hero. The feminine delicacy of his physical frame, so disproportionate to
his mighty renown, did but add to the enthusiasm which his presence ever
inspired. His strong arm had won for France peace with all the world,
England alone excepted. The indomitable islanders, protected by the ocean
from the march of invading armies, still continued the unrelenting warfare.
Wherever her navy could penetrate, she assailed the French, and, as the hor
rors of war could not reach her shores, she refused to live on any terms of
peace with Republican France.

15S NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. IX.

CHAPTER IX.
THE COURT OF MILAN.
Napoleon's tireless Activity — Conference at Campo Formio — The Court of Milan — Happiness of
Josephine — Temptations — Jealousy of the Directory — Proclamation — Appearance of the young
General — Rastadt — Advice to his Troops — Arrival at Paris — Quiet private Life — Delivery of the
Treaty — Reply to the Institute — England pertinaciously refuses Peace — Abuse of Napoleon by
the English Press — Uneasiness of the Directory in view of the Popularity of Napoleon.
Napoleon now established his residence, or rather his court, at Monte-
bello, a beautiful palace in the vicinity of Milan. His frame was emaciate
in the extreme, from the prodigious toils which he had endured, yet he
scarcely allowed himself an hour of relaxation. Questions of vast moment,
relative to the settlement of political affairs in Italy, were yet to be adjust
ed, and Napoleon, exhausted as he was in body, devoted the tireless ener
gies of his mind to the work. His labors were now numerous. He was
treating with the plenipotentiaries of Austria, organizing the Italian Repub
lic, creating a navy in the Adriatic, and forming the most magnificent proj
ects relative to the Mediterranean. These were the works in which he de
lighted ; constructing canals and roads, improving harbors, erecting bridges,
churches, naval and military depots, calling cities and navies into existence
and awaking every where the hum of prosperous industry.
All the states of Italy were imbued with local prejudices and petty jeal
ousies of each other. To break down these jealousies, he endeavored to con
solidate the Republicans into one single state, with Milan for the capital. He
strove in multiplied ways to rouse martial energy among the effeminate Ital
ians. Conscious that the new republic could not long stand alone in the
midst of the surrounding monarchies so hostile to its existence — that it could
only be strong by the alliance of France — he conceived the design of a high
road, broad, safe, and magnificent, from Paris to Geneva, thence across the
Simplon, through the plains of Lombardy to Milan. He was in treaty with
the government of Switzerland for the construction of the road through its
territories, and had sent engineers to explore the route and make an estimate
of the expense. He himself arranged all the details with the greatest pre
cision. He contemplated also, at the same time, with the deepest interest
and solicitude, the empire which England had gained on the seas. To crip
ple the power of this formidable foe, he formed the design of taking posses
sion of the islands of the Mediterranean. " From these different posts," he
wrote to the Directory, "we shall command the Mediterranean, we shall keep
an eye upon the Ottoman empire, which is crumbling to pieces, and we shall
have it m our power to render the dominion of the ocean almost useless to
the English. They have possession of the Cape of Good Hope. We can
do without it. Let us occupy Egypt. We shall be in the direct road for In
dia. It will be easy for us to found there one of the finest colonies in the
world. It is in Egypt that we must attack England."

1797.] COURT OF MILAN. 159
It was in this way that Napoleon rested after the toils of the most arduous
campaigns mortal man had ever passed through. The Austrians were rap
idly recruiting their forces from their vast empire, and now began to throw-
many difficulties in the way of a final adjustment. The last conference be
tween the negotiating parties was held at Campo Formio, a small village
about ten miles east of the Tagliamento. The commissioners were seated
at an oblong table, the four Austrian negotiators upon one side, Napoleon by
himself upon the other. The Austrians demanded terms to which Napoleon
could not accede, threatening, at the same time, that if Napoleon did not ac
cept these terms, the armies of Russia would be united with those of Aus
tria, and France should be compelled to adopt those less favorable. One of
the Austrian commissioners concluded an insulting apostrophe by saying,
"Austria desires peace, and she will severely condemn the negotiator who
sacrifices the interest and repose of his country to military ambition."
Napoleon, cool and collected, sat in silence while these sentiments were
uttered. Then rising from the table, he took from the sideboard a beautiful
porcelain vase : " Gentlemen," said he, " the truce is broken ; war is de
clared. But remember, in three months I will demolish your monarchy as I
now shatter this porcelain." With these words, he dashed the" vase into frag-

THE CONFERENCE DISSOLVED

ments upon the floor, and, bowing to the astounded negotiators, abruptly
withdrew. With his accustomed promptness of action, he instantly dispatch
ed an officer to the archduke, to inform him that hostilities would be recom
menced in twenty-four hours, and, entering his carriage, urged his horses at
their utmost speed toward the head-quarters of the army. One of the con
ditions of this treaty upon which Napoleon insisted was the release of La
Fayette, then imprisoned for his republican sentiments in the dungeons of
Olmutz. The Austrian plenipotentiaries were thunderstruck by this decis-

160 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. IX.
ion, and immediately agreed to the terms which Napoleon demanded. The
next day at five o'clock the treaty of Campo Formio was signed.
The "terms which Napoleon offered the Austrians in this treaty, though
highly advantageous to France, were far more lenient to Austria than that
government had any right to expect. The Directory in Paris, anxious to
strengthen itself against the monarchical governments of Europe by revolu
tionizing the whole of Italy, and founding there republican governments, pos
itively forbade Napoleon to make peace with Italy unless the freedom of
the republic of Venice was recognized. Napoleon wrote to the Directory
that, if they insisted upon that ultimatum, the renewal of the war would be
inevitable. The Directory replied, " Austria has long desired to swallow up
Italy, and to acquire maritime power. It is the interest of France to prevent
both of these designs. It is evident that if the Emperor acquires Venice,
with its territorial' possessions, he will secure an entrance into the whole of
Lombardy. We should be treating as if we had been conquered. What
would posterity say of us if we surrender that great city, with its naval ar
senals, to the Emperor ? The whole question comes to this : Shall we give
up Italy to the Austrians ? The French government neither can nor will do
so. It would prefer all the hazards of war."
Napoleon wished for peace. He could only obtain it by disobeying the
orders of his government. The middle of October had now arrived. One
morninff, at daybreak, he was informed that the mountains were covered
with snow. Leaping from his bed, he ran to the window, and saw that the
storms of winter had really commenced on the bleak heights. "What ! be
fore the middle of October !" he exclaimed ; "what a country is this ! Well,
we must make peace." He shut himself up in his cabinet for an hour, and
carefully reviewed the returns of the army. " I can not have," said he to
Bourrienne, "more than sixty thousand men in the field. Even if victorious,
I must lose twenty thousand in killed and wounded ; and how, with forty
thousand, can I withstand the whole force of the Austrian monarchy, who
will hasten to the relief of Vienna ? The armies of the Rhine could not ad
vance to my succor before the middle of November, and before that time ar
rives the Alps will be impassable from snow. It is all over. I will sign the
peace. The government and the lawyers may say what they choose."
This treaty extended France to the Rhine, recognized the Cisalpine Re
public, composed of the Cispadane Republic and Lombardy, and allowed the
Emperor of Austria to extend his sway over several of the states of Venice.
Napoleon was very desirous of securing republican liberty in Venice. Most
illustriously did he exhibit his desire for peace in consenting to sacrifice
that desire, and to disobey the positive commands of his government, rather
than renew the horrors of battle. He did not think it his duty to keep Eu
rope involved in war, that he might secure republican liberty for Venice,
when it was very doubtful whether the Venetians were sufficiently enlight
ened to govern themselves, and when, perhaps, one half of the nation were
so ignorant as to prefer despotism. The whole glory of this peace redounds
to his honor. His persistence in that demand, which the Directory enjoined, .
would but have kindled anew the flames of war.
During these discussions at Campo Formio, every possible endeavor was

1797.]

COURT OF MILAN.

161

made which the most delicate ingenuity could devise, to influence Napoleon
in his decisions by personal considerations. The wealth of Europe was lit
erally laid at his feet. Millions upon millions in gold were proffered him ;
but his proud spirit could not thus be tarnished. When some one alluded to
the different course pursued by the Directors, he replied, "You are not then
aware, citizen, that there is not one of those Directors whom I could not
bring, for four thousand dollars, to kiss my boot." The Venetians offered
him a present of one million five hundred thousand dollars. He smiled, and
declined the offer. The Emperor of Austria, professing the most profound
admiration of his heroic character, entreated him to accept a principality, to
consist of at least two hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants, for himself and
his heirs. This was indeed an alluring offer. The young general transmit
ted his thanks to the Emperor for this proof of his good-will, but added, that
he could accept of no honors but such as were conferred upon him by the
French people, and that he should always be satisfied with whatever they
might be disposed to offer.
While at Montebello, transacting the affairs of his victorious army, Jose
phine presided with most admirable propriety and grace over the gay circle
of Milan. Napoleon, who well understood the imposing influence of courtly
pomp and splendor, while extremely simple in his personal habiliments, daz
zled the eyes of the Milanese with all the pageantry of a court. The des
tinies of Europe were even then suspended upon his nod. He was tracing
out the lines of empire ; and dukes, and princes, and kings were soliciting

THE COURT AT MILAN.

his friendship. Josephine, by her surpassing loveliness of person and of
character, won universal admiration. Her wonderful tact, her genius, and
her amiability vastly strengthened the influence of her husband. " I con
quer provinces," said Napoleon, "but Josephine wins hearts." She fre-
Vol. I.— L

152 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. IX.
quently, in after years, reverted to this as the happiest period of her life.
To them both it must have been as a bewildering dream.
But a few months before, Josephine was in prison, awaiting her execution,
and her children were literally begging bread in the streets. Hardly a year
had elapsed since Napoleon, a penniless Corsican soldier, was studying in a
garret in Paris, hardly knowing where to obtain a single franc. Now the
name of Napoleon was emblazoned through Europe. He had become more
powerful than the government of his own country. He was overthrowing
and uprearing dynasties. The question of peace or war was suspended upon
his lips. The proudest potentates of Europe were ready, at any price, to
purchase his favor. Josephine reveled in the exuberance of her dreamlike
prosperity and exaltation. Her benevolent heart was gratified with the vast
power she now possessed of conferring happiness. She was beloved, adored.
She had long cherished the design of visiting this land, so illustrious in the
most lofty reminiscences.
Even Italy can hardly present a more delightful excursion than the ride
from Milan to the romantic, mountain-embowered lakes of Como and Mag-
giore. It was a bright and sunny Italian morning, when Napoleon, with his
blissful bride, drove along the luxuriant valleys and the vine-clad hillsides
to Lake Maggiore. They were accompanied by a numerous and glittering
retinue. Here they embarked upon this beautiful sheet of water, in a boat
with silken awnings and gay banners, and the rowers beat time to the most
voluptuous music. They landed upon Beautiful Island, which, like another
Eden, emerges from the bosom of the lake. This became the favorite re
treat of Napoleon. Its monastic palace, so sombre in its antique architecture,
was in peculiar accordance with that strange melancholy which, with but
now and then a ray of sunshine, ever overshadowed his spirit. On one of
these occasions, Josephine was standing upon a terrace with several ladies,
under a large orange-tree, profusely laden with its golden treasures. As
their attention was all absorbed in admiring the beautiful landscape, Napo
leon slipped up unperceived, and, by a sudden shake, brought down a shower
of the rich fruit upon their heads. Josephine's companions screamed with
fright and ran3 but she remained unmoved. Napoleon laughed heartily, and
said, " Why, Josephine, you stand fire like one of my veterans." " And why
should I not ?" she promptly replied ; "ami not the wife of their general?"
Every conceivable temptation was at this time presented to entice Napo
leon into habits of licentiousness. Purity was a virtue then and there almost
unknown. Some one, speaking of Napoleon's universal talents, compared
him with Solomon. " Poh !" exclaimed another, " what do you mean by
calling him wiser than Solomon ? The Jewish king had seven hundred wives
and three hundred concubines, while Napoleon is contented with one wife,
and she older than himself." The corruption of those days of infidelity was
such, that the ladies were jealous of Josephine's exclusive influence over her
illustrious spouse, and they exerted all their powers of fascination to lead him
astray. The loftiness of Napoleon's ambition, and those principles instilled
so early by a mother's lips as to be almost instincts, were his safeguard.
Josephine was exceedingly gratified, some of the ladies said, " insufferably
vain," that Napoleon clung so faithfully and confidingly to her. " Truly "

1797.] COURT OF MILAN. 163
he said, " I have something else to think of than love. No man wins tri
umphs in that way without forfeiting some palms of glory. I have traced
out my plan, and the finest eyes in the world — and there are some very fine
eyes here — shall not make me deviate a hair's-breadth from it."
A lady of rank, after wearying him one day with a string of the most fulsome
compliments, exclaimed, among other things, "What is life worth, if one can
not be General Bonaparte ?" Napoleon fixed his eyes coldly upon her, and
said, " Madame ! one may be a dutiful wife, and the good mother of a family."
The jealousy which the Directory entertained of Napoleon's vast accession
of power induced them to fill his court with spies, who watched all his move
ments and reported his words. Josephine, frank and candid, and a stranger
to all artifice, could not easily conceal her knowledge or her thoughts. Na
poleon consequently seldom intrusted to her any plans which he was unwill
ing to have made known. " A secret," he once observed, " is burdensome
to Josephine." He was careful that she should not be thus encumbered.
He would be indeed a shrewd man who could extort any secret from the
bosom of Napoleon. He could impress a marble-like immovableness upon
his features, which no scrutiny could penetrate. " I never," said Josephine
in subsequent years, "beheld Napoleon for a moment perfectly at ease — not
even with myself. He is constantly on the alert. If at any time he appears
to show a little confidence, it is merely a feint to throw the person with
whom he converses off his guard, and to draw forth his sentiments ; but
never does he himself disclose his real thoughts."
The French government remonstrated bitterly against the surrender of
Venice to Austria. Napoleon replied : " It costs nothing for a handful of
declaimers to rave about the establishment of republics every where. I wish
these gentlemen would make a winter campaign. You little know the peo
ple of Italy. You are laboring under a great delusion. You suppose that
liberty can do great things to a base, cowardly, and superstitious people.
You wish me to perform miracles. I have not the art of doing so. Since
coming into Italy, I have derived little, if any, support from the love of the
Italian people for liberty and equality."
The treaty of peace signed at Campo Formio Napoleon immediately sent
to Paris. Though he had disobeyed the positive commands of the Directory
in thus making peace, the Directors did not dare to refuse its ratification.
The victorious young general was greatly applauded by the people for re
fusing the glory of a new campaign, in which they doubted not that he would
have obtained fresh laurels, that he might secure peace for bleeding Europe.
On the 17th of November, Napoleon left Milan for the Congress at Rastadt,
to which he was appointed, with plenipotentiary powers. At the moment of
leaving, he addressed the following proclamation to the Cisalpine Republic :
"We have given you liberty. Take care to preserve it. To be worthy
of your destiny, make only discreet'and honorable laws, and cause them to be
executed with energy. Favor the diffusion of knowledge, and respect relig
ion. Compose your battalions, not of disreputable men, but of citizens im
bued with the principles of the republic, and closely linked with its prosper
ity. You have need to impress yourselves with the feeling of your strength,
and with the dignity which befits the free man. Divided and bowed down

164

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. IX.
by ages of tyranny, you could not alone have achieved your independence.
In a few years, if true to yourselves, no nation will be strong enough to wrest
liberty from you. Till then the great nation will protect you."
Napoleon, leaving Josephine at Milan, traveled rapidly through Piedmont,
intending to' proceed by the way of Switzerland to Rastadt. His journey
was an uninterrupted scene of triumph. Illuminations, processions, bon
fires, the ringing of bells, the explosions of artillery, the huzzas of the pop
ulace, and, above all, the most cordial and warm-hearted acclamations of la
dies, accompanied him all the way. The enthusiasm was indescribable.

THE TRIUMPHAL JOURNEY.

Napoleon had no fondness for such displays. He but- slightly regarded the
applause of the populace.
"It must be delightful," said Bourrienne, "to be greeted with such dem
onstrations of enthusiastic admiration."
" Bah !" Napoleon replied , " this same unthinking crowd, under a slight
change of circumstances, would follow me just as eagerly to the scaffold."
Traveling with great rapidity, he appeared and vanished like a meteor,
ever retaining the same calm, pensive, thoughtful aspect. A person who
saw him upon this occasion thus described his appearance : " I beheld with
deep interest and extreme attention that extraordinary man, who has per
formed such great deeds, and about whom there is something which seems
to indicate that his career is not yet terminated. I found him much like his
portraits, small in stature, thin, pale, with an air of fatigue, but not, as has
been reported, in ill health. He appeared to me to listen with more abstrac
tion than interest, as if occupied rather with what he was thinking of, than
with what was said to him. There is great intelligence in his countenance,
along with an expression of habitual meditation, which reveals nothino- of
what is passing within. In that thinking head, in that daring mind, it is im-

1797.] COURT OF MILAN. 165
possible not to suppose that some designs are engendering which will have
their influence on the destinies of Europe."
Napoleon did not remain long at Rastadt, for all the questions of great po
litical importance were already settled, and he had no liking for those dis
cussions of minor points which engrossed the attention of the petty German
princes who were assembled at that Congress. He accordingly prepared for
his departure* In taking leave of the army, he thus bade adieu to his troops.
" Soldiers ! I leave you to-morrow. In separating myself from the army, I
am consoled with the thought that I shall soon meet you again, and engage
with you in new enterprises. Soldiers ! when conversing among yourselves
of the kings you have vanquished, of the people upon whom you have con
ferred liberty, of the victories you have won in two campaigns, say, 'In the
next two we will accomplish still more.'' "
Napoleon's attention was already eagerly directed to the gorgeous East.
These vast kingdoms, enveloped in mystery, presented just the realm for his
exuberant imagination to range. It was the theatre, as he eloquently said,
" of mighty empires, where all the great revolutions of the earth have arisen,
where mind had its birth, and all religions their cradle, and where six hund
red millions of men still have their dwelling-place."
Napoleon left Rastadt, and traveling incognito through France, arrived in
Paris on the 7th of December, 1797, having been absent but about eighteen
months. His arrival had been awaited with the most intense impatience.
The enthusiasm of that most enthusiastic capital had been excited to the
highest pitch. The whole population were burning with the desire to see
the youthful hero whose achievements seemed to surpass the fictions of ro
mance. But Napoleon was nowhere visible. A strange mystery seemed to
envelop him. He studiously avoided observation ; very seldom made his ap
pearance at any place of public amusement ; dressed like the most, unobtru-
" sive private citizen, and glided unknown through the crowd, whose enthusi-
* The Congress of Rastadt was opened, for the purpose of concluding peace between France
and Germany, December 9, 1797. After a session of more than a year, it was dissolved by the
Emperor of Germany, April 7, 1799. The French embassadors had hardly left the city when they
were attacked by a troop of hussars, who seized them, dragged them out of their carriages, slew
Bonnier and Robertjot, notwithstanding the heroic efforts of the wife of the latter to save her hus
band, and struck down Jean Debry by sabre blows into a ditch, when he escaped destruction only
by feigning himself dead. The assassins seized and carried off the papers of the legation. This
atrocious violation of the laws of nations excited universal indignation throughout Europe. — See
article "Rastadt," Encyclopaedia Americana.
" Thus the war between the two systems that divided the world was implacable. The republican
ministers, ill received at first, then insulted during a year of peace, were at last murdered in a most
unworthy manner, and with a ferocity characteristic of savages alone. The law of nations, ob
served between the most inveterate enemies, was violated only in regard to them." — Thiers.
" About this time our plenipotentiaries were massacred at Rastadt, and notwithstanding the in
dignation expressed by all Frenchmen at that atrocious act, vengeance was still very tardy in over
taking the assassins. The two Councils were the first to render a melancholy tribute of honor to
the victims. Who that witnessed that ceremony can ever forget its solemnity 1 Who can recol
lect without eniotion the religious silence which reigned throughout the hall and tribunes when the
vote was put 1 The president turned toward the curule chair of the victim — on which lay the offi
cial costume of the assassinated representative, covered with black crape — bent over it, and pro
nouncing the names of Robertjot and Bonnier, added, in a voice the tone of which was always
thrilling, ' Assassinated at the Congress of Rastadt !' Immediately all the representatives respond
ed, 'May their blood be upon the heads of their murderers.' " — Duchess of Abr antes.

166

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. IX.

asm was roused to the highest pitch to get a sight of the hero. He took a
small house in the Rue Chantereine, which street immediately received the
name of Rue de la Victoire, in honor of Napoleon. He sought only the so
ciety of men of high intellectual and scientific attainments. In this course
he displayed a profound knowledge of human nature, and vastly enhanced
public curiosity by avoiding its gratification.
The Directory, very jealous of Napoleon's popularity, yet impelled to hon
or him by the voice of the people, now prepared a triumphal festival for the
delivery of the treaty of Campo Formio. The magnificent court of the Lux
embourg was arranged and decorated for this gorgeous show. At the fur
ther end of the court a large platform was raised, where the five Directors
were seated, dressed in the costume of the Roman Senate, at the foot of the
altar of their country. Embassadors, ministers, magistrates, and the mem
bers of the two councils, were assembled on seats ranged amphitheatrically
around. Vast galleries were crowded with all that was illustrious in rank,
beauty, and character in the metropolis. Magnificent trophies, composed of
the banners taken from the enemy, embellished the court, while the surround
ing walls were draped with festoons of tri-colored tapestry. Bands of music
filled the air with martial sounds, while the very walls of Paris were shaken
by the thunders of exploding artillery, and by the acclamations of the count
less thousands who thronged the court.

THE DELIVERY OF THE TREATY.

It was the 10th of December, 1797. A bright sun shone through cloud
less skies upon the resplendent scene. Napoleon had been in Paris but five
days. Few of the citizens had as yet been favored with a sight of the hero,
whom all were impatient to behold. At last a great flourish of trumpets an
nounced his approach. He ascended the platform dressed in the utmost sim
plicity of a civilian's costume, accompanied by Talleyrand and his aids-de-

1797.] COURT OF MILAN. 167
camp, all gorgeously dressed, and much taller men than himself, but evident
ly regarding him with the most profound homage. The contrast was most
striking. Every eye was riveted upon Napoleon. The thunder of the can
non was drowned in the still louder thunder of enthusiastic acclamations
which simultaneously arose from the whole assemblage. The fountains of
human emotion were never more deeply moved. The graceful delicacy of
his fragile figure, his remarkably youthful appearance, his pale and wasted
cheeks, the classic outline of his finely moulded features, the indescribable
air of pensiveness and self-forgetfulness which he ever carried with him, and
all associated with his most extraordinary achievements, aroused an intensity
of enthusiastic emotion which has perhaps never been surpassed. No one
who witnessed the scenes of that day ever forgot them. Talleyrand intro
duced the hero in a brief and eloquent speech.
" For a moment," said he, in conclusion, " I did feel on his account that
disquietude which, in an infant republic, arises from every thing which seems
to destroy the equality of the citizens. But I was wrong. Individual grand
eur, far from being dangerous to equality, is its highest triumph ; and on
this occasion every Frenchman must feel himself elevated by the hero of his
country. And when I reflect upon all which he has done to shroud from
envy that light of glory ; on that ancient love of simplicity, which distin
guishes him in his favorite studies ; his love for the abstract sciences ; his
admiration for that sublime Ossian, which seems to detach him from the
world ; on his well-known contempt for luxury, for pomp, for all that con
stitutes the pride of ignoble minds, I am convinced that, far from dreading
his ambition, we shall one day have occasion to rouse it anew to allure him
from the sweets of studious retirement."
Napoleon, apparently quite unmoved by this unbounded applause, and as
calm and unembarrassed as if speaking to an under-officer in his tent, thus
briefly replied : " Citizens ! The French people, in order to be free, had kings
to combat. To obtain a constitution founded on reason, it had the prejudices
of eighteen centuries to overcome. Priestcraft, feudalism, despotism, have
successively, for two thousand years, governed Europe. From the peace
you have just concluded dates the era of representative governments. You
have succeeded in organizing the great nation, whose vast territory is cir
cumscribed only because Nature herself has fixed its limits. You have done
more. The two finest countries in Europe, formerly so renowned for the
arts, the sciences, and the illustrious men whose cradle they were, see with
the greatest hopes genius and freedom issuing from the tomb of their ances
tors. I have the honor to deliver to you the treaty signed at Campo Formio,
and ratified by the Emperor. Peace secures the liberty, the prosperity, and
the glory of the republic. As soon as the happiness of France is secured by
the best organic laws, the whole of Europe will be free."
The moment Napoleon began to speak, the most profound silence reigned
throughout the assembly. The desire to hear his voice was so intense, that
hardly did the audience venture to move a limb or to breathe, while, in
tones calm and clear, he addressed them. The moment he ceased speaking,
a wild burst of enthusiasm filled the air. The most unimpassioned lost their
self-control. Shouts of " Live Napoleon, the conqueror of Italy, the pacifi-

168 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. IX.
cator of Europe, the savior of France !" resounded loud and long. Barras,
in the name of the Directory, replied :
"Nature," exclaimed the orator, in his enthusiasm, "has exhausted her
energies in the production of a Bonaparte ! Go," said he, turning to Napo
leon, " crown a life so illustrious by a conquest which the great nation owes
to its outraged dignity. Go, and, by the punishment of the cabinet of Lon
don, strike terror into the hearts of all who would miscalculate the powers
of a free people. Let the conquerors of the Po, the Rhine, and the Tiber
march under your banners. The ocean will be proud to bear them. It is
a slave, still indignant, who blushes for his fetters. Hardly will the tri-col
ored standard wave on the bloodstained shores of the Thames ere a unan
imous cry will bless your arrival, and that generous nation will receive you
as its liberator."
Chenier's famous Hymn to Liberty was then sung in full chorus, accom
panied by a magnificent orchestra. In the ungovernable enthusiasm of the
moment, the five Directors arose and encircled Napoleon in their arms. The
blast of trumpets, the peal of martial bands, the thunder of cannon, and the
acclamations of the countless multitude, rent the air. Says Thiers, "All
heads were overcome with the intoxication. Thus it was that France threw
herself into the hands of an extraordinary man. Let us not censure the
weakness of our fathers. That glory reaches us only through the clouds of
time and adversity, and yet it transports us ! Let us say with ^Eschylus,
' How would it have been had we seen the monster himself ?' "
Napoleon's powers of conversation were inimitable. There was a pecuf
iarity in every phrase he uttered which bore the impress of originality and
genius. He fascinated every one who approached him. He never spoke
of his own achievements, but, in most lucid and dramatic recitals, often por
trayed the bravery of the army and the heroic exploits of his generals.
He was now elected a member of the celebrated Institute, a society com
posed of the most illustrious literary and scientific men in France. He
eagerly accepted the invitation, and returned the following answer :
" The suffrages of the distinguished men who compose the Institute honor
me. I feel sensible that before I can become their equal I must long be their
pupil. The only true conquests — those which awaken no regret — are those
obtained over ignorance. The most honorable, as the most useful pursuit
of nations, is that which contributes to the extension of human intellect.
The real greatness of the French Republic ought henceforth to consist in the
acquisition of the whole sum of human knowledge, and in not allowing a
single new idea to exist which does not owe its birth to their exertions."
He laid aside entirely the dress of a soldier, and, constantly attending the
meetings of the Institute as a philosopher and a scholar, became one of its
brightest ornaments. His comprehensive mind enabled him at once to grasp
any subject to which he turned his attention. In one hour he would make
himself master of the accumulated learning to which others had devoted the
labor of years. He immediately, as a literary man, assumed almost as mark
ed a pre-eminence among those distinguished scholars, as he had already
acquired as a general on fields of blood. Apparently forgetting the renown
he had already attained, with boundless ambition he pressed on to still great

1797.] COURT OF MILAN. 169
er achievements, deeming nothing accomplished while any thing remained
to be done.
Subsequently he referred to his course at this time, and remarked, " Man
kind are in the end always governed by superiority of intellectual qualities,
and none are more sensible of this than the military profession. When, on
my return from Italy, I assumed the dress of the Institute, and associated
with men of science, I knew what I was doing ; I was sure of not being
misunderstood by the lowest drummer in the army."
A strong effort was made at this time by the Royalists for the restoration
of the Bourbons. Napoleon, while he despised the inefficient government
of the Directory, was by no means willing that the despotic Bourbons should
crush the spirit of liberty in France. He was not adverse to a monarchy ;
but he wished for a monarch who would consult the interests of the people,
and not merely pamper the luxury and pride of the nobles. He formed the
plan and guided the energies which discomfited the Royalists, and sustained
the Directors. Thus twice had the strong arm of this young man protected
the government. The Directors, in their multiplied perplexities, often urged
his presence in their councils, to advise with them on difficult questions.
Quiet and reserved, he would take his seat at their table, and by that supe
riority of tact which ever distinguished him, and by that intellectual pre
eminence which could not be questioned, he assumed a moral position far
above them all, and guided those gray-haired diplomatists as a father guides
his children. Whenever he entered their presence, he instinctively assumed
the supremacy, and it was instinctively recognized.
The altars of religion, overthrown by revolutionary violence, still remained
prostrate. The churches were closed, the Sabbath abolished, the sacraments
were unknown, the priests were in exile. A whole generation had grown up
in France without any knowledge of Christianity. Corruption was universal.
A new sect sprang up, called Theophilanthropists, who gleaned, as the basis
of their system, some of the moral precepts of the Gospel, divested of the
sublime sanctions of Christianity. They soon, however, found that it is not
by flowers of rhetoric, and smooth-flowing verses, and poetic rhapsodies upon
the beauty of love and charity, of rivulets and skies, that the stern heart of
man can be controlled. Leviathan is not so tamed. Man, exposed to tempta
tions which rive his soul, trembling upon the brink of fearful calamities, and
glowing with irrepressible desires, can only be allured and overawed when
the voice of love and mercy blends with Sinai's thunders. " There was fre
quently," says the Duchess of Abrantes, " so much truth in the moral virtues
which this new sect inculcated, that if the evangelists had not said the same
things much better eighteen hundred years before them, one might have
been tempted to embrace their opinions."
Napoleon took a correct view of these enthusiasts. "They can accom
plish nothing," said he ; " they are merely actors." " How !" it was replied,
" do you thus stigmatize those whose tenets inculcate universal benevolence
and the moral virtues ?" " All systems of morality," Napoleon rejoined, " are
fine. The Gospel alone has exhibited a complete assemblage of the prin
ciples of morality, divested of all absurdity. It is not composed, like your
creed, of a few commonplace sentences put into bad verse. Do you wish to

170 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. IX.
see that which is really sublime ? Repeat the Lord's Prayer. Such enthu
siasts are only to be encountered by the weapons of ridicule. All their
efforts will prove ineffectual."
Republican France was now at peace with all the world, England alone
excepted. The English government still waged unrelenting war against the
republic, and strained every nerve to rouse the monarchies of Europe again
to combine to force a detested dynasty upon the French people. The Brit
ish navy, in its invincibility, had almost annihilated the commerce of France.
In their ocean-guarded isle, safe from the ravages of war themselves, their
fleet could extend those ravages to all shores. The Directory raised an army
for the invasion of England, and gave to Napoleon the command. Drawing
the sword, not of aggression, but of defense, he immediately proceeded to a
survey of the French coast opposite to England, and to form his judgment
respecting the feasibility of the majestic enterprise. Taking three of his
generals in his carriage, he passed eight days in this tour of observation.
With great energy and tact, he immediately made himself familiar with
every thing which could aid him in coming to a decision. He surveyed the
coast, examined the ships and the fortifications, selected the best points for
embarkation, and examined until midnight sailors, pilots, smugglers, and fish
ermen. He made objections, and carefully weighed their answers.
Upon his return to Paris, his friend Bourrienne said to him, " Well, general,
what do you think of the enterprise ? Is it feasible?" "No !" he promptly
replied, shaking his head; " it is too hazardous. I will not undertake it. I
will not risk on such a stake the fate of our beautiful France." At the
same time that he was making this survey of the coast, with his accustomed
energy of mind, he was also studying another plan for resisting the assaults
of the British government. The idea of attacking England, by the way of
Egypt, in her East Indian acquisitions, had taken full possession of his im
agination. He filled his carriage with all the books he could find in the
libraries of Paris relating to Egypt. With almost miraculous rapidity, he
explored the pages, treasuring up, in his capacious and retentive memory,
every idea of importance. Interlineations and comments on the margin of
these books, in his own handwriting, testify to the indefatigable energy of
his mind.
Napoleon was now almost adored by the Republicans all over Europe as
the great champion of popular rights. The people looked to him as their
friend and advocate. In England, in particular, there was a large, influen
tial, and increasing party, dissatisfied with the prerogatives of the crown, and
with the exclusive privileges of the nobihty, who were never weary of pro
claiming the praises of this champion of liberty and equality. The brilliance
of his intellect, the purity of his morals, the stoical firmness of his self-en
durance, his untiring energy, the glowing eloquence of every sentence which
fell from his lips, his youth and feminine stature, and his wondrous achieve
ments, all combined to invest him with a fascination such as no mortal man
ever exerted before. The command of the army for the invasion of England
was now assigned to Napoleon. He became the prominent and dreaded foe
of that great empire ; and yet the common people, who were to fight the bat
tles, almost to a man loved him. The throne trembled. The nobles were

1797.] COURT OF MILAN. 171
in consternation. "If we deal fairly and justly with France," Lord Chat
ham is reported frankly to have avowed, " the English government will not
exist for four-and-twenty hours."*
It was necessary to change public sentiment, and to rouse feelings of per
sonal animosity against this powerful antagonist. To render Napoleon
unpopular, all the wealth and energies of the government were called into
requisition, opening upon him the batteries of ceaseless invective. The En
glish press teemed with the most atrocious and absurd abuse. It is truly
amusing, in glancing over the pamphlets of that day, to contemplate the
enormity of the vices attributed to him, and their contradictory nature. He
was represented as a demon in human form. He was a robber and a miser,
plundering the treasuries of nations that he might hoard his countless mill
ions, and he was also a profligate and a spendthrift, squandering upon his
lusts the wealth of empires. He was wallowing in licentiousness, his camp
a harem of pollution, ridding himself by poison of his concubines as his va
grant desires wandered from them ; at the same time he was physically, an
imbecile — a monster, whom God in his displeasure had deprived of the pas
sions and the powers of healthy manhood. He was an idol whom the en
tranced people bowed down before and worshiped with more than Oriental
servility. He was also a sanguinary, heartless, merciless butcher, exulting
in carnage, grinding the bones of his own wounded soldiers into the dust be
neath his chariot-wheels, and finding congenial music for his depraved and
malignant spirit in the shrieks of the mangled and the groans of the dying.
To Catholic Ireland he was represented as seizing the venerable Pope by his
gray hairs, and thus dragging him over the marble floor of his palace. To
Protestant England, on the contrary, he was exhibited as in league with the
Pope, whom he treated with the utmost adulation, endeavoring to strength
en the despotism of the sword with the energies of superstition.
The philosophical composure with which Napoleon regarded this incessant
flow of invective was strikingly grand. " Of all the libels and pamphlets,"
said Napoleon subsequently, " with which the English ministers have inun
dated Europe, there is not one which will reach posterity. When I have
been asked to cause answers to be written to them, I have uniformly replied,
' My victories and my works of public improvement are the only response
which it becomes me to make.' When there shall not be a trace of these
libels to be found, the great monuments of utility which I have reared, and
the code of laws that I have formed, will descend to the most remote ages,
and future historians will avenge the wrongs done me by my contemporaries.
There was a time," said he, again, " when all crimes seemed to belong to
me of right. Thus I poisoned Hoche ;t I strangled Pichegru^ in his cell ; I
* John Pitt, earl of Chatham, son of the illustrious statesman, and elder brother of William
Pitt. t Lazare Hoche, ~ very distinguished young general, who died very suddenly in the army.
" Hoche," said Bonaparte, " was one of the first generals that ever France produced He was
brave, intelligent, abounding in talent, decisive, and penetrating "
t Charles Pichegru, a celebrated French general, who entered into a conspiracy to overthrow the
consular government and restore the Bourbons. He was arrested and conducted to the Temple,
where he was one morning found dead in his bed. The physicians who met on the occasion as
serted that he had strangled himself with his cravat. " Pichegru," said Napoleon, " instructed me

172 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. IX.
caused Kleber* to be assassinated in Egypt ; I blew out Desaix'st brains at
Marengo ; I cut the throats of persons who were confined in prison ; I dragged
the Pope by the hair of his head, and a hundred similar absurdities. As
yet," he again said, " I have not seen one of those libels which is worthy of
an answer. Would you have me sit down and reply to Goldsmith, Pichon,
or the Quarterly Review ? They are so contemptible and so absurdly false,
that they do not merit any other notice than to write false, false, on every
page. The only truth I have seen in them is, that I one day met an officer,
General Rapp, I believe, on the field of battle, with his face begrimed with
smoke and covered with blood, and that I exclaimed, ' Oh, comme il est beau !
Oh, how beautiful the sight!' This is true enough, and of it they have made
a crime. My commendation of the gallantry of a brave soldier is construed
into a proof of my delighting in blood."
The revolutionary government were in the habit of celebrating the 21st of
January with great public rejoicing, as the anniversary of the execution of
the king. They urged Napoleon to honor the festival by his presence, and
to take a conspicuous part in the festivities. He peremptorily declined.
" This fete," said he, " commemorates a melancholy event — a tragedy, and
can be agreeable to but few people. It is proper to celebrate victories, but
victims left upon the field of battle are to be lamented. To celebrate the
anniversary of a man's death is an act unworthy of a government ; it irritates
instead of calming ; it shakes the foundations of government instead of add
ing to their strength."
The ministry urged that it was the custom with all nations to celebrate
the downfall of tyrants ; and that Napoleon's influence over the public mind
was so powerful, that his absence would be regarded as indicative of hostil
ity to the government, and would be highly prejudicial to the interests of the
republic. At last Napoleon consented to attend as a private member of the
Institute, taking no active part in the ceremonies, but merely walkino- with
the members of the class to which he belonged. As soon as the procession
entered the Church of St. Sulpice, all eyes were searching for Napoleon. He
was soon descried, and every one else was immediately eclipsed. At the
close of the ceremony, the air was rent with the shouts, " Long live Napo
leon !" The Directory were made exceedingly uneasy by ominous exclama
tions in the streets, "We will drive away these lawyers, and make the little
corporal king." These cries wonderfully accelerated the zeal of the Direct
ors in sending Napoleon to Egypt ; and most devoutly did they hope that
from that distant land he would never return.
in mathematics at Brienne when I was about ten years old. As a general, he was a man of no or
dinary talent. After he had united himself with the Bourbons, he sacrificed the lives of upward of
twenty thousand of his soldiers by throwing them purposely into the enemy's hands, whom he had
informed beforehand of his intention."
* General Kleber fell beneath the poniard of an assassin in Egypt, when Napoleon was in Paris.
t Genera Desaix fell pierced by a bullet, on the field of Marengo. Napoleon deeply deplored
his loss as that of one of his most faithful and devoted friends.

1798.]

THE EXPEDITION TO EGYPT.

173

CHAPTER X.

THE EXPEDITION TO EGYPT.
Dreams of Napoleon's Boyhood — Decision respecting England — Egypt — Napoleon's Plea — His
grand Preparations — Proclamation to his Soldiers — Advice to the Commissioners at Toulon —
Embarkation — Napoleon's Power of Fascination — Surrender of Malta — Preparations for meeting
Nelson's Squadron — Disembarkation at Alexandria — Proclamation to the Soldiers.
Napoleon's Expedition to Egypt was one of the most magnificent enter
prises which human ambition ever conceived. When Napoleon was a school
boy at Brienne, his vivid imagination became enamored of the heroes of an
tiquity, and ever dwelt in the society of the illustrious men of Greece and
Rome. Indulging in solitary walks and pensive musings, at that early age
he formed vague and shadowy, but magnificent conceptions of founding an
empire in the East, which should outvie in grandeur all that had yet been
told in ancient or in modern story. His eye wandered along the shores of
the Persian Gulf and the Caspian Sea, as traced upon the map, and followed
the path of the majestic floods of the Euphrates, the Indus, and the Ganges,
rolling through tribes and nations whose myriad population, dwelling in bar
baric pomp and Pagan darkness, invited a conqueror. " The Persians," ex
claimed this strange boy, "have blocked up the route of Tamerlane, but I
will open another." He, in those early dreams, imagined himself a conquer
or, with Alexander's strength, but without Alexander's vice or weakness,
spreading the energies of civilization, and of a just and equitable government,
over the wild and boundless regions which were lost to European eyes in the
obscurity of distance.
When struggling against the armies of Austria upon the plains of Italy,
visions of Egypt and the East blended with the smoke and the din of the
conflict. In the retreat of the Austrians before his impetuous charges, in the

I74 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. X.
shout of victory which incessantly filled his ear, swelling ever above the
shrieks of the wounded and the groans of the dying, Napoleon saw but in
creasing indications that destiny was pointing out his path toward an Orient
al throne.
When the Austrians were driven out of Italy, and the campaign was end
ed, and Napoleon, at Montebello, was receiving the homage of Europe, his
ever-impetuous mind turned with new interest to the object of his early am
bition. He often passed hours, during the mild Italian evenings, walking
with a few confidential friends in the magnificent park of his palace, con
versing with intense enthusiasm upon the illustrious empires which have suc
cessively overshadowed those countries and faded away. " Europe," said he,
"presents no field for glorious exploits ; no great empires or revolutions are
to be found but in the East, where there are six hundred millions of men."
Upon his return to Paris, he was deaf to all the acclamations with which
he was surrounded. His boundless ambition was such that his past achieve
ments seemed as nothing. The most brilliant visions of Eastern glory were
dazzling his mind. " They do not long preserve at Paris," said he, " the re
membrance of any thing. If I remain long unemployed, I am undone. The
renown of one, in this great Babylon, speedily supplants that of another. If
I am seen three times at the opera, I shall no longer be an object of curios
ity. I am determined not to remain in Paris. There is nothing here to be
accomplished. Every thing here passes away. My glory is declining. This
little corner of Europe is too small to supply it. We must go to the East.
All the great men of the world have there acquired their celebrity."
When requested to take command of the army of England, and to explore
the coast to judge of the feasibility of an attack upon the English in their
own island, he said to Bourrienne, "I am perfectly willing to make a tour to
the coast. Should the expedition to Britain prove too hazardous, as I much
fear that it will, the army of England will become the army of the East, and
we will go to Egypt."
He carefully studied the obstacles to be encountered in the invasion of
England, and the means at his command to surmount them. In his view,
the enterprise was too hazardous to be undertaken, and he urged upon the
Directory the Expedition to Egypt. " Once established in Egypt," said he,
" the Mediterranean becomes a French Lake; we shall found a colony there,
unenervated by the curse of slavery, and which will supply the place of St.
Domingo ; we shall open a market for French manufactures through the vast
regions of Africa, Arabia, and Syria. All the caravans of the East will meet
at Cairo, and the commerce of India must forsake the Cape of Good Hope,
and flow through the Red Sea. Marching with an army of sixty thousand
men, we can cross the Indus, rouse the oppressed and discontented native
population against the English usurpers, and drive the English out of India.
We will establish governments which will respect the rights and promote
the interests of the people. The multitude will hail us as their deliverers
from oppression. The Christians of Syria, the Druses, and the Armenians,
will join our standards. We may change the face of the world." Such was
the magnificent project which inflamed this ambitious mind.
England, without a shadow of right, had invaded India. Her well-armed

1798.] THE EXPEDITION TO EGYPT. ]75
dragoons had ridden, with bloody hoofs, over the timid and naked natives.
Cannon, howitzers, and bayonets had been the all-availing arguments with
which England had silenced all opposition. English soldiers, with unsheath
ed swords ever dripping with blood, held in subjection provinces containing
uncounted millions of inhabitants. A circuitous route of fifteen thousand
miles, around the stormy Cape of Good Hope, conducted the merchant fleets
of London and Liverpool to Calcutta and Bombay ; and through the same
long channel there flooded back upon the maritime isle the wealth of the
Indies. It was the plea of Napoleon that he was not going to make an unjust war
upon the unoffending nations of the East, but that he was the ally of the op
pressed people, drawing the sword against their common enemy, and that he
was striving to emancipate them from their powerful usurpers, and to confer
upon them the most precious privileges of freedom. He marched to Egypt,
not to desolate, but to ennoble ; not to enslave, but to enfranchise ; not to en
rich himself with the treasures of the East, but to transfer to those shores the
opulence and the high civilization of the West. Never was an ambitious
conqueror furnished with a more plausible plea. England, as she looks at
India and China, must be silent. America, as she listens to the dying wail
of the Red Man, driven from the forests of his childhood and the graves of
his fathers, can throw no stone. Napoleon surely was not exempt from the
infirmities of humanity. But it is not becoming in an English or an Ameri
can historian to breathe the prayer, "We thank Thee, oh God, that we are
not like this Bonaparte !"
Egypt, the memorials of whose former grandeur still attract the wonder
and the admiration of the civilized world, after having been buried, during
centuries, in darkness and oblivion, is again slowly emerging into light, and
is doubtless destined eventually to become one of the greatest centres of in
dustry and of knowledge. The Mediterranean washes its northern shores,
opening to its commerce all the opulent cities of Europe. The Red Sea
wafts to its fertile valley the wealth of India and of China. The Nile, roll
ing its vast floods from the unknown interior of Africa, opens a highway for
inexhaustible internal commerce with unknown nations and tribes.
The country consists entirely of the lower valley of the Nile, with a front
of about one hundred and twenty miles on the Mediterranean. The valley,
six hundred miles in length, rapidly diminishes in breadth as it is crowded by
the sand of the desert, presenting, a few miles from the mouth of the river,
but the average width of about six miles. The soil, fertilized by the annual
inundations of the Nile, possesses most extraordinary fertility. These floods
are caused by the heavy rains which fall in the mountains of Abyssinia. It
never rains in Egypt. Centuries may pass while a shower never falls from
the sky. Under the Ptolemies, the population of the country was estimated
at twenty millions. But by the terrific energies of despotism, these numbers
had dwindled away, and at the time of the French Expedition, Egypt con
tained but two million five hundred thousand inhabitants.
These were divided into four classes. First came the Copts, about two
hundred thousand, the descendants of the ancient Egyptians. They were in
a state of the most abject degradation and slavery. The great body of the

!76 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. X.
population, two millions in number, were Arabs. They were a wild and
semi-barbarous race, restrained from all enterprise and industry by unrelent
ing despotism. The Turks or Janizaries, two hundred thousand strong, com
posed a standing army of sensual, merciless, unprincipled usurpers, which
kept the trembling population, by the energies of the bastinado, the cimeter,
and the bowstring, in most servile subjection. The Mamelukes composed a
body of twelve thousand horsemen — proud, powerful, and intolerable op
pressors. Each horseman had two servants to perform his menial service.
Twenty-four beys, each of whom had five or six hundred Mamelukes under
his command, governed this singular body of cavalry. Two principal beys,
Ibrahim and Mourad, divided between them the sovereignty of Egypt.
It was the old story of despotism. The millions were ground down into
hopeless degradation and poverty to pamper to the luxury and vice of a few
haughty masters. Oriental voluptuousness and luxury reigned in the palaces
of the beys ; beggary and wretchedness deformed the mud hovels of the de
frauded and degraded people. It was Napoleon's aim to present himself to
the people of Egypt as their friend and liberator ; to rally them around his
standard; to subdue the Mamelukes ; to establish a government which should
revive all the sciences and the arts of civilized life in Egypt ; to acquire a
character, by these benefactions, which should emblazon his name through
out the East ; and then, with oppressed nations welcoming him as a deliv
erer, to strike blows upon the British power in India, which should compel
the mistress of the seas to acknowledge that upon the land there was an arm
which could reach and humble her. It was a design sublime in its magnifi
cence, but it was not the will of God that it should be accomplished.
The Directory, at last overcome by the arguments of Napoleon, and also,
through jealousy of his unbounded popularity, being willing to remove him
from France, assented to the proposed expedition. It was, however, neces
sary to preserve the utmost secrecy. Should England be informed of the di
rection in which the blow was about to fall upon her, she might, with her in
vincible fleet, intercept the French squadron ; she might rouse the Mame
lukes to most formidable preparations for resistance, and might thus vastly
increase the difficulties of the enterprise. All the deliberations were conse
quently conducted with closed doors, and the whole plan was enveloped in
the most profound mystery.
For the first time in the history of the world, literature, and science, and
art formed a conspicuous part of the organization of an army. It was agreed
that Napoleon should take forty-six thousand men, a certain number of offi
cers of his own selection, men of science, engineers, geographers, and arti
sans of all kinds. Napoleon now devoted himself with the most extraordi
nary energy to the execution of his plans. Order succeeded order with
ceaseless rapidity. He seemed to rest not day nor night. He superintend
ed every thing himself, and with the utmost rapidity passed from place to
place, corresponding with literary men, conversing with generals, raising
money, collecting ships, and accumulating supplies. His comprehensive and
indefatigable mind arranged even the minutest particulars.
" I worked all day," said one, in apology for his assigned duty not having
been fully performed. " But had you not the night also ?" Napoleon replied.

1798.] THE EXPEDITION TO EGYPT. 177
" Now, sir," said he to another, "use dispatch. Remember that the world
was created in but six days. Ask me for whatever you please, except time;
that is the only thing which is beyond my power."
His own energy was thus infused into the hearts of hundreds, and with in
credible rapidity the work of preparation went on. He selected four points
for the assemblage of convoys and troops : Toulon, Genoa, Ajaccio, and Civita
Vecchia. He chartered four hundred vessels of merchantmen in France and
Italy as transports for the secret service, and assembled them at the points
of departure. He dispatched immediate orders for the divisions of his re
nowned army of Italy to march to Genoa and Toulon. He collected the
best artisans Europe could furnish in all the arts of human industry. He
took printing-types of the various languages of the East from the College of
the Propaganda at Rome, and a company of printers. He formed a large
collection of the most perfect philosophical and mathematical instruments.
The most illustrious men, though knowing not where he was about to lead
them, were eager to attach themselves to the fortunes of the young general.
Preparations for an enterprise upon such a gigantic scale could not be made
without attracting the attention of Europe.
Rumor was busy with her countless contradictions. " Where is Napoleon
bound?" was the universal inquiry. "He is going," said some, "to the
Black Sea" — " to India" — " to cut a canal through the Isthmus of Suez" —
"to Ireland" — "to the Thames." Even Kleber supposed that they were
bound for England, and, reposing implicit confidence in the invincibility of
Napoleon, he said, " Well ! if you throw a fire-ship into the Thames, put
Kleber on board of her, and you shall see what he will do." The English
cabinet was extremely perplexed. They clearly foresaw that a storm was
gathering, but knew not in what direction it would break. Extraordinary
efforts were made to equip a powerful fleet, which was placed under the
command of Lord Nelson, to cruise in the Mediterranean, and watch the
movements of the French.
On the 9th of May, 1798, just five months after Napoleon's return to Paris
from the Italian campaign, he entered Toulon, having completed all his prep
arations for the most magnificent enterprise ever contemplated by a mortal.
Josephine accompanied him, as he wished to enjoy as long as possible the
charms of her society. Passionately as he loved his own glory, his love for
Josephine was almost equally enthusiastic. A more splendid armament never
floated upon the bosom of the ocean than here awaited him, its supreme lord
and master. The fleet consisted of thirty ships of the line and frigates, sev
enty-two brigs and cutters, and four hundred transports. It bore forty-six
thousand combatants, and a literary corps of one hundred men, furnished with
all the appliances of art, to transport to Asia the science and the arts of Eu
rope, and to bring back, in return, the knowledge gleaned among the monu
ments of antiquity. The old army of Italy was drawn up in proud array to
receive its youthful general, and they greeted him with enthusiastic acclama
tions. But few even of the officers of the army were aware of its destina
tion. Napoleon inspirited his troops with the following proclamation :
" Soldiers ! You are one of the wings of the army of England. You have
made war in mountains, plains, and cities. It remains to make it on the
Vol. I.— M

178

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. X

ocean. The Roman legions, whom you have often imitated, but not yet
equaled, combated Carthage, by turns, on the seas and on the plains of Zama.
Victory never deserted their standards, because they never ceased to be brave,
patient, and united. Soldiers ! The eyes of Europe are upon you. You have
great destinies to accomplish, battles to fight, dangers and fatigues to over
come. You are about to do more than you have yet done for the prosperity
of your country, the happiness of man, and for your own glory." Thus the
magnitude of the enterprise was announced, while at the same time it was
left vailed in mystery.

THE EMBARKATION.

Napoleon had, on many occasions, expressed his dislike of the arbitrary
course pursued by the Directory. In private, he expressed, in the strongest
terms, his horror of Jacobin cruelty and despotism. " The Directors," said
he, " can not long retain their position. They know not how to do any thing

1798.] THE EXPEDITION TO EGYPT. 179
for the imagination of the nation." It is said that the Directors, at last, were
so much annoyed by his censure, that they seriously contemplated his arrest,
and applied to Fouche" for that purpose. The wily minister of police replied,
" Napoleon Bonaparte is not the man to be arrested, neither is Fouche the
man who will undertake to arrest him."
When Bourrienne inquired if he were really determined to risk his fate on
the Expedition to Egypt, "Yes !" he replied, "if I remain here, it will be
necessary for me to overturn this miserable government, and make myself
king. But we must not think of that yet. The pear is not yet ripe. I have
sounded, but the time has not yet come. I must first dazzle these gentle
men by my exploits." One of his last acts before embarkation was to issue
a humane proclamation to the military commission at Toulon, urging a more
merciful construction of one of the tyrannical edicts of the Directory against
the emigrants. " I exhort you, citizens," said he, " when the law presents
at your tribunal old men and females, to declare that, in the midst of war,
Frenchmen respect the aged and the women, even of their enemies. The
soldier who signs a sentence against one incapable of bearing arms is a cow
ard." There was, perhaps, not another man in France who would have
dared thus to oppose the sanguinary measures of government. This benev
olent interposition met, however, with a response in the hearts of the people,
and added a fresh laurel to his brow.
On the morning of the 19th of May, 1798, just as the sun was rising over
the blue waves of the Mediterranean, the fleet got under way. Napoleon,
with Eugene, embarked in the Orient, an enormous ship of one hundred and
twenty guns. It was a brilliant morning, and the unclouded sun perhaps
never shone upon a more splendid scene. The magnificent armament ex
tended over a semicircle of not less than eighteen miles. The parting be
tween Napoleon and Josephine is represented as having been tender and af
fecting in the extreme. She was very anxious to accompany him, but he
deemed the perils to which they would, be exposed, and the hardships they
must necessarily endure, far too formidable for a lady to encounter. Jose
phine stood upon a balcony, with her eyes blinded with tears, as she waved

THE DISTANT ALPS.

180 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. X,
her adieux to Napoleon, and watched the receding fleet till the lessening
sails disappeared beneath the distant horizon. The squadron sailed first to
Genoa, thence to Ajaccio, and thence to Civita Vecchia, to join the convoys
collected in those ports. The signal was then given for the whole fleet to
bear away, as rapidly as possible, for Malta.
In coasting along the shores of Italy, Napoleon, from the deck of the Ori
ent, descried, far away in the distant horizon, the snow-capped summits of
the Alps. He called for a telescope, and gazed long and earnestly upon the
scene of his early achievements. " I can not," said he, "behold without emo
tion the land of Italy. These mountains command the plains where I have
so often led the French to victory. Now I am bound to the East. With
the same troops victory is still secure."
All were fascinated by the striking originality, animation, and eloquence
of his conversation. Deeply read in all that is illustrious in the past, every
island, every bay, every promontory, every headland, recalled the heroic
deeds of antiquity. In pleasant weather, Napoleon passed nearly all the
time upon deck, surrounded by a group never weary of listening to the fresh
ness and the poetic vigor of his remarks. Upon all subjects he was alike at
home, and the most distinguished philosophers, in their several branches of
science, were amazed at the instinctive comprehensiveness with which every
subject seemed to be familiar to his mind. He was never depressed and
never mirthful. A calm and thoughtful energy inspired every moment.
From all the ships, the officers and distinguished men were in turn invited
to dine with him. He displayed wonderful tact in drawing them out in con
versation, forming with unerring skill an estimate of character, and thus pre
paring himself for the selection of suitable agents in all the emergencies
which were to be encountered.
In nothing was the genius of Napoleon more conspicuous than in the light
ning-like rapidity with which he detected any vein of genius in another. Not
a moment of time was lost. Intellectual conversation, or reading, or philo
sophical discussion, caused the hours to fly on swiftest wing. Napoleon al
ways, even in his most hurried campaigns, took a compact library with him.
When driving in his carriage from post to post of the army, he improved the
moments in garnering up that knowledge for the accumulation of which he
ever manifested such an insatiable desire. Words were with him nothing,
ideas every thing. He devoured biography, history, philosophy, treatises
upon political economy and upon all the sciences. His contempt for works
of fiction — the Avhole class of novels and romances — amounted almost to in
dignation. He could never endure to see one reading such a book, or to
have such a volume in his presence. Once, when Emperor, in passing
through the saloons of his palace, he found one of the maids of honor with
a novel in her hands. He took it from her, gave her a severe lecture for
wasting her time in such frivolous reading, and cast the volume into the
flames. When he had a few moments for diversion, he not unfrequently
employed them in looking over a book of logarithms, in which he always
found recreation.
At the dinner-table some important subject of discussion was ever pro
posed. For the small talk and indelicacies which wine engenders Napoleon

1798.] THE EXPEDITION TO EGYPT. 181
had no taste, and his presence alone was sufficient to hold all such themes
in abeyance. He was a young man of but twenty-eight years of age, but
his pre-eminence over all the forty-six thousand who composed that majestic
armament was so conspicuous, that no one dreamed of questioning it. With
out arrogance, without haughtiness, he was fully conscious of his own su
periority, and received unembarrassed the marks of homage which ever sur
rounded him. The questions for discussion, relating to history, mythology,
and science, were always proposed by Napoleon. "Are the planets inhab
ited ?" "What is the age of the world ?" "Will the earth be destroyed by
fire or water ?" "What are the comparative merits of Christianity and. Mos-
lemism ?" Such were some of the questions which interested the mind of
this young general.
From the crowded state of the vessels, and the numbers on board unac
customed to nautical maneuvers, it not unfrequently happened that some one
fell overboard. Napoleon could look with perfect composure upon the car
nage of the field of battle, and order movements, without the tremor of a
nerve, which he knew must consign thousands to a bloody death. But when,
by such an accidental event, life was periled, his sympathies were aroused to
the highest degree, and he could not rest until the person was extricated.
He always liberally rewarded those who displayed unusual courage and zeal
in effecting a rescue. One dark night a noise was heard as of a man falling
overboard. The whole ship's company, consisting of two thousand men, as
the cry of alarm spread from stem to stern, was instantly in commotion.
Napoleon immediately ascended to the deck. The ship was put about ;
boats were lowered, and, after much agitation and search, it w*as discovered
that the whole stir was occasioned by the slipping of a quarter of beef from
a noose at the bulwark. Napoleon ordered that the recompense for signal
exertions should be more liberal than usual. '-" It might have been a man,"
he said, " and the zeal and courage now displayed have not been less than
would have been required in that event."
On the morning of the 16th of June, after a voyage of twenty-seven days,
the white cliffs of Malta, and the magnificent fortifications of that celebrated
island, nearly a thousand miles from Toulon, emerged from the horizon, glit
tering with dazzling brilliance in the rays of the rising sun. By a secret un
derstanding with the Knights of Malta, Napoleon had prepared the way for
the capitulation of the island before leaving France. The Knights, conscious
of their inability to maintain independence, preferred to be the subjects of
France rather than of any other power. " I captured Malta," said Napoleon,
" while at Mantua." The reduction by force of that almost impregnable
fortress would have required a long siege, and a vast expenditure of treasure
and of life. A few cannon-shot were exchanged, that there might be a show
of resistance, when the island was surrendered, and the tri-colored flag waved
proudly over those bastions which, in former years, had bid defiance to the
whole power of the all-conquering Turk.
The generals of the French army were amazed as they contemplated the
grandeur and the strength of these works, upon which had been expended
the science, the toil, and the wealth of ages. " It is well," said General Caf-
farelli to Napoleon, " that there was some one within to open the gates to

182

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. X.

us. We should have had more trouble in making our way through if the
place had been empty." The Knights of Malta, living upon the renown ac
quired by their order in by-gone ages, and reveling in luxury and magnifi

cence, were very willing to receive the gold of Napoleon, and palaces in the
fertile plains of Italy and France, in exchange for turrets and towers, bas
tions and ramparts of solid rock. The harbor is one of the most safe and
commodious in the world. It embraced, without the slightest embarrass
ment, the whole majestic armament, and allowed the magnificent Orient to
float, with abundance of water, at the quay.

1798.] THE EXPEDITION TO EGYPT. 183
Napoleon immediately devoted his mind, with its accustomed activity, to
securing and organizing the new colony. The innumerable batteries were
immediately armed, and three thousand men were left in defense of the place.
All the Turkish prisoners found in the galleys were set at liberty, treated
with the greatest kindness, and scattered through the fleet, that their friend
ship might be won, and that they might exert a moral influence in favor of
the French upon the Mohammedan population of the East. With as much
facility as if he had devoted a long life to the practical duties of a statesman,
Napoleon arranged the municipal system of the island ; and having accom
plished all this in less than a week, he again weighed anchor, and directed his
course toward Egypt. Many of the Knights of Malta followed the victori
ous general, and with profound homage accepted appointments in his army.
The whole French squadron, hourly anticipating collision with the English
fleet, were ever ready for battle. Though Napoleon did not turn from his
great object to seek the English, he felt no apprehension in view of meeting
the enemy. Upon every ship of the line he had put five hundred picked
men, who were daily exercised in working the guns. He had enjoined upon
the whole fleet that, in case of an encounter, every ship was to have but one
single aim, that of closing immediately with a ship of the enemy, and board
ing her with the utmost desperation. Nelson, finding that the French had
left their harbors, eagerly but unavailingly searched for them. He was en
tirely at a loss respecting their destination, and knew not in what direction
to sail. It was not yet known, even on board the French ships, but to a few
individuals, whither the fleet was bound. Gradually, however, as the vast
squadron drew nearer the African shore, the secret began to transpire. Mirth
and gayety prevailed. All were watching with eagerness to catch a first
glimpse of the continent of Africa. In the evenings, Napoleon assembled
in the capacious cabins of the Orient the men of science and general officers,
and then commenced the learned discussions of the Institute of Egypt. One
night the two fleets were within fifteen miles of each other, so near that the
signal-guns of Nelson's squadron were heard by the French. The night,
however, was dark and foggy, and the two fleets passed without collision.*
On the morning of the 1st of July, after a passage of forty-two days, the
low and sandy shores of Egypt, about two thousand miles from France, were
discerned, extending along the distant horizon as far as the eye could reach.
* The spirit with which Lord Nelson was actuated may be seen in the following declarations,
taken from Southey's " Eulogy."
" There are three things, young gentleman," said Nelson to one of his midshipmen, " which you
are constantly to bear in mind. First, you must always implicitly obey orders, without attempting
to form any opinion of your own respecting their propriety. Secondly, you must consider every
man your enemy who speaks ill of your king. And thirdly, you must hate a Frenchman as you
do the devil." " Down, down with the French, is my constant prayer." "Down, down with the
French, ought to be written in the council-room of every country in the world. For all must be a
republic, if the Emperor" (of Austria) " does not act with expedition and vigor." " There is no
way of dealing with a Frenchman but to knock him down." " My principle is to assist in driving
the French to the devil." To the Duke of Clarence he wrote, " To serve my king and to destroy the
French, I consider as the great order of all, from which little ones spring. And if one of these
militate against it, I go back, and obey the great order and object, to down, down with the damned
French villains. My blood boils at the name of Frenchman !" How noble does the spirit of Napo
leon appear when contrasted with that of his enemies !

1S4

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. X.

As with a gentle breeze they drew nearer the land, the minarets of Alexan
dria, the Needle of Cleopatra, and Pompey's Pillar, rose above the sand hills,
exciting in the minds of the enthusiastic French the most romantic dreams
of Oriental grandeur. The fleet approached a bay at a little distance from
the harbor of Alexandria, and dropped anchor about three miles from the
shore. But two days before, Nelson had visited that very spot in quest of
the French, and, not finding them there, had sailed for the mouth of the Hel
lespont. The evening had now arrived, and the breeze had increased to almost a
gale. Notwithstanding the peril of disembarkation in such a surf, Napoleon
decided that not a moment was to be lost. The landing immediately com-

THE DISEMBARKATION.

menced, and was continued with the utmost expedition through the whole
night. Many boats were swamped, and some lives lost, but, unintimidated

1798.] THE EXPEDITION TO EGYPT. 185
by such disasters, the landing was continued with unabated zeal. The trans
fer of the horses from the ships to the shore presented a very curious specta
cle. They were hoisted out of the ships and lowered into the sea with sim
ply a halter about their necks, where they swam in great numbers around the
vessels, not knowing which way to go. Six were caught by their halters,
and towed by a boat toward the shore. The rest, by instinct, followed them.
As other horses were lowered into the sea from all the ships, they joined the
column hastening toward the land, and thus soon there was a dense and wide
column of swimming horses, extending from the ships to the beach. As fast
as they reached the shore, they were caught, saddled, and delivered to their
riders. Toward morning the wind abated, and before the blazing sun rose
over the sands of the desert, a proud army of cavalry, infantry, and artillery
was marshaled upon the dreary waste, awaiting the commands of its general.
In the midst of the disembarkation, a sail appeared in the distant horizon.
It was supposed to be an English ship. " Oh, Fortune !" exclaimed Napo
leon, " dost thou forsake me now ? I ask of thee but a short respite." The
strange sail proved to be a French frigate rejoining the fleet. While the dis
embarkation was still going on, Napoleon advanced with three thousand men,
whom he had hastily formed in battle array upon the beach, to Alexandria,
which was at but a few miles distance, that he might surprise the place be
fore the Turks had time to prepare for a defense. No man ever better un
derstood the value of time. His remarkable saying to the pupils of a school
which he once visited, "My young friends ! every hour of time is a chance of
misfortune for future life," formed the rule of his own conduct.
Just before disembarking, Napoleon had issued the following proclamation
to his troops: "Soldiers! You are about to undertake a conquest fraught
with incalculable effects upon the commerce and civilization of the world.
You will inflict upon England the most grievous stroke she can sustain be
fore receiving her death-blow. The people with whom we are about to live
are Mohammedans. Their first article of faith is, ' There is but one God,
and Mohammed is his prophet.' Contradict them not. Treat them as you
have treated the Italians and the Jews. Show the same regard to their
muftis and imaums as you have shown to the bishops and rabbis. Manifest
for the ceremonies of the Koran the same respect you have shown to the
convents and the synagogues, to the religion of Moses and that of Jesus
Christ. All religions were protected by the legions of Rome. You will find
here customs greatly at variance with those of Europe. Accustom your
selves to respect them. Women are not treated here as with us ; but in ev
ery country he who violates is a monster. Pillage enriches only a few,
while it dishonors an army, destroys its resources, and makes enemies of
those whom it is the interest of all to attach as friends."

186 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XI.

CHAPTER XI.
THE MARCH TO CAIRO.
Sentiments of the Turks toward Napoleon — Proclamation to the Egyptians — Napoleon's Views oi
Religion — Labors in Alexandria — Order to Brueys — March across the Desert — Mameluke Horse
men — J0y 0f the Army on seeing the Nile — Repulse of the Mamelukes — Arab Sheik — Cairo —
Charge of Mourad Bey — Entrance into Cairo — Love of the Egyptians — Battle of the Nile —
Touching Letter to Madame Brueys.
The first gray of the morning had not yet dawned, when Napoleon, at the
head of his enthusiastic columns, marched upon the city which bore the
name and which had witnessed the achievements of Alexander. It was his
aim, by the fearlessness and the impetuosity of his first assault, to impress
the Turks with the idea of the invincibility of the French. The Mamelukes,
hastily collected upon the ramparts of the city, received the foe with dis
charges of musketry and artillery, and with shouts of defiance. The French,
aided by their ladders, poured over the walls like an inundation, sweeping
every thing before them. The conflict was short, and the tri-colored flag
waved triumphantly over the city of Alexandria. The Turkish prisoners
from Malta, who had become; fascinated by the magnificence of Napoleon, as
all were fascinated who approached that extraordinary man, dispersed them
selves through the city, and exerted a powerful influence in securing the
friendship of the people for their invaders.
The army, imbibing the politic sentiments of their general, refrained from
all acts of lawless violence, and amazed the enslaved populace by their jus
tice, mercy, and generosity. The people were immediately liberated from
the most grinding and intolerable despotism ; just and equal laws were estab
lished ; and Arab and Copt soon began, lost in wonder, to speak the praises
of Napoleon. He was a strange conqueror for the East ; liberating and bless
ing, not enslaving and robbing the vanquished. Their women were respect
ed, their property was uninjured, their persons protected from violence, and
their interests in every way promoted. A brighter day never dawned upon
Egypt than the day in which Napoleon placed his foot upon her soil. The
accomplishment of his plans, so far as human vision can discern, would have
been one of the greatest of possible blessings to the East. Again Napoleon
issued one of those glowing proclamations which are as characteristic of his
genius as were the battles which he fought :
" People of Egypt ! You will be told by our enemies that I am come to
destroy your religion. Believe them not. Tell them that I am come to re
store your rights, punish your usurpers, -and revive the true worship of Mo
hammed. Tell them that I venerate, more than do the Mamelukes, God, his
prophet, and the Koran. Tell them that all men are equal in the sight of
God ; that wisdom, talents, and virtue alone constitute the difference between
them. And what are the virtues which distinguish the Mamelukes, that en
title them to appropriate all the enjoyments of life to themselves ? If Egypt

1798.] THE MARCH TO CAIRO. 187
is their farm, let'them show their lease from God by which they hold it. Is
there a fine estate ? it belongs to the Mamelukes. Is there a beautiful slave,
a fine horse, a good house ? all belong to the Mamelukes. But God is just
and merciful, and He hath ordained that the empire of the Mamelukes shall
come to an end. Thrice happy those who shall side with us ; they shall
prosper in their fortune and their rank. Happy they who shall be neutral ;
they will have time to become acquainted with us, and will range them
selves upon our side. But woe, threefold woe to those who shall arm for
the Mamelukes and fight against us. For them there will be no hope ; they
shall perish !"
" You witlings of Paris," wrote one of the officers of the army, " will laugh
outright at the Mohammedan proclamation of Napoleon. He, however, is
proof against all your raillery, and the proclamation itself has produced the
most surprising effect. The Arabs, natural enemies of the Mamelukes, sent
us back, as soon as they had read it, thirty of our people whom they had
made prisoners, with an offer of their services against the Mamelukes."
It was an interesting peculiarity in the character of Napoleon, that he re
spected all religions as necessities of the human mind. He never allowed
himself to speak in contemptuous terms even of the grossest absurdities of
religious fanaticism. Christianity was presented to him only as exhibited by
the Papal Church. He professed the most profound admiration of the doc
trines and the moral precepts of the Gospel, and often expressed the wish
that he could be a devout believer ; but he could not receive, as from God,
all that Popes, Cardinals, Bishops, and Priests claimed as divine. In the
spiritual power of the Pop,e he recognized an agent of tremendous efficiency.
As such, he sincerely respected it, treated it with deference, and sought its
alliance. He endeavored to gain control over every influence which could
sway the human heart. So of the Mohammedans ; he regarded their re
ligion as an element of majestic power, and wished to avail himself of it.
While the philosophers and generals around him regarded all forms of relig
ion with contempt, he, influenced by a far higher philosophy, regarded all
with veneration.
Since the Revolution, there had been no sort of worship in France. The
idea even of a God had been almost entirely obliterated from the public mind.
The French soldiers were mere animals, with many noble as well as depraved
instincts. At the command of their beloved chieftain, they were as ready to
embrace a religion as to storm a battery. Napoleon was accused of hypoc
risy for pursuing this course in Egypt. " I never," said he, subsequently,
" followed any of the tenets of the Mohammedan religion. I never prayed
in the mosques. I never abstained from wine or was circumcised. I said
merely that we were friends of the Mussulmans, and that I respected their
prophet ; which was true. I respect him now."*
* " Among the innumerable calumnies spent on Bonaparte, it was said, and long believed by
many, that he had no religion. Scott, and other writers of his life, published as a fact that he em
braced Islamism, which was a mere fabrication. He did no more in Egypt than respectfully attend
at the religious exercises of the Mussulmans, which gratified them and tranquillized the country,
whose creed it was as much his duty as his policy to tolerate. He was penetrated with the im
portance of religion, reverently convinced of the existence and providence of God, and in that be
lief not only religious, but of the Roman Catholic religion. The great body of the French people

188 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XI.
Napoleon remained in Alexandria hut six days. During this time, he de
voted himself, with a zeal and energy which elicited universal admiration, to
the organization of equitable laws, the regulation of police, and the develop
ment of the resources of the country. The very hour of their establishment
in the city, artisans, and artists, and engineers all were busy, and the life
and enterprise of the West were infused into the sepulchral streets of Alex
andria. Preparations were immediately made for improving the harbor, repairing
the fortifications, erecting mills, establishing manufactories, founding schools,
exploring antiquities ; and the government of the country was placed in the
hands of the prominent inhabitants, who were interested to promote the wise
and humane policy of Napoleon. Since that day, half a century of degra
dation, ignorance, poverty, oppression, and wretchedness has passed over
Egypt. Had Napoleon succeeded in his designs, it is probable that Egypt would
now have been a civilized and a prosperous land, enriched by the commerce
of the East and the West ; with villas of elegance and refinement embellish
ing the meadows and headlands of the Nile, and steamers, freighted with the
luxuries of all lands, plowing her majestic waves. The shores of the Red
Sea, now so silent and lonely, would have echoed with the hum of happy in
dustry, and fleets would have been launched from her forests, and thriving
towns and opulent cities would have sprung up, where the roving Bedouin
now meets but desolation and gloom. It is true that, in the mysterious prov
idence of God, all these hopes might have been disappointed ; but it is cer
tain that, while Napoleon remained in Egypt, the whole country received an
impulse unknown for centuries before ; and human wisdom can not devise a
better plan than he proposed, for arousing the enterprise, and stimulating the
industry, and developing the resources of the land.
About thirty of the French troops fell in the attack upon Alexandria. Na
poleon, with his prompt conceptions of the sublime, caused them to be bur
ied at the foot of Pompey's Pillar, and had their names engraven upon that
monument, whose renown has grown venerable through countless ages. Tht
whole army assisted at the imposing ceremony of their interment. Enthu
siasm spread through the ranks. The French soldiers, bewildered by the
meteor glare of glory, and deeming their departed comrades now immortal
ized, envied their fate. Never did conqueror better understand than Napo
leon what springs to touch, to rouse the latent energies of human nature.
Leaving three thousand men in Alexandria, under the command of Gen
eral Kleber, who had been wounded in the assault, Napoleon set out, with
being inflexible Roman Catholics, he could not inculcate any change so obnoxious as Protestantism
without distracting the country. All he could do was to favor liberality and establish toleration.
He therefore restored, but reformed Catholicity ; separating, as far as was prudent, spiritual from
temporal, and healing the angry divisions which the republic left in the Church. That great result,
with its powerful tendency to European peace, quelling religious discord, the cause of so much ca
lamity, it was one of the first acts of his government successfully to bring about. But Italy, almost
a French province, and Spain, a neighboring, close ally, were entirely Roman Catholic, like the
large majority of France. The concordat arranged with the Pope was, therefore, all that was
peaceably practicable ; and even to that many of the military were opposed, and the Republicans."
— Ingersoll's Second War, vol. i., p. 161, 162.

1798.] THE MARCH TO CAIRO. 189
the rest of his army, to cross the desert to Cairo. The fleet was not in a
place of safety, and Napoleon gave emphatic orders to Admiral Brueys to re
move the ships, immediately after landing the army, from the Bay of Aboukir,
where it was anchored, into the harbor of Alexandria ; or, if the large ships
could not enter that port, to proceed, without any delay, to the island of Cor
fu. The neglect, on the part of the Admiral, promptly to execute these or
ders, upon which Napoleon had placed great stress, led to a disaster which
proved fatal to the expedition.
Napoleon dispatched a large flotilla, laden with provisions, artillery, am
munition, and baggage, to sail along the shore of the Mediterranean to the
western branch of the Nile, called the Rosetta mouth, and ascend the river
to a point where the army, having marched across the desert, would meet it.
The flotilla and the army would then keep company, ascending the Nile,
some fifty miles, to Cairo. The army had a desert of sixty miles to cross.
It was dreary and inhospitable in the extreme. A blazing sun glared fiercely
down upon the glowing sands. Not a tree or a blade of grass cheered the
eye. Not a rivulet trickled across their hot and sandy path. A few wells
of brackish water were scattered along the trackless course pursued by the
caravans, but even these the Arabs had filled up or poisoned.
Early on the morning of the 6th of July, the army commenced its march
over the apparently boundless plain of shifting sands. No living creature
met the eye but a few Arab horsemen, who occasionally appeared and dis
appeared at the horizon, and who, concealing themselves behind the sand
hills, immediately murdered any stragglers who wandered from the ranks,
or from sickness or exhaustion loitered behind. Four days of inconceivable
suffering were occupied in crossing the desert. The soldiers, accustomed to
the luxuriance, beauty, and abundance of the valleys of Italy, were plunged
into the most abject depression. Even the officers found their firmness giv
ing way, and Lannes and Murat, in paroxysms of despair, dashed their hats
upon the sand, and trampled them under foot. Many fell and perished on
the long and dreary route. But the dense columns toiled on, hour after
hour, weary, and hungry, and faint, and thirsty, the hot sun blazing down
upon their unsheltered heads, and the yielding sands burning their blistered
feet. At the commencement of the enterprise, Napoleon had promised to
each of his soldiers seven acres of land. As they looked around upon this
dreary and boundless ocean of sand, they spoke jocularly of his moderation
in promising them but seven acres. "The young rogue," said they, "might
have safely offered us as much as we chose to take. We certainly should
not have abused his good-nature."
Nothing can show more strikingly the singular control which Napoleon
had obtained over his army than the fact that, under these circumstances,
no one murmured against him. He toiled along on foot at the head of the
column, sharing the fatigue of the most humble soldiers. Like them, he
threw himself upon the sands at night, with the sand for his pillow, and,
secreting no luxuries for himself, he ate the coarse beans which afforded the
only food for the army. He was ever the last to fold his cloak around him
for the night, and the first to spring from the ground in the morning. The
soldiers bitterly cursed the government who had sent them to that land of

190

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XI.

THE MARCH THROUGH THE DESERT.

barrenness and desolation. Seeing the men of science stopping to examine
the antiquities, they accused them of being the authors of the expedition,
and revenged themselves with witticisms. But no one uttered a word
against Napoleon. His presence overawed all. He seemed to be insensible
to hunger, thirst, or fatigue. It was observed that, while all others were
drenched with perspiration, not a drop of moisture oozed from his brow.
Through all the hours of this dreary march, not a word or a gesture escaped
him which indicated the slightest embarrassment or inquietude. One day he
approached a group of discontented officers, and said to them, in tones of
firmness which at once brought them to their senses, "You are holding mu
tinous language ! Beware ! It is not your being six feet high which will
save you from being shot in a couple of hours."
In the midst of the desert, when gloom and despondency had taken pos
session of all hearts, unbounded joy was excited by the appearance of a lake
of crystal water but a few miles before them, with villages and palm-trees
beautifully reflected in its clear and glassy depths. The parched and pant
ing troops rushed eagerly on to plunge into the delicious waves. Hour
after hour passed, and they approached no nearer the elysium before them.
Dreadful was their disappointment when they found that it was all an illu
sion, and that they were pursuing the mirage of the dry and dusty desert.
At one time Napoleon, with one or two of his officers, wandered a little dis
tance from the main body of his army. A troop of Arab horsemen, con
cealed by some sand-hills, watched his movements, but for some unknown
reason, when he was entirely in their power, did not harm him. Napoleon
soon perceived his peril, and escaped unmolested. Upon his return to the

1798.] THE MARCH TO CAIRO. 191
troops, peacefully smiling, he said, "It is not written on high that I am to
perish by the hands of the Arabs."
As the army drew near the Nile, the Mameluke horsemen increased in
numbers, and in the frequency and the recklessness of their attacks. Their
appearance, and the impetuosity of their onset, was most imposing. Each
one was mounted on a fleet Arabian steed, and was armed with pistol, sabre,
carbine, and blunderbuss. The carbine was a short gun, which threw a small
bullet with great precision. The blunderbuss was also a short gun, with a
large bore, capable of holding a number of balls, and of doing execution
without exact aim. These fierce warriors, accustomed to the saddle almost
from infancy, presented an array indescribably brilliant, as, with gay turbans,
and waving plumes, and gaudy banners, and gold-spangled robes, in meteoric
splendor, with the swiftness of the wind, they burst from behind the sand
hills. Charging like the rush of a tornado, they rent the air with their hide
ous yells, and discharged their carbines while in full career, and halted,
wheeled, and retreated with a precision and celerity which amazed even the
most accomplished horsemen of the army of Italy.
The extended sandy plains were exactly adapted to the maneuvers of these
flying herds. The least motion or the slightest breath of wind raised a cloud
of dust, blinding, choking, and smothering the French, but apparently pre
senting no annoyance either to the Arab rider or to his horse. If a weary
straggler loitered a few steps behind the toiling column, or if any soldiers
ventured to leave the ranks in pursuit of the Mamelukes in their bold attacks,
certain and instant death was encountered. A wild troop, enveloped in clouds
of dust, like spirits from another world, dashed upon them, cut down the ad
venturers with their keen Damascus blades, and disappeared in the desert
almost before a musket could be leveled at them.
After five days of inconceivable suffering, the long-wished-for Nile was
seen, glittering through the sand-hills of the desert, and bordered by a fringe
of the richest luxuriance. The scene burst upon the view of the panting sol
diers like a vision of enchantment. Shouts of joy burst from the ranks. All
discipline and order were instantly forgotten. The whole army of thirty
thousand men, with horses and camels, rushed forward, a tumultuous throng,
and plunged, in the delirium of excitement, into the waves. They luxuriated,
with indescribable delight, in the cool and refreshing stream. They rolled
over and over in the water, shouting and frolicking in wild joy. Reckless
of consequences, they drank and drank again, as if they never could be sa
tiated with the delicious beverage.
In the midst of this scene of turbulent and almost phrensied exultation, a
cloud of dust was seen in the distance, the trampling of hoofs was heard,
and a body of nearly a thousand Mameluke horsemen, on fleet Arabian
chargers, came sweeping down upon them with fiendlike velocity, their sa
bres flashing in the sunlight, and rending the air .with their hideous yells.
The drums beat the alarm, the trumpets sounded, and the veteran soldiers,
drilled to the most perfect mechanical precision, instantly formed in squares,
with the artillery at the angles, to meet the foe. In a moment the assault,
like a tornado, fell upon them. But it was a tornado striking a rock. Not
a line wavered. A palisade of bristling bayonets met the breasts of the

192 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XI.
horses, and they recoiled from the shock. A volcanic burst of fire, from ar
tillery and musketry, rolled hundreds of steeds and riders together in the
dust. The survivors, wheeling their unchecked chargers, disappeared with
•the same meteoric rapidity with which they had approached.
The flotilla now appeared in sight, having arrived at the destined spot at
the precise hour designated by Napoleon. This was not accident. It was
the result of that wonderful power of mind and extent of information which
had enabled Napoleon perfectly to understand the difficulties of the two
routes, and to give his orders in such a way that they could be and would
be obeyed. It was remarked by Napoleon's generals that, during a week's
residence in Egypt, he acquired apparently as perfect an acquaintance with
the country as if it had been his native land.
The whole moral aspect of the army was now changed with the change
in the aspect of the country. The versatile troops forgot their sufferings,
and, rejoicing in abundance, danced and sang beneath the refreshing shade
of sycamores and palm-trees. The fields were waving with luxuriant har
vests. Pigeons were abundant. The most delicious water-melons were
brought to the camp in inexhaustible profusion ; but the villages were poor
and squalid, and the houses mere hovels of mud. The execrations in which
the soldiers had indulged in the desert now gave place to jokes and glee.
For seven days they marched resolutely forward along the banks of the
Nile, admiring the fertility of the country, and despising the poverty and
degradation of the inhabitants. They declared that there was no such place
as Cairo, but that the "Little Corporal" had suffered himself to be trans
ported, like a good boy, to that miserable land, in search of a city even more
unsubstantial than the mirage of the desert. '
On the march, Napoleon stopped at the house of an Arab sheik. The in
terior presented a revolting scene of squalidness and misery. The proprie
tor was, however, reported to be rich. Napoleon treated the old man with
great kindness, and asked, through an interpreter, why he lived in such utter
destitution of all the comforts of life, assuring him that an unreserved answer
should expose him to no inconvenience. He replied, " Some years ago I re
paired and furnished my dwelling. Information of this was carried to Cairo,
and having been thus proved to be wealthy, a large sum of money was de
manded from me by the Mamelukes, and the bastinado was inflicted until I
paid it. Look at my feet, which bear witness to what I endured. From
that time I have reduced myself to the barest necessaries, and no longer
seek to repair any thing." The poor old man was lamed for life, in conse
quence of the mutilation which his feet received from the terrible infliction.
Such was the tyranny of the Mamelukes. The Egyptians, in abject slavery
to their proud oppressors, were compelled to surrender their wives, their
children, and even their own persons, to the absolute will of the despots who
ruled them.
Numerous bands of Mameluke horsemen, the most formidable body of
cavalry in the world, were continually hovering about the army, watching
for points of exposure, and it was necessary to be constantly prepared for an
attack. Nothing could have been more effective than the disposition which
Napoleon made of his troops to meet this novel mode of warfare. He form-

1798.] THE MARCH TO CAIRO. 193
ed his army into five squares. The sides of each square were composed of
ranks six men deep. The artillery were placed at the angles. Within the
square were grenadier companies in platoons to support the points of attack.
The generals, the scientific corps, and the baggage were in the centre. These
squares were moving masses. When on the march, all faced in one direc
tion, the two sides marching in flank. When charged, they immediately
halted and fronted on every side — the outermost rank kneeling, that those
behind might shoot over their heads ; the whole body thus presenting a liv
ing fortress of bristling bayonets.
When they were to carry a position, the three front ranks were to detach
themselves from the square, and to form a column of attack. The other
three ranks were to remain in the rear, still forming the square, ready to
rally the column. These flaming citadels of fire set at defiance all the
power of the Arab horsemen. The attacks of the enemy soon became a
subject of merriment to the soldiers. The scientific men, or savans, as they
were called, had been supplied with asses to transport their persons and
philosophical apparatus. As soon as the body of Mamelukes was seen in
the distance, the order was given, with military precision, "Form square,
savans and asses in the centre." This order was echoed from rank to rank
with peals of laughter. The soldiers amused themselves with calling the
asses demi-savans. Though the soldiers thus enjoyed their jokes, they cher
ished the highest respect for many of these savans, who in scenes of battle
had manifested the utmost intrepidity. After a march of seven days, dur
ing which time they had many bloody skirmishes with the enemy, the army
approached Cairo.
Mourad Bey had there assembled the greater part of his Mamelukes, near
ly ten thousand in number, for a decisive battle. These proud and powerful
horsemen were supported by twenty-four thousand foot-soldiers, strongly in
trenched. Cairo is on the eastern bank of the Nile. Napoleon was march
ing along the western shore. On the morning of the 21st of July, Napoleon,
conscious that he was near the city, set his army in motion before the break
of day. Just as the sun was rising in those cloudless skies, the soldiers be
held the lofty minarets of the city upon their left, gilded by its rays, and upon
the right, upon the borders of the desert, the gigantic pyramids rising like
mountains upon an apparently boundless plain.
The whole army instinctively halted, and gazed, awe-stricken, upon those
monuments of antiquity. The face of Napoleon beamed with enthusiasm.
"Soldiers!" he exclaimed, as he rode along the ranks, "from those summits
forty centuries contemplate your actions." The ardor of the soldiers was
aroused to the highest pitch. Animated by the clangor of martial bands
and the gleam of flaunting banners, they advanced with impetuous steps to
meet their foes. The whole plain before them, at the base of the pyramids,
was filled with armed men. The glittering weapons of ten thousand horse
men, in the utmost splendor of barbaric chivalry, brilliant with plumes and
arms of burnished steel and gold* presented an array inconceivably impos
ing. Undismayed, the French troops, marshaled in five invincible squares,
pressed on. There was no other alternative. Napoleon must march upon
those intrenchments, behind which twenty-four thousand men were stationed
Vol. I.— N

194

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XI.

with powerful artillery and musketry to sweep his ranks, and a formidable
body of ten thousand horsemen, on fleet and powerful Arabian steeds, await
ing the onset, and ready to seize upon the slightest indications of confusion
to plunge, with the fury which fatalism can inspire, upon his bleeding and
mangled squares.
It must have been with Napoleon a moment of intense anxiety. But as
he sat upon his horse, in
the centre of one of the
squares, and carefully ex
amined, with his tele
scope, the disposition of
the enemy, no one could
discern the least trace
of uneasiness. His gaze
was long and intense.
The keenness of his scru
tiny detected that the
enemy's guns were not
mounted upon carriages,
and that they could not,
therefore, be turned from
the direction in which
they were placed. No other officer, though many of them had equally good
glasses, made this important discovery. He immediately, by a lateral move
ment, guided his army to the right, toward the pyramids, that his squares
might be out of the range of the guns, and that he might attack the enemy
in flank. The moment Mourad Bey perceived this evolution, he divined its
object, and, with great military sagacity, resolved instantly to charge.
" You shall now see us," said the proud Bey, " cut up those dogs like
gourds !"
It was, indeed, a fearful spectacle. Ten thousand horsemen, magnificent
ly dressed, with the fleetest steeds in the world, urging their horses, with
bloody spurs, to the most impetuous and furious onset, rending the heavens
with their cries, and causing the very earth to tremble beneath the thunder
of iron feet, came down upon the adamantine host. Nothing was ever seen
in war more furious than this charge. Ten thousand horsemen form an enor
mous mass. Those longest inured to danger felt that it was an awful mo
ment. It seemed impossible to resist such a living avalanche. The most
profound silence reigned through the ranks, interrupted only by the word of
command. The nerves of excitement being roused to the utmost tension,
every order was' executed with most marvelous rapidity and precision. The
soldiers held their breath, and, with bristling bayonets, stood shoulder to
shoulder to receive the shock.
The moment the Mamelukes arrived within gunshot, the artillery at the
angles plowed their ranks, and platoons of musketry, volley after volley,
in uninterrupted discharge, swept into their faces a pitiless tempest of de
struction. Horses and riders, struck by the balls, rolled over each other
by hundreds on the sand. They were trampled and crushed by the iron

1798.] THE MARCH TO CAIRO. 195
hoofs of the thousands of frantic steeds, enveloped in dust and smoke, com
posing the vast and impetuous squadrons. But the squares stood as firm as
the pyramids at whose base they fought. Not one was broken ; not one wa
vered. The daring Mamelukes, in the phrensy of their rage and disappoint-

BATTLE OF THE PYRAMIDS.

ment, threw away their lives with the utmost recklessness. They wheeled
their horses round, and reined them back upon the ranks, that they might
kick their way into those terrible fortresses of living men. Rendered furious
by their inability to break the ranks, they hurled their pistols and carbines
at the heads of the French. The wounded crawled along the ground, and
with their cimeters cut at the legs of their indomitable foes. They displayed
superhuman bravery, the only virtue which the Mamelukes possessed.
But an incessant and merciless fire from Napoleon's well-trained battal
ions continually thinned their ranks, and at last the Mamelukes, in the wild-

196 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XI.
est disorder, broke and fled. The infantry in the intrenched camp, witness
ing the utter discomfiture of the mounted troops, whom they had considered
invincible, and seeing such incessant and volcanic sheets of flame bursting
from the impenetrable squares, caught the panic, and joined the flight. Na
poleon now, in his turn, charged with the utmost impetuosity. A scene of
indescribable confusion and horror ensued. The extended plain was crowd
ed with fugitives — footmen and horsemen, bewildered with terror, seeking
escape from their terrible foes. Thousands plunged into the river, and en
deavored to escape by swimming to the opposite shore. But a shower of
bullets, like hail-stones, fell upon them, and the waves of the Nile were crim
soned with their blood. Others sought the desert, a wild and rabble rout.
The victors, with their accustomed celerity, pursued, pitilessly pouring
into the dense masses of their flying foes the most terrible discharges of ar
tillery and musketry. The rout was complete — the carnage awful. The
sun had hardly reached the meridian before the whole embattled host had
disappeared, and the plain, as far as the eye could extend, was strewn with
the dying and the dead. The camp, with all its Oriental wealth, fell into
the hands of the victors, and the soldiers enriched themselves with its profu
sion of splendid shawls, magnificent weapons, Arabian horses, and purses
filled with gold. The Mamelukes were accustomed to lavish great wealth
in the decoration of their persons, and to carry with them large sums of
money. The gold and the trappings found upon the body of each Mameluke
were worth from twelve hundred to two thousand dollars. Besides those
who were slain upon the field, more than a thousand of these formidable
horsemen were drowned in the Nile. For many days the soldiers employed
themselves in fishing up the rich booty, and the French camp was filled with
all abundance. This most sanguinary battle cost the French scarcely one
hundred men in killed and wounded. More than ten thousand of the enemy
perished. Napoleon gazed with admiration upon the bravery which these
proud horsemen displayed. " Could I have united the Mameluke horse to
the French infantry," said he, " I should have reckoned myself master of the
world." After the battle, Napoleon, now the undisputed conqueror of Egypt, quar
tered himself for the night in the country palace of Mourad Bey. The apart
ments of this voluptuous abode were embellished with all the appurtenances
of Oriental luxury. The officers were struck with surprise in viewing the
multitude of cushions and divans covered with the finest damasks and silks,
and ornamented with golden fringe. Egypt was beggared to minister to the
sensual indulgence of these haughty despots. Much of the night was passed
m exploring this singular mansion. The garden was extensive and exceed
ingly magnificent. Innumerable vines were laden with the richest grapes.
The vintage was soon gathered by the thousands of soldiers who filled the
alleys and loitered in the arbors. Pots of preserves, of confectionery, and
of sweetmeats of every kind, were quickly devoured by an army of mouths.
The thousands of little elegancies which Europe, Asia, and Africa had con
tributed to minister to the voluptuous splendors of the regal mansion, were
speedily transferred to the knapsacks of the soldiers.
The " Battle of the Pyramids," as Napoleon characteristically designated

1798.] THE MARCH TO CAIRO. I97
it, sent a thrill of terror, far and wide, into the interior of Asia and Africa.
These proud, merciless, licentious oppressors were execrated by the timid
Egyptians, but they were deemed invincible. In an hour they had vanished,
like the mist, before the genius of Napoleon.
The caravans which came to Cairo circulated through the vast regions of
the interior, with all the embellishments of Oriental exaggeration, glowing
accounts of the destruction of those terrible squadrons, which had so long
tyrannized over Egypt, and the fame of whose military prowess had caused
the most distant tribes to tremble. The name of Napoleon became sudden
ly as renowned in Asia and Africa as it had previously become in Europe.
But twenty-one days had elapsed since he placed his foot upon the sands at
Alexandria, and now he was sovereign of Egypt. The Egyptians also wel
comed him as a friend and a liberator. The sheets of flame which inces
santly burst from the French ranks so deeply impressed their imaginations,
that they gave to Napoleon the Oriental appellation of Sultan Kebir, or King
of Fire. j
The wives of the Mamelukes had all remained in Cairo. Napoleon treated
them with the utmost consideration. He sent Eugene to the wife of Mourad
Bey, to assure her of his protection. He preserved all her property for her,
and granted her several requests which she made to him. Thus he endeav
ored, as far as possible, to mitigate the inevitable sufferings of war. The
lady was so grateful for these attentions, that she entertained Eugene with
all possible honors, and presented him, upon his departure, with a valuable
diamond ring.
Cairo contained three hundred thousand inhabitants. Its population was
degraded, inhuman, and ferocious. The capital was in a state of terrible
agitation, for the path of Oriental conquerors is ever marked with brutality,
flames, and blood. Napoleon immediately dispatched a detachment of his
army into the city to restore tranquillity, and to protect persons and proper
ty from trie fury of the populace. The next day but one, with great pomp
and splendor, at the head of his victorious army, he entered Cairo, and took
possession of the palace of Mourad Bey. With extraordinary intelligence
and activity, he immediately consecrated all his energies to promote the high
est interests of the country he had conquered.
Nothing escaped his observation. He directed his attention to the mosques,
the harems, the condition of the women, the civil and religious institutions,
the state of agriculture, the arts and sciences — to every thing which could
influence the elevation and prosperity of the country. He visited the most
influential of the Arab inhabitants, assured them of his friendship, of his re
spect for their religion, of his determination to protect their rights, and of his
earnest desire to restore to Egypt its pristine glory. He disclaimed all sov
ereignty over Egypt, but organized a government to be administered by the
people themselves. He succeeded perfectly in winning their confidence and
admiration. He immediately established a Congress, composed of the most
distinguished citizens of Cairo, for the creation of laws and the administra
tion of justice, and established similar assemblies in all the provinces, which
were to send deputies to the General Congress at Cairo. He organized the
celebrated Institute of Egypt, to diffuse among the people the light and the

198 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XI.
sciences of Europe. Some of the members were employed in making an
accurate description and a perfect map of Egypt ; others were to study the
productions of the country, that its resources might be energetically and
economically developed ; others were to explore the ruins, thus to shed new
light upon history ; others were to study the social condition of the inhabit
ants, and proper plans for the promotion of their welfare, by the means of
manufactures, canals, roads, mills, works upon the Nile, and improvements
in agriculture.
Among the various questions proposed to the Institute by Napoleon, the
following may be mentioned as illustrative of his enlarged designs. Ascer
tain the best construction for wind and water mills ; find a substitute for the
hop, which does not grow in Egypt, for the making of beer ; select sites
adapted to the cultivation of the vine ; seek the best means of procuring wa
ter for the citadel of Cairo ; select spots for wells in different parts of the
desert ; inquire into the means of clarifying and cooling the waters of the
Nile ; devise some useful application of the rubbish with which the city of
Cairo, and all the ancient towns of Egypt, are encumbered ; find materials
for the manufacture of gunpowder. It is almost incredible that the Egyp
tians were not acquainted with wind-mills, wheel-barrows, or even hand-saws,
until they were introduced by Napoleon. Engineers, draughtsmen, and men
of science immediately dispersed themselves throughout all the provinces of
Egypt. Flour, as fine as could be obtained in Paris, was ground in mills at
Alexandria, Rosetta, Damietta, and Cairo. By the erection of public ovens,
bread became abundant. Hospitals were established, with a bed for each pa
tient. Saltpetre and gunpowder mills were erected. A foundry was con
structed with reverberating furnaces. Large shops were built for lock
smiths, armorers, joiners, carj-wrights, carpenters, and rope-makers. Silver
goblets and services of plate were manufactured. A French and Arabic
printing-press was set at work. Inconceivable activity was infused into
every branch of industry. The genius of Napoleon, never weary, inspired
all and guided all.
It was indeed a bright day which, after centuries of inaction and gloom,
had thus suddenly dawned upon Egypt. The route was surveyed, and
the expense estimated of two ship-canals, one connecting the waters of the
Red Sea with the Nile at Cairo ; the other uniting the Red Sea with the
Mediterranean, across the Isthmus of Suez. Five millions of dollars and two
years of labor would have executed both of these magnificent enterprises,
and would have caused a new era to have dawned upon three continents.
It is impossible not to deplore those events which have thus consigned anew
these fertile regions to beggary and to barbarism. The accomplishment of
these majestic plans might have transferred to the Nile and the Euphrates
those energies now so transplendent upon the banks of the Mississippi and
the Ohio. "It is incredible," says Talleyrand, "how much Napoleon was
able to achieve. He could effect more than any man, yes, more than any
four men whom I have ever known. His genius was inconceivable. Noth
ing could exceed his energy, his imagination, his spirit, his capacity for work,
his ease of accomplishment. He was clearly the most extraordinary man
that I ever saw, and I believe the most extraordinary man that has lived in

1798.] THE MARCH TO CAIRO. 199
our age, or for many ages." All the energies of Napoleon's soul were en
grossed by these enterprises of grandeur and utility. Dissipation could pre
sent no aspect to allure him. "I have no passion," said he, "for women or
gaming. I am entirely a political being."
The Arabs were lost in astonishment that a conqueror who wielded the
^thunderbolt could be so disinterested and merciful. Such generosity and
self-denial was never before heard of in the East. They could in no way
account for it. Their females were protected from insult ; their persons and
property were saved. Thirty thousand Europeans were toiling for the com
fort and improvement of the Egyptians. They called Napoleon the "worthy
son of the prophet, the favorite of Allan. They even introduced his praises
into their Litany, and chanted in the mosques, "Who is he that hath saved
the favorite of Victory from the dangers of the sea, and from the rage of
his enemies ? Who is he that hath led the brave men of the West safe and
unharmed to the banks of the Nile ? It is Allah ! the great Allah ! The
Mamelukes put their trust in horses ; they draw forth their infantry in battle
array ; but the favorite of Victory hath destroyed the footmen and the horse
men of the Mamelukes. As the vapors which rise in the morning are scat
tered by the rays of the sun, so hath the army of the Mamelukes been scat
tered by the brave men of the West ; for the brave men of the West are as
the apple of the eye to the great Allah."
Napoleon, to ingratiate himself with the people, and to become better ac
quainted with their character, attended their religious worship, and all their
national festivals. Though he left the. administration of justice in the hands
of the sheiks, he enjoined and enforced scrupulous impartiality in their decis
ions. The robbers of the desert, who for centuries had devastated the front
iers with impunity, he repulsed with a vigorous hand, and under his energetic
sway life and property became as safe in Egypt as in England or in France.
The French soldiers became very popular with the native Egyptians, and
might be seen in the houses, socially smoking their pipes with the inhabitants,
assisting them in their domestic labors, and playing with their children.
One day Napoleon, in his palace, was giving audience to a numerous as
semblage of sheiks and other distinguished men. Information was brought
to him that some robbers from the desert had slain a poor friendless peasant,
and carried off his flocks.
"Take three hundred horsemen and two hundred camels," said Napoleon,
immediately, to an officer of his staff, " and pursue these robbers until they
are captured and the outrage is avenged."
" Was the poor wretch your cousin," exclaimed one of the sheiks, con
temptuously, " that you are in such a rage at his death ?"
" He was more," Napoleon replied, sublimely ; " he was one whose safety
Providence had intrusted to my care."
" Wonderful !" rejoined the sheik ; " you speak like one inspired of the
Almighty." More than one assassin was dispatched by the Turkish authorities to mur
der Napoleon ; but the Egyptians, with filial love, watched over him, gave
him timely notice of the design, and effectually aided him in defeating it.
In the midst of this extraordinary prosperity, a reverse, sudden, terrible,

200 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XI.
and irreparable, befell the French army. Admiral Brueys, devotedly at
tached to Napoleon, and anxious to ascertain that he had obtained a foothold
in the country before leaving him to his fate, delayed withdrawing his fleet,
as Napoleon had expressly enjoined, from the Bay of Aboukir, to place it in
a position of safety. The second day after entering Cairo, Napoleon re
ceived dispatches from Admiral Brueys by which he learned that the squad
ron was in the Bay of Aboukir, exposed to the attacks of the enemy. He
was amazed at the
intelligence, and im
mediately dispatch
ed a messenger, to
proceed with the ut
most haste, and in
form the admiral of
his great disappro
bation, and to warn
him to take the fleet,
without an hour's de
lay, either into the
harbor of Alexandria,
where it would be
safe, or to make for
Corfu. The messenger was assassinated on the way by a party of Arabs.
He could not, however, have reached Aboukir before the destruction of the
fleet. In the mean time, Lord Nelson learned that the French had landed
in Egypt. He immediately turned in that direction to seek their squadron.
At six o'clock in the evening of the first of August, but ten days after the
battle of the Pyramids, the British fleet majestically entered the Bay of
Aboukir, and closed upon their victims. The French squadron, consisting
of thirteen ships of the line and four frigates, was anchored in a semicircle,
in a line corresponding with the curve of the shore. The plan of attack
adopted by Nelson possessed the simplicity and originality of genius, and
from the first moment victory was almost certain. As soon as Nelson per
ceived the situation of the French fleet, he resolved to double, with his whole
force, on half of that of his enemy, pursuing the same system of tactics by
sea which Napoleon had found so successful on the land. He ordered his
fleet to take its station half on the outer, and half on the inner side of one
end of the French line. Thus each French ship was placed between the
fire of two of those of the English. The remainder of the French fleet, be
ing at anchor to the leeward, could not easily advance to the relief of their
doomed friends.
Admiral Brueys supposed that he was anchored so near the shore that the
English could not pass inside of his line ; but Nelson promptly decided that
where there was room for the enemy to swing, there must be room for his
ships to float. " If we succeed, what will the world say ?" exclaimed one of
Nelson's captains, with transport, as he was made acquainted with the plan
of attack. " There is no if in the case," Nelson replied ; "that we shall suc
ceed is certain. Who may live to tell the story is a very different question."

1798.] THE MARCH TO CAIRO. 201
The French fought with the energies of despair. For fifteen hours the
unequal contest lasted. Dark night came on. The Bay of Aboukir resem
bled one wide flaming volcano, enveloped in the densest folds of sulphureous
smoke. The ocean never witnessed a conflict more sanguinary and dread
ful. About eleven o'clock, the Orient took fire. The smoke from the enor
mous burning mass ascended like an immense black balloon, when sud
denly the flames, flashing through them, illumined the whole horizon with
awful brilliance. At length its magazine, containing hundreds of barrels of
gunpowder, blew up, with an explosion so tremendous as to shake every ship
to its centre. So awfully did this explosion rise above the incessant roar of
the battle, that simultaneously, on both sides, the firing ceased, and a silence
as of the grave ensued. But immediately the murderous conflict was re
sumed. Death and destruction, in the midst of the congenial gloom of night,
held high carnival in the bay. Thousands of Arabs lined the shore, gazing
with astonishment and terror upon the awful spectacle. Without intermis
sion, that dreadful conflict continued through the night and during the morn
ing, and until high noon of the ensuing day, when the firing gradually ceased,
for the French fleet was destroyed. Four ships only escaped, and sailed for
Malta. The English ships were too much shattered to attempt to pursue
the fugitives.
Admiral Brueys was wounded early in the action. He would not leave
the quarter-deck. " An admiral," said he, " should die giving orders." A
cannon-ball struck him, and but the fragments of his body could be found.
Nelson was also severely wounded on the head. When carried to the cock
pit, drenched in blood, he nobly refused, though in imminent danger of bleed
ing to death, to have his wounds dressed till the wounded seamen, who had
been brought in before him, were attended to. " I will take my turn with
my brave fellows," said he. Fully believing that his wound was mortal, he
called for the chaplain, and requested him to deliver his dying remembrance
to Lady Nelson. When the surgeon came, in due time, to inspect his wound,
it was found that it was only superficial.
All of the transports and small craft which had conveyed Napoleon's army
to Egypt were in the harbor of Alexandria, safe from attack, as Nelson had
no frigates with which to cross the bar. For leagues the shore was strewn
with fragments of the wreck, and with the mangled bodies of the dead. The
bay was also filled with floating corpses, notwithstanding the utmost efforts
to sink them. The majestic armament, which but four weeks before had
sailed from Toulon, was thus utterly overthrown. The loss of the English
was but about one thousand. Of the French, five thousand perished, and
three thousand were made prisoners.
As soon as the conquest was completed, Nelson made signal for the crew,
in every ship, to be assembled for prayers. The stillness of the Sabbath in
stantly pervaded the whole squadron, while thanksgivings were offered to
God for the signal victory. So strange is the heart of man. England was
desolating the whole civilized world with war, to compel the French people
to renounce republicanism, and establish a monarchy. And in the bloody
hour when the Bay of Aboukir was covered with the thousands of the muti
lated dead, whom her strong arm had destroyed, she, with unquestioned sin-

•202 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XI.
cerity, offered to God the tribute of thanksgiving and praise ; and from the
churches and the firesides of England, tens of thousands of pious hearts
breathed the fervent prayer of gratitude to God for the great victory of
Aboukir. Such was the famous Battle of the Nile, as it has since been called. It
was a signal conquest. It was a magnificent triumph of British arms ; but
a victory apparently more fatal to the great interests of humanity was, per
haps, never gained. It was the death-blow to reviving Egypt. It extinguish
ed in midnight gloom the light of civilization and science which had just been
enkindled on those dreary shores. Merciless oppression again tightened its
iron grasp upon Asia and Africa, and already, as the consequence, has an
other half century of crime, cruelty, and outrage blighted that doomed land.
Napoleon at once saw that all his hopes were blasted. The blow was ut
terly irreparable. He was cut oh from Europe. He could receive no sup
plies. He could not return. Egypt was his prison. Yet he received the
news of this terrible disaster with imperturbable equanimity. Not a word or
gesture was permitted to escape him which indicated the slightest discour
agement. With unabated zeal, he pursued his plans, and soon succeeded in
causing the soldiers to forget the disaster. He wrote to Kleber, " We must
die in this country, or get out of it as great as the ancients. This will oblige
us to do greater things than we intended. We must hold ourselves in read
iness. We will at least bequeath to Egypt a heritage of greatness." "Yes !"
Kleber replied, "we must do great things. I am preparing my faculties."
The exultation among the crowned heads in Europe, in view of this great
monarchical victory, was unbounded. England immediately created Nelson
Baron of the Nile, and conferred a pension of ten thousand dollars a year, to
be continued to his two immediate successors. The Grand Seignior, the
Emperor of Russia, the King of Sardinia, the King of Naples, and the East
India Company, made him magnificent presents. Despotism upon the Con
tinent, which had received such heavy blows from Napoleon, began to re
joice and to revive. The newly-emancipated people, struggling into the life
of liberty, were disheartened. Exultant England formed new combinations
of banded kings, to replace the Bourbons on their throne, and to crush the
spirit of popular liberty and equality, which had obtained such a foothold in
France. All monarchical Europe rejoiced ; all republican Europe mourned.*
The day of Aboukir was indeed a disastrous day to France. Napoleon,
with his intimate friends, did not conceal his conviction of the magnitude of
the calamity. He appeared occasionally, for a moment, lost in painful rev
erie, and was heard, two or three times, to exclaim; in indescribable tones of
emotion, "Unfortunate Brueys, what have you done ?" But hardly an hour
elapsed after he had received the dreadful tidings ere he entirely recovered
his accustomed fortitude and presence of mind, and he soon succeeded in al-
* The tidings of this victory sent a wave of unutterable exultation through all the aristocratic
courts of Europe. Lady Hamilton thus writes of its effects upon the infamous Queen of Naples -
" VV!? P°SSlble t0 describe her transports. She wept, she kissed her husband, her children,
walked frantically about the room, burst into tears again, and again embraced every person near
her exclaiming, ' 0 brave Nelson ! O God ! bless and protect our brave deliverer. 0 Nelson !
Nelson what do we not owe you 1 O conqueror ! savior of Italy ! oh that my swollen heart could
now tell nim personally what we owe him !' "

1798.] THE MARCH TO CAIRO. 203
laying the despair of the soldiers. He saw, at a glance, all the consequen
ces of this irreparable loss ; and it speaks well for his heart that, in the midst
of a disappointment so terrible, he could have forgotten his own grief in writ
ing a letter of condolence to the widow of his friend. A heartless man could
never have penned so touching an epistle as the following, addressed to Ma
dame Brueys, the widow of the man who had been unintentionally the cause
of apparently the greatest calamity which could have befallen him.
" Your husband has been killed by a cannon-ball while combating on his
quarter-deck. He died, without suffering, the death the most easy and the
most envied by the brave. I feel warmly for your grief. The moment which
separates us from the object which we love is terrible ; we feel isolated on
the earth ; we almost experience the convulsions of the last agony ; the fac
ulties of the soul are annihilated ; its connection with the earth is preserved
only through the medium of a painful dream, which disturbs every thing.
We feel, in such a situation, that there is nothing which yet binds us to life ;
that it were far better to die. But when, after such just and unavoidable
throes, we press our children to our hearts, tears and more tender sentiments
arise, and life becomes bearable for their sakes. Yes, Madame ! they will
open the fountains of your heart. You will watch their childhood, educate
their youth. You will speak to them of their father, of your present grief,
and of the loss which they and the republic have sustained in his death.
After having resumed the interests in life by the chord of maternal love, you
__ will perhaps feel some con
solation from the friendship
and warm interest which I
shall ever take in the widow
of my friend."
The French soldiers, with
the versatility of disposition
which has ever character
ized the light-hearted nation,
finding all possibility of a re
turn to France cut off, soon
regained their wonted gay-
ety, and with zeal engaged
in all the plans of Napoleon
for the improvement of the
country, which it now ap
peared that, for many years,
must be their home.

STUDYING THE RUINS.

204 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XII.

CHAPTER XII.

THE SYRIAN EXPEDITION.

Government of Desaix — Excursion to the Red Sea — Combination against Napoleon — Insurrection
in Cairo — The Dromedary Regiment— Terrible Sufferings — El Arish — Dilemma — Joy of the Sol
diers at Rain — Jaffa— Council of War — Statement ofBourrienne — March upon Acre — Letter to
Achmet— Plague — Charge upon the Band of Kleber— Arrival of Napoleon — Tempting Offer of
Sir Sydney Smith— The Bomb-shell.
Though, after the Battle of the Pyramids, Napoleon was the undisputed
master of Egypt, still much was to be accomplished in pursuing the despe
rate remnants of the Mamelukes, and in preparing to resist the overwhelming
forces which it was to be expected that England and Turkey would send
against him. Mourad Bey had retreated, with a few thousand of his horse
men, into Upper Egypt. Napoleon dispatched General Desaix, with two
thousand men, to pursue him. After several terribly bloody conflicts, Desaix
took possession of all of Upper Egypt, as far as the cataracts. Imbibing the
humane and politic sentiments of Napoleon, he became widely renowned and
beloved for his justice and his clemency. A large party of scientific men
accompanied the military division, examining every object of interest, and
taking accurate drawings of those sphinxes, obelisks, temples, and sepulchral
monuments which, in solitary grandeur, have withstood the ravages of four
thousand years. To the present hour, the Egyptians remember with affec
tion the mild and merciful, yet efficient government of Desaix. They were
never weary with contrasting it with the despotism of the Turks.
In the mean time, Napoleon, in person, made an expedition to Suez, to
inspect the proposed route of a canal to connect the waters of the Mediter
ranean with the Red Sea. With indefatigable activity of mind, he gave
orders for the construction of new works to fortify the harbor of Suez, and
•commenced the formation of an infant marine. One day, with quite a reti
nue, he made an excursion to that identical point of the Red Sea which, as
tradition reports, the children of Israel crossed three thousand years ago.
The tide was out, and he passed over to the Asiatic shore upon extended
flats. Various objects of interest engrossed his attention until late in the
afternoon, when he commenced his return. The twilight faded away, and
darkness came rapidly on. The party lost their path, and, as they were
wandering, bewildered, among the sands, the rapidly returning tide surround
ed them. The darkness of the night increased, and the horses floundered
deeper and deeper in the rising waves. The water reached the girths of
the saddles, and dashed upon the feet of the riders, and destruction seemed
inevitable. From this perilous position, Napoleon extricated himself by that presence
of mind and promptness of decision which seemed never to fail him. It was
an awful hour and an awful scene ; and yet, amid the darkness and the
rising waves of apparently a shoreless ocean, the spirit of Napoleon was as

1798.]

THE SYRIAN EXPEDITION.

205

unperturbed as if he were reposing in slippered ease upon his sofa. He col
lected his escort around him in concentric circles, each horseman facing
outward, and ranged in several rows. He then ordered them to advance,

THE ESCAPE FROM THE RED SEA.

each in a straight line. When the horse of the leader of one of these col
umns lost his foothold, and began to swim, the column drew back, and fol
lowed in the direction of another column which had not yet lost the firm
ground. The radii, thrown out in every direction, were in this way success
ively withdrawn, till all were following in the direction of one column which
had a stable footing. Thus escape was effected. The horses did not reach
the shore until midnight, when they were wading breast-deep in the swelling
waves. The tide rises on that part of the coast to the height of twenty-two
feet. " Had I perished in that manner, like Pharaoh," said Napoleon, " it
would have furnished all the preachers in Christendom with a magnificent
text against me."
England, animated in the highest degree by the great victory of Aboukir,
now redoubled her exertions to concentrate all the armies of Europe upon
republican France. Napoleon had been very solicitous to avoid a rupture
with the Grand Seignior at Constantinople. The Mamelukes who had revolt
ed against his authority had soothed the pride of the Ottoman Porte, and
purchased peace by paying tribute. Napoleon proposed to continue the trib
ute, that the revenues of the Turkish empire might not be diminished by the
transfer of the sovereignty of Egypt from the oppressive Mamelukes to bet
ter hands. The Sultan was not sorry to see the Mamelukes punished, but
he looked with much jealousy upon the movements, of a victorious European
army so near his throne.
The destruction of the French fleet deprived Napoleon of his ascendency
in the Levant, and gave the preponderance to England. The agents of the
British government succeeded in rousing Turkey to arms, to recover a prov
ince which the Mamelukes had wrested from her, before Napoleon took it

206 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XII.
from the Mamelukes. Russia also, with her barbaric legions, was roused,
by the eloquence of England, to rush upon the French Republic in this day
of disaster. Her troops crowded down from the north to ally themselves
with the turbaned Turk for the extermination of the French in Egypt. Old
enmities were forgotten, as Christians and Mussulmans grasped hands in
friendship, unmindful of all other animosities in their common hatred and
dread of republicanism.
The Russian fleet crowded down from the Black Sea, through the Bos-
phorus, to the Golden Horn, where, amid the thunders of artillery, and the
acclamations of the hundreds of thousands who throng the streets of Con
stantinople, Pera, and Scutari, it was received into the embrace of the Turk
ish squadron. It was indeed a gorgeous spectacle as, beneath the unclouded
splendor of a September sun, this majestic armament swept through the beau
tiful scenery of the Hellespont. The shores of Europe and Asia, separated
by this classic strait, were lined with admiring spectators, as the crescent and
the cross, in friendly blending, fluttered together in the breeze. The com
bined squadron emerged into the Mediterranean, to co-operate with the vic
torious fleet of England, which was now the undisputed mistress of the sea.
Religious animosities the most inveterate, and national antipathies the most
violent, were reconciled by the pressure of a still stronger hostility to those
principles of popular liberty which threatened to overthrow the despotism
both of the Sultan and the Czar.
The Grand Seignior had assembled an army of twenty thousand men at
Rhodes. They were to be conveyed by the combined fleet to the shores of
Egypt, and were there to effect a landing under cover of its guns. Another
vast army was assembled in Syria, to march down upon the French by way
of the desert, and attack them simultaneously with the forces sent by the
fleet. England and the emissaries of the Bourbons, with vast sums of money
accumulated from the European monarchies, were actively co-operating upon
the Syrian coast, by landing munitions of war, and by supplying able mili-
tar^engineers. The British government was also accumulating a vast army
in India, to be conveyed by transports up the Red Sea, and to fall upon the
French in their rear. England also succeeded in forming a new coalition
with Austria, Sardinia, Naples; and other minor European States, to drive
the French out of Italy, and with countless numbers to invade the territory
of France. Thus it would be in vain for the Directory to attempt even to
send succors to their absent general ; and it was not doubted that Napoleon,
thus assailed in divers quarters by overpowering numbers, would fall an
easy prey to his foes. Thus suddenly and portentously peril frowned upon
France from every quarter.
Mourad Bey, animated by this prospect of the overthrow of his victorious
enemies, formed a wide-spread conspiracy, embracing all the friends of the
Mamelukes and of the Turks. Every Frenchman was doomed to death, as in
one hour, all over the land, the conspirators, with cimeter and poniard, should
fall upon their unsuspecting foes. In this dark day of accumulating disaster,
the genius of Napoleon blazed forth with new and terrible brilliance.
But few troops were at the time in Cairo, for no apprehension of danger
was cherished, and the French were scattered over Egypt, engaged in all

1798.] THE SYRIAN EXPEDITION. 207
plans of utility. At five o'clock on the morning of the 21st of October, Na
poleon was awaked from sleep by the announcement that the city was in re
volt ; that mounted Bedouin Arabs were crowding in at the gates ; and that
several officers and many soldiers were already assassinated. He ordered an
aid immediately to take a number of the Guard and quell the insurrection.
But a few moments passed ere one of them returned covered with blood,
and informed him that all the rest were slain. It was an hour of fearful peril.
Calmly, fearlessly, mercilessly did Napoleon encounter it.
Immediately mounting his horse, accompanied by a body of his faithful
Guard, he proceeded to every threatened point. Instantly the presence of
Napoleon was felt. A fierce storm of grapeshot, cannon-balls, and bomb
shells swept the streets with unintermitted and terrible destruction. Blood
flowed in torrents. The insurgents, in dismay, fled to the most populous
quarters of the city. Napoleon followed them with their doom, as calm as
destiny. From the windows and the roofs, the insurgents fought with des
peration. The buildings were immediately enveloped in flames. They fled
into the streets only to be hewn down with sabres and mown down with
grapeshot. Multitudes, bleeding and breathless with consternation, sought
refuge in the mosques. The mosques were battered down and set on fire,
and the wretched inmates perished miserably. The calm yet terrible energy
with which Napoleon annihilated "the murderers of the French," sent a thrill
of dismay through Egypt.
This language of energetic action was awfully eloquent. It was heard and
heeded. It accomplished the purpose for which it was uttered. Neither
Turk nor Arab ventured again to raise the dagger against Napoleon. Egypt
felt the spell of the mighty conqueror, and stood still while he gathered his
strength to encounter England, and Russia, and Turkey in their combined
power. "My soldiers," said Napoleon, "are my children." The lives of
thirty thousand Frenchmen were in his keeping. Mercy to the barbaric and
insurgent Turks would have been counted weakness, and the bones of Na
poleon and of his army would soon have whitened the sands of the desert.
War is a wholesale system of brutality and carnage. The most revolting,
execrable details are essential to its vigorous execution. Bomb-shells can
not be thrown affectionately. Charges of cavalry can not be made with a
meek and lowly spirit. Red-hot shot, falling into the beleaguered city, will
not turn from the cradle of the infant, or from the couch of the dying maid
en. These horrible scenes must continue to be enacted till the nations of
the earth shall learn war no more.
Early in January, Napoleon received intelligence that the van-guard of the
Syrian army, with a formidable artillery train, and vast military stores, which
had been furnished from the English ships, had invaded Egypt, on the bor
ders of the great Syrian desert, and had captured El Arish. He immediately
resolved to anticipate the movements of his enemies, to cross the desert with
the rapidity of the wind, to fall upon the enemy at unawares, and thus to cut
up this formidable army before it could be strengthened by the co-operation
of the host assembled at Rhodes.
Napoleon intended to rally around his standard the Druses of Mount Leb
anon, and all the Christian tribes of Syria, who were anxiously awaiting his

208

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XII.

approach, and having established friendly relations with the Ottoman Porte,
to march, with an army of a hundred thousand auxiliaries, upon the Indus,
and drive the English out of India. As England was the undisputed mistress
of the sea, this was the only point where republican France could assail its
unrelenting foe. The imagination of Napoleon was lost in contemplating the
visions of power and of empire thus rising before him.
For such an enterprise, the ambitious general, with an army of but ten
thousand men, commenced his march over the desert, one hundred and fifty
miles broad, which separates Africa from Asia. The Pacha of Syria, called
Achmet the Butcher, from his merciless ferocity, was execrated by the Syr
ians. Napoleon had received delegations from the Christian tribes entreat
ing him to come for their deliverance from the most intolerable oppression,
and assuring him of their readiness to join his standard. The English, to
divert the attention of Napoleon from his project upon Syria, commenced the
bombardment of Alexandria. He understood the object of the unavailing at
tack, and treated it with disdain. He raised a regiment of entirely a new
kind, called the Dromedary Regiment. Two men, seated back to back, were
mounted on each dromedary ; and such was the strength and endurance of
these animals, that they could thus travel ninety miles without food, water,
or rest. This regiment was formed to give chase to the Arab robbers, who,
in fierce banditti bands, were the scourge of Egypt. The marauders were
held in terror by the destruction with which they were overwhelmed by these
swift avengers. Napoleon himself rode upon a dromedary.

THE DROMEDARY REGIMENT.

The conveyance of an army of ten thousand men, with horses and ar
tillery, across such an apparently interminable waste of shifting sand, was
attended with inconceivable suffering. To allay the despair of the soldiers,
Napoleon ever calm and unagitated in the contemplation of any catastrophe
however dreadful, soon dismounted, and waded through the burning sands by
the side of the soldiers, sharing the deprivations and the toils of the humblest

1798.] THE SYRIAN EXPEDITION. 209
private in the ranks. Five days were occupied in traversing this forlorn
waste. Water was carried for the troops in skins. At times, portions of the
army, almost perishing with thirst, surrendered themselves to despair. The
presence of Napoleon, however, invariably reanimated hope and courage.
The soldiers were ashamed to complain when they saw their youthful leader,
pale and slender, and with health seriously impaired, toiling along by their
side, sharing cheerfully all their privations and fatigues.
The heat of these glowing deserts, beneath the fierce glare of a cloudless
sun, was almost intolerable. At one time, when nearly suffocated by the in
tense heat, while passing by some ruins, a common soldier yielded to Napo
leon the fragments of a pillar, in whose refreshing shadow he contrived, for
a few moments, to shield his head. " And this," said Napoleon, " was no
trifling concession." At another time, a party of the troops got lost among

PINKKEMSC.HY.

the sand-hills, and nearly perished. Napoleon took some Arabs on drome
daries, and hastened in pursuit of them. When found, they were nearly dead
from thirst, fatigue, and despair. Some of the younger soldiers, in their
phrensy, had broken their muskets and thrown them away. The sight of
their beloved general revived their hopes, and inspired them with new life.
Napoleon informed them that provisions and water were at hand. " But,"
said he, " if relief had been longer delayed, would that have excused your
murmurings and loss of courage ? No ! soldiers learn to die with honor."
After a march of five days, they arrived before El Arish, one of those small,
strongly fortified military towns, deformed by every aspect of poverty and
Vol. I.— 0

210 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [Chap. XII.
wretchedness, with which iron despotism has filled the once fertile plains of
Syria. El Arish was within the boundaries of Egypt. It had been captured
by the Turks, and they had accumulated there immense magazines of mil
itary stores. It was the hour of midnight when Napoleon arrived beneath
its walls. The Turks, not dreaming that a foe was near, were roused from
sleep by the storm of balls and shells shaking the walls and crushing down
through the roofs of their dwellings. They sprang to their guns, and, behind
the ramparts of stone, fought with their accustomed bravery ; but, after a
short and bloody conflict, they were compelled to retire, and effected a dis
orderly retreat.
The garrison in the citadel, consisting of nearly two thousand men, were
taken prisoners. Napoleon was not a little embarrassed in deciding what to
do with these men. He had but ten thousand soldiers with whom to en
counter the whole power of the Ottoman Porte, aided by the fleets of En
gland and Russia. Famine was in his camp, and it was with difficulty that
he could obtain daily rations for his troops. He could not keep these pris
oners with him. They would eat the bread for which his army was hunger
ing ; they would demand a strong guard to keep them from insurrection ;
and the French army was already so disproportionate to the number of its
foes, that not an individual could be spared from active service. They
would surely take occasion, in the perilous moments of the day of battle, to
rise in revolt, and thus, perhaps, effect the total destruction of the French
army. Consequently, to retain them in the camp was an idea not to be
entertained for a moment. To disarm them and dismiss them, upon their
word of honor no longer to serve against the French, appeared almost equal
ly perilous. There was no sense of honor in, the heart of the barbarian
Turk. The very idea of keeping faith with infidels they laughed to scorn.
They would immediately join the nearest division of the Turkish army,
and thus swell the already multitudinous ranks of the foe, and even if they
did not secure the final defeat of Napoleon, they would certainly cost him
the lives of many of his soldiers. He could not supply them with food,
neither could he spare an escort to conduct them across the desert to Egypt.
To shoot them in cold blood was revolting to humanity. Napoleon, how
ever, generously resolved to give them their liberty, taking their pledge that
they would no longer serve against him ; and, in order to help them keep
their word, he sent a division of the army to escort them one day's march to
ward Bagdad, whither they promised to go. But no sooner had the escort
commenced its return to the army, than these men, between one and two
thousand m number, turned also, and made a straight path for their feet to
the fortress of Jaffa, laughing at the simplicity of their outwitted foe. But
N apoleon was not a man to be laughed at. This merriment soon died away
m fearful waihngs. Here they joined the marshaled hosts of Achmet the
Butcher The bloody pacha armed them anew, and placed them in his fore
most ranks, again to pour a shower of bullets upon the little band headed by
Napoleon. J
El Arish is in Egypt, eighteen miles from the granite pillars which mark
the confines of Asia and Africa. Napoleon now continued his march through
a dry, barren, and thirsty land. After having traversed a dreary desert of a

1798.] THE SYRIAN EXPEDITION. 21 1
hundred and fifty miles, the whole aspect of the country began rapidly to
change. The soldiers were delighted to see the wreaths of vapor gatherino-
in the hitherto glowing and cloudless skies. Green and flowery valleys,
groves of olive-trees, and wood-covered hills, rose like a vision of enchant
ment before the eye, so long weary of gazing upon shifting sands and barren
rocks. Napoleon often alluded to his passage across the desert, remarking
that the scene was ever peculiarly gratifying to his mind. " I never passed
the desert," said he, "without experiencing very powerful emotions. It was
the image of immensity to my thoughts. It displayed no limits. It had
neither beginning nor end. It was an ocean for the foot of man." As they
approached the mountains of Syria, clouds began to darken the sky, and
when a few drops of rain descended — a phenomenon which they had not
witnessed for many months — the joy of the soldiers was exuberant. A mur
mur of delight ran through the army, and a curious spectacle was presented,
as, with shouts of joy and peals of laughter, the soldiers in a body threw
back their heads and opened their mouths, to catch the grateful drops upon
their dry and thirsty lips.
But when dark night came on, and, with saturated clothing, they threw
themselves down in the drenching rain for their night's bivouac, they remem
bered with pleasure the star-spangled firmament and the dry sands of cloud
less, rainless Egypt. The march of a few days brought them to Gaza. Here
they encountered another division of the Turkish army. Though headed by
the ferocious Achmet himself, the Turks were, in an hour, dispersed before
the resistless onset of the French, and all the military stores which had been
collected in the place fell into the hands of the conqueror. But perils were'
now rapidly accumulating around the adventurous band.
England, with her invincible fleet, was landing men and munitions of war,
and artillery, and European engineers, to arrest the progress of the audacious
and indefatigable victor. The combined squadrons of Turkey and Russia,
also, were hovering along the coast, to prevent any possible supplies from be
ing forwarded to Napoleon from Alexandria. Thirty thousand Turks, infan
try and horsemen, were marshaled at Damascus. Twenty thousand were
at Rhodes. Through all the ravines of Syria, the turbaned Mussulmans,
with gleaming sabres, were crowding down to swell the hostile ranks, al
ready sufficiently numerous to render Napoleon's destruction apparently cer
tain. Still unintimidated, Napoleon pressed on, with the utmost celerity,
into the midst of his foes. On the 3d of March, twenty-three days after leav
ing Cairo, he arrived at Jaffa, the ancient Joppa. This place, strongly garri
soned, was surrounded by a massive wall flanked by towers. Napoleon had
no heavy battering train, for such ponderous machines could not be dragged
across the desert. He had ordered some pieces to be forwarded to him from
Alexandria, by small vessels which could coast near the shore ; but they had
been intercepted and taken by the vigilance of the English cruisers.
Not an hour, however, was to be lost. From every point in the circumfer
ence of the circle of which his little band was the centre, the foe was hurry
ing to meet him. The sea was whitened with their fleets, and the tramp of
their dense columns shook the land. His only hope was, by rapidity of ac
tion to defeat the separate divisions before all should unite. With his light

212 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XII.
artillery he battered a breach in the walls, and then, to save the effusion of
blood, sent a summons to the commander to surrender. The barbarian Turk,
regardless of the rules of civilized warfare, cut off the head of the unfortu
nate messenger, and raised the ghastly, gory trophy upon a pole from one of
the towers. This was his bloody gauntlet, his defiance, and threat.
The enraged soldiers, with extraordinary intrepidity, rushed in at the breach
and took sanguinary vengeance. The French suffered very severely, and
the carnage on both sides was awful. Nothing could restrain the fury of the
assailants, enraged at the wanton murder of their comrade. For many hours
a scene of horror was exhibited in the streets of Jaffa, which could hardly
have been surpassed had the conflict raged between fiends in the world of
woe. Earth has never presented a spectacle more horrible than that of a
city taken by assault. The vilest and the most abandoned of mankind in
variably crowd into the ranks of an army. Imagination shrinks appalled from
the contemplation of the rush often thousand demons, infuriated and inflamed,
into the dwellings of a crowded city.
Napoleon, shocked at the outrages which were perpetrated, sent two of his
aids to appease the fury of the soldiers, and to stop the massacre. Proceed
ing upon this message of mercy, they advanced to a large building where a
portion of the garrison had taken refuge. The soldiers were shooting them
as they appeared at the windows, battering the doors with cannon-balls, and
setting fire to the edifice, that all might be consumed together. The Turks
fought with the energies of despair. These were the men who had capitu
lated at El Arish, and who had violated their parole. They now offered to
surrender again, if their lives might be spared. The aids, with much diffi
culty, rescued them from the rage of the maddened soldiers, and they were
conducted, some two thousand in number, as prisoners into the French camp.
Napoleon was walking in front of his tent when he saw the multitude of
men approaching. The whole dreadfulness of the dilemma in which he was
placed flashed upon him instantaneously. His countenance fell, and in tones
of deep grief he exclaimed, "What do they wish me to do with these men?
Have I food for them — ships to convey them to Egypt or France ? Why
have they served me thus ?" The aids excused themselves for taking them
prisoners by pleading that he had ordered them to go and stop the carnage.
" Yes !" Napoleon replied, sadly, " as to women, children, and old men, all the
peaceful inhabitants, but not with respect to armed soldiers. It was your
duty to die rather than bring these unfortunate creatures to me. What do
you want me to do with them ?"
A council of war was immediately held in the tent of Napoleon, to decide
upon their fate. Long did the council deliberate, and finally it adjourned
without coming to any conclusion. The next day the council was again con
vened. All the generals of division were summoned to attend. For many
anxious hours they deliberated, sincerely desirous of discovering any meas
ures by which they might save the lives of the unfortunate prisoners. The
murmurs of the French soldiers were loud and threatening. They complain
ed bitterly of having their scanty rations given to the prisoners ; of having
men again liberated who had already broken their pledge of honor, and had
caused the death of many of their comrades.

1798.] THE SYRIAN EXPEDITION. 213
General Bon represented that the discontent was so deep and general, that,
unless something were expeditiously done, a serious revolt in the army was
to be apprehended. Still the council adjourned, and the third day arrived
without their being able to come to any conclusion favorable to the lives of
these unfortunate men. Napoleon watched the ocean with intense solicitude,
hoping against hope that some French vessel might appear, to relieve him
of the fearful burden ; but the evil went on increasing. The murmurs grew
louder. The peril of the army was real and imminent, and, by the delay,
was already seriously magnified. It was impossible longer to keep the pris
oners in the camp. If set at liberty, it was only contributing so many more
troops to swell the ranks of Achmet the Butcher, and thus, perhaps, to insure
the total discomfiture and destruction of the French army.
The Turks spared no prisoners. All who fell into their hands perished by
horrible torture. The council at last unanimously decided that the men
must be put to death. Napoleon, with extreme reluctance, signed the fatal
order. The melancholy troop, in the silence of despair, were led, firmly fet
tered, to the sand-hills on the sea-coast, where they were divided into small
squares, and mown down by successive discharges of musketry. The dread
ful scene was soon over, and they were all silent in death. The pyramid of
their bones still remains in the desert, a frightful memorial of the horrors
of war.
As this transaction has ever been deemed the darkest blot upon the char
acter of Napoleon, it seems but fair to give his defense in his own words :
"I ordered," said Napoleon, at St. Helena, "about a thousand or twelve
hundred to be shot. Among the garrison at Jaffa, a number of Turkish
troops were discovered, whom I had taken a short time before at El Arish,
and sent to Bagdad, on their parole not to be found in arms against me for
a year. I had caused them to be escorted thirty-six miles on their way to
Bagdad by a division of my army ; but, instead of proceeding to Bagdad,
they threw themselves into Jaffa, defended it to the last, and cost me the
lives of many of my brave troops. Moreover, before I attacked the town,
I sent them a flag of truce. Immediately after, we' saw the head of the
bearer elevated on a pole over the wall. Now, if I had spared them again,
and sent them away on their parole, they would directly have gone to Acre,
and have played over, for the second time, the same scene that they had
done at Jaffa.
" In justice to the lives of my soldiers, as every general ought to consider
himself as their father, and them as his children, I could not allow this. To
leave as a guard a portion of my army, already reduced in number in conse
quence of the breach of faith of those wretches, was impossible. Indeed, to
have acted otherwise than as I did, would probably have caused the destruc
tion of my whole army. I therefore, availing myself of the rights of war,
which authorize the putting to death prisoners taken under such circum
stances, independent of the right given to me by having taken the city by as
sault, and that of retaliation on the Turks, ordered that the prisoners, who, in
defiance of their capitulation, had been found bearing arms against me, should
be selected out and shot. The rest, amounting to a considerable number,
were spared. I would do the same thing again to-morrow, and so would

o14 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XII.
Wellington, or any general commanding an army under similar circum
stances." Whatever judgment posterity may pronounce upon this transaction, no one
can see in it any indication of an innate love of cruelty in Napoleon. He re
garded the transaction as one of the stern necessities of war. The whole
system is one of unmitigated horror. Bomb-shells are thrown into cities to
explode in the chambers of maidens and in the cradles of infants, and the
incidental destruction of innocence and helplessness is disregarded. The
execrable ferocity of the details of war are essential to the system. To say
that Napoleon ought not to have shot these prisoners, is simply to say that
he ought to have relinquished the contest, to have surrendered himself and
his army to the tender mercies of the Turk ; and to allow England, and Aus
tria, and Russia to force back upon the disenthralled French nation the de
tested reign of the Bourbons. England was bombarding the cities of France,
to compel a proud nation to re-enthrone a discarded and hated king. The
French, in self-defense, were endeavoring to repel their powerful foe, by
marching to India, England's only vulnerable point. Surely the responsi
bility of this war rests with the assailants, and not with the assailed.
There was a powerful party in the British Parliament and throughout the
nation, the friends of reform and of popular liberty, who sympathized entirely
with the French in this conflict, and who earnestly protested against a war
which they deemed impolitic and unjust ; but the king and the nobles pre
vailed, and as the French would not meekly submit to their demands, the
world was deluged with blood. " Nothing was easier," says Alison, "than
to have disarmed the captives and sent them away." The remark is un
worthy of the eloquent and distinguished historian. It is simply affirming
that France should have yielded the conflict, and submitted to British dicta
tion. It would have been far more in accordance with the spirit of the
events to have said, " Nothing was easier than for England to allow France
to choose her own form of government." But had this been done, the throne
of England's king and the castles of her nobles might have been overturned
by the earthquake of revolution. Alas for man !
Bourrienne, the rejected secretary of Napoleon, who became the enemy
of his former benefactor, and who, as the minister and flatterer of Louis
XVIII., recorded with caustic bitterness the career of the great rival of the
European kings, thus closes his narrative of this transaction : " I have related
the truth — the whole truth. I assisted at all the conferences and delibera
tions, though, of course, without possessing any deliberative voice. But I
must in candor declare that, had I possessed a right of voting, my voice
would have been for death. The result of the deliberations, and the cir
cumstances of the army, would have constrained me to this. War, unfor
tunately, offers instances, by no means rare, in which an immutable law, of
all times and common to all nations, has decreed that private interest shall
succumb to the paramount good of the public, and that humanity itself shall
be forgotten. It is for posterity to judge whether such was the terrible
position of Bonaparte. I have a firm conviction that it was ; and this is
strengthened by the fact that the opinion of the members of the council was
unanimous upon the subject, and that the order was issued upon their decis-

1798.] THE SYRIAN EXPEDITION. 215
ion. I owe it also to truth to state, that Napoleon yielded only at the last
extremity, and was perhaps one of those who witnessed the massacre with
the deepest sorrow."
Even Sir Walter Scott, who, unfortunately, allowed his Tory predilections
to dim the truth of his unstudied yet classic page, while affirming that " this
bloody deed must always remain a deep stain upon the character of Napo
leon," is constrained to admit, "yet we do not view it as the indulgence of
an innate love of cruelty ; for nothing in Bonaparte's history shows the ex
istence of that vice ; and there are many things which intimate his disposi
tion to have been naturally humane."
Napoleon now prepared to march upon Acre, the most important military
post in Syria. Behind its strong ramparts Achmet the Butcher had gather
ed all his troops and military stores, determined upon the most desperate re
sistance. Colonel Philippeaux, an emissary of the Bourbons, and a former
schoolmate of Napoleon, contributed all the skill of an accomplished French
engineer in arming the fortifications and conducting the defense. Achmet
immediately sent intelligence of the approaching attack to Sir Sydney Smith,
who was cruising in the Levant with an English fleet. He promptly sailed
for Acre, with two ships of the line and several smaller vessels, and proud
ly entered the harbor two days before the French made their appearance,
strengthening Achmet with an abundant supply of engineers, artillerymen,
and ammunition.
Most unfortunately for Napoleon, Sir Sidney, just before he entered the
harbor, captured the flotilla, dispatched from Alexandria with the siege equi
page, as it was cautiously creeping around the headlands of Carmel. The
whole battering train, amounting to forty-four heavy guns, he immediately
mounted upon the ramparts, and manned them with English soldiers. This
was an irreparable loss to Napoleon, but with undiminished zeal the besiegers,
with very slender means, advanced their works. Napoleon now sent an offi
cer with a letter to Achmet, offering to treat for peace. "Why," said he, in
this, " should I deprive an old man, whom I do not know, of a few years of
life ? What signify a few leagues more, added to the countries I have con
quered ? Since God has given victory into my hands, I will, like him, be
forgiving and merciful, not only toward the people, but toward their rulers
also." The barbarian Turk, regardless of the flag of truce, cut off the head of this
messenger, though Napoleon had taken the precaution to send a Turkish
prisoner with the flag, and raised the ghastly trophy upon a pole, over his
battlements, in savage defiance. The decapitated body he sewed up in a
sack, and threw it into the sea. Napoleon then issued a proclamation to the
people of Syria : "lam come into Syria," said he, " to drive out the Mame
lukes and the army of the Pacha. What right had Achmet to send his troops
to attack me in Egypt ? He has provoked me to war. I have brought it to
him. But it is not on you, inhabitants, that I intend to inflict its horrors.
Remain quiet in your homes. Let those who have abandoned them through
fear return again; I will grant to every one the property which he possesses.
It is my wish that the Cadis continue their functions as usual, and dispense
justice ; that religion, in particular, be protected and revered, and that the

216

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XII.

mosques should continue to be frequented by all faithful Mussulmans. It is
from God that all good things come ; it is He who gives the victory. The
example of what has occurred at Gaza and Jaffa ought to teach you that, if
I am terrible to my enemies, I am kind to my friends, and, above all, benev
olent and merciful to the poor."
The plague, that most dreadful scourge of the East, now broke out in the
army. It was a new form of danger, and created a fearful panic. The sol
diers refused to approach their sick comrades, and even the physicians, terri-

THE PLAGUE HOSPITAL.

fled m view of the fearful contagion, abandoned the sufferers to die unaided
Napoleon immediately entered the hospitals, sat down by the cots of the sick
soldiers, took their fevered hands in his own, even pressed their bleedino- tu
mors, and spoke to them words of encouragement and hope. The dyin<r°sol
diers looked upon their heroic and sympathizing friend with eyes moistened

1798.] THE SYRIAN EXPEDITION. 217
with gratitude, and blessed him. Their courage was reanimated, and thus
they gained new strength to throw off the dreadful disease. " You are right,"
said a grenadier, upon whom the plague had made such ravages that he
could hardly move a limb; "your grenadiers were not made to die in a hos
pital." The physicians, shamed by the heroism of Napoleon, returned to their
duty. The soldiers, animated by the example of their chief, no longer re
fused to administer to the wants of their suffering comrades, and thus the
progress of the infection in the army was materially arrested. One of the
physicians reproached Napoleon for his imprudence in exposing himself to
such fearful peril. He coolly replied, " It is but my duty. I am the com
mander-in-chief !"
Napoleon now pressed the siege of Acre. It was the only fortress in
Syria which could stop him. Its subjugation would make him the undis
puted master of Syria. Napoleon had already formed an alliance with the
Druses and other Christian tribes, who had taken refuge from the extor
tions of the Turks among the mountains of Lebanon, and they only awaited
the capture of Acre to join his standard in a body, and to throw off the in
tolerable yoke of Moslem despotism. Delegations of their leading men fre
quently appeared in the tent of Napoleon, and their prayers were fervently
ascending for the success of the French arms. That in this conflict Napo
leon was contending on the side of human liberty, and the allies for the sup
port of despotism, is undeniable. The Turks were not idle. By vast exer
tions they had roused the whole Mussulman population to march, in the
name of the Prophet, for the destruction of the " Christian dogs." An enor
mous army was marshaled, and was on its way for the relief of the belea
guered city. Damascus had furnished its thousands. The scattered rem
nants of the fierce Mamelukes, and the mounted Bedouins of the desert, had
congregated, to rush, with resistless numbers, upon their bold antagonist.
Napoleon had been engaged for ten days in an almost incessant assault
upon the works of Acre, when the approach of the great Turkish army was
announced. It consisted of about thirty thousand troops, twelve thousand
of whom were the fiercest and best-trained horsemen in the world. Napo
leon had but eight thousand effective men with which to encounter the well-
trained army of Europeans and Turks within the walls of Acre, and the
numerous host rushing to its rescue. He acted with his usual promptitude.
Leaving two thousand men to protect the works and cover the siege, he
boldly advanced, with but six thousand men, to encounter the thirty thou
sand, already exulting in his speedy and sure destruction. Kleber was sent
forward with an advance guard of three thousand men. Napoleon followed
soon after with three thousand more.
As Kleber, with his little band, defiled from a narrow valley at the foot
of Mount Tabor, he entered upon an extended plain. It was early in the
morning of the 16th of April. The unclouded sun was just rising over the
hills of Palestine, and revealed to his view the whole embattled Turkish host
spread out before him. The eye was dazzled with the magnificent spectacle,
as proud banners and plumes, and gaudy turbans and glittering steel, and all
the barbaric martial pomp of the East, were reflected by the rays of the brill-

21g NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XII.
iant morning. Twelve thousand horsemen, decorated with the most gor
geous trappings of military show, and mounted on the fleetest Arabian char
gers, were prancing and curveting in all directions. A loud and exultant
shout of vengeance and joy, rising like the roar of the ocean, burst from
the Turkish ranks as soon as they perceived their victims enter the plain.
The French, too proud and self-confident to retreat before any superiority in
numbers, had barely time to form themselves into one of Napoleon's impreg
nable squares, when the whole cavalcade of horsemen, with gleaming sabres
and hideous yells, and like the sweep of the wind, came rushing down upon
them. Every man in the French squares knew that his life depended upon
his immobility, and each one stood, shoulder to shoulder with his comrades,
like a rock.
It is impossible to drive a horse upon the point of a bayonet. He has an
instinct of self-preservation which no power of the spur can overcome. He
can be driven to the bayonet's point ; but if the bayonet remain firm, he will
rear, and plunge, and wheel, in defiance of all the efforts of his rider to force
his breast against it. As the immense mass came thundering down upon
the square, it was received by volcanic bursts of fire from the French vete
rans, and horse and rider rolled together in the dust. Chevaux-de-frise of
bayonets, presented from every side of this living, flaming citadel, prevented
the possibility of piercing the square. For six long hours this little band
sustained the dreadful and unequal conflict. The artillery of the enemy
plowed their ranks in vain. In vain the horsemen made reiterated charges
on every side. The French, by the tremendous fire incessantly pouring from
their ranks, soon formed around them a rampart of dead men and horses.
Behind this horrible abattis, they bid stern defiance to the utmost fury of
their enemies. Seven long hours passed away, while the battle raged with
unabated ferocity. The mid-day sun was now blazing upon the exhausted
band. Their ammunition was nearly expended. Notwithstanding the enor
mous slaughter they had made, their foes seemed undiminished in number.
A conflict so unequal could not much longer continue. The French were
calling to their aid a noble despair, expecting there to perish, but resolved,
to a man, to sell their lives most dearly.
Matters were in this state when, at one o'clock, Napoleon, with three
thousand men, arrived on the heights which overlooked the field of battle.
The field was covered with a countless multitude, swaying to and fro in the
most horrible clamor and confusion. They were canopied with thick volumes
of smoke, which almost concealed the combatants from view. Napoleon
could only distinguish the French by the regular and unintermitted volleys
which issued from their ranks, presenting one steady spot incessantly emit
ting lightning flashes in the midst of the moving multitude with which it was
surrounded. With that instinctive judgment which enabled him, with the
rapidity of lightning, to adopt the most important decisions, Napoleon in
stantly took his resolution. He formed his little band into two squares, and
advanced in such a manner as to compose, with the square of Kleber, a tri
angle, inclosing the Turks. Thus, with unparalleled audacity, with six thou
sand men he undertook to surround thirty thousand of as fierce and desperate
soldiers as the world has ever seen.

1798.] THE SYRIAN EXPEDITION. 219
Cautiously and silently, the two squares hurried on to the relief of their
friends, giving no sign of approach till they were just ready to plunge upon
the plain. Suddenly the loud report of a cannon upon the hills startled,
with joyful surprise, the weary heroes. They recognized instantly the voice
of Napoleon rushing to their rescue. One wild shout of almost delirious joy
burst from the ranks, " It is Bonaparte ! it is Bonaparte !" That name oper
ated as a talisman upon every heart. Tears of emotion dimmed the eyes
of those scarred and bleeding veterans, as, disdaining longer to act upon the
defensive, they grasped their weapons with nervous energy, and made a des
perate onset upon their multitudinous foes. The Turks were assailed by
a murderous fire instantaneously discharged from the three points of this
triangle. Discouraged by the indomitable resolution with which they had
been repulsed, and bewildered by the triple assault, they broke and fled.
The mighty host, like ocean waves, swept across the plain, when sud
denly it was encountered by one of the fresh squares, and in refluent surges
rolled back in frightful disorder. A scene of horror now ensued utterly un
imaginable. The Turks were cut off from retreat in every direction. The
'enormous mass of infantry, horse, artillery, and baggage was driven in upon
itself, in wild and horrible confusion. From the French squares there flashed
one incessant sheet of flame. Peal after peal, the artillery thundered in a
continuous roar. These thoroughly drilled veterans fired with a rapidity and
a precision Which seemed to the Turks supernatural. An incessant storm
of cannon-balls, grapeshot, and bullets pierced the motley mass, and the bay
onets of the French dripped with blood.
Murat was there, with his proud cavalry — Murat, whom Napoleon has
described as in battle probably the bravest man in the world. Of 'majestic
frame, dressed in the extreme of military ostentation, and mounted upon the
most powerful of Arabian chargers, he towered, proudly eminent, above all
his band. With the utmost enthusiasm, he charged into the swollen tide
of turbaned heads and flashing cimeters. As his strong horse reared and
plunged in the midst of the sabre strokes falling swiftly on every side around
him, his white plume, which ever led to victory, gleamed like a banner over
the tumultuous throng.
It is almost an inexplicable development of human nature to hear Murat
exclaim, " In the hottest of this terrible fight I thought of Christ, and of his
transfiguration upon this very spot, two thousand years ago, and the reflec
tion inspired me with tenfold courage and strength." The fiend-like dis
position created by these horrible scenes is illustrated by the conduct of a
French soldier on this occasion. He was dying of a frightful wound. Still
he crawled to a mangled Mameluke, even more feeble than himself, also in
the agonies of death, and, seizing him by the throat, tried to strangle him.
" How can you," exclaimed a French officer to the human tiger, " in your
condition, be guilty of such an act ?" " You speak much at your ease," the
man replied, " you who are unhurt ; but I, who am dying, must reap some
enjoyment while I can."
The victory was complete. The Turkish army was not merely conquered
— it was destroyed. As that day's sun, vailed in smoke, solemnly descended,
like a ball of fire, behind the hills of Lebanon, the whole majestic array,

220 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XII.
assembled for the invasion of Egypt, and who had boasted that they were
" innumerable as the sands of the sea, or as the stars of heaven," had disap
peared, to be seen no more. The Turkish camp, with four hundred camels
and an immense booty, fell into the hands of the victors.
This signal victory was achieved by a small division of Napoleon's army,
of but six thousand men, in a pitched battle, on an open field. Such exploits
history can not record without amazement. The ostensible and avowed
object of Napoleon's march into Syria was now accomplished. Napoleon
returned again to Acre, to prosecute, with new vigor, its siege ; for, though
the great army marshaled for his destruction was annihilated, he had other
plans, infinitely more majestic, revolving in his capacious mind. One even
ing he was standing with his secretary upon the mount which still bears the
name of Richard Coeur de Lion, contemplating the smouldering scene of
blood and ruin around him, when, after a few moments of silent thought, he
exclaimed, " Yes, Bourrienne, that miserable fort has cost me dear ; but matters
have gone too far not to make a last effort. The fate of the East depends
upon the capture of Acre. That is the key of Constantinople or of India.
If we succeed in taking this paltry town, I shall obtain the treasures of the
Pacha, and arms for three hundred thousand men. I will then raise and
arm the whole population of Syria, already so exasperated by the cruelty
of Achmet, and for whose fall all classes daily supplicate Heaven. I shall
advance on Damascus and Aleppo. I will recruit- my army, as I advance,
by enlisting all the discontented. I will announce to the people the break
ing of their chains, and the abolition of the tyrannical governments of the
Pachas. The Druses wait but for the fall of Acre to declare themselves.
I am already offered the keys of Damascus. My armed masses will pene
trate to Constantinople, and the Mussulman dominion will be overturned.
I shall found in the East a new and mighty empire, which will fix my posi
tion with posterity."
With these visions animating his mind, and having fully persuaded himself
that he was the child of destiny, he prosecuted, with all possible vigor, the
siege of Acre. But English, and Russian, and Turkish fleets were in that
harbor. English generals, and French engineers, and European and Turk
ish soldiers, stood, side by side, behind those formidable ramparts, to resist
the utmost endeavors of their assailants with equal vigor, science, and fear
lessness. No pen can describe the desperate conflicts and the scenes of carnage
which ensued. Day after day, night after night, and week after week, the
horrible slaughter, without intermission, continued. The French succeeded
in transporting, by means of their cruisers, from Alexandria, a few pieces of
heavy artillery, and the walls of Acre were reduced to a pile of blackened
ruins. The streets were plowed up, and the houses blown down by bomb
shells. Bleeding forms, blackened with smoke, and with clothing burned
and tattered, rushed upon each other with dripping sabres and bayonets, and
with hideous yells, which rose even above the incessant thunders of the can
nonade. The noise, the uproar, the flash of guns, the enveloping cloud of
sulphurous smoke, converting the day into hideous night, and the uninter-

1798.]

THE SYRIAN EXPEDITION.

221

SIEOE OF ACRE.

mitted flashes of musketry and
artillery, transforming night
into lurid and portentous day,
the forms of the combatants,
gliding like spectres, with de
moniacal fury, through the
darkness, the blast of trump
ets, the shout of onset, the
shriek of death, presented a
scene which no tongue can tell
nor imagination conceive.
There was no time to bury
the dead, and the putrefaction
of hundreds of corpses under
that burning sun added appall
ing horrors. To the pure spir
its of a happier world, in the sweet companionship of celestial mansions, lov
ing and blessing each other, it must have appeared a spectacle worthy of a
pandemonium. And yet the human heart is so wicked, that it can often,
forgetting the atrocity of such a scene, find a strange pleasure in the con
templation of its energy and its heroism. We are indeed a fallen race.
There was occasional lulls in this awful storm, during which each party
would be rousing its energies for more terrible collision. The besiegers
burrowed mines deep under the foundation of walls and towers, and, with
the explosion of hundreds of barrels of gunpowder, opened volcanic craters,
blowing men and rocks into hideous ruin. In the midst of the shower of
destruction darkening the skies, the assailants rushed, with sabres and drip
ping bayonets, to the assault. The onset, on the part of the French, was as
furious and desperate as mortal man is capable of making. The repulse
was equally determined and fearless.
Sir Sydney Smith conducted the defense, with the combined English and
Turkish troops. He displayed consummate skill and unconquerable firm
ness, and availed himself of every weapon of effective warfare. Conscious
of the earnest desire of the French soldiers to return to France, and of the
despair with which the army had been oppressed when the fleet was de
stroyed, and thus all hope of a return was cut off, he circulated a proclama
tion among them offering to convey safely to France every soldier who would
desert from the standard of Napoleon. This proclamation, in large numbers,
was thrown from the ramparts to the French troops. A more tempting offer
could not have been presented ; and yet, so strong was the attachment of the
soldiers for their chief, that it is not known that a single individual availed
himself of the privilege. Napoleon issued a counter-proclamation to his
army, in which he asserted that the English commodore had actually gone
mad. This so provoked Sir Sydney that he sent a challenge to Napoleon
to meet him in single combat. The young general proudly replied, " If Sir
Sydney will send Marlborough from his grave to meet me, I will think of it.
In the mean time, if the gallant commodore wishes to display his personal
prowess, I will neutralize a few yards of the beach, and send a tall grena
dier, with whom he can run a tilt."

222

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XII.
In the progress of the siege, General Caffarelli was struck by a ball, and
mortally wounded. For eighteen days he lingered in extreme pain, and then
died. Napoleon was strongly attached to him, and during all the period,
twice every day, made a visit to his couch of suffering. So great was his
influence over the patient, that, though the wounded general was frequently
delirious, no sooner was the name of Napoleon announced, than he became
perfectly collected, and conversed coherently.
The most affecting proofs were frequently given of the entire devotion
of the troops to Napoleon. One day, while giving some directions in the
trenches, a shell, with its fuse fiercely burning, fell at his feet. Two grena
diers, perceiving his danger, instantly rushed toward him, encircled him in
their arms, and completely shielded every part of his body with their own,

THE BOMB-SHELL.

The shell exploded, blowing a hole in the earth sufficiently large to bury " a
cart and two horses." All three were tumbled into the excavation, and cov
ered with stones and sand. One of the men was rather severely wounded ;
Napoleon escaped with but a few slight bruises. He immediately elevated
both of these heroes to the rank of officers.
"Never yet, I believe," said Napoleon, "has there been such devotion
shown by soldiers to their general as mine have manifested for me. At
Areola, Colonel Muiron threw himself before me, covered my body with his
own, and received the blow which was intended for me. He fell at my feet,
and his blood spouted up in my face. In all my misfortunes, never has the
soldier been wanting: in fidelity — never has man been served more faithfully
bv his troops. With the last drop of blood gushing out of their veins, they
exclaimed, ' Vive Napoleon!'"

1799.] THE SIEGE ABANDONED. 223

CHAPTER XIII.
THE SIEGE ABANDONED.
Terrible Butchery — Bitter Disappointment. — Napoleon's Magnanimity to his Foes — Hostility
against Dueling — Proclamation — The French retire from Acre — Humanity of Napoleon to the
Sick — Baron Larrey — Indignation of Napoleon — He arrives at Cairo — The Arab Courier —
Land Victory at Aboukir — Bonaparte determines on returning to France.
The siege had now continued for sixty days ; Napoleon had lost nearly
three thousand men by the sword and fhe plague. The hospitals were full
of the sick and the wounded. Still Napoleon remitted not his efforts. " Vic
tory," said he, " belongs to the most persevering." Napoleon had now ex
pended all his cannon-balls. By a singular expedient, he obtained a fresh
supply. A party of soldiers were sent upon the beach, and set to work, ap
parently throwing up a rampart for the erection of a battery. Sir Sydney
immediately approached with the English ships, and poured in upon them
broadside after broadside from all his tiers. The soldiers, who perfectly
comprehended the joke, convulsed with laughter, ran and collected the balls
as they rolled over the sand. Napoleon ordered a dollar to be paid to the
soldiers for each ball thus obtained. When this supply was exhausted, a
few horsemen or wagons were sent out upon the beach, as if engaged in some
important movement, when the English commodore would again approach
and present them, from his plethoric magazines, with another liberal supply.
Thus, for a long time, Napoleon replenished his exhausted stores.
One afternoon in May, a fleet of thirty sail of the line was descried in the
distant horizon, approaching Acre. All eyes were instantly' turned in that
direction. The sight awakened intense anxiety in the hearts of both be
siegers and besieged. The French hoped that they were French ships con
veying to them succors from Alexandria or from France. The besieged
flattered themselves that they were friendly sails, bringing to them such aid
as would enable them effectually to repulse their terrible foes. The English
cruisers immediately stood out of the bay to reconnoitre the unknown fleet.
Great was the disappointment of the French when they saw the two squad
rons unite, and the crescent of the Turk and the pennant of England, in
friendly blending, approach the bay together. The Turkish fleet brought a
re-enforcement of twelve thousand men, with an abundant supply of mili
tary stores.
Napoleon's only hope was to capture the place before the disembarkation
of these re-enforcements. Calculating that the landing could not be effect
ed in less than six hours, he resolved upon an immediate assault. In the
deepening twilight, a black and massy column issued from the trenches, and
advanced, with the firm and silent steps of utter desperation, to the breach.
The besieged, knowing that, if they could hold out but a few hours longer, de
liverance was certain, were animated to the most determined resistance. A

224 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [ClIAP. XIII.
horrible scene of slaughter ensued. The troops from the ships, in the utmost
haste, were embarked in the boats, and were pulling, as rapidly as possible,
across the bay to aid their failing friends. Sir Sydney himself headed the
crews of the ships, and led them, armed with pikes, to the breach. The
assailants gained the summit of a heap of stones into which the wall had
been battered, and even forced their way into the garden of the Pacha. But
a swarm of janizaries suddenly poured in upon them, with the keen sabre
in one hand and the dagger in the other, and in a few moments they were all
reduced to headless trunks. The Turks gave no quarter. The remorseless
Butcher sat in the court-yard of his palace, paying a liberal reward for the
gory head of every infidel which was laid at his feet. He smiled upon the
ghastly trophies heaped up in piles around him.
The chivalric Sir Sydney must at times have felt not a little abashed in
contemplating the deeds of his allies. He was, however, fighting to arrest
the progress of free institutions, and the cimeter of the Turk was a fitting in
strument to be employed in such a service. In promotion of the same object,
but a few years before, the "tomahawk and scalping-knife of the savage" had
been called into requisition to deluge the borders of our own land with blood.
Napoleon was contending to wrest from the hand of Achmet the Butcher
his bloody cimeter. Sir Sydney, with the united despots of Turkey and of
Russia, was struggling to help him retain it.
Sir Sydney also issued a proclamation to the Druses, and other Christian
tribes of Syria, urging them to trust to the faith of a " Christian knight,*'
rather than to that of an "unprincipled renegado." But the "Christian
knight," in the hour of victory, forgot the poor Druses, and they were left
without even one word of sympathy, to bleed, during ages whose limits can
not yet be seen, beneath the dripping yataghan of the Moslem. Column
after column of the French advanced to the assault, but all were repulsed
with dreadful slaughter. Every hour the strength of the enemy was increas
ing ; every hour the forces of Napoleon were melting away before the awful
storm sweeping from the battlements. In these terrific conflicts, where im
mense masses were contending hand to hand, it was found that the cimeter
of the Turk was a far more efficient weapon of destruction than the bayonet
of the European.
Success was now hopeless. Sadly Napoleon made preparations to relin
quish the enterprise. He knew that a formidable Turkish army, aided by
the fleets of England and Russia, was soon to be conveyed from Rhodes to
Egypt. Not an hour longer could he delay his return to meet it. Had not
Napoleon been crippled by the loss of his fleet at Aboukir, victory at Acre
would have been attained without any difficulty. The imagination is bewil
dered in contemplating the results which might have ensued. Even without
the aid of the fleet, but for the indomitable activity, courage, and energy of
Sir Sydney Smith, Acre would have fallen, and the bloody reign of the Butch
er would have come to an end. This destruction of Napoleon's magnificent
anticipations of Oriental conquest must have been a bitter disappointment.
It was the termination of the most sanguine hope of his life. And it was a
lofty ambition in the heart of a young man of twenty-nine to break the chains
which bound the countless millions of Asia in the most degrading slavery, and

1799.] THE SIEGE ABANDONED. 225
to create a boundless empire, such as earth had never before seen, which
should develop all the physical, intellectual, and social energies of man.
History can record with unerring truth the deeds of man and his avowed
designs. The attempt to delineate the conflicting motives which stimulate
the heart of a frail mortal is hazardous. Even the most lowly Christian
finds unworthy motives mingling with his best actions. Napoleon was not a
Christian. He had learnecl no lessons in the school of Christ. Did he mere
ly wish to aggrandize himself, to create and perpetuate his own renown, by
being the greatest and the best monarch earth has ever known ? This is not
a Christian spirit. But it is not like the spirit which demonized the heart of
Nero, which stimulated the lust of Henry the Eighth, which fired the bosom
of Alexander with his invincible phalanxes, and which urged Tamerlane to
the field of blood.
The ambitious conqueror who invades a peaceful land, and with fire and
sword subjugates a timid and helpless people, that he may bow their necks to
the yoke of slavery, that he may doom them to ignorance and degradation,
that he may extort from them their treasures by the energies of the dungeon,
the cimeter, and the bastinado — who consigns millions to mud hovels, penury,
and misery, that he and his haughty parasites may revel in voluptuousness
and splendor, deserves the execrations of the world. Such were the rulers
of the Orient. But we can not, with equal severity, condemn the ambition
of him who marches, not to forge chains, but to break them ; not to establish
despotism, but to assail despotic usurpers ; not to degrade and impoverish the
people, but to ennoble, to elevate, and to enrich them ; not to extort from the
scanty earnings of the poor the means of living in licentiousness and all lux
urious indulgence, but to endure all toil, all hardship, all deprivation cheer
fully, that the lethargic nations may be roused to enterprise, to industry, and
to thrift. Such was the ambition of Napoleon. Surely it was lofty.
Twenty years after the discomfiture at Acre, Napoleon, when imprisoned
upon the rock of St. Helena, alluded to those dreams of his early life. " Acre
once taken," said he, "the French army would have flown to Aleppo and Da
mascus. In the twinkling of an eye it would have been on the Euphrates.
The Christians of Syria, the Druses, the Christians of Armenia, would have
joined it. The whole population of the East would have been agitated."
Some one said, " You soon would have been re-enforced by one hundred
thousand men."
" Say rather six hundred thousand !" Napoleon replied. " Who can cal
culate what would have happened ! I would have reached Constantinople
and the Indies — I would have changed the face of the world."
The manner in which Napoleon bore this disappointment most strikingly
illustrates the truth of his own remarkable assertion. "Nature seems to
have calculated that I should endure great reverses. She has given me a
mind of marble. Thunder can not ruffle it. The shaft merely glides along."
Even his most intimate friends could discern no indications of discontent.
He seemed to feel that it was not his destiny to found an empire in the East,
and, acquiescing without a murmur, he turned his attention to other enter
prises. " That man," said he, with perfect good-nature, speaking of Sir Syd
ney Smith, " made me miss my destiny !"
Vol. I.— P

226 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XIII.
Napoleon ever manifested the most singular magnanimity in recognizing
the good qualities of his enemies. He indulged in no feelings of exaspera
tion toward Sir Sydney, notwithstanding his agency in frustrating the most
cherished plan of his life. Wurmser, with whom he engaged in such terrible
conflicts in Italy, he declared to be a brave and magnanimous foe ; and, in
the hour of triumph, treated him with a degree of delicacy and generosity
which could not have been surpassed had his vanquished antagonist been
his intimate friend.
Of Prince Charles, with whom he fought repeated and most desperate bat
tles in his march upon Vienna, he remarked, " He is a good man, which in
cludes every thing when said of a prince. He is incapable of a dishonorable
action." And even of his eccentric and versatile antagonist at Acre Napoleon says,
with great impartiality and accuracy of judgment, " Sir Sydney Smith' is a
brave officer. He displayed considerable ability in the treaty for the evac
uation of Egypt by the French. He also manifested great honor in sending
immediately to Kleber the refusal of Lord Keith to ratify the treaty, which
saved the French army. If he had kept it a secret for seven or eight days
longer, Cairo would have been given up to the Turks, and the French army
would have been obliged to surrender to the English. He also displayed
great humanity and honor in all his proceedings toward the French who fell
into his hands. He is active, intelligent, intriguing, and indefatigable ; but I
believe that he is half crazy. The chief cause of the failure at Acre was,
that he took all my battering train, which was on board several small vessels.
Had it not been for that, I should have taken Acre in spite of him. He be
haved very bravely. He sent me, by means of a flag of truce, a lieutenant
or midshipman, with a letter containing a challenge to me to meet him in
some place he pointed out, in order to fight a duel. I laughed at this, and
sent him back an intimation that, when he brought Marlborough to fight
me, I would meet him. Notwithstanding this, I like the character of the
man. He has certain good qualities, and, as an old enemy, I should like
to see him."
A minute dissecter of human nature may discern, in this singular candor,
a destitution of earnestness of principle. The heart is incapable of this in
difference, when it cherishes a profound conviction of right and wrong. It is
undoubtedly true that Napoleon encountered his foes upon the field of battle
with very much the same feeling with which he would meet an opponent in
a game of chess. These wars were fierce conflicts between the kings and
the people ; and Napoleon was not angry with the kings for defending strong
ly their own cause. There were, of course, moments of irritation, but his
prevailing feeling was that his foes were to be conquered, not condemned.
At one time he expressed much surprise in perceiving that Alexander of Rus
sia had allowed feelings of personal hostility to enter into the conflict. A
chess-player could not have manifested more unaffected wonder in finding
his opponent in a rage at the check of his king. Napoleon does not appear
often to have acted from a deep sense of moral obligation. His justice, gen
erosity, and magnanimity were rather the instinctive impulses of a noble na
ture, than the result of a profound conviction of duty. We see but few in-

1799.] THE SIEGE ABANDONED. 227
dications in the life of Napoleon of tenderness of conscience. That faculty
needs a kind of culture which Napoleon never enjoyed.
He also cherished the conviction that his opponents were urged on by the
same destiny by which he believed himself to be impelled. " I am well
taught," said Dryfesdale, " and strong in the belief that man does naught
of himself. He is but the foam upon the billow, which rises, bubbles, and
bursts, not by his own efforts, but by the mightier impulse of fate, which
urges him." The doctrine called destiny by Napoleon, and philosophical
necessity by Priestly, and divine decrees by Calvin, assuming in each mind
characteristic modifications, indicated by the name which each assigned to
it, is a doctrine which often nerves to the most heroic and virtuous endeav
ors, and which is also capable of the most awful perversion.
Napoleon was an inveterate enemy to duelling, and strongly prohibited it
the army. One evening in Egypt, at a convivial party, General Lanusse
spoke sarcastically respecting the condition of the army. Junot, under
standing his remarks to reflect upon Napoleon, whom he almost worshiped,
was instantly in a flame, and stigmatized Lanusse as a traitor. Lanusse re
torted by calling Junot a scoundrel. Instantly swords were drawn, and all
were upon their feet, for such words demanded blood.
"Hearken," said Junot, sternly, "I called you a traitor; I do not think
that you are one. You called me a scoundrel ; you know that I am not such.
But we must fight. One of us must die. I hate you, for you have abused
the man whom I love and admire as much as I do God, if not more."
It was a dark night. The whole party, by the light of torches, proceeded
to the bottom of the garden, which sloped to the Nile, when the two half in
ebriated generals cut at each other with their swords, until the head of La
nusse was laid open, and the bowels of Junot almost protruded from a fright
ful wound. When Napoleon, the next morning, heard of the occurrence, he
was exceedingly indignant.
"What !" exclaimed he, " are they determined to cut each other's throats?
Must they go into the midst of the reeds of the Nile to dispute it with the
crocodiles ? Have they not enough, then, with the Arabs, the plague, and
the Mamelukes ? You deserve, Monsieur Junot," said he, as if his aid were
present before him, " you richly deserve, as soon as you get well, to be put
under arrest for a month."
In preparation for abandoning the siege of Acre, Napoleon issued the fol
lowing proclamation to his troops : " Soldiers ! You have traversed the des
ert which separates Asia from Africa with the rapidity of an Arab force.
The army which was on its march to invade Egypt is destroyed. You have
taken its general, its field artillery, camels, and baggage. You have cap
tured all the fortified posts which secure the wells of the desert. You have
dispersed, at Mount Tabor, those swarms of brigands, collected from all parts
of Asia, hoping to share the plunder of Egypt. The thirty ships which,
twelve days ago, you saw enter the port of Acre, were destined for an at
tack upon Alexandria. But you compelled them to hasten to the relief of
Acre. Several of their standards will contribute to adorn your triumphal en
try into Egypt. After having maintained the war, with a handful of men,
during three months, in the heart of Syria, taken forty pieces of cannon, fifty

22g NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XIII.
stands of colors, six thousand prisoners, and captured or destroyed the for
tifications of Gaza, Jaffa, and Acre, we prepare to return to Egypt where by
a threatened invasion, our presence is imperiously demanded. A few days
longer might give you the hope of taking the Pacha in his palace ; but at
this season the castle of Acre is not worth the loss of three days, nor the loss
of those brave soldiers who would consequently fall, and who are necessary
for more essential services. Soldiers ! we have yet a toilsome and a peril
ous task to perform. After having, by this campaign, secured ourselves from
attacks from the eastward, it will perhaps be necessary to repel efforts which
may be made from the west."
On the 20th of May, Napoleon, for the first time, relinquished an enterprise
unaccomplished. An incessant fire was kept up in the trenches till the last
moment, while the baggage, the sick, and the field artillery were silently de
filing to the rear, so that the Turks had no suspicion that the besiegers were
about to abandon their works. Napoleon left three thousand of his troops,
slain or dead of the plague, buried in the sands of Acre. He had accom
plished the ostensible and avowed object of his expedition. He had utterly
destroyed the vast assemblages formed in Syria for the invasion of Egypt,
and had rendered the enemy, in that quarter, incapable of acting against him.
Acre had been overwhelmed by his fire, and was now reduced to- a heap of
ruins. Those vague and brilliant dreams of conquest in the East, which he
secretly cherished, had not been revealed to the soldiers. They simply knew
that they had triumphantly accomplished the object announced to them, in
the destruction of the great Turkish army. Elated with the pride of con
querors, they prepared to return, with the utmost celerity, to encounter an
other army, assembled at Rhodes, which was soon to be landed, by the hos
tile fleet, upon some part of the shores of Egypt. Thus, while Napoleon was
frustrated in the accomplishment of his undivulged but most majestic plans,
he still appeared to the world an invincible conqueror.
There were in the hospitals twelve hundred sick and wounded. These
were to be conveyed on horses and on litters. Napoleon relinquished his own
horse for the wounded, and toiled along through the burning sands with the
humblest soldiers on foot. The Druses, and other tribes hostile to the Porte,
were in a state of great dismay when they learned that the French were re-
tirino-. They knew that they must encounter terrible vengeance at the
hands of Achmet the Butcher. The victory of the allies riveted upon them
anew their chains, and a wail, which would have caused the ear of Christen
dom to tingle, ascended from terrified villages, as fathers, and mothers, and
children cowered beneath the storm of vengeance which fell upon them from
the hands of the merciless Turk. But England was too far away for the
shrieks to be heard in her pious dwellings.
At Jaffa, among the multitude of the sick, there were seven found near to
death. They were dying of the plague, and could not be removed. Napo
leon himself fearlessly went into the plague hospital, passed through all its
wards, and spoke words of sympathy and encouragement to the sufferers.
The eyes of the dying were turned to him, and followed his steps, with in
describable affection, as he passed from cot to cot. The seven, who were in
such a condition that their removal was impossible, Napoleon for some time

1799.] THE SIEGE ABANDONED. 229
contemplated with most tender solicitude. He could not endure the thought
of leaving them to be taken by the Turks, for the Turks tortured to death
every prisoner who fell into their hands. He at last suggested to the phy
sician the expediency of administering to them an opium pill, which would
expedite, by a few hours, their death, and thus save them from the hands of
their cruel foe. The physician gave the highly admired reply, " My profes
sion is to cure, not to kill !"
Napoleon reflected a moment in silence, and' said no more upon the sub
ject, but left a rear-guard of five hundred men to protect them until the last
should have expired. For this suggestion Napoleon has been severely cen
sured. However much it may indicate mistaken views of Christian duty, it
certainly does not indicate a cruel disposition. It was his tenderness of
heart and his love for the soldiers which led to the proposal. An unfeeling
monster would not have troubled himself about these few valueless and dy
ing men, but, without a thought, would have left them to their fate. In
reference to the severity with which this transaction has been condemned,
Napoleon remarked at St. Helena,
" I do not think that it would have been a crime had opium been adminis
tered to them. On the contrary, I think it would have been a virtue. To
leave a few unfortunate men, who could not recover, in order that they might
be massacred by the Turks with the most dreadful tortures, as was their cus
tom, would, I think, have been cruelty. A general ought to act with his sol
diers as he would wish should be done to himself. Now would not any man.
under similar circumstances, who had his senses, have preferred dying easily,
a few hours sooner, rather than expire under the torture of these barbarians ?
If my own son, and I believe I love my son as well as any father does his
child, were in a similar situation with these men, I would advise it to be done.
And if so situated myself, I would insist upon it, if I had sense enough and
strength enough to demand it. However, affairs were not so pressing as to
prevent me from leaving a party to take care of them, which was done. If
I had thought such a measure as that of giving opium necessary, I would
have called a council of war, have stated the necessity of it, and have pub
lished it in the order of the day. It should have been no secret. Do you
think, if I had been capable of secretly poisoning my soldiers, as doing a nec
essary action secretly would give it the appearance of a crime, or of such
barbarities as driving my carriage over the dead, and the still bleeding bod
ies of the wounded, that my troops would have fought for me with an enthu
siasm and affection without a parallel ? No, no ! I never should have done
so a second time. Some would have shot me in passing. Even some of
the wounded, who had sufficient strength left to pull a trigger, would have
dispatched me. I never committed a crime in all my political career. At
my last hour I can assert that. Had I done so, I should not have been here
now. I should have dispatched the Bourbons. It only rested with me to
give my consent, and they would have ceased to live. I have, however, often
thought since on this point of morals, and I believe, if thoroughly considered,
it is always better to suffer a man to terminate his destiny, be it what it may.
I judged so afterward in the case of my friend Duroc, who, when his bowels
were falling out before my eyes, repeatedly cried to me to have him put out

230 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XIII.
of his misery. I said to him, ' I pity you, my friend, but there is no remedy ;
it is necessary to suffer to the last.' "
Sir Robert Wilson recorded, that the merciless and bloodthirsty monster,
Napoleon, poisoned at Jaffa five hundred and eighty of his sick and wounded
soldiers, merely to relieve himself of the encumbrance of taking care of them.
The statement was circulated, and believed throughout Europe and Amer
ica ; and thousands still judge of Napoleon through the influence of such as
sertions. Sir Robert was afterward convinced of his error, and became the
friend of Napoleon. When some one was speaking, in terms of indignation,
of the author of the atrocious libel, Napoleon replied,
"You know but little of men and of the passions by which they are actu
ated. What leads you to imagine that Sir Robert is not a man of enthusi
asm and of violent passions, who wrote what he then believed to be true ?
He may have been misinformed and deceived, and may now be sorry for it.
He may be as sincere now in wishing us well as he formerly was in seeking
to injure us."
Again he said, " The fact is, that I not only never committed any crime,
but I never even thought of doing so. I have always marched with the
opinions of five or six millions of men. In spite of all the libels, I have no
fear whatever respecting my fame. Posterity will do me justice. The
truth will be known, and the good which I have done will be compared with
the faults which I have committed. I am not uneasy as to the result."
Baron Larrey was the chief of the medical staff. " Larrey," said Napo
leon lo O'Meara, " was the most honest man, and the best friend to the sol
dier whom I ever knew. Indefatigable in his exertions for the wounded, he
was seen on the field of battle, immediately after an action, accompanied by
a train of young surgeons, endeavoring to discover if any signs of life re
mained in the bodies. He scarcely allowed a moment of repose to his as
sistants, and kept them ever at their posts. He tormented the generals, and
disturbed them out of their beds at night, whenever he wanted accommoda
tions or assistance for the sick or wounded. They were all afraid of him, as
they knew that if his wishes were not complied with, he would immediately
come and make a complaint to me."
Larrey, on his return to Europe, published a medical work, which he dedi
cated to Napoleon, as a tribute due to him for the care which he always took
of the sick and wounded soldiers. Assulini, another eminent physician, re
cords, " Napoleon, great in every emergence, braved on several occasions
the danger of contagion. I have seen him, in the hospitals at Jaffa, inspect
ing the wards, and talking familiarly with the soldiers attacked by the plague.
This heroic example allayed the fears of the army, cheered the spirits of the
sick, and encouraged the hospital attendants, whom the progress of the dis
ease and the fear of contagion had considerably alarmed."
The march over the burning desert was long and painful, and many of the
sick and wounded perished. The sufferings of the army were inconceivable.
Twelve hundred persons, faint with disease, or agonized with broken bones
or ghastly wounds, were borne along, over the rough and weary way, on
horseback. Many were so exhausted with debility and pain that they were
tied to the saddles, and were thus hurried onward, with limbs freshly ampu-

1799.] THE SIEGE ABANDONED. 231
tated, and with bones shivered to splinters. The path of the army was mark
ed by the bodies of the dead, which were dropped by the wayside. There
were not horses enough for the sick and wounded, though Napoleon and
all his generals marched on foot. The artillery pieces were left among the
sand-hills, that the horses might be used for the relief of the sufferers. Many
of the wounded were necessarily abandoned to perish. Many who could not
obtain a horse, knowing the horrible death by torture which awaited them,
should they fall into the hands of the Turks, hobbled along with bleeding
wounds in intolerable agony. With most affecting earnestness, though un-
availingly, they implored their comrades to help them. Misery destroys hu
manity. Each one thought only of himself. Seldom have the demoralizing
influences and the horrors of war been more signally displayed than in this
march of twenty-five days.
Napoleon was deeply moved by the spectacle of misery around him. One
day, as he was toiling along through the sands, at the head of a column, with
the blazing sun of Syria pouring down upon his unprotected head, with the
sick, the wounded, and the dying all around him, he saw an officer, in perfect
health, riding on horseback, refusing to surrender his saddle to the sick. The
indignation of Napoleon was so aroused, that, by one blow from the hilt of his
sword, he laid the officer prostrate upon the earth, and then helped a wound
ed soldier into his saddle. The deed was greeted with a shout of acclama
tion from the ranks. The " recording angel in heaven's chancery" will blot
out the record of such violence with a tear.
The historian has no right to draw the vail over the revolting horrors of
war. Though he may wish to preserve his pages from the repulsive recital,
justice to humanity demands that the barbarism, the crime, and the cruelty
of war should be faithfully portrayed. The soldiers often refused to render
the slightest assistance to the sick or the wounded. They feared that every
one who was not well was attacked by the plague. The soldiers burst into
immoderate fits of laughter in looking upon the convulsive efforts which the
dying made to rise from the sands upon which they had fallen. " He has
made up his account !" said one. " He will not get on far !" said another.
And when the exhausted wretch fell to rise no more, they exclaimed, with
perfect indifference, " His lodging is secured !"
The troops were harassed upon their march by hordes of mounted Arabs,
ever prowling around them. To protect themselves from assault, and to
avenge attacks, they fired villages, and burned the fields of grain, and with
bestial fury pursued shrieking maids and matrons. Such deeds almost in
variably attend the progress of an army, for an army is ever the resort and
the congenial home of the moral dregs of creation. Napoleon must at times
have been horror-stricken in contemplating the infernal instrumentality which
he was using for the accomplishment of his purposes. The only excuse
which can be offered for him is, that it was then, as now, the prevalent con
viction of the world that war, with all its inevitable abominations, is a nec
essary evil. The soldiers were glad to be fired upon from a house, for it
furnished them with an excuse for rushing in, and perpetrating deeds of atro
cious violence in its secret chambers.
Those infected by the plague accompanied the army at some distance from

232 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XIII.
the main body. Their encampment was always separated from the bivouacs
of the troops, and was with terror avoided by those soldiers who, without the
tremor of a nerve, could storm a battery. Napoleon, however, always pitch
ed his tent by their side. Every night he visited them to see if their wants
were attended to ; and every morning he was present, with parental kind
ness, to see them file off at the moment of departure. Such tenderness, at
the hands of one who was filling the world with his renown, won the hearts
of the soldiers. He merited their love. Even to the present day, the scarred
and mutilated victims of these wars, still lingering in the Hotel des Invalides
at Paris, will flame with enthusiastic admiration at the very mention of the
name of Napoleon. There is no man, living or dead, who at the present mo
ment is the object of such enthusiastic love as Napoleon Bonaparte ; and
they who knew him the best love him the most.
One day, on their return, an Arab tribe came to meet him, to show their
respect and to offer their services as guides. The son of the chief of the
tribe, a little boy about twelve years of age, was mounted on a dromedary,
riding by the side of Napoleon, and chatting with great familiarity.
" Sultan Kebir," said the young Arab to Napoleon, "I could give you good
advice, now that you are returning to Cairo."
" Well ! speak, my friend," said Napoleon ; " if your advice is good, I will
follow it."
" I will tell you what I would do, were I in your place," the young chief
rejoined. " As soon as I got to Cairo, I would send for the richest slave-
merchant in the market, and I would choose twenty of the prettiest women
for myself. I would then send for the richest jewelers, and would make
them give me up a good share of their stock. I would then do the same
with all the other merchants ; for what is the use of reigning, or being pow
erful, if not to acquire riches ?"
" But, my friend," replied Napoleon, " suppose it were more noble to pre
serve these things for others ?"
The young barbarian was quite perplexed in endeavoring to comprehend
ambition so lofty, intellectual, and refined. " He was, however," said Napo
leon, "very promising for an Arab. He was lively and courageous, and led
his troops with dignity and order. He is perhaps destined, one day or other,
to carry his advice into execution in the market-place of Cairo."
At length Napoleon arrived at Cairo, after an absence of three months.
With great pomp and triumph, he entered the city. He found, on his return
to Egypt, that deep discontent pervaded the army. The soldiers had now
been absent from France for a year. For six months they had heard no
news whatever from home, as not a single French vessel had been able to
cross the Mediterranean. Napoleon, finding his plans frustrated for estab
lishing an empire which should overshadow all the East, began to turn his
thoughts again to France. He knew, however, that there was another Turk
ish army collected at Rhodes, prepared, in co-operation with the fleets of
Russia and England, to make a descent on Egypt. He could not think of
leaving the army until that formidable foe was disposed of. He knew not
when or where the landing would be attempted, and could only wait.
One evening, in July, he was walking with a friend in the environs of Cai-

1799.] THE SIEGE ABANDONED. 233
ro, beneath the shadow of the Pyramids, when an Arab horseman was seen,
enveloped in a cloud of dust, rapidly approaching him over the desert. He

ARRIVAL OF THE COURIER.

brought dispatches from Alexandria, informing Napoleon that a powerful fleet
had appeared in the Bay of Aboukir ; that eighteen thousand Turks had
landed, fierce and fearless soldiers, each armed with musket, pistol, and sa
bre ; that their artillery were numerous, and well served by British officers ;
that the combined English, Russian, and Turkish fleets supported the arma
ment in the bay ; that Mourad Bey, with a numerous body of Mameluke
cavalry, was crossing the desert from Upper Egypt to join the invaders ;
that the village of Aboukir had been taken by the Turks, the garrison cut to
pieces, and the citadel compelled to capitulate. Thus the storm burst upon
Egypt. Napoleon immediately retired to his tent, where he remained until three
o'clock the next morning, dictating orders for the instant advance of the
troops, and for the conduct of those who were to remain in Cairo, and at the
other military stations. At four o'clock in the morning he was on horseback,
and the army in full march. The French troops were necessarily so scat
tered — some in Upper Egypt, eight hundred miles above Cairo, some upon
the borders of the desert to prevent incursions from Syria, some at Alexan
dria — that Napoleon could take with him but eight thousand men. By
night and by day, through smothering dust and burning sands, and beneath
the rays of an almost blistering sun, his troops, hungry and thirsty, with
iron sinews, almost rushed along, accomplishing one of those extraordinary
marches which filled the world with wonder. In seven days he reached the
Bay of Aboukir.
It was the hour of midnight, on the 25th of July, 1799, when Napoleon,
with six thousand men, arrived within sight of the strongly intrenched camp
of the Turks. They had thrown up intrenchments among the sand-hills on

234 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XIII.
the shore of the bay. He ascended an eminence, and carefully examined
the position of his sleeping foes. By the bright moonlight, he saw the vast
fleet of the allies riding at anchor in the offing, and his practiced eye could
count the mighty host of infantry, and artillery, and horsemen, slumbering
before him. He knew that the Turks were awaiting the arrival of the for
midable Mameluke cavalry from Egypt, and for still greater re-enforcements
of men and munitions of war from Acre and other parts of Syria. Kleber,
with a division of two thousand of the army, had not yet arrived. Napoleon
resolved immediately to attack his foes, though they were eighteen thousand
strong. It was, indeed, an unequal conflict. These janizaries were the most fierce,
merciless, and indomitable of men ; and their energies were directed by En
ghsh officers and by French engineers. Just one year before, Napoleon, with
his army, had landed upon that beach. Where the allied fleet now rode so
proudly, the French fleet had been utterly destroyed. The bosom of Napo
leon burned with the desire to avenge this disaster. As he stood silently
contemplating the scene, Murat by his side, he foresaw the long results de
pending upon the issue of the conflict. Utter defeat would be to him utter
ruin. A partial victory would but prolong the conflict, and render it impos
sible for him, without dishonor, to abandon Egypt and return to France. The
entire destruction of his foes would enable him, with the renown of an invin
cible conqueror, to leave the army in safety and embark for Paris, where he
doubted not that, in the tumult of the unsettled times, avenues of glory would
be opened before him. So strongly was he impressed with the great desti
nies for which he believed himself to be created, that, turning to Murat, he
said, " This battle will decide the fate of the world." The distinguished
cavalry commander, unable to appreciate the grandeur of Napoleon's thoughts,
replied, " At least of this army ; but every French soldier feels now that he
must conquer or die. And be assured, if ever infantry were charged to the
teeth by cavalry, the Turks shall be to-morrow so charged by mine."
The first gray of the morning was just appearing in the east, when the
Turkish army was aroused by the tramp of the French columns, and by a
shower of bomb-shells falling in the midst of their intrenchments. One of
the most terrible battles recorded in history then ensued. The awful genius
of Napoleon never shone forth more fearfully than on that bloody day. He
stood upon a gentle eminence, calm, silent, unperturbed, pitiless, and guided,
with resistless skill, the carnage. The onslaught of the French was like that
of wolves. The Turks were driven like deer before them. Every man re
membered that in that bay the proud fleet of France had perished. Every
man felt that the kings of Europe had banded for the destruction of the
French Republic. Every man exulted in the thought that there were but
six thousand French Republicans to hurl themselves upon England, Russia,
and Turkey combined, nearly twenty thousand strong. The Turks, perplex
ed and confounded by the skill and fury of the assault, were driven in upon
each other in horrible confusion. The French, trained to load and fire with
a rapidity which seemed miraculous, poured in upon them a perfect hurricane
of bullets, balls, and shells. They were torn to pieces, mown down, bayo
neted, and trampled under iron hoofs. In utter consternation, thousands of

1799.] THE SIEGE ABANDONED. 235
them plunged into the sea, horsemen and footmen, and struggled in the waves,
in the insane attempt to swim to the ships, three miles distant from the shore.
With terrible calmness of energy, Napoleon opened upon the drowning host
the tornado of his batteries, and the water was swept with grapeshot as by
a hail-storm. The Turks were on the point of a peninsula. Escape by land
was impossible. They would not ask for quarter. The silent and proud
spirit of Napoleon was inflamed with a resolve to achieve a victory which
should reclaim the name of Aboukir to the arms of France. Murat redeem
ed his pledge. Plunging with his cavalry into the densest throng of the
enemy, he spurred his fiery steed, reckless of peril, to the very centre of the
Turkish camp, where stood Mustapha Pacha, surrounded by his staff. The
proud Turk had barely time to discharge a pistol at his audacious foe, which
slightly wounded Murat, ere the dripping sabre of the French general sever
ed half of his hand from the wrist. Thus wounded, the leader of the Turk
ish army was immediately captured, and sent in triumph to Napoleon. '
As Napoleon received his illustrious prisoner, magnanimously desiring to
soothe the bitterness of his utter discomfiture, he courteously said, "I will
take care to inform the Sultan of the courage you have displayed in this bat
tle, though it has been your misfortune to lose it."
" Thou mayest save thyself that trouble," the proud Turk haughtily re
plied. " My master knows me better than thou canst."
Before four o'clock in the afternoon, the whole Turkish army was de
stroyed. Hardly an individual escaped. About two thousand prisoners were
taken in the fort. All the rest perished ; either drowned in the sea, or slain
upon the land. Sir Sydney Smith, who had chosen the position occupied by
the Turkish army, with the utmost difficulty avoided capture. In the midst
of the terrible scene of tumult and death, the Commodore succeeded in get
ting on board a boat, and was rowed to his ships. More than twelve thou
sand corpses of the turbaned Turks were floating in the Bay of Aboukir, be
neath whose crimsoned waves, but a few months before, almost an equal
number of the French had sunk in death. Such entire destruction of an
army is perhaps unexampled in the annals of war. If God frowned upon
France in the naval battle of Aboukir, He as signally frowned upon her foes
in this terrific conflict on the land.
The cloudless sun descended peacefully, in the evening, beneath the blue
waves of the Mediterranean. Napoleon stood at the door of his tent, calmly
contemplating the scene from whence all his foes had thus suddenly and ut
terly vanished. Just then Kleber arrived, with his division of two thousand
men, for whom Napoleon had not waited. The distinguished soldier, who
had long been an ardent admirer of Napoleon, was overwhelmed with amaze
ment in contemplating the magnitude of the victory. In his enthusiasm, he
threw his arms around the neck of his adored chieftain, exclaiming, " Let me
embrace you, my General ; you are great as the universe !"
Egypt was now quiet. Not a foe remained to be encountered. No im
mediate attack from any quarter was to be feared. Nothing remained to be
done but to carry on the routine of the administration of the infant colony.
These duties required no especial genius, and could be very creditably per
formed by any respectable governor.

236

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XIII.
It was, however, but a barren victory which Napoleon had obtained at
such an enormous expenditure of suffering and of life. It was in vain for
the isolated army, cut off by the destruction of its fleet from all intercourse

HAPOLEON AND KLEBER.

with Europe, to think of the invasion of India. The French troops had ex
actly " caught the Tartar." Egypt was of no possible avail as a colony,
with the Mediterranean crowded with hostile English, and Russian, and
Turkish cruisers. For the same reason, it was impossible for the army to
leave those shores and return to France. Thus the victorious French, in the
midst of all their triumphs, found that they had built up for themselves pris
on walls from which, though they could repel their enemies, there was no
escape. The sovereignty of Egypt alone was too petty an affair to satisfy
the boundless ambition of Napoleon. Destiny, he thought, deciding against
an empire in the East, was only guiding him back to an empire in the West.
For ten months Napoleon had now received no certain intelligence respect
ing Europe. Sir Sydney Smith, either in the exercise of the spirit of gentle-

1799.] THE SIEGE ABANDONED. 237
manly courtesy, or enjoying a malicious pleasure in communicating to his
victor tidings of disaster upon disaster falling upon France, sent to him a file
of newspapers full of the most humiliating intelligence. The hostile fleet,
leaving its whole army of eighteen thousand men buried in the sands or be
neath the waves, weighed anchor and disappeared.
Napoleon spent the whole night, with intense interest, examining those
papers. He learned that France was in a state of indescribable confusion ;
that the imbecile government of the Directory, resorting to the most absurd
measures, was despised and disregarded ; that plots and counterplots, con
spiracies and assassinations, filled the land. He learned, to his astonish
ment, that France was again involved in war with monarchical Europe ;
that the Austrians had invaded Italy anew, and driven the French over the
Alps ; and that the banded armies of the European kings were crowding
upon the frontiers of the distracted republic.
" Ah !" he exclaimed to Bourrienne, " my forebodings have not deceived
me. The fools have lost Italy. All the fruit of our victories has disap
peared. I must leave Egypt. We must return to France immediately, and,
if possible, repair these disasters, and save France from destruction."
It was a signal peculiarity in the mind of Napoleon, that his decisions ap
peared to be instinctive rather than deliberative. With the rapidity of the
lightning's flash, his mind contemplated all the considerations upon each side
of a question, and instantaneously came to the result. These judgments,
apparently so hasty, combined all the wisdom which others obtain by the
slow and painful process of weeks of deliberation and uncertainty. Thus, in
the midst of the innumerable combinations of the field of battle, he never
suffered from a moment of perplexity ; he never hesitated between this plan
and that plan, but instantaneously, and without the slightest misgivings, de
cided upon that very course to which the most slow and mature deliberation
would have guided him. This instinctive promptness of correct decision was
one great secret of his mighty power. It pertained alike to every subject
with which the human mind could be conversant. The promptness of his
decision was only equaled by the energy of his execution. He therefore ac
complished in a few hours that which would have engrossed the energies of
other minds for days.
Thus, in the present case, he decided, upon the moment, to return to
France. The details of his return, as to the disposition to be made of the
army, the manner in which he would attempt to evade the British cruisers,
and the individuals he would take with him, were all immediately settled in
his mind. He called Bourrienne, Berthier, and Gantheaume before him,
and informed them of his decision, enjoining upon them the most perfect
secrecy, lest intelligence of his preparations should be communicated to the
allied fleet. He ordered Gantheaume immediately to get ready for sea two
frigates from the harbor of Alexandria, and two small vessels, with provi
sions for four hundred men for two months.
Napoleon then returned with the army to Cairo. He arrived there on the
10th of August, and again, as a resistless conqueror, entered the city. He
prevented any suspicion of his projected departure from arising among the
soldiers by planning an expedition to explore Egypt.

238

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XIV.
One morning he announced his intention of going down the Nile, to spend
a few days in examining the Delta. He took with him a small retinue, and,
striking across the desert, proceeded with the utmost celerity to Alexandria,
where they arrived on the 22d of August. Concealed by the shades of the
evening of the same day, he left the town with eight selected companions,
and escorted by a few of his faithful guards. Silently and rapidly they rode
to a solitary part of the bay, the party wondering what this movement could
mean. Here they discovered, dimly in the distance, two frigates riding at
anchor, and some fishing-boats near the shore, apparently waiting to receive

THE RETURN.

them. Then Napoleon announced to his companions that their destination
was France. The joy of the company was inconceivable. The horses were
left upon the beach to find their way back to Alexandria. The victorious fu
gitives crowded into the boats, and were rowed out, in the dim and silent
night, to the frigates. The sails were immediately spread, and before the
light of morning dawned, the low and sandy outline of the Egyptian shore
had disappeared beneath the horizon of the sea.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE RETURN FROM EGYPT.

Political State of France — Napoleon's Estimate of Men — Peril of the Voyage — Napoleon's Devo
tion to Study — Answer to the Atheists — Testimony to the Religion of Jesus Christ — Arrival
at Corsica — Landing at Frejus — Sensation at Paris on receiving the News — Enthusiasm of the
Populace — Anguish of Josephine — Enthusiastic Reception of Napoleon by the Parisians — In
terview between Napoleon and Josephine.
The Expedition to Egypt was one of the most magnificent enterprises
which human ambition ever conceived. The "return to France combines
still more, if possible, of the elements of the moral sublime. But for the
disastrous destruction of the French fleet, the plans of Napoleon in reference

1799.] THE RETURN FROM EGYPT. 239
to the East would probably have been triumphantly successful. At least, it
can not be doubted that a vast change would have been effected throughout
the Eastern World. Those plans were now hopeless. The army was iso
lated, and cut off from all re-enforcements and all supplies. The best thing
which Napoleon could do for his troops in Egypt was to return to France,
and exert his personal influence in sending them succor. His return involved
the continuance of the most honorable devotion to those soldiers whom he
necessarily left behind him. The secrecy of his departure was essential to
his success. Had the bold attempt been suspected, it would certainly have
been frustrated by the increased vigilance of the English cruisers. The in
trepidity of the enterprise must elicit universal admiration.
Contemplate for a moment the moral aspects of this undertaking. A na
tion of thirty millions of people had been for ten years agitated by the most
terrible convulsions. There is no atrocity which the tongue can name which
had not desolated the doomed land. Every passion which can degrade the
heart of fallen man had swept with simoom blast over the cities and the vil
lages of France. Conflagrations had laid the palaces of the wealthy in ruins,
and the green lawns, where their children had played, had been crimsoned
with the blood of fathers and sons, mothers and daughters. A gigantic sys
tem of robbery had seized upon houses and lands, and every species of prop
erty, and had turned thousands of the opulent out into destitution, beggary,
and death. Pollution had been legalized by the voice of God-defying lust,
and France, la belle France, had been converted into a disgusting warehouse
of infamy.
Law, with suicidal hand, had destroyed itself, and the decisions of the
Legislature swayed to and fro, in accordance with the hideous clamors of the
mob. The guillotine, with gutters ever clotted with human gore, was the
only argument which anarchy condescended to use. Effectually it silenced
every remonstrating tongue. Constitution after constitution had risen, like
mushrooms, in a night, and, like mushrooms, had perished in a day. Civil
war was raging with bloodhound fury in France ; Monarchists and Jacobins
grappling each other, infuriate with despair. The allied kings of Europe,
who, by their alliance, had fanned the flames of rage and ruin, were gazing
with terror upon the portentous prodigy, and were surrounding France with
their navies and their armies.
The people had been enslaved for centuries by king and nobles. Their
oppression had been execrable, and it had become absolutely unendurable.
"We, the millions," they exclaimed, in their rage, "will no longer minister
to your voluptuousness, and pride, and lust." " You shall !" exclaimed king
and nobles; "we heed not your murmurs." "You shall!" reiterated the
Pope, in the portentous thunderings of the Vatican. " You shall !" came
echoed back from the palaces of Vienna, from the dome of the Kremlin, from
the seraglio of the Turk, and, in tones deeper, stronger, more resolute, from
constitutional, liberty-loving, happy England.
Then was France a volcano, and its lava-streams deluged Europe. The
people were desperate. In the blind fury of their phrensied self-defense,
they lost all consideration. The castles of the nobles were but the monu
ments of past taxation and servitude. With yells of hatred, the infuriated

240 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XIV.
populace razed them to the ground. The palaces of the kings, where, for un
counted centuries, dissolute monarchs had reveled in enervating and heaven-
forbidden pleasures, were but national badges of the bondage of the people.
The indignant throng swept through them like a Mississippi inundation,
leaving upon marble floors, and cartooned walls and ceilings, the impress of
their rage. At one bound France had passed from despotism to anarchy.
The kingly tyrant, with golden crown and iron sceptre, surrounded by wealthy
nobles and dissolute beauties, had disappeared, and a many-headed monster,
rapacious and blood-thirsty, vulgar and revolting, had emerged from mines
and work-shops, and the cellars of vice and penury, like one of the spectres
of fairy tales, to fill his place. France had passed from monarchy, not to
healthy republicanism, but to Jacobinism, to the reign of the mob. Napo
leon utterly abhorred the tyranny of the king. He also utterly abhorred the
despotism of vulgar, violent, sanguinary Jacobin misrule. The latter he
regarded with even far deeper repugnance than the former. "I frankly
confess," said Napoleon, again and again, " that if I must choose between
Bourbon oppression and mob violence, I infinitely prefer the former."
Such had been the state of France, essentially, for nearly ten years. The
great mass of the people were exhausted with suffering, and longed for re
pose. The land was filled with plots and counterplots. But there was no
one man of sufficient prominence to carry with him the nation. The govern
ment was despised and disregarded. France was in a state of chaotic ruin.
Many voices, here and there, began to inquire, "Where is Bonaparte, the
conqueror of Italy, the conqueror of Egypt ? He alone can save us." His
world-wide renown turned the eyes of the nation to him as their only hope.
Under these circumstances, Napoleon, who, but three years before, had
been unknown to fame or to fortune, resolved to return to France, to over
throw the miserable government by which the country was disgraced, to
subdue anarchy at home and aggression from abroad, and to rescue thirty
millions of people from ruin. The enterprise was undeniably magnificent in
its grandeur and noble in its object. He had two foes to encounter, each
formidable — the Royalists of combined Europe, and the mob of Paris. The
quiet and undoubting self-confidence with which he entered upon this enter
prise is one of the most remarkable events in the whole of his extraordinary-
career. He took with him no armies to hew down opposition. He engaged
in no deep-laid and wide-spread conspiracy. Relying upon the energies of
his own mind, and upon the sympathies of the great mass of the people, he
went alone, with but one or two companions, to whom he revealed not his
thoughts, to gather into his hands the scattered reins of power. Never did
he encounter more fearful peril. The cruisers of England, Russia, Turkey,
of allied Europe in arms against France, thronged the Mediterranean. How
could he hope to escape them ? The guillotine was red with blood. Every
one who had dared to oppose the mob had perished upon it. How could Na
poleon venture, single-handed, to beard this terrible lion in his den ?*
"France, at that time, was tottering between two abysses, the return of the Bourbons and the
anarchy of revolution. Men like Fouche, Sieyes, &c, saw that a stable government was the most
urgent want of the country. To establish liberal institutions, and to retain the conquests which
were on the point of being lost, required a man at the head of the government who was both a

1799.] THE RETURN FROM EGYPT. 241
It was ten o'clock at night, the 22d of August, 1799, when Napoleon as
cended the sides of the frigate Muiron to sail for France. A few of his faith
ful Guard, and eight companions, either officers in the army or members of
the scientific corps, accompanied him. There were five hundred soldiers on
board the ships. The stars shone brightly in the Syrian sky, and under their
soft light the blue waves of the Mediterranean lay spread out most peaceful
ly before them. The frigates unfurled their sails. Napoleon, silent and lost
in thought, for a long time walked the quarter-deck of the ship, gazing upon
the low outline of Egypt as, in the dim starlight, it faded away. His com
panions were intoxicated with delight in view of again returning to France.
Napoleon was neither elated nor depressed. Serene and silent, he communed
with himself, and whenever we can catch a glimpse of those secret commun-
nings, we find them always bearing the impress of grandeur.
Though Napoleon was in the habit of visiting the soldiers at their camp-
fires, of sitting down and conversing with them with the greatest freedom
and familiarity, the majesty of his character overawed his officers, and ado
ration and reserve blended with their love. Though there was no haughti
ness in his demeanor, he habitually dwelt in a region of elevation above them
all. Their talk was of cards, of wine, of pretty women. Napoleon's thoughts
were of empire, of renown, of moulding the destinies of nations. They re
garded him not as a companion, but as a master, whose wishes they loved to
anticipate ; for he would surely guide them to wealth, and fame, and fortune.
He contemplated them, not as equals and confiding friends, but as efficient
and valuable instruments for the accomplishment of his purposes.
Murat was to Napoleon a body of ten thousand horsemen, ever ready for
a resistless charge. Lannes was a phalanx of infantry, bristling with bayo
nets, which neither artillery nor cavalry could batter down or break. Au-
gereau was an armed column of invincible troops, black, dense, massy, im
petuous, resistless, moving with gigantic tread wherever the finger of the
conqueror pointed. These were but the members of Napoleon's body, the
limbs obedient to the mighty soul which swayed them. They were not the
companions of his thoughts, they were only the servants of his will. The
number to be found with whom the soul of Napoleon could dwell in sympa
thetic friendship was few — very few.
Napoleon had formed a very low estimate of human nature, and conse
quently made great allowance for the infirmities incident to humanity. Bour
rienne reports him as saying, " Friendship is but a name. I love no one ; no,
not even my brothers. Joseph perhaps a little. And if I do love him, it is
from habit, and because he is my elder. Duroc ! Ah, yes ! I love him too.
But why? His character pleases me. He is cold, reserved, and resolute,
and I really believe that he never shed a tear. As to myself, I know well
that I have not one true friend. As long as I continue what I am, I may
have as many pretended friends as I please. We must leave sensibility to
general and a statesman. Bonaparte appeared on the coast of Provence. Fouche, without hesi
tation, joined the young general." — Encyclopaedia Americana, Article Duke of Otranto.
" The conviction, moreover, that France could no longer exist without a man at the helm who
was at once able to repel foreign enemies and establish domestic order, was universal." — Idem.
"Napoleon.'"
Vol. I.— Q

242 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XIV.
the women ; it is their business. Men should be firm in heart and in pur
pose, or they should have nothing to do with war or government. I am not
amiable ; no, I am not amiable — I never have been ; but I am just."
In another mood of mind, more tender, more subdued, he remarked, at St.
Helena, in reply to Las Casas, who with great severity was condemning those
who abandoned Napoleon in his hour of adversity : " You are not acquainted
with men. They are difficult to comprehend, if one wishes to be strictly
just. Can they understand or explain even their own characters ? Almost
all those who abandoned me would, had I continued to be prosperous, never,
perhaps, have dreamed of their own defection. There are vices and virtues
which depend upon circumstances. Our last trials were beyond all human
strength ! Besides, I was forsaken rather than betrayed ; there was more of
weakness than of perfidy around me. It was the denial of St. Peter. Tears
and penitence are probably at hand. And where will you find in the page
of history any one possessing a greater number of friends and partisans ?
Who was ever more popular and more beloved ? Who was ever more ar
dently and deeply regretted ? Here, from this very rock, on viewing the pres
ent disorders in France, who would not be tempted to say that I still reign
there ? No ; human nature might have appeared in a more odious light."
Las Casas, who shared with Napoleon his weary years of imprisonment at
St. Helena, says of him : " He views the complicated circumstances of his
fall from so high a point that individuals escape his notice. He never evin
ces the least symptom of virulence toward those of whom it might be sup
posed he has the greatest reason to complain. His strongest mark of rep
robation — and I have had frequent occasions to notice it — is to preserve si
lence with respect to them whenever they are mentioned in his presence.
But how often has he been heard to restrain the violent and less reserved
expressions of those about him !"
"And here I must observe," says Las Casas, "that since I have become
acquainted with the Emperor's character, I have never known him to evince,
for a single moment, the least feeling of anger or animosity against those
who had most deeply injured him. He speaks of them coolly and without
resentment, attributing their conduct, in some measure, to the perplexing cir
cumstances in which they were placed, and throwing the rest to the account
of human weakness."
Marmont, who surrendered Paris to the allies, was severely condemned by
Las Casas. Napoleon replied : "Vanity was his ruin. Posterity will justly
cast a shade upon his character, yet his heart will be more valued than the
memory of his career."
" Your attachment for Berthier," said Las Casas, " surprised us. He was
full of pretensions and pride."
" Berthier was not without talent," Napoleon replied, " and I am far from
wishing to disavow his merit or my partiality ; but he was so undecided !"
" He was very harsh and overbearing," Las Casas rejoined.
"And what, my dear Las Casas," Napoleon replied, "is more overbear
ing than weakness which feels itself protected by strength ? Look at women,
for example."
This Berthier had, with the utmost meanness, abandoned his benefactor

1799.] THE RETURN FROM EGYPT. 243
and took his place in front of the carriage of Louis XVIII. as he rode tri
umphantly into Paris. " The only revenge I wish on this poor Berthier,"
said Napoleon at the time, "would be to see him in his costume of captain
of the body-guard of Louis."
" The character of Napoleon," says Bourrienne, Napoleon's rejected secre
tary, " was not a cruel one. He was neither rancorous nor vindictive. None
but those who are blinded by fury could have given him the name of Nero
or Caligula. I think that I have stated his real faults with sufficient sincer
ity to be believed upon my word. I can assert that Bonaparte, apart from
politics, was feeling, kind, and accessible to pity. He was very fond of chil
dren, and a bad man has seldom that disposition. In the habits of private
life he had, and the expression is not too strong, much benevolence and great
indulgence for human weakness. A contrary opinion is too firmly fixed in
some minds for me to hope to remove it. I shall, I fear, have opposers ; but
I address myself to those who are in search of truth. I lived in the most
unreserved confidence with Napoleon until the age of thirty-four years, and
I advance nothing lightly." This is the admission of one who had been
ejected from office by Napoleon, and who had become a courtier of the rein
stated Bourbons. It is the candid admission of an enemy.
The ships weighed anchor in the darkness of the night, hoping, before the
day should dawn, to escape the English cruisers which were hovering about
Alexandria. Unfortunately, at midnight the wind died away, and it became
almost perfectly calm. Fearful of being captured, some were anxious to
seek again the shore. " Be quiet," said Napoleon ; " we shall pass in safety."

THE RETURN VOYAGE.
Admiral Gantheaume wished to take the shortest route to France. Na
poleon, however, directed the admiral to sail along as near as possible to the
coast of Africa, and to continue that unfrequented route till the ships should
pass the island of Sardinia. " In the mean while," said he, " should an En
glish fleet present itself, we will run ashore upon the sands, and march, with
the handful of brave men and the few pieces of artillery we have with us, to
Oran or Tunis, and there find means to re-embark."
Thus Napoleon, in this hazardous enterprise, braved every peril. The

244 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XIV.
most imminent, and the most to be dreaded of all, was captivity in an En
glish prison. For twenty days the wind was so invariably adverse, that the
ships did not advance three hundred miles. Many were so discouraged, and
so apprehensive of capture, that it was even proposed to return to Alexan
dria. Napoleon was much in the habit of peaceful submission to that which
he could not remedy. During all these trying weeks, he appeared serene
and contented. To the murmuring of his companions he replied, "We shall
arrive in France in safety. I am determined to proceed at all hazards. For
tune will not abandon us."
" People frequently speak," says Bourrienne, who accompanied Napoleon
upon this voyage, " of the good fortune which attaches to an individual, and
even attends him through life. Without professing to believe in this sort of
predestination, yet, when I call to mind the numerous dangers which Bona
parte escaped in so many enterprises, the hazards he encountered, the
chances he ran, I can conceive that others may have this faith. But having
for a length of time studied the ' man of destiny,' I have remarked that what
was called his fortune was, in reality, his genius ; that his success was the
consequence of his admirable foresight — of his calculations, rapid as light
ning, and of the conviction that boldness is often the truest wisdom. If, for
example, during our voyage from Egypt to France, he had not imperiously
insisted upon pursuing a course different from that usually taken, and which
usual course was recommended by the admiral, would he have escaped the
perils which beset his path ? Probably not. And was all this the effect of
chance ? Certainly not."
During these days of suspense, Napoleon, apparently as serene in spirit as
the calm which often silvered the unrippled surface of the sea, held all the
energies of his mind in perfect control. A choice library he invariably took
with him wherever he went. He devoted the hours to writing, study ; finding
recreation in solving the most difficult problems in geometry, and in investi
gating chemistry and other scientific subjects of practical utility. He devoted
much time to conversation with the distinguished scholars whom he had
selected to accompany him. His whole soul seemed engrossed in the pur
suit of literary and scientific attainments. He also carefully, and with most
intense interest, studied the Bible and the Koran, scrutinizing, with the eye
of a philosopher, the antagonistic systems of the Christian and the Moslem.
The stupidity of the Koran wearied him. The sublimity of the Scriptures
charmed him. He read again and again, with deep admiration, Christ's
Sermon upon the Mount, and called his companions from their card-tables to
read it to them, that they might also appreciate its moral beauty and its el
oquence. ' You will, ere long, become devout yourself," said one of his infidel
companions. "I wish I might become so," Napoleon replied. " What a solace Chris
tianity must be to one who has an undoubting conviction of its truth !"
But practical Christianity he had only seen in the mummeries of the Papal
Church. Remembering the fasts, the vigils, the penances, the cloisters, the
scourgings of a corrupt Christianity, and contrasting them with the volup
tuous paradise and the sensual houris which inflamed the eager vision of

1799.] THE RETURN FROM EGYPT. 245
the Moslem, he once exclaimed, in phrase characteristic of his genius, " The
religion of Jesus is a threat, that of Mohammed a promise." The religion
of Jesus is not a threat. Though the wrath of God shall fall upon the chil
dren of disobedience, our Savior invites us, in gentle accents, to the green
pastures and the still waters of the heavenly Canaan ; to cities resplendent
with pearls and gold ; to mansions of which God is the architect ; to the
songs of seraphim, and the flight of cherubim, exploring, on tireless pinion,
the wonders of infinity; to peace of conscience, and rapture dwelling in the
pure heart, and to blessed companionship, loving and beloved ; to majesty
of person and loftiness of intellect ; to appear as children and as nobles in
the audience-chamber of God ; to an immortality of bliss. No ! the religion
of Jesus is not a threat, though it has too often been thus represented by its
mistaken or designing advocates.
One evening, a group of officers were conversing together upon the quar
ter-deck respecting the existence of God. Many of them believed not in his

NAPOLEON AND THE ATHEISTS.

being. It was a calm, cloudless, brilliant night. The heavens, the work of
God's fingers, canopied them gloriously. The moon and the stars, which
God had ordained, beamed down upon them with serene lustre.

As thev

246 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XIV.
were flippantly giving utterance to the arguments of atheism, Napoleon
paced to and fro upon the deck, taking no part in the conversation, and ap
parently absorbed in his own thoughts. Suddenly he stopped before them,
and said, in those tones of dignity which ever overawed, " Gentlemen, your
arguments are very fine ; but who made all those worlds, beaming so glori
ously above us? Can you tell me that?" No one answered. Napoleon
resumed his silent walk, and the officers selected another topic for conver
sation. In these intense studies Napoleon first began to appreciate the beauty and
the sublimity of Christianity. Previous to this, his own strong sense had
taught him the principles of a noble toleration ; and Jew, Christian, and
Moslem stood equally regarded before him. Now he began to apprehend
the surpassing excellence of Christianity ; and though the cares of the busi
est life through which a mortal has ever passed soon engrossed his energies,
this appreciation and admiration of the Gospel of Christ visibly increased
with each succeeding year. He unflinchingly braved the scoffs of infidel
Europe in re-establishing the Christian religion in paganized France. He
periled his popularity with the army, and disregarded the opposition of his
most influential friends, from his deep conviction of the 'importance of relig
ion to the welfare of the state.
With the inimitable force of his own glowing eloquence, he said to Mon
tholon, at St. Helena, " I know men, and I tell you that Jesus Christ is not
a man ! The religion of Christ is a mystery, which subsists by its own
force, and proceeds from a mind which is not a human mind. We find in it
a marked individuality, which originated a train of words and maxims un
known before. Jesus borrowed nothing from our knowledge. He exhibited
himself the perfect example of his precepts. Jesus is not a philosopher ; for
his proofs are his miracles, and from the first his disciples adored him. In
fact, learning and philosophy are of no use for salvation ; and Jesus came
into the world to reveal the mysteries of heaven and the laws of the Spirit.
Alexander, Caesar, Charlemagne, and myself have founded empires. But
upon what did we rest the creations of our genius? Upon force! Jesus
Christ alone founded his empire upon love ; and at this moment millions of
men would die for him. I die before my time, and my body will be given
back to earth, to become food for worms. Such is the fate of him who has
been called the great Napoleon. What an abyss between my deep misery
and the eternal kingdom of Christ, which is proclaimed, loved, and adored,
and which is extended over the whole earth ! Call you this dying ? Is it
not living, rather ? The death of Christ is the death of a God !"
At the time of the invasion of Egypt, Napoleon regarded all forms of relig
ion with equal respect ; and though he considered Christianity superior, in
intellectuality and refinement, to all other modes of worship, he did not con
sider any religion as of divine origin.
At one time, speaking of the course which he pursued in Egypt, he said,
" Such was the disposition of the army, that, in order to induce them to listen
to the bare mention of religion, I was obliged to speak very lightly on the
subject ; to place Jews beside Christians, and rabbis beside bishops. But,
after all, it would not have been so very extraordinary had circumstances in-

1799.]

THE RETURN FROM EGYPT.

247

duced me to embrace Islamism. But I must have good reasons for my
conversion. I must have been secure of advancing at least as far as the
Euphrates. Change of religion for private interest is inexcusable ; but it
may be pardoned in consideration of immense political results. Henry IV.

said, ' Paris is well worth a mass.' Will it, then, be said that the dominion of
the East, and perhaps the subjugation of all Asia, were not worth a turban
and a pair of trowsers ? And, in truth, the whole matter was reduced to
this. The sheiks had studied how to render it easy to us. They had
smoothed down the great obstacles, allowed us the use of wine, and dis-

248 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XIV.
pensed with all corporeal formalities. We should have lost only our small
clothes and hats."
Of the infidel Rousseau, Napoleon ever spoke in terms of severe reproba
tion. " He was a bad man, a very bad man," said he ; "he caused the Rev
olution." " I was not aware," another replied, " that you considered the French
Revolution such an unmixed evil."
" Ah !" Napoleon rejoined, "you wish to say that, without the Revolution,
you would not have had me. Nevertheless, without the Revolution France
would have been more happy." When invited to visit the hermitage of
Rousseau, to see his cap, table, great chair, &c, he exclaimed, " Bah ! I
have no taste for such fooleries. Show them to my brother Louis. He is
worthy of them."
Probably the following remarks of Napoleon, made at St. Helena, will give
a very correct idea of his prevailing feelings upon the subject of religion.
" The sentiment of religion is so consolatory, that it must be considered a
o-ift from Heaven. What a resource would it not be for us here to possess
it ! What rewards have I not a right to expect, who have run a career so
extraordinary, so tempestuous, as mine has been, without committing a single
crime ! And yet how many might I not have been guilty of ! I can appear
before the tribunal of God — I can await his judgment without fear. He will
not find my conscience stained with the thoughts of murder and poisonings,
with the infliction of violent and premeditated deaths, events so common in
the history of those whose lives resemble mine. I have wished only for the
power, the greatness, the glory of France. All my faculties, all my efforts,
all my movements, were directed to the attainment of that object. These
can not be crimes. To me they appeared acts of virtue. What, then,
would be my happiness if the bright prospect of futurity presented itself to
crown the last moments of my existence !"
After a moment's pause, in which he seemed lost in thought, he resumed,
" But how is it possible that conviction can find its way to our hearts, when
we hear the absurd language, and witness the iniquitous conduct of the great
er part of those whose business it is to preach to us ? I am surrounded by
priests who repeat incessantly that their reign is not of this world ; and yet
they lay their hands upon every thing which they can get. The Pope is the
head of that religion which is from Heaven. What did the present chief
Pontiff, who is undoubtedly a good and a holy man, not offer, to be allowed
to return to Rome ! The surrender of the government of the Church, of the
institution of bishops, was not too much for him to give to become once
more a secular prince.
" Nevertheless," he continued, after another thoughtful pause, " it can not
be doubted that, as Emperor, the species of incredulity which I felt was
beneficial to the nations I had to govern. How could I have favored equal
ly sects so opposed to one another, if I had joined any one of them ? How
could I have preserved the independence of my thoughts and of my actions
under the control of a confessor, who would have governed me under the
dread of hell ?" Napoleon closed this conversation by ordering the New
Testament to be brought. Commencing at the beginning, he read aloud as

1799.] THE RETURN FROM EGYPT. 249
far as the conclusion of our Savior's address to his disciples upon the mount
ain. He expressed himself struck with the highest admiration in contem
plating its purity, its sublimity, and the beautiful perfection of its moral code.
For forty days the ships were driven about by contrary winds, and on the
1st of October they made the island of Corsica, and took refuge in the har
bor of Ajaccio. The tidings that Napoleon had landed in his native town
swept over the island like a gale, and the whole population crowded to the
port to catch a sight of their illustrious countryman.
"It seemed," said Napoleon, "that half of the inhabitants had discovered
traces of kindred." But a few years had elapsed since the dwelling of
Madame Letitia was pillaged by the mob, and the whole Bonaparte family,
in penury and friendlessness, were hunted from their home, effecting their
escape in an open boat by night. Now the name of Bonaparte filled the
island with acclamations. But Napoleon was alike indifferent to such unjust
censure and to such unthinking applause. As the curse did not depress,
neither did the hosanna elate.
After the delay of a few days in obtaining supplies, the ships again weighed
anchor, on the 7th of October, and continued their perilous voyage. The
evening of the next day, as the sun was going down in unusual splendor,
there appeared in the west, painted in strong relief against his golden rays,
an English squadron. The admiral, who saw from the enemy's signals that
he was observed, urged an immediate return to Corsica. Napoleon, con
vinced that capture would be the result of such a maneuver, exclaimed, " To
do so would be to take the road to England. I am seeking that to France.
Spread all sail. Let every one be at his post. Steer to the northwest.
Onward !"
The night was dark, the wind fair. Rapidly the ships were approaching
the coast of France, through the midst of the hostile squadron, and exposed
to the most imminent danger of capture. Escape seemed impossible. It
was a night of fearful apprehension and terror to all on board, excepting Na
poleon. He determined, in case of extremity, to throw himself into a boat,
and trust for safety to darkness and the oars. With the most perfect self-
possession and composure of spirits, he ordered the long-boat to be prepared,
selected those whom he desired to accompany him, and carefully collected
such papers as he was anxious to preserve. Not an eye was closed during
the night. It was, indeed, a fearful question to be decided. Are these weary
wanderers in a few hours to be in the embrace of their wives and their
children, or will the next moment show them the black hull of an English
man-of-war, emerging from the gloom to consign them to lingering years of
captivity in an English prison ? In this terrible hour, no one could perceive
that the composure of Napoleon was in the slightest degree ruffled.
The first dawn of the morning revealed to their straining vision the hills
of France stretching along but a few leagues before them, and, far away in
the northeast, the hostile squadron disappearing beneath the horizon of the
sea. The French had escaped. The wildest bursts of joy rose from the
ships. But Napoleon gazed calmly upon his beloved France, with pale cheek
and marble brow, giving no indication of emotion. At eight o'clock in the
morning, the four vessels dropped anchor in the little harbor of Frejus. It

250 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XIV.
was the morning of the 8th of October. Thus for fifty days Napoleon had
been tossed upon the waves of the Mediterranean, surrounded by the hostile
fleets of England, Russia, and Turkey, and yet had eluded their vigilance.
This wonderful passage of Napoleon gave rise to many caricatures, both
in England and France. One of these caricatures, which was conspicuous
in the London shop windows, possessed so much point and historic truth,
that Napoleon is said to have laughed most heartily on seeing it. Lord Nel
son, as is well known, with all his heroism, was not exempt from the frail
ties of humanity. The British admiral was represented as guarding Napo
leon. Lady Hamilton makes her appearance, and his lordship becomes so
engrossed in caressing the fair enchantress, that Napoleon escapes between
his legs.* ' This was hardly a caricature. It was almost historic verity.
While Napoleon was struggling against adverse storms off the coast of Af
rica, Lord Nelson, adorned with the laurels of his magnificent victory, in
fond dalliance with his frail Delilah, was basking in the courts of voluptuous
and profligate kings. " No one," said Napoleon, " can surrender himself to
the dominion of love without the forfeiture of some palms of glory."
When the four vessels entered the harbor of Frejus, a signal at the mast
head of the Muiron informed the authorities on shore that Napoleon was on
board. The whole town was instantly in commotion. Before the anchors
were dropped, the harbor was filled with boats, and the ships were surround
ed with an enthusiastic multitude, climbing their sides, thronging their decks,
and rending the air with their acclamations. All the laws of quarantine
were disregarded. The people, wearying of anarchy, and trembling in view
of the approaching Austrian invasion, were almost delirious with delight in
receiving thus, as it were from the clouds, a deliverer in whose potency they
could implicitly trust.
When warned that the ships had recently sailed from Alexandria, and that
there was imminent danger that the plague might be communicated, they re
plied, "We had rather have the plague than the Austrians !" Breaking over
all the municipal regulations of health, the people took Napoleon almost by
violence, hurried him over the side of the ship to the boats, and conveyed
him in triumph to the shore. The tidings had spread from farm-house to
farm-house with almost electric speed, and the whole country population,
men, women, and children, were crowding into the city. Even the wounded
soldiers in the hospital left their cots, and crawled to the beach, to get a
sight of the hero. The throng became so great that it was with difficulty
that Napoleon could land. The gathering multitude, however, opened to
the right and left, and Napoleon passed through them, greeted with the en
thusiastic cries of " Long live the conqueror of Italy, the conqueror of Egypt,
the liberator of France !"
The peaceful little harbor of Frejus was suddenly thrown into a state of
the most unheard-of excitement. The bells rang their merriest peals. The
guns in the fort rolled forth their heaviest thunders over the hills and over
* Lady Hamilton was a woman of obscure birth and of notoriously licentious character, but of
extreme beauty and fascination. She was the wife of Sir "William Hamilton, the English minister
at Naples. Nelson cruelly abandoned his noble wife, and took this vicious woman for his paramour.
She was a great favourite of the Queen of Naples, whose character was no better than that of Lady
Hamilton.

1799.]

THE RETURN FROM EGYPT.

251

the waves ; and the enthusiastic shouts of the ever-increasing multitudes,
thronging Napoleon, filled the air. The ships brought the first tidings of
the wonderful victories of Mount Tabor and of Aboukir. The French, hu-

THE LANDING AT FREJUS.

miliated by defeat, were exceedingly elated by this restoration of the na
tional honor. The intelligence of Napoleon's arrival was immediately com
municated by telegraph to Paris, which was six hundred miles from Frejus.*
When the tidings of Napoleon's landing at Frejus arrived in Paris, on the
evening of the 9th of October, Josephine ' was at a large party at the house
of M. Gohier, President of the Directory. All the most distinguished men
of the metropolis were there. The intelligence produced the most profound
sensation. Some, rioting in the spoils of office, turned pale with apprehen
sion ; knowing well the genius of Napoleon, and his boundless popularity,
they feared another revolution, which should eject them from their seats of
power. Others were elated with hope ; they felt that Providence had sent
to France a deliverer at the very moment when a deliverer was needed. One
of the deputies, who had been deeply grieved at the disasters which were
overwhelming the Republic, actually died of joy when he heard of Napoleon's
return. * " Napoleon's morals were exemplary. At school, a dutiful, a good boy ; in early manhood,
a studious, modest, unobtrusive youth, excellent son, brother, friend, stranger to excesses and ir
regularities, and little given to what are ardently pursued by most young men as the pleasures of
the world. When he returned to France, thirty years of age, to be raised to the head of the gov
ernment by nearly universal acclaim, contrary to common English traduction and American belief,
he may be said to have scarcely ever been guilty of an immoral action. His promotion to chief
magistracy was followed by acts of substantial and generous kindness to all who had the least right
to his remembrance. I have heard Joseph very often say that Napoleon was kind, compassionate,
and tender-hearted ; and Joseph used to tell him, ' You take more pains to seem severe and rough
than most men do to appear amiable and kind.' " — Ingersoll's Second War, vol. i., p. 157, second series.

2'52 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XIV.
Josephine, intensely excited by the sudden and unexpected announcement,
immediately withdrew, hastened home, and at midnight, without allowing
an hour for repose, she entered her carriage, with Louis Bonaparte and Hor
tense, who subsequently became the bride of Louis, and set out to meet her
husband. Napoleon, almost at the same hour, with his suite, left Frejus.
During every step of his progress he was greeted with the most extraordi
nary demonstrations of enthusiasm and affection. Bonfires blazed from the
hills ; triumphal arches, hastily constructed, spanned his path. Long lines
of maidens spread a carpet of flowers for his chariot wheels, and greeted him
with smiles and choruses of welcome. He arrived at Lyons in the evening.
The whole city was brilliant with illuminations. An immense concourse sur
rounded him with almost delirious shouts of joy. The constituted authori
ties received him as he descended from his carriage. The mayor had pre
pared a long and eulogistic harangue for the occasion. Napoleon had no
time to listen it.
With a motion of his hand, imposing silence, he said, " Gentlemen, I learn
ed that France was in peril ; I therefore did not hesitate to leave my army in
Egypt, that I might come to her rescue. I now go hence. In a few days,
if you think fit to wait upon me, I shall be at leisure to hear you." Fresh
horses were by this time attached to the carriages, and the cavalcade, which
like a meteor had burst upon them, like a meteor disappeared. From Lyons,
for some unexplained reason, Napoleon turned from the regular route to
Paris and took a less frequented road.
When Josephine arrived at Lyons, to her utter consternation she found
that Napoleon had left the city several hours before her arrival, and that
they had passed each other by different roads. Her anguish was inexpress
ible. For many months she had not received a line from her idolized hus
band, all communications having been intercepted by the English cruisers.
She knew that many, jealous of her power, had disseminated, far and wide,
false reports respecting her conduct. She knew that these, her enemies,
would surround Napoleon immediately upon his arrival, and take advantage
of her absence to inflame his mind against her.
Lyons is 245 miles from Paris. Josephine had passed over those weary
leagues of hill and dale, pressing on without intermission by day and by
night, alighting not for refreshment or repose. Faint, exhausted, and her
heart sinking within her with fearful apprehensions of the hopeless alienation
of her husband, she received the dreadful tidings that she had missed him.
There was no resource left her but to retrace her steps with the utmost pos
sible celerity. Napoleon would, however, have been one or two days in
Paris before Josephine could, by any possibility, re-enter the city. Prob
ably in all France, there was not, at that time, a more unhappy woman than
Josephine. Secret wretchedness was also gnawing at the heart of Napoleon. Who
has yet fathomed the mystery of human love ? Intensest love and intensest
hate can, at the same moment, intertwine their fibres in inextricable blend
ing. In nothing is the will so impotent as in guiding or checking the im
pulses of this omnipotent passion. Napoleon loved Josephine with that al
most superhuman energy which characterized all the movements of his im-

1799.] THE RETURN FROM EGYPT. 253
petuous spirit. The stream did not fret and ripple over a shallow bed, but it
was serene in its unfathomable depths. The world contained but two objects
for Napoleon, glory and Josephine ; glory first, and then, closely following,
the more substantial idol.
Many of the Parisian ladies, proud of a more exalted lineage than Jose
phine could boast, were exceedingly envious of the supremacy she had at
tained. Her influence over Napoleon was well known. Philosophers,
statesmen, ambitious generals, all crowded her saloons, paying her homage.
A favorable word from Josephine they knew would pave the way for them
to fame and fortune. Thus Josephine, from the saloons of Paris, with milder
radiance reflected back the splendor of her husband. She, solicitous of se
curing as many friends as possible to aid him in future emergencies, was as
diligent in " winning hearts" at home as Napoleon was in conquering prov
inces abroad. The gracefulness of Josephine, her consummate delicacy of
moral appreciation, her exalted intellectual gifts, the melodious tones of her
winning voice, charmed courtiers, philosophers, and statesmen alike. Her
saloons were ever crowded. Her entertainments were ever embellished by
the presence of all who were illustrious in rank and power in the metropolis.
And in whatever circles she appeared, the eyes of the gentlemen first sought
for her. Two resistless attractions drew them. She was peculiarly fasci
nating in person and in character, and, through her renowned husband, she
could dispense the most precious gifts.
It is not difficult to imagine the envy which must thus have been excited.
Many a haughty duchess was provoked almost beyond endurance that Jose
phine, the untitled daughter of a West Indian planter, should thus engross
the homage of Paris, while she, with her proud rank, her wit, and her beau
ty, was comparatively a cipher. Moreau's wife, in particular, resented the
supremacy of Josephine as a personal affront. She thought General Moreau
entitled to as much consideration as General Bonaparte. By the jealousy
rankling in her own bosom, she finally succeeded in rousing her husband to
conspire against Napoleon, and thus the hero of Hohenlinden was ruined.
Some of the brothers and sisters of Napoleon were also jealous of the par
amount influence of Josephine, and would gladly wrest a portion of it from
her hands. Under these circumstances, in various ways, slanders had been
warily insinuated into the ears of Napoleon respecting the conduct of his
wife. Conspiring enemies became more and more bold. Josephine was
represented as having forgotten her husband ; as reveling, exultant with fe
male vanity, in general flirtation ; and, finally, as guilty of gross infidelity.
Nearly all the letters written by Napoleon and Josephine to each other were
intercepted by the English cruisers. Though Napoleon did not credit these
charges in full, he cherished not a little of the pride which led the Roman
monarch to exclaim, " Caesar's wife must not be suspected."
Napoleon was in this troubled state of mind during the latter months of
his residence in Egypt. One day he was sitting alone in his tent, which was
pitched in the great Arabian desert. Several months had passed since he
had heard a word from Josephine. Years might elapse ere they would meet
again. Junot entered, having just received, through some channel of jeal
ousy and malignity, communications from Paris. Cautiously, but fully, he

254 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XIV.
unfolded the whole budget of Parisian gossip. Josephine had found, as he
represented, in the love of others, an ample recompense for the absence of
her husband. She was surrounded by admirers with whom she was engaged
in an incessant round of intrigues and flirtations. Regardless of honor, she
had surrendered herself to the dominion of passion.
Napoleon was, for a few moments, in a state of terrible agitation. With
hasty strides, like a chafed lion, he paced his tent, exclaiming, " Why do I
love that woman so ? Why can I not tear her image from my heart ? I will
do so. I will have an immediate and an open divorce — open and public di
vorce." He immediately wrote to Josephine in terms of the utmost severity,
accusing her of "playing the coquette with half the world." The letter es
caped the British cruisers, and she received it. It almost broke her faithful
heart. Such were the circumstances under which Napoleon and Josephine
were to meet after an absence of eighteen months. Josephine was exceed
ingly anxious to see Napoleon before he should have an interview with her
enemies. Hence the depth of anguish with which she heard that her hus
band had passed her. Two or three days must elapse ere she could possi
bly retrace the weary miles over which she had already traveled.
In the mean time, the carriage of Napoleon was rapidly approaching the
metropolis. By night his path was brilliant with bonfires and illuminations.
The ringing of bells, the thunders of artillery, and the acclamations of the
multitude accompanied him every step of his way. But no smile of triumph
played upon his pale and pensive cheeks. He felt that he was returning to
a desolated home. Gloom reigned in his heart. He entered Paris, and drove
rapidly to his own dwelling. Behold, Josephine was not there. Conscious
guilt, he thought, had made her afraid to meet him. It is in vain to attempt
to penetrate the hidden anguish of Napoleon's soul. That his proud spirit
must have suffered intensity of woe, no one can doubt. The bitter enemies
of Josephine immediately surrounded him, eagerly taking advantage of her
absence to inflame, to a still higher degree, by adroit insinuations, his jealousy
and anger. Eugene had accompanied him in his return from Egypt, and his
affectionate heart ever glowed with love and admiration for his mother.
With anxiety, amounting to anguish, he watched at the window for her
arrival. "Josephine," said one to Napoleon, maliciously endeavoring to pre
vent the possibility of reconciliation, "will appear before you with all her
fascinations. She will explain matters. You will forgive all, and tranquil
lity will be restored."
"Never!" exclaimed Napoleon, with pallid cheek and trembling lip, strid
ing nervously to and fro through the room, " never ! I forgive ! never !"
Then stopping suddenly, and gazing the interlocutor wildly in the face, he
exclaimed, with passionate gesticulation, " You know me. Were I not sure
of my resolution, I would tear out this heart and cast it into the fire."
How strange is the life of the heart of man ! From this interview, Napo
leon, two hours after his arrival in Paris, with his whole soul agitated by the
tumult of domestic woe, went to the palace of the Luxembourg to visit the
Directory, to form his plans for the overthrow of the government of France.
Pale, pensive, joyless, his inflexible purposes of ambition wavered not — his
iron energies yielded not. Josephine was an idol. He execrated her and

1799.] THE RETURN FROM EGYPT. 255
he adored her. He loved her most passionately. He hated her most viru
lently. He could clasp her one moment to his bosom with burning kisses ;
the next moment he would spurn her from him as the most loathsome wretch.
But glory was a still more cherished idol, at whose shrine he bowed with un
wavering adoration. He strove to forget his domestic wretchedness by pros
ecuting, with new vigor, his schemes of grandeur. As he ascended the stairs
of the Luxembourg, some of the guard, who had been with him in Italy, rec
ognized his person, and he was instantly greeted, with enthusiastic shouts,
" Long live Bonaparte !" The clamor rolled like a voice of thunder through
the spacious halls of the palace, and fell, like a death knell, upon the ears
of the Directors. The populace, upon the pavement, caught the sound, and
re-echoed it from street to street. The plays at the theatres, and the songs
at the Opera, were stopped, that it might be announced from the stage that
Bonaparte had arrived in Paris. Men, women, and children simultaneously
rose to their feet, and a wild burst of enthusiastic joy swelled upon the night air.
All Paris was in commotion. The name of Bonaparte was on every lip.
The enthusiasm was contagious. Illuminations began to blaze here and
there, without concert, from the universal rejoicing, till the whole city was
resplendent with light. One bell rang forth its merry peal of greeting, and
then another, and another, till every steeple was vocal with its clamorous
welcome. One gun was heard, rolling its heavy thunders over the city. It
was the signal for an instantaneous, tumultuous roar, from artillery and
musketry, from all the battalions in the metropolis. The tidings of the great
victories of Aboukir and Mount Tabor reached Paris with Napoleon. Those
Oriental names were shouted through the streets, and blazed upon the eyes
of the delighted people in letters of light. Thus, in an hour, the whole of
Paris was thrown into a delirium of joy, and, without any previous arrange
ments, there was displayed the most triumphant and gorgeous festival.
The government of France was at this time organized somewhat upon the
model of that of the United States. Instead of one President, they had five,
called Directors. Their Senate was called the House of Ancients-; their
House of Representatives, the Council of Five Hundred. The five Direc
tors, as might have been expected, were ever quarreling among themselves,
each wishing for the lion's share of power. The Monarchist, the Jacobin,
and the moderate Republican could not harmoniously co-operate in govern
ment. They only circumvented each other, while the administration sank
into disgrace and ruin. The Abbe Sieyes was decidedly the most able man
of the Executive. He was a proud patrician, and his character may be es
timated from the following anecdote, which Napoleon has related respecting
him :
" The abbe, before the Revolution, was chaplain to one of the princesses.
One day, when he was performing mass before herself, her attendants, and a
large congregation, something occurred which rendered it necessary for the
princess to leave the room. The ladies in waiting and the nobility, who at
tended church more out of complaisance to her than from any sense of re
ligion, followed her example. Sieyes was very busy reading his prayers,
and, for a few moments, he did not perceive their departure. At last, raising
his eyes from his book, behold, the princess, the nobles, and all the ton had

256 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap.. XIV.
disappeared. With an air of displeasure and contempt he shut the book,
and descended from the pulpit, exclaiming, ' I do not read prayers for the
rabble.' He immediately went out of the chapel, leaving the service half
finished." Napoleon arrived in Paris on the evening of the 17th of October, 1799.
Two days and two nights elapsed ere Josephine was able to retrace the
weary leagues over which she had passed. It was the hour of midnight on
the 19th when the rattle of her carriage-wheels was heard entering the court
yard of their dwelling in the Rue Chantereine, Eugene, anxiously awaiting
her arrival, was instantly at his mother's side, folding her in his embrace.
Napoleon also heard the arrival, but he remained sternly in his chamber.
He had ever been accustomed to greet Josephine at the door of her carriage,
even when she returned from an ordinary morning ride. No matter what
employments engrossed his mind, no matter what guests were present, he
would immediately leave every thing, and hasten to the door to assist, Jo
sephine to alight, and to accompany her into the house. But now, after an
absence of eighteen months, the faithful Josephine, half dead with exhaustion,
was at the door, and Napoleon, with pallid cheek and compressed lip, and
jealousy rankling in his bosom, remained sternly in his room, preparing to
overwhelm her with his indignation.
Josephine was in a state of terrible agitation. Her limbs tottered, and her
heart throbbed most violently. Assisted by Eugene, and accompanied by
Hortense, she tremblingly ascended the stairs to the little parlor where she
had so often received the caresses of her most affectionate spouse. She
opened the door. There stood Napoleon, as immovable as a statue, leaning
against the mantel, with his arms folded across his breast. Sternly and si
lently, he cast a withering look upon Josephine, and then exclaimed, in tones
which, like a dagger, pierced her heart, " Madame ! it is my wish that 'you
retire immediately to Malmaison."
Josephine staggered and would have fallen, as if struck by a mortal blow,
had she not been caught in the arms of her son. Sobbing bitterly with an
guish, she was conveyed by Eugene to her own apartment. Napoleon also
was dreadfully agitated. The sight of Josephine had revived all his passion
ate love. But he fully believed that Josephine had unpardonably trifled with
his affections, that she had courted the admiration of a multitude of flatterers,
and that she had degraded herself and her husband by playing the coquette.
The proud spirit of Napoleon could not brook such a requital for his fervid
love. With hasty strides he traversed the room, striving to nourish his in
dignation. The sobs of Josephine had deeply moved him. He yearned to
fold her again in fond love to his heart. But he proudly resolved that he
would not relent. Josephine, with that prompt obedience which ever char
acterized her, prepared immediately to comply with his orders.
It was midnight. For a week she had lived in her carriage almost without
food or sleep. Malmaison was twelve miles from Paris. Napoleon did not
suppose that she would leave the house until morning. Much to his surprise,
in a few moments he heard Josephine, Eugene, and Hortense descending the
stairs to take the carriage. Napoleon, even in his anger, could not be thus
inhuman. " My heart," he said, " was never formed to witness tears without

1799.]

THE RETURN FROM EGYPT.

257

emotion." He immediately descended to the court-yard, though his pride
would not yet allow him to speak to Josephine. He, however, addressing
Eugene, urged the party to return and obtain refreshment and repose. Jo
sephine, all submission, unhesitatingly yielded to his wishes, and, reascending
the stairs, in the extremity of exhaustion and grief, threw herself upon a
couch in her apartment. Napoleon, equally wretched, returned to his cab
inet. Two days of utter misery passed away, during which no intercourse
took place between the estranged parties, each of whom loved the other with
almost superhuman intensity.
Love in the heart will finally triumph over all obstructions. The struggle
was long, but gradually pride and passion yielded, and love regained the as
cendency. Napoleon so far surrendered on the third day as to enter the
apartment of Josephine. She was seated at a toilet-table, her face buried
in her hands, and absorbed in the profoundest woe. The letters which she
had received from Napoleon, and which she had evidently been reading, were
spread upon the'table. Hortense, the picture of grief and despair, was stand
ing in the alcove of a window. Napoleon had opened the door softly, and
his entrance had not been heard. With an irresolute step he advanced to
ward his wife, and then said, kindly and sadly, " Josephine !" She started

THE RECONCILIATION.

at the sound of that well-known voice, and raising her swollen eyes, swim
ming in tears, mournfully exclaimed, " Mon ami !" This was the term of
endearment with which she had invariably addressed her husband. It re
called a thousand delightful reminiscences. Napoleon was vanquished. He
extended his hand. Josephine threw herself into his arms, pillowed her
aching head upon his bosom, and in the intensity of blended joy and anguish,
wept convulsively. Along explanation ensued. Napoleon became satisfied
that Josephine had been deeply wronged. The reconciliation was cordial
and entire, and was never again interrupted.
Vol. I.— R

25S NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XV

CHAPTER XV.
THE OVERTHROW OF THE DIRECTORY.
Political Intrigues — Efforts for the Overthrow of the Directory — Affectionate Remembrance of Jo
sephine — Success of Napoleon's Plans — Bonaparte in the Hall of Ancients — His Calmness in
the Council of Five Hundred — His Humanity — Delicate Attention to Josephine — Alison's Trib
ute to Napoleon.
Napoleon now, with a stronger heart, turned to the accomplishment of
his designs to rescue France from anarchy. He was fully conscious of his
own ability to govern the nation. He knew that it was the almost unani
mous wish of the people that he should grasp the reins of power ; he was
confident of their cordial co-operation in any plans he might adopt ; still, it
was an enterprise of no small difficulty to thrust the five Directors from their
thrones, and to get the control of the Council of Ancients and of the Five
Hundred. Never was a difficult achievement more adroitly and proudly ac
complished. For many days Napoleon almost entirely secluded himself from observa
tion, affecting a studious avoidance of the public gaze. He laid aside his
military dress, and assumed the peaceful costume of the National Institute.
Occasionally he wore a beautiful Turkish sabre suspended by a ribbon.
This simple dress transported the imagination of the beholder to Aboukir,
Mount Tabor, and the Pyramids. He studiously sought the society of lit
erary men, and devoted to them his attention. He invited distinguished men
of the Institute to dine with him, and, avoiding political discussion, conversed
only upon literary and scientific subjects.
Moreau and Bernadotte were the two rival generals from whom Napoleon
had the most to fear. Two days after his arrival in Paris, Napoleon said to
Bourrienne, " I believe that I shall have Bernadotte and Moreau against me.
But I do not fear Moreau. He is devoid of energy. He prefers military to
political power. We shall gain him by the promise of a command. But
Bernadotte has Moorish blood in his veins. He is bold and enterprising.
He does not like me, and I am certain that he will oppose me. If he should
become ambitious, he will venture any thing. Besides, this fellow is not to
be seduced. He is disinterested and clever. But, after all, we have just
arrived. We shall see."
Napoleon formed no conspiracy. He confided to no one his designs. And
yet, in his own solitary mind, relying entirely upon his own capacious re
sources, he studied the state of affairs and matured his plans. Sieves was
the only one whose talents and influence Napoleon feared. The abbe also
looked with apprehension upon his formidable rival. They stood aloof and
eyed each other. Meeting at a dinner party, each was too proud to make
advances. Yet "ach thought only of the other. Mutually exasperated, they
separated without having spoken.

1799.] .OVERTHROW OF THE DIRECTORY. 259
"Did you see that insolent little fellow ?" said Sieyes ; " he would not even
condescend to notice a member of the government, who, if they had done
right, would have caused him to be shot."
"What," said Napoleon, "could have induced them to put that priest in
the Directory ? He is sold to Prussia. Unless you take care, he will de
liver you up to that power."
9 Napoleon dined with Moreau, who afterward, in hostility, to Napoleon,
pointed the guns of Russia against the columns of his countrymen. The
dinner party was at Gohier's, one of the Directors. The following interest
ing conversation took place between the rival generals. When first intro
duced, they looked at each other a moment without speaking. Napoleon,
conscious of his own superiority, and solicitous to gain the powerful co-op
eration of Moreau, made the first advances, and, with great courtesy, ex
pressed the earnest desire he felt to make his acquaintance.
" You have returned victorious from Egypt," replied Moreau, " and I from
Italy, after a great defeat; It was the month which General Joubert passed
in Paris, after his marriage, which caused our disasters. This gave the Al
lies time to reduce Mantua, and to bring up the force which besieged it to
take part in the action. It is always the greater number which defeats the
less." " True," replied Napoleon, "it is always the greater number which beats
the less."
" And yet," said Gohier, " with small armies you have frequently defeated
large ones."
" Even then," rejoined Napoleon, " it was always the inferior force which
was defeated by the superior. When with a small body of men I was in the
presence of a large one, collecting my little band, I fell, like lightning, on
one of the wings of the hostile army, and defeated it. Profiting by the dis
order which such an event never failed to occasion in their whole line, I
repeated the attack, with similar success, in another quarter, still with my
whole force. I thus beat it in detail. The general victory which was the
result was still an example of the truth of the principle that the greater force
defeats the lesser."
Napoleon, by those fascinations of mind and manner which enabled him
to win to him whom he would, soon gained an ascendency over Moreau.
And when, two days after, in token of his regard, he sent him a beautiful
poniard set with diamonds, worth two thousand dollars, the work was accom
plished. Napoleon gave a small and very select dinner party. Gohier was
invited. The conversation turned on the turquoise used by the Orientals
to clasp their turbans. Napoleon, rising from the table, took from a private
drawer two very beautiful brooches, richly set with these jewels. One he
gave to Gohier, the other to his tried friend Desaix. " It is a little toy,"
said he, " which we Republicans may give and receive without impropriety."
The Director, flattered by the delicacy of the compliment, and yet not re
pelled by any thing assuming the grossness of a bribe, yielded his heart's
homage to Napoleon.
Republican France was surrounded by monarchies in arms against her.
Their hostility was so inveterate, and, from the very nature of the case, so

260 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XV.
inevitable, that Napoleon thought that France should ever be prepared for
an attack, and that the military spirit should be carefully fostered. Repub
lican America, most happily, has no foe to fear, and all her energies may be
devoted to filling the land with peace and plenty. But a republic in mo
narchical Europe must sleep by the side of its guns. " Do you teally," said
Napoleon to Gohier, in this interview, "advocate a general peace? You
are wrong. The Republic should never make but partial accommodations.
It should always contrive to have some war on hand to keep alive the mili
tary spirit." We can, perhaps, find a little extenuation for this remark in
its apparent necessity, and in the influences of the martial ardor in which
Napoleon, from his very infancy, had been enveloped. Even now, it is to be
feared that the time is far distant ere the nations of the earth can learn war
no more.
Lefebvre was commandant of the guard of the two legislative bodies.
His co-operation was important. Napoleon sent a special invitation for an
interview. " Lefebvre," said he, " will you, one of the pillars of the Republic, suffer
it to perish in the hands of these lawyers ? Join me and assist to save it."
Taking from his own side the beautiful Turkish cimeter which he wore, he
passed the ribbon over Lefebvre's neck, saying, " Accept this sword, which
I wore at the battle of the Pyramids. I give it to you as a token of my es
teem and confidence."
" Yes," replied Lefebvre, most highly gratified at this signal mark of con
fidence and generosity, " let us throw the lawyers into the river."
Napoleon soon had an interview with Bernadotte. " He confessed," said
Napoleon to Bourrienne, " that he thought us all lost. He spoke of external
enemies, of internal enemies, and at that word he looked steadily in my
face. I also gave him a glance. But patience ; the pear will soon be ripe."
In this view Napoleon inveighed against the violence and lawlessness of
the Jacobin club. " Your own brothers," Bernadotte replied, " were the
founders of that club, and yet you reproach me with favoring its principles.
It is fo the instructions of some one, I know not who, that we are to ascribe
the agitation which now prevails."
" True, general," Napoleon replied, most vehemently, " and I would rather
live in the woods than in a society which presents no security against vio
lence." This conversation only strengthened the alienation already existing
between them.
Bernadotte, though a brave and efficient officer, was a jealous braggadocio.
At the first interview between these two distinguished men, when Napoleon
was in command of the army of Italy, they contemplated each other with
mutual dislike.
" I have seen a man," said Bernadotte, " of twenty-six or seven years of
age, who assumes the air of one of fifty ; and he presages any thing but good
to the Republic."
Napoleon summarily dismissed Bernadotte by saying, " He has a French
head and a Roman heart."
There were three political parties now dividing France : the old Royalist
party, in favor of the restoration of the Bourbons ; the radical Democrats, or

1799.] OVERTHROW OF THE DIRECTORY. 261
Jacobins, with Barras at their head, supported by the mob of Paris ; and the
moderate Republicans, led by Sieyes. All these parties struggling together,
and fearing each other, in the midst of the general anarchy which prevailed,
immediately paid court to Napoleon, hoping to secure the support of his all-
powerful arm. Napoleon determined to co-operate with the moderate Re
publicans. The restoration of the Bourbons was not only out of the ques
tion, but Napoleon had no more power to secure that result than had Wash
ington to bring the United States into peaceful submission to George III.
" Had I joined the Jacobins," said Napoleon, " I should have risked noth
ing. But after conquering with them, it would have been necessary almost
immediately to conquer against them. A club can not endure a permanent
chief. It wants one for every successive passion. Now, to make use of a
party one day, in order to attack it the next, under whatever pretext it is
done, is still an act of treachery. It was inconsistent with my principles."
Sieyes, the head of the moderate Republicans, and Napoleon soon under
stood each other, and each admitted the necessity of co-operation. The
government was in a state of chaos. " Our salvation now demands," said
the wily diplomatist, "both a head and a sword." Napoleon had both. In
one fortnight from the time when he landed at Frejus, " the pear was ripe."
The plan was all matured for the great conflict. Napoleon, in solitary gran
deur, kept his own counsel. He had secured the cordial co-operation, the
unquestionable obedience of all his subordinates. Like the general upon the
field of battle, he was simply to give his orders, and columns marched, and
squadrons charged, and generals swept the field in unquestioning obedience.
Though he had determined to ride over, and to destroy the existing govern
ment, he wished to avail himself, so far as possible, of the mysterious power
of law, as a conqueror turns a captured battery upon the foe from whom it
had been wrested. Such a plot, so simple, yet so bold and efficient, was
never formed before ; and no one but another Napoleon will be able to ex
ecute such another again.
All Paris was in a state of intense excitement. Something great was to
be done. Napoleon was to do it. But nobody knew when, or what, or how.
All impatiently awaited orders. The majority of the Senate, or Council of
Ancients, conservative in its tendencies, and having once seen, during the
Reign of Terror, the horrors of Jacobin domination, were ready, most obse
quiously, to rally beneath the banner of so resolute a leader as Napoleon.
They were prepared, without question, to pass any vote which he should
propose. The House of Representatives, or Council of Five Hundred, more
democratic in its constitution, contained a large number of vulgar, ignorant,
and passionate demagogues, struggling to grasp the reins of power. Carnot,
whose co-operation Napoleon had entirely secured, was President of the
Senate. Lucien Bonaparte, the brother of Napoleon, was Speaker of the
House. The two bodies met in the palace of the Tuileries. The Constitu
tion conferred upon the Council of Ancients the right to decide upon the
place of meeting for both legislative assemblies.
All the officers of the garrison in Paris, and all the distinguished military
men in the metropolis, had solicited the honor of a presentation to Napoleon.
Without any public announcement, each one was privately informed that

262 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XV.
Napoleon would see him on the morning of the 9th of November. All the
regiments in the city had also solicited the honor of a review by the distin
guished conqueror. They were also informed that Napoleon would review
them early on the morning of the 9th of November. The Council of An
cients was called to convene at six o'clock on the morning of the same day.
The Council of Five Hundred were also to convene at eleven o'clock of the
same morning. This, the famous 18th of Brumaire, was the destined day
for the commencement of the great struggle. These appointments were
given in such a way as to attract no public attention. The general-in-chief
was thus silently arranging his forces for the important conflict. To none
did he reveal those combinations by which he anticipated a bloodless victory.
The morning of the 9th of November arrived. The sun rose with un
wonted splendor over the domes of the thronged city. A more brilliant day
never dawned. Through all the streets of the mammoth metropolis there
was heard, in the earliest twilight of the day, the music of martial bands, the
tramp of battalions, the clatter of iron hoofs, and the rumbling of heavy ar
tillery wheels over the pavements, as regiments of infantry, artillery, and
cavalry, in the proudest array, marched to the Boulevards to receive the
honor of a review from the conqueror of Italy and of Egypt. The whole
city was in commotion, guided by the unseen energies of Napoleon in the
retirement of his closet. At eight o'clock, Napoleon's house in the Rue
Chantereine was so thronged with illustrious military men, in most brilliant
uniforms, that every room was filled, and even the street was crowded with
the resplendent guests. At that moment the Council of Ancients passed the
decree, which Napoleon had prepared, that the two legislative bodies should
transfer their meetings to St. Cloud, a few miles from Paris ; and that Na
poleon Bonaparte should be put in command of all the military forces in the
city, to secure the public peace. The removal to St. Cloud was a merciful
precaution against bloodshed. It secured the legislatures from the ferocious
interference of a Parisian mob. The President of the Council was himself
commissioned to bear the decree to Napoleon. He elbowed his way through
the brilliant throng crowding the door and the apartment of Napoleon's
dwelling, and presented to him the ordinance. Napoleon was ready to re
ceive it. He stepped upon the balcony, gathered his vast retinue of power
ful guests before him, and in a loud and firm voice, read to them the decree.
" Gentlemen," said he, " will you help me save the Republic ?" One simul
taneous burst of enthusiasm rose from every lip, as, drawing their swords
from their scabbards, they waved them in the air, and shouted, " We swear
it, we swear it !"
The victory was virtually won. Napoleon was now at the head of the
French nation. Nothing remained but to finish the conquest. There was
no retreat left open for his foes. There was hardly the possibility of a rally.
And now Napoleon summoned all his energies to make his triumph most il
lustrious. Messengers were immediately sent to read the decree to the
troops, already assembled, in the utmost display of martial pomp, to greet
the idol of the army, and who were in a state of mind to welcome him most
exultingly as their chief. A burst of enthusiastic acclamation ascended from
their ranks which almost rent the skies.

1799.1

OVERTHROW OF THE DIRECTORY.

263

Napoleon immediately mounted his horse, and, surrounded by the mag
nificent staff whom he had thus ingeniously assembled at his house, and

THE MORNING LEVEE.

accompanied by a body of fifteen hundred cavalry whom he had taken the
precaution to rendezvous near his dwelling, proceeded to the palace of the
Tuileries. The gorgeous spectacle burst like a vision upon astonished Paris.
It was Napoleon's first public appearance. Dressed as a plain citizen, he
rode upon his magnificent charger, the centre of all eyes. The gleaming
banners, waving in the breeze, and the gorgeous trappings of silver and gold
with which his retinue was embellished, set off in stronger relief the majestic
simplicity of his own appearance.
With the pomp and the authority of an enthroned king, Napoleon entered

264 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XV.
the Council of the Ancients. The Ancients themselves were dazzled by his
sudden apparition, in such imposing and unexpected splendor and power.
Ascending the bar, he addressed the assembly and took his oath of office.
" You," said Napoleon, " are the wisdom of the nation. To you it be
longs to concert measures for the salvation of the Republic. I come, sur
rounded by our generals, to offer you support. Faithfully will I fulfill the
task you have intrusted to me. Let us not look into the past for precedents.
Nothing in history resembles the eighteenth century. Nothing in the eigh
teenth century resembles the present moment."
An aid was immediately sent to the palace of the Luxembourg, to inform
the five Directors, there in session, of the decree. Two of the Directors,
Sieyes and Ducos, were pledged to Napoleon, and immediately resigned
their offices and hastened to the Tuileries. Barras, bewildered and indig
nant, sent his secretary with a remonstrance. Napoleon, already assuming
the authority of an emperor, and speaking as if France were his patrimony,
replied to him with a torrent of invective.
"Where," he indignantly exclaimed, "is that beautiful France, which I
left you so brilliant ? I left you peace. I find war. I left you victorious.
I find but defeats. I left you the millions of Italy. I find taxation and beg
gary. Where are the hundred thousand men, my companions in glory?
They are dead. This state of things can not continue. It will lead to des
potism." Barras was terrified. He feared to have Napoleon's eagle eye investigate
his peculations. He resigned. Two Directors only now were left, Gohier
and Moulins. It took a majority of the five to constitute a quorum. The
two were powerless. In despair of successful resistance, and fearing venge
ance, they hastened to the Tuileries to find Napoleon. They were intro
duced to him, surrounded by Sieyes, Ducos, and a brilliant staff. Napoleon
received them cordially.
" I am glad to see you," said he ; "I doubt not that you will both resign.
Your patriotism will not allow you to oppose a revolution which is both in
evitable and necessary."
" I do not yet despair," said Gohier, vehemently, " aided by my colleague,
Moulins, of saving the Republic."
" With what will you save it ?" exclaimed Napoleon. " With the Consti
tution which is crumbling to pieces ?"
Just at that moment a messenger came in and informed the Directors that
Santerre, the brewer, who, during the Reign of Terror, had obtained a bloody
celebrity as leader of the Jacobins, was rousing the mob in the faubourgs to
resistance. "General Moulins," said Napoleon, firmly, "you are the friend of San
terre. Tell him that at the very first movement he makes, I will cause him
to be shot."
Moulins, exasperated yet appalled, made an apologetic reply.
" The Republic is in danger," said Napoleon. "We must save it. It is
my will. Sieyes, Ducos, and Barras have resigned. You are two individ
uals insulated and powerless. I advise you not to resist." They still re
fused. Napoleon had no time to spend in parleying. He immediately sent

1799.] OVERTHROW OF THE DIRECTORY. 265
them both back into the Luxembourg, separated them, and placed them un
der arrest. Fouche,* occupying the important post of Minister of Police,
though not in Napoleon's confidence, yet anxious to display his homage to
the rising luminary, called upon Napoleon, and informed him that he had
closed the barriers, and had thus prevented all ingress or egress.
"What means this folly?" said Napoleon. "Let those orders be instantly
countermanded. Do we not march with the opinion of the nation, and by
its strength alone ? Let no citizen be interrupted. Let every publicity be
given to what is done."
The Council of Five Hundred, in great confusion and bewilderment, as
sembled at eleven o'clock. Lucien immediately communicated the decree
transferring their session to St. Cloud. This cut off all debate. The de
cree was perfectly legal. There could, therefore, be no legal pretext for op
position. Napoleon, the idol of the army, had the whole military power obe
dient to his nod. Therefore resistance of any kind was worse than folly.
The deed was adroitly done.
At eleven o'clock the day's
work was finished. There
was no longer a Directorv.
Napoleon wTas the appointed
chief of the troops, and they
were filling the streets with
enthusiastic shouts of "Live
Napoleon." The Council of
Ancients were entirely at his
disposal ; and a large party
in the Council of Five Hund
red were also wholly subser
vient to his will. Napoleon,
proud, silent, reserved, fully
conscious of his own intel
lectual supremacy, and re
garding the generals, the statesmen, and the multitude around him as a
man contemplates children, ascended the grand staircase of the Tuileries as
if it were his hereditary home.
Nearly all parties united to sustain his triumph. Napoleon was a soldier.
The guns of Paris joyfully thundered forth the victory of one who seemed
the peculiar favorite of the God of war. Napoleon was a scholar, stimulat
ing intellect to its mightiest achievements. The scholars of Paris gratefully
united to weave a chaplet for the brow of their honored associate and patron.
Napoleon was, for those days of profligacy and unbridled lust, a model of
purity of morals and of irreproachable integrity. The proffered bribe of
millions could not tempt him. The dancing daughters of Herodias, with all
* " Fouche," said Napoleon, " is a miscreant of all colors, a priest, a terrorist, and one who took
an active part in many bloody scenes of the Revolution. He is a man who can worm all your se
crets out of you, with an air of calmness and unconcern. He is very rich ; but his riches have
been badly acquired. He never was my confidant. Never did he approach me without bending to
the ground. But I never had any esteem for him. I employed him merely as an instrument."

THE ENVIRONS OF PARIS.

266 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XV.
their blandishments, could not lure him from his life of herculean toil and
from his majestic patriotism. The wine which glitters in the cup never van
quished him. At the shrine of no vice was he found a worshiper. The pu
rest and the best in France, disgusted with that gilded corruption which had
converted the palaces of the Bourbons into harems of voluptuous sin, and
still more deeply loathing that vulgar and revolting vice which had trans
formed Paris into a house of infamy, enlisted all their sympathies in behalf
of the exemplary husband and the incorruptible patriot. Napoleon was one
of the most firm and unflinching friends of law and order. France was weary
of anarchy, and was trembling under the apprehension that the gutters of the
guillotine were again to be clotted with blood. And mothers and maidens
prayed for God's blessing upon Napoleon, who appeared to them as a mes
senger from Heaven for their protection.
During the afternoon and the night, his room at the Tuileries was thronged
with the most illustrious statesmen, generals, and scholars of Paris, hasten
ing to pledge to him their support. Napoleon, perfectly unembarrassed, and
never at a loss in any emergency, gave his orders for the ensuing day. Lan
nes was intrusted with a body of troops to guard the Tuileries. Murat, who,
said Napoleon, "was superb at Aboukir," with a numerous cavalry and a
corps of grenadiers was stationed at St. Cloud, a thunderbolt in Napoleon's
right hand. Woe betide the mob into whose ranks that thunderbolt may be
hurled. Moreau, with five hundred men, was stationed to guard the Lux
embourg, where the two refractory Directors were held under arrest. Ser-
rurier was posted in a commanding position with a strong reserve, prompt
for any unexpected exigence. Even a body of troops were sent to accom
pany Barras to his country seat, ostensibly as an escort of honor, but, in
reality, to guard against any change in that venal and versatile mind.
The most energetic measures were immediately adopted to prevent any
rallying point for the disaffected. Bills were every where posted, exhorting
the citizens to be quiet, and assuring them that powerful efforts were mak
ing to save the Republic. These minute precautions were characteristic of
Napoleon. He believed in destiny. Yet he left nothing for destiny to ac
complish. He ever sought to make provision for all conceivable contingen
cies. These measures were completely successful. Though Paris was in a
delirium of excitement, there were no outbreaks of lawless violence. Nei
ther Monarchist, Republican, nor Jacobin knew what Napoleon intended to do.
All were conscious that he would do something. It was known that the Jac
obin party in the Council of Five Hundred, on the ensuing day, would make
a desperate effort at resistance. Sieyes, perfectly acquainted with revolu
tionary movements, urged Napoleon to arrest some forty of the Jacobins
most prominent in the Council. This would have secured an easy victory
on the morrow. Napoleon, however, rejected the advice, saying,
"I pledged my word this morning to protect the national representation.
I will not this evening violate my oath."
Had the Assembly been convened in Paris, all the mob of the faubourgs
would have risen, like an inundation, in their behalf, and torrents of blood
must have been shed. The sagacious transference of the meeting to St.
Cloud, several miles from Paris, saved those lives. The powerful military

1799.]

OVERTHROW OF THE DIRECTORY.

267

display, checked any attempt at a march upon St. Cloud. What could the
mob do, with Murat, Lannes, and Serrurier, guided by the energies of Na
poleon, ready to hurl their solid columns upon them ?
The delicacy of attention with which Napoleon treated Josephine was one
of the most remarkable traits in his character. It is not strange that he
should have won from her a love almost more than human. During the ex
citing scenes of this day, when no one could tell whether events were guiding
him to a crown or to the guillotine, Napoleon did not forget his wife, who
was awaiting the result with deep solicitude, in her chamber in the Rue
Chantereine. Nearly every hour he dispatched a messenger to Josephine,
with a hastily written line communicating to her the progress of events.
Late at night he returned to his home, apparently as fresh and unexhausted
as in the morning. He informed Josephine minutely of the scenes of the
day, and then threw himself upon a sofa for an hour's repose. Early the
next morning he was on horseback, accompanied by a regal retinue, direct
ing his steps to St. Cloud.

"NAPOLEON ON THE WAY TO ST. CLOUD.

Three halls had been prepared in the palace ; one for the Ancients, one
for the Five Hundred, and one for Napoleon. He thus assumed the position
which he knew it to" be the almost unanimous will of the nation that he
should fill. During the night the Jacobins had arranged a very formidable
resistance. Napoleon was considered to be in imminent peril. He would
be denounced as a traitor. Sieyes and Ducos had each a post-chaise and
six horses waiting at the gate of St. Cloud, prepared, in case of reverse, to
escape for life. There were many ambitious generals ready to mount the
crest of any refluent wave to sweep Napoleon to destruction. Bernadotte
was the most to be feared. Orders were given to cut down the first person
who should attempt to harangue the troops. Napoleon, riding at the head
of this imposing military display, manifested no agitation. He knew, how-

268 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XV.
ever, perfectly well, the capriciousness of the popular voice, and that the
multitude in the same hour could cry " Hosanna !" and " Crucify !" The
two Councils met. The tumult in the Five Hundred was fearful. Cries of
" Down with the dictator !" " Death to the tyrant !" " Live the Constitution !"
filled the hall and drowned the voice of deliberation. The friends of Napo
leon were swept before the flood of passion.
It was proposed that every member should immediately take anew the
oath to support the Constitution. No one dared to peril his life by the refu
sal. Even Lucien, the speaker, was compelled to descend from his chair
and take the oath. The Ancients, overawed by the unexpected violence of
this opposition in the lower and more popular house, began to be alarmed
and to recede. The opposition took a bold and aggressive stand, and pro
posed a decree of outlawry against Napoleon. The friends of Napoleon, re
membering past scenes of carnage, were timid and yielding. Defeat seemed
inevitable. A'ictory was apparently turned into discomfiture and death. In
this emergency Napoleon displayed the same coolness, energy, and tact with
which so often, on the field of battle, in the most disastrous hour, he had
rolled back the tide of defeat in the resplendent waves of victory. His own
mind was the corps de reserve which he now marched into the conflict to ar
rest the rout of his friends.
Taking with him a few aids and a band of grenadiers, he advanced to the
door of the hall. On his way he met Bernadotte.
" You are marching to the guillotine," said his rival, sternly.
" We shall- see," Napoleon coolly replied. Leaving the soldiers, with their
glittering steel and nodding plumes, at the entrance of the room, he ascend
ed the tribune. The hush of perfect silence pervaded the agitated hall.
" Gentlemen," said he, " you are on a volcano. You deemed the Republic
in danger. You called me to your aid. I obeyed. And now I am assailed
by a thousand calumnies. They talk of Caesar, of Cromwell, of military
despotism, as if any thing in antiquity resembled the present moment. Dan
ger presses. Disaster thickens. We have no longer a government. The
Directors have resigned. The Five Hundred are in a tumult. Emissaries
are instigating Paris to revolt. Agitators would gladly bring back the revo
lutionary tribunals. But fear not. Aided by my companions in arms, I will
protect you. I desire nothing for myself but to save the Republic ; and I
solemnly swear to protect that liberty and equality for which we have made
such sacrifices." " And the Constitution .'" some one cried out. Napoleon
had purposely omitted the Constitution in his oath, for he despised it, and
was at that moment laboring for its overthrow. He paused for a moment,
and then, with increasing energy, exclaimed,
"The Constitution! You have none. You violated it when the execu
tive infringed the rights of the Legislature. You violated it when the Leg
islature struck at the independence of the executive. You violated it when,
with sacrilegious hand, both the Legislature and the executive struck at the
sovereignty of the people by annulling their elections. The Constitution !
it is a mockery ; invoked by all, regarded by none."
Rallied by the presence of Napoleon and by these daring words, his friends
recovered their courage, and two thirds of the Assembly rose in expression

1799. J OVERTHROW OF THE DIRECTORY. 269
of their confidence and support. At this moment intelligence arrived that
the Five Hundred were compelling Lucien to put to the vote Napoleon's
outlawry. Not an instant was to be lost. There is a mysterious power in
law. The passage of that vote would probably have been fatal. Life and
death were trembling in the balance. " I would then have given two hund
red millions," said Napoleon, "to have had Ney by my side." Turning to
the Ancients, he exclaimed, " If any orator, paid by foreigners, shall talk of
outlawing me, I will appeal for protection to my brave companions in arms
whose plumes are nodding at the door.- Remember that I march accompa
nied by the God of fortune and by the God of war."
He immediately left the Ancients, and, attended by his military band,
hastened to the Council of Five Hundred. On his way he met Augereau,
who was pale and trembling, deeming Napoleon lost.
"You have got yourself into serious trouble," said he# with deep agitation.
" Matters were worse at Areola," Napoleon coolly replied. " Keep quiet.
All will be changed in half an hour."
Followed by his grenadiers, he immediately entered the Hall of the Five
Hundred. The soldiers remained near the door. Napoleon traversed alone
half of the room to reach the bar. It was an hour in which nothing could
save him but the resources of his own mind. Furious shouts rose from all
parts of the house. "What means this! down with the tyrant! begone!
begone !"
" The winds," says Napoleon, " suddenly escaping from the caverns of
^Eolus, can give but a faint idea of that tempest." In the midst of the hor
rible confusion, he in vain endeavored to speak. The members, in the wild
est fray, crowded around him. The grenadiers, witnessing the peril of their
chief, rushed to his rescue. A dagger was struck at his bosom. A soldier,
with his arm, parried the blow. With their bayonets they drove back the
members, and encircling Napoleon, bore him from the Hall. Napoleon had
hardly descended the outer steps ere some one informed him that his brother
Lucien was surrounded by the infuriated deputies, and that his life was in
imminent jeopardy.
" Colonel Dumoulin," said he, " take a battalion of grenadiers and hasten
to my brother's deliverance."
The soldiers rushed into the room, drove back the crowd, who, with vi
olent menaces, were surrounding Lucien, and saying, "It is by your broth
er's commands," escorted him in safety out of the hall into the court-yard.
Napoleon, now mounting his horse, with Lucien by his side, rode along in
front of his troops. " The Council of Five Hundred," exclaimed Lucien,
" is dissolved. It is I that tell you so. Assassins have taken possession of
the hall of meeting. I summon you to march and clear it of them."
" Soldiers !" said Napoleon, " can I rely upon you ?"
" Long live Bonaparte !" was the simultaneous response.
Murat took a battalion of grenadiers and marched to the entrance of the
hall. When Murat headed a column, it was well known that there would be
no child's play. " Charge bayonets ! forward !" he exclaimed, with imper
turbable coolness. The drums beat the charge. Steadily the bristling line
of steel advanced. The terrified representatives leaped over the benches,

270

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XV.

NAPOLEON IN THE COUNCIL OF FIVE HUNDRED.

rushed through the passage ways, and sprang out of the windows, throwing
upon the floor, in their precipitate flight, gowns, scarfs, and hats. In two
minutes the hall was cleared. As the representatives were flying in dismay
across the garden, an officer proposed that the soldiers should be ordered to
fire upon them. Napoleon decisively refused, saying, " It is my wish that
not a single drop of blood be spilled."
As Napoleon wished to avail himself, as far as possible, of the forms of
law, he assembled the two legislative bodies in the evening. Those only at
tended who were friendly to his cause. Unanimously they decreed that Na
poleon had deserved well of his country ; they abolished the Directory. The
executive power they vested in Napoleon, Sieyes, and Ducos, with the title
of Consuls. Two committees of twenty-five members each, taken from the

1799.] OVERTHROW OF THE DIRECTORY. 271
two Councils, were appointed to co-operate with the Consuls in forming a
new Constitution. During the evening a rumor reached Paris that Napo
leon had failed in his enterprise.
The consternation was great. The mass of the people, of all ranks, dread
ing the renewal of revolutionary horrors, and worn out with past convul
sions, passionately longed for repose. Their only hope was in Napoleon.
At nine o'clock at night intelligence of the change of government was offi
cially announced, by a proclamation which the victor had dictated with the
rapidity and the glowing eloquence which had characterized all of his men
tal acts. It was read by torchlight to assembled and deeply-agitated groups
all over the city. The welcome tidings were greeted with the liveliest de
monstrations of applause. At three o'clock in the morning Napoleon threw
himself into his carriage to return to Paris. Bourrienne accompanied him.
Napoleon appeared so absorbed in thought that he uttered not one single
word during the ride.
At four o'clock he alighted from his carriage at the door of his dwelling in
the Rue Chantereine. Josephine, in the greatest anxiety, was watching at
the window for his approach. Napoleon had not been able to send her one
single line during the turmoil and the peril of that eventful day. She sprang
to meet him. Napoleon fondly encircled her in his arms, briefly recapitula
ted the scenes of the day, and assured her that since he had taken the oath
of office, he had not allowed himself to speak to a single individual, for he
wished that the beloved voice of his Josephine might be the first to congrat
ulate him upon his virtual accession to the empire of France. The heart
of Josephine could appreciate a delicacy of love so refined and so touching.
Well might she say, " Napoleon is the most fascinating of men." It was
then after four o'clock in the morning. The dawn of the day was to con
duct Napoleon to a new scene of herculean toil in organizing the Republic.
Throwing himself upon a couch for a few moments of repose, he exclaimed,
gayly, " Good-night, my Josephine ! To-morrow we sleep in the palace of
the Luxembourg."
Napoleon was then not thirty years of age. And yet, under circumstan
ces of inconceivable difficulty, with unhesitating reliance upon his own men
tal resources, he assumed the enormous care of creating and administering
a new government for thirty millions of people. Never did he achieve a vic
tory which displayed more consummate genius. On no occasion of his life
did his majestic intellectual power beam forth with more brilliance. It is
not to be expected that, for ages to come, the world will be united in opinion
respecting this transaction. Some represent it as an outrage against law.
and liberty. Others consider it a necessary act, which put an end to corrup
tion and anarchy. That the course which Napoleon pursued was in accord
ance with the wishes of the overwhelming majority of the French people, no
one can doubt. It is questionable whether, even now, France is prepared for
self-government. There can be no question that then the republic had to
tally failed.
" For my part," said Napoleon, " all my share of the plot was confined to
assembling the crowd of my visitors at the same hour in the morning, and
marching at their head to seize upon power. It was from the threshold of

272 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XVI.
my door, and without my friends having any previous knowledge of my in
tentions, that I led them to this conquest. It was amid the brilliant escort
which they formed, their lively joy and unanimous ardor, that I presented my
self at the bar of the Ancients to thank them for the dictatorship with which
they invested me. Metaphysicians have disputed, and will long dispute,
whether we did not violate the laws, and whether we were not criminal.
But these are mere abstractions, which should disappear before imperious
necessity. One might as well blame a sailor for waste and destruction
when he cuts away a mast to save his ship. The fact is, had it not been for
us, the country must have been lost. We saved it. The authors of that
memorable state transaction ought to answer their accusers proudly, like
the Roman, 'We protest that we have saved our country. Come with us
and render thanks to the Gods.'"
With the exception of the Jacobins, all parties were strongly in favor of
this revolution. For ten years the people had been so accustomed to the
violation of the laws, that they had ceased to condemn such acts, and judged
of them only by their consequences. All over France the feeling was near
ly universal in favor of the new government. " Napoleon rivaled Caesar,"
says Alison, " in the clemency with which he used his victory. No proscrip
tions or massacres, few arrests or imprisonments, followed the triumph of
order over revolution. On the contrary, numerous acts of mercy, as wise
as they were magnanimous, illustrated the rise of the consular throne. The
elevation of Napoleon was not only unstained by blood, but not even a single
captive long lamented the car of the victor. A signal triumph of the princi
ples of humanity over those of cruelty, glorious alike to the actors and the age
in which it occurred ; and a memorable proof how much more durable are
the victories obtained by moderation and wisdom, than those achieved by
violence and stained by blood."

CHAPTER XVI.
THE consular throne.
Causes of the Failure of Republicanism in France — Meeting of the three Consuls — The Consuls
and the Gold — Napoleon visits the Temple — Recalls the banished Priests — The shipwrecked
Emigrants — Liberty of Conscience — Constitution presented by Napoleon — Removal to the Tuil
eries — Selection of state Officers — Sympathy with the People — Emptiness of Bonaparte's pri
vate Purse — Thoughts on Washington and the United States — Vast Plans of Improvement —
War in La Vendee.
France had tried Republicanism, and the experiment had failed. There
was neither intelligence nor virtue among the people sufficient to enable
them to govern themselves. During long ages of oppression they had sunk
into an abyss, from whence they could not rise, in a day, to the dignity of
freemen. Not one in thirty of the population of France could either read or
write. Religion and all its restraints were scouted as fanaticism. Few had
any idea of the sacredness of a vote, of the duty of the minority good-na
turedly yielding to the majority.
It is this sentiment which is the political salvation of the United States.

1799.] THE CONSULAR THRONE. 273
Not unfrequently, when hundreds of thousands of ballots have been cast, has
a governor of a state been chosen by the majority of a very few votes. And
the minority, in such circumstances, have yielded just as cordially as they
would have done to a majority of tens of thousands. After our most excit
ing presidential elections, the announcement of the result is the harbinger of
immediate peace and good-natured acquiescence all over the land. The de
feated voter politely congratulates his opponent upon his success. The
French seemed to have attained no conception of the sanctity of the deci
sions of the ballot-box. Government was but a series of revolutions. Phys
ical power alone was recognized. The strongest grasped the helm, and,
with the guillotine, confiscation, and exile, endeavored hopelessly to cripple
their adversaries.
Ten years of such anarchy had wearied the nation. It was in vain to pro
tract the experiment. France longed for repose. Napoleon was the only
one capable of giving her repose.* The nation called upon him, in the loud
est tones which could be uttered, to assume the reins of government, and to
restore the dominion of security and order. WTe can hardly call that man
a usurper who does but assume the post which the nation with unanimity
entreats him to take. We may say that he was ambitious, that he loved
power, that glory was his idol. But if his ambition led him to exalt his
country ; if the power he loved was the power of elevating the multitude to
intelligence, to self-respect, and to comfort ; if the glory he sought was the
glory of being the most illustrious benefactor earth has ever known, let us
not catalogue his name with the sensualists and the despots who have rear
ed thrones of self-aggrandizement and self-indulgence upon the degradation
of the people. We must compare Napoleon with the leaders of armies, the
founders of dynasties, and with those who, in the midst of popular commo
tions, have ascended thrones. When we institute such a comparison, Na
poleon stands without a rival, always excepting, in moral worth, our own
Washington. The next morning after the overthrow of the Directory, the three consuls,
Napoleon, Sieyes, and Ducos, met in the palace of the Luxembourg. Sieyes
was a veteran diplomatist, whose gray hairs entitled him, as he supposed, to
* " The power of the aristocratic principle was too vigorous, and too much identified with that
of the monarchical principle, to be successfully resisted by a virtuous democratic effort ; much less
could it be overthrown by a democracy rioting in innocent blood, and menacing destruction to po
litical and religious establishments, the growth of centuries, somewhat decayed indeed, yet scarcely
showing their gray hairs. The first military events of the Revolution, the disaffection of Toulon and
Lyons, the civil war of La Vendee, the feeble, although successful, resistance made to the Duke of
Brunswick's invasion, and the frequent and violent change of rulers, whose fall none regretted,
were all proofs that the French Revolution, intrinsically too feeble to sustain the moral force press
ing it down, was fast sinking, when the wonderful genius of Napoleon, baffling all reasonable cal
culation, raised and fixed it on the basis of victory — the only one capable of supporting the crude
production. Nevertheless, that great man knew the cause he upheld was not sufficiently in unison
with the feelings of the age, and his first care was to disarm or neutralize monarchical and sacerdotal
enmity by restoring a church establishment, and by becoming a monarch himself. Once a sover
eign, his vigorous character, his pursuits, his talents, and the critical nature of the times, inevita
bly rendered him a despotic one ; yet, while he sacrificed political liberty, which, to the great bulk
of mankind, has never been more than a pleasing sound, he cherished, with the utmost care, equal
ity, a sensible good, which produces equal satisfaction as it descends in the scale of society." —
Napier's Peninsular War, Introduction.
Vol. I.— S

274 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XVI.
the moral supremacy over his colleagues. He thought that Napoleon would
be satisfied with the command of the armies, while he would be left to man
age the affairs of state. There was one arm-chair in the room. Napoleon
very coolly assumed it. Sieyes, much annoyed, rather petulantly exclaimed,
" Gentlemen, who shall take the chair ?"
" Bonaparte surely," said Ducos ; "he already has it. He is the only man
who can save us."
" Very well, gentlemen," said Napoleon, promptly ; " let us proceed to bu
siness." Sieyes was staggered. But resistance to a will so imperious, and an arm
so strong, was useless.
Sieyes loved gold. Napoleon loved only glory. " Do you see," inquired
Sieyes, pointing to a sort of cabinet in the room, "that pretty piece of fur
niture ?" Napoleon, whose poetic sensibilities were easily aroused, looked at
it with interest, fancying it to be some relic of the disenthroned monarchs
of France. Sieyes continued : " I will reveal to you a little secret. We
Directors, reflecting that we might go out of office in poverty, which would
be a very unbecoming thing, laid aside, from the treasury, a sum to meet
that exigence. There are nearly two hundred thousand dollars in that chest.
As there are no more Directors, the money belongs to us." Napoleon now
began to understand matters. It was not difficult for one who had proudly
rejected millions to look with contempt upon thousands.
" Gentlemen," said he, very coolly, " should this transaction come to my
knowledge, I shall insist that the whole sum be refunded to the public
treasury. But should I not hear of it, and I know nothing of it as yet, you,
being two old Directors, can divide the money between you. But you must
make haste. To-morrow it may be too late." They took the hint and di
vided the spoil, Sieyes taking the lion's share. Ducos complained to Na
poleon of the extortion of his colleague.
" Settle the business between yourselves," said Napoleon? " and be quiet.
Should the matter come to my ears, you will inevitably lose the whole."
This transaction, of course, gave Napoleon a supremacy which neither of
his colleagues could ever again question. The law which decreed the pro
visional consulship conferred upon them the power, in connection with the
two legislative bodies of twenty-five members each, of preparing a new Con
stitution to be submitted to the people. The genius of Napoleon, his ener
gy, his boundless information, and his instinctive insight into the complexi
ties of all subjects, were so conspicuous in this first interview, that his col
leagues were overwhelmed. That evening Sieyes went to sup with some
stern Republicans, his intimate friends.
" Gentlemen," said he, " the republic is no more. It died to-day. I have
this day conversed with a man who is not only a great general, but who is
himself capable of every thing, and who knows every thing. He wants no
counselors, no assistance. Politics, laws, the art of governing, are as fa
miliar to him as the manner of commanding an army. He is young and de
termined. The republic is finished."
" But," one replied, " if he becomes a tyrant, we must call to our aid the
dagger of Brutus."

1799.] THE CONSULAR THRONE. 275
"Alas ! my friends," Sieyes rejoined, "we should then fall into the hands
of the Bourbons, which would be still worse."

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THE CONSULS AND THE GOLD.

Napoleon now devoted himself, with tireless energies, to the reorganiza
tion of the government, and to the general administration of the affairs of
the empire. He worked day and night. He appeared insensible to exhaus
tion or weariness. Every subject was apparently alike familiar to his mind ;
banking, police regulations, diplomacy, the army, the navy, everything which
could pertain to the welfare of France, was grasped by his all-comprehensive
intellect. The Directory had tyrannically seized, as hostages, any relatives of the
emigrants upon whom they could lay their hands. Wives, mothers, sisters,

276

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XVI.
brothers, fathers, children, were imprisoned, and held responsible, with their
lives, for the conduct of their emigrant relatives. Napoleon immediately
abolished this iniquitous edict, and released the prisoners. Couriers, with
out delay, were dispatched all over France, to throw open the prison doors
to these unfortunate captives.
Napoleon even went himself to the Temple, where many of these innocent
victims were imprisoned, that he might, with his own hand, break their fet
ters. On Napoleon's return from this visit to the prison, he exclaimed,
" What fools these Directors were ! To what a state have they brought our
public institutions ! The prisoners are in a shocking condition. I questioned
them as well as the jailers, for nothing is to be learned from the superiors.
When in the prison, I could not help thinking of the unfortunate Louis XVI.
He was an excellent man, but too amiable to deal with mankind. And Sir
Sydney Smith — I made them show me his apartments. If he had not escaped
I should have taken Acre. There are too many painful associations connect
ed with that prison. I shall have it pulled down one day or other. I order
ed the jailer's books to be brought, and, finding the list of the hostages, im
mediately liberated them. I told them that an unjust law had placed them
under restraint, and that it was my first duty to restore them to liberty."

NAPOLEON IN THE TEMPLE.

The priests had been mercilessly persecuted. They could only escape*
imprisonment by taking an oath, which many considered hostile to their re
ligious vows. Large numbers of them were immured in dungeons. Others,
in dismay and poverty, had fled, and were wandering fugitives in other lands.
Napoleon redressed their wrongs, and spread over them the shield of his pow-

1799.] THE CONSULAR THRONE. 277
erful protection. The captives were liberated, and the exiles invited to re
turn. The principle was immediately established, that the rights of con
science were to be respected. By this one act, twenty thousand grief-
stricken exiles were restored to France, proclaiming through city and village
the clemency of the First Consul. In the rural districts of France, where
the sentiment of veneration for Christianity still lingered, the priests were
received with the warmest welcome ; and in the hut of the peasant, the
name of Napoleon was breathed with prayers and tears of gratitude.
Some French emigrants, furnished with arms by England, were returning
to France, to join the Royalists in La Vendee in extending the ravages of
civil war. The ship was wrecked on the coast of Calais, and they were all
made prisoners. As they were taken with arms in their hands, to fight
against their country, rigorous laws doomed them, as traitors, to the guillo
tine. Napoleon interposed to save them. Magnanimously he asserted, "No
matter what their intentions were. They were driven on our soil by the
tempest. They are shipwrecked men. As such, they are entitled to the
laws of hospitality. Their persons must be held inviolable." Unharmed,
they were all permitted to re-embark and leave France. Among these emi
grants were many men of illustrious name. These acts of generosity on
the part of Napoleon did much to disarm their hostility, and many of them
became subsequently firm supporters of his power.
The revolutionary tribunals had closed the churches and prohibited the
observance of the Sabbath. To efface, if possible, all traces of that sacred
day, they had appointed every tenth day for cessation from labor and for fes
tivity. A heavy fine was inflicted upon any one who should close his shop
on the Sabbath, or manifest any reverence for the discarded institution. Na
poleon, who had already resolved to reinstate Christianity in paganized
France, but who found it necessary to move with the utmost caution, order
ed that no man should be molested for his religious principles or practices.
This step excited hostility. Paris was filled with unbelief. Generals, states
men, philosophers, scouted the idea of religion. They remonstrated. Na
poleon was firm. The mass of the common people were with him, and he
triumphed over aristocratic infidelity.
With singular tact, he selected the most skillful and efficient men to fill
all the infinitely varied departments of state. " I want more head," said he,
" and less tongue." Every one was kept busy. Every one was under the
constant vigilance of his eagle eye. He appeared to have an instinctive ac
quaintance with every branch of legislation, and with the whole science of
government. Three times a week the minister of finance appeared before
him, and past corruption was dragged to light and abolished.
The treasury was bankrupt. Napoleon immediately replenished it. The
army was starving, and almost in a state of mutiny. Napoleon addressed to
them a few of his glowing words of encouragement and sympathy, and the
emaciate soldiers, in their rags, enthusiastically rallied again around their
colors, and in a few days, from all parts of France, baggage wagons were
trundling toward them, laden with clothing and provisions. The navy was
dilapidated and blockaded. At the voice of Napoleon, in every port of
France, the sound of the ship hammer was heard, and a large armament was

278 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XVI.
prepared to convey succor to his comrades in Egypt. Such vigor mortal
man never exhibited before. All France felt an immediate impulse. At the
same time in which Napoleon was accomplishing all these duties, and in
numerable others, any one of which would have engrossed the whole ener-
o-ies of any common man, he was almost daily meeting his colleagues and
the two committees to discuss the new Constitution.*
Sieyes was greatly alarmed at the generosity of some of Napoleon's acts.
" The emigrants," said he, " will return in crowds. The Royalists will again
raise their heads, and the Republicans will be massacred." His imagination
was so excited with apprehensions of conspiracies and assassinations, that
he once awoke Napoleon at three o'clock in the morning, to inform him of
a fearful conspiracy which hadjust been discovered by the police. Napoleon
quietly listened to the story, and then, raising his head from his pillow, in
quired, " Have they corrupted our guard ?" " No !" Sieyes replied. "Then
go to bed," said Napoleon, " and let them alone. It will be time enough to
be alarmed when our six hundred men are attacked." Napoleon was so
powerful that he could afford to be generous. His magnanimity was his
most effectual safeguard.
In less than six weeks, the new Constitution was ready to be presented to
•the nation for their acceptance. In the original draft, drawn up by Sieyes,
Ihe supreme power was to be vested in a Grand Elector, to be chosen for
life, to possess a revenue of one million of dollars, and to reside, in the ut
most possible magnificence, in the palaces of Versailles. He was to be a
mock king, with all the pomp and pageantry of royalty, but without its
power. This was the office which Sieyes hoped would satisfy the ambition
of Napoleon. Napoleon exploded it as with a bomb-shell.
" Can you conceive," he exclaimed, " that a man of the least talent or
honor would humble himself to accept an office, the duties of which are
merely to fatten like a pig on so many millions a year ?"
The Grand Elector was annihilated. The following was the Constitution
adopted. The sovereign power was to be invested in Napoleon as First Con
sul. Two subordinate consuls, Cambaceres and Lebrun, were to be his coun
selors, with deliberative voices only. The Consuls proposed laws to a body
called the Tribunate, who thoroughly discussed them, and either rejected,
or, if they approved, recommended the law to a third body,. called the Leg
islature. The Legislature heard the report in silence, having no deliberative
* "France was at that time torn by parties, oppressed by the unprincipled rapacity of some,
excited by priests, surrounded by irreconcilable enemies to the new state of things, and impover
ished by the long interruption of commerce and industry. The Consul found almost all social ties
dissolved ; the administration corrupt; religion abolished ; justice insecure ; the laws disregarded ;
violence and weakness every where coupled together ; factions intriguing against each other ; Jac
obins, Royalists, Constitutionalists, adherents to the Directory (the Directory itself having been di
vided), opposed to each other — in one word, a state of anarchy which disgusted the people at large,
and which led to the most daring attempts upon the person of the chief magistrate. Such was the
state of France when Bonaparte took the reins into his hand. He directed his attention to every
branch of government. The law, the finances, prisons, education, arts, industry, even the fashions
of the ladies, which had become highly indecorous — every subject of general interest attracted his
attention. Thus situated, gifted with such a variety of talents, and surrounded by foreign enemies,
it is not surprising, although it is to be lamented, that he gradually concentred all the powers of
government in himself." — Encyclopaedia Americana, Article Napoleon.

1799.] THE CONSULAR THRONE. 279
voice. Three were appointed from the Tribunate to present the arguments
in favor of the law, and three those against it. Without further debate, the
Legislature, as judges, voted. The Senate also was a silent body. It re
ceived the law from the Legislature, and approved or condemned. Here
were the forms of an ample supply of checks and balances. Every act pro
posed by Napoleon must be sanctioned by the Tribunate, the Legislature,
and the Senate before it could become a law.
"The Constitution," said Sieyes, "is a pyramid, of which the people is
the base." Every male in France, 21 years of age, paying a tax, was a
voter. They amounted to about 5,000,000. In their primary assemblies
they chose 500,000 delegates. These delegates, from their own number,
chose 50,000. These latter, from themselves, chose 5000. These 5000
were the Notables, or the eligible to office. From them, thus elected by the
people, all the offices were to be filled. The Constitution declared Napoleon
to be First Consul for ten years, with an annual salary of $100,000. Cam-
baceres and Lebrun were his associate Consuls, with a salary of $60,000.
These three, with Sieyes and Ducos, were to choose, from the Notables, the
Senate, to consist of eighty members. They were elected for life, and re
ceived a salary of $5000. The Senate chose three hundred members, from
the Notables, to compose the Legislature, with a salary of $2000, and one
hundred members, to compose the Tribunate, with an annual salary of $3000
each. Such, in brief, was the Constitution under which Napoleon commenced
his reign. Under a man of ordinary vigor this would have been a popular
and a free government. With Napoleon it was, in effect, an unlimited mon
archy. The energy of his mind was so tremendous, that he acquired im
mediately the control of all these bodies. The plans he proposed were either
so plainly conducive to the public welfare, or lie had such an extraordinary
faculty of convincing tribunes, legislators, and senators that they were so,
that these bodies almost invariably voted in perfect accordance with his will.
It was Napoleon's unquestioned aim to aggrandize France. For the ac
complishment of that purpose, he was ready to make any conceivable per
sonal sacrifice. In that accomplishment was to consist all his glory. No
money could bribe him. No enticements of sensual indulgence could divert
his energies from that single aim. His capacious intellect seemed to grasp
intuitively every thing which could affect the welfare of France. He gath
ered around him, as agents for tbe execution of his plans, the most brilliant
intellects of Europe, and yet they all took the attitude of children in his
presence. With a body which seemed incapable of fatigue, and a mind
whose energies never were exhausted, he consecrated himself to the majestic
enterprise by day and by night, and with an untiring energy which amazed
and bewildered his contemporaries, and which still excites the wonder of the
world. No one thought of resisting his will. His subordinates sought only
to anticipate his wishes. Hence no machinery of government, which human
ingenuity could devise, could seriously embarrass the free scope of his ener
gies. His associates often expressed themselves as entirely overawed by the
majesty of his intellect. They came from his presence giving utterance to
the most profound admiration of the justice and the rapidity of his percep-

280 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XVI.
tions. "We are pressed," said they, "into a very whirlwind of urgency -
but it is all for the good of France."
The Constitution was now presented to the whole people for their accept
ance or rejection. A more free and unbiased expression of public opinion
could not possibly have been obtained. The result is unparalleled in the
annals of the ballot-box. There were 3,011,007 votes cast in favor of the
Constitution, and but 1562 in the negative. By such unanimity, unprece
dented in the history of the world, was Napoleon elected First Consul of
France. Those who reject the dogma of the divine right of kings, who be
lieve in the sacred authority of the voice of the people, will, in this act, sure
ly recognize the legitimacy of Napoleon's elevation. A better title to the
supreme power no ruler upon earth could ever show.
With Americans it can not be a serious question who had the best title to
the throne, Louis Capet, from the accident of birth, or Napoleon Bonaparte,
from the unanimous vote of the people. Napoleon may have abused the
power which was thus placed in his hands. Whether he did so or not, the
impartial history of his career will record. But it is singularly disingenuous
to call this a usurpation. It was a nation's voice.
" I did not usurp the crown," said Napoleon, proudly and justly. " It was
lying in the mire. I picked it up. The people placed it on my head." It
is not strange that the French people should have decided as they did.
Where is the man now, in either hemisphere, who would not have preferred
the government of Napoleon to any other dominion which was then possible
in France ?
From the comparatively modest palace of the Luxembourg, Napoleon and
Josephine now removed, to take up their residence in the more magnificent
apartments of the Tuileries. Those saloons of royalty, which had been
sacked and defiled by the mob of Paris, were thoroughly repaired. The
red cap of Jacobinism had been daubed upon the walls of the apartments of
state, and a tri-colored cockade had been painted upon the military hat of
Louis XIV.
" Wash those out," said Napoleon. " I will have no such abominations."
The palace was furnished with more than its former splendor. Statues
of illustrious men of all lands embellished the vacant niches. These gor
geous saloons, where kings and queens for so many ages had reveled, were
now adorned, with outvying splendor, for the residence of the people's chosen
ruler. Louis was the king of the nobles, placed by the nobles upon the throne.
He consulted for their interests. All the avenues of wealth and honor were
open for them alone. The people were merely slaves, living in ignorance,
poverty, obscurity, that the king and the nobles might dwell in voluptuous
ness. Napoleon was the ruler of the people. He was one of their own num
ber. He was elevated to power by their choice. He spread out an unob
structed arena for the play of their energies. He opened before them the
highways to fame and fortune. The only aristocracy which he favored was
the aristocracy of intellect and industry. No privileged classes were toler
ated. Every man was equal in the eye of the law. All appealed to the
same tribunals, and received impartial justice. The taxes were proportioned

1800.] THE CONSULAR THRONE 281
to property. The feudal claims of the landed proprietors were abolished ;
and there was no situation in the state to which the humblest citizen might
not aspire. They called Napoleon First Consul. They cared not much what
he was called, so long as he was the supreme ruler of their own choice.
They were proud of having their ruler more exalted, more magnificent, more
powerful, than the kings of the nobles. Hence the secret of their readiness
to acquiesce in any plans which might minister to the grandeur of their own
Napoleon. His glory was their glory. And never were they better pleased
than when they saw him eclipse in splendor the proudest sovereigns upon
the surrounding thrones.
One evening Napoleon, with his gray surtout buttoned up closely around
him, went out with Bourrienne, incognito, and sauntered along the Rue St.
Honore, making small purchases in the shops, and conversing freely with the
people about the First Consul and his acts.
" Well, citizen," said Napoleon, in one of the shops, " what do they say of
Bonaparte ?"
The shop-keeper spoke of him in terms of the most enthusiastic admira
tion. "Nevertheless," said Napoleon, "we must watch him. I hope that it will
not be found that we have merely changed one tyrant for another — the Di
rectory for Bonaparte."
The shop-keeper was so indignant at this irreverent intimation, that he
showered upon Napoleon such a volley of abuse as to compel him to escape
precipitately into the street, greatly amused and delighted with the adven
ture. It was on the morning of the 19th of February, 1800, when all Paris was
in commotion, to witness the gratifying spectacle of the people's sovereign
taking possession of the palace of the ancient kings. The brilliance of Na
poleon's character and renown had already thrown his colleagues into the
shade. They were powerless. No one thought of them. Sieyes foresaw
this inevitable result, and, with very commendable self-respect, refused to
accept the office of Second Consul. A few interviews with Napoleon had
taught him that no one could share power with a will so lofty and command
ing. " Sieyes," says Napoleon, "had fallen into a mistake respecting the nature
of these consuls. He was fearful of mortification, and of having the First
Consul to contend with at every step. This would have been the case had
all the consuls been equal. We should then have all been enemies. But
the Constitution having made them subordinate, there was no room for the
struggles of obstinacy."
Indeed, there was no room for such a conflict. Utter powerlessness can
not contend with omnipotence. The subordinate consuls could only give
advice when Napoleon asked it. He was not likely to trouble them.
The royal apartments in the Tuileries were prepared for the First Consul.
The more modest saloons in the Pavilion of Flora were assigned to the two
other consuls. Cambaceres, however, was so fully conscious of the real po
sition which he occupied, that he declined entering the palace of the kings.
He said to his colleague Lebrun, " It is an error that we should be lodged

282 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XVI.
in the Tuileries. It suits neither you nor me. For my part, I will not go.
General Bonaparte will soon want to lodge there by himself. Then we shall
be suffered to retire. It is better not to go at all."
Napoleon was never disposed to forget the friends of his early years, or
the trials which he had then encountered. He had, when a young man,
passed months in Paris "without a home, with an empty purse, and almost
without a friend. He was then in the habit of frequenting a small read
ing-room in the Palais Royal, where, for a few sous, he could, in the chilly
days of winter, read the daily journals and enjoy the warmth of a fire. The
wife of the master of the shop became interested in the thoughtful and stu
dious young man, and occasionally invited him to take a bowl of soup with
her. As a recompense for this kindness and hospitality, Napoleon, as soon
as he became First Consul, gratefully sought out his humble friends, and con
ferred upon them a lucrative government office. He was afterward urged,
as a matter of state policy, to shut up these reading-rooms. To this he re
plied, " No ! I will never do that. I know too well the comfort of having such
a place to go to, ever to deprive others of the same resource."
The morning of Napoleon's removal to the Tuileries he slept later than
usual. When Bourrienne entered his chamber at seven o'clock, Napoleon
was soundly asleep. On awaking, he said, "Well, Bourrienne, we shall at
length sleep at the Tuileries. You are very fortunate ; you are not obliged
to make a show of yourself. You may go in your own way. But as for me,
I must go in a procession. This I dislike. But we must have a display.
It gratifies the people. The Directory was too simple ; it therefore enjoyed
no consideration. With the army, simplicity is in its place. But in a great
city, in a palace, it is necessary that the chief of a state should draw atten
tion upon himself by all possible means. But we must move with caution.
Josephine will see the review from the apartments of Consul Lebrun."
Napoleon entered a magnificent carriage, seated between his two col
leagues, who appeared but as his attendants or body-guard. The carriage
was drawn by six beautiful white horses, a present to Napoleon from the Em
peror of Austria immediately after the treaty of Campo Formio. A gorgeous
train of officers, accompanied by six thousand picked troops, in the richest
splendor of military display, composed the cortege. Twenty thousand sol
diers, with all the concomitants of martial pomp, in double files, lined the
streets through which the procession was to pass. A throng which could not
be numbered, from the city and from the country, filled the garden, the streets,
the avenues, the balconies, the house-tops, and ebbed and flowed in surging
billows far back into the Elysian Fields. They had collected to exult in in
troducing the idol of the army and of the nation — the people's king — into the
palace from which they had expelled the ancient monarchs of France.
The moment the state carriage appeared, the heavens seemed rent with
the unanimous shout, " Long live the First Consul !" As soon as Napoleon
arrived at the foot of the great stairs ascending to the palace, he left the oth
er consuls, and, mounting his horse, passed in review the magnificent array
of troops drawn up before him. Murat was on his right, Lannes on his left.
He was surrounded by a brilliant staff of war-worn veterans, whose scarred

1800.]

THE CONSULAR THRONE.

283

NAPOLEON'S ENTRANCE INTO THE TUILERIES.

and sun-burned visages told of many a toilsome and bloody campaign. There
were three brigades, which appeared with the banners which had passed
through the terrific conflicts of Lodi, Rivoli, and Areola. They were black
with powder, and torn into shreds by shot. Napoleon instantly uncovered
his head, and, with profound reverence, saluted these monuments of military
valor. A universal burst of enthusiasm greeted the well-timed and grace
ful act. Napoleon then returned to the Tuileries, ascended to the audience-
chamber, and took his station in the centre of the room. All eyes were fixed
upon him. The two associate consuls were entirely forgotten, or, rather,
they were reduced to the rank of pages following in his train and gracing
his triumph.
The suite of rooms appropriated to Josephine consisted of two magnificent
saloons, with private apartments adjoining. In the evening a vast assemblage
of brilliant guests were gathered in those regal halls. When Josephine en
tered the gorgeously-illumined apartments, leaning upon the arm of Talley
rand, and dressed with that admirable taste which she ever displayed, a mur
mur of admiration rose from the whole assembly. The festivities of the
evening were protracted until nearly the dawn of the ensuing morning. When
the guests had all retired, Napoleon, with his hands folded behind him, paced
to and fro through the spacious halls, apparently absorbed in profound and
melancholy thought ; and then, as if half soliloquizing, said to his secretary
Bourrienne, " Here we are in the Tuileries. We must take good care to remain here.
Who has not inhabited this palace ? It has been the abode of robbers— of
members of the Convention. There is your brother's house, from which,
eight years ago, we saw the good Louis XVI. besieged in the Tuileries and
carried off into captivity. But you need not fear a repetition of that scene.
Let them attempt it with me if they dare."
The next morning Napoleon said to Bourrienne, " See what it is to have
the mind set upon a thing. It is not two years- since we resolved to take

284 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XVI.
possession of the Tuileries. Do you think that we have managed affairs
badly since that time ? In fact, I am well satisfied. Yesterday's affair went
off well. Do you imagine that all those people who came to pay their court
to me were sincere ? Most certainly they were not. But the joy of the peo
ple was real. The people know what is right. Besides, consult the great
thermometer of public opinion — the public funds. On the 17th Brumaire they
were at 11 — the 20th, 16 — to-day, 21. In this state of things, I can allow
the Jacobins to chatter. But they must not talk too loud."
With consummate tact, Napoleon selected the ablest men of the empire
to occupy the most important departments in the state. Talleyrand, the
wily diplomatist, having received his appointment, said to Napoleon, "You
have confided to me the administration of foreign affairs. I will justify your
confidence. But I deem it my duty at once to declare that I will consult
with you alone. That France may be well governed, there must be unity
of action. The First Consul must retain the direction of every thing — the
home, foreign, and police departments, and those of war and the marine.
The Second Consul is an able lawyer. I would advise that he have the di
rection of legal affairs. Let the Third Consul govern the finances. This
will occupy and amuse them. Thus you, having at your disposal the vital
powers of government, will be enabled to attain the noble object of your aims,
the regeneration of France."
Napoleon listened in silence. Having taken leave of his minister, he said
to his secretary, " Talleyrand has detected my views. He is a man of ex
cellent sense. He advises just what I intend to do. They walk with speed
who walk alone."
Some one had objected to the appointment of Talleyrand, saying, "He is
a weathercock." "Be it so," said Napoleon; "he is the ablest Minister for Foreign Affairs
in our choice. It shall be my care that he exerts his abilities."
" Carnot," objected another, "is a Republican."
"Republican or not," Napoleon replied, "he is the last Frenchman who
will wish to see France dismembered. Let us avail ourselves of his unri
valed talents in the War Department while he is willing to place them at our
command." "Fouche," objected one, "is a compound of falsehood and duplicity."
" Fouche alone," Napoleon rejoined, " is able to conduct the Ministry of
the Police. He alone has a knowledge of all the factions and intrigues which
have been spreading misery through France. We can not create men. We
must take such as we find. It is easier to modify, by circumstances, the
feelings and conduct of an able servant than to supply his place."
M. Abriel, a peer of France, was recommended as Minister of Justice.
" I do not know you, Citizen Abriel," said Napoleon, as he presented him
his diploma of office, " but I am informed that you are the most upright man
in the magistracy. It is on that account that I have named you Minister of
Justice." One of Napoleon's first acts was to abolish the annual festival celebrating
the bloody death of Louis XVI. He declared it to be a barbarous ceremony,
and unworthy of a humane people.

1800.] THE CONSULAR THRONE. 285
" Louis was a tyrant," said Sieyes.
"Nay, nay," Napoleon promptly replied, " Louis was no tyrant. Had he
been a tyrant, I should this day have been a captain of engineers, and you,
Monsieur TAbbe", would have been saying mass."
The Directory had resorted to the iniquitous procedure of forced loans to
replenish the bankrupt treasury. Napoleon immediately rejected the tyran
nical system. He assembled seventy of the most wealthy capitalists of Paris
in his closet at the Tuileries. Frankly he laid before them the principles of
the new government, and the claims it had on the confidence of the public.
The appeal was irresistible. The merchants and bankers, overjoyed at the
prospect of just and stable laws, by acclamation voted an immediate loan of
two millions of dollars. Though this made provision but for a few days, it
was very timely aid. He then established an equitable tax upon property,
sufficient to meet the exigencies of the state. The people paid the tax with
out a murmur.
Napoleon entertained profound aversion for the men who had been en
gaged in the sanguinary scenes of the Revolution, particularly for the regi
cides. He always spoke with horror of those men of blood, whom he called
the assassins of Louis. He deplored the necessity of employing any of them.
Cambaceres was a member of the Convention which had condemned the
king to the guillotine. Though he voted against the sentence of death, he
had advocated his arrest.
" Remember," said Napoleon one day to Cambaceres, at the same time
playfully pinching his ear, "that I had nothing to do with that atrocious
business. But your case, my dear Cambaceres, is clear. If the Bourbons
ever return, you must be hanged." Cambaceres did not enjoy such pleas
antry. His smile was ghastly. Upon the reorganization of the Supreme
Court of France, Napoleon said to Bourrienne, " I do not take any decided
steps against the regicides. But I will show what I think of them. Tar
get, the president of this court, refused to defend Louis XVI. I will replace
him by Tronchet, who so nobly discharged that perilous duty. They may
say what they choose. My mind is made up."
The enthusiasm of the army was immediately revived by the attention
which the First Consul devoted to its interests. He presented beautiful sa
bres to those soldiers who had highly distinguished themselves. One hund
red were thus conferred. A sergeant of grenadiers had obtained permission
to write to the First Consul, expressing his thanks. Napoleon, with his own
hand, replied, "I have received your letter, my brave comrade. You had no
occasion to remind me of your gallant behavior. You are the most courage
ous grenadier in the army since the death of the brave Benezeti. You have
received one of the hundred sabres which I have distributed, and all agree
that none deserve it better. I wish much to see you again. The Minister
of War sends you an order to come to Paris." This letter was widely cir
culated in the army, and roused the enthusiasm of the soldiers to the highest
pitch. The First Consul, the most illustrious general of France, the great
Napoleon, calls a sergeant of grenadiers "my brave comrade." This sym
pathy for the people was ever a prominent trait in Napoleon's character.
The following anecdote will illustrate his views upon this subject, or,

286 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XVI.
rather, a part of his views. All men have varying moods of mind, which
seem to be antagonistic to each other. Napoleon was conversing with
O'Meara respecting the English naval service.
" During the winter," said O'Meara, " the seamen are better off at sea than
the officers."
" Why so ?" inquired Napoleon.
" Because," was the reply, " they have the advantage of the galley-fire,
where they can warm and dry themselves."
" And why can not the officers do the same ?"
"It would not be exactly decorous," O'Meara replied, "for the officers to
mix in that familiar way with the men."
"Ah, this aristocratic pride !" exclaimed Napoleon. "Why, in my cam
paigns, I used to go to the lines in the bivouacs, sit down with the humblest
soldier, and converse freely with him. You are the most aristocratic nation
in the world. I always prided myself on being the man of the people. I
sprung from the populace myself. Whenever a man had merit, I elevated
him, without asking how many degrees of nobility he had. To the aristoc
racy you pay every kind of attention. Nothing can be too good for them.
The people you treat precisely as if they were slaves. Can any thing be
more horrible than your pressing of seamen ? You send your boats on shore
to seize upon every male that can be found, who, if they have the misfortune
to belong to the populace, if they can not prove themselves gentlemen, are
hurried on board your ships. And yet you have the impudence to cry out
against the conscription in France. It wounds your pride, because it fell
upon all ranks. You are shocked that a gentleman's son should be obliged
to defend his country, just as if he were one of the common people — that he
should be compelled to expose his body like a vile plebeian. Yet God made
all men alike. One day the people will avenge themselves. That conscrip
tion, which so offended your aristocratic pride, was conducted scrupulously
according to the principles of equal rights. Every native of a country is
bound to defend it. The conscription did not, like your press-gang, crush a
particular class because they were poor. It was the most just, because the
most equal, mode of raising troops. It rendered the French army the best
composed in the world."
When a prisoner on board the Northumberland, in his passage to St. He
lena, all the common sailors, though English, became most enthusiastically
attached to Napoleon. Some one alluded to this fact.
" Yes," said Napoleon, " I believe they were my friends. I used to go
among them ; speak to them kindly, and ask familiar questions. My free
dom in this respect quite astonished them, as it was so different from that
which they had been accustomed to receive from their own officers. You
English are great aristocrats. You keep a wide distance between yourselves
and the people."
It was observed in reply, " On board a man-of-war it is necessary to keep
the seamen at a great distance, in order to maintain a proper respect for the
officers." "I do not think," Napoleon rejoined, "that it is necessary to keep up so
much reserve as you practice. When the officers do not eat or drink, or

1800.] THE CONSULAR THRONE. 287
take too many freedoms with the seamen, I see no necessity for any greater
distinctions. Nature formed all men equal. It was always my custom to
go freely among the soldiers and the common people, to converse with them,
ask them little histories, and speak kindly to them. This I found to be of
the greatest benefit to me. On the contrary, the generals and officers I kept
at a great distance."
Notwithstanding these protestations of freedom from aristocratic pride,
which were unquestionably sincere, and in their intended application strictly
true, it is also evident that Napoleon was by no means insensible to the mys
terious fascination of illustrious rank. It is a sentiment implanted in the
human heart, which never has been, and never can be eradicated. Just at
this time Murat sought Napoleon's sister Caroline for his bride.
" Murat ! Murat !" said Napoleon, thoughtfully and hesitatingly. "He is
the son of an inn-keeper. In the elevated rank to which I have attained, lean
not mix my blood with his." For a moment he seemed lost in thought, and
then continued, " Besides, there is no hurry. I shall see by-and-by."
A friend of the young cavalry officer urged the strong attachment of the
two for each other. He also plead Murat's devotion to Napoleon, his brill
iant courage, and the signal service he had rendered at the battle of Aboukir.
" Yes," Napoleon replied, with animation, " Murat was superb at Aboukir.
Well, for my part, all things considered, I am satisfied. Murat suits my sis
ter. And, then, they can not say that I am aristocratic — that I seek grand al
liances. Had I given my sister to a noble, all you Jacobins would have cried
out for a counter-revolution. Since that matter is settled, we must hasten
the business. We have no time to lose. If I go to Italy, I wish to take Mu
rat with me. We must strike a decisive blow there. Come to-morrow."
Notwithstanding Napoleon's vast power, and the millions which had been
at his disposal, his private purse was still so empty that he could present his
sister Caroline with but six thousand dollars as her marriage portion. Feel
ing the necessity of making some present in accordance with his exalted
rank, he took a magnificent bridal necklace belonging to Josephine as the
bridal gift. Josephine most gracefully submitted to this spoliation of her
jewelry. In the midst of these events, the news arrived in France of the death of
Washington. Napoleon immediately issued the following order of the day
to the army : "Washington is dead !. That great man fought against tyr
anny. He established the liberty of his country. His memory will be ever
dear to the freemen of both hemispheres, and especially to the French sol
diers, who, like him and the American troops, have fought for liberty and
equality. As a mark of respect, the First Consul orders that, for ten days,
black crape be suspended from all the standards and banners of the Re
public." In reference to the course he pursued at this time, Napoleon subsequently
remarked, " Only those who wish to deceive the people, and rule them for
their own personal advantage, would desire to keep them in ignorance. The
more they are enlightened, the more will they feel convinced of the utility
of laws, and the necessity of defending them ; and the more steady, happy,
and prosperous will society become. If knowledge should ever be danger-

288 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XVI.
ous to the multitude, it can only be when the government, in opposition to
the interests of the people, drives them into an unnatural situation, or dooms
the lower classes to perish for want. In such a case, knowledge will inspire
them with the spirit to defend themselves. My code alone, from its simpli
city, has been more beneficial to France than the whole mass of laws which
preceded it. My schools and my system of mutual instruction are to ele
vate generations yet unborn. Thus, during my reign, crimes were constant
ly diminishing. On the contrary, with our neighbors in England they have
been increasing to a frightful degree. This alone is sufficient to enable any
one to form a decisive judgment of the respective governments.
" Look at the United States," he continued, "where, without any appar
ent force or effort, every thing goes on prosperously. Every one is happy
and contented. And this is because the public wishes and interests are in
fact the ruling power. Place the same government at variance with the will
and interest of its inhabitants, and you would soon see what disturbance,
trouble, and confusion — above all, what increase of crime, would ensue.
When I acquired the supreme direction of affairs, it was wished that I might
become a Washington. Words cost nothing ; and no doubt those who were
so ready to express the wish, did so without any knowledge of times, places,
persons, or things. Had I been in America, I would willingly have been a
Washington. I should have had little merit in so being. I do not see how
I could reasonably have acted otherwise. But had Washington been in
France, exposed to discord within and invasion from without, he could by no
possibility have been what he was in America. Indeed, it would have been
folly to have attempted it. It would only have prolonged the existence of
evil. For my part, I could only have been a crowned Washington. It was
only in a congress of kings, and in the midst of kings, yielding or subdued,
that I could take my place. Then, and then only, could I successfully dis
play Washington's moderation, disinterestedness, and wisdom."
" I think," said La Fayette, at the time of the revolution which placed
Louis Philippe upon the throne of France, " that the Constitution of the
United States is the best which has ever existed. But France is not pre
pared for such a government. We need a throne surrounded by republican
institutions." Napoleon was indefatigable in his endeavors to reorganize in the Tuiler
ies the splendors of a court. The French people were like children who
needed to be amused, and Napoleon took good care to provide amusement
for them. His ante-chambers were filled with chamberlains, pages, and es
quires. Servants, in brilliant liveries, loitered in the halls and on the stair
cases. Magnificent entertainments were provided, at which Josephine pre
sided with surpassing grace and elegance. Balls, operas, and theatres be
gan to be crowded with splendor and fashion, and the gay Parisians were
delighted. Napoleon, personally, took no interest whatever in these things.
All his energies were engrossed in the accomplishment of magnificent enter
prises for the elevation of France.
" While they are discussing these changes," said he, " they will cease to
talk nonsense about my politics, and that is what I want. Let them amuse
themselves. Let them dance. But let them not thrust their heads into the

1800.] THE CONSULAR THRONE. 289
councils of government. Commerce will revive under the increasing ex
penditure of* the capital. I am not afraid of the Jacobins. I never was so
much applauded as at the last parade. It is ridiculous to say that nothing
is right but what is new. We have had enough of such novelties. I would
rather have the balls of the opera than the saturnalia of the Goddess of
Reason."* While Napoleon was thus engaged in reconstructing society in France,
organizing the army, strengthening the navy, and conducting the diplomacy
of Europe, he was maturing and executing the most magnificent plans of
internal improvements. In early life he had conceived a passion for archi
tectural grandeur, which had been strengthened and chastened by his resi
dence among the time-honored monuments of Italy and Egypt. With in
conceivable activity of mind, he planned those vast works of utility and of
beauty in Paris, and all over the empire, which will remain forever the me
morials of his well-directed energies, and which will throw a lustre over his
reign which never can be sullied. He erected the beautiful quay on the
banks of the Seine, in front of the Tuileries. He swept away the buildings
which deformed the Place Carrousel, and united the Louvre and the Tuiler
ies, forming a magnificent square between those splendid edifices. He com
menced the construction of a fourth side for the great square opposite the
picture gallery. It was a vast and a noble undertaking ; but it was inter
rupted by those fierce wars which the allied kings of Europe waged against
him. The Bridge of Arts was commenced. The convents of the Feuillans
and Capucines, which had been filled with victims during the Revolution,
were torn down, and the magnificent Rue di Rivoli, now one of the chief or
naments of Paris, was thrown open. Canals, bridges, turnpike roads all
over the empire, were springing into existence. One single mind inspired
the nation.
The most inveterate opponents of Napoleon are constrained to the admis
sion that it is impossible to refuse the praise of consummate prudence and
skill to these, and indeed to all the arrangements he adopted in this great
crisis of his history. " We are creating a new era," said he. " Of the past,
we must forget the bad, and remember only the good." " Prove," said he
to General Augereau, " that you are above those miserable party differences
which, during the past ten years, have torn France all asunder."
" I am well aware," said Napoleon subsequently, " of the influence which
chance exerts over our political determinations. It is a knowledge of that
circumstance which has always kept me free from prejudice, and rendered
me very indulgent with regard to the party adopted by individuals in our po
litical convulsions. To be a good Frenchman, or to wish to become so, was
all that I looked for in any one. Seasons of revolution are like battles in the
night. In the confusion, each man attacks his neighbor, and friends are
* During the Revolution, a beautiful opera-girl, of licentious habits, was conveyed, in most im
posing ceremonial, to the church of Notre Dame. There she was elevated upon an altar, and pre
sented to the thronged assemblage as the Goddess of Reason. " Mortals !" said Chaumette,
" cease to tremble before the powerless thunders of a God whom your fears have created. There
is no God. Henceforth worship none but Reason. Here I offer you its noblest and purest image.
Worship only such divinities as this." The whole assemblage bowed in adoration, and then re
tired to indulge in scenes which the pen refuses to record.
Vol. I.— T

290

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XVI.

often confounded with foes. But when daylight returns, and order is re
stored, every one forgives the injury which he has sustained through mis
take. Even for myself, how could I undertake to say that there might not
have existed circumstances sufficiently powerful, notwithstanding my nat
ural sentiments, to induce me to emigrate — the vicinity of a frontier, for
instance, a friendly attachment, or the influence of a chief. Chance has the
most powerful influence over the destinies of men. Serrurier and Hedon-
ville were traveling on foot to enter into Spain. They were met by a mil
itary parole. Hedonville, being the younger and more active of the two,
cleared the frontier, thought himself very lucky, and went to spend a life of
mere vegetation in Spain. Serrurier, on the contrary, was taken, and, be
wailing his unhappy fate, was compelled to return — to become a marshal of
France. Such is the uncertainty of human foresight and calculations."
In one of the largest and most populous provinces of France — that of La
Vendee — many thousand Royalists had collected, and were carrying on a
most desperate civil war. England, with her ships, was continually sending
to them money, ammunition, and arms, and landing among them regiments
of emigrant troops formed in London. They had raised an army of sixty
thousand men. All the efforts of the Directory to quell the insurrection had
been unavailing. The most awful atrocities had disgraced this civil conflict.
As soon as Napoleon was firmly seated in his consular chair, he sent an in
vitation for the chiefs of these Royalist forces in La Vendee to visit him in
Paris, assuring them of a safe return. They all accepted the invitation.
Napoleon met them in his audience-chamber with the utmost kindness and
frankness. He assured them that it was his only object to rescue France
from the ruin into which it had fallen ; to bring peace and happiness to his
distracted country. With that laconic logic which he had ever at command,
he said,

NAPOLEON AND THE VENDEEAN CHIEF.

"Are you fighting in self-defense? You have no longer cause to fight.

1800.] PACIFIC OVERTURES OF NAPOLEON. 291
I will not molest you. I will protect you in all your rights. JHave you
taken arms to revive the reign of the ancient kings ? You see the all but
unanimous decision of the nation. Is it honorable for so decided a minority
to attempt, by force of arms, to dictate laws to the majority ?"
Napoleon's arguments were as influential as his battalions. They yielded
at once, not merely their swords, but their heart's homage. One alone,
George Cadoudal, a sullen, gigantic savage, who preferred banditti maraud
ing5 above the blessings of peace, refused to yield. Napoleon had a private
interview with him. The guard at the door were extremely alarmed lest
the semi-barbarian should assassinate the First Consul. Napoleon appealed
to his patriotism, his humanity, but all in vain. Cadoudal demanded his
passports and left Paris. "Why did I not," he afterward often said, as he
looked at his brawny, hairy, Samson-like arms, " strangle that man when I
had him in my power ?" He went to London, where he engaged in many
conspiracies for the assassination of Napoleon, and was finally taken in
France and shot.

CHAPTER XVII.
PACIFIC OVERTURES OF NAPOLEON.

Letter of Napoleon to the King of England — Lord Granville's Reply — Dignified Answer through
Talleyrand — Irritating Response of Lord Grenville — Desires of the French respecting their Gov
ernment — Remarks of Mr. Fox in the British Parliament — Reply of William Pitt— Letter to the
Emperor of Austria — Renewed Endeavors of the Allies to conquer Napoleon .
Civil war was now at an end. With singular unanimity, all France was
rejoicing in the reign of the First Consul. Napoleon loved not war. He
wished to build up, not to tear down. He desired the glory of being the
benefactor, not the scourge of his fellow-men. Every conflict in which he
had thus far been engaged was strictly a war of self-defense. The expedi
tion to Egypt can not be considered an exception, for that enterprise was un
dertaken as the only means of repelling the assaults of the most determined
and powerful enemy France has ever known. Napoleon was now strong.
All France was united in him. With unobstructed power, he could wield all
her resources and guide all her armies. Under these circumstances, signal
ly did he show his love of peace by adopting the very characteristic meas
ure of writing directly to the King of England and to the Emperor of Aus
tria, proposing reconciliation. It was noble in the highest degree for him to
do so. Pride would have said, " They commenced the conflict ; they shall
be the first to ask for peace."* To -the King of England he wrote,
* " The work of reform proceeded rapidly and surely. Order was every where established, and
vigor infused into all the departments of the state. The situation of France, however, occasioned
him some disquietude ; and, notwithstanding the chances of success in his favor, he resolved to sue
for peace, which he could then do in good faith, because the misfortunes of the preceding cam
paigns were not his work. But Pitt turned a deaf ear to the application. Never did statesman
commit a greater fault. By this refusal, the English minister obliged Napoleon to enter upon that
course of victory and conquest which ultimately extended his empire over the greater part of the
Continent." — Encyclopaedia Britannica, Article Napoleon.

292 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XVII.
" Called, sire, by the wishes of the French nation, to occupy the first
magistracy of the Republic, I judge it well, on entering on my office, to ad
dress myself directly to your majesty. Must the war, which for the four last
years has devastated the world, be eternal ? Are there no means of com
ing to an understanding ? How can the two most enlightened nations of Eu
rope, stronger already and more powerful than their safety or their inde
pendence requires, sacrifice to ideas of vainglory the well-being of com
merce, internal prosperity, and the repose of families ? How is it that they
do not feel peace to be the first of necessities as the first of glories ? These
sentiments can not be strangers to the heart of your majesty, who governs a
free people with the sole aim of rendering it happy.
"Your majesty will perceive only in this overture the sincerity of my de
sire to contribute efficaciously, for a second time, to the general pacification
by this prompt advance, perfectly confidential, and disembarrassed of those
forms which, perhaps necessary to disguise the dependence of weak states,
reveal, when adopted by strong states, only the wish of mutual deception.
France and England, by the misuse of their powers, may yet, for a long pe
riod, retard, to the misery of all nations, their exhaustion. But I venture to
say that the fate of the civilized world is connected with the termination of
a war which has set the whole world in flames."
To this magnanimous application for peace, the King of England did not
judge it proper to return any personal answer. Lord Grenville replied in a
letter full of most bitter recriminations ; and all France was exasperated by
the insulting declaration, that if France really desired 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 consideration and respect abroad. Such
an event would at once remove, and will at any time remove, all obstacles in
the way of negotiation or peace."
This was, indeed, an irritating response to Napoleon's pacific appeal. He,
however, with great dignity and moderation, replied through his minister, M.
Talleyrand, in the following terms :
" So far from having provoked the war, France, from the commencement
of the Revolution, solemnly proclaimed her love of peace, her disinclination
for conquests, and her respect for the independence of all governments '; and
it is not to be doubted that, occupied at that time entirely with her own in
ternal affairs, she would have avoided taking any part in those of Europe,
and would have remained faithful to her declarations.
" But from an opposite disposition, as soon as the French Revolution had
broken out, almost all Europe entered into a league for its destruction. The
aggression was real long before it was public. Internal resistance was ex
cited ; the enemies of the Revolution were favorably received, their extrava
gant declamations were supported, the French nation was insulted in the
person of its agents, and England particularly set this example by the dis
missal of the minister of the Republic. Finally, France was attacked in
her independence, her honor, and her safety, long before war was declared.
" It is to these projects of dismemberment, subjection, and dissolution that
France has a right to impute the evils which she has suffered, and those

1800.] PACIFIC OVERTURES OF NAPOLEON. 293
which have afflicted Europe. Assailed on all sides, the Republic could not
but equally extend the efforts of her defense ; and it is only for the main
tenance of her own independence that she has called into requisition her own
strength and the courage of her citizens. If, in the midst of the critical cir
cumstances which the Revolution and the war have brought on, France has
not always shown as much moderation as the nation has shown courage, it
must be imputed to the fatal and persevering animosity with which the re
sources of England have been lavished to accomplish the ruin of France.
"But if the wishes of his Britannic majesty are in unison with those of
the French Republic for the re-establishment of peace, why, instead of at
tempting apologies for the war, should not attention be directed to the means
of terminating it ? It can not be doubted that his Britannic majesty must rec
ognize the right of nations to choose their form of government, since it is
from this right that he holds his crown. But the First Consul can not com
prehend how, after admitting this fundamental principle, upon which rests
the existence of political societies, his majesty could annex insinuations
which tend to an interference with the internal affairs of the Republic. Such
interference is no less injurious to the French nation and its government,
than it would be to England and his majesty if an invitation were held out,
in form of a return to that republican form of government which England
adopted about the middle of the last century, or an exhortation to recall to
the throne that family whom their birth had placed there, and whom a revo
lution had compelled to descend from it."
There was no possibility of parrying these home thrusts. Lord Grenville
consequently entirely lost his temper. Replying in a note even more angry
and bitter than the first, he declared that England was fighting for the secu
rity of all governments against French Jacobinism, and that hostilities would
be immediately urged on anew without any relaxation. Napoleon was not
at all disappointed or disheartened at the result of this correspondence. He
earnestly desired peace, but he was not afraid of war. Conscious of the
principle, "thrice is he armed who hath his quarrel just," he was happy in
the conviction that the sympathies of impartial men in all nations would be
with him. He knew that the arrogant tone assumed by the English gov
ernment would unite France as one man in determined and undying resist
ance. " The answer," said he, " filled me with satisfaction. It could not
have been more favorable. England wants war. She shall have it. Yes !
yes ! war to the death."*
The throne of the King of England, the opulence of her bishops, and the
enormous estates of her nobles, were perhaps dependent upon the issue of
this conflict. The demolition of all exclusive privileges, and the establish
ment of perfect equality of rights among all classes of men in France, must
* " In fact, Bonaparte was not strictly a free agent. He could hardly do otherwise than he did,
ambition apart, and merely to preserve himself and the country he ruled. France was in a state
of siege — a citadel in which freedom had hoisted the flag of revolt against the threat of hereditary
servitude, and that in the midst of the ban and anathema passed upon it by the rest of Europe for
having engaged in this noble struggle, and required a military dictator to repress internal treach
ery and headstrong factions, and repel external force. Who, then, shall blame Bonaparte for
having taken the reins of government, and held them with a tight hand V — Hazlitt's Napoleon, vol.
ii., p. 232.

294 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XVII.
have shaken the throne, the aristocracy, and the hierarchy of England with
earthquake power. The government of England was mainly in the hands
of the king, the bishops, and the lords. Their all was at stake. In a temp
tation so sore, frail human nature must not be too severely censured. For
nearly ten years the princes of France had been wandering, houseless fugi
tives over Europe. The nobles of France, ejected from their castles, with
their estates confiscated, were beggars in all lands. Bishops who had been
wrapped in ermine, and who had rolled in chariots of splendor, were glad to
warm their shivering limbs by the fire of the peasant, and to satiate their
hunger with his black bread. To king, and bishop, and noble in England
this was a fearful warning. It seemed to be necessary for their salvation to
prevent all friendly intercourse between England and France, to hold up the
principles of the French Revolution to execration, and, above all, to excite,
if possible, the detestation of the people of England against Napoleon, the
child and the champion of popular rights. Napoleon was the great foe to be
feared, for with his resplendent genius he was enthroning himself in the
hearts of the people of all lands.
But no impartial man in either hemisphere can question that the right
was with Napoleon. It was not the duty of the thirty millions of France to
ask permission of the fifteen millions of England to modify their government
The kings of Europe, led by England, had combined to force with the bay
onet upon France a rejected and an execrated dynasty. The inexperienced
Republic, distracted and impoverished by these terrific blows, was fast fall
ing to ruin. The people invested Napoleon with almost dictatorial powers
for their rescue. It was their only hope. Napoleon, though conscious of
strength, in the name of bleeding humanity plead for peace. His advances
were met with contumely and scorn, and the trumpet notes of defiant hosts
rang from the Thames to the Danube. The ports of France were blockaded
by England's invincible fleet, demolishing the feeble navy of the Republic,
and bombarding her cities. An army of three hundred thousand men pressed
upon the frontiers of France, threatening a triumphant march to her capital,
there to compel, by bayonet and bombshell, the French people to receive a
Bourbon for their king. There was no alternative left to Napoleon but to
defend his country. Most nobly he did it.*
The correspondence with the British government, which redounds so much
to the honor of Napoleon, vastly multiplied his friends among the masses of
the people in England, and roused in Parliament a very formidable opposition
to the measures of government. This opposition was headed by Fox, Sheri-
* " It was believed in England that the time was favorable for continuing the war. Italy had
been lost to France, and Austrian armies, numbering a hundred and forty thousand men, were men
acing Savoy and mustering on the Rhine. The English were elated with their successes on the
Nile and before Acre. The victories of Suwarrow were recent, and considered to be decisive. The
poverty of France, and the anxiety of the people for repose, were well known ; and it was hoped,
from the manner in which Napoleon had acquired his present power, that the Royalist and Repub
lican factions might be brought to unite in opposition to his government, and either strip him of
his influence, or so much embarrass his operations as to render him an easy prey to his foreign
enemies. The answer transmitted by Lord Grenville to Talleyrand was couched therefore, in
terms which were sure to prove offensive, and to put an end, for a time, to all further overtures of
conciliation." — History of Napoleon, by Geo M. Bussey, vol. i., p. 265.

1800.] PACIFIC OVERTURES OF NAPOLEON. 295
dan, Lord Erskine, the Duke of Bedford, and Lord Holland. They did not
adopt the atrocious maxim, " Our country — right or wrong," but rather the
ennobling principle, " Our country — when in the wrong, we will try to put
her right." Never, in the history of the world, has there been a more spir
ited or a more eloquent opposition than this question elicited. Fox, the rival
of Pitt, and the profound admirer of Napoleon, was the most prominent lead
er of this opposition. Napoleon, with his laconic and graphic eloquence,
thus describes the antagonistic English statesmen. " In Fox, the heart
warmed the genius. In Pitt, the genius withered the heart."
"You ask," the opposition exclaimed, "who was the aggressor? What
matters that ? You say it was France. France says it was England. The
party you accuse of being the aggressor is the first to offer to lay down arms.
Shall interminable war continue merely to settle a question of history ? You
say it is useless to treat with France. Yet you treated with the Directory.
Prussia and Spain have treated with the Republic, and have found no cause
for complaint. You speak of the crimes of France. And yet your ally, Na
ples, commits crimes more atrocious, without the excuse of popular excite
ment. You speak of ambition. But Russia, Prussia, and Austria have di
vided Poland. Austria grasps the provinces of Italy. You yourself take
possession of India, of part of the Spanish, and of all the Dutch colonies.
Who shall say that one is more guilty than another in this strife of avarice ?
If you ever intend to treat with the French Republic, there can be no more
favorable moment than the present."
By way of commentary upon the suggestion that France must re-enthrone
the Bourbons, a letter was published, either real or pretended, from the heir
of the exiled house of Stuart, demanding from George the Third the throne
of his ancestors. There was no possible way of parrying this home thrust.
George the Third, by his own admission, was a usurper, seated upon the
throne of the exiled Stuarts. The opposition enjoyed exceedingly the con
fusion produced in the enemies' ranks by this well-directed shot.
The English ministers replied, " Peace with Republican France endangers
all the monarchies of Europe. The First Consul is but carrying out, with
tremendous energy, the principles of the Revolution — the supremacy of the
people. Peace with France is but a cessation of resistance to wrong. France
still retains the sentiments which characterized the dawn of her Revolution.
She was democratic. She is democratic. She declares war against kings.
She continues to seek their destruction."
There was much force in these declarations. It is true that Napoleon was
not, in the strict sense of the word, a Democrat. He was not in favor of
placing the government in the hands of the great mass of the people. He
made no disguise of his conviction that in France the people had neither the
intelligence nor the virtue essential to the support of a wise and stable re
public. Distinctly he avowed that, in his judgment, the experiment of a re
public had utterly failed — that France must return to monarchy. The great
mass of the people were also satisfied of this necessity. The French gener
ally do not ask for liberty, they only ask for equality.
"At the commencement of the Revolution," said Napoleon at St. Helena,
" I was a very ardent and sincere Republican. My Republican partialities,

296 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XVII.
however cooled under the political absurdities and monstrous excesses of our
Legislatures. Finally, my faith in Republicanism vanished entirely on the
violation of the choice of the people, by the Directory, at the time of the
battle of Aboukir."
France no longer wished for an aristocratic king, who would confer wealth,
splendor, and power exclusively upon its nobles. The old feudal throne was
still hated with implacable hatred. France demanded a popular throne ; a
king for the people — one who would consult the interest of the masses ; who
would throw open, to all alike, the avenues to influence, and honor, and op
ulence. Such a monarch was Napoleon. The people adored him.
"He is our emperor," they shouted, with enthusiasm. "We will make
him greater than all the kings of all the nobles. His palaces shall be more
sumptuous ; his retinue more magnificent ; his glory more dazzling ; for our
daughters may enter his court as maids of honor, and our sons may go in
and out at the Tuileries, Versailles, and St. Cloud, the marshals of France."
Lord Grenville was correct in saying that Napoleon was but carrying out
the principles of the Revolution — equality of privileges, the supremacy of
popular rights. But the despots of Europe were as hostile to such a king
as to a Republic.
On the 3d of February, 1800, an address was proposed in Parliament by
Mr. Dundas, approving of the course pursued by the ministers in rejecting
Napoleon's overtures for peace. He was followed by Mr. Whitbread, Mr.
Canning, and Mr., afterward Lord, Erskine, who severely censured the min
isters for the rude and insulting terms in which the frank and humane prop
osition of the First Consul had been repulsed. Mr. Fox followed in the same
strain. He observed :
" I must lament, sir, with every genuine friend of peace, the harsh and
unconciliating language which ministers have held to the French, and which
they have even made use of to a respectful offer of a negotiation. Such
language has ever been considered as extremely unwise, and has ever been
reprobated by diplomatic men. Being a sincere friend to peace, I must say,
with Lord Malmesbury, that it is not by reproaches and invectives that we
must hope for a reconciliation ; and I am convinced in my own mind that
I speak the sense of this house, and, if not of this house, certainly of a ma
jority of the people of this country, when I lament that any unprovoked and
unnecessary recriminations should be flung out, by which obstacles are put
in the way of pacification.
" I continue to think, and, until I see better grounds for changing my opin
ion than any that the right honorable gentleman has this night produced, I
shall continue to think, and to say, plainly and explicitly, that this country
was the aggressor in the war. But with regard to Austria and Prussia, is
there a man who, for one moment, can dispute that they were the aggress
ors ? It will be vain for the right honorable gentleman to enter into long
and plausible reasoning against the evidence of documents so clear, so decis
ive, so frequently and so thoroughly investigated.
" I really, sir, can not think it necessary to follow the right honorable gen
tleman into all the minute details which he has thought proper to give us
respecting the first aggression ; but that Austria and Prussia were the ag-

1800.] PACIFIC OVERTURES OF NAPOLEON. 297
gressors, not a man, in any country, who has ever given himself the trouble
to think at all on the subject, can doubt. Nothing could be more hostile
than their whole proceedings. Did they not declare to France that it was
her internal concerns, not her external proceedings, which provoked them to
confederate against her ? Look back to the proclamations with which they
set out. Read the declarations which they made themselves to justify their
appeal to arms. They did not pretend to fear her ambition, her conquests,
her troubling her neighbors ; but they accused her of new modeling her own
government. ' They said nothing of her aggressions abroad. They spoke
only of her clubs and societies at Paris.
" Sir, as to the restoration of the house of Bourbon, if it shall be the wish
of the people of France, I, for one, will be perfectly content to acquiesce.
I think the people of France, as well as every other people, ought to have
the government which they like best, and the form of government, or the
persons who hold it in their hands, should never be an obstacle with me to
treat with the nation for peace, or to live with them in amity. But as an
Englishman, sir, and actuated by English feelings, I surely can not wish for
the restoration of the house of Bourbon to the throne of France. I hope that
I am not a man to bear heavily upon any unfortunate family. I feel for their
situation. I respect their distresses. But, as a friend of England, I can
not wish for their restoration to the power which they abused. I can not
forget that the whole history of the last century is little more than an ac
count of the wars and the calamities arising from the restless ambition, the
intrigues, and the perfidy of the house of Bourbon.
" But you say you have not refused to treat. You have stated a case in
which you will be ready immediately to enter into a negotiation, viz., the
restoration of the house of Bourbon. But you deny that this is a sine qua
non ; and, in your nonsensical language, which I do not understand, you talk
of ' limited possibilities,' which may induce you to treat without the restora
tion of the house of Bourbon. But do you state what they are ? Now, sir,
I say, that if you put one case upon which you declare you are willing to
treat immediately, and say that there are other possible cases which may in
duce you to treat hereafter, without mentioning what these possible cases
are, you do state a sine qua non of immediate treaty.
" Sir, what is the question to-night ? We are called upon to support min
isters in refusing a frank, candid, and respectful offer of negotiation, and to
countenance them in continuing the war.
" Sir, I have done. I have told you my opinion. I think you ought to
have given a civil, clear, and explicit answer to the overture, which was fairly
and handsomely made you. If you were desirous that the negotiation should
have included all your allies, as the means of bringing about a general peace,
you should have told'Bonaparte so. But I believe you were afraid of his
agreeing to the proposal."
In a very forcible and eloquent speech in reply to these arguments, Wil
liam Pitt endeavored to show that the popular institutions established in
France, which he designated as Jacobinical and despotic, endangered every
monarchy in Europe. He urged the peremptory rejection of Napoleon's pa
cific overtures, and the prosecution of the war to the last extremity. In con-

298 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XVII.
elusion, he said, " From perseverance in our efforts, under such circumstances,
we have the fairest reason to expect the full attainment of our object. But,
at all events, even if we are disappointed in our more sanguine hopes, we
are more likely to gain than to lose by the continuation of the contest. Ev
ery month to which it is continued, even if it should not, in its effects, lead to
the final destruction of the Jacobin system, must tend so far to weaken and
exhaust it, as to give us, at least, a greater comparative security in any ter
mination of the war. On all these grounds, this is not the moment at which
it is consistent with our interest or our duty to listen to any proposals of nego
tiation with the present ruler of France."
The war spirit of the British ministers was sustained by a vote of 265 to
64. Thus contemptuously were the pacific appeals of Napoleon rejected.
And then, with a want of magnanimity almost unparalleled in the history
of the world, these very ministers filled the ears of all nations with the as
sertion that Napoleon Bonaparte, through his love of war and his insatiable
ambition, was deluging the Continent in blood ; and there are thousands
even now in Europe and America whose minds can never be disabused of
this atrocious libel. But there is a new generation of enlightened freemen
coming upon the stage, and they will do justice to this heroic champion of
popular equality.
On the same day on which Napoleon's pacific letter was sent to the King
of England, he dispatched another of the same character to the Emperor of
Austria. It was expressed in the following terms :
" Having returned to Europe after an absence of eighteen months, I find
a war kindled between the French Republic and your majesty. A stranger
to every feeling of vainglory, the first of my wishes is to stop the effusion
of blood which is about to flow. Every thing leads me to see that in the
next campaign, numerous armies, ably conducted, will treble the number of
the victims who have already fallen since the resumption of hostilities. The
well-known character of your majesty leaves me no doubt as to the secret
wishes of your heart. If those wishes only are listened to, I perceive the
possibility of reconciling the two nations.
" In the relations which I have formerly entertained with your majesty,
you have shown me some personal regard. I beg you, therefore, to see in this
overture which I have made to you the desire to respond to that regard, and
to convince your majesty more and more of the very distinguished consider
ation which I feel for you."
Austria replied, in courteous terms, that she could take no steps in favor
of peace without consulting her ally England. Thus all Napoleon's efforts
to avert the desolations of war failed. The result had been anticipated. He
was well aware of the unrelenting hostility with which the banded kings of
Europe contemplated the overthrow of a feudal throne, and of the mortal
antipathy with which they regarded the thought of receiving a democratic
king into their aristocratic brotherhood.
Nothing now remained for Napoleon but to prepare to meet his foes. The
Allies, conscious of the genius of that great captain who had filled the world
with the renown of his victories, exerted themselves to the utmost to raise
such forces, and to assail Napoleon with arms so overwhelming, and in quar-

1800.] COURT OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 299
ters so varied, as to insure his bewilderment and ruin. The Archduke
Charles, who was practically acquainted with the energy of Napoleon, urged
peace. But England and Austria were both confident that France, exhaust
ed in men and money, could not hold out for another campaign.

CHAPTER XVIII.

COURT OF THE FIRST CONSUL.

Letter of Louis XVIII. to Napoleon — His Reply — The Duchess of Guiche — Conversation of Na
poleon and Bourrienne — Memorable Words of the First Consul — M. Defeu — The wealthy Noble
man — Magnanimous Conduct of the First Consul — A Day at the Tuileries — Napoleon's prompt
Measures for the Purity of his Court.
The Bourbons now made an attempt to bribe Napoleon to replace them
upon their lost throne. The Count of Provence, subsequently Louis XVIII.,
wrote to him from London, " For a long time, general, you must have known
the esteem in which I hold you. If you doubt my gratitude, mark your own
place. Point out the situation which you wish for your friends. The victor
of Lodi, Castiglione, and Areola can never prefer a vain celebrity to true
glory. But you are losing the most precious moments. We could secure
the happiness of France. I say we, for I require Bonaparte for such an at
tempt, and he could not achieve it without me. Europe observes you.
Glory awaits you. I am impatient to restore peace to my people."
Napoleon did not imitate the example of the King of England, and pass
this letter over to his minister. Courteously and kindly, with his own hand,
he replied : " I have received your letter. I thank you for the obliging ex
pressions it contains respecting myself. You should renounce all hopes of
returning to France. You could not return but over the corpses of one hund
red thousand Frenchmen. Sacrifice your interest to the happiness and re
pose of your country. History will duly appreciate your conduct in so do
ing. I am not insensible to the misfortunes of your family, and shall learn
with pleasure that you are surrounded with every thing which can restore
the tranquillity of your retreat."
Benedict Arnold attempted to bring the American Revolution to a close
by surrendering the United States to their rejected king. It was not in Na
poleon's line of ambition to imitate his example. The Bourbons, finding the
direct proffer of reward unavailing, then tried the effect of female blandish
ments. The fascinating Duchess of Guiche, a lady of great beauty and tal
ent, was dispatched, a secret emissary, to the court of the First Consul, to
employ all the arts of eloquence, address, and the most voluptuous loveli
ness in gaining an influence over Napoleon. Josephine, who had suffered
so much during the Revolution, and whose associations had been with the
aristocracy of France, was a Royalist. She trembled for the safety of her
husband, and was very anxious that he should do whatever in honor might
be done to restore the Bourbons. In every possible way she befriended the
Royalists, and had secured, all over Europe, their cordial esteem.
The Duchess of Guiche easily obtained access to Josephine. Artfully she
said, one morning at the breakfast-table, "A few days ago I was with the

300

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XVIII.
Count of Provence in London. Some one asked him what he intended to
do for Napoleon in the event of his restoring the Bourbons.
" He replied, ' I would immediately make him Constable of France, and
every thing else which he might choose. And we would raise on the Car
rousel a magnificent column, surmounted with a statue of Bonaparte crown
ing the Bourbons.' "
Soon after breakfast Napoleon entered. Josephine most eagerly repeated
the words to him. " And did you not reply," said Napoleon, "that the corpse
of the First Consul would be made the pedestal of the column ?"
The fascinating duchess was still present. She immediately assailed Na
poleon with all her artillery of beauty, smiles, and flattery. The voluptuous
freedom of her manners, and the charms of the bewitching emissary, alarmed

mAY///

Wiim^m

iii.ii

NAPOLEON AND THE DUCHESS OF GUICHE.

the jealousy of Josephine. Napoleon, however, was impervious to the as
sault. That night the duchess received orders to quit Paris ; and in the
morning, in the charge of the police, she was on her way toward the frontier.

1800.] COURT OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 301
It has often been said that Napoleon made overtures to the Bourbons for
the cession of their rights to the throne. In reference to this assertion, Na
poleon says, " How was such a thing possible ? I, who could only reign by
the very principle which excluded them, that of the sovereignty of the peo
ple — how could I have sought to possess, through them, rights which were
proscribed in their persons ? That would have been to proscribe myself.
The absurdity would have been too palpable, too ridiculous. It would have
ruined me forever in public opinion. The fact is, that neither directly nor
indirectly, at home or abroad, did I ever do any thing of the kind."
The report probably originated in the following facts. Friendly relations
were at one time existing between Prussia and France. The Prussian gov
ernment inquired if Napoleon would take umbrage if the Bourbon princes
were allowed to remain in the Prussian territory. Napoleon replied that he
had no objections to that arrangement. Emboldened by the prompt consent,
it was then asked if the French government would be willing to furnish them
with an annual allowance for their support. Napoleon replied that it should
be done most cheerfully, provided Prussia would be responsible for the princes
remaining quiet, and abstaining from all intrigues to disturb the peace of
France. Soon after this last attempt of Louis XVII. to regain the throne, Napoleon
was one evening walking with Bourrienne in the gardens of his favorite re
treat at Malmaison. Fie was in fine spirits, for all things were moving on
very prosperously.
" Has my wife," said he to Bourrienne, " been speaking to you of the
Bourbons ?"
" No, general," Bourrienne replied.
" But, when you converse with her," Napoleon added, " you lean a little
to her opinions. Tell me now, why do you desire the return of the Bour
bons ? You have no interest in their return — nothing to expect from them.
You can never be any thing with them. You have no chance but to remain
all your life in an inferior situation. Have you ever seen a man rise under
kings by merit alone ?"
" General," replied Bourrienne, "I am quite of your opinion on one point.
I have never received any favor under the Bourbons ; neither have I the
vanity to suppose I should rise, under them, to any conspicuous station.
But I look at the interests of France. I believe that you will hold your
power as long as you live. But you have no children, and it is pretty cer
tain that you never will have any by Josephine. What are we to do when
you are gone ? What is to become of France ? You have often said that
your brothers were not — "
Here Napoleon interrupted him, exclaiming,
u Ah ! as to that you are right. If I do not live thirty years to finish my
work, you will, when I am dead, have long civil wars. My brothers do not
suit France. You will then have a violent contest among the most dis
tinguished generals, each of whom will think that he has a right to take my
place." " Well, general," said Bourrienne, " why do you not endeavor to remedy
those evils which you foresee ?"

302

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XVIII.

" Do you suppose," Napoleon replied, " that I have never thought of that ?
But weigh well the difficulties which are in my way. In case of a restora
tion, what is to become of the men who were conspicuous in the Revolution ?
What is to become of the confiscated estates and the national domain, which
have been sold and sold again ? What is to become of all the changes which
have been effected in the last twelve years ?"
"But, general," said Bourrienne, "need I recall to your attention that
Lcuis XVIII., in his letter to you, guarantees the contrary of all which you
apprehend ? Are you not in a situation to impose any conditions you may
think fit ?"
" Depend upon it," Napoleon replied, "the Bourbons will think that they
have reconquered their inheritance, and will dispose of it as they please.
Engagements the most sacred, promises the most positive, will disappear be
fore force. No sensible man will trust them. My mind is made up. Let
us say no more upon the subject. But I know how these women torment
you. Let them mind their knitting, and leave me to mind my affairs."
Pithily Bourrienne adds, " The women knitted. I wrote at my desk.
Napoleon made himself Emperor. The empire has fallen to pieces. Na
poleon is dead at St. Helena. The Bourbons have been restored."
..w,,.. ,, ^ „- .,„i. It may now be added (1854)
that the Bourbons are again in
exile ; the remains of Napoleon
repose, embalmed by a nation's
gratitude, beneath the dome of
', the Invalides. The empire is re-
s." stored to France, the eagles to
the army, and the Napoleon dy
nasty is re-enthroned.
¦f The boundless popularity ac
quired by Napoleon was that re-
l suiting from great achievements,
¦ not that which is ingloriously
: sought for by pampering to the
vices and yielding to the preju
dices of the populace. Napoleon
was never a demagogue. His
administration was in accordance
with his avowed principles.
"A sovereign," said he, "must
serve his people with dignity, and
not make it his chief study to
please them. The best mode of winning their love is to secure their wel
fare. Nothing is more dangerous than for a sovereign to flatter his subjects.
If they do not afterward obtain every thing which they want, they become
irritated, and fancy that promises have been broken. If they are then re
sisted, their hatred increases in proportion as they consider themselves de
ceived. A sovereign's first duty is, unquestionably, to conform with the
wishes of his people. But what the people say is scarcely ever what thev

NAPOLEON AND BOURRIENNE.

1800.] COURT OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 303
wish. Their desires and their wants can not be learned from their own
mouths so well as they are to be read in the heart of their prince."
Again he said in memorable words, which must not be forgotten in form
ing a just estimate of his character, " The system of government must be
adapted to the spirit of the nation. France required a strong government.
France was in the same state as Rome when a dictator was declared neces
sary for the salvation of the republic. Successions of coalitions against the
existence of the Republic had been formed by English gold among all the
most powerful nations of Europe. To resist successfully, it was essential
that all the energies of the country should be at the disposal of the chief.
" I never conquered unless in my own defense. Europe never ceased to
make war against France and her principles. It was necessary for us to
conquer, that we might not be conquered. Between the parties which agi
tated France, I was like a rider seated on an unruly horse, who always wants
to swerve either to the right or the left. To lead him to keep a straight
course, he is obliged to make him feel the bridle. The government of a
country just emerging from revolution, menaced by foreign enemies and agi
tated by the intrigues of domestic traitors, must necessarily be energetic.
In quieter times my dictatorship would have terminated, and I should have
commenced my constitutional reign. Even as it was, with a coalition al
ways existing against me, either secret or public, there was more equality in
France than in any other country in Europe.
" One of my grand objects was to render education accessible to every
body. I caused every institution to be formed upon a plan which offered
instruction to the public either gratis, or at a rate so moderate as not to be
beyond the means of the peasant. The museums were thrown open to the
whole people. The French populace would have become the best educated
in the world. All my efforts were directed to illuminate the mass of the na
tion, instead of brutifying them by ignorance and superstition. The English
people, who are lovers of liberty, will one day lament, with tears, having
gained the battle of Waterloo. It was as fatal to the liberties of Europe as
that of Philippi was to those of Rome. It has precipitated Europe into the
hands of despots, banded together for the oppression of mankind."
Though Napoleon felt deeply the sanctity of law, and the necessity of se
curing the inflexible enforcement of its penalties, he was never more highly
gratified than when he was enabled, by the exercise of the pardoning power,
to rescue the condemned. Bourrienne, whose testimony will not be ques
tioned, says : " When the imperious necessities of his political situation, to
which, in fact, he sacrificed every thing, did not interpose, the saving of life
afforded him the highest satisfaction. He would even have thanked those
to whom he rendered such a service for the gratification they had thus af
forded him."
A French emigrant, M. Defeu, had been taken, with arms in his hands,
fighting against France. The crime was treason; the penalty death. He
was connected with some of the most honourable families in France. A
very earnest petition was presented to Napoleon for his pardon.
" There is no room for mercy here," Napoleon sternly replied. " A man
who fights against his country is a child who would kill his mother."

304 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XVIII.
The affecting condition of his family was urged, and the beneficial effects
upon the community of such an act of clemency.
Napoleon paused for a moment, and then said, " Write, ' The First Con
sul orders the judgment on M. Defeu to be suspended.' "
The laconic reprieve was instantly written, signed by Napoleon, and dis
patched to Sens, where the unfortunate man was imprisoned. The next
morning, the moment Bourrienne entered the First Consul's apartment, Na
poleon said to him,
" I do not like to do my work by halves. Write to Sens, 'The First Con
sul desires that M. Defeu be immediately liberated.' He may repay the deed
with ingratitude. But we can not help that — so much the worse for him.
In all such cases, Bourrienne, never hesitate to speak to me. When I re
fuse it will only be because I can not do otherwise."
In Napoleon's disposition firmness and gentleness were singularly and
beautifully blended. The following anecdote illustrates the inflexibility of
his sense of justice. A wealthy nobleman, thirty years of age, had married
a young girl of sixteen. It was a mercenary marriage. The friends of the
young lady, without any regard to her feelings, dragged her to the altar.
She cherished no affection for her husband. He became jealous of her, and,
without the slightest proof of her criminality, murdered her. He was ar
rested, tried, and condemned to death. Connected by birth with the first
families in France, rallying around him the interest of the most influential
of friends, great exertions were made to obtain from the First Consul a par
don. To the petitioners pleading in his behalf, Napoleon replied :
" Why should I pardon this man ? He availed himself of his fortune for
the vile purpose of bribing the affections of a girl. Fie did not succeed in
winning them, and he became jealous. His jealousy was not the result of
love, but of vanity. He has committed the crime of murder. What urged
him to it ? Not his honor, for his wife had not injured it. No ! he was in
stigated by brutality, vanity, and self-love. He has no claim to mercy. The
rich are too prone to consider themselves elevated above the reach of the
law. They imagine that wealth is a sacred shield to them. This man has

UNAVAILING INTERCESSION OF JOSEPHINE.

1800.] COURT OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 305
committed a crime for which there are no extenuating circumstances. He
must suffer the punishment to which he is justly doomed. If I were to par
don him, that act of misplaced indulgence would put in jeopardy the life of
every married woman. As the law positively protects the outraged husband,
so it must protect the wife against the consequences of dislike, interest, ca
price, or a new passion, which may impel a husband to obtain a divorce by
a more prompt and less expensive course than a legal process."
Josephine, whose tender feelings at times controlled her judgment, was
urgent in her intercession. Many of the relatives of the wretched man were
among her most intimate friends. "This," said she, "is the first favor I
have asked since your attainment of the supreme power. Surely you will
not deny me ?"
" I can not," said Napoleon, " grant your request. And when it is known,
Josephine, that even your persuasions could not induce me to commit an act
of injustice, no one else will henceforth dare to petition me for such a pur
pose." England, Austria, and Russia, together with many other of the minor
powers of monarchical Europe, were now combined against France. The
Emperor Paul of Russia had furnished a large army to co-operate with the
Allies in their assault upon the Republic. Ten thousand of the Russians
had been taken prisoners. But in the recent disasters which had overwhelm
ed the arms of France, many thousand French prisoners were in the hands
of the Allies. Napoleon proposed an exchange. The Austrian government
refused, because it selfishly wished to exchange for Austrians only. The
English government also refused, assigning the reason that it was contrary
to their principles to exchange for prisoners taken from other nations.
"What !" exclaimed Napoleon to the court of St. James, "do you refuse
to liberate the Russians, who were your allies — who were fighting in your
ranks, and under your own commander, the Duke of York ?" With Vienna
he also expostulated, in tones of generous warmth, "Do you refuse to restore
to their country those men to whom you are indebted for your victories and
conquests in Italy, and who have left in your hands a multitude of French
prisoners whom they have taken ? Such injustice excites my indignation."
Then, yielding to those impulses so characteristic of his generous nature, he
exclaimed, " I will restore them to the Czar without exchange. He shall
see how I esteem brave men."
Whatever Napoleon undertook, he performed magnificently. The Russian
officers immediately received their swords. The captive troops, ten thou
sand in number, were assembled at Aix-la-Chapelle. They were all fur
nished with a complete suit of new clothing, in the uniform of their own
regiments, and thoroughly armed with weapons of the very best of French
manufacture. The officers were authorized to organize them into battalions
and regiments. And thus triumphantly these battalions of armed men were
returned into the bosom of the ranks of the multitudinous hosts rushing down
upon France. It is gratifying to record that magnanimity so extraordinary
passed not away unappreciated.
The Emperor Paul was so disgusted with the selfishness of Austria and
England, and was so struck with admiration in view of this unparalleled gen-
Vol. I.— U

306 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XVIII.
erosity of Napoleon, that he immediately abandoned the alliance. He at
tached himself to Napoleon with that enthusiasm of constitutional ardor
which characterized the eccentric monarch. In a letter to the First Consul,
written with his own hand, he said,
" Citizen First Consul, — I do not write to you to discuss the rights of men
or citizens. Every country governs itself as it pleases. Wherever I see at
the head of a nation a man who knows how to rule and how to fight, my
heart is attracted toward him. I write to acquaint you with my dissatisfac
tion with England, who violates every article of the law of nations, and has
no guide but her egotism and her interest. I wish to unite with you, to put
an end to the unjust proceedings of that government."
Russia was thus detached from the alliance, and, sending a minister to
Paris, recognized the new government. Napoleon now sent an embassador
to Prussia to establish, if possible, friendly relations with that power. Duroc
was selected for this mission, in consequence of his graceful address, his pol
ished education, and his varied accomplishments. Frederick William was
a great admirer of military genius. Duroc, who had been in the campaigns
of Italy and of Egypt, could interest him with the recital of many heroic en
terprises. The first interview of Duroc with the Prussian monarch was en
tirely private, and lasted two hours. The next day Duroc was invited to
dine with the king, and the Prussian court immediately recognized the con
sular government.
Notwithstanding Napoleon's vast exaltation, he preserved personally the
same simple tastes and habits, the same untiring devotion to the details of
business, and the same friendships, as when he was merely a general of the
Republic. He rose at seven o'clock, dressed with scrupulous neatness, dur
ing which time the morning journals were read to him. He then entered
his cabinet, where he read letters, and wrote or dictated answers until ten.
He then breakfasted with Josephine and Hortense, usually some of his aids
and one or two literary or scientific friends being invited. At the close of
this frugal meal he attended the meetings of the Council, or paid visits of
ceremony or business to some of the public offices. At five o'clock he re
turned to dinner, on ordinary occasions not allowing himself more than fif
teen minutes at the table. He then retired to the apartments of Josephine,
where he received the visits of ministers and of the most distinguished per
sons of the metropolis.
In the organization of his court, Napoleon was unalterably determined to
suppress that licentiousness of manners which for ages had disgraced the
palaces of the French monarchs, and which, since the overthrow of Chris
tianity, had swept like a flood of pollution over all France. He was very
severe upon those females, often of the highest rank, who endeavored to at
tract attention by freedom of dress or behavior. It was expected that men
and their wives should appear in society together — a thing hitherto unprece
dented, and contrary to all ideas of fashionable life. The court had hitherto
taken the lead in profligacy, and the nation had followed. Napoleon thought
that by enforcing purity of morals in the palace, he could draw back the na
tion to more decorum of manners. " Immorality," said he, "is, beyond a
doubt, the worst of all faults in a sovereign, because he introduces it as a

1800.] COURT OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 307
fashion among his subjects, by whom it is practiced for the sake of pleasing
him. It strengthens every vice, blights every virtue, and infects all society
like a pestilence. In short, it is a nation's scourge."
On one occasion a courtier, very high in rank and office, one of the im
perial chamberlains, requested permission to present his daughter-in-law at
court. She was extremely beautiful, and, though distinguished by a capti
vating air of simplicity, was one of the most artful of the daughters of Eve.
She joined the imperial parties on all occasions, and, wherever she went,
threw herself in the way of Napoleon. Her soft and languishing eyes were
riveted upon him. She sighed,, blushed, and affected bashfulness, while, at
the same time, she constantly placed herself in situations to attract his no
tice. Sometimes she would stand for a long time, apparently lost in rev
erie, gazing and sighing before the portraits of Napoleon. Her father-in-law
affected displeasure at her conduct, and complained of the unfortunate but
resistless passion which she had imbibed. Her husband, who was infamous
ly in the intrigue, regarded the matter with the most philosophic indiffer
ence. The mother-in-law also made herself busy to help the matter along,
saying that, after all, it was hard to blame her for loving Napoleon. For
some time Napoleon paid no attention to the intrigue, and appeared not to
notice it. At length the affair became a subject of court gossip, and it was
necessary that it should be noticed.
One evening, at the close of a sitting of the Council of State, at which
Napoleon had presided, conducting Cambaceres into the recess of one of the
windows, he said, " Madame B  is rendering herself quite intolerable to
me. The conduct of her relations is still more odious. The father-in-law
is an infamous man, her husband a mean-spirited wretch, and her mother a
vile, intriguing woman, by whose arts, however, I am not to be duped. The
abandoned female who unreservedly puts up her virtue to sale is preferable
to the hypocrite who, for motives equally mercenary, affects a sentimental
attachment. I wish you to call on my chamberlain, and inform him that I
dispense with his services for the space of a year. Inform his wife that I
forbid her appearance at court for six years. And make known to the affec
tionate married couple, that, to afford them an opportunity of duly appreci
ating each other's qualities, I give them leave to spend six months in Naples,
six months in Vienna, and six months in any other part of Germany."
On another occasion a lieutenant colonel sent a petition to Napoleon so
liciting promotion. In accordance with the corruptions of those paganized
times, he added, " I have two beautiful daughters, who will be too happy to
throw themselves at the feet of the good Emperor, and thank him for the
benefit conferred on their father."
Napoleon was indignant at this atrocious proposal. He said, " I know
not what withholds me from having this infamous letter inserted in the order
of the day of the writer's regiment." Napoleon made inquiries respecting
this officer, and found that he had been one of the assassins during the Reign
of Terror, and an intimate friend of Robespierre. He immediately dismissed
him from service. He found that the daughters were amiable and interest
ing young ladies, totally unconscious of the infamous project entertained by
their father. That they might not suffer the penalty of their father's base-

308 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XVIII.
ness, he settled a small pension on each of them, on condition of their leav
ing Paris, and retiring to their native city.
°Napoleon effectually enthroned himself in the hearts of the common peo
ple of France. They believed him to be their friend and advocate. They
still cherish the same belief. At this hour there is no ruler, enthroned or
entombed, who is regarded with the enthusiastic veneration with which the
people of France now cherish the memory of their emperor. Napoleon
stands alone in that glory. He has no rival.
Robert Southey makes the following admissions respecting this great con
flict between Napoleon, as the advocate of popular rights, and the despotic
governments of Europe.
" The state of Naples may be described in a few words. The king was
one of the Spanish Bourbons. As the Caesars have shown us to what wick
edness the moral nature of princes may be perverted, so, in this family, the
degradation to which their intellect and nature can be reduced has been not
less conspicuously evinced. Ferdinand, like the rest of his race, was pas
sionately fond of field-sports, and cared for nothing else. His queen had all
the vices of the house of Austria, with little to mitigate and nothing to en
noble them ; provided she could have her pleasures, and the king his sports,
they cared not in what manner the revenue was raised or administered. Of
course, a system of favoritism existed at court, and the vilest and most im
pudent corruption prevailed in every department of state, and in every branch
of administration from the highest to the lowest. A sense of better things
was kept alive in some of the Neapolitans by literature, and by their inter
course with happier countries. These persons naturally looked to France
at the commencement of the Revolution, and, during all the horrors of that
Revolution, still cherished the hope that, by the aid of France, they might be
enabled to establish a new order of things in Naples. They were not mis
taken in believing that no government could be worse than their own. All
these" (those seeking a change of government) "were confounded under
the common name of Jacobins ; and the Jacobins of the Continental king
doms were regarded by the English with more hatred than they deserved.
No circumstances could be more unfavorable to the best interests of Europe
than those which placed England in strict alliance with the superannuated
and abominable governments of the Continent. The subjects of those gov
ernments who wished for freedom thus became enemies to England."
Such are the concessions to which Mr. Southey is forced, while all his
sympathies were with the English aristocracy. The sympathies of Napoleon
were nobly and magnanimously with the oppressed people. He wished to
promote reform, but he had seen enough of blind and maddened revolution.
He wished to see the people restored to their rights, and also protected from
the desolations of infuriate mobs. In this view every step of his career is
consistent. He resisted with equal firmness the arrogance of aristocratic
usurpation and the encroachments of anarchy. Thus, in strange alliance,
the kings and the mob joined hands against him, and he became the idol of
the millions.
In Naples, while Napoleon was in Egypt, the Republican party made an
effort to throw off the intolerable tyranny with which the kingdom was op-

1800.] COURT OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 309
pressed. They were, for a time, quite successful, and the prospect of achiev-
ingHhe emancipation of Naples was brilliant. But a combined force of En
glish, Russians, and Neapolitans fell with such resistless power upon the
Republicans that the movement was crushed. Parties of these patriotic men
took refuge in two strong castles. They were besieged by the Allies.
Knowing the perfidy of the Neapolitans and the Russians, and believing that
the English would have some Uttle sympathy for those who were struggling
for freedom, they demanded that a British officer should be brought forward,
and to him they capitulated. Under the solemn sanction of the British name
that their persons and property should be safe, and that they and their fami
lies should be conveyed unmolested to France, where warm hearts would
welcome them, they threw down their arms and opened the gates of the for
tresses. This capitulation was signed by the three allied powers. Cardinal
Ruffo signed as Viceroy of Naples, Kerandy on the part of the Emperor of
Russia, and Captain Foote as representative of the King of England.
But, just at this time, Lord Nelson, with his triumphant fleet, entered the
bay. He had on board his ship his guilty paramour, Lady Hamilton, and
the infamous King and Queen of Naples. Nelson immediately made signal
to annul the treaty, declaring that he would grant rebels no other terms than
unconditional submission. The Neapolitan cardinal protested earnestly
against such an atrocious violation of faith. But to these remonstrances the
British admiral would not listen. He seized the hated Republicans, and
chained them, two and two, on board his own fleet. The King of Naples
had not sufficient nerve to witness the horrible scenes which were to ensue.
He hurried from the ship to his palace, and left Lord Nelson, the queen, and
Lady Hamilton to do their pleasure. " Numbers," says Alison, " were im
mediately condemned and executed. The vengeance of the populace sup
plied what was wanting in the celerity of the criminal tribunals. Neither
age, nor sex, nor rank were spared. Women as well as men, youths of six
teen and gray -headed men of seventy were alike led out to the scaffold, and
infants of twelve years of age sent into exile. The Republicans behaved in
almost every instance, in their last moments, with heroic courage, and made
men forget, in pity for their misfortunes, the ingratitude or treason of which
they had previously been guilty."
Sir Archibald can allow himself to call those noble men who were spurn
ing the infamous tyranny of Ferdinand of Naples ungrateful traitors. Had
Washington, and Adams, and Hancock failed and died upon the gibbet, they
also would have been stigmatized as ungrateful traitors, and men, boasting
their love of liberty, would heap obloquy upon those who should dare to vin
dicate their cause.
Admiral Carraccioli, a man of the purest and noblest character, was one
of the leaders of this Republican band. He had already passed the limits
of threescore years and ten. He was arrested at nine o'clock in the morn
ing, put on his trial on board the British flag-ship at ten, found guilty and
sentenced to death at twelve, and hanged at the fore-yard-arm of the frigate
at five o'clock in the afternoon ; after which his body was cut down and cast
into the sea. The admiral entreated Lord Nelson to grant him a new trial,
as he had not been allowed time to prepare his defense. Lord Nelson re-

310 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XIX.
fused. He then earnestly implored that he might be shot, declaring that the
disgrace of being hanged was dreadful to him. This also was sternly denied.
As a last hope, he sent Lieutenant Parkinson, in whose custody he was, to
plead with Lady Hamilton. She refused to be seen. This abandoned wom
an, however, came upon the deck to enjoy the dying convulsions of the
Republican admiral as he was dangling at the yard-arm. For these infa
mous deeds Lord Nelson received from the court of Naples a diamond-hilted
sword, the dukedom of Bronte, a title which greatly flattered his vanity, and
an income of fifteen thousand dollars a year.
" For these acts of cruelty," says Alison, " no sort of apology can or ought
to be offered. In every point of view, the conduct of Nelson in this tragic
affair was inexcusable." Southey says, " To palliate it would be vain ; to
justify it would be wicked. There is no alternative for one who will not
-make himself participator in guilt but to record the disgraceful story with
sorrow and with shame."
What would have been said of Napoleon could such a transaction as this
have beert laid to his charge, that, abandoning his noble and broken-hearted
wife, and attaching himself to an infamous woman, and becoming the slave
to her fascinations, he violated the most solemn treaty, imprisoned and
strangled the victims of regal perfidy, and surrendered men, women, and
children to outrage and assassination from the hands of a ferocious mob !
And yet the British government can rear monuments to the name of Nelson,
while it endeavors to consign the memory of Napoleon to infamy. Will the
verdict of the world ratify this injustice ? We may safely answer No !*

CHAPTER XIX.
CROSSING THE ALPS.

Renewed Attacks by England and Austria— Proclamation — Generosity to Moreau — Napoleon's
Plans for himself — English Caricatures — Pass of the Great St. Bernard — Grand Preparations —
Enthusiastic Toil of the Soldiers — The young Peasant.
Napoleon, finding his proffers of peace rejected by the government of En
gland with contumely and scorn, and declined by Austria, now prepared,
with his wonted energy, to repel the assaults of tlie Allies. As he sat in his
cabinet at the Tuileries, the thunders of their unrelenting onset came roll
ing in upon his ear from all the frontiers of France. The hostile fleets of En
gland swept the Channel, utterly annihilating the commerce of the Republic,
landing regiments of armed emigrants upon her coasts, lavishing money and
munitions of war to rouse the partisans of the Bourbons to civil conflict, and
throwing balls and shells into every unprotected town. On the northern
frontier, Marshal Kray came thundering down through the Black Forest to
the banks of the Rhine with a mighty host of 150,000 men, to pour into all
the northern provinces of France. Artillery of the heaviest calibre and a
* " It deserves," says Alison, " to be recorded, to the honor of Napoleon, that he endeavored to
palliate Nelson's share in these dark transactions, ascribing it to misinformation and the fascinat
ing ascendency of Lady Hamilton."

1800.] CROSSING THE ALPS. 311
magnificent array of cavalry accompanied this apparently invincible army.
In Italy, Melas, another Austrian marshal, with 140,000 men, aided by the
whole force of the British navy, was rushing upon the eastern and southern
borders of the Republic. The French troops, disheartened by defeat, had
fled before their foes over the Alps, or were eating their horses and their
boots in the cities where they were besieged. From almost every promon
tory on the coast of the Republic, washed by the Channel or the Mediterra
nean, the eye could discern English frigates, black and threatening, holding
all France in a state of blockade.
One always finds a certain pleasure in doing that which he can do well.
Napoleon was fully conscious of his military genius. He had, in behalf of
bleeding humanity, implored peace in vain. He now, with alacrity and with
joy, roused himself to inflict blows that should be felt upon his multitudinous
enemies. With such tremendous energy did he do this, that he received from
his antagonists the complimentary sobriquet of the one hundred thousand men.
Wherever Napoleon made his appearance in the field, his presence alone
was considered equivalent to that force.
The following proclamation rang like a trumpet charge over the hills and
valleys of France. " Frenchmen ! You have been anxious for peace. Your
government has desired it with still greater ardor. Its first efforts, its most
constant wishes, have been for its attainment. The English ministry has
exposed the secret of its iniquitous policy. It wishes to dismember France,
to destroy its commerce, and either to erase it from the map of Europe, or
to degrade it to a secondary power. England is willing to embroil all the
nations of the Continent in hostility wTith each other, that she may enrich
herself with their spoils, and gain possession of the trade of the world. For
the attainment of this object, she scatters her gold, becomes prodigal of her
promises, and multiplies her intrigues."
At this call all the martial spirits of France rushed to arms. Napoleon,
supremely devoted to the welfare of the state, seemed to forget even his own
glory in the intensity of his desire to make France victorious over her foes.
With the most magnanimous superiority to all feelings of jealousy, he raised
an army of 150,000 men, the very elite of the troops of France, the veterans
of a hundred battles, and placed them in the hands of Moreau, the only man
in France who could be called his rival. Napoleon also presented to Moreau
the plan of a campaign in accordance with his own energy, boldness, and
genius. Its accomplishment would have added surpassing brilliance to the
reputation of Moreau. But the cautious general was afraid to adopt it, and
presented another, perhaps as safe, but one which would produce no dazzling
impression upon the imaginations of men.
" Your plan," said one, a friend of Moreau, to the First Consul, " is grand
er, more decisive, and even more sure. But it is not adapted to the slow and
cautious genius of the man who is to execute it. You have your method of
making war, "which is superior to all others. Moreau has his own, inferior
certainly, but still excellent. Leave him to himself. If you impose your
ideas upon him, you will wound his self-love and disconcert him."
Napoleon, profoundly versed in the knowledge of the human heart, prompt
ly replied, "You are right ; Moreau is not capable of grasping the plan which

312 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XIX.
I have conceived. Let him follow his own course. The plan which he does
not understand and dare not execute I myself will carry out on another part
of the theatre of war. What he fears to attempt on the Rhine, I will ac
complish on the Alps. The day may come when, he will regret the glory
which he yields to me."
These were proud and prophetic words. Moreau was moderately victo
rious upon the Rhine, driving back the invaders. The sun of Napoleon soon
rose over the field of Marengo in a blaze of effulgence, which paled Moreau's
twinkling star into utter obscurity. But we know not where upon the page of
history to find an act of more lofty generosity than this surrender of the no
blest army of the Republic to one who considered himself, and was deemed
by others, a rival, and thus to throw open to him the theatre of war where
apparently the richest laurels were to be won ; and we know not where to
look for a deed more proudly expressive of self-confidence. " I will give
Moreau," said he by this act, "one hundred and fifty thousand of the most
brave and disciplined soldiers of France, the victors of a hundred battles. I
myself will take sixty thousand men, new recruits and the fragments of regi
ments which remain, and with them I will march to encounter an equally
powerful enemy on a more difficult field of warfare."
Marshal Melas had spread his vast host of one hundred and forty thousand
Austrians through all the strongholds of Italy, and was pressing with tremen
dous energy and self-confidence upon the frontiers of France. Napoleon,
instead of marching with his inexperienced troops to meet the heads of the
triumphant columns of Melas, resolved to climb the rugged and apparently
inaccessible fortresses of the Alps, and, descending from the clouds over path
less precipices, to fall with the sweep of the avalanche upon their rear. It
was necessary to assemble this army at some favorable point, to gather in
vast magazines its munitions of war. It was necessary that this should be
done in secret, lest the Austrians, climbing to the summits of the Alps, and
defending the gorges through which the troops of Napoleon would be com
pelled to wind their difficult and tortuous way, might render the passage im
possible. English and Austrian spies were prompt to communicate to the
hostile powers every movement of the First Consul.
Napoleon fixed upon Dijon and its vicinity as the rendezvous of his troops.
He, however, adroitly and completely deceived his foes by ostentatiously an
nouncing the very plan he intended to carry into operation. Of course, the
Allies thought that this was a foolish attempt to draw their attention from
the real point of attack. The more they ridiculed the imaginary army at
Dijon, the more loudly did Napoleon reiterate his commands for battalions
and magazines to be collected there. The spies who visited Dijon reported
that but a few regiments were assembled in that place, and that the an
nouncement was clearly a very weak pretense to deceive. The print-shops
of London and Vienna were filled with caricatures of the army of Dijon.
The English especially made themselves very merry with Napoleon's grand
army to scale the Alps. It was believed that the energies of the Republic
were utterly exhausted in raising the force which was given to Moreau. One
of the caricatures represented the army as consisting of a boy dressed in his
father's clothes, shouldering a musket which he could with difficulty lift, and

1800.]

CROSSING THE ALPS.

313

314 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XIX.
eatino- a piece of gingerbread, and an old man with one arm and a wooden
leo-. The artillery consisted of a rusty blunderbuss. This derision was just
what Napoleon desired. Though dwelling in the shadow of that mysterious
melancholy which ever enveloped his spirit, he must have enjoyed in the
deep recesses of his soul the majestic movements of his plans.
On the eastern frontiers of France there surge up, from luxuriant meadows
and vine-clad fields and hill-sides, the majestic ranges of the Alps, piercing
the clouds, and soaring with glittering pinnacles into the region of perpetual
ice and snow. Vast spurs of the mountains extend on each side, opening
gloomy gorges and frightful defiles, through which foaming torrents rush
impetuously, walled in by almost precipitous cliffs, whose summits, crowned
with melancholy firs, are inaccessible to the foot of man. The principal
pass over this enormous ridge was that of the Great St. Bernard. The trav
eler, accompanied by a guide, and mounted on a mule, slowly and painfully
ascended a steep and rugged path, now crossing a narrow bridge, spanning
a fathomless abyss, again creeping along the edge of a precipice, where the
eagle soared and screamed over the fir tops in the abyss below, and where a
perpendicular wall rose to giddy heights in the clouds above. The path, at
times, was so narrow, that it seemed that the mountain goat could with dif
ficulty find a foothold for its slender hoof. A false step, or a slip upon the
icy rocks, would precipitate the traveler, a mangled corpse, a thousand feet
upon the fragments of granite in the gulf beneath. As higher and higher he
climbed these wild, and rugged, and cloud-enveloped paths, borne by the un
erring instinct of the faithful mule, his steps were often arrested by the roar
of the avalanche, and he gazed appalled upon its resistless rush, as rocks, and
trees, and earth, and snow, and ice, swept by him with awful and resistless
desolation, far down into the dimly discerned torrents which rushed beneath
his feet.
At God's bidding the avalanche fell. No precaution could save the trav
eler who was in its path. He was instantly borne to destruction, and buried
where no voice but the archangel's trump could ever reach his ear. Ter
rific storms of wind and snow often swept through those bleak altitudes,
blinding and smothering the traveler. Hundreds of bodies, like pillars of
ice, embalmed in snow, are now sepulchred in those drifts, there to sleep til]
the fires of the last conflagration shall have consumed their winding sheet.
Having toiled two days through such scenes of desolation and peril, the ad
venturous traveler stands upon the summit of the pass, eight thousand feet
above the level of the sea, two thousand feet higher than the crest of Mount
Washington, our own mountain monarch. This summit, over which the
path winds, consists of a small level plain, surrounded by mountains of snow
of still higher elevation.
The scene here presented is inexpressibly gloomy and appalling. Nature
in these wild regions assumes her most severe and sombre aspect. As one
emerges from the precipitous and craggy ascent upon this Valley of Deso
lation, as it is emphatically called, the Convent of St. Bernard presents itself
to the view.
This cheerless abode, the highest spot of inhabited ground in Europe, has
been tenanted, for more than a thousand years, by a succession of joyless

1800.] CROSSING THE ALPS. 315
and self-denying monks, who, in that frigid retreat of granite and ice, en
deavor to serve their Maker by rescuing bewildered travelers from the de
struction with which they are ever threatened to be overwhelmed by the
storms which battle against them. In the middle of this ice-bound valley
lies a lake, clear, dark, and cold, whose depths, even in midsummer, reflect
the eternal glaciers which soar sublimely around. The descent to the plains
of Italy is even more precipitous and dangerous than the ascent from the
green pastures of France. No vegetation adorns these dismal and storm-
swept cliffs of granite and of ice. The pinion of the eagle fails in its rare
fied air, and the chamois ventures not to climb its steep and slippery crags.
No human beings are ever to be seen on these bleak summits, except the
few shivering travelers who tarry for an hour to receive the hospitality of
the convent, and the hooded monks, wrapped in thick and coarse garments,
with their staves and their dogs, groping through the storms of sleet and
snow. Even the wood, which burns with frugal faintness on their hearths,
is borne, in painful burdens, up the mountain sides upon the shoulders of the
monks. Such was the barrier which Napoleon intended to surmount, that he might
fall upon the rear of the Austrians, who were battering down the walls of
Genoa, where Massena was besieged, and who were thundering, flushed with
victory, at the very gates of Nice. Over this wild mountain pass, where the
mule could with difficulty tread, and where no wheel had ever rolled, or by
any possibility could roll, Napoleon contemplated transporting an army of
sixty thousand men, with ponderous artillery and tons of cannon balls, and
baggage, and all the bulky munitions of war. England and Austria laughed
the idea to scorn. The achievement of such an enterprise was apparently
, impossible. Napoleon, however, was as skillful in the arrangement of the minutest de
tails as in the conception of the grandest combinations. Though he resolved
to take the mass of his army, forty thousand strong, across the pass of the
Great St. Bernard, yet, to distract the attention of the Austrians, he arranged
also to send small divisions across the passes of Saint Gothard, Little St.
Bernard, and Mount Cenis. He would thus accumulate suddenly, and to
the amazement of the enemy, a body of sixty-five thousand men upon the
plains of Italy. This force, descending like an apparition from the clouds,
in the rear of the Austrian army, headed by Napoleon, and cutting off all
communication with Austria, might indeed strike a panic into the hearts of
the assailants of France.
The troops were collected in various places in the vicinity of Dijon, ready
at a moment's warning to assemble at the place of rendezvous, and with a
rush to enter the defile. Immense magazines of wheat, biscuit, and oats had
been noiselessly collected in different places. Large sums of specie had
been forwarded, to hire the services of every peasant, with his mule, who in
habited the valleys among the mountains. Mechanic shops, as by magic,
suddenly rose along the path, well supplied with skillful artisans, to repair
all damages, to dismount the artillery, to divide the gun-carriages and the
baggage-wagons into fragments, that they might be transported, on the backs
of men and mules, over the steep and rugged way. For the ammunition a

316 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XIX.
vast number of small boxes were prepared, which could easily be packed
upon the mules. A second company of mechanics, with camp forges, had
been provided, to cross the mountain with the first division, and rear their
shops upon the plain on the other side, to mend the broken harness, to recon
struct the carriages, and remount the pieces.
On each side of the mountain a hospital was established, and supplied with
every comfort for the sick and the wounded. The foresight of Napoleon
extended even to sending, at the very last moment, to the convent upon the
summit, an immense quantity of bread, cheese, and wine. Each soldier, to
his surprise, was to find, as he arrived at the summit, exhausted with hercu
lean toil, a generous slice of bread and cheese, with a refreshing cup of wine,
presented to him by the monks. All these minute details Napoleon ar
ranged, while at the same time he was doing the work of a dozen energetic
men in reorganizing the whole structure of society in France. If toil pays
for greatness, Napoleon purchased the renown which he attained. And yet
his body and his mind were so constituted that his sleepless activity was to
him a pleasure.
The appointed hour at last arrived. On the 7th of May, 1800, Napoleon
entered his carriage at the Tuileries, saying,
" Good-by, my dear Josephine ! I must go to Italy. I shall not forget
you, and I will not be absent long."
At a word, the whole majestic array was in motion. Like a meteor he
swept over France. He arrived at the foot of the mountains. The troops
and all the paraphernalia of war were on the spot at the designated hour.
Napoleon immediately appointed a very careful inspection. Every foot-sol
dier and every horseman passed before his scrutinizing eye. If a shoe was
ragged, or a jacket torn, or a musket injured, the defect was immediately re
paired. His glowing words inspired the troops with the ardor which was
burning in his own bosom. The genius of the First Consul was infused into
the mighty host. Each man exerted himself to the utmost. The eye of
their chief was every where, and his cheering voice roused the army to al
most superhuman exertions. Two skillful engineers had been sent to ex
plore the path, and to do what could be done in the removal of obstructions.
They returned with an appalling recital of the apparently insurmountable
difficulties of the way.
"Is it possible," inquired Napoleon, "to cross the pass?"
"Perhaps," was the hesitating reply, "it is within the limits of possibility ."
" Forward, then," was the energetic response.
Each man was required to carry, besides his arms, food for several days
and a large quantity of cartridges. As the sinuosities of the precipitous path
could only be trod in single file, the heavy wheels were taken from the car
nages, and each, slung upon a pole, was borne by two men. The task for
the foot-soldiers was far less than for the horsemen. The latter clambered
up on foot, dragging their horses after them. The descent was very dan"-er-
ous. The dragoon, m the steep and narrow path, was compelled to walk
before his horse. At the least stumble he was exposed to being plunged
headlong into the abysses yawning before him. In this way many horses
and several riders perished. To transport the heavy cannon and howitzers,

1800.] CROSSING THE ALPS. 317
pine logs were split in the centre, the parts hollowed out, and the guns sunk
into the grooves. A long string of mules, in single file, were attached to the
ponderous machines of war, to drag them up the slippery ascent. The mules
soon began to fail, and then the men, with hearty good-will, brought their
own shoulders into the harness — a hundred men to a single gun. Napoleon
offered the peasants two hundred dollars for the transportation of a twelve-
pounder over the pass. The love of gain was not strong enough to lure
them to such tremendous exertions. But Napoleon's fascination over the
hearts of his soldiers was a more powerful impulse. With shouts of encour
agement they toiled at the cables, successive bands of a hundred men re-

DRAWING A GUN OVER GREAT ST. BERNARD.

lieving each other every half hour. High on those craggy steeps, gleaming
through the mist, the glittering bands of armed men like phantoms appear-

318 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XIX.
ed. The eaede wheeled and screamed beneath their feet. The mountain
O
goat, affrighted by the unwonted spectacle,- bounded away, and paused in
bold rehef upon the cliff, to gaze upon the martial array which so suddenly
had peopled the solitude.
When they approached any spot of very especial difficulty, the trumpets
sounded the charge, which re-echoed, with sublime reverberations, from pin
nacle to pinnacle of rock and ice. Animated by these bugle notes, the sol
diers strained every nerve as if rushing upon the foe. Napoleon offered to
the sebands the same reward which he had promised to the peasants. But
to a man they refused the gold. They had imbibed the spirit of their chief,
his enthusiasm, and his proud superiority to all mercenary motives. " We
are not toiling for money," said they, " but for your approval, and to share
your glory."
Napoleon, with his wonderful tact, had introduced a slight change into
the artillery service, which was productive of immense moral results. The
gun carriages had heretofore been driven by mere wagoners, who, being con
sidered not as soldiers, but as servants, and sharing not in the glory of vic
tory, were uninfluenced by any sentiment of honor. At the first approach
of danger, they were ready to cut their traces and gallop from the field,
leaving their cannon in the hands of the enemy.
Napoleon said, "The cannoneer«who brings his piece into action, performs
as valuable a service as the cannoneer who works it. He runs the same
danger, and requires the same moral stimulus, which is the sense of honor."
He therefore converted the artillery drivers into soldiers, and clothed them
in the uniform of their respective regiments. They constituted twelve thou
sand horsemen, who were animated with as much pride in carrying their
pieces into action, and in bringing them off with rapidity and safety, as the
gunners felt in loading, directing, and discharging them. It was now the
great glory of these men to take care of their guns. They loved, tenderly,
the merciless monsters. They lavished caresses and terms of endearment
upon the glittering, polished, death-dealing brass. The heart of man is a
strange enigma. Even when most degraded, it needs something to love.
These bloodstained soldiers, brutalized by vice, amid all the horrors of bat
tle, lovingly fondled the murderous-»machines of war, responding to the ap
peal, " Call me pet names, dearest." The unrelenting gun was the stern
cannoneer's lady-love. He kissed it with unwashed, mustached lip. In rude
and rough devotion he was ready to die rather than abandon the only object
of his idolatrous homage. Consistently he baptized the life-devouring mon
ster with blood. Affectionately he named it Mary, Emma, Lizzie. In cross
ing the Alps, dark night came on as some cannoneers were floundering
through drifts of snow, toiling at their gun. They would not leave the gun
alone in the cold storm to seek for themselves a dry bivouac ; but, like
brothers guarding a sister, they threw themselves, for the night, upon the
bleak and frozen snow by its side. It was the genius of Napoleon which
thus penetrated these mysterious depths of the human soul, and called to his
aid those mighty energies. "It is nothing but imagination," said one once
to Napoleon. "Nothing but imagination .'" he rejoined. "Imagination rules
the world."

1800.]

CROSSING THE ALPS.

319

When they arrived at the summit, each soldier found, to his surprise and
joy, the abundant comforts which Napoleon's kind care had provided. One
would have anticipated there a scene of terrible confusion. To feed an army
of forty thousand hungry men is not a light undertaking. Yet every thing
was so carefully arranged, and the influence of Napoleon so boundless, that
not a soldier left the ranks. Each man received his slice of bread and cheese,
and quaffed his cup of wine, and passed on. It was a point of honor for no
one to stop. Whatever obstructions were in the way were to be at all haz
ards surmounted, that the long file, extending nearly twenty miles, might not
be thrown into confusion. The descent was more perilous than the ascent.
But fortune seemed to smile. The sky was clear, the weather delightful,
and in four days the whole army was reassembled on the plains of Italy.
Napoleon had sent Berthier forward to receive the division and to super-

js ^s#;

NAPOLEON ASCENDING THE ALPS.

320 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XX.
intend all necessary repairs, while he himself remained to press forward the
mighty host. He was the last man to cross the mountains. Seated upon
a mule, with a young peasant for his guide, slowly and thoughtfully he as
cended those silent solitudes. He was dressed in the gray coat which he
always wore. Art has pictured him as bounding up the cliff, proudly mount
ed on a prancing charger ; but truth presents him in an attitude more sim
ple and more sublime. Even the young peasant who acted as his guide was
entirely unconscious of the distinguished rank of the plain traveler whose
steps he was conducting.
Much of the way Napoleon was silent, abstracted in thought. And yet
he found time for human sympathy. He drew from his young and artless
guide the secrets of his heart. The young peasant was sincere and virtuous.
He loved a fair maid among the mountains. She loved him. It was his
heart's great desire to have her for his own. He was poor, and had neither
house nor land to support a family. Napoleon, struggling with all his ener
gies against combined England and Austria, and with all the cares of an
army, on the march to meet one hundred and twenty thousand foes, crowd
ing his mind, won the confidence of his companion, and elicited this artless
recital of love and desire.
As Napoleon dismissed his guide with an ample reward, he drew from his
pocket a pencil, and upon a loose piece of paper wrote a few lines, which he
requested the young man to give, on his return, to the Administrator of the
Army upon the other side. When the guide returned and presented the
note, he found, to his unbounded surprise and delight, that he had conducted
Napoleon over the mountains, and that Napoleon had given him a field and
a house. He was thus enabled to be married, and to realize all the dreams
of his modest ambition. Generous impulses must have been instinctive in
a heart which, in a hour so fraught with mighty events, could turn from the
toils of empire and of war, to find refreshment in sympathizing with a peas
ant's love. This young man but recently died, having passed his quiet life
in the enjoyment of the field and the cottage which had been given him by
the ruler of the world.

CHAPTER XX.

MARENGO.

The Fort of Bard— Consternation of Melas— Solicitude of Napoleon— Proclamation— Desaix—
Montebello— Arrival of Desaix— Terrific Battle— Death of Desaix— Consequences of War-
Instinctive outburst of Emotion— Letter to the Emperor of Austria— Terms of Capitulation-
Napoleon enters Milan — Enthusiastic Reception in Paris.
The army now pressed forward, with great alacrity, along the banks of
the Aosta. They were threading a beautiful valley, rich in verdure, and
blooming beneath the sun of early spring. Cottages, vineyards and or
chards in full bloom, embellished their path, while upon each side of them
rose, in majestic swell, the fir-clad sides of the mountains. The Austrians,
pressing against the frontiers of France, had no conception of the storm
which had so suddenly gathered, and which was, with resistless sweep, ap-

1800.] MARENGO. 321
proaching their rear. The French soldiers, elated with the achievement
they had accomplished, and full of confidence in their leader, marched gayly
on. But the valley before them began to grow more and more narrow. The
mountains on either side rose .more precipitous and craggy. The Aosta,
crowded into a narrow channel, rushed foaming over the rocks, leaving bare
ly room for a road along the side of the mountain. Suddenly the march of
the whole army was arrested by a fort, built upon an inaccessible rock, which
rose pyramidally from the bed of the stream. Bristling cannon, skillfully
arranged on wrell-constructed bastions, swept the pass, and rendered further
advance apparently impossible.
Rapidly the tidings of this unexpected obstruction spread from the van to
the rear. Napoleon immediately hastened to the front ranks. Climbing the
mountain opposite the fort by a goat path, he threw himself down upon the
ground, where a few bushes concealed his person from the shot of the enemy,
and with his telescope long and carefully examined the fort and the surround
ing crags. He perceived one elevated spot, far above the fort, where a can
non might by possibility be drawn. From that position its shot could be
plunged upon the unprotected bastions below.

PASSING THE FORT OF BARD.

Upon the face of the opposite cliff, far beyond the reach of cannon-balls,
he discerned a narrow shelf in the rock, by which he thought it possible that
a man could pass. The march was immediately commenced, in single file,
along this giddy ridge. And even the horses, inured to the terrors of the
Great St. Bernard, were led by their riders upon the narrow path which a
horse's hoof had never trod before, and probably will never tread again.
The Austrians in the fort had the mortification of seeing thirty-five thousand
soldiers, with numerous horses, defile along this airy line, as if adhering to
the side of the rock, but neither bullet nor ball could harm them.
Vol. I.— X

322 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XX.
Napoleon ascended this mountain ridge, and upon its summit^ quite ex
hausted with days and nights of sleeplessness and toil, laid himself down in
the shadow of the rock and fell asleep. The long line filed carefully and
silently by, each soldier hushing his comrade; that the repose of their beloved
chieftain might not be disturbed. It was an interesting spectacle to witness
the tender affection beaming from the countenances of these bronzed and
war-worn veterans, as every foot trod softly, and each eye, in passing, was
riveted upon the slender form and pale and wasted cheek of the sleeping
Napoleon. The artillery could, by no possibility, be thus transported ; and an army
without artillery is a soldier without weapons. The Austrian commander
wrote to Melas that he had seen an army of thirty -five thousand men and
four thousand horse creeping by the fort, along the face of Mount Albaredo.
He assured the commander-in-chief, however, that not one single piece of
artillery had passed, or could pass, beneath the guns of his fortress. When
he was writing this letter, already had one half the cannon and ammunition
of the army been conveyed by the fort, and were safely and rapidly proceed
ing on their way down the valley.
In the darkness of the night, trusty men, with great caution and silence,
strewed hay and straw upon the road. The wheels' of the lumbering car
riages were carefully bound with cloths and wisps of straw, and, with axles
well oiled, were drawn by the hands of these picked men beneath the very
walls of the fortress, and within half pistol-shot of its guns. In two nights
the artillery and the baggage -trains were thus passed along, and in a few
days the fort itself was compelled to surrender.
Melas, the Austrian commander, now awoke, in consternation, to a sense
of his peril. Napoleon — the dreaded Napoleon — had, as by a miracle, cross
ed the Alps. He had cut off all his supplies, and was shutting the Austrians
up from any possibility of retreat. Bewildered by the magnitude of his peril,
he no longer thought of forcing his march upon Paris. The invasion of
France was abandoned. His whole energies were directed to opening for
himself a passage back to Austria. The most cruel permexities agitated
him. From the very pinnacle of victory, he was in danger of descending to
the deepest abyss of defeat.
It was also with Napoleon an hour of intense solicitude. He had but six
ty thousand men, two thirds of whom were new soldiers who had never seen
a shot fired in earnest, with whom he was to arrest the march of a desperate
army of one hundred and twenty thousand veterans, abundantly provided
with all the most efficient machinery of war. There were many paths by
which Melas might escape at leagues' distance from each other. It was
necessary for Napoleon to divide his little band, that he might guard them
all. He was liable at any moment to have a division of his army attacked
by an overwhelming force, and cut to pieces before it could receive any re-
enforcements. He ate not, he slept not, he rested not. Day and night, and
night and day, he was on horseback, pale, pensive, apparently in feeble
health, and interesting every beholder with his grave and melancholy beau
ty. His scouts were out in every direction. He studied all the possible
movements and combinations of his foes. Rapidly he overran Lombardy,

1800.] MARENGO. 323
and entered Milan in triumph. Melas anxiously concentrated his forces to
break through the net with which he was entangled. He did every thing in
his power to deceive Napoleon by various feints, that the point of his con
templated attack might not be known. Napoleon, in the following clarion
tones, appealed to the enthusiasm of his troops :
" Soldiers ! when we began our march, one department of France was in
the hands of the enemy. Consternation pervaded the south of the Repub
lic. You advanced. Already the French territory is delivered. Joy and
hope in our country have succeeded to consternation and fear. The enemy,
terror-struck, seeks only to regain ihis frontiers. You have taken his hospi
tals, his magazines, his reserve parks. The first act of the campaign is fin
ished. Millions of men address you in strains of praise. But shall we al
low our audacious enemies to violate with impunity the territory of the Re
public ? Will you permit the army to escape which has carried terror into
your families ? You will not. March, then, to meet it. Tear from its
brows the laurels it has won. Teach the world that a malediction attends
those who violate the territory of the Great People. The result of our ef
forts will be unclouded glory and a durable peace !"
The very day Napoleon left Paris, Desaix arrived in France from Egypt.
Frank, sincere, upright, and punctiliously honorable, he was one of the few
whom Napoleon truly loved. Desaix regarded Napoleon as infinitely his
superior, and looked up to him with a species of adoration ; he loved him
with a fervor of feeling which amounted almost to a passion. Napoleon,
touched by the affection of a heart so noble, requited it with the most confid
ing friendship.
Desaix, upon his arrival in Paris, found letters for him there from the First
Consul. As he read the confidential lines, he was struck with the melan
choly air with which they were pervaded. " Alas !" said he, " Napoleon has
gained every thing, and yet he is unhappy. I must hasten to meet him."
Without delay he crossed the Alps, and arrived at the head-quarters of Na
poleon but a few days before the battle of Marengo. They passed the whole
night together, talking over the events of Egypt and the prospects of France.
Napoleon felt greatly strengthened by the arrival of his noble friend, and im
mediately assigned to him the command of a division of the army. " De
saix," said he, " is my sheet anchor."
" You have had a long interview with Desaix," said Bourrienne to Napo
leon the next morning.
"Yes," he replied, "but I had my reasons. As soon as I return to Paris
I shall make him Minister of War. He shall always be my lieutenant. I
would make him a prince if I could. He is of the heroic mould of antiq-
uity!" Napoleon was fully aware that a decisive battle would soon take place.
Melas was rapidly, from all points, concentrating his army. The following
laconic and characteristic order was issued by the First Consul to Lannes
and Murat :
" Gather, your forces at the River Stradella. On the 8th or 9th, at the latest,
you will have on your hands fifteen or eighteen thousand Austrians. Meet
them, and cut them to pieces. It will be so many enemies less upon our

324 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XX.
hands on the day of the decisive battle we are to expect with the entire army
of Melas."
The prediction was true. An Austrian force advanced, eighteen thousand
strong. Lannes met them upon the field of Montebello. They were strong
ly posted, with batteries ranged upon the hill-sides which swept the whole
plain. It was of the utmost importance that this body should be prevented
from combining with the other vast forces of the Austrians. Lannes had
but eight thousand men. Could he sustain the unequal conflict for a few
hours, Victor, who was some miles in the rear, could come up with a re
serve of four thousand men. The French soldiers, fully conscious of the odds
against which they were to contend, and of the carnage into the midst of
which they were plunging, with shouts of enthusiasm rushed upon their foes.
Instantaneously a storm of grapeshot from all the batteries swept through his
ranks. Said Lannes, " / could hear the bones crash in my division like glass
in a hail-storm."
For nine long hours, from eleven in the morning till eight at night, the
horrid carnage continued. Again and again the mangled, bleeding, wasted
columns were rallied to the charge. At last, when three thousand French
men were strewn dead upon the ground, the Austrians broke and fled, leav
ing also three thousand mutilated corpses and six thousand prisoners behind
them. Napoleon, hastening to the aid of his lieutenant, arrived upon the field
just in time to see the battle won. Fie rode up to Lannes. The intrepid
soldier stood in the midst of mounds of the dead, his sword dripping with
blood in his exhausted hand, his face blackened- with powder and smoke, and
his uniform soiled and tattered by the long and terrific strife. Napoleon si
lently but proudly smiled upon the heroic general, and forgot not his reward.
From this battle, Lannes received the title of Duke of Montebello, a title by
which his family is distinguished to the present day.
This was the opening of the campaign. It inspired the French with en
thusiasm ; it nerved the Austrians to despair. Melas now determined to
make a desperate effort to break through the toils. Napoleon, with intense
solicitude, was watching every movement of his foe, knowing not upon what
point the onset would fall. Before daybreak on the morning of the 14th of
June, Melas, having accumulated forty thousand men, including seven thou
sand cavalry and two hundred pieces of cannon, made an impetuous assault
upon the French, but twenty thousand in number, drawn up upon the plain
of Marengo. Desaix, with a reserve of six thousand men, was at such a dis
tance, nearly thirty miles from Marengo, that he could not possibly be re
called before the close of the day. The danger was frightful that the
French would be entirely cut to pieces before any succor could arrive.
But the quick ear of Desaix caught the sound of the heavy cannonade as
it came booming over the plain like distant thunder. He sprung from his
couch and listened. The heavy and uninterrupted roar proclaimed a pitched
battle, and he was alarmed for his beloved chief. Immediately he roused his
troops, and they started upon the rush to succor their comrades. Napoleon
dispatched courier after courier to hurry the division along, whilf his troops
stood firm through terrific hours as their ranks were plowed by the murder
ous discharges of their foes. At last, the destruction was too awful for mor-

1800.] MARENGO. 325
tal men to endure. Many divisions of the army broke and fled, crying, "All
is lost — save himself who can !"
A scene of frightful disorder ensued. The whole plain was covered with
fugitives, swept like an inundation before the multitudinous Austrians. Na
poleon still held a few squares together, who slowly and sullenly retreated,
while two hundred pieces of artillery, closely pressing them, poured incessant
death into their ranks. Every foot of ground was left encumbered with the
dead. It was now three o'clock in the afternoon. Melas, exhausted with
toil and assured that he had gained a complete victory, left General Zach to
finish the work. He retired to his head-quarters, and immediately dispatched
couriers all over Europe to announce the great victory of Marengo. " Me
las is too sanguine," said an Austrian veteran, who had before encountered
Napoleon at Areola and Rivoli; " depend upon it, our day's work is not yet
done. Napoleon will yet be upon us with his reserve."
Just then the anxious eye of the First Consul espied the solid columns of
Desaix entering the plain. Desaix, plunging his spurs into 'his horse, out
stripped all the rest, and galloped into the presence of Napoleon. As he
cast a glance over the wild confusion and devastation of the field, he ex
claimed, hurriedly,
" I see that the battle is lost. I suppose I can do no more for you than
to secure your retreat."
" By no means," Napoleon replied, with apparently as much composure
as if he had been sitting by his own fireside ; " the battle, I trust, is gained.
Charge with your column. The disordered troops will rally in your rear."
Like a rock, Desaix, with his solid phalanx of ten thousand men, met the
on-rolling billow of Austrian victory. At the same time, Napoleon dispatch
ed an order to Kellerman with his cavalry to charge the triumphant column
of the Austrians in flank. It was the work of a moment, and the whole as
pect of the field was changed. Napoleon rode along the lines of those on
the retreat, exclaiming,
" My friends, we have retreated far enough. It is now our turn to ad
vance. Recollect that I am in the habit of sleeping on the field of battle."
The fugitives, reanimated by the arrival of the reserve, immediately ral
lied in their rear. The double charge in front and flank was instantly made.
The Austrians were checked and staggered. A tornado of bullets from De-
saix's division swept their ranks. They poured an answering volley into the
bosoms of the French. A bullet pierced the breast of Desaix, and he fell
and almost immediately expired. His last words were,
" Tell the First Consul that my only regret in dying is to have perished
before having done enough to live in the recollection of posterity."
The soldiers, who devotedly loved him, saw his fall, and rushed more
madly on to avenge his death. The swollen tide of uproar, confusion, and
dismay now turned, and rolled in surging billows in the opposite direction.
Hardly one moment elapsed before the Austrians, flushed with victory, found
themselves overwhelmed by defeat. In the midst of this terrific scene, an
aid rode up to Napoleon and said,
" Desaix is dead."
But a moment before they were conversing side by side. Napoleon pressed

326 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XX.
his head convulsively with his hand, and exclaimed, mournfully, "Why is it
not permitted me to weep ! Victory at such a price is dear."
The French now made the welkin ring with shouts of victory. Indescrib
able dismay filled the Austrian ranks, as wildly they rushed before their un
relenting pursuers. Their rout was utter and hopeless. When the sun Went
down over this field of blood, after twelve hours of the most frightful carnage,
a scene was presented horrid enough to appal the heart of a demon. More
than twenty thousand human beings were strewn upon the ground, the dying
and the dead, weltering in gore, and in every conceivable form of disfigura
tion. Horses, with limbs torn from their bodies, were struggling in convuls
ive agonies. Fragments of guns and swords, and of military wagons of ev
ery kind, were strewed around in wild ruin. Frequent piercing cries, which
agony extorted from the lacerated victims of war, rose above the general
moanings of anguish, which, like wailings of the storm, fell heavily upon the
ear. The shades of night were now descending upon this awful scene of
misery. The multitude of the wounded was so great, that, notwithstanding
the utmost exertions of the surgeons, hour after hour of the long night lin
gered away, while thousands of the wounded and the dying bit the dust in
their agony.
If war has its chivalry and its pageantry, it has also revolting hideous-
ness and demoniac woe. The young, the noble, the sanguine were writhing
there in agony. Bullets respect not beauty. They tear out the eye, and
shatter the jaw, and rend the cheek, and transform the human face divine
into an aspect upon which one can not gaze but with horror. From the field
of Marengo many a young man returned to his home so mutilated as no
longer to be recognized by friends, and passed a weary life in repulsive de
formity. Mercy abandons the arena of battle. The frantic war-horse, with
iron hoof, tramples upon the mangled face, the throbbing and inflamed wounds,
the splintered bones, and heeds not the shriek of torture. Crushed into the
bloody mire by the ponderous wheels of heavy artillery, the victim of bar
baric war thinks of mother, and father, and sister, and home, and shrieks,
and moans, and dies ; his body is stripped by the vagabonds who follow the
camp ; his naked, mangled corpse is covered with a few shovelsful of earth,
and left as food for vultures and for dogs,* and he is forgotten forever — and
it is called glory.
He who loves war for the sake of its excitements, its pageantry, and its
fancied glory, is the most eminent of all the dupes of folly and of sin. He
who loathes war with inexpressible loathing, who will do every thing in his
power to avert the dire and horrible calamity, but who will, nevertheless, in
the last extremity, with a determined spirit encounter all its perils from love
of country and of home, who is willing to sacrifice himself and all that is
dear to him in life to promote the well-being of his fellow-man, will ever re
ceive the homage of the world, and we also fully believe that he will receive
the approval of God. Washington abhorred war in all its forms, yet he
braved all its perils.
For the carnage of the field of Marengo Napoleon can not be held re
sponsible. Upon England and Austria must rest all the guilt of that awful
tragedy. Napoleon had done every thing he could to stop the effusion of

1800.] MARENGO. 327
blood. He had sacrificed the instincts of pride in pleading with a haughty
foe for peace. His plea was unavailing. Three hundred thousand men
were marching upon France, to force upon her a detested king. It was not
the duty of France to submit to such dictation. Drawing the sword in self-
defense, Napoleon fought and conquered. " Te Deum laudamus."*
It is not possible but that Napoleon must have been elated by so resplen
dent a victory. He knew that Marengo would be classed as the most brill
iant of his achievements. The blow had fallen with such terrible severity,
that the haughty Allies were terribly humbled. Melas was now at his mer
cy. Napoleon could dictate peace upon his own terms. Yet he rode over
the field of his victory with a saddened spirit, and gazed mournfully upon the
ruin and the wretchedness around him. As he was slowly and thoughtfully
passing along, through the heaps of the dead with which the ground was en
cumbered, he met a number of carts, heavily laden with the wounded, torn
by balls, and bullets, and fragments of shells, into most hideous spectacles
of deformity. As the heavy wheels lumbered over the rough ground, grat
ing the splintered bones, and bruising and opening afresh the inflamed wounds,
shrieks of torture were extorted from the victims. Napoleon stopped his
horse and uncovered -his head as the melancholy procession of misfortune
and woe passed along.
Turning to a companion, he said, "We can not but regret not being
wounded like these unhappy men, that we might share their sufferings." A
more touching expression of sympathy has never been recorded. He who
says that this was hypocrisy is a stranger to the generous impulses of a
noble heart. This instinctive outburst of emotion never could have been in
stigated by policy.
Napoleon had fearlessly exposed himself to every peril during this conflict.
His clothes were repeatedly pierced by bullets. Balls struck between the
legs of his horse, covering him with earth. A cannon-ball took away a piece
of the boot from his left leg, and a portion of the skin, leaving a scar which
was never obliterated.
Before Napoleon marched for Italy, he had made every effort in his power
for the attainment of peace. Now, with magnanimity above all praise, with
out waiting for the first advance from his conquered foes, he wrote again im
ploring peace. Upon the field of Marengo, having scattered all his enemies
like chaff before him, with the smoke of the conflict still darkening the air,
and the groans of the dying swelling upon his ear, laying aside all the for
malities of state, with heartfelt feeling and earnestness he wrote to the Em
peror of Austria. This extraordinary epistle was thus commenced :
* " If British policy and government had been then what it is avowedly and really now, and
should always be, that of non-intervention, letting France govern herself as her people chose, Bo
naparte might never have become Napoleon. To get rid of a chief magistrate who restored order.
law, religion, the finances, power, and universal peace, war was made ; not declared, as at last in
1815, against him personally, but in 1803 actually because he governed a French republic inof
fensively ahd admirably. If, at that time, Bonaparte had died or resigned, the glories, aggrandize
ment, and downfall of the empire would not have ensued, but his name would have been pure,
bright, and clear of calumnious representations. A moral man, an exemplary citizen ; amiable,
temperate, chaste, strictly honest and disinterested ; famous as a military chieftain and civil admin
istrator ; a conservative reformer, not a Republican, but a founder of a representative government."
— History of the Second War, by Ingersoll, vol. i., p. 208.

328 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XX.
" Sire ! It is on the field of battle, amid the sufferings of a multitude of
wounded, and surrounded by fifteen thousand corpses, that I beseech your
majesty to listen to the voice of humanity, and not to suffer two brave na
tions to cut each others' throats for interests not their own. It is my part
to press this upon your majesty, being upon the very theatre of war. Your
majesty's heart can not feel it so keenly as does mine."
The letter was long and most eloquent. "For what are you fighting?"
said Napoleon. " For religion ? Then make war on the Russians and the
English, who are the enemies of your faith. Do you wish to guard against
revolutionary principles ? It is this very war which has extended them over
half the Continent, by extending the conquests of France. The continuance
of the war can not fail to diffuse them still further. Is it for the balance of
Europe ? The English threaten that balance far more than does France, for
they have become the masters and the tyrants of commerce, and are beyond
the reach of resistance. Is it to secure the interests of the house of Austria!
Let us then execute the treaty of Campo Formio, which secures to your maj
esty large indemnities in compensation for the provinces lost in the Neth
erlands, and secures them to you where you most wish to obtain them, that
is, in Italy. Your majesty may send negotiators whither you will, and we
will add to the treaty of Campo Formio stipulations calculated to assure you
of the continued existence of the secondary states, all of which the French
Republic is accused of having shaken. Upon these conditions, peace is
made, if vou will. Let us make the armistice general for all the armies,
and enter into negotiations instantly."
A courier was immediately dispatched to Vienna to convey this letter to
the Emperor. In the evening, Bourrienne hastened to congratulate Napo
leon upon his extraordinary victory. " What a glorious day !" said he.
" Yes !" replied Napoleon, mournfully, " very glorious — could I this even
ing but have embraced Desaix upon the field of battle."
On the same day, and at nearly the same hour in which the fatal bullet
pierced the breast of Desaix, an assassin, in Egypt, plunged a dagger into
the bosom of Kleber. The spirits of these illustrious men, these blood
stained warriors, thus unexpectedly met in the spirit-land. There they wan
der now. How impenetrable the vail which shuts their destiny from our
view. The soul longs for clearer vision of that far-distant world, peopled by
the innumerable host of the mighty dead. There Napoleon now dwells.
Does he retain his intellectual supremacy? Do his generals gather around
him with love and homage ? Has his pensive spirit sunk down into gloom
and despair, or has it soared into cloudless regions of purity and peace ?
The mystery of Death ! Death alone can solve it. Christianity, with its
lofty revealings, sheds but dim twilight upon the world of departed spirits.
At St. Helena, Napoleon said, " Of all the generals I ever had under my
command, Desaix and Kleber possessed the greatest talent — in particular
Desaix, as Kleber loved glory only as the means of acquiring wealth and
pleasure. Desaix loved glory for itself, and despised every other considera
tion. To him riches and pleasure were of no value, nor did he ever give
them a moment's thought. He was a little, black-looking man, about an inch
shorter than myself, always badly dressed, sometimes even ragged, and de-

1800.] MARENGO. 329
spising alike comfort and convenience. Enveloped in a cloak, Desaix would
throw himself under a gun, and sleep as contentedly as if reposing in a pal
ace. Luxury had for him no charms. Frank and honest in all his proceed
ings, he was denominated by the Arabs Sultan the Just. Nature intended
him to figure as a consummate general. Kleber and Desaix were irrepar
able losses to France."
It is impossible to describe the dismay which pervaded the camp of the
Austrians after this terrible defeat. They were entirely cut off from all re
treat, and were at the mercy of Napoleon. A council of war was held, by
the Austrian officers during the night, and it was unanimously resolved that
capitulation was unavoidable. Early the next morning a flag of truce was
sent to the head-quarters of Napoleon. The Austrians offered to abandon
Italy if the generosity of the victor would grant them the boon of not being
made prisoners of war. Napoleon met the envoy with great courtesy, and,
according to his custom, stated promptly and irrevocably the conditions upon
which he was willing to treat. The terms were generous.
" The Austrian armies," said he, " may unmolestedly return to their homes ;
but all of Italy must be abandoned."
Melas, who was eighty years of age, hoped to modify the terms, and again
sent the negotiator to suggest some alterations.
" Monsieur !" said Napoleon, " my conditions are irrevocable. I did not
begin to make war yesterday. Your position is as perfectly comprehended
by me as by yourselves. You are encumbered with dead, sick, and wound
ed, destitute of provisions, deprived of the elite of your army, surrounded on
every side. I might exact every thing ; but I respect the white hairs of your
general, and the valor of your soldiers. I ask nothing but what is rigorously
justified by the present position of affairs. Take what steps you may, you
will have no other terms."
The conditions were immediately signed, and a suspension of arms was
agreed upon until an answer could be received from Vienna.
Napoleon left Paris for this campaign on the 7th of May. The battle of
Marengo was fought on the 14th of June. Thus, in five weeks, Napoleon
had scaled the barrier of the Alps : with sixty thousand soldiers, most of
them undisciplined recruits, he had utterly discomfited an army of one hun
dred and twenty thousand men, and regained the whole of Italy. The
achievement amazed the civilized world. The bosom of every Frenchman
throbbed with gratitude and pride. One shout of enthusiasm ascended from
united France. Napoleon had laid the foundation of his throne deep in the
heart of the French nation, and there that foundation still remains unshaken.
Napoleon now entered Milan in triumph. He remained there ten days,
busy apparently every hour, by day and by night, in reorganizing the polit
ical condition of Italy. The serious and religious tendencies of his mind are
developed by the following note, which four days after the battle of Maren
go he wrote to the Consuls in Paris : " To-day, whatever our Atheists may
say to it, I go in great state to the Te Deum which is to be chanted in the
Cathedral of Milan."*
* The Te Deum is an anthem of praise, sung in churches on occasion of thanksgiving. It is so
called from the first words, " Te Deum laudamus," Thee, God, we praise.

330 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. , [Chap. XX.
An unworthy spirit of detraction has vainly sought to wrest from Napoleon
the honor of this victory, and to attribute it all to the flank charge made by
Kellerman. Such attempts deserve no detailed reply. Napoleon had se
cretly and suddenly called into being an army, and by its apparently mirac
ulous creation had astounded Europe. He had effectually deceived the
vigilance of his enemies, so as to leave them entirely in the dark respect
ing his point of attack. He had conveyed that army, with all its stores, over
the pathless crags of the Great St. Bernard. Like an avalanche he had de
scended from the mountains upon the plains of startled Italy. He had sur
rounded the Austrian hosts, though they were double his numbers, with a
net through which they could not break. In a decisive battle he had scat
tered their ranks before him like chaff before the whirlwind. He was nobly
seconded by those generals whom his genius had chosen and created.
It is indeed true, that without his generals and his soldiers he could not
have gained the victory. Massena contributed to the result by his match
less defense of Genoa ; Moreau, by holding in abeyance the army of the
Rhine ; Lannes, by his iron firmness on the plain of Montebello,; Desaix, by
the promptness with which he rushed to the rescue, as soon as his ear
caught the far-off thunders of the cannon of Marengo ; and Kellerman, by
his admirable flank charge of cavalry. But it was the genius of Napoleon
which planned the mighty combination, which roused and directed the en
thusiasm of the generals, which inspired the soldiers with fearlessness and
nerved them for the strife, and which, through these efficient agencies, se
cured the astounding results.
Napoleon established his triumphant army, now increased to eighty thou
sand men, in the rich valley of the Po. He assigned to the heroic Massena
the command of this triumphant host, and ordering all the forts and citadels
which blocked the approaches from France to be blown up, set, out, on the
24th of June, for his return to Paris. In recrossing the Alps by the pass of
Mount Cenis, he met the carriage of Madame Kellerman, who was going to
Italy to join her husband. Napoleon ordered his carriage to be stopped, and
alighting, greeted the lady with great courtesy, and congratulated her upon
the gallant conduct of her husband at Marengo. As he was riding along
one day, Bourrienne spoke of the world-wide renown which the First Con
sul had attained.
"Yes," Napoleon thoughtfully replied. "A few more events like this
campaign, and my name may perhaps go down to posterity."
" I think," Bourrienne rejoined, " that you have already done enough to
secure a long and lasting fame."
" Done enough !" Napoleon replied. " You are very good ! It is true
that in less than two years I have conquered Cairo, Paris, Milan. But were
I to die to-morrow, half a page of general history would be all that would be
devoted to my exploits."
Napoleon's return to Paris, through the provinces of France, was a scene
of constant triumph. The joy of the people amounted almost to phrensy.
Bonfires, illuminations, the pealing of bells, and the thunders of artillery, ac
companied him all the way. Long lines of young maidens, selected for
their grace and beauty, formed avenues of loveliness and smiles through

1800.] MARENGO. 331
which he was to pass, and carpeted his path with flowers. He arrived in
Paris at midnight on the 2d of July, having been absent but eight weeks.
The enthusiasm of the Parisians was unbounded and inexhaustible. Day
after day, and night after night, the festivities continued. The Palace of
the Tuileries was ever thronged with a crowd, eager to catch a glimpse of
the preserver of France. All the public bodies waited upon him with con
gratulations. Bells rang, cannon thundered, bonfires and illuminations
blazed, rockets and fire-works, in meteoric splendor, filled the air, bands of
music poured forth their exuberant strains, and united Paris, thronging the
garden of the Tuileries, and flooding back into the Elysian Fields, rent the
heavens with deafening shouts of exultation. As Napoleon stood at the
window of his palace, witnessing this spectacle of a nation's gratitude, he
said, " The sound of these acclamations is as sweet to me as the voice of Jose
phine. How happy I am to be beloved by such a people !"
Preparations were immediately made for a brilliant and imposing solem
nity in commemoration of the victory. " Let no triumphal arch be raised
to me," said Napoleon. " I wish for no triumphal arch but the public satis
faction." It is not strange that enthusiasm and gratitude should have glowed in the
ardent bosoms of the French. In four months Napoleon had raised France
from an abyss of ruin to the highest pinnacle of prosperity and renown.
For anarchy he had substituted law, for bankruptcy a well-replenished
treasury, for ignominious defeat resplendent victory, for universal discontent
as universal satisfaction. The invaders were driven from France, the hos
tile alliance broken, and the blessings of peace were now promised to the
war-harassed nation.
During this campaign there was presented a very interesting illustration
of Napoleon's wonderful power of anticipating the progress of coming events.
Bourrienne one day, just before the commencement of the campaign, enter
ed the cabinet at the Tuileries, and found an immense map of Italy unrolled
upon the carpet, and Napoleon stretched upon it. With pins, whose heads
were tipped with red and black sealing-wax, to represent the French and
Austrian forces, Napoleon was studying all the possible combinations and
evolutions of the two hostile armies. Bourrienne, in silence, but with deep
interest, watched the progress of this pin campaign. Napoleon, having ar
ranged the pins with red heads where he intended to conduct the French
troops, and with the black pins designating the point which he supposed the
Austrians would occupy, looked up to his secretary and said,
" Do you think that I shall beat Melas?"
" Why, how can I tell ?" Bourrienne answered.
"Why, you simpleton," said Napoleon, playfully, "just look here. Me
las is at Alexandria, where he has his head-quarters. He will remain there
until Genoa surrenders. He has in Alexandria his magazines, his hospitals,
his artillery, his reserves. Passing the Alps here," sticking a pin into the
Great St. Bernard, " I fall upon Melas in his rear. I cut off his communica
tions with Austria. I meet him here in the valley of the Bormida." So
saying, he stuck a red pin into the plain of Marengo.

332

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XX.

•.- ' 'iHUBlitlWjiiiiiil'ijII-ilUiiiillltillllillilliiliiitillillllilii!
, A)

NAPOLEON PLANNING A CAMPAIGN.

Bourrienne regarded this maneuvering of pins as mere pastime. His coun
tenance expressed his perfect incredulity. Napoleon, perceiving this, ad
dressed to him some of his usual apostrophes, in which he was accustomed
playfully to indulge in moments of relaxation, such as, "You ninny! You
goose !" and rolled up the map.
Ten weeks passed away, and Bourrienne found himself upon the banks of
the Bormida, writing, at Napoleon's dictation, an account of the battle of
Marengo. Astonished to find Napoleon's anticipations thus minutely ful
filled, he frankly avowed his admiration of the military sagacity thus dis
played. Napoleon himself smiled at the justice of his foresight.
Two days before the news of the battle of Marengo arrived in Vienna,
England effected a new treaty with Austria for the more vigorous prosecu
tion of the war. By this convention, it was provided that England should
loan Austria ten millions of dollars, to bear no interest during the continu
ance of the conflict. And the Austrian cabinet bound itself not to make
peace with France without the consent of the court of St. James. The
Emperor of Austria was now sadly embarrassed. His sense of honor would
not allow him to violate his pledge to the King of England and to make
peace. On the other hand, he trembled at the thought of seeing the armies
of the invincible Napoleon again marching upon his capital. He therefore
resolved to temporize, and, in order to gain time, sent an embassador to
Paris. The plenipotentiary presented to Napoleon a letter, in which the
Emperor stated,
" You will give credit to every thing which Count Julien shall say on my
part. I will ratify whatever he shall do."
Napoleon, prompt in action, and uninformed of the new treaty between
Ferdinand and George III., immediately caused the preliminaries of peace

1800.] HOHENLINDEN. 333
to be drawn up, which were signed by the French and Austrian ministers.
The cabinet in Vienna, angry with their embassador for not protracting the
discussion, refused to ratify the treaty, recalled Count Julien, sent him into
exile, informed the First Consul of the treaty which bound Austria not to
make peace without the concurrence of Great Britain, assured France of the
readiness of the English cabinet to enter into negotiations, and urged the
immediate opening of a Congress at Luneville, to which plenipotentiaries
should be sent from each of the three great contending powers.*
Napoleon was highly indignant in view of this duplicity and perfidy. Yet,
controlling his anger, he consented to treat with England, and with that view
proposed a naval armistice with the mistress of the seas. To this propo
sition England peremptorily refused to accede, as it would enable France
to throw supplies into Egypt and Malta, which island England was besieg
ing. The naval armistice would have been undeniably for the interests of
France. But the Continental armistice was as undeniably adverse to her
interests, enabling Austria to recover from her defeats and to strengthen
her armies. Napoleon, fully convinced that England, in her inaccessible
position, did not wish for peace, and that her only object in endeavoring to
obtain admittance to the Congress was that she might throw obstacles in
the way of reconciliation with Austria, offered to renounce all armistice with
England, and to treat with her separately. This England also refused.

CHAPTER XXI.
HOHENLINDEN.
Duplicity of Austria — Obstinacy of England-— Responsibility of Pitt — Battle of Hohenlinden —
Treaty of Luneville — Testimony of Scott and Alison — Universality of Napoleon's Genius — Let
ter of General Durosel — The infernal Machine — Josephine's Letter — Absurd Reports — Madame
Junot — Hortense.
It was now September. Two months had passed in vexatious and sterile
negotiations. Napoleon had taken every step in his power to secure peace.
He sincerely desired it. He had. already won all the laurels he could wish
to win on the field of battle. The reconstruction of society in France, and
the consolidation of his power, demanded all his energies. The consolida
tion of his power ! That was just what the government of England dreaded.
The consolidation of republican power, almost within cannon shot of the
court of England, was an evil to be avoided at every hazard. It threatened
the overthrow of both king and nobles.
William Pitt, the soul of the aristocratic government of England, determ
ined still to prosecute the war. France could not harm England. But En-
* " Conscious now of the mortal blunder he had committed in rejecting the overtures for peace.
the Emperor (of Austria) dispatched an envoy to Paris in the person of Count Julien, but rather to
sound the views of the French government than armed with actual powers to treat. Nevertheless,
the alarm of Pitt at this step was very great, and he labored with all his might to induce the Aus
trian cabinet to continue the war, making it the most lavish promises of subsidies from the British
people. In truth, Austria was still inclined to try again the fortune of war, from the very excess
of her disaster ; but she wanted breathing-time after her prodigious losses, and she besought an
extension of the Italian armistice to Germany." — French Revolution, by T. W. Redhead.

334 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXI.
gland, with her invincible fleet, could sweep the commerce of France from
the seas. Fox and his coadjutors, with great eloquence and energy, opposed
the war. Their efforts were, however, unavailing. The people of England,
notwithstanding all the efforts of the government to defame the character of
the First Consul, still cherished the conviction that, after all, Napoleon was
their friend. Napoleon, in subsequent years, while reviewing these scenes
of his early conflicts, with characteristic eloquence and magnanimity, gave
utterance to the following sentiments, which the verdict of the world wilL
certainly yet confirm.
" Pitt was the master of European policy. He held in his hands the mor
al fate of nations. But he made an ill use of his power. He kindled the
fire of discord throughout the universe ; and his name, like that of Erostra-
tus, will be inscribed in history, amid flames, lamentations, and tears. Twen
ty-five years of universal conflagration, the numerous coalitions that added
fuel to the flame, the revolution and devastation of Europe, the bloodshed
of nations, the frightful debt of England, by which all these horrors were
maintained, the pestilential system of loans by which the people of Europe
are oppressed, the general discontent that now prevails — all must be attrib
uted to Pitt. Posterity will brand him as a scourge.
" The man so lauded in his own time will hereafter be regarded as the
genius of evil.- Not that I consider him to have been willfully atrocious, or
doubt his having entertained the conviction that he was acting right. But
St. Bartholemew had also its conscientious advocates. The Pope and car
dinals celebrated it by a Te Deum, and we have no reason to doubt their
having done so in perfect sincerity. Such is the weakness of human reason
and judgment ? But that for which posterity will, above all, execrate the
memory of Pitt, is the hateful school which he has left behind'"him ; its in
solent Machiavelism, its profound immorality, its cold egotism, and its utter
disregard of justice and human happiness. Whether it be the effect of ad
miration and gratitude, or the result of mere instinct and sympathy, Pitt is,
and will continue to be, the idol of the European aristocracy.
" There was, indeed, a touch of the Sylla in his character. His system
has kept the popular cause in check, and brought about the triumph of the
patricians. As for Fox, one must not look for his model among the ancients.
He is himself a model, and his principles will sooner or later rule the world.
The death of Fox was one of the fatalities of my career. Had his life been
prolonged, affairs would have taken a totally different turn. The cause of
the people would have triumphed, and we should have established a new
order of things in Europe."
Austria really desired peace. The march of Napoleon's armies upon Vi
enna was an evil more to be dreaded than even the consolidation of Napo
leon's power in France. But Austria was, by loans and treaties, so entan
gled with England, that she could make no peace without the consent of the
court of St. James. Napoleon found that he was but trifled with. Inter
minable difficulties were thrown in the way of negotiation. Austria was
taking advantage of the cessation of hostilities merely to recruit her defeat
ed armies, that, as soon as the approaching winter had passed away, she
might fall, with renovated energies, upon France.

1800.] HOHENLINDEN. 335
The month of November had now arrived, and the mountains whitened
with snow, were swept by the bleak winds of winter. The period of the
armistice had expired. Austria applied for its prolongation. Napoleon was
no longer thus to be duped. He consented, however, to a continued suspen
sion of hostilities, on condition that the treaty of peace were signed within
forty-eight hours. Austria, believing that no sane man would march an
army into Germany in the dead of winter, and that she would have abundant
time to prepare for a spring campaign, refused. The armies of France were
immediately on the move.
The Emperor of Austria had improved every moment of this transient in
terval of peace in recruiting his forces. In person he had visited the army
to inspire his troops with enthusiasm. The command of the imperial forces
was intrusted to his second brother, the Archduke John. Napoleon moved
with his accustomed vigor. The political necessities of Paris and of France
rendered it impossible for him to leave the metropolis. He ordered one
powerful army, under General Brune, to attack the Austrians in Italy, on
the banks of the Mincio, and to press firmly toward Vienna. In the per
formance of this operation, General Macdonald, in the dead of winter, ef
fected his heroic passage over the Alps by the pass of the Splugen. Victory
followed their standards.
Moreau, with his magnificent army, commenced a winter campaign on the
Rhine. Between the rivers Iser and Inn there is an enormous forest, many
leagues in extent, of sombre firs and pines. It is a dreary and almost unin
habited wilderness of wild ravines and tangled under-brush. Two great
roads have been cut through the forest, and sundry woodmen's paths pene
trate it at different points. In the centre there is a little hamlet of a few
miserable huts, called Hohenlinden. In this forest, on the night of the 3d
of December, 1800, Moreau, with sixty thousand men, encountered the Arch
duke John with seventy thousand Austrian troops.
The clocks upon the towers of Munich had but just tolled the hour of mid
night when both armies were in motion, each hoping to surprise the other.
A dismal wintry storm was howling over the tree-tops, and the smothering
snow, falling rapidly, obliterated all traces of a path, and rendered it almost
impossible to drag through the drifts the ponderous artillery. Both parties,
in the dark and tempestuous night, became entangled in the forest, and the
heads of their columns in various places met. An awful scene of confusion,
conflict, and carnage then ensued. Imagination can not compass the terri
ble sublimity of that spectacle. The dark midnight, the howlings of the
wintry storm, the driving sheets of snow, the incessant roar of artillery and
of musketry from one hundred and thirty thousand combatants, the lightning
flashes of the guns, the crash of the falling trees as the heavy cannon-balls
swept through the forest, the floundering of innumerable horsemen, bewil
dered in the pathless snow, the shouts of onset, the shriek of death, and
the burst of martial music from a thousand bands, all combined to present
a scene of horror and of demoniac energy which probably even this lost
world never presented before.
The darkness of the black forest was so intense, and the snow fell in flakes
so thick, and fast, and blinding, that the combatants could with difficulty see

336 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXI.
each other. They often judged of the foe only by his position, and fired at
the flashes gleaming through the gloom. At times, hostile divisions became
intermingled in inextricable confusion, and hand to hand, bayonet crossing
bayonet, and sword clashing against sword, they fought with the ferocity of
demons ; for though the officers of an amry may be influenced by the most
elevated sentiments of dignity and of honor, the mass of the common soldiers
have ever been the most miserable, worthless, and degraded of mankind.
As the advancing and retreating hosts wavered to and fro, the wounded, by
thousands, were left on the hill-sides and in dark ravines, with the drifting
snow, crimsoned with blood, their only blanket, there in solitude and agony
to moan, and freeze, and die. What death-scenes the eye of God must have
witnessed that night, in the solitude of that dark, tempest-tossed, and blood
stained forest !
At last the morning dawned through the unbroken clouds, and the battle
raged with renovated fury. Nearly twenty thousand of the mutilated bodies
of the dead and wounded were left upon the field, with gory locks frozen to
their icy pillows, and covered with mounds of snow. At last the French
were victorious at every point. The Austrians, having lost twenty-five thou
sand men in killed, wounded, and prisoners, one hundred pieces of artillery,
and an immense number of wagons, fled in dismay. This terrific conflict
has been immortalized by the noble epic of Campbell, which is now familiar
wherever the English language is known.
" On Linden, when the sun was low,
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow.
And dark as winter was the flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
" But Linden saw another sight,
When the drums beat at dead of night,
Commanding fires of death to light
The darkness of her scenery," &c.
The retreating Austrians rushed down the valley of the Danube. Moreau
followed thundering at their heels, plunging balls and shells into their retreat
ing ranks. The victorious French were within thirty miles of Vienna, and
the capital was in a state of indescribable dismay. The Emperor again sent
an envoy imploring an armistice. The application was promptly acceded
to, for Napoleon was contending only for peace. Yet, with unexampled mag
nanimity, notwithstanding these astonishing victories, Napoleon made no es
sential alterations in his terms. Austria was at his feet. His conquering
armies were almost in sight of the steeples of Vienna. There was no power
which the Emperor could present to obstruct their resistless march. He
might have exacted any terms of humiliation. But still he adhered to the
first terms which he had proposed.
Moreau was urged by some of his officers to press on to Vienna. " We
had better halt," he replied, " and be content with peace. It is for that
alone that we are fighting." The Emperor of Austria was thus compelled
to treat without the concurrence of England. The insurmountable obstacle
in the way of peace was thus removed. At Luneville, Joseph Bonaparte
appeared as the embassador of Napoleon, and Count Cobentzel as the pleni-

1801.]

HOHENLINDEN.

337

potentiary of Austria. The terms of the treaty were soon settled, and France
was again at peace with all the world, England alone excepted.

DEATH AT HOHENLINDEN.

By this treaty the Rhine was acknowledged as the boundary of France.
The Adige limited the possessions of Austria in Italy ; and Napoleon made
it an essential article that every Italian imprisoned in the dungeons of Aus
tria for political offenses should immediately be liberated. There was to be
no interference by either with the new republics which had sprung up in
Italy. They were to be permitted to choose whatever form of government
they preferred.
In reference to this treaty, Sir Walter Scott makes the candid admission
Vol. I.— Y

338 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXI.
that "the treaty of Luneville was not much more advantageous to France
than that of Campo Formio. The moderation of the First Consul indicated
at once his desire for peace upon the Continent, and considerable respect for
the bravery and strength of Austria." And Alison, in cautious but signifi
cant phrase, remarks, " These conditions did not differ materially from those
offered by Napoleon before the renewal of the war ; a remarkable circum
stance, when it is remembered how vast an addition the victories of Maren
go, Hohenlinden, and the Mincio had since made to the preponderance of
the French armies."
It was, indeed, " a remarkable circumstance," that Napoleon should have
manifested such unparalleled moderation under circumstances of such ag
gravated indignity. In Napoleon's first Italian campaign he was contending
solely for peace. At last he attained it, in the treaty of Campo Formio, on
terms equally honorable to Austria and to France. On his return from
Egypt, he found the armies of Austria, three hundred thousand strong, in
alliance with England, invading the territories of the Republic. He im
plored peace, in the name of bleeding humanity, upon the fair basis of the
treaty of Campo Formio. His foes regarded his supplication as the implor
ing cry of weakness, and treated it with scorn. With new vigor they poured
their tempests of balls and shells upon France.
Napoleon scaled the Alps, and dispersed his foes at Marengo like autumn
leaves before the gale. Amid the smoke, the blood, and the groans of the
field of his victory, he again wrote imploring peace ; and he wrote in terms
dictated by the honest and gushing sympathies of a humane man, and not in
the cold and stately forms of the diplomatist. Crushed as his foes were, he
rose not in his demands, but nobly said, " I am still willing to make peace
upon the fair basis of the treaty of Campo Formio."
His treacherous foes, to gain time to recruit their armies, that they might
fall upon him with renovated vigor, agreed to an armistice. They then
threw all possible embarrassments in the way of negotiation, and prolonged
the armistice till the winds of winter were sweeping fiercely over the snow-
covered hills of Austria. They thought that it was then too late for Napo
leon to make any movements until spring, and that they had a long winter
before them in which to prepare for another campaign. They refused peace.
Through storms, and freezing gales, and drifting snows, the armies of Napo
leon marched painfully to Hohenlinden. The hosts of Austria were again
routed, and were swept away as the drifted snow flies before the gale. Ten
thousand Frenchmen lie cold in death, the terrible price of the victory. The
Emperor of Austria, in his palaces, heard the thunderings of Napoleon's ap
proaching artillery. He implored peace. " It is all that I desire," said Na
poleon ; "I am not fighting for ambition or for conquest. I am still ready
to make peace upon the fair basis of the treaty of Campo Formio."
Y\ hile all the Continent was now at peace with France, England alone,
with indomitable resolution, continued the war, without allies, and without
any apparent or avowed object. France, comparatively powerless upon the
seas, could strike no blows which would be felt by the distant islanders.
" On every point," says Sir Walter Scott, " the English squadrons annihila
ted the commerce of France, crippled her revenues, and blockaded her forts."

1801.] HOHENLINDEN. 339
The treaty of Luneville was signed on the 9th of February, 1801. Napo
leon, lamenting the continued hostility of England, in announcing this peace
to the people of France, remarked, "Why is not this treaty the treaty of a
general peace ? This was the wish of France. This has been the constant
object of the efforts of her government, but its desires are fruitless. All
Europe knows that the British minister has endeavored to frustrate the ne
gotiations at Luneville. In vain was it declared to him that France was
ready to enter into a separate negotiation. This declaration only produced
a refusal, under the pretext that England could not abandon her ally. Since
then, when that ally consented to treat without England, that government
sought other means to delay a peace so necessary to the world. It raises
pretensions contrary to the dignity and rights of all nations. The whole
commerce of Asia, and of immense colonies, does not satisfy its ambition.
All the seas must submit to the exclusive sovereignty of England." As
William Pitt received the tidings of this discomfiture of his allies, in despair
ing despondency he exclaimed, " Fold up the map of Europe. It need not
again be opened for twenty years."
While these great affairs were in progress, Napoleon, in Paris, was con
secrating his energies with almost miraculous power in developing all the
resources of the majestic empire under his control. He possessed the power
of abstraction to a degree which has probably never been equaled. He could
concentrate all his attention for any length of time upon one subject, and
then, laying that aside entirely, without expending any energies in unavail
ing anxiety, could turn to another with all the freshness and the vigor of an
unpreoccupied mind. Incessant mental labor was the luxury of his life.
" Occupation," said he, "is my element. I am born and made for it. I
have found the limits beyond which I could not use my legs. I have seen
the extent to which I could use my eyes, but I have never known any bounds
to my capacity for application."
The universality of Napoleon's genius was now most conspicuous. The
revenues of the nation were replenished, and all the taxes arranged to the
satisfaction of the people. The Bank of France was reorganized, and new
energy infused into its operations. Several millions of dollars were expend
ed in constructing and perfecting five magnificent roads radiating from Paris
to the frontiers of the empire. Robbers, the vagabonds of disbanded armies,
infested the roads, rendering traveling dangerous in the extreme. " Be pa
tient," said Napoleon. " Give me a month or two. I must first conquer peace
abroad. I will then do speedy and complete justice upon these highway
men." A very important canal, connecting Belgium with France, had been com
menced some years before. The engineers could not agree respecting the
best direction of the cutting through the highlands which separated the val
ley of the Oise from that of the Somme. He visited the spot in person, de
cided the question promptly and decided it wisely, and the canal was pressed
to its completion. He immediately caused three new bridges to be thrown
across the Seine at Paris. He commenced the magnificent road of the Sim-
plon, crossing the rugged Alps with a broad and smooth highway, which for
ages will remain a durable monument of the genius and energy of Napoleon.

340 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [Chap. XXI.
In gratitude for the favors he had received from the monks of the Great St.
Bernard, he founded two similar establishments for the aid of travelers, one
on Mount Cenis, the other on the Simplon, and both auxiliary to the convent
on the Great St. Bernard. Concurrently with these majestic undertakings,
he commenced the compilation of the civil code of France. The ablest law
yers of Europe were summoned to this enterprise, and the whole work was
discussed section by section in the Council of State, over which Napoleon
presided. The lawyers were amazed to find that the First Consul was as
perfectly familiar with all the details of legal and political science as he was
with military strategy.
Bourrienne mentions that, one day, a letter was received from an emi
grant, General Durosel, who had taken refuge in the island of Jersey. The
following is an extract from the letter :
" You can not have forgotten, general, that when your late father was
obliged to take your brothers from the college of Autun, he was unprovided
with money, and asked of me one hundred and twenty-five dollars, which I
lent him with pleasure. After his return he had not an opportunity of pay
ing me, and when I left Ajaccio your mother offered to dispose of some
plate in order to pay the debt. To this I objected, and told her that I would '
wait until she could pay me at her convenience. Previous to the Revolu
tion, I believe that it was not in her power to fulfill her wish of discharging
the debt. I am sorry to be obliged to trouble you about such a trifle, but
such is my unfortunate situation that even this trifle is of some importance
to me. At the age of eighty-six, general, after having served my country
for sixty years, I am compelled to take refuge here, and to subsist on a scanty
allowance granted by the English government to French emigrants. I say
emigrants, for I am obliged to be one against my will."
Upon hearing this letter read, Napoleon immediately and warmly said,
" Bourrienne, this is sacred. Do not lose a moment. Send the old man ten
times the sum. Write to General Durosel that he shall be immediately
erased from the list of emigrants. What mischief those brigands of the
Convention have done. I can never repair it all." Napoleon uttered these
words with a degree of emotion which he had rarely before evinced. In
the evening he inquired with much interest of Bourrienne if he had executed
his orders.
Many attempts were made at this time to assassinate the First Consul.
Though France, with 'Unparalleled unanimity, surrounded him with admira
tion, gratitude, and homage, there were violent men in the two extremes of
society, among the Jacobins and the inexorable Royalists, who regarded him
as in their way. Napoleon's escape from the explosion of the infernal ma
chine, got up by the Royalists, was almost miraculous.
On the evening of the 24th of December, 1800, Napoleon was going to
the Opera to hear Haydn's Oratorio of the Creation, which was to be per
formed for the first time. Intensely occupied by business, he was reluctant
to go, but, to gratify Josephine, yielded to her urgent request. It was neces
sary for his carriage to pass through a narrow street. A cart, apparently by
accident overturned, obstructed the passage. A barrel suspended beneath
the cart contained as deadly a machine as could be constructed with gun-

1801.] HOHENLINDEN. 341
powder and all the missiles of death. The coachman succeeded in forcing
his way by the cart. He had barely passed when an explosion took place,
which was heard all over Paris, and which seemed to shake the city to its
foundations. Eight persons were instantly killed, and more than sixty were
wounded, of whom about twenty subsequently died. The houses for a long
distance on each side of the street were fearfully shattered, and many of
them were nearly blown to pieces. The carriage rocked as upon the bil
lows of the sea, and the windows were shattered to fragments.

THE INFERNAL MACHINE.

Napoleon had been in too many scenes of terror to be alarmed by any
noise or destruction which gunpowder could produce. " Ha !" said he, with
perfect composure, "we are blown up." One of his companions in the
carriage, greatly terrified, thrust his head through the demolished window,
and called loudly to the driver to stop. " No, no !" said Napoleon, " drive on."
When the First Consul entered the opera house, he appeared perfectly
calm and unmoved. The greatest consternation, however, prevailed in all
parts of the house, for the explosion had been heard, and fearful apprehen
sions were felt for the safety of the idolized Napoleon. As soon as he ap
peared, thunders of applause, which shook the very walls of the theatre, gave
affecting testimony of the attachment of the people to his person. In a few
moments, Josephine, who had come in her private carriage, entered the box.
Napoleon turned to her with perfect tranquillity and said, "The rascals
tried to blow me up. Where is the book of the Oratorio ?"
Napoleon soon left the Opera and returned to the Tuileries. He found a
vast crowd assembled there, attracted by affection for his person and anxie
ty for his safety. The atrocity of this attempt excited universal horror,
and only increased the already almost boundless popularity of the First
Consul. Deputations and addresses were immediately poured in upon him
from Paris and from all the departments of France, congratulating him upon

342 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [ClIAP. XXI.
his escape. It was at first thought that this conspiracy was the work of
the Jacobins. There were in Paris more than a hundred of the leaders of
this execrable party, who had obtained a sanguinary notoriety during the
Reign of Terror. They were active members of a Jacobin Club, a violent
and vulgar gathering, continually plotting the overthrow of the government
and the assassination of the First Consul. They were thoroughly detested
by the people, and the community was glad, to avail itself of any plausible
pretext for banishing them from France. Without sufficient evidence that
they were actually guilty of this particular outrage, in the strong excitement
and indignation of the moment a decree was passed by the legislative bodies
sending one hundred and sixty of these bloodstained culprits into exile.
The wish was earnestly expressed that Napoleon would promptly punish
them by his own dictatorial power. Napoleon had, in fact, acquired such
unbounded popularity, and the nation was so thoroughly impressed with a
sense of his justice and his wisdom, that whatever he said was done. He,
however, insisted that the business should be conducted by the constituted
tribunals, and under the regular forms of law.
" The responsibility of this measure," said Napoleon, " must rest with the
legislative body. The consuls are irresponsible, but the ministers are not.
Any one of them who should sign an arbitrary decree might hereafter be
called to account. Not a single individual must be compromised. The con
suls themselves know not what may happen. As for me, while I live, I am
not afraid that any one will dare to call me to account for my actions. But
I may be killed, and then I can not answer for the safety of my two col
leagues.^ It would be your turn to govern," said he, smiling and turning to
Cambaceres, "and you are not as yet very firm in the stirrups. It will be
better to have a law for the present as well as for the future."
It was finally, after much deliberation, decided that the Council of State
should draw up a declaration of the reasons for the act ; the First Consul was
to sign the decree, and the Senate was to declare whether it was or was not
constitutional. Thus cautiously did Napoleon proceed under circumstances
so exciting. The law, however, was unjust and tyrannical. Guilty as these
men were of other crimes, by which they had forfeited all sympathy, it sub
sequently appeared that they were not guilty of this crime. Napoleon was
evidently embarrassed by this uncertainty of their guilt, and was not willing
that they should be denounced as contrivers of the infernal machine. " We
believe," said he, " that they are guilty, but we do not know it. They must
be transported for the crimes which they have committed, the massacres and
the conspiracies already proved against them." The decree was passed.
But Napoleon, strong in popularity, became so convinced of the powerless-
ness and insignificance of these Jacobins, that the decree was never enforced
against them. They remained in France, but they were conscious that the
eye of the police was upon them.
"It is not my own person," said Napoleon, "that I seek to avenge. My
fortune, which has so often preserved me on the field of battle, will continue
to preserve me. I think not of myself. I think of social order, which it is
my mission to re-establish, and of the national honor, which it is my duty to
purge from an abominable stain."

1801.] HOHENLINDEN. 343
To the innumerable addresses of congratulation and attachment which this
occurrence elicited, Napoleon replied : "I have been touched by the proofs
of affection which the people of Paris have shown me on this occasion. I
deserve them, for the only aim of my thoughts and of my actions is to aug
ment the prosperity and the glory of France. While those banditti confined
themselves to direct attacks upon me, I could leave to the laws the task of
punishing them ; but since they have endangered the population of the capi
tal by a crime unexampled in history, the punishment must be equally speedy
and terrible."
It was soon proved, much to the surprise of Napoleon, that the atrocious
act was perpetrated by the partisans of the Bourbons. Many of the most
prominent of the Loyalists were implicated in this horrible conspiracy. Na
poleon felt that he deserved their gratitude. He had interposed to save them
from the fury of the Jacobins. Against the remonstrances of his friends, he
had passed a decree which had restored one hundred and fifty thousand of
these wandering emigrants to France. He had done every thing in his pow
er to enable them to regain their confiscated estates. He had been in all
respects their friend and benefactor, and he would not believe, until the
proof was indisputable, that they could thus requite him. The wily Fouche",
however, dragged the whole matter into light. The prominent conspirators
were arrested and shot. The following letter, written by Josephine to the
Minister of Police, strikingly illustrates the benevolence of her heart, and
exhibits in a very honorable light the character of Napoleon.
" While I yet tremble at the frightful event which has just occurred, I am
distressed through fear of the punishment to be inflicted on the guilty, who
belong, it is said, to families with whom I once lived in habits of intercourse.
I shall be solicited by mothers, sisters, and disconsolate wives, and my heart
will be broken through my inability to obtain all the mercy for which I would
plead. I know that the clemency of the First Consul is great — his attachment
to me extreme. The chief of the government has not been alone exposed ;
and it is that which will render him severe, inflexible. I conjure you, there
fore, to do all in your power to prevent inquiries being pushed too far. Do
not detect all those persons who have been accomplices in this odious trans
action. Let not France, so long overwhelmed in consternation by public
executions, groan anew beneath such inflictions. When the ringleaders of
this nefarious attempt shall have been secured, let severity give place to pity
for inferior agents, seduced, as they may have been, by dangerous falsehoods
or exaggerated opinions. As a woman, a wife, and a mother, I must feel the
heart-rendings of those who will apply to me. Act, Citizen Minister, in such
a way that the number of these may be lessened."
It seems almost miraculous that Napoleon should have escaped the in
numerable conspiracies which at this time were formed against him. The
partisans of the Bourbons thought that if Napoleon could be removed, the
Bourbons might regain their throne. It was his resistless genius alone which
enabled France to triumph over combined Europe. His death would leave
France without a leader. The armies of the Allies could then, with bloody
strides, march to Paris, and place the hated Bourbons on the throne. France
knew this, and adored its preserver. Monarchical Europe knew this, and

344 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXI.
hence all the energies of its combined kings were centred upon Napoleon.
More than thirty of these conspiracies were detected by the police.
London was the hot-house where they were engendered. Air-guns were
aimed at Napoleon. Assassins dogged him with their poniards. A bomb
shell was invented, weighing about fifteen pounds, which was to be thrown
in at his carriage-window, and which, exploding by its own concussion, would
hurl death on every side. The conspirators were reckless of the lives of
others, if they could only destroy the life of Napoleon. The agents of the
infernal machine had the barbarity to get a young girl, fifteen years of age,
to hold the horse who drew the machine. This was to disarm suspicion.
The poor child was blown into such fragments that no part of her body,
excepting her feet, could afterward be found. At last Napoleon became
aroused, and declared that he would "teach those Bourbons that he was
not a man to be shot at like a dog."
One day, at St. Helena, as he was putting on his. flannel waistcoat, he ob
served Las Casas looking at him very steadfastly.
"Well! what is your Excellency thinking of?" said Napoleon, with a
smile. " Sire," Las Casas replied, " in a pamphlet which I lately read, I found
it stated that your majesty was shielded by a coat-of-mail for the security
of your person. I was thinking that I could bear positive evidence that, at
St. Helena at least, all precautions for personal safety have been laid aside."
" This," said Napoleon, " is one of the thousand absurdities which have
been published respecting me. But the story you have just mentioned is the
more ridiculous, since every individual about me well knows how careless I
am with regard to self-preservation. Accustomed from the age of eighteen
to be exposed to the cannon-ball, and knowing the inutility of precautions,
I abandoned myself to my fate. When I came to the head of affairs, I might
still have fancied myself surrounded by the dangers of the field of battle,
and I might have regarded the conspiracies which were formed against me
as so many bomb-shells. But I followed my old course. I trusted to my
lucky star, and left all precautions to the police. I was, perhaps, the only
sovereign in Europe who dispensed with a body-guard. Every one could
freely approach me without having, as it were, to pass through military bar
racks. "Maria Louisa was much astonished to see me so poorly guarded, and she
often remarked that her father was surrounded by bayonets. For my part,
I had no better defense at the Tuileries than I have here. I do not even
know where to find my sword," said he, looking around the room ; " do you
see it ? I have, to be sure, incurred great dangers. ( Upward of thirty plots
were formed against me. These have been proved by authentic testimony,
without mentioning many which never came to light. Some sovereigns in
vent conspiracies against themselves ; for my part, I made it a rule carefully
to conceal them whenever I could. The crisis most serious to me was dur
ing the interval from the battle of Marengo to the attempt of George Ca
doudal and the affair of the Duke d'Enghien."
Napoleon now, with his accustomed vigor, took hold of the robbers, and
made short work with them. The insurgent armies of La Vendee, number-

1801.] HOHENLINDEN. 345
ing more than one hundred thousand men, and filled with adventurers and
desperadoes of every kind, were disbanded when their chiefs yielded homage
to Napoleon. Many of these men, accustomed to banditti warfare, took to
the highways. The roads were so infested by them that traveling became
exceedingly perilous, and it was necessary that every stage-coach which left
Paris should be accompanied by a guard of armed soldiers. To remedy a
state of society thus convulsed to its very centre, special tribunals were or
ganized, consisting of eight judges. They were to take cognizance of all
such crimes as conspiracies, robberies, and acts of violence of any kind.
The armed bands of Napoleon swept over France like a whirlwind. The
robbers were seized, tried, and shot without delay. Order was at once re
stored. The people thought not of the dangerous power they were placing
in the hands of the First Consul ; they asked only for a commander who
was able and willing to quell the tumult of the times. Such a commander
they found in Napoleon. They were more than willing to confer upon him
all the power he could desire. " You know what is best for us," said the
people to Napoleon. " Direct us what to do, and we will do it." It was
thus that absolute power came voluntarily into his hands. Under the cir
cumstances, it was so natural that it can excite no surprise. He was called
First Consul ; but he already swayed a sceptre more mighty than that of
the Caesars. But sixteen months had now elapsed since Napoleon landed
at Frejus. In that time he had attained the throne of France. He had
caused order and prosperity to emerge from the chaos of revolution. By his
magnanimity he had disarmed Russia, by his armies had humbled Austria,
and had compelled Continental Europe to accept an honorable peace. He
merited the gratitude of his countrymen, and he received it in overflowing
measure. Through all these incidents, so eventful and so full of difficulty,
it is not easy to point to a single act of Napoleon's which indicates a mali
cious or an ungenerous spirit.
" I fear nothing," said Napoleon at St. Helena, " for my renown. Poster
ity will do me justice. It will compare the good which I have done with
the faults which I have committed. If I had succeeded, I should have died
with the reputation of being the greatest man who ever existed. From being
nothing, I became, by my own exertions, the most powerful monarch of the
universe, without committing any crime. My ambition was .great, but it
rested on the opinion of the masses. I have always thought that sovereignty
resides in the people. The empire, as I had organized it, was but a great
republic. Called to the throne by the voice of the people, my maxim has
always been, a career open to talent without distinction of birth. It is for
this system of equality that the European oligarchy detests me. And yet,
in England, talent and great services raise a man to the highest rank. En
gland should have understood me."
" The French Revolution," said Napoleon,. " was a general movement of
the mass of the nation against the privileged classes. The nobles were ex
empt from the burdens of the state, and yet exclusively occupied all the
posts of honor and emolument. The Revolution destroyed these exclusive
privileges, and established equality of rights. All the avenues to wealth and
greatness were equally open to every citizen, according to his talents. The

346 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXI.
French nation established the imperial throne, and placed me upon it. The
throne of France was granted before to Hugh Capet, by a few bishops and
nobles. The imperial throne was given to me by the desire of the people."
Joseph Bonaparte was of very essential service to Napoleon in the diplo
matic intercourse of the times. Lucien also was employed in various ways,
and the whole family were taken under the protection of the First Consul.
At St. Helena, Napoleon uttered the following graphic and truthful eulogium
upon his brothers and sisters : "What family, in similar circumstances, would
have acted better ? Every one is not qualified to be a statesman. That re
quires a combination of powers which does not often fall to the lot of any
one. In this respect all my brothers were singularly situated ; they pos
sessed at once too much and too little talent. They felt themselves too
strong to resign themselves blindly to a guiding counselor, and yet too weak
to be left entirely to themselves. But take them all in all, I have certainly
good reason to be proud of my family. Joseph would have been an honor
to society in any country, and Lucien would have been an honor to any
assembly. Jerome, as he advanced in life, would have developed every
qualification requisite in a sovereign. Louis would have been distinguished
in any rank or condition of life. My sister Eliza was endowed with mascu
line powers of mind ; she must have proved herself a philosopher in her ad
verse fortune. Caroline possessed great talents and capacity. Pauline,
perhaps the most beautiful woman of her age, has been, and will continue to
the end of her life, the most amiable creature in the world. As to my moth
er, she deserves all kinds of veneration. How seldom is so numerous a fam
ily entitled to so much praise. Add to this that, setting aside the jarring
of political opinions, we sincerely loved each other. For my part, I never
ceased to cherish fraternal affection for them all ; and I am convinced that
in their hearts they felt the same sentiments toward me, and that, in case of
need, they would have given me every proof of it."
The proud old nobility, whom Napoleon had restored to France, and upon
many of whom he had conferred their confiscated estates, manifested no
gratitude toward their benefactor. They were sighing for the re-enthrone
ment of the Bourbons, and for the return of the good old times, when all the
offices of emolument and honor were reserved for them and for their children,
and the people were but their hewers of wood and drawers of water. In the
morning, as beggars, they would crowd the audience chamber of the First
Consul with their petitions. In the evening they disdained to honor his
levees with their presence. They spoke contemptuously of Josephine, of
her kindness, and her desire to conciliate all parties. They condemned ev
ery thing that Napoleon did. He, however, paid no heed to their murmur-
ings. He would not condescend even to punish them by neglect. In that
most lofty pride which induced him to say that, in his administration, he
wished to imitate the clemency of God, he endeavored to consult for the in
terests of all, both the evil and the unthankful. His fame was to consist,
not in revenging himself upon his enemies, but in aggrandizing France.
At this time Napoleon's establishment at the Tuileries rather resembled
that of a very rich gentleman than the court of a monarch. Junot, one of
his aids, was married to Mademoiselle Permon, the young lady whose name

1801.] HOHENLINDEN. 347
will be remembered in connection with the anecdote of " Puss in Boots."
Her mother was one of the most haughty of the ancient nobility, who affect
ed to look upon Napoleon with contempt, as not of royal blood. The even
ing after her marriage, Madame Junot was to be presented to Josephine.
After the Opera she drove to the Tuileries. It was near eleven o'clock.
As Josephine had appointed the hour, she was expected. Eugene, hearing
the wheels of the carriage, descended to the court-yard, presented his arm
to Madame Junot, and they entered the large saloon together. It was a
magnificent apartment, magnificently furnished. Two chandeliers, sur
rounded with gauze to soften the glare, shed a subdued and grateful light
over the room. Josephine was seated before a tapestry -frame working upon
embroidery. Near her sat Hortense, sylph-like in figure, and surpassingly
gentle and graceful in her manners. Napoleon was standing near Josephine,
with his hands clasped behind him, engaged in conversation, with his wife
and her lovely daughter. Upon the entrance of Madame Junot, Josephine
immediately arose, took her two hands, and affectionately kissing her, said,
"I have too long been Junot's friend not to entertain the same sentiments
for his wife, particularly for the one he has chosen."
" Oh, Josephine !" said Napoleon, " that is running on very fast. How
do you know that this little pickle is worth loving ? Well, Mademoiselle
Loulou (you see that I do not forget the names of my old friends), have you
not a word for me ?" Saying this, he gently took her hand and drew her
toward him.
The young bride was much embarrassed, and yet she struggled to retain
her pride of birth. " General," she replied, smiling, " it is not for me to
speak first."
"Very well parried," said Napoleon, playfully : " the mother's spirit ! And
how is Madame Permon ?"
"Very ill, general. For two years her health has caused us great un
easiness." " Indeed !" said Napoleon ; " so bad as that ? I am sorry to hear it — very
sorry. Make my regards to her. It is a wrong head, a proud spirit, but
she has a generous heart and a noble soul. I hope that we shall often see
you, Madame Junot. My intention is to draw around me a numerous fam
ily, consisting of my generals and their young wives. They will be friends
of my wife and of Hortense, as their husbands are my friends. But you
must not expect to meet here your acquaintances of the ancient nobility. I
do not like them. They are my enemies, and prove it by defaming me."
This was but the morning twilight of that imperial splendor which after
ward dazzled the most powerful potentates of Europe. Hortense, who sub
sequently became the wife of Louis Bonaparte, and the mother of Louis Na
poleon, who, at the moment of this present writing, is at the head of the gov
ernment of France, was then seventeen years of age. " She was," says
Madame Junot, "fresh as a rose. Though her fair complexion was not re
lieved by much color, she had enough to produce that freshness and bloom
which was her chief beauty. A profusion of light hair played in silken locks
around her soft and penetrating blue eyes. The delicate roundness of her
figure, slender as a palm-tree, was set off by the elegant carriage of her

348 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [Chap. XXII.
head. But that which formed the chief attraction of Hortense was the grace
and suavity of her manners, which united the Creole nonchalance with the
vivacity of France. She was gay, gentle, and amiable. She had wit, which,
without the smallest ill temper, had just malice enough to be amusing. A
polished and well-conducted education had improved her natural talents.
She drew excellently, sang harmoniously, and performed admirably in com
edy. In 1800 she was a charming young girl. She afterward became one
of the most amiable princesses in Europe. I have seen many, both in their
own courts and in Paris, but I have never known one who had any preten
sions to equal talents. She was beloved by every one. Her brother loved
her tenderly. The First Consul looked upon her as his child."
Napoleon has been accused of an improper affection for Hortense. The
world has been filled with the slander. "Napoleon," says Bourrienne,
"never cherished for her any feeling but a real paternal tenderness. He
loved her, after his marriage with her mother, as he would have loved his
own child. At least for three years I was a witness to all their most private
actions, and I declare I never saw any thing that could furnish the least
ground for suspicion, nor the slightest trace of a culpable intimacy. This
calumny must be classed among those which malice delights to take in the
character of men who become celebrated, calumnies which are adopted
lightly and without reflection. Napoleon is no more. Let his memory be
accompanied only by that, be it good or bad, which really took place. Let
not this reproach be made a charge against him by the impartial historian.
I must say, in conclusion, on this delicate subject, that his principles were
rigid in an extreme degree, and that any fault of the nature charged neither
entered his mind, nor was in accordance with his morals or his taste."
At St. Helena Napoleon was one day looking over a book containing an
account of his amours. He smiled as he glanced his eye over the pages,
saying, " I do not even know the names of most of the females who are
mentioned here. This is all very foolish. Every body knows that I had no
time for such dissipation."

CHAPTER XXII.

PEACE WITH ENGLAND.

Treaty with the United States — Election of Pope— The Queen of Naples — Coronation of the King
and Queen of Etruria — Madame de Montesson — Right of Search — Heroism of Nelson — Death
of the Emperor Paul — Succors for Egypt — Condition of England — Determination of Napoleon —
Uneasiness in England — The Sailor's Mistake — Cornwallis — Terms of Peace — Napoleon's At
tachment to Fox.
It was the first great object of Napoleon, immediately upon his accession
to power, to reconcile France with Europe, and to make peace with all the
world. France was weary of war. She needed repose to recover from the
turmoil of revolution. Napoleon, conscious of the necessities of France, was
consecrating all his energies for the promotion of peace. The Directory, by
oppressive acts, had excited the indignation of the United States. Napo
leon, by a course of conciliation, immediately removed that hostility, and,

1801.] PEACE WITH ENGLAND. 349
but a short time before the treaty of Luneville, ratified a treaty of amity be
tween France and the United States. The signature of this treaty was cel
ebrated with great rejoicings at the beautiful country seat which Joseph,
who, in consequence of his marriage, was richer than his brother, had pur
chased at Morfontaine. Napoleon, accompanied by a brilliant party, met
the American commissioners there. The most elegant decorations within
the mansion and in the gardens represented France and America joined in
friendly union.
Napoleon presented the following toast : "The memory of the French and
the Americans who died on the field of battle for the independence of the
New World."
Lebrun, the Second Consul, proposed, " The union of America with the
Northern powers, to enforce respect for the liberty of the seas."
Cambaceres gave for the third toast, " The successor of Washington."
Thus did Napoleon endeavor to secure the friendship of the United States.
About this time Pope Pius VI. died, and the cardinals met to choose his
successor. The respect with which Napoleon had treated the Pope, and his
kindness to the emigrant priests during the first Italian campaign, presented
so strong a contrast with the violence enjoined by the Directory, as to pro
duce a profound impression upon the minds of the Pope and the cardinals.
The Bishop of Imola was universally esteemed for his extensive learning,
his gentle virtues, and his firm probity. Upon the occasion of the union of
his diocese with the Cisalpine Republic, he preached a very celebrated ser
mon, in which he spoke of the conduct of the French in terms highly gratify
ing to the young conqueror. The power of Napoleon was now in the as
cendant. It was deemed important to conciliate his favor.
" It is from France," said Cardinal Gonsalvi, "that persecutions have come
upon us for the last ten years. It is from France, perhaps, that we shall
derive aid and consolation for the future. A very extraordinary young man,
one very difficult as yet to judge, holds dominion there at the present day.
His influence will soon be paramount in Italy. Remember that he protect
ed the priests in 1797. He has recently conferred funeral honors upon Pius
VI." These were words of deep foresight. They .were appreciated by the
sagacious cardinals. To conciliate the favor of Napoleon, the Bishop of
Imola was elected to the pontifical chair as Pope Pius VII.
Naples had been most perfidious in its hostility to France. The Queen
of Naples was a proud daughter of Maria Theresa, and sister of the Empe
ror of Austria and of the unfortunate Maria Antoinette. She surely must
not be too severely condemned for execrating a revolution which had con
signed her sister to the dungeon and to the guillotine. Naples, deprived of
Austrian aid, was powerless. She trembled under apprehension of the ven
geance of Napoleon. The King of Austria could no longer render his sister
any assistance. She adopted the decisive and romantic expedient of pro
ceeding in person, notwithstanding the rigor of the approaching winter, to
St. Petersburg, to implore the intercession of the Emperor Paul. The eccen
tric monarch, flattered by the supplication of the beautiful queen, immediate
ly espoused her cause, and dispatched a messenger to Napoleon, soliciting
him, as a personal favor, to deal gently with Naples.

350 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXlI.
The occurrence was, of course, a triumph and a gratification to Napoleon.
Most promptly and courteously he responded to the appeal. It was indeed
his constant study at this time to arrest the further progress of the Revolu
tion, to establish the interests of France upon a basis of order and of law, and
to conciliate the surrounding monarchies by proving to them that he had no
disposition to revolutionize their realms. A word from him would have
driven the King and Queen of Naples into exile, and would have converted
their kingdom into a republic. But Napoleon refused to utter that word,
and sustained the King of Naples upon his throne.
The Duke of Parma, brother of the King of Spain, had, through the in
tercession of Napoleon, obtained the exchange of his duchy for the beautiful
province of Tuscany. The First Consul had also erected Tuscany into the
kingdom of Etruria, containing about one million of inhabitants. The old
duke, a bigoted prince inimical to all reform, had married his son, a feeble,
frivolous young man, to the daughter of his brother, the King of Spain. The
kingdom of Etruria was intended for this youthful pair. Napoleon, as yet
but thirty years of age, thus found himself forming kingdoms and creating
kings. The young couple were in haste to ascend the throne. They could
not, however, do this until the Duke of Parma should die or abdicate. The
unaccommodating old duke refused to do either.
Napoleon, desirous of producing a moral impression in Paris, was anxious
to crown them. He therefore allowed the old duke to retain Parma until
his death, that his son might be placed upon the throne of Etruria. He
wished to exhibit the spectacle, in the regicide metropolis of France, of a king
created and enthroned by France. Thus he hoped to diminish the antipathy
to kings, and to prepare the way for that restoration of the monarchical
power which he contemplated. He would also thus conciliate monarchical
Europe, by proving that he had no design of overthrowing every kingly
throne. It was, indeed, adroitly done. He required, therefore, the youthful
princes to come to Paris to accept the crown from his hands, as in ancient
Rome vassal monarchs received the sceptre from the Caesars. The young
candidates for monarchy left Madrid and repaired to the Tuileries, to be
placed upon the throne by the First Consul. This measure had two aspects,
each exceedingly striking. It frowned upon the hostility of the people to
royalty, and it silenced the clamor against France as seeking to spread de
mocracy over the ruins of all thrones. It also proudly said, in tones which
must have been excessively annoying to the haughty legitimists of Europe,
" You kings must be childlike and humble. You see that I can create such
beings as you are."
Napoleon, conscious that his glory elevated him far above the ancient dy
nasty whose station he occupied, was happy to receive the young princes
with pomp and splendor. The versatile Parisians, ever delighted with nov
elty, forgot the twelve years of bloody revolutions which had overturned so
many thrones, and recognizing in this strange spectacle the fruits of their
victories and the triumph of their cause, shouted most enthusiastically, " Long
live the king !" The Royalists, on the other hand, chragrined and sullen, an
swered passionately, " Down with kings !" Strange reverse ! yet how natural !
Each party must have been surprised and bewildered at its own novel position.

1801.] PEACE WITH ENGLAND. 351
In settling the etiquette of this visit, it was decided that the young princes
should call first upon Napoleon, and that he should return their call the next
day. The First Consul, at the head of his brilliant military staff, received the
young monarch with parental tenderness and with the most delicate attentions,
yet with the universally recognized superiorities of power and glory. The
princes were entertained at the magnificent chateau of Talleyrand at Neuilly
with brilliant festivals and illuminations. For a month the capital presented
a scene of gorgeous fetes. Napoleon, too entirely engrossed with the cares
of empire to devote much time to these amusements, assigned the entertain
ment of his guests to his ministers. Nevertheless, he endeavored to give some
advice to the young couple about to reign over Etruria. He was much
struck with the weakness of the prince, who cherished no sense of responsi
bility, and was entirely devoted to trivial pleasures. He was exceedingly
interested in the mysteries of cotillons, of leap-frog, and of hide-and-go-seek,
and was ever thus trifling with the courtiers.
Napoleon saw that he was perfectly incapable of governing, and said to
one of his ministers, " You perceive that they are princes descended from
an ancient line. How can the reins of government be intrusted to such
hands ? But it was well to show to France this specimen of the Bourbons.
She can judge if these ancient dynasties are equal to the difficulties of an
age like ours." As the young king left Paris for his dominions, Napoleon
remarked to a friend, " Rome need not be uneasy. There is no danger of
his crossing the Rubicon." Napoleon sent one of his generals to Etruria with
the royal pair, ostensibly as the minister of France, but in reality as the vice
roy of the First Consul. The feeble monarch desired only the rank and
splendor of a king, and was glad to be released from the cares of empire.
Of all the proud acts performed by Napoleon during his extraordinary career,
this creation of the Etrurian king, when viewed in all its aspects, was, per
haps, the proudest.
Madame de Montesson had become the guilty paramour of the Duke of
Orleans, grandfather of Louis Philippe. She was not at all ashamed of this
relation, which was sanctioned by the licentiousness of the times. Proud
even of this alliance with a prince of the blood, she fancied that it was her
privilege, as the only relative of the royal line then in Paris, to pay to the
King and Queen of Etruria such honors as they might be gratified in receiv
ing from the remains of the old court society. She therefore made a brill
iant party, inviting all the returned emigrants of illustrious birth. She even
had the boldness to invite the family of the First Consul and the distinguish
ed persons of his suite. The invitation was concealed from Napoleon, as his
determination to frown upon all immorality was well known. The next
morning Napoleon heard of the occurrence, and severely reprimanded those
of his suite who had attended the party, dwelling with great warmth upon
the impropriety of countenancing vice in high places. Savary, who attended
the party and shared in the reprimand, says that Madame de Montesson
would have been severely punished had it not been for the intervention of
Josephine, who was ever ready to plead for mercy.
Napoleon, having made peace with Continental Europe, now turned his at
tention earnestly to England, that he might compel that unrelenting antago-

352 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [Chap. XXII.
nist to lay down her arms. " France," said he, " will not reap all the bless-
ino-s of a pacification until she shall have a peace with England. But a sort
of delirium has seized on that government, which now holds nothing sacred.
Its conduct is unjust, not only toward the French people, but toward all the
other powers of the Continent ; and when governments are not just, their au
thority is short-lived. All the Continental powers must force England to fall
back into the track of moderation, of equity, and of reason."
Notwithstanding this state of hostilities it is pleasant to witness the inter
change of the courtesy of letters. Early in January of 1801, Napoleon sent
some very valuable works, magnificently bound, as a present to the Royal
Society of London. A complimentary letter accompanied the present, signed
Bonaparte, President of the National Institute, and First Consul of France.
As a significant intimation of his principles, there was on the letter a finely
executed vignette representing Liberty sailing on the ocean in an open shell,
with the following motto : " LIBERTY OF THE SEAS."
England claimed the right of visiting and searching .merchant ships, to
whatever nation belonging, whatever the cargoes, wherever the destination.
For any resistance of this right, she enforced the penalty of the confiscation
of both ship and cargo. She asserted that nothing was necessary to consti
tute a blockade but to announce the fact, and to station a vessel to cruise
before a blockaded port. Thus all the nations of the world were forbidden
by England to approach a port of France. The English government stren
uously contended that these principles were in accordance" with the estab
lished regulations of maritime law. The neutral powers, on the other hand,
affirmed that these demands were a usurpation on the part of England,
founded on power, unsanctioned by the usages of nations, or by the princi
ples of maritime jurisprudence. "Free ships," said they, "make free
goods. The flag covers the merchandise. A port is to be considered block
aded only when such a force is stationed at its mouth as renders it dangerous
to enter."
Under these circumstances, it was not very difficult for Napoleon to turn
the arms of the united world against his most powerful foe. England had
allied all the powers of the world against France ; now Napoleon combined
them all in friendly alliance with him, and directed their energies against
his unyielding and unintimidated assailant. England was mistress of the
seas. Upon that element she was more powerful than all Europe united.
It was one great object of the British ministry to prevent any European
power from becoming the maritime rival of England. Napoleon, as he cast
his eye over his magnificent empire of forty millions of inhabitants, and sur
veyed his invincible armies, was excessively annoyed that the fifteen millions
of people crowded into the little island of England should have undisputed
dominion over the whole wide world of waters.
The English have ever been respected above all other nations for wealth,
power, courage, intelligence, and all stern virtues, but they never have been
beloved. The English nation is at the present moment the most powerful,
the most respected, and the most unpopular upon the surface of the globe.

1801.] PEACE WITH ENGLAND. 353
Providence deals in compensations. It is perhaps unreasonable to expect
that all the virtues should be centred in one people. " When," exclaimed
Napoleon, " will the French exchange their vanity for a little pride ?" It
may be rejoined, " When will the English lay aside their pride for a little
vanity — that perhaps more ignoble, but certainly better-natured foible ?"
England, abandoned by all her allies, continued the war, apparently be
cause her pride revolted at being conquered into a peace. And, in truth,
England had not been vanquished at all. Her fleets were every where tri
umphant. The blows of Napoleon, which fell with such terrible severity
upon her allies, could not reach her floating batteries. The genius of Napo
leon overshadowed the land. The genius of Pitt swept the seas. The com
merce of France was entirely annihilated. The English navy, in the utter
destitution of nobler game, even pursued poor French fishermen, and took
away their haddock and their cod. The verdict of history will probably
pronounce that this was at least a less magnificent rapacity than to despoil
regal and ducal galleries of the statues of Phidias and the cartoons of Ra
phael. England declared France to be in a state of blockade, and forbade all the
rest of the world from having any commercial intercourse with her. Her
invincible fleet swept all seas. Wherever an English frigate encountered
any merchant ship, belonging to whatever nation, a shot was fired across her
bows as a very emphatic command to stop. If the command was unheeded,
a broadside followed, and the peaceful merchantman became lawful prize.
If the vessel stopped, a boat was launched from the frigate, a young lieuten
ant ascended the sides of the merchantman, demanded of the captain the pa
pers, and searched the ship. If he found on board any goods which he judged,
to belong to France, he took them away. If he could find any goods which
he could consider as munitions of war, and which, in his judgment, the ship
was conveying to France, the merchantman, with all its contents, was con
fiscated. Young lieutenants in the navy are not proverbial for wasting many
words in compliments. They were often overbearing and insolent. En
gland contended that these were the established principles of maritime law.
All the nations of Europe, now at peace with France, excessively annoyed
at this right of search, which was rigorously enforced, declared it to be an
intolerable usurpation on the part of England. Russia, Prussia, Denmark,
Sweden, Holland, France, and Spain united in a great confederacy to resist
these demands of the proud monarch of the seas. The genius of Napoleon
formed this grand coalition. Paul of Russia, now a most enthusiastic admi
rer of the First Consul, entered into it with all his soul. England soon
found herself single-handed against the world in arms. With sublime ener
gy, the British ministry collected their strength for the conflict. Murmurs,
however, and remonstrances, loud and deep, pervaded all England. The op
position roused itself to new vigor. The government, in the prosecution of
this war, had already involved the nation in a debt of millions upon millions.
But the pride of the English government was aroused. "What! make
peace upon compulsion !" England was conscious of her maritime power,
and feared not the hostility of the world, and the world presented a wide field
from which to collect remuneration for her losses.
Vol. I.— Z

354 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXII.
She swept the ocean triumphantly. The colonies of the Allies dropped
into her hands like fruit from the overladen bough. Immediately upon the
formation of this confederacy, England issued an embargo upon every vessel
belonging to the allied powers, and also orders were issued for the immediate
capture of any merchant vessels belonging to these powers, wherever they
could be found. The ocean instantly swarmed with English privateersmen.
Her navy was active every where. There had been no proclamation of war
issued. The merchants of Europe were entirely unsuspicious of any such
calamity. Their ships were all exposed. By thousands they were swept
into the ports of England. More than half of the ships belonging to the
northern powers then at sea were captured.
Russia, Denmark, and Sweden had a large armament in the Baltic. A
powerful English fleet was sent for its destruction. The terrible energies
of Nelson, so resplendent at Aboukir, were still more resplendent at Copen
hagen. A terrific conflict ensued. The capital of Denmark was filled with
weeping and woe, for thousands of her noble sons, the young and the joy
ous, were weltering in blood. " I have been," said Nelson, " in above a
hundred engagements, but that of Copenhagen was the most terrible of them
all." In the midst of this terrific cannonade, Nelson was rapidly walking the
quarter-deck, which was slippery with blood and covered with the dead, who
could not be removed as fast as they fell. A heavy shot struck the main
mast, scattering the splinters in every direction. He looked upon the dev
astation around him, and, sternly smiling, said, " This is warm work, and
this day may be the last to any of us in a moment. But mark me, I would
not be elsewhere for thousands." This was heroic, but it was not noble.
It was the love of war, not the love of humanity. It was the spirit of an
Indian chieftain, not the spirit of a Christian Washington.
The commander-in-chief of the squadron, seeing the appalling carnage,
hung out the signal for discontinuing the action. Nelson was for a moment
deeply agitated, and then exclaimed to a companion, " I have but one eye.
I have a right to be blind sometimes." Then, putting the glass to his blind
eye, he said, " I really don't see the signal. Keep mine for closer battle
still flying. That is the way I answer such signals. Nail mine to the
mast." The human mind is so constituted that it must admire heroism.
That sentiment is implanted in every generous breast for some good pur
pose. Welmoes, a gallant young Dane, but seventeen years of age, station
ed himself on a small raft, carrying six guns with twenty-four men, directly
under the bows of Nelson's ship. The unprotected raft was swept by an in
cessant storm of bullets from the English marines. Knee deep in the dead,
this fearless stripling continued to keep up his fire to the close of the con
flict. Next day, Nelson met him at a repast at the palace. Admiring the
gallantry of his youthful enemy, he embraced him with enthusiasm, ex
claiming to the Crown Prince, "He deserves to be made an admiral."
"Were I to make all my brave officers admirals," replied the prince, "I
should have no captains or lieutenants in my service."
By this battle the power of the confederacy was broken. At the same
time, the Emperor Paul was assassinated in his palace by his nobles, and

1801.] PEACE WITH ENGLAND. 355
Alexander, his son, ascended the throne. When Napoleon heard of the death
of Paul, it is said that he gave utterance, for the first time in his life, to that
irreverent expression, " Mon Dieu" (My God), which is ever upon the lips of
every Frenchman. He regarded his death as a great calamity to France
and to the world. The eccentricities of the Emperor amounted almost to
madness. But his enthusiastic admiration for Napoleon united France and
Russia in a close alliance.
The nobles of Russia were much displeased with the democratic equality
which Napoleon was sustaining in France. They plotted the destruction of
the king, and raised Alexander to the throne, pledged to a different policy.
The young monarch immediately withdrew from the maritime confederacy,
and entered into a treaty of peace with England. These events, apparently
so disastrous to the interests of France, were, on the contrary, highly con
ducive to the termination of the war. The English people, weary of the in
terminable strife, and disgusted with the oceans of blood which had been
shed, more and more clamorously demanded peace. And England could
now make peace without the mortification of her pride.
Napoleon was extremely vigilant in sending succor to the army in Egypt.
He deemed it essential, in order to promote the maritime greatness of France,
that Egypt should be retained as a colony. His pride was also enlisted in
proving to the world that he had not transported forty-six thousand soldiers
to Egypt in vain. Vessels of every description, ships of war, merchantmen,
dispatch-boats, sailed almost daily from the various ports of Holland, France,
Spain, Italy, and even from the coast of Barbary, laden with provisions, Eu
ropean goods, wines, munitions of war, and each taking a file of French
newspapers. Many of these vessels were captured. Others, however, escaped
the vigilance of the cruisers, and gave to the colony most gratifying proof of
the interest which the First Consul took in its welfare. While Napoleon
was thus daily endeavoring to send partial relief to the army in Egypt, he
was, at the same time, preparing a vast expedition to convey thither a power
ful re-enforcement of troops and materials of war.
Napoleon assembled this squadron at Brest, ostensibly destined for St.
Domingo. He selected seven of the fastest sailing ships, placed on board
of them five thousand men, and an ample supply of those stores most needed
in Egypt. He ordered that each vessel should contain a complete assort
ment of every individual article prepared for the colony, so that in the event
of one vessel being captured, the colony would not be destitute of the pre
cise article which that vessel might otherwise have contained. He also in
several other places, formed similar expeditions, hoping thus to distract the
attention of England, and compel her to divide her forces to guard all ex
posed points. Taking advantage of this confusion, he was almost certain
that some of the vessels would reach Egypt. The plan would have been
triumphantly successful, as subsequent events proved, had the naval com
manders obeyed the instructions of Napoleon.
A curious instance now occurred of what may be called the despotism of
the First Consul. And yet it is not strange that the French people should,
under the peculiar circumstances, have respected and loved such despotism.
The following: order was issued to the Minister of Police : " Citizen Minis-

356 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXII.
ter,  Have the goodness to address a short circular to the editors of the four
teen journals, forbidding the insertion of any article calculated to afford the
enemy the slightest clew to the different movements which are taking
place in our squadrons, unless the intelligence be derived from the official
journal." Napoleon had previously, through the regularly constituted tri
bunals, suppressed all the journals in Paris but fourteen. The world has
often wondered how France so readily yielded to the despotism of Napoleon.
It was because the French were convinced that dictatorial power was essen
tial to the successful prosecution of the war, and that each act <of Napoleon
was dictated by the most wise and sincere patriotism. They were willing
to sacrifice the liberty of the press, that they might obtain victory over their
enemies. The condition of England was now truly alarming. Nearly all the civil
ized world was in arms against her. Fler harvests had been cut off, and a
frightful, famine ravaged the land. The starving people were rising in dif
ferent parts of the kingdom, pillaging the magnificent country seats of the
English aristocracy, and sweeping in riotous mobs through the cities. The
masses in England and in Ireland, wretchedly perishing of hunger, clamored
loudly against Pitt. They alleged that he was the cause of all their calami
ties — that he had burdened the nation with an enormous debt and with in
supportable taxes — that by refusing peace with France he had drawn all the
Continental powers into hostility with England, and thus had deprived the
people of that food from the Continent which was now indispensable for the
support of life. The opposition, seeing the power of Pitt shaken, redoubled
their blows. Fox, Tiernay, Grey, Sheridan, and Holland renewed their at
tacks with all the ardor of anticipated success.
"Why," said they, " did you not make peace with France when the First
Consul proposed it before the battle of Marengo ? Why did you not con
sent to peace when it was proposed after that battle ? Why did you refuse
consent to separate negotiation, when Napoleon was willing to enter into
such, without demanding the cessation of hostilities by sea?" They con
trasted the distress of England with the prosperity of France. " France,"
said they, " admirably governed, is at peace with Europe. In the eyes of
the world she appears humane, wise, tranquil, evincing the most exemplary
moderation after all her victories." With bitter irony they exclaimed, " What
have you now to say of this young Bonaparte, of this rash youth, who, ac
cording to the ministerial language, was only doomed to enjoy a brief exist
ence like his predecessors, so ephemeral that it did not entitle him to be
treated with ?"
Pitt was disconcerted by the number of his enemies and by the clamors
of a famishing people. His proud spirit revolted at the idea of changing his
course. He could only reiterate his argument, that if he had not made war
against revolutionary France, England would also have been revolutionized.
There is an aspect of moral sublimity in the firmness with which this distin
guished minister breasted a world in arms. "As to the demand of the neu
tral powers," said he, "we must envelop ourselves in our flag, and proudly
find our grave in the deep, rather than admit the validity of such principles
in the maritime code of nations."

1801.] PEACE WITH ENGLAND. 357
Though Pitt still retained his numerical majority in the Parliament, the
masses of the people were turning with great power against him, and he felt
that his position was materially weakened. Under these circumstances,
Pitt, idolized by the aristocracy, execrated by the democracy, took occasion
to send in his resignation. The impression seemed to be universal, that the
distinguished minister, perceiving that peace must be made with France,
temporarily retired, that it might be brought about by others rather than by
himself. He caused himself, however, to be succeeded by Mr. Addington, a
man of no distinguished note, but entirely under his influence. The feeble
intellect of the King of England, though he was one of the most worthy and
conscientious. of men, was unequal to these political storms. A renewed at
tack of insanity incapacitated him for the functions of royalty. Mr. Pitt,
who had been prime minister for seventeen years, became, by this event,
virtually the king of England, and Mr. Addington was his minister.
Napoleon now announced to the world his determination to struggle hand
to hand with England until he had compelled the government to cease to
make war against France. Conscious of the naval superiority of his foes,
he avowed his resolve to cross the Channel with a powerful army, march
directly upon London, and thus compel the cabinet of St. James to make
peace. It was a desperate enterprise ; so desperate that, to the present day,
it is doubted whether Napoleon ever seriously contemplated carrying it into
effect. It was, however, the only measure Napoleon could now adopt. The
naval superiority of England was so undeniable, that a maritime war was
hopeless. Nelson, in command of the fleet of the Channel, would not allow
even a fishing-boat to creep out from a French cove. Napoleon was very
desirous of securing in his favor the popular opinion of the people of En
gland, and the sympathies of the whole European public.
He prepared with his own hand many articles for the " Moniteur," which
were models of eloquent and urgent polemics, and which elicited admiration
from readers in all countries. He wrote in the most respectful and compli
mentary terms of the new English ministry, representing them as intelligent,
upright, and well-intentioned men. He endeavored to assure Europe of the
unambitious desires of France, and contrasted her readiness to relinquish
the conquests which she had made with the eager grasp with which the En
glish held their enormous acquisitions in India and in the islands of the sea.
With the utmost delicacy, to avoid offending the pride of Britain, he affirm
ed that a descent upon England would be his last resource ; that he fully ap
preciated the bravery and the power of the English, and the desperate risks
which he should encounter in such an undertaking ; but he declared that
there was no other alternative left to him, and that, if the English ministers
were resolved that the war should not be brought to a close but by the de
struction of one of the two nations, there was not a Frenchman who would
not make the most desperate efforts to terminate this cruel quarrel to the
glory of France.
" But why," exclaimed he, in words singularly glowing and beautiful, but
of melancholy import, " why place the question on this last resort ? Where
fore not put an end to the sufferings of humanity ? Wherefore risk in this
manner the lot of two great nations ? Happy are nations when, having ar-

358 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXII.
rived at high prosperity, they have wise governments, which care not to ex
pose advantages so vast to the caprices and vicissitudes of a single stroke
of fortune."
These most impressive papers, from the pen of the First Consul, remark
able for their vigorous logic and impassioned eloquence, produced a deep
impression upon all minds. This conciliatory language was accompanied by
the most serious demonstrations of force upon the 'shores of the Channel.
One hundred thousand men were upon the coasts of France, in the vicinity
of Boulogne, preparing for the threatened invasion. Boats without number
were collected to transport the troops across the narrow channel. It was
asserted that, by taking advantage of a propitious moment immediately after
a storm had scattered the English fleet, France could concentrate such a
force as to obtain a temporary command of the Channel, and the strait could
be crossed by the invaders. England was aroused thoroughly, but not
alarmed. The militia was 'disciplined, the whole island converted into a
camp. Wagons were constructed for the transportation of troops to any
threatened point. It is important that the reader should distinguish this first
threat of invasion in 1801 from that far more powerful naval and military
organization executed for the same purpose in 1804, and known under the
name of the Camp of Boulogne.
Not a little uneasiness was felt in England respecting the temporary suc
cess of the great conqueror. Famine raged throughout the island. Business
was at a stand. The taxes were enormous. Ireland was on the eve of re
volt. The mass of the English people admired the character of Napoleon;
and, notwithstanding all the efforts of the government, regarded him as the
foe of aristocracy and the friend of popular rights. Nelson, with an invinci
ble armament, was triumphantly sweeping the Channel, and a French gun
boat could not creep round a headland without encountering the vigilance
of the energetic hero. Napoleon, in escaping from Egypt, had caught Nel
son napping in a lady's lap. The greatest admirers of the naval hero could
not but smile, half-pleased that, under the guilty circumstances, he had met
with the misadventure. He was anxious, by a stroke of romantic heroism,
to obliterate this impression from the public mind. The vast flotilla of
France, most thoroughly manned and armed under the eye of Napoleon, was
anchored at Boulogne, in three divisions, in a line parallel to the shore.
Just before the break of day on the 4th of August, the fleet of Nelson, in
magnificent array, approached the French flotilla, and for sixteen hours rain
ed down upon it a tornado of balls and shells. The gun-boats were, how
ever, chained to one another and to the shore. He did not succeed in tak
ing a single boat, and retired mortified at his discomfiture, and threatening
to return in a few days to take revenge. The French were exceedingly
elated that in a naval conflict they had avoided defeat. As they stood there
merely upon self-defense, victory was out of the question.
The reappearance of Nelson was consequently daily expected, and the
French, emboldened by success, prepared to give him a warm reception.
Twelve days after, on the 16th of August, Nelson again appeared with a
vastly increased force. In the darkness of the night, he filled his boats with
picked men, to undertake one of the most desperate enterprises on record.

1801.] PEACE WITH ENGLAND. 359
In four divisions, with muffled oars, this forlorn hope, in the silence of mid
night, approached the French flotilla. The butchery, with swords, hatchets,
bayonets, bullets, and hand grenades, was hideous. Both parties fought with
perfect fury. No man seemed to have the slightest regard for limb or life.
England was fighting for she knew not what. The French were contend
ing in self-defense. For four long hours of midnight gloom the slaughter
continued. Thousands perished. Just as the day was dawning upon the
horrid scene, the English retired, repulsed at every point, and confessing to
a defeat. The result of these conflicts diminished the confidence of the
English in Nelson's ability to destroy the preparations of Napoleon, and in
creased their apprehension that the French might be enabled, by some
chance, to carry the war of invasion to their own firesides.
"I was resolved," said Napoleon afterward, "to renew at Cherbourg the
wonders of Egypt. I had already raised in the sea my pyramid. I would
also have had my Lake Mareotis. My great object was to concentrate all
our maritime forces, and in time they would have been immense, in order to
be able to deal out a grand stroke at the enemy. I was establishing my
ground so as to bring the tw_o nations, as it were, body to body. The ulti
mate issue could not be doubtful, for we had forty millions of French
against fifteen millions of English. I would have terminated the strife by a
battle of Actium."
One after another of the obstacles in the way of peace now gradually gave
way. Overtures were made to Napoleon. He accepted the advances of
England with the greatest eagerness and cordiality. "Peace," said he, "is
easily brought about, if England desires it."
"Pitt," says Mr. Ingersoll, "was at war with republicanism when the
consular republican government of France had staunched all the wounds of
that country, restored the finances, organized public instruction, recalled
nearly all the Royalists, reinstated religion, begun vast plans for territorial
improvements, and for ameliorating the laws by a new civil code. In every
thing, except foreign commerce and manufactures, the French Republic was
then more flourishing, progressive, and content than the kingdom of Great
Britain. It was hard, if not impossible, where the press and all public dis
cussion is so free and manly as in England, for any ministry to make head
against such undeniable reasons for peace with a rival nation."
On the evening of the 21st of October the preliminaries were signed in
London. That very night a courier left England to convey the joyful intel
ligence to France. He arrived at Malmaison, the rural retreat of Napoleon,
at four o'clock in the afternoon of the next day. At that moment the three
consuls were holding a government council. The excitement of joy in
opening the dispatches was intense. The consuls ceased from their labors,
and threw themselves into each other's arms in cordial embraces.
Napoleon, laying aside all reserve, gave full utterance to the intense joy
which filled his bosom. It was for him a proud accomplishment. In two
years, by his genius and his indefatigable exertions, he had restored internal
order, to France and peace to the world. Still, even in this moment of tri
umph, his entire, never wavering devotion to the welfare of France, like a
ruling passion strong even in death, rose above his exultation.

360 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXII.
"Now that we have made a treaty of peace with England," said Camba
ceres, " we must make a treaty of commerce, and remove all subjects of dis
pute between the two countries."
Napoleon promptly replied, "Not so fast ! The political peace is made.
So much the better. Let us enjoy it. As to a commercial peace, we will
make one, if we can. But at no price will I sacrifice French industry. I
remember the misery of 1786."
The news had been kept secret in London for twenty-four hours, that the
joyful intelligence might be communicated in both capitals at the same time.
The popular enthusiasm both in England and France bordered almost upon
delirium. It was the repose of the Continent. It was general, universal
peace. It was opening the world to the commerce of all nations. War
spreads over continents the gloom of the world of woe, while peace il
lumines them with the radiance of Heaven. Illuminations blazed every
where. Men, the most phlegmatic, met and embraced each other with tears.
The people of England surrendered themselves to the extraordinary trans
ports. They loved the French. They adored the hero, the sage, the great
pacificator who governed France. The streets of London resounded with
shouts, " Long live Bonaparte !" Every stage-coach which ran from Lon
don bore triumphant banners, upon which were inscribed, Peace with France.
The populace of London rushed to the house of the French negotiator.
He had just entered his carriage to visit Lord Hawkesbury, to exchange
ratifications. The tumultuous throng of happy men unharnessed his horses
and dragged him in triumph, in the delirium of their joy rending the skies
with their shouts. The crowd and the rapturous confusion at last became
so great, that Lord Vincent, fearing some accident, placed himself at the head
of the amiable mob, as it triumphantly escorted and conveyed the carriage
from minister to minister.
A curious circumstance occurred at the festival in London, highly charac
teristic of the honest bluntness, resolution, and good nature of the English
seamen. The house of M. Otto, the French minister, was brilliantly illumi
nated. Attracted by its surpassing splendor, a vast crowd of sailors had
gathered around. The word concord blazed forth most brilliantly in letters
of light. The sailors, not very familiar with the spelling-book, exclaimed,
" Conquered ! not so, by a great deal. That will not do." Excitement and
dissatisfaction rapidly spread. Violence was threatened. M. Otto came
forward himself most blandly, but his attempts at explanation were utterly
fruitless. The offensive word was removed, and amity substituted. The
sailors, fully satisfied with the amende honorable, gave three cheers and went
on their way rejoicing.
In France the exultation was, if possible, still greater than in England.
The admiration of Napoleon, and the confidence in his wisdom and patriot
ism were unbounded. No power was withheld from the First Consul which
he wTas willing to assume. The nation placed itself at his feet. All over
the Continent Napoleon received the honorable title of "The Hero Pacifica
tor of Europe." And yet there was a strong under-current to this joy. Na
poleon was the favorite, not of the nobles, but of the people. Even his acts
of despotic authority were most cordially sustained by the people of France,

1801.] PEACE WITH ENGLAND. 3S1
for they believed that such acts were essential for the promotion of their
welfare. "The ancient privileged classes and the foreign cabinets," said
Napoleon, " hate me worse than they did Robespierre." The hosannas with
which the name of Bonaparte was resounding through the cities and the vil
lages of England fell gloomily upon the ears of Mr. Pitt and his friends.
The freedom of the seas was opening to the energetic genius of Napoleon
an unobstructed field for the maritime aggrandizement of France. The
British minister knew that the sleepless energies of Napoleon would, as with
a magician's wand, call fleets into existence to explore all seas. Sorrowfully
he contemplated a peace to which the popular voice had compelled him to
yield, and which, in his judgment, boded no good to the naval superiority of
England. It was agreed that the plenipotentiaries, to settle the treaty definitively,
should meet at Amiens, an intermediate point midway between London and
Paris. The English appointed as their minister Lord Cornwallis. The
Americans, remembering this distinguished general at Brandywine, Camden,
and at the surrender of Yorktown, have been in the habit of regarding him
as an enemy. But he was a gallant soldier, and one of the most humane,
high-minded, and estimable of men. Frankly he avowed his conviction that
the time had arrived for terminating the miseries of the world by peace. Na
poleon has paid a noble tribute to the integrity, urbanity, sagacity, and un
blemished honor of Lord Cornwallis. Joseph Bonaparte was appointed by
the First Consul embassador on the part of France. The suavity of his
manners, the gentleness of his disposition, his enlightened and liberal polit
ical views, and the Christian morality which, in those days of general cor
ruption, embellished his conduct, peculiarly adapted him to fulfill the duties
of a peace-maker.
Among the terms of the treaty, it was agreed that France should abandon
her colony in Egypt, as endangering the English possessions in India. In
fact, the French soldiers had already, by capitulation, agreed to leave Egypt,
but the tidings of surrender had not then reached England or France. The
most important question in these deliberations was the possession of the
island of Malta. The power in possession of that impregnable fortress
would have command of the Mediterranean. Napoleon insisted upon it, as
a point important above all others, that England should not retain Malta.
As England was already in possession of Gibraltar, the reasonableness of
this requisition was beyond all dispute. Napoleon might very fairly have
demanded Malta for France, as a balance for Gibraltar. But his desire for
peace was so strong, and his moderation so singular, that he was willing to
leave England in possession of Gibraltar, and yet relinquish all claim upon
Malta for France. But all-grasping England demanded both. Here Napo
leon was firm. He insisted that Malta should be placed in the hands of
some neutral power ; but he declared his unalterable determination that he
could, by no possibility, consent that it should remain in the hands of En
gland. At last England yielded, and agreed to evacuate Malta, and that it should
be surrendered to the Knights of St. John. In reference to this all-important
surrender, the terms were very explicit. It was stated that the forces of his

362 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXII.
Britannic majesty shall evacuate the island und its dependencies within three
months after the exchange of the ratifications. By these honorable and per
severing efforts, Napoleon had at last succeeded in granting repose to blood-
deluged Europe.*
"Peace having been concluded," says Bourrienne, "on terms which were
highly honorable to the national character, all parties hoped that the san
guinary wars in which the country had been engaged would now have term
inated, and that France would be left at liberty to adopt those institutions
which would be agreeable to herself. But the brilliant position in which the
peace of Amiens had left France seemed to excite the jealousy of her neigh
bors, and to produce those feelings which are opposed to the repose of na
tions. In fact, we shall see that war broke out afresh with unusual ani
mosity, and that from very trifling causes. At this period the consular
glory was unsullied, and held in prospect the most flattering hopes ; and it
can not be doubted but that the First Consul was really desirous to promote
peace and to give repose to France."
At St. Helena Napoleon remarked to Las Casas, "Lord Cornwallis is the
first Englishman who gave me, in good earnest, a favorable opinion of his
nation ; after him Fox, and I might add to these, if it were necessary, our
present admiral, Malcolm. Cornwallis was, in every sense of the word, a
worthy, good, and honest man. At the time of the treaty of Amiens, the
terms having been agreed upon, he had promised to sign the next day at a
certain hour. Something of consequence detained him at home, but he had
pledged his word. The evening of that same day a courier arrived from
London proscribing certain articles of the treaty, but he answered that he
had signed, and immediately came and actually signed. We understood each
other perfectly well. I had placed a regiment at his disposal, and he took
pleasure in seeing its maneuvers. I have preserved an agreeable recollec
tion of him in every respect ; and it is certain that a request from him would
have had more weight with me, perhaps, than one from a crowned head.
His family appears to have guessed this to be the case. Some requests have
been made to me in its name, which have all been granted.
" Fox came to France immediately after the peace of Amiens. He was
employed in writing a history of the Stuarts, and asked my permission to
search our diplomatical archives. I gave orders that every thing should be
placed at his disposal. I received him often. Fame had informed me of
his talents, and I soon found that he possessed a noble character, a good
heart, liberal, generous, and enlightened views. I considered him an orna
ment to mankind, and was very much attached to him. Half a dozen such
men as Fox and Cornwallis would be sufficient to establish the moral char
acter of a nation. With such men I should always have agreed. We should
soon have settled our differences, and not only France would have been at
peace with a nation at bottom most worthy of esteem, but we should have
done great things together."
* Napoleon was highly gratified by the honorable course pursued by Lord Cornwallis in these
negotiations.

1801.] NATIONAL REFORMS. 363

CHAPTER XXIII.
NATIONAL REFORMS.
General Exultation — Lord Cornwallis — Mr. Fox — Deputies from Switzerland — Intellectual Su
premacy of Napoleon — Address to the Swiss Deputies — The English in Paris — Dissatisfaction
of the English Aristocracy — Joy of the People — Napoleon's Defense of Christianity — Testimony
of the Encyclopaedia Americana and of Mr. Fox — The Tones of the Church Bell — The New
Pope — Religious Library oi Napoleon — Re-establishment of Christianity — Noble Proclamation —
Religious Fete — Triumphal Monument proposed — Testimony of Lady Morgan— Moral Reforms
— Testimony of Ingersoll.
This pacification, so renowned in history both for its establishment and
for its sudden and disastrous rupture, has ever been known by the name of
the Peace of Amiens. Napoleon determined to celebrate the joyful event
by a magnificent festival. The 10th of November, 1801, was the appointed
day. It was the anniversary of Napoleon's attainment of the consular pow
er. Friendly relations having been thus restored between the two countries
after so many years of hostility and carnage, thousands of the English flocked
across the Channel and thronged the pavements of Paris. All were impa
tient to see France thus suddenly emerging from such gloom into such un
paralleled brilliancy, and especially to see the man who, at that moment,
was the admiration of England and of the world.
The joy which pervaded all classes invested this festival with sublimity.
With a delicacy of courtesy characteristic of the First Consul, no carriages
but those of Lord Cornwallis were allowed in the streets on that day. The
crowd of Parisians, with most cordial and tumultuous acclamations, opened
before the representative of the armies of England. The illustrious Fox was
one of the visitors on this occasion. He was received by Napoleon with the
utmost consideration and with the most delicate attentions. In passing
through the gallery of sculpture, his lady pointed his attention to his own
statue, filling a niche by the side of Washington and Brutus. Every one who
came into direct personal contact with the First Consul at this time was
charmed with his character.
Nine deputies from Switzerland, the most able men the republic could
furnish, were appointed to meet Napoleon respecting the political arrange
ments of the Swiss cantons. Punctual to the hour, the First Consul entered
a neat, spacious room, where there was a long table covered with green
baize. Dr. Jones, of Bristol, the intimate friend of several of these depu
ties, and who was with them in Paris at the time, thus describes the inter
view :
" The First Consul entered, followed by two of his ministers, and after the
necessary salutation, sat down at the head of the table, his ministers on each
side of him. The deputies then took their seats. He spread out before them
a large map, as necessary to the subject of their deliberations. He then re
quested that they would state freely any objection which might occur to them

364 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXIII.
in the plan which he should propose. They availed themselves of the liberty,
and suggested several alterations which they deemed advantageous to France
and Switzerland. But from the prompt, clear, and unanswerable reasons
which Napoleon gave in reply to all their objections, he completely convinced
them of the wisdom of his plans. After an animated discussion of ten hours,
they candidly admitted that he was better acquainted with the local circum
stances of the Swiss cantons, and with what would secure their welfare, than
they were themselves. During the whole discussion his ministers did not
speak one word. The deputies afterward declared that it was their decided
opinion that Napoleon was the most extraordinary man whom they had met
in modern times, or of whom they had read in ancient history."
M. Constant and M. Sismondi, who both knew Napoleon well, have re
marked : " The quickness of his conception, the depth of his remarks, the
facility and propriety of his eloquence, and, above all, the candor of his re
plies and his patient silence, were more remarkable and attractive than we
ever met with in any other individual."
" What your interests require," said Napoleon at this time, " is, 1. Equal
ity of rights among the whole eighteen cantons. 2. A sincere and volunta
ry renunciation of all exclusive privileges on the part of patrician families.
3. A federative organization, where every canton may find itself arranged
according to its language, its religion, its manners, and its interests. The
central government remains to be provided for, but it is of much less con
sequence than the central organization. Situated on the summit of the
mountains which separate France, Italy, and Germany, you participate in
the disposition of all these countries. You have never maintained regular
armies, nor had established accredited agents at the courts of the different
governments. Strict neutrality, a prosperous commerce, and family admin
istration can alone secure your interests or be suited to your wishes. Every
organization which could be established among you, hostile to the interests
of France, would injure you in the most essential particulars."
This was commending to, them a federative organization similar to that of
the United States, and cautioning them against the evil of a centralization of
power. No impartial man can deny that the most profound wisdom marked
the principles which Napoleon suggested to terminate the divisions with
which the cantons of Switzerland had long been agitated. " These lenient
conditions," says Alison, "gave universal satisfaction in Switzerland." The
following extract from the noble speech which Napoleon pronounced on the
formation of the constitution of the confederacy will be read by many with
surprise, by all with interest.
" The re-establishment of the ancient order of things in the democratic
cantons is the best course which can be adopted, both for you and me. They
are the states whose peculiar form of government render them so interesting
in the eyes of all Europe. But for this pure democracy you would exhibit
nothing which is not to be found elsewhere. Beware of extinguishing so re
markable a distinction. I know well that this democratic system of admin
istration has many inconveniences, but it is established ; it has existed for
centuries. It springs from the circumstances, situation, and primitive habits
of the people, from the genius of the place, and can not with safety be aban-

1801.] NATIONAL REFORMS. 365
doned. You must never take away from a democratic society the practical
exercise of its privileges. To give such exercise a direction consistent with
the tranquillity of the state is the part of true political wisdom. In ancient
Rome the votes were counted by classes, and they threw into the last class
the whole body of indigent citizens, while the first contained only a few hund
red of the most opulent. But the populace were content, and, amused with
the solicitation of their votes, did not perceive the immense difference in their
relative value."
The moral influence which France thus obtained in Switzerland was re
garded with extreme jealousy by all the rival powers. " His conduct and
language," says Alison, " on this occasion were distinguished by his usual
penetration and ability, and a most unusual degree of lenity and forbearance.
And if any thing could have reconciled the Swiss to the loss of their inde
pendence, it must have been the wisdom and equity on which his mediation
was founded."
The English who visited Paris were astonished at the indications of pros
perity which the metropolis exhibited. They found France in a very differ-
. ent condition from the hideous picture which had been described by the Lon
don journals. But there were two parties in England. Pitt and his friends
submitted with extreme reluctance to a peace which they could not avoid.
The English people, however, were overjoyed at the cessation of the horri
ble war. " But while," says Alison, " these were the natural feelings of the
inconsiderate populace, who are ever governed by present impressions, and
who were for the most part destitute of the information requisite to form a
rational opinion on the subject, there were many men, gifted with greater
sagacity and. foresight, who deeply lamented the conditions by which peace
had been purchased, and from the very first prophesied that it could be of no
long endurance. They observed that the war had been abruptly terminated
without any one object being gained for which it was undertaken ; that it was
entered into in order to curb the ambition and to stop the democratic propa-
gandism of France."
These " many men gifted with greater sagacity," with William Pitt at
their head, now employed themselves with sleepless vigilance and with fatal
success to bring to a rupture a peace which they deemed so untoward. Sir
Walter Scott discloses the feelings with which this party were actuated in
the observations, " It seems more than probable that the extreme rejoicing
of the rabble of London at signing the preliminaries, their dragging about the
carriage of Lauriston, and shouting ' Bonaparte forever,' had misled the ruler
of France into an opinion that peace was indispensably necessary to England.
He may easily enough have mistaken the cries of a London mob for the voice
of the British people."*
* "It is generally, perhaps universally, stated that England saw an infraction of the treaty of
Amiens in the incorporation of Piedmont, the island of Elba, and the states of Parma with the
French empire, and in the armed mediation in the affairs of Switzerland ; and these circumstances
are alleged as strong instances to prove that Napoleon did not, in spite of his protestations, wish
for peace, because he committed acts that would inevitably lead to war, and which England could
not allow ; but we have it from the chief of the French delegation for the conclusion of the peace
of Amiens, that he informed Lord Cornwallis on several occasions of the changes which would take
place in France in the relations of France and Italy. The English government were, therefore,

366 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXIII.
In the midst of all these cares, Napoleon was making strenuous efforts to
restore religion to France. It required great moral courage to prosecute
such a movement. Nearly all the generals in his armies were rank infidels,
regarding every form of religion with contempt. The religious element, by
nature, predominated in the bosom of Napoleon. He was constitutionally
serious, thoughtful, pensive. A profound melancholy ever overshadowed his
reflective spirit. His inquisitive mind pondered the mysteries of the past and
the uncertainties of the future. Educated in a wild country, where the peas
antry were imbued with religious feelings, and having been trained by a
pious mother, whose venerable character he never ceased to adore, the sight
of the hallowed rites of religion revived in his sensitive and exalted imagina
tion the deepest impressions of his childhood.
He had carefully studied, on his return from Egypt, the New Testament,
and appreciated and profoundly admired its beautiful morality. He often
conversed with Monge, Lagrange, Laplace, sages whom he honored and
loved, and he frequently embarrassed them in their incredulity by the logical
clearness of his arguments. The witticisms of Voltaire, and the corruptions
of unbridled sin, had rendered the purity of the Gospel unpalatable to France.
Talleyrand, annoyed by the remembrance of his own apostasy, bitterly op
posed what he called "the religious peace." Nearly all the supporters and
friends of the First Consul condemned every effort to bring back that which
they denominated the reign of superstition. Napoleon honestly believed that
the interests of France demanded that God should be recognized and Chris
tianity respected by the French nation.
" Hear me," said Napoleon one day earnestly to Monge. " I do not
maintain these opinions through the positiveness of a devotee, but from rea
son. My religion is very simple. I look at this universe, so vast, so com
plex, so magnificent, and I say to myself that it can not be the result of
chance, but the work, however intended, of an unknown, omnipotent being,
as superior to man as the universe is superior to the finest machines of hu
man invention. Search the philostiphers, and you will not find a more deci
sive argument, and you can not weaken it. But this truth is too succinct
for man. He wishes to know, respecting himself and respecting his future
destiny, a crowd of secrets which the universe does not disclose. Allow re
ligion to inform him of that which he feels the need of knowing, and respect
her disclosures."
One day, when this matter was under earnest discussion in the Council of
State, Napoleon said, " Last evening I was walking alone in the woods, amid
the solitude of nature. The tones of a distant church bell fell upon my ear.
instructed of these changes, and they were not the cause of the rupture of peace." — Encyclopaedia
Americana, Article Napoleon.
" Who, let me ask, first proposed to the Swiss people to depart from the neutrality which
was their chief protection, and to join the confederacy against the French % I answer, that a no
ble relation of mine (Lord Herbert Fitzgerald), then the minister of England to the Swiss can
tons, was instructed in direct terms to propose to the Swiss, by an official note, to break from the
safe line they had laid down for themselves, and to tell them that ' in such a contest neutrality was
criminal.' I know that noble lord too well, though I have not been in habits of intimacy with him
of late, from the employments in which he has been engaged, to suspect that he would have pre
sented such a paper without the express instructions of his court, or that he would have gone be
yond those instructions." — Speech in Parliament by Mr. Fox.

1801.] NATIONAL REFORMS. 367
Involuntarily I felt deep emotion, so powerful is the influence of early habits
and associations. I said to myself, If I feel thus, what must be the influence
of such impressions upon the popular mind ? Let your philosophers answer
that, if they can. It is absolutely indispensable to have a religion for the
people. It will be said that I am a Papist. I am not. I am convinced that
a part of France would become Protestant, were I to favor that disposition.
I am also certain that the much greater portion would continue Catholic, and
that they would oppose, with the greatest zeal, the division among their fel
low-citizens. We should then have the Huguenot wars over again, and in
terminable conflicts. But by reviving a religion which has always prevailed
in the country, and by giving perfect liberty of conscience to the minority,
all will be satisfied."
" The sound of a bell," says Bourrienne, " produced an effect upon Napo
leon which I could never explain. He listened to it with delight. When we
were at Malmaison, and were walking in the road which led to Ruel, how
many times has the sound of the bell of the village church interrupted the
most serious conversation. He would instantly stop, that the noise of our
steps might not cause him to lose a single one of those distant tones which
charmed him. Fie was vexed with me because I did not experience the same
impressions. The effect produced upon him was so great that his voice
trembled with emotion, and he said to me, ' That recalls the first years which
I passed at Brienne. I was then happy.' I have been twenty times witness
to the singular effect which the sound of a bell had upon Napoleon."
On another occasion he remarked, " What renders me most hostile to the
establishment of the Catholic worship are the numerous festivals formerly
observed. A saint's day is a day of idleness, and I do not wish for that.
People must labor in order to live. I shall consent to four holidays during
the year, but to no more. If the gentlemen from Rome are not satisfied
with that, they may take their departure." The loss of time appeared to
him such a calamity, that he almost invariably appointed any indispensable
celebration upon some day previously devoted to festivity.
The new pontiff was attached to Napoleon by the secret chain of mutual
sympathy. They had met, as we have before remarked, during the wars of
Italy. Pius VII., then the Bishop of Imola, was surprised and delighted in
finding in the young Republican general, whose fame was filling Europe, a
man of refinement, of exalted genius, of reflection, of serious character, of
unblemished purity of life, and of delicate sensibilities, restraining the irre
ligious propensities of his soldiers, and respecting the temples of religion.
With classic purity and eloquence he spoke the Italian language. The dig
nity and decorum of his manners, and his love of order, were strangely con
trasted with the recklessness of the ferocious soldiers with whom he was
surrounded. The impression thus produced upon the heart of the pontiff
was never effaced. Justice and generosity are always politic. But he must
indeed be influenced by an ignoble spirit who hence infers that every act of
magnanimity is dictated by policy. A legate was sent by the Pope to Paris.
"Let the holy father," said Napoleon, "put the utmost confidence in me.
Let him cast himself into my arms, and I will be for the Church another
Charlemagne."

368 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXIII.
Napoleon had collected for himself a library of well chosen books relat
ing to the organization and the history of the Church, and to the relations of
Church and state. He had ordered the Latin writings of Bossuet to be trans
lated for him. These works he had devoured in those short intervals which
he could glean from the cares of government. His genius enabled him at a
glance to master the argument of an author, to detect any existing sophis
try. His memory, almost miraculously retentive, and the philosophical cast
of his mind, gave him at all times the perfect command of these treasures
of knowledge. He astonished the world by the accuracy, extent, and vari
ety of his information upon all points of religion.
It was his custom, when deeply interested in any subject, to discuss it
with all persons from whom he could obtain information. With clear, de
cisive, and cogent arguments, he advocated his own views, and refuted the
erroneous systems successively proposed to him. It was urged upon Napo
leon that, if he must have a church, he should establish a French church, in
dependent of that of Rome. The poetic element was too strong in the char
acter of Napoleon for such a thought.
"What !" he exclaimed, " shall I, a warrior, wearing sword and spurs, and
doing battle, attempt to become the head of a church, and to regulate
Church discipline and doctrine. I wish to be the pacificator of France and
of the world, and shall I become the originator of a new schism, a little more
absurd and not less dangerous than the preceding ones. I must have a Pope,
and a Pope who will approximate men's minds to each other instead of cre
ating divisions ; who will reunite them, and give them to the government
sprung from the Revolution as a price for the protection that he shall have
obtained from it. For this purpose I must have the true Pope, the Catho
lic, apostolic, and Roman Pope, whose seat is at the Vatican. With the
French armies and some deference, I shall always be sufficiently his master.
When I shall raise up the altars again, when I shall protect the priests, when
I shall feed them, and treat them as ministers of religion deserve to be treat
ed in every country, he will do what I ask of him, through the interest he
will have in the general tranquillity. He will calm men's minds, reunite
them under his hand, and place them under mine. Short of this there is
only a continuation and an aggravation of the desolating schism which is
preying on us, and for me an immense and indelible ridicule."
The Pope's legate most strenuously urged some of the most arrogant and
exclusive assumptions of the Papal Church.
"The French people must be allured back to religion," said Napoleon,
" not shocked. To declare the Catholic religion the religion of the state is
impossible. It is contrary to the ideas prevalent in France, and will never
be admitted. In place of this declaration, we can only substitute the avowal
of the fact that the Catholic religion is the religion of the majority of French
men. But there must be perfect freedom of opinion. The amalgamation
of wise and honest men of all parties is the principle of my government. I
must apply that principle to the Church as well as to the state. It is the
only way of putting an end to the troubles of France, and I shall persist in
it undeviatingly." The question of the re-establishment of Christianity was very earnestly

1801.] NATIONAL REFORMS. 369
discussed in the Council of State. To the objections which were urged, Na
poleon replied, " You are deceived. The clergy exists, and ever will exist.
They will exist as long as the people are imbued with a religious spirit, and
that disposition is permanent in the human heart. We have seen republics
and democracies. History has many examples of such governments to ex
hibit, but none of a state without an established worship, without religion,
and without priests. Is it not better to organize the public worship and dis
cipline the priests, than to leave both entirely emancipated from the control
of the state ? At present the clergy openly preach against the Republic, be
cause they experience no benefit from it. Should we transport them ? Un
questionably not ! for what alone constitutes their authority in the wreck
of their fortunes is the fidelity with which they adhere to the Church of their
fathers, and that will be increased rather than diminished by all the suffer
ings they undergo. You may send into exile the English or the Austrians,
for they are bound by no ties to our country ; but the French, who have
families here, and are guilty of no offense but an adherence to their religious
opinions, must be treated differently. You can not extinguish their opinions.
You must, therefore, attach them to the Republic. If the Protestant faith
is proclaimed, one half the country will adopt that creed, and the other half
remain Roman Catholic. We shall have the Huguenot wars over again,
and interminable divisions. We have nothing to take from the clergy, and
as little to ask from them. The affair is entirely a political matter, and the
line I have adopted appears the safest that could have been chosen."
The numbers were : For. Against.
Tribunate  78  7
Legislative body  228  21
306 28*
Napoleon was overjoyed at the prospect not only of a general peace with
Europe, but of religious peace in France. In all the rural districts, the in
habitants longed for their churches and their pastors, and for the rites of re
ligion. In the time of the Directory, a famous wooden image of the Virgin
had been taken from the church at Loretto, and was deposited in one of the
museums of Paris as a curiosity. The sincere Catholics were deeply wound
ed and irritated by this act, which to them appeared so sacrilegious. Great
joy was caused both in France and Italy when Napoleon sent a courier to
the Pope restoring this statue, which was regarded with very peculiar ven
eration. The same embassador carried the terms of agreement for peace
with the Church. This religious treaty with Rome was called " The Con
cordat." The Pope, in secular power, was helpless. Napoleon could, at
any moment, pour a resistless swarm of troops into his territories.
As the French embassador left the Tuileries, he asked the First Consul
for his instructions. " Treat the Pope," said Napoleon, magnanimously, " as
if he had two hundred thousand soldiers." The difficulties in the way of an
amicable arrangement were innumerable. The army of France was thor
oughly infidel. Most of the leading generals and statesmen who surrounded
Napoleon contemplated Christianity in every aspect with hatred and scorn.
On the other hand, the Catholic Church, uninstructed by misfortune, was
* Thibodeaux, p. 210.
Vol. I.— A a

370 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXIII.
not disposed to abate in the least its arrogant demands, and was clamorous
for concessions which even Napoleon had not power to confer. It required
all the wisdom, forbearance, and tact of the First Consul to accomplish this
reconciliation. Joseph Bonaparte, the accomplished gentleman, the sincere,
urbane, sagacious, upright man, was Napoleon's corps de reserve in all di
plomatic acts.
The preliminaries being finally adjusted, the Pope's legation met at the
house of Joseph Bonaparte, and on the 15th of July, 1801, this great act
was signed. Napoleon announced the event to the Council of State. He
addressed them in a speech an hour and a half in length, and all were struck
with the precision, the vigor, and the loftiness of his language. By univer
sal consent, his speech was pronounced to be eloquent in the highest degree.
But those philosophers, who regarded it as the great glory of the Revolution
that all superstition, by which they meant all religion, was swept away, in
sullen silence yielded to a power which they could not resist. The people,
the millions of France, were with Napoleon.
The following liberal and noble sentiments were uttered in the proclama
tion by which Napoleon announced the Concordat to the French people :
"An insane policy has sought, during the Revolution, to smother religious
dissensions under the ruins of the altar, under the ashes of religion itself.
At its voice all those pious solemnities ceased in which the citizens called
each other by the endearing name of brothers, and acknowledged their com
mon equality in the sight of Heaven. The dying, left alone in his agonies,
no longer heard that consoling voice which calls the Christian to a better
world. God himself seemed exiled from the face of nature. Ministers of
the religion of peace, let a complete oblivion vail over your dissensions, your
misfortunes, your faults. Let the religion which unites you bind you by in
dissoluble cords to the interests of your country. Let the young learn from
your precepts that the God of peace is also the God of arms, and that he
throws his shield over those who combat for the liberties of France. Citi
zens of the Protestant faith, the law has equally extended its solicitude to
your interests. Let the morality, so pure, so holy, so brotherly, which you
profess, unite you all in love to your country, and in respect for its laws ;
and, above all, never permit disputes on doctrinal points to weaken that uni
versal charity which religion at once inculcates and commands."
To foreign nations, the spectacle of France thus voluntarily returning to
the Christian faith was gratifying in the highest degree. It seemed to them
the pledge of peace and the harbinger of tranquillity. The Emperor of
Russia and the King of Prussia publicly expressed their joy at the auspi
cious event. The Emperor of Austria styled it " a service truly rendered to
all Europe." The serious and devout in all lands considered the voluntary
return of the French people to religion, from the impossibility of living with
out its precepts, as one of the most signal triumphs of the Christian faith.
On the 11th of April, 1802, the event was celebrated by a magnificent re
ligious ceremony in the Cathedral of Notre Dame. No expense was spared
to invest the festivity with the utmost splendor. Though many of the gen
erals and the high authorities of the state were extremely reluctant to par
ticipate in the solemnities of the occasion, the power and the popularity of

1802.] NATIONAL REFORMS. 371
the First Consul were so great that they dared not make any resistance.
The Cathedral was crowded with splendor. The versatile populace, ever
delighted with change and with shows, were overjoyed. General Rapp,
however, positively refused to attend the ceremony. With the bluntness of
a soldier, conscious that his well-known devotion to the First Consul would
procure for him impunity, he said,
" I shall not attend. But if you do not make these priests your aids or
your cooks, you may do with them as you please."
As Napoleon was making preparations to go to the Cathedral, Cambaceres
entered his apartment.
" Well," said the First Consul, rubbing his hands in the glow of his grati
fication, " we go to church this morning. What say they to that in Paris ?"
" Many persons," replied Cambaceres, "propose to attend the first repre
sentation in order to hiss the piece, should they not find it amusing."
" If any one," Napoleon firmly replied, " takes it into his head to hiss, I
shall put him out of the door by the grenadiers of the consular guard."
" But what if the grenadiers themselves," Cambaceres rejoined, " should
take to hissing like the rest ?"
" As to that I have no fear," said Napoleon. " My old mustaches will go
here to Notre Dame, just as at Cairo they would have gone to the mosque.
They will remark how I do, and, seeing their general grave and decent, they
will be so too, passing the watchword to each other, Decency."
" What did you think of the ceremony ?" inquired Napoleon of General
Delmas, who stood near him, when it was concluded.
" It was a fine piece of mummery," he replied ; " nothing was wanting but
the million of men who have perished to destroy that which you have now
re-established." Some of the priests, encouraged by this triumphant restoration of Chris
tianity, began to assume not a little arrogance. A celebrated opera dancer
died, not in the faith. The priest of St. Roche refused to receive the body
into the church, or to celebrate over it the rites of interment. The next day
Napoleon caused the following article to be inserted in the Moniteur :
" The curate of St. Roche, in a moment of hallucination, has refused the
rites of burial to Mademoiselle Cameroi. One of his colleagues, a man of
sense, received the procession into the church of St. Thomas, where the bur
ial service was performed with the usual solemnities. The Archbishop of
Paris has suspended the curate of St. Roche for three months, to give him
time to recollect that Jesus Christ commanded us to pray even for our ene
mies. Being thus recalled by meditation to a proper sense of his duties, he
may learn that all these superstitious observances, the offspring of an age of
credulity or of crazed imaginations, tend only to the discredit of true religion,
and have been proscribed by the recent Concordat of the French Church."
The most strenuous exertions were made by the clergy to induce Napo
leon publicly to partake of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. It was
thought that his high example would be very influential upon others. Na
poleon nobly replied, " I have not sufficient faith in the ordinance to be ben
efited by its reception ; and I have too much faith in it to allow me to be
guilty of sacrilege. We are well as we are. Do not ask me to go farther.

372 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXIII.
You will never obtain what you wish. I will not become a hypocrite. Be
content with what you have already gained."
It is difficult to describe the undisguised delight with which the peasants
all over France again heard the ringing of the church bells upon the Sab
bath morning, and witnessed the opening of the church doors, the assembling
of the cono-reo-ations with smiles and congratulations, and the repose of the
Sabbath. Mr. Fox, in conversation with Napoleon after the peace of Amiens,
ventured to blame him for not having authorized the marriage of priests in
France. " I then had," said Napoleon, in his nervous eloquence, " need to
pacify. It is with water, and not with oil, that you must extinguish theo
logical volcanoes. I should have had less difficulty in establishing the Prot
estant religion in my empire."
The magistrates of Paris, grateful for the inestimable blessings which Na
poleon had conferred upon France, requested him to accept the project of a
triumphal monument to be erected in his honor, at a cost of one hundred thou-
sand'dollars. Napoleon gave the following reply :
" I view with grateful acknowledgments those sentiments which actuate
the magistrates of the city of Paris. The idea of dedicating monumental
trophies to those men who have rendered themselves useful to the communi
ty is a praiseworthy action in all nations. I accept the offer of the monu
ment which you desire to dedicate to me. Let the spot be designated. But
leave the labor of constructing it to future generations, should they think fit
thus to sanction the estimate which you place upon my services." Beneath
the dome of the Invalides may now be seen the estimate which France has
placed on the services of Napoleon.
There was an indescribable fascination about the character of Napoleon
which no other man ever possessed, and which all felt who entered his pres
ence. Some military officers of high rank, on one occasion, in these days
of his early power, agreed to go and remonstrate with him upon some subject
which had given them offense. One of the party thus describes the inter
view :
" I do not know whence it arises, but there is a charm about that man
which is indescribable and irresistible. I am no admirer of him. I dislike
the power to which he has risen. Yet I can not help confessing that there
is a something in him which seems to speak that he is born to command.
We went into his apartment determined to declare our minds to him very
freely, to expostulate with him warmly, and not to depart till our subjects
of complaint were removed. But in his manner of receiving us there was
a certain something, a degree of fascination, which disarmed us in a moment;
nor could we utter one word of what we had intended to say. He talked to
us for a long time with an eloquence peculiarly his own, explaining, with
the utmost clearness and precision, the necessity for steadily pursuing the
line of conduct he had adopted. Without contradicting us in direct terms,
he controverted our opinions so ably that we had not a word to say in reply.
We left him, having done nothing else but listen to him instead of expostu
lating with him, and fully convinced, at least for the moment, that he was
in the right and we were in the wrong."
The merchants of Rouen experienced a similar fascination when they

1802.] NATIONAL REFORMS. 373
called to remonstrate against some commercial relations which Napoleon
had introduced. They were so entirely disarmed by his frankness, his sin
cerity, and were so deeply impressed by the extent and the depth of his views,
that they retired, saying, " The First Consul understands our interests far
better than we do ourselves."
" The man," says Lady Morgan, " who, at the head of a vast empire,
could plan great and lasting works, conquer nations, and yet talk astronomy
with La Place, tragedy with Talma, music with Cherubini, painting with
Gerrard, vertu with Denon, and literature and science with any one who
would listen to him, was certainly out of the roll of common men."
Napoleon now exerted all his energies for the elevation of France. He
sought out and encouraged talent wherever it could be found. No merit
escaped his princely munificence. Authors, artists, men of science were
loaded with honors and emoluments. He devoted most earnest attention to
the education of youth. The navy, commerce, agriculture, manufactures,
and all mechanic arts, secured his assiduous care. He labored to the ut
most, and with a moral courage above all praise, to discountenance whatever
was loose in morals, or enervating or unmanly in amusements or taste.
The theatre was the most popular source of entertainment in France. He
frowned upon all frivolous and immodest performances, and encouraged those
only which were moral, grave, and dignified. In the grandeur of tragedy alone
he took pleasure. In his private deportment he exhibited the example of a
moral, simple, and toilsome life. Among the forty millions of France, there
was not to be found a more temperate and laborious man. When nights of
labor succeeded days of toil, his only stimulus was lemonade. He loved his
own family and friends, and was loved by them with a fervor which soared
into the regions of devotion. Never before did mortal man secure such love.
Thousands were ready at any moment to lay down their lives through their
affection for him. And that mysterious charm was so strong that it has sur
vived his death. Thousands now live who would brave death in any form
from love for Napoleon.*
*" " If Napoleon had not distinguished himself as a soldier, he would have done so as an author,
poet, orator, or mathematician, somehow or other ; for he was potent with both tongue and pen
as well as sword. His conversation was highly instructive, and he was one of the most eloquent
men of modern times. His orders of the day, proclamations, bulletins, speeches, addresses, and
answers to addresses — all his writings, from his first appearance in Italy to his last will and testa
ment at St. Helena — many of his sudden sayings, his maxims, sarcasms, witticisms, and unpremed
itated observations, breathe an abrupt, vivifying, concentrated, and peculiar spirit, poetical and im
aginative, logical and argumentative, fervid and forcible.
" Napoleon was a free talker, never wrapped up in mysterious taciturnity, or disclosed by oracular
intimations. Yet he was a listener too, which is a rare talent, and could keep his decision sus
pended till he heard all that might be said on all sides. Deliberations lasted mostly five or six
hours a day, which is longer than an American judicial, much longer than a legislative daily ses
sion. Not only would the Emperor, all that time, take his part in the council, but often keep some
of the counselors to dine with him, during and after dinner renewing the subject, and analyzing it
in every way. In those grave, sometimes technical and complicated questions, the astonishing ver
satility of his genius, and extent of his attainments for civil as well as military government, the
quickness and clearness with which he seized the very point in question in matters he had not been
educated to, and might well have been uninformed of, his superior knowledge of men and things,
were wonderfully apparent." — Ingersoll's Second War, vol. i., p. 154, Second Series.

374 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXIV.

CHAPTER XXIV.
FIRST CONSUL FOR LIFE.
Peace in France — Trials of Josephine — State of Morals — Josephine's Plans for Hortense — Louis
Bonaparte — Italian Republic — Congress at Lyons — Incessant Activity of Napoleon — Solicitude
of England — Schools — Origin of the Decoration of the Legion of Honor — Election as First Con
sul for Life — Reproof to Lucien and Eliza — Review — Renewal of Difficulties with England.
France was now at peace with all the world. It was universally admit
ted that Napoleon was the great pacificator. He was the idol of France.
The masses of the people of Europe every where regarded him as their ad
vocate and friend, the enemy of aristocratic usurpation, and the great cham
pion of equality. The people of France no longer demanded liberty. Weary
years of woe had taught them gladly to relinquish the boon. They only de
sired a ruler who would take care of them, govern them, protect them from
the power of allied despotism, and give them equal rights. Though Napoleon
had now but the title of First Consul, and France was nominally a repub
lic, he was, in reality, the most powerful monarch in Europe. His throne
was established in the hearts of nearly forty millions of people. His word
was law.
It will be remembered that Josephine contemplated the extraordinary
grandeur to which her husband had attained, with intense solicitude. She
saw that more than ordinary regal power had passed into his hands, and she
was not a stranger to the intense desire which animated his heart to have an
heir to whom to transmit his name and glory. She knew that many were
intimating to him that an heir was essential to the repose of France. She
was fully informed that divorce had been urged upon him as one of the stern
necessities of state. One day, when Napoleon was busy in his cabinet, Jose
phine entered softly by a side door, and seating herself affectionately upon
his knee, and passing her hand gently through his hair, said to him, with a
burst of tenderness,
" I entreat you, my love, do not make yourself king. It is Lucien who
urges you to it. Do not listen to him."
Napoleon smiled upon her kindly, and said, " Why, my poor Josephine,
you are mad. You must not listen to these fables which the old dowagers
tell you. .But you interrupt me now ; I am very busy ; leave me alone."
Josephine was at times almost delirious in apprehension of the awful ca
lamity which threatened her. She knew the intensity of her husband's
love. She also knew the boundlessness of his ambition. She could not be
blind to the apparent importance, as a matter of state policy, that Napoleon
should possess an heir. She also was fully aware that throughout France
marriage had long been regarded but as a partnership of convenience, to be
formed and sundered almost at pleasure. " Marriage," said Madame de
Stael, " has become but the sacrament of adultery." The nation, under the
influence of these views, would condemn her for selfishly refusing assent to

1802.] FIRST CONSUL FOR LIFE. 375
an arrangement apparently essential to the repose of France and of Europe.
Never was a woman placed in a situation of more terrible trial. Never was
an ambitious man exposed to a more fiery temptation.
Laying aside the authority of Christianity, and contemplating the subject
in the light of mere expediency, it seemed a plain duty for Napoleon and
Josephine to separate. But gloriously does it illustrate the immutable truth
of God's word, that even in such an exigence as this, the path which the
Bible pointed out was the only path of safety and of peace. " In separating
myself from Josephine," said Napoleon afterward, " and in marrying" Maria
Louisa, I placed my foot upon an abyss which was covered with flowers."
Josephine's daughter, Hortense, beautiful, brilliant, and amiable, then but
eighteen years of age, was strongly attached to Duroc, one of Napoleon's
aids, a very fashionable and handsome man. Josephine, however, had con
ceived the idea of marrying Hortense to Louis Bonaparte, Napoleon's younger
brother. She said one day to Bourrienne,
" My two brothers-in-law are my determined enemies. You see all their
intrigues. You know how much uneasiness they have caused me. This
projected marriage with Duroc leaves me without any support. Duroc, in
dependent of Bonaparte's friendship, is nothing. He has neither fortune,
rank, nor even reputation. He can afford me no protection against the en
mity of the brothers. I must have some more certain reliance for "the future.
My husband loves Louis very much. If I can succeed in uniting my daughter
to him, he will prove a strong counterpoise to the calumnies and persecutions
of my brothers-in-law."
These remarks were reported to Napoleon. He replied, " Josephine la
bors in vain. Duroc and Hortense love each other, and they shall be mar
ried. I am attached to Duroc. He is well born. I have given Caroline to
Murat, and Pauline to Le Clerc. I can as well give Hortense to Duroc.
He is brave. He is as good as the others. He is general of division. Be
sides, I have other views for Louis."
In the palace the heart may throb with the same joys and griefs as in the
cottage. In anticipation of the projected marriage, Duroc was sent on a
special mission to compliment the Emperor Alexander on his accession to
the throne. Duroc wrote often to Hortense while absent. When the pri
vate secretary whispered in her ear, in the midst of the brilliant throng of
the Tuileries, " I have a letter," she would immediately retire to her apart
ment. Upon her return, her friends could see that her eyes were moistened
with the tears of affection and joy. Josephine cherished the hope that, could
she succeed in uniting Hortense with Louis Bonaparte, should Hortense give
birth to a son, Napoleon would regard him as his heir. The child would
bear the name of Bonaparte ; the blood of the Bonapartes would circulate in
his veins ; and he would be the offspring of Hortense, whom Napoleon re
garded as his own daughter, and whom he loved with the strongest parental
affection. Thus the terrible divorce might be averted. Urged by motives
so powerful. Josephine left no means untried to accomplish her purpose.
Louis Bonaparte was a studious, pensive, imaginative man, of great moral
worth, though possessing but little force of character. He had been bitterly
disappointed in his affections, and was weary of the world. When but nine-

376 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXIV.
teen years of age he had formed a very strong attachment for a young lady
whom he had met in Paris. She was the daughter of an emigrant noble,
and his whole being became absorbed in the passion of love. Napoleon,
then in the midst of those victories which paved his way to the throne of
France, was apprehensive that the alliance of his brother with one of the old
Royalist families might endanger his own ambitious projects. He therefore
sent him away on a military commission, and secured, by his powerful in
strumentality, the marriage of the young lady to another person. The dis
appointment preyed deeply upon the heart of the sensitive young man. All
ambition died within him. He loved solitude, and studiously avoided the
cares and pomp of state. Napoleon, not having been aware of the extreme
strength of his brother's attachment, when he saw the wound which he had
inflicted upon him, endeavored to make all the amends in his power. Hor
tense was beautiful, full of grace and vivacity. At last Napoleon fell in with
the views of Josephine, and resolved, having united the two, to recompense
his brother, as far as possible, by lavishing great favors upon them.
It was long before Louis would listen to the proposition of his marriage
with Hortense. His affections still clung to the lost object of his idolatry,
and he could not, without pain, think of union with another. Indeed, a more
uncongenial alliance could hardly have been imagined. In no one thing
were their tastes similar. But who could resist the combined tact of Jose
phine and power of Napoleon. All obstacles were swept away, and the
maiden, loving the hilarity of life, and its gayest scenes of festivity and
splendor, was reluctantly led to the silent, pensive scholar, who as reluct
antly received her as his bride.
Hortense had become in some degree reconciled to the match, as her
powerful father promised to place them in high positions of wealth and rank.
Louis resigned himself to his lot, feeling that earth had no further joy in
store for him. A magnificent fete was given in honor of this marriage, at
which all the splendors of the ancient royalty were revived. Louis Napo
leon Bonaparte, who, as President of the French Republic, succeeded Louis
Philippe, the King of the French, was the only child of this marriage who
survived his parents.
Napoleon had organized in the heart of Italy a republic containing about
five millions of inhabitants. This republic could by no means maintain it
self against the monarchies of Europe, unaided by France. Napoleon, sur
rounded by hostile kings, deemed it essential to the safety of France to se
cure in Italy a nation of congenial sympathies and interests, with whom he
could form the alliance of cordial friendship. The Italians, all inexperienced
in self-government, regarding Napoleon as their benefactor and their sole
supporter, looked to him for a constitution. Three of the most influential
men of the Cisalpine Republic were sent as delegates to Paris, to consult
with the First Consul upon the organization of their government. Under
the direction of Napoleon a constitution was drafted, which, considering the
character of the Italian people, and the hostile monarchical influences which
surrounded them, was most highly liberal. A President and Vice-President
were to be chosen for ten years. There was to be a Senate of eight mem
bers and a House of Representatives of seventy-five members. These were

1802.] FIRST CONSUL FOR LIFE. 377
all to be selected from a body composed of 300 landed proprietors, 200 mer
chants, and 200 of the clergy and prominent literary men. Thus all the im
portant interests of the state were represented.
In Italy, as in all the other countries of Europe at that time, there were
three prominent parties. The Loyalists sought the restoration of monarchy
and the exclusive privileges of kings and nobles. The moderate Republicans
wished to establish a firm government, which would enforce order, and con
fer upon all equal rights. The Jacobins wished to break down all dis
tinctions, divide property, and to govern by the blind energies of the mob.
Italy had long been held in subjection by the spiritual terrors of the priests
and by the bayonets of the Austrians. Ages of bondage had enervated the
people, and there were no Italian statesmen capable of taking the helm of
government in such a turbulent sea of troubles. Napoleon resolved to have
himself proposed as President, and then, reserving to himself the supreme
direction, to delegate the details of affairs to distinguished Italians, until they
should, in some degree, be trained to duties so new to them.
" This plan," says Thiers, " was not, on his part, the inspiration of ambi
tion, but rather of great good sense. His views on this occasion were un
questionably both pure and exalted." But nothing can more strikingly show
the almost miraculous energies of Napoleon's mind, and his perfect self-reli
ance, than the readiness with which, in addition to the cares of the empire
of France, he assumed the responsibility of organizing and developing an
other nation of five millions of inhabitants. This was in 1802. Napoleon
was then but thirty-three years of age.
To have surrendered those Italians, who had rallied around the armies of
France in their hour of need, again to Austrian domination, would have been
an act of treachery. To have abandoned them, in their inexperience, to the
Jacobin mob on the one hand, and to Royalist intrigues on the other, would
have insured the ruin of the Republic. But by leaving the details of govern
ment to be administered by Italians, and at the same time sustaining the
constitution by his own powerful hand, there was a probability that the re
public might attain prosperity and independence. As the press of business
rendered it extremely difficult for Napoleon to leave France, a plan was
formed for a vast congress of the Italians to be assembled in Lyons, about
half way between Paris and Milan, for the imposing adoption of the repub
lican constitution.
Four hundred and fifty-two deputies were elected to cross the -frozen Alps
in the month of December. The extraordinary watchfulness and foresight
of the First Consul had prepared every thing for them on the way. In
Lyons sumptuous preparations were made for their entertainment. Mag
nificent halls were decorated in the highest style of earthly splendor for the
solemnities of the occasion. The army of Egypt, which had recently land
ed, bronzed by an African sun, was gorgeously attired, to add to the magnifi
cence of the spectacle. The Lyonese youth, exultant with pride, were formed
into an imposing body of cavalry.
On the 11th of January, 1802, Napoleon, accompanied by Josephine, ar
rived in Lyons. The whole population of the adjoining country had assem
bled along the road, anxiously watching for his passage. At night immense

378 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXIV.
fires illumined his path, blazing upon every hill-side and in every valley.
One continuous shout of " Live Bonaparte !" rolled along with the carriage
from Paris to Lyons. It was late in the evening when Napoleon arrived in
Lyons. The brilliant city flamed with the splendor of noon-day. The car
riage of the First Consul passed under a triumphal arch, surmounted by a
sleeping lion, the emblem of France, and Napoleon took up his residence in
the Hotel de Ville, which, in most princely sumptuousness, had been deco
rated for his reception. The Italians adored Napoleon. They felt person
ally ennobled by his renown, for they considered him their countryman.
The Italian language was his native tongue, and he spoke it with the most
perfect fluency and elegance. The moment that the name of Napoleon was
suggested to the deputies as President of the Republic, it was received with
shouts of enthusiastic acclamation.

KEVIEW AT LYONS.

A deputation was immediately sent to the First Consul to express the
unanimous and cordial wish of the Convention that he would accept the

1802.] FIRST CONSUL FOR LIFE. 379
office. While these things were transpiring, Napoleon, ever intensely occu
pied, was inspecting his veteran soldiers of Italy and of Egypt in a public
review. The elements seemed to conspire to invest the occasion with splen
dor. The day was cloudless, the sun brilliant, the sky serene, the air invig
orating. All the inhabitants of Lyons and the populace of the adjacent
country thronged the streets. No pen can describe the transports with
which the hero was received, as he rode along the lines of these veterans,
whom he had so often led to victory. The soldiers shouted in a phrensy of
enthusiasm. Old men, and young men, and boys caught the shout, and it
reverberated along the streets in one continuous roar. Matrons and maidens,
waving banners and handkerchiefs, wept in excess of emotion. Bouquets
of flowers were showered from the windows to carpet his path, and every
conceivable demonstration was made of the most enthusiastic love.
Napoleon himself was deeply moved by the scene. Some of the old gren
adiers, whom he recognized, he called out of the ranks, kindly talked with
them, inquiring respecting their wounds and their wants. He addressed sev
eral of the officers, whom he had seen in many encounters, shook hands with
them, and a delirium of excitement pervaded all minds. Upon his return to
the Hotel de Ville, he met the deputation of the Convention. They present
ed him the address, urging upon him the acceptance of the Presidency of
the Cisalpine Republic. Napoleon received the address, intimated his ac
ceptance, and promised, on the following day, to meet the Convention.
The next morning dawned brightly upon the city. A large church, em
bellished with richest drapery, was prepared for the solemnities of the occa
sion. Napoleon entered the church, took his seat upon an elevated platform,
surrounded by his family, the French ministers, and a large number of dis
tinguished generals and statesmen. He addressed the assembly in the Ital
ian language with as much ease of manner, elegance of expression, and flu
ency of utterance as if his whole life had been devoted to the cultivation of
the powers of oratory. He announced his acceptance of the dignity with
which they would invest him, and uttered his views respecting the measures
which should be adopted to secure the prosperity of the Italian Republic, as
the new state was henceforth to be called. Repeated bursts of applause in
terrupted his address, and at its close one continuous shout of acclamation
testified the- assent and the delight of the assembled multitude. Napoleon
remained at Lyons twenty days, occupied apparently, every moment, with
the vast affairs which then engrossed his attention. And yet he found time
to write daily to Paris, urging forward the majestic enterprises of the new
government in France. The following brief extracts from this free and
confidential correspondence afford an interesting glimpse of the motives
which actuated Napoleon at this time, and of the great objects of his am
bition. " I am proceeding slowly in my operations. I pass the whole of my morn
ings in giving audience to the deputations of the neighboring departments.
The improvement in the happiness of France is obvious. During the past
two years the population of Lyons has increased more than 20,000 souls.
All the manufacturers tell me that their works are in a state of high activi
ty. All minds seem to be full of energy ; not that energy which overturns

380 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXIV.
empires, but that which re-establishes them, and conducts them to prosperi
ty and riches.
"I be°- of you particularly to see that the unruly members whom we have
in the constituted authorities are every one of them removed. The wish of
the nation is that the government shall not be obstructed in its endeavors to
act for the public good, and that the head of Medusa shall no longer show it
self either in our tribunes or in our assemblies. The conduct of Sieyes on
this occasion completely proves that, having contributed to the destruction
of all the constitutions since '91, he wishes now to try his hand against the
present. He ought to burn a wax candle to Our Lady for having got out of
the scrape so fortunately and in so unexpected a manner. But the older I
grow, the more I perceive that each man must fulfill his destiny. I recom
mend you to ascertain whether the provisions for St. Domingo have actually
been sent off. I take it for granted that you have taken proper measures
for demolishing the Chatelet. If the Minister of Marine should stand in need
of the frigates of the King of Naples, he may make use of them. General
Jourdan gives me a satisfactory account of the state of Piedmont.
" I wish that Citizen Royer be sent to the 16th military division to exam
ine into the accounts of the paymaster. I also wish some individual, like
Citizen Royer, to perform the same duty for the lSth^and 14th divisions. It
is complained that the receivers keep the money as long as they can, and
that the paymasters postpone payment as long as possible. The paymasters
and the receivers are the greatest nuisance in the state.
" Yesterday I visited several factories. I was pleased with the industry
and severe economy which pervaded those establishments. Should the win
try weather continue severe, I do not think that the $25,000 a month, which
the Minister of the Interior grants for the purposes of charity, will be suffi
cient. It will be necessary to add five thousand dollars for the distribution
of wood, and also to light fires in the churches and other large buildings to
give warmth to a great number of people."
Napoleon arrived in Paris on the 31st of January. In the mean time,
there had been a new election of members of the Tribunate and of the leg
islative body. All those who had manifested any opposition to the measures
of Napoleon in the re-establishment of Christianity and in the adoption of
the new civil code were left out, and their places supplied by those who ap
proved of the measures of the First Consul. Napoleon could now act unem
barrassed. In every quarter there was submission. All the officers of the
state, immediately upon his return, sought an audience, and, in that pomp
of language which his majestic deeds and character inspired, presented to
him their congratulations. He was already a sovereign, in possession of re
gal power such as no other monarch in Europe enjoyed.
Upon one object all the energies of his mighty mind were concentrated.
France was his estate, his diadem, his all. The glory of France was his
glory, the happiness of France his happiness, the riches of France his wealth.
Never did a father, with more untiring self-denial and toil, labor for his fami
ly, than did Napoleon, through days of exertion and nights of sleeplessness,
devote every energy of body and soul to the greatness of France. He loved
not ease, he loved not personal indulgence, he loved not sensual gratifica-

1802.] FIRST CONSUL FOR LIFE. 381
tion. The elevation of France to prosperity, wealth, and power was a lim
itless ambition. The almost supernatural success which had thus far attend
ed his exertions did but magnify his desires and stimulate his hopes. He
had no wish to elevate France upon the ruins of other nations. But he
wished to make France the pattern of all excellence, the illustrious leader at
the head of all nations, guiding them to intelligence, to opulence, and to
happiness. Such, at this time, was the towering ambition of Napoleon, the
most noble and comprehensive which was ever embraced by the conception
of man.
Of course, such ambition was not consistent with the equality of other na
tions, for he determined that France should be the first. But he manifested
no disposition to destroy the happiness of others ; he only wished to give
such an impulse to humanity in France, by the culture of mind, by purity
of morals, by domestic industry, by foreign commerce, by great national
works, as to place France in the advance upon the race-course of greatness.
In this race France had but one antagonist — England. France had near
ly forty millions of inhabitants. The island of Great Britain contained but
about fifteen millions. But England, with her colonies, girdled the globe,
and, with her fleets, commanded all seas.
" France," said Napoleon, " must also have her colonies and her fleets."
" If we permit that," the statesmen of England rejoined, "we may become
a secondary power, and may thus be at the mercy of France."
It was undeniably so. Shall history be blind to such fatality as this ? Is
man, in the hour of triumphant ambition, so moderate that we can be will
ing that he should attain power which places us at his mercy ? England
was omnipotent upon the seas. She became arrogant and abused that pow
er, and made herself offensive to all nations. Napoleon developed no spe
cial meekness of character to indicate that he would be, in the pride of
strength which no nation could resist, more moderate and conciliating. Can
dor can not censure England for being unwilling to yield her high position —
to surrender her supremacy on the seas — to become a secondary power — to
allow France to become her master. And who can censure France for seek
ing the establishment of colonies, the extension of commerce, friendly al
liance with other nations, and the creation of fleets to protect her from ag
gression upon the ocean as well as upon the land ?
Napoleon himself, with that wonderful magnanimity which ever charac
terized him, though at times exasperated by the hostility which he now en
countered, yet often spoke in terms of respect of the influences which ani
mated his foes. It is to be regretted that his antagonists so seldom recipro
cated this magnanimity. There was, in this sanguinary conflict, most cer
tainly a right and a wrong. But it is not easy for man accurately to adjust
the balance. God alone can award the issue. The mind is saddened as it
wanders amid the labyrinths of conscientiousness and of passion, of pure mo
tives and of impure ambition. This is, indeed, a fallen world. The drama
of nations is a tragedy. Melancholy is the lot of man./
England daily witnessed, with increasing alarm, the rapid and enormous
strides which France was making. The energy of the First Consul seemed
superhuman. His acts indicated the most profound sagacity, the most far-

382 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXIV.
reaching foresight. To-day the news reaches London that Napoleon has
been elected President of the Italian Republic. Thus, in an hour, five mill
ions of people are added to his empire ! To-morrow it is announced that he
is establishing a colony at Elba — that a vast expedition is sailing for St. Do
mingo, to re-organize the colony there. England is bewildered. Again it is
proclaimed that Napoleon has purchased Louisiana of Spain, and is prepar
ing to fill the fertile valley of the Mississippi with colonists. In the mean
time, all France is in a state of activity. Factories, roads, bridges, canals,
fortifications, are every where springing into existence. The sound of the
ship-hammer reverberates in all the harbors of France, and every month wit
nesses the increase of the French fleet. The mass of the English people
contemplate with admiration this development of energy. The statesmen of
England contemplate it with dread.
For some months Napoleon, in the midst of all his other cares, had been
maturing a vast system, of public instruction for the youth of France. He
drew up, with his own hand, the plan for their schools, and proposed the
course of study. It is a little singular that, with his strong scientific predi
lections, he should have assigned the first rank to classical studies. Perhaps
this is to be accounted for from his professed admiration of the heroes of an
tiquity. His own mind was thoroughly stored with all the treasures of
Greek and Roman story. All these schools were formed upon a military
model, for, situated as France was in the midst of monarchies at heart hos
tile, he deemed it necessary that the nation should be universally trained to
bear arms. Religious instruction was to be communicated in all these
schools by chaplains, military instruction by old officers who had left the
army, and classical and scientific instruction by the most learned men Eu
rope could furnish.
The First Consul also devoted special attention to female schools. " France
needs nothing so much to promote her regeneration," said he, " as good
mothers." To attract the youth of France to these schools, one million of
dollars was appropriated for over six thousand gratuitous exhibitions for the
pupils. Ten schools of law were established, nine schools of medicine, and
an institution for the mechanical arts, called the " School of Bridges and
Roads," the first model of those schools of art which continue in France un
til the present day, and which are deemed invaluable. There were no ex
clusive privileges in these institutions ; a system of perfect equality pervaded
them. The pupils of all classes were placed upon a level, with an unob
structed arena before them. " This is only a commencement," said Napo
leon ; " by-and-by we shall do more and better."
Another project which Napoleon now introduced was vehemently opposed
— the establishment of the Legion of Honor. One of the leading principles
of the Revolution was the entire overthrow of all titles of distinction. Every
man, high or low, was to be addressed simply as Citizen. Napoleon wished
to introduce a system of rewards which should stimulate to heroic deeds, and
ennoble those who had deserved well of humanity. Innumerable foreigners
of distinction hadthronged France since the peace. He had observed with
what eagerness the populace had followed these foreigners, gazing with de
light upon their gay decorations. The court-yard of the Tuileries was ever

1802.] FIRST CONSUL FOR LIFE. 383
crowded when these illustrious strangers arrived and departed. Napoleon,
in his council, where he was always eloquent and powerful, thus urged his
views :
" Look at these vanities which genius pretends so much to disdain. The
populace is not of that opinion. It loves these many-colored ribbons as it
loves religious pomp. The democrat philosopher calls it vanity. Vanity
let it be ; but that vanity is a weakness common to the whole human race,
and great virtues may be made to spring from it. With these so much de
spised baubles heroes are made. There must be worship for the religious
sentiment ; there must be visible distinctions for the noble sentiment of glory.
Nations should not strive to be singular any more than individuals. The af
fectation of acting differently from the rest of the world is an affectation
which is reproved by all persons of sense and modesty. Ribbons are in use
in all countries. Let them be in use in France. It will be one more friend
ly relation established with Europe. Our neighbors give them only to the
man of noble birth. I will give them to the man of merit — to the one who
shall have served best in the army or in the state, or who shall have pro
duced the finest works."
It was objected that the institution of the Legion of Honor was a return
to the aristocracy which the Revolution had abolished. " What is there aris
tocratic," Napoleon exclaimed, " in a distinction purely personal, and merely
for life, bestowed on the man who has displayed merit, whether civil or mil
itary — bestowed on him alone, bestowed for his life only, and not passing to
his children. Such a distinction is the reverse of aristocratic. It is the es
sence of aristocracy that its titles are transmitted from the man who has
earned them to the son who possesses no merit. The ancient regime, so
battered by the ram of the Revolution, is more entire than is believed. All
the emigrants hold each other by the hand ; the Vende"eans are secretly en
rolled ; the priests, at heart, are not very friendly to us. With the words
' legitimate king,' thousands might be roused to arms. It is needful that the
men who have taken part in the Revolution should have a bond of union, and
cease to depend on the first accident which might strike one single head.
For ten years we have only been making ruins ; we must now found an edi
fice. Depend upon it, the struggle is not over with Europe. Be assured
that struggle will begin again."
It was then urged by some that the Legion of Honor should be confined
entirely to military merit. " By no means," said Napoleon. " Rewards are
not to be conferred upon soldiers alone. All sorts of merit are brothers.
The courage of the president of the Convention resisting the populace, should
be compared with the courage of Kleber mounting to the assault of Acre.
It is right that civil virtues should have their reward as well as military vir
tues. Those who oppose this course reason like barbarians. It is the re
ligion of brute force they commend to us. Intelligence has its rights before
those of force. Force, without intelligence, is nothing. In barbarous ages,
the man of stoutest sinews was the chieftain ; now, the general is the most
intelligent of the brave.
" At Cairo, the Egyptians could not comprehend how it was that Kleber,
with his majestic form, was not commander-in-chief. When Mourad Bey

384 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXIV.
had carefully observed our tactics, he could comprehend how it was that I,
and no other, ought to be the general of an army so conducted. You reason
like the Egyptians when you attempt to confine rewards to military valor.
The soldiers reason better than you. Go to their bivouacs ; listen to them.
Do you imagine that it is the tallest of their officers, and the most imposing
by his stature, for whom they feel the highest regard ? Do you imagine
even that the bravest stands first in their esteem ? No doubt they would
despise the man whose courage they suspected ; but they rank above the
merely brave man him whom they consider the most intelligent.
" As for myself, do you suppose that it is solely because I am reputed a
great general that I rule France ? No ! It is because the qualities of a
statesman and magistrate are attributed to me. France will never tolerate
the government of the sword. Those who think so are strangely mistaken.
It would require an abject servitude of fifty years before that could be the
case. France is too noble, too intelligent a country to submit to material
power. Let us honor intelligence, virtue, the civil qualities ; in short, let us
bestow upon them, in all professions, the like reward."
The true spirit of republicanism is certainly equality of rights, not of at
tainments and honors ; the abolition of hereditary distinctions and privileges,
not of those which are founded upon merit. The badge of the Legion of
Honor was to be conferred upon all who, by genius, self-denial, and toil, had
won renown. The prizes were open to the humblest peasant in the land.
Still, the popular hostility to any institution which bore a resemblance to the
aristocracy of the ancient nobility was so strong, that, though a majority
voted in favor of the measure, there was a strong opposition. Napoleon
was surprised. He said to Bourrienne,
" You are right. Prejudices are still against me. I ought to have waited.
There was no occasion for haste in bringing it forward. But the thing is
done ; and you will soon find that the taste for these distinctions is not yet
gone by. It is a taste which belongs to the nature of man. You will see
that extraordinary results will arise from it."
The order was to consist of six thousand members. It was constituted
in four ranks : grand officers, commanders, officers, and private legionaries.
The badge was simply a red ribbon in the button-hole. To the first rank
there was allotted an annual salary of 81000; to the second, $400; to the
third, 8200 ; to the fourth, $50. The private soldier, the retired scholar,
and the skillful artist were thus decorated with the same badge of distinc
tion which figured upon the breasts of generals, nobles, and monarchs. That
this institution was peculiarly adapted to the state of France, is evident
from the fact that it has survived all the revolutions of subsequent years.
"Though of such recent origin," says Thiers, "it is already consecrated as
if it had passed through centuries ; to such a degree has it become the rec
ompense of heroism, of knowledge, of merit of every kind — so much have its
honors been coveted by the grandees and the princes of Europe the most
proud of their origin."*
* The oath administered to those who received the cross of the Legion of Honor was as follows :
" I swear, on my honor, to devote myself to the service of the Republic, to the preservation of the
integrity of its territory, to the defense of its government, its laws, and the property by them con-

1802.] FIRST CONSUL FOR LIFE. 385
The popularity of Napoleon was now unbounded. A very general and
earnest disposition was expressed to confer upon the First Consul a magnifi
cent testimonial of the national gratitude — a testimonial worthy of the illus
trious man who was to receive it, and of the powerful nation by which it was
to be bestowed. The President of the Tribunal thus addressed that body :
" Among all nations, public honors have been decreed to men who, by
splendid actions, have honored their country, and saved it from great dangers.
What man ever had stronger claims to the national gratitude than General
Bonaparte ? His valor and genius have saved the French people from the
excesses of anarchy and from the miseries of war ; and France is too great,
too magnanimous, to leave such benefits without reward."
A deputation was immediately chosen to confer with Napoleon upon the
subject of the tribute of gratitude and affection which he should receive.
Surrounded by his colleagues and the principal officers of the state, he re
ceived them the next day in the Tuileries. With seriousness and modesty
he listened to the high eulogium upon his achievements which was pro
nounced, and then replied :
" I receive with sincere gratitude the wish expressed by the Tribunate.
I desire no other glory than that of having completely performed the task
imposed upon me. I aspire to no other reward than the affection of my fel
low-citizens. I shall be happy if they are thoroughly convinced that the

y ^i,i

"A iAIiiiilijj

KA- I

RECEPTION AT THE TUILERIES.

evils which they may experience will always be to me the severest of mis
fortunes ; that life is dear to me solely for the services which I am able to ren
der to my country; that death itself will have no bitterness for me, if my last
looks can see the happiness of the Republic as firmly secured as is its glory."
secrated ; to oppose, by every means which justice, reason, and the laws authorize, all acts tending
to re-establish the feudal system, or to revive the titles and distinctions belonging to it ; finally, to
contribute, to the utmost of my power, to the maintenance of liberty and equality." After the es
tablishment of the Empire, the oath was slightly changed to meet the new order of things.
Vol. I.— B b

386 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXIV.
But how was Napoleon to be rewarded ? That was the great and difficult
question. Was wealth to be conferred upon him ? For wealth he cared
nothino-. Millions had been at his disposal, and he had emptied them all
into the treasury of France. Ease, luxury, self-indulgence had no charms
for him. Were monuments to be reared to his honor, titles to be lavished
upon his name ? Napoleon regarded these but as means for the accomplish
ment of ends. In themselves they were nothing. The only one thing which
he desired was power — power to work out vast results for others, and thus
to secure for himself renown which should be pure and imperishable.
But how could the power of Napoleon be increased ? He was already
almost absolute. Whatever he willed, he accomplished. Senators, legis
lators, and tribunes all co-operated in giving energy to his plans. It will
be remembered that Napoleon was elected First Consul for ten years. It
seemed that there was absolutely nothing which could be done, gratifying to
the First Consul, but to prolong the term of his consulship, by either adding
to it another period of ten years, or by continuing it during his life. "What
does he wish?" was the universal inquiry. Every possible means were tried,
but in vain, to obtain a single word from his lips significant of his desires.
One of the senators went to Cambaceres and said, "What would be grat
ifying to General Bonaparte ? Does he wish to be king ? Only let him say
so, and we are ready to vote for the re-establishment of royalty. Most will
ingly will we do it for him, for he is worthy of that station."
But the First Consul shut himself up in impenetrable reserve. Even his
most intimate friends could catch no glimpse of his secret wishes. At last
the question was plainly and earnestly put to him.
With great apparent humility, he replied, " I have not fixed my mind
upon any thing. Any testimony of the public confidence will be sufficient
for me, and will fill me with satisfaction."
The question was then discussed whether to add ten years to his consul
ship, or to make him First Consul for life. Cambaceres knew well the
boundless ambition of Napoleon, and was fully conscious that any limited
period of power would not be in accordance with his plans. He ventured
to say to him,
"You are wrong not to explain yourself. Your enemies — for, notwith
standing your services, you have some left even in the Senate — will abuse
your reserve."
Napoleon calmly replied, "Let them alone. The majority of the Senate
is always ready to do more than it is asked. They will go further than you
imagine." On the evening of the 8th of May, 1802, the resolution was adopted of
prolonging the powers of the First Consul for ten years. Napoleon was
probably surprised and disappointed. He, however, decided to return a
grateful answer, and to say that not from the Senate, but from the suffrages
of the people alone, could he accept a prolongation of that power to which
their voices had elevated him. The following answer was transmitted to
the Senate the next morning :
" The honorable proof of your esteem, given in your deliberation of the
8th, will remain forever engraven on my heart. In the three years which

1802.

FIRST CONSUL FOR LIFE.

387

have just elapsed, fortune has smiled upon the Republic. But fortune is
fickle. How many men whom she has loaded with favors have lived a few
years too long. The interest of my glory and that of my happiness would
seem to have marked the term of my public life at the moment when the
peace of the world is proclaimed ; but the glory and the happiness of the
citizen ought to be silent when the interest of the state and the public par
tiality call him. You judge that I owe a new sacrifice to the people. I
will make it, if the wishes of the people command what your suffrage au
thorizes." Napoleon immediately left Paris for his country seat at Malmaison. This
beautiful chateau was about twelve miles from the metropolis. Josephine
had purchased the peaceful rural retreat at Napoleon's request, during his

MALMAISON.

first Italian campaign. Subsequently, large sums had been expended in en
larging and improving the grounds, and it was ever the favorite residence of
both Napoleon and Josephine. Cambaceres called an extraordinary meet-
in°- of the Council of State. After much deliberation, it was resolved, by an

388 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXIV.
immense majority, that the following proposition should be submitted to the
people : " Shall Napoleon Bonaparte be First Consul for life ?" It was then
resolved to submit a second question : " Shall the First Consul have the
power of appointing his successor ?" This was, indeed, re-establishing mon
archy under a republican name.
Cambaceres immediately repaired to Malmaison to submit these resolu
tions to Napoleon. To the amazement of all, he immediately and firmly re
jected the second question. Energetically he said,
"Whom would you have me appoint my successor ? My brothers ? But
will France, which has consented to be governed by me, consent to be gov
erned by Joseph or Lucien? Shall I nominate you consul, Cambaceres?
You ? Dare you undertake such a task ? And then the will of Louis XIV.
was not respected ; is it likely that mine would be ? A dead man, let him
be who he will, is nobody." In opposition to all urgency, he ordered the
second question to be erased, and the first only to be submitted to the peo
ple. It is impossible to divine the motive which influenced Napoleon in this
most unexpected decision. Some have supposed that even then he had in
view the Empire and the hereditary monarchy, and that he wished to leave
a chasm in the organization of the government as a reason for future change.
Others have supposed that he dreaded the rivalries which would arise among
his brothers and his nephews from his having at his disposal so resplendent
a gift as the Empire of France. But the historian treads upon dangerous
ground when he begins to judge of motives. That which Napoleon actually
did was moderate and noble in the highest degree. Fie declined the power
of appointing his successor, and submitted his election to the suffrages of the
people. A majority of 3,568,885 voted for the consulate for life, and only
eight thousand and a few hundreds against it. Never before or since was
an earthly government established by such unanimity. Never had a mon
arch a more indisputable title to his throne.
Upon this occasion La Fayette added to his vote these qualifying words :
" I can not vote for such a magistracy until public freedom is sufficiently
guaranteed. When that is done, I give my voice to Napoleon Bonaparte."
In a private conversation with the First Consul, he added, "A free govern
ment, and you at its head — that comprehends all my desires." Napoleon
remarked, "In theory, La Fayette is perhaps right. But what is theory?
A mere dream when applied to the masses of mankind. He thinks he is
still in the United States — as if the French were Americans. He has no con
ception of what is required for this country."
A day was fixed for a grand diplomatic festival, when Napoleon should
receive the congratulations of the constituted authorities and of the foreign
embassadors. The soldiers, in brilliant uniform, formed a double line from
the Tuileries to the Luxembourg. The First Consul was seated in a mag
nificent chariot drawn by eight horses. A cortege of gorgeous splendor ac
companied him. All Paris thronged the streets through which he passed,
and the most enthusiastic applause rent the heavens. To the congratulatory
address of the Senate, Napoleon replied :
" The life of a citizen belongs to his country. The French nation wishes
that mine should be wholly consecrated to France. I obey its will. Through

1802.]

FIRST CONSUL FOR LIFE.
:V:|

389

ELECTION OF CONSUL FOR LIFE.

my efforts, by your assistance, citizen senators, by the aid of the authorities,
and by the confidence and support of this mighty people, the liberty, equal
ity, and prosperity of France will be rendered secure against the caprices of
fate and the uncertainty of futurity. The most virtuous of nations will be
the most happy, as it deserves to be ; and its felicity will contribute to the
general happiness of all Europe. Proud, then, of being thus called, by the
command of that Power from which every thing emanates, to bring back
order, justice, and equality to the earth, when my last hour approaches, I
shall yield myself up with resignation, and without any solicitude respecting
the opinions of future generations."
On the following day, the new articles modifying the Constitution in ac
cordance with the change in the consulship were submitted to the Council
of State. The First Consul presided, and, with his accustomed vigor and
perspicuity, explained the reasons of each article, as he recounted them one
by one. The articles contained the provision that Napoleon should nomi-

390 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXIV.
nate his successor to the Senate. To this, after a slight resistance, he yield
ed. The most profound satisfaction now pervaded France. Even Josephine
began to be tranquil and happy. She imagined that all thoughts of royalty
and of hereditary succession had now passed away. She contemplated
with no uneasiness the power which Napoleon possessed of choosing his
successor. Napoleon sympathized cordially with her in her high gratifica
tion that Hortense was soon to become a mother. This child was already,
in their hearts, the selected heir to the power of Napoleon.
On the 15th of August, Paris magnificently celebrated the anniversary of
the birth-day of the First Consul. This was another introduction of mo
narchical usages. All the high authorities of the Church and the state, and
the foreign diplomatic bodies, called upon him with congratulations. At
noon, in all the churches of the metropolis, a Te Deum was sung, in grati
tude to God for the gift of Napoleon. At night the city blazed with illumi
nations. The splendors and the etiquette of royalty were now rapidly in
troduced, and the same fickle populace, who had so recently trampled princes
and thrones into blood and ruin, were now captivated with the reintroduction
of these discarded splendors. Napoleon soon established himself in the
beautiful chateau of St. Cloud, which he had caused to be repaired with great
magnificence. On the Sabbath, the First Consul, with Josephine, invariably attended di
vine service. Their example was soon followed by most of the members of
the court, and the nation as a body returned to Christianity, which, even in
its most corrupt form, saves humanity from those abysses of degradation into
which infidelity plunges it. Immediately after divine service he conversed
in the gallery of the chateau with the visitors who were then waiting for him.
The brilliance of his intellect, and his high renown, caused him to be ap
proached with emotions of awe. His words were listened to with intensest
eagerness. He was the exclusive object of observation and attention. No
earthly potentate had ever attained such a degree .of homage, pure and sin
cere, as now circled around the First Consul.
Napoleon was very desirous of having his court a model of decorum and
of morals. Lucien owned a beautiful mansion near Neuilly. Upon one oc
casion he invited Napoleon, and all the inmates of Malmaison, to attend
some private theatricals at his dwelling. Lucien and Eliza were the per
formers in a piece called Alzire. The ardor of their declamation, the free
dom of their gestures, and, above all, the indelicacy of the costume which
they assumed, displeased Napoleon exceedingly. As soon as the play was
over, he exclaimed,
" It is a scandal. I ought not to suffer such indecencies. I will give Lu
cien to understand that I will have no more of it." As soon as Lucien entered
the saloon, having resumed his usual dress, Napoleon addressed him before
the whole company, and requested him in future to desist from all such rep
resentations. "What !" said he, "when I am endeavoring to restore puritv
of manners, my brother and sister must needs exhibit themselves upon 'a
platform almost in a state of nudity ! It is an insult !"
One day at this time, Bourrienne, going from Malmaison to Ruel, lost a
beautiful watch. He proclaimed his loss by means of the bellman at Ruel.

1802.] FIRST CONSUL FOR LIFE. 391
An hour after, as he was sitting down to dinner, a peasant boy brought him
the watch, which he had found on the road. Napoleon heard of the occur
rence. Immediately he instituted inquiries respecting the young man and
the family. Hearing a good report of them, he gave the three brothers em
ployment, and amply rewarded the honest lad. " Kindness," says Bourri
enne, "was a very prominent trait in the character of Napoleon."
If we now take a brief review of what Napoleon had accomplished since
his return from Egypt, it must be admitted that the records of the world are
to be searched in vain for a similar recital. No mortal man before ever ac
complished so much, or accomplished it so well in so short a time.
Let us for a moment return to his landing at Frejus on the 8th of October,
1799, until he was chosen First Consul for life, in August, 1802, a period of
not quite three years. Proceeding to Paris almost alone, he overthrew the
Directory and seized the supreme power, restored order into the adminis
tration of government, established a new and very efficient system for the
collection of taxes, raised public credit, and supplied the wants of the suf
fering army. By great energy and humanity he immediately terminated the
horrors of that unnatural war which had for years been desolating La Ven
dee. Condescending to the attitude of a suppliant, he implored of Europe
peace. Europe chose war. By a majestic conception of military combinations,
he sent Moreau with a vast army to the Rhine ; stimulated Massena to the
most desperate strife at Genoa ; and then, creating as by magic an army
from materials which excited but the ridicule of his foes, he climbed, with
artillery and horse, and all the munitions of war, the icy pinnacles of the
Alps, and fell like an avalanche upon his foes on the plain of Marengo.
With far inferior numbers, he snatched the victory from the victors '; and in
the exultant hour of the most signal conquest, wrote again from the field of
blood imploring peace. His foes, humbled and at his mercy, gladly availed
themselves of his clemency, and promised to treat. Perfidiously, they only
sought time to regain their strength. He then sent Moreau to Hohen
linden, and beneath the walls of Vienna extorted peace from Continental
Europe. England still prosecuted the war. The First Consul, by his genius, won
the heart of Paul of Russia, secured the affection of Prussia, Denmark, and
Sweden, and formed a league of all Europe against the Mistress of the Seas.
While engaged in this work, he paid the creditors of the state, established
the Bank of France, overwhelmed the highway robbers with utter destruc
tion, and restored security in all the provinces ; cut magnificent communi
cations over the Alps, founded hospitals on their summits, surrounded ex
posed cities with fortifications, opened canals, constructed bridges, created
magnificent roads, and commenced the compilation of that civil code which
will remain an ever-during monument of his labors and his genius. In op
position to the remonstrances of his best friends, he re-established Chris
tianity, and with it proclaimed perfect liberty of conscience. Public works
were every where established to encourage industry. Schools and colleges
were founded. Merit of every kind was stimulated by abundant rewards.
Vast improvements were made in Paris, and the streets cleaned and irri-

392 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXIV.

e>

gated. In the midst of all these cares, he was defending France against the
assaults of the most powerful nation on the globe ; and he was preparing, as
his last resort, a vast army, to carry the war into the heart of England.
Notwithstanding the most atrocious libels with which England was filled
against him, his fame shone resplendent through them all, and he was popular
with the English people. Many of the most illustrious of the English
statesmen advocated his cause. His gigantic adversary, William Pitt, van
quished by the genius of Napoleon, was compelled to retire from the min
istry, and the world was at peace.
The difficulties, perplexities, and embarrassments which were encountered
in these enterprises were infinite. Napoleon says, with that magnanimity
which history should recognize and applaud, " We are told that all the First
Consul had to look to was to do justice. But to whom was he to do jus
tice ? To the proprietors whom the Revolution had violently despoiled of
their properties, for this only, that they had been faithful to their legitimate
sovereign, and to the principle of honor which they had inherited from then-
ancestors, or to those new proprietors who had purchased these domains,
adventuring their money on the faith of laws flowing from an illegitimate
authority ? Was he to do justice to those Royalist soldiers, mutilated in the
fields of Germany, La Vendee, and Quiberon, arrayed under the white stand
ard of the Bourbons, in the firm belief that they were serving the cause of
their king against a usurping tyranny, or to the million of citizens who,
forming around the frontiers a wall of brass, had so often saved their coun
try from the inveterate hostility of its enemies, and had borne to so trans
cendent a height the glory of the French eagle ? Was he to do justice to
that clergy, the model and the example of every Christian virtue, stripped
of its birthright, the reward of fifteen hundred years of benevolence, or to
the recent acquirers, who had converted the convents into work-shops, the
churches into warehouses, and had turned to profane uses all that had been
deemed most holy for ages ?"
"At this period," says Thiers, "Napoleon appeared so moderate after
having been so victorious, he showed himself so profound a legislator after
having proved himself so great a commander, he evinced so much love for
the arts of peace after having excelled in the arts of war, that well might he
excite illusions in France and in the world. Only some few among the per
sonages who were admitted to his councils, who were capable of judging
futurity by the present, were filled with as much anxiety as admiration on
witnessing the indefatigable activity of his mind and body, and the energy
of his will, and the impetuosity of his desires. They trembled even at see
ing him do good in the way he did — so impatient was he to accomplish it
quickly, and upon an immense scale. The wise and sagacious Tronchet,
who both admired and loved him, and looked upon him as the savior of
France, said, nevertheless, one day, in a tone of deep feeling, to Cambaceres,
' This young man begins like Ceesar ; I fear that he will end like him.' "
" Napoleon," says the Duke of Gaeta, " on his arrival at power, had one
question of immense importance to resolve : for a long time it engrossed his
meditations : Would it be possible to maintain a republican form of govern
ment ?

1802.] FIRST CONSUL FOR LIFE. 393
" The result of that system, thus far, had not been successful with us.
The remembrance of the excesses of the Revolution was recent. We were
threatened with the renewal of those excesses, with aggravated violence, at
the moment in which the fortune of France placed her in the hands of the
only man capable of rescuing her from anarchy. But could he hope to con
trol, for any length of time, by the ascendency of his genius, those passions
which threatened incessantly the overthrow of all order, if he maintained a
political organization which favored their deadly influence ?
" It is true that this organization has succeeded in the United States.
But how great the difference between our situation, moral and physical, and
that of a country entirely new, sparsely settled, and of manners generally
austere, and which, besides, separated by the ocean from the continent of
Europe, excites no fear among those powers that they shall experience any
danger from the example of that which passes so far from themselves. But
how could they look with tranquillity upon a similar example in a neighbor
ing country, so powerful as France in position and territory ? Was not all
Europe, in fact, coalesced against the infant republic ; and was not France
at the point of being crushed in the terrible strife when the national will
placed the direction of affairs in the hands of Napoleon ?
" These considerations seem to render more than doubtful the possibility
of maintaining the new order of things produced by the Revolution. Obsta
cles of a similar nature would unquestionably oppose the establishment of a
monarchy under an illustrious captain elevated from the multitude. It
would be equally necessary to prepare for a vigorous resistance to the at
tacks, more or less prolonged, of the ancient European dynasties. These
attacks would never yield but to the power of victories.
" Nevertheless, in approaching as near as possible to the governmental
forms of England, a system sanctioned by time, Napoleon flattered himself
to be able, with less difficulty, to preserve for the nation the enjoyment of
the principal advantages that France had acquired at so high a price, in re
placing her under political forms to which she had long been accustomed,
and, on the other hand, to diminish, perhaps, the hostility of the European
powers to a new government, whose system would thus, at least, more nearly
resemble that which existed among themselves."
These opinions, recorded by the Duke of Gaeta, will undoubtedly be cher
ished by most thinking men who impartially reflect upon the then condition
of France. That Napoleon sincerely adopted them there can be no room for
doubt. That they were entertained cordially by the great mass of the French
people, is beyond all intelligent denial.

394 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXV.

CHAPTER XXV.
RUPTURE OF THE PEACE OF AMIENS.
Congratulations sent to Napoleon — Dissatisfaction of the English Government — Peltier, the Bour
bon Pamphleteer — The Algerines — Violation of the Treaty of Amiens by England — Remon
strances of Fox — Indignation of Napoleon — Defenseless Condition of France — Interview with
Lord Whitworth — England commences the War — -Testimony of Ingersoll — of Thiers — of Haz-
litt — of Scott— of Alison — of Lockhart — Remarks of Napoleon.
The elevation of Napoleon to the supreme power for life was regarded by
most of the states of Continental Europe with satisfaction, as tending to di
minish the dreaded influences of republicanism, and to assimilate France
with the surrounding monarchies. Even in England, the prime minister,
Mr. Addington, assured the French embassador of the cordial approbation of
the British government of an event destined to consolidate order and power
in France. The King of Prussia, the Emperor Alexander, and the Archduke
Charles of Austria, sent him their friendly congratulations. Even Catha
rine, the haughty Queen of Naples, mother of the Empress of Austria, being
then at Vienna, in ardent expression of her gratification to the French em
bassador, said, " General Bonaparte is a great man. He has done me much
injury, but that shall not prevent me from acknowledging his genius. By
checking disorder in France he has rendered a service to all of Europe. He
has attained the government of his country because he is most worthy of it.
I hold him out every day as a pattern to the young princes of the imperial
family. I exhort them to study that extraordinary personage, to learn from
him how to direct nations, how to make the yoke of authority endurable by
means of genius and glory."
" It is clear," said Napoleon, " that if we wish for good faith or for perma
nency in our treaties of peace, it is necessary that the governments which
surround us should adopt our forms, or that our institutions should become
more in harmony with theirs. There must always exist a hostile spirit be
tween the old monarchies and a new republic. Here you see the root of
European discord."
The Duke of Gaeta, to whom Napoleon made this remark, observes,
" The First Consul could not more favorably express the end toward which
he was disposed to direct his measures (the re-establishment of a monar
chy), and the motives which influenced him in that decision. It was, in his
opinion, the only means of obtaining a solid and an abiding peace."
But difficulties were rapidly rising between England and France. The
English were much disappointed in not finding that sale of their manufac
tures which they had anticipated. The cotton and iron manufactures were
the richest branches of industry in England. Napoleon, supremely devoted
to the development of the manufacturing resources of France, encouraged
those manufactures by the almost absolute prohibition of the rival articles.
William Pitt and his partisans, still retaining immense influence, regarded

1803.] RUPTURE OF THE PEACE OF AMIENS. 395
with extreme jealousy the rapid strides which Napoleon was making to
power, and incessantly declaimed in the journals against the ambition of
France. Most of the Royalist emigrants who had refused to acknowledge
the new government, and were still devoted to the cause of the Bourbons,
had taken refuge in London.
They had been the allies with England in the long war against France.
The English government could not refrain from sympathizing with them in
their sufferings. It would have been ungenerous not to have done so. The
emigrants were many of them supported by pensions paid them by England.
At the same time, they were constantly plotting conspiracies against the life
of Napoleon, and sending assassins to shoot him. " I will yet teach those
Bourbons," said Napoleon, in a moment of indignation, " that I am not a
man to be shot at like a dog." Napoleon complained bitterly that his ene
mies, then attempting his assassination, were in the pay of the British gov
ernment. Almost daily the plots of these emigrants were brought to light
by the vigilance of the French police.
A Bourbon pamphleteer, named Peltier, circulated widely through En
gland the most atrocious libels against the First Consul, his wife, her chil
dren, his brothers and sisters. They were charged with the most low, de
grading, and revolting vices. These accusations were circulated widely
through England and America. They produced a profound impression.
They were believed. Many were interested in the circulation of these re
ports, wishing to destroy the popularity of Napoleon, and to prepare the pop
ulace of England for the renewal of the war. Napoleon remonstrated against
such infamous representations of his character being allowed in England.
But he was informed that the British press was free ; that there was no re
source but to prosecute for libel in the British courts ; and that it was the
part of true greatness to treat such slanders with contempt. But Napoleon
felt that such false charges were exasperating nations, were paving the way
to deluge Europe again in war, and that causes tending to such woes were
too potent to be despised.
The Algerines were now sweeping with their piratic crafts the Mediterra
nean, exacting tribute from all Christian powers. A French ship had been
wrecked upon the coast, and the crew were made prisoners. Two French
vessels and a Neapolitan ship had also been captured and taken to Algiers.
The indignation of Napoleon was aroused. He sent an officer to the Dey
with a letter, informing him that if the prisoners were not released and the
captured vessels instantly restored, and a promise given to respect in future
the flags of France and Italy, he would send a fleet and an army, and over
whelm him with ruin.
The Dey had heard of Napoleon's career in Egypt. He was thoroughly
frightened, restored the ships and the prisoners, implored clemency, and with
barbarian injustice doomed to death those who had captured the ships in
obedience to his commands. Their lives were saved only through the inter
cession of the French minister. Napoleon then performed one of the most
gracious acts of courtesy toward the Pope. The feeble monarch had no
means of protecting his coasts from the pirates who still swarmed in those seas.
Napoleon selected two fine brigs in the naval arsenal at Toulon, equipped

396 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXV.
them with great elegance, armed them most effectively, filled them with na
val stores, and conferring upon them the apostolical names of St. Peter and
St. Paul, sent them as a present to the pontiff. With characteristic grandeur
of action, he carried his attentions so far as to send a cutter to bring back
the crews, that the papal treasury might be exposed to no expense. The
venerable Pope, in the exuberance of his gratitude, insisted upon taking the
French seamen to Rome. He treated them with every attention in his pow
er ; exhibited to them St. Peter's, and dazzled them with the pomp and
splendor of cathedral worship. They returned to France loaded with pres
ents, and exceedingly gratified with the kindness with which they had been
received. It was stipulated in the treaty of Amiens that both England and France
should evacuate Egypt, and that England should surrender Malta to its an
cient rulers. Malta, impregnable in its fortifications, commanded the Med
iterranean, and was the key of Egypt. Napoleon had therefore, while he
professed a willingness to relinquish all claim to the island himself, insisted
upon it, as an essential point, that England should do the same. The ques
tion upon which the treaty hinged was the surrender of Malta to a neutral
power. The treaty was signed. Napoleon promptly and scrupulously ful
filled his agreements. Several embarrassments, for which England was not
responsible, delayed for a few months the evacuation of Malta. But now
nearly a year had passed since the signing of the treaty. All obstacles were
removed from the way of its entire fulfillment, and yet the troops of England
remained both in Egypt and in Malta. The question was seriously dis
cussed in Parliament and in the English journals, whether England were
bound to fulfill her engagements, since France was growing so alarmingly
powerful. Generously and eloquently Fox exclaimed, " I am astonished at all I hear,
particularly when I consider who they are that speak such words. Indeed, I
am more grieved than any of the honorable friends and colleagues of Mr.
Pitt at the growing greatness of France, which is daily extending her pow
er in Europe and in America. That France, now accused of interfering
with the concerns of others, we invaded, for the purpose of forcing upon her
a government to which she would not submit, and of obliging her to accept
the family of the Bourbons, whose yoke she spurned. By one of those sub
lime movements which history should recommend to imitation, and preserve
in eternal memorial, she repelled her invaders. Though warmly attached to
the cause of England, we have felt an involuntary movement of sympathy
with that generous outburst of liberty, and we have no desire to conceal it.
No doubt France is great, much greater than a good Englishman ought to
wish, but that ought not to be a motive for violating solemn treaties. But
because France now appears too great to us — greater than we thought her
at first — to break a solemn engagement, to retain Malta, for instance, would
be an unworthy breach of faith which would compromise the honor of Brit
ain. I am sure that if there were in Paris an assembly similar to that which
is debating here, the British navy and its dominion over the seas would be
talked of in the same terms as we talk in this house of the French armies,
and their dominion over the land."

1803.] RUPTURE OF THE PEACE OF AMIENS. 397
Napoleon sincerely wished for peace. He was constructing vast works
to embellish and improve the empire. Thousands of workmen were em
ployed in cutting magnificent roads across the Alps. He was watching,
with intense interest,, the growth of fortifications and the excavation of ca
nals. He was in the possession of absolute power, was surrounded by uni
versal admiration, and, in the enjoyment of profound peace, was congratu
lating himself upon being the pacificator of Europe. He had disbanded his
armies, and was consecrating all the resources of the nation to the stimula
tion of industry. He therefore left no means of forbearance and concilia
tion untried to avert the calamities of war.
He received Lord Whitworth, the English embassador in Paris, with
great distinction. The most delicate attentions were paid to his lady, the
Duchess of Dorset. Splendid entertainments were given at the "Tuileries
and at St. Cloud in their honor. Talleyrand consecrated to them all the re
sources of his courtly and elegant manners. The two associate consuls,
Cambaceres and Lebrun, were also unwearied in attentions. Still, all these
efforts on the part of Napoleon to secure friendly relations with England
were unavailing. The British government still, in open violation of the
treaty, retained Malta. The honor of France was at stake in enforcing the
sacredness of treaties. Malta was too important a post to be left in the
hands of England. At last, England boldly demanded the evacuation of
Holland by the French, and the entire surrender of Malta to the court of St.
James. Napoleon was exceedingly indignant. He exclaimed, " The days
of the Pompadours* and Du Barryst are over. The French wish sincerely
for peace, but for a peace becoming honorable men." Napoleon resolved to
have a personal interview himself with Lord Whitworth, and to explain to
him, with all frankness, his sentiments and his resolves.
It was on the evening of the 18th of February, 1803, that Napoleon re
ceived Lord Whitworth in his cabinet in the Tuileries. A large writing-
table occupied the middle of the room. Napoleon invited the embassador
to take a seat at one end of the table, and seated himself at the other. " I
have wished," said he, " to converse with you in person, that I may fully
convince you of my real opinions and intentions." Then, with that force of
language and that perspicuity which no man ever excelled, he recapitulated
his transactions with England from the beginning ; that he had offered peace
immediately upon his accession to the consulship ; that peace had been re
fused ; that eagerly he had renewed negotiations, as soon as he could with
any propriety do so ; and that he had made great concessions to secure the
peace of Amiens.
" But my efforts," said he, " to live on good terms with England have met
with no friendly response. The English newspapers breathe but animosity
* Jeanne Antoinette, Marchioness of Pompadour, mistress of Louis XV. She first attracted the
king's notice when he was hunting in the forest of Senart. She finally obtained almost boundless
power over the mind of the king, and many of the evils which oppressed France are attributed to
the power which she possessed of filling the most important offices of the state with her favorites.
t Marie Jeanne Gomart de Vaubernier, Countess of Barry, the successor of the Marchioness of
Pompadour in the guilty love of Louis XV. She acquired prodigious influence at court, and con
ferred the power and the revenues of the empire upon her favorites. During the Revolution she
perished miserably upon the guillotine.

398

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XXV.

NAPOLEON AND THE BRITISH EMBASSADOR.

against me. The journals of the emigrants are allowed a license of abuse
which is not justified by the British Constitution. Pensions are granted to
Georges and his accomplices who are plotting my assassination. The emi
grants, protected in England, are continually making excursions to France
to stir up civil war. The Bourbon princes are received with the insignia of
the ancient royalty. Agents are sent to Switzerland and Italy to raise up
difficulties against France. Every wind which blows from England brings
me but hatred and insult. Now we have come to a situation from which
we must relieve ourselves. Will you or will you not execute the treaty of
Amiens ? I have executed it on my part with scrupulous fidelity. That
treaty obliged me to evacuate Naples, Tarento, and the Roman States with
in three months. In less than two months all the French troops were out
of those countries. Ten months have elapsed since the exchange of the rat
ifications, and the English troops are still in Malta and at Alexandria. It is
useless to try to deceive me on this point. Will you have peace or will you
have war ? If you are for war, only say so ; we will wage it unrelentingly.
If you wish for peace, you must evacuate Alexandria and Malta.
" The rock of Malta, on which so many fortifications have been erected,
is, in a maritime point of view, an object of great importance ; but, in my
estimation, it has an importance infinitely greater, inasmuch as it implicates
the honor of France. What would the world say if we were to allow a
solemn treaty signed with us to be violated ? It would doubt our energy.
For my part, my resolution is fixed. I had rather see you in possession of
the Heights of Montmartre than in possession of Malta.
" If you doubt my desire to preserve peace, listen, and judge how far I
am sincere. Though yet very young, I have obtained a power, a renown,
to which it would be difficult to add. Do you imagine that I am solicitous
to risk this power, this renown, in a desperate struggle ? If I have a war
with Austria, I shall contrive to find the way to Vienna. If I have a war

1803.] RUPTURE OF THE PEACE OF AMIENS. 399
with you, I will take from you every ally upon the Continent. You will
blockade us ; but I will blockade you in my turn. You will make the Con
tinent a prison for us, but I will make the seas a prison for you. However,
to conclude the war, there must be more direct efficiency. There must be
assembled 150,000 men and an immense flotilla. We must try to cross the
Strait, and perhaps I shall bury in the depths of the sea my fortune, my glory,
my life. It is an awful temerity, my lord, the invasion of England."
Here, to the amazement of Lord Whitworth, Napoleon enumerated frank
ly and powerfully all the perils of the enterprise ; the enormous preparations
it would be necessary to make of ships, men, and munitions of war ; the diffi
culty of eluding the English fleet. " The chance that we shall perish," said
he, "is vastly greater than the chance that we shall succeed. Yet this te
merity, my lord, awful as it is, I am determined to hazard, if you force me to
it. I will risk my army and my life. With me that great enterprise will
have chances which it can not have with any other. See now if I ought,
prosperous, powerful, and peaceful as I now am, to risk power, prosperity,
and peace in such an enterprise. Judge if, when I say I am desirous of
peace, I am not sincere.
" It is better for you, it is better for me, to keep within the limits of treat
ies. You must evacuate Malta. You must not harbor my assassins in En
gland. Let me be abused, if you please, by the English journals, but not
by those miserable emigrants who dishonor the protection you grant them,
and whom the Alien Act permits you to expel from the country. Act cor
dially with me, and I promise you, on my part, an entire cordiality. See what
power we should exercise over the world if we could bring our two nations
together. You have a navy which, with the incessant efforts of ten years,
in the employment of all my resources, I should not be able to equal. But
I have 500,000 men ready to march under my command whithersoever I
choose to lead them. If you are masters of the seas, I am master of the land.
Let us, then, think of uniting rather than of going to war, and we shall rule
at pleasure the destinies of the world. France and England united can do
every thing for the interests of humanity."
England, however, still refused, upon one pretense and another, to yield
Malta; and both parties were growing more and more exasperated, and were
gradually preparing for the renewal of hostilities. Napoleon, at times, gave
very free utterance to his indignation.
" Malta," said he, " gives the dominion of the Mediterranean. Nobody
will believe that I consent to surrender the Mediterranean to the English
unless I fear their power. I thus lose the most important sea in the world,
and the respect of Europe. I will fight to the last for the possession of the
Mediterranean ; and if I once get to Dover, it is all over with those tyrants
of the seas. Besides, as we must fight, sooner or later, with a people to
whom the greatness of France is intolerable, the sooner the better. I am
young. The English are in the wrong, more so than they will ever be again.
I had rather settle the matter at once. They shall not have Malta."
Still Napoleon assented to the proposal for negotiating with the English
for the cession of some other island in the Mediterranean. " Let them ob
tain a port to put into," said he ; "to that I have no objection. But I am

400 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXV.
determined that they shall not have two Gibraltars in that sea — one at the
entrance, and one at the middle." To this proposition, however, England
refused assent.
Napoleon then proposed that the island of Malta should be placed in the
hands of the Emperor of Russia, leaving it with him in trust till the discus
sions between France and England were decided. It had so happened that
the Emperor had just offered his mediation, if that could be available, to pre
vent a war. This the English government also declined, upon the plea that
it did not think that Russia would be willing to accept the office thus im
posed upon her- The English embassador now received instructions to de
mand that France should cede Malta to England for ten years ; and that
England, by way of compensation, would recognize the Italian Republic.
The embassador was ordered to apply for his passports if these conditions
were not accepted within seven days. To this insulting proposition France
would not accede. The English minister demanded his passports and left
France. Immediately the English fleet commenced its attack upon French
merchant-ships, wherever they could be found ; and the world was again
deluged in war.
No fact in history can be more conclusively proved than that Napoleon
was not responsible for the rupture of the peace of Amiens. As the settle
ment of this question is a matter of much moment, we will introduce some
additional testimony.
Napoleon, at St. Helena, said, "At Amiens I sincerely thought that the
fate of France and of Europe, and my own destiny, were permanently fixed.
The English cabinet, however, again kindled the flame of war. England is
alone responsible for all the miseries with which Europe has since been as
sailed. For my part, I intended to devote myself wholly to the internal in
terests of France. I am confident that I should have wrought miracles. I
should have lost nothing in the scale of glory, and I should have gained
much in the scale of happiness. 1 should then have achieved the moral con
quest of Europe, which I was afterward on the point of accomplishing by the
force of arms. Of how much glory was I thus deprived ' My enemies al
ways spoke of my love of war. But was I not constantly engaged in self-
defense ? After every victory I gained, did I not immediately make pro
posals for peace ?
" The truth is, I never was master of my own actions. I never was en
tirely myself. I might have conceived many plans, but I never had it in my
power to execute any. I held the reins with a vigorous hand, but the fury
of the waves was greater than any force I could exert in resisting them. I
prudently yielded rather than incur the risk of sinking through stubborn op
position. I was never truly my own master, but was always controlled by
circumstances. Thus, at the commencement of my rise, during the consu
late, my sincere friends and warm partisans frequently asked me, with the
best intentions, and as a guide for their own conduct, what point I was driv
ing at. I always answered that I did not know. They were surprised—
probably dissatisfied ; and yet I spoke the truth. Subsequently, during the
Empire, when there was less familiarity, many faces seemed to put the same
question to me. I might still have given the same reply. In fact, I was not

1803.] RUPTURE OF THE PEACE OF AMIENS. 401
master of my own actions, because I was not foolish enough to attempt to
twist events into conformity with my system. On the contrary, I moulded
my system according to the unforeseen succession of events. This often ap
peared like unsteadiness and inconsistency, and of this fault I was some
times unjustly accused."
The Hon. Charles J. Ingersoll says, " The facts, as understood in Paris at
the time, were, that England, mortified by the treaty of Amiens and French
Republican progress, resolved on renewal of war, on which the re-establish
ment of Tory complete ascendency depended, with restoration of Pitt as
prime minister. Bonaparte was well aware of the British government's de
termination to renew hostilities, and desire of pretexts for the rupture."*
Thiers says, "After mature reflection, we can not condemn France for this
renewal of the conflict between the two nations. The First Consul, on this
occasion, conducted with perfect good faith. Unfortunately, a weak admin
istration, desirous of preserving peace, but fearing the war party, alarmed at
the noise which was made about Switzerland, committed the blunder of
countermanding the evacuation of Malta. From that moment peace was ir
revocably sacrificed ; for. the rich prize of Malta, once held forth to British
ambition, could not possibly be refused to it afterward. The promptness
and moderation of the French intervention in Switzerland having put an end
to the grievance made out of it, the British cabinet would have been very
glad to evacuate Malta, but durst not. The First Consul summoned it, in
the language of justice and wounded pride, to execute the treaty of Amiens.
Summons after summons led to the deplorable rupture which we have just
recorded."! William Hazlitt says, "Great Britain declared war against France the
18th of May, 1803. Period ever fatal and memorable ! the commencement
of another Iliad of woes, not to be forgotten while the world shall last ! The
former war had failed, and the object of this was to make another desperate
effort to put down, by force of arms, at every risk, the example of a revolution
which had overturned a hateful but long-established tyranny, and which had
hitherto been successful over every attempt to crush it, by external or in
ternal means.
" Of all the fictions that were made use of to cloak this crying iniquity,
the pleas of justice and humanity were the most fallacious. No very great
ceremony was employed on the present occasion, but rather a cavalier and
peremptory tone was encouraged. Malta was merely a criminal pretext.
The encroachments of France, and the extension of its influence since the
conclusion of the treaty, were said to endanger our possessions in India, and
to require Malta as an additional security. But had we not extended our
conquests in India in the mean time ? Or would this have been held a valid
plea if the French had broken off the treaty on that ground ? But we our
selves are always exceptions to the rules we impose magisterially upon
others.''^ * IngersolVs Second War, vol. i., p. 203.
t For a full account of this transaction, see Thiers' Consulate and Empire, vol. i., p. 499.
X " In order to put ourselves into a situation to judge impartially in this case, and to see on which
side the impediments to peace and amity lay, let us for a moment reverse the picture, and turn the
Vol. I.— C c

402 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXV.
Sir Walter Scott says, " The English ministry lowered their claim of re
taining Malta in perpetuity to the right of holding it for ten years. Bona
parte, on the other hand, would listen to no modification of the treaty of
Amiens, but offered, as the guarantee afforded by the occupation of Nea
politan troops was objected to, that the garrison should consist of Russians
or Austrians. To this proposal Britain would not accede. Lord Whitworth
left Paris, and on the 18th of May, 1803, Britain declared war against France.
tables the other way. Let us suppose that, from the cessation of hostilities, a system of unqualified
abuse and unsparing ribaldry had commenced on the other side of the water, against the English
nation and government, and that his majesty, King George III., had been daily accused of the most
shocking public and private vices, and his name coupled with epithets that can not be repeated ; that
the females of the royal family had been held up to opprobrium and contempt, as engaged in the
grossest and most scandalous intrigues ; that, on application being made to put a stop to the evil,
the only redress that could be obtained was an appeal to a court of justice, where all the charges
were insisted on with a double relish and acrimony, amid a shout of exultation and jubilee from the
whole venal press.
" Let us suppose that the ruling monarch of this country had been, without the intermission of
a day, taunted with the mention of his constitutional malady, and with his being the descendant of
» petty German elector. Let us suppose the surviving branches of the Stuart family to be main
tained in France at the public expense, and their pretensions to the throne of England sometimes
broadly insinuated, never clearly disavowed, but kept in a.doubtful state, to be brought forward at a
moment's warning ; that bands of organized rebels and assassins, in the pay of these princes, hov
ered constantly on the English coast to excite insurrection, and glided even into royal palaces ; that
they had several times attempted the life of the king, but that they were still in the same favor, and
kept up a clandestine intercourse with the republican government.
" Let us suppose that remonstrances were made against these proceedings, which were received
with official coldness and contempt ; but let us suppose it to have been considered as a mark of
want of zeal and devotion to the person and government of the First Consul for a Frenchman to
visit England, or to be introduced at the English court ; let us suppose every advance toward con
fidence or cordiality to be carefully shunned, every handle for recrimination or distrust to be eagerly
seized upon ; that the articles of the pretended treaty for peace were executed slowly, one by one;
that the reluctance to conclude it evidently increased in proportion to the delays that had taken
place ; that at last, when the farce could be kept up no longer, it was suddenly put an end to by a
Hat refusal to execute one of the stipulations, and by forged rumors of preparations in the ports of
England to invade France — who would have asked in that case on which side the bar to peace lay,
or which government harbored a rooted and rancorous desire for the renewal of the war? But it
may be said there was a difference between Napoleon Bonaparte and George III. Yes, it was on
that difference that the whole question turned. It was the sense of degradation, and of the com
promise of the kingly dignity in condescending to make peace, on a friendly and equal footing,
with an individual who had risen from the people, and who had no power over them but from the
services he had rendered them, that produced a repugnance, amounting to loathing, to a peace with
the republic— that plunged us into all the horrors and calamities of war, and brought us back, in
the end, to the arms and to the blessings of legitimate government ! Persons who are fond of
dwelling on the work of retribution might perhaps trace its finger here. The monarch survived
the accomplishment of all his wishes, but without knowing that they had been accomplished. To
those who long after passed that way, at whatever hour of the night, a light shone from one of the
watch-towers of Windsor Castle : it was from the chamber of a king, old, blind, bereft of reason,
with double darkness bound, of body and mind. Nor was that film ever removed, nor those eyes or
that understanding restored, to hail the sacred triumph of kings over mankind ; but the light stream
ed and streamed, indicating no dawn within, for long years after the celebration of that day which
gladdened the hearts of monarchs and of menial nations, and through that second night of slavery
which succeeded— the work of a single breast, which it had dearly accomplished in darkness, in
self-oblivion, and in more than kingly solitude."— Hazlitfs Napoleon, vol. ii., p. 248-252.
Unquestionably there is the commencement of retribution even in this life. But prosperity is
not always the test of Divine approval. Still, when our enemies meet with reverses, we are ever
ready to cry out, " It is a judgment." When calamities befall our friends, we more devoutly ex
claim, " Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth." Napoleon breathed his last upon the rock of St.
Helena. George III. descended to the tomb through dreary years of blindness and insanity.

1803.] RUPTURE OF THE PEACE OF AMIENS. 403
The bloody war which succeeded the short peace of Amiens originated, to
use the words of the satirist, in high words, jealousies, and fears. There
was no special or determinate cause of quarrel, which could be removed by ex
planation, apology, or concession''
Mr. Lockhart remarks, " On the 18th of May, Great Britain declared war.
Orders had previously been given for seizing French shipping wherever it
could be found. It is said that two hundred vessels, containing property to
the amount of three millions sterling ($15,000,000), had been laid hold of
accordingly ere the proclamation of hostilities reached Paris. Whether the
custom of thus unceremoniously seizing private property under such cir
cumstances be right or wrong, there can be no doubt that the custom had
been long established, acted upon by England on all similar occasions, and
of course considered, after the lapse of ages and the acquiescence of innu
merable treaties, as part and parcel of the European system of warfare."
Sir Archibald Alison says, "Upon coolly reviewing the circumstances
under which the contest was renewed, it is impossible to deny that the Brit
ish government manifested a feverish desire to come to a rupture, and that,
so far as the transactions between the two countries are concerned, they are
the aggressors."
In noble words, which will meet with a response in every generous heart,
Napoleon said to his ministers, in view of this new outburst of war, " Since
the English wish to force us to leap the ditch, we will leap it. They may
take some of our frigates or our colonies, but I will carry terror into the
streets of London. I give them warning that they will bewail the end of
this war with tears of blood. The ministers have made the King of England
tell a lie in the face of Europe. There were no armaments going on in
France. There has been no negotiation. They have not transmitted to me
a single note. Lord Whitworth could not help acknowledging it. And yet
it is by the aid of such vile insinuations that a government seeks to excite
the passions. For the last two months I have endured all, sorts of insults
from the English government. I have let them fill up the measure of their
offenses. They have construed that into feebleness, and have redoubled
their presumption to the point of making their embassador say, ' Do so and
so, or I shall depart in seven days' Is it thus that they address a great
nation ?
" He was requested to write, and that his note would be laid before the
eyes of government. 'No,' was the reply; 'I have orders to communicate
only verbally.' Is not this an unheard of form of negotiating ? Does it not
show a marked determination to shuffle, equivocate, play at fast and loose
as they please, and leave no proof against themselves ? But if they falsify
facts, what proof can be placed in their sincerity in other respects ? They
are deceived if they think to dictate laws to forty millions of people. They
have been led to believe that I dreaded war lest it should shake my au
thority. I will raise two millions of men if it be necessary. The result of
the first war has been to aggrandize France by the addition of Belgium and
Piedmont The result of this will be to consolidate our federative system
still more firmly. The bond of union between two great nations can be no
other than justice and the observation of treaties. The one toward which

404 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXV.
they are violated can not, ought not to suffer it, under pain of degradation.
Let her but once give way, and she is lost. It would be better for the
French people to bend to the yoke, and erect the throne of the King of En
gland in Paris, than to submit to the caprices and arbitrary pretensions of
her government.
" One day they will demand the salute from our vessels, another they will
forbid our navigators to pass beyond such a latitude. Already, even, they
observe with jealousy that we are clearing out our harbors and re-establish
ing our marine. They complain of it ; they demand guarantees. A short
time ago the Vice-admiral Lesseignes touched at Malta. He had no ships
with him. He found fifteen English ones there. ¦ They wanted him to fire
a salute. Lesseignes refused. Some words passed. If he had yielded, I
would have had him carried in procession on an ass, which is a mode of pun
ishment more ignominious than the guillotine. I flatter myself that when
our conduct shall be made known, there is not a corner of Europe in which
it will not meet with approbation. When England consented to a peace,
she thought that we should tear one another to pieces in the interior— that
the generals would give France trouble. The English have done all they
could, but their intrigues of every kind have been in vain. Every one has
occupied himself only in repairing his losses. A little sooner or little later
we must have had war. It is best to have it at once, before our maritime
commerce is restored."
When these events were communicated to the Legislative Body, M. Fon
taine thus addressed them :
" France is ready to cover herself once more with those arms which have
conquered Europe. It is not France which will declare war, but she will
accept the challenge without fear, and will know how to maintain it with
energy. Our country is become anew the centre of civilized Europe. En
gland can no longer say that she is defending the indispensable principles of
society, menaced to its foundations. It is we who may hold this language if
war is rekindled. It is we who shall then have to avenge the right of na
tions and the cause of humanity, in repelling the unjust attacks of a govern
ment that negotiates to deceive, that asks for peace to prepare for war, and
that signs treaties only to break them. If the signal is once given, France
will rally, by a unanimous movement, around the hero she admires. All the
parties whom he keeps in order near him will only dispute who shall mani
fest most zeal and courage. All feel the want of his genius, and acknowl
edge that he alone can sustain the weight and grandeur of our new destinies."
The Duke of Gaeta, who was one of the most prominent members of Na
poleon's council, in his very interesting memoirs, speaks of Napoleon's earn
est and uninterrupted efforts to promote peace, and of the efforts of the Allies
to represent him as provoking war. " It is thus," says he, " that malevo
lence attempts to tarnish the reputation of Napoleon. No one can be igno
rant that Napoleon's most earnest desire, upon his attainment of power, was
to secure peace with England, and that he was invariably repulsed in all his
advances. In the midst of negotiations which he hoped would lead to peace,
Mr. Dundas, the English Secretary of State, informed Monsieur Otto, Com
missary of the French Republic, that

1803.] RUPTURE OF THE PEACE OF AMIENS. 405
" ' It was the decision of the King of England that the orders to capture
and destroy the boats of the French fishermen, and to make their crews
prisoners of war, should anew be put into execution.'
"As soon as the First Consul was informed of this, he ordered the French
Commissioner to leave London, and to communicate, on his departure, the
following note to the British government :
" ' The undersigned, having transmitted to his government the declaration
of the British minister, which announces that the French fishermen are to be
pursued and captured — a declaration in virtue of which many barks and fish
ing boats have already been taken, the First Consul has considered that, since
this act of the British government, contrary to the usages of civilized na
tions, and also to the laws which govern them, even in times of war, must
give to the actual war an aspect of bitterness and fury unparalleled, and also
exasperate still more the two nations, and put at a still greater distance the
period of peace, therefore the undersigned can no longer remain in a coun
try where not only all disposition toward peace is abjured, but where even
the laws and usages of war are violated and contemned. The undersigned
has consequently received orders to leave England, where he finds a further
residence entirely useless. He is, at the same time, charged to declare that
the French government, having had always for its first desire to contribute to
a general peace, and for its maxim to mitigate, as far as possible, the calami
ties of ivar, can not consent, on its part, to render poor fishermen the victims
of prolonged hostilities. It will, on the contrary, abstain from all reprisals,
and it has ordered the armed ships of France to continue to leave all fisher
men free and unmolested."'*
On the 20th of May, Napoleon, in the following proclamation, announced
to France the rupture of the peace of Amiens.
"We are forced to make war, to repel an unjust aggression. We will do
so with glory. If the King of England is resolved to keep Great Britain in
a state of war till France shall recognize his right of executing or violating
treaties at his pleasure, as well as the privilege of outraging the French gov
ernment in official and private publications, without allowing us to complain,
we must mourn for the fate of humanity. We assuredly wish to leave to
our descendants the French name honored and without a stain. Whatever
may be the circumstances, we shall, on all occasions, leave it to England to
take the initiative in all proceedings of violence against the peace and inde
pendence of nations ; and she shall receive from us an example of that mod
eration which alone can afford any real security for social order and public
happiness." Napoleon, at St. Helena, in speaking of the injustice of this unprovoked
and wanton attack, remarked, " During the past four years I had reunited
all the parties into which France had been divided before my accession to
power. The list of emigrants was closed. I had at first marked, then
erased, and finally granted an amnesty to all those who wished to return to
their country. All their existing and unsold property had been restored,
with the exception of the forests, of which the law assigned them the rev
enues. There no longer remained on that list any names except those of
* Chroniques Conlemporaires, par M. Gaudin, Due de Ga'ete, p. 126.

406 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXVI.
persons immediately attached to the princes of the house of Bourbon, who
did not wish to take advantage of the amnesty. Thousands upon thousands
of the emigrants had returned, and been subjected to no other conditions
than the oath of fidelity and obedience to the Republic. These laws effect
ed great amelioration in public affairs. They, however, were accompanied
by the inevitable inconvenience of imboldening, by their very mildness and
indulgence, the foes of the consular government— the Royalist party and our
foreign enemies."
The English government, with insults, rejected Napoleon's overtures for
peace when he ascended the consular throne. At last, intimidated by the
clamor of the English people, the government reluctantly made peace. But,
watching for an opportunity to renew the war, the English government vio
lated the most solemn stipulations of the treaty of Amiens, seized two hund
red French vessels, containing fifteen millions of dollars, and commenced
the annihilation of French commerce before her declaration of hostilities had
time to reach Paris. Then, to defame the character of that great man who
nobly roused his country to self-defense, she filled the world with the cry
that Napoleon, through insatiate ambition and a bloodthirsty spirit, had pro
voked the war. This deed of infamy can not be painted in colors too black.

CHAPTER XXVI.
THE CAMP AT BOULOGNE.

Verdict of History — Power of England — Seizure of French Ships — Retaliatory Seizure of English
Travelers — Preparations for the Invasion of England — Tour through Belgium — Plans for cross
ing the Straits of Dover — The young English Sailor — The Secretary — The Camp at Boulogne
— Consternation of England — Testimony of Wellington — Plans for the Assassination of Bona
parte. Impartial history, without a dissenting voice, must award the responsi
bility of the rupture of the peace of Amiens to the government of Great Brit
ain. Napoleon had nothing to hope for from war, and every thing to fear.
The only way in which he could even approach his formidable enemy was
by crossing the sea and invading England. He acknowledged, and the
world knew, that such an enterprise was an act of desperation. England
was the undisputed mistress of the seas, and no naval power could stand be
fore her ships. The voice of poetry was the voice of truth —
" Britannia needs no bulwarks to frown along the steep,
Her march is on the mountain- wave, her home is on the deep."
England, with her invincible navy, could assail France in every quarter.
She could sweep the merchant ships of the infant republic from the ocean,
and appropriate to herself the commerce of all climes. Thus war proffered
to England security and wealth. It promised the commercial ruin of a
dreaded rival, whose rapid strides toward opulence and power had excited
the most intense alarm. The temptation thus presented to the British cab
inet to renew the war was powerful in the extreme. It required more virtue
than ordinarily falls to the lot of cabinets to resist. Unhappily for suffering
humanity, England yielded to the temptation. She refused to fulfill the

1803.]

THE CAMP AT BOULOGNE.

407

stipulations of a treaty solemnly ratified, retained possession of Malta in
violation of her plighted faith, and. renewed the assault upon France.
In a communication which Napoleon made to the legislative bodies just
before the rupture, he said, " Two parties contend in England for the pos
session of power. One has concluded a peace. The other cherishes im
placable hatred against France. Hence arises this fluctuation in councils
and in measures, and this attitude, at one time pacific and again menacing.
While this strife continues, there are measures which prudence demands of
the government of the Republic. Five hundred thousand men ought to be,
and will be, ready to defend our country and to avenge insult. Strange ne
cessity, which wicked passions impose upon two nations, who should be, by
the same interests and the same desires, devoted to peace ! But let us hope
for the best, and believe that we shall yet hear from the cabinet of England
the counsels of wisdom and the voice of humanity."
When Mr. Fox was in Paris, he was one day, with Napoleon and several
other gentlemen, in the gallery of the Louvre, looking at a magnificent globe,
of unusual magnitude, which had been deposited in the museum. Some one
remarked upon the very small space which the island of Great Britain seem
ed to occupy. " Yes," said Mr. Fox, as he approached the globe, and at
tempted to encircle it in his extended arms, " England is a small island, but
with her power she girdles the world."

,i ..,,,.*

¦'¦liiiiHI'lilil

i liiiSSiliu

TW

SCENE IN THE LOUVRE.

This was not an empty boast. Her possessions were every where. In
Spain, in the Mediterranean, in the East Indies and West Indies, in Asia,
Africa, and America, and over innumerable islands of the ocean, she extend
ed her sceptre. Rome, in her proudest day of grandeur, never swayed such
power. To Napoleon, consequently, it seemed but mere trifling for this En
gland to complain that the infant republic of France, struggling against the
hostile monarchies of Europe, was endangering the world by her ambition,

408

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XXVI.

because she had obtained an influence in Piedmont, in the Cisalpine Repub
lic, in the feeble Duchy of Parma, and had obtained the island of Elba for
a colony. To the arguments and remonstrances of Napoleon England could
make no reply but by the broadsides of her ships.
"You are seated," said England, "upon the throne of the exiled Bourbons.'
"And your king," Napoleon replies, "is on the throne of the exiled
Stuarts." " But the First Consul of France is also President of the Cisalpine Re
public," England rejoins.
"And the King of England," Napoleon adds, "is also Elector of Hanover."
"Your troops are in Switzerland," England continues.
"And yours," Napoleon replies, "are in Spain, having fortified themselves
upon the .rock of Gibraltar."
" You are ambitious, and trying to establish foreign colonies," England re
joins. "But you," Napoleon replies, "have ten colonies where we have one."
"We believe," England says, "that you desire to appropriate to yourself
Egypt." " You have," Napoleon retorts, " appropriated to yourself India."
Indignantly England exclaims, " Nelson, bring on the fleet ! Wellington,
head the army ! This man must be put down. His ambition endangers the
liberties of the world. Historians of England ! inform the nations that the
usurper Bonaparte, by his arrogance and aggression, is deluging the Conti
nent with blood."
Immediately on the withdrawal of the British embassador from Paris, and
even before the departure of the French minister from London, England,
without any public declaration of hostilities, commenced her assaults upon
France. The merchant ships of the Republic, unsuspicious of danger,

SEA COMBAT.

freighted with treasure, were seized, even in the harbors of England, and
wherever they could be found, by the vigilant and almost omnipresent navy
of the Queen of the Seas. Two French ships of war were attacked and

1803.] THE CAMP AT BOULOGNE. 409
captured. These disastrous tidings were the first intimation that Napoleon
received that the war was renewed.
The indignation of the First Consul was thoroughly aroused. The retali
ating blow he struck, though merited, yet terrible, was characteristic of the
man. At midnight he summoned to his presence the Minister of Police, and
ordered the arrest of every Englishman in France between the ages of
eighteen and sixty. These were all to be detained as hostages for the pris
oners England had captured upon the seas. The tidings of this decree rolled
a billow of woe over the peaceful homes of England ; for there were thou
sands of travelers upon the Continent, unapprehensive of danger, supposing
that war would be declared before hostilities would be resumed. These
were the first-fruits of that terrific conflict into which the world again was
plunged. No tongue can tell the anguish thus caused in thousands of homes. Most
of the travelers were gentlemen of culture and refinement — husbands, fathers,
sons, brothers — who were visiting the Continent for pleasure. During twelve
weary years these hapless men lingered in exile. Many died and moulder
ed to the dust in France. Children grew to manhood, strangers to their im
prisoned fathers, knowing not even whether they were living or dead. Wives
and daughters, in desolated homes, through lingering years of suspense and
agony, sank in despair into the grave. The hulks of England were also
filled with the husbands and fathers of France, and beggary and starvation
reigned in a thousand cottages, clustered in the valleys and along the shores
of the Republic, where peace and contentment might have dwelt but for this
horrible and iniquitous strife. As in all such cases, the woes fell mainly
upon the innocent — upon those homes where matrons and maidens wept away
years of agony.
The imagination is appalled in contemplating this melancholy addition to
the ordinary miseries of war. William Pitt, whose genius inspired this
strife, was a man of gigantic intellect, of gigantic energy. But he was an
entire stranger to all those kindly sensibilities which add lustre to human
nature. He was neither a father nor a husband, and no emotions of gen
tleness, of tenderness, of affection, ever ruffled the calm, cold, icy surface of
his soul.
The order to seize all the English in France was thus announced in the
Moniteur : " The government of the Republic, having heard read, by the
Minister of Marine and Colonies, a dispatch from the maritime prefect at
Brest, announcing that two English frigates had taken two merchant vessels
in the Bay of Audrieu, without any previous declaration of war, and in mani
fest violation of the law of nations :
" All the English, from the ages of eighteen to sixty, or holding any com
mission from his Britannic majesty, who are at present in France, shall im
mediately be constituted prisoners of war, to answer for those citizens of the
Republic who may have been arrested and made prisoners by the vessels or
subjects of his Britannic majesty previous to any declaration of hostilities.
(Signed) "Bonaparte."
Napoleon treated the captives whom he had taken with great humanity,
holding as prisoners of war only those who were in the military service,

410 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXVI.
while the rest were detained in fortified places on their parole, with much
personal liberty. The English held the French prisoners in floating hulks,
crowded together in a state of inconceivable suffering. Napoleon at times
felt that, for the protection of the French captives in England, he ought to
retaliate, by visiting similar inflictions upon the English prisoners in France.
It was not an easy question for a humane man to settle. But instinctive
kindness prevailed, and Napoleon spared the unhappy victims who were in
his power. The cabinet of St. James remonstrated energetically against
Napoleon's capture of peaceful travelers upon the land.
Napoleon replied, " You have seized unsuspecting voyagers upon the sea."
England rejoined, " It is customary to capture every thing we can find
upon the ocean belonging to an enemy, and therefore it is right."_
Napoleon answered, " I will make it customary to do the same thing upon
the land, and then that also will be right."
There the argument ended. But the poor captives were still pining away
in the hulks of England, or wandering in sorrow around the fortresses of
France. Napoleon proposed to exchange the travelers he had taken upon
the land for the voyagers the English had taken upon the sea ; but the cab
inet of St. James, asserting that such an exchange would sanction the valid
ity of their capture, refused the humane proposal, and heartlessly left the
captives of the two nations to their terrible fate. Napoleon assured the de
tained of his syfnpathy, but informed them that their destiny was entirely in
the hands of their own government, and to that alone they must appeal.
"Your ministers," said Napoleon at St. Helena, "made a great outcry
about the English travelers whom I detained in France, although they them
selves had set the example by seizing upon all the French vessels, and per
sons on board of them, upon whom they could lay their hands, either in their
harbors or at sea, before the declaration of war, and before I had detained
the English in France. I said then, if you detain my travelers at sea, where
you can do what you like, I will detain yours on the land, where I am equally
powerful. But after this I offered to release all the English I had seized in
France before the declaration of war, provided you would, in like manner,
release the French and their property which you had seized on board the
ships. This your ministers refused. Your ministers never publish all the
truth unless when they can not avoid it, or when they know that it will come
to the knowledge of the public through other channels. In other cases they
turn, disguise, or suppress every thing, as best answers their views."
Such is war, even when conducted by two nations as enlightened and hu
mane as England and France. Such is that horrible system of retaliation
which war necessarily engenders. This system of reprisals, visiting upon
the innocent the crimes of the guilty, is the fruit which ever ripens when
war buds and blossoms. Napoleon had received a terrific blow. With in
stinctive and stupendous power he returned it. Both nations were now ex
asperated to the highest degree. The most extraordinary vigor was infused
into the deadly strife. The power and the genius of France was concen
trated in the ruler whom the almost unanimous voice of France had elevated
to the supreme power. Consequently, the war assumed the aspect of an as
sault upon an individual man. France was quite unprepared for this sudden

1803.] THE CAMP AT BOULOGNE. 41 1
resumption of hostilities. Napoleon had needed all the resources of the state
for his great works of internal improvement. Large numbers of troops had
been disbanded, and the army was on a peace establishment.
All France was, however, roused by the sleepless energy of Napoleon.
The Electorate of Hanover was one of the European possessions of the King
of England. Ten days had not elapsed, after the first broadside from the
British ships had been heard, ere a French army of twenty thousand men
invaded Hanover, captured its army of 16,000 troops, with 400 pieces of
cannon, 30,000 muskets, and 3500 superb horses, and took entire possession
of the province. The King of England was deeply agitated when he re
ceived the tidings of this sudden loss of his patrimonial dominions.
The First Consul immediately sent new offers of peace to England, stat
ing that ih the conquest of Hanover " he had only in view to obtain pledges
for the evacuation of Malta, and to secure the execution of the treaty of
Amiens." The British minister coldly replied that his sovereign would ap
peal for aid to the German empire.
• " If a general peace is ever concluded," said Napoleon often, " then only
shall I be able to show myself such as I am, and become the moderator of
Europe. France is enabled, by her high civilization, and the absence of all
aristocracy, to moderate the extreme demands of the two principles which
divide the world by placing herself between them ; thus preventing a gen
eral conflagration, of which none of us can see the end or guess the issue.
For this I want ten years of peace, and the English oligarchy will not allow
it." Napoleon was forced into war by the English. The allied monarchs of
Europe were roused to combine against him. This compelled France to be
come a camp, and forced Napoleon to assume the dictatorship. The width
of the Atlantic Ocean alone has saved the United States from the assaults of
a similar combination.
It had ever been one of Napoleon's favorite projects to multiply colonies,
that he might promote the maritime prosperity of France. With this object
in view, he purchased Louisiana of Spain. It was his intention to cherish,
with the utmost care, upon the fertile banks of the Mississippi, a French colony.
This territory, so valuable to France, was now at the mercy of England, and
would be immediately captured. Without loss of time, Napoleon sold it to
the United States. It was a severe sacrifice for him to make, but cruel
necessity demanded it.
The French were every where exposed to the ravages of the British navy.
Blow after blow fell upon France with fearful vigor, as her cities were bom
barded, her colonies captured, and her commerce annihilated. The superior
ity of the English upon the sea was so decisive, that wherever the British
flag appeared, victory was almost invariably her own. But England was
inapproachable. Guarded by her navy, she reposed in her beautiful island
in peace, while she rained down destruction upon her foes in all quarters of
the globe. " It is an awful temerity, my lord," said Napoleon to the British
embassador, " to attempt the invasion of England."
But desperate as Napoleon acknowledged the undertaking to be, there
was nothing else which he could even attempt. And he embarked in this

412

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XXVI.

enterprise with energy so extraordinary, with foresight so penetrating, with
sagacity so conspicuous, that the world looked upon his majestic movements
with amazement, and all England was aroused to a sense of fearful peril.
The most gigantic preparations were immediately made upon the shores of
the Channel for the invasion of England. An army of three hundred thou
sand men, as by magic, sprung into being. All France was aroused to ac
tivity. Two thousand gun-boats were speedily built and collected at Bou
logne, to convey across the narrow strait a hundred and fifty thousand troops,
ten thousand horses, and four thousand
pieces of cannon. All the foundries
of France were in full blast, construct
ing mortars, howitzers, and artillery of
the largest calibre. Every province
of the Republic was aroused and in
spired by the almost superhuman en
ergies of the First Consul.
He attended to the minutest partic
ulars of all the arrangements. While
believingthat destiny controls all things,
he seemed to leave nothing for destiny
to control. Every possible contingency
was foreseen and guarded against. The
national enthusiasm was so great, the
conviction was so unanimous that there
remained for France no alternative but
by force to repel aggression, that Na
poleon proudly formed a legion of the
Vend(3ean Royalists, all composed, both
officers and soldiers, of those who but
a few months before had been fighting against the Republic. It was a sub
lime assertion of his confidence in the attachment of united France.
To meet the enormous expenses which this new war involved, it was nec
essary to impose a heavy tax upon the people. This was not only borne
cheerfully, but from all parts of the Republic rich presents flowed into the
treasury, tokens of the affection of France for the First Consul, and of the
deep conviction of the community of the righteousness of the cause in which
they were engaged. One of the departments of the state built and equipped
a frigate, and sent it to Boulogne as a free gift. The impulse was electric.
All over France the whole people rose, and vied with each other in their of
ferings of good-will. Small towns gave flat-bottomed boats, larger towns
frigates, and the more important cities ships of the line. Paris gave a ship
of 120 guns, Lyons one of 100, Bordeaux an 84, and Marseilles a 74. Even
the Italian Republic, as a token of its gratitude, sent one million dollars to
build two ships : one to be called the President, and the other the Italian
Republic. All the mercantile houses and public bodies made liberal pres
ents. The Senate gave for its donation a ship of 120 guns. These free
gifts amounted to over ten millions of dollars.
Napoleon established himself at Boulogne, where he spent much of his

THE CAMP AT BOULOGNE.

1803.] THE CAMP AT BOULOGNE. 413
time, carefully studying the features of the coast, the varying phenomena of
the sea, and organizing in all its parts the desperate enterprise he contem
plated. The most rigid economy, by Napoleon's sleepless vigilance, was in
fused into every contract, and the strictest order pervaded the national finan
ces. It was impossible that strife so deadly should rage between England
and France, and not involve the rest of the Continent. Under these circum
stances, Alexander of Russia entered a remonstrance against again enkin
dling the horrid flames of war throughout Europe, and offered his mediation.
Napoleon promptly replied, "I am ready to refer the question to the arbi
tration of the Emperor Alexander, and will pledge myself by a bond to sub
mit to the award, whatever it may be."
England declined the pacific offer. The cabinet of Russia then made
some proposals for the termination of hostilities.
Napoleon replied, " I am still ready to accept the personal arbitration of
the Czar himself, for that monarch's regard to his reputation will render him
just. But I am not willing to submit to a negotiation conducted by the Rus
sian cabinet in a manner not at all friendly to France." He concluded with
the following characteristic words : " The First Consul has done every thing
to preserve peace. His efforts have been vain. He could not refrain from
seeing that war was the decree of destiny. He will make war, and he will
not flinch before a proud nation capable for twenty years of making all the
powers of the earth bow before it."
Napoleon now resolved to visit Belgium and the departments of the Rhine.
Josephine accompanied him. He was hailed with transport wherever he ap- '
peared, and royal honors were showered upon him. Every where his pres
ence drew forth manifestations of attachment to his person, hatred for the
English, and zeal to combat the determined foes of France. But, wherever
Napoleon went, his scrutinizing attention was directed to the dock-yards, the
magazines, the supplies, and the various resources and capabilities of the
country. Every hour was an hour of toil, for toil seemed to be his only
pleasure. From this brief tour Napoleon returned to Boulogne.
The Straits of Calais, which Napoleon contemplated crossing, notwith
standing the immense preponderance of the British navy filling the Channel,
is about thirty miles in width. There were four contingencies which seemed
to render the project not impossible. In summer there are frequent calms
in the Channel of forty-eight hours' duration. During this calm the English
ships of the line would be compelled to lie motionless. The flat-bottomed
boats of Napoleon, impelled by strong rowers, might then pass even in sight
of the enemy's squadron. In the winter there were frequently dense fogs,
unaccompanied by any wind. Favored by the obscurity and the calm, a
passage might then be practicable. There was still a third chance, more
favorable than either. There were not unfrequently tempests so violent that
the English squadron would be compelled to leave the Channel and stand
out to sea. Seizing the moment when the tempest subsided, the French flotilla
might perhaps cross the Straits before the squadron could return. A fourth
chance offered. It was, by skillful combinations to concentrate suddenly in
the Channel a strong French squadron, and to push the flotilla across under
the protection of its guns, For three years Napoleon consecrated his untir-

414 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXVI.
ing energies to the perfection of all the mechanism of this herculean enter
prise. Yet no one was more fully alive than himself to the tremendous hazards
to be encountered. It is impossible now to tell what would have been the
result of a conflict between the English squadron and those innumerable gun
boats, manned by one hundred and fifty thousand men, surrounding in swarms
every ship-of-the-line, piercing them in every direction with their guns, and
sweeping their decks with a storm of bullets, while in their turn they were
run down by the large ships dashing in full sail through their midst, sinking
some in their crushing onset, and blowing others out of the water with their
tremendous broadsides. "By sacrificing 100 gun-boats and 10,000 men,"
said Admiral Decres, a man disposed to magnify difficulties, "it is not im
probable that we may repel the assault of the enemy's squadron, and cross
the Straits."
" One loses," said Napoleon, " that number in battle every day. And
what battle ever promised the results which a landing in England authorizes
us to hope for ?"
The amount of business now resting upon the mind of Napoleon seems in
credible. He was personally attending to all the complicated diplomacy of
Europe. Spain was professing friendship and alliance, and yet treacher
ously engaged in acts of hostility. Charles IV., perhaps the most contempti
ble monarch who ever wore a crown, was then upon the throne of Spain.
His wife was a shameless libertine. Her paramour, Godoy, called the Prince
of Peace, a weak-minded, conceited, worn-out debauchee, governed the de
graded empire. Napoleon remonstrated against the perfidy of Spain, and
the wrongs France was receiving at her hands. The miserable Godoy re
turned an answer, mean-spirited, hypocritical, and sycophantic. Napoleon
sternly shook his head, and ominously exclaimed, "All this will yet end in a
clap of thunder."
In the midst of these scenes, Napoleon was continually displaying those
generous and magnanimous traits of character which won the enthusiastic
love of all who knew him. On one occasion a young English sailor had
escaped from imprisonment in the interior of France, and had succeeded in
reaching the coast near Boulogne. Secretly he had constructed a little skiff
of the branches and the bark of trees, as fragile as the ark of bulrushes.
Upon this frail float, which would scarcely buoy up his body, he was about
to venture out upon the stormy Channel, with the chance of being picked up
by some English cruiser. Napoleon, informed of the desperate project of
the young man, who was arrested in the attempt, was struck with admiration
m view of the fearless enterprise, and ordered the prisoner to be brought be
fore him.
"Did you really intend," inquired Napoleon, "to brave the terrors of the
ocean in so frail a skiff?"
" If you will but grant me permission," said the young man, " I will em
bark immediately."
" You must doubtless, then, have some mistress to revisit, since you are
so desirous to return to your country ?"
"I wish," replied the noble sailor, "to see my mother. She is aged,
poor, and infirm."

1804.] THE CAMP AT BOULOGNE. 415
The heart of Napoleon was touched. " You shall see her," he energet
ically replied ; " and present to her from me this purse of gold. She must
be no common mother who can have trained up so affectionate and dutiful
a son." He immediately gave orders that the young sailor should be furnished
with every comfort, and sent in a cruiser, with a flag of truce, to the first
British vessel that could be found. When one thinks of the moral sublimi
ty of the meeting of the English and French ships under these circumstances,
with the white flag of humanity and peace fluttering in the breeze, one can
not but mourn with more intensity over the horrid barbarity and brutality of
savage war. Perhaps in the next interview between these two ships they
fought for hours, hurling bullets and balls through the quivering nerves, and
lacerated sinews, and mangled frames of brothers, husbands, and fathers.
Napoleon's labors at this time in the cabinet were so enormous, dictating
to his agents in all parts of France, and to his embassadors all over Europe,
that he kept three secretaries constantly employed. One of these young
men, who was lodged and boarded in the palace, received a salary of 1200
dollars a year. Unfortunately, however, he had become deeply involved in
debt, and was incessantly harassed by the importunities of his creditors.
Knowing Napoleon's strong disapprobation of all irregularities, he feared
utter ruin should the knowledge of the facts reach his ears. One morning,
after having passed a sleepless night, he rose at the early hour of five, and
sought refuge from his distraction in commencing work in the cabinet. But
Napoleon, who had already been at work for some time, in passing the door
of the cabinet to. go to his bath, heard the young man humming a tune.
Opening the door, he looked in upon his young secretary, and said, with a
smile of satisfaction, "What ! so early at your desk ! Why, this is very ex
emplary. We ought to be well satisfied with such service. What salary
have you ?"
"Twelve hundred dollars, sire," was the reply.
"Indeed !" said Napoleon ; "that, for one of your age, is very handsome.
And, in addition, I think you have your board and lodging ?"
" I have, sire."
"Well, I do not wonder that you sing. You must be a very happy man."
"Alas! sire," he replied, "I ought to be, but I am not."
"And why not?"
"Because, sire," he replied, "I have too many English tormenting me.
I have also an aged father, who is almost blind, and a sister who is not yet
married, dependent upon me for support."
"But, sir," Napoleon rejoined, "in supporting your father and your sister,
you do only that which every good son should do. But what have you to
do with the English ?"
"They are those," the young man answered, "who have loaned me money,
which I am not able to repay. All those who are in debt call their creditors
the English."
"Enough ! enough ! I understand you. You are in debt, then? And how
is it that with such a salary you run into debt ? I wish to have no man
about my person who has recourse to the gold of the English. From this

416

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XXVI.
hour you will receive your dismission. Adieu, sir !" Saying this, Napoleon
left the room and returned to his chamber. The young man was stupefied
with despair.
But a few moments elapsed when an aid entered and gave him a note,
saying, "It is from Napoleon." Trembling with agitation, and not doubting
that it confirmed his dismissal, he opened it and read,
"I have wished to dismiss you from my cabinet, for you deserve it ; but I
have thought of your aged and blind father, and of your young sister, and, for
their sake, I pardon you. And, since they are the ones who must most, suf
fer from your misconduct, I send you, with leave of absence for one day
only, the sum of two thousand dollars. With this sum disembarrass your
self immediately of all the English who trouble you, and hereafter conduct
yourself in such a manner as not to fall into their power. Should you fail in
this, I shall give you leave of absence without permission to return."
Upon the bleak cliff of Boulogne, swept by the storm and the rain, Napo
leon had a little hut erected for himself. Often, leaving the palace of St.
Cloud by night, after having spent a toilsome day in the cares of state, he
passed with the utmost rapidity over the intervening space of 180 miles.
Arriving about the middle of the next day, apparently unconscious of fatigue,
he examined every thing before he allowed himself a moment of sleep. The
English exerted all their energies to impede the progress of the majestic
enterprise. Their cruisers, incessantly hovering around, kept up an almost
uninterrupted fire upon the works. Their shells, passing over the cliff, ex
ploded in the harbor and in the crowded camps. The laborers, inspired by
the presence of Napoleon, continued proudly their toil, singing as they work
ed, while the balls of the English were flying around them.

Mm

NAPOLEON'S HUT AT BOULOGNE.

For their protection, Napoleon finally constructed large batteries, which
would throw twenty-four pound shot three miles, and thus kept the English
ships at that distance. It would, however, require a volume to describe the
magnitude of the works constructed at Boulogne. Napoleon was indefati
gable in his exertions to promote the health and the comfort of the soldiers.

1804.] THE CAMP AT BOULOGNE. 417
They were all well paid, warmly clothed, fed with an abundance of nutri
tious food, and their camp, divided into quarters traversed by long streets,
presented the cheerful aspect of a neat, thriving, well-ordered city. The
soldiers, thus protected, enjoyed perfect health, and, full of confidence in the
enterprise for which they were preparing, hailed their beloved leader with
the most enthusiastic acclamations whenever he appeared.
Spacious as were the quays erected at Boulogne, it was not possible to
range all the vessels alongside. They were consequently placed nine deep,
the first one only touching the quays. A horse, with a band passing round
him, was raised by means of a pulley, transmitted nine times from yard to
yard, as he was borne aloft in the air, and in about two minutes was depos
ited in the ninth vessel. By constant repetition, the embarkation and dis
embarkation was accomplished with almost inconceivable promptness and
precision. In all weather, in summer and winter, unless it blew a gale, the
boats went out to maneuver in the presence of the enemy. The exercise of
landing from the boats along the cliff was almost daily performed. The
men first swept the shore by a steady fire of artillery from the boats, and
then, approaching the beach, landed men, horses, and cannon. There was
not an accident which could happen in landing on an enemy's coast, except
the fire from hostile batteries, which was not thus provided against, and often
braved. In all these exciting scenes the First Consul was every where pres
ent. The soldiers saw him now on horseback upon the cliff, gazing proudly
upon their heroic exertions ; again he was galloping over the hard, smooth
sands of the beach, and again on board one of the gun-boats, going out to
try her powers in a skirmish with one of the British cruisers.
Frequently he persisted in braving serious danger, and at one time, when
visiting the anchorage in a violent gale, the boat was swamped near the
shore. The sailors threw themselves into the sea, and bore him safely
through the billows to the land. It is not strange that those who had seen
the kings of France squandering the revenues of the realm to minister to
their own voluptuousness and debauchery, should have regarded Napoleon
as belonging to a different race. One day, when the atmosphere was pecu
liarly clear, Napoleon, upon the cliffs of Boulogne, saw dimly in the distant
•horizon the outline of the English shore. Roused by the sight, he wrote
thus to Cambaceres: "From the heights of Ambleteuse I have seen this day
the coast of England, as one sees the heights of Calvary from the Tuileries.
We could distinguish the houses and the bustle. It is a ditch that shall be
leaped when one is daring enough to try."
Napoleon, though one of the most bold of men in his conceptions, was also
the most cautious and prudent in their execution. He had made, in his own
mind, arrangements, unrevealed to any one, suddenly to concentrate in the
Channel the whole French squadron, which, in the harbors of Toulon, Ferrol,
and La Rochelle, had been thoroughly equipped, to act in unexpected con
cert with the vast flotilla. " Eight hours of night," said he, " favorable for
us, will now decide the fate of the world."
England, surprised at the magnitude of these preparations, began to be
seriously alarmed. She had imagined her ocean-engirdled isle to be in a
state of perfect security. Now she learned that within thirty miles of her
Vol. I.— D d

418 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXVI.
coast an army of one hundred and fifty thousand most highly-disciplined
troops was assembled, that more than two thousand gun-boats were prepared
to transport this host, with ten thousand horses, and four thousand pieces of
cannon, across the Channel, and that Napoleon, who had already proved
himself to be the greatest military genius of any age, was to head this army
on its march to London. The idea of one hundred and fifty thousand men,
led by Bonaparte, was enough even to make the most powerful nation shud
der. The British naval officers almost unanimously expressed the opinion
that it was impossible to be secure against a descent on the English coast
by the French, under favor of a fog, a calm, or a long winter's night. The
debates in Parliament as to the means of resisting the danger were anxious
and stormy. A vote was passed authorizing the ministers to summon ah
Englishmen, between the ages of seventeen and fifty-five, to arms. In every
country town, the whole population were seen, every morning, exercising for
war. The aged king, George III., reviewed these raw troops, accompanied
by the exiled Bourbon princes, who wished to recover, by the force of the
arms of foreigners, that throne from which they had been ejected by the
will of the people.
From the Isle of Wight to the mouth of the Thames, a system of signals
was arranged to give the alarm. Upon the slightest intimation of danger,
beacon-fires were to blaze at night on every headland. Carriages were con
structed for the rapid conveyance of troops to any threatened point. Moth
ers and maidens in beautiful, happy England, placed their heads upon their
pillows in terror, for the bloodhounds of war were unleashed, and England
had unleashed them. She suffered bitterly for the crime; she suffers still,
in that enormous burden of taxes which the ensuing years of war and woe
have bequeathed to her children.
There was ample cause for this alarm. Napoleon, justly exasperated, had
determined to bring the war to a crisis. He was making arrangements for
the invasion on a scale such as the world had never witnessed before. Ii
was, indeed, necessary to defend the coast of England. The Duke of Wel
lington stated in 1817, "I have examined and reconnoitered, over and over
again, the whole coast from the North Foreland to Selsy Bill, near Ports-.
mouth, and I say that, excepting immediately under the fire of Dover Cas
tle, there is not a spot on the coast on which infantry might not be thrown
on shore, at any time of tide, with any wind, and in any weather, and from
which such a body of infantry, so thrown on shore, would not find, within
the distance of five miles, a road into the interior of the country. In that
space of coast, there are not less than seven small harbors, or mouths of riv
ers, and without defense, of which an enemy, having landed his infantry on
the coast, might take possession, and therein land his cavalry and artillery
of all calibre, and establish himself and his communications with France."*
Under these circumstances, the British government lent its most efficient
aid to those royal conspirators in London who were plotting the assassination
of Napoleon. They were supplied with funds by the British ministry, and
the ships of Great Britain were at their service to land them on the French
coast. The infamous George Cadoudal, already implicated in the horrible
* North British Review, No. xxxvi

1804.] THE BOURBON CONSPIRACY. 4ig
butchery of the infernal machine, was still living in London with the French
refugees in a state of opulence from the money furnished by the British gov
ernment. The Count d'Artois, subsequently Charles X. ; his son, the Duke
de Berri ; their kinsman, the father of the Duke d'Enghien, and many other
persons, prominent in the Bourbon interests, were intimately associated with
this brawny assassin in the attempts, by any means, fair or foul, to crush
the man who had ventured to recognize the suffrages of the nation as a fair
title to the chief magistracy of France. The English government supplied
these conspirators liberally with money, asking no questions, for conscience'
sake, respecting the details of their plans.
The Duke d'Enghien, son of the Duke of Bourbon, was a bold soldier,
about thirty-four years of age. He had stationed himself at Ettenheim, a
village in the territory of the Grand Duke of Baden, a short distance over
the Rhine. At this place, he was distant but nineteen miles from Stras
bourg, the frontier city of France in that direction. At several outposts in
the neighbouring states there were English ministers or agents ready to co
operate in the various endeavors for the overthrow of Napoleon. Drake was
at Munich, Spencer Smith at Stuttgard, Taylor at Cassel, Wickham at
Berne, Rumboldt at Hamburg. These agents of the British government
were amply provided with funds to aid the emigrants, who, under English
pay, were hanging on the French borders, seeking in any way the destruc
tion of the First Consul.
Innumerable conspiracies were formed by these desperate men for the as
sassination of Napoleon. More than thirty were detected by the vigilant po
lice. Napoleon, at last, became exceedingly exasperated. He felt that
England was ignominiously supplying those with funds whom she knew to
be aiming at his assassination. He was indignant that the Bourbon princes
should assume that he, elected to the chief magistracy of France by the
unanimous voice of the nation, was to be treated as an outlaw, to be hunted
down by assassins. "My blood," he exclaimed bitterly, "is not ditch wa
ter. I will one day teach those Bourbons a lesson which they will not soon
forget."

CHAPTER XXVII.
THE BOURBON CONSPIRACY.
Conspiracies in London — Countenanced by the British Ministers — Jealousy of Moreau — Plan of
the Conspirators — Moreau and Pichegru — Clemency of Napoleon — Evidence against the Duke
d'Enghien — Arrest of the Duke — His Trial — Condemnation — Execution — Trial of Moreau — His
Exile — Testimony of Joseph Bonaparte — Remarks from Encyclopaedia Americana — Extravagant
Denunciation of Lamartine.
A conspiracy was now organized in London by Count d'Artois, and others
of the French emigrants, upon a gigantic scale. Count de Lisle, sometimes
also called Count de Provence, afterward Louis XVIII., was then residing
at Warsaw. The plot was communicated to him, but he repulsed it. The
plan involved the expenditure of millions, which were furnished by the Brit
ish government. Mr. Hammond, under Secretary of State at London, and

420 , NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXVII.
the English ministers at Hesse, at Stuttgard, and at Batavia, all upon the
confines of France, were in intimate communication with the disaffected in
France, endeavoring to excite civil war. Three prominent French emigrants,
the Princes of Conde, grandfather, son, and grandson, were then in the ser
vice and pay of Great Britain, with arms in their hands against their coun
try, and ready to obey any call for active service. Thegrandson, the Duke
d'Eno-hien, was in the Duchy of Baden, awaiting, on the banks of the Rhine,
the signal for his march into France, and attracted to the village of Etten-
heim by his attachment for a young lady there, a Princess de Rohan.
The plan of the conspirators was this : A band of a hundred resolute men,
headed by the daring and indomitable George Cadoudal, were to be intro
duced stealthily into France, to waylay Napoleon when passing to Malmai
son, disperse his guard, consisting of some ten outriders, and kill him upon
the spot. The conspirators flattered themselves that this would not be con
sidered assassination, but a battle. Having thus disposed of the First Con
sul, the next question was, how, in the midst of the confusion that would
ensue, to regain for the Bourbons and their partisans their lost power. To
do this, it was necessary to secure the co-operation of the army.
" In reply to some arguments," says O'Meara, "which I offered to con
vince him that the English ministry were ignorant of that part of Pichegru's
plot which embraced assassination," Napoleon replied,
" ' I do not suppose that any of the English ministers actually said to
Georges or Pichegru, " You must kill the First Consul." But they well knew
that such formed the chief, and, indeed, the only hope of success. And yet
they, knowing this, furnished them with money, and provided ships to land
them in France, which, to all intents and purposes, renders them accom
plices. If they had been tried by an English jury, they would have been
condemned as such. Lord  took great pains to persuade the foreign
courts that they were ignorant of the project of assassination, and wrote sev
eral letters, in which he acknowledged that the English had landed men for
the purpose of overturning the French government, but denied the other.
However, he made a very lame business of it, and none of the Continental
governments gave any credit to his assertion. It was naturally condemned,
as, on the ground of retaliation, none of the sovereigns were safe. Fox had
some conversation with me on the subject. He, too, like you, denied tht.t
the ministry were privy to the scheme of assassination, but finally, after hear
ing what I had to say, he condemned the whole transaction.' "
In nothing is the infirmity of our nature more conspicuous, than in the
petty jealousies which so often rankle in the bosoms of great men. General
Moreau had looked with an envious eye upon the gigantic strides of General
Bonaparte to power. His wife, a weak, vain, envious woman, could not en
dure the thought that General Moreau should be only the second man in the
empire, and she exerted all her influence over her vacillating and unstable
husband to convince him that the conqueror of Hohenlinden was entitled to
the highest gifts France had to confer.
One day, by accident, she was detained a few moments in the antecham
ber of Josephine. Her indignation was extreme. General Moreau was in a
mood of mind to yield to the influence of these reproaches. As an indication

!804.] THE BOURBON CONSPIRACY. 421
of his displeasure, he allowed himself to repel the favors which the First Con
sul showered upon him. He at last was guilty of the impropriety of refus
ing to attend the First Consul at a review. In consequence, he was omitted
in an invitation to a banquet which Napoleon gave on the anniversary of the
Republic. Thus coldness increased to hostility. Moreau, with bitter feel
ings, withdrew to his estate of Grosbois, where, in the enjoyment of opu
lence, he watched with an evil eye the movements of one whom he had the
vanity to think his rival.
Under these circumstances, it was not thought difficult to win over Mo
reau, and, through him, the army. Then, at the very moment when Napoleon
had been butchered on his drive to Malmaison, the Loyalists all over France
were to rise ; the emigrant Bourbons, with arms and money, supplied by En
gland, in their hands, were to rush over the frontier ; the British navy and
army were to be ready with their powerful co-operation ; and the Bourbon
dynasty was to be re-established. Such was this infamous conspiracy of
the Bourbons.
But in this plan there was a serious difficulty. Moreau prided himself
upon being a very decided Republican, and had denounced even the consu
late for life, as tending to the establishment of royalty. Still, it was hoped
that the jealousy of his disposition would induce him to engage in any plot
for the overthrow of the First Consul. General Pichegru, a man illustrious
in rank and talent, a warm advocate of the Bourbons, and alike influential
with Monarchists and Republicans, had escaped from the wilds of Sinamary,
where he had been banished by the Directory, and was then residing in Lon
don. Pichegru was drawn into the conspiracy, and employed to confer with
Moreau. Matters being thus arranged, Cadoudal, with a band of bold and
desperate men, armed to the teeth, and with an ample supply of funds,
which had been obtained from the English treasury, set out from London
for Paris ,
Upon the coast of Normandy, upon the side of a precipitous craggy cliff,
ever washed by the ocean, there was a secret passage, formed by a cleft in
the rock, known only to smugglers. Through the cleft, one or two hundred
feet in depth, a rope-ladder could be let down to the surface of the sea. The
smugglers thus scaled the precipice, bearing heavy burdens upon then-
shoulders. Cadoudal had found out this path, and easily purchased its use.
To facilitate communication with Paris, a chain of lodging-places had been
established in solitary farm-houses and in the castles of Loyalist nobles, so
that the conspirators could pass from the cliff of Biville to Paris without ex
posure to the public roads or to any inn. Captain Wright, an officer in the
English navy, a bold and skillful seaman, took the conspirators on board his
vessel, and secretly landed them at the foot of this cliff. Cautiously, Ca
doudal, with some of his trusty followers, crept along from shelter to shel
ter until he reached the suburbs of Paris.
From his lurking place he dispatched emissaries, bought by his abundance
of gold, to different parts of France, to prepare the Royalists to rise. Much
to his disappointment, he found Napoleon almost universally popular, and
the Loyalists themselves settling down in contentment under his efficient
government. Even the priests were attached lo the First Consul, for he

122 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXVII.
had rescued them from the most unrelenting persecution. In the course of
two months of incessant exertions, Cadoudal was able to collect but thirty
men, who, by liberal pay, were willing to run the risk of trying to restore
the Bourbons. While Cadoudal was thus employed with the Royalists,
Pichegru and his agents were sounding Moreau and the Republicans. Gen
eral Lajolais, a former officer of Moreau, was easily gained over. He drew
from Moreau a confession of his wounded feelings, and of his desire to see
the consular government overthrown in almost any way. Lajolais did not
reveal to the illustrious general the details of the conspiracy, but hastening
to London by the circuitous route of Hamburg, to avoid detection, told his
credulous employers that Moreau was ready to take any part in the en
terprise. At the conferences now held in London by this band of conspirators, plot
ting assassination, the Count d'Artois had the criminal folly to preside — the
future monarch of France guiding the deliberations of a band of assassins.
When Lajolais reported that Moreau was ready to join Pichegru the mo
ment he should appear, Charles, then Count d'Artois, exclaimed with de
light, " Ah ! let but our two generals agree together, and 1 shall speedily be
restored to France !" It was arranged that Pichegru, Riviere, and one of
the Polignacs, with others of the conspirators, should immediately join George
Cadoudal, and, as soon as every thing was ripe, Charles and his son, the Duke
of Berri, were to land in France, and take their share in the infamous pro
ject. Pichegru and his party embarked on board the vessel of Captain
Wright, and were landed, in the darkness of the night, beneath the cliff of
Biville. These illustrious assassins climbed the smugglers' rope, ahd skulk
ing from lurking-place to lurking-place, j*oined the desperado, George Ca
doudal, in the suburbs of Paris. Moreau made an appointment to meet
Pichegru by night upon the Boulevard de la Madeleine.
It was a dark and cold night, in the month of January, 1804, when these
two illustrious generals, the conqueror of Holland and the hero of Hohen
linden, approached, and, by a preconcerted signal, recognized each other.
Years had elapsed since they had stood side by side as soldiers in the army
of the Rhine. Both were embarrassed, for neither of these once honorable
men were accustomed to deeds of darkness. They had hardly exchanged
salutations, when George Cadoudal appeared, he having planned the meet
ing, and being determined to know its result. Moreau, disgusted with the
idea of having any association with such a man, was angry in being subject
ed to such an interview, and, appointing another meeting with Pichegru at
his own house, abruptly retired. They soon met, and had a long and serious
conference. Moreau was perfectly willing to conspire for the overthrow of the consu
lar government, but insisted that the supreme power should be placed in his
own hands, and not in the hands of the Bourbons. Pichegru was grievously
disappointed at the result of this interview. He remarked to the confidant
who conducted him to Moreau's house, and thence back to his retreat,
" And this man, too, has ambition, and wishes to take his turn in govern
ing France. Poor creature ! he could not govern her for four-and-twenty
hours."

1804] THE BOURBON CONSPIRACY. 423
When Cadoudal was informed of the result of the interview, he impetu
ously exclaimed, " If we must needs have any usurper, I should infinitely
prefer Napoleon to this brainless and heartless Moreau !" The conspirators
were now almost in a state of despair. They found, to their surprise, in en
tire contradiction to the views which had been so confidently proclaimed in
England, that Napoleon was admired and beloved by nearly all the French
nation, and that it was impossible to organize even a respectable party in op
position to him.
Various circumstances now led the First Consul to suspect that some se
rious plot was in progress. The three English ministers at Hesse, Wirtem-
berg, and Bavaria, were found actively employed in endeavoring to foment
intrigues in France. The minister at Bavaria, Mr. Drake, had, as he sup
posed, bribed a Frenchman to act as his spy. This Frenchman carried all
Drake's letters to Napoleon, and received from the First Consul drafts of
the answers to be returned. In this curious correspondence, Drake remarks
in one of his letters,
"All plots against the First Consul must be forwarded ; for it is a matter
of right little consequence by whom the animal be stricken down, provided you
are all in the hunt."
Napoleon caused these letters to be deposited in the Senate, and to be ex
hibited to the diplomatists of all nations, who chose to see them. Some
spies had also been arrested by the police, and condemned to be shot. One,
on his way to execution, declared that he had important information to give.
He was one of the band of George Cadoudal, and confessed the whole plot.
Other conspirators were soon arrested. Among them, M. Lozier, a man of
education and polished manners, declared that Moreau had sent to the Roy
alist conspirators in London one of his officers, offering to head a movement
in behalf of the Bourbons, and to influence the army to co-operate in that
movement. When the conspirators, relying upon this promise, had reached
Paris, he continued, Moreau took a different turn, and demanded that he him
self should be made the successor of the First Consul.
When the first intimation of Moreau's guilt was communicated to Napo
leon, it was with difficulty that he could credit it. The First Consul imme
diately convened a secret council of his ministers. They met in the Tuil
eries at night. Moreau was a formidable opponent even for Napoleon to at
tack. He was enthusiastically admired by the army, and his numerous and
powerful friends would aver that he was the victim of the jealousy of the
First Consul. It was suggested by some of the council that it would be
good policy not to touch Moreau. Napoleon remarked,
" They will say that I am afraid of Moreau. That shall not be said. I
have been one of the most merciful of men ; but, if necessary, I will be one
of the most terrible. I will strike Moreau as I would strike any one else, as
he has entered into a conspiracy, odious alike for its objects and for the con
nections which it presumes."
It was decided that Moreau should be immediately arrested. Camba
ceres, a profound lawyer, declared that the ordinary tribunals were not suffi
cient to meet this case, and urged that Moreau should be tried by a court-
martial composed of the most eminent military officers, a course which

424 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXVII.
would have been in entire accordance with existing laws. Napoleon op
posed the proposition.
" It would be said," he remarked, " that I had punished Moreau, by caus
ing him, under the form of law, to be condemned by my own partisans."
Early in the morning Moreau was arrested and conducted to the Temple.
Excitement spread rapidly through Paris. The friends of Moreau declared
that there was no conspiracy; that neither George Cadoudal nor Pichegru
were in France ; that the whole story was an entire fabrication, to enable the
First Consul to get rid of a dangerous rival. Napoleon was extremely sen
sitive respecting his reputation. It was the great object of his ambition to
enthrone himself in the hearts of the French people as a great benefactor.
He was deeply wounded by these cruel taunts.
" It is indeed hard," said he, " to be exposed to plots the most atrocious,
and then to be accused of being the inventor of those plots ; to be charged
with jealousy, when the vilest jealousy pursues me ; to be accused of at
tempts upon the life of another, when the most desperate attacks are aimed
at my own."
All the enthusiasm of his impetuous nature was now aroused to drag the
whole plot to light in defense of his honor. He was extremely indignant
against the Royalists. He had not overturned the throne of the Bourbons.
He had found it overturned, France in anarchy, and the Royalists in exile
and beggary. He had been the generous benefactor of these Royalists, and
had done every thing in his power to render them service. In defiance of
deeply-rooted popular prejudices, and in opposition to the remonstrances of
his friends, he had recalled the exiled emigrants, restored to them as far as
possible their confiscated estates, conferred upon them important trusts, and
had even lavished upon them so many favors as to have drawn upon him
self the accusation of meditating the restoration of the Bourbons. In return
for such services, they were endeavoring to blow him up with infernal ma
chines, and to butcher him on the highway.
As for Moreau, he regarded him simply with pity, and wished only to
place upon his head the burden of a pardon. The most energetic measures
were now adopted to search out the conspirators in their lurking-places.
Every day new arrests were made. Two of the conspirators made full con
fessions. They declared that the highest nobles of the Bourbon court were
involved in the plot, and that a distinguished Bourbon prince was near at
hand, ready to place himself at the head of the Royalists as soon as Napo
leon should be slain.
The First Consul, exasperated to the highest degree, exclaimed, " These
Bourbons fancy that they may shed my blood like that of some wild animal,
and yet my blood is quite as precious as theirs. I will repay them the alarm
with which they seek to inspire me. I pardon Moreau the weakness and
fhe errors to which he is urged by a stupid jealousy, but I will pitilessly
shoot the very first of these princes who shall fall into my hands. I will
teach them with what sort of a man they have to deal."
Fresh arrests were still daily made, and the confessions of the prisoners
all established the point that there was a young prince who occasionally ap
peared in their councils, who was treated with the greatest consideration, and

1804.]

THE BOURBON CONSPIRACY.

425

who was to head the movement. Still Cadoudal, Pichegru, and other prom
inent leaders of the conspiracy eluded detection. As there was ample evi
dence that these men were in Paris, a law was passed in the Legislative As
sembly, without opposition, that any person who should shelter them should
be punished by death, and that whosoever should be aware of their hiding-
place, and yet fail to expose them, should be punished with six years' im
prisonment. A strict guard was also placed for several days at the gates of Paris, al
lowing no one to leave, and with orders to shoot any person who should at
tempt to scale the wall. Pichegru, Cadoudal, and the other prominent con
spirators were now in a state of terrible perplexity. They wandered by night
from house to house, often paying one or two thousand dollars for the shelter
of a few hours. One evening, Pichegru, in a state of despair, seized a pistol,
and was about to shoot himself through the head, when he was prevented by
a friend. On another occasion, with the boldness of desperation, he went to
the house of M. Marbois, one of the ministers of Napoleon, and implored
shelter. Marbois knew the noble character of the master whom he served.
With grief, but without hesitancy, he allowed his old companion the tempo
rary shelter of his roof, and did not betray him. He subsequently informed
the First Consul of what he had done. Napoleon, with characteristic mag
nanimity, replied to this avowal in a letter expressive of his high admiration
of his generosity in affording shelter under such circumstances to one who,
though an outlaw, had been his friend.
At length Pichegru was betrayed. He was asleep at night, His sword
and loaded pistols were by his side, ready for desperate defense. The gen
darmes cautiously entered his room and sprang upon his bed. He was a
powerful man, and he struggled with herculean but unavailing efforts. He
was, however, speedily overpowered, bound, and conducted to the Temple.
Soon after, George Cadoudal was arrested. He was in a cabriolet. A po-

ARREST OF CADOUDAL

426 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXVII.
lice officer seized the bridle of the horse. Cadoudal drew a pistol and shot
him dead upon the spot. He then leaped from the cabriolet, and severely
wounded another officer who attempted to seize him. He made the utmost
efforts to escape on foot, under cover of the darkness of the night, but, sur
rounded by the crowd, he was soon captured. This desperado appeared per
fectly calm and self-possessed before his examiners. There were upon his
person a dagger, pistols, and twelve thousand dollars in gold and in bank
notes. Boldly he avowed his object of attacking the First Consul, and
proudly declared that he was acting in co-operation with the Bourbon princes.
The certainty of the conspiracy was now established, and the Senate
transmitted a letter of congratulation to the First Consul upon his escape.
In his reply, Napoleon remarked, " I have long since renounced the hope of
enjoying the pleasures of private life. All my days are occupied in fulfilling
the duties which my fate and the will of the French people have imposed
upon me. Heaven will watch over France and defeat the plots of the wicked.
The citizens may be without ^larm ; my life will last as long as it will be
useful to the nation. But I wish the French people to understand, that ex
istence without their confidence and affection would afford me no consola
tion, and would, as regards them, have no beneficial objects."
Napoleon sincerely pitied Moreau and Pichegru, and wished to save them
from the ignominious death they merited. He sent a messenger to Moreau,
assuring him that a frank confession should secure his pardon and restora
tion to favor. But it was far more easy for Napoleon to forgive than for the
proud Moreau to accept his forgiveness. With profound sympathy, Napo
leon contemplated the position of Pichegru. As he thought of this illustrious
general, condemned and executed like a felon, he exclaimed to M. Real,
"What an end for the conqueror of Holland ! But the men of the Revo
lution must not thus destroy each other. I have long thought of forming a
colony at Cayenne. Pichegru was exiled thither, and knows the place well;
and of all our generals, he is best calculated to form an establishment there.
Go and visit him in his prison, and tell him that I pardon him ; that it is not
toward him or Moreau, or men like them, that I am inclined to be severe,
Ask him how many men, and what amount of money he would require for
founding a colony in Cayenne, and I will supply him, that he may go thith
er and re-establish his reputation in rendering a great service to France."
Pichegru was so much affected by this magnanimity of the man whose death
he had been plotting, that he bowed his head and wept convulsively. The
illustrious man was conquered.
But Napoleon was much annoyed in not being able to lay hold upon one
of those Bourbon princes who had so long been conspiring against his life,
and inciting others to perils from which they themselves escaped. One
morning, in his study, he inquired of Talleyrand and Fouche respecting the
place of residence of the various members of the Bourbon family. He was
told, in reply, that Louis XVIII. and the Duke d'Angouleme lived in War
saw ; the Count d'Artois and the Duke de Berri in London, where also were
the Princes of Conde, with the exception of the Duke d'Enghien, the most
enterprising of them all, who lived at Ettenheim, near Strasburg. It was in
this vicinity that the British ministers Taylor, Smith, and Drake had been

1804.] THE BOURBON CONSPIRACY. 427
busying themselves in fomenting intrigues. The idea instantly flashed into
the mind of the First Consul that the Duke d'Enghien was thus lurking near
the frontier of France to take part in the conspiracy. He immediately sent
an officer to Ettenheim to make inquiries respecting the prince. The officer
returned with the report that the Duke d'Enghien was living there with a
Princess of Rohan, to whom he was warmly attached. He was often absent
from Ettenheim, and occasionally went in disguise to Strasburg. He was
in the pay of the British government, a soldier against his own country, and
had received orders from the British cabinet to repair to the banks of the
Rhine, to be ready to take advantage of any favorable opportunity which
might be presented to invade France. This was an act of high treason.
Napoleon immediately surmised that this prince was the Duke d'Enghien.
His frequent absences from Ettenheim were naturally associated with his fre
quent interviews with the conspirators. It also so happened that there was
an officer in the suite of the prince who was treated with much consideration.
This was the Marquis of Thumery. The officer who had been sent from
Paris, incognito, to investigate the matter, misled by the German pronunci
ation of the name, very honestly reported that General Dumouriez was in the
retinue of the duke.
This fatal report reached Paris on the 10th of March. That same morn
ing a deposition had been made by one of the accomplices of Georges that
there was a conspiracy ; that a prince was at its head ; that this prince, if
he had not already come, would soon arrive. This deposition was laid be
fore the First Consul at the same time with the report of the officer of gen
darmerie from Ettenheim. The coincidence struck the mind of the First Con
sul with great force. He no longer entertained a doubt that this prince was
the Duke d'Enghien. The supposed presence of General Dumouriez in his
suite added almost demonstrative confirmation to this decision. It was cer
tain that the prince alluded to could not have come from London, since the
cliff at Biville had been so narrowly watched. The whole plot seemed now,
to Napoleon, as clear as day. As soon as the assassins had struck him down,
a mangled corpse, the Count d'Artois was to enter France through Norman
dy, with Pichegru ; the Duke d'Enghien was to enter through Alsace, with
Dumouriez ; and thus the Bourbon princes, aided by foreign armies, were
to re-establish the Bourbon throne by the assassination of the First Consul,
and on the ruins of the Republic. This was, in fact, the design of the con
spirators. The Duke d'Enghien was waiting for his orders to march ; but it
subsequently appeared that he had not taken any part in the plan for the as
sassination of Napoleon. He was guilty of high treason, but he was not an
accomplice with murderers. He was a traitor, but he was not an assassin.
Yet, treasonable as was his enterprise, the heart refuses with severity to con
demn. We almost sympathize in his attempts to regain, even by the aid of
foreign arms, the throne of his exiled family. Napoleon was no stranger to
the appeals of generosity. He felt for the exiled Bourbons, and ever mani
fested a disposition to do every thing in his power to alleviate their bitter lot.
Had he not been fully convinced that the Duke d'Enghien was plotting his
assassination, he would not have consented even to his arrest.
Very judiciously Thiers remarks, " The First Consul's mind, usually so

428 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXVII.
strong and clear, could not resist so many appearances so well calculated to
mislead. He was convinced. It is necessary to have witnessed minds un
der the bias of an inquiry of this sort, and more especially when passion, of
whatever kind, disposes them to belief in what they suspect, to be able to
understand how ready such minds are to jump at conclusions, and to learn
how very precious are those delays and forms of law which save men from
those conclusions so quickly drawn from some merely accidental circum
stances."* A council was immediately called to decide what should be done. The
ministers were divided in opinion. Some urged sending a secret force to ar
rest the duke, with all his papers and accomplices, and bring them to Paris.
Cambaceres, apprehensive of the effect that such a violation of the German
territory might produce in Europe, opposed the measure. Napoleon replied
to him kindly, but firmly, " I know your motive for speaking thus — your de
votion to me. I thank you for it. But I will not allow myself to be put to
death without resistance. I will make those people tremble, and teach them
to keep quiet for the time to come."
Orders were immediately given for three hundred dragoons to repair to the
banks of the Rhine, cross the river, dash forward to Ettenheim, surround the
town, arrest the prince and all his retinue, and convey them to Strasburg.
As soon as the arrest was made, Colonel Caulaincourt was directed to hasten
to the Grand Duke of Baden with an apology from the First Consul for vio
lating his territory, stating that the gathering of the hostile emigrants so near
the frontiers of France authorized the French government to protect itself,,
and that the necessity for prompt and immediate action rendered it impos
sible to adopt more tardy measures. The Duke of Baden expressed his sat
isfaction with the apology.
On the 15th of March, 1804, the detachment of dragoons set out, and pro
ceeded with such rapidity as to surround the town before the duke could re
ceive any notice of their approach. He was arrested in his bed, and hur
ried, but partially clothed, into a carriage, and conveyed with the utmost
speed to Strasburg. He was from thence taken to the Castle of Vincennes,
in the vicinity of Paris. A military commission was formed, composed of
the colonels of the garrison, with General Hullin as President. The prince
was brought before the commission.
He was calm and haughty, for he had no apprehension of the fate which
awaited him. He was accused of high treason, in having sought to excite
civil war, and in bearing arms against France. To arraign him upon this
charge was to condemn him, for of this crime he was clearly guilty. Though
he denied all knowledge of the plot in question, boldly and rather defiantly
he avowed that he had borne arms against France, and that he was on the
banks of the Rhine for the purpose of serving against her again.
" I esteem," said he, " General Bonaparte as a great man, but,- being my
self a prince of the house of Bourbon, J have vowed against him eternal ha
tred. A Conde," he added, "can never re-enter France but with arms in
his hands. My birth, my opinions, render me forever the enemy of your
government." * Thiers' Consulate and Empire, vol j., p. 562.

1804.]

THE BOURBON CONSPIRACY

429

ARREST OF THE DUKE D'ENGHIE

By the laws of the Republic, for a Frenchman to serve against France
was a capital offense. Napoleon, however, would not have enforced this
law in the case of the duke, had he not fully believed that he was implicated
in the conspiracy, and that it was necessary, to secure himself from assassin
ation, that he should strike terror into the hearts of the Bourbons. The
prince implored permission to see the First Consul. The court refused this
request, which, if granted, would undoubtedly have saved his life. Napo
leon also commissioned M. Re"al to proceed to Vincennes and examine the
prisoner. Had M. Real arrived in season to see the duke, he would have
made a report of facts which would have rescued the prince from his tragic
al fate; but, exhausted by the fatigue of several days and nights, he had
retired to rest, and had given directions to his servants to permit him to
sleep undisturbed.*
The order of the First Consul was consequently not placed in his hands
until five o'clock in the morning. It was then too late. The court sorrow
fully pronounced sentence of death. By torchlight the unfortunate prince
was led down the winding staircase which led into a fosse of the chateau.
There he saw, through the gray mist of the morning, a file of soldiers drawn
up for his execution. Calmly he cut off a lock of his hair, and, taking his
watch from his pocket, requested an officer to solicit Josephine to present
* " Put on trial according to the secret and summary method of court-martial, the prince, de
nying all part in any plan of assassination, not only confessed, but rather vauntingly acknowledged
that he had borne arms against the French Republic ; and also, that he had been several times in
Strasburg, though he denied that it was for any treasonable purpose. His guilt thus established.
and that guilt high treason, a special law of the Republic rendering it a capital offense for a French
emigrant to return to France, and the general law against treason, by bearing arms against its
government, both violated, by the prisoner's confession, the court-martial had no option but to find
him guilty and sentence him to death. According to American ideas of treason and of individual
ity, such a suffering prince was no martyr." — Charles J. Ingersoll.

430

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXVII.
those tokens of his love to the Princess de Rohan. Turning to the soldiers,
he said, " I die for my king and for France ;" and, giving the command to
fire, he fell, pierced by seven balls.

EXECUTION OF THE DUKE D'ENGHIEN.

There are many indications that Napoleon subsequently deplored the
tragical fate of the prince. It subsequently appeared that the mysterious
stranger, to whom the prisoners so often alluded, was Pichegru. When this
fact was communicated to Napoleon, he was deeply moved, and, musing long
and painfully, gave utterance to an exclamation of grief that he had con
sented to the seizure of the unhappy prince.
He, however, took the whole responsibility of his execution upon himself.
In his testament at St. Helena, he wrote, "I arrested the Duke d'Enghien

1804.] THE BOURBON CONSPIRACY. 431
because that measure was necessary to the security, the interest, and the
honor of the French people, when the Count d'Artois maintained, on his own
admission, sixty assassins. In similar circumstances I would do the same."
The spirit is saddened in recording these terrible deeds of violence and of
blood. It was a period of anarchy, of revolution, of conspiracies, of war.
Fleets were bombarding cities, and tens of thousands were falling in a day
upon a single field of battle. Human life was considered of but little value.
Bloody retaliations and reprisals were sanctified by the laws of contending
nations. Surrounded by those influences, nurtured from infancy in the midst
of them, provoked beyond endurance by the aristocratic arrogance which re
garded the elected sovereign of France as a usurper beyond the pale of
law, it is only surprising that Napoleon could have passed through a career
so wonderful, and so full of temptations, with a character so seldom sullied
by blemishes of despotic injustice.
This execution of a prince of the blood royal sent a thrill of indignation
through all the courts of Europe. The French embassadors were treated, in
many instances, with coldness amounting to insult. The Emperor Alexan
der sent a remonstrance to the First Consul. He thus provoked a terrible
reply from the man who could hurl a sentence like a bomb-shell. The
young monarch of Russia was seated upon the bloodstained throne from
which the daggers of assassins had removed his father. And yet not one of
these assassins had been punished.
With crushing irony, Napoleon remarked, " France has acted as Russia,
under similar circumstances, would have done ; for had she been informed
that the assassins of Paul were assembled at a day's march from her fron
tiers, would she not, at all hazards, have seized upon them there ?" This
was not one of these soft answers which turn away wrath : it stung Alexan
der to the quick.
Absorbed by these cares, Napoleon had but little time to think of the im
prisoned conspirators awaiting their trial. Pichegru, hearing no further
mention of the First Consul's proposal, and informed of the execution of the
Duke d'Enghien, gave himself up for lost. His proud spirit could not en
dure the thought of a public trial and an ignominious punishment. One
night, after having read a treatise of Seneca upon suicide, he laid aside his
book, and by means of his silk cravat and a wooden peg, which he used as
a tourniquet, he strangled himself. His keepers found him in the morning
dead upon his bed.
The trial of the other conspirators soon came on. Moreau, respecting
whom great interest was excited, as one of the most illustrious of the Re
publican generals, was sentenced to two years imprisonment. Napoleon im
mediately pardoned him, and granted him permission to retire to America.
As that unfortunate general wished to dispose of his estate, Napoleon gave
orders for it to be purchased at the highest price. He also paid the expenses
of his journey to Barcelona, preparatory to his embarkation for the New
World. George Cadoudal, Polignac, Riviere, and several others, were con
demned to death. There was something in the firm and determined energy
of George Cadoudal which singularly interested the mind of the First Con
sul. He wished to save him.

132 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXVII.
" There is one man," said Napoleon, " among the conspirators whom I re
gret — that is George Cadoudal. His mind is of the right stamp. In my
hands he would have done great things. I appreciate all the firmness of his
character, and I would have given it a right direction. I made Real say to
him, that if he would attach himself to me, I would not only pardon him, but
give him a regiment. What do I say ? I would have made him one of my
aides-de-camp. Such a step would have excited a great clamor, but I should
uot have cared for it. Cadoudal refused every thing. He is a bar of iron
What can I now do ? He must undergo his fate, for such a man is too dan.
gerous in a party. It is a necessity of my situation."
The evening before his execution, Cadoudal desired the jailer to bring him
a bottle of excellent wine. Upon tasting the contents of the bottle brought,
and finding it of an inferior quality, he complained, stating that it was not
such wine as he desired. The jailer brutally replied, " It is good enough for
such a miscreant as you." Cadoudal, with perfect deliberation and compo
sure, corked up the bottle, and, with his herculean arm, hurled it at the head
of the jailer v-ith an aim so well directed that he fell lifeless at his feet.
The next day, with several of the conspirators, he was executed.
Josephine, who was ever to Napoleon a ministering angel of mercy, was
visited by the wife of Polignac, who, with tears of anguish, entreated Jose
phine's intercession in behalf of her condemned husband. Her tender heart
was deeply moved by a wife's delirious agony, and she hastened to plead for
the life of the conspirator. Napoleon, endeavoring to conceal the struggle
of his heart beneath a severe exterior, replied,
"Josephine, you still interest yourself for my enemies. They are all of
them as imprudent as they are guilty. If I do not teach them a lesson they
will begin again, and will be the cause of new victims."
Thus repulsed, Josephine, almost in despair, retired. But she knew that
Napoleon was soon to pass through one of the galleries of the chateau.
Calling Madame Polignac, she hastened with her to the gallery, and they
both threw themselves in tears before Napoleon. He, for a moment,
glanced sternly at Josephine, as if to reproach her for the trial to which she
had exposed him. But his yielding heart could not withstand this appeal.
Taking the hand of Madame Polignac, he said,
" I am surprised in finding, in a plot against my life, Armand Polignac, the
companion of my boyhood at the military school. I will, however, grant his
pardon to the tears of his wife. I only hope that this act of weakness on my
part may not encourage fresh acts of imprudence. Those princes, madame,
are most deeply culpable who thus compromise the lives of their faithful ser
vants without partaking their perils."
General Lajolais had been condemned to death. He had an only daugh
ter, fourteen years of age, who was remarkably beautiful. The poor child
was in a state of fearful agony in view of the fate of her father. One morn
ing, without communicating her intentions to any one, she set out alone and
on foot for St. Cloud. Presenting herself before the gate of the palace, bv
her youth, her beauty, her tears, and her woe, she persuaded the keeper, a
kind-hearted man, to introduce her to the apartment of Josephine and Hor
tense. Napoleon had said to Josephine that she must not any more expose

1804.]

THE BOURBON CONSPIRACY.

433

MADAME POLIGNAC INTERCEDING FOR HER HUSBAND.

him to the pain of seeing the relatives of the condemned ; that if any peti
tions were to be offered, they must be presented in writing. Josephine and
Hortense were, however, so deeply moved by the anguish of the distracted
child, that they contrived to introduce her to the presence of Napoleon as he
was passing through one of the apartments of the palace, accompanied by
several of his ministers. The fragile child, in a delirium of emotion, rushed
before him, precipitated herself at his feet, and exclaimed, " Pardon, sire !
pardon for my father !"
Napoleon, surprised at this sudden apparition, exclaimed in displeasure,
"I have said that I wish for no such scenes. Who has dared to introduce
you here, in disregard of my prohibition ? Leave me, miss !" So saying, he
turned to pass from her.
But the child threw her arms around his knees, and with her eyes suffused
Vol. I.— E e

434 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXVII.
with tears, and agony depicted in every feature of her beautiful upturned
face, exclaimed, " Pardon ! pardon ! pardon ! it is for my father !"
" And who is your father?" said Napoleon, kindly. "Who are you?"
" I am Miss Lajolais," she replied, " and my father is doomed to die.''
Napoleon hesitated for a moment, and then exclaimed, " Ah, miss, but this is
the second time in which your father has conspired against the state. I can
do nothing for you !"
" Alas, sire !" the poor child exclaimed, with great simplicity, "I know it :
but the first time papa was innocent ; and to-day I do not ask for justice — I
implore pardon, pardon for him !"
Napoleon was deeply moved. His lip trembled, tears filled his eyes, and,
taking the little hand of the child in both of his own, he tenderly pressed it,
and said,
"Well, my child ! yes ! For your sake I will forgive your father. This
is enough. Now rise and leave me."
At these words the suppliant fainted, and fell lifeless upon the floor. She
was conveyed to the apartment of Josephine, where she soon revived, and,
though in a state of extreme exhaustion, proceeded immediately to Paris.
M. Lavalette, then aid-de-camp of Napoleon, and his wife, accompanied her
to the prison of the Conciergerie with the joyful tidings. When she arrived
in the gloomy cell where her father was immured, she threw herself upon
his neck, and her convulsive sobbings, for a time, stifled all possible powers
of utterance. Suddenly her frame became convulsed, her eyes fixed, and
she fell in entire unconsciousness into the arms of Madame Lavalette.
When she revived, reason had fled, and the affectionate daughter was a
hopeless maniac !
Napoleon, in the evening, was informed of this new calamity. He drop
ped his head in silence, mused painfully, brushed a tear from his eye, and
was heard to murmur, in a low tone of voice, " Poor child ! poor child ! A
father who has such a daughter is still more culpable. I will take care of
her and of her mother."
Six others of the conspirators also soon received a pardon. Such was
the termination of the Bourbon conspiracy for the assassination of Napo
leon. Upon this subject the " Encyclopaedia Americana" remarks, with much
candor :
"It is known to every impartial investigator that Napoleon was far from
being of a cruel disposition ; that he was never deaf to prayers for mercy, if
the great interests of France allowed him to listen to them. He pardoned
most of the persons implicated in the conspiracy of Georges ; he pardoned
the prince of Hatzfield; he offered pardon even to Staps, the young assassin
at Schonbrun ; in short, proofs enough exist to show that his disposition was
the opposite of cruel. The narratives of several persons concerned in the
duke's death tend also to exculpate the First Consul. Savary, duke of
Rovigo, informs us in his Memoires that the Consul heard, through him, of
the execution of the prince with amazement, and greatly regretted it. The
Count Real, Counselor of State, then prefect of Paris, and therefore charged
with the police of that city, declares the same. He has asserted in the

1804.] THE BOURBON CONSPIRACY. 435
United States, where he has lived a long time, in presence of Joseph Bona
parte, count de Survilliers, Mr. Duponceau, General Lallemand, Captain
Sary, and others, that Napoleon did not know of the execution of the duke
until after it had taken place, and that he learned it with amazement from Sa-
vary's mouth, and that the Consul had intended to set the prince at liberty."
This agrees with the following statement, which we have from the most
authentic source. Joseph, the brother of the Consul, found him, after this
catastrophe, much affected, and highly indignant at those persons whom he
accused of having occasioned this catastrophe. He regretted much that he
had lost so fine an opportunity of doing an act of mercy. Even long after,
in conversation with his brother, he frequently alluded to this sad event, and,
with his usual vivacity, observed,
"It would have been noble to pardon a prince who, in plotting against me,
had done what his position demanded of him. He was young," continued
Napoleon ; "my favors would have attached him to me ; he would have be
come better acquainted with the state of France, and would have ended by
entering my service. It would have been gratifying to have had the de
scendant of the great Conde for aid-de-camp." This view is corroborated
by Napoleon's own assertions, in Las Casas' Memorial, vol. vii., p. 437. The
declarations of Napoleon himself, in his will, however, are at variance with
this view of the subject. He there says, " I ordered the Duke d'Enghien to
be arrested and executed, because it was necessary for the safety, the wel
fare, and the honor of the French nation. Under the same circumstances I
should act in the same way ; the death of the Duke d'Enghien is to be im
puted to those who plotted in London against the life of the First Consul,
and who intended to bring the Duke de Berri by Biville, and the Duke d'En
ghien by Strasburg, into France."
Savary, who was himself a witness of the regrets of the Consul on account
of the death of the duke, gives the following explanation of this inconsist
ency : that Napoleon preferred, even on his death-bed, to take the charge
of the duke's death upon himself, rather than to allow his power to be doubt
ed ; and that he acted thus from regard to the dignity of a sovereign, who,
if he enjoys the credit of the good which is done in his name, would act un
worthily in throwing the blame of the evil done in his name upon others.
He says, "When the Emperor uses the words 'Le Due d'Enghien est mort,
parceque je I'ai voulu' his meaning amounts only to this : ' When I reigned,
no one dared conceive the thought of disposing of the life or liberty of any
one. It might have been possible to impose upon me, but never for a mo
ment to encroach upon my power.'
" It is certain that, in the critical situation in which he found himself, walk
ing upon volcanoes, still active and ever ready for eruption, he could not
have suffered it to be believed that such an act could be committed without
his consent.- A belief in his power was of the utmost importance to the
peace and order of France. The welfare of France required that he should
take upon himself the responsibility of every act done in his name.
"Bignon says that, in a note written by Napoleon himself, not yet pub
lished, there is the following passage respecting the Duke d'Enghien • ' If
guilty, the commission was right to sentence him to death ; if innocent, they

436 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXVII.
ought to have acquitted him, because no order whatever can justify a judge
in violating his conscience.' "
The following statements from the "American Quarterly Review" of Sep
tember, 1830, also throw much light upon this very important subject : "We
have it in our power, from high authority, that of a person not now in this
country, to state, what the Duke of Rovigo was not aware of, the reason
why the Duke d'Enghien suffered death without the knowledge or sanction
of the First Consul. The prisoner, in extremity, asked to see the First Con
sul, which was not permitted ; but the judge advocate, Dantancourt, hu
manely suggested to him to write a letter, which was done, and the letter
sent to Real. During that eventful night the First Consul had been called
up five times, on the arrival of as many messengers, with insignificant dis
patches. So often disturbed, he gave orders not to be called again unless
for a very serious occasion. M. Real sent the Duke d'Enghien's letter to
Malmaison by a private horseman of the gendarmerie, who, uninformed as
to its contents, gave no intimation that it required immediate attention. It
was laid on a table, where it had remained unnoticed till after the First Con
sul had deliberately risen, and made his toilet as usual, without the least no
tion of its contents. In the mean while — indeed, before he got out of bed —
the ill-starred writer of that neglected letter was shot. The interview be
tween the First Consul and Real, which immediately followed that between
the First Consul and Savary, disclosed the deplorable cause, as Savary's
tidings had revealed the catastrophe. Real's reception was that of a man
who had been guilty of unpardonable negligence. He will, no doubt, at
some proper time, submit his account to the world. But he knows that the
Duke d'Enghien was not sacrificed to a tyrant's passions, policy, or fears ;
that the general agitation and very natural misunderstanding which his fam
ily and friends had occasioned throughout the capital and the council, the
over-zealous, perhaps treacherous advice of some, the over-active, precipitate
dispatch of others, and one of those misadventures which are so common
in the affairs of this world, are the causes to which this disaster is owing.
Once done, however, nulla vestigia retrorsum, never to recant, or apologize,
or recede was one of Bonaparte's imperious maxims. He felt the full force
of the French proverb, 'that whoever excuses, accuses himself,' and nothing
would induce him to disown a deed done under his orders, though they were
violated to his infinite injury and mortification, in almost every stage of the
proceeding. Both accounts are correct ; at all events, both exculpate Napo
leon from the haste of the process.
"We can give assurance, on authority which can not mistake or be mis
taken (if wrong, it must be intentionally so, and we have been deceived our
selves, which we can not believe), that the idea of the death of the Duke
d'Enghien never crossed the First Consul's mind till he was astonished and
confounded by the tidings communicated to him by Savary of his execu
tion. Whatever the precipitation of some of his ministers or the intrigues
of others may have designed ; however his own ideas may have been sur
prised, his measures hurried, and the result enchained, it is certain, unless
we are grossly misinformed (and if we are, it is designedly), that the sudden,
violent, and impolitic death of the victim of various untoward circumstances

1804.] THE BOURBON CONSPIRACY. 437
was as unexpected and as unwelcome to him at whose door it is laid as an
unpardonable crime, as to any one living. The question was not whether
he should be put to death, but whether he should be put on his trial."
Joseph Bonaparte, immediately after the arrest of the Duke d'Enghien,
called upon his brother Napoleon. He thus records the interview. Joseph,
alluding to some past events, had said, "Who would then have thought that
you would be one day called on to pronounce, as a judge, the destiny of a
grandson of the Prince of Conde ? At these words," continues Joseph, " I
saw Napoleon's countenance change, and a tear start, for my brother Na
poleon's nature was good and kind, though he often took as much pains to
appear stern as others do to appear gentle. Leaning on my arm, 'What
events,' said he, ' and what misfortunes in that family ! But who knows
whether, out of this arrest, may not spring good for the family, for the coun
try, and for me ? for out of it I will find means to show what I really am. I
am strong enough not to fear the Bourbons. I am great enough, I think, for
them not to suppose that I will degrade myself to the miserable part of
Monk. They tell me that the Duke d'Enghien is even disposed to antici
pate my favorable sentiments by writing to me ; but whether he does or does
not, he shall find in me none but favorable dispositions ; a wish to pardon
him — not merely the wish, but the will. I, who am here to conciliate, I like
to imagine to myself the romance of reconciliation, and I smile at the possi
bility of extending a friendly hand to the unfortunate Duke d'Enghien. You
would l*ke to see, one day, a descendant of the great Conde among your
brother's aides-de-camp. For my part, I should be delighted, I assure you ;
and my heart is filled with good and generous sentiments toward him.' "
Such then are the established facts. The Duke d'Enghien was guilty of
high treason. He was in the pay of England, with arms in his hands, fight
ing against his own country. He was lingering on the frontier, ready to
march with invading armies into France. Yet Napoleon was generously
disposed to overlook this crime of high treason, in reference to the peculiar
political misfortunes of the family of the duke. But the Bourbons had en
tered into an atrocious conspiracy for the assassination of the First Consul.
The evidence seemed overwhelming that the duke was actively engaged in
this conspiracy. Napoleon resolved to bring him to trial, still magnanimous
ly intending to pardon the unhappy man. He thought that such an act of
clemency would prove his kind feelings toward the rejected Bourbons, and
that he had no disposition to aggravate their misfortunes. The duke was
arrested, accused of the crime of high treason, tried, found guilty beyond all
possibility of doubt, condemned, and, by an untoward accident, executed be
fore Napoleon had an opportunity to interpose the contemplated pardon.
The duke fell before the majesty of a just law. Napoleon regretted his
death ; he regretted it doubly when he learned that, though the duke, by his
own defiant confession, was guilty of high treason, still, that he probably was
not involved with the conspirators in plotting assassination. But he proudly
refused to make any apology to the Bourbon clamor. He would not at
tempt to mitigate unjust obloquy by criminating the officers of the law.
With that spirit of self-respect to which none can refuse their homage, he
assumed the whole responsibility of the act.

438 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXVII.
Upon the basis of such facts, Lamartine, echoing the sentiments of aris
tocratic Europe, exclaims, "The First Consul had said, ' Tis well!' But
conscience, equity, and humanity protest alike against this satisfaction of a
murderer who applauds himself. He claimed the crime to himself alone in
his revelations at St. Helena. Let him, then, keep it all to himself! He has
mowed down millions of men by the hands of war, and mad humanity, par
tial against itself for what it calls glory, has pardoned him. He has slain
one alone cruelly, like a coward, in the dark, by the consciences of prevari
cating judges, and by the balls of mercenary executioners, without risking
his own breast — not as a warrior, but even as a murderer. Neither mankind
nor history will ever pardon him this spilling of blood. A tomb has been
raised to him under the dome built by Louis XIV. at the Palace of the Inva-
lides, where the statues of twelve victories, hewn out of one single block of
granite, harmonizing with the massy pillars which support the lofty edifice,
seem to stand, the sentinels of ages, around the urn of porphyry which con
tains his bones. But there is in the shade, and seated on his sepulchre, an
invisible statue which tarnishes and blights all the others — the statue of a
young man, torn by hired nocturnal assassins from the arms of her he loved,
from the inviolable asylum in which he confided, and slaughtered, by the
light of a lantern, at the foot of the palace of his sires. People go to visit,
with a cold curiosity, the battle-fields of Marengo, of Austerlitz, of Wagram,
of Leipsic, of Waterloo ; they walk over them with dry eyes ; then they are
shown, at the angle of a wall round the foundations of VincenneS, at the
bottom of a trench, a place covered with nettles and marsh-mallows, and they
exclaim, ' It is there !' With a cry of indignation, they carry from the spot
an eternal pity for the victim, and an implacable resentment against the as
sassin !
" This resentment is a vengeance for the past, but it is also a lesson for
the future. Let the ambitious, whether soldiers, tribunes, or kings, reflect,
that if there are mercenary soldiers to serve them, and flatterers to excuse
them while they reign, there is the conscience of humanity afterward to
judge them, and pity to detest them. The murderer has but his hour, the
victim has all eternity !"*
This legal execution of one convicted of high treason the Allies have au
daciously stigmatized as murder and assassination. Had European aristocra
cy crushed Republicanism in America as in France, Washington would also
have been called the murderer and assassin of Andre". He was so called,
till the success of this great republic overwhelmed the ridiculous accusation
" When Peltier was acquitted, in defiance of Consul Bonaparte's efforts to convict him, of li
bels promoting his assassination, I was in London, where the French Bourbon princes and their
abettors, almost without concealment, ' by divine right,' urged that atrocity. At the same time, I was
hard by there when Colonel Despard and several others, convicted of treason, were executed, ac
cording to the terrific English method of that punishment. The proof of Despard's treason was
slight, that of Enghien's unquestionable. Not a sigh, scarce a sympathy, followed Colonel Des
pard's mangled corpse to the grave, while myriads of bosoms soon swelled with indignation at the
death of the Duke d'Enghien."— History of the Second War in the United States, by Charles J. In
gersoll. Treason against the Emperor Napoleon was considered a virtue which merited reward ; treason
.against King George III. was a crime which merited death by torture.

1804.] THE IMPERIAL THRONE. 439
with contempt. Our sympathies cluster around D'Enghien and Andre", yet
they both were guilty and merited their doom. Washington would gladly
have pardoned Andre could he have done so without periling the cause of
American freedom, and Napoleon grieved deeply that an untoward acci
dent deprived him of the opportunity of extending a pardon to the Duke
d'Enghien.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE IMPERIAL THRONE.

Desire for the Empire — Decree of the Senate — Address of Cambaceres — Reply of Napoleon — Fete
at Boulogne — Naval Battle — Letter to the Pope — His Reception at Paris — Religious Sanction of
the Marriage of Napoleon and Josephine — Coronation — The Empire.
The conspiracy of the French princes for the assassination of Napoleon
roused Republican France to increased efforts to consolidate the new gov
ernment. The execution of the Duke d'Enghien, a prince of the blood roy
al, exasperated the feudal monarchs of Europe, and inspired them with ad
ditional hostility against the supremacy of the people. The Royalists con
sidered Napoleon, with his almost superhuman energy, as the only obstacle
to their projects. They were ready, at every hazard, to strike him down.
The people of France, profoundly admiring the wisdom and efficiency of his
government, were grateful for the harmony which he had restored to the Re
public, and for the abounding prosperity with which, by his labors, it had
been crowned.
Immediately, in the legislative bodies, in the streets of Paris, through all
the principal towns in the departments, and in the camps distributed along
the coasts, all tongues were busy in pleading that the crown should be placed
upon that brow on whose safety reposed the destinies of France. It was de
clared that experience had abundantly proved that republicanism was not
adapted to the genius of the French people ; that the object of the Revolu
tion was accomplished in reforming abuses, in abolishing the old feudal sys
tem, and in limiting the royal authority ; and that now the dignity and the
safety of France required that Napoleon should be invested with regal power,
that he might thus be on a level with surrounding monarchs.
Never was the impulsive character of the French people more conspicu
ous than on this occasion. Fouche, in the ardor of his zeal, was the first to
approach Napoleon with an expression of the universal desire. In reiterated
interviews, he represented the necessity of putting an end to the anxieties of
France by returning to that monarchical form of government which might
appease the hostility of the surrounding nations, which would invest the per
son of Napoleon with new sacredness, and which would consolidate the work
of the Revolution. A blaze of enthusiasm flamed over all France at the idea
of investing the First Consul, the friend and the idol of the people, with im
perial dignity. Addresses were now poured in upon Napoleon without num
ber, imploring him to accept the crown of France. The First Consul sent
for Lebrun and Cambaceres, to confer with them upon the subject. Frank-

440 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXVIII.
ly he avowed that he wished to ascend the throne, stating that it was mani
fest to every one that France desired a king ; that every day she was reced
ing farther from the wild excesses of the Revolution ; that the adoption of
the forms of monarchy would be an act of conciliation to the rest of Europe,
and would enable him, with less opposition from abroad, to promote the
popular interests of France.
Napoleon, with his accustomed prudence, immediately sent to most of the
governments of Europe to ascertain if the change would be acceptable to
them. France was at war with England, consequently the consent of that
power was out of the question. The hostile attitude which Russia had re
cently assumed rendered it a point of dignity not to address her. Prussia,
Austria, Spain, and the minor powers were consulted. As it was now gen
erally esteemed impossible, throughout Europe, that the Bourbons could be
restored, all the courts experienced much satisfaction at the idea of having
the Republic abolished in France. The King of Prussia wrote, with his
own hand, to his minister in Paris in the following cordial terms :
" I unhesitatingly authorize you to seize the earliest possible opportunity
to make known to M. Talleyrand that, after having seen the supreme power
conferred for life upon the First Consul, I should see, with still greater inter
est, the public order, established by his wisdom and his great actions, con
solidated by the hereditary establishment of his family, and that I should not
hesitate to acknowledge it."
This letter, written but about a fortnight after the execution of the Duke
d'Enghien, seems to indicate that, however deeply that event might have
been deplored by the courts of Europe, the exasperating circumstances
which led to the reprisal were fully appreciated. The Emperor Francis of
Austria promptly assured Napoleon of his readiness to recognize that change
in the government of France which could not but be acceptable to the sur
rounding monarchies. This was the general sentiment throughout all of the
courts of Europe.
Bourrienne, in conversation with Napoleon, one day remarked that he
thought it would be impossible for Napoleon to get himself acknowledged
Emperor by the old reigning families of Europe. " If it comes to that," he
replied, " I will dethrone them all, and then I shall be the oldest sovereign
among them."
The Senate of France, by unanimous acclamation, without a single dis
sentient voice, passed the decree, "That Napoleon Bonaparte should be
named Emperor, and in that capacity invested with the government of the
French Republic." The Senate, in its enthusiasm, resolved to go in a body
to St. Cloud, to present the decree to the First Consul, and to salute him as
Emperor. It was the 16th of May, 1804. The fields were green, the trees
in full foliage, and the bland atmosphere of the most lovely of spring morn
ings exhilarated all spirits. A long' procession of carriages, escorted by a
brilliant guard of cavalry, conveyed the senators to the rural palace of St.
Cloud. Napoleon, with that perfect tranquillity of spirit which seemed nev
er to forsake him, was ready to receive them. Josephine stood by his side,
flushed with agitation, trembling in anticipation of the future, yet gratified at
the new honor about to be conferred upon her husband. Cambaceres, the

1804.] THE IMPERIAL THRONE. 441
President of the Senate, bowing profoundly before his former colleague, now
his new sovereign, thus addressed him :
" Sire, — Four years ago the affection and the gratitude of the French peo
ple intrusted the reins of government to your majesty, and the constitution
of the state had already left to you the choice of a successor. The more im
posing title which is now decreed to you, therefore, is but a tribute that the
nation pays to its own dignity, and to the necessity it experiences of offer
ing you new proofs of its daily increasing respect and attachment. How,
indeed, can the French people reflect, without enthusiasm, upon the happi
ness it has experienced since Providence prompted it to throw itself into your
arms ? Our armies were vanquished, the finances in disorder, public credit
was annihilated ; the remnants of our ancient splendor were disputed by fac
tions ; the ideas of religion, and even of morality, were obscured. Your ma
jesty appeared ; you recalled victory to our standards ; you restored order
and economy in the public expenditure. The nation, encouraged by the use
you made of them, took confidence in its own resources. Your wisdom
calmed down the fury of parties ; religion saw her altars raised again. Fi
nally — and that is, doubtless, the greatest of the miracles worked by your
genius — that people, whom civil ferments had rendered indocile to all re
straints, and inimical to all authority, have been, by you, taught to cherish
and respect a power exercised only for its repose and glory."
The moment these words were concluded, the cry of " Vive l'Empereur"
resounded, in tones of deepest enthusiasm, throughout the palace. The
multitude, drawn by the occasion to the court-yard and the gardens, caught
the cry, and repeated it with reiterated and joyful shouts. As soon as si
lence was restored, Napoleon briefly replied in the following terms :
" Every thing which can contribute to the weal of the country is essen
tially connected with my happiness. I accept the title, which you believe
to be useful to the glory of the nation. I submit to the people the sanction
of the law of hereditary succession. I hope that France will never repent
the honors with which she shall invest my family. At all events, my spirit
will no longer be with my posterity on that day when it shall cease to merit
the love and confidence of the Grand Nation."
Cambaceres then addressed a few words of congratulation to the Empress
Josephine, to which she replied only by her tears. Napoleon, desirous of
surrounding the newly-established throne by all those influences which could
give it stability, resolved to have himself crowned by the Pope in Paris. It
will be remembered that Pope Pius VII. was the personal friend of Napo
leon. Fie felt grateful for the favors which the First Consul had conferred
upon the Church. Never before had a Pope condescended to leave Rome to
place the crown upon a monarch's brow. Pius VII., however, promptly
yielded to the wishes of his illustrious friend.
It was now the month of May. Napoleon wished, before the coronation,
to accomplish his projected attack upon England. The preparations were
finally so matured that even Napoleon became sanguine of success. He im
mediately visited all the camps upon the coast, and inspected them with the
utmost care. He even examined the flotilla, boat by boat, to see if every
order had been strictly attended to. Every thing was in accordance with his

442

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XXVIII.

wishes. A magnificent spectacle was arranged, in the presence of the En
glish squadron, for the distribution of the crosses of the " Legion of Honor."
Napoleon was seated upon a throne constructed on the brink of the ocean,
with his magnificent army assembled in the form of a semicircular amphi
theatre around him. The shouts of a hundred thousand men filled the air.
The explosion of thousands of pieces of artillery of heaviest calibre sent their
reverberations even to the shores of England. The impressive scene filled

THE FETE AT BOULOGNE

all hearts. In the midst of the imposing spectacle, a division of the flotilla
from Havre, approaching Boulogne, was attacked by the English squadron,
in view of the countless multitude surrounding the Emperor. Napoleon,
while engaged in the solemnities of the occasion, from time to time turned
his telescope to watch the progress of the fight. The gun-boats entered the
harbor in safety, thus crowning the festivities of the day.
A short time afterward Napoleon had another opportunity of witnessing a
battle between the flotilla and the English ships. It was the 26th of August,
at two o'clock in the afternoon, when he was in the roadstead inspecting the
line of gun-boats. The English squadron, consisting of twenty ships, was

1804.]

THE IMPERIAL THRONE.

443

moored at some distance from the shore. A ship, detaching herself from the
main body, approached the French line to reconnoiter and to discharge some
broadsides. A few gun-boats immediately weighed anchor and bore down
upon the ship. Seeing this, the English sent a re-enforcement of one frigate
and several brigs to attack the gun-boats. The Emperor was in his barge
with Admiral Brueys. He ordered his barge to be steered into the midst of
the boats that were fighting, and to advance full sail for the frigate. He
was aware that the sailors and soldiers, who admired his fearlessness upon
the shore, sometimes asked themselves if he would be equally daring upon
the sea. He wished to enlighten them upon that point.
The imperial barge, brilliantly decorated with banners, rapidly approached
the frigate. She, suspecting the precious freight it bore, reserved her fire,
that with one crushing broadside she might annihilate her audacious foe.
The Minister of Marine, trembling for the fate of the Emperor, seized the
rudder, and was about to alter the course of the barge. An imperative ges
ture from Napoleon arrested the movement, and the barge held on its course.
Napoleon was examining the frigate with his telescope, when suddenly she
discharged her broadside. The tempest of iron was hurled around them,
lashing the water into foam, yet no one was injured. The rest of the gun
boats rapidly came up, and assailed the English with a shower of balls and
grape-shot. Soon the frigate, seriously damaged, was obliged to stand out
to sea. The brigs soon followed, seriously battered, and one so riddled that
she was seen to sink.

THE GUN-BOATS AND THE FRIGATE.

Napoleon, delighted with the result of the battle, wrote to Marshal Soult :
" The little battle at which I was present has produced an immense effect in
England. It has created a real alarm there. The howitzers which are

on

444 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXVIII.
board the gun-boats tell admirably. The private information that I have re
ceived makes the loss of the enemy sixty wounded, and from twelve to fif
teen killed. The frigate was much damaged." The loss of the French was
but two killed and seven wounded.
England was now thoroughly alarmed. It was evident to all that, her
culean as was the enterprise of invading England, Napoleon had accumu
lated materials commensurate with the undertaking. All France was in a
state of the highest enthusiasm. The most magnificent preparations were
being made for the coronation. The rumor had spread abroad that the Pope
was coming to Paris to crown the Emperor. The devout population heard
the news with wonder and admiration. Opposition, however, arose in the
Council of State. Many arguments were urged against receiving the crown
from the Sovereign Pontiff, which was, in reality, conferred by the will of the
nation and the exploits of the army. Napoleon was as powerful in the cab
inet as on the field of battle. His arguments were as decisive as his bomb
shells. He terminated the discussion by this pointed question :
" Gentlemen, you are deliberating at Paris, at the Tuileries. Suppose
that you were in London, in the British cabinet — that you were the minis
ters of the King of England, and that you were informed that at this moment
the Pope crosses the Alps to crown the Emperor of the French. Would
vou look upon that as a triumph for England or for France ?" This settled
the question beyond reply.
Napoleon justly considered that the benediction of the Pope would, in the
eyes of Catholic Europe, be a seal of his legitimacy as a sovereign which
nothing else could supply. His letter to the Pope was thus expressed:
" Most Holy Father, — The happy effect produced upon the character and
the morality of my people by the re-establishment of religion, induces me to
beg your Holiness to give me a new proof of your interest in my destiny,
and in that of this great nation, in one of the most important conjunctures
presented in the annals of the world. I beg you to come and give, to the
highest degree, a religious character to the anointing and coronation of the
first Emperor of the French. That ceremony will acquire a new lustre by
being performed by your Holiness in person. It will bring down upon your
self and our people the blessing of God, whose decrees rule the destiny of
empires and families. Your Holiness is aware of the affectionate sentiments
I have long borne toward you, and can thence judge of the pleasure that this
occurrence will afford me of testifying them anew. We pray God that He
may preserve you, most Holy Father, for many years to rule and govern our
mother, the Holy Church. Your dutiful son, Napoleon."
The Pope was not insensible to ridicule. The nickname his enemies gave
him, of Chaplain to Napoleon, wounded him deeply. And though the Pope
for a little time hesitated, he at length yielded himself entirely to the wishes
of the Emperor.
Josephine trembled in view of the height to which her husband had at
tained. Rumors still filled the air that state necessity required that Napo
leon should be the founder of a new dynasty, that he should transmit his
crown to his descendants, and that divorce was essential, that he might be
blessed with an heir. She ardently desired that she might be crowned with

1804.] THE IMPERIAL THRONE. 445
her husband, for it would be a new tie to bind Napoleon to her, and a new
guarantee against that divorce which ever haunted her with the most fearful
forebodings. Napoleon loved her tenderly, and yet was deeply impressed
with the apparent policy of entering into a new nuptial alliance. A scene
occurred at this time between them, when Napoleon was so much overcome
by the fearful apprehensions, the love and the grief of his wife, that, in a sud
den outburst of affection, he threw his arms around her, pressed her to his
heart, and assured her that, whatever policy might require, he never could
gain strength to separate from one whom he loved so dearly. He declared
that she should be crowned with him, and that she should receive at his side,
and from the hands of the Pope, the divine consecration.
It was now the last of November. Every thing was in readiness at Notre
Dame. Pius VII. commenced his journey from Rome to Earis. He was
every where received in France with the highest marks of respect and at
tention. As the pontifical cortege arrived at the Palace of Fontainebleau,
Napoleon, on horseback, with a magnificent retinue, met the Pope. Alight
ing, the Emperor embraced the Holy Father, and the two sovereigns entered
the carriage together, the Emperor courteously assigning the right side to
the Head of the Church. At the rural palace of Fontainebleau he was re
ceived with a degree of splendor which both delighted and amazed him.

.,//«"B*i! s,<! SIT
THE TOPE AT THE TUILERIES.

446 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXVIII.
The mild and benevolent countenance and the dignified manners of Pius
VII. won all hearts. After three days of repose, the Emperor and the Pope,
entering the same carriage, proceeded to Paris. The Pope was lodged in
the Pavilion of Flora in the palace of the Tuileries, which had been sump
tuously prepared for his reception. With a delicacy characteristic of Napo
leon, the Pope found his apartments furnished in every respect precisely like
those he had left in the Vatican. Thus the aged prelate truly found himself
at home.
The populace of Paris daily crowded beneath the windows of the Tuileries
soliciting his appearance. The fame of his benignity had spread through the
capital. Pius VII. frequently presented himself at the balcony of the Tuil
eries, always accompanied by Napoleon, and was saluted with most enthu
siastic acclamations. The vast throng threw themselves upon their knees
before him, and implored the pontifical benediction. Strange inconsistency !
But ten years before, the populace of Paris had hunted the priests of Rome
through the streets, and had shot them down without mercy.
It will be remembered that, at the time of the marriage of Napoleon and
Josephine, all religious ceremonies had been abolished, and they were only
united by a civil bond. Napoleon had endeavored to reform this state of
things, and, upon the marriage of his sister to Murat, he insisted upon their
receiving the nuptial benediction of the Church.
Josephine immediately interceded with the Pope to secure for herself the
blessing of a religious sanction upon her union. With deep emotion and
heartfelt delight, on the very night preceding the coronation, the marriage
between Napoleon and Josephine was secretly celebrated in the chapel of
the Tuileries. Upon this occasion Josephine was perfectly overcome with
emotion. On the following morning, her reddened eyes still testified to the
tears she had shed.
Sunday, the 2d of December, 1804, was a clear, cold winter's day. All
Paris was in a state of the highest enthusiasm to witness the coronation of
the Emperor. The church of Notre Dame was decorated with surpassing
magnificence. The most gorgeous drapery of silken velvet ornamented the
walls, descending from the roof to the pavement. An immense throne was
erected for Napoleon and Josephine at the west end of the church, raised
upon twenty-four steps. The Emperor left the Tuileries in a carriage com
pletely surrounded with glass. His costume was designed by the most dis
tinguished painter of the day. The acclamations of immense crowds fol
lowed him, and all were delighted to see the idol of the people become the
Emperor of France.
With a golden laurel upon that noble brow, which attracted the attention
of every observer, Napoleon entered the church, while five hundred musi
cians pealed forth a solemn chant. The Pope anointed the Emperor, blessed
the sword and the sceptre, and, as he approached to take up the crown, Na
poleon firmly and with dignity took it in his own hand, and placed it himself
upon his head. This characteristic act produced an indescribable effect upon
the assembly. Napoleon then took the crown prepared for the Empress,
and approaching Josephine as she knelt before him, with visible tenderness
and affection placed it upon her head. Josephine for a moment gazed ear-

1804.] THE IMPERIAL THRONE. 447
nestly, with swimming eyes, into the face of her illustrious and idolized
husband. Napoleon, with a recognizing glance of love, returned the gaze.
Josephine, entirely overcome, bowed her head and burst into tears. An en
thusiastic shout of " Live the Emperor" burst from every lip, and resounded
through the arches of Notre Dame. The thunders of innumerable cannon,
reverberating through the streets of Paris, announced to all the inhabitants
of the metropolis that Napoleon was the consecrated Emperor of France.

(A MA;

THE CORONATION.

The shades of evening had fallen over the thronged city, and the palace
and the garden of the Tuileries were blazing with illuminations, when the
Emperor and the Empress returned to their imperial abode. Josephine,
overwhelmed with the intensest emotions, which the scenes of the day had
excited, retired to her chamber, and, falling upon her knees, implored the

448 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXVIII.
guidance of the King of kings. Napoleon, who personally disliked all pomp
and parade, and who arranged these scenes of grandeur only to impress the
minds of the multitude, hastened to his room, and exclaimed impatiently to
an attendant as he entered, "Off! off with these confounded trappings!"
He threw the mantle into one corner of the room, the gorgeous robe into an
other, and thus violently disencumbering himself, declared that hours of such
mortal tediousness he had never passed before.
The court of France had for ages exhibited to the nation the spectacle of
the most voluptuous and unblushing vice. Manners the most dissolute had
been rendered attractive by the grace in which they had been robed. Na
poleon had resolved that his court should present a model of moral purity.
He resolved to give no one an appointment among the royal retinue whose
character was not above reproach. The Duchess d'Aiguillon, during the li
cense of those times, in which all the restraints of Christian morality had
been swept away, had availed herself of the facile liberty of divorce from her
husband, and had formed other unions. Josephine, in her days of adversity,
had received favors from the duchess, and wished to testify her grat'tude by
receiving her at court. Napoleon peremptorily refused. Josephine thus
wrote to her friend :
" I am deeply afflicted. My former friends, supposing that I am able to
obtain the fulfillment of all my wishes, must suppose that I have forgotten
the past. Alas ! it is not so. The Emperor, indignant at the total disregard
of morality, and alarmed at the progress it might still make, is resolved that
the exampLe of a life of regularity and of religion shall be presented at the pal
ace where he reigns. Desirous of strengthening more and more the Church
re-established by himself, and unable to change the laws appointed by her
observances, his intention is, at least, to keep at a distance from his court
all who may have availed themselves of an opportunity for a divorce. Hence
the cause of his refusing the favor I asked of having you with me. The re
fusal has occasioned me unspeakable regret, but he is too absolute to leave
even the hope of seeing him retract."
The season was now so inclement that the Pope could not immediately re
pass the Alps. Napoleon, by his frankness, courtesy, and kindliness, gained
the most sincere affection of the Holy Pontiff. The Pope became one of the
most ardent admirers of that extraordinary man, who won the love of all that
approached him.
One great cause of the hostility of monarchical Europe against republican
France was the apprehension entertained by the allied monarchs that repub
lican principles might extend through their dominions. One potent consid
eration which influenced Napoleon in changing the government from a re
public to an empire was the hope that Europe would be conciliated by this
change. But, though the form of government was thus changed, its popular
spirit remained the same.
The old French monarchy was a system of intolerable oppression of the
people and favoritism of the privileged classes. It sustained feudal rights,
an arrogant and exclusive nobility, venality of offices, worthless and enor
mously endowed convents, proprietary clergy, and the entire surrender of
the state treasury to the extravagance of an irresponsible prince.

1805.] THE THRONE OF ITALY. 449
The empire which Napoleon established was as different from this as light
from darkness. He guarded carefully the liberty of individuals and the rights
of private property. All persons were equally accessible to public employ
ments. The taxes were impartially assessed. Entire freedom of conscience
was granted. All religious sects, including the Jews, were respected and
protected. The strictest accountability was instituted in respect to the pub
lic funds. The decorations of the Legion of Honor were extended to all
classes and to all kinds of merit. The empire of Napoleon was not the old
feudal monarchy revived. It was an imperial republic. Nearly all the
thinking men in France thought that it was, in the then existing circum
stances, the best government which France could then sustain. It was
adopted by the overwhelming majority of the nation. There are but few
thinking men now who will dissent from that opinion. It is unreasonable to
assert that Napoleon could have made out of France a republican America.
The despots of Europe would not even permit him to make out of France a
republican empire. Had Napoleon neglected to surround his popular in
stitutions with imperial energy, France would immediately have been over
whelmed by her assailants. Where can the intelligent man be found who
doubts this fact ? How ungenerous, then, is it to condemn Napoleon for pur
suing that only course which, under the circumstances of the case, he could
pursue with any chance of success ?

CHAPTER XXIX.
THE THRONE OF. ITALY.

Napoleon's Letter to the King of England — Wishes of the Cisalpine Republic — Journey of the
Emperor and Empress to Italy — Coronation at Milan — Dispatches Intercepted — Napoleon and
the Peasant — Picture of a Day — Napoleon's Designs for France — Anecdotes— Conversation with
Las Casas.
Napoleon hoped that the adoption of monarchical forms might in some
degree reconcile Europe to France. Most of the surrounding monarchies
had expressed their gratification. England still remained implacable. Na
poleon, however, hoped that even England might, by this measure of con
ciliation, be appeased. His desire for peace was so intense, that, notwith
standing the reiterated repulses he had received from that haughty power,
he condescended to make new advances to stay the effusion of blood. With
his own hand he again wrote to the King of England. It was one of his
first acts after his enthronement. His letter was thus expressed :
" Sir, my Brother, — Called to the throne by Providence, by the suffrages
of the Senate, of the people, and of the army, my first desire is peace. France
and England, abusing their prosperity, may contend for ages. But do their
respective governments fulfill their most sacred duties in causing so much
blood to be vainly shed, without the hope of advantage or prospect of cessa
tion ? I do not conceive that it can be deemed dishonorable in me to make
the first advances. I believe it has been sufficiently proved to the world
that I dread none of the chances of war, which indeed offer nothing that
I can fear. Though peace is the wish of my heart, yet war has never been
Vol. I.— F f

450 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXIX.
adverse to my glory. I conjure your majesty, then, not to refuse the happi
ness of giving peace to the world. Delay not that grateful satisfaction, that
it may be a legacy for your children ; for never have arisen more favorable
circumstances, nor a more propitious moment for calming every passion and
displaying the best feelings of humanity and reason.
" That moment once lost, what term shall we set to a struggle which all
my efforts have been unable to terminate ? In the space of ten years your
majesty has gained more in wealth and territory than the extent of Europe
comprehends. Your people have attained the height of prosperity. What,
then, has your majesty to hope from war ? The world is sufficiently extens
ive for our two nations, and reason might assist us to discover the means of
conciliating all, were both parties animated by a spirit of reconcilement. At
all events I have discharged a sacred duty, and one dear to my heart. Your
majesty may rely upon the sincerity of the sentiments now expressed, and
on my desire to afford your majesty every proof of that sincerity."
This earnest appeal the British cabinet repulsed by the following cold re
ply : "His majesty of England, though earnestly desiring the restoration of
peace to his people, could not reply to the overture made to him without
consulting the Continental powers, especially the Emperor of Russia." This
was simply saying that a new storm was gathering in the north, and that the
fate of France must depend on another struggle.
The Cisalpine Republic had witnessed the change of France from a re
public to an empire with much satisfaction. They wished to imitate this
example. Italy, rejoicing in ancestral greatness, immediately resolved that
Napoleon, whom the Italians regarded as one of their own countrymen,
should also wear the crown of Lombardy. A deputation from the Cisalpine
Republic arrived in Paris to consult the Emperor upon the proposed altera
tion, and to tender to him the crown. At a public audience, Napoleon was
informed of the unanimous desire of the Senate and of the people of Italy
that the country should become a kingdom, and that he would ascend the
throne. Napoleon listened with pleasure to the petition of the Republic. In
reply he said,
" The separation of the crowns of France and Italy will be necessary here
after, but highly dangerous at present, surrounded as we are by powerful
enemies and inconstant friends. The people of Italy have always been dear
to me. For the love I bear them, I consent to take the additional burden
and responsibility which their confidence has led them to impose on me, at
least until the interests of Italy herself permit me to place the crown on a
younger head. My successor, animated by my spirit, and intent upon com
pleting the work of regeneration, already so auspiciously commenced, shall
be one who will be ever ready to sacrifice his personal interests, and, if nec
essary, his life, in behalf of the nation over which he shall be called by Prov
idence, the constitution of the country, and my approbation, to reign."
In reference to this event, Napoleon, in a free and frank conversation with
his ancient schoolfellow Bourrienne, remarked, "In eight days I shall set
out to assume the iron crown of Charlemagne. That, however, is but a
stepping-stone to greater things which I design for Italy, which must become
a kingdom, comprising all the transalpine country from Venice to the mari-

1805.] THE THRONE OF ITALY. 451
time Alps. The union of Italy with France can be but transient. For the
present it is necessary, in order to accustom the Italians to live under com
mon laws. The people of Genoa, Piedmont, Milan, Venice, Tuscany, Rome,
and Naples, cordially detest each other, and none of them could be induced
to admit their inferiority. Rome, however, by her situation and historical
associations, is the natural capital of Italy. To make it so in reality, the
power of the Pope must be restricted to spiritual affairs. It would be im
politic to attempt the accomplishment of this just now ; but, if circum
stances are favorable, there may be less difficulty hereafter. As yet, I have
but crude ideas upon the subject, which time and events will ripen.
"When you and I were two idle young men, sauntering through the streets
of Paris, a prescient feeling told me that I should one day be master of
France. My conduct hence received a direction. It is wise, therefore, to
provide for what may come, and this is what I am doing. Since it would
be impossible at once to unite Italy into a single power, yielding obedience
to uniform laws, I shall commence by making her French. All the petty,
worthless states into which she is divided will thus acquire a habit of living
under the dominion of the same laws, and, when this habit is formed, and lo
cal feuds and enmities become extinct, there will again be an Italy worthy
her olden renown, and her restoration to independence will have been my
work. Twenty years are requisite, however, to accomplish this, and who
can calculate with certainty upon the future ? I speak at this moment of
things which have long been shut up in my mind. I am probably but utter
ing a pleasant day-dream."
The Emperor and Empress, accompanied by the Pope, soon left Paris for
Italy. They halted at Brienne, the scene of Napoleon's school-days. With
many delightful and melancholy emotions, Napoleon recalled, with a zest
and a rapidity which surprised himself, innumerable long-forgotten trains of
ideas and sensations. They crossed the Alps. Josephine, supported by the
arm of Napoleon, and gazing upon the wild sublimities which surrounded
them, with emotions of delight listened to the glowing recitals of her hus
band, as he pointed out to her the scenes of past enterprise and achievement.
Having taken leave of the Holy Father at Turin with mutual testimoni
als of affection and esteem, the Emperor, with his staff, visited the plain of
Marengo. He had assembled upon that plain thirty thousand troops for a
grand review, and that Josephine might behold, in the mimicry of war, a pic
ture of the dreadful scenes which had deluged those fields in blood. It was
the fifth of May. The magnificent pageant glittered beneath the rays of a
brilliant sun. A lofty throne was erected, from which the Emperor and Em
press could overlook the whole scene. Napoleon dressed himself for the
occasion with the same war-wasted garments, the battered hat, the tempest-
torn cloak, the coat of faded blue, and the long cavalry sabre, which he had
worn amid the carnage and the terror of that awful day. Many of the vet
erans who had been engaged in the action were present. The Emperor and
the Empress appeared on the ground in a magnificent chariot drawn by eight
horses, and immediately they were greeted by an enthusiastic shout of ac
clamation from thirty thousand adoring voices. The gorgeous uniform of
the men, the rich caparison and proud bearing of the horses, the clangor of

452 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXIX.
innumerable trumpets and martial bands, the glitter of gold and steel, the
deafening thunders of artillery and musketry, filling the air with one inces
sant and terrific roar, the dense volumes of sulphurous smoke rolling heavily
over the plain, shutting out the rays of an unclouded sun, all combined to
produce an effect upon the spectators never to be effaced.
On the 26th of May the coronation took place in the Cathedral of Milan.
The iron crown of Charlemagne, which is a circlet of gold and gems cover
ing an iron ring formed of one of the spikes said to have pierced our Savior's
hand at the Crucifixion, had reposed for a thousand years in the church of
Monza. It was brought forth from its mausoleum to embellish the corona
tion with the attraction of its deep poetic sentiment. The ceremony was
conducted with a magnificence not even surpassed by the scene in Notre
Dame. The Empress first appeared, gorgeously dressed and glittering with
diamonds. The most enthusiastic acclamations greeted her entrance. A
moment after, Napoleon himself appeared. He was arrayed in imperial robes
of velvet, purple and gold, with the diadem upon his brow, and the crown
and sceptre of Charlemagne in his hands. He placed the crown upon his
own head, repeating aloud the historical words, " God has given it to me —
woe to him who touches it !"
He remained in Milan a month, busy night and day in projecting improve
ments of the most majestic character. The Italians, to the present day, re
gard the reign of Napoleon as the brightest period of their modern history.
A little incident at this time occurred which illustrates Napoleon's un
wearied interest in promoting happiness. One day the Emperor and Em
press had broken away from the pageantry and cares of state, and retired to
the seclusion of a little island in one of the lakes in that vicinity. They en
tered the cabin of a poor woman. She had no idea of the illustrious char
acter of her guests, and, in answer to their kind inquiries, told them frankly
the story of her penury and her toils, and her anxiety for her children, as her
husband could often obtain no work. Napoleon was interested in the indi
cations which he saw of a superior character.
" How much money," said he, " should you want to make you perfectly
happy ?"
" Ah ! sir," she replied, " a great deal I should want."
" But how much ?" Napoleon rejoined.
" Oh, sir," she replied, " I should want as much as eighty dollars ; but
what prospect is there of one having eighty dollars ?"
The Emperor caused an attendant to pour into her lap about six hundred
dollars in glittering gold. For a moment she was speechless in bewilder
ment, and then said,
" Ah, sir l ah, madam ! this is too much ; and yet you do not look as if
you could sport with the feelings of a poor woman."
" No," Josephine replied, in most gentle accents, " the money is all yours :
with it you can now rent a piece of ground, purchase a flock of goats, and
I hope you will be able to bring up your children comfortably." Napoleon's
tact in detecting character ever enabled him to judge accurately where as
sistance could be judiciously conferred.
Before leaving Milan, Napoleon received a number of intercepted dis-

1805.]

THE THRONE OF ITALY.

453

patches of Sir Arthur Wellesley, containing a detailed account of the enor
mous acquisitions the English were making in India. Fie commented upon
these dispatches with great severity. The cabinet of London were holding
up to the execration of Europe the illimitable ambition of the French mon
arch for striving to strengthen himself against the hostile monarchies around
him by friendly associations and alliances with such powers as his genius
could create. At the same time, this same cabinet was issuing orders to
extend the British dominion over an extent of country and a population al
most equal to that of all Europe. In this career of aggression against the
East Indies, England could not even offer the plea that she was an invited
liberator, or that she was conquering in a defensive war. It is, indeed, more
easy to see the mote in our neighbor's eye than to discern the beam in our
own. From Milan, the Emperor and Empress continued their tour to Genoa.
The restless and never-exhausted mind of Napoleon was weary at even the
swiftest speed of the horses. Though they drove from post to post with the
utmost possible rapidity, so that it was necessary continually to throw water
on the glowing axle, he kept calling from his carriage, " On ! on ! We do
not go fast enough !" Their reception in Genoa was magnificent in the ex
treme. In the beautiful bay, a floating garden of orange-trees was con
structed in honor of Josephine. In the principal church the Emperor and
Empress received the allegiance of the most prominent inhabitants.
As they were crossing the Alps, Napoleon, alighting from his carriage, pro
ceeded on foot some distance in advance of the party. He met a peasant
woman.

NAPOLEON AND THE PEASANT.

"Where are you hastening so eagerly this morning?" said he.

454

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XXIX.

" To see the Emperor," she replied. " They tell me the Emperor is to
pass this way."
"And why do you wish to see him?" said Napoleon; "what have you
done but exchanged one tyrant for another ? You have had the Bourbons,
now you have Napoleon."
The woman for a moment was staggered, and then replied,
" It is no matter ; Napoleon is our king, but the Bourbons were the kings
of the nobles."
" This," said Napoleon to one to whom he related the anecdote, " com
prehends the whole matter."
Napoleon, having appointed Eugene Beauharnais viceroy of Italy, returned
to Paris, and here wearing with perfect ease the weight of two crowns, he
resumed his life of unintermitted toil. His habits of life were regular and
temperate in the extreme. After issuing each morning the orders of the
day, and having received those who were entitled to the privilege of an
audience, he breakfasted at nine o'clock. The breakfast seldom lasted more
than eight or ten minutes. Returning to his cabinet, he applied himself to
business, and received the ministers, who attended with their port-folios.
These occupations lasted until six in the evening. Then dinner was served.
The Emperor and Empress usually dined alone. The dinner consisted of
but one course, prolonged by the dessert. The only wine he drank was a
very light French wine, mingled with water. Ardent spirits he never drank.
The dinner usually lasted not more than twenty minutes. Returning to the
drawing-room, a servant presented him with a cup of coffee. He then re
turned to his cabinet to resume his labors, rigorously acting upon the princi
ple never to put off till to-morrow what could be done to-day. The Em-

NAPOLEON IN THE SALOON OF JOSEPHINE

press descended to her apartments, where she found the ladies of honor in
attendance.

1805.] THE THRONE OF ITALY. 455
Napoleon occasionally, for a few moments, would leave his cabinet after
dinner, and enter the apartments of Josephine, to speak a few words with
the ladies who were assembled there. Leaning upon the back of a chair, he
would converse with that frankness with which he ever charmed all whom
he addressed. In the evening he held a levee, when the officers on duty re
ceived their orders for the next day. Such was the life of the people's king.
How different from that of the voluptuous monarchs who had previously
reveled in the palaces of France. Napoleon's personal tastes were extremely
simple and modest, but he loved to see around his court a brilliant display
of magnificence, deeming it essential to impress the imaginations of the
French people. In private, few persons have manifested more polite and
genial manners in their intercourse with those around them, though there
were occasions when Napoleon, intensely occupied with the affairs of state,
would arise from the breakfast table and the dinner table without the utter
ance of a single word.
Immediately after the coronation of the Emperor, Louis XVIII. entered
his earnest protest against Napoleon's right to the throne. Napoleon caused
this protest to be published, without note or comment, in the Moniteur, that
it might be read by all France. This was his only and his noble response.
When Napoleon first perused this production, he calmly said, " My right is
the will of France. While I have a sword I shall maintain it." The ques
tion whether the hereditary succession to the throne should be invested in
the family of Napoleon had been submitted to the people. More than three
and a half millions voted in favor, while but about two thousand voted against
it. Such unanimity in behalf of any ruler earth has never before recorded.
The English cabinet, trembling in view of the black cloud of invasion
threatening their shores, and which cloud every day grew blacker and
blacker with its surcharged thunders, roused its energies to form new coali
tions against France. The representations she made on the subject of Na
poleon's encroachments were favorably listened to by Austria, Russia, and
Sweden. A hostile coalition was formed, the expenses of which were to be
borne chiefly by the British people, for a combined movement to overthrow
the throne of the plebeian monarch. An attack upon France by the Northern
powers might interrupt the project and divert the attention of the terrible
army threatening the invasion of England. Napoleon was well informed of
the intrigues in progress against him. He secretly, watched the tendency
of events, while he took no public notice which could indicate his knowledge
of the designs which were forming. Under these circumstances, and various
disappointments having occurred in his attempts to assemble a fleet in the
Channel, Napoleon hesitated in what direction to encounter his foes —
whether upon the shores of England, or to march to meet them as they
should press through the defiles of Germany. After numerous perplexities,
he said, " My resolution is fixed. My fleets were lost sight of from the
heights of Cape Ortegal on the 14th of August. If they come into the
Channel, there is time yet. I embark, and I make the descent. I go to
London, and there cut the knot of all coalitions. If, on the contrary, my ad
miral fails in conduct or in firmness, I raise my ocean camp, I enter Ger
many with two hundred thousand men, and I do not stop till I have scored

456 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXIX.
the game at Vienna, taken Venice and all the chiefer cities of Italy from
Austria, and driven the Bourbons from Italy. I will not allow the Austrians
and the Russians to assemble. I will strike them down before they can
form their junction. The Continent being pacified, I will return to the ocean,
and work anew for maritime peace."
All things were now prepared for the invasion. Napoleon was only wait
ing the arrival of the fleet. Officers were stationed with their glasses at va
rious points of the coast, to observe all that was visible upon the sea, and to
report to him.
Thus passed three days of intolerable suspense, but no fleet appeared.
Admiral Villeneuve, in grossest defection from duty, had frustrated the whole
plan. It was one of the deepest disappointments of Napoleon's life. Na
poleon was extremely irritated. His whole soul was aroused into intensity
of disappointment and vexation. He launched out into long and fierce in
vectives against the incapacity of his naval officers ; said that he was betray
ed by cowardice ; deplored in strains of anguish the ruin of the most splendid
and perfectly arranged plans he had ever conceived.
Suddenly the storm passed away. With that self-control which so won
derfully characterized him, he in an hour mastered his agitation, and calmed
himself into perfect repose. With surprising facility, he immediately turned
all the energies of his mind from the invasion of England to preparation to
meet the combined foes who were gathering to assail him in the north. For
several hours in succession, with extraordinary precision and minuteness of
detail, he dictated the immortal campaign of Ulm and Austerlitz. Thus ter
minated the enterprise of invading England. But this project was no chi
mera ; though unfinished, it was one of the most majestic enterprises of his
life. If ever a nation was authorized to engage in a war of self-defense, Napo
leon was right in this endeavor to resist those unrelenting foes whom no
pleas for peace could disarm. In reference to the change of the government
of France, Napoleon, at St. Helena, made the following profound remarks :
" My object was to destroy the whole of the feudal system as organized by
Charlemagne. With this view, I created a nobility from among the people,
in order to swallow up the remains of the feudal nobility. The foundations
of my ideas of fitness were abilities and personal worth, and I selected the
son of a farmer or an artisan to make a duke or^ a marshal of France. I
sought for true merit among all ranks of the great mass of the French peo
ple, and was anxious to organize a true and general system of equality. 1
was desirous that every Frenchman should be admissible to all the employ
ments and dignities of the state, provided he was possessed of talents and
character equal to the performance of the duties, whatever might be his fam
ily. In a word, I was eager to abolish, to the last trace, the privileges of
the ancient nobility, and to establish a government, which, at the same time
that it held the reins of government with a firm hand, should still be a popu
lar government. The oligarchs of every country in Europe soon perceived
my design, and it was for this reason that war to the death was carried on
against me by England. The noble families of London, as well as those of
Vienna, think themselves prescriptively entitled to the occupation of all the

18Q5.] THE THRONE OF ITALY. 457
important offices in the state, and the management and handling of the pub
lic money. Their birth is regarded by them as a substitute for talents and
capacities ; and it is enough for a man to be the son of his father, to be fit
to fulfill the duties of the most important employments and highest dignities
of the state. They are somewhat like kings by divine right. The people
are, in their eyes, merely milch cows, about whose interests they feel no
concern, provided the treasury is always full, and the crown resplendent
with jewels. In short, in establishing an hereditary nobility I had three ob
jects in view :
" 1st. To reconcile France with the rest of Europe. 2dly. To reconcile old
with new France. 3dly. To put an end to all feudal institutions in Europe,
by reconnecting the idea of nobility with that of public services, and detach
ing it from all prescriptive or feudal notions. The whole of Europe was
governed by nobles who were strongly opposed to the progress of the French
Revolution, and who exercised an influence which proved a serious obstacle
to the development of French principles. It was necessary to destroy this
influence, and with that view to clothe the principal personages of the empire
with titles equal to theirs."*
The life of Napoleon is extremely rich in well authenticated anecdotes il
lustrative of the peculiarities of his character ; and it is difficult to find any
anecdote respecting him, bearing the impress of genuineness, which does not
indicate a spirit humane, generous, and lofty. All the battered and muti
lated veterans in the Hotel des Invalides, in Paris, tell with enthusiasm their
¦treasured anecdotes of the Emperor. Every person who has had any inter
course with this extraordinary man, either as a companion in arms, in the
cabinet, or as a servant, glows with excitement when speaking of the exalt
ed intellect and the kindly heart of their adored master.
Baron Langon says, " The present generation, who see thrones filled by
men of the ordinary stamp, are unable to comprehend the state of feeling
with which the Emperor inspired us. Providence has not granted to them
the favor, which must ever be our pride and glory, to have been face to face
with Napoleon, to have heard his voice vibrate through our ears and hearts,
and to have gazed upon his placid and majestic countenance. To us, Napo
leon was not a mere emperor, he was a being of a higher order — one of those
sublime creations that perhaps help to exalt our ideas of the Creator. Na
poleon was our father, our master, in some degree our idol. We young men
cherished for him the affection and duty of sons. There existed between
him and ourselves a positive sympathy, which made us regard as a sacred and
family duty that which the present generation of young Frenchmen would
pronounce to be servility and base vassalage."
On one occasion a soldier of his consular guard committed suicide from a
disappointment in love. Napoleon issued the following order of the day:
"The grenadier Gobain has committed suicide from love. He was in other
* •' A new hereditary nobility was now created, in order, as the Emperor expressed himself, to
give ' the imperial throne the requisite dignity, and to excite a praiseworthy emulation in the
hearts of the French.' The titles of the new nobility were those of the feudal times, yet no privi
leges were attached to these titles. This blow was considered by the old nobility more severe
than any previous one, and perhaps was so." — Encyclopaedia Americana, Article Napoleon.

458 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXIX.
respects an excellent soldier. This is the second incident of the same na
ture which has occurred within a month. The First Consul directs it to be
inserted in the order-book of the guard, that a soldier ought to know how to
vanquish the pangs and melancholy of the passions ; that there is as much
true courage in bearing up against mental sufferings with constancy as in re
maining firm on the wall of a battery. To yield ourselves to grief without
resistance, or to kill ourselves to escape affliction, is to abandon the field of
battle before the victory is gained."
One day, Napoleon was traversing the camp, attended by two officers,
when he met a very pretty sutler woman, weeping bitterly, and leading by
the hand a little boy about five years old. The Emperor, who happened to
be unknown to the woman, reined up his horse, and inquired into the cause
of her grief. The woman, much disconcerted, made no reply, but the child
frankly answered :
"My mother is crying, sir, because my father has beat her."
" And where is your father ?"
" He is close by. He is a sentinel on duty with the baggage."
Napoleon again addressed himself to the woman, and inquired the name
of her husband. She refused to tell, being fearful that the Captain, as she
supposed the Emperor to be, would cause him to be punished.
" Your husband has been beating you," Napoleon said ; " you are weeping,
and yet you are so afraid of getting him into trouble that you will not even
tell me his name. This is very inconsistent. May it not be that you are a
little in fault yourself ?"
"Alas! Captain," the forgiving wife replied, "he has a thousand good
qualities, though he has one very bad one. He is jealous, terribly jealous ;
and when he gets into a passion he can not restrain his violence. And I love
him, for he is my lawful husband, and the father of my dear boy !" So say
ing, she fondly kissed her child, who, by the way in which he returned her
caresses, proved his affection for his mother.
Napoleon was deeply touched by this little domestic drama. Burdened as
he was with the cares of empire, he could turn aside from them to dry up
the fountain of sorrow in the heart of this humble follower of the camp. Ad
dressing the woman again, he said : "Whether you and your husband love
each other or not, I do not choose that he should beat you. Tell me your
husband's name, and I will mention the affair to the Emperor."
" If you were the Emperor himself," she replied, " I would not tell it you,
for I know that he would be punished."
" Silly woman !" Napoleon rejoined ; " all that I want is to teach him to
behave well to you, and to treat you with the respect you deserve." Then
shrugging his shoulders, he made some further remark upon female obstina
cy, and galloped away.
"Well, gentlemen," said he to his companions, "what do you think of
that affectionate creature ? There are not many such women at the Tuiler
ies. A wife like that is a treasure to her husband." Immediately he dis
patched an aid to desire the commander of the escort to come to him. He
inquired very particularly respecting the woman, her husband, and the
child.

1805.] THE THRONE OF ITALY. 459
" He is," said the officer, "one of the best behaved men in the company.
He is very jealous of his wife, but without reason. The woman's conduct is
irreproachable." " Try and ascertain," said Napoleon, " if he has ever seen me ; if he has
not, bring him hither."
It appeared that Napoleon had never been seen by the grenadier, who
was a fine-looking young man of about five-and-twenty, who had recently
joined the army. When he was conducted to Napoleon, the latter said, in
a familiar tone,
" What is the reason, my lad, that you beat your wife ? She is a young
and pretty woman, and is a better wife than you are a husband. Such con
duct is disgraceful in a French grenadier."
" If women are to be believed," the man replied, " they are never in the
wrong. I have forbidden my wife to talk to any man whatever ; and yet,
in spite of my commands, I find her constantly gossiping with one or another
of my comrades."
" Now, there is your mistake. You want to prevent a woman from talk
ing ; you might as well try to turn the course of the Danube. Take my ad
vice : do not be jealous. Let your wife gossip and be merry. If she were
doing wrong, it is likely she would be sad instead of gay. I desire that you
do not strike your wife again. If my order be not obeyed, the Emperor
shall hear of it. Suppose his majesty were to give you a reprimand, what
would you say then ?"
The man, not a little irritated at this interference with his marital privi
leges, replied, "My wife is mine, general, and I may beat her if I choose ;
I should say to the Emperor, ' Look you to the enemy, and leave me to
manage my wife.' "
Napoleon laughed and said, " My good fellow, you are now speaking to
the Emperor."
The word fell upon the soldier's heart like magic. Much confused, he
hung his head, lowered his voice, and said, " Oh, sire ! that quite alters the
case. Since your majesty commands, I of course obey."
"That is right," Napoleon replied. "I hear an excellent character of
your wife ; every body speaks well of her ; she braved my displeasure rather
than expose you to punishment ; reward her by kind treatment. I promote
you to the rank of sergeant. Apply to the grand marshal, and he will give
you one hundred dollars ; with that you can furnish your sutler's stores,
which will enable your wife to carry on a profitable business. Your son is
a fine boy, and at some future time he shall be provided for. But, mind !
never let me hear of your beating your wife again. If I do, you shall find
that I can deal hard blows as well as you."
Several years after this, the Emperor was with the army in another cam
paign. Napoleon, who had a wonderful power of recollecting the counte
nances of persons whom he had once seen, met the " daughter of the regi
ment" and her son, and immediately rode up to her, saying, "Well, my good
woman ! how do you do ? Has your husband kept the promise he made
me?" The affectionate wife burst into tears, and throwing herself at the Emper-

460 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXIX.
or's feet, exclaimed, " Oh, sire ! sire ! since my good star led me into the
presence of your majesty, I have been the happiest of women."
" Then reward me," said Napoleon, "by being the most virtuous of wives."
With these words he tossed a few pieces of gold into her hands and rode
away, while the whole battalion raised an enthusiastic shout of "Vive l'Em-
pereur !"
Napoleon, at St. Helena, was conversing with Las Casas upon the subject
of the invasion of England, when the following conversation ensued ¦
" Were the English much afraid of my invasion ?" inquired the Emperor.
" I can not inform you," said Las Casas ; " but in the saloons of Paris we
laughed at the idea." " Well," replied Napoleon, " you might have laughed
in Paris, but Pitt did not laugh in London. He soon calculated the extent
of his danger, and therefore threw a coalition upon my back when I had
raised my arm to strike. Never was the English oligarchy exposed to
greater danger. I had taken measures to preclude the possibility of failure
in my landing. I had the best army in the world ; I need only say it was
the army of Austerlitz. In four days I should have been in London. I
should have entered the English capital, not as a conqueror, but as a libera
tor. I should have been another William III. ; but I would have acted with
greater generosity and disinterestedness. The discipline of my army was
perfect. My troops would have behaved in London the same as they would
m Paris. No sacrifices — not even contributions — would have been exacted
from the English.
"We should have presented ourselves to them, not as conquerors, but as
brothers who came to restore to them their rights and their liberties. I
would have assembled the citizens, and directed them to labor themselves in
the task of their regeneration, because the English had already preceded us
m political legislation. I would have declared that our only wish was to be
able to rejoice in the happiness and prosperity of the English people, and to
these professions I would have strictly adhered. In the course of a few
months, the two nations which had been such determined enemies would
have henceforward composed only one people, identified in principles, max
ims, and interests. I should have departed from England in order to effect,
from south to north, under Republican colors (for I was then First Consul),
the regeneration of Europe, which at a later period I was on the point of
effecting, from north to south, under monarchical forms.
" Both systems were equally good, since both would have been attended
by the same results, and would have been carried into execution with firm
ness, moderation, and good faith. How many ills that are now endured,
and how many that are yet to be endured, would not unhappy Europe have
escaped ! Never was a project so favorable to the interests of civilization
conceived with more disinterested intentions, or so near being carried into
execution. It is a remarkable fact, that the obstacles which occasioned my
failure were not the work of men, but proceeded from the elements. In the
south, the sea frustrated my plans ; the burning of Moscow, the snow, and
the winter completed my ruin in the north. Thus water, air, and fire — all
nature, and nature alone, was hostile to the universal regeneration which na
ture herself called for. The problems of Providence are insoluble !"

1805.J CAMPAIGN OF ULM. 461
After a few moments of thoughtful silence, he again said : " It was sup
posed that my scheme was merely a vain threat, because it did not appear
that I possessed any reasonable means of attempting its execution. But I
had laid my plans deeply, and without being observed. I had dispersed all
our French ships, and the English were sailing after them to different parts
of the world. Our ships were to return suddenly, and at the same time, and
to assemble in a mass along the French coasts. I would have had seventy
or eighty French or Spanish vessels in the Channel, and I calculated that I
should continue master of it for two months. Three or four thousand little
boats were to be ready at a signal.
" A hundred thousand men were every day drilled in embarking and land
ing as a part of their exercise. They were full of ardor, and eager for the
enterprise, which was very popular with the French, and was supported by
the wishes of a great number of the English. After landing my troops, I
could calculate upon only one pitched battle, the result of which would not
be doubtful ; and victory would have brought us to London. The nature of
the country would not admit of a war of maneuvering. My conduct would
have done the rest. The people of England groaned under the yoke of an
oligarchy. On feeling that their pride had not been humbled, they would
have ranged themselves on our side. We should have been considered only
as allies come to effect their deliverance. We should have presented our
selves with the magical words of liberty and equality."

CHAPTER XXX.

CAMPAIGN OF ULM.

Causes for the Misrepresentations of Napoleon's Character — Independence of the American Historian
— Admission of Napier — -Treachery of Austria — Breaking up from Boulogne — Address to the
Senate — Comparison of Forces — Proclamation — Anecdote — Reply to the Austrian Officer —
Madame Marbceuf — Interview of the Emperor and the Austrian Prince — Conference with Gen
eral Mack — Address to the Austrian Officers — Proclamation — Testimony of Bourrienne — The
young Engineer — Justice of Napoleon.
Americans have derived their views of Napoleon from the Tory historians
of England. The strongest of earthly motives have urged, and still urge,
these historians to misrepresent his character. Thus only can they rescue
the government of England from the condemnation of mankind. For years
Europe was deluged with blood. These wars were caused by the incessant
attacks and vast alliances with which the Tory government of England en
deavored to crush the Republican Emperor. What inspired England to a
strife so protracted, so terrific ? Was it ambition ? Was it philanthropy ?
She awaits her verdict before the tribunal of the world. Her historians plead
her cause. They are not impartial judges. They are ardent advocates.
In France, the reputation of Napoleon has been exposed to influences al
most equally adverse. Upon the downfall of the Republican Emperor, the
Bourbons reascended the throne. Their claims to the sovereignty of France
could be defended only by representing the exile of St. Helena as a usurper
and a tyrant. Again the people drove the Bourbons from the throne. The

462 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXX.
Orleans branch of the family received the sceptre. The motive to withhold
justice from Napoleon continued with unabated strength. Louis Philippe,
durino- all his reign, trembled at the name of Bonaparte. The historian who
should have dared to vindicate the character of the great idol of the populace
would have been withered by the frowns which would have darkened upon
him from the saloons of Versailles, St. Cloud, and the Tuileries. All the
despots of Europe have been equally interested to misrepresent the career of
Napoleon. He was the great advocate of the rights of the people against the
arrogant assumption of haughty nobles and feudal kings. By their combined
power they crushed their foe. Now they traduce him.
So potent have these influences of misrepresentation been, that one can
hardly find in the United States a man who has passed sixty years of age
who does not think that Napoleon was a monster of wickedness. The pub
lic mind has been so effectually perverted by the misrepresentations of years, •
that any impartial statement of the real character of the Emperor is by many
regarded as blind eulogy.
An American alone is favorably situated to write an impartial account of
that terrific conflict which filled Europe with smouldering cities, and which
crimsoned her fields with gore. An American is exposed to no influences to
induce him to swerve from historical verity. He has nothing to hope and
nothing to fear from either England or France. Self-love will induce him
to prize his own reputation as an impartial historian far above any unworthy
desire to eulogize one now mouldering in the grave. With three thousand
miles of ocean rolling between him and the scene of strife, he can contem
plate tlie conflict with a calm and unprejudiced mind.
The kings of Europe still look with awe upon the dome of the Invalides,
beneath which repose the ashes of the mighty Emperor. France, in every
street of her tumultuous metropolis, and in the most secluded hamlets of her
distant departments, is still agitated by the name of Bonaparte. A fair rep
resentation of the endeavors of Napoleon to withdraw from the aristocracy
their exclusive privileges, and to elevate the masses of the community to
self-respect and to equal rights, would shake the government of England to
its foundation. The view of his character presented in these pages, if placed
before the people of Great Britain, would be regarded by the government as
a calamity. In America alone can an impartial history of Napoleon be writ
ten, and the citizens of America alone are in a state of mind impartially to
scrutinize his astonishing career. Still, no one can be blind to the fact that,
notwithstanding all the misrepresentations of hostile historians, the reputation
of Napoleon has been for years rising higher and higher. Spot after spot has
disappeared from the escutcheon of his fame. There is an impression the
world over that Napoleon was the friend of the masses of the people. " I
have no fear," said Napoleon at St. Helena, "respecting my reputation.
The world will yet do me justice."
The campaigns of Ulm and Austerlitz will be remembered while time en
dures. The facts are ample. Napoleon was engaged in a war of self-de
fense with England. He had implored peace. Earnestly he desired it.
Peace alone, by promoting commerce, agriculture, and manufactures, could
make France rich and powerful. War was destruction to his infant navy,

1805.] CAMPAIGN OF ULM. 463
robbed him of his colonies, and called the peasants from fields of rural labor
to the field of blood. But England did not wish France to be rich and pow
erful. With her invincible fleet Britain could sweep every sea, enrich her
self with the spoils of the Republic, and command1 the commerce of all
climes. Earnestly desiring war, she violated the most solemn treaty, and
commenced, even without warning, an attack upon the unprotected cities
and the unguarded commerce of the French. Napoleon, disappointed, yet
not intimidated, rose sublimely to meet the struggle. England was amazed
and terrified by his gigantic efforts.
To avert the impending storm she strove to call the despots of Europe to
her aid. She succeeded. Russia, Austria, Sweden, dreading the free prin
ciples which had gained utterance in France, gladly accepted the bribes
which England offered to marshal their armies for war. The Allies secretly
organized a force of five hundred thousand men to fall simultaneously upon
France, at various and widely distant points. England agreed to pay six
millions of dollars annually for every one hundred thousand men the Allies
would furnish. The fleet of England, numbering not less than five hundred
ships of war, blockaded the harbors of France and of her allies, and desola
ted with storms of shot and shell every unprotected city.
England, in India, in Egypt, along the shores of the Mediterranean, and
in all seas from pole to pole, was extending her limitless empire. Russia,
the greatest despot of our globe, was grasping with her right arm the half of
Europe, and with her left the half of Asia, and was yearly extending her
sway over conquered provinces. Austria had overrun a large portion of
Italy, and, in banditti alliance with Prussia and Russia, had dismembered
Poland and divided the spoil. And yet these monarchs had the effrontery to
say, " Behold the intolerable ambition of Napoleon. He has annexed to
France Genoa, Piedmont, the island of Elba, and has accepted the crown
of Lombardy." Napier, the eloquent English historian of the Peninsular
war, candidly makes the following admission :
" Up to the peace of Tilsit, the wars of France were essentially defensive.
The bloody strife which wasted the Continent so many years was not a
struggle for pre-eminence between ambitious powers, not a dispute for some
accession of territory, not for the political ascendency of one or other nation,
but a deadly conflict to determine whether aristocracy or democracy should
predominate, whether equality or privilege should henceforth be the principle
of European governments."
And how can candor censure Napoleon for this strife. Could he escape the
imputation of folly, if, surrounded by hostile despotisms, all increasing their
power, and all ready to band together for his destruction, he had made no
attempt to strengthen France by friendly alliances ? And when thus treach
erously assailed in every quarter, without even a declaration of war, was it
his duty quietly to repose in the palace of the Tuileries, and see the billows
of invasion roll over his country ? Was he bound tamely to submit to be
hurled from the throne upon which the unanimous voice of France had
placed him ? Was it his duty to surrender his countrymen to the hated des
potism of a detested dynasty ? To these questions impartial history can re
turn but one answer.

464 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXX.
The Allies hoped to take Napoleon by surprise. No declaration of war
was issued. The Austrian minister remained quietly in Paris. Every pre
caution was adopted to lull their victim into false security. The destruction
of Napoleon now seemed certain. How could he contend, single-handed,
against such myriad foes ? Stealthily the armies of Austria, 80,000 strong,
under General Mack, commenced their march toward the frontiers of France.
The Emperor Alexander, with 116,000 Russians, was hastening, by forced
marches, through the plains of Poland to unite with the Austrians. They
thought that Napoleon, all engrossed upon the shores of the Channel, a
thousand miles distant, was blind to their movements. He was watching
them with an eagle eye. With the infatuation of self-confidence, the Aus
trian hosts rapidly advanced. They overran Bavaria, the ally of France,
and endeavored to compel the King of Bavaria to join in the assault. They
took possession of Munich and Ulm, entered the defiles of the Black Forest,
and fortified themselves strongly in all the outposts which opened into the
valley of the Rhine. The Russian army, with proud tread, was hastening to
join them. The Austrians were full of satisfaction that at last they had
stolen a march upon so vigilant a foe.
But Napoleon was not the man to be thus entrapped. Like a whirlwind
from the serene sky he burst upon his astounded foes. Indescribable was
the consternation and bewilderment of the Austrians when informed that Na
poleon, as if by magic, had crossed the Rhine and the Danube ; that, with
his whole host, he was in their rear, cutting off all their supplies, all commu
nication with Austria, all hope of relief from the Russians, and all possibili
ty of escape. Had an army suddenly descended from the clouds, the Aus
trians could hardly have been more utterly confounded. From every direc
tion Napoleon's triumphant columns were marching upon their unprotected
rear. In their distraction they fled this way and that. But there was no
escape — there was no hope. Every where they were entangled in the mesh
es of that net which Napoleon had so skillfully and so rapidly spread around
his foes. In despair they threw down their arms. Baggage-wagons, guns,
muskets, horses, and standards in vast profusion fell into the hands of the
victors. Resistance was in vain. Napoleon had so maneuvered that each
Austrian band found itself surrounded by superior numbers. The least re
sistance insured destruction. The marvelous conquest which Napoleon thus
achieved was almost as bloodless as it was entire.
As soon as Napoleon, at Boulogne, heard of the decided hostile movement
of his foes, he put the seal of silence upon the press, and upon the telegraph,
and upon all the avenues of information. Twenty thousand carriages were
in readiness to transport his host, which, from its thorough discipline, he
called the Grand Army, to the banks of the Rhine. He assembled the sol
diers before him, informed them of the perfidious and unprovoked assault of
the Allies, and of the necessity of an immediate march to Germany. Exul
tant cheers announced the alacrity with which the mighty host obeyed its
chieftain. In an hour all were in motion. The genius of Napoleon was
perhaps never more conspicuous than in the directions now given to the sev
eral corps of the army. The vast plan, extending over a region of hundreds
of leagues, embraced the utmost grandeur of general combination. At the

1805.]

CAMPAIGN OF ULM.

465

BREAKING UP FROM BOULOGNE.

same time, his directions were given to each of the generals with the most
extraordinary minuteness and accuracy of detail. The daily marches of
every regiment, the places of rest, all were marked out with undeviating ac
curacy. Almost with the speed of thought, nearly two hundred thousand '
men swept over France, crossed the Rhine and the Danube, and effectually
blocked up the retreat of the foe, even before that foe was aware that the
French had left the heights of Boulogne. As soon as Napoleon had seen his
whole army on the move, he hastened to Paris, and, assembling the Senate,
he thus addressed them :
" Senators ! It is necessary, in the present state of Europe, that I should
explain to you my sentiments. I am about to quit my capital, to place my
self at the head of the army, to bear prompt assistance to my allies, and to
defend the dearest interests of my people. The wishes of the eternal ene
mies of the Continent are accomplished. Hostilities have commenced in
the midst of Germany. Austria and Russia have united with England, and
our generation is involved anew in the calamities of war. A few days ago I
still cherished the hope that peace would not be disturbed. But the Aus
trian army has passed the Inn. Munich is invaded. The Elector of Bava
ria has been driven from his capital. All my hopes of peace have vanished."
To meet the enormous expenses of such a war required great financial
skill. But the genius of Napoleon was equal to the task. He was so strong
ly enthroned in the hearts of his countrymen that he could have borrowed
millions, and thus have imposed upon France the burden of taxation which
Pitt has bequeathed to England. But he was exceedingly unwilling to throw
any of the expenses of the war upon the future. "While I live," he wrote
to M. Marbois, "I will not issue any paper."
Josephine accompanied Napoleon to Strasburg. His columns had strictly
Vol. I. — G <?

166 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXX.
followed his orders, and had pursued the routes which he had assigned to
them. He wrote to Talleyrand :
" The Austrians are in the defiles of the Black Forest. God grant that
they may remain there. My only fear is that we shall frighten them too
much. If they allow me to gain a few more marches, I shall have com
pletely turned them. Forbid the newspapers to make any more mention of
the army than if it did not exist."
It was, indeed, a proud array which Napoleon had now at his command.
One hundred and eighty-six thousand combatants, burning with enthusiasm
and adoring their chief, awaited his orders. Thirty-eight thousand horse
men were ready to move with the celerity of the wind wherever he pointed.
Three hundred and forty pieces of cannon, whose gunners were trained to
unerring precision, were dragged in the train of this formidable host. Still
he was contending at fearful odds. The coalition numbered 500,000 men.
Of these, 250,000 were Austrians, 200,000 Russians, 50,000 English, Swedes,
and Neapolitans. It was also known that 200,000 Prussians were ready to
join the coalition upon the first reverse attending the French arms.
As soon as Napoleon arrived at the head of his columns, he was received
with shouts, a thousand times repeated, of " Vive l'Empereur !" He ad
dressed his troops in one of those eloquent and heart-stirring proclamations
which ever roused them to almost a phrensy of enthusiasm. " Soldiers !"
said he, "the campaign of the third coalition has commenced. Austria has
passed the Inn, violated its engagements, attacked and chased our ally from
his capital. We will not again make peace without sufficient guarantees.
Our generosity shall not again make us forget what we owe to ourselves.
You are but the advance-guard of the Great People. You may have forced
marches to undergo, fatigues and privations to endure. But, whatever obsta
cles we may encounter, we shall overcome them, and never taste of repose
till we have placed our eagles on the territory of our enemies."
Matters were now rapidly approaching a crisis. Mack was fatally envel
oped in the divisions of the French. Napoleon superintended every thing.
He was every where present. Fie slept not ; he rested not ; he scarcely
ate. On horseback by night and by day, he passed like the wind from post
to post. His mind seemed incapable of exhaustion, his body insensible to
fatigue. One cold, stormy night, when the rain was falling in floods, and a
freezing October gale swept hillside and valley, Napoleon, spattered with
mud and drenched with rain, rode on horseback through the black hours till
the lurid dawn of day. He then overtook a division of his army toiling pain
fully through the storm. The soldiers were half dead with fatigue.
For many days and nights the weather had been frightful. The tributa
ries of the Danube were swollen into torrents. The snow, melting as it fell,
had rendered the roads almost impassable. Without a murmur, they had
been making forced marches, dragging their heavy artillery through the miry
ruts, and bidding defiance to every obstacle. In the gloom of the dismal
storm, Napoleon gathered the troops in a circle around him. Like a father
talking confidentially to his children, he explained to the soldiers the situa
tion of the enemy, and the maneuvers by which he was surrounding them.
The soldiers, intoxicated by this proof of confidence from their Emperor,

1805.] CAMPAIGN OF ULM. 467
burst into the most vehement transports of enthusiasm. As Napoleon again
put spurs to his horse and disappeared in the gloom of distance, a shout of
exultation rose from the multitudinous host which pierced the tempestuous
sky, and outroared the wailings of the storm. His words proved a tonic to
the whole exhausted host. With renovated energies they pressed on their
way. Napoleon's gigantic plan was completely successful. The Austrians were
surrounded beyond all hope of escape. In twenty days, without a single
pitched battle, by a series of marches and a few skirmishes, the Austrian
army of 80,000 men was utterly destroyed. A few thousand only, in fugi
tive bands, eluded the grasp of the victor, and fled through the defiles of the
mountains. The masterly maneuvers of the French columns had already
secured 30,000 prisoners almost without bloodshed. Thirty-six thousand
were shut up in Ulm. Their doom was sealed. The well-authenticated fact
seems almost incredible, that the Austrians, by this sudden apparition of Na
poleon and his whole army in their rear, by the blow after blow which fell
upon them with lightning rapidity, and with the scathing severity of the
lightning's bolt, were in such a panic and so utterly bewildered, that one
night one hundred Austrians surrendered at discretion to a French officer
and two dragoons.
As the Emperor was one day passing through a crowd of prisoners, an
Austrian officer expressed his astonishment on seeing the Emperor of the
French, with his clothes saturated with rain and spattered with mud, pre
senting a more comfortless aspect than the meanest drummer in his army.

ULM AND AUSTERLITZ.

For eight days and nights, during which the rain had been falling almost in
cessantly in torrents, the Emperor had not taken off his clothes, or even his
boots, or thrown himself upon a couch for rest. One of the aids explained to
Napoleon the remark of the Austrian officer. " Your master," replied Na
poleon, " has compelled me to resume the character of a soldier. I hope he
wuTallow that the throne and the imperial purple have not made me forget
my first profession."
The fatigue of the soldiers during the forced marches of these dreary days

468 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXX.
of mud, and rain, and freezing cold, was dreadful. After a sleepless night
upon the storm-drenched ground, they often toiled all day almost without
food, and up to their knees in mire. Yet, whenever the Emperor appeared,
new vigor was infused into their exhausted frames, and they greeted him
with the most enthusiastic acclamations. The Austrian officers expressed
their surprise at this extraordinary attachment, and wondered that the sol
diers, in the midst of such distress, could forget their sufferings the moment
they saw the Emperor. " They are right," Napoleon replied ; " it is to spare
their blood that I make them undergo such dreadful fatigue."
In the midst of these stormy scenes, Napoleon was one day riding on
horseback, when he saw a carriage advancing. A lady was in it, bathed in
tears. Napoleon inquired the cause of her distress.
" Sir," she replied, " I have been robbed by a party of soldiers, who have
killed my gardener: I am going to request that your Emperor will grant
me a guard. He once knew my family, and was under obligations to them."
" Your name ?" inquired Napoleon.
" I am the daughter of M. Marboeuf," she replied, " formerly governor of
Corsica." " Madame," Napoleon rejoined, " I am delighted to have the opportunity
of serving you. I am myself the Emperor. Every member of M. Marboeuf s
family has a claim upon my gratitude."
He treated her with the greatest possible attention, gave her a picket of
chasseurs from his own guard to escort her, liberally rewarded her for the
losses she had sustained, and conveyed her to her home grateful and happy.
Napoleon sent General Segur to summon the garrison at Ulm to surren
der. The night was chill and black. A terrific hurricane wrecked earth
and sky. The rain fell in floods. To pass to the city from the French
camp, the utmost caution was necessary to avoid gulfs in which both man
and horse might have foundered. The French advanced posts, main guards,
videttes, and sentinels, had all sought shelter from the drenching, freezing
storm. Not a watch-fire blazed upon the deluged ground. Even the parks
of artillery were deserted. With difficulty a trumpeter was found, under a
wagon, stiff with cold, and half drowned with mud and water. He was
taken to accompany the messenger, and with the blast of his bugle to seek
entrance at the city gates. The impetuous spirit of Napoleon was unmind
ful of the darkness, the cold, and the tempest. He was ready for the as
sault, and to spare the effusion of blood summoned a surrender.
Thirty-six thousand Austrians, in the extreme of dejection, were now
trembling behind the ramparts of Ulm. Napoleon, in person superintending
the approach, was hourly contracting the circle which confined the Impe
rialists. His guns were placed upon the heights which commanded the
city, and now and then a shell fell into the streets, a dreadful portent to the
terrified inhabitants of the approaching storm. Nothing remained for Mack
but capitulation. Prince Maurice was sent, early the next morning, to the
head-quarters of Napoleon. As is customary on such occasions, he was con
ducted to head-quarters blindfolded. When the bandage was removed from
his eyes, he found himself in the presence of the Emperor.
The weather was dreadful. Chilling winds swept the bleak plains. The

1805.1 CAMPAIGN OF ULM. 469
sleet, which filled the air, melted as it reached the ground, and the miry roads,
trampled by horse and furrowed by artillery wheels, were almost impassable.
The Emperor was ever ready to share those hardships which he laid upon
his soldiers. The convoy found him in a wretched tent, through which the
storm swept drearily. A few loose boards upon the ground kept his feet
from the water which deluged the plain. The prince proposed to surrender
upon condition that the garrison should be permitted to retire to Austria.
Napoleon smiled, and replied,
" What reason can I have to comply with such a request ? In a week you
will be in my power without conditions. I am perfectly acquainted with
your situation. You expect the advance of the Russians. They have
scarcely yet arrived in Bohemia. And then, if I allow you to depart, what
guarantee have I that your troops will not be united with those of Russia,
and be made to fight against me again ? Your generals have often deceived
me thus. I will not again be their dupe. At Marengo I suffered Melas to
march with his forces from Alessandria. Two months afterward Moreau
had to- fight the same men, notwithstanding the most solemn promises on
the part of your government to conclude peace. After such conduct as I
have experienced from the Austrian cabinet, I can trust to no engagement.
The war is not of my seeking. It has been a violation of faith throughout.
Return to your general, and inform him that I can not grant what he requires.
Your officers alone can be allowed to return to Austria. The soldiers must
remain prisoners. He must be brief in his decision. I have no time to lose.
The longer he delays, the worse he will render his own situation and that of
his army."
The next day General Mack himself visited Napoleon. He was treated
with that courtesy and generosity with which Napoleon ever addressed a
fallen foe. The conqueror demonstrated to General Mack the utter hope
lessness of his condition. He convinced him that all farther resistance, ihust
be unavailing. In glowing colors he depicted.the carnage which must ensue
from taking the place by assault. He implored the general, as a humane
man, to spare him the cruel necessity of throwing his shells into the thronged
dwellings of the city, and of surrendering its beautiful streets to the horrors
of fire and the sword. It was clearly in vain to protract the struggle. Mack,
with anguish, consented to the surrender. Napoleon was overjoyed that he
had thus been enabled to mitigate the miseries of war by disarming his ene
mies almost without bloodshed.
The next day was cold, clear, and brilliant. It witnessed a scene unpar
alleled in modern warfare. Europe was astonished and appalled by its nar
ration. Thirty-six thousand troops marched out of the gates of Ulm, and
laid down their arms before the conqueror. Napoleon, with his magnificent
staff, stood upon an eminence before the fire of a bivouac, as the melancholy
array, for five hours, defiled before him. It must have been a proud hour to
the victor. Yet no gesture and no expression of his serene countenance re
vealed the slightest emotion of exultation. In touching terms, magnanimous
and sympathetic, he thus addressed the vanquished officers :
" Gentlemen, — War has its chances. Often victorious, you must expect
sometimes to be vanquished. Your master wages against me an unjust war.

470

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XXX.

i t

NAPOLEON BEFORE ULM.

I say it candidly, I know not for what I am fighting. I know not what he
requires of me. He has wished to remind me thatsl was once a soldier. I
trust he will find that I have not forgotten my original avocation. I want
nothing on the Continent. I desire ships, colonies, and commerce. Their
acquisition would be as advantageous to you as to me."
Again he remarked to a group of Austrian officers, as the procession of
captives continued to defile before him, " It is truly deplorable that such
honorable men as yourselves, whose names are spoken of with honor wher
ever you have combated, should be made the victims of an insane cabinet
intent on most chimerical projects. It was already a sufficient crime to have
attacked me in the midst of peace without any declaration of war But this
offense is trivial compared with that of bringing into the heart of Europe a
horde of barbarians, and allowing an Asiatic power to mix itself up with our
disputes. Instead of attacking me without a cause, the Aulic Council should
rather have united their forces to mine, in order to repel the Russian force.
Such an alliance is monstrous. It is the alliance of the dogs and the wolves
against the sheep. Had France fallen in the strife, you would not have been
long in perceiving the error you had committed."
At this moment a French officer repeated an insulting expression which

1805.] CAMPAIGN OF ULM. 471
he had heard from the common soldiers in regard to the Austrian captives.
Napoleon severely rebuked the officer, and ordered him to retire. " You
must have little respect for yourself," said he, "to insult men bowed down
by such a misfortune."
The joy and exultation in the French army passed all bounds. Such vic
tories, with so little bloodshed, were never known before. The enthusiasm
of the troops and their devotion to the Emperor became boundless. " The
Little Corporal," exclaimed the veterans to each other, "has discovered a
new method of carrying on war. He makes more use of our legs than of
our bayonets." The following proclamation electrified Europe by the stu
pendous successes it commemorated, and by the nervous eloquence with
which its sentences glowed.
" Soldiers of the grand army ! In fifteen days we have concluded a cam
paign. We have kept our promise. We have chased the troops of Austria
from the Bavarian territories, and have re-established our ally in the posses
sion of his states. That army which, with so much ostentation and pre
sumption, had advanced to our frontiers, is annihilated. But what signifies
that to England ? We are no longer at Boulogne.
" Of 100,000 men who composed that army, 60,000 are prisoners. They
will replace our conscripts in the labor of the fields. Two hundred pieces
of cannon, their whole park of ammunition, and ninety standards, are in our
possession. From that whole army not fifteen thousand have escaped.
" Soldiers ! I announced to you a great battle ; but, thanks to the faulty
combinations of the enemy, I have obtained these immense advantages with
out incurring any risk. And, what is unexampled in the history of nations,
this great result has not weakened us by the loss of fifteen hundred men.
Soldiers ! This astonishing success is owing to your boundless confidence in
your Emperor, to your patience in undergoing fatigue, to your rare intrepid
ity. But we will not rest here ! Already I see you are burning to com
mence a second campaign. The gold of England has brought against us a
Russian army from the extremities of the universe. We will make it under
go the same fate. There are no generals there whom it would add to my
glory to vanquish. All my care shall be to obtain fhe victory with as little
effusion of blood as possible. My soldiers are my children."
" Napoleon," says Bourrienne, "was completely subdued in spirit when
he was the conqueror. He received the vanquished with kindness. Nor
was this the result of a feeling of pride concealed under the mask of hypoc
risy. I am sure he pitied them sincerely. I have often heard him remark,
' How much to be pitied is a general on the day after a lost battle.' " When
the Austrian court, in its exasperation, was about to wreak unjust vengeance
upon General Mack, Napoleon humanely interfered to save him from con
demnation by a court-martial.
He sent to the Senate the flags taken from the enemy. In his letter to
this body he says, "The primary object of the war is already fulfilled. The
Elector of Bavaria is re-established upon his throne. The aggressors have
been struck as by a thunderbolt. Assisted by Divine Providence, I hope, in
a short time, to triumph over all my enemies." He wrote, at the same time,
a circular to all the bishops in the empire, requesting them, in gratitude to

472 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXX.
God, to sing a Te Deum in all the churches. " The dazzling victories," said
he, " which our armies have just obtained against the unjust league formed
by the hatred and the gold of England, renders it necessary that my people
should address their thanks to the God of armies for the past, and implore
His blessing for the future."
Just before the capitulation of Ulm, Napoleon sent Captain Bernard, a
young officer of engineers, on an important reconnoitering expedition. With
great skill and intrepidity he prosecuted his mission, advancing almost to
Vienna. Upon his return Napoleon personally examined him, and was much
pleased with his answers. Among other things, the engineer remarked that
it would be of great advantage fo direct the army upon Vienna, passing by
the fortified places, and that, once master of the capital, the Emperor might
dictate laws to the whole Austrian monarchy. This was taking too great a
liberty. Napoleon severely replied,
"You are very presumptuous ! A young officer to pretend to trace out a
campaign for me ! Go and await my orders."
As soon as the young man had retired, Napoleon turned to General Rapp
and said, " There is a man of merit. He has observed correctly. I shall
not expose him to the risk of being shot. I shall have occasion for him by-
and-by. Tell Berthier to dispatch an order for his departure for Ulyria."
This young man finally became an aid of Napoleon, and one of the most
distinguished engineers in the world. Upon the overthrow of his illustrious
master, declining the most brilliant offers from the different sovereigns of
Europe, he retired to the United States. Here he took the command of the
corps of engineers, and executed works in civil and military engineering
which will forever remain memorials of his genius.
The following anecdote illustrates the implicit and exact obedience which
Napoleon demanded and enforced. He arrived at Strasburg the 25th of Sep
tember. He had ordered all the divisions of the grand army, converging by
various routes, to defile across the Rhine, by the bridge of Kehl, the next
day. The general officers were directed to meet him at the head of the
bridge at six o'clock in the morning. An hour before the appointed time, in
spite of the rain which was pouring from the skies in floods, Napoleon, in the
gloom of the yet undawned morning, was at the rendezvous. The columns
were already crossing the bridge, and ranging themselves upon the other
side of the river. As Napoleon sat upon his horse, exposed to the fury of
the storm, the water, dripping from his clothes, made quite a pool beneath
him. His hat was so soaked by the rain that the rim flapped down upon
his shoulders. Calmly, silently, and apparently unannoyed by any sense of
discomfort, he contemplated the passage of the troops. Soon the officers
gathered around. Napoleon interrupted the silence by saying,
"Gentlemen, we have gained a grand march upon our enemies." Then,
glancing his eye around the group, he exclaimed, with rapid utterance, " But
where is Vandamme ? Why is he not here ? Is he dead ?"
For a moment all were silent. Then General Chardon ventured to reply,
" Sire, it is possible that General Vandamme is not yet awake. Last even
ing we drank several glasses of wine together to the health of your majesty,
and perhaps — "

1805.]

CAMPAIGN OF ULM.

473

NAPOLEON AT THE BRIDGE OF KEIIL.

"General!" interrupted Napoleon, with severity, "you did well to drink
to my health yesterday, but to-day Vandamme does wrong to sleep when he
knows that I await him."
General Chardon offered to dispatch one of his aids to call his companion
in arms.
" Let Vandamme sleep," said Napoleon. " He will perhaps awake him
self; then I will speak to him."
At that moment Vandamme appeared. He was pale with agitation, and
exceedingly embarrassed. " General !" said Napoleon, glancing at him a
severe look, "it appears that you have forgotten the order which I have
issued." " Sire," said General Vandamme, " this is the first time that I have thus
offended. And I assure you that I was this morning extremely unwell, be
cause — "
"Because," interrupted Napoleon, "last night you were as tipsy as a Ger
man. But, lest that calamity should happen to you a second time, you will
go to combat under the flag of the King of Wiirtemberg, that, if possible,
you may give the Germans a lesson upon temperance." .
Vandamme retired in disgrace. The same day he joined the army of
Wiirtemberg. During the brief campaign he performed prodigies of valor.
After the capitulation of Ulm, Napoleon again saw him, commended him for
his services, and again received him into favor, saying, " General ! never
forget that I honor brave men. But I do not love those who sleep when I
am waiting. Let us say no more about it."
In crossing a swollen stream, the captain of a company was swept away
by the torrent. A soldier, whom that captain had degraded in consequence
of some fault of discipline, plunged into the stream, and saved the life of

474

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XXX.

the drowning officer. Napoleon heard of it. Immediately he sent for the
soldier. " You are a brave man," said he. " Your captain had degraded you, and
he had reason to do so. In saving his life, you have proved that there is no
rancor in your breast. This is noble. You are now at quits. But as for
me, I am not at 'quits toward you. I appoint you quarter-master, and make
you chevalier of the Legion of Honor. To your captain you owe this pro
motion. Go and thank him."
This even-handed justice, punishing his proudest generals when they de
served it, and appreciating and rewarding, in the humblest soldier, any trial
of courage or magnanimity, accounts, in part, for that almost superhuman
love with which Napoleon bound all hearts to himself.
On the 17th of October, Napoleon rode forty-two miles on horseback with
out one moment of rest. He then, booted and spurred, and wrapped in his
muddy cloak, threw himself upon some straw in a cow-shed for an hour of
sleep. Not a mile from where Napoleon was reposing, in the midst of the
lowing herds, the Bishop of Augsburg had splendidly illuminated his aristo
cratic palace, and a bed of down, curtained with silken drapery, was pre
pared to receive the Emperor. But Napoleon would not sleep in ceiled
chambers when his soldiers were suffering, through the dreary night, in pools
of water on the cold unsheltered ground.

"at S

THE BIVOUAC.

1805.] AUSTERLITZ. 475

CHAPTER XXXI.
AUSTERLITZ.
Peril of the Emperor — Oath of Alexander and Frederick William — Daring Energy of Napoleon —
Anniversary of the Coronation — Untiring Activity of Napoleon — Proclamation — His Vigilance —
Battle of Austerlitz — Interview between the French and Austrian Emperors — Touching Anec
dote — Magnanimity of Napoleon — Proclamation — Disappointment of the Authorities at Paris —
William Pitt— Generosity of the Emperor — Letters to Josephine.
The capitulation at Ulm took place the 20th of October, 1805. Astound
ing as was the victory which Napoleon had just achieved, still his peril was
imminent. One hundred and sixteen thousand Russians, headed by the Em
peror Alexander, were hurrying through the plains of Poland to meet Napo
leon. From every quarter of Austria columns of troops were in rapid march
to unite with the Russians. In a combined band of overwhelming numbers
they determined to crush their audacious foe. Alexander repaired in person
to Berlin, and employed all the weight of his authority, and all the fascina
tions of his captivating manners, to unite the army of Prussia, 200,000
strong, with the Allies. The Queen of Prussia, a beautiful woman, proud,
ambitious, and animated by the inspiration of genius, conceived the idea of
uniting the two sovereigns by an oath which should never b,e forgotten. At
midnight, Alexander and Frederick William descended into the dark and dis
mal tomb of Frederick the Great.
A single torch revealed the gloom of the regal mausoleum. Thus stand
ing in the dead of night by the coffin of the renowned warrior, they bound
themselves by a solemn oath to sustain the cause of the allied kings against
those principles of popular liberty which threatened the subversion of every
European throne.
England disembarked a force of thirty thousand troops in Hanover to hast
en to the scene of conflict. It was apparently time for Napoleon to retreat,
or at least strongly to fortify himself, and await the assault of his combined
foes. But, to the amazement of all Europe, he audaciously pressed on into
the very midst of impending destruction. Like an inundation, his victorious
army rolled down the valley of the Danube, sweeping every thing before
them. Neither rivers, nor batteries, nor hostile legions could for an hour re
tard his march. Every soldier seemed to have imbibed the spirit of his
commander. It was a band of iron men insensible to fatigue or to fear.
In three days Napoleon entered Munich, the capital of Bavaria. The
whole city blazed with illumination ; enthusiastic shouts welcomed the de
liverer. But Napoleon rested not for an hour. He allowed his discomfited
foes not one moment to recover from their panic. "Forward, forward to
Vienna," was the command. The impetuous torrent, horsemen, infantry,
artillery, rolled resistlessly on. Terror and destruction had fallen upon the
empire so suddenly that it overawed like a supernatural infliction. All
Austria was in consternation. Francis fled from his capital. The panic in

476 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXI.
Vienna was dreadful ; and still each day the mighty host drew nearer. Re
sistance was in vain. The Austrians and Russians, retreating from the blows
which fell so thick and heavily upon them, fled to join the proud army which
Alexander was leading to the rescue.
On the morning of the 13th of November the bugles of the French were
heard upon the heights which surround Vienna, and the polished steel of
their armor glittered in the rays of the morning sun. It was a clear, cold
winter day. A deputation of the citizens waited upon Napoleon, imploring
his clemency. He assured them of his protection. The Russians, in their
semi-barbarian lust and cruelty, had left desolation wherever they had ap
peared. The French, preserving perfect military discipline, and treating all
the peaceful inhabitants with justice and with courtesy, were hailed by the
people almost as deliverers. No private property was allowed to be touch
ed, and no person to be injured. But the government chests and the arse
nals fell into the hands of the victor. They were abundantly filled with the
munitions of war. One hundred thousand muskets, two thousand cannon,
and military supplies of every kind, replenished the stores of the conquerors.
Such achievements were unparalleled. In twenty days Napoleon had
marched from the ocean to the Rhine; in forty days from the Rhine to Vi
enna. His foes had been dispersed before him like autumnal leaves by the
whirlwind. But Napoleon, though thus victorious, was in a situation critical in the
extreme. Europe deemed him irretrievably ruined. He was hundreds of
leagues from his own capital. It was cold and icy winter. With compara
tively a small army, he was far away in the heart of one of the most proud
and powerful monarchies upon the globe. The Archduke Charles, with
70,000 Austrians, was rapidly approaching from the south: Active agents
of Francis were rallying 80,000 Hungarians to rush to the conflict. The
tramp of 100,000 Russians was but a few days' march before him. His rear
was exposed to assault from 200,000 Prussians. Surely Napoleon will stop
and fortify himself behind the ramparts of Vienna. But no ! The command
is still " Onward, onward." Not a moment was allowed for repose. Yet,
while thus, with apparent recklessness, pressing forward into the midst of his
multitudinous foes, the utmost caution and vigilance was exercised to guard
against any possible disaster. While Napoleon was one of the most adven
turous of men, he was also one of the most wary and prudent.
" If Napoleon," says his brother Louis, " in his bold and often hazardous
actions, seemed to calculate wholly on his good fortune, no person appeared
to leave less to accident in the conception of his plans. No human caution
which it was possible to adopt was ever, I believe, neglected or forgotten
by Napoleon previous to his disastrous campaign at Moscow. He always
considered things under every imaginable aspect ; and though he never, or
scarcely ever, experienced reverses, he was, in every enterprise, prepared
beforehand for whatever misfortune might happen. He had always made
up his mind as to the part which it might be necessary for him to adopt, let
the result be what it would. This was what he called conceiving a plan."
The cold winds of winter now swept the plains ; the driving snow whiten
ed the hills. Still the indomitable host pressed on, till, amid the dark storms

1805.] AUSTERLITZ. ' 477
of the north it had disappeared from the observation of France. Upon the
field of Austerlitz, fifteen hundred miles from the capital of France, Napo
leon met his foes. An army of nearly 100,000 men, headed by the two em
perors, Alexander and Francis, flushed with anticipated victory, arrested the
steps of the conqueror. Not an hour was to be lost. Napoleon had but
70,000 men. From all directions the clangor of arms was heard, as horse
men and footmen, in uncounted thousands, were hurrying on to add still
greater strength to the allied host.
It was the morning of the 1st of December when Napoleon came in sight
of his foes. With "inexpressible delight" he says he beheld their solid col
umns, dark and massy, moving before him at so short a distance as to render
it evident that a decisive action was at hand. With intense interest he
watched their movements, and immediately detected their plan of attack.
Penetrating their designs, he was at once confident of victory. " To-mor
row," said Napoleon, "before nightfall, that army shall be my own."
He spent the whole day on horseback, riding along the ranks, speaking
words of encouragement to the soldiers, and studying the capabilities of the
ground, and making the most careful arrangements for the wounded. It was
his invariable custom not only to give his directions most minutely, but also
to inform himself if his directions had been obeyed. Wherever he appeared
among the troops, he was greeted with shouts of " Vive TEmpereur !" The
shades of night had settled over the camp, and Napoleon was still continu
ing his preparations for the decisive battle which the morning was to usher
in. As he rode along the lines in the' gloom of midnight, a soldier attached
to his bayonet a bundle of straw, and setting it on fire, raised the brilliant
torch in the air. It was the anniversary of the coronation of the Emperor.
Instantly the whole camp, extending for miles, blazed with illuminations, as
the soldiers elevated, flaming into the air, the straw provided for their biv
ouacs. The ruddy glow gleamed over the hills, and sent wonder and a
strange apprehension to the heart of the hostile legions. Transported with
the enthusiasm of the moment, the army raised a simultaneous shout, which,
like the roar of many waters, pierced the night air, and vibrated in ominous
thunders through the tents of the Allies. Napoleon reined in his horse. It
was midnight. For a moment, silent, pale, pensive, he gazed upon the sub
lime spectacle, and listened, with emotions undivulged, to the acclamations
of seventy thousand voices. Then retiring to his tent, he dictated, with the
utmost rapidity of utterance, the following proclamation :
" Soldiers ! The Russian army has presented itself before you to revenge
the disasters of the Austrians at Ulm. They are the same men whom you
have conquered at Hollabrunn, and on whose flying traces you have follow
ed. The positions which we occupy are formidable. While they are march
ing to turn my right, they must present their flank to your blows. Soldiers !
I will myself direct all your battalions. I will keep myself at a distance
from the fire, if, with your accustomed valor, you carry disorder and confu
sion into the enemy's ranks. But should victory appear for a moment un
certain, you shall see your Emperor expose himself to the first strokes. Vic
tory must not be doubtful on this occasion."
Never before did a general venture to announce to his soldiers the maneu-

478 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXI.
ver by which he expected to gain a victory. A single deserter might have
exposed it to the foe, but Napoleon knew in whom he confided. Never be
fore did a general endeavor to rouse his soldiers to desperation of courage
by the assurance that he would keep himself out of the reach of all danger!
Never will mortal man again acquire such an ascendency as to undertake to
repeat that experiment. Say not that Napoleon was but a merciless, am
bitious, bloodthirsty conqueror. Human hearts are not won by cruelty and
selfishness. Napoleon was the kind friend of every man of the seventy thou
sand who rallied beneath his eagles. And thus, and thus only, he secured the
deathless homage of all these hearts.
The night was cold and clear. A dense fog, however, settled upon the
lower grounds, enveloping friend and foe in an impenetrable sea of obscurity.
The horizon was illumined for leagues around with the bivouac fires of the
antagonistic hosts. Gradually the unreplenished piles burned out, and si
lence and darkness brooded over the sleeping armies. At four o'clock Na
poleon was on horseback. A confused murmur, piercing the dense fog, re
vealed to his experienced ear that the Russian columns were in full march
to surprise him, by the attack he had anticipated upon his flank. By this
movement the Allies weakened their centre, and exposed it to the concen
trated attack which Napoleon was prepared to make. The bugles sounded.
The French soldiers sprang from the frozen ground, and, as by magic, form
ed themselves in battle array. Every officer knew the part he was to per
form. Every soldier was impatient for the conflict. The stars still shone
brightly in the wintry sky, and not a ray of light dawned in the east.
Gradually the stars disappeared. A ruddy glow illumined the horizon,
and the sun rose unclouded and brilliant, gilding the hill-tops and penetrat
ing the ocean of vapor which rolled in the valleys. It was the " Sun of
Austerlitz." Its gorgeous rising produced a deep impression upon the imag
ination of Napoleon. Often in after years he apostrophized the sun as his
guiding star. The marshals surrounding the Emperor were burning with
impatience as they awaited the signal of attack.
"How long," said Napoleon to Marshal Soult, "would it take you, from
hence, to reach the heights of Prutzen ?" This was one of the heights in the
centre of the allied army which the enemy were deserting in their flank
march. " Less than twenty minutes," replied the marshal. " My troops are in the
bottom of the valley, covered with mist and with the smoke of their bivou
acs. The enemy can not see them."
"In that case," said Napoleon, "let us wait twenty minutes. When the
enemy is making a false movement, we must take good care not to interrupt
him." Soon the heavy booming of artillery announced that the Russians had
commenced a furious attack upon the right. " Now, then," said Napoleon,
" is the moment." The marshals instantly galloped in all directions to head
their respective corps. Napoleon, plunging his spurs into his steed, galloped
to the front ranks of the foremost columns. As he rode along the line, he
exclaimed, "Soldiers ! the enemy has imprudently exposed himself to your
blows. We shall finish this war with a clap of thunder."

1805.]

AUSTERLITZ

47t»

THE SUN OF AUSTERLITZ

With resistless impetuosity, the solid columns of the French pierced the
weakened centre of the Allies. The conflict was desperate and most san
guinary. But nothing could resist the headlong valor of the assailants. The
allied army was pierced and cut entirely in twain. Horsemen and footmen
were trampled beneath the tread of the proud victors. The field was filled
with a rabble of fugitives flying in wild dismay, as the cavalry of the impe
rial guard rode over them and sabred them mercilessly. Napoleon, leaving
a few battalions to prevent the right wing from coming to the rescue of the
left, turned with nearly his whole force upon the left, and destroyed it. He
then directed the terrible onset upon the right wing of the Allies, and it was
no more.

480 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXI.
A division of the ruined army, consisting of many thousand men and horse,
sought to escape by crossing, with artillery and cavalry, a frozen lake which
adjoined their line of march. The surface began to yield beneath the enor
mous load, when a few balls and shells from the French batteries broke the
ice, and the whole mass was plunged into the freezing waves. A fearful cry,
resounding above the roar of battle, ascended from the lake, as the frantic
host struggled for a few moments in the agonies of death. But soon the icy
waves closed silently over them all, and those unhappy victims were sepul
chred forever. From a neighboring eminence the Emperors of Russia and
Austria witnessed the entire discomfiture of their armies. Accompanied by
a few followers, in the deepest dejection they joined the fugitives and the
stragglers, and fled from the field of disaster. " In the profound darkness of
the ensuing night, they retreated precipitately and almost alone over the
plains of Moravia.
Thus terminated the battle of Austerlitz. It was the most brilliant of the
victories of Napoleon. The whole campaign added new lustre to the genius
of the conqueror. The loss of the Allies was immense. Fifteen thousand
were killed or wounded. Twenty thousand were taken prisoners. One
hundred and eighty pieces of cannon, forty-five standards, and an immense
quantity of baggage-wagons remained the trophies erf the victors' triumph.
The reserve of Napoleon had hardly been called into action during the day.
But forty-five thousand of the French troops had been engaged, and they had
beaten ninety thousand Russians and Austrians.
No language can describe the frightful confusion and disorder which per
vaded the ranks of the retreating foe. The genius of Napoleon never shone
more terribly than in the blows which he dealt upon an enemy flying before
him. The barbarian Russians, wild with dismay, filled the heavens with
their phrensied shouts, and wreaked a blind and merciless vengeance upon
the villages scattered along their route. The squadrons of Napoleon pursued
them in all directions, and trampled their gory bodies into the earth. The
Emperor Francis, seeing that all was irretrievably lost, sent Prince John to
Napoleon to implore an armistice. The hours of the bloody day had passed,
and midnight had again settled over the gory plain.
The prince found Napoleon upon the field of battle, carrying succor with
his own hand to the wounded, and speaking to their grateful hearts words of
sympathy and encouragement. He would allow himself no rest till with his
own eyes he had seen that all his wounded men were sheltered. Many a
dying soldier, with tearful gaze, in his last agonies looked iip and blessed
his Emperor. Napoleon administered cordials to their parched lips, and
with his own hands stripped the cloaks from the dead to cover their shiver
ing frames.
Napoleon received the prince courteously. He assured him that most
earnestly he desired peace, and that it would afford him satisfaction to have
an interview with the Emperor of Austria on the following day. In the
mean time, he issued orders to pursue the retiring foe with the utmost vigor.
Flis position was still perilous in the extreme. Despotic Europe was band
ed against him. Another powerful Russian army was marching down from
the north. Hungary was rising en masse. Prince Ferdinand Was approach-

1805.]

AUSTERLITZ.

481

ing Vienna at the head of 80,000 men. Prussia, with her 200,000 troops,
was threatening his rear. Napoleon was conscious of his peril and con
scious of his power.
The next morning he addressed his troops in the following proclamation :
" Soldiers ! I am satisfied with you. In the battle of Austerlitz you have
justified all that I expected from your intrepidity. You have decorated your
eagles with immortal glory. An army of 100,000 men, commanded by the
Emperors of Russia and of Austria, has been, in less than four hours, either
cut in pieces or dispersed. Thus, in two months, the third coalition has been
vanquished and dissolved. Peace can not now be far distant. But I will
make only such a peace as gives us guarantees for the future, and secures
rewards to our allies. When every thing necessary to secure the happiness
and prosperity of our country is obtained, I will lead you back to France.
My people will again behold you with joy. It will be enough for one of you
to say, ' I was at the battle of Austerlitz,' for all your fellow-citizens to ex
claim, ' There is a brave man ! ' "
The next morning the Emperor Francis, accompanied by a small escort
of guards, repaired, in a carriage drawn by six horses, to the place appointed
for the interview. He found Napoleon standing before the fire of a bivouac.

NAPOLEON AND THE EMPEROB FRANCIS I.

A wind-mill by his side afforded a partial shelter from the wintry gale which
swept the bleak hills. Napoleon, with great courtesy, greeted the Emperor
of Austria as he alighted from his carriage, and said to him,
" I receive you in the only palace which I have inhabited for the last two
months "
" You have made such good use," Francis very happily replied, " of that
habitation, that it should be agreeable to you."
Vol. I.— H h

482 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXI.
The two monarchs conversed together for two hours, and agreed verbally
to terms of accommodation. Francis, mortified and exasperated, endeavored
to throw the blame of his own perfidy upon England.
" The English," he exclaimed, " are a nation of merchants. In order to
secure for themselves the commerce of the world, they are willing to set the
Continent in flames."
Having obtained better terms for himself than he had any right to ex
pect, the Austrian monarch next interceded for his ally Alexander. " The
Russian army," replied Napoleon, "is surrounded. Not a man can es
cape me. If, however, your majesty will promise that Alexander shall at
once return to Russia, I will stop the advance of my columns." Francis
pledged his honor that the Russian emperor should immediately withdraw
his forces.
When the Emperor Francis had withdrawn, Napoleon walked for a mo
ment to and fro before the fire, with his hands clasped behind his back.
After a short silence, during which he appeared absorbed in thought, he was
overheard to say, " I have acted very unwisely. I could have followed up
my victory, and have taken the whole of the Austrian and Russian armies.
They are both entirely in my power. But — let it be. It will at least cause
some less tears to be shed."
Napoleon immediately dispatched General Savary to the head-quarters of
Alexander, to inquire if he would ratify the armistice.
" I am happy to see you," said the Emperor to the envoy. "The occa
sion has been very glorious for your arms. That day will take nothing from
the reputation which your master has earned in so many battles. It was my
first engagement. I confess that the rapidity of his maneuvers never gave
me time to succor the menaced points. Every where you were at least
double the number of our forces."
" Sire," Savary replied, " our force was twenty-five thousand less than
yours. And even of that, the whole was not very warmly engaged. But
we maneuvered much, and the same division combated at many different
points. Therein lies the art of war. The Emperor, who has seen forty
pitched battles, is never wanting in that particular. He is still ready to
march against the Archduke Charles, if your majesty does not accept the
armistice." "What guarantee does your master require?" replied Alexander; "and
what security can I have that your troops will not prosecute their movements
against me ?"
" He asks only your word of honor," Savary replied. " He has instruct
ed me, the moment it is given, to suspend the pursuit."
" I give it with pleasure," rejoined the Emperor. "And should it ever be
your fortune to visit St. Petersburg, I hope that I may be able to render my
capital agreeable to you."
Hostilities immediately ceased. The fragments of the two defeated ar
mies retired without further molestation to their homes.
As Napoleon was returning to Vienna, he met a large convoy of wounded
Austrians on their route for the hospitals of the capital. He immediately
alighted from his carriage, and, uncovering his head, exclaimed, "Flonor to

1805.] AUSTERLITZ. 483
the brave in misfortune !" His suite followed his example. The Emperor
stood in pensive silence, with his hat in his hand, as the melancholy proces
sion of the wounded and the dying passed along. The human heart is ever
responsive to such appeals. These men had lavished their blood contending
against Napoleon. But this development of sympathy in one moment dis
armed all enmity, and irresistibly won their love and admiration.
France had been perfidiously assailed by the allied powers. In repelling
the assault, millions of money had been expended, all the arts of peace had
been interrupted, and seven thousand Frenchmen had sacrificed their lives.
Napoleon wisely resolved so to strengthen his position as no longer, by weak,
ness, to invite such attacks. With characteristic magnanimity, he added not
one foot to the territory of France. He compelled Austria to pay the ex
penses of the war. He raised the Electors of Bavaria and Wiirtemberg to
the dignity of kings, adding to the one power 1,000,000 inhabitants, and to
the oth«r 183,000. The little state of Baden also gained 113,000 subjects
Thus he rewarded his friends, and strengthened the barriers placed between
France and the three great despots of Europe — Russia, Prussia, and Austria.
To remove Austria farther from his eastern frontier, he annexed the state of
Venice to the Italian kingdom, and gave Austria in exchange the electorate
of Salsburg. These changes were all important to protect France from fu
ture assaults. Napoleon would have been singularly wanting in political
foresight had he exacted less. He could not have been accused of injustice
had he demanded more. He wished to interpose a barrier of subordinate
kingdoms, friendly to France, between his empire and the dominions of his
powerful and unrelenting foes. Every dictate of humanity and of policy de
manded that he should thus shelter France from the assaults of conquered
but still hostile nations.
Immediately upon the signing of the articles of peace, Napoleon made the
following communication to his soldiers : " Peace has just been signed with
the Emperor of Austria. You have, in the last autumn, made two cam
paigns. You have seen your Emperor share your dangers and your fatigues.
I wish also that you should see him surrounded with the grandeur and splen
dor which belong to the sovereign of the first people in the world. You shall
all be there. We will celebrate the names of those who have died in these
two campaigns on the field of honor. The world shall ever see us ready to
follow their example. We will even do more than we yet have done, if
necessary to vindicate our national honor, or to resist the efforts of those
who are the eternal enemies of peace upon the Continent. During the three
months which are necessary to effect your return to France, prove the exam
ple for all armies. You have now to give testimonies, not of courage and
intrepidity, but of strict discipline. Conduct yourselves Uke children in the
bosom of their family."
Napoleon now gave directions to the army to retrace their steps to France,
by slow and easy marches. He himself proceeded to Paris with the utmost
rapidity, allowing himself no time to enjoy the triumphs which were prepared
to greet him by the way. The public authorities of Paris had made ar
rangements for a magnificent reception on his arrival. He, however, disap
pointed them by entering Paris at night, unattended by any escort. The

484 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXI.
next day the mayor and other public functionaries called upon him, and in
their congratulatory address expressed regret that he had not given them
opportunity to testify their gratitude by a public triumph for the services he
had rendered his country.
Napoleon returned the following memorable reply : " Had I been defeated,
I would have made a public entry. Our enemies would then have been con
vinced, from the manner of my reception by the good citizens of Paris, that
the attachment which they have always shown me was not confined to my
fortune. Though vanquished, they would still consider their cause and mine
inseparably united. Returning a victor, I would not hazard their being ac
cused of servile adulation."
This formidable confederacy, which Napoleon had shattered at a blow, was
organized by William Pitt. Its utter overthrow was fatal also to the am
bitious spirit which formed it. When the news reached him of the total de
struction of the allied army at Austerlitz, he gazed long and sadly upon the
map of Europe, and turned away, saying, " Henceforth we may close that
map for half a century." His health now hourly declined. On the 23d of
January, 1806, at the age of forty-seven, he expired, exclaiming with his last
breath, "Alas, my country !" No sooner did the French Revolution break
out, than William Pitt, to use the words of Alison, " became the soul of all
the confederacies which were framed to oppose a barrier to the diffusion of
its principles. The steady friend of freedom, he was, on that very account,
the resolute opponent of democracy. It was not against France, but Repub
lican France, that his hostility was directed."
Several medals were executed to commemorate the battle of Austerlitz.
One morning M. Denon came to Napoleon at St. Cloud with several medals
upon this subject. One represented on one side a head of Napoleon, and
upon the other an eagle holding fast a leopard.
" What does this mean ?" inquired the Emperor.
" Sire," replied M. Denon, " it is a French eagle strangling in its talons the
leopard, one of the emblems of the coat of arms of England."
Napoleon contemptuously threw down the coin, saying, " How dare you
tell me that the French eagle strangles the English leopard ! I can not send
out to sea the smallest fishing-boat that the English do not seize upon. It is,
in truth, the leopard that strangles the French eagle. Let this medal be in
stantly destroyed, and never present any of the same kind to me again."
The generosity of Napoleon toward his army was as magnificent as was
his victory. He immediately adopted all the children of those who had
fallen. They were supported and educated at the expense of the state.
They all, as the children of the Emperor, were permitted to attach the name
of Napoleon to their own. To the widows of the generals he gave a pension
of $1200 dollars a year. The widows of the colonels and the majors re
ceived $500 annually ; those of captains, $250 ; those of lieutenants, $150 ;
while the widows of all the soldiers received a pension of $40. The wound
ed were also all liberally rewarded.
Napoleon was in the habit, during his campaigns, of writing almost daily
to Josephine. These letters were often written upon a drum-head at his
night's bivouac, or upon the pommel of his saddle when the balls of the en-

1805.] AUSTERLITZ. 485
emy were falling around him. These tokens of his love for Josephine were
very brief and so hastily written, that it required all Josephine's ingenuity to
decipher them. The following are from the letters which he thus wrote
during this campaign. They give us an insight to the heart of Napoleon.
These attentions, so delicate and so touching, prove that the majesty of
genius had not overshadowed in his character the graces of affection.
" 2d October, 1805, 10 o'clock A.M.
" I am still in good health. I start for Stuttgard, where I shall be to
night. The great maneuvers commence. The armies of Wiirtemberg and
of Baden have united with mine. I am in a good position, and I love you.
" Napoleon."
" 12th October, 11 o'clock at night.
" My army has entered Munich. The enemy is beaten. Every thing an
nounces the most short, successful, and brilliant campaign I have y6t made.
I am very well. The weather is, however, frightful. I change my clothes
twice a day, it rains so incessantly. I love you, and embrace you.
"Napoleon."
" 19th October.
" I have been, my good Josephine, much fatigued. During all the days
of an entire week I have been drenched with rain, and my feet have been
nearly frozen. This has made me a little ill. To-day I have obtained some
repose. I have fulfilled my design. I have destroyed the Austrian army by
simple marches. I have taken 60,000 prisoners, 120 pieces of cannon, 90
flags, and more than 30 generals. I now go in pursuit of the Russians.
They are undone. I am content with my army. I have lost but 1500 men,
and of these two thirds are but slightly wounded. Adieu, my Josephine. A
thousand loving words to you." " 3d November, 10 o'clock at night.
" I am in full march. The weather is very cold. The earth is covered
with a foot of snow. This is a little severe. Happily, our march is through
forests. I am pretty well. My affairs move very satisfactorily. My ene
mies ought to be more anxious than I. I desire very much to hear from
you, and to learn that you are free from inquietude. Adieu, my love. I
must sleep." " 15th November, 9 o'clock at night.
" I left Vienna two days ago, my love, a little fatigued. I have not yet
seen the city by day. I passed through it in the night. Almost all my
troops are beyond the Danube pursuing the Russians. Adieu, my Josephine.
The very moment it is possible, I shall send for you to come to me. A thou
sand loving words for you. Napoleon."
" 16th November.
" I have written for you to come immediately to Baden, and thence to

486 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXI.
Munich, by the way of Stuttgard. Bring with you the means of making
presents to the ladies and to the functionaries who may serve you. Be un
assuming, but receive all homage. Every thing is due to you. You owe
nothing but courtesy. The Electress of Wiirtemberg is daughter of the
King of England. She is a lovely woman. Treat her with kindness, but
without affectation. I shall be most happy to see you the moment my af
fairs will allow me to do so. I set out immediately for my advance guard.
The weather is frightful. It snows continually. As to the rest, my affairs
are prosperous. Adieu, my love. Napoleon."
" 3d December, 1805.
" I send Lebrun to you from the field of battle. I have beaten the Rus
sian and Austrian armies commanded by the two emperors. I am a little
fatigued. I have bivouacked eight days in the open air, through nights se
verely cold. I shall pass to-night in the chateau of Prince Kaunitz, where
I go to sleep for two or three hours. The Russian army is not only beaten,
but destroyed. I embrace you. Napoleon." " December 5.
" I have concluded a truce. The Russians have implored it. The vic
tory of Austerlitz is the most illustrious of all which I have gained. We
have taken 45 flags, 150 pieces of cannon, and 20 generals. More than
20,000 are slain. It is an awful spectacle. The Emperor Alexander is in
despair. I saw yesterday, at my bivouac, the Emperor of Germany. We
conversed for two hours, and agreed upon an immediate peace. The weather
is dreadful. Repose is again restored to the Continent. Let us hope that it
will extend throughout the world. The English will not be able to make
headway against us. I look forward, with great pleasure, to the moment
when I shall again see you. Adieu, my love. I am pretty well, and am
very desirous to embrace you." " 10th December, 1805.
" It is long since I have heard any news from you. The- brilliant fetes of
Baden, Stuttgard, and Munich cause the poor soldiers, drenched with rain,
and covered with blood and mire, to be forgotten. I set out immediately for
Vienna. The Russians are gone. They return to their own country thor
oughly beaten and thoroughly humiliated. I desire intensely to return to
you. Adieu, my love. Napoleon."
The following letter conceals beneath the semblance of mirthfulness a
spirit wounded by apparent neglect. " 19th December.
"August Empress ! Not one letter from you since your departure from
Strasburg. You have entered Baden, Stuttgard, and Munich without writ
ing us one word. That is not very amiable nor very tender. I am still at
Brunn. The Russians have gone. I have a truce. Condescend, from the
summit of your grandeur, to occupy yourself a little with your slaves.
" Napoleon."

1806 ] ANNEXATIONS AND ALLIANCES. 487

CHAPTER XXXII.
annexations and alliances.
The Emperor on his Return from Austerlitz— Letter to the Minister of Finance — Napoleon's La
bors for the Improvement of France — Religious Character and Thoughts of the Emperor — Depu
tation from Genoa — Its Annexation to France — Conduct of Naples — Insolence of the European
Kings — Proclamation — Dilemma — Holland — Cisalpine Republic — The Government of Eugene —
Piedmont — Ambition of Napoleon — Necessity of Allies for France — Consciousness of the Em
peror of the Uncertainty of his Position — Confederation of the Rhine — Attack on Spanish Ships
— Battle of Trafalgar — Fox — Difficulty of making Peace with England — Death of Fox.
It was nearly midnight when Napoleon, accompanied by Josephine, en
tered the darkened streets of Paris on his return from Vienna. He drove
directly to the Tuileries, and ascended the stairs, with hasty strides, to his
cabinet. Without undressing, or even throwing himself upon a couch for a
moment of repose, he sent for the Minister of Finance. The whole of the
remainder of the night was passed in a rigid examination of the state of the
Bank of France. The eagle eye of the Emperor immediately penetrated
the labyrinth of confusion in which its concerns were involved. Writing
from the camp of Boulogne, in the midst of all the distractions of the prep
arations for the march to Ulm and Austerlitz, Napoleon had thus addressed
his Minister of Finance :
" The paper of the bank is issued in many, perhaps a majority of the cases,
not on real capital, but on a delusive supposition of wealth. In one word, in
discounting after this manner, the bank is coining false money. So clearly
do I see the dangers of such a course, that, if necessary, I would stop the
pay of my soldiers rather than persevere in it. I am distressed beyond meas
ure at the necessities of my situation, which, by compelling me to live in
camps, and engaged in distant expeditions, withdraw my attention from what
would otherwise be the chief object of my anxiety, and the first wish of my
heart — a good and solid organization of all which concerns the interest of
banks, manufactures, and commerce."
The next day, at eleven o'clock, the whole Council of Finance was assem
bled. Napoleon kept them incessantly occupied during an uninterrupted
session of nine hours. Thus energetically, without allowing himself a mo
ment for repose, he entered upon a series of labors unparalleled in the his
tory of mankind. The mind of this extraordinary man was all interested in
constructing, not in destroying. He loved not the carnage of the battle
field. He loved not the aspect of burning cities, or the desolating sweep of
contending armies. It was far more in accordance with his humane dispo
sition, and his intellectual and refined taste, to labor in his cabinet in rear
ing works of imperishable grandeur, than, hungry, cold, and weary, drenched
with rain, spattered with mud, toiling through the mire, and bivouacking upon
the drifting snow, to lead his armies to mutilation, blood, and death. Na-

488 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXII.
poleon was a man. The groans of the dying were not music to his ear. As
he went, invariably, the messenger of mercy over the field of strife, when
the conflict was over, the aspect of the mangled, the dying, and the dead
was not a pleasing spectacle to his eyes. His foes compelled him, during
all his reign, to devote one half of his energies to repel their assaults.
Napoleon had again conquered peace with all the world, England alone
excepted. The government of England, notwithstanding the firm opposition
of a large portion of the people, still waged unrelenting war against the Re
publican Empire. England was too intelligent to be deceived by words.
It mattered not whether Napoleon were called Consul or Emperor. The
principles of his government were still the same. He was the man of the
people. It was his mission to abase aristocratic usurpation, and to elevate
the people to equality of privileges and of rights.
Napoleon immediately made arrangements for the army to return by slow
and comfortable marches of twelve miles a day. He ordered the sick and
the wounded to be amply provided for during the winter, that they might be
brought back to France under the genial sun of spring. Officers were com
manded to remain with them, to see that all their wants were fully supplied.
Never before or since has there been a general so attentive to his sick and
wounded soldiers. To this testimony there is not a dissentient voice.
In the midst of negotiations and military cares more vast and varied than
ever before occupied the mind of man, Napoleon devoted himself, with a
fondness amounting to a passion, to the creation of magnificent works of art
and of public utility. In those snatches of leisure left him by his banded
foes, he visited all parts of the capital and of his empire. Wherever he went,
some grand idea for moral, intellectual, or physical improvement suggested
itself to his mind. The foot-prints of the Emperor still remain all over Par
is, and in the remotest provinces of France, enduring memorials of his phi
lanthropy, his comprehensive wisdom, and his tireless energy. He found
St. Denis, the mausoleum of the ancient kings of France, in deplorable di
lapidation. The venerable edifice was immediately and magnificently re
paired. The beautiful church of St. Genevieve was crumbling to decay.
He restored it to more than its pristine splendor.
He reared the magnificent monument in the Place Vendome. The noble
obelisk of bronze, winding round whose shaft are displayed, in long basso-
relievo, the exploits of the campaigns of Ulm and Austerlitz, excites the ad
miration of every beholder. The monument was consecrated to the Grand
Army, and was constructed of the cannon taken from the enemy. Napoleon
had ever been contending for peace. In these eventful campaigns he had
secured peace for the Continent. He wished to have the statue of Peace sur
mount the lofty summit of the pillar. But the nation gratefully decreed that
Napoleon, the hero-pacificator, in imperial costume, should crown the trophy
of his own genius. When the Allies, after desolating Europe for a quar
ter of a century with blood, succeeded in driving Napoleon from his throne,
and reinstating the Bourbons, they hurled the statue of the Republican Em
peror from its proud elevation. They could not, however, tear the image of
Napoleon from the heart of an adoring people. The Bourbons were again
driven into exile, and the statue of Napoleon replaced. No sacrilegious

1806.]

ANNEXATIONS AND ALLIANCES.

489

MONUMENT IN THE PLACE VENDOME.

hand will ever venture again rudely to touch that memorial of a nation's love
and homage.
He formed the plan, and commenced the work of uniting the Louvre and
the Tuileries in the most splendid palace the world has ever seen. And this
palace was to be consecrated, not to the licentious indulgence of kings and
nobles, but to the fine arts, for the benefit of the people. The magnificent
"Arch of Triumph" in the Carrousel, and the still more magnificent arch fac
ing the Elysian Fields, were both commenced this year. Fifteen new fount
ains were erected in the city. More extensive engines were created to raise
water from the Seine, that eighty fountains might play unceasingly night
and day. Magnificent quays were erected along the banks of the river. A
bridge in process of building was rapidly completed, and named the Bridge
of Austerlitz. A new bridge, subsequently called the Bridge of Jena, was
commenced. These were but a part of the works entered upon in the capi
tal. The most distant departments of the empire shared his attention and
his munificence. Immense canals were constructed, conferring the benefits
of water communication upon all parts of France. National roads, upon
which the tourist now gazes with astonishment, were commenced. Others,
already laid out, were urged to their rapid completion. The world-renown-

490 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXII.
ed Pass of the Simplon, the road through the valley of the Moselle, the high
way from Roanne to Lyons, the celebrated road from Nice to Genoa, the
roads over Mount Cenis and Mount Genevre, and along the banks of the
Rhine, and the astonishing works at Antwerp, will forever remain a memo
rial of Bonaparte's insatiable desire to enrich and ennoble the country of
which he was the monarch.
These were the works in which he delighted ; this was the fame he wished
to rear for himself; this was the immortality he coveted. His renown is
immortal. He has left upon the Continent an imprint of beneficence which
time can never efface. But Europe was in arms against him. To protect
his empire from hostile invasion while carrying on these great works, he was
compelled continually to support four hundred thousand men in battle array.
Napoleon was always a serious man, religiously inclined. In his youth
ful years he kept himself entirely aloof not only from the dissipations, but
from the merriment of the camp. In his maturer life the soldiers gave him
the name of " Father Thoughtful." Though not established in the belief
that Christianity was of divine origin, he ever cherished a profound rever
ence for the religion of the Bible. Amid the sneers of infidel Europe, he
with unvarying constancy affirmed that religion was essential to the well-
being of society", not merely as a police regulation, but as a necessity of the
human soul. When but twenty-four years of age, he encouraged his brother
Louis, who was then a lad but about fifteen years old, but conscientious and
devout, to partake of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. Says Louis, " I
was then but a child. It was in consequence of his advice and care that I
partook of my first communion. He selected a worthy ecclesiastic to give
me the necessary instructions and preparations." When the schedule of
study for Madame Campan's female school was presented him, he found as
one regulation, " The young ladies shall attend prayers twice a week." He
immediately erased with his pen the words "twice a week," and substituted
" every day."
" Sire !" said General Bertrand to Napoleon one day, " you believe in God.
I also believe. But, after all, what is God? What do we know of him?
Have we seen him ?"
Napoleon replied, " What is God? Do I know what I believe'! Very
well ! I will tell you. Answer me : How know you that a man has genius ?
Is it any thing you have seen? Is it visible — genius? What then can you
believe of it ? We see the effect ; from the effect we pass to the cause. We
find it ; we affirm it ; we believe it. Is it not so ? Thus, upon the field of
battle, when the action commences, though we do not understand the plan of
attack, we admire the promptitude, the efficiency of the maneuvers, and ex
claim, ' A man of genius !' When in the heat of the battle victory wavers,
why do you the first turn your eyes toward me ? Yes ! your lips call me.
From all parts we hear but one cry, ' Tlie Emperor, where is he ? his orders !'
What means that cry ? It is the cry of instinct, of general faith in me— in
my genius.
""\ ery well! I also have an instinct, a knowledge, a faith, a cry which
involuntarily escapes me. I reflect. I regard nature with her phenomena,
and I exclaim God ! I admire and cry, There is a God !

1806.] ANNEXATIONS AND ALLIANCES. 491
" Since you believe in genius, tell me, tell me, I pray you, what gives to
the man of genius this invention, this inspiration, this glance of the eye pe
culiar to man alone ? Answer me ! from whence does it come ? You can
not tell ! Is it not so ? Neither can I nor any one else. And still, this pe
culiarity which characterizes certain individuals is a fact as evident, as posi
tive as any other fact. But if there is such a difference in mind, there is
evidently a cause ; there is some one who has made that difference. It is
neither you nor me, and genius is but a word which teaches nothing of its
cause. That any person should say, They are the organs ! Behold a sil
liness fit for a medical student, but not for me. Do you understand?"*
Napoleon saw so many imperfections in the Catholic priesthood, that he
was unwilling to intrust the education of youth to ecclesiastics. Their de
votion to the past, their hostility to all innovation and progress, incapacitated
them in his judgment to rouse and guide the youthful mind. He devoted, at
this time, very special attention to the education of the masses of the people.
He established a university to raise up a corps of teachers of high qualifica
tions, who should hold distinguished rank in the state, and who should re
ceive ample emolument. In all the schools religion was to be taught by
chaplains. Such were the labors of Napoleon in Paris from January to July, 1806.
At the same time he was compelled to defend himself from England, who
was incessantly assailing France with all the power of her invincible fleet.
He was also conducting the most momentous negotiations with the various
nations of Europe.
The province of Genoa occupied the southern slope of the Apennines.!
It was about as large as Rhode Island, and contained 500,000 inhabitants.
Its population was thoroughly imbued with the principles of Republican
France. In the wars then desolating Europe, this Liliputian state was of
course powerless, unless sustained by some stronger arm. Its immediate
contiguity to France encouraged the desire for annexation. A deputation
from the Senate of Genoa visited Napoleon soliciting this favor.
" In regenerating the people of this country," said the deputation, " your
majesty has contracted the obligation to render it happy. But this can not
be done unless it is governed by your majesty's wisdom and valor. The
changes which have taken place around us have rendered our insulated situ
ation a source of perpetual disquietude, and imperiously call for a union with
that France which you have covered with imperishable renown. Such is
the wish which we are charged to lay at your majesty's feet. The reasons
on which it is founded prove sufficiently that it is not the result of any ex
ternal suggestion, but the inevitable consequence of our actual situation."
When Napoleon entered Genoa in consummation of this union, he was re-
* Napoleon was exceedingly displeased with the impiety of Dr Antommarchi, a physician who
was sent to him while at St. Helena. " You physicians," said Napoleon to him one day, " are un
believers, because you can not find the soul with your dissecting knife. Physicians are generally in
fidels. It is not so with mathematicians ; they are ordinarily devout. The name of God inces
santly flowed from the pen of Lagrange."
t " At the demand of the Archbishop of Genoa and of the Senate of the city, that state was re
united to the French Empire the 9th of June, 1805, and formed three departments."— Histoire Pop
ulate de Napoleon, par M. Chauvet, p. 247.

492

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XXXII.

ceived with the most enthusiastic demonstrations of joy. The fetes arranged
by the exultant inhabitants on that memorable occasion surpassed any thing
which modern Italy had seen. The magistrates met Napoleon at the gates
of the city with the keys.

.¦*s-Vl.-i :.*

ANNEXATION OF GENOA.

"Genoa," said they, "named the Superb from its situation, is now still
more worthy of that name from its destination. It has thrown itself into the
arms of a hero. It therefore places its keys in the hands of one capable
above all others of maintaining and increasing that glory."
The city blazed with illuminations ; the roar of artillery shook the embat
tled shores and frowning forts ; and fireworks, surpassing the imagined cre
ations of fairy power, filled the whole heavens, as Genoa rejoiced over the
consummation of her nuptials with France.
The Kingdom of Naples, sometimes called the Kingdom of the Two Sici
lies, contained a population of about eight millions. The government, al
most an unlimited monarchy, was in the hands of a branch of the house of
Bourbon. The perfidious court had again and again sent its ships and its
armies to assail Napoleon. And yet, in the hour of victory, Napoleon had
ever treated the hostile government with singular magnanimity. When the
Emperor was more than a thousand miles from his capital, in the wilds of
Xorthern Germany, struggling with his banded foes upon the plains of Aus
terlitz, the King of Naples thought it an inviting opportunity to attack him
in his rear. Without any provocation, inviting the English fleet into his
harbors, and joining his army, fifty thousand strong, with those of England,
Austria, and Russia, he fell upon France. Napoleon heard of this act of
treachery immediately after the battle of Austerlitz. He was extremely
exasperated.

1806.] ANNEXATIONS AND ALLIANCES 493
The kings of Europe seemed to treat him as an outlaw, beyond the pale
of all honorable intercourse. The most solemn treaties with him were re
garded as of no moment. They did every thing in their power to stir up
treason around his throne, and to fan in France the flame of civil war. They
cringed before his mighty genius as they met him on the field of battle, or in
the chamber of council, and yet were they ever ready to stab him in the
back the moment his face was turned. An independent nation of forty mill
ions of people, with hardly a dissenting vote, had elected him its monarch.
The despots of Europe denied his right to the throne. They refused him
his title. They called him contemptuously Mr. Bonaparte.* They resort
ed to every mean subterfuge in their diplomacy to avoid the recognition of
his imperial dignity. They filled the world with the blackest libels against
his fair fame. They accused him of drunkenness, debauchery, murder, blood-
thirstiness, incest. They fed those who were constructing infernal machines,
and mingling poison, and sharpening daggers, to hunt him out of the world.
There is great moral sublimity in the dignity with which Napoleon encoun
tered all this, and went straight on with his work. He had already spared
the Bourbons of Naples three times. He resolved to be their dupe no longer.
The following energetic proclamation to his army announced the merited
fate of this perfidious court :
" Soldiers ! For the last ten years I have done every thing in my power
to save the King of Naples. He has done every thing to destroy himself.
After the battles of Dego, Mondovi, and Lodi, he could oppose to me but a
feeble resistance. I relied upon the word of this prince, and was generous
toward him. When the second coalition was dissolved at Marengo, the King
of Naples, who had been the first to commence this unjust war, abandoned
by his allies, remained single-handed and defenseless. He implored me. I
pardoned him a second time. It is but a few months since you were at the
gates of Naples. I had sufficiently powerful reasons for suspecting the trea
son in contemplation. I was still generous. I acknowledged the neutrality
of Naples. I ordered you to evacuate the kingdom. For the third time the
house of Naples was re-established and saved. Shall we forgive a fourth
time ? Shall we rely a fourth time on a court without faith, honor, or rea
son ? No, no ! The dynasty of Naples has ceased to reign. Its existence
is incompatible with the honor of Europe, and the repose of my crown."
We presume that there are few readers who will condemn Napoleon for
this transaction. Yet Sir Archibald Alison comments upon it in the follow
ing terms. For Napoleon to defend himself from the treachery of despots
and fr"om the knives of assassins, the Allies ever considered an atrocious
crime. " This extraordinary severity toward a monarch who was only meditating
hostilities against the French Emperor, and had certainly done less injury to
* Gustavus, King of Sweden, in a public note delivered to the French envoy at Stockholm, ex
pressed his surprise at the " indecent and ridiculous insolence which Monsieur Napoleon Bonaparte
had permitted to be inserted in the Moniteur." Alexander, in public documents, addressed him as
chief of the French government. And the British cabinet passed a solemn decree that the Emperor
Napoleon, while at St. Helena, should receive no other title than that of General Bonaparte. Gus
tavus ever insisted that Napoleon was The Beast described in the book of Revelation

494 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXII.
his dominions than any European dynasty, was one of the most unjustifiable
acts of that relentless conqueror, and, at the same time, descriptive of that
mixture of caution and prudence by which his ambitious enterprises were
always regulated. Let the case be put as the French themselves stated it.
The embassador and cabinet of Naples, with the dagger at their throat, and
under the threat of immediate invasion, had agreed on the 21st of Septem
ber to a treaty of neutrality, which was ratified by the court, under the like
menaces, on the 8th of October. The arrival of the Russian and English
squadron in the Bay of Naples six weeks afterward liberated them from
their apprehensions, and the cabinet was to violate the former treaty, and
join in the coalition against France. Such a departure from national faith
was dishonorable ; it was a fair ground for hostility, and might have justified
exactions of considerable magnitude ; but was it a sufficient reason for de
thronement ? That is the point ; and if it is, what European dynasty has
not, fifty times over, justly provoked this severity?"*
Immediately Napoleon wrote, in the following words, to his brother Jo
seph : " My wish is, that in the first days of February you should enter the
kingdom of Naples, and that I should be informed, in the course of the
month, that my eagles hang over that capital. You will not make any sus
pension of arms or capitulation. My intention is, that the Bourbons should
have ceased to reign in Naples. I wish to seat on the throne a prince of my
house ; you, in the first place, if that suits you ; another, ifthat does not suit
you."t Joseph took an army and went to Naples. Upon his approach the En
glish fled with the utmost precipitation, taking with them the royal family ,|
By thus ejecting the royal family of Naples, and placing the crown upon the
brow of his brother, Napoleon greatly exasperated the remaining sovereigns
of Europe, and added much to his embarrassments. But by leaving the
Bourbons on the throne, after such repeated acts of perfidy, he exposed him
self to the peril of another treacherous assault whenever hostile Europe
should again rise in arms against him. Wisely he chose the least of two
evils. And now the idea became an established principle in the mind of
Napoleon, that as all the feudal kings of Europe were in heart banded against
him, and were ever watching for opportunities to assail him, he must
* Alison's History of Europe, vol. ii., p. 376.
t " The extremity of the Peninsula and Sicily compose the kingdom of Naples, the most power
ful state in Italy, most like Rome in ignorance and barbarism, and still worse governed, if possible
There reigned a Bourbon, a mild, imbecile prince, devoted to one kind of pursuit, fishing and field
sports. These occupations engrossed all his time. While he was engaged in them, thcgovern-
ment of his kingdom was abandoned to his wife, an Austrian princess, sister to the Queen of France.
This princess, a woman of capricious disposition, of licentious passions, having the Minister Acton
for her paramour, who was sold to the English, conducted the affairs of the kingdom in a senseless
manner. The English, whose policy it always was to gain a footing on the Continent by controll
ing the petty states bordering upon its coasts, had endeavored to make themselves the patrons of
Naples as well as of Portugal and Holland. They excited the hatred of the queen against France,
and with that hatred infused the ambition to rule Italy." — Thiers.
X " The brief reign of Joseph was * succession of benefits to a people who had been long de
graded by a most oppressive despotism. He founded civil and military schools, some of which yet
exist — overthrew feudal privileges — suppressed the convents — opened new roads — -caused the Laz-
zaroni of Naples to work and be paid — drained marshes, and every where animated with new life
and hope a people long sunk in abject servitude." — New York American.

1806.] ANNEXATIONS AND ALLIANCES. 495
strengthen his power by establishing thrones and sustaining governments
which should be occupied by his friends. It was a struggle, not only for his
political existence, but also for the dignity and the independence of the French
nation. Holland was a low, marshy country, about the size of the State of Mary
land. Two million and a half of inhabitants, protected from the sea by
dikes, cultivated its fields and worked its factories. Holland had followed
in the footsteps of France in the effort to obtain, by revolutionary violence,
deliverance from aristocratic usurpation. England, with her allies, fell upon
Holland as upon France. At one swoop she robbed her of her colonies,
swept her commerce from the seas, and held all her ports in close blockade.
Hostile armies invaded her territory. The nation, single-handed, was pow
erless against such multitudinous foes. She appealed to France for aid.
The aid was furnished, and the allied hosts expelled. When France adopt
ed monarchical forms of government, Holland decided to do the same. Hol
land and France, mutually sympathizing, needed mutual support. Their
most intimate alliance seemed to be essential to their existence. Holland
therefore chose Louis Bonaparte for her king. Louis was an intelligent,
conscientious, and upright man. ' Even the voice of slander has not attempt
ed to sully his fame. He won the enthusiastic love of his subjects.
The Cisalpine Republic had received the name of the Kingdom of Italy.
It was a small territory, about the size of the State of Maryland, containing
three million and a half of inhabitants. It was indebted to Napoleon for ex
istence. Unaided by his arm, it could not for an hour have protected itself
from the assaults of Austria. In mid-winter, four hundred and fifty deputies
had crossed the Alps to implore the assistance of Napoleon in organizing
their government, and in defending them from the armed despotisms which
threatened their destruction. In the following words they had addressed
Napoleon :
" The Cisalpine Republic needs a support which will cause it to be re
spected by the powers which have not yet recognized its existence. It ab
solutely requires a man who, by the ascendant of his name and strength, may
give it the rank and consideration which it may not otherwise obtain. There
fore General Bonaparte is requested to honor the Cisalpine Republic by
continuing to govern it, by blending the direction of its affairs with those of
France, so long as shall be necessary to unite all parts of its territory under
the same political institutions, and to cause it to be recognized by the pow
ers of Europe."
At the earnest solicitation of the people, Napoleon afterward accepted the
crown, declaring Eugene to be his heir. On this occasion he said to the
French Senate :
" Powerful and great is the French Empire. Greater still is our moder
ation. We have, in a manner, conquered Holland, Switzerland, Italy, Ger
many. But in the midst of such unparalleled success we have listened only
to the counsels of moderation. Of so many conquered provinces we have
retained only the. one which was necessary to maintain France in that rank
among nations which she has always enjoyed. The partition of Poland, the
provinces torn from Turkey, the conquest of India, and of almost all the

496 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXII.
European colonies, have turned the balance against us. To form a counter
poise to such acquisitions, we must retain something. But we must keep
only what is useful and necessary. Great would have been the addition to
the wealth and the resources of our territory if we had united to them the
Italian Republic. But we gave it independence at Lyons. And now we
proceed a step further, and recognize its ultimate separation from the crown
of France, deferring only the execution of that project till it can be done
without danger to Italian independence."
The government of Eugene in Italy was popular in the extreme. The
Italians still look back upon the days of the Kingdom of Italy as the most
brilliant and the most prosperous of their modern history. The administra
tion of the government by Napoleon is ever spoken of with admiration.
Eugene followed the maxims which he received from the, sagacity and the
experience of the Emperor. "Unlike," says Alison, "the conquered states
of other European monarchies, the inhabitants of Lombardy felt the foreign
yoke only in the quickened circulation of wealth, the increased vent for in
dustry, the wider field for exertion. Honors, dignities, and emoluments, all
were reserved for Italians. Hardly a magistrate or civil functionary was of
foreign birth. Every where great and useful undertakings were set on foot.
Splendid edifices ornamented the towns. Useful canals irrigated the fields."
The state of Piedmont, a province of Sardinia, was about as large as Mas
sachusetts. It contained a population of one and a half million. The in
habitants were overjoyed to escape from the iron despotism of Austrian rule.
Cordially sympathizing with the French in their political principles, they tu-
multuously joined them. The whole land blazed with illuminations, and was
vocal with rejoicings, as Piedmont was annexed to France. Napoleon was
of Italian parentage. He ever remained faithful to the souvenirs of his ori
gin. The Italian language was his mother tongue, and the interests of Italy
were peculiarly near to his heart.
The Peninsula was divided up into innumerable petty dukedoms, princi
palities, and kingdoms. None of these could be independent. They could
only exist by seeking shelter beneath the flag of Austria or France. It was
one of the fondest dreams of Napoleon's noble ambition to restore Italian
independence. He hoped, by his influence, to have been able to unite all
these feeble governments in one great kingdom, containing twenty millions
of inhabitants. Rome he would make its illustrious capital. He designed
to rescue the immortal city from the ruins with which it is encumbered ; to
protect its ancient monuments from the further ravages of decay, and to re
store the city, as far as possible, to its ancient splendor. Napoleon had
gained such an influence over the Italian people, that he could, without much
difficulty, have carried this magnificent project into execution, were it not
for certain political considerations which arrested him. He wished for peace
with Europe. He wished, if possible, to conciliate the friendly feelings of
the surrounding monarchies toward the new institutions in France.
To appease Austria, he deemed it wise to leave her in possession of her
conquest of the ancient state of Venice as far as the Adige. Spain was pro
pitiated by allowing her two princes to occupy the throne of Etruria. By
permitting the Pope to retain his secular power over the States of the Church,

1806.] ANNEXATIONS AND ALLIANCES. 497
he secured throughout Europe a religious interest in favor of France. The
Bourbons he had wished to leave undisturbed upon the throne of Naples,
notwithstanding reiterated acts of treachery against him. This would be a
pledge to Europe of his desire not to introduce violence and revolution into
other governments. The power was clearly in his hands. He could have
set all these considerations at defiance. So large a proportion of the popu
lation of Italy had imbibed the principles of equality which the French Rev
olution had originated, that they implored the permission of Napoleon to
drive their rulers from their thrones. Wherever the French armies appear
ed, they were welcomed by a large portion of the people as friends and lib
erators. But Napoleon did not deem it wise to spread through Europe the
flames of revolution, neither did he consider it his duty to allow the des
pots of Europe to force back upon France a rejected and detested dynasty.
The various annexations and alliances to which we have above referred
took place at various times between 1802 and 1806.
Such, in. the main, was the position of France at this period. "While
England," says Alison, " was extending its mighty arms over both hemi
spheres, France was laying its iron grasp on the richest and most important
provinces of Europe. The strife could not be other than desperate between
two such powers." The difference between the two was simply this. En
gland was conquering and annexing to her vast, empire continents, islands,
and provinces all over the world : in the East Indies and in the West Indies,
in North America and in South America, in Europe, in Asia, in Africa ; in
the Atlantic Ocean, the Pacific Ocean, and the Indian Ocean ; in the Medi
terranean Sea, and upon the shores of the Red Sea and of the Caspian. It
was her boast that upon the territories of Britannia the sun never ceased to
shine.* She had formed coalitions against France with Russia, Austria, Tur
key, Prussia, Naples, Sweden, Spain, Portugal, and innumerable other petty
principalities and dukedoms. And yet this England, the undisputed mistress
of the sea, and more powerful upon land than imperial Rome in her meridian
grandeur, was filling the world with clamor against the insatiable ambition
of Napoleon. He had annexed to France, Genoa, the valleys of Piedmont,
and a few leagues of territory along the left banks of the Rhine, that that
noble river might be one of his barriers against invading hosts. He had also
strengthened his empire to resist its multitudinous foes, by forming strong
friendly alliances with the Kingdom of Italy, Bavaria, Switzerland, Holland,
and a few minor states. To call this the spirit of encroachment is an abuse
of language. It was merely putting a stronger lock upon his door as a nec
essary protection against robbers.
There was a fatality attending Napoleon's career which he ever .recog
nized, and which no human wisdom could have averted. Aristocratic Eu
rope was necessarily in arms against the Democratic Emperor. Had Na
poleon neglected to fortify himself against aggression, by enlarging the
boundaries of France, and by forming friendly alliances, the coalesced des
pots would have laughed him to scorn as they tore the crown from his brow.
But, on the other hand, by disseminating principles of equality, and organ-
* The population in India over whom England, by the energies of war, had extended her domin
ion, is estimated by the London Times to be 150,000,000.
Vol. I.— I i

498 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXII,
izing his friends as barriers against his foes, he alarmed still more the mon
archs around him, and roused them to still more desperate efforts for his de
struction. The government of England can not be called a despotism. Next
to that of the United States, it is the most liberal and free of any upon the
globe. But the English oligarchy dreaded exceedingly the democratic prin
ciples which had gained such an ascendency in France. Thousands of her
population, headed by many of the most eloquent members of Parliament,
were clamorous for popular reform. Ireland was on the eve of revolt. The
maritime supremacy of England was also imperiled should Napoleon, with
his almost superhuman genius, have free scope for the development of the
energies of France ; therefore liberty-loving England allowed herself to head
an alliance of despots against popular rights.
Combined Europe crushed Napoleon. And what is Europe now? It
contains but two classes — the oppressors and the oppressed. " The day will
yet come," said Napoleon, " when the English will lament the victory of
Waterloo." Incomprehensible day ! Concurrence of unheard-of fatalities !
Singular defeat, by w-hich, notwithstanding the most fatal catastrophe, the
glory of the conquered has not suffered, nor the fame of the conqueror been
increased ! The memory of the one will survive his destruction. The mem
ory of the other will perhaps be buried in his triumph. "When I heard,"
said Robert Hall, " of the result of the battle of Waterloo, I felt that the
clock of the world had gone back six ages."
In this connection Napoleon remarked at St. Helena : "The English are
said to traffic in every thing. Why, then, does she not sell liberty, for which
she might get a high price, and without any fear of exhausting her own
stock ? For example, what would not the poor Spaniards give her to free
them from the yoke to which they have again been subjected ? I am confi
dent that they would willingly pay any price to recover their freedom. It
was I who inspired them with this sentiment ; and the error into which I
fell might at least be turned into good account by another government. As
to the Italians, I have planted in their hearts principles which can never be
rooted out. What can England do better than to promote and assist the
noble impulses of modern regeneration ? Sooner or later this regeneration
must be accomplished. Sovereigns and old aristocratic institutions may ex
ert their efforts to oppose it, but in vain. They are dooming themselves to
the punishment of Sisyphus. Sooner or later some arm will tire of resist
ance, and then the whole system will fall to nothing. Would it not be bet
ter to yield with a good grace ? This was my intention. Why does En
gland refuse to avail herself of the glory and advantage she might derive
from this course of proceeding ?"
Napoleon, fully conscious of the uncertainty of his position, wrote to Jo
seph in Naples, urging him to erect a powerful fortress upon the sea-coast.
"Five or six millions a year," said he, "ought to be devoted for ten years
to this great creation, in such a manner that with each expenditure of six
millions a degree of strength should be gained, and so that, so early as the
second or third year, you might be able to shut yourself up in this vast for
tress. Neither you nor I know what is to befall us in two, three, or four
years. Centuries are not for us. If you are energetic, you may hold out, in

1806.] ANNEXATIONS AND ALLIANCES. 499
such an asylum, long enough to defy the rigors of Fortune, and to await the
return of her favors." On another occasion, he remarked to some friends,
who had gathered around him in the Tuileries, when in the very meridian
of his power, "The vicissitudes of life are very great. It would not be
strange should my son yet have cause to deem himself very fortunate with
¦ an income of twelve hundred dollars a year."
Napoleon was ever of the impression that the majority of the British peo
ple were opposed to the war ; that it was maintained solely by the influence
and to promote the interests of the aristocracy.
"I would not have attempted to subject England to France," said he to
O'Meara. " I could not have united two nations so dissimilar. If I had
succeeded in my project, I would have abolished the monarchy and estab
lished a republic, instead of the oligarchy by which you are governed. I
would have separated Ireland from England, and left them to themselves,
after having sown the seeds of republicanism in their morale. I would have
allowed the House of Commons to remain, but would have introduced a
great reform." "Would England," says Alison, "have remained true to
herself under the temptation to swerve produced by such means ? This is
a point upon which no Briton would have entertained a doubt till within
these few years. But the manner in which the public mind has reeled from
the application of inferior stimulants since 1 830, and the strong partiality to
French alliance which has recently grown up with the spread of Democratic
principles, has now suggested the painful doubt whether Napoleon did not
know us better than we knew ourselves, and whether we could have resist
ed those methods of seduction which had proved fatal to the patriotism of
so many other people. The spirit of the nation, indeed, then ran high against
Gallic invasion ; unanimity unprecedented animated the British people. But,
strong as that feeling was, it is now doubtful whether it would not have been
supplanted, in a large portion of the nation at least, by a still stronger, and
if the sudden offer of all the glittering objects of Democratic ambition would
not have shaken the patriotism of a considerable portion of the British, as it
unquestionably would of the great bulk of the Irish people."
Sixteen princes, of various degrees of rank and power, occupying small
states in the valley of the Rhine, formed a league. The plan originated with
Napoleon. The states thus united took the name of the Confederation of
the Rhine. It was a compact somewhat resembling that of the " United
States," and embraced a population of about fourteen million. Napoleon
was elected Protector of the Confederation. Perfect liberty of conscience
was established through all the states, and they entered unitedly into an al
liance with France, offensive and defensive. In case of war, France was to
furnish 200,000 men, and the Confederates 63,000. All disputes between
the states were to be settled by a congress composed of two bodies. When
this Confederation was formed to secure external and internal peace, Napo
leon sent word to the King of Prussia " that he would see without pain, nay,
even with pleasure, Prussia ranging under her influence all the states of the
north of Germany, by means of a confederation similar to that of the Rhine."
Twelve years before these events, Spain had entered into a treaty with
France, by which she agreed to furnish France, in case of war, with an aux-

500 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXII.
iliary force, which was subsequently commuted into a subsidy of fifteen mill
ion of dollars a year. England was very reasonably annoyed that this large
sum should be furnished her foe by a nation professing neutrality. Spain
was in a dilemma. If she refused to fulfill the treaty, war with France
would be the inevitable consequence. If she continued to supply France
with money, she must expose herself to the broadsides of the British navy.
After many remonstrances on the part of England, and denials, apologies,
and protestations on the part of Spain, England, without any declaration of
war, issued secret orders to her fleet to capture the merchant-ships of Spain,
wherever found. Four Spanish galleons, freighted with treasure, all unsus
picious of danger, were approaching Cadiz. A squadron of four British ships
attacked them. One of the Spanish ships was blown up, and all on board,
two hundred and fifty in number, perished. The other three ships, their
decks slippery with blood, were captured. The treasure on board was over
ten million of dollars. Language can not do justice to this act.
This occurrence produced intense excitement throughout England. The
government, with much embarrassment, defended the measure as justifiable
and necessary. Fox, Lord Grenville, and vast numbers of the British peo
ple, condemned the act as an indelible disgrace to the nation. Spain imme
diately declared war against Great,

Britain. The united fleets of France
and Spain, some thirty ships in num
ber, were met by an equal squadron
of English ships off Cape Trafalgar.
It was the 21st of October, 1805, the
day after the capitulation of Ulm. A
bloody conflict ensued. The combined
fleet was entirely overthrown.' Nine
teen ships wrere taken ; seven escaped
into Cadiz so pierced and shattered
as to be perfectly unserviceable ; four
made way for the Straits, and were
captured a few days afterward. Thus
the fleets of France and Spain were in fact annihilated. England remained
the undisputed mistress of the seas. Napoleon could no longer hope to as
sail her. He could only strive to ward off the blows which she continued
unceasingly to deal upon him. This led him more deeply to feel the neces
sity of strengthening himself upon the Continent, as the wide world of water
was entirely in possession of his foes.*
The capitulation at Ulm and the victory of Austerlitz caused the defeat
of Trafalgar to be forgotten. The echoes of that terrific naval conflict died
away amid the solitudes of the ocean, while the resonance of the mighty
tread of Napoleon's armies vibrated through every capital upon the Conti-

BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR.

r Nelson lost his life in this conflict. England gratefully conferred all possible honors upon his
memory. His brother was made an earl, with a pension of 30,000 dollars a year. Each of his sis
ters received a gift of 50,000 dollars, and 500,000 dollars to purchase an estate. A public funeral
was decreed him, and a monument erected in St. Paul's Cathedral. " At "Waterloo," says Alison,
" England fought for victory ; at Trafalgar, for existence."

a

1806.] ANNEXATIONS AND ALLIANCES. 501
nent. William Pitt soon died, at the age of forty-seven. Public opinion in
England now imperiously called for Mr. Fox as prime minister. The king
was compelled to yield. Mr. Fox and Napoleon were friends — mutual ad
mirers. The masses of the British people were in favor of peace. The
powerful aristocracy, both of wealth and rank, were almost to a man m favor
of war. Napoleon was exceedingly gratified by this change, and was san
guine in the hope of immediate peace.
Soon after the accession of Mr. Fox to power, a wretch presented himself
to him and offered to assassinate Napoleon. Mr. Fox indignantly ordered
the man to be seized and imprisoned, and wrote a noble letter to the French
government denouncing the odious project, and offering to place the man at
their disposal. This generous procedure, so different from that which Na
poleon had been accustomed to receive from the British government, touched
the magnanimous heart of the Emperor. " There," he exclaimed, " I recog
nize the principles of honor and virtue which have always animated Mr. Fox.
Thank him in my name. Tell him, whether the policy of his sovereign causes
us to continue much longer at war, or whether as speedy an end as the two
nations can desire is put to a quarrel useless to humanity, I rejoice at the
new character which, from this proceeding, the war has already taken. It
is an omen of what may be expected from a cabinet, of the principles of
which I am delighted to judge from those of Mr. Fox. He is one of the men
most fitted to feel in every thing what is excellent, what is truly great." M.
Talleyrand communicated these sentiments to the English minister. A re
ply was immediately returned by Mr. Fox, in frank and cordial terms pro
posing peace. Napoleon was delighted with the proposal. Most sincerely
he wished for reconciliation with Great Britain. Rejoiced at this overture,
he accepted it with the utmost cordiality.
But it was now extremely difficult to settle the conditions of peace. Na
poleon was so powerful, that France would accede to any terms which her
Emperor should judge to be best ; but Mr. Fox was surrounded in Parliament
by an opposition of immense strength. The Tories wished for war. En
gland had made enormous conquests of the colonies of France and her allies.
She wished to retain them all. France had made vast accessions to her
power upon the Continent. The English government insisted that she
should surrender all. England wished to be the great manufacturer of the
world, with all nations for her purchasers, and with the commerce of all
climes engrossed by her fleets. Napoleon, though most anxious for peace,
was not willing that France should, become the vassal of England. He
deemed it a matter of the first moment that French manufactures should be
encouraged by protective duties. Under these circumstances, Napoleon said
to Mr. Fox, through M. Talleyrand,
" France will not dispute with England the conquests England bas made.
Neither does France claim any thing more upon the Continent than what she
now has. It will, therefore, be easy to lay down the basis of a peace, if En
gland has not inadmissible views relative to commercial interests. The Em
peror is persuaded that the real cause of the rupture of the peace of Amiens
was no other than the refusal to conclude a commercial treaty. Be assured
that the Emperor, without refusing certain commercial advantages, if they

502 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXII.
are possible, will not admit of any treaty prejudicial to French industry,
which he means to protect by all duties and prohibitions which can favor its
development. He insists on having liberty to do at home all that he pleases,
all that is beneficial, without any rival nation having a right to find fault with
him." It is cheering to contemplate the generous intercourse between these noble
men. Mr. Fox accompanied each dispatch with a private note, full of frank
and cordial friendship. M. Talleyrand, who was but the amanuensis of Na
poleon, followed his example. It will be remembered that, at the commence
ment of the war, the English captured all the French whom they could find
upon the sea. Napoleon, in retaliation, captured all the English whom he
could find upon the land. Many members of the highest families in England
were detained in France. Mr. Fox applied for the release of several of them
on parole. Napoleon immediately sent to him every one designated in the
list. Mr. Fox, in return for this magnanimity, released an equal number of
illustrious captives taken in the battle of Trafalgar.*
There was another serious difficulty in the way of peace. The King of
England was also King of Hanover. This kingdom, situated in the northern
part of Germany, occupied a territory about twice as large as the State of
Massachusetts, and embraced a million and a half of inhabitants. At the
commencement of the last coalition against France, Napoleon had taken it.
At the peace of Presburg, immediately after the battle of Austerlitz, Napo
leon had allowed Prussia to take possession of the territory. English honor
demanded that Hanover should be restored. This appeared absolutely es
sential to peace ; but Prussia grasped her rich booty with deathless tenacity.
Napoleon, however, meditated restoring Hanover to England, and conferring
upon Prussia some other provinces in requital. In the midst of this laby
rinth of diplomacy, Fox was suddenly taken sick and died. The peace of
the world was entombed in his sepulchre. New influences gained strength
in the cabinet of St. James, and all hopes of peace were at an end. The
English ministers now presented all kinds of obstacles in the way of peace,
and the embassadors at Paris conducting the negotiations soon demanded
their passports. "There can be no doubt," says H. B. Ireland, "but that
the hopes of a new war indulged by the English cabinet constituted the
basis of those objections. This rupture was hailed at the London Stock Ex
change with the most savage demonstrations of joy."
The death of Fox Napoleon ever deemed one of the greatest of calamities.
At St. Helena he said, " Half a dozen such men as Fox and Cornwallis would
be sufficient to establish the moral character of a nation.
" With such men I should always have agreed. We should soon have set
tled our differences, and not only France would have been at peace with a
nation at bottom worthy of esteem, but we should have done great things to-
* A friend writes to me, " Sir Henry Halford, who was physician to George IV., in one of his
essays ' On some of the Results of the Successful Practice of Physic,' refers to Dr. Jenner, and the
honor and influence which he acquired by the discovery of the protective effect of vaccination, and
says, ' It is true that Bonaparte, in the plenitude of his power, accorded their freedom from bond
age to no less than nine captives, severally, at the request of Dr. Jenner, a homage to the benevo
lent author of so important a discovery.' I will add only one query : Would George IV. or George
III. have done such magnanimous acts?"

1806.] JENA AND AUERSTADT. 503
gether." Again he said, " Fame had informed me of his talents. I found
that he possessed a noble character, a good heart, liberal, generous, and en
lightened views. I considered him an ornament to mankind, and was very
much attached to him. And again he remarked, " Certainly the death of
Fox was one of the fatalities of my career. Had his life been prolonged, af
fairs would have taken a totally different turn. The cause of the people
would have triumphed, and we should have established a new order of things
in Europe."*

CHAPTER XXXIII.

JENA AND AUERSTADT,

A new Coalition formed against France — Remarks in the Moniteur — The two antagonistic Forces
existing in Europe — Letter to the King of Prussia — Ascent of the Landgrafenberg — Perfidy of
Spain — Intercepted Dispatches — Battles of Jena and Auerstadt — Peril of the Prussian King —
Amazing Victory of Napoleon — Address to the Saxons — The Duchess of Weimar — Opinion of
Women — Sword of Frederick the Great — -Letters to Josephine.
And now England, Russia, and Prussia formed another coalition against
Napoleon. There was even no plausible pretext to be urged in extenuation
of the war. Napoleon was consecrating all his energies to the promotion of
the best interests of France. For the accomplishment of his noble purposes
he needed peace. In his vast conquests he had shown the most singular
moderation — a moderation which ought to have put England, Russia, and
Prussia to the blush. To the following remarks in the Moniteur — evidently
from the powerful pen of Napoleon — Europe could make no reply but by the
charges of her squadrons and by the broadsides of her fleets.
" Why should hostilities arise between France and Russia ? Perfectly in
dependent of each other, they are impotent to inflict evil, but all-powerful to
communicate benefits. If the Emperor of France exercises a great influence
in Italy, the Czar exerts a still greater influence over Turkey and Persia.
If the cabinet of Russia pretends to have a right to affix limits to the power
of France, without doubt it is equally disposed to allow the Emperor of the
French to prescribe the bounds beyond which Russia is not to pass. Russia
has partitioned Poland. Can she then complain that France possesses Bel
gium and the left banks of the Rhine ? Russia has seized upon Crimea, the
Caucasus, and the northern provinces of Persia. Can she deny that the
right of self-preservation gives France a title to demand an equivalent in Eu-
* " While Mr. Pitt lived," says Hazlitt, " war was certain ; his death offered a bare chance of
peace. He had long been the mouthpiece of the war party, and the darling of that part of the ar
istocracy who wished to subdue the popular spirit of English freedom to get the whole power of
the country into the hands of a few borough-mongers, and, of course, to crush and stifle the ex
ample and the rising flame of liberty every where else. Engaged in a quarrel that was never to
have an end, and for an object that was to be kept in the background, it wa's necessary to have a
set of plausible excuses always ready. If we were at war, it was for ' the existence of social order.
If we did not make peace, it was because ' existing circumstances did not permit us.'
" While Fox held the reins, hopes continued to be entertained of peace, and Bonaparte, with
Talleyrand to assist him, strained every nerve to urge it forward, but at his death things reverted
to their old and natural course."

504 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXIII.
rope ? Let every power begin by restoring the conquests which it has made
during the last fifty years. Let them re-establish Poland, restore Venice to
its Senate, Trinidad to Spain, Ceylon to Holland, the Crimea to the Porte,
the Caucasus and Georgia to Persia, the kingdom of Mysore to the sons of
Tippoo Saib, and the Mahratta States to their lawful owners, and then the
other powers may have some title to insist that France shall retire within
her ancient limits. It is the fashion to speak of the ambition of France.
Had she chosen to preserve her conquests, the half of Austria, the Venetian
States, the states of Holland and Switzerland, and the kingdom of Naples
would have been in her possession. The limits of France are, in reality, the
Adige and the Rhine. Has it passed either of these limits ? Had it fixed
on the Solza and the Drave, it would not have exceeded the bounds of its
conquest." When Napoleon was endeavoring to surround General Mack at Ulm, it
was absolutely essential to the success of his enterprise that he should send
a few battalions across the little state of Anspach, which belonged to Prus
sia. To Bernadotte, who had charge of this division, he wrote :
" You will traverse the territory of Anspach. Avoid resting there. Do
every thing in your power to conciliate the Prussians. Testify the greatest
possible regard for the interests of Prussia. In the mean time, pursue your
march with the utmost rapidity, alleging as an excuse the impossibility of
doing otherwise, which is really the fact."
At the same time, he dispatched the Grand Marshal Duroc to Berlin to ap
prise the King of Prussia of the critical situation in which he was placed by
an attack from so formidable an alliance, without any previous declaration
of war; to express his unfeigned regret at the necessity of marching some
troops over a portion of the Prussian territory ; and to excuse himself upon
the ground of absolute necessity alone. Though the king rather ungracious
ly accepted the apolog-v, the more warlike portion of the nation, headed by
their chivalric queen, loudly declared that this violation was an outrage which
could only be avenged by the sword. This was one of the grievances of
which Prussia now complained.
There were then, as now, in Europe two great antagonistic forces — the
Governors and the governed — the aristocracy and the people. The triumph
of Napoleon was the triumph of popular rights. Alexander, young, ambi
tious, and the monarch of the uncounted millions of Russia, was anxious to
wipe out the stain of Austerlitz. Prussia, proud of her past military glory,
and stimulated by an enthusiastic and romantic queen, resolved to measure
swords with the great conqueror. England, burdened with the grasp of two
hemispheres, reiterated her cry against "the insatiable ambition of Napo
leon." The armies of Prussia, nearly 200,000 strong, commenced their march
against France, and entered the heart of Saxony. Frederick William, the
King of Prussia, headed this army, and compelled the King of Saxony to
join the alliance. " Our cause," he said, " is the common cause of legiti
mate kings, and all such must aid in the enterprise." Alexander, having
aroused anew his barbarian legions, was hastening by forced marches over
the wilds of Poland. Two hundred thousand men were in his train, to join

1306.] JENA AND AUERSTADT. 505
the invading host in their march upon Paris. England, with her omnipres
ent and invincible fleet, was frowning along the shores of the Mediterranean
and of the Channel, raining down terrific blows upon every exposed point,
and striving, by her political influence and her gold, to unite new nations in
the formidable coalition.
With deep sorrow Napoleon beheld the rising of this new storm. He had
just completed an arduous campaign ; he had treated his enemies with sur
passing magnanimity, and had hoped that a permanent peace was secured.
But no sooner was one coalition destroyed than another was formed. His
energetic spirit, however, was not one to yield to despondency. Throwing
off the dejection which for an hour oppressed him, with all his wonted power
and genius he roused himself for the new conflict. He wrote to his brothers
in Naples and in Holland, saying,
" Give yourselves no uneasiness. The present struggle will be speedily
terminated. Prussia and her allies, be they who they may, will be crushed.
And this time I will settle finally with Europe. 1 will put it out of the power
of my enemies to stir for ten years."
He shut himself up for forty-eight hours- to form his plans and arrange the
details. He then for two days dictated, almost without intermission, nearly
two hundred letters.
All these letters are preserved. Through all time they will be admired as
models of the art of governing armies and empires. In six days the Impe
rial Guard were sent from Paris to the Rhine. They traveled by post sixty
miles a day. It was nearly midnight on the 24th of September, 1806, when
Napoleon, accompanied by Josephine, entered his carriage at the Tuileries
to join the army. As in the last contest, he knew not " why he fought, or
what was required of him." He communicated a parting message to the
Senate, in which he said :
" In so just a war, which we have not provoked by any act, by any pre
tense, the true cause of which it would be impossible to assign, and where
we only take arms to defend ourselves, we depend entirely upon the support
of the laws, and upon that of the people, whom circumstances call upon to
give fresh proofs of their devotion and courage."
In his first bulletin he wrote, " The Queen of Prussia is with the army,
dressed as an Amazon, bearing the uniform of her regiment of dragoons, writ
ing twenty letters a day to spread the conflagration in all directions. We
seem to behold Armida in her madness setting fire to her own palace. Af
ter her follow Prince Louis of Prussia, a prince full of bravery, hurried on
by the spirit of party, who flatters himself that he shall find great renown in
the vicissitudes of war. Following the example of these illustrious persons,
all the court cries ' To arms !' But when war shall have reached them with
all its horrors, all will seek to exculpate themselves from having been in
strumental in bringing its thunder to the peaceful plains of the north."
At Mayence Napoleon parted with Josephine. Her tears for a moment
overcame him, and he yielded to those emotions of tenderness which are an
honor to the heart. He headed his army, utterly bewildered the Prussians
by his maneuvers, and in a few days threw his whole force into their rear,
cutting them off from all their supplies and from all possibility of retreat.

506 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXIII.
He was now sure of a decisive victory ; yet, to arrest, if possible, the effusion
of blood, he humanely wrote as follows to the King of Prussia :
"I am now in the heart of Saxony. Believe me, my strength is such that
your forces can not long balance the victory. But wherefore shed so much
olood? To what purpose? Why should we make our subjects slay each
other ? I do not prize a victory which is purchased by the lives of so many
of my children. If I were just commencing my military career, and if I had
any reason to fear the chances of war, this language would be wholly mis
placed. Sire! your majesty will be vanquished. You will have compro
mised the repose of your life and the existence of your subjects without the
shadow of a pretext. At present you are uninjured, and may treat with me
in a manner conformable with your rank. Before a month has passed you
will treat, but in a different position. I am aware that I may, in thus writ
ing, irritate that sensibility which naturally belongs to every sovereign. But
circumstances demand that I should use no concealment. I implore your
majesty to view in this letter nothing but the desire I have to spare the effu
sion of human blood. Sire, my brother, I pray God that he may have you
in his w-orthy and holy keeping.
" Your majesty's good brother, Napoleon."
To this letter no reply was returned. It was given to a Prussian officer,
but it is said that the Emperor did not receive it until the morning of the
battle of Jena.
In two days, Napoleon, accompanying the advance guard of his army, met
the mighty host of the Prussians strongly fortified upon the fields of Jena
and Auerstadt. It was the evening of the thirteenth of October. A cloud
less sun, filling the western sky with splendor, dazzled the eye with brilliance
is its rays were reflected from the armor of one hundred thousand men.
Eighteen thousand superb cavalry, with their burnished helmets and proud
caparisons, were drawn up upon the plain. Three hundred pieces of heavy
artillery were concentrated in a battery, whose destructive power imagina
tion can hardly conceive. The advanced posts of the Prussians were sta
tioned upon the Landgrafenberg, a high and steep hill, whose summit was
deemed inaccessible to artillery. Napoleon immediately drove them from
1 he hill and took possession. From its brow the whole lines of the Prussian
army could be descried, extending for many leagues.
The plain of Auerstadt, tw-elve miles distant, was however lost from the
view. Napoleon was not aware that a strong division of the Prussian army
occupied that position. The shades of night came on. The blaze from the
Prussian fires, dispersed over a space of eighteen miles, threw a brilliant
glow over the whole heavens. Couriers were immediately dispatched to
hasten on with all possible speed the battalions of the French army for the
decisive battle which the morning sun was to usher in. Napoleon was his
own engineer in surmounting the difficulties of dragging the cannon to the
summit of the Landgrafenberg. To encourage the men to herculean toil,
Napoleon, by the light of the lantern, worked with his own hands in blast
ing the rocks and smoothing the way. With incredible enthusiasm, the sue-

1806.] JENA AND AUERSTADT. 507
cessive divisions of the French as they arrived engaged in overcoming those
obstacles which to the Prussians had appeared absolutely insurmountable.
Napoleon, having prepared the way, and aided in dragging one gun to the
summit, left his troops to do the rest. Through the long night they toiled
unceasino-ly, and before the morning dawned a formidable battery was brist
ling from the heights.

m^^S^

1

WmMf

ASCENT OF THE LANDGRAFENBERG.
, As battalion after battalion arrived in the darkness, they took the positions
designated by their experienced chieftain, and threw themselves upon the
ground for sleep. Soult and Ney received orders to march all night, to be
prepared to arrest the retreat of the Prussians. Napoleon, having thus made
all his arrangements for the terrific conflict of the ensuing day, retired to his

508

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XXXIII.

tent about midnight, and calmly sat down to draw up a plan of study and of
discipline for Madame Campan's Female School*
Nothing can more strikingly show than this the peculiar organization of
this most extraordinary mind. There was no affectation in this effort. He
could, at any time, turn from one subject, however momentous that might
be, and consecrate all his energies to another, untroubled by a wandering
thought. All that he did for the internal improvement of France, he was
compelled to do in moments thus snatched from the toils of war. Combined
Europe would never allow him to lay aside the sword. "France," said
Napoleon, "needs nothing so much to promote her regeneration as good
mothers." His heart was deeply interested in promoting the prosperity and
happiness of France. To the sanguinary scenes of Jena and Auerstadt he
was reluctantly driven by the attacks of foes, who denounced him as a
usurper, and threatened to hurl him from his throne.

£?iai£Z^^\&7*<ili i,^, V^J.— ;tP I

JENA AND AUERSTADT.

It was midnight. A girdle of flame, rising from the innumerable watch-
fires of the Prussian hosts, blazed along the horizon as far as the eye could
extend, almost encircling the troops of the Emperor. The cold winds of
approaching winter swept the bleak summit of the Landgrafenberg. Wrap
ped in his cloak, he had thrown himself upon the ground, to share for an
hour the frigid bivouac of his soldiers. He was far from home. The fate
of his empire depended perhaps upon the struggle of the ensuing day. En
gland, Russia, Prussia, tbe three most powerful monarchies upon the globe,
were banded against him. If defeated on the morrow, Austria, Sweden, and
all the minor monarchies would fall upon the Republican Emperor, and secure
his utter destruction.
In that gloomy hour, intercepted dispatches of the utmost importance were
* Count Pelet de Lozerne assigns this event to the eve of the battle of Austerlitz. In either
case, it alike illustrates a well-known peculiarity in the character of Napoleon.

1806.] JENA AND AUERSTADT. 509
placed in the hands of Napoleon. He roused himself from his slumber, and
read them by the light of the camp-fire. The Bourbons of Spain, admon
ished by the defeat of Trafalgar, had decided that England would be for
them a safer ally than France. While professing cordial friendship for Na
poleon, they were entering into secret alliance with England. Taking ad
vantage of Napoleon's absence from France, and trusting that he would en
counter defeat far away in the heart of Prussia, they were treacherously pre
paring to cross the Pyrenees, and, in alliance with England, to attack him in
his rear. Napoleon certainly was not one of the meekest of men. The
perusal of these documents convinced him that he could enjoy no security
while the Bourbons sat upon the throne of Spain. They would avail them
selves of every opportunity to attack him in the dark. As he folded up these
proofs of their perfidy, he calmly remarked, " The Bourbons of Spain shall
be replaced by princes of my own family." From that hour the doom of the
Spanish house of Bourbon was sealed.
Napoleon wrapped himself again in his cloak, threw himself upon the
ground with his feet toward the fire, and slept as serenely as if he were re
posing upon the imperial Couch of St. Cloud.
At about four o'clock in the morning he was again on horseback. A dense
fog enveloped the plains, shrouding with impenetrable obscurity the sleep
ing hosts. Under cover of the darkness and the thick vapor, the French
army was ranged in battle array. Enthusiastic shouts of " Vive l'Empereur !"
greeted Napoleon as he rode along their lines. The soldiers, benumbed with
cold, and shivering in their ranks, waited impatiently two hours for the sig
nal of attack. At six o'clock the order to advance was given. In solid col
umns, through the gray mist of the morning, the French pierced the Prussian
lines in every direction.
Then ensued a scene of horror which no pen can describe, which no im
agination can conceive. For eight hours the battle raged as if demon with
demon contended — the soldiers of Napoleon and the marshaled host trained
in the school of Frederick the Great ! It was indeed " Greek meeting
Greek." The ground was covered with the slain. The shrieks of the
wounded, trampled beneath the hoofs of charging cavalry, the shout of onset,
as the pursuers cut down and rode over the pursued, rose in hideous clamor
even above the ceaseless thunders of the battle. The victory wavered to
and fro. About midday the Prussian general felt that the victory was his.
He dispatched an order to one of his generals,
" Send all the force you can to the chief point of attack. At this moment
we beat the enemy at all points. My cavalry has captured some of his can
non." A few hours later he sent the following almost frantic dispatch to his
reserve :
" Lose not a moment in advancing with your yet unbroken troops. Ar
range your columns so that through their openings there may pass the broken
bands of the battle. Be ready to receive the charges of the enemy's cavalry,
which in the most furious manner rides on, overwhelms, and sabres the fugi
tives, and has driven into one confused mass the infantry, cavalry, and ar
tillery." In the midst of this appalling scene, so graphically described, the Prussian

>10

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XXXIII.

reserve, twenty thousand strong, with firm tread and unbroken front, emerged
through the cloud of fugitives to stem the awful torrent. For a moment they
seemed to restore the battle. Napoleon stood upon the summit of the Land
grafenberg, calm, serene, passionless, watching every portion of the extended
field, and guiding the terrific elements of destruction. The Imperial Guard,
held in reserve, waited hour after hour, looking upon the carnage before them,
burning with intense zeal to share in the conflict. At last a young soldier.
in the excess of his almost delirious excitement, shouted, " Forward, for
ward !" " How now?" exclaimed Napoleon, sternly, as he turned his eye to
ward him. " What beardless boy is this, who ventures to counsel his Em
peror ? Let him wait till he has commanded in thirty pitched battles before
he.proffers his advice !"

NAPOLEON AND HIS GUARD.

It was now nearly four o'clock in the afternoon. Napoleon saw that the
decisive moment had arrived. He ordered Murat, with twelve thousand
horse, fresh and in the finest array, to charge the bewildered, wavering, bleed
ing host, and complete the victory. The clatter of iron hoofs was heard
resounding like the roar of an earthquake as this terrible and irresistible
mass swept with overwhelming destruction upon the plain. The work was
done. The Prussian army was destroyed. Humanity vails her weeping
eyes from the appalling scene which ensued. It was no longer a battle, but
a massacre. All order was lost, as the whole army, like an inundation,
rushed from the field. The batteries of Napoleon plowed their ranks in
every direction. The musketry of Napoleon's solid columns pierced them
through and through with a pitiless storm of bullets. Twelve thousand
horsemen, mounted on powerful and unwearied steeds, rode over and tram
pled down the confused mass, and their sabres dripped with blood. The

1806.

JENA AND AUERSTADT.

511

wretched victims of war, in their frantic attempts to escape, found their re
treat every where cut off by the terrible genius of the conqueror. They
were headed here and there, and driven back upon themselves in refluent
waves of blood and destruction.

s minor, ScFA'l

CAVALRY CHARGE.

While this scene was transpiring upon the plains of Jena, the Prussians
were encountering a similar disaster upon the field of Auerstadt, but twelve
miles distant. As the fugitives of both armies met in their flight and were
entangled in the crowded roads, while bullets, and grape-shot, and cannon-
balls, and bomb-shells were falling like hailstones and thunderbolts upon
them, consternation unutterable seized all hearts. In wild dismay they dis-

512 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXIII.
banded, and, throwing down their arms and forsaking their guns, their horses,
and their ammunition wagons, they fled, a rabble rout, across the fields, with
out direction and without a rallying point. But Murat, with his twelve
thousand horsemen, was in the midst of them, and their mangled corpses
strewed the plain.
Darkness came. It brought no relief to the vanquished. The pitiless
pursuit was uninterrupted. Not one moment was allowed the foe to rally
or to rest. In every direction the fugitives found the divisions of Napoleon
before them. The king himself narrowly escaped being taken prisoner dur
ing the tumult and the horror of that disastrous rout. He had fled in the
midst of the wreck of his army from the field of Auerstadt. Accompanied
by a few companions on horseback, he leaped hedges and fences, and, in the
gloom of night, plunged through field and forest. It was five o'clock in the
morning before he succeeded, by circuitous routes and through by-paths, in
reaching a place of safety.
The Prussians lost, during this disastrous day, twenty thousand in killed
and wounded, and twenty thousand were taken prisoners. Napoleon, ac
cording to his custom, having dispatched his various generals in pursuit of
the vanquished, passed most of the night upon the field of battle, personally
superintending the care of the wounded. With his own hand he held the
cup of water to their lips, and soothed their dying agonies with his sympathy.
With his iron firmness he united a heart of great tenderness No possible
efforts were spared to promote their comfort. He sent Duroc in the morn
ing to the crowded hospitals of Jena, to convey his sympathy to every man
individually of the wounded there, to distribute money to those who needed
it, and to assure all of munificent rewards. As the letter of the Emperor
was read to these unfortunate men, forgetting their sufferings, they shouted
" Vive l'Empereur !" Mangled and bleeding, they expressed the desire to
recover that they might again devote their lives to him.
Napoleon, with his accustomed magnanimity, ever attributing great praise
to his officers and soldiers, most signally rewarded Davoust for his heroism
at Auerstadt. In his official account of the battle, he stated,
" On our right the corps of Marshal Davoust performed prodigies. Not
only did he keep the enemy in check, but pursued the bulk of his forces over
a space of three leagues. That marshal has displayed alike the distinguish
ed bravery and firmness of character which are the first qualities of a soldier."
For his dauntless intrepidity on this occasion he created him Duke of
Auerstadt. To honor him still more, he appointed him to enter first the
Prussian capital, thus giving him precedence in the sight of the whole army.
Two weeks afterward he called his officers around him, and addressed them
in the highest terms of respect and admiration. Davoust stepped forward
and said, " Sire ! the soldiers of the third corps will always be to you what
the tenth legion was to Caesar."
Immediately Napoleon took measures for following up his victory with
that activity and skill which no other captain has ever equaled. In less than
fourteen days every remnant of the Prussian army was taken, and all the
fortresses of Prussia were in the hands of the French. The fugitive king,
with a few companions, had fled to the confines of Russia, there to .await the

1806.] JENA AND AUERSTADT. 513
approach of the armies of Alexander. Prussia was struck as by a thunder
bolt. Never before in the history of the world was such a power so speed
ily and so utterly annihilated. It was but one month after Napoleon had left
Paris, and the work was all done — an army of two hundred thousand men
killed, taken prisoners, or dispersed — innumerable fortresses, which had been
deemed impregnable, and upon which had been lavished the wealth of ages,
had been compelled to capitulate, and Napoleon was reposing at Berlin in
the palace of the Prussian king. Europe heard the tidings with amazement
and dismay. It seemed more like the unnatural fiction of an Arabian tale
than like historic verity. " In assailing this man," said the Emperor Alex
ander, "we are but children attacking a giant."
The King of Saxony had been compelled to join Prussia against France.
In these wars of Europe, sad is the fate of the minor powers. They must
unite with one party or the other. Napoleon had taken a large number of
Saxon prisoners. The day after the great battle of Jena, he assembled the
captive officers in one of the halls of the University at Jena. In frank and
conciliating words, he thus addressed them :
" I know not why I am at war with your sovereign. He is a wise, pacific
prince, deserving of respect. I wish to see your country rescued from its
humiliating dependence upon Prussia. Why should the Saxons and the
French, with no motives for hostility, fight against each other ? I am ready,
on my part, to give a pledge of my amicable disposition by setting you all
at liberty, and by sparing Saxony. All I require of you is your promise no
more to bear arms against France-"
The Saxon officers were seized with admiration as they listened to a prop
osition so friendly and generous from the lips of this extraordinary man. By
acclamation they bound themselves to serve against him no more. They
set out for Dresden, declaring that in three days they would brings back the
friendship of their sovereign.
The Elector of Hesse was one of the vilest of men, and one of the most
absolute and unrelenting of despots. He had an army of 32,000 men. He
had done every thing in his power to provoke the war, and was devoted to
the English, by whom he was despised. Alexander, with nearly 200,000
chosen troops, was pressing down through the plains of Poland, to try his
strength again with the armies of France. Napoleon resolved to meet the
Czar at the half way. It was not safe for him to leave in his rear so form
idable a force in the hands of this treacherous prince. Marshal Mortier
was charged to declare that the Elector of Hesse had ceased to reign, to
take possession of his dominions in the name of France, and to disband his
army. The Grand Duke of Weimar had command of a division of the Prussian
army. His wife was sister of the Emperor Alexander. She had contributed
all her influence to instigate the war. Napoleon entered Weimar. It was
a refined and intellectual city, the Athens of modern Germany, and honored
by the residence of Goethe, Schiller, and Wieland. Contending armies, in
frightful clamor and carnage, had surged through its streets, as pursuers and
pursued had rushed pell-mell in at its gates from the dreadful fields of Jena
and Auerstadt. The houses were pierced and shattered by shells and balls,
Vol. I.— K k

514 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXIII.
and the pavements were slippery with blood. The Grand Duchess, greatly
agitated, approached Napoleon to implore his clemency.
"You now see, madame," Napoleon coolly replied, "what war is."
This was his only vengeance. He treated his female foe with the great
est courtesy, expressed no displeasure at the conduct of her husband, and
ordered especial attention to be paid to the wounded Prussians with which
the city was filled. He munificently rewarded a Catholic priest for his un
wearied attentions to the bleeding Prussians.
On the 28th of October Napoleon made a triumphal entry into Berlin, and
established himself in the king's palace. Prussia had provoked the war. By
the right of conquest, Prussia now belonged to Napoleon. With character
istic delicacy, he would allow no one to occupy the private apartments of the
queen. She had fled in the utmost haste, leaving all her letters and the mys
teries of a lady's boudoir exposed. He, however, in his bulletins, spoke with
great severity of the queen. She had exerted all her powers to rouse the
nation to war. On horseback, she placed herself at the head of the troops,
and fanned to the highest pitch, by her beauty, her talents, and her lofty
spirit, the flame of military enthusiasm. His sarcasms on queens who med
dle in affairs of state, and who, by their ignorance, expose their husbands to
frightful disasters, and their country to the horrible ravages of war, were
generally thought ungenerous toward one so utterly prostrate. Napoleon,
indignant in view of the terrible scene of carnage and woe which her vanity
had caused, reproached her in one of his bulletins without mercy. Jose
phine, in the kindness of her heart, wrote to him in terms of remonstrance.
Napoleon thus replied : "Nov 6, 1806, 9 o'clock P.M.
" I have received your letter, in which, it seems, you reproach me for
speaking ill of women. True it is, that above all things I dislike female in
triguers. I have been accustomed to kind, gentle, conciliatory women
Such I love, and if they have spoiled me, it is not my fault, but yours. How
ever, you will see that I have acted indulgently toward one sensible and de
serving woman. I allude to Madame Hatzfeld. Wrhen I showed her her
husband's letter, she burst into tears ; and in a tone of the most exquisite
grief and candor, exclaimed, ' It is indeed his writing !' This was too much.
It went to my heart. I said, 'Well, madame, throw the letter into the fire,
and then I shall have no proof against your husband.' She burned the let
ter, and was restored to happiness. Her husband is now safe. Two hours
later, and he would have been lost. You see, therefore, that I like women
who are feminine, unaffected, and amiable, for they alone resemble you.
Adieu, my love. I am very well. Napoleon."
The occurrence to which Napoleon refers was this. The Prince of Hatz
feld was governor of Berlin. He had surrendered the city to Napoleon, and
promised submission. An intercepted letter proved that he, under cover of
this assumed friendship, was acting as a spy, and communicating to the King
of Prussia every thing of importance that was transpiring in Berlin. He had
given his oath that he would attempt nothing against the French army, and
would attend solely to the quiet, safety, and welfare of the capital. The

1806.] JENA AND AUERSTADT. 515
prince was arrested, and ordered to appear before a court-martial. In two
hours he would have been shot.
His wife, in a delirium of terror, threw herself in tears before Napoleon,
as he alighted from his horse at the gate of the palace. Napoleon was a
tender-hearted man. " I never," said he, " could resist a woman's tears."
Deeply touched by her distress, he conducted her to an apartment. A hot
fire was glowing in the grate. Napoleon took the intercepted letter, and,
handing it to her, said, " Madame, is not that the handwriting of your hus
band ?" Trembling and confounded, she confessed that it was. " It is now
in your hands," said Napoleon ; "throw it into the fire, and there will no
longer remain any evidence against him." The lady, half dead with confu
sion and terror, knew not what to do. Napoleon took the paper and placed
it upon the fire. As it disappeared in smoke and flame, he said to the prin
cess, "Your husband is how safe. There is no proof left which can lead to
his conviction." This act of clemency has ever been regarded as a signal
evidence of the goodness of Napoleon's heart. The safety of his army
seemed to require that something should be done to intimidate the magis
trates of the several towns, who were also revealing the secrets of his opera
tions to the enemy.
Napoleon went to Potsdam to visit the tomb of Frederick the Great, where
the Emperor of Austria and the King of Prussia had, but a year before, taken
their solemn and romantic oath. He seemed deeply impressed with solem
nity as he stood by the remains of this man of heroic energy and of iron
soul. For a time not a word was uttered. The sword of the Prussian mon
arch was suspended there. Napoleon took it down, examined it very care
fully, and then turning thoughtfully to General Rapp, said,
" Did you know that the Spanish embassador presented me with the sword
of Francis I. ? The Persian embassador also gave me a sabre which be
longed to Gengis-Khan. I would not exchange this sword of Frederick for
four millions of dollars. I will send it to the governor of the Invalides. The
old soldiers there will regard with religious reverence a trophy which has be
longed to the most illustrious captain of whom history makes any mention."
General Rapp ventured to reply, " Were I in your place, I should not be
willing to part with this sword. I should keep it for myself."
Napoleon glanced at his aid a very peculiar look, half reproachful, half
comical, and gently pinching his ear, said, "Have I not then a sword of my
own, Mr. Giver of Advice ?"
In 1757, the armies of France had been signally defeated upon the plain
of Rosbach by the Prussians. The Prussian government had erected a
monument commemorative of the victory. Napoleon, passing over the field,
turned from his course to see the monument. To his surprise, he found it a
very insignificant affair. The inscription on the soft stone had been entirely
effaced by the weather. The obelisk was hardly more imposing than a
French milestone. In perfect silence, he contemplated it for some time,
walking slowly around it, his arms folded upon his breast, and then said,
"This is contemptible — this is contemptible." Just then a division of the
army made its appearance. " Take that stone," said he, to a company of
sappers, " place it upon a cart, and send it to Paris. It will require but a mo-

516

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XXXIII.

.NAPOLEON AT THE TOMB OF FREDERICK THE GREAT.

ment to remove it." Then mounting his horse, he galloped away. Foi
both of these acts Napoleon has been severely censured. It is not an easy
question to decide what are the lawful trophies of war.
When Napoleon left the capital of Austria, on his return to France aftei
the campaign of Austerlitz, he thus addressed the citizens of Vienna in a
final adieu: "In leaving you, receive, as a present, evincing my esteem,
your arsenal complete, which the laws of war had rendered my property.
Use it in the maintenance of order. You must attribute all the ills you have
suffered to the mishaps inseparable from war. All the improvements which
my army may have brought into your country yrou owe to the esteem which
you have merited."
Napoleon, in a month, had overturned the Prussian monarchy, destroyed
its armies, and conquered its territory. The cabinets and the aristocracies
of Europe were overwhelmed with consternation. Napoleon, the child of
the Revolution, and the propagator of the doctrine of equal rights to prince
and peasant, was humbling into the dust the proudest monarchies. Every
private soldier in the French army felt that all the avenues of wealth, of in
fluence, of rank wrere open before him. This thought nerved his arm and

1806.] JENA AND AUERSTADT. 517
inspired his heart. France had imbibed the unalterable conviction, which it
retains to the present day, that Napoleon was the great friend of the people,
their advocate and the firm defender of their rights. After the battle of
Jena, Napoleon issued a glowing proclamation to the army, in which he ex
tolled in the loftiest terms their heroism, their intrepidity, and their endur
ance of the most exhausting fatigue. He concluded in the following words :
" Soldiers ! I love you with the same intensity of affection which you have
ever manifested toward me."
Lannes, in a dispatch to the Emperor, wrote, "Yesterday I read your
majesty's proclamation at the head of the troops. The concluding words
deeply touched the hearts of the soldiers. It is impossible for me to tell
your majesty how much you are beloved by these brave men. In truth, nev
er was lover so fond of his mistress as they are of your person."
The Prussians were fully aware of the tremendous power with which the
principles of equality invested the French soldier. One of the Prussian offi
cers wrote to his family, in a letter which was intercepted, " The French, in
the fire, become supernatural beings. They are urged on by an inexpressi
ble ardor, not a trace of which is to be discovered in our soldiers. What
can be done with peasants who are led into battle by nobles, to encounter
every peril, and yet to have no share in the honors or rewards ?"
The King of Prussia himself, while a fugitive in those wilds of Poland
which, in banditti alliance with Russia and Austria, he had infamously an
nexed to his kingdom, found that he could not contend successfully with
France without introducing equality in the ranks of his army also. Thus
liberal ideas were propagated wherever the armies of Napoleon appeared.
In every country in Europe, the Emperor of France was regarded by demo
crat and aristocrat alike as the friend of the people.
During these stormy scenes, Napoleon, in the heart of Prussia, conceived
the design of erecting the magnificent temple of the Madeleine. It was to
be a memorial of the gratitude of the Emperor, and was to bear upon its
front the inscription, " The Emperor Napoleon to the Soldiers of the Great
Army." On marble tablets there were to be inscribed the names of all the
officers, and of every soldier who had been present at the great events of
Ulm, Austerlitz, and Jena. The names of those who had fallen in those
battles wrere to be inscribed upon tablets of gold.
To the Minister of the Interior he wrote from Posen, dated December 6,
1806 : " Literature has need of encouragement. Propose to me some means
for giving an impulse to all the different branches of belles-lettres which have
in all times shed lustre upon the nation."
In the midst of the enormous cares of this extraordinary campaign, Napo
leon found time to write, almost every day, a few lines to Josephine. A few
of these letters will be read with interest : " Bamberg, Oct. 7, 1806
" I set out this evening, love, for Cronach. My army is in full march.
Everything is prosperous. My health is perfect. I have received but one
letter from you. I have received one from Eugene and Hortense. Adieu.
A thousand kisses, and good health. Napoleon."

518 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXIII.
" Gera, Oct. 13, 2 o'clock in the morning.
"I am at Gera, my dear friend. My affairs are prosperous — every thino-
as I could wish. In a few days, with the aid of God, matters will take, I
think, a terrible turn for the poor King of Prussia. I pity him, personally,
for he is a worthy man. The queen is at Erfurt with the king. If she wish
es to see a battle, she will have that cruel pleasure. I am very well. I
have gained flesh since my departure ; nevertheless, I travel every day from
sixty to seventy -five miles, on horseback, in carriages, and in every other
way. I retire at eight o'clock, and rise at midnight. I often think that you
have not yet retired. Wholly thine, Napoleon."'
" Jena, Oct. 15, 3 o'clock in the morning.
" My love ! I have maneuvered successfully against the Prussians. Yes
terday I gained a great victory. There were 150,000 men. I have taken
20,000 prisoners ; also 100 pieces of cannon, and many flags. I was near
the King of Prussia, and just failed taking him and the queen. For two
days and nights I have been in the field. I am wonderfully well. Adieu,
my love ! Take care of yourself, and love me. If Hortense is with you,
give her a kiss, as also one to Napoleon, and to the little one.
" Napoleon."
" Weimar, Oct. 16, 5 o'clock in the evening.
" M. Talleyrand will show you the bulletin, my dear friend. You will
there see my success. Every thing has transpired as I had calculated.
Never was an army more effectually beaten and more entirely destroyed. I
have only time to say that I am well, and that I grow fat upon fatigue, bi
vouacs, and sleeplessness. Adieu, my dear friend. A thousand loving
words to Hortense, and to the grand Monsieur Napoleon. Wholly thine,
"Napoleon."
" Nov. 1, 2 o'clock in the morning.
" Talleyrand has arrived, and tells me, my love, that you do nothing but
weep. What do you wish, then ? You have your daughter, grandchildren,
and good news. Surely this is enough to make one contented and happy,
The weather is superb. Not a drop of rain has yet fallen during the cam
paign. I am very well, and every thing is prosperous. Adieu, my love ! I
have received a letter from Monsieur Napoleon. I think Hortense must
have written it. A thousand kind things to all. Napoleon."
The little Napoleon to whom the Emperor so often alludes was the eldest
son of Louis and Hortense, and brother of the present Emperor of France.
He was an unusually bright and promising boy, and a great favorite of his
illustrious grandfather. Napoleon had decided to adopt him as his heir, and
all thoughts of divorce were now laid aside.

1806.] THE FIELD OF EYLAU. 519

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE FIELD OF EYLAU.

Unavailing Appeal of Napoleon — Paper Blockade — Report of the French Minister — The Berlin
Decree — Retaliatory Measures of France and England — Testimony of Alison — Proclamation to
the desponding Soldiers — Message to the Senate — Petitions of the Poles — Embarrassing Situa
tion of Napoleon — Encampment on the Vistula — Care for the Soldiers — Battle of Eylau — The
old Grenadier — Touching Anecdotes — Letters to Josephine.
On the fields of Jena and Auerstadt the Prussian monarchy was destroy
ed. Frederick William had nothing left but a remote province of his empire.
To this he had escaped a fugitive. From the utter wreck of his armies he
had gathered around him a few thousand men. It was with extreme regret
that Napoleon had found himself compelled to leave the congenial scenes
of peaceful life in Paris to repel the assault of his banded foes. Had he
remained in France until Russia, Prussia, and England had combined their
multitudinous hosts, he would have been undone. With his accustomed en
ergy, he sprang upon Prussia before Alexander had time, with his hundred
thousand troops, to traverse the vast plains between St. Petersburg and Ber
lin. By the most extraordinary skill in maneuvering, and in the endurance
of fatigue and toil almost superhuman, he threw his whole force into the rear
of the Prussians. He thus cut them off from Berlin and from all their sup
plies. Then, sure of victory, to save the effusion of blood he again implored
peace. His appeal was unavailing. The roar of battle commenced, and the
armies of Prussia were overwhelmed, crushed, annihilated. As soon as the
terrific scene was over, Napoleon quietly established himself in the palaces
of the Prussian monarch. The kingdom was entirely at his mercy. He
then sent Duroc to find Frederick William, again to propose the sheathing
of the sword.
The unhappy king was found more than five hundred miles from his cap
ital. He was far away beyond the Vistula, in the wilds of Prussian Poland.
He had gathered around him about twenty-five thousand men, the shattered
remnants of those hardy battalions whom Frederick the Great had trained
to despise fatigue, dangers, and death. The Russian host, amazed at the
sudden catastrophe which had overwhelmed its ally, threw open its arms to
receive the fugitive king. Frederick, animated by the presence of the proud
legions of Alexander, and conscious that the innumerable hordes of Russia
were pledged for his support, still hoped to retrieve his affairs. Perempto
rily he repelled the advance of Napoleon, resolving, with renewed energy,
again to appeal to the decisions of the sword.
Nothing now remained for Napoleon but resolutely to meet the accumu
lating hostility which still threatened him. Frederick, from the remote prov
inces of his empire, was endeavoring to resuscitate his army. Alexander,
thoroughly aroused, was calling into requisition all the resources of his al
most illimitable realms. He hoped to collect a force which would utterly

520 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXIV
overwhelm the audacious victor. England, with her invincible navy proud
ly sweeping all seas, was landing at Dantzic and Kbnigsberg troops, treas
ure, and munitions of war. The storms of winter had already come. Na
poleon was a thousand miles from the frontiers of France. His foes were
encamped several hundred miles further north, amid the gloomy forests and
the snow-clad hills of Poland. During the winter they would have time to
accumulate their combined strength, and to fall upon him, in the spring, w-ith
overwhelming numbers.
England, exasperated and alarmed by this amazing triumph of Napoleon,
now adopted a measure which has been condemned by the unanimous voice
of the civilized world as a grievous infringement of the rights of nations.
It is an admitted principle, that when two powers are at war, every neutral
power has a right to sail from the ports of one to the ports of the other, and
to carry any merchandise whatever, excepting arms and military supplies.
Either of the contending parties has, however, the right to blockade any
port or ports by a naval force sufficient to preclude an entrance. England,
however, having the undisputed command of the seas, adopted what has been
called a paper blockade. She forbade all nations to have any commercial
intercourse whatever with France or her allies. She had also established
it as a maritime law, that all private property found afloat, belonging to an
enemy, was to be seized, and that peaceful passengers captured upon the
ocean were to be made prisoners of war. The French Minister for Foreign
Affairs made a very able report to the government upon this subject, which
was concluded in the following words :
"The natural right of self-defense permits us to oppose an enemy with
the same arms he uses, and to make his own rage and folly recoil upon him
self. Since England has ventured to declare all France in a state of block
ade, let France, in her turn, declare that the British isles are blockaded.
Since England considers every Frenchman an enemy, let all Englishmen, in
the countries occupied by the French armies, be made prisoners of war.
Since England seizes trie private property of peaceable merchants, let the
property of all Englishmen be confiscated. Since England desires to impede
all commerce, let no ships from the British isles be received into the French
ports. As soon as England shall admit the authority of the law of nations
universally observed by civilized countries ; as soon as she shall acknowl
edge that the laws of war are the same by sea and land ; that the right of
conquest can not be extended either to private property or to unarmed and
peaceable individuals ; and that the right of blockade ought to be limited
to fortified places, your majesty will cause these rigorous but not unjust
measures to cease, for justice between nations is nothing but exact reci
procity." In accordance with these principles, thus avowed to the world, Napoleon
issued his famous ordinance, called, from the city at which it was dated, The
Berlin Decree.* He declared, in his turn, the British islands blockaded, all
" The following is a copy of this celebrated document :
In our Imperial Camp, Berlin, Nov. 26, 1806,
Napoleon, Emperor of the French and King of Italy, considering,
1. That England regards not the law of nations, recognized by all civilized states;

1806.] THE FIELD OF EYLAU. 521
English property found upon the Continent confiscated, all Englishmen,
wherever taken, prisoners, and excluded all English manufactures from the
2. That she holds for an enemy every individual belonging to a hostile power, and makes prison
ers of war not only the crews of armed vessels, but the crews of trading ships, and even captures
merchants traveling on account of commercial business ;
3. That she extends to merchantmen, and to the property of individuals, the right of conquest,
which is only applicable to what belongs to the hostile state ;
4. That she extends to commercial towns and to ports not fortified, to havens and to the mouths
of rivers, the right of blockade, which, according to the practice of civilized nations, only is appli
cable to fortified places ;
5. That she declares blockaded places before which she has not even a single ship of war, though
no place is blockaded until it is so invested that it can not be approached without imminent danger ;
6 That she even declares in a state of blockade places which her whole force united would be
unable to blockade, the entire coast of an empire ;
7. That this monstrous abuse of the right of blockade has no other object than to prevent com
munications between different countries, and to raise the trade and the manufactures of England
upon the ruin of the industry of the Continent ;
8. That such being evidently the object of England, whoever deals in English merchandise on
the Continent thereby favors her designs and becomes her accomplice ;
9. That this conduct on the part of England, which is worthy of the early ages of barbarism,
has operated to the advantage of that power and to the injury of others ;
10. That it is a part of natural law to oppose one's enemies with the arms he employs, and to
fight in the way he fights, when he disavows all those ideas of justice and all those liberal senti
ments which are the results of social civilization ;
We have resolved to apply to England the measures which she has sanctioned by her maritime
legislation. The enactments of the present decree shall be invariably considered as a fundamental principle
of the Empire until such time as England acknowledge that the law of war is one and the same
by land and by sea ; that it can not be extended to private property of any description whatsoever.
nor to the persons of individuals not belonging to the profession of arms, and that the law of
blockade ought to be limited to fortified places actually invested by competent forces.
Accordingly, we have decreed and do decree as follows :
1. The British islands are declared in a state of blockade.
2. All trade and intercourse with the British islands is prohibited. Consequently, letters or
packets addressed to England, or to any native of England, or written in the English" language,
will not be conveyed by post, and will be seized.
3. Every native of England, whatever his rank or condition, who may be found in the countries
occupied by our troops or by those of our allies, shall be made prisoner of war.
4. Every warehouse, and all merchandise and property of any description whatever, belonging
to an English subject, or the produce of English manufactures or colonies, is declared good prize.
5. Trade in English merchandise is prohibited ; and all merchandise belonging to England, or
the produce of her manufactures and colonies, is declared good prize.
6. One half of the produce of the confiscation of the merchandise and property declared good
prize by the preceding articles, will be appropriated to the indemnification of the merchants for
losses they have sustained through the capture of trading vessels by English cruisers.
7. No vessel, coming directly from England or her colonies, or having been there since the pub
lication of the present decree, will be received in any port.
8. Any vessel which, by means of a false delaration, shall contravene the above article, shall be
seized, and the ship and cargo shall be confiscated, as if they were English property.
9. Our prize-court of Paris shall pronounce final judgment in all disputes that may arise in our
empire, or the countries occupied by the French army, relative to the execution of the present de
cree. Our prize-court of Milan shall pronounce final judgment in all the said disputes that may
arise throughout our kingdom of Italy.
10. Our minister for foreign affairs will communicate the present decree to the Kings of Spain,
Naples, Holland, and Etruria, and to our other allies, whose subjects, like our own, are suffering
from the injustice and barbarism of the maritime legislation of England.
11. Our ministers for foreign affairs, war, marine, finance, and police, and our postmasters gen
eral, are directed, according as they are severally concerned, to carry the present decree into exe
cution. (Signed) Napoleon.

522 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXIV.
ports of France and her allies. This retaliatory measure has been admired
by some as a profound stroke of policy ; by others it has been denounced
as a revolting act of despotism. It certainly was not presenting the other
cheek. It was returning blow for blow. By thus excluding all English
goods from the Continent, Napoleon hoped to be able soon to render the
Continent independent of the factories and the work-shops of the wealthy
islanders. France owes to this decree the introduction of sugar from the
beet root.
" I found myself alone," says Napoleon, " in my opinion on the Continent.
I was compelled, for the moment, to employ force in every quarter. At
length they began to comprehend me. Already the tree bears fruit. If I
had not given way, I should have changed the face of commerce as well as
the path of industry. I had naturalized sugar and indigo. I should have
naturalized cotton and many other things."
Two days after the publication of the Berlin decree, Napoleon wrote to
Junot, "Take especial care that the ladies of your establishment use Swiss
tea. It is as good as that of China. Coffee made from chicory is not at
all inferior to that of Arabia. Let them make use of these substitutes in
their drawing-rooms, instead of amusing themselves with talking politics like
Madame de Stael. Let them take care also that no part of their dress is
composed of English merchandise. If the wives of my chief officers do not
set the example, whom can I expect to follow it ? It is a contest of life or
death between France and England. I must look for the most cordial sup
port in all those by whom I am surrounded."
In reference to the unrelenting hostility with which Napoleon was assailed
nearly every moment of his life, he often remarked, "I can not' do what I wish.
I can only do what I can. These English compel me to live day by day."
The French Directory, on the 18th of January, 1798, had iniquitously
passed a decree declaring all ships containing English merchandise good
prizes, and dooming to death all neutral sailors found on board English ships.
This was one of the acts of that anarchical government which Napoleon
overthrew. " Napoleon," says Alison, " soon after his accession to the consular throne,
issued a decree revoking this, and reverting to the old and humane laws of
the monarchy in this respect." This decree of Napoleon was surely an act
of conciliation and friendship.
On the 16th of May, 1806, the British government passed an order de
claring "the whole coasts, harbors, and rivers, from the Elbe to Brest in
clusive, as actually blockaded." To this order in council Napoleon replied
by the Berlin decree of November 26, 1806.
England then passed another act, still more arrogant and oppressive, on
the 1st of January, 1807, declaring "that no vessel shall be permilted to trade
from one port to another, if both belong to France or her allies, and shall be
so far under their control as that British vessels are excluded therefrom ;
and the captains of all British vessels are hereby required to warn every
neutral vessel, coming from any such port, and destined to such other port,
to discontinue her voyage ; and any vessel, after being so warned, or after
having had a reasonable time allowed it for obtaining information of the

1806.] THE FIELD OF EYLAU. 523
present order in council, which shall, notwithstanding, persist in such voy
age to such other port, shall be declared good prize." To this Napoleon
made no reply.
After a few months, on the 11 th of November, 1807, England, adding in
sult to injury, issued another decree, still more severe, declaring all the ports
and places of France and her allies, from which, though not at war with his
majesty, the British flag is excluded, shall be subject to the same restrictions
in respect of trade and navigation as if the same were actually blockaded in
the most strict and rigorous manner ; and that all trade in articles, the pro
duce or manufacture of the said countries or colonies, shall be deemed to be.
unlawful, and all such articles declared good prize." To this Napoleon re
plied in his celebrated Milan decree of December nth, 1807.
These decrees of Napoleon gave rise to the most extraordinary debates
in the English Parliament, during which no one of either of the parties into
which the Parliament was divided even alluded to the fact that England was
entirely the aggressor.
"In endeavoring, at the distance of thirty years," says Alison, "to form
an impartial opinion on this most important subject, it must at once strike
the most cursory observer, that the grounds on which this question was de
bated in the British Parliament were not those on which its merits really
rested, or on which they were placed by Napoleon at the time, and have
been since argued by the Continental historians. On both sides, in England,
it was assumed that France was the aggressor by the Berlin decree, and
that the only question was whether the orders in council exceeded the just
measures of retaliation, or were calculated to produce more benefit or injury
to this country.
" But was the Berlin decree the origin of the commercial warfare, or
was it merely, as Napoleon and the French writers assert, a retaliation upon
England, by the only means at the disposal of the French emperor, for the
new and illegal species of warfare which, in the pride of irresistible maritime
strength, they had thought fit to adopt ? That is the point upon which the
whole question really depends ; and yet, though put in the foremost rank by
Napoleon, it was scarcely touched on by either party in the British Parlia
ment. Nor is it difficult to see to what cause this extraordinary circum
stance was owing. Both the great parties which divided that assembly were
desirous of avoiding that question ; the Whigs, because the measure com
plained of by Napoleon, and on which the Berlin decree was justified by the
French government, had been mainly adopted by Mr. Fox, and subsequent
ly extended by Lord Howick ; the Tories, because they were unwilling to
cast any doubt on the exercise of maritime powers, in their opinion, of es
sential importance to this country, and which gave them the great advantage
of having their political adversaries necessarily compelled to support the gen
eral principle on which the measures in question had been founded.
" History, however, must disregard all these temporary considerations, and
in good faith approach the question, whether, in this great debate, England
or France was the real aggressor ; and on this point, as on most others in
human affairs, where angry passions have been strongly excited, it will prob
ably be found that there were faults on both sides.

524 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXIV.
" But still the English historian must lament that the British government
had given so plausible a ground for representing his measures as retaliatory
only, by issuing in May, 1806, the blockade of the French coasts of the
Channel." There has probably been no act of Napoleon's life for which he has been
more pitilessly condemned than for his Berlin and Milan decrees. They
have been represented as atrocious acts of wanton and unprovoked aggres
sion against a meek and lowly sister kingdom.
It was reported to Napoleon that the troops, comfortably housed in the
cities and villages of Prussia, were very reluctant to move to frigid bivouacs
upon the icy marshes of the Vistula. To one who reported to him the de
spondency of the army, Napoleon inquired,
" Does the spirit of my troops fail them when in sight of the enemy ?"
" No, Sire," was the reply.
" I was sure of it," said Napoleon. " My troops are always the same. 1
must rouse them."
Walking up and down the floor with rapid strides, he immediately dictated
the following proclamation : " Soldiers ! A year to-day you were on the
field of Austerlitz. The Russian battalions fled before you in dismay, or,
being surrounded, yielded their arms to the victors. The next day they
sued for peace. But we were imposed upon. Scarcely had they escaped,
through our generosity, which was probably blamable, from the disasters of
the third coalition, than they organized a fourth. But the ally upon whom
they chiefly relied is no more. His capital, fortresses, magazines, arsenals,
two hundred and eighty standards, seven hundred field pieces, and five forti
fied cities, are in our possession. The Oder, the Wartha, the deserts of Po
land, the storms of winter, have not arrested your steps for a moment. You
have braved all, surmounted all. Every foe has fled at your approach.
" In vain have the Russians endeavored to defend the capital of ancient
and renowned Poland. The eagle of France soars over the Vistula. The
brave and unfortunate Pole, on seeing you, dreams that he beholds the le-
o-ions of Sobieski returning from their memorable expedition. Soldiers ! we
will not sheath our swords until a general peace is established, and we have
secured the rights of our allies, and restored to our commerce its freedom
and its colonies. On the Elbe and the Oder we have reconquered Pondicher-
ry, and our establishments in India, the Cape of Good Hope, and the Span
ish colonies. Who gave the Russians the right to hold the balance of des
tiny, or to interfere with our just designs ? They and ourselves, are we not
still the soldiers of Austerlitz ?"
Bourrienne says, " When Napoleon dictated his proclamations, he appear
ed for the moment inspired, and exhibited, in some sort, the excitement of
the Italian Improvisatori. In order to follow him, it was necessary to write
with inconceivable rapidity. Frequently, when reading over to him what he
has dictated, I have known him smile, as in triumph, at the effect which he
imagined any particular passage would produce."
This address electrified the whole army. Its clarion notes rang through
all hearts. Not another murmur was heard. The corps in the rear, by
forced marches, pressed forward with alacrity to reach head-quarters. Those

1806.] THE FIELD OF EYLAU. 525
nearer the Emperor forgot their fatigues and their sufferings, and longed to
engage the enemy. The love of the soldiers for their chieftain was so en
thusiastic, and their confidence in his wisdom was so unbounded, that, though
hungry, barefooted, and exhausted, the whole mighty host crowded eagerly
along. The storms of approaching winter howled around them. The
wheels of their ponderous artillery sank axle deep in the mire. Still, through
rain and snow, and miry roads, they followed their indomitable chief, recount
ing with pride the fatigues which they had already endured, and eagerly an
ticipating the heroic deeds they were yet to perform.
Before leaving Berlin Napoleon wrote to the Minister of War. " The
project which I have now formed is more vast than any which I ever before
conceived. From this time I must find myself in a position to cope with all
events." Fie also addressed a message to the Senate, in that peculiar energy
of style marking all his productions, which the annals of eloquence have
rarely equaled, never surpassed.
" The monarchs of Europe," said he, " have thus far sported with the
generosity of France. When one coalition is conquered, another immedi
ately springs up. No sooner was that of 1805 dissolved than we had to
fight that of 1806. It behooves France to be less generous in future. The
conquered states must be retained till the general peace on land and sea.
England, regardless of all the rights of nations, launching a commercial in
terdict against one quarter of the globe, must be struck with the same inter
dict in return ; and it must be rendered as rigorous as the nature of things
will permit. Since we are doomed to war, it will be better to plunge in
wholly than to go but half way. Thus may we hope to terminate it more
completely and more solidly by a general and durable peace."
The labors of Napoleon were perfectly herculean in preparing for this
winter campaign. It was four hundred miles from Berlin to Warsaw. This
was a dreary interval for an army to traverse through the freezing storms
and drifting snows of a northern winter. The Russians and Prussians could
present a hundred and twenty thousand men upon the banks of the Vistula.
The partition of Poland by Russia, Prussia, and Austria has been pro
nounced by the unanimous voice of the world the most atrocious act which
has disgraced modern Europe. As soon as Napoleon entered that part of
Poland which had been annexed to Prussia in this infamous deed of rapacity,
the Poles gathered around him with the utmost enthusiasm. The nobles of
the dismembered empire thronged his head-quarters. They hailed him as
the savior of their country. They pledged to him their -fortunes and their
lives if he would rescue Poland from their oppressors. The populace rent
the skies with enthusiastic shouts wherever the great conqueror appeared.
They were clamorous for arms, that they might fight the. battles of freedom,
and regain their independence. Napoleon was extremely embarrassed.
A deputation from Warsaw waited upon him, entreating him to proclaim
the independence of Poland, and to place some member of his own family
upon the throne. They assured him that the Poles, as one man, would
rally with admiration and gratitude beneath his banners. Napoleon said to
them, " France has never recognized the different partitions of Poland. Never-

526 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXIV
theless, I can not proclaim your independence unless you are determined to
defend your rights with arms in your hands, and by all sorts of sacrifices,
even that of hfe. You are reproached with having, in your constant civil
dissensions, lost sight of the true interests of your country. Instructed by
misfortune, be now united, and prove to the world that one spirit animates
the whole Polish nation."
After the deputation had withdrawn, Napoleon remarked, " I like the
Poles. Their enthusiasm pleases me. I should like to make them an inde
pendent people. But that is no very easy matter. The cake has been
shared among too many. There is Austria, Russia, and Prussia, who have
each had a slice. Besides, when the match is once kindled, who knows
where the conflagration may stop. My first duty is toward France. I must
not sacrifice her interests for Poland. In short, we must refer this matter
to the universal sovereign, Time. He will show us by-and-by what we are
to do."
The situation of Napoleon was indeed critical. He was hundreds of
leagues from the frontiers of France, and enveloped in the snows of winter.
Russia, with her countless hordes and unknown resources, was threatening
him from the North. Prussia, though conquered, was watching for an op
portunity to retrieve her disgrace and ruin. Austria had raised a force of
eighty thousand men, and was threatening his rear. This Austrian force
was professedly an army of observation. But Napoleon well knew that,
upon the slightest reverse, Austria would fall upon him in congenial alliance
with Russia and Prussia. England, the undisputed monarch of the wide
world of waters, was most efficiently co-operating with these banded foes of
France. By proclaiming the independence of Poland, Napoleon would have gained
a devoted ally, ranging a nation of twenty millions of inhabitants beneath his
flag ; but by liberating Poland from its proud and powerful oppressors, he
would have exasperated to the highest degree Russia, Prussia, and Austria.
Thus the probabilities of peace would have been infinitely more remote.
Napoleon was contending for peace. He told the Poles frankly that he
could not involve France in any new quarrels. " I am not come hither,"
said he, " to beg a throne for my family. I am not in want of thrones to
give away."
Through December's dismal storms ; through a country more dreary than
imagination can well conceive, filled with gloomy forests, fathomless mo
rasses, bleak and barren plains, Napoleon led his troops to the banks of the
Vistula. Wherever he met his foes, he scattered them before him with
whirlwind power. Sometimes, over a space of seventy-five miles in breadth,
Napoleon's army was fighting its way against the storm of bullets which,
from hostile batteries, swept their ranks. But nothing could retard his
progress. The suffering of that wintry march was awful beyond descrip
tion. Early in January the army entered the dark forests which frown
along the inhospitable Vistula.
The cantonments of the French army wTere extended one hundred and
fifty miles, skirting the left bank of the river. All the passes of the stream
were occupied in such strength as to render surprise impossible. The sol-

1806.]

THE FIELD OF EYLAU.

527

$&Sg)tf&&.!'ge'''~

THE MARCH TO THE VISTULA

diers cut down the forests and constructed comfortable huts to screen them
selves from the piercing cold. The camps were admirably arranged in reg
ular streets, presenting the most cheerful aspect of order and cleanliness.
Reviews, rural labors, and warlike games occupied the minds of the soldiers
and confirmed their health. Immense convoys of provisions, guarded by
troops and fortresses left in the rear, were continually defiling along all the
roads from the Rhine. The soldiers were soon comfortable and happy in
their well-provisioned homes. Napoleon, regardless of his own ease, thought
of them alone. He was every where present. His foresight provided for
every emergence. His troops witnessed with gratitude his intense devotion
to their comfort. They saw him riding from post to post by day and by
night, drenched with rain, spattered with mud, whitened with snow, regard
less of rest, of food, of sleep, wading through mire and drifts, groping through
darkness and breasting storms. Napoleon said, " My soldiers are my chil
dren." No one could doubt his sincerity who witnessed his vigilance, his
toil, his fatigue. Not a soldier in the army questioned his parental love.
Hence the Emperor was loved in return as no other mortal was ever loved
before. The soldiers, to their surprise, found that the generous foresight of Napo
leon had. provided them even with several millions of bottles of wine. Abun
dant magazines were established, that they might be fully supplied with

52S

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XXXIV.

good food and warm clothing. The sick and wounded in particular were
nursed with the most tender care. Six thousand beds were prepared at
Warsaw, and an equal number at Thorne, at Posen, and at other places on
the banks of the Vistula and the Oder. Comfortable mattresses of wool

ENCAMPMENT ON THE VISTULA.

were made for the hospitals. Thirty thousand tents, taken from the Prus
sians, were cut up into bandages and bedding. Over each hospital Napoleon
appointed a chief overseer, always supplied with ready money, to procure for
the sick whatever luxuries they needed. A chaplain was appointed in each
hospital to minister to the spiritual wants of the sick and the dying. This
chaplain was to be, in an especial manner, the friend and the protector of
those under his care. He was charged by the Emperor to report to him the
slightest negligence toward the sick. Such were the infinite pains which
Xapoleon took to promote the comfort of his soldiers. He shared all their
hardships. His palace was a barn. In one room he ate, and slept, and re
ceived his audiences. It was his invariable custom, whenever he issued an
order, to inform himself if the order had been executed. He personally ar
ranged all the military works of the widely-extended line over which his
army was spread.
The month of January, with its storms and intensity of cold, passed slowly
away. Winter brooded drearily over the plains of Poland, presenting one

1806.] THE FIELD OF EYLAU. 529
vast expanse of ice and snow, Europe contemplated with amazement the
sublime spectacle of a French army of one or two hundred thousand men
passing the winter in the midst of the gloomy forests of the Vistula. Alexan
der, with troops accustomed to the frozen North, planned to attack Napoleon
by surprise in his winter quarters. Secretly he put his mighty host in motion.
Napoleon, ever on the alert, was prepared to meet him. Immediately march
ing from his encampments, he surprised those who hoped to surprise him.
Battle after battle ensued. The Russians fought with unyielding obsti
nacy, the French with impetuous enthusiasm. In every forest, in every
mountain gorge, upon the banks of every swollen stream clogged with ice,
the Russians planted their cannon, and hurled balls, and shells, and grape
into the bosoms of their unrelenting pursuers. But the French, impelled by
the resistless impetuosity of their great chieftain, pressed on, regardless of
mutilation and death. The snow was crimsoned with blood. The wounded
struggled, and shrieked, and froze in the storm-piled drifts. The dark forms
of the dead floated with the ice down the cold streams to an unknown burial.
Wintry nights, long, dismal, and freezing, darkened upon the contending
hosts. Their lurid watch-fires gleamed in awful sublimity over wide leagues
of frozen hill and valley. The soldiers of each army, nerved by the ener
gies of desperation, threw themselves upon the snow as their only couch,
and with no tent covering but the chill sky .
Napoleon stopped one night at a miserable cottage. His little camp bed
stead was placed in the middle of the kitchen floor. In five minutes he dis
patched his supper, which consisted of but one dish. Then, rolling his nap
kin into a ball, he playfully threw it at the head of his favorite valet Con
stant, saying, " Quick, quick, take away the remains of my banquet." Then
unrolling a map of Prussia, he spread it upon the floor, and addressing Cau-
laincourt, said, " Come here, Grand Equerry, and follow me." With pins
he marked out the progressive movements of his army, and said, " I shall
beat the Russians there, and there, and there. In three months the cam
paign will be ended. The Russians must have a lesson. The fair Queen
of Prussia must learn too that advisers sometimes pay dearly for the advice
they give. I do not like those women who throw aside their attributes of
grace and goodness. A woman to instigate war ! to urge men to cut each
other's throats ! Shame on it ! She may run the risk of losing her king
dom by playing that game."
At this moment some dispatches were delivered to the Emperor. Rapidly
glancing over them, he frowned and exclaimed, " Surely these dispatches
have been a long time on their way ! How is this ? Tell the orderly offi
cer who brought them that I wish to speak to him."
" Sir," said he, severely, as the officer entered, " at what hour were these
dispatches placed jn your hands ?"
"At eight o'clock in the evening, sire."
" And how many leagues had you to ride ?"
" I do not know precisely, sire."
" But you ought to know, sir — an orderly officer ought to know that. I
know it. You had twenty-seven miles to ride, and you set off at eight
o'clock. Look at your watch, sir. What o'clock is it now ?"
Vol. I.— L l

530 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXIV
" Half past twelve, sire. The roads were in a terrible state. In some
places the snow obstructed my passage — "
" Poor excuses, sir, poor excuses. Retire, and await my orders." As the
officer, extremely disconcerted, closed the door, he added, " This cool, leis
urely gentleman wants stimulating. The reprimand I have given him will
make him spur his horse another time. Let me see — my answer must be
delivered in two hours. I have not a moment to lose."
Soon the orderly officer was recalled. " Set off immediately, sir," said
he ; " these dispatches must be delivered with the utmost speed. General
Lasalle must receive my orders by three o'clock — by_ three o'clock. You
understand, sir?"
" Sire ! by half past two the general shall have the orders of which I have
the honor to be the bearer."
"Very well, sir ; mount your horse — but stop !" he added, calling the offi
cer back, and speaking in those winning tones of kindness which he had ever
at his command : " tell General Lasalle that it will be agreeable to me that
you should be the person selected to announce to me the success of these
movements." With such consummate tact could Napoleon severely reprimand, and at
the same time win the confidence and the love of the person reprimanded.
Napoleon had now driven his assailants, enveloped in the storms and the
ice of a Polish winter, two hundred and forty miles from the banks of the
Vistula At last the retreating Russians concentrated all their forces upon
the plain of Eylau. It was the 7th of February, 1807. The night was dark
and intensely cold, as the Russians, exhausted by the retreating march of
the day, took their position for a desperate battle on the morrow. There
was a gentle swell of land, extending two or three miles, which skirted a vast,
bleak, unsheltered plain, over which the piercing wintry gale drifted the deep
snow. Leaden clouds, hurrying through the sky as if flying from a defeat
or congregating for a conflict, boded a rising storm. Upon this ridge the
Russians, in double lines, formed themselves in battle array. Five hundred
pieces of cannon were ranged in battery, to hurl destruction into the bosoms
of their foes. They then threw themselves upon the icy ground for their
frigid bivouac. The midnight storm wailed its mournful requiem over the
sleeping host, and sifted down upon them the winding-sheet of snow.
In the midst of the tempestuous night, Napoleon, with his determined bat
talions, came also upon the plain, groping through drifts and gloom. He
placed his army in position for the terrific battle which the dawn of morning
would usher in. Two hundred pieces of heavy artillery were advantageous
ly posted to sweep the dense ranks of the enemy. Upon the ridge 80,000
Russians slept. In the plain before them 60,000 Frenchmen were bivouack
ing upon the snow. The hostile hosts were at but half cannon shot from
each other. Indomitable determination inflamed the souls of officers and
soldiers in both armies. It was an awful night, the harbinger of a still more
awful day.
The frozen earth, the inclement sky, the scudding clouds, the drifting
snow, the wailing, wintry wind, the lurid watchfires gleaming through the
gloom, the spectral movement of legions of horsemen and footmen taking

1807.]

THE FIELD OF EYLAU.

531

BIVOUAC BEFORE EYLAU.

their positions for the sanguinary strife, the confused murmur of the voices
and of the movements of the mighty armies blending, like the roar of many
waters, with the midnight storm, presented a spectacle of sublimity which
overawed every beholder. The sentinels of each army could almost touch
each other with their muskets. Cold, and hungry, and weary, the spirit of
humanity for a moment triumphed over the ferocity of war. Kind words of
greeting and of sympathy were interchanged by those who soon, in phrensy,
were plunging bayonets into each other's bosoms. At midnight, Napoleon
slept for an hour in a chair. He then mounted his horse, and marshaled his
shivering troops for the horrors of battle.
The dark and stormy morning had not yet dawned when the cannonade
commenced. It was terrific. The very earth shook beneath the tremen
dous detonation. Seven hundred heavy cannon, worked by the most skill
ful gunners, created an unintermitted roar of the most deafening and appall
ing thunder. Both armies presented their unprotected breasts to bullets,
grapeshot, balls, and shells. Companies, battalions, regiments, even whole
divisions melted away before the merciless discharges. The storm of snow,
in blinding, smothering flakes, swept angrily into the faces of the assailants
and assailed, as the bands of battle, in exultant victory or in terrific defeat,
rushed to and fro over the plain. The tempestuous air was soon so filled
with smoke that the day was as dark as the night. Under this black and sul-

532

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XXXIV.

phurous canopy, the infuriate hosts rushed upon each other. Even the flash
of the guns could not be seen through the impenetrable gloom. Horsemen
plunged to the charge unable to discern the foe. Thus the deadly conflict
continued, one hundred and forty thousand men firing into each other's bo
soms, through the morning, and the noon, and the afternoon, and after the
sun had gone down in the gloom of a winter's night. Napoleon galloped up
and down the field of blood, regardless of danger, ever presenting himself at
those points which were most threatened.
In the midst of the battle Napoleon was informed that a church, which he
deemed a position of essential importance, had been taken by the enemy.
He pressed his spurs into his horse, and galloped with the utmost speed into
the midst of his battalions, who were retreating before vastly superior num
bers. " What !" shouted the Emperor, " a handful of Russians repulse troops of
the Grand Army ! Forward, my brave lads ! We must have the church !
We must have it at every hazard !"

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EYLAU AND FRIEDLAND.

Animated by this voice, an enthusiastic shout of " Vive l'Empereur !" rose
above the thunders of the conflict. The soldiers instantly formed in solid
column, and, through a perfect storm of bullets and shells, forced their way
upon the enemy. The Emperor espied a few paces from him an old grena
dier. His face was blackened with gunpowder, his clothes were red with
blood, his left arm had just been torn from his shoulder by a shell, and the
crimson drops were falling from the ghastly wound. The man was hurrying
to fall into the ranks.
" Stay ! stay ! my good fellow," exclaimed the Emperor ; " go to the am
bulance and get your wound dressed."
" I will," replied the soldier, " as soon as we have taken the church."
He then disappeared in the midst of the smoke and the tumult of the battle.

1807.] THE FIELD OF EYLAU. 533
The Duke of Vicenza, who witnessed this scene, says the tears gushed into
the eyes of the Emperor as he contemplated this touching proof of devo
tion. The battle had now raged for eighteen hours. The snow was red with
blood. The bodies of the wounded and the dead covered the plain. Thou
sands of the torn and bleeding victims of war through these long hours had
writhed in agony in the freezing air, trampled by the rush of phrensied squad
rons. Their piercing shrieks rose above the roar of artillery and musketry.
Eylau was in flames ; other adjacent villages and farm-houses were blazing.
The glare of the conflagration added to the horrors of the pitiless storm of
the elements and of war. Women and children were perishing in the fields,
having fled from their bomb-battered and burning dwellings. Still the battle
continued unabated.
As the twilight of the stormy day faded into the gloom of night, Napoleon,
calm and firm, stood beneath the shelter of the church which he had retaken.
The balls were crashing around him. Grief pervaded every face of the im
perial staff. With consternation they implored him to place himself in a po
sition of safety. Regardless of their entreaties, he braved every peril. In
fusing his own inflexibility into the hearts of all around, he still impelled his
bleeding columns upon the foe. More than thirty thousand Russians, struck
by the balls and the swords of the French, were stretched upon the frozen
field. Ten thousand Frenchmen, the dying and the dead, were also strewed
upon the plain. Ten thousand horses had been struck down. Some had
been torn in pieces by cannon balls ; others, frightfully mutilated, were ut
tering piercing screams, and were wildly plunging over the plain, trampling
the wounded beneath their iron hoofs.
It was now ten o'clock at night. Nearly one half of the Russian army
was destroyed. A fresh division of the French now appeared on the field.
They had been marching all day, with the utmost haste, guided by the can
non's roar. The Russians could endure the conflict no longer. Proud of
having so long and so valiantly withstood the great Napoleon, they retreated,
shouting victory ! Napoleon remained master of the blood-bought field. The
victors, utterly exhausted, bleeding and freezing, again sought such repose
as could be found upon the gory ice beneath that wintry sky. Napoleon
was overwhelmed with grief. Never before had such a scene of misery met
even his eye.
According to his invariable custom, he traversed the field of battle to min
ister with his own hands to the wounded and the dying. It was midnight —
dark, cold, and stormy. By his example, he animated his attendants to the
most intense exertions in behalf of the sufferers. His sympathy and aid
were extended to the wounded Russians as well as to those of his own army.
One of his generals, witnessing the deep emotion with which he was affect
ed, spoke of the glory which the victory would give him. " To a father,"
said Napoleon, " who loses his children, victory has no charms. When the
heart speaks, glory itself is an illusion."
As Napoleon was passing over this field of awful carnage, he came to an
ambulance, or hospital wagon. A huge pile of amputated arms and legs,
clotted with gore, presented a horrible spectacle to the eye. A soldier was

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XXXIV

534 resisting the efforts of the surgeon, who was about to cut off his leg, which
had been dreadfully shattered by a cannon ball.

MORNING AFTER THE BATTLE OF EYLAU,
"What is the matter?" inquired the Emperor, as he rode up to the spot.
Seeing, at a glance, the state of the case, he continued, " How is this I Pure
ly you, a brave mustache, are not afraid of a cut !"
" No your majesty, I am not afraid of a cut. But this is a sort of cut that
a man may die of ; and there is poor Catharine and her four little ones . it
I should die — " and the man sobbed aloud.

1807.] THE FIELD OF EYLAU. 535
" Well," replied the Emperor, " and what if you should die ? Am I not
here ?"
The wounded soldier fixed his eyes for a moment upon Napoleon, and
then, with a trembling voice, exclaimed, " True ! true, your majesty ! I am
very foolish. Here, doctor, cut off my limb. God bless the Emperor !"
A dragoon, dreadfully torn by a cannon ball, raised his head from the
bloody snow as the Emperor drew near, and faintly said, " Turn your eyes
this way, please your majesty. I believe that I have got my death wound.
I shall soon be in the other world. But no matter for that — Vive l'Em-
pereur !" Napoleon immediately dismounted from his horse, tenderly took
the hand of the wounded man, and enjoined it upon his attendants to convey
him immediately to the ambulance, and to commend him to the special care
of the surgeon. Large tears rolled down the cheeks of the dying dragoon
as he fixed his eyes upon the loved features of his Emperor. Fervidly he
exclaimed, " I only wish that I had a thousand lives to lay down for your
majesty." " Near a battery," says Caulaincourt, "which had been abandoned by the
enemy, we beheld a singular picture, and one of which description can con
vey but a faint idea. Between a hundred and fifty and two hundred French
grenadiers were surrounded by a quadruple rank of Prussians. Both parties
were weltering in a river of blood, amid fragments of cannons, muskets,
and swords. They had evidently fought with the most determined fury, for
every corpse exhibited numerous and horrible wounds. A feeble cry of Vive
CEmpereur! was heard to emanate from this mountain of the dead, and all
eyes were instantly turned to the spot whence the voice proceeded. Half
concealed beneath a tattered flag lay a young officer, whose breast was dec
orated with an order. Though pierced with numerous wounds, he succeeded
in raising himself up, so as to rest on his elbows. His handsome counte
nance was overspread with the livid hue of death. He recognized the Em
peror, and in a feeble, faltering voice, exclaimed,
" ' God bless your majesty ! farewell, farewell ! Oh, my poor mother ''
He turned a supplicating glance to the Emperor, and then uttering the
words, 'To dear France my last sigh!' he fell stiff and cold. It was poor
Ernest Auzoni, one of the bravest of men, and one who, but a few hours be
fore, had received the warmest commendation of the Emperor. His death
blighted the happiness of a beautiful and accomplished woman whom I re
membered among my friends.
"Napoleon seemed riveted to the spot, which was watered with the blood
of these heroes. ' Brave men !' said he ;' brave Auzoni ! Excellent young
man ! Alas ! this frightful scene ! His endowment shall go to his mother.
Let the order be presented for my signature as soon as possible.' Then
turning to Dr. Ivan, who accompanied him, he said, ' Examine poor Auzoni's
wounds, and see whether any thing can be done for him. This is indeed
terrible.' The Emperor, whose feelings were deeply excited, continued his
mournful inspection of the field of battle."
Upon this dreadful field of woe, of blood, of death, oppressed with myriad
cares, and in the gloom of the inclement night, Napoleon remembered his
faithful and anxious Josephine. She was then in Paris. Seizing a pen, he

536 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXIV.
hurriedly wrote the following lines. Calling a courier to his side, he dis
patched him at his fleetest speed to convey the note to Josephine :
" Eylau, 3 o'clock in the morning, February 9, 1807.
" My love ! There was a great battle yesterday. Victory remains with
me, but I have lost many men. The loss of the enemy, still more consider
able, does not console me. I write these two lines myself, though greatly
fatigued, to tell you that I am well, and that I love you. Wholly thine,
"Napoleon."
The fac simile of this letter, written under such circumstances, will be ex
amined with interest.

3^-^O-j^ ^^^

Man amie — it y a eu Her une grande bataille : la victoire
m'est restee, mais j'ai perdu Men du monde ,- la perte
de Vennemi qui est plus considerable encore, ne me console pas Enjin
je Veens ces 2 lignes moi-meme, quoique je sois bien fatigue
pour te dire que je sids bien portant, et que je Vaime. Tout a toi, Napoleon.
3 heures du matin le 9 Fevrier.
The dawn of the morning exhibited, upon that frozen field, perhaps the
most frightful spectacle earth has ever witnessed. Nearly forty thousand
men, awfully torn by cannon balls, were prostrate upon the bloodstained ice
and snow. A wail of anguish rose from the extended plain, which froze the
heart of the beholder with terror. Dismounted cannon, fragments of projec
tiles, guns, swords, horses, dead or cruelly mangled, rearing, plunging, shriek
ing in their agony, presented a scene of unparalleled horror. Napoleon's
heart was most deeply moved. His feelings of sympathy burst forth even
in one of his bulletins. " This spectacle," he wrote, " is fit to excite in
princes a love of peace and a horror of war." He immediately dispatched
some battalions to pursue the retreating enemy, while he devoted all his en-

1807.] THE FIELD OF EYLAU. 537
ergies to the relief of the misery spread around him. In the evening of the
same day he wrote another letter to Josephine.
" Eylau, February 9, 6 o'clock in the evening, 1807.
" I write one word, my love, that you may not be anxious. The enemy
has lost the battle, 40 pieces of cannon, 10 flags, 12,000 prisoners. He has
suffered horribly. I have lost many men — 1600 killed, and three or four
thousand wounded. Corbineau was killed by a shell.* I was strongly at
tached to that officer, who had great merit. It gives me great pain. My
horse-guard has covered itself with glory. Allemagne is wounded danger
ously. Adieu, my love. Wholly thine, Napoleon."
Again, in the night of the next day he wrote to that noble wife, who well
knew how to appreciate the delicacy and generosity of such attentions :
" Eylau, February 11,3 o'clock in the morning.
"I send you one line, my love. You must have been very anxious. 1
have beaten the enemy in a memorable battle, but it has cost me many brave
men. The inclement weather constrains me to return to my cantonments.
Do not indulge in grief, I entreat you. All this will soon end. The happi
ness of seeing you will lead me soon to forget my fatigues. I never was bet
ter. The little Tascher has conducted nobly. He has had a rough trial.
I have placed him near me. I have made him officer of ordnance. Thus his
troubles are ended. The young man interests me. Adieu, my dearest. A
thousand kisses. Napoleon."
In another letter of the 14th, he writes :
" My love ! I am' still at Eylau. The country is covered with the dead
and the wounded. This is not the pleasant part of war. One suffers, and
the soul is oppressed to see so many victims. I am well. I have done what
I wished. I have repulsed the enemy, compelling him to abandon his pro
jects. You must be very anxious, and that thought afflicts me. Neverthe
less, tranquilize yourself, my love, and be cheerful. Wholly thine,
" Napoleon."
* Napoleon was giving General Corbineau some orders, when the unfortunate general was struck
by a shell, and, in the words of Napoleon, " was carried away, crushed, annihilated before the
Emperor's face."

538 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXV.

CHAPTER XXXV.

THE MARCH TO FRIEDLANH.

Renewed Offers of Peace — Address to the Legislative Body in Paris — Proclamation — Offers of
Austria — Napoleon's Reply — Employments at Osterode — Madame de Stael — Temple of the
Madeleine — Foresight of the Emperor — Letters — English Diplomacy at Constantinople — Dant-
zic — Attack of the Allies — Friedland — Russia sues for Peace — Address to the Army.
Napoleon remained eight days at Eylau, healing the wounds of his army,
and gathering supplies for the protection and comfort of his troops. He was
daily hoping that Frederick William and Alexander would demand no more
blood — that they would propose terms of peace. It is a fact admitted by all,
that Napoleon, in his wars thus far, was fighting in self-defense. He was
the last to draw the sword and the first to propose peace. In this campaign,
before the battle of Jena, Napoleon wrote to Frederick, entreating him to
spare the effusion of blood.. This appeal was disregarded. Scarce had the
sun gone down over that field of carnage and of woe, ere Napoleon wrote
again, pleading for humanity. Again was his plea sternly rejected. Secret
ly the Allies collected their strength and fell upon him in his cantonments.
Napoleon pursued them two hundred and forty miles, and destroyed half of
their army upon the plain of Eylau. For five days he waited anxiously,
hoping that his vanquished assailants would propose peace. They were si
lent. He then, magnanimously triumphing over pride of spirit, and almost
violating the dictates of self-respect, condescended again to plead for the
cessation of hostilities. In the following terms, conciliatory, yet dignified,
he addressed the King of Prussia :
" I desire to put a period to the misfortunes of your family, and to organ
ize as speedily as possible the Prussian monarchy. Its intermediate power is
necessary for the tranquillity of Europe. I desire peace with Russia ; and,
provided the cabinet of St. Petersburg has no designs upon the Turkish
Empire, I see no difficulty in obtaining it. Peace with England is not less
essential to all nations. I shall have no hesitation in sending a minister to
Memil, to take part in a congress of France, Sweden, England, Russia,
Prussia, and Turkey. But as such a congress may last many years, which
would not suit the present condition of Prussia, your majesty therefore will,
I am persuaded, be of opinion that I have taken the simplest method, and
one which is most likely to secure the prosperity of your subjects. At all
events, I entreat your majesty to believe in my sincere desire to re-establish
amicable relations with so friendly a power as Prussia, and that I wish to do
the same with Russia and England."
The Allies considered this renewed proposal of Napoleon but an indication
of his weakness. It encouraged them to redoubled efforts. They resolved
to collect still more numerous swarms of Cossacks from the barbarian North,
and, with increased vigor, to prosecute the war. Napoleon had also made

1807.] THE MARCH TO FRIEDLAND. 539
proposals to Sweden for peace. His advances were there also repelled.
The King of Sweden wrote to the King of Prussia, " I think that a public
declaration should be made in favor of the legitimate cause of the Bourbons,
by openly espousing their interests, which is plainly that of all established
governments. My opinion on this point is fixed and unalterable."
This arrogant assumption, that France had not a right to choose its own
form of government and elect its own sovereign, rendered peace impossible.
Even had Napoleon, like Benedict Arnold, turned traitor to his country, and
endeavored to reinstate the rejected Bourbons, it would only have plunged
France anew into all the horrors of civil war. The proudest and most pow
erful nation in Europe would not submit to dictation so humiliating. Napo
leon truly said, " The Bourbons can not return to the throne of France but
over the dead bodies of one hundred thousand Frenchmen." The Bourbons
did finally return in the rear of the combined armies of despotic Europe.
But the Allies crimsoned the Continent with blood, and struck down nearly
a million of Frenchmen in mutilation and death ere they accomplished the
iniquitous restoration. But where are the Bourbons now ? And who now
sits upon the throne of France ? This is a lesson for the nations.
Just before the campaign of Jena, Napoleon thus addressed the legislative
body in Paris : "Princes, magistrates,' soldiers, citizens, we have all but one
object in our several departments — the interest of our country. Weakness
in the executive is the greatest of all misfortunes to the people. Soldier or
First Consul, I have but one thought ; Emperor, I have no other object — the
prosperity of France. I do not wish to increase its territory, but I am re
solved to maintain its integrity. I have no desire to augment the influence
which we possess in Europe, but I will not permit what we enjoy to decline.
No state shall be incorporated with our empire ; but I will not sacrifice my
rights; or the ties which unite us, to other states."
Napoleon, finding that there was no hope of peace, and having driven his
enemies to the banks of the Niemen, prepared to return to his winter quar
ters upon the Vistula. He thus addressed his army :
" Soldiers ! we were beginning to taste the sweets of repose at. our winter
quarters, when the enemy attacked the first corps on the Lower Vistula.
We flew to meet him. We pursued him, sword in hand, eighty leagues.
He was driven for shelter beneath the cannons of his fortresses, and beyond
the Pregel. We have captured sixty pieces of cannon, sixteen standards,
and killed, wounded, or taken more than forty thousand Russians. The
brave who have fallen on our side have fallen nobly — like soldiers. Their
families shall receive our protection. Having thus defeated the whole pro
jects of the enemy, we will return to the Vistula, and re-enter our winter
quarters. Whoever ventures to disturb our repose will repent of it. Beyond
the Vistula as beyond the Danube, we shall always be the soldiers of the
Grand Army."
Napoleon himself remained at Eylau until every thing was removed. He
superintended the departure of the several divisions of the army, the sick,
the wounded, the prisoners and the artillery taken from the enemy. He had
a vast number of sledges constructed, and made as comfortable as possible,
for the removal of the sick and the wounded. More than six thousand were

340

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XXXV.

REMOVING THE WOUNDED

thus transported over two hundred miles, to their warm hospitals on the
banks of the Vistula.
Austria now wished for an excuse to join the Allies.* She was, however,
bound by the most solemn treaties not again to draw the sword against
France. Napoleon had cautiously avoided giving her any offense. But she
could not forget the disgrace of Ulm and Austerlitz. As an entering wedge
to the strife, she proffered her services as mediator. Napoleon was not at
all deceived as to her intentions, yet promptly replied •.
" The Emperor accepts the amicable intervention of Francis II. for the
* " The battle of Eylau should have been the signal for the contracting the closest alliance with
the Russian government, the instant advance of loans to any amount, the marching of sixty thou
sand English soldiers to the nearest points of embarkation. This was the crisis of the war ; the
imprudent confidence of Napoleon had drawn him into a situation full of peril ; for the first time
in his life he had been overmatched in a pitched battle, and hostile nations, besetting three hundred
leagues of communication in his rear, were ready to intercept his retreat. No effort on the part of
England could have been too great in order to turn to the best account so extraordinary a combi
nation of favorable circumstances, no demonstration of confidence too unreserved to an ally capa
ble of such sacrifices. Can there be a doubt that such a vigorous demonstration would at once
have terminated the hesitations of Austria, revived the spirit of Prussia, and, by throwing a hund
red thousand men on each flank of his line of communication, driven the French Emperor to a
ruinous retreat 1 Is it surprising that when, instead of such co-operation, Alexander, after the sac
rifices he had made, met with nothing but refusals in his applications for assistance, and saw the
land-force of England wasted on useless distant expeditions, when every bayonet and sabre was of
value on the banks of the Alle, he should have conceived a distrust of the English alliance, and
formed the resolution of extricating himself as soon as possible from the hazardous conflict in
which he was now exclusively engaged!" — Alison's History of Europe, vol. ii., p. 516.

1807.] THE MARCH TO FRIEDLAND. 54 1
re-establishment of peace, so necessary to all nations. He only fears that
the power which, hitherto, seems to have made a system of founding its
wealth and greatness upon the divisions of the Continent, will draw from
this step new subjects of animosity and new pretexts for dissensions. How
ever, any way that can encourage the hope of the cessation of bloodshed,
ought not to be neglected by France, which, as all Europe knows, was drag
ged in spite of herself into this war."
At the same time, Napoleon called for a new levy of eighty thousand men.
But five months before he had called out the same number. He wished to
display such a force that the Allies would see that his defeat was impossi
ble, and that they would consent to peace without further shedding of blood.
He wrote to Cambaceres : " It is very important that this measure should
lie adopted with alacrity. A single objection raised in the Council of State
or in the Senate would weaken me in Europe, and will bring Austria upon
us. Then, it will not be two conscriptions, but three or four, which we shall
be obliged to decree, perhaps to no purpose, and to be vanquished at last.
" A conscription, announced and resolved upon without hesitation, which
perhaps I shall not call for, which certainly I shall not send to the active
army, for I am not going to wage war with boys, will cause Austria to drop
her arms. The least hesitation, on the contrary, would induce her to resume
them, and to use them against us. No objection, I repeat, but an immediate
and punctual execution of the decree which I send you. This is the way to
have peace — to have a speedy, a magnificent peace."
Having dispatched this decree to Paris, Napoleon sent a copy to Talley
rand, requesting him to communicate to the Austrian government, without
circumlocution, that the Emperor had divined the drift of the mediation
which Austria had offered; that he accepted that mediation with a perfect
knowledge of what it signified ; that to offer peace was well, but that peace
should be offered with a white truncheon in the hand ; that the armaments
of Austria were a very unsuitable accompaniment to the offer of mediation.
" I thus," said he, " explain myself with frankness, to prevent calamities,
and to save Austria from them. If she wishes to send officers to ascertain
our strength, we engage to show them the depots, the camps of reserve, and
the divisions on the march. They shall see that, independently of the 100,000
French already in Germany, a second army of 100,000 men is preparing to
cross the Rhine, to check any hostile movements on the part of the court of
Vienna." These measures, so eminently sagacious, prevented Austria from
uniting with the Allies, and thus, for the time at least, prevented an accumu
lation of the horrors of war.
The Bourbons of Spain were also still watching for an opportunity to fall
upon Napoleon. Believing it impossible for the French Emperor to escape
from his entanglements in Poland, surrounded by myriad foes, the Spanish
court treacherously summoned the nation to arms. Napoleon was a thou
sand miles beyond the Rhine England had roused Spain to attack him in
the rear. The proclamation was issued the day before the battle of Jena.
That amazing victory alarmed the perfidious court of Ferdinand. With
characteristic meanness, the Spanish government immediately sent word to
Napoleon that the troops were raised to send to his assistance in case he

542 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXV.
should stand in need of them. The Emperor smiled, and, affecting to be a
dupe, thanked Spain for its zeal, and requested the loan of fifteen thousand
troops. The troops could not be refused.
Napoleon wrote to have them received in the most friendly and hospitable
manner, and to be abundantly supplied with provisions, clothing, and money.
They were stationed in the garrisons of France, and French soldiers, drawn
from those garrisons, were called to Poland. These repeated acts of perfidy
led to the final dethronement of the Bourbons of Spain. Their overthrow
promoted the ruin of Napoleon. Their continuance upon the throne would
also have secured that ruin. It was written in the book of Divine decrees
that Napoleon must rise and fall. Human energy and wisdom could not
have averted his final discomfiture. Had Napoleon joined hands with the
feudal kings, and reigned the sovereign of the nobles, not of the people; the
defender of privilege, not the advocate of equality, he might, perhaps, have
disarmed the hostility of despots, but he would also have lost the heart of
France. He fell magnificently ; but his memory is embalmed in the love of
the French people ; it never will perish. " St. Helena," says Napoleon, "was
written in the book of destiny."
The cheerless months of departing winter passed rapidly away, as both
parties prepared for the renewal of the strife. Napoleon shared the encamp
ment of his troops. He taught them patience and fortitude by enduring
himself every privation which they were called to experience. His brother
Joseph, in a letter, complained of hardships in Naples. Napoleon, in the
following terms, replied to his complaints :
" The officers of our staff have not undressed for these two months, and
some not for four months past. I myself have been a fortnight without tak
ing off my boots. We are amid snow and mud, without wine, without
bread, eating potatoes and meat, making long marches and countermarches,
without any kind of comfort, fighting in general with bayonets and under
grape, the wounded having to be carried away in sledges, exposed to the air,
two hundred miles."
Napoleon established his head-quarters in a wretched barn at a place called
Osterode. " If, instead of remaining in a hole like Osterode," says Savary,
" where every one was under his eye, and where he could set his whole force
in motion, the Emperor had established himself in a great town, it would
have required three months to do what he effected in less than one."
Here Napoleon not only attended to all the immense interests which were
gathered round him, but he also devoted incessant thought to the govern
ment of his distant empire. The portfolios of the several ministers were
sent to him from Paris every week. Upon the day of their reception he in
variably attended to their contents, and returned them with minute directions
The most trivial as well as the most important matters were subject to his
scrutiny. There had been composed in his honor verses, which he deemed
bad, and which were recited in the theatres. He requested other verses to
be substituted, in which he was less praised, but which gave utterance to no
ble thoughts.
" The best way to praise me," said he, " is to write things which excite he
roic sentiments in the nation.'"

1807.]

THE MARCH TO FRIEDLAND.

543

HEAD-QUARTERS AT OSTERODE.

With great care he studied the proceedings of the French Academy. At
one of those meetings the memory of Mirabeau was violently assailed. Na
poleon wrote to Fouche : " I recommend to you, let there be no reaction in
the public opinion. Let Mirabeau be mentioned in terms of praise. There
are many things in that meeting of the Academy which do not please me.
When shall we grow wiser ? When shall we be animated by that genuine
Christian charity which shall lead us to desire to abuse no one ? When shall
we refrain from awaking recollections which send sorrow to the hearts of so
many persons ?"
With intense interest he watched the progress of education. In reference
to the institution for the education of girls at Ecouen, he wrote to Lacepede :
"It is there proposed to train up women, wives, mothers of families. Make
believers of them — not reasoners. The weakness of the brain of women, the
mobility of their ideas, their destination in the social order, the necessity for
inspiring them with a perpetual resignation, and a mild and easy charity — all
this renders the influence of religion indispensable for them. I am anxious
that they should leave the institution, not fashionable belles, but virtuous
women — that their attractive qualities may be those of the heart."
He urged that they should study " history, literature, enough of natural
philosophy to be able to dispel the popular ignorance around them, some
what of medicine, botany, dancing— but not that of the Opera— ciphering, and
all sorts of needle-work."

544 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXV.
" Their apartments," he wrote, " must be furnished by their own hands.
They must make their chemises, their stockings, their dresses, their caps,
and they must be able, in case of need, to make clothes for their infants. I
wish to make these young girls useful women. I am certain that I shall
thus make them agreeable and attractive."
He was informed that Madame de Stael had returned to Paris, and that
she was striving to excite hostility against his government. He ordered her
to be expelled. Some of his friends urged him not to do so. He persisted,
saying that if he did not interfere she would compromise good citizens, whom
he would afterward be compelled to treat with severity.
Of Madame de Stael Napoleon said at St. Helena, " She was a woman of
considerable talent and of great ambition, but so extremely intriguing and
restless as to give rise to the observation that she would throw her friends
into the sea, that, at the moment of drowning, she might have an opportuni
ty of saving them. I was obliged to banish her from court. She was ardent
in her passions, vehement and extravagant in her expressions. She com
bined all her resources to make an impression upon the general of the army
of Italy. Without any acquaintance with him, she wrote to him when afar
off; she tormented him when present. If she was to be believed, the union
of genius with a little insignificant Creole, incapable of appreciating or com
prehending him, was a monstrosity. Unfortunately, the general's only an
swer was an indifference which women never forgive, and which, indeed,''
Napoleon remarked with a smile, "is hardly to be forgiven.
" Shortly after my return from the conquest of Italy," he continued, " I
was accosted by Madame de Stael at a grand entertainment given by M.
Talleyrand. She challenged me, in the middle of a numerous circle, to tell
her who was the greatest woman in the world. I looked at her, and coldly
replied, ' She, madame, who has borne the greatest number of children.'
Madame de Stael was at first a little disconcerted ; she endeavored to recov
er herself by observing that it was reported that I was not very fond of wom
en. 'Pardon me, madame,' I replied, 'I am very fond of my wife.' I can
not call her a wicked woman, but she was a restless intriguer, possessed of
considerable talent and influence."
Again he said of Madame de Stael : " Her house had become quite an
arsenal against me. People went there to be armed knights. She endeav
ored to raise enemies against me, and fought against me herself. She was
at once Armida and Clorinda. After all, it can not be denied that Madame
de Stael is a very distinguished woman, endowed with great talents, and
possessing a very considerable share of wit. She will go down to posterity.
It was more than once intimated to me, in order to soften me in her favor,
that she was an adversary to be feared, and might become a useful ally.
And certainly if, instead of reviling me as she did, she had spoken in my
praise, it might, no doubt, have proved advantageous to me. Her position
and her abilities gave her an absolute sway over the saloons. Their influ
ence in Paris is well known. Notwithstanding all she had said against me,
and all that she will yet say, I am certainly far from thinking that she has a
bad heart. The fact is, that she and I have waged a little war against each
other, and that is all."

1807.] THE MARCH TO FRIEDLAND. 545
He then added, in reference to the numerous writers who had declaimed
against him, "lam destined to be their food. I have but little fear of be
coming their victim. They will bite against granite. My history is made
up of facts, and words alone can not destroy them. In order to fight against
me successfully, somebody should appear in the lists armed with the weight
and authority of facts on his side. It would then, perhaps, be time for me to
be moved. But as for all other writers, whatever be their talent, their efforts
will be in vain. My fame will survive. When they wish to be admired,
they will sound my praise."
While at Osterode, nothing seemed to be overlooked by Napoleon's all-
comprehensive and untiring energies.
To the Minister of the Interior he wrote : "An effective mode of encour
aging literature would be to establish a journal, of which the criticism is en
lightened, actuated by good intentions, and free of that coarse brutality which
characterizes the existing newspapers, and which is so contrary to the true
interests of the nation. Journals now never criticise with the intention of
repressing mediocrity, guiding inexperience, or encouraging rising merit.
All their endeavor is to wither, to destroy. Articles should be selected for
the journals where reasoning is mingled with eloquence, where praise for
deserved merit is tempered with censure for faults. Merit, however incon
siderate, should be sought for and rewarded."
Again he wrote : "You should occupy yourself with the project of estab
lishing a university for literature — understanding by that word not merely
the belles-lettres, but history and geography. It should consist of at least
thirty professorships, so linked together as to exhibit a living picture of in
struction and direction, where every one who wishes to study a particular
age should know at once whom to consult — what books, monuments, or.
chronicles to examine — where every one who wishes to travel should know
where to receive positive instructions as to the government, literature, and
physical productions of the country which he is about to visit.
" It is a lamentable fact, that in this great country, a young man who
wishes to study, or is desirous to signalize himself in any department, is
obliged for long to grope in the dark, and literally to lose years in fruitless
researches before he discovers the true repositories of the information for
which he seeks. I desire such institutions. They have long formed the
subject of my meditations, because in the course of my various labors I have
repeatedly experienced their want."
A vast number of plans for the Temple of the Madeleine were sent to
him. He wrote: "After having attentively considered the different plans
submitted to my examination, I have not felt the smallest doubt as to which
1 should adopt. That of M. Vignon alone fulfills my wishes. It is a temple
which I desire, not a church. What could you erect as a church which
could vie with the Pantheon, Notre Dame, or, above all, with St. Peter's at
Rome ? Every thing in the temple should be in a chaste, severe, and dur
able style. It should be fitted for solemnities at all times, at all hours. The
imperial throne should be a curule chair of marble. There should be seats
of marble for the persons invited, an amphitheatre of marble for the per
formers. No furniture should be admitted but cushions for the seats. All
Vol. I.— M m

546

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XXXV

should be of granite, of marble, and of iron. With this view, searches should
be made in all the provinces for quarries of marble and granite. They will
be useful, not merely for this monument, but for others which I have in view,
and which will require thirty, forty, or fifty years for their construction.
Not more than $600,000 should be required. The temple of Athens cost
not much more than one half that sum. Three millions of dollars have
been absorbed, I know not how, in the Pantheon. But I should not object
to the expenditure of a million of dollars for the construction of a temple
worthy of the first city in the world."
Thus arose the exquisite structure of the Madeleine. Napoleon reared it
in honor of the Grand Army. He, however, secretly intended it as an ex
piatory monument to Louis XVI., Maria Antoinette, and the other victims
of the Revolution. He intended thus to announce it, and to dedicate it as
soon as the fervor of revolutionary passion had sufficiently abated.

THE MADELEINE.

Napoleon learned that M. Berthollet, a man whom he particularly es
teemed for his scientific attainments, was in some pecuniary embarrassment.
He immediately wrote him, " I am informed that you are in need of thirty
thousand dollars. My treasurer has an order to place that sum at your dis
posal. I am very glad to find this occasion to be useful to you, and to give
you a proof of my esteem."
He was informed by the correspondence, which he paid for liberally and
read with care, that there was a quarrel in the Opera. There was a dispo
sition to persecute a poor machinist in consequence of the failure of some

1807.] THE MARCH TO FRIEDLAND. 547
decorations which he was preparing. Napoleon wrote to the Minister of
Police, " I will not have wrangling any where. I will not suffer M  to
be the victim of an accident. My custom is to protect the unfortunate.
Whether actresses ascend into the clouds or ascend not, I will not allow
that to be made a handle for intriguing."
Severe, and, as Napoleon thought, mischievous attacks were made in two
of the public journals upon the philosophers. He wrote, " It is necessary to
have discreet men at the head of those papers. Those two journals affect
religion even to bigotry. Instead of attacking the excesses of the exclusive
system of some philosophers, they attack philosophy and human knowledge.
Instead of keeping the productions of the age within bounds by sound crit
icism, they discourage those productions, depreciate and debase them."
His admirable foresight and energy had soon provided the army with all
the comforts which could be enjoyed in a rude encampment. The Russians,
on the other hand, were almost starving. They wandered about in maraud
ing bands, pillaging the villages, and committing the most frightful excesses.
Sometimes, driven by hunger, they came even to the French encampments
and begged bread of the French soldiers. By signs they expressed that for
several days they had eaten nothing. The soldiers received them as broth
ers, and fed them bountifully.
To promote industry in Paris, Napoleon gave orders for an immense quan
tity of shoes, boots, harness, and gun carriages to be made there. To trans
port these articles from France to the heart of Poland, through hostile coun
tries infested by prowling bands of shattered armies, he devised a plan as in
genious and effective as it was simple. He had been impressed, in the quag
mires through which his army had advanced, with the little zeal which the
drivers of the baggage-wagons evinced, and their want of courage in danger.
He had previously, with great success, given a military organization to the
artillery-drivers. He now resolved to do the same with the baggage-drivers.
These men, who had previously been but humble day-laborers, now became
a proud corps of the army, with the honorable title of Battalion of the Train.
They were dressed in uniform. A new sentiment of honor sprang up in
their hearts. It was a two months' journey from Paris to the Vistula. They
protected their equipages, freighted with treasure, and urged them on with
the same zeal with which the artillerymen defended their guns, and the in
fantry and cavalry their flags. Animated by that enthusiasm which Napo
leon had thus breathed into their hearts, they now appeared insensible to
danger or fatigue.
Such were the multitude of objects to which Napoleon directed his atten
tion. The eyes of all Europe were fixed upon him during his encampment
amid the snows of Poland. His enemies were awed by his energy and his
achievements. His distant empire was as perfectly and as minutely under
his government as if he were spending his days in his cabinet at the Tuiler
ies. Though thus laden with a burden of toil and care such as never before
rested upon a mortal mind, rarely did he allow a day to pass without writing
a line to Josephine. Often he sent to her twice a day a brief note of remem
brance and of love. The following are a few of his letters :

548 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [ClIAP. XXXV.
" Posen, December 2, 1806.
" It is the anniversary of Austerlitz. I have been to an assembly in the
city. It rains. I am well. I love you and desire you. The Polish ladies
are all French, but there is only one woman for me. Would you like to
know her ? I might, indeed, draw you her portrait, but I should have to flat
ter the portrait itself quite too much before you could recognize yourself in
it. These nights here are long, all alone. Entirely thine, Napoleon."
" Posen, December 3, 1806, noon.
" I have received yours of November 26. Two things I observe in it.
You say I do not read your letters. This is an unkind thought. I do not
thank you for so unfavorable an opinion. You also tell me that that neglect
must be caused by some dream of another. And yet you add that you are
not jealous. I have long observed that angry people insist that they are not
angry ; that those who are frightened say that they have no fear. You are
thus convicted of jealousy. I am delighted. As to this matter, you are
wrong. I think of any thing rather than that. In the deserts of Poland one
has little opportunity to dream of beauty. I gave a ball yesterday to the no
bility of the province. There were enough fine women, many rich, many
badly dressed, although in Parisian fashion. Adieu, my love. I am well.
Entirely thine, Napoleon."
" Posen, December 3, 6 o'clock, evening.
" I have received your letter of November 27, in which I perceive that
your little head is quite turned. I often recall the line,
" ' Woman's longing is a consuming flame.'
You must calm yourself. I have written to you that I am in Poland, and
that as soon as our winter quarters are established you can come. We must
wait some days. The greater one becomes, the less can he have his own
way. The ardor of your letter shows me that all you beautiful women rec
ognize no barriers. Whatever you wish must be. As for me, I declare I
am the veriest slave. My master has no compassion. That master is the
nature of things. Adieu, my love. Be happy. The one of whom I wish to
speak to you is Madame L  . Every one censures her. They assure me
she is more a Prussian than a French woman. I do not believe it. But I
think her a silly woman, and one who says only silly things. Thine entirely,
" Napoleon."
" Golimin, Dec. 29, 1806, 5 o'clock in the morning.
" I can write you but a word, my love. I am in a wretched barn. I have
beaten the Russians. We have taken from them 30 pieces of cannon, their
baggage, and 6000 prisoners. The weather is dismal. It rains. We are
in mud up to our knees. In two days we shall be at Warsaw, from which
place I will write to you. Wholly thine, Napoleon."
"Warsaw, January 18, 1807.
" I fear that you are greatly disappointed that our separation must still be
prolonged for several weeks. I expect of you more force of character.

1807.] THE MARCH TO FRIEDLAND. 549
They tell me that you weep continually. Fy ! How unbecoming that is.
Your letter of the 7th of January gave me much pain. Be worthy of me,
and show more force of character. Make a suitable appearance at Paris,
and, above all, be contented. I am very well, and I love you very much ;
but if you continually weep, I shall think you to be without courage and
without character. I do not love the spiritless. An empress should have
energy. Napoleon."
" January 23, 1807.
"I have received your letter of the 15th of January. It is impossible that
I should permit ladies to undertake such a journey — wretched roads, miry
and dangerous. Return to Paris. Be there cheerful, contented. I could
but smile at your remark that you took a husband in order to live with him.
I thought, in my ignorance, that woman was made for man ; man for his
country, his family, and glory. Pardon my ignorance. One is continually
learning with our beautiful ladies. Adieu, my love. Think how much I
suffer in not being able to call you here. Say to yourself, ' It is a proof how
I am precious to him.' Napoleon." Without date.
" My love ! Your letter of the 20th of January has given me much pain.
It is too sad. Behold the evil of not being a little devout. You tell me that
your happiness makes your glory. That is not generous. You ought to
say, The happiness of others is my glory. That is not conjugal. You must
say, The happiness of my husband is my glory. That is not maternal. You
should say, The happiness of my children is my glory. But since others,
your husband, your children, can not be happy without a little glory, you
should not say fy ! at it so much. Josephine, your heart is excellent, but
your reason feeble. Your perceptions are exquisite, but your deliberations
are less wise.
" Enough of fault-finding. I wish that you should be cheerful, contented
with your lot, and that you should obey, not murmuring and weeping, but
with alacrity of heart and with some degree of satisfaction with all. Adieu,
my love. I leave to-night to run through my advance posts. " Napoleon."
From his rude encampment at Osterode he wrote, the 27th of March, "I
desire, more strongly than you can, to see you, and to live in tranquillity. I
am interested in other things besides war. But duty is paramount over
all. All my life I have sacrificed tranquillity, interest, happiness, to my des
tiny." The Emperor was exceedingly attached to the little Napoleon, to whom
he often refers in his letters. He was the son of Hortense and of his brother
Louis. The boy, five years of age, was exceedingly beautiful, and developed
all those energetic and magnanimous traits of character which would win, in
the highest degree, the admiration of Napoleon. The Emperor had decided
to make this young prince his heir. All thoughts of the divorce were now
relinquished. Early in the spring of this year the child was suddenly taken

550 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXV.
sick of the croup, and died. The sad tidings were conveyed to Napoleon in
his cheerless stable at Osterode. It was a terrible blow to his hopes and to
his affections. He sat down in silence, buried his face in his hands, and for
a long time seemed lost in painful musings. No one ventured to disturb his
grief. Napoleon was now the most powerful monarch in Europe. But he was
without an heir. His death would plunge France into anarchy, as ambitious
chieftains, each surrounded by his partisans, would struggle for the throne.
Mournfully and anxiously he murmured to himself, again and again, " To
whom shall I leave all this." Napoleon was ambitious. He wished to send
down Lis name to posterity as the greatest benefactor France had ever
known. To accomplish this, he was ready to sacrifice comfort, health, his
affections, and that which he deemed least of all, his life. He loved Jose
phine above all other created beings. He deceived himself by the belief that
it would be indeed a noble sacrifice to France to bind, as an offering upon
the altar of his country, even their undying love. He knew that the ques
tion of the divorce would again arise. The struggle now resumed in his
heart between his love for Josephine and his desire to found a stable dynasty,
and to transmit his name to posterity, was fearful. Strong as was his self-
control, his anguish was betrayed by his pallid cheek, his restless eye, his
loss of appetite and of sleep.
To Josephine, apprehensive of the result, the bereavement was inexpress
ibly dreadful. Overwhelmed with anguish, she wept day and night. This
little boy, Charles Napoleon, Prince Royal of Holland, died at the Hague,
5th of May, 1807. He was the elder brother of Louis Napoleon, now Em
peror of France. Upon receiving the intelligence of his death, Napoleon
thus wrote to Josephine : "May 14, 1807.
" I can appreciate the grief which the death of poor Napoleon has caused
you. You can understand the anguish which I experience. I could wish
that I were with you, that you might become moderate and discreet in your
grief. You have had the happiness of never losing any children. But it is
one of the conditions and sorrows attached to suffering humanity. Let me
hear that you have become reasonable and tranquil. Would you magnify
my anguish? Adieu, my love. Napoleon."
In the following terms he wrote to Hortense :
" My daughter ! — Every thing which reaches me from the Hague informs
me that you are unreasonable. However legitimate may be your grief, it
should have its bounds. Do not impair your health. Seek consolation.
Know that life is strewed with so many dangers, and may be the source of
so many calamities, that death is by no means the greatest of evils.
" Your affectionate father, Napoleon.
" Finkenstein, May 20, 1807."
Four days after he thus wrote to Josephine :

1807.] THE MARCH TO FRIEDLAND. 551
"May 24, 1807.
" I have received your letter from Lacken. I see, with pain, that your
grief is still unabated, and that Hortense is not yet with you. She is un
reasonable, and merits not to be loved, since she loves but her children.
Strive to calm yourself, and give me no more pain. For every irremediable
evil we must find consolation. Adieu, my love. Wholly thine, "Napoleon."
Again he writes to Hortense on the 2d of June :
-"My daughter! — You have not written me one word in your just and
great grief. You have forgotten every thing, as if you had no other loss to
endure. I am informed that you no longer love — that you are indifferent to
every thing. I perceive it by your silence. That is not right. It is not
what you promised me. Your mother and I are nothing, then. Had I been
at Malmaison, I should have shared your anguish ; but I should also wish
that you would restore yourself to your best friends. Adieu, my daughter.
Be cheerful. We must learn resignation. Cherish your health, that you
may be able to fulfill all your duties. My wife is very sad in view of your
condition. Do not add to her anguish.
"Your affectionate father, Napoleon."
Again he wrote :
" My daughter ! — I have received your letter dated Orleans. Your griefs
touch my heart. But I would wish that you would summon more fortitude.
To live is to suffer. The sincere man struggles incessantly to gain the vic
tory over himself. I do not love to see you unjust toward the little Louis
Napoleon, and toward all your friends. Your mother and I cherish the hope
to be more in your heart than we are. I have gained a great victory on the
14th of June. I am well, and I love you intensely. Adieu, my daughter !
I embrace you with my whole heart. Napoleon."
While Napoleon was encamped upon the snows of Poland, waiting for
the return of spring, all his energies of body and mind were incessantly act
ive. Often he made the rounds of his cantonments, riding upon horseback
ninety miles a day, through storms, and snow, and mire. He was daily in
correspondence with his agents for the recruiting of his army, and for the
transportation of the enormous supplies which they required. He kept a
watchful eye upon every thing transpiring in Paris, and guided all the move
ments of the government there. During the long winter nights he was ru
minating upon the general policy he should adopt in disarming enemies, in
rewarding friends, in forming alliances, and in shielding France from further
insults. England now made the desperate endeavor to force Turkey into the alli
ance against France. Failing entirely to accomplish this by diplomacy, she
resorted to measures which no one has had the boldness to defend.* An En-
* "Mr. Wellesley Pole, in the absence of Mr. Arbuthnot, the British minister," says Alison,

552 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXV
glish fleet forced the Dardanelles, scorning the feeble batteries of the Turks.
The squadron anchored in front of Constantinople, with its guns pointed at
its thronged dwellings. The summons was laconic : " Dismiss the French
minister, surrender your fleet to us, and join our alliance against France, or
in one half hour we will lay your city in ashes."
But Napoleon had placed in Constantinople an embassador equal to the
emergence. General Sebastiani roused all the vigor of the Turkish govern
ment. He beguiled the foe into a parley. While this parley was protract
ed day after day, the whole population of the city — men, women, and chil
dren, Turks, Greeks, and Armenians — threw themselves into the work of
rearing defenses. French engineers guided the laborers. In less than a
week 917 pieces of cannon and 200 mortars were frowning upon the bat
teries. The squadron was now compelled to retreat. With difficulty it
forced its way back through the Strait, pelted all the way by the feeble bat
teries of the Turks. The English lost in this audacious expedition two hund
red and fifty men. The Turks, thus influenced, became more cordially al
lied to France. Napoleon was extremely gratified at the result.
Twenty-five thousand of the Allies had intrenched themselves inDantzic.
The conquest of the city was a matter of great moment to Napoleon. The
conduct of the siege was intrusted to Marshal Lefebvre. He was a brave
officer, but an ignorant man. He was extremely impatient of the slow prog
ress of the engineers, and was restless to head his troops and rush to the as
sault. Napoleon, with his head-quarters about a hundred miles from Dant-
zic, kept up a daily correspondence with his marshal upon the progress of
the works. It frequently, during the siege, became necessary for Napoleon
personally to interpose to settle disputes between Marshal Lefebvre and his
officers. The following letter to the impetuous soldier finely develops the
prudence and the candor of the Emperor :
"You can do nothing but find fault, abuse our allies, and change your
opinion at the pleasure of the first comer. You wanted troops. I sent you
them. I am preparing more for you ; and you, like an ingrate, continue to
complain, without thinking even of thanking me. You treat our allies, espe
cially the Poles and the Baden troops, without any delicacy. They are not
used to stand fire ; but they will get accustomed to it. Do you imagine that
we were as brave in '92 as we are now, after fifteen years of war ? Have
some indulgence, then, old soldier as you are, for the young soldiers wdio are
starting in the career, and who have not yet your coolness in danger. The
Prince of Baden, whom you have with you, has chosen to leave the pleas
ures of the court for the purpose of leading his troops into fire.
" Pay him respect, and give him credit for a zeal which his equals rarely
imitate. The breasts of your grenadiers, which you are for bringing in even-
where, will not throw down walls. You must allow your engineers to act,
" who was sick of fever presented himself before the Divan in his riding-dress, with a whip in his
hand, and peremptorily announced that if the demands of Russia were not instantly acceded to, a
British fleet would enter the Dardanelles, and lay the capital in ashes. Intimidated by this bold
language and by the haughty air of the person who used it, and secretly aware of the weakness of
the defenses of the capital, the counselors of Selim recommended a temporary concession to the de
mands of the allied powers.'' This is surely a novel exhibition of diplomatic courtesy, and one
which would perhaps have more influence in Turkey than in some other latitudes.

1807.] THE MARCH TO FRIEDLAND. 553
and listen to the advice of General Chasseloup, who is a man of science, and
from whom you ought not to withdraw your confidence at the suggestion of
the first petty caviler, pretending to judge of what he is incapable of com
prehending. Reserve the courage of your grenadiers for the moment when
science shall tell you that it may be usefully employed ; and, in the mean
time, learn patience. It is not worth while, for the sake of a few days,
which, besides, I know not how to employ just now, to get some thousand
men killed whose lives it is possible to spare. Show the calmness, the con
sistency, the steadiness which befit your age Your glory is in taking Dant-
zic. Take that place, and you shall be satisfied with me."
On the 26th of May, Dantzic capitulated, after a terrific conflict of fifty-
one days. From the abundant stores which the Allies had gathered there,
Napoleon immediately sent a million of bottles of wine to his troops in their
cantonments. While the snows were melting, and the frost yielding to the
returning sun of spring, it was hardly possible for either army to resume
hostilities. The heavy cannon could not be drawn through the miry roads.
Though Napoleon was fifteen hundred miles from his capital, in a hostile
country, and with Russia, Prussia, Sweden, and England combined against
him, his genius, his foresight, his indefatigable activity supplied his troops
with every comfort. The allied army was, on the contrary, suffering every
privation. The starving soldiers, to appease the cravings of want, desolated
extended tracts of country with violence and plunder.
The allied army now consisted of 140,000 men, of which 100,000 could
be speedily concentrated upon a field of battle. Napoleon, with 400,000
men dispersed along his extended line of march, and stationed in the for
tresses of his wide frontier, could, in a few days, concentrate 160,000 men
upon any spot between the Niemen and the Vistula. With his accustomed
vigilance and forecast, early in May he ordered all the divisions of his army
to take the field, and to be daily exercised in preparation for the resumption
of hostilities.
Early in June the Allies made a sudden rush from their intrenchments,
hoping to surround and overwhelm the division of Marshal Ney. This was
the signal for Napoleon's whole army, extended along a line of one hundred
and fifty miles, to advance and to concentrate. They did advance. The
opposing hosts every where met. The roar of musketry and of artillery, the
rush of squadrons, and the clash of sabres, resounded by day and by night.
Napoleon had matured all his plans. With iron energy he drove on to the
result. By skillful maneuvering, he every where outnumbered his foes.
Over mountains, across rivers, through defiles and forests, he pursued the
retiring foe.
Field after field was red with blood. Mothers, with their babes, fled from
their homes before the sweep of this awful avalanche of woe. In each vil
lage the Russians made a stand. For an hour the tempest of war roared
and flashed around the doomed dwellings. The crash of cannon balls, the
explosion of shells, the storm of bullets speedily did its work. From the
smouldering ruins the panting, bleeding Russians fled. In the blazing streets
horsemen and footmen met, hand to hand, in the desperate fight. Ten thou
sand homes were utterly desolated Women and children were struck by

554 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXV.
bullets and balls. Fields of grain were trampled in the mire. Still the
storm of war swept on and sw-ept on, mercilessly, unrelentingly. Regard
less of prayers and tears, and blood and woe, barbarian Russians fled, and
ferocious Frenchmen pursued.
Every vile man on earth loves the army and the license of war. No earth
ly power can restrain the desperadoes Avho throng the rank and file of con
tending hosts. From such an inundation of depraved and reckless men there
is no escape. The farm-house, the village, the city is alike exposed. Hu
manity shudders in contemplating the atrocities which are perpetrated. The
carnage of the field of battle is the very least of the calamities of war. Na
poleon was indefatigable in his efforts. His energy appeared superhuman.
He seemed neither to eat, nor sleep, nor rest. He was regardless of rain,
of mud, of darkness, of storms. Horse after horse sunk beneath him, as,
with his staff, like a whirlwind he swept along his lines, rousing, animating,
energizing his mighty hosts, advancing over a space of fifty leagues.
It was on the 5th of June that the storm of war commenced. Day and
night it continued unabated, as the Russians, fighting with desperation, sul
lenly retreated before their foes. On the 10th the Allies had concentrated,
upon the field of Heilsberg, on the banks of the River Alle, 90,000 men.
Here they planted themselves firmly behind intrenchments, fortified by five
hundred pieces of heavy artillery. These were loaded to the muzzle with
grape-shot to mow down the French advancing over the open plain.
In utter recklessness of life, 30,000 Frenchmen, rending the skies with
their wild hurrahs, rushed upon the muzzles of these guns. Murat and Ney
headed the desperate assault. Napoleon was not there to witness a scene
of butchery so inexcusable. The Russian batteries opened upon the bare
bosoms of these moving masses, and the whole heads of columns were swrep1
away. Still on and on the impetuous host rushed, with oaths and shouts,
wading through blood, and trampling over piles of the slain. They pour
over the intrenchments, sabre the gunners, shout victory.
Suddenly the tramp of iron hoofs is heard. Trumpets sound the charge.
A squadron of horse, ten thousand strong, sweeps down upon the French
with resistless plunge. The shout of victory sinks away into the wail of
death. The French who had scaled the ramparts were overwhelmed, anni
hilated. Thus the tide of battle ebbed and flowed all day long. Night
came. Dense volumes of smoke canopied the field of demoniac war with
the sulphurous gloom of the world of woe. By the light of the cannon's
flash the surges of battle still rolled to and fro. Clouds gathered in the
black sky. A dismal rain began to fall, as if Nature herself wept over the
crimes of the children of earth. Midnight came. The booming of the guns
gradually ceased, as the soldiers, utterly exhausted with a conflict of twelve
hours, threw themselves, amid the dying and the dead, upon the storm-
drenched and gory ground. Late in the night Napoleon came galloping
upon the field. He was exceedingly displeased at the senseless butchery to
which his impetuous generals had led the men.
The dawn of a gloomy morning of wind and rain revealed to both armies
an awful spectacle. The two hostile hosts were within half cannon shot of
each other. The narrow space between was covered with eighteen thousand

1807.] THE MARCH TO FRIEDLAND. 555
of the dead and wounded. All the dead and many of the wounded had been
stripped entirely naked by those wretches, both male and female, who ever,
in great numbers, follow in the wake of armies for such plunder. These
naked bodies, crimsoned with gore, mutilated by balls and by ghastly sabre
strokes, presented an aspect of war stripped of all its pageantry. By mutual,
instinctive consent, both parties laid aside their guns, and hastened to the
relief of the wounded and to the burial of the dead. How strange the scene !
Russians and Frenchmen were now mingled together upon the same field,
in perfect amity, vying with each other in deeds of kindness.
Each army then resumed its position to renew the fight. The Russians
rallied behind their intrenchments, the French upon the open plain. Napo
leon, ever anxious to spare the needless effusion of blood, so skillfully ma
neuvered, preparing to attack his foes in the rear, that the Russians were
soon compelled, without the firing of a gun, to abandon their position and
to continue their retreat. All the night of the 12th of June the Russians
were precipitately retiring. Though dreadfully fatigued, they continued their
flight the whole of the next day. They were compelled to make another
stand upon the plain of Friedland. Their doom was sealed. Napoleon had
driven them into the elbow of a river, and had so skillfully drawn together
his forces as to render their escape impossible.
Early in the morning of the 14th the battle of Friedland commenced.
The division of Lannes was in the advance. The Russian army fell upon
it with the utmost energy, hoping to secure its destruction before the other
divisions of the French army could come to its relief. Napoleon was ten
miles distant when he heard the first deep booming of the cannon. He sent
in every direction for his battalions to hasten to the scene of conflict. At
noon Napoleon galloped upon the heights which overlooked the field. As
he saw the position of the enemy, hemmed in by the bend of the river, and
his own troops marching up on every side, a gleam of joy lighted up his
features. "This," he exclaimed, "is the 14th of June. It is the anniversary of
Marengo. It is a lucky day for us."
The French, during the morning, had been contending against fearful odds.
Lannes, with 26,000 men, had withstood the assault of the whole Russian
army of 80,000. As Napoleon appeared upon the heights, General Oudinot,
plunging his spurs into his horse, hastened to the Emperor, exclaiming,
" Make haste, sire ! My grenadiers are utterly exhausted. But give me a
re-enforcement, and I will drive all the Russians into the river." The clothes
of the intrepid soldier were perforated with balls, and his horse was covered
with blood. Napoleon glanced proudly at him, and then, with his glass,
carefully and silently surveyed the field of battle. One of his officers ven
tured to suggest that it would be best to defer the battle for a few hours, un
til the rest of the troops had arrived and had obtained a little rest. " No,
no !" Napoleon replied, energetically ; "one does not catch an enemy twice
in such a scrape."
Calling his lieutenants around him, he explained to them his plan of at
tack with that laconic force and precison of language which no man has ever
surpassed. Grasping the arm of Marshal Ney, and pointing to the little

556 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXV.
town of Friedland, and the dense masses of the Russians crowded before it,
he said, emphatically,
" Yonder is the goal. March to it without looking about you. Break
into that thick mass, whatever it costs. Enter Friedland; take the bridges,
and give yourself no concern about what may happen on your right, your
left, or your rear. The army and I shall be there to attend to that."
Ney, proud of the desperate enterprise assigned him, set out on the gallop
to head his troops. Napoleon followed with his eye this "bravest of the
brave." Impressed by his martial attitude, he exclaimed, " That man is a
lion." Nev's division of 14,000 men, with a solid tramp which seemed to
shake the plain, hurled itself upon the foe. At the same signal the whole
French line advanced. It was a spectacle of awful sublimity. One inces
sant roar of battle, louder than the heaviest thunders, shook the plain. Na
poleon stood in the centre of the divisions which he held in reserve. A large
cannon ball came whistling over their heads, just above the bayonets of the
troops. A young soldier instinctively dodged. Napoleon looked at him,
and smiling, said, " My friend, if that ball were destined for you, though you
were to burrow a hundred feet under ground, it w-ould be sure to find you
there." Friedland was soon in flames, and Ney in possession of its blazing dwell
ings and its bloodstained streets. As the darkness of night came on, the
scene was indescribably awful. The Russians, having lost 25,000 men in
killed and wounded, retreated toward the river, pursued by the victorious
French, who were plowing their ranks incessantly with grape-shot, musket
ry, and cannon balls. The bridges were all destroyed. A frightful specta
cle of wreck and ruin was now presented. The retreating army plunged
into the stream. Some found fords, and, wading breast high, reached the
opposite bank, and planted anew their batteries ; thousands were swept
away by the current. The shore, for miles, was lined with the bodies of
drowned men. A storm of bullets swept the river, crowded with the fugi
tives, and the water ran red with blood.
The allied army was now- utterly destroyed. It was impossible to make
any further opposition to the advance of Napoleon. The broken bands of
the vanquished retired precipitately across the Niemen, and took refuge in
the wilds of Russia. The Russian generals and the Russian army now
clamored loudly for peace. Alexander sent a messenger to Napoleon im
ploring an armistice. Napoleon promptly replied, that after so much fa
tigue, toil, and suffering, he desired nothing so much as a safe and honorable
peace ; and that most cordially he consented to an armistice, hoping that it
might secure that desirable end. Thus in ten days the campaign was ter
minated. Napoleon thus addressed his army :
" Soldiers ! On the 5th of June we were attacked in our cantonments by
the Russian army. The enemy had mistaken the cause of our inactivity.
He perceived too late that our repose was that of the lion. He repents of
having disturbed it. In a campaign of ten days we have taken 120 pieces
of cannon, seven colors, and have killed, wounded, or taken prisoners 60,000
Russians. We have taken from the enemy's army all its magazines, its
hospitals, its ambulances, the fortress of Konigsberg, the 300 vessels which

1807.] THE PEACE OF TILSIT. 557
were in that port, laden with all kinds of military stores, and 160,000 mus
kets, which England was sending to arm our enemies. From the banks of
the Vistula we have come, with the speed of the eagle, to those of the Nie
men. At Austerlitz you celebrated the anniversary of the coronation. At
Friedland you have worthily celebrated the battle of Marengo, where we put
an end to the war of the second coalition.
" Frenchmen-1 You have been worthy of yourselves and of me. You will
return to France covered with laurels, having obtained a glorious peace,
which carries with it the guarantee of its duration. It is time for our coun
try to live in repose, sheltered from the malignant influences of England.
My bounties shall prove to you my gratitude, and the full extent of the love
which I feel for you."

CHAPTER XXXVI.

THE PEACE OF TILSIT.

Proposals for Peace — Raft at Tilsit — Intimacy of Napoleon and Alexander — The King of Prussia —
Chagrin of the Queen — Treaty of Tilsit — Unfair Representations of English Historians — Return
to Paris — General Rejoicing.
Upon the banks of the Niemen, which separates the rest of Europe from
the boundless wastes of the Russian empire, Napoleon arrested the march
of his triumphant columns. But twenty months had now elapsed since he
left the camp of Boulogne. In that time he had traversed the Continent and
conquered all the armies of combined Europe. The storms of winter had
passed away. The beauty of summer was blooming around him. His sol
diers, flushed with victory, and adoring their chieftain, were ready to follow
wherever he should lead. But his enemies were incapable of any further
resistance. Alexander and Frederick William, in the extreme of dejection,
were upon the northern bank of the river, with about 70,000 men, the broken
bands of their armies. These troops, having lost most of their artillery and
munitions of war, were utterly dispirited. On the other bank the eagles of
Napoleon fluttered proudly over 170,000 victors.
Upon the left bank of the Niemen there is the little town of Tilsit. It
contains about ten thousand inhabitants. Napoleon had just arrived in this
place when a letter was placed in his hands from Alexander, proposing an
armistice. Napoleon had now been absent from the capital of his empire
nearly a year, enduring inconceivable toils and hardships. With the utmost
cordiality he accepted the proffered advances. Marshal Kalkreuth appear
ed, in behalf of the Prussians, to implore the clemency of the conqueror.
Napoleon received him with great courtesy, and said, " You alone, of the
Prussian officers, have treated the French prisoners humanely. On this ac
count, and as a mark of my esteem and gratitude, I consent to a suspension
of arms, without requiring the delivery of the remaining Prussian fortresses."
The Niemen alone now separated the belligerent armies. But Napoleon,
with characteristic caution, concentrated his forces, reared an intrenched
camp, collected immense stores, and posted the divisions of his army just as
if the war had not been interrupted. The two vanquished sovereigns were

558

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XXXVI.

now in great haste to open negotiations. The first interview was appointed
for the 25th of June.
It is not often that the mathematical and the poetic elements combine in
the same mind. They did so, in the most extraordinary degree, in the mind
of Napoleon. No one ever had a more rich appreciation than he of beauty
and of sublimity. He felt the impress of moral grandeur, and he well knew
how to place that impress upon other hearts. The two most powerful sov
ereigns in the world were to meet, in friendly converse, to decide whether
w7ar should still desolate Europe. For a year their mighty armies had been
engaged in one of the most sanguinary conflicts earth has ever witnessed.
These hosts, consisting in the aggregate of more than two hundred thousand
men, were now facing each other, separated but by a narrow stream. The
eyes of all Europe were riveted upon the astonishing scene. Napoleon fully
realized the grandeur of the occasion. With his accustomed tact, he seized
upon it to produce an impression never to be forgotten.
He ordered a large and magnificent raft to be moored in the middle of the
Niemen, equidistant from both banks of the river. The raft was carpeted,

THE RAFT AT TILSIT.

and ornamented with the richest decorations. Upon one part a gorgeous
pavilion was erected. No expense was spared to invest the construction
with the most imposing magnificence. The two armies were drawn up
upon each shore. Thousands of people from the neighboring country had
thronged to the spot to witness the extraordinary spectacle. God seemed

1807.] THE PEACE OF TILSIT. 559
to smile upon this scene of reconciliation. The sun rose brilliantly into the
cloudless sky, and the balmy atmosphere of one of the most lovely of June
mornings invigorated all hearts.
At one o'clock precisely the thunders of artillery rose sublimely from
either shore, as each emperor, accompanied by a few of his principal officers,
stepped into a boat on his own side of the river. The numerous and gorge
ously appareled suite of the respective monarchs followed in a boat imme
diately after their sovereigns. The main raft was intended solely for Napo
leon and Alexander. Two smaller rafts, also of beautiful construction, were
anchored at a short distance for the imperial retinue. Napoleon reached the
raft first, and immediately crossed it to receive Alexander. The two em
perors cordially embraced each other. Every man in both armies was gaz
ing upon them. Instantly a shout arose from two hundred thousand voices,
which filled the air like a peal of sublimest thunder. Even the roar of nearly
a thousand pieces of artillery was drowned in that exultant acclaim.
The two emperors entered the pavilion together. The first words which
Alexander uttered were,
" I hate the English as much as you do. I am ready to second you in all
your enterprises against them."
" In that case," Napoleon replied, " every thing will be easily arranged,
and peace is already made."
The interview lasted two hours. Napoleon, with his brilliant genius, pos
sessed powers of fascination which few could resist. Alexander was per
fectly entranced. "Never," said he afterward, "did I love any man as I
loved that man." " You and I," said Napoleon, " shall understand each
other better if we treat directly than by employing our ministers. We shall
advance business more in an hour than our negotiators in several days. Be
tween you and me there must be no third person."
Alexander was but thirty years of age. He was extremely ambitious. To
be thus addressed by one whose renown filled the world was in the highest
degree gratifying to the vanquished monarch. Napoleon proposed that they
should both establish themselves in the little town of Tilsit, which should be
neutralized to receive Alexander. There they could at any hour, in person,
engage in business. The proposal was eagerly accepted. It was agreed
that the very next day, Alexander, with his guard, should occupy one half of
Tilsit, and Napoleon the other. Napoleon immediately ordered the most
sumptuous arrangements to be made for the accommodation of the Russian
emperor. Furniture of the richest construction was sent to his apartments,
ahd he was provided with every luxury.
On the morning of the next day the emperors met again upon the raft.
The unfortunate King of Prussia accompanied Alexander. Frederick Wil
liam was a dull, uninteresting, awkward man, with no graces of person or of
mind. He had unjustly provoked the war. His kingdom was in the hands
of the conqueror. He could receive nothing but what Napoleon, in compas
sion, might condescend to restore. Alexander could treat on terms of equal
ity. His kingdom was not yet invaded. All its resources were still under
his control. The interview was short, lasting but half an hour. It was ex
tremely embarrassing upon the part of the King of Prussia. He tried to

560 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXVI.
frame some apologies for drawing the sword against France. Napoleon was
too generous to wound his humbled foe by reproaches. He merely said that
it was a great calamity that the court of Berlin should have allowed itself,
by the intrigues of England, to embroil the Continent in war. It was de
cided that the King of Prussia should also come to Tilsit, to reside with his
ally Alexander. Both parties then returned to their respective sides of the
river. At five o'clock in the afternoon of the same day, Alexander again crossed
the Niemen to take up his residence in Tilsit. Napoleon went to the water's
edge to receive him. They met like friends of long standing. Napoleon
was especially courteous and cordial. Alexander was greeted with all the
honor which the French army could confer. He was conducted to his quar
ters amid the discharges of artillery and the acclamations of a countless host.
Alexander dined with Napoleon. The highest honors and the most delicate
attentions were lavished upon him. It was immediately settled that the Rus
sian emperor should take all his meals with Napoleon. Alexander was a
gentleman of highly polished address, exhibiting all that grace and elegance
which give such a peculiar charm to the salons of Paris. He was entirely
dazzled by the grandeur and the fascinations of Napoleon, and was willingly
led captive by one who could conquer hearts even more easily than he could
vanquish armies.
The two emperors took long rides every day, side by side, upon the banks
of the Niemen, conversing with the utmost frankness. Their intimacy became
so extraordinary, that not only did they dine daily together, but nearly ever}
hour they were with each other, arranging the complicated conditions of the
treaty into which they were about to enter. The officers and soldiers of the
two armies, witnessing the perfect cordiality between the two emperors, vied
also with each other in testimonials of esteem and friendship. Fetes and en
tertainments succeeded m rapid order, and the two encampments were united
in the kindliest ties of brotherhood. The emperors, as they rode in company
along the ranks of both armies, were received with the liveliest acclamations.
Shouts of " Vive Alexander !" " Vive Napoleon !" were harmoniously blended.
" My soldiers," said Napoleon to the Czar, " are as brave as it is possible to
be, but they are too much addicted to reasoning on their position. If they
had the impassible firmness and docility of the Russians, the world would
be too small for their exploits."
One morning Napoleon and Alexander were walking out together, when
they passed a French sentinel, who respectfully presented arms. The gren
adier had a hideous scar upon his face, caused by a long and deep sabre
gash, extending from his forehead to his chin. Napoleon looked at the man
kindly for a moment, and then said to Alexander,
" Sire, my brother, what think, you of soldiers who can survive such
wounds as that ?"
Alexander fixed his eyes upon the wound, and replied, "And you, sire,
my brother, what think you of soldiers who can give such wounds ?"
The grenadier murmured, in a grave voice, without changing a feature of
his cast-iron face, " They are all dead — they are."
For a moment Alexander was embarrassed, and then turning to Napoleon,

1807.] THE PEACE OF TILSIT. 5gl
very courteously replied, " Here, my brother, as elsewhere, the victory re
mains with you."
" Here, as elsewhere," Napoleon most aptly rejoined, " it is to my soldiers
that I am indebted for victory."
The emperors often spent hours together with the map of the world spread
out before them. Alexander became quite entranced with the new and brill
iant thoughts which Napoleon suggested to his mind. It was Napoleon's
great object to withdraw Alexander from the alliance with England, and to
secure his cordial co-operation with France.
" What," said he, one day, " are the objects at which England aims ? She
wishes to rule the seas, which are the property of all nations , to oppress
neutral flags, to monopolize commerce, to compel other nations to pay for
colonial produce whatever price she demands, to plant her foot upon the
Continent wherever she can — in Portugal, in Denmark, in Sweden ; to take
possession of the dominant points of the globe, the Cape of Good Hope, Gib
raltar, Malta, and the entrance to the Baltic, that she may impose her laws
upon the whole trading world. She is now endeavoring to conquer Egypt.
And recently, if she had obtained possession of the Dardanelles, what would
she have done with them ?
" I am accused of being fond of war. It is not so. I am ready instantly
to prove it. Be you my mediator with the cabinet of London. That char
acter befits your position as the former ally of England and the future ally
of France. I am willing to give up Malta. Great Britain may keep that
island in compensation for what I have acquired since the rupture of the
peace of Amiens. But let her, in her turn, give up the colonies which she
has wrested from my allies, Spain and Holland. I will then restore Han
over to her. Are not these conditions just — perfectly equitable ? Can I ac
cept others ? Can I desert my allies ? And when I am willing to sacrifice
my conquests on the Continent to recover for my allies their lost posses
sions, is it possible to dispute my probity and my moderation ?
" If England refuse these terms, she ought to be forced to submit. It is
not right that she should keep the world continually harassed by war. We
have the means of compelling her to peace. If England refuses these just
terms, proclaim yourself the ally of France. Declare that you will join your
forces with hers to secure a maritime peace. Let England know that be
sides war with France she will have a war with the whole Continent, with
Russia, with Prussia, with Denmark, with Sweden, and with Portugal, all
which powers must obey when we signify our will to them. Austria must
speak out in the same spirit when she finds that she must have war with
England or with us. England, then exposed to a universal war — if she will
not conclude an equitable peace — England will lay down her arms.
"You are to act as a mediator with England for me. I will act the same
part with the Porte for you. If the Porte refuses to treat on equitable terms,
I will unite with you against the Turks. Then we will make a suitable par
tition of the Ottoman empire."
Alexander was thrown by these magnificent conceptions into almost a de
lirium of enthusiasm. He yielded himself, without resistance, to the fasci
nations of the master-mind which had now obtained an entire ascendency
Vol. I.— N n

562

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XXXVI.

over him. He was never weary of expressing his unbounded admiration of
Napoleon. To those who approached him he incessantly exclaimed, " What
a great man ! what a genius ! What extensive views ! What a captain !
what a statesman ! Had I known him sooner, from how many errors he
might have saved me ! What great things we might have accomplished to
gether !"
The unfortunate King of Prussia was truly an object of commiseration.
With neither an empire nor an army, he was but a suppliant for such alms
as the generosity of Napoleon might confer upon him. He was lonely and
dejected, and was quite an incumbrance in the way of his crowned compan
ions. Napoleon treated him with great delicacy and respect. Said Napo
leon at St. Helena,
"Almost every day at Tilsit the two emperors and the King of Prussia
rode out together on horseback. Napoleon rode in the middle between the

THE THREE SOVEREIGNS.

two sovereigns. Frederick William could hardly keep pace with the two
emperors, or, deeming himself an intruder on their tete-a-tete, generally fell
behind. Alexander was sometimes fatigued with his companion, whose cha
grin was so evident that it damped our satisfaction. We broke up, in con
sequence, our dinner parties at an early hour, under pretense of business at
home. Alexander and I remained behind to take tea together, and gener
ally prolonged the conversation till past midnight."
In these long interviews the fate of Turkey was a continual topic of con-

1807.] THE PEACE OF TILSIT. 563
versation. The Moslem empire was rapidly crumbling to decay. Alexander
was exceedingly desirous to drive the Turks out of Europe, and take pos
session of Constantinople. Napoleon was irreconcilably opposed to this
plan. He felt that it was giving the dreaded Colossus of the North alto
gether too much power. He was willing that Russia should take the prov
inces on the Danube, but could not be persuaded to allow Alexander to pass
the range of the Balkan Mountains, and annex to his realms the proud city
of Constantine.
One day, having returned from a ride, the two emperors shut themselves
up in the writing cabinet, where numerous maps were spread out. Napoleon
requested his secretary, M. Meneval, to bring him a map of Turkey. Clap
ping his finger upon Constantinople, he exclaimed with great earnestness, as
if repeating a conversation, " Constantinople ! Constantinople ! never ! 'tis
the empire of the world !"
" All the Emperor Alexander's thoughts," said Napoleon at St. Helena,
" are directed to the conquest of Turkey. We have had many discussions
about it. At first I was pleased with his proposals, because I thought it
would enlighten the world to drive these brutes, the Turks, out of Europe.
But when I reflected upon its consequences, and saw what a tremendous
weight of power it would give to Russia, on account of the number of
Greeks in the Turkish dominions, who would naturally join the Russians, I
refused to consent to it, especially as Alexander wanted to get Constantino
ple, which I would not allow, as it would destroy the equilibrium of power
in Europe."
" A dispensation of Providence," said Napoleon to Alexander at Tilsit,
" has set me at liberty in regard to the Porte. My ally and friend, Sultan
Selim, has been hurled from the throne into confinement. I did think that
one might make something of these Turks ; restore to them some energy ,•
teach them to make use of their natural courage. 'Tis an illusion. It is
time to put an end to an empire which can no longer hold together, and to
prevent its spoils from contributing to increase the power of England."
The Queen of Prussia came to Tilsit with her husband, hoping by her ex
traordinary charms of person and of manner to secure more favorable terms
from the conqueror. She was one of the most brilliant of women, retaining,
at the age of thirty-two, that surpassing loveliness which had made her the
admiration of Europe.
"The Queen of Prussia," said Napoleon, "unquestionably possessed tal
ents, great information, and singular acquaintance with affairs. She was
the real sovereign for fifteen years. In truth, in spite of my address and ut
most efforts, she constantly led the conversation, returned at pleasure to her
subject, and directed it as she chose, but still with so much tact and delicacy
that it was impossible to take offense.
" Had the Queen of Prussia arrived earlier at our conferences, it might
have had much influence upon the result of our negotiations. But, happily,
she did not make her appearance till all was settled. As soon as she ar
rived I went to pay her a visit. She was very beautiful, but somewhat past
the first flower of youth. After all, a fine woman and gallantry are not to
be weighed against affairs of state."

564 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXVI.
He wrote to Josephine: "The Queen of Prussia is really a charming
woman. She is fond of coqueting with me. But do not be jealous. I am
like a cere-cloth, along which every thing of this sort slides without pene
trating. It would cost me too dear to play the gallant."
The unhappy queen was violently agitated when she found that her ef
forts had been of no avail, and that all was concluded. As Napoleon con
ducted her down stairs at the close of their final dinner, she stopped, gazed
earnestly into his eyes, pressed his hand, and said,
"Is it possible that, after having had the good fortune to be so near the
hero of the age, he has not left me the satisfaction of being able to assure
him that he has attached me to him forever !"
" Madame," Napoleon replied, " I lament that it is so. It is my evil des-
tiny." When she reached her carriage, she threw herself into it, buried her face
in her hands, and departed sobbing most bitterly. The grief of the unhappy
queen wore so heavily upon her spirits that she soon sank into the grave.
Her persuasions had roused Prussia to the war, and her lofty spirit could
not brook the ruin she had thus drawn upon her country and her house.
The treaty concluded upon this occasion has become famous in history
as the " Treaty of Tilsit." The King of Prussia had about one half of his
empire restored to him. The portion wrested from Poland, in the infamous
partition of that empire, was organized into a Polish state, called the Duchy
of Warsaw, and wras placed under the protection of the King of Saxony.
Napoleon liberated all the serfs, entirely abolished slavery, established per
fect liberty of conscience in matters of religion, and rescued the Jews from
all oppression. The inhabitants of the duchy were overjoyed in being thus
emancipated from Prussian rule, and restored to comparative independence.
Napoleon earnestly desired the complete re-establishment of Poland. But
he could not induce Alexander to consent to the plan. The provinces of
Prussia, upon the left banks of the Elbe, were formed into the kingdom of
Westphalia, and assigned to Jerome Bonaparte. The kingdom of Prussia
was reduced from nine millions of inhabitants to five millions ; her revenue
of twenty-four millions of dollars was diminished to fourteen millions. Al
exander recognized the Confederation of the Rhine, and also acknowledged
the Kings of Naples, Holland, and Westphalia. Russia agreed to mediate
with England, and France engaged to mediate with the Porte, for the restora
tion of peace throughout the world. Alexander and Napoleon also entered
into a mutual alliance, offensive and defensive. Such were the essential arti
cles of this celebrated treaty. Thus Napoleon endeavored to strengthen his
own position, and to protect himself from any further attacks from the north.
Some accused Napoleon of weakness and folly in leaving Prussia so pow
erful when she was entirely at his mercy. Others accused him of ambition
and arrogance in despoiling her of so large a portion of her resources. Im
partial history will decide that, considering the circumstances in which he
was placed, he acted not only with much wisdom and moderation, but also
with great magnanimity. He manifested no spirit of revenge for the wrongs
which he had received. He endeavored only to shield himself from future
attacks.

1807.] THE PEACE OF TILSIT. 565
Immediately after the conclusion of this treaty, in which Napoleon mani
fested so little disposition to aggrandize France as to excite the wonder even
of his most hostile historians, he sent for Savary, and said to him, " f have
concluded peace. I am told that I have done wrong, and that I shall find
myself deceived. But truly we have had war enough. It is time that the
world should enjoy repose. I wish to send you to St. Petersburg until I
make choice of an embassador. I will give you a letter to Alexander which
will serve as your credentials. You will manage the business for me. Rec- .
ollect that I do not wish to go to war with any power whatever. Let this
principle be the guide of your conduct. I shall be much displeased if you
do not avoid drawing me into fresh difficulties. In your conversation, care
fully avoid any thing that may be offensive. For instance, never speak of
war. Do not condemn any custom or comment upon any absurdity. Every
nation has its peculiarities. It is too much the habit of the French to com
pare all customs with their own, and to set themselves up as models. You
know how I have been deceived by the Austrians and Prussians. I place
confidence in the Emperor of Russia."*
Napoleon had now been absent from France nearly a year. Upon the
banks of the Niemen he was fifteen hundred miles from his capital. The
Continent was now at peace. At this moment Napoleon was in the zenith
of his power. Europe, dazzled by his genius, and vanquished by his armies,
was compelled to recognize his crown. England alone, protected by her in
vincible fleet, and triumphantly sweeping all seas, refused to sheathe the
sword. She still exerted all her powers of diplomacy and of gold to com
bine new coalitions against the foe she so relentlessly pursued. Notwith-
* In reference to this treaty, Sir Walter Scott remarks, with a. disingenuousness deeply to be
regretted in one whom we love to honor, " It may seem strange that the shrewd and jealous Na
poleon should have suffered himself to be so much overreached in his treaty with Alexander, since
the benefits stipulated for France were in a great measure vague, and subjects of hope rather than
certainty." Sir Walter, with his inveterate Tory prejudices, could not deem it possible that Napo
leon could be influenced by a generous impulse. " If the reader," he says, "should wonder how
Bonaparte, able and astutious as he was, came to be overreached in the treaty of Tilsit, we believe
the secret may be found in a piece of private history. He had hopes that he might obtain the hand
of one of the Archduchesses of Russia .'"
History may be searched in vain for a parallel to the unjust treatment of Napoleon. The great
facts in his career are admitted by all. The false coloring put upon these facts is perfectly astound
ing. It is one of the most extraordinary of the curiosities of literature. Take one example out
of hundreds, from Alison, who, better than any other English historian, with the exception of Haz-
litt, appreciates the character of Napoleon. All admit that after every victory Napoleon pleaded
for peace. How can this be reconciled with his alleged passion for war 1 "It had ever been," says
Alison, " his policy to offer peace to his enemies during the first tumult and consternation of defeat ;
and more than once, by such well-timed advances, he had extricated himself from a position of the ut
most peril." After the battle of Eylau, Napoleon wrote a generous and noble letter to Frederick
William, offering, on terms most equitable and moderate, to make peace with Prussia, either singly
or united with her allies. The fact no one can deny. And yet Alison allows himself to say,
" Amid these tardy and extorted expressions of moderation, the Emperor had nothing less at heart
than to come to an accommodation." Still Alison is compelled to admit that Napoleon did make
peace the very moment his enemies were willing to sheathe the sword, and that he did this on
terms so favorable to his enemies as to excite the astonishment of the world. HistoTy is indeed
recreant to her trust when, abandoning the broad highway of facts, she wanders in the crooked by
paths of hostile and ungenerous insinuations. Napoleon conducted nobly, magnanimously at Til
sit. Friend aud foe should acknowledge it. The surmise that Napoleon hoped that Alexander
would loss in a sister to kelp balance the bargain, can not command respect.

566 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXVI.
standing England's sovereignty of the seas, the genius of Napoleon had placed
her in arf unenviable position. The haughty bearing of that government had
rendered England universally unpopular. Says Hazlitt, "As to the com
plaints urged by the French ruler against the encroachments, the insolence,
and the rapacity of England, as a maritime power, nothing could be more
just." Europe was now ready to combine to compel England to recognize
the rights of other nations, and to sheathe her dripping sword. But proudly
this majestic power, in her inaccessible domain, gathered her fleets around
her, and bid defiance to the combined world.
On Napoleon's return journey, when he had arrived at Dresden, the cap
ital of the kingdom of Saxony, he wrote to Josephine :
" I reached this city last evening, at five o'clock, very well, though I had
been in my carriage, without leaving it, one hundred hours. I am with the
King of Saxony. I like him much. I have now traversed one half the dis
tance which has separated us. It will happen that, one of these beautiful
nights, I shall burst into St. Cloud like a jealous husband. I forewarn you
of it. It will give me the most intense pleasure again to see you. Entirely
thine, Napoleon."
At six o'clock in the morning of the 27th of July, the cannon of the In-
valides, reverberating through the metropolis, announced to the overjoyed
Parisians the return of their emperor. With his accustomed disregard of
all personal comfort, and his characteristic avoidance of all empty pomp, he
had traveled through the night, and entered his capital, unannounced, at that
early hour of the morning. The tidings of his arrival passed through the
city like an electric flash. Spontaneous rejoicings filled all the streets.
Napoleon had rescued France from the abyss of anarchy and want, and
placed her upon the very pinnacle of prosperity and glory. Bourbonist and
Democrat, friend and enemy, alike admitted this. As the day passed away,
and the evening twilight faded, every window, by popular concert, blazed
with illuminations. But Napoleon tarried not in the city to receive these con
gratulations. Without the delay of an hour he repaired to St. Cloud, where
he assembled the ministers before him, and immediately entered upon busi
ness, as if he had just returned from a short tour for recreation.
The confidence of the public in the stability of Napoleon's power may be
inferred from the rate of the public funds. The government five per cent.
stock Napoleon found, when he ascended the consulship, worth but twelve
dollars on the hundred. At his return from Friedland the same stocks were
selling at ninety-three dollars on the hundred. As it was easy then to ob
tain, with good security, an interest of six or seven per cent., this high ap
preciation of the public funds proves the firmest confidence in the estab
lished government.
Before Napoleon left Paris to enter upon these campaigns, into which he
was so reluctantly dragged, he addressed his ministers in the following sol
emn and emphatic appeal :
"I am innocent of this war. I have done nothing to provoke it, It did
not enter into my calculations. Let me be defeated if it be of my own seek-

1807.] POLITICAL VIEWS. 567
ing. One of the principal reasons of the assurance I feel that my enemies
will be destroyed is, that I view in their conduct the finger of Providence,
who, willing that the guilty should be punished, has set wisdom so far aside
in their councils, that when they intended to attack me in the moment of
weakness, they selected the very instant when I was stronger than ever."
Before the battle of Jena, when Napoleon had so effectually outmaneu-
vered his enemies as to feel sure of victory, wishing to save the effusion of
blood, he wrote to the King of Prussia :
, "The success of my arms is not doutbtful. Your troops will be beaten.
But it will cost me the blood of my children. If that can be spared by any
arrangement consistent with the dignity of my crown, I will do all that may
depend upon myself. Excepting honor, nothing is so precious in my eyes as
the blood of my soldiers."
After the utter and unparalleled overthrow of the Prussians upon the fields
of Jena and Auerstadt, he concluded a bulletin with the following words :
" It appears as if it were a decree of Providence that all those who have fo
mented this war should be cut off by the first blows which were struck."
Napoleon had now returned to Paris after a series of victories unparalleled
in history. As has been stated, he immediately repaired to St. Cloud, and
convened a council of his ministers. He had never before seemed so happy.
Joy beamed from his countenance.
" We are now," said he, " sure of Continental peace. And as for maritime
peace, we shall soon obtain that by the voluntary or the forced concurrence
of all the Continental powers. Let us enjoy our greatness, and now turn
traders and manufacturers. I have had enough of the trade of General. I
shall now resume with you that of First Minister, and recommence my great
reviews of affairs, which it is time to substitute for my great reviews of ar
mies." The Emperor, accompanied by the Empress, and by all the high
dignitaries of state, repaired to the church of Notre Dame, where a Te Deum
was chanted in solemn thanksgiving to God for the Peace of Tilsit.

CHAPTER XXXVII.
POLITICAL VIEWS.

Letter to Louis Bonaparte — Jerome Bonaparte — Abolition of the Tribunate — Napoleon in Council
 Care of the Children of deceased Officers and Soldiers — Far-sighted Policy — Report of the
Minister of the Interior.
Without devoting a day to rest or to triumph, Napoleon immediately
plunged, with all the energy of his ardent and incessantly active mind, into
boundless plans for the promotion of the great interests of France. Care
fully selected agents were dispatched to all the cabinets of Europe. Minute
directions were given to each to secure the efficient co-operation of all those
powers in the attempt to coerce England to peace, if she should refuse to
accept the terms which Russia was commissioned to offer her. In this war
fare it was not possible that there should be any neutrality. Those Conti
nental powers which continued to open their ports for the reception of En-

568 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXVII.
glish goods, were most efficiently aiding the belligerent and indomitable
islanders. Those, on the contrary, who closed their ports against the manu
factures of England, co-operated with the Allies in their great measure to
disarm that hostile power. The Allies ! But yesterday, guided by the ge
nius of English diplomacy, they were combined against Napoleon. To-day,
the genius of Napoleon has turned all their energies against his formidable
rival. The rights of neutrals were by both parties entirely disregarded.
England first assailed the rights of neutrals by prohibiting all commerce
with France, or with the allies of France. Napoleon, immediately meeting
wrong with wrong, prohibited all neutrals as well as his own subjects from
buying any goods of the English.
Holland was almost exclusively a commercial country. Louis Bonaparte,
a humane, kind-hearted, conscientious man, was more interested in the wel
fare of his own subjects than in the general welfare of Europe, consequently
he was quite lax in enforcing the Continental system. Smuggling was very
extensively practiced in his kingdom. Napoleon, in the following able and
earnest terms, remonstrated with his brother :
" It is not to the present alone that sovereigns must accommodate their
policy. The future must also be the object of their consideration. What is
at this moment the situation of Europe ? On one side, England, who pos
sesses, by her sole exertions, a dominion to which the whole world has hither
to been compelled to submit. On the other side, the French empire and the
Continental states, which, strengthened by the union of their powers, can not
acquiesce in this supremacy exercised by England. Those states had also
their colonies and a maritime trade. They possess an extent of coast much
greater than England ; but they have become disunited, and England has
attacked the naval power of each separately. England has triumphed on
every sea, and all navies have been destroyed. Russia, Sweden, France, and
Spain, which possess such ample means for having ships and sailors, dare
not venture to send a squadron out of their ports
" I wish for peace. 1 wish to obtain it by every means compatible with
the dignity of the power of France — at the expense of every sacrifice which
our national honor can allow. Every day I feel more and more that peace
is necessary. The sovereigns of the Continent are as anxious for peace as
I am. I feel no passionate prejudice against England. I bear her no insur
mountable hatred. She has followed against me a system of repulsion. I
have adopted against her the Continental system, not so much from a jeal
ousy of ambition, as my enemies suppose, but in order to reduce England to
the necessity of adjusting our differences. Let England be rich and pros
perous. It is no concern of mine, provided France and her allies enjoy the
same advantages.
" The Continental system has, therefore, no other object than to advance
the moment when the public rights of Europe and of the French empire
will be definitely established. The sovereigns of the North observe and en
force strictly the system of prohibition, and their trade has been greatly ben
efited by it. The manufactures of Prussia may now compete with ours.
You are aware that France, and the whole extent of coasts which now forms
part of the empire, from the Gulf of Lyons to the extremity of the Adriatic,

1807.] POLITICAL VIEWS. 559
are strictly closed against the produce of foreign industry. I am about to
adopt a measure with respect to the affairs of Spain, the result of which will
be to wrest Portugal from England, and subject all the coasts of Spain, on
both seas, to the influence of the policy of France. The coasts of the whole
of Europe will then be closed against England, with the exception of those
of Turkey, which I do not care about, as the Turks do not trade with
Europe. " Do you not perceive, from this statement, the fatal consequences that
would result from the facilities given by Holland to the English for the in
troduction of their goods on the Continent ? They would enable England to
levy upon us the subsidies which she would afterward offer to other powers
to fight against us. Your majesty is as much interested as I am to guard
against the crafty policy of the English cabinet. A few years more, and
England will wish for peace as much as we do. Observe the situation of
your kingdom, and you will see that the system I allude to is more useful to
yourself than it is to me. Holland is a maritime and commercial power.
She possesses fine sea-ports, fleets, sailors, skillful commanders, and colonies
which do not cost any thing to the mother country. Her inhabitants under
stand trade as well as the English. Has not Holland, therefore, an interest
in defending all these advantages? May not peace restore her to the po
sition she formerly held ? Granted that her situation may be painful for a
few years ; but is not this preferable to making the King of Holland a mere
governor for England, and Holland and her colonies a vassal of Great Brit
ain? Yet the protection which you would afford to English commerce would
lead to that result. The examples of Sicily and Portugal are still before
your eyes.
"Await the result of the progress of time. You want to sell your gins,
and England wants to buy them. Point out the place where the English
smugglers may come and fetch them ; but let them pay for them in money,
and never in goods — positively never ! Peace must at last be made. You
will then make a treaty of commerce with England. I may, perhaps, also
make one with her, but in which our mutual interests shall be reciprocally
guaranteed. If we must allow England to exercise a kind of supremacy on
the sea — a supremacy which she will have purchased at the expense of her
treasures and of her blood, and which is the natural consequence of her
geographical position — of her possessions in the three other quarters of the
globe — at least our flags will be at liberty to appear on the ocean without
being exposed to insult, and our maritime trade will cease to be ruinous.
For the present, we must direct our efforts toward preventing England from
interfering in the affairs of the Continent."
It will be remembered that Napoleon had placed two Spanish princes over
the kingdom of Etruria. The king, an idle, dissolute, weak-minded man,
soon died. The Queen of Etruria, daughter of the King of Spain, now reigned
as regent for her son. She was a feeble and a careless woman. She could
neither appreciate nor comprehend the Continental system which Napoleon
was determined to have enforced. The English traded as freely at Leghorn
as in the ports of their own country. Their goods, thus entered, were scat
tered widely over the Continent. Napoleon ordered Eugene to draft an

570 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXVII.
army of 4000 men, and, rapidly crossing the Apennines, to fall upon Leg
horn and capture all property belonging to the enemy. He was then to for
tify Leghorn against any attack.from the English, and to enforce the Berlin
decree. This was an act of despotism. Napoleon asserted, in defense, that
the world demanded peace ; that England, mistress of all seas, could not be
conquered by force of arms ; that the only influence which could be brought
to bear upon England to induce her to consent to peace, was to strike at her
trade. To accomplish this, Europe was ready to combine. It seemed to
him preposterous that a frivolous and foolish woman, nominally governing
the petty kingdom of Etruria, should be a fatal obstacle to the success of a
plan of such grandeur.
Napoleon's youngest brother, Jerome, was at that time a wild, thought
less, kind-hearted young man about twenty-one years of age. His extrava
gance and his frivolous dissipation greatly displeased his imperial brother.
He had been appointed to the command of a small sloop of war. Napoleon
was in the habit of calling him that little miscreant. At one time, when Je
rome wrote for more money, Napoleon replied :
" I have seen your letter, Mr. Naval Ensign, and am impatient to hear
that you are on board your frigate, studying a profession intended to be the
scene of your glory. Die young, and I shall have some consolation ; but
if you live to sixty without having served your country, and without leav
ing behind you an honorable memory, you had better never have been
born." Jerome, in one of his cruises, landed in New York. He there met and
married Miss Elizabeth Patterson, a very beautiful young lady, daughter of
a rich merchant in Baltimore. Napoleon was founding a new dynasty. By
the laws of France, this marriage, without the consent of the government, of
a French prince, to whose heirs the imperial crown might descend, was null.
It was deemed essential to the interests of France that those princes who
might inherit the imperial throne should form alliances whidh would strength
en their power. Napoleon consequently refused to recognize this marriage,
or to allow the youthful bride of his brother to land in France. Madame
Bonaparte, in sorrow, returned to Baltimore with her youthful son. Jerome
accepted the hand of the daughter of the King of Wiirtemberg, and was ap
pointed by Napoleon King of Westphalia. His son is now heir to the em
pire of France, should Louis Napoleon die without issue.
It will be remembered that the French government was composed of three
houses, the Senate, the Tribunate, and the legislative body. Napoleon re
solved to simplify the cumbrous machinery, by blending into one body the
functions and the persons of the Tribunate and the Legislature. "It is cer
tain," said Napoleon at St. Helena, "that the Tribunate was absolutely use
less, wdiile it cost nearly half a million. I therefore suppressed it. I was
well aware that an outcry would be raised against the violation of the law ;
but I was strong. I possessed the full confidence of the people, and I con
sidered myself a reformer. This at least is certain, that I did all for the
best. I should, on the contrary, have created the Tribunate, had I been
hypocritical or evil-disposed ; for who can doubt that it would have adopted
and sanctioned, when necessary, my views and intentions ? But that is what

1807.]

POLITICAL VIEWS.

571

I never sought after in the whole course of my administration. I never pur
chased any vote or decision by promises, money, or places."
The Council of State, or cabinet, Napoleon formed with the greatest care.
In this body he collected for his assistance the most able men in every de,
partment of government, wherever he could find them. The council was
divided into sections to report upon literature, science, legislation, civil, mil
itary, naval, and ecclesiastical affairs. The moment a new province was
added to- the empire, Napoleon sought from it the most distinguished men
with whom to enrich his council. Genoa, Florence, Turin, Holland, fur
nished men so brilliant for talents that they survived the downfall of their
master, and, upon their return to their own countries, were appointed to high
stations by their respective sovereigns.

NAPOLEON IN COUNCIL.

The meetings of the council were usually held in the palace of the Tuil
eries, or,. if Napoleon happened to be at St. Cloud, the members were sum
moned there. The Emperor generally presided in person. His seat was a
common mahogany chair, raised one foot above the floor, at the head of
several long tables where the counselors of state were seated. At times
Napoleon would drop his head upon his bosom and sink into a profound
reverie, apparently unconscious of the languishing discussion. At other
times the whole body was electrified by the brilliancy and the intense ac
tivity of his mind. Sometimes he gave notice of his intention to be present.
Again he appeared unexpectedly. The roll of the drum on the stairs of the
Tuileries gave the first intimation of his approach. The Emperor's seat al
ways remained in its place. When he was absent, the High Chancellor pre
sided, occupying a chair by the side of the vacant seat. The moment bus
iness commenced the key was turned, and no loiterer could then obtain ad
mittance.

572 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXVII.
No matter how long the sittings, the mind of the Emperor never seemed
fatigued. He often kept the council at St. Cloud in session from nine o'clock
in the morning until five in the evening, with an intermission of but a quar
ter of an hour for refreshments. He sometimes presided at a meeting of the
sections in the Tuileries from ten o'clock in the evening till five in the morn
ing. He then took a bath, and was ready to commence work as vigorous
as ever. " One hour," said Napoleon, " in the bath, is worth, to me, four
hours of sleep." He expected from others mental activity in some degree
corresponding with his own. If a report was to be drawn up, it was ordered
for the next morning. If one of the council was charged with proposing a
law to the Legislature, he often had not two hours to arrange the matter and
to prepare his speech. The Emperor dictated with such rapidity that there
generally remained several pages to be written after he had done speaking.
And yet his amanuenses were so skillful that seldom any alteration was re
quired. There was no opportunity in the council for the pomp of eloquence. The
style of speech was laconic and simple. A new member, who had acquired
celebrity as an orator, was laughed at for his rhetorical display. He found
it necessary immediately to adopt simply the language of earnest conversa
tion. Not only was every description of knowledge represented in the coun
cil, but all shades of political opinion. It was a prominent endeavor of Napo
leon to fuse into one mass of patriotic love all the different parties of the state.
The most perfect freedom of discussion prevailed in the council. The
Emperor often urged those persons to speak whose opinions he desired to
learn. One day the Emperor entered the council in a state of intense agi
tation. News had arrived of the surrender to the Spaniards of the French
army under General Dupont. It was the first time that the eagles of France
had been humiliated. Napoleon's voice trembled with emotion as he re
counted the disaster. He was extremely displeased with General Dupont.
As he dwelt upon the resources which the general, even under the most des
perate circumstances, might have called to his aid, he exclaimed,
" Yes ! the elder Horace, in Corneille's play, is right, when, being asked
what his flying son could have done, he says, 'He might have died; or he
might have called in a noble despair to his rescue.' Little," continued Na
poleon, " do they know of human nature who find fault with Corneille, and
pretend that he has weakened the effect of the first exclamation by that
which follows."
On one occasion, General Gassendi, an old artillery comrade of the Em
peror, was advocating some rather visionary views of political economy.
"Where, my dear general," said Napoleon, ironically, "did you gain all
this knowledge ?"
The blunt soldier, a little irritated, exclaimed, " From you, sire, I have
borrowed my principles."
" What do you say ?" replied the Emperor, with warmth ; " from me ! I
have always thought that if there existed a monarchy of granite, the chimeras
of political economists would grind it to powder. No, general ! you must
have fallen asleep in your office and dreamed all this."
" Fall asleep in our offices !" exclaimed the privileged soldier. " No, sire,

1807.] POLITICAL VIEWS. 573
I defy any one to do that. Your majesty torments us too much with hard
work to allow of any repose."
A general burst of laughter followed this retort, in which the Emperor
heartily joined.
A woman had three times been tried for a capital offense, and each time
acquitted. Through some informality in the proceedings, a fourth trial was
still demanded. Napoleon claimed for the poor woman the immunity which
in justice she ought to have obtained. Alone he contended against the whole
Council of State. It was declared that the Emperor possessed the power of
pardon, but that the law was inflexible and must take its course. " Gentle
men," Napoleon replied, " the decision here goes by the majority. I remain
alone, and must yield. But I declare in my conscience that I yield only to
forms. You have reduced me to silence, but by no means convinced me."
On another occasion, in the ardor of debate, the Emperor was three times
interrupted in giving his opinion. Turning to the individual who had thus
transgressed, he exclaimed, in a severe tone, " I have not yet done, sir. I
beg that you will allow me to continue. I believe that every one here has
a right to. express his sentiments." This reply struck the whole body so
comically as to produce a general laugh, in which the Emperor himself very
good-naturedly joined.
Napoleon manifested the most unremitted attention to the wants of his
wounded soldiers, and provided, with truly paternal affection, for the chil
dren of those who had fallen on the field of battle. He was continually
revolving in his grateful mind what he could do for those who, through toils
and sufferings incredible, had been so true to him. At one time he proposed
to the Council of State that, in future, all vacant situations in the customs,
and in the collection of the revenue and the excise, should be given to wound
ed soldiers, or to veterans capable of filling those offices, from the private up
to the highest rank in the army. The plan was very coldly received. Na
poleon urged a free expression of opinion.
" Sire," answered M. Maluet, " I fear that the other classes of the nation
will feel aggrieved in seeing the army preferred."
" Sir," the Emperor replied, " you make a distinction where none exists.
The army no longer forms a separate class in the nation. In the situation
in which we are now placed, no member of the state is exempt from being a
soldier. To follow a military career is no longer a matter of choice. It is
one of necessity. The greatest number of those who are engaged in that
career have been compelled to abandon their own professions. It is there
fore just that they should receive some compensation."
" But will it not be inferred," said M. Maluet, " that your majesty intends
that, in future, almost all vacant situations shall be given to soldiers ?"
" And such, indeed, is my intention," the Emperor replied. " The only
question is whether I have the right to do so. The Constitution gives me
the nomination to all places. I think it a principle of strict equity that those
who have suffered most have the greatest claims to be indemnified." Then,
raising his voice, he added, "Gentlemen, war is not a profession of ease and
comfort. Quietly seated on your benches here, you know it only by read
ing our bulletins, or by hearing of our triumphs. You know nothing of our

574 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXVII.
nightly watches, our forced marches, the sufferings and privations of every
kind to which we are exposed. But I do know them, for I witness them,
and sometimes share them." Though the Emperor was deeply interested
in the passing of this decree, and defended it in its most minute details, he
yielded to the opposition and abandoned the plan.
Napoleon had adopted all the children of the soldiers and officers who fell
at Austerlitz. In consequence of this adoption they were all authorized to
add Napoleon to their names. One of these young men happened, on a cer
tain occasion, to attract the especial attention of the Emperor. Napoleon
asked him what profession he would choose, and, without waiting for an an-
swer, pointed out one himself. The young man observed that his father's
fortune was not sufficient to allow him to follow it. "What has that to do
with the question ?" replied the Emperor. " Am not I also your father ?"
The pulsations of Napoleon's generous heart were as gigantic as were the
energies of his imperial mind.
The Emperor wished to establish a military classification of the whole
empire, as a measure of national defense. The first class, which was to
consist of young men, was to march as far as the frontiers. The second,
which was to be composed of middle-aged and married men, was not to quit
the department to which it belonged. The third, consisting of men advanced
in years, was to be kept solely for the defense of the town in which it had
been raised: During a discussion of the above subject, the Emperor spoke
in very emphatic terms, urging the importance of this measure. His pierc
ing eye seemed to penetrate futurity, and to anticipate the hour of national
peril which soon arrived. One of the members of the cabinet, in a very cir
cumlocutory style, expressed his disapproval of this plan of organization.
The Emperor immediately exclaimed, " Speak, boldly, sir. Do not mutilate
your ideas. Say what you have to say freely. We are here by ourselves."
The speaker then declared " that the measure was calculated to inspire
general alarm. That every individual trembled to find himself classed in
the divisions of the national guard, being persuaded that under the pretext
of internal defense, the object was to remove the guards from the country."
"Very good," said the Emperor; "I now understand you. But, gentle
men," continued he, addressing himself to the members of the council, "you
are all fathers of families, possessing ample fortunes, and filling important
posts. You must necessarily have numerous dependents ; and you must
either be very maladroit or very indifferent if, with all these advantages,
you do not exercise a great influence on public opinion. Now how happens
it that you, who know me so well, should suffer me to be so little known
by others ? When did you ever know me to employ deception and fraud in
my system of government ? I am not timid. I therefore am not accustomed
to resort to indirect measures. My fault is, perhaps, to express myself too
abruptly, too laconically. I merely pronounce the word, I order; and with
regard to forms and details, I trust to the intermediate agents who execute
my intentions ; and heaven knows whether on this point 1 have any great
reason to congratulate myself. If, therefore, I wanted troops, I should bold
ly demand them of the Senate, who would levy them for me ; or, if I could
not obtain them from the Senate, I should address myself to the people, and

1807.]

POLITICAL VIEWS.

575

you would see them eagerly march to join my ranks. Whatever may be al
leged to the contrary, the whole of the French people love and respect me.
Their good sense is superior to the malignant reports of my enemies. The
French people know no benefactor but me. Through me they fearlessly
enjoy all that they have acquired. Through me they behold their brothers
and sons indiscriminately promoted, honored, and enriched. Through me
they find their hands constantly employed, and their labor accompanied by
its due reward. They have never had occasion to accuse me of injustice or
prepossession. Now the people see, feel, and comprehend all this. Be as
sured, then, that the people of France will always conform to the plans which
we propose for their welfare.
" Do not allow yourselves to be deceived by the supposed opposition which
has just been alluded to. It exists only in the saloons of Paris, and by no
means in the great body of the nation. In this plan, I solemnly declare I
have no ulterior view of sending the national guard abroad. My thoughts,
at this moment, are solely occupied in adopting measures at home for the
safety, repose, and stability of France. Proceed, then, to embody the na
tional guard, that each citizen may know his post in the hour of need ; that
even M. Cambaceres yonder may shoulder a musket, should our danger re
quire him so to do. We shall thus have a nation built of stone and mortar,
capable of resisting the attacks both of time and men."

ARCH OF THE CARROUSEL.

576

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XXXVII.

The great works of public utility to which Napoleon now turned his en
ergies are too numerous to be mentioned. Over forty thousand miles of high
roads formed a vast network reticulating the empire. The monumental
routes of the Simplon, Mont Cenis, and Mont Genevre were urged to their
completion. Fourteen bridges were built, some of which are still regarded
as among the grandest monuments in Europe. Two majestic canals were
dug, opening all France to artificial navigation. The amazing works con
structed at Antwerp still attract the admiration of the world. All the for
tresses of the empire were carefully examined and repaired. Thirty fount
ains, flowing day and night, embellished Paris. Thousands of laborers reared,
as if by magic, the triumphal arches of the Carrousel and the Etoile. The

A$AA

;~>^M

ARCH DE L'ETOILE.

column in the Place Vendome, the exquisite temple of the Madeleine, tho
facade of the Legislative Hall, the Palace of the New Exchange, are all from
the hand of Napoleon.
France was never before in such a state of activity and prosperity. Per

1807.] POLITICAL VIEWS. 577
feet tranquillity pervaded the empire. The popularity of Napoleon was
boundless. England prohibited all commerce upon the seas. The genius
of the Emperor opened a new world of commerce upon the land. The roads
were crowded with wagons, and the canals were covered with boats laden
with the richest merchandise.
The following candid admissions of Sir Archibald Alison, as he quotes the
Report of the Minister of the Interior, will show that the above statements
are not exaggerated.
"And these works, undertaken under the imperial government, were really
such as to justify the enthusiastic admiration of a people even less passion
ately devoted than the French to public splendor. They were thus noticed
in the Report of the Minister of the Interior in August, 1807, when Napoleon
met the Chambers after his return from Tilsit, and, after making every al
lowance for the exaggerated style of such state papers, much remains to at
tract the admiration of succeeding ages, and demonstrate the great objects
to which, in domestic administration, the ambition of the Emperor was di
rected. " ' Thirteen thousand leagues of public roads,' says the report of the min
ister, ' have been kept in order or repaired ; the two greatest works under
taken for centuries, the roads of Mont Cenis and of the Simplon, have, after
six years of labor, been completed. The road from Spain to Italy is in prog
ress ; the Apennines are the theatre of a series of works which will unite
Piedmont to the shores of the Mediterranean, and complete the union of
Liguria to France ; eighteen rivers have seen their navigation improved, or
prolonged beyond hitherto impassable barriers, by means of locks, dikes, or
towing paths ; four bridges have been erected during the last campaign ; ten
others are in full progress ; ten canals, almost all commenced during the
present reign, are in full activity. Nor do the maritime harbors offer fewer
prodigies. Antwerp, so recently insignificant, has become the centre of our
great maritime preparations ; for the first time, that part of the Scheldt sees
vessels of seventy-four and eighty guns floating on its bosom ; fourteen ships
of the fine are on the stocks within its walls ; many are finished, and have
descended to Flushing ; that harbor has seen its docks deepened, its entrance
improved, and it is already capable of containing a squadron. At Dunkirk
and Calais piers have been constructed. At Cherbourg two vast break
waters are erected. At Rochefort and Marseilles equally important mari
time improvements are in progress. The existence of our cotton manufac
tures being secured, investigations are in progress for the discovery of places
suited to the culture of that important article. The improvement of the
linen fabrics has been the object of constant solicitude. Veterinary schools
have been established, and have filled the army and the fields with skillful
practitioners. A code is preparing for the regulation of commerce. The
school of arts and mechanics at Compeigne flourishes, and has been trans
ferred to Chalons ; others, on a similar plan, are in the course of formation.
Italy opens an extensive mart for our industry. The war, changed into a
contest for commercial independence, has become the greatest stimulant to
French industry. Every one of our conquests, while it is a market closed to
England, is a new encouragement afforded to French enterprise. Nor has
Vol. I.— 0 0

578 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXVII.
the capital of this great empire been neglected. It is the emperor's wish
that that illustrious city, become the first in the universe, should befit by its
splendor so glorious a destiny. At one extremity of Paris a bridge has been
completed, to which victory has given the name of Austerlitz. At another,
a second is commencing, to which Jena will afford a more glorious appella
tion. The Louvre advances to its completion, marking, in its matured prog
ress through centuries, the successive ages of Francis I., of Henry IV., of
Louis XIV., restored to life by the voice of Napoleon. Fountains without
number flow night and day in all parts of the city, testifying, even to the
humblest classes, the care which the Emperor bestows on their most trifling
accommodation. Two triumphal arches are already erected or founded, one
in the centre of the palace inhabited by the Genius of Victory, the other at
the extremity of the most beautiful avenue of the finest city in the world.
The tomb of Desaix has been erected on the summit of the Alps, whose
rugged precipices are not less startled at the monument of our perfection in
the arts, than they were by the passage of the artillery drawn by the arms
of valor. The fine arts in France are occupied almost entirely in tracing on
marble and canvas the glorious exploits of our armies, while the mind of
the Emperor, ever meditating fresh triumphs, has selected for his antagonist
the Demon of Ignorance, and by the establishment of twelve colleges for the
study of law, and gratuitous schools for the study of medicine in all the prin
cipal cities of the empire, has laid the foundation for the extension of gen
eral knowledge in the most essential subjects of general instruction.' "
" When the French people," says Alison, " saw this magnificent announce
ment of internal improvement, contemporaneous with the official promulga
tion of the treaty of Tilsit, the conquest of Prussia, the restoration of the
Grand Duchy of Warsaw, and the erection of the Kingdom of Westphalia, it
is not surprising that they were dazzled by the brilliancy of the spectacle,
and yielded to the pleasing illusion that the Revolution, nursed in violence
and baptized in blood, was to set amid a blaze of unprecedented glory."
Where is there another monarch to be found who has shown such total
disregard for personal luxury, and such entire devotion to the prosperity of
his country ? The French, who knew Napoleon, loved him ; and as his true
character becomes known throughout the world, he will be loved by every
generous heart in every land.

1807.]

NAPOLEON IN COUNCIL.

579

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

NAPOLEON IN COUNCIL.
Untiring Industry of Napoleon — Letter to the Minister of the Interior — The Secretary — Meeting
of the Institute — Expenditures for the Improvement of the City of Paris — The Code Napoleon
— The Writings of the Emperor — The Painting by David — Plans for establishing a Democratic
Aristocracy — Calumniations of Napoleon — Goldsmith's Life of the Emperor.
The amount of intellectual labor which Napoleon performed seems actu
ally superhuman. No other man has ever approached him in this respect.
His correspondence, preserved in the archives of Paris, would amount to
many hundred volumes His genius illumines every subject upon which he

580 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXVIII.
treats. The whole expanse of human knowledge seemed familiar to him.
He treats of war, government, legislation, education, finance, political econ-
omyj theology, philosophy, engineering — every subject which can interest
the human mind, and he is alike great in all. Notwithstanding the constant
and terrible wars through which his banded foes compelled him to struggle,
and all the cares of an empire which at times seemed to embrace the whole
of Europe, during the twenty years of his reign he wrote or dictated more
than the united works of Lope da Vega, Voltaire, and Sir Walter Scott, three
of the most voluminous writers of Spain, France, and England. His confi
dential correspondence with the Directory, during the two years from 1796
to 1798, which was published in Paris in 1819, amounts to seven large, close
ly-printed volumes. The following letter will be read with interest, as a
specimen of his correspondence with his ministers. It strikingly shows his
lofty spirit, his noble ambition, his expanded views, his practical wisdom, and
the blended familiarity and elevation of tone with which he addressed his
ministers : " Fontainebleau, November 14, 1807.
"Monsieur Cretet, Minister of the Interior, — You have received the im
perial decree by which I have authorized the sinking fund to lend 1,600,000
dollars to the city of Paris. I suppose that you are employed in taking
measures which may bring these works to a speedy conclusion, and may
augment the revenues of the city. In these works there are some which
will not be very productive, but are merely for ornament. There are others,
snch as galleries over the markets, the slaughter-houses, &c, which will be
very productive ; but to make them so will require activity. The shops for
which I have granted you funds are not yet commenced. I suppose you
have taken up the funds destined for the fountains, and that you have em
ployed them provisionally for the machine at Marly. Carry on the whole
with spirit. This system of advancing money to the city of Paris to aug
ment its branches of revenue, is also intended to contribute to its embellish
ment. My intention is to extend it to other departments.
" I have many canals to make : that from Dijon to Paris ; that from the
Rhine to the Saone ; and that from the Rhine to the Scheldt. These three
canals can be carried on as vigorously as could be wished. My intention is,
independently of the funds which are granted from the revenues of the state,
to seek extraordinary funds for the three canals. For this purpose I should
like to sell the canals of St. Quentin, the produce of which might be em
ployed to expedite the works of the canal of Burgundy. In fact, I would
sell even the canal of Languedoc, and apply the proceeds to the construction
of the canal from the Rhine to the Saone. I suppose that the canal of St.
Quentin might be sold for 1,600,000 dollars ; that of Loing for as much;
and the canal of Languedoc for more. There would then be 6,000,000 dol
lars procured immediately, which I should employ in carrying on the three
great canals with all possible rapidity. I have the money. The state will
lose nothing ; on the contrary, it will gain ; since, if it loses the revenues of
the canals of Loing, St. Quentin, and that of the south, it will gain the prod
uct of the canals of the Scheldt, Napoleon, and Burgundy.

1807.] NAPOLEON IN COUNCIL. 581
"When these works are completed, if circumstances permit, I shall sell
these in order to make others. Thus my object is to pursue a directly op
posite course to that of England. In England, a charter would have been
granted for constructing the canal of Quentin, and the work would have been
left to capitalists. I have, on the contrary, begun by constructing the canal
of St. Quentin. It has cost, I believe, 1,600,000 dollars; it will produce
100,000 dollars annually. I shall then lose nothing by selling it to a com
pany for what it has cost me, since with this money I shall construct other
canals. Make me, I beg of you, a report upon this subject, otherwise we
shall die without seeing these canals navigated. In fact, it is six years since
the canal of St. Quentin was begun, and it is not yet finished. Now these
canals are of much more importance. The expense of that of Burgundy is
estimated at six millions. What can be expended from the general funds of
the state does not exceed 250,000 dollars yearly. The departments do not
furnish more than 100,000 dollars. It would, then, require twenty years to
finish this canal. What may not happen in this time ? Wars and inefficient
men will come, and the canals will remain unfinished.
"The canal from the Rhine to the Scheldt will also cost a large sum.
The general funds of the state are not sufficient to carry them on as quickly
as we could wish. The canal of Napoleon is in the same situation. Let
me know how much it will be possible to expend yearly on each of these
three canals. I suppose that, without injuring other works, we might allow
to each yearly three or four millions, and that thus, in five or six years, we
might see them all navigated. You will inform me how much the existing
imposts will furnish for these three canals ; how much I have granted for
1808 ; and the supplementary funds which I granted in 1806, for carry
ing on these works with the greatest activity. You will propose to me to
sell the three canals already finished, and at what price it would be best to
sell them. I take upon myself the charge of finding purchasers : then we
shall have money in abundance. You must tell me, in your report, how
much the three which I wish speedily to finish are estimated to cost, and
compare it with the sums which the three old canals have cost that I wish
to selL
"You understand what I wish. My intention is to go beyond your report.
Perhaps it will lead to opening a fund for public works, into which the pro
ceeds of the navigation of the canals would be immediately thrown. We
might thus grant to this the proceeds of the sale of the three canals, and of
others besides, if there are any which can be sold. With this institution we
should change the face of the country.
" I have made the glory of my reign to consist in changing the surface of
the territory of my empire. The execution of these great works is as nec
essary to the interests of my people as to my own satisfaction. I attach
equal importance and great glory to the suppression of mendicity. Funds
are not wanting. But it seems to ime that the work proceeds slowly, and
meantime years are passing away. We must not pass through this world
without leaving traces which may commend our memory to posterity.
" I am going to be absent for a month. Be ready on the 15th of December
to answer all these questions, which you will have examined in detail, that I

.582 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXVIII.
may be able, by a general decree, to put the finishing blow to mendicity.
You must find, before the 15th of December, in the reserved funds and the
funds of the communes, the necessary means for the support of sixty or one
hundred houses for the extirpation of beggary. The places where they shall
be erected must be designated, and the regulations completed. Do not ask
me for three or four months to obtain further instructions. You have young
auditors, intelligent prefects, skillful engineers. Bring all into action, and
do not sleep in the ordinary labors of the bureau. It is necessary, likewise,
that, at the same time, all that relates to the administration of the public
works should be completed, so that at the commencement of the fine season
France may present the spectacle of a country without a single beggar, and
where all the population may be in action to embellish and render productive
our immense territory.
" You must also prepare for me all that is necessary respecting the meas
ures to be taken for obtaining, from the draining of the marshes of Cottentin
and Rochefort, money for supporting the fund for public works, and for fin
ishing the dramings or preparing others.
" The winter evenings are long ; fill your portfolios, that we may be able,
during the evenings of these three months, to discuss the means for attaining
great results. Napoleon."
At a meeting of the Privy Council, Napoleon appeared much incensed
against one of his generals. He attacked him with great severity, asserting
that his principles and opinions tended to the entire subversion of the state.
A member of the council, who was a particular friend of the absent general,
undertook his defense, stating that he lived quietly on his estate, without ob
truding his opinions upon others, and that, consequently, they were productive
of no ill effects. The Emperor vehemently commenced a reply, when sud
denly he stopped short, and, turning to the defender of the absent, said, "But
lie is your friend, sir. You do right to defend him. I had forgotten it. Let
us speak of something else."
M. Daru was at one time Secretary of State. He was distinguished for
his indefatigable application to business. Napoleon said of him that " he
labored like an ox, while he displayed the courage of a lion." On one occa
sion only were his energies ever known to fail. The Emperor called him at
midnight to write from his dictation. M. Daru was so completely overcome
by fatigue that he could scarcely hold his pen. At last nature triumphed,
and he fell asleep over his paper. After enjoying a sound nap, he awoke,
and to his amazement perceived the Emperor by his side, quietly engaged in
writing. As he sat for a moment overwhelmed with confusion, his eyes met
those of the Emperor.
"Well, sir," said Napoleon, with rather an ironical smile, "you see that I
have been doing your work, since you would not do it yourself. I suppose
that you have eaten a hearty supper and passed a pleasant evening. But
business must not be neglected."
" I pass a pleasant evening, sire !" exclaimed M. Daru ; " I have been for
several nights closely engaged in work, without any sleep. Of this your
majesty now sees the consequence. I am exceedingly sorrv for it."

1807.]

NAPOLEON IN COUNCIL.
i!!l !",''¦ lrl.

583

NAPOLEON AND HIS SECRETARY.

" Why did you not inform me of this ?" said Napoleon ; " I do not wish to
"kill you. Go to bed. Good-night, M. Daru."
Napoleon, conscious of the influence wielded by literary and scientific
men, ever kept a watchful eye upon the meetings of the Institute. It was
an invariable rule of this body, that a newly-elected member was to deliver
a speech eulogistic of the member whom he was succeeding. M. Chateau
briand, a friend of the Bourbons, was succeeding M. Chenier, one of the
judges of Louis XVI. Chateaubriand, trampling upon established courtesy,
stigmatized the political principles of his predecessor, and proscribed him as
a regicide. A scene of uproar immediately ensued, and a stormy and angry
debate agitated the assembly. From the Institute the dispute spread rapidly
through Paris. Old feuds were revived, and the most bitter animosities re
kindled. Napoleon ordered the speech to be shown to him, pronounced it
extravagant in the extreme, and forbade its publication. One of the mem
bers of the Institute, who was also a prominent officer in the Emperor's
household, had taken a lively part in the discussion, sustaining the views of
M. Chateaubriand.
At the next levee, when a group of the most distinguished men of France
was assembled around the Emperor, the offending officer made his appear
ance. Napoleon thus addressed him :
" How long is it, sir," said he, with the utmost severity, " since the Insti
tute has presumed to assume the character of a political assembly ? The
province of the Institute is to produce poetry and to censure faults of lan
guage- Let it beware how it forsakes the domain of literature, or I shall
take measures to bring it back within its limits. And is it possible that you,
sir, have sanctioned such an intemperate harangue by your approbation ? If
M. de Chateaubriand is insane, or disposed to malevolence, a mad-house may
cure him, or a punishment correct him. Yet it may be that the opinions he
has advanced are conscientiously his own, and he is not obliged to surrender

584 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXVIII.
them to my policy, which is unknown to him. But with you the case is to
tally different. You are constantly near my person. You are acquainted
with all my acts. You know my will. There may be an excuse in M. de
Chateaubriand's favor. There can be none in yours.
" Sir, I hold you guilty. I consider your conduct as criminal. It tends
to bring us back to the days of disorder and confusion, anarchy and blood
shed. Are we then banditti ? And am I but a usurper ? Sir, I did not
ascend the throne by hurling another from it. I found the crown. It had
fallen. I snatched it up, and the nation placed it on my head. Respect the
nation's act. To submit facts that have recently occurred to public discus
sion in the present circumstances, is to court fresh convulsions, and to be
come an enemy to the public tranquillity. The restoration of monarchy is
veiled in mystery, and must remain so. Wherefore then, I pray, this new-
proposed proscription of members of the Convention and of regicides ? Why
are subjects of so delicate a nature again brought to light ? To God alone
it must belong to pronounce upon what is no longer within the reach of the
judgment of men ! Have I then lost the fruit of all my care ? Have all
my efforts been of so little avail, that as soon as my presence no longer re
strains you, you are quite ready once more to bathe in each other's blood ?"
" Alas ! poor France !" he exclaimed, after a moment's pause, " long yet
wilt thou need the guardian's care. I have done all in my power to quell
your dissensions. To unite all parties has been the constant object of my
solicitude. I have made all meet under the same roof, sit at the same board,
and drink of the same cup. I have a right to expect that you will second
my endeavors. Since I have taken the reins of government, have I ever
inquired into the lives, actions, opinions, or writings of any one ? Imitate
my forbearance. I have ever had but one aim. I have ever asked but this
one question, 'Will you sincerely assist me in promoting the true interest of
France ?' All those who have answered affirmatively have been placed by
me in a straight road,- cased in a rock, and without issue on either side.
Through this I have urged them on to the other extremity, where my finger
pointed to the honor, the glory, and the splendor of France."
This reprimand was so severe, that the person to whom it was addressed,
a man of honor and delicate feelings, determined to ask an audience the next
day, in order to tender his resignation. He was admitted to the presence of
the Emperor, who immediately said to him,
" My dear sir, you are come on account of the conversation of yesterday.
You felt hurt on the occasion, and I have felt no less so. But it was a piece
of advice which I thought it right to give to more than one person. If it has
the desired effect of producing some public good, we must not either of us
regret the circumstance. Think no more about it."
Napoleon introduced this year into the financial department the most rigid
system of accounts by double entry. The decree requiring this is in force
to the present day. It has rendered the French system of accounts the most
sure, the most accurate, and the most clear of any in Europe.
In one of the meetings of the council, Napoleon proposed that long gal
leries, or rather streets, covered with glass, for pedestrians only, should be
constructed, to shelter buyers and sellers from the vicissitudes of the weather.

1807.]

NAPOLEON IN COUNCIL.

585

This was the origin of those brilliant Passages, where every visitor to Paris
loiters away so many pleasant hours. Forty slaughter-houses had deformed
Paris, filling the air with pestilent odors, and paining the eye with the revolt
ing necessities of the shambles. At the suggestion of Napoleon they were
all removed. Four large and peculiarly appropriate houses were construct
ed for these purposes outside of the city, and near the four principal en
trances to the metropolis.

THE PASSAGES.

The generals and the soldiers who had endured such wasting fatigue, and
who had achieved such herculean enterprises for France, were most mag
nificently rewarded. Besides their regular pay, nearly four millions of dol
lars were expended in gifts, as an expression of gratitude. A handsome an
nuity was settled upon every wounded soldier. Napoleon seemed never
weary in lavishing favors upon those who, in the fields of blood, had defend
ed and established the independence of France.
He was magnificent in his provision for others. He was simple, frugal,
economical in the highest degree, in every thing which related to himself.
With an eagle eye, he guarded against the slightest misapplication of the
public funds.
The adopted mother of Josephine having died at Martinique, he directed
that the negroes and negresses who had served her should be made free,
and placed in a condition of comfort for the rest of their lives. He ordered
the number of Christian chapels to be increased to 30,000, that the benefits
of divine service might be extended to every village in the empire. He en
dowed several theological seminaries to encourage suitable persons to enter
the priesthood.

586 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXVIII.
The nation insisted that the civic code, which had become the crowning
glory of France, should be called the Code Napoleon.
"Assuredly,"' says Thiers, "if ever title was merited, it was this; for
that code was as much the work of Napoleon as were the victories of Aus
terlitz and of Jena. He had soldiers who lent him their arms. He had
lawyers who lent him their knowledge. But to the force of his will, to the
soundness of his judgment, was owing the completion of that great work."
It will remain through all time a memorial, which never can be sullied,
of Napoleon's genius and philanthropy. The Emperor wrote to all the
princes under his influence, urging them to introduce into their respective
states this code of justice and of civil equality. It was thus established in
large portions of Europe, conveying, wherever it went, perfect equality of
rights, and putting an end to feudal tyranny.
In his intense desire to promote the grandeur of France, Napoleon appre
ciated, perhaps more highly than any other sovereign, the glory of intellect
ual achievements. Science, literature, arts, he encouraged in every possible
way. He was the first general the world has ever known who united with
his army a literary and scientific corps, to extend the bounds of human
knowledge. Under his fostering care, Lagrange gave a new power to ab
stract calculation. La Place, striding beyond the limits attained by Galileo,
Kepler, and Newton, rendered his name as immortal as those celestial bodies
whose movements he had calculated with such sublime precision. Cuvier,
exploring the mausoleums of past creations, revealed the wondrous history
of our planet, when " the earth was without form and void, and darkness
was upon the face of the deep."
The world is destined to be as much astonished by the writings of Napo
leon as it has been by his deeds. Neither Bourbon nor Orleanist has been
willing to do justice to his fame. His letters, his proclamations, his bulle
tins, his instructions to his ministers, glow with the noblest eloquence of
genius. They will soon be given to the world ; and they will disperse
much of that mist of calumny and detraction which have so long sullied his
renown. No one can peruse the papers of this extraordinary man without
admiring the majesty of his all-comprehensive mind. The clearness, the
precision, the fervor, the imperious demonstration, and the noble simplicity
which are impressed upon all of his utterances, give him a place in the fore
most ranks of science, of literature, and of eloquence.
" Singular destiny," exclaims Thiers, after perusing volumes of manu
scripts from his pen, " of that prodigious man, to be the greatest writer of
his time, while he was its greatest captain, its greatest legislator, its greatest
administrator." Every man of refined genius admires the classical productions of the
scholars of Greece and Rome. Napoleon, from a natural appreciation of
the beautiful, strove to create an enthusiasm for classical studies in the uni-
versity. There is an element of melancholy which pervades every noble
mind. Amid the mausoleums of dead empires such spirits love to linger.
The utilitarianism of Napoleon was beautifully blended with the highest po
etic sensibility. The sun, which ripens the corn, and fills the succulent herb
with nutriment, also pencils with beauty the violet and the rose.

1807.]

NAPOLEON IN COUNCIL.

587

To encourage exertion, and to rescue merit from hostile or unjust detrac
tion, Napoleon had classes of the Institute organized to give an impartial re
port upon the progress of literature, the arts, and the sciences. These reports
were read to the Emperor in the presence of the Council of State, and mu
nificent rewards were conferred upon the deserving. When the reading of
the first report was finished, Napoleon said to the deputies of the Institute,
"Gentlemen, if the French language is become a universal language, it
is to the men of genius who have sat, or who still sit among you, that we are
indebted for this. I attach a value to the success of your labors. They
tend to enlighten my people. They are essential to the glory of my crown,
I have heard with satisfaction the report you have just made to me. You
may rely on my protection."
The approbation of the Emperor was the highest reward which genius
could receive. Desirous of giving an impulse to the arts of design, he visit
ed, with Josephine and a brilliant assemblage of his court, the studio of the

NAPOLEON IN THE STUDIO OF DAVID.

painter David.. This distinguished artist had just completed the picture of the
Coronation. He had selected the moment when the Emperor was placing
the crown upon the brow of the Empress. The painting had been criticised
as rather representing the coronation of Josephine than that of Napoleon.
The Emperor contemplated for a few moments in silence the impres—

;ssive

588 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXVIII.
scene which the pencil of the artist had so vividly delineated ; then turning
to the painter, he said,
" Monsieur David, this is well — very well indeed. The Empress, my moth
er, the Emperor, all are most appropriately placed. You have made me a
French knight. I am gratified that you have thus transmitted to future ages
the proofs of affection I was desirous of testifying toward the Empress."
Then advancing two steps, and turning toward the painter, he uncovered
his head, and, bowing profoundly, said, " Monsieur David, I salute you."
" Sire," replied the painter, with admirable tact, " I receive the compli
ment of the Emperor in the«name of all the artists in the empire. I am
happy in being the individual one you deign to make the channel of such an
honor." This painting was afterward suspended in the grand museum of the Lou
vre. Napoleon, in a second visit, met by appointment M. David and all his
pupils. He conferred upon those young artists who had distinguished them
selves the decoration of the Legion of Honor. He also conferred upon M.
David the dignity of an officer in that honorary corps.
The Revolution had destroyed the feudal throne of the Bourbons but to
construct a democratic throne of vastly surpassing splendor. It seems to be
essential to a monarchy that it should be surrounded by an aristocracy. Na
poleon was a democratic emperor. He was the choice of the people, and
was ever studying their interests. He now displayed his mighty genius in
the attempt to create a democratic aristocracy . This, perhaps, might have
been possible, by avoiding the incorporation of the hereditary element. Na
poleon wished to surround his throne with great families, who should con
tribute to the splendor of French society without doing violence to the prin
ciples of republican equality. He thought that this could be accomplished
by allowing the members of the new nobility no exclusive privileges, and by
presenting these honorable distinctions as a reward to all who could earn
them by their services. He had at his disposal immortal names to confer
upon those who had performed immortal exploits. The new nobility, proud
of titles won upon the fields of Rivoli, Castiglione, Montebello, Auerstadt,
and Eylau, were regarded with contempt by the ancient aristocracy, who
could trace a proud ancestral line through the dimness of departed centuries.
Stable-boys, tailors' apprentices, and merchants' clerks, soaring upon the
pinions of genius from uncongenial employments into the regions of mighty
enterprise and renown, though decorated with the loftiest titles, and burden
ed with wealth, were still regarded with contempt by the impoverished and
undistinguished descendants of the Condes, the Guises, and the Montmoren-
cies. Napoleon was fully conscious of this difficulty. In speaking of the
subject at St. Helena, he said :
"An aristocracy is the true, the only support of a monarchy. Without it,
the state is a vessel without a rudder — a balloon in the air. A true aristoc
racy, however, must be ancient. Therein consists its real force, its talis-
manic charm. That was the only thing which I could not create. Reason
able democracy will never aspire to any thing more than obtaining an equal
power of elevation to all. The true policy in these times was to employ
the remains of the aristocracy with the forms and the spirit of democracy.

1807.] NAPOLEON IN COUNCIL. 589
Above all, it was necessary to take advantage of the ancient historic names.
It was the only way to throw the halo of antiquity over our modern in
stitutions. " My designs on this were quite formed, but I had not time to bring them
to maturity. It was this : that every lineal descendant of an old marshal or
minister should be entitled at any time to get himself declared a duke by the
government upon proving that he had the requisite fortune ; every descend
ant of a general or governor of a province to obtain the title of a count upon
obtaining a similar endowment. This system would have advanced some,
excited the hopes of others, awakened the emulation of all, without injuring
any one. Pretty toys, it is true, but such as are indispensable for the gov
ernment of men. Old and corrupted nations can not be governed on the
same principles with those which are simple and virtuous. For one in these
times who would sacrifice all to the public good, there are thousands and
millions who are governed only by their interests, their vanity, or their en
joyment. " To attempt to regenerate such a people in a day would be an act of mad
ness. The true genius of the workman consists in making a right use of the
materials which he has at his disposal, to extract good even from the ele
ments which appear at first sight most adverse to his designs. There is the
real secret of the revival of titles, ribbons, and crosses. And, after all, these
toys are attended with few inconveniences, and are not without some advant
ages. In the state of civilization in which we are placed, they are proper
to awaken the respect of the multitude, and not without influence in produc
ing a feeling of self-respect in their owners. They satisfy the vanity of the
weak, without giving any just cause of offense to the strong."
The attempt to unite republican equality with imperial splendor is vain.
But Napoleon was now involved in a labyrinth of events from which no finite
wisdom could extricate him. That France was incapable of sustaining a
true republic, ten years of anarchy had conclusively proved. But Napoleon
was now gathering all power into his own hands, and surrounding himself
with a proud hereditary aristocracy. Though he was disposed to conse
crate all his energies to the welfare of the people, he was laying the founda
tions of a perfect despotism. He seems to have had some misgivings him
self respecting the expediency of appointing an hereditary aristocracy.
O'Meara remarked to Napoleon at St. Helena that it had excited some sur
prise that he never gave a dukedom in France to any person, although he had
created many dukes elsewhere.
He replied, " It would have created great discontent among the people.
If, for example, I had made one of my marshals Duke of Bourgogne, it would
have excited great alarm in Bourgogne. They would have conceived that
some feudal rights and territory were attached to the title. The nation
hated the old nobility so much, that the creation of any rank resembling
them would have given universal discontent, which I, powerful as I was,
dared not venture upon. I instituted the new nobility to destroy the old.
The greater part of those I created had sprung from the people. Every
private soldier had a right to look up to the title of duke. I believe that I
acted wrong in doing even this. It lessened that system of equality which

590 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXVIII.
pleased the people so much. But if I had created dukes with a French title,
it would have been considered as a revival of the old feudal privileges with
which the nation had been cursed so long."
The power of Napoleon was absolute. Circumstances which he could
not control rendered it necessary that it should be so. It was essential that
he should be invested with dictatorial authority to repel the foes banded
against the independence of France. Every intelligent man in France rec
ognized this necessity. That Napoleon devoted this absolute power to the
glory of France, and not to his own selfish indulgence, no one can deny.
He says, with his accustomed glow of eloquence,
" I had established a government the most compact, carrying on its oper
ations with the utmost rapidity, and capable of the most nervous efforts ;
and, truly, nothing less was required to triumph over the immense difficul
ties with which we were surrounded, and to produce the marvels which we
accomplished. The organization of the prefectures, their action and results,
were alike admirable. The same impulse was given at the same instant to
more than forty millions of men. By the aid of these centres of local activ
ity, the movement was as rapid at all the extremities as at the heart of the
empire. Strangers who visited us were astonished at this system. They
never failed to attribute the immense results which were attained to that
uniformity of action pervading so great a space. Each prefect, with the au
thority and local patronage with which he was invested, was in himself a
little emperor. Nevertheless, as he enjoyed no force but from the central
authority, owed all his lustre to official employment, and had no natural or
hereditary connection with the territory over which his dominion extended,
the system had all the advantages of the feudal government without any of
its inconveniences. It was indispensable to clothe them with all that au
thority. I found myself made dictator by the force of circumstances. It
was necessary, therefore, that all the minor springs should be entirely de
pendent on, and in complete harmony with, the grand central moving power."
The efficiency of this government no one can question. That France was
driven to its adoption by the incessant attacks of its foes can not be denied.
That this alone enabled Napoleon for twenty years to triumph over the com
bined despots of Europe in arms against him, is equally beyond a doubt.
France, in her peril, surrendered herself to a dictator in whom she reposed
confidence, and invested him with absolute power. Nobly did Napoleon re
quite the trust. He concentrated every energy of his body and every thought
of his soul to the promotion of the welfare of France. Wherever he erred,
it was in the path of a lofty and a generous ambition.
His power was as absolute as that of Alexander ; but the Czar was the
monarch of the nobles, Napoleon the chosen sovereign of the people. The
centralization of power was, however, appalling. The Emperor selected the
members of the Council of State, the Senate, and the legislative bodies. He
appointed all the officers in the army and the navy. The whole police of
France, all the magistrates, the judges of all the courts ; all persons connect
ed with the customs, the revenue, and the excise ; all the ministers of relig
ion, the teachers in schools, academies, and universities, the postmasters, and
all persons concerned in the administration of roads, public buildings, canals,

1807.] NAPOLEON IN COUNCIL. 59 1
fortresses, &c, were either directly or indirectly subjected to the appoint
ment of the Emperor.
One day Napoleon at St. Helena was reading the infamous memoir of his
life by Goldsmith. He found himself there accused of every crime which a
demon could perpetrate. Calmly laying down the book, he said,
" After all, let them abridge, suppress, and mutilate as much as they please,
they will find it very difficult to throw me entirely into the shade. The his
torian of France can not pass over the Empire. If he have any honesty, he
will not fail to render me my share of justice. The facts speak of them
selves. They shine like the sun. 4
" I closed the gulf of anarchy and cleared the chaos. I purified the Rev
olution, dignified nations, and established kings. I excited every kind of
emulation, rewarded every kind of merit, and extended the limits of glory.
This is at least something. "And on what point can I be assailed on which
an historian could not defend me ? Can it be for my intentions ? But even
here I can find absolution. Can it be for my despotism? It may be dem
onstrated that the dictatorship was absolutely necessary. Will it be said
that I restrained liberty ? It can be proved that licentiousness, anarchy, and
the greatest irregularities still haunted the threshold of freedom. Shall I be
accused of having been too fond of war ? It can be shown that I always re
ceived the first attack. Will it be said that I aimed at universal monarchy ?
It can be proved that this was merely the result of fortuitous circumstances,
and that our enemies led me step by step to this determination. Lastly,
shall I be blamed for my ambition ? This passion I must doubtless be al
lowed to possess, and that in no small degree. But, at the same time, my
ambition was of the highest and noblest kind that perhaps ever existed — that
of establishing and consecrating the empire of reason, and the full exercise
and complete enjoyment of all the human faculties. And here the historian
will probably feel compelled to regret that such ambition should not have
been fulfilled and gratified. This is my whole history in a few words."*
* " Collated with the eight hundred thousand sterling ($4,000,000,000) of British debt, half of it
created to put him down, it is one of the miracles of Napoleon that he waged all his enormous wars
without contracting a debt or borrowing a cent, without discounting a note or using one not forth
with convertible into coin; and when expelled from the throne, left in the cellars of his palace a
large sum — many millions in cash — economized from family show for public service. The imperial
budget of France, when he ruled fifty millions of subjects, was little more than half of the royal
budget when Louis Philippe reigned over thirty-four millions. The standard of probity was as
much higher in Napoleon's time. Some years of peace were purchased by Louis XVIII and
Charles X. contracting debts to pay foreign governments for conquering, and their troops for occu
pying France; and to reimburse restored nobles for their estates confiscated, because they deserted
and made war upon their country. Those debts are the crushing inheritance and the greatest dif
ficulty of republicanized France, which Napoleon left at least partly free, and altogether clear of
debt. Although it may be said that he supported France by the conquests which England, by suc
cessive coalitions, forced him to make, yet the abundance, regularity, and management of the na
tional income and expenditures in his time, without an idea of what is now recognized as the sci
ence of political economy, without paper money and without debt, is a monument as amazing as
his code of laws."— Ingersoll' s Second War, vol. i., p. 157, second Series.

592 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXIX.

CHAPTER XXXIX.
SCENES IN PARIS.
Levee at the Tuileries — The little Boy — Address to the Council of State — Speech of the Presi
dent — yisit of the Emperor to the Female School — Heroism of a young Lady — Advice to Je
rome, King of Westphalia — Napoleon's Remarks at St. Helena — Testimony of Lockhart — Sir
Richard Cobden.
The 15th of August, 1807, Napoleon was thirty-eight years of age. A
brilliant party was assembled at the Tuileries. It was an evening of sur
passing loveliness. All Paris, intoxicated with enthusiasm, thronged the
spacious garden of the palace. With loud acclamations they called for their
sovereign. He repeatedly appeared in the balcony, holding the Empress by
the hand, and surrounded by a brilliant group. Spontaneous bursts of ap
plause from one hundred thousand voices greeted him whenever he appeared.
Taking the arm of his faithful friend Duroc, Napoleon, in disguise, left the
palace, and mingled with the groups crowding the garden. Every where he
heard his name pronounced with gratitude and love. A little boy was shout
ing with transport, Vive TEmpereur ! Napoleon caught the child in his arms.
"Why do you shout in that manner?" said he. "My father and mother,"
replied the child, "taught me to love and bless the Emperor." Napoleon
conversed with the parents. He found that they had fled from the horrors
of civil war in Brittany, and had found employment and competence in Par
is. With glowing hearts they testified to the blessings which Napoleon had
conferred upon France. The next day a present from the Emperor inform
ed them to whom they had unbosomed their gratitude.
On the ensuing day, Napoleon, accompanied by his marshals, and follow
ed by an immense concourse of people, met the Council of State, the Senate,
and the Legislative Body. He thus addressed them :
" Gentlemen, — Since your last session, new wars, new triumphs, new treat
ies of peace have changed the political state of Europe. All nations rejoice
with one accord to see the influence which England exercised over the
Continent destroyed forever. In all that I have done, I have had in view
solely the prosperity of my people, more dear in my eyes than my own
glory. I am desirous for maritime peace. No resentment shall be allowed
to interfere with this desire. But, whatever be the issue which the decrees
of Providence have allotted to the maritime war, my people shall find me
ever the same, and I shall ever find my people worthy of me. Your con
duct, when your Emperor was more than fifteen hundred miles away, has
heightened my esteem. The proofs of attachment which you have given
me have excited my warmest emotions.
" I have contemplated various plans for simplifying and improving our in
stitutions. I have created several imperial titles, to give new lustre to dis
tinguished subjects, to honor eminent services by eminent rewards, and to

1807.]

SCENES IN PARIS

593

NAPOLEON AND THE CHIETr.

prevent the revival of any feudal title incompatible with our Constitution.
My Minister of the Interior will inform you of the public works which have
been commenced or finished. But what remains to be done is of far greater
importance. I intend that in all parts of my empire, even in the smallest
hamlet, the prosperity of the citizen and the value of land shall be aug
mented by the effect of the general system of improvement which I have
conceived. Gentlemen, your assistance will be necessary for me to arrive
at this great result. I have a right to rely firmly upon it."
This speech was heard with deep emotion and applauded with transport.
After Napoleon had retired, the President of the Legislative Body gave ut
terance to the almost unanimous sentiment of France m the following
words :
" The picture set before our eyes seems to present the image of one of
those pacific kings exclusively engaged in the internal administration of his
Vol I.— P p

594 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXIX.
dominion. And yet all these useful labors, all these wise projects, were or
dered and conceived amid the din of arms, on the furthest confines of con
quered Prussia, and on the frontiers of threatened Russia. If it be true that,
at the distance of five hundred leagues from the capital, amid the cares and
the fatigues of war, a hero prepared so many benefits, how is he about to in
crease them by returning among us ! The public welfare will wholly en
gage him, and his glory will be the more touching for it.
" He displaces, he contracts, he extends the boundaries of empires. All
are borne away by his ascendency. Well ! this man, covered with so much
glory, promises us still greater. Peaceable and disarmed, he will prove that
this invincible force, which, as it runs, overturns thrones and empires, is be
neath that truly royal wisdom which preserves states by peace, which en
riches them by agriculture and industry, adorns them with master-pieces of
art, and founds them everlastingly on the twofold support of morality and
the laws."
Napoleon took great interest in the female school which he had establish
ed at Ecouen. He often made presents to the young ladies who distinguish
ed themselves.
One day, on a visit, he found all the young ladies engaged in needle-work.
After having addressed a few pleasant words to each of the classes, he play
fully asked a bright-looking girl,
" How many needles-full of thread does it take to make a shirt ?"
She archly replied, " Sire, I should need but one if I could have that suf
ficiently long."

NAPOLEON AT THE FEMALE SCHOOL

Napoleon was so pleased with the readiness of the reply, that he immedi
ately gave a gold chain to the young lady. It became, of course, to her a
priceless treasure. All the pupils of the school most enthusiastically loved
the Emperor.

1807.] SCENES IN PARIS. 595
After the restoration of the Bourbons, an order was issued that every thing
should be removed from the institution which could call to mind the Usurper.
The gifts which the pupils had received from the Emperor were taken from
them. But Miss Brouard kept her chain in her bosom. She had declared
that she would part with it only with her life. One day a servant perceived
it. The fact was reported to the principal. The chain was demanded. It
was refused. She was reported to the higher authorities. The chain was
again demanded. She replied, " It was the gift of the Emperor, and I will
keep it, be the consequences what they may, till I die." She was imprison
ed in the Hall of Correction, where she remained in solitude several days.
Still she would not yield. The whole school was assembled together, and
Miss Brouard, though a universal favorite, was expelled.
A short time after, one of the ladies of the Bourbon family, the Duchess
of Angouleme, made a visit to the school. All the young ladies were order
ed, as soon as she should enter, to shout, " Vive le Roi!" in honor of the
Bourbon king. The duchess entered, and, to her utter consternation, was
greeted with the unanimous acclaim, " Vive VEmpereur .'"
The Count de Lille, afterward Louis XVIII., then residing in Russia,
made some movement indicative of a new conspiracy to recover the Bourbon
throne. Alexander, that his good faith might not be suspected, communi
cated the fact, through General Savary, to Napoleon. The Emperor re
plied, " Thank the Emperor Alexander for the communication which he di
rected you to make to me. He is mistaken if he supposes that I attach the
least importance to any thing that the Count de Lille can do. If he is tired
of his residence in Russia, he may come to Versailles. I will make every
necessary provision for him."
Napoleon was minutely informed of every thing that was passing in the
court of St. Petersburg. Alexander, often the victim of wayward passions,
had become so captivated by a beautiful woman, that all his time was ab
sorbed in devotion to her. At the close of a letter of diplomatic instructions,
Napoleon wrote to his minister,
" It is not a matter of indifference to me to observe the character of that
man who was born a sovereign. A woman turns the head of the autocrat
of all the Russias ! All the women in the world would not make me lose
an hour. Continue to acquaint me of every thing. Let me know the most
minute details. The private life of a man is a mirror in which we may see
many useful lessons reflected."
After the marriage of Jerome with the daughter of the King of Wiirtem
berg, as the young couple left Paris for their kingdom of Westphalia, Napo
leon gave the following instructions to his brother :
" My brother, I think you ought to go to Stuttgard, as you have been in
vited thither by the King of Wiirtemberg. You will proceed thence to Cas
sel with all the pomp with which the hopes of your people will induce them
to surround you. You will convoke the deputies of the to'wns, the ministers
of all religions, the deputies of the states now existing, taking care that there
shall be half not noble, half noble. Before that assembly, so composed, you
will receive the Constitution and swear to maintain it.
" Appoint at first only half of your counselors of state. That number

596 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXIX.
will be sufficient for commencing business. Take care that the majority be
composed of non-nobles, but without letting any one perceive this habitual
caution to keep up a majority of the third estate in all offices. I except from
this some places at court, to which, upon the same principles, the highest
names must be called. But in your ministries, in your councils, if possible,
in your courts of appeal, in your administrations, the greater part of the per
sons whom you employ should not be nobles. This conduct will go to the
heart of Germany, and, perhaps, mortify the other class. It is sufficient not
to use any affectation in this conduct.. Take care never to enter into dis
cussions, nor to let it be understood that you attach such importance to the
advancement of the third estate- The avowed principle is to select talents
wherever they are to be found.
" What is of particular consequence to me is, that you delay not in the
least the introduction of the Napoleon Code. The happiness of your people
is of importance to me, not only for the influence which it may have upon
your glory and mine, but also under the point of view of the general system
of Europe. Listen not to those who tell you that your people, accustomed to
servitude, will receive your benefits unthankfully. They are more enlight
ened in the kingdom of Westphalia than some persons would fain persuade
you. Your throne will never be firmly founded but on the confidence and
the love of the population. What the people of Germany desire with impa
tience is, that individuals who are not noble, and possess talents, should have
an equal right to your consideration and to office ; that every species of
bondage, and all intermediate restrictions between the sovereign and the
lowest class, should be entirely abolished.
" The benefits of the Napoleon Code, the publicity of law proceedings, the
institution of juries, will be so many distinguished characteristics of your
monarchy. And, if I must tell you my whole mind, I reckon more upon
their effects for the extension and consolidation of that monarchy than upon
the results of the greatest victories. Your people must enjoy a liberty, an
equality, a prosperity unknown to the other people of Germany. This lib
eral government will produce, in one way or another, changes the most sal
utary to the system of the confederation and to the power of your monarchy.
This mode of governing will be a stronger barrier to separate you from Prus
sia than the Elbe, than fortresses, than the protection of France. What
people would be willing to return under the arbitrary Prussian government
after it has tasted the benefits of a wise and liberal administration ? The
people of Germany, those of France, Italy, Spain, desire equality, and require
liberal ideas. It is now several years that I have directed the affairs of Eu
rope, and I have had occasion to convince myself that the grumbling of the
privileged classes was contrary to the general opinion. Be a constitutional
king. If the reason and the intelligence of your times were not sufficient in
your position, good policy would enjoin It."
"It was the subject of my perpetual dreams," said Napoleon at St. Helena,
" to render Paris the real capital of Europe. I sometimes wished it, for in
stance, to become a city with a population of two, tnree, or four millions — in
a word, something fabulous, colossal, unexampled until our days, and with
public establishments suitable to its population.

1807.] SCENES IN PARIS. 597
"Had Heaven but granted me twenty years and a little more leisure, an
cient Paris would have been sought for in vain. Not a trace of it would have
been left. I should have changed the face of France. Archimedes promised
every thing provided he was supplied with a resting-place for his lever. I
should have done as much, wherever I could have found a point of support
for my energy, my perseverance, and my budgets. A world might be cre
ated with budgets. I should have displayed the difference between a con
stitutional emperor and a king of France. The kings of France have never
possessed any administrative or municipal institution. They have merely
shown themselves great lords, who ruined their men of business.
" The nation itself has nothing in its character but what is transitory and
perishable. Every thing is done for the gratification of the moment and of
caprice — nothing for duration. That is our motto ; and it is exemplified by
our manners in France. Every one passes his life in doing and undoing.
Nothing is ever left behind. Is it not unbecoming that Paris should not
possess even a French theatre, or an Opera House, in any respect worthy of
its high claims ?
" I have often set myself against the feasts which the city of Paris wished
to give me. They consisted of dinners, balls, artificial fireworks, at an ex
pense of two or three hundred thousand dollars, the preparations for which
obstructed the public for several days, and which afterward cost as much to
take away as they had cost in their construction. I proved that with these
idle expenses they might have erected lasting and magnificent monuments.
" One must have gone through as much as I have in order to be acquaint
ed with all the difficulties of doing good. If the business related to chim
neys, partitions, and furniture for some individuals in the imperial palaces,
the work was quick and effectual. But if it were necessary to lengthen the
garden of the Tuileries, to render some quarters wholesome, to clean some
sewers, and to accomplish a task beneficial to the public, in which some par
ticular person had no direct interest, I found it requisite to exert all the en
ergy of my character, to write six, ten letters a day, and to get into a down
right passion. It was in this way that I paid out as much as six millions
of dollars in sewers, for which nobody was ever to thank me. I pulled down
a property of six millions in houses in front of the Tuileries for the purpose
of forming the Carrousel and throwing open the Louvre. What I did is
immense. What I had resolved to do, and what I projected, were still much
more so."
Some may suppose that the above account of Napoleon's administrative
labors is the glowing eulogy of a friend. Read, then, the testimony of an
English historian. Every page of Lockhart's Life of Napoleon bears the
impress of his hostility to the mighty emperor against whom England waged
such unrelenting warfare ; and yet Lockhart is constrained to witness the
following facts :
"Wherever the Emperor was, in the midst of his hottest campaigns, he
examined the details of administration at home more closely, perhaps, than
other sovereigns of not half so great an empire did during years of profound-
est peace. His dearest amusement, when he had nothing else to do, was to
solve problems in geometry or algebra. He carried this passion into every

598 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XXXIX.
department of affairs. Having with his own eye detected some errors of
importance in the public accounts shortly after his administration began,
there prevailed henceforth, in all the financial records of the state, such
clearness and accuracy as are not often exemplified in those of a large pri
vate fortune. Nothing was below his attention, and he found time for every
thing. The humblest functionary discharged his duty under a lively sense
of the Emperor's personal superintendence. The omnipresence of his police
came in lieu, whenever politics were not touched upon, of the guarding pow
ers of a free press, a free senate, and public opinion. Except in political
cases, the trial by jury was the right of every citizen.
" The Code Napoleon, that elaborate system of jurisprudence, in the form
ation of which the Emperor labored personally, along with the most eminent
lawyers and enlightened men of the time, was a boon of inestimable value to
France. ' I shall go down to posterity,' said he, with just pride, " with the
Code in my hand.' It was the first uniform system of laws which the French
monarchy had ever possessed, being drawn up by consummate skill and wis
dom. It at this day forms the code not only of France, but of a great por
tion of Europe besides. Justice, as between man and man, was administer
ed on sound and fixed principles, and by unimpeached tribunals.
" In the splendor of his victories, in the magnificence of his roads, bridges,
aqueducts, and other monuments, in the general predominance to which the
nation seemed to be raised through the genius of its chief, compensation was
found for all financial burdens, consolation for all domestic calamities, and an
equivalent for that liberty in whose name the tyrant had achieved his first
glories. But it must not be omitted that Napoleon, in every department of
his government, made it his first rule to employ the men best fitted, in his
mind, to do honor to his service by their talents and diligence.
" He gratified the French nation by adorning the capital, and by display
ing in the Tuileries a court as elaborately magnificent as that of Louis XIV.
himself. The old nobility, returning from their exile, mingled in those proud
halls with the heroes of the revolutionary campaigns, and over all the cere
monies of these stately festivities Josephine presided with the grace and ele
gance of one born to be a queen. In the midst of the pomp and splendor of
a court, in the ante-chambers where kings jostled each other, Napoleon him
self preserved the plain and unadorned simplicity of his original dress and
manners. The great Emperor continued throughout to labor more diligent
ly than any subaltern in office ; Napoleon, as Emperor, had little time for
social pleasures. His personal friends were few. His days were given to
labor, and his nights to study. If he was not with his army in the field, he
traversed the provinces, examining with his own eyes the minutest details
of arrangement, and even from the centre of his camp he was continually
issuing edicts which showed the accuracy of his observation during those
journeys, and his anxiety to promote, by any means consistent with his great
purpose, the welfare of every French district, town, or even village."
Such was Napoleon as delineated by the pen of his enemies. Napoleon
left no means untried to promote peace with England. He exhausted the
arts of diplomacy and of conciliation to secure that end. There never was
a greater historic error than to suppose Napoleon accountable for those long

1807.] SCENES IN PARIS. 599
wars which succeeded the French Revolution. Mr. Richard Cobden, with a
candor highly honorable to his stern sense of justice, says,
" There is a prevalent and active belief among us- that that war arose from
an unprovoked and unjust attack made upon us ; that we were desirous of
peace, but were forced into hostilities ; that, in spite of our pacific intentions,
our shores were menaced with a French invasion.
" Now, so far is this from being a true statement of the case, it is, I regret
to say, the very opposite of the truth. I do not hesitate to affirm that noth
ing was ever more conclusively proved by evidence in a court of law than the
fact, resting upon historical documents and official acts, that England was the
aggressor in the last French war. It is not enough to say that France did
not provoke hostilities. She all but went down on her knees {if I may apply
such a phrase to a nation) to avert a rupture with this country.
" But, in truth, the originators of war never pretended that they were fight
ing for the liberties of the people any where. Their avowed object was to
sustain the old governments of Europe. The advocates of the war were not
the friends of popular freedom even at home. The Liberal party were ranged
on the side of peace — Lansdowne, Bedford, and Lauderdale in the Lords,
and Fox, Sheridan, and Grey in the Commons, were the strenuous opponents
of the war. They were sustained out of doors by a small minority of intel
ligent men, who saw through the arts by which the war was rendered popu
lar. But — and it is a mournful fact — the advocates of peace were clamored
down, their persons and property left insecure, and even their families ex
posed to outrage at the hands of the populace. Yes, the whole truth must
be told, for we require it to be known as some safeguard against a repetition
of the same scenes. The mass of the people, then wholly uneducated, were
instigated to join in the cry for war against France. It is equally true, and
must be remembered, that when the war had been carried on for two years
only, and when its effects had been felt in the high price of food, diminished
employment, and the consequent sufferings of the working classes, crowds
of people surrounded the king's carriage as he proceeded to the Houses of
Parliament, shouting ' Bread ! bread ! — Peace ! peace !'
" But to revert to the question of the merits of the last French war. The
assumption put forth that we were engaged in a strictly defensive war is, I
regret to say, historically untrue. If you will examine the proofs as they
exist in the unchangeable public records, you will be satisfied of this. And
let us not forget that our history will ultimately be submitted to the judg
ment of a tribunal over which Englishmen will exercise no influence beyond
that which is derived from the truth and justice of their cause, and from
whose decision there will be no appeal. I allude, of course, to the collective
wisdom and moral sense of future generations of men. In the case before
us, however, not only are we constrained by the evidence of facts to confess
that we were engaged in an aggressive war, but the multiplied avowals and
confessions of its authors and partisans themselves leave no room to doubt
that they entered upon it to put down opinions by physical force — one of the
worst, if not the very worst, of motives with which a people can embark iii
war."

600 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [ClIAP. XL.

CHAPTER XL.
NEGOTIATIONS WITH ALEXANDER.
England still rejects Peace — Bombardment of Copenhagen — Hopes of Peace blasted — Desires of
Alexander — Communications with Caulaincourt — Proposed Conference — Decision of Napoleon
respecting Turkey — Perplexity of Austria.
Much has been said respecting certain secret articles in the treaty of Tilsit.
Napoleon and Alexander privately agreed to unite their forces against England,
if she, refusing the mediation of Russia, should persist, as she. had now done
for years, in embroiling the Continent in war. They also agreed to combine
against Turkey, should the Porte repel the mediation of France. The two
powers also engaged, should England refuse peace, unitedly to summon
Sweden, Denmark, Portugal, and Austria to close their ports against English
merchandise. Such were the terms of the occult treaty.
Napoleon, concentrating all his energies to the promotion of the prosper
ity of France, patiently awaited the result of the negotiations commenced
by Russia with England. He sent a special embassador to Turkey to en
deavor to secure peace between that power and Russia. He was successful.
The Turk accepted his mediation, and the sword was sheathed. England,
finding herself abandoned by all her former allies, immediately sought a co
alition with Turkey. She strove to counteract the peaceful influence of
France by justly representing that Alexander was hungering for the prov
inces of the Turkish empire. By these means she ere long roused Turkey
again to war. The mediation of Russia with England was entirely unsuc
cessful. The cabinet of St. James at first evaded the application, and then
proudly, contemptuously, and with an energy which amazed the world, re
jected all overtures.
Briefly we must record this new act of English aggression, which roused
the indignation of all Europe. The kingdom of Denmark had most studi
ously maintained neutrality. Jealous of the increasing power of France, she
had stationed the Danish army upon her frontiers. Apprehending nothing
from England, her seaboard was entirely unprotected. Napoleon, with deli
cacy but with firmness, had informed Denmark that, should England refuse
the mediation of Russia, all the powers of Europe must choose, in the des
perate conflict, the one side or the other. The most perfectly friendly rela
tions then existed between England and Denmark. The cabinet of St.
James, apprehensive that Napoleon would succeed in attaching Denmark to
the Continental alliance against the sovereign of the seas, resolved by stealth
to take possession of the Danish fleet. This fleet, unprotected and uncon
scious of peril, was anchored in the harbor of Copenhagen. Denmark, at
peace with all the world, had but 5000 troops in the fortresses which sur
rounded her metropolis.
Secretly the English government fitted out an expedition. It consisted

1807.]

NEGOTIATIONS WITH ALEXANDER.

601

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P1: ;A*f jgUjfifflfcflfe-K.,: 8

n It. PARKIN

COPENHAGEN HARBOR.

of 25 sail of the line, 40 frigates, 377 transports. About 30,000 men were
conveyed in the fleet. Suddenly this powerful armament appeared in the
waters of the Sound, and landing 20,000 men, under the command of the
Duke of Wellington, then Sir Arthur
Wellesley, invested the doomed city
by land and by sea. An agent was
immediately dispatched to the Prince
Royal of Denmark, then regent of the
kingdom, to summon the surrender of
the fortresses and of the fleet. Mr.
Jackson, a man of insolent manners
and of envenomed spirit, was worthy
of the mission. He assigned to the
prince, as a reason for the act, that the
British cabinet deemed it necessary
to secure the passage of the Sound and to take the Danish fle.et, lest both
should fall into the power of the French. He therefore demanded, under
peril of a bombardment, that the fortress, the port of Copenhagen, and the
fleet should be immediately surrendered to the English army. He promised
that the whole, when the danger was over, should be returned again to Den
mark, and that, in the mean time, the English would conduct as friends, and
pay for all they should consume.
"And with what," exclaimed the indignant prince, "would you pay for
our lost honor, if we were to accede to this infamous proposal ?"
Mr. Jackson replied, " War is war. One must submit to its necessities.
The weaker party must yield to the stronger.1'
The interview was short and bitter. The parties separated. The prince.
unable to present any resistance, heroically enveloped himself in despair.
The English envoy returned to the fleet, and the signal was given for the
fearful execution of the threatened doom. The English had taken with them
an immense quantity of heavy artillery. They were also accompanied by
Colonel Congreve, who was to make trial, for the first time, of his destruct
ive rockets. As there were a few thousand regular troops behind the ram
parts of the city, it was not deemed prudent to attempt to carry the place by
assault. The English, having established themselves beyond the reach of danger,
reared their batteries and constructed their furnaces for red-hot shot. Calm
ly, energetically, mercilessly, all their arrangements for the awful deed were
consummated. They refrained from firing a single gun until their furnaces
were completed and their batteries were in perfect readiness to rain down an
overwhelming storm of destruction upon the helpless capital of Denmark.
Nothing can be imagined more awful, more barbarous, than the bombard
ment of a crowded city. Shot and shells have no mercy. They are heed
less of the cry of mothers and of maidens. , They turn not from the bed of
languishing nor from the cradle of infancy. Copenhagen contained 100,000
inhabitants. It was reposing in all the quietude of peace and prosperity.
On the evening of the 2d of September, the appalling storm of war and woe
commenced. A tremendous fire of howitzers, bombs, and rockets burst

602

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

[Chap. XL

upon the city. The very earth trembled beneath the terrific thunders of
the cannonade. During all the long hours bf this dreadful night, and until
the noon of the ensuing day, the destruction and the carnage continued. The
city was now on fire in various quarters. Hundreds of dwellings were blown
to pieces. The streets were red with the blood of women and children.
Vast columns of smoke rose from the burning capital. The English waited

THE BOMBARDMENT.

¦a few hours, hoping that the chastisement had been sufficiently severe to in
duce the surrender. General Peymann, intrusted with the defense of the
metropolis, gazed upon the spectacle of woe around him, his heart almost
bursting with grief and indignation. He still maintained a firm and gloomy
silence. The conflict in his bosom between the dictates of humanity and
the pleadings of a high and honorable pride was terrific.

1807.] NEGOTIATIONS WITH ALEXANDER. 603
In the e.ening the English recommenced their fire. They kept it up all
night, the whole of the next day, and the ensuing night. Two thousand of
the citizens had now perished. Three hundred houses were burned to the
ground. Two thousand dwellings had been blown to pieces by the shells.
Half of the city was in flames. Several beautiful churches were in ruins.
The arsenal was on fire. For three days and three nights those demoniac
engines of death, exploding in the thronged streets, in churches, chambers,
parlors, nurseries, had filled the city with carnage, frightful beyond all con
ception. There was no place of safety for helpless infancy or for decrepit
age. The terrific shells, crushing through the roofs of the houses, descend
ed to the cellars ; bursting with thunder peal, they buried the mangled forms
of the family in the ruins of their dwellings. Happy were they who were
instantaneously killed. The wounded, struggling hopelessly beneath the
ruins, were slowly burned alive in the smouldering flames.
The fragments of shells, flying in every direction, produced ghastly muti
lation. The mother, distracted with terror, saw the limbs of her infant torn
from its body. The father, clasping the form of his daughter to his bosom,
witnessed with a delirium of agony that fair form lacerated and mangled
hideously in his arms. The thunders of the cannonade, the explbsion of the
shells, the crash of falling dwellings, the wide, wasting conflagration, the
dense volumes of suffocating smoke, the shrieks of women and children, the
pools of gore in parlors and on pavements, the mutilated forms of the dying
and of the dead, presented a spectacle which no imagination can compass.
General Peymann could endure this horrible massacre of women and chil- ¦
dren no longer. Copenhagen was surrendered to England.
The victors rushed into the city. Almost every house was more or less
shattered. One eighth part of the city was in ashes. It required the ut
most exertions of both friend and foe to arrest the conflagration. They
found about fifty vessels, ships, brigs, and frigates, of which they immediate
ly took possession. Two ships of the line upon the stocks were burned ;
three frigates were also destroyed. All the timber in the ship-yards, the
tools of the workmen, and an immense quantity of naval stores, were con
veyed on board the English squadron. From the ramparts and the floating
batteries they took 3500 pieces of artillery. The prize money divided among
the crew amounted, as estimated by Admiral Lord Gambier, to four million
eight hundred thousand dollars. One half of the English crews were then
put on board the Danish ships. The entire expedition, leaving the hapless
metropolis of the Danes drenched with blood and smouldering with fire,
made sail for the coast of England. With triumphant salutes and stream
ing banners of victory, the squadron, rich with the booty of this buccaneer
ing expedition, entered the Thames . Such was the emphatic response which
the cabinet of St. James gave to Napoleon's earnest appeal for peace through
the mediation of Russia. ,,,-,,
The Duke of Wellington had just returned from boundless conquests in
India At Copenhagen he commenced that European career which he aft
erward terminated so brilliantly at Waterloo. When the expedition return
ed to London, the Iron Duke received the thanks of Parliament for the skill
and efficiency with which he had conducted the bombardment. Copenha-

604 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XL.
gen and Waterloo ! The day is not far distant when England will be will
ing to forget them both.*
In reference to this deed, there was but one sentiment throughout all Eu
rope. Nowhere was it more severely condemned than in England. Dis
tinguished members of both houses of Parliament, and the masses of the
people, raised a loud cry of indignation. Lord Grenville, Addington, Sheri
dan, Grey, and others, most vehemently expressed their abhorrence. All
idea of peace was now abandoned. England on the one hand, and Napo
leon on the other, prepared for the most desperate renewal of the strife.
Russia was extremely anxious to wrest from the Turks the provinces of
Moldavia and Wallachia upon the Danube. She would thus make a long
stride toward Constantinople. The Turks, unaided by other powers, could
not prevent this conquest. Napoleon was reluctant to allow Russia to make
such an advance toward the Empire of the East. With great hesitancy, he
was at times half disposed, for the sake of securing the friendship of Alexan
der, to consent to this encroachment.
The British cabinet immediately dispatched a messenger to Alexander to
endeavor to secure his favor by offering to aid him in obtaining these prov
inces. An envoy extraordinary was sent to Austria to dispose her to see
with calmness Moldavia and Wallachia become the property of the Russians.
The English embassador at St. Petersburg endeavored to apologize for the
affair of Copenhagen. He said that the British ministers had merely en
deavored to deprive the common enemy of Europe of the means of doing
mischief; that Russia ought to rejoice over the event instead of being irri
tated by it ; that England relied upon Russia to bring back Denmark to a
more just appreciation of the occurrence, and that the fleet should be return
ed to the Danes if Denmark would join against Napoleon. Alexander was
indignant, and returned a haughty reply. Diplomatic intercourse between
the two countries soon ceased.
Alexander immediately sent for General Savary, the envoy of Napoleon,
and thus addressed him : " You know that our efforts for peace have ended
in war, I expected it ; but I confess I did not expect either the Copenha
gen expedition or the arrogance of the British cabinet. My resolution is
taken, and I am ready to fulfill my engagements. I am entirely disposed to
* " Sir Arthur Wellesley," say the Berkeley men in the Napoleon Dynasty, "had been recalled
from the East Indies, where he had achieved all liis fame hitherto by a career of robbery and crime,
extortion, murder, -and the extinction of nations, compared with which Napoleon's worst acts of
usurpation, in the height of his ambition, paled into insignificance. And here we will allow truth
to arrest us for a single moment, while we enter our protest against any of the complaints of En
gland or of English writers about the usurpations of Napoleon. For the sole purpose of self-ag
grandizement, England has robbed more territory, taken more lives, confiscated more property, en
slaved more men, and wrought wider and darker ruin on the plains of Asia, than Napoleon can
ever be charged with, if upon his single head were to rain down the curses of every widow and
orphan made in Europe for a quarter of a century It is unholy mockery of truth, it is Puritanic
cant, it is English spite against Napoleon's eagles. England began, under the administration of
Pitt, the work of crushing the French Republic. She kept it up to gratify the ambition and spite
of her ministers, and she carried it through to maintain the position she had taken. It was all a
costly and well-nigh a fatal mistake, for England ; and her historians have no business whatever
to vent their spleen upon the only man on the Continent who ventured to set limits to the proud
empire of Britain." Strong and impassioned as is this utterante, it can not be controverted by
facts.

1807.] NEGOTIATIONS WITH ALEXANDER. 605
follow that conduct which shall best suit your master. I have seen Napo
leon. I flatter myself that I have inspired him with a part of the sentiments
with which he has inspired me. I am certain that he is sincere. 0 that I
could see him as at Tilsit— every day, every hour ! What talent for conver
sation ! What an understanding ! What a genius ! How much should I
gain by living frequently near him ! How many things he has taught me in
a few days ! But we are so far distant ! However, I hope to visit him
soon." Alexander requested permission to purchase muskets from the French
manufactories. " I desire," said he, "that the two armies, now destined to
serve the same cause, may use the same weapons." He also solicited per
mission to send the cadets who were to serve in the Russian navy to France
for their education. These friendly expressions were accompanied by a mag
nificent present of furs for the Emperor Napoleon. "I wish to be his fur
rier," said Alexander.
Napoleon was greatly embarrassed. The cordial friendship of Alexander
gratified him. He perceived the intensity of desire with which this ambitious
monarch was contemplating Constantinople and a mighty empire in the East.
The growth of Russia threatened to overshadow Europe, and to subjugate
the world. " Leaning upon the north pole," with her right hand grasping
the Baltic, and her left the Dardanelles, she might claim universal sovereign
ty. Nothing would satisfy Alexander but permission to march toward the
East. Napoleon earnestly desired his friendship, but also feared to make
concessions too dangerous for the repose of Europe.
He sent Caulaincourt to St. Petersburg as his confidential embassador, in
formed him fully of his embarrassments, and urged him to do every thing in
his power to maintain the alliance without encouraging the designs of Alex
ander upon the Turkish empire. That Caulaincourt might worthily repre
sent the Great Nation, Napoleon allowed him the sum of 160,000 dollars a
year, and placed in his suite several of the most distinguished young men of
France. He also wrote a letter to Alexander, thanking him for his presents,
and returning still more magnificent gifts of Sevres porcelain. Denmark
promptly threw herself into the arms of Napoleon. A strong division of
French troops, at the solicitation of the Danish court, immediately entered
Denmark for its protection.
Alexander himself, having been brought under the fascinations of Napo
leon's mind at Tilsit, was very enthusiastic in his admiration of his new ally.
But the Russian nobles, having never seen the great enchanter, trembled at
the advance of democratic freedom. The republican equality of France
would elevate the serf and depress the noble. The Czar was willing that
his haughty lords should lose a little of their power, and that his degraded
serfs should become a little more manly. Hence there arose two parties in
Russia : one, headed by the haughty queen mother, and embraced by most
of the nobles, was for war with France ; the emperor was at the head of the
less numerous and the less influential peace party.
Caulaincourt, conscious of the hostility still existing in the bosoms of the
Russian nobles toward Napoleon, sent an employe into the circles of the old
aristocracy at Moscow to report to him what was said there. Freely the

606 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XL.
nobles censured the sudden change at Tilsit, by which the young Czar had
espoused the policy of France. War with England struck the commerce of
Russia a deadly blow. Nothing, they said, could compensate for such sac
rifices but obtaining possession of Moldavia and Wallachia. Napoleon, how
ever, they affirmed, will never allow Russia to take those fine provinces.
Caulaincourt immediately transmitted these particulars to Napoleon. He
assured the. Emperor that, notwithstanding the sincerity of Alexander, the
court of Russia, deeply mortified, could not be relied upon. Napoleon pon
dered the question long and anxiously. The alliance of Russia was of vital
importance. The aggressive power of Russia, overshadowing Europe with
its gloom of despotism, was greatly to be dreaded. The Turks, having de
posed, imprisoned, and finally put to death Sultan Selim, the friend of Na
poleon, were now cutting off the heads of all who were in favor of alliance
with France. The agents of England were busy in rousing the barbarian
Turks. They did not hold themselves accountable for the excesses which
ensued. Napoleon was not much troubled with conscientious scruples about trans
ferring the sovereignty of Turkish provinces to Russia. The only claims
the Turks had to those provinces were claims obtained by fire and sword —
by outrages, the recital of which causes the ear to tingle. The right of proud
despots to rob a people of liberty and of happiness is not a very sacred right.
Bad as was the government of Russia, the government of Turkey was still
worse. Napoleon consequently did not hesitate to consent to the transfer of
these provinces because he thought it would be wrong, but simply because
he thought it would be impolitic. The Turkish government, waging now a
savage war against him, and in alliance with England, his ever relentless foe,
could claim from his hand no special protection. Napoleon could not, how
ever, merely step aside, and let Turkey and Russia settle their difficulties be
tween themselves. Turkey and England were now united as one power
against France. The Turks, in defiance of Napoleon's mediation, had re
newed the war against Alexander. France was consequently pledged by
the treaty of Tilsit to unite her armies with those of Russia.
Under these circumstances, Napoleon proposed a conference with Alexan
der and with Francis of Austria, to consider the whole Turkish question. He
also suggested a grand, gigantic enterprise of the three united powers, to
cross the continent of Asia, and attack the English in the territories which
they had invaded in India. Austria was deeply interested in this matter.
Already she was overshadowed by the colossal empire of the North. To
have the mouths of the Danube, the Mississippi of Austria, in the hands of
the Turks, indolent as they were, was bad enough. The transfer of the por
tals of that majestic stream to the custody of her great rival, Russia, was to
be resisted at all hazards. Alexander received the proposal of a conference
with transports of joy. The acquisition of the coveted provinces would add
to the glory of his reign, would immeasurably increase the prospective great
ness of Russia, and would compel the nobles to a cordial approval of his al
liance with France. So deeply was Alexander excited, that he read the let
ter of Napoleon with trembling eagerness. Caulaincourt, who had delivered
to him the letter, was present.

1807.] NEGOTIATIONS WITH ALEXANDER. 607
" Ah !" exclaimed Alexander, again and again, as he read the welcome lines,
" the great man ! the great man ! Tell him that I am devoted to him for
life. My empire, my armies, are all at his disposal. When I ask him to
grant something to satisfy the pride of the Russian nation, it is not from am
bition that I speak. I wish to give him that nation whole and entire, and as
devoted to his great projects as I am myself. Your master purposes to in
terest Austria in the dismemberment of the Turkish empire. He is in the
right. It is a wise conception. I cordially join in it.
"He designs an expedition to India. I consent to that too. I have al
ready made him acquainted, in our long conversations at Tilsit, with the dif
ficulties attending it. He is accustomed to take no account of obstacles.
Nevertheless, the climate and distances here present such as surpass all that
he can imagine. But let him be easy. The preparations on my part shall
be proportioned to the difficulties. We must come to an understanding about
the territories which we are going to wrest from Turkish barbarism. This
subject, however, can be usefully discussed only in an interview between me
and Napoleon. As soon as our ideas have arrived at a commencement of
maturity, I shall leave St. Petersburg, and go to meet your emperor at what
ever distance he pleases. I should like to go as far as Paris. But I can
not. Besides, it is a meeting upon business which we want, not a meeting
for parade and pleasure. We might choose Weimar, where we would be
among our own family. But even there we should be annoyed by a thou
sand things. At Erfurt we should be more free, more to ourselves. Propose
that place to your sovereign. When his answer arrives, I will set out imme
diately. I shall travel like a courier."
Here originated the idea of the celebrated conference which was soon held
at Erfurt. After many long interviews between the Russian minister and
the French embassador, two plans were addressed to Napoleon for his con
sideration. The one proposed but a partial division of the Turkish empire.
The Turks were to be left in possession of the Dardanelles, the Bosporus,
and of all their Asiatic possessions. Russia was to have the coveted prov
inces of Moldavia and Wallachia, upon the left bank of the Danube, and
Bulo-aria upon the right. Austria, as a consolation for seeing the Colossus
of the North take so long a step toward universal power, was to receive Ser
via and Bosnia. Greece was to be emancipated from its Turkish oppress
ors, and placed under the protection of France. The second plan was bold
and gigantic in the extreme. All of Europe and all of Asia Minor were to
be rescued from Turkish sway.
Russia was to gratify her long and intensely-cherished ambition in taking
possession of Constantinople and all the adjoining provinces on each side of
the Bosporus. Austria was to receive a rich accession to her territory in
the partition. All of Greece, all the islands of the Archipelago, the Straits
of the Dardanelles, Cyprus, Syria, and Egypt, were to be transferred to
France. Such were the plans proposed by the Russian cabinet to Napoleon.
It was not deemed prudent to affix any signature to a paper containing prop
ositions of such startling magnitude. As the documents were placed in the
hands of the French embassador to be conveyed to Napoleon, Alexander,
whose ambition was excited to its highest pulsations, said to him, " Tell

608 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XL.
Napoleon that this note meets my full approbation. It is an authentic ex
pression of the ideas of the Russian cabinet."*
* This extraordinary document, so characteristic of the times, and of the illustrious personages
then, by their position and energies, controlling the fate of Europe, we give in full, unaltered and
unabridged. " Since his majesty, the Emperor of the French and the King of Italy, &c, has recently adjudged
that, in order to attain a general peace, and to secure the tranquillity of Europe, it would be expe
dient to weaken the Ottoman empire by the dismemberment of its provinces, the Emperor Alex
ander, faithful to his engagements and to his friendship, is ready to concur in it.
" The first idea, which could not fail to present itself to the Emperor of all the Russias, who is
fond of calling to mind the occurrences at Tilsit, when this overture was made to him, was, that the
Emperor, his ally, purposed to proceed immediately to the execution of what the two monarchs had
agreed upon in the treaty of alliance relative to the Turks ; and that he added to it the proposal of
an expedition to India.
" It had been settled at Tilsit that the Ottoman power was to be driven back into Asia, retaining
in Europe nothing but the city of Constantinople' and Roumelia.
" There was drawn at the same time this consequence, that the Emperor of the French should
acquire Albania, and Morea, and the island of Candia.
" Wallachia and Moldavia were next allotted to Russia, giving that empire the Danube for its
boundary, comprehending Bessarabia, which is, in fact, a strip of sea-coast, and which is commonly
considered as forming part of Moldavia. If to this portion be added Bulgaria, the Emperor is ready
to concur in the expedition to India, of which there had been then no question, provided that this
expedition to India, as the Emperor Napoleon himself has just traced its route, shall proceed through
Asia Minor.
" The Emperor Alexander applauded himself for the idea of gaming the concurrence of a corps
of Austrian troops in the expedition to India, and as the Emperor, his ally, seemed to wish that it
should not be numerous, he conceives that this concurrence would be adequately compensated by
awarding to Austria Turkish Croatia and Bosnia, unless the Emperor of the French should find it
convenient to retain a portion of them. There might, moreover, be offered to Austria a less direct
but very considerable interest, by settling the future condition of Servia, incontestably one of the
finest provinces of the Ottoman empire, in the following manner.
" The Servians are a warlike people, and that quality, which always commands esteem, must ex
cite a wish to regulate their lot judiciously.
" The Servians, fraught with a feeling of just vengeance against the Turks, have boldly shaken
off the yoke of their oppressors, and are, it is said, resolved never to wear it again. In order to
consolidate peace, it seems necessary, therefore, to make them independent of the Turks.
" The peace of Tilsit determines nothing in regard to them. Their own wish, expressed strongly
and more than once, has led them to implore the Emperor Alexander to admit them into the num
ber of his subjects. This attachment to his person makes him desirous that they should live happy
and content, without insisting upon extending his sway. His majesty seeks no acquisition that
could obstruct peace. He makes with pleasure this sacrifice, and all those which can contribute to
render it speedy and solid. He proposes, in consequence, to erect Servia into an independent king
dom, to give its crown to one of the archdukes who is not the head of any sovereign branch, and
who is sufficiently remote from the succession to the throne of Austria ; and in this case it should
be stipulated that this kingdom should never be incorporated with the mass of the dominions of
that house.
" This whole supposition of the dismemberment of the Turkish provinces, as explained above,
being founded upon the engagements at Tilsit, has not appeared to offer any difficulty to the two
persons commissioned by the two emperors to discuss together the means of attaining the ends
proposed by their imperial majesties.
" The Emperor of Russia is ready to take part in a treaty between the three emperors which
should fix the conditions above expressed ; but, on the other hand, having conceived that the letter
which he recently received from the Emperor of the French seemed to indicate the resolution of a
much more extended dismemberment of the Ottoman empire than that which had been projected
between them at Tilsit, that monarch, in order to meet the interests of the three imperial courts,
and particularly in order to give the Emperor, his ally, all the proofs of friendship and deference
that are in his power, has declared that, without wanting a further diminution of the strength of
the Ottoman Porte, he would cheerfully concur in it.
" He has laid down as a principle of his interest in this greater partition, that his share of the

1807.] NEGOTIATIONS WITH ALEXANDER. 609
Upon receiving this communication, Napoleon peremptorily refused his
assent to the latter plan. No consideration could induce him to permit
Russia to take possession of Constantinople. He was ready to break the
increased acquisition should be moderate in extent or magnitude, and that he would consent that
the share of his ally in particular should be marked out of much larger proportion. His majesty
has added that beside this principle of moderation he placed one of wisdom, which consisted in not
finding himself, by this new plan of partition, worse placed than he is at the present in regard to
boundaries and commercial relations.
" Setting out with these two principles, the Emperor Alexander would see, not only without
jealousy, but with pleasure, the Emperor Napoleon acquire and incorporate with his dominion, in
addition to what has been mentioned above, all the islands of the Archipelago, Cyprus, Rhodes,
and even whatever is left of the seaports of the Levant, Syria, and Egypt.
" In case of this more extensive partition, the Emperor Alexander would change his preceding
opinion respecting the state of Servia. Studying to form an honorable and highly advantageous
share for the house of Austria, he should wish that Servia should be incorporated with the mass of
the Austrian dominions, and that there should be added to it Macedonia, with the exception of that
part of Macedonia which France might desire in order to fortify her Albanian frontier, so as that
France might obtain Salonichi. This line of the Austrian frontier might be drawn from Scopia to
Orphane, and would make the power of the house of Austria extend to the sea.
" Croatia might belong to France or to Austria, as the Emperor Napoleon pleases.
" The Emperor Alexander can not disguise from his ally that, finding a particular satisfaction in
all that has been said at Tilsit, he places, according to the advice of the Emperor, his friend, those
possessions of the house of Austria between theirs, in order to avoid the point of contact, always
so liable to cool friendship.
" The share of Russia in this new and extensive partition would have added to that which was
awarded to her in the preceding plan, the possession of the city of Constantinople, with a radius
of a few leagues in Asia ; and in Europe, part of Roumelia, so as that the frontier of Russia, on
the side of the new possessions of Austria, setting out from Bulgaria, should follow the frontier of
Servia to a little beyond Solismick, and the chain of mountains which runs from Solismick to Tray-
anpol inclusive, and then the River Moriza to the sea.
" In the conversation which has taken place respecting this second plan of partition, there has
been this difference of opinion, that one of the two persons conceived that, if Russia were to pos
sess Constantinople, France ought to possess the Dardanelles, or at least to appropriate to herself
that which was on the Asiatic side. This assertion was contested, on the other part, upon the
ground of the immense disproportion proposed to be made in the shares of this new and greater par
tition, and that even the occupation of the fort would utterly destroy this principle of the Emperor
of Russia not to be worse placed than he now is in regard to his geographical and commercial re
lations. " The Emperor Alexander, moved by the feeling of his extreme friendship for the Emperor Na
poleon, has declared, with a view to remove the difficulty, lstly. That he would agree to a mili
tary road for France running through the new possessions of Austria and Russia, opening to her
a military route to the ports of Syria. 2dly. That, if the Emperor Napoleon wished to possess
Smyrna, or any other port on the coast of Natolia, from the point of that coast which is opposite to
Mytilene to that which is situated opposite to Rhodes, and should send troops thither to conquer
them, the Emperor Alexander is ready to assist in this enterprise, by joining, for this purpose, a
corps of his troops to the French troops. 3dly. That if Smyrna, or any other possession on the
coast of Natolia, such as has just been pointed out, having come under the dominion of France,
should afterward be attacked, not merely by the Turks, but even by the English, in hatred of that
treaty, his majesty the Emperor of Russia will, in that case, proceed to the aid of his ally when
ever he shall be required to do so.
" 4thly His majesty thinks that the house of Austria might, on the same footing, assist France
in taking possession of Salonichi, and proceed to the aid of that port whenever it shall be required
of her
" 5thly The Emperor of Russia declares that he has no wish to acquire the south coast of the
Black Sea, which is in Asia, though, in the discussion, it was thought that it might be desirable for
him. " 6thly The Emperor of Russia has declared that, whatever might be the success of his troops
in India, he should not desire to possess any thing there, and that he would cheerfully consent that
France should make for herself all the territorial acquisitions in India which she might think fit ;
Vol I — Q q

610 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. [Chap. XL.
alliance, and to see that immense power again arrayed against him, rather
than thus betray the liberties of Europe.
" Constantinople," said Alexander, "is the key of my house."
" Constantinople !" exclaimed Napoleon. " It is the dominion of the
world." The possession of European Turkey will enable Russia to bid defiance to
every foe. The Black Sea becomes a Russian harbor which no enemy can
penetrate. How this conquest is to be prevented is now the great problem
which agitates every cabinet in the Old World. The foresight of Napoleon
anticipated this question. " In half a century," said he at St. Helena, "Eu
rope will become either Republican or Cossack." Republican equality was
entombed at St. Helena. Europe now promises to become Cossack.
Austria was in great perplexity. She dreaded the liberal opinions which
France was every where diffusing. She was inconsolable for the loss of
Italy. She was intensely mortified by the defeats of Ulm and Austerlitz.
She was much alarmed by the encroachments of Alexander, her great rival.
On the other hand, she was unable to contend against France, even with
Russia as an ally. How, then, could she resist France and Russia combined ?
England, always unpopular, had become absolutely odious to Europe by her
conduct at Copenhagen. Yet through England alone could Austria hope to
regain Italy, and to retard the appalling growth of Russia. Napoleon was
perfectly frank in his communications with the court of Vienna. There was
no occasion for intrigue. He sincerely wished to unite Austria and Russia
with France, that, upon perfectly equitable terms, peace might be forced
upon England. He desired nothing so much as leisure to develop the re
sources of France, and to make his majestic empire the garden of the world.
Weary of contending, with all Europe against him, he was willing to make
almost any concessions for the sake of peace. " England," said he, "is the
great enemy of peace. The world demands repose. England can not hold
out against the strongly expressed unanimity of the Continent."
The Austrian court, never frank and honorable, with much hesitancy
joined the Continental alliance. An envoy was dispatched to the court of
St. James with two messages. The one was public, and for the ear of Eu
rope. It declared that France, through the mediation of Russia, had pro
posed equitable terms for peace ; and that, if England now refused peace,
all nations must combine against her. The other message was secret and
deceitful. It stated that Austria, left alone upon the Continent, could not
resist France and Russia. There was a little blending of magnanimity in
the addition that England ought to think of peace ; that if she still persisted
and that it should be likewise at her option to cede any portion of the conquests which she might
make there to her allies.
" If the two allies agree together in a precise manner that they adopt one or the other of these
two plans of partition, his majesty the Emperor Alexander will have extreme pleasure in repairing
to the personal mterview which has been proposed to him, and which could, perhaps, take place at
Erfurt. He conceives that it would be advantageous if the basis of the engagements that are to be
made there were previously fixed with a sort of precision, that the two emperors may have nothing
to add to the extreme satisfaction of seeing one another but that of being enabled to sign without
delay the fate of this part of the globe, and thereby, as they purpose to themselves, to force En
gland to desire that peace from which she now keeps aloof willfully and with such boasting.''

1807.] NEGOTIATIONS WITH ALEXANDER. 611
in war, her best friends would be compelled to abandon her. The Austrian
embassador was also commissioned boldly to declare that the act perpetra
ted at Copenhagen was an outrage which was deeply felt by every neutral
state.

END OF \<ll.. I.

YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

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