There is a period in the life of almost every man which may justly be
termed the romantic period. I do not mean the time when a youth, whose
heart is as yet unwarped by the selfishness of the world, and his brow
unclouded by its trials and its sorrows, thinks that the performance of
his life will fully come up to the glowing programme he then composes
for it; neither do I refer to the period when, in hungry expectation, we
clutched eagerly at the booksellers' announcements of the last
productions of the eloquent Bulwer, or of the inexhaustible James. But I
refer to the time when childhood forgets its new buttons in reading how
poor Ali Baba relieved his wants at the expense of the wicked thieves;
how Whittington heard Bow Bells ring out the prophecy of his greatness;
how fierce Blue Beard punished his wife's curiosity; and how good King
Alfred merited reproof by his forgetfulness of the herdsman's supper.
This is the true period of romance in the lives of all of us; for then
all the romance that we read is clothed with the dignity of history, and
all our history is invested with the charm of romance. This happy period
does not lose its attractions, even when we outgrow the credulity of
childhood; for the romance of history captivates us when we no longer
are subject to the sway of the novelist; and we leave Mr. Thackeray's
last uncut, until we can finish a newspaper chapter in the history of
these momentous times.
[1] The author must plead guilty to a little hesitation (induced by the
present aspect of European affairs) about incorporating this paper
on the French Emperor, written some three years since, in his work.
He feels, however, that, whatever may be the issue of the present
contest in Europe, the services of Napoleon III. to France and to
civilization are a part of history; and he has no wish to disguise
his satisfaction at having been one of the first Americans who
confronted the vulgar prejudices of his countrymen against that
remarkable man, and publicly recognized the wonderful talents which
have placed France at the head of all civilized nations.
We know how eagerly we pursue the vicissitudes of fortune which have
marked the career of so many of the world's heroes; and this will teach
us how future generations will read the history of the present century.
Surely the whole range of romance presents no parallel to the simple
history of the wonderful man who now governs France. It is easy to see
that his varied fortunes will one day perform a conspicuous part in that
juvenile classical literature of which I have spoken; and perhaps it may
not be unprofitable, dear reader, for us to endeavour to raise ourselves
above the excitement of partisanship and the influences of old
prejudices, and look upon his career as may the writers of the
twenty-fifth century.
It is a popular error in America to regard Louis Napoleon as a singular
combination of knavery and half-wittedness. Even Mr. Emerson, in his
_English Traits_, so far forgets the kindliness of his nature as to call
him a "successful thief." The English journalists once delighted to
ridicule him as the "nephew of his uncle," and the shadow of a great
name, and Punch used to represent him as a pygmy standing upon the brim
of his uncle's hat, and wondering how he could ever fill it; but he has
lived down ridicule, and they have long since learned that there is such
a thing as the possibility of a mistake in judgment, even among
journalists and politicians. It is time that we Americans got over a
notion which has long since been exploded on this side of the Atlantic.
I know that I am flying in the face of those who believe in the plenary
inspiration of the New York Tribune, when I claim for the Emperor any
thing like patriotism or capacity as a statesman. I know that the
Greeleian, "philanthropic" code exacts that we should _not_ "give the
prisoner the benefit of the doubt," and that when any one whom we
dislike does any good, we should attribute it to nothing but a selfish
or ambitious motive. I know that this new-fangled love of all mankind
requires us to hate those who differ from us politically, and never to
lose an opportunity to blacken their characters and diminish their
reputation; and therefore I make all due allowances for the refusal of
the Tribune, and journals of the same amiable family, to see the truth.
In April, 1856, I was waiting for a train in a way station on the
Worcester Railroad. A sun-burned, hard-working man was reading the news
of the proclamation of peace at Paris from a penny paper, and he
commented upon it to two or three others who were present, as follows:
"Well, I don't know how 'tis, but it seems to _me_ that we've been most
almightily mistaken about this 'ere _Lewis_ Napoleon. We used to think
he was a shaller kind o' feller any how, but it really looks now,
judging from the _position_ of France in _European_ affairs, as if he
was turning out to be altogether the _biggest dog in that tanyard_!" The
old fellow's conclusion was a true one, though his rhetoric would not
have been commended at Cambridge; and it is to prevent this conclusion
forcing itself upon the public sense, that the sympathizers with
socialism have been labouring ever since. We are told that it is our
duty as Americans and republicans to wish for the overthrow of Napoleon
and his empire, and the establishment of the _republique democratique et
sociale_. Now, having received my political principles from another
source than the Tribune, I may be pardoned for having a prejudice in
favour of allowing the people of France to govern France; and, as they
elected Louis Napoleon President in 1848 by more than five millions of
votes, and in 1851 chose him dictator (in their fear of the very party
which the Tribune wishes to see in power) by more than _seven_ millions
of votes, and finally, in 1852, made him their Emperor by a vote of more
than seven millions against a little more than three hundred thousand,
we may suppose France to have expressed a pretty decided opinion on this
matter. The French empire rests upon the very principle that forms the
basis of true republicanism--universal suffrage. Louis Napoleon restored
that principle after it had been suppressed or restricted, and proved
himself a truer republican than his opponents. For nine years, Napoleon
has been sustained by the people of France with a unanimity such as the
United States never knew, except in the election of Washington as first
President, and his majority has increased every time that he has
appealed to the people. It is idle to say that there are parties here
that are opposed to him; it would be a remarkable phenomenon if there
were not. But there is a more united support here for the Emperor than
there is in our own country for the constitution of the United States,
and any right-minded man would regret a revolutionary movement in one
country as much as in the other.
If there was ever a position calculated to test the capabilities of its
occupant, it was that in which Louis Napoleon found himself when he
obeyed the voice of the French people, and accepted the presidency of
the French republic. Surrounded by men holding all kinds of political
opinions, from the agrarian Proudhon to the impracticable Louis Blanc,
and men of no political opinions whatever,--he found himself obliged to
use all the power reposed in him by the constitution, to keep the
government from falling asunder. History bears witness to the fact that
republican governments deteriorate more rapidly than those which are
based upon a less changeable foundation than the popular will. But there
was little danger of the French republic deteriorating, for it was about
as weak and unprincipled as it could be in its very inception. There
were a few men of high and patriotic character in the Assembly, but (as
is generally the case) their voices were drowned amid the clamourings of
a crowd of radical journalists and ambitious _litterateurs_, whose only
bond of union was a fierce hatred of law and religion, and a desire for
the spoils of office. These were the men with whom Napoleon had to deal.
They had favoured his election to the presidency, for, in their
misapprehension of his character, they thought him the mere shadow of a
name, and expected under his government to have all things their own
way. But they were not long in discovering their mistake.
His conduct soon showed that he was the proper man for the crisis. That
unflinching republican, General Cavaignac, had before pointed out the
dangers to all European governments, and to civilization itself, that
would spring from the continuance of the sanguinary and sacrilegious
Roman Republic; and Napoleon, accepting his suggestions, took immediate
measures to put an end to the atrocities which marked the sway of
Mazzini and his assassins in the Roman States.[2] The success which
attended these measures is now a part of history. There is a kind of
historical justice in this part of Napoleon's career which must force
itself upon every reflecting mind. From the day when St. Remy told his
royal convert, Clovis, to "burn what he had adored, and adore what he
had burned," the monarch of France had always been considered the
"eldest son of the Church." The Roman Pontiff was indebted to Pepin and
Charlemagne for those possessions which rendered him independent of the
secular power. In the hour of need it was always to the Kings of France
that he looked for aid; and whether he sought aid against the oppressors
of the Holy See or the infidel possessors of the Holy Sepulchre, he
seldom appealed to them in vain. It was meet, therefore, that Napoleon
should inaugurate his power by thus reviving the ancient traditionary
spirit of the French monarchy; for he could not better prove his
worthiness to sit on the throne which had been occupied by so many
generous and heroic spirits, than by fighting the battles of the Church
they loved so well.
[2] Lest I should be thought guilty of speaking rashly with regard to
the anarchy which Napoleon destroyed in 1849 at Rome, I take the
liberty to transcribe a few extracts from the constitution of the
Society of "Young Italy," which will give some idea of the
principles upon which the Roman Republic rested. I translate from
the edition published at Naples, by Benedetto Cantalupo.
"_Article I._ The Society is established for the entire destruction
of all the governments of the peninsula, and for the forming of
Italy into a single state, under a republican government.
"_Art. II._ In consequence of the evils attendant upon absolute
government, and the still greater evils of constitutional monarchy,
we ought to join all our efforts to establish a single and
indivisible republic.
"_Art. XXX._ Those members who shall disobey the commands of the
Society, or who shall reveal its mysteries, shall be poniarded
without remission.
"_Art. XXXI._ The secret tribunal shall pronounce sentence in such
cases as the preceding, and shall designate one or more of the
brethren to carry it into instant execution.
"_Art. XXXII._ The brother who shall refuse to execute a sentence
thus pronounced shall be considered as a perjurer, and as such
shall be immediately put to death.
"_Art. XXXIII._ If the victim condemned to punishment should
succeed in escaping, he shall be pursued unremittingly into
anyplace whatever, and shall be struck as by an invisible hand,
even if he shall have taken refuge on the bosom of his mother, or
in the tabernacle of Christ.
"_Art. XXXIV._ Each secret tribunal shall be competent not only to
condemn the guilty to death, but also to put to death all persons
so sentenced."
The foreign and domestic policy which the Prince-President pursued
excited at the same time the anger of the ultra republican faction, and
the hopes of the religious and conservative portion of society. Order
was restored, and an impetus was given to commercial enterprise and to
the arts of peace such as France had not known since the outbreak of
1848. Still the discordant elements of which the Assembly was composed,
were a just cause of alarm to all friends of good order, and all
parties, conservative and radical, regarded the existing state of
affairs as a temporary one. Napoleon saw that the only obstacle in the
path of the nation to peace and prosperity was the Assembly--the
radicals of the Assembly that the Prince-President was the only obstacle
to their plans of disorganization and anarchy; and they also saw that,
if the question were allowed to go to the people at the expiration of
Napoleon's term of office, he would surely be reelected, and that his
policy would be triumphantly confirmed. So, as the time drew near for
the new election, the struggle between the President and the
Assembly--between order and anarchy--grew more and more severe. Plots
were formed against Napoleon, and were just ripening for execution,
when, on the second of December, 1851, he terminated the suspense of the
nation by seizing and throwing into prison all the chief conspirators
against the public peace, and then appealed to the people to sustain him
in his efforts to preserve his country from the state of anarchy towards
which it seemed to be hastening. The people answered promptly and with
good will to the call, and Napoleon gained an almost bloodless victory.
But we are told that by the _coup d'etat_, "Napoleon violated his oath
to sustain the constitution of the republic--that he is a perjurer, and
all his success cannot diminish his crime." So might one of the old
loyalists have said about our own Washington. "He was a British
subject--by accepting a commission under Braddock, he formally
acknowledged his allegiance to the crown--by drawing his sword in the
revolution, he violated not only his fidelity as a subject, but his
honour as a soldier." And what would any American reply to this? He
would say that Washington never bound himself to violate his conscience,
and that conscientiously he felt bound to defend the old English
principles of free government even against the encroachments of his own
rightful sovereign. And so, with equal reason, it may be said of Louis
Napoleon, when the term of his presidency was approaching, and the
radical members of the Assembly were forming conspiracies to dispose of
him so as to prevent his reelection, he was bound in conscience, as the
chief ruler of his country, to prevent the anarchy that must result from
such a movement. And how could he do this save by dissolving the
Assembly and appealing to the people as he did? The constitution was
nullified by the plots of the Assembly, and France in 1851 was really
without a government, until the _coup d'etat_ inaugurated the present
reign of public prosperity and peace. The _coup d'etat_ was not only
justifiable--it was praiseworthy. When the prejudices and party spirit
of the present time shall have passed away, the historian will grow
eloquent in speaking of that fearless and far-sighted statesman, who,
when his country was threatened with a repetition of the civil strife
which had too often shaken her to her centre, threw himself boldly upon
the patriotism of the people with those noble words, "The Assembly,
instead of being what it ought to be, the support of public order, has
become a nest of conspiracies. It compromises the peace of France. I
have dissolved it; and I call upon the whole people to judge between it
and myself."--The _coup d'etat_ excited the anger only of the socialists
and of those partisans of the houses of Bourbon and Orleans who loved
those families more than they loved their country's welfare; for they
saw, by the revival of business, that confidence in the stability of the
government was established, and that Napoleon had obtained a place in
the affections of the French people from which he could not easily be
dislodged.
From this dictatorship, which the dangers of the time had rendered
necessary, it was an easy transition to the empire, and Louis Napoleon
found his succession to the throne of his uncle confirmed by almost the
unanimous vote of the French people. It was a tribute to the man, and to
his public policy, such as no ruler in modern times has ever received,
and for unanimity is unparalleled in the history of popular elections.
His marriage followed quickly upon the proclamation of the empire; and
in this, as in all his acts, we can discern his manly and independent
spirit. He sought not to ally himself with any of the royal families of
Europe, for he felt himself to be so sure of his position, that he could
without risk consult his affections rather than policy or ambition.
The skilful diplomacy which led to the alliance with England, the
campaign in the Crimea, and the repulse of Russia, are too fresh in
every body's recollection to bear any repetition. So far as they concern
Napoleon III., the world is a witness to his matchless coolness and
determination. What could be grander than the heroic inflexibility he
displayed in the face of the accumulated disasters of that campaign, and
the murmurs of his allies! Misfortune only seemed to nerve him to more
vigorous effort. During that terrible winter of 1854-5, he appeared more
like a fixed, unvarying law of nature than a man,--so immovable was he
in his opposition to those who, pressed by the unlooked-for difficulties
of the time, counselled a change of policy. The successful termination
of the siege of Sebastopol, however, proved the justice of his
calculations, and, while conquering monarchs in other times have been
content to see the negotiations for peace made in some provincial town,
or in a city of some neutral state, the proud satisfaction was conceded
to him by Russia of having the peace conferences held in his own
capital.
But while commemorating the success of his efforts to raise his country
to a commanding position among the nations, we must not forget the great
enterprises of internal improvement which he has set on foot within his
empire. Who can recall what Paris was under Louis Philippe, or the time
of the republic, and compare it with the Paris of to-day, without
admiring the genius of Napoleon III.? Who does not recognize a wonderful
capacity for the administration of government in the Emperor, when he
sees that nearly all of these great improvements (unlike those of Louis
XIV., which impoverished the nation) will gradually but surely pay for
themselves by increasing the amount of taxable property? Indeed, the
improvements in the city of Paris alone are on so vast a scale as to be
incomprehensible to any one unacquainted with that capital. If Napoleon
were to-day to fall a victim to that organization of republican
assassins which is known to exist in France, as well as in the other
states of Europe, he would leave, in the Louvre, in the Bois de
Boulogne, in the new Boulevards, and the extension of the Rue de Rivoli,
together with the countless other public works which now adorn Paris,
testimonials to the splendour of his brief reign, such as no monarch
ever left before: of him, as of Sir Christopher Wren, it might be truly
said, "_Si quaeris monumentum, circumspice_."
But we must not think that Napoleon has confined his exertions to the
improvement of Paris alone. Not a single province of his empire has been
neglected by him, and there is scarcely a town that has not felt the
influence of his policy. The foreign commerce of France has been
wonderfully increased by him, and his favourite project for a ship canal
through the Isthmus of Suez is now numbered among the probabilities of
the age. When it is considered what a narrow strip of land separates the
Red Sea from the Mediterranean, and what an immense advantage such a
canal would be to all the countries bordering on the latter, it is not
wonderful that Napoleon should find so many friends among the sovereigns
of Europe. He has not built the magnificent new port of Marseilles
merely for the accommodation of the Mediterranean coasting trade of his
empire. His far-seeing eye looks upon those massive quays covered with
merchandise from every quarter of the Orient, brought, not around the
stormy Cape, nor by the toilsome caravan over the parching desert, but
by the swift steamers of the _Messageries Imperiales_ from every port of
India, through the waters which, centuries ago, rolled back and opened a
path of safety to the chosen people of God.
If the old proverb be true, that a man is known by the company he keeps,
it is equally true, on the other hand, that a statesman may be rightly
known by examining the character of his opponents. And who are the
opponents of Napoleon III.? With the exception of a few partisans of the
Bourbons, (whose opposition to the Napoleon dynasty is an hereditary
complaint,) they are radical demagogues, who delight to mislead the
fickle multitude with the words, "Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity," on
their lips, but the designs of anarchy and bloodshed in their hearts.
Their ranks are swelled by a number of visionary "philanthropists," and
a large number of newspaper scribblers deprived of their occupation by
Napoleon's salutary laws against abuse of the liberty of the press, and
lacking ambition to earn an honest livelihood. Among them may be found a
few literary men of high reputation, who have espoused some
impracticable theory of government, and would blindly throw away their
well-earned fame, and shed the last drop of their ink in forcing it upon
an unwilling nation.
Slander, like Death, loves a shining mark. The fact cannot be doubted,
if we look at the lives of the greatest and best men the world has ever
seen. In truth, a large part of the heroism of the noblest patriots, and
the purest philanthropists, has been created by the necessity they have
been under to bear up against the obloquy with which enmity or envy has
assailed them. The Emperor Napoleon is, beyond a doubt, the best abused
man in Christendom. There probably never existed a man whose every act
and every motive have been more studiously misrepresented and
systematically lied about than his. It cannot be wondered at, either;
for he exercises too much power in the state councils of Europe, and
fills too large a space in the public eye, not to be assailed by those
whose evil prophecies have been falsified by his brilliant reign, and
whose lawless schemes have been frustrated by his unexampled prudence
and firmness.
And what right has he to complain? If St. Gregory VII. were obliged to
submit for centuries to being represented as an ambitious self-seeker
and unscrupulous politician, instead of a wise and far-seeing pontiff, a
vanquisher of tyrants, and a self-denying saint; if St. Thomas of
Canterbury be held up, in hundreds of volumes, as a monster of
ingratitude towards a beneficent sovereign, and a haughty and
overbearing supporter of prelatical tyranny, instead of a martyr, in
defence of religious liberty against the encroachments of the civil
authority; if Cardinal Wolsey be held up to public scorn as a proud and
selfish prince of the Church, a glutton, and a wine-bibber, instead of a
skilful administrator of government, a liberal patron of learning, and
all good arts, and the sole restrainer of the evil passions of the most
shameless tyrant who ever sat upon the English throne; if Cardinal
Richelieu be handed down from generation to generation, painted in the
blackest colours, as a scheming politician, in whose heart, wile and
cruelty were mixed up in equal parts, instead of a sagacious and
inflexible statesman, and a patriot who made every thing (even his
religion) bend to his devotion to the glory of his beloved France; if
these great men have been thus misrepresented in that history which De
Maistre aptly calls "a conspiracy against truth," I do not think that
Napoleon III. can reasonably complain of finding himself denounced as a
tyrant, a perjurer, and a victim of all the bad passions that vex the
human heart, instead of a liberator of his country from that many-headed
monstrosity, miscalled the _Republique Francaise_, an unswerving
supporter of the cause of law and religion, and the architect of the
present glory and prosperity of France. It must be a great consolation
to the Emperor, under the slanders which have been heaped upon him, to
reflect that their authors and the enemies who hate him worst, are, for
the most part, infidels and assassins, and enemies of social order.
Whatever errors a man may commit, he cannot be far from the course of
right so long as he is hated and feared by people of that desperate
stamp. The ancient adage tells us that "a cat may look at a king"; and
it is, perhaps, a merciful provision of the law of compensation that the
base reptiles which fatten on the offal of slander are permitted to
trail their slime over a name which is the synonyme of the power and
glory of France.
When the prejudices of the present day shall have died out, the
historian will relate how devoted Napoleon III. was to every thing that
concerned his country's welfare. He will tell of his ceaseless care for
the most common wants of his people, and of his vigilance in enforcing
laws against those who wronged the poor by their dishonest dealings in
the necessaries of life. He will relate how promptly he turned his back
upon nobles and ambassadors to visit some of his people who had been
overwhelmed by a terrible calamity, and will describe the kind, fatherly
manner in which he went among them, carrying succour and consolation to
all. He will not compare the Emperor to his great warrior-uncle; he will
_contrast_ the two. He will show how the uncle made all Europe fear and
hate him, and how the nephew converted his enemies into allies; how the
uncle manured the soil of Europe with the bones of his soldiers, and the
nephew, having given splendid proofs of his ability to make war, won for
himself the title of "the Pacificator of Europe"; how the uncle, through
his hot-headed ambition, finally made France the prey of a hostile
alliance, and the nephew brought the representatives of all the European
powers around him in his capital to make peace under his supervision.
The man who, after thirty years of exile and six years of close
imprisonment, can take a country in the chaotic condition in which
France found itself after the revolution of 1848, and reorganize its
government, place its financial affairs on a better footing than they
have been before within the memory of man, double its commerce, and
raise it to the highest place among the states of Europe, cannot be an
ordinary man. In 1852, the Emperor said, "France, in crowning me, crowns
herself;" and he has proved the literal truth of his words. He has given
France peace, prosperity, and a stable government. He has imitated
Napoleon I. in every one of his great and praiseworthy actions in his
civil capacity, while he has not made a single one of his mistakes. And
if "he that ruleth his own spirit is greater than he that taketh a
city," this remarkable man, whose self-control is undisturbed by his
most unparalleled success, is destined to be known in history as
Napoleon the Great.
The character of Napoleon III. is marked by a unity and a consistency
such as invariably have distinguished the greatest men. We can see this
consistency in his fidelity to the cause of law and order, whether it be
manifested in his services as a special constable against the Chartists
of England, or as the chief magistrate of his nation against the
Chartists of France. And to this conspicuous virtue of steadfastness he
adds a wonderful universality of acquirements and natural genius. We see
him contracting favourable loans and averting impending dangers in the
monetary affairs of France, and it would seem as if his early life had
been spent amid the clamours of the Bourse; we see him concentrating
troops in his capital against the threats of the revolutionists, or
designing campaigns against the greatest military powers of Europe; we
see him maintaining a perfect composure in the midst of deadly missiles
which were expected to terminate his reign and dynasty, and it would
seem as if the camp had always been his home, and the dangers of the
battle-field his familiar associations; we see him buying up grain to
prevent speculators from oppressing his people during a season of
scarcity, or imprisoning bakers for a deficiency in the weight of their
loaves, or regulating the sales of meats and vegetables,--and it would
seem as if he always had been a prudent housekeeper and a profound
student of domestic economy; we see him laying out parks, projecting new
streets and public buildings, and we question whether he has paid most
attention to architecture, engineering, or landscape-gardening; we see
him visiting his subjects when they have been overwhelmed by a great
calamity, and he would seem to have been a disciple of St. Thomas of
Villanueva, or of St. Vincent of Paul; we see him taking the lead amid
the chief statesmen and diplomatists of the world, we read his powerful
state papers and speeches, and we wonder where he acquired his
experience; we see him, in short, under all circumstances, and it
appears that there is nothing that concerns his country's welfare or
glory too difficult for him to grapple with, nor any thing affecting the
happiness of his poorest subject trivial enough for him to overlook. By
his advocacy of the cause of the Church, he has won a place in history
by the side of Constantine and Charlemagne; by his internal policy and
care for the needs of his subjects, his name deserves to be inscribed
with those of St. Louis and Alfred. The language which Bulwer has put
into the mouth of Cardinal Richelieu might be used by Napoleon III., and
would from him be only the language of historical truth:--
"I found France rent asunder,
Sloth in the mart and schism within the temple,
Brawls festering to rebellion, and weak laws
Rotting away with rust-- * * * *
_I have re-created France_, and from the ashes
Civilization on her luminous wings
Soars phoenix-like to Jove!"