[1804 A.D.] Mr. Spencer Smith, English residents at the courts of Munich and Stuttgart, receiving plans, and making promises of royalist insurrection, of betraying towns, etc. "These bulletins," Bignone admits, "were all fabricated by the French police; the promises, only so many chimeras, with which the prefect of Strasburg fed the credulity of Mr. Drake." Poor Mr. Drake was indeed taken in. Some letters of his, in which he exulted over the speedy accomplishment of these designs, were intercepted; his folly, rather than his guilt, proclaimed; and, unfortunately, the story, garnished with unblushing falsehood, gave Bonaparte, what he so much loved, a pretext for declaiming against the Macchiavellianism of England.

It was in these petty squabbles and machinations that the meanness of Bonaparte appeared. Hitherto his life had been that of a hero-stained, indeed, with the blood of Jaffa, for which, however, he might plead the excuse of stern necessity. In fields of battle, in negotiations, in government, he had shown himself the superior spirit. But now, as he arrives at the height of power, as he doffs the hero's tunic to assume the mantle of the usurper, the vulgar Jacobin appears-rude, ruthless, tricky, envious, mendacious. Finding a worthy ally in Fouché, he condescends to make war by eavesdroppers at the doors of the envoys of his foe, rather than with armies in the field; and wields the base pen of malignity, rather than the warrior's sword. Absolute power proved fatal to him, flinging him at once into meanness and into crime. While a victorious commander of the armies of Italy, a crown could not have added to his greatness. When we first look upon him as emperor, we behold chiefly the murderer and the monarch united. Previous to this epoch, there existed still a feeling of generosity betwixt England and her enemy. But henceforth it was a personal and deadly war

a war not only of existence, but of honour; a duel not to be receded from till one or other of the antagonists fell. Unfortunate it was that France was identified in her leader's quarrel. Had she kept her liberties, that even of her press, such foul lies could not have gone forth to the world, nor been credited at home. But Bonaparte, not daring to trust his character and acts to a free press, shows sufficiently the colour of both: whilst, by yielding this precious liberty, this sun of the public mind, to a despot, after all the clamours and blood spent in the name of freedom, France becomes answerable for her own credulity, as well as for those crimes, and that injustice, which such credulity allowed him to commit.

NAPOLEON BECOMES EMPEROR (1804 A.D)

This was the epoch of Bonaparte's becoming emperor. The steps of his throne were the supposed projects of Pichegru and Georges; the blood of Enghien cemented them. Here instantly appears the great object of representing the views of the conspirators to be those of assassination. For, the life of the first consul being aimed at, it became necessary, according to the logic of the hour, to render the present rule and system permanent; that is, hereditary. And in fact the argument was right; a despotism for life is an absurdity, a complete bonus upon assassination; however, the way of mending the absurdity was to abate the despotism, instead of rendering it eternal. Scarcely twelve months had elapsed since the first consul had declared in council "hereditary right to be an absurdity." The senate now asserted the necessity of declaring Bonaparte hereditary sovereign, "in order to insure the public triumph of liberty and equality without fear of overthrow." This unblushing reason for perpetuating a dictatorship was worthy of the Moniteur

[1804 A.D.]

itself. The senate having obsequiously given its adhesion, the tribunate was required to discuss the question, not constitutionally, but as if in a "private re-union of citizens."

Twenty voted for, seven against, Bonaparte's elevation to the sovereignty. To such numbers were reduced even the mock representation of France. Carnot alone, as a staunch republican, spoke boldly forth his opinion. "Shall freedom, then," said he, "be shown to man, in order that he may never enjoy it? Must it be ever offered to his vows, as a fruit, tempting indeed, but fraught with death as the consequence of touching it? Nature is then indeed but a stepmother!"

On the 18th of May, 1804, the French senate passed a decree, and presented it to the first consul, styling "Napoleon Bonaparte emperor of the French." The people at large were to be consulted as to the hereditary right implied as belonging to this title; the farce of universal suffrage was never wanting in France to sanction acts of violence or usurpation. Still here a manifest difference was observed. Whilst the votes for the consulate had been nearly four millions, with a few thousand dissentient voices, the three millions that declared for the hereditary empire were counterbalanced by upwards of two millions that protested.

The senatus consultum, instituting the empire, confined the descent to Joseph and Louis; excluding Lucien, who had been most instrumental in elevating his brother to the consulate; and Jerome, who was profligate, and had made a foolish marriage. Court officers, with titles of superlative magnificence, were at the same time created; Joseph was called grand elector, as if in mockery of himself and of Sieyès. Then Louis became constable; Berthier grand huntsman. Three such men, wearing three such titles, must indeed have excited the derision of the Parisians. But sarcasm is shortlived, when allowed merely to vent itself in whisper. And the French, who had at first been ashamed to wear the riband of the legion of honour, soon came to admire stars and orders, and to worship dignitaries. The second and third consuls, Cambacérès and Lebrun, became arch-chancellor and archtreasurer; whilst seventeen of the principal generals were declared marshals of France.

The year 1804 was spent by Bonaparte in assuming his new title. It was the subject of serious negotiation with all the states of Europe, England excepted. Austria, the weakest, was the first to recognise it. The opportunity was even chosen by her for modifying her own; her sovereign, instead of elective emperor of Germany, styling himself hereditary emperor of Austria. The army, however, was the true basis of Napoleon's power; nor was he contented, until his dignity had received their full approbation.

He accordingly visited Boulogne during the summer, and in a month after his arrival there, ordered a grand review and ceremony on the 16th of August, the day of his fête. He was to distribute crosses of the Legion of Honour to the military.

Seated in the midst of his numerous armies, the shores of England and its fleets before him, Bonaparte was thus in presence of the foe that served as a pretext to this elevation. The troops answered his claim to the empire with loud acclamations, and he considered himself henceforth raised on the buckler, like another Clovis, to be the founder of a new dynasty. From Boulogne the new emperor hurried to Aix-la-Chapelle (Aachen), the ancient capital of Charlemagne. Here he received the acknowledgment of his dignity by his "brother" of Austria.

[1804 A.D.]

That nought might be wanting, the church was requested to give its sanction. Its inferior members had already displayed their zeal. The clergy, in their addresses, styled him Moses and Cyrus, applying to him the name of every biblical hero. They saw divine right in success as well as legitimacy; and proclaimed "the finger of God" as the agent of his elevation. To sum up this condescension, the pope himself made a journey to Paris, in order to crown the new Charlemagne, who, by the by, had curtailed from the church those very possessions said to have been ceded to it by the pious Frank. On the 2nd of December, 1804, the coronation took place in Notre Dame; Bonaparte, however, placing the crown on his own head as well as upon that of Josephine. Pius VII spoke an humble homily on the occasion. Comparing himself to Elias and to Samuel, Napoleon to Hazael, to Jehu, to David, and to Saul, the pontiff consecrated, in the name of the Deity, whose vicegerent on earth he was, the crown of the new emperor.e

BERTIN'S PICTURE OF NAPOLEON'S COUrt life

In surrounding himself with a court Napoleon obeyed a political impulse. He wished to conquer by dazzling; to win over to his side French vanity by supplying it with ideal distinctions; and to add to his young empire the prestige of old monarchies. But what served his interests also flattered his vanity; the greatest genius in the world may sometimes find himself enjoying the puerile satisfactions of the parvenu. "Come, little Creole, and get into the bed of your masters," he said to Josephine, when they established themselves at the Tuileries. Who knows that the little Corsican gentleman was not as impressed by the unheard-of installation as the little Creole? Unfortunately it is easier to change one's apartments than one's habits, and neither by birth, education, nor temperament was Bonaparte fitted for that delicate part of a sovereign's calling known as représentation.

Neither in war nor in garrison life could he find time and opportunity to polish his manners; and besides, good form, even outside the camp, was the least care of the new society. Never was there a crowned head less resembling that classical type which was, as it were, incarnate in Louis XIV. Think of the prince so often described by Saint-Simon - the majestic grace of his walk, of his movements, of his language, his attentive and uniform politeness to rank, sex, and age, the dignity which he showed even in his smallest actions, and compare, with this model of royal decorum, the cæsar described by Madame de Rémusat.9 What a striking and humorous contrast! His ignorance, negligence, abruptness, and violence were absolutely fatal to decorum; he neither knew how to enter a drawing-room nor how to leave it; how to sit down nor how to get up, still less which hand he should offer to a lady. At table he would snatch at the first dish within reach, often beginning his dinner with the sweets. While dressing he hurried and ill-treated the valets who assisted him, and if he did not happen to like the article of clothing handed to him, he kicked it away or threw it on the fire. He was always assuming undignified attitudes, either poking the fire with his boots, or sitting astride a chair, his chin resting on the back, in order to converse more at his ease.

One of his familiar tricks was pulling people's ears, without the least regard to their rank or sex, and Madame de Rémusat's ear often enjoyed this distinction. Imagine Louis XIV taking such liberties with one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting! If some unfortunate flatterer with the best intentions in the world expressed a wish which was contrary to his secret

[1804 A.D.]

views, he instantly became furious, put his fist under the offender's chin, even were he marshal of France, and pushed him against the wall, treating him roughly as a lunatic. Compare this behaviour with the fine movement of the Grand Monarch, throwing his cane out of the window in order to resist the temptation of striking the insolent little Lauzun, who had just accused him of breaking his word, and had shattered his sword beneath his heel, swearing never again in his life to serve under him. It is only fair to add that the court was no better informed than the sovereign in matters of etiquette. The tumult of the Revolution had swept away the old traditions of French politeness, with many other things. France - who could believe it? — no longer knew how to curtsey. Josephine's ladies, feeling themselves such novices, watched each other in consternation. Fortunately the Revolution had spared a famous dancing master, Despréaux; this person, for whom there had long been no employment, was besieged; they fought for him as the living code of manners, they hastened to learn how to become great ladies. There also remained Madame Campan, first lady-inwaiting to Marie Antoinette; they questioned her, and made her relate in detail the intimate habits of the queen of France. Madame de Rémusat was given the official task of writing at her dictation, the result of which was an enormous book, which increased the file of memoirs sent to Bonaparte from all directions. One might have taken them for a meeting of scholars, fathoming a question of great antiquity, whereas the object of these researches (I was about to say of these excavations) was the old court customs, which had died out fifteen years before.

They not only revived the old customs of the court of France, they also imported new ones from foreign courts. The best of it was that Bonaparte himself was the author of the importation. He was the first to be bored by it. At Munich he had seen all the court pass bowing before the king and queen of Bavaria; he also wished to have this solemn homage paid him.' The march past at first delighted his imagination, and flattered his pride; but soon his impassive majesty tired him, he grew impatient, fidgeted in his seat; in short he was bored, and it was only with great difficulty that they persuaded him to keep his seat until he had received the last reverences, which were hurried on by his order.

At the time of the marriage of Stéphanie de Beauharnais with the prince of Baden, the emperor, who gave his hand to the bride, dragged rather than led her to the altar. Behind him hurried the ladies of the palace, driven by merciless chamberlains, who walked like aides-de-camp on either side of the cortège, exclaiming with little gallantry: "Come, come, ladies, move on!" A certain countess of foreign origin, accustomed to the slow movements of the courts of the north, grumbled at this procession of postillions and demanded short skirts for the ladies of the palace, so as to have the costume in keeping with the situation. Further on, at the head of the procession, M. de Talleyrand, who as grand chamberlain had to lead the way, struggled along on his thin, crooked legs; but, always master of his expression, he disguised beneath an imperturbable coolness the irritation he felt at having his impatient master at his heels, and the aides-de-camp smiling derisively.

A THIRD COALITION AGAINST FRANCE

The year 1804 saw the rise of a new coalition against Bonaparte. Austria might quail under former defeats, and Prussia might well hesitate to provoke the conqueror. But Russia had no such fears, and spoke an independ

[1804-1809 A.D.] ent language. The murder of the duke d'Enghien had excited the emperor Alexander's abhorrence. He put his court into mourning for the unfortunate prince. Gustavus of Sweden followed the example. Of the French functionaries, M. de Châteaubriand alone sent in a generous resignation; whilst Louis XVIII sent back the order of the golden fleece to his relative the monarch of Spain, who, though a Bourbon, dared not express a feeling of resentment towards France.

But it was the conduct of Alexander that most affected the French emperor. The mourning of the Russian court, and the remonstrances of its representative in Paris, were poignant injuries. Napoleon, as usual, took up the pen himself to answer them; and, as usual, falsehood and insult flowed from it. "Suppose," wrote he, "that when England meditated the assassination of the emperor Paul, the conspirators were known to be within a league of the frontier, would they not have been seized?" The allusion was a deadly and malignant insult, not so much to England, who might scorn such calumnies, but to Alexander, who had profited at least by his sire's untimely death. The Russian emperor replied by summoning the French to evacuate Hanover and Naples; and soon after his chargé d'affaires was ordered to leave Paris.

This breach accomplished the first desire of Great Britain, which was to find a continental ally against France. The death of the duke d'Enghien served her in this, and menaced its perpetrator. For a considerable time Spain had been in alliance with France, aiding her, however, with subsidies rather than with troops. England, though aware of the covert hostility of Spain, pretended not to observe it, and respected that country as neutral. But the prospect of Russian alliance made the ministry more bold; and the peace with Spain was suddenly broken by the capture of some ships of that nation returning laden with specie. It was a flagrant act of injustice, in the very style of Bonaparte's own conduct, and proceeded from the very same imbecility which threw upon England the blame of the renewal of the war an irresolute, wavering system, which was but weakness, and which looked like treachery. England had thence to contend with the fleets of France and Spain united, an alliance which inspired Bonaparte with great hopes.

In the spring of 1805, whilst the clouds of hostility were gathering against him from the north, Bonaparte took a journey to Milan, in order to exchange his title of president of the Cisalpine Republic for that of king of Italy. Here, received with enthusiasm, he placed upon his own head, in great ceremony, the crown of Charlemagne, called iron, from a nail of the true cross which it contains. "God gave it me," exclaimed he; "beware who dares to touch it." He ordered a splendid review to take place on the plains of Marengo, and, to mark his attention to minutiæ, he had brought from Paris the same gray frock coat which he had worn at that memorable battle. But the general's habit had lain by since he had donned the imperial mantle, and worms had eaten it. Genoa, of late the Ligurian Republic, was now, by a stroke of the pen, incorporated with the empire of France. This formed one of the complaints of Austria, then pressed by England and Russia to coalesce with them, and arm. But Bonaparte had acquired the habit of filching towns, and adding territory to territory. It was incurable and inevitable; and his amazement was that people could find fault with a thing so natural.e

Five years had passed since Napoleon had taken the field when the second period of his military career began. He now begins to make war as a sovereign with a boundless command of means. For five years from 1805 to 1809