Peace of Amiens--The Concordat--The Legion of Honour--Buonaparte
President of the Cisalpine Republic--First Consul for Life--Grand
Mediator of the Helvetic Confederacy--St. Domingo--Toussaint
L'Ouverture--Dissatisfaction of England--Trial of Peltier--Lord
Whitworth--Rupture of the Peace of Amiens--Detention of English
Travellers in France.
The peace of Amiens, like that of Campo-Formio, turned out a mere
armistice. It was signed in the midst of mutual suspicion; and the
audacious ambition of the French government, from the very day of its
ratification, accumulated the elements of an inevitable rupture. The
continent, however, had been virtually shut against the English for ten
years; and now, in the first eagerness of curiosity, travellers of all
ranks, ages, and sexes poured across the Channel, to contemplate, with
their own eyes, the scenes and effects of the many wonderful deeds and
changes which had been wrought since the outbreaking of the French
Revolution. The chief object of curiosity was Napoleon himself; and
English statesmen, of the highest class, were among those who now
thronged the levees of the Tuileries. Mr. Fox, in particular, seems to
have been courted and caressed by the Chief Consul; and these two great
men parted with feelings of mutual admiration. Our countrymen, in
general, were received in Paris with extraordinary attentions and
civilities; and for a brief space, the establishment of friendly
feelings between the two nations was confidently expected.
The English were agreeably disappointed with the condition of Paris. To
their great surprise they found the consular court already arranged, in
many particulars, upon the old model of the monarchy, and daily
approximating to that example, step by step. Josephine had restored,
titles alone excepted, the old language of polite intercourse:
_Citoyenne_ had been replaced by _Madame_; and _Citoyen_ was preparing
to make way for _Monsieur_. The emigrant nobility had flocked back in
great numbers; and Buonaparte, dispensing with the awkward services of
his aides-de-camp in the interior of the palace, was now attended by
chamberlains and other officers of state--chosen for the most part, from
the highest families of the monarchy; and who studiously conducted
themselves towards the Chief Consul exactly as if the crown of Louis
XVI. had descended to him by the ordinary laws of inheritance. Napoleon
himself, if we may believe Madame de Stael, had the weakness to affect,
in many trivial matters, a close imitation of what his new attendants
reported to have been the personal demeanour of the Bourbon princes. His
behaviour as the holder of a court was never graceful. He could not, or
would not, control the natural vehemence of his temper, and ever and
anon confounded the old race of courtiers, by ebullitions which were
better suited to the camp than the saloons of the Tuileries. But
whenever he thought fit to converse with a man capable of understanding
him, the Consul failed not to create a very lively feeling in his own
favour; and, meantime, Josephine was admirably adapted to supply his
deficiencies in the management of circles and festivals.
The labour which Napoleon underwent at this period, when he was
consolidating the administration throughout France (in every department
of which intolerable confusion had arisen during the wars and tumults of
the preceding years), excited the astonishment of all who had access to
his privacy. He exhausted the energies of secretary after secretary;
seemed hardly to feel the want of sleep; and yet sustained the
unparalleled fatigue without having recourse to any stimulus stronger
than lemonade. Of the many great measures adopted and perfected during
this short-lived peace we may notice in particular the following:--
A decree of the senate, dated 26th April, 1802, allowed all emigrants to
return to France, provided they chose to do so within a certain space of
time, and to pledge allegiance to the consular government; and offered
to restore to such persons whatever property of theirs, having been
confiscated during the Revolution, still remained at the disposal of the
state. From this amnesty about 5000 persons, however, were excepted;
these were arranged under five heads, viz.: those who had headed bodies
of royalist insurgents; who had served in the armies of the allies; who
had belonged to the household of the Bourbons during their exile; who
had been agents in stirring up foreign or domestic war; and lastly,
generals, admirals, Representatives of the People, who had been banished
for treason to the Republic; together with bishops who were obstinate in
refusing to accept of the conditions on which the exercise of
ecclesiastical functions had been sanctioned by the consuls. The event,
in a great measure, justified the prudence of this merciful edict. The
far greater part of the emigrants returned, and became peaceful subjects
of Napoleon--even although the restoration of forfeited property never
took place to anything like the promised extent. He, having yielded back
a few princely estates to their rightful lords, was, it is said, made
aware, by sufficiently significant behaviour on their parts, that they
had now obtained all they wished, and would not in future trouble
themselves to merit his favour. Some instances of haughty ingratitude
may, very probably, have occurred; but the Consul, in breaking his word
with the despoiled emigrants as a body, was preparing for himself
dangers greater than those he removed by permitting their return to
France.
A still more important measure was that by which the Romish religion was
finally re-established as the national faith. The sparing of the Papal
dominion after Marengo, and the re-opening of the churches in France,
were the preliminaries of the peace, which was, at length, signed on the
18th of September, 1802, between the Pope and the revolutionary
government. This famous _concordat_ was the work of Napoleon himself,
who seems to have met with more opposition, whenever he touched the
matter of religion, than the men of the Revolution, with whom he
consulted, thought fit to exhibit on any other occasions whatever. The
question was argued one evening, at great length, on the terrace of the
garden, at Buonaparte's favourite villa of Malmaison. The Chief Consul
avowed himself to be no believer in Christianity; "But religion," said
he, "is a principle which cannot be eradicated from the heart of man."
"Who made all that?" he continued, looking up to the heaven, which was
clear and starry. "But last Sunday evening I was walking here alone when
the church bells of the village of Ruel rung at sunset. I was strongly
moved, so vividly did the image of early days come back with that sound.
If it be thus with me, what must it be with others? In re-establishing
the church, I consult the wishes of the great majority of my people."
Volney, the celebrated traveller, was present. "You speak of the
majority of the people," said he: "if that is to be the rule, recall the
Bourbons to-morrow." Napoleon never conversed with this bold infidel
afterwards.
The _concordat_ gave no satisfaction to the high Catholic party, who
considered it as comprehending arrangements wholly unworthy of the
dignity of the Pope, and destructive of the authority of the church. The
great majority of the nation, however, were wise enough to be contented
with conditions which the Vatican had found it necessary to admit. The
chief articles were these: I. The Roman Catholic religion is recognised
as the national faith. II. The Pope, in concert with the French
government, shall make a new division of dioceses, requiring, if
necessary, the resignation of any existing prelate. III. Vacant sees now
and henceforth shall be filled by the Pope _on nominations by the
government_. IV. No bishops shall hold their sees unless they swear
allegiance to the government, and adopt a ritual in which prayers are
offered up for the Consuls. V. The church livings shall be, like the
dioceses, rearranged; and the cures be appointed by the bishop, but not
without the approbation of the government. VI. The French government
shall make provision for the prelates and clergy, and the Pope renounces
for ever all right to challenge the distribution of church property
consequent on the events of the revolutionary period.
The Pope, in acceding to these terms, submitted to "the exigence of the
time--which," said his Holiness in the deed itself, "lays its violence
even upon us." The most bitter point of execution was that which
regarded the bishops--the great majority of whom were yet in exile.
These prelates were summoned to send in, each separately, and within
fifteen days, his acceptance of the terms of the concordat, or his
resignation of his see. Thus taken by surprise, having no means of
consultation, and considering the concordat as fatal to the rights of
the church, and the Pope's assent as extorted by mere necessity, almost
all of them, to their honour be it said, declined complying with either
of these demands. That these bishops should prefer poverty and exile to
submission, was not likely to increase the popularity of the concordat
with the more devout part of the nation. Meantime, the self-called
philosophers looked on with scorn; and the republicans, of every sect,
regarded with anger and indignation a course of policy which, as they
justly apprehended, provided for the re-establishment of the church,
solely because that was considered as the likeliest means of
re-establishing the monarchy--in a new dynasty indeed, but with all, or
more than all, the old powers.
In moments of spleen Napoleon is known to have sometimes expressed his
regret that he should ever have had recourse to this concordat: but at
St. Helena, when looking back calmly, he said that it was so needful a
measure that had there been no Pope, one ought to have been created for
the occasion.
The name of the First Consul was now introduced into the church service
at least as often as that of the king had used to be. The cathedral of
Notre Dame was prepared for the solemn reception of the concordat.
Napoleon appeared there with the state and retinue of a monarch; and in
every part of the ceremonial the ancient rules were studiously attended
to. The prelate who presided was the same Archbishop of Aix who had
preached the coronation sermon of Louis XVI.
It was not easy, however, to procure the attendance of some of the
revolutionary generals of the true republican race. Berthier had invited
a large party of them long beforehand to breakfast: he carried them from
thence to the levee of the Chief Consul, and they found it impossible
not to join in the procession. Buonaparte asked one of these persons,
after the ceremony was over, what he thought of it? "It was a true
_Capucinade_" was the answer. To another of these, whom he thought less
sincere, he said with a smile, "Things, you see, are returning to the
old order." "Yes," the veteran replied, "all returns--all but the two
millions of Frenchmen who have died for the sake of destroying the very
system which you are now rebuilding." These officers are said to have
paid dearly for their uncourtly language. Moreau was not to be tampered
with by Berthier. The Chief Consul personally invited him to be present
at the _Te Deum_ in Notre Dame, to attend afterwards at the consecration
of some colours, and, lastly, to dine at the Tuileries. Moreau answered,
"I accept the last part of your invitation."
A third great measure, adopted about the same period, was received with
unqualified applause. This was the establishment of a national system of
education, the necessity of which had been much felt, since the old
universities and schools under the management of the clergy had been
broken up amidst the first violence of the Revolution. The Polytechnic
School, established under the direction of Monge, dates from this epoch;
and furnished France, in the sequel, with a long train of eminent men
for every department of the public service.
It was now also that the Chief Consul commenced the great task of
providing France with an uniform code of laws. He himself took
constantly an earnest share in the deliberations of the jurists, who
were employed in this gigantic undertaking; and astonished them by the
admirable observations which his native sagacity suggested, in relation
to matters commonly considered as wholly out of the reach of
unprofessional persons. But of the new code we shall have occasion to
speak hereafter.
Buonaparte at this period devised, and began to put into execution,
innumerable public works of the highest utility. The inland navigation
of Languedoc was to be made complete: a great canal between the Yonne
and the Saonne was begun, for the purpose of creating a perfect water
communication quite across the republican dominion--from Marseilles to
Amsterdam. Numberless bridges, roads, museums, were planned; and the
vain were flattered with rising monuments of magnificence, while the
wise recognised in every such display the depths and forecast of a
genius made for empire.
Thus far the measures of the Consulate may be said to have carried with
them the approbation of all but a few individuals. They were accompanied
or followed by proceedings, some of which roused, or strengthened and
confirmed, sentiments of a very different description among various
important classes of the French community; while others were well
calculated to revive the suspicion of all the neighbouring nations.
It is said that the first idea of the Legion of Honour arose in the
breast of Napoleon on witnessing one day, from a window at the
Tuileries, the admiration with which the crowd before the palace
regarded the stars and crosses worn by the Marquis Lucchesini,
ambassador of Prussia, as he descended from his carriage. The
republican members of the senate could not be persuaded that the
institution of an order, with insignia, was anything but the first step
to the creation of a new body of nobility; and they resisted the
proposed measure with considerable pertinacity. On this head, as on that
of the concordat with the Pope, the Consul condescended to enter
personally into discussion with the chief persons who differed from his
opinion, or suspected his intentions; and if any, who heard his language
on this occasion, doubted that both nobility and monarchy were designed
to follow hard behind the Legion of Honour, they must have been
singularly slow of understanding. _Berthier_ had called ribbons and
crosses "the playthings of monarchy," and cited the Romans of old as
"having no system of honorary rewards." "They are always talking to us
of the Romans," said Buonaparte. "The Romans had patricians, knights,
citizens, and slaves:--for each class different dresses and different
manners--honorary recompenses for every species of merit--mural
crowns--civic crowns--ovations--triumphs--titles. When the noble band of
patricians lost its influence, Rome fell to pieces--the people were vile
rabble. It was then that you saw the fury of Marius, the proscriptions
of Sylla, and afterwards of the emperors. In like manner Brutus is
talked of as the enemy of tyrants: he was an aristocrat, who stabbed
Caesar, because Caesar wished to lower the authority of the noble senate.
You talk of _child's rattles_--be it so: it is with such rattles that
men are led. I would not say that to the multitude; but in a council of
statesmen one may speak the truth. I do not believe that the French
people love _liberty_ and _equality_. Their character has not been
changed in ten years: they are still what their ancestors, the Gauls,
were--vain and light. They are susceptible but of one
sentiment--_honour_. It is right to afford nourishment to this
sentiment: and to allow of distinctions. Observe how the people bow
before the decorations of foreigners. Voltaire calls the common soldiers
_Alexanders at five sous a day_. He was right: it is just so. Do you
imagine that you can make men fight by reasoning? Never. You must bribe
them with glory, distinctions, rewards. To come to the point: during ten
years there has been a talk of institutions. Where are they? All has
been overturned: our business is to build up. There is a government
with certain powers: as to all the rest of the nation what is it but
grains of sand? Before the Republic can be definitely established, we
must, as a foundation, cast some blocks of granite on the soil of
France. In fine, it is agreed that we have need of some kind of
institutions. If this Legion of Honour is not approved, let some other
be suggested. I do not pretend that it alone will save the state; but it
will do its part." Such were the words of Napoleon when the scheme was
in preparation. Many years afterwards, in his exile at St. Helena, he
thus spoke of his Order. "It was the reversion of every one who was an
honour to his country, stood at the head of his profession, and
contributed to the national prosperity and glory. Some were dissatisfied
because the decoration was alike for officers and soldiers; others
because it was given to civil and military merit indiscriminately. But
if ever it cease to be the recompense of the brave private, or be
confined to soldiers alone, it will cease to be the Legion of Honour."
On the 15th of May, 1802, the Legion of Honour was formally instituted;
large national domains were set apart for its maintenance; and crosses
(each of which entitled the bearer to certain precedence and a pension)
widely distributed among the soldiery, and among citizens of almost all
professions.
The personal authority of the future emperor, meantime, was daily
widening and strengthening. After the Consulate was established in
France, some corresponding change in the government of the Cisalpine
Republic was judged necessary, and Napoleon took care that it should be
so conducted as to give himself not only permanent, but wholly
independent, power beyond the Alps. A convention of 450 Italian deputies
was summoned to meet at _Lyons_; and there Talleyrand was ready to
dictate the terms of a new constitution, by which the executive
functions were to be lodged in a president and vice-president, the
legislative in a council chosen from three electoral colleges. It was
next proposed that Buonaparte should be invited to take on him the
office of president--Buonaparte, it was studiously explained, not as
Chief Consul of France, but in his own individual capacity. He repaired
to Lyons in person, and having harangued the convention in the Italian
tongue, assumed the dignity thus conferred on him on the 2nd of
January, 1802.
The next step was to prolong the period of his French Consulate. Chabot
de L'Allier, his creature, moved in the Tribunate that the Conservative
Senate should be requested to mark the national feelings of gratitude by
conferring some new honour on Napoleon. The Senate proposed accordingly
that he should be declared Consul for a second period of ten years, to
commence on the expiration of his present magistracy. He thanked them;
but said he could not accept of any such prolongation of his power
except from the suffrages of the people. To the people the matter was to
be referred; but the Second and Third Consuls, in preparing the edict of
the Senate for public inspection and ratification, were instructed by
their master-colleague to introduce an important change in its terms.
The question which they sent down was, "Shall Buonaparte be Chief Consul
for life?" No mention was made of _ten years_. Books were opened as on a
former occasion: the officers of government in the departments well knew
in what method to conduct the business, and the voice of the nation was
declared to be in favour of the decree. Some few hundreds of sturdy
republicans alone recorded their opposition; and Carnot, who headed
them, said he well knew he was signing his own sentence of exile. But
Napoleon was strong enough to dispense with any such severities; Carnot
remained in safety, but out of office, until, many years afterwards, his
services were tendered and accepted on the entrance of foreign invaders
into France. Buonaparte was proclaimed Consul for life on the 2nd of
August.
Shortly afterwards, in the committee occupied with the Code, Napoleon
entered upon a long disquisition in favour of the Roman law of adoption;
urging with intrepid logic, that an heir so chosen ought to be even
dearer than a son. The object of this harangue was not difficult of
detection. Napoleon had no longer any hope of having children by
Josephine; and meditated the adoption of one of his brother's sons as
his heir. In the course of the autumn a simple edict of the Conservative
Senate authorised him to appoint his successor in the consulate by a
testamentary deed. By this act (Aug. 4, 1802) a new dynasty was called
to the throne of France. The farce of opening books in the departments
was dispensed with. Henceforth the words "_Liberty, Equality,
Sovereignty of the People_," disappeared from the state papers and
official documents of the government--nor did the change attract much
notice. The nation had a master, and sate by, indifferent spectators;
while he, under whose sway life and property were considered safe,
disposed of political rights and privileges according to his
pleasure.[42]
This year was distinguished by events of another order, and not likely
to be contemplated with indifference by the powers of Europe. After the
peace of Amiens was ratified, certain treaties which the Chief Consul
had concluded with Turkey, Spain, and Portugal, and hitherto kept
profoundly secret, were made known. The Porte, it now appeared, had
yielded to France all the privileges of commerce which that government
had ever conceded to the most favoured nations. Spain had agreed that
Parma, after the death of the reigning prince, should be added to the
dominions of France: and Portugal had actually ceded her province in
Guyana. In every quarter of the world the grasping ambition of
Buonaparte seemed to have found some prey.
Nearer him, in the meantime, he had been preparing to strike a blow at
the independence of Switzerland, and virtually unite that country also
to his empire. The contracting parties in the treaty of Luneville had
_guaranteed_ the independence of the Helvetic Republic, and the
unquestionable right of the Swiss to settle their government in what
form they pleased. There were two parties there as elsewhere--one who
desired the full re-establishment of the old federative
constitution--another who preferred the model of the French Republic
"one and indivisible." To the former party the small mountain cantons
adhered--the wealthier and aristocratic cantons to the latter. Their
disputes at last swelled into civil war--and the party who preferred the
old constitution, being headed by the gallant Aloys Reding, were
generally successful. Napoleon, who had fomented their quarrel, now,
unasked and unexpected, assumed to himself the character of arbiter
between the contending parties. He addressed a letter to the eighteen
cantons, in which these words occur:--"Your history shows that your
intestine wars cannot be terminated, except through the intervention of
France. I had, it is true, resolved not to intermeddle in your
affairs--but I cannot remain insensible to the distress of which I see
you the prey--I recall my resolution of neutrality--I _consent_ to be
the mediator in your differences." Rapp, adjutant-general, was the
bearer of this insolent manifesto. To cut short all discussion, Ney
entered Switzerland at the head of 40,000 troops. Resistance was
hopeless. Aloys Reding dismissed his brave followers, was arrested, and
imprisoned in the castle of Aarburg. The government was arranged
according to the good pleasure of Napoleon, who henceforth added to his
other titles that of "Grand Mediator of the Helvetic Republic."
Switzerland was, in effect, degraded into a province of France; and
became bound to maintain an army of 16,000 men, who were to be at the
disposal, whenever it should please him to require their aid, of the
Grand Mediator. England sent an envoy to remonstrate against this signal
and unprovoked rapacity: but the other powers suffered it to pass
without any formal opposition. The sufferings, however, of Aloys Reding
and his brave associates, and this audacious crushing-down of the old
spirit of Swiss freedom and independence, were heard of throughout all
Europe with deep indignation.
Feelings of the same kind were nourished everywhere by the results of an
expedition which Buonaparte sent, before the close of 1801, to St.
Domingo, for the purpose of reconquering that island to France. The
black and coloured population had risen, at the revolutionary period,
upon their white masters, and, after scenes of terrible slaughter and
devastation, emancipated themselves. The chief authority was, by
degrees, vested in Toussaint L'Ouverture, a negro, who, during the war,
displayed the ferocity of a barbarian, but after its conclusion, won the
applause and admiration of all men by the wisdom and humanity of his
administration. Conscious that, whenever peace should be restored in
Europe, France would make efforts to recover her richest colony,
Toussaint adopted measures likely to conciliate the exiled planters and
the government of the mother country. A constitution on the consular
model was established, Toussaint being its Buonaparte: the supremacy of
France was to be acknowledged to a certain extent; and the white
proprietors were to receive half the produce of the lands of which the
insurgents had taken possession. But Napoleon heard of all these
arrangements with displeasure and contempt. He fitted out a numerous
fleet, carrying an army full 20,000 strong, under the orders of General
Leclerc, the husband of his own favourite sister Pauline. It has often
been said, and without contradiction, that the soldiers sent on this
errand were chiefly from the army of the Rhine, whose good-will to the
Consul was to be doubted. Leclerc summoned Toussaint (Jan. 2, 1802) to
surrender, in a letter which conveyed expressions of much personal
respect from Buonaparte. The negro chief, justly apprehending
insincerity, stood out and defended himself gallantly for a brief space;
but stronghold after stronghold yielded to numbers and discipline; and
at length he too submitted, on condition that he should be permitted to
retire in safety to his plantation. Some obscure rumours of insurrection
were soon made the pretext for arresting him; and he, being put on board
ship, and sent to France, was shut up in a dungeon, where either the
midnight cord or dagger, or the wasting influence of confinement and
hopeless misery, ere long put an end to his life. His mysterious fate,
both before and after its consummation, excited great interest.[43] The
atrocious cruelty of the French soldiery, in their subjugation of St.
Domingo, equalled (it could not have surpassed) that of the barbarous
negroes whom they opposed; but was heard of with disgust and horror,
such as no excesses of mere savages could have excited. As if Heaven had
been moved by these bloody deeds of vengeance, disease broke out in the
camp; thousands, and among them Leclerc himself, died. For the time,
however, the French armament triumphed--and, in the exultation of
victory, the government at home had the extreme and seemingly
purposeless ungenerosity, to publish an edict banishing all of the negro
race from their European dominions.[44] But the yellow fever was already
rapidly consuming the French army in St. Domingo; and its feeble
remnant, under Rochambeau, having been at length expelled, in November,
1803, the independence of _Hayti_ was formally proclaimed on the 1st of
January, 1804.
The course of Napoleon's conduct, in and out of Europe, was calculated
to fill all independent neighbours with new or aggravated suspicion; and
in England, where public opinion possesses the largest means of making
itself heard, and consequently the greatest power, the prevalence of
such feelings became, from day to day, more marked. The British envoy's
reclamation against the oppression of Switzerland, was but one of many
drops, which were soon to cause the cup of bitterness to overflow. As in
most quarrels, there was something both of right and of wrong on either
side. When the English government remonstrated against any of those
daring invasions of the rights of independent nations, or crafty
enlargements, through diplomatic means, of the power of France, by which
this period of peace was distinguished, the Chief Consul could always
reply that the cabinet of St. James's, on their part, had not yet
fulfilled one article of the treaty of Amiens, by placing Malta in the
keeping of some power which had been neutral in the preceding war. The
rejoinder was obvious: to wit, that Napoleon was every day taking
measures wholly inconsistent with that balance of power which the treaty
of Amiens contemplated. It is not to be denied that he, in his
audaciously ambitious movements, had contrived to keep within the strict
terms of the treaty: and it can as little be disputed that the English
cabinet had _equity_ with them, although they violated the letter of the
law, in their retention of the inheritance of the worthless and
self-betrayed Knights of St. John.
The feelings of the rival nations, however, were soon kindled into rage;
and, on either side of the Channel the language of the public prints
assumed a complexion of even more bitter violence than had been
observable during the war. The English journalists resorted to foul, and
often false and even absurd, personal criminations of the Chief Consul:
and the Parisian newspapers replied in language equally indefensible on
the score of truth and decency, but with this most essential difference,
that whereas the press of England was free, that of France, being
entirely under the control of Fouche and the police, could not, as all
men knew, put forth any such calumnies otherwise than with the consent
of the consular government. When Napoleon complained to the English
ministers, their answer was obvious: "Our courts of law are open--we are
ourselves accustomed to be abused as you are, and in them we, like you,
have our only resource." The paragraphs in the _Moniteur_, on the other
hand, were, it was impossible to deny, virtually so many manifestoes of
the Tuileries.
Of all the popular engines which moved the spleen of Napoleon, the most
offensive was a newspaper (_L'Ambigu_) published in the French language,
in London, by one Peltier, a royalist emigrant; and, in spite of all the
advice which could be offered, he at length condescended to prosecute
the author in the English courts of law. M. Peltier had the good fortune
to retain, as his counsel, Mr. Mackintosh,[45] an advocate of most
brilliant talents, and, moreover, especially distinguished for his
support of the original principles of the French Revolution. On the
trial which ensued, this orator, in defence of his client, delivered a
philippic against the personal character and ambitious measures of
Napoleon, immeasurably more calculated to injure the Chief Consul in
public opinion throughout Europe, than all the efforts of a thousand
newspapers; and, though the jury found Peltier guilty of libel, the
result was, on the whole, a signal triumph to the party of whom he had
been the organ.
This was a most imprudent, as well as undignified proceeding; but ere
the defendant, Peltier, could be called up for judgment, the doubtful
relations of the Chief Consul and the cabinet of St. James's were to
assume a different appearance. The truce of St. Amiens already
approached its close. Buonaparte had, perhaps, some right to complain of
the unbridled abuse of the British press: but the British government had
a far more serious cause of reclamation against him. Under pretence of
establishing French consuls for the protection of commerce, he sent
persons, chiefly of the military profession, who carried orders to make
exact plans of all the harbours and coasts of the United Kingdom. These
gentlemen endeavoured to execute their commission with all possible
privacy; but the discovery of their occupation was soon made; they were
sent back to France without ceremony; and this treacherous measure of
their government was openly denounced as a violation of every rule of
international law, and a plain symptom of warlike preparation.
Ere hostilities were renewed, Buonaparte employed M. Meyer, president of
the regency of Warsaw, to open a negotiation with the head of the House
of Bourbon, then resident in Poland. He proposed that Louis should
execute a formal deed resigning for himself and his family all
pretensions to the throne of France, and offered in return to put the
Bourbon princes in possession of independent dominions in Italy. The
heir of the French kings answered in language worthy of his birth: "I do
not confound Monsieur Buonaparte," said he, "with those who have
preceded him. I esteem his bravery and military genius, and I owe him
goodwill for many of the acts of his government--for benefits done to my
people I will always consider as done to me. But he is mistaken if he
supposes that my rights can ever be made the subject of bargain and
compromise. Could they have been called in question, this very
application would have established them. What the designs of God may be
for me and my house I know not; but of the duties imposed on me by the
rank in which it was His pleasure I should be born, I am not wholly
ignorant. As a Christian, I will perform those duties while life
remains. As a descendant of St. Louis, I will know how to respect
myself, were I in fetters. As the successor of Francis the First, I
will, at least, say with him--'all is lost except honour.'"
Such is the account of the Bourbon princes. Buonaparte utterly denied
having given any authority for such a negotiation; and added, that in
doing so he should have played the part of a madman, since any
application to Louis must have been an admission that his own authority
in France was imperfect in title. It is obvious that the Consul would
have acted most imprudently in avowing such an attempt--after it had
proved unsuccessful; but the veracity of the exiled king lies under no
suspicion; nor is it easy to believe that Meyer would have dared to open
such a negotiation without sufficient authority from Napoleon. Hitherto
he had betrayed no symptom of personal malevolence towards the House of
Bourbon--but henceforth the autocrat, insulted as he thought in the
style of "_Monsieur_ Buonaparte," appears to have meditated some signal
act of revenge.
He resented the refusal of Louis the more because he doubted not that
that prince well understood how little the great powers of Europe were
disposed to regard, with favourable eyes, the establishment of the
Buonapartes as a new dynasty in France. He suspected, in a word, that
his recent disputes with the cabinet of St. James's, had inspired new
hopes into the breasts of the exile family.
It was at this period that Napoleon published, in the _Moniteur_, a long
memorial, drawn up by General Sebastiani, who had just returned from a
mission to the Levant, abounding in statements, and clothed in language,
such as could have had no other object but to inflame the government of
England to extremity. Sebastiani detailed the incidents of his journey
at great length, representing himself as having been everywhere received
with honour, and even with enthusiasm, as the envoy of Napoleon. Such,
he said, were the dispositions of the Mussulmans, that 6000 French would
now suffice to restore Egypt to the republic; and it was in vain that
_General Stuart_, who represented the English king in that country, had
endeavoured to excite the Turkish government to assassinate him,
Sebastiani. Lastly, the report asserted, that the Ionian Islands would,
on the first favourable occasion, declare themselves French.
The English government reclaimed against this publication, as at once a
confession of the dangerous ambition of Buonaparte, and a studied insult
to them, whose representative's character and honour one of its chief
statements must have been designed to destroy, at a wilful sacrifice of
truth. The French minister replied, that the Chief Consul had as much
right to complain of the recent publication of Sir Robert Wilson's
_Narrative of the English Expedition to Egypt_, which contained
statements in the highest degree injurious to his character and
honour;[46] and had, nevertheless, been dedicated by permission to the
Duke of York. The obvious answer, namely, that Sir Robert Wilson's book
was the work of a private individual, and published solely on his own
responsibility, whereas Sebastiani's was a public document set forth by
an official organ, was treated as a wanton and insolent evasion.
Meanwhile the language of the press on either side became from day to
day more virulently offensive; and various members of the British
Parliament, of opposite parties, and of the highest eminence, did not
hesitate to rival the newspapers in their broad denunciations of the
restless and insatiable ambition of the Chief Consul.--"Buonaparte,"
said Mr. Wyndham, "is the Hannibal who has sworn to devote his life to
the destruction of England. War cannot be far off, and I believe it
would be much safer to anticipate the blow than to expect it. I would
advise ministers to appeal to the high-minded and proud of
heart--whether they succeed or not, we shall not then go down like the
_Augustuli_." "The destruction of this country," said Mr. Sheridan, "is
the first vision that breaks on the French Consul through the gleam of
the morning: this is his last prayer at night, to whatever deity he may
address it, whether to Jupiter or to Mahomet, to the Goddess of Battles
or the Goddess of Reason. Look at the map of Europe, from which France
was said to be expunged, and now see nothing but France. If the ambition
of Buonaparte be immeasurable, there are abundant reasons why it should
be progressive."
Stung to the quick by these continual invectives, Napoleon so far
descended from his dignity as to make them the subject of personal
complaint and reproach to the English Ambassador. He obtruded himself on
the department of Talleyrand, and attempted to shake the resolution of
the ambassador, Lord Whitworth, by a display of rude violence, such as
had, indeed, succeeded with the Austrian envoy at Campo-Formio, but
which produced no effect whatever in the case of this calm and
high-spirited nobleman. The first of their conferences took place in
February, when the Consul harangued Lord Whitworth for nearly two hours,
hardly permitting him to interpose a word on the other side of the
question. "Every gale that blows from England is burdened with enmity,"
said he; "your government countenances Georges, Pichegru, and other
infamous men, who have sworn to assassinate me. Your journals slander
me, and the redress I am offered is but adding mockery to insult. I
could make myself master of Egypt to-morrow, if I pleased. _Egypt,
indeed, must sooner or later belong to France_; but I have no wish to go
to war for such a trivial object. What could I gain by war? Invasion
would be my only means of annoying you; and invasion you shall have, if
war be forced on me--but I confess the chances would be an hundred to
one against me in such an attempt. In ten years I could not hope to have
a fleet able to dispute the seas with you: but, on the other hand, the
army of France could be recruited in a few weeks to 480,000 men. United,
we might govern the world:--Why can we not understand each other?" Lord
Whitworth could not but observe the meaning of these hints, and
answered, as became him, that the King of England had no wish but to
preserve his own rights, and scorned the thought of becoming a partner
with France in a general scheme of spoliation and oppression. They
parted with cold civility, and negotiations were resumed in the usual
manner: but England stood firm in the refusal to give up Malta--at least
for ten years to come. The aggressions of Napoleon had wholly changed
the arrangement of territory and power contemplated when the treaty of
Amiens was drawn up; what security could there be for the retention of
Malta by Naples, or any such minor power, if Buonaparte wished to have
it? To surrender it would in fact be to yield an impregnable harbour and
citadel in the heart of the Levant, to a government which had gone on
trampling down the independence of state after state in the west.
Meanwhile the English government openly announced, in Parliament, that
the position of affairs seemed to be full of alarm--that the French were
manning fleets and recruiting their armies, and that it was necessary to
have recourse to similar measures; and, accordingly, a considerable
addition to the military establishment was agreed to.
Thus stood matters on the 13th of March, when Lord Whitworth made his
appearance at the levee of the Chief Consul, in company with all the
rest of the diplomatic body. Napoleon no sooner entered, than, fixing
his eye on the English Ambassador, he exclaimed aloud and fiercely, in
presence of the circle, "You are then determined on war!" Lord Whitworth
denied the charge, but the Consul drowned his voice, and pursued
thus:--"We have been at war for fifteen years--you are resolved to have
fifteen years more of it--you force me to it." He then turned to the
other ministers, and said, in the same violent tone: "The English wish
for war; but if they draw the sword first, I will be the last to sheath
it again. They do not respect treaties--henceforth we must cover them
with black crape." Then, turning again to Whitworth, "To what purpose,"
he cried, "are these armaments? If you arm, I will arm too; if you
fight, I can fight also. You may destroy France, but you cannot
intimidate her." "We desire neither to injure nor to alarm her, but to
live on terms of good intelligence," said Lord Whitworth. "Respect
treaties, then," said Napoleon; "woe to those by whom they are not
respected!--they shall be responsible to Europe for the result." He
repeated these last words sternly, and immediately quitted the
apartment, leaving the assembled ministers utterly confounded by this
indecent display of violence.
Some persons, who knew Buonaparte well, have always asserted that this
undignified scene was got up with calm premeditation, and that the
ferocity of passion on the occasion was a mere piece of acting. Lord
Whitworth, however, was an excellent judge of men and manners, and he
never doubted that the haughty soldier yielded to the uncontrollable
vehemence of wrath. The cautious Talleyrand made various efforts to
explain away the intemperate words of his master; but they, and the tone
in which they had been uttered, went far to increase the jealousy and
animosity of the English government and nation, and to revive or confirm
the suspicion with which the other powers of Europe had had but too much
reason to regard the career of revolutionary France.
On the 18th of May Great Britain declared war. Orders had previously
been given for seizing French shipping wherever it could be found, and
it is said that 200 vessels, containing property to the amount of three
millions sterling, had been laid hold of accordingly, ere the
proclamation of hostilities reached Paris. Whether the practice of thus
unceremoniously seizing private property, under such circumstances, be
right on abstract principle, 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 innumerable treaties, as part and parcel of the European
system of warfare. This was not denied by Napoleon; but he saw the
opportunity, and determined to profit by it, of exciting the jealousy of
other governments, by reclaiming against the exercise, on the part of
England, of a species of assault which England, from her maritime
predominance, has more temptations and better means to adopt than any
other power. He resolved, therefore, to retaliate by a wholly
unprecedented outrage. The very night that the resolution of the cabinet
of St. James's reached Paris, orders were given for arresting the
persons of all English subjects residing or travelling within the
dominion of France.
Not less than 10,000 persons, chiefly of course of the higher classes of
society, thus found themselves condemned to captivity in a hostile land.
Had Napoleon adopted less violent measures, his reclamations against the
English government might have been favourably attended to throughout
Europe. But this despotic and unparalleled infliction of exile and
misery on a host of innocent private individuals, was productive of far
different effects. It moved universal sympathy, indignation, and
disgust.
[Footnote 42: See Wordsworth's verses, "written at Calais the 15th Aug.
1802," in which the indifference of the people is contrasted with their
enthusiasm in the early days of the Revolution.
"Festivals have I seen that were not names:--
This is young Buonaparte's natal day;
And his is henceforth an established sway,
Consul for life. With worship France proclaims
Her approbation, and with pomps and games
Heaven grant that other cities may be gay!
Calais is not: and I have bent my way
To the sea coast, noting that each man frames
His business as he likes. Another time
That was, when I was here long years ago,
The senselessness of joy was then sublime!" &c.
]
[Footnote 43: Witness, among other evidences, the noble sonnet of
Wordsworth:--
"TOUSSAINT, the most unhappy Man of Men!
Whether the all-cheering sun be free to shed
His beams around thee, or thou rest thy head
Pillowed in some dark dungeon's noisome den
O, miserable chieftain! where and when
Wilt thou find patience! Yet die not; do thou
Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow:
Though fallen Thyself, never to rise again,
Live and take comfort. Thou hast left behind
Powers that will work for thee--Air, Earth, and Skies;
There's not a breathing of the common Wind
That will forget thee; thou hast great Allies;
Thy friends are Exultations, Agonies,
And Love, and Man's unconquerable Mind."
]
[Footnote 44: See Wordsworth's sonnet, "22nd Sept. 1802."
"We had a fellow-passenger who came
From Calais with us, gaudy in array,--
A Negro Woman like a Lady gay,
Yet silent as a woman fearing blame;
Dejected, meek, yet pitiably tame,
She sate, from notice turning not away,
But on our proffered kindness still did lay
A weight of languid speech, or at the same
Was silent, motionless in eyes and face,
She was a Negro Woman, driven from France--
Rejected, like all others of that race,
Not one of whom may now find footing there;
Thus the poor outcast did to us declare,
Nor murmured at the unfeeling Ordinance."
]
[Footnote 45: Afterwards Sir James.]
[Footnote 46: It was by this book that the two dark stories of Jaffa
were first promulgated through Europe: and it is proper to add, that Sir
R. Wilson publicly presented a copy to George III. at his levee.]