THE CONSULATE FOR LIFE
With the view of presenting in clear outlines the chief institutions
of Napoleonic France, they have been described in the preceding
chapter, detached from their political setting. We now return to
consider the events which favoured the consolidation of Bonaparte's
power.
No politician inured to the tricks of statecraft could more firmly
have handled public affairs than the man who practically began his
political apprenticeship at Brumaire. Without apparent effort he rose
to the height whence the five Directors had so ignominiously fallen;
and instinctively he chose at once the policy which alone could have
insured rest for France, that of balancing interests and parties. His
own political views being as yet unknown, dark with the excessive
brightness of his encircling glory, he could pose as the conciliator
of contending factions. The Jacobins were content when they saw the
regicide Cambacérès become Second Consul; and friends of
constitutional monarchy remembered that the Third Consul, Lebrun, had
leanings towards the Feuillants of 1791. Fouché at the inquisitorial
Ministry of Police, and Merlin, Berlier, Real, and Boulay de la
Meurthe in the Council of State seemed a barrier to all monarchical
schemes; and the Jacobins therefore remained quiet, even while
Catholic worship was again publicly celebrated, while Vendean rebels
were pardoned, and plotting _émigrés_ were entering the public
service.
Many, indeed, of the prominent terrorists had settled profitably on
the offices which Bonaparte had multiplied throughout France, and were
therefore dumb: but some of the less favoured ones, angered by the
stealthy advance of autocracy, wove a plot for the overthrow of the
First Consul. Chief among them were a braggart named Demerville, a
painter, Topino Lebrun, a sculptor, Ceracchi, and Aréna, brother of
the Corsican deputy who had shaken Bonaparte by the collar at the
crisis of Brumaire. These men hit upon the notion that, with the aid
of one man of action, they could make away with the new despot. They
opened their hearts to a penniless officer named Harel, who had been
dismissed from the army; and he straightway took the news to
Bonaparte's private secretary, Bourrienne. The First Consul, on
hearing of the matter, at once charged Bourrienne to supply Harel with
money to buy firearms, but not to tell the secret to Fouché, of whose
double dealings with the Jacobins he was already aware. It became
needful, however, to inform him of the plot, which was now carefully
nursed by the authorities. The arrests were planned to take place at
the opera on October 10th. About half an hour after the play had
begun, Bonaparte bade his secretary go into the lobby to hear the
news. Bourrienne at once heard the noise caused by a number of
arrests: he came back, reported the matter to his master, who
forthwith returned to the Tuileries. The plot was over.[168]
A more serious attempt was to follow. On the 3rd day of Nivôse
(December 24th, 1800), as the First Consul was driving to the opera to
hear Haydn's oratorio, "The Creation," his carriage was shaken by a
terrific explosion. A bomb had burst between his carriage and that of
Josephine, which was following. Neither was injured, though many
spectators were killed or wounded. "Josephine," he calmly said, as she
entered the box, "those rascals wanted to blow me up: send for a copy
of the music." But under this cool demeanour he nursed a determination
of vengeance against his political foes, the Jacobins. On the next day
he appeared at a session of the Council of State along with the
Ministers of Police and of the Interior, Fouché and Chaptal. The Aréna
plot and other recent events seemed to point to wild Jacobins and
anarchists as the authors of this outrage: but Fouché ventured to
impute it to the royalists and to England.
"There are in it," Bonaparte at once remarked, "neither nobles, nor
Chouans, nor priests. They are men of September (_Septembriseurs_),
wretches stained with blood, ever conspiring in solid phalanx
against every successive government. We must find a means of prompt
redress."
The Councillors at once adopted this opinion, Roederer hotly declaring
his open hostility to Fouché for his reputed complicity with the
terrorists; and, if we may credit the _on dit_ of Pasquier, Talleyrand
urged the execution of Fouché within twenty-four hours. Bonaparte,
however, preferred to keep the two cleverest and most questionable
schemers of the age, so as mutually to check each other's movements. A
day later, when the Council was about to institute special
proceedings, Bonaparte again intervened with the remark that the
action of the tribunal would be too slow, too restricted: a signal
revenge was needed for so foul a crime, rapid as lightning:
"Blood must be shed: as many guilty must be shot as the innocent
who had perished--some fifteen or twenty--and two hundred banished,
so that the Republic might profit by that event to purge itself."
This was the policy now openly followed. In vain did some members of
the usually obsequious Council object to this summary procedure.
Roederer, Boulay, even the Second Consul himself, now perceived how
trifling was their influence when they attempted to modify Bonaparte's
plans, and two sections of the Council speedily decided that there
should be a military commission to judge suspects and "deport"
dangerous persons, and that the Government should announce this to
the Senate, Corps Législatif, and Tribunate. Public opinion,
meanwhile, was carefully trained by the official "Moniteur," which
described in detail various so-called anarchist attempts; but an
increasing number in official circles veered round to Fouché's belief
that the outrage was the work of the royalists abetted by England. The
First Consul himself, six days after the event, inclined to this
version. Nevertheless, at a full meeting of the Council of State, on
the first day of the year 1801, he brought up a list of "130 villains
who were troubling the public peace," with a view to inflicting
summary punishment on them. Thibaudeau, Boulay, and Roederer haltingly
expressed their fears that all the 130 might not be guilty of the
recent outrage, and that the Council had no powers to decide on the
proscription of individuals. Bonaparte at once assured them that he
was not consulting them about the fate of individuals, but merely to
know whether they thought an exceptional measure necessary. The
Government had only
"Strong presumptions, not proofs, that the terrorists were the
authors of this attempt. _Chouannerie_ and emigration are surface
ills, terrorism is an internal disease. The measure ought to be
taken independently of the event. It is only the occasion of it. We
banish them (the terrorists) for the massacres of September 2nd,
May 31st, the Babeuf plot, and every subsequent attempt."[169]
The Council thereupon unanimously affirmed the need of an exceptional
measure, and adopted a suggestion of Talleyrand (probably emanating
from Bonaparte) that the Senate should be invited to declare by a
special decision, called a _senatus consultum_, whether such an act
were "preservative of the constitution." This device, which avoided
the necessity of passing a law through two less subservient bodies,
the Tribunate and Corps Législatif, was forthwith approved by the
guardians of the constitution. It had far-reaching results. The
complaisant Senate was brought down from its constitutional watchtower
to become the tool of the Consuls; and an easy way for further
innovations was thus dextrously opened up through the very portals
which were designed to bar them out.
The immediate results of the device were startling. By an act of
January 4th, 1801, as many as 130 prominent Jacobins were "placed
under special surveillance outside the European territory of the
Republic"--a specious phrase for denoting a living death amidst the
wastes of French Guiana or the Seychelles. Some of the threatened
persons escaped, perhaps owing to the connivance of Fouché; some were
sent to the Isle of Oléron; but the others were forthwith despatched
to the miseries of captivity in the tropics. Among these were
personages so diverse as Rossignol, once the scourge of France with
his force of Parisian cut-throats, and Destrem, whose crime was his
vehement upbraiding of Bonaparte at St. Cloud. After this measure had
taken effect, it was discovered by judicial inquiry that the Jacobins
had no connection with the outrage, which was the work of royalists
named Saint-Réjant and Carbon. These were captured, and on January
31st, 1801, were executed; but their fate had no influence whatever on
the sentence of the transported Jacobins. Of those who were sent to
Guiana and the Seychelles, scarce twenty saw France again.[170]
Bonaparte's conduct with respect to plots deserves close attention.
Never since the age of the Borgias have conspiracies been so skilfully
exploited, so cunningly countermined. Moreover, his conduct with
respect to the Aréna and Nivôse affairs had a wider significance; for
he now quietly but firmly exchanged the policy of balancing parties
for one which crushed the extreme republicans, and enhanced the
importance of all who were likely to approve or condone the
establishment of personal rule.
It is now time to consider the effect which Bonaparte's foreign policy
had on his position in France. Reserving for a later chapter an
examination of the Treaty of Amiens, we may here notice the close
connection between Bonaparte's diplomatic successes and the
perpetuation of his Consulate. All thoughtful students of history must
have observed the warping influence which war and diplomacy have
exerted on democratic institutions. The age of Alcibiades, the doom of
the Roman Republic, and many other examples might be cited to show
that free institutions can with difficulty survive the strain of a
vast military organization or the insidious results of an exacting
diplomacy. But never has the gulf between democracy and personal rule
been so quickly spanned as by the commanding genius of Bonaparte.
The events which disgusted both England and France with war have been
described above. Each antagonist had parried the attacks of the other.
The blow which Bonaparte had aimed at Britain's commerce by his
eastern expedition had been foiled; and a considerable French force
was shut up in Egypt. His plan of relieving his starving garrison in
Malta, by concluding a maritime truce, had been seen through by us;
and after a blockade of two years, Valetta fell (September, 1800). But
while Great Britain regained more than all her old power in the
Mediterranean, she failed to make any impression on the land-power of
France. The First Consul in the year 1801 compelled Naples and
Portugal to give up the English alliance and to exclude our vessels
and goods. In the north the results of the war had been in favour of
the islanders. The Union Jack again waved triumphant on the Baltic,
and all attempts of the French to rouse and support an Irish revolt
had signally failed. Yet the French preparations for an invasion of
England strained the resources of our exchequer and the patience of
our people. The weary struggle was evidently about to close in a
stalemate.
For political and financial reasons the two Powers needed repose.
Bonaparte's authority was not as yet so firmly founded that he could
afford to neglect the silent longings of France for peace; his
institutions had not as yet taken root; and he needed money for public
works and colonial enterprises. That he looked on peace as far more
desirable for France than for England at the present time is clear
from a confidential talk which he had with Roederer at the close of
1800. This bright thinker, to whom he often unbosomed himself, took
exception to his remark that England could not wish for peace;
whereupon the First Consul uttered these memorable words:
"My dear fellow, England ought not to wish for peace, because we
are masters of the world. Spain is ours. We have a foothold in
Italy. In Egypt we have the reversion to their tenure. Switzerland,
Holland, Belgium--that is a matter irrevocably settled, on which we
have declared to Prussia, Russia, and the Emperor that _we alone_,
if it were necessary, would make war on all, namely, that there
shall be no Stadholder in Holland, and that we will keep Belgium
and the left bank of the Rhine. A stadholder in Holland would be as
bad as a Bourbon in the St. Antoine suburb."[171]
The passage is remarkable, not only for its frank statement of the
terms on which England and the Continent might have peace, but also
because it discloses the rank undergrowth of pride and ambition that
is beginning to overtop his reasoning faculties. Even before he has
heard the news of Moreau's great victory of Hohenlinden, he equates
the military strength of France with that of the rest of Europe: nay,
he claims without a shadow of doubt the mastery of the world: he will
wage, if necessary, a double war, against England for a colonial
empire, and against Europe for domination in Holland and the
Rhineland. It is naught to him that that double effort has exhausted
France in the reigns of Louis XIV. and Louis XV. Holland, Switzerland,
Italy, shall be French provinces, Egypt and the Indies shall be her
satrapies, and _la grande nation_ may then rest on her glories.
Had these aims been known at Westminster, Ministers would have counted
peace far more harmful than war. But, while ambition reigned at Paris,
dull common sense dictated the policy of Britain. In truth, our people
needed rest: we were in the first stages of an industrial revolution:
our cotton and woollen industries were passing from the cottage to the
factory; and a large part of our folk were beginning to cluster in
grimy, ill-organized townships. Population and wealth advanced by
leaps and bounds; but with them came the nineteenth-century problems
of widening class distinctions and uncertainty of employment. The
food-supply was often inadequate, and in 1801 the price of wheat in
the London market ranged from £6 to £8 the quarter; the quartern loaf
selling at times for as much as 1s. 10-1/2d.[172]
The state of the sister island was even worse. The discontent of
Ireland had been crushed by the severe repression which followed the
rising of 1798; and the bonds connecting the two countries were
forcibly tightened by the Act of Union of 1800. But rest and reform
were urgently needed if this political welding was to acquire solid
strength, and rest and reform were alike denied. The position of the
Ministry at Westminster was also precarious. The opposition of George
III. to the proposals for Catholic Emancipation, to which Pitt
believed himself in honour bound, led to the resignation in February,
1801, of that able Minister. In the following month Addington, the
Speaker of the House of Commons, with the complacence born of bland
obtuseness, undertook to fill his place. At first, the Ministry was
treated with the tolerance due to the new Premier's urbanity, but it
gradually faded away into contempt for his pitiful weakness in face of
the dangers that threatened the realm.
Certain unofficial efforts in the cause of peace had been made during
the year 1800, by a Frenchman, M. Otto, who had been charged to
proceed to London to treat with the British Government for the
exchange of prisoners. For various reasons his tentative proposals as
to an accommodation between the belligerents had had no issue: but he
continued to reside in London, and quietly sought to bring about a
good understanding. The accession of the Addington Ministry favoured
the opening of negotiations, the new Secretary for Foreign Affairs,
Lord Hawkesbury, announcing His Majesty's desire for peace. Indeed,
the one hope of the new Ministry, and of the king who supported it as
the only alternative to Catholic Emancipation, was bound up with the
cause of peace. In the next chapter it will appear how disastrous were
the results of that strange political situation, when a morbidly
conscientious king clung to the weak Addington, and jeopardised the
interests of Britain, rather than accept a strong Minister and a
measure of religious equality.
Napoleon received Hawkesbury's first overtures, those of March 21st,
1801, with thinly veiled scorn; but the news of Nelson's victory at
Copenhagen and of the assassination of the Czar Paul, the latter of
which wrung from him a cry of rage, ended his hopes of crushing us;
and negotiations were now formally begun. On the 14th of April, Great
Britain demanded that the French should evacuate Egypt, while she
herself would give up Minorca, but retain the following conquests:
Malta, Tobago, Martinique, Trinidad, Essequibo, Demerara, Berbice,
Ceylon, and (a little later) Curaçoa; while, if the Cape of Good Hope
were restored to the Dutch, it was to be a free port: an indemnity was
also to be found for the Prince of Orange for the loss of his
Netherlands. These claims were declared by Bonaparte to be
inadmissible. He on his side urged the far more impracticable demand
of the _status quo ante bellum_ in the East and West Indies and in the
Mediterranean; which would imply the surrender, not only of our many
naval conquests, but also of our gains in Hindostan at the expense of
the late Tippoo Sahib's dominions. In the ensuing five months the
British Government gained some noteworthy successes in diplomacy and
war. It settled the disputes arising out of the Armed Neutrality
League; there was every prospect of our troops defeating those of
France in Egypt; and our navy captured St. Eustace and Saba in the
West Indies.
As a set-off to our efforts by sea, Bonaparte instigated a war between
Spain and Portugal, in order that the latter Power might be held as a
"guarantee for the general peace." Spain, however, merely waged a "war
of oranges," and came to terms with her neighbour in the Treaty of
Badajoz, June 6th, 1801, whereby she gained the small frontier
district of Olivenza. This fell far short of the First Consul's
intentions. Indeed, such was his annoyance at the conduct of the Court
of Madrid and the complaisance of his brother Lucien Bonaparte, who
was ambassador there, that he determined to make Spain bear a heavy
share of the English demands. On June 22nd, 1801, he wrote to his
brother at Madrid:
"I have already caused the English to be informed that I will never
depart, as regards Portugal, from the _ultimatum_ addressed to M.
d'Araujo, and that the _status quo ante bellum_ for Portugal must
amount, for Spain, to the restitution of Trinidad; for France, to
the restitution of Martinique and Tobago; and for Batavia [Holland],
to that of Curaçoa and some other small American isles."[173]
In other words, if Portugal at the close of this whipped-up war
retained her present possessions, then England must renounce her
claims to Trinidad, Martinique, Tobago, Curaçoa, etc.: and he summed
up his contention in the statement that "in signing this treaty
Charles IV. has consented to the loss of Trinidad." Further pressure
on Portugal compelled her to cede part of Northern Brazil to France
and to pay her 20,000,000 francs.
A still more striking light is thrown on Bonaparte's diplomatic
methods by the following question, addressed to Lord Hawkesbury on
June 15th:
"If, supposing that the French Government should accede to the
arrangements proposed for the East Indies by England, and should
adopt the _status quo ante bellum_ for Portugal, the King of
England would consent to the re-establishment of the _status quo_
in the Mediterranean and in America."
The British Minister in his reply of June 25th explained what the
phrase _status quo ante bellum_ in regard to the Mediterranean would
really imply. It would necessitate, not merely the evacuation of Egypt
by the French, but also that of the Kingdom of Sardinia (including
Nice), the Duchy of Tuscany, and the independence of the rest of the
peninsula. He had already offered that we should evacuate Minorca; but
he now stated that, if France retained her influence over Italy,
England would claim Malta as a set-off to the vast extension of French
territorial influence, and in order to protect English commerce in
those seas: for the rest, the British Government could not regard the
maintenance of the integrity of Portugal as an equivalent to the
surrender by Great Britain of her West Indian conquests, especially as
France had acquired further portions of Saint Domingo. Nevertheless he
offered to restore Trinidad to Spain, if she would reinstate Portugal
in the frontier strip of Olivenza; and, on August 5th, he told Otto
that we would give up Malta if it became independent.
Meanwhile events were, on the whole, favourable to Great Britain. She
made peace with Russia on favourable terms; and in the Mediterranean,
despite a first success gained by the French Admiral Linois at
Algesiras, a second battle brought back victory to the Union Jack. An
attack made by Nelson on the flotilla at Boulogne was a failure
(August 15th). But at the close of August the French commander in
Egypt, General Menou, was constrained to agree to the evacuation of
Egypt by his troops, which were to be sent back to France on English
vessels. This event had been expected by Bonaparte, and the secret
instruction which he forwarded to Otto at London shows the nicety of
his calculation as to the advantages to be reaped by France owing to
her receiving the news while it was still unknown in England. He
ordered Otto to fix October the 2nd for the close of the negotiations:
"You will understand the importance of this when you reflect that
Menou may possibly not be able to hold out in Alexandria beyond the
first of Vendémiaire (September 22nd); that, at this season, the
winds are fair to come from Egypt, and ships reach Italy and
Trieste in very few days. Thus it is necessary to push them [the
negotiations] to a conclusion before Vendémiaire 10."
The advantages of an irresponsible autocrat in negotiating with a
Ministry dependent on Parliament have rarely been more signally shown.
Anxious to gain popularity, and unable to stem the popular movement
for peace, Addington and Hawkesbury yielded to this request for a
fixed limit of time; and the preliminaries of peace were signed at
London on October 1st, 1801, the very day before the news arrived
there that one of our demands was rendered useless by the actual
surrender of the French in Egypt.[174]
The chief conditions of the preliminaries were as follows: Great
Britain restored to France, Spain, and the Batavian Republic all their
possessions and colonies recently conquered by her except Trinidad and
Ceylon. The Cape of Good Hope was given back to the Dutch, but
remained open to British and French commerce. Malta was to be restored
to the Order of St. John, and placed under the guarantee and
protection of a third Power to be agreed on in the definitive treaty.
Egypt returned to the control of the Sublime Porte. The existing
possessions of Portugal (that is, exclusive of Olivenza) were
preserved intact. The French agreed to loose their hold on the Kingdom
of Naples and the Roman territory; while the British were also to
evacuate Porto Ferrajo (Elba) and the other ports and islands which
they held in the Mediterranean and Adriatic. The young Republic of the
Seven Islands (Ionian Islands) was recognized by France: and the
fisheries on the coasts of Newfoundland and the adjacent isles were
placed on their former footing, subject to "such arrangements as shall
appear just and reciprocally useful."
It was remarked as significant of the new docility of George III.,
that the empty title of "King of France," which he and his
predecessors had affected, was now formally resigned, and the _fleurs
de lys_ ceased to appear on the royal arms.
Thus, with three exceptions, Great Britain had given way on every
point of importance since the first declaration of her claims; the
three exceptions were Trinidad and Ceylon, which she gained from the
allies of France; and Egypt, the recovery of which from the French was
already achieved, though it was unknown at London. On every detail but
these Bonaparte had gained a signal diplomatic success. His skill and
tenacity bade fair to recover for France, Martinique, Tobago, and
Santa Lucia, then in British hands, as well as the French stations in
India. The only British gains, after nine years of warfare, fruitful
in naval triumphs, but entailing an addition of £290,000,000 to the
National Debt, were the islands of Trinidad and the Dutch possessions
in Ceylon. And yet in the six months spent in negotiations the general
course of events had been favourable to the northern Power. What then
had been lacking? Certainly not valour to her warriors, nor good
fortune to her flag; but merely brain power to her rulers. They had
little of that foresight, skill, and intellectual courage, without
which even the exploits of a Nelson are of little permanent effect.
Reserving for treatment in the next chapter the questions arising from
these preliminaries and the resulting Peace of Amiens, we turn now to
consider their bearing on Bonaparte's position as First Consul. The
return of peace after an exhausting war is always welcome; yet the
patriotic Briton who saw the National Debt more than doubled, with no
adequate gain in land or influence, could not but contrast the
difference in the fortunes of France. That Power had now gained the
Rhine boundary; her troops garrisoned the fortresses of Holland and
Northern Italy; her chief dictated his will to German princelings and
to the once free Switzers; while the Court of Madrid, nay, the
Eternal City herself, obeyed his behests. And all this prodigious
expansion had been accomplished at little apparent cost to France
herself; for the victors' bill had been very largely met out of the
resources of the conquered territories. It is true that her nobles and
clergy had suffered fearful losses in lands and treasure, while her
trading classes had cruelly felt the headlong fall in value of her
paper notes: but in a land endowed with a bounteous soil and climate
such losses are soon repaired, and the signature of the peace with
England left France comparatively prosperous. In October the First
Consul also concluded peace with Russia, and came to a friendly
understanding with the Czar on Italian affairs and the question of
indemnities for the dispossessed German Princes.[175]
Bonaparte now strove to extend the colonies and commerce of France, a
topic to which we shall return later on, and to develop her internal
resources. The chief roads were repaired, and ceased to be in the
miserable condition in which the abolition of the _corvées_ in 1789
had left them: canals were dug to connect the chief river systems of
France, or were greatly improved; and Paris soon benefited from the
construction of the Scheldt and Oise canal, which brought the
resources of Belgium within easy reach of the centre of France. Ports
were deepened and extended; and Marseilles entered on golden vistas of
prosperity soon to be closed by the renewal of war with England.
Communications with Italy were facilitated by the improvement of the
road between Marseilles and Genoa, as also of the tracks leading over
the Simplon, Mont Cenis, and Mont Genèvre passes: the roads leading to
the Rhine and along its left bank also attested the First Consul's
desire, not only to extend commerce, but to protect his natural
boundary on the east. The results of this road-making were to be seen
in the campaign of Ulm, when the French forces marched from Boulogne
to the Black Forest at an unparalleled speed.
Paris in particular felt his renovating hand. With the abrupt,
determined tones which he assumed more and more on reaching absolute
power, he one day said to Chaptal at Malmaison:
"I intend to make Paris the most beautiful capital of the world: I
wish that in ten years it should number two millions of
inhabitants." "But," replied his Minister of the Interior, "one
cannot improvise population; ... as it is, Paris would scarcely
support one million"; and he instanced the want of good drinking
water. "What are your plans for giving water to Paris?" Chaptal
gave two alternatives--artesian wells or the bringing of water from
the River Ourcq to Paris. "I adopt the latter plan: go home and
order five hundred men to set to work to-morrow at La Villette to
dig the canal."
Such was the inception of a great public work which cost more than
half a million sterling. The provisioning of Paris also received
careful attention, a large reserve of wheat being always kept on hand
for the satisfaction of "a populace which is only dangerous when it is
hungry." Bonaparte therefore insisted on corn being stored and sold in
large quantities and at a very low price, even when considerable loss
was thereby entailed.[176] But besides supplying _panem_ he also
provided _circenses_ to an extent never known even in the days of
Louis XV. State aid was largely granted to the chief theatres, where
Bonaparte himself was a frequent attendant, and a willing captive to
the charms of the actress Mlle. Georges.
The beautifying of Paris was, however, the chief means employed by
Bonaparte for weaning its populace from politics; and his efforts to
this end were soon crowned with complete success. Here again the
events of the Revolution had left the field clear for vast works of
reconstruction such as would have been impossible but for the
abolition of the many monastic institutions of old Paris. On or near
the sites of the famous Feuillants and Jacobins he now laid down
splendid thoroughfares; and where the constitutionals or reds a decade
previously had perorated and fought, the fashionable world of Paris
now rolled in gilded cabriolets along streets whose names recalled the
Italian and Egyptian triumphs of the First Consul. Art and culture
bowed down to the ruler who ordered the renovation of the Louvre,
which now became the treasure-house of painting and sculpture,
enriched by masterpieces taken from many an Italian gallery. No
enterprise has more conspicuously helped to assure the position of
Paris as the capital of the world's culture than Bonaparte's grouping
of the nation's art treasures in a central and magnificent building.
In the first year of his Empire Napoleon gave orders for the
construction of vast galleries which were to connect the northern
pavilion of the Tuileries with the Louvre and form a splendid façade
to the new Rue de Rivoli. Despite the expense, the work was pushed
on until it was suddenly arrested by the downfall of the Empire,
and was left to the great man's nephew to complete. Though it is
possible, as Chaptal avers, that the original design aimed at the
formation of a central fortress, yet to all lovers of art, above
all to the hero-worshipping Heine, the new Louvre was a sure pledge
of Napoleon's immortality.
Other works which combined beauty with utility were the prolongation
of the quays along the left bank of the Seine, the building of three
bridges over that river, the improvement of the Jardin des Plantes,
together with that of other parks and open spaces, and the completion
of the Conservatoire of Arts and Trades. At a later date, the military
spirit of the Empire received signal illustration in the erection of
the Vendôme column, the Arc de Triomphe, and the consecration, or
desecration, of the Madeleine as a temple of glory.
Many of these works were subsequent to the period which we are
considering; but the enterprises of the Emperor represent the designs
of the First Consul; and the plans for the improvement of Paris formed
during the Consulate were sufficient to inspire the Parisians with
lively gratitude and to turn them from political speculations to
scenes of splendour and gaiety that recalled the days of Louis XIV. If
we may believe the testimony of Romilly, who visited Paris in 1802,
the new policy had even then attained its end.
"The quiet despotism, which leaves everybody who does not wish to
meddle with politics (and few at present have any such wish) in the
full and secure enjoyment of their property and of their pleasures,
is a sort of paradise, compared with the agitation, the perpetual
alarms, the scenes of infamy, of bloodshed, which accompanied the
pretended liberties of France."
But while acknowledging the material benefits of Bonaparte's rule, the
same friend of liberty notes with concern:
"That he [Bonaparte] meditates the gaining fresh laurels in war can
hardly be doubted, if the accounts which one hears of his restless
and impatient disposition be true."
However much the populace delighted in this new _régime_, the many
ardent souls who had dared and achieved so much in the sacred quest of
liberty could not refrain from protesting against the innovations
which were restoring personal rule. Though the Press was gagged,
though as many as thirty-two Departments were subjected to the
scrutiny of special tribunals, which, under the guise of stamping out
brigandage, frequently punished opponents of the Government, yet the
voice of criticism was not wholly silenced. The project of the
Concordat was sharply opposed in the Tribunate, which also ventured to
declare that the first sections of the Civil Codes were not
conformable to the principles of 1789 and to the first draft of a code
presented to the Convention. The Government thereupon refused to send
to the Tribunate any important measures, but merely flung them a mass
of petty details to discuss, as "_bones to gnaw_" until the time for
the renewal by lot of a fifth of its members should come round. During
a discussion at the Council of State, the First Consul hinted with
much frankness at the methods which ought to be adopted to quell the
factious opposition of the Tribunate:
"One cannot work with an institution so productive of disorder. The
constitution has created a legislative power composed of three
bodies. None of these branches has any right to organize itself:
that must be done by the law. Therefore we must make a body which
shall organize the manner of deliberations of these three branches.
The Tribunate ought to be divided into five sections. The
discussion of laws will take place secretly in each section: one
might even introduce a discussion between these sections and those
of the Council of State. Only the reporter will speak publicly.
Then things will go on reasonably."
Having delivered this opinion, _ex cathedra_, he departed (January
7th, 1802) for Lyons, there to be invested with supreme authority in
the reconstituted Cisalpine, or as it was now termed, Italian
Republic[177]
Returning at the close of the month, radiant with the lustre of this
new dignity, he was able to bend the Tribunate and the _Corps
Législatif_ to his will. The renewal of their membership by one-fifth
served as the opportunity for subjecting them to the more pliable
Senate. This august body of highly-paid members holding office for
life had the right of nominating the new members; but hitherto the
retiring members had been singled out by lot. Roederer, acting on a
hint of the time-serving Second Consul, now proposed in the Council
of State that the retiring members of those Chambers should
thenceforth be appointed by the Senate, and not by lot; for the
principle of the lot, he quaintly urged, was hostile to the right of
election which belonged to the Senate. Against such conscious
sophistry all the bolts of logic were harmless. The question was left
undecided, in order that the Senate might forthwith declare in favour
of its own right to determine every year not only the elections to,
but the exclusions from, the Tribunate and the _Corps Législatif_. A
_senatus consultant_ of March legalized this monstrous innovation,
which led to the exclusion from the Tribunate of zealous republicans
like Benjamin Constant, Isnard, Ganilh, Daunou, and Chénier. The
infusion of the senatorial nominees served to complete the nullity of
these bodies; and the Tribunate, the lineal descendant of the terrible
Convention, was gagged and bound within eight years of the stilling of
Danton's mighty voice.
In days when civic zeal was the strength of the French Republic, the
mere suggestion of such a violation of liberty would have cost the
speaker his life. But since the rise of Bonaparte, civic sentiments
had yielded place to the military spirit and to boundless pride in the
nation's glory. Whenever republican feelings were outraged, there were
sufficient distractions to dissipate any of the sombre broodings which
Bonaparte so heartily disliked; and an event of international
importance now came to still the voice of political criticism.
The signature of the definitive treaty of peace with Great Britain
(March 25th, 1802) sufficed to drown the muttered discontent of the
old republican party under the paeans of a nation's joy. The
jubilation was natural. While Londoners were grumbling at the
sacrifices which Addington's timidity had entailed, all France rang
with praises of the diplomatic skill which could rescue several
islands from England's grip and yet assure French supremacy on the
Continent. The event seemed to call for some sign of the nation's
thankfulness to the restorer of peace and prosperity. The hint having
been given by the tactful Cambacérès to some of the members of the
Tribunate, this now docile body expressed a wish that there should be
a striking token of the national gratitude; and a motion to that
effect was made by the Senate to the _Corps Législatif and_ to the
Government itself.
The form which the national memorial should take was left entirely
vague. Under ordinary circumstances the outcome would have been a
column or a statue: to a Napoleon it was monarchy.
The Senate was in much doubt as to the fit course of action. The
majority desired to extend the Consulate for a second term of ten
years, and a formal motion to that effect was made on May 7th. It was
opposed by a few, some of whom demanded the prolongation for life. The
president, Tronchet, prompted by Fouché and other republicans, held
that only the question of prolonging the Consulate for another term of
ten years was before the Senate: and the motion was carried by sixty
votes against one: the dissentient voice was that of the Girondin
Lanjuinais. The report of this vote disconcerted the First Consul, but
he replied with some constraint that as the people had invested him
with the supreme magistrature, he would not feel assured of its
confidence unless the present proposal were also sanctioned by its
vote: "You judge that I owe the people another sacrifice: I will give
it if the people's voice orders what your vote now authorizes." But
before the mass vote of the people was taken, an important change had
been made in the proposal itself. It was well known that Bonaparte was
dissatisfied with the senatorial offer: and at a special session of
the Council of State, at which Ministers were present, the Second
Consul urged that they must now decide how, when, and _on what
question_ the people were to be consulted. The whole question recently
settled by the Senate was thus reopened in a way that illustrated the
advantage of multiplying councils and of keeping them under official
tutelage. The Ministers present asserted that the people disapproved
of the limitations of time imposed by the Senate; and after some
discussion Cambacérès procured the decision that the consultation of
the people should be on the questions whether the First Consul should
hold his power for life, and whether he should nominate his successor.
To the latter part of this proposal the First Consul offered a
well-judged refusal. To consult the people on the restoration of
monarchy would, as yet, have been as inopportune as it was
superfluous. After gaining complete power, Bonaparte could be well
assured as to the establishment of an hereditary claim. The former and
less offensive part of the proposal was therefore submitted to the
people; and to it there could be only one issue amidst the prosperity
brought by the peace, and the surveillance exercised by the prefects
and the grateful clergy now brought back by the Concordat. The
Consulate for Life was voted by the enormous majority of more than
3,500,000 affirmative votes against 8,374 negatives. But among these
dissentients were many honoured names: among military men Carnot,
Drouot, Mouton, and Bernard opposed the innovation; and Lafayette made
the public statement that he could not vote for such a magistracy
unless political liberty were guaranteed. A _senatus consultum_ of
August 1st forthwith proclaimed Napoleon Bonaparte Consul for Life and
ordered the erection of a Statue of Peace, holding in one hand the
victor's laurel and in the other the senatorial decree.
On the following day Napoleon--for henceforth he generally used his
Christian name like other monarchs--presented to the Council of State
a project of an organic law, which virtually amounted to a new
constitution. The mere fact of its presentation at so early a date
suffices to prove how completely he had prepared for the recent change
and how thoroughly assured he was of success. This important measure
was hurried through the Senate, and, without being submitted to the
Tribunate or _Corps Législatif_, still less to the people, for whose
sanction he had recently affected so much concern--was declared to be
the fundamental law of the State.
The fifth constitution of revolutionary France may be thus described.
It began by altering the methods of election. In place of Sieyès'
lists of notabilities, Bonaparte proposed a simpler plan. The
adult citizens of each canton were thenceforth to meet, for
electoral purposes, in primary assemblies, to name two candidates
for the office of _juge de paix_ (i.e., magistrate) and town
councillor, and to choose the members of the "electoral colleges"
for the _arrondissement_ and for the Department. In the latter case
only the 600 most wealthy men of the Department were eligible. An
official or aristocratic tinge was to be imparted to these electoral
colleges by the infusion of members selected by the First Consul from
the members of the Legion of Honour. Fixity of opinion was also
assured by members holding office for life; and, as they were elected
in the midst of the enthusiasm aroused by the Peace of Amiens, they
were decidedly Bonapartist.
The electoral colleges had the following powers: they nominated two
candidates for each place vacant in the merely consultative councils
of their respective areas, and had the equally barren honour of
presenting two candidates for the Tribunate--the final act of
_selection_ being decided by the executive, that is, by the First
Consul. Corresponding privileges were accorded to the electoral
colleges of the Department, save that these plutocratic bodies had the
right of presenting candidates for admission to the Senate. The lists
of candidates for the _Corps_ _Législatif_ were to be formed by the
joint action of the electoral colleges, namely, those of the
Departments and those of the _arrondissements_. But as the resulting
councils and parliamentary bodies had only the shadow of power, the
whole apparatus was but an imposing machine for winnowing the air and
threshing chaff.
The First Consul secured few additional rights or attributes, except
the exercise of the royal prerogative of granting pardon. But, in
truth, his own powers were already so large that they were scarcely
susceptible of extension. The three Consuls held office for life, and
were _ex officio_ members of the Senate. The second and third Consuls
were nominated by the Senate on the presentation of the First Consul:
the Senate might reject two names proposed by him for either office,
but they must accept his third nominee. The First Consul might deposit
in the State archives his proposal as to his successor: if the Senate
rejected this proposal, the second and third Consuls made a
suggestion; and if it were rejected, one of the two whom they
thereupon named must be elected by the Senate. The three legislative
bodies lost practically all their powers, those of the _Corps
Législatif_ going to the Senate, those of the Council of State to an
official Cabal formed out of it; while the Tribunate was forced to
_debate secretly in five sections_, where, as Bonaparte observed,
_they might jabber as they liked_.
On the other hand, the attributes of the Senate were signally
enhanced. It was thenceforth charged, not only with the preservation
of the republican constitution, but with its interpretation in
disputed points, and its completion wherever it should be found
wanting. Furthermore, by means of organic _senatus consulta_ it was
empowered to make constitutions for the French colonies, or to suspend
trial by jury for five years in any Department, or even to declare it
outside the limits of the constitution. It now gained the right of
being consulted in regard to the ratification of treaties, previously
enjoyed by the _Corps Législatif._ Finally, it could dissolve the
_Corps Législatif_ and the Tribunate. But this formidable machinery
was kept under the strict control of the chief engineer: all these
powers were set in motion on the initiative of the Government; and the
proposals for its laws, or _senatus consulta,_ were discussed in the
Cabal of the Council of State named by the First Consul. This
precaution might have been deemed superfluous by a ruler less careful
about details than Napoleon; the composition of the Senate was such as
to assure its pliability; for though it continued to renew its ranks
by co-optation, yet that privilege was restricted in the following
way: from the lists of candidates for the Senate sent up by the
electoral colleges of the Departments, Napoleon selected three for
each seat vacant; one of those three must be chosen by the Senate.
Moreover, the First Consul was to be allowed directly to nominate
forty members in addition to the eighty prescribed by the constitution
of 1799. Thus, by direct or indirect means, the Senate soon became a
strict Napoleonic preserve, to which only the most devoted adherents
could aspire. And yet, such is the vanity of human efforts, it was
this very body which twelve years later was to vote his
deposition.[178]
The victory of action over talk, of the executive over the
legislature, of the one supremely able man over the discordant and
helpless many, was now complete. The process was startlingly swift;
yet its chief stages are not difficult to trace. The orators of the
first two National Assemblies of France, after wrecking the old royal
authority, were constrained by the pressure of events to intrust the
supervision of the executive powers to important committees, whose
functions grew with the intensity of the national danger. Amidst the
agonies of 1793, when France was menaced by the First Coalition, the
Committee of Public Safety leaped forth as the ensanguined champion of
democracy; and, as the crisis, developed in intensity, this terrible
body and the Committee of General Security virtually governed France.
After the repulse of the invaders and the fall of Robespierre, the
return to ordinary methods was marked by the institution of the
Directory, when five men, chosen by the legislature, controlled the
executive powers and the general policy of the Republic: that
compromise was forcibly ended by the stroke of Brumaire. Three Consuls
then seized the reins, and two years later a single charioteer gripped
the destinies of France. His powers were, in fact, ultimately derived
from those of the secret committees of the terrorists. But, unlike the
supremacy of Robespierre, that of Napoleon could not be disputed; for
the general, while guarding all the material boons which the
Revolution had conferred, conciliated the interests and classes
whereon the civilian had so brutally trampled. The new autocracy
therefore possessed a solid strength which that of the terrorists
could never possess. Indeed, it was more absolute than the dictatorial
power that Rousseau had outlined. The philosopher had asserted that,
while silencing the legislative power, the dictator really made it
vocal, and that he could do everything but make laws. But Napoleon,
after 1802, did far more: he suppressed debates and yet drew laws from
his subservient legislature. Whether, then, we regard its practical
importance for France and Europe, or limit our view to the mental
sagacity and indomitable will-power required for its accomplishment,
the triumph of Napoleon in the three years subsequent to his return
from Egypt is the most stupendous recorded in the history of civilized
peoples.
The populace consoled itself for the loss of political liberty by the
splendour of the fête which heralded the title of First Consul for
Life, proclaimed on August 15th: that day was also memorable as being
the First Consul's thirty-third birthday, the festival of the
Assumption, and the anniversary of the ratification of the Concordat.
The decorations and fireworks were worthy of so remarkable a
confluence of solemnities. High on one of the towers of Notre Dame
glittered an enormous star, and at its centre there shone the sign of
the Zodiac which had shed its influence over his first hours of life.
The myriads of spectators who gazed at that natal emblem might well
have thought that his life's star was now at its zenith. Few could
have dared to think that it was to mount far higher into unknown
depths of space, blazing as a baleful portent to kings and peoples;
still less was there any Cassandra shriek of doom as to its final
headlong fall into the wastes of ocean. All was joy and jubilation
over a career that had even now surpassed the records of antique
heroism, that blended the romance of oriental prowess with the
beneficent toils of the legislator, and prospered alike in war and
peace.
And yet black care cast one shadow over that jubilant festival. There
was a void in the First Consul's life such as saddened but few of the
millions of peasants who looked up to him as their saviour. His wife
had borne him no heir: and there seemed no prospect that a child of
his own would ever succeed to his glorious heritage. Family joys, it
seemed, were not for him. Suspicions and bickerings were his lot. His
brothers, in their feverish desire for the establishment of a
Bonapartist dynasty, ceaselessly urged that he should take means to
provide himself with a legitimate heir, in the last resort by
divorcing Josephine. With a consideration for her feelings which does
him credit, Napoleon refused to countenance such proceedings. Yet it
is certain that from this time onwards he kept in view the
desirability, on political grounds, of divorcing her, and made this
the excuse for indulgence in amours against which Josephine's tears
and reproaches were all in vain.
The consolidation of personal rule, the institution of the Legion of
Honour, and the return of very many of the emigrant nobles under the
terms of the recent amnesty, favoured the growth of luxury in the
capital and of Court etiquette at the Tuileries and St. Cloud. At
these palaces the pomp of the _ancien régime_ was laboriously copied.
General Duroc, stiff republican though he was, received the
appointment of Governor of the Palace; under him were chamberlains and
prefects of the palace, who enforced a ceremonial that struggled to be
monarchical. The gorgeous liveries and sumptuous garments of the reign
of Louis XV. speedily replaced the military dress which even civilians
had worn under the warlike Republic. High boots, sabres, and
regimental headgear gave way to buckled shoes, silk stockings, Court
rapiers, and light hats, the last generally held under the arm.
Tricolour cockades were discarded, along with the revolutionary jargon
which _thou'd_ and _citizen'd_ everyone; and men began to purge their
speech of some of the obscene terms which had haunted clubs and camps.
It was remarked, however, that the First Consul still clung to the use
of the term _citizen_, and that amidst the surprising combinations of
colours that flecked his Court, he generally wore only the uniform of
a colonel of grenadiers or of the light infantry of the consular
guard. This conduct resulted partly from his early dislike of luxury,
but partly, doubtless, from a conviction that republicans will forgive
much in a man who, like Vespasian, discards the grandeur which his
prowess has won, and shines by his very plainness. To trifling matters
such as these Napoleon always attached great importance; for, as he
said to Admiral Malcolm at St. Helena: "In France trifles are great
things: reason is nothing."[179] Besides, genius so commanding as his
little needed the external trappings wherewith ordinary mortals hide
their nullity. If his attire was simple, it but set off the better the
play of his mobile features, and the rich, unfailing flow of his
conversation. Perhaps no clearer and more pleasing account of his
appearance and his conduct at a reception has ever been given to the
world than this sketch of the great man in one of his gentler moods by
John Leslie Foster, who visited Paris shortly after the Peace of
Amiens:
"He is about five feet seven inches high, delicately and gracefully
made; his hair a dark brown crop, thin and lank; his complexion
smooth, pale, and sallow; his eyes gray, but very animated; his
eye-brows light brown, thin and projecting. All his features,
particularly his mouth and nose, fine, sharp, defined, and
expressive beyond description; expressive of what? Not of
anything _percé_ as the prints expressed him, still less of anything
_méchant_; nor has he anything of that eye whose bend doth awe the
world. The true expression of his countenance is a pleasing
melancholy, which, whenever he speaks, relaxes into the most
agreeable and gracious smile you can conceive. To this you must add
the appearance of deep and intense thought, but above all the
predominating expression a look of calm and tranquil resolution and
intrepidity which nothing human could discompose. His address is
the finest I have ever seen, and said by those who have travelled
to exceed not only every Prince and Potentate now in being, but
even all those whose memory has come down to us. He has more
unaffected dignity than I could conceive in man. His address is the
gentlest and most prepossessing you can conceive, which is seconded
by the greatest fund of levée conversation that I suppose any
person ever possessed. He speaks deliberately, but very fluently,
with particular emphasis, and in a rather low tone of voice. While
he speaks, his features are still more expressive than his
words."[180]
In contrast with this intellectual power and becoming simplicity of
attire, how stupid and tawdry were the bevies of soulless women and
the dumb groups of half-tamed soldiers! How vapid also the rules of
etiquette and precedence which starched the men and agitated the minds
of their consorts! Yet, while soaring above these rules with easy
grace, the First Consul imposed them rigidly on the crowd of eager
courtiers. On these burning questions he generally took the advice of
M. de Rémusat, whose tact and acquaintance with Court customs were now
of much service; while the sprightly wit of his young wife attracted
Josephine, as it has all readers of her piquant but rather spiteful
memoirs. In her pages we catch a glimpse of the life of that singular
Court; the attempts at aping the inimitable manners of the _ancien
régime_; the pompous nullity of the second and third Consuls; the
tawdry magnificence of the costumes; the studied avoidance of any word
that implied even a modicum of learning or a distant acquaintance with
politics; the nervous preoccupation about Napoleon's moods and whims;
the graceful manners of Josephine that rarely failed to charm away his
humours, except when she herself had been outrageously slighted for
some passing favourite; above all, the leaden dullness of
conversation, which drew from Chaptal the confession that life there
was the life of a galley slave. And if we seek for the hidden reason
why a ruler eminently endowed with mental force and freshness should
have endured so laboured a masquerade, we find it in his strikingly
frank confession to Madame de Rémusat: _It is fortunate that the
French are to be ruled through their vanity._ <
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