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 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 virtues. Those who
oppose this course, reason like barbarians. It is the religion
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 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 who 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 a 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 profession, the like reward."
The true spirit of republicanism is certainly equality of rights, not
of attainments 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 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 $1000;
to the second $400; to the third, $200; to the fourth, $50. The
private soldier, the retired scholar, and the skillful artist were
thus decorated with the same badge of distinction which figured upon
the breast 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 Theirs, "it is already
consecrated as if it had passed through centuries; to such a degree
has it become the recompense 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 popularity of Napoleon was now unbounded. A very general and
earnest disposition was expressed to confer upon the First Consul
a magnificent testimonial of the national gratitude--a testimonial
worthy of the illustrious 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 received them the next day in the Tuileries. With
seriousness and modesty he listened to the high eulogium upon his
achievements which was pronounced, and then replaced. "I receive
with sincere gratitude the wish to expressed by the Tribunate.
I desire no other glory than having completely performed the task
impose upon me. I aspire to no other reward than the affection of
my fellow-citizens. I shall be happy if they are thoroughly convinced,
that the evils which they may experience, will always be to me the
severest of misfortunes; that life is dear to me solely for the
services which I am to render 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." ..........
But how was Napoleon to be rewarded! That was the great difficult
question. Was wealth to be conferred upon him! For wealth he cared
nothing 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 means
for the accomplishment of ends. In themselves they were nothing.
The one only 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, legislators, and tribunes all
co-operated in giving energy to his plans. It will be remembered,
that Napoleon was elected First Consul for a period of 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
gratifying to General Bonaparte? Does he wish to be king? Only let
him say so, and we are all ready to vote for the re-establishment
of royalty. Most willingly 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
Consulship, 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 notwithstanding 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 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 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 partiality, 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 authorizes."
Napoleon immediately left Paris for his country-seat at Malmaison.
This beautiful chateau was about ten miles from the metropolis.
Josephine had purchased the peaceful, rural retreat at Napoleon's
request during his first Italian campaign. Subsequently, large
sums had been expended in enlarging and improving the grounds; and
it was ever the favorite the grounds; and it was ever the favorite
residence of both Josephine and Napoleon. Cambacres called an extraordinary
meeting of the Council of State. After much deliberation, it was
resolved, by an immense majority, that the following preposition
should be submitted to the people: "Shall Napoleon Bonaparte be
the 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 monarchy, under a
republican name.
Cambaceres immediately repaired to Malmaison, to submit these
resolutions to Napoleon. To the amazement of all, he immediately
and firmly rejected the second question. Energetically, he said
"Whom would you have me appoint my successor? on brothers? But
will France which has consented to be governed by Joseph or Lucien?
Shall I nominate you consul, Cambceres? You? Dare you undertake
such a task? And then the will of Louis XIV was not respected; it
is 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
people. It is impossible to divine the motive which influenced
Napoleon in the 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 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. He
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 thousands and
a few hundreds, against it. Never before, or since, was an early
government established by such unamitity. Never had a monarch a
more indisputable title to his throne. Upon this occasion Lafayette
added to his vote these or qualifying words: "I can not vote for
such a magistracy, until public freed sufficiently guarantied. When
that is done, I give my voice to Napoleon Bonaparte." In a private
conversation with the First Consul, he added: "A free government,
and you at its head-that comprehends all my desires." Napoleon
remarked: In theory Lafayette is perhaps right. But what is theory?
A mere dream, when applied to the masses of mankind. He think he
is still in the United States--as if the French were Americans. He
has no conception 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 magnificent chariot, drawn by eight horses.
A cortege of gorgeous splendor accompanied 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 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, equality 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 accordance 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 nominate his successor to the
Senate. To this, after a slight resistance, he yielded, 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 sympathized cordially
with her in her high gratification 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 magnificiently
celebrated the anniversary of the birth-day of the First Consul.
This was another introduction of monarchical 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 Deun was sung, in gratitude
to God for the gift of Napoleon. At night the city blazed with
illuminations. The splendors and the etiquette of royalty were now
rapidly introduced; and the same fickle populace who had so recently
trampled princes and thrones into blood and ruin, were now captivated
with re-introduction of these discarded splendors. Napoleon soon
established himself in the beautiful chateau of St. Cloud, which he
has caused to be repaired with great magnificence. On the Sabbath the
First Consul, with Josephine, invariably attended divine 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 approached
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 sincere, 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 rural mansion near
Neuilly. Upon one occasion he invited Napoleon, and all the inmates
of Malmaison, to attend some private theatricals at his dwelling.
Lucien and Eliza were the performers in a piece called Alzire. The
ardor of their declamation, the freedom 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 Lucien 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 representations. "What!" said
he, "when I am endeavoring to restore purity 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. 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 occurrence. Immediately he instituted inquiries
respecting the young man and the family. Hearing a good report of
them, he gave the three brothers employment, and amply rewarded
the honest lad. "Kindness," says Bourrienne, "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 accomplished 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 administration of government, established
a new and very efficient system for the collection of taxes, raised
public credit, and supplied the wants of the suffering army. By
great energy and humanity he immediately terminated the horrors of
that unnatural war which had for years, been desolating La Vendee.
Condescending to the attitude of 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 Rhime; 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 upon 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 Hohenlinden, and beneath the walls of Vienna
extorted peace with 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 destruction, and restored security in all the provinces;
cut magnificent communications over the Alps, founded hospitals
on their summits, surrounded exposed cities with fortifications,
opened canals, constructed bridges, created magnificent roads, and
commenced the compiliation of that civil code which will remain an
ever-during monument of his labors and his genius. In opposition
to the remonstrances of his best friends, he re-established
Christianity, 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 irrigated. 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.
vanquished by the genius of Napoleon, was compelled to retire from
the ministry--and the world was at peace.
The difficulties, perplexities, embarrassments which were encountered
in those enterprises, were infinite. Says Napoleon, with that
magnanimity which history should recognize and applaud, "We are
told that all the First Consul has to look to, was to do justice.
But to whom was he to do justice? To the proprietors whom the
revolution had violently despoiled of their properties, for this
only, that they had been faithful to their legitimate sovereign to
the principle of honor which they had inherited from their 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 standard 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
country from the inveterate hostility of its enemies, and had borne
to so transcendent 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 acquires, who had
converted the convents into workshops, the churches into warehouses,
and had turned to profane uses all that had been deemed most holy
for ages?"
"At this period," says Theirs, "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 parsonages 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 seeing 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 Cambracers, 'This young man begins
like Caesar: I fear that he will end like him.`"
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 diminish 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 Catharine, the haughty
Queen of Naples, mother of the Empress of Austria, being then at
Vienna, in ardent expression of her gratification to the French
embassador 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."
But difficulties were rapidly rising between England and France.
The English were much disappointed in not finding that sale of
their manufactures 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 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," that I am not a man to be shot at like
a dog." Napoleon complained bitterly that his enemies, then attempting
his assassination, were in the pay of the British government.
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
England the most atrocious libels against the First Consul, his
wife, her children, his brothers and sisters. They were charged
with the most low, degrading, 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 reports, wishing to destroy the popularity of
Napoleon, and to prepare the populace 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 resource 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 paretic crafts
the Mediterranean, 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 promise given to respect in future the
flags of France and Italy, he would send a fleet and an army and
overwhelm 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 intercession 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 them with great elegance, armed them most
effectively, filled them with naval 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 power; exhibited to them St. Peter's, and dazzled
them with the pomp and splendor of cathedral worship. They returned
to France loaded with humble presents, 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 ancient rulers. Malta, impregnable in its fortifications,
commanded the Mediterranean, 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 question upon which
the treaty hinged, was the surrender of Malta to a neutral power.
The treaty was signed. Napoleon promptly and scrupulously fulfilled
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 discussed 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 power 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 sublime 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 Britain. 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 he
talked of, in the same terms as we talk in this house of the French
armies, and their dominion over the land."
Napoleon sincerely wished for peace. He was constructing vast works
to embellish and improve the empire. Thousands of workmen were
employed in cutting magnificent roads across the Alps. He was
watching with intensest interest the growth of fortifications and
the excavation of canals. He was in the possession of absolute power,
was surrounded by universal admiration, and, in the enjoyment of
profound peace, was congratulating himself upon being the pacificator
of Europe. He had disbanded his armies, and was consecrating all
the resources of the nation to the stimulation of industry. He
therefore left no means of forbearance and conciliation 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 this 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 resources of his
courtly and elegant manners. The two Associate Consuls, Cambaceres
and Lebrum, 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. Napoleon at last resolved
to have a personal interview himself with Lord Whitworth, and
explain to him, with all frankness, his sentiments and his resolves.
It was on the evening of the 18th of February, 1803, that Napoleon
received 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 the accession to the consulship; that peace had been refused;
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 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 emigrants,
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, within 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
ratifications, and the English troops are still in Malta, and at
Alexandria. It is useless to try to deceive us 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 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 attained 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 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 Continent 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 frankly 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 difficulty 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 temerity,
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, if I am not sincere. It is
better for you; it is better for me to keep within the limits of
treaties. You must evacuate Malta. You must not harbor my assassins
in England. 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 cordially 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 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 loose 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 obtain a port to put into," said he. "To that I have no
objection. But I am determined that they shall not have two Gibraltars
in that sea, one at the entrance, and one in 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 discussions between France and England were decided. It
had so happened that the emperor had just offered his mediation,
if that could be available, to prevent 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 imposed upon her.
The English embassador now received instructions to demand that
France should cede to England, Malta 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 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.
France has recorded her past history and her present condition, in
the regal palaces she has reared. Upon these monumental walls are
inscribed, in letters more legible than the hieroglyphics of Egypt,
and as ineffaceable, the long and dreary story of kingly vice,
voluptuousness and pride, and of popular servility and oppression.
The unthinking tourist saunters through these magnificent saloons,
upon which have been lavished the wealth of princes and the toil
of ages, and admires their gorgeous grandeur. In marbled floors
and gilded ceilings and damask tapestry, and all the appliances of
boundless luxury and opulence, he sees but the triumphs of art, and
bewildered by the dazzling spectacle, forgets the burning outrage
upon human rights which it proclaims. Half-entranced, he wanders
through uncounted acres of groves and lawns, and parterres of
flowers, embellished with lakes, fountains, cascades, and the most
voluptuous statuary, where kings and queens have reveled, and he
reflects not upon the millions who have toiled, from dewy morn till
the shades of night, through long and joyless years, eating black
bread, clothed in coarse raiment--the man, the woman, the ox,
companions in toil, companions in thought--to minister to this
indulgence. But the palaces of France proclaim, in trumpet tones,
the shame of France. They say to her kings. Behold the undeniable
monuments of your pride, your insatiate extortion, your measureless
extravagance and luxury. They say to the people, Behold the proofs
of the outrages which your fathers, for countless ages, have endured.
They lived in mud hovels that their licentious kings might riot
haughtily in the apartments, canopied with gold, of Versailles, the
Tuileries, and St. Cloud--the Palaces of France. The mind of the
political economist lingers painfully upon them. They are gorgeous
as specimens of art. They are sacred as memorials of the past.
Vandalism alone would raze them to their foundations. Still, the
judgment says, It would be better for the political regeneration
of France, if, like the Bastile, their very foundations were plowed
up, and sown with salt. For they are a perpetual provocative to
every thinking man. They excite unceasingly democratic rage against
aristocratic arrogance. Thousands of noble women, as they traverse
those gorgeous halls, feel those fires of indignation glowing in
their souls, which glowed in the bosom of Madame Roland. Thousands
of young men, with compressed lip and moistened eye, lean against
those marble pillars, lost in thought, and almost excuse even the
demoniac and blood-thirsty mercilessness of Danton, Marat, and
Robespierre. These palaces are a perpetual stimulus and provocative
to governmental aggression. There they stand, in all their
gorgeousness, empty, swept, and garnished. They are resplendently
beautiful. They are supplied with every convenience, every luxury.
King and Emperor dwelt there. Why should not the President ? Hence
the palace becomes the home of the Republican President. The expenses
of the palace, the retinue of the palace, the court etiquette of
the palace become the requisitions of good taste. In America, the
head of the government, in his convenient and appropriate mansion,
receives a salary of twenty-five thousand dollars a year. In
France, the President of the Republic receives four hundred thousand
dollars a year, and yet, even with that vast sum, can not keep up
an establishment at all in accordance with the dwellings of grandeur
which invite his occupancy, and which unceasingly and irresistibly
stimulate to regal pomp and to regal extravagance. The palaces of
France have a vast influence upon the present politics of France.
There is an unceasing conflict between those marble walls of
monarchical splendor, and the principles of republican simplicity.
This contest will not soon terminate, and its result no one can
foresee. Never have I felt my indignation more thoroughly aroused
than when wandering hour after hour through the voluptuous sumptuousness
of Versailles. The triumphs of taste and art are admirable, beyond
the power of the pen to describe. But the moral of exeerable
oppression is deeply inscribed upon all. In a brief description of
the Palaces of France. I shall present them in the order in which
I chanced to visit them.
1. Palais des Thermes .--In long-gone centuries, which have faded
away into oblivion, a wandering tribe of barbarians alighted from
their canoes, upon a small island in the Seine, and there reared
their huts. They were called the Parisii. The slow lapse of
centuries rolled over them, and there were wars and woes, bridals
and burials, and still they increased in numbers and in strength,
and fortified their little isle against the invasions of their
enemies; for man, whether civilized or savage, has ever been the
most ferocious wild beast man has had to encounter. But soon the
tramp of the Roman legions was heard upon the banks of the Seine,
and all Gaul with its sixty tribes, came under the power of
the Caesars. Extensive marshes and gloomy forests surrounded the
barbarian village; but, gradually, Roman laws and institutions were
introduced; and Roman energy changed the aspect of the country.
Immediately the proud conquerors commenced rearing a palace for
the provincial governor. The Palace of Warm Baths rose, with its
massive walls and in imposing grandeur. Roman spears drove the people
to the work; and Roman ingenuity knew well how to extort from the
populace the revenue which was required. Large remains of that palace
continue to the present day. It is the most interesting memorial
of the past which can now be found in France. The magnificence of
its proportions still strike the beholder with awe. "Behold," says
a writer, who trod its marble floors nearly a thousand years ago:
"Behold the Palace of the Kings, whose turrets pierce the skies,
and whose foundations penetrate even to the empire of the dead."
Julius Caesar gazed proudly upon those turrets; and here the shouts
of Roman legions, fifteen hundred years ago proclaimed Julian emperor;
and Roman maidens, with throbbing hearts, trod these floors in the
mazy dance. No one can enter the grand hall of the haths, without
being deeply impressed with the majestic aspect of the edifice, and
with the grandeur of its gigantic proportions. The decay of nearly
two thousand years has left its venerable impress upon those walls.
Here Roman generals proudly strode, encased in brass and steel,
and the clatter of their arms resounded through these arches. In
these mouldering, crumbling tubs of stone, they laved their sinewy
limbs. But where are those fierce warriors now? In what employments
have their turbulent spirits been engaged, while generation after
generation has passed on earth, in the enactment of the comedies
and the tragedies of life? Did their rough tutelage in the camp,
and their proud hearing in the court, prepare them for the love,
the kindness, the gentleness, the devotion of Heaven? In fields of
outrage, clamor, and blood, madly rushing to the assault, shouting
in frenzy, dealing, with iron hand, every where around, destruction
and death, did they acquire a taste for the "green pastures and
the still waters?" Alas! for the mystery of our being! They are
gone, and gone forever! Their name has perished--their language is
forgotten.
"The storm which wrecks the wintry sky. No more disturbs their
deep repose, Than summer evening's gentlest sign, Which shuts
the rose."
Upon a part of the rums of this old palace of Caesars, there has
been reared by more modern ancients , still another palace, where
mirth and revelry have resounded, where pride has elevated her
haughty head, and vanity displayed her costly robes--but over all
those scenes of splendor, death has rolled its oblivious waves. About
four hundred years ago, upon a portion of the crumbling walls of
this old Roman mansion, the Palace of Cluny was reared. For three
centuries, this palace was one of the abodes of the kings of France.
The tide of regal life ebbed and flowed through those saloons, and
along those corridors. There is the chamber where Mary of England,
sister of Henry VIII., and widow of Louis XII., passed the weary
years of her widowhood. It is still called the chamber of the
"white queen," from the custom of the queens of France to wear
white mourning. Three hundred years ago, these Gothic turrets, and
gorgeously ornamented lucarne windows, gleamed with illuminations,
as the young King of Scotland, James V., led Madeleine, the blooming
daughter of Francis I., to the bridal altar. Here the haughty family
of the Guises ostentatiously displayed their regal retinue--vying
with the Kings of France in splendor, and outvying them in power.
These two palaces, now blended by the nuptails of decay into one,
are converted into a museum of antiquities--silent despositories
of memorials of the dead. Sadly one loiters through their deserted
halls. They present one of the most interesting sights of Paris.
In the reflective mind they awaken emotions which the pen can not describe. |
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