NAPOLEON’S RETURN TO PARIS—THE EGYPTIAN CAMPAIGN—THE 18th BRUMAIRE
In December, 1797, he returned to Paris. His whole family were collected
there, forming a “Bonaparte colony,” as the Parisians called it. There
were Joseph and his wife; Lucien, now married to Christine Boyer, his
old landlord’s daughter, a marriage Napoleon never forgave; Eliza, now
Madame Bacciochi; Pauline, now Madame Leclerc. Madame Letitia was in the
city, with Caroline; Louis and Jerome were still in school. Josephine
had her daughter Hortense, a girl of thirteen, with her. Her son Eugène,
though but fifteen years old, was away on a mission for Napoleon, who,
in spite of the boy’s youth, had already taken him into his confidence.
According to Napoleon’s express desire, all the family lived in great
simplicity.
The return to Paris of the commander-in-chief of the Army of Italy was
the signal for a popular ovation. The Directory gave him every honor,
changing the name of the street in which he lived to _rue de la
Victoire_, and making him a member of the Institute; but, conscious of
its feebleness, and inspired by that suspicion which since the
Revolution began had caused the ruin of so many men, it planned to get
rid of him.
Of the coalition against France, formed in 1793, one member alone
remained in arms—England. Napoleon was to be sent against her. An
invasion of the island was first discussed, and he made an examination
of the north coast. His report was adverse, and he substituted a plan
for the invasion of Egypt—an old idea in the French government.
The Directory gladly accepted the change, and Napoleon was made
commander-in-chief of the Army of Egypt. On the 4th of May he left Paris
for Toulon.
To Napoleon this expedition was a merciful escape. He once said to
Madame Rémusat:
“In Paris, and Paris is France, they never can take the smallest
interest in things, if they do not take it in persons.... The great
difficulty of the Directory was that no one cared about them, and
that people began to care too much about me. This was why I
conceived the happy idea of going to Egypt.”
He was under the influence, too, of his imagination; the Orient had
always tempted him. It is certain that he went away with gigantic
projects—nothing less than to conquer the whole of the East, and to
become its ruler and lawgiver.
“I dreamed of all sorts of things, and I saw a way of carrying all
my projects into practical execution. I would create a new religion.
I saw myself in Asia, upon an elephant, wearing a turban, and
holding in my hand a new Koran which I had myself composed. I would
have united in my enterprise the experiences of two hemispheres,
exploring for my benefit and instruction all history, attacking the
power of England in the Indies, and renewing, by their conquest, my
relations with old Europe. The time I passed in Egypt was the most
delightful period of my life, for it was the most ideal.”
His friends, watching his irritation during the days before the campaign
had been decided upon, said: “A free flight in space is what such wings
demand. He will die here. He must go.” He himself said: “Paris weighs on
me like a leaden mantle.”
Napoleon sailed from France on May 19, 1798; on June 9th he reached
Malta, and won for France “the strongest place in Europe.” July 2d he
entered Alexandria. On July 23d he entered Cairo, after the famous
battle of the Pyramids.
The French fleet had remained in Aboukir Bay after landing the army, and
on August 1st was attacked by Nelson. Napoleon had not realized, before
this battle, the power of the English on the sea. He knew nothing of
Nelson’s genius. The destruction of his fleet, and the consciousness
that he and his army were prisoners in the Orient, opened his eyes to
the greatest weakness of France.
The winter was spent in reorganizing the government of Egypt and in
scientific work. Over one hundred scientists had been added to the Army
of Egypt, including some of the most eminent men of the day: Monge,
Geoffroy-St.-Hilaire, Berthollet, Fourier, and Denon. From their arrival
every opportunity was given them to carry on their work. To stimulate
them, Napoleon founded the Institute of Egypt, in which membership was
granted as a reward for services.
These scientists went out in every direction, pushing their
investigations up the Nile as far as Philoe, tracing the bed of the old
canal from Suez to the Nile, unearthing ancient monuments, making
collections of the flora and fauna, examining in detail the arts and
industries of the people. Everything, from the inscription on the
Rosetta Stone to the incubation of chickens, received their attention.
On the return of the expedition, their researches were published in a
magnificent work called “Description de l’Egypte.” The information
gathered by the French at this time gave a great impetus to the study of
Egyptology, and their investigations on the old Suez canal led directly
to the modern work.
The peaceful work of science and law-giving which Napoleon was
conducting in Egypt was interrupted by the news that the Porte had
declared war against France, and that two Turkish armies were on their
way to Egypt. In March he set off to Syria to meet the first.
[Illustration:
NAPOLEON AT THE BATTLE OF THE PYRAMIDS, JULY 21, 1798.
Engraved by Vallot in 1838, after painting by Gros (1810). The moment
chosen by the artist is that when Napoleon addressed to his soldiers
that short and famous harangue, “Soldiers, from the summit of these
Pyramids forty centuries look down upon you.” In the General’s
escort are Murat, his head bare and his sword clasped tightly; and
after him, in order, Duroc, Sulkowski, Berthier, Junot, and Eugène
de Beauharnais, then sub-lieutenant, all on horseback. On the right
are Rampon, Desaix, Bertrand, and Lasalle. This picture was ordered
for the Tuileries, and was exhibited first in 1810. Napoleon gave it
to one of his generals, and it did not reappear in Paris until 1832.
It is now in the gallery at Versailles. Gros regarded this picture
as his best work, and himself chose Vallot to engrave it.]
This Syrian expedition was a failure, ending in a retreat made horrible
not only by the enemy in the rear, but by pestilence and heat.
The disaster was a terrible disillusion for Napoleon. It ended his dream
of an Oriental realm for himself, of a kingdom embracing the whole
Mediterranean for France. “I missed my fortune at St. Jean d’Acre,” he
told his brother Lucien afterward; and again, “I think my imagination
died at St. Jean d’Acre.” The words are those of the man whose
discouragement at a failure was as profound as his hope at success was
high.
As Napoleon entered Egypt from Syria, he learned that the second Turkish
army was near the Bay of Aboukir. He turned against it and defeated it
completely. In the exchange of prisoners made after the battle, a bundle
of French papers fell into his hands. It was the first news he had had
for ten months from France, and sad news it was: Italy lost, an invasion
of Austrians and Russians threatening, the Directory discredited and
tottering.
If the Oriental empire of his imagination had fallen, might it not be
that in Europe a kingdom awaited him? He decided to leave Egypt at once,
and with the greatest secrecy prepared for his departure. The army was
turned over to Kléber, and with four small vessels he sailed for France
on the night of August 22, 1799. On October 16th he was in Paris.
For a long time nothing had been heard of Napoleon in France. The people
said he had been exiled by the jealous Directory. His disappearance into
the Orient had all the mystery and fascination of an Eastern tale. His
sudden reappearance had something of the heroic in it. He came like a
god from Olympus, unheralded, but at the critical moment.
The joy of the people, who at that day certainly preferred a hero to
suffrage, was spontaneous and sincere. His journey from the coast to
Paris was a triumphal march. _Le retour du héros_ was the word in
everybody’s mouth. On every side the people cried: “You alone can save
the country. It is perishing without you. Take the reins of government.”
At Paris he found the government waiting to be overthrown. “A brain and
a sword” was all that was needed to carry out a _coup d’état_ organized
while he was still in Africa. Everybody recognized him as the man for
the hour. A large part of the military force in Paris was devoted to
him. His two brothers, Lucien and Joseph, were in positions of
influence, the former president of the Five Hundred, as one of the two
chambers was called. All that was most distinguished in the political,
military, legal, and artistic circles of Paris rallied to him. Among the
men who supported him were Talleyrand, Sieyès, Chénier, Roederer, Monge,
Cambacérès, Moreau, Berthier, Murat.
On the 18th Brumaire (the 9th of November), 1799, the plot culminated,
and Napoleon was recognized as the temporary Dictator of France.
The private sorrow to which Napoleon returned, was as great as the
public glory. During the campaign in Egypt he had learned beyond a doubt
that Josephine’s coquetry had become open folly, and that a young
officer, Hippolyte Charles, whom he had dismissed from the Army of Italy
two years before, was installed at Malmaison. The _liaison_ was so
scandalous that Gohier, the president of the Directory, advised
Josephine to get a divorce from Napoleon and marry Charles.
These rumors reached Egypt, and Napoleon, in despair, even talked them
over with Eugène de Beauharnais. The boy defended his mother, and for a
time succeeded in quieting Napoleon’s resentment. At last, however, he
learned in a talk with Junot that the gossip was true. He lost all
control of himself, and declared he would have a divorce. The idea was
abandoned, but the love and reverence he had given Josephine were dead.
From that time she had no empire over his heart, no power to inspire him
to action or to enthusiasm.
When he landed in France from Egypt, Josephine, foreseeing a storm,
started out to meet him at Lyons. Unfortunately she took one road and
Napoleon another, and when he reached Paris at six o’clock in the
morning he found no one at home. When Josephine arrived Napoleon refused
to see her, and it was three days before he relented. Then his
forgiveness was due to the intercession of Hortense and Eugène, to both
of whom he was warmly attached.
But if he consented to pardon, he could never give again the passionate
affection which he once had felt for her. He ceased to be a lover, and
became a commonplace, tolerant, indulgent, _bourgeois_ husband, upon
whom his wife, in matters of importance, had no influence. Josephine was
hereafter the suppliant, but she never regained the noble kingdom she
had despised.
Napoleon’s domestic sorrow weakened in no way his activity and vigor in
public affairs. He realized that, if he would keep his place in the
hearts and confidence of the people, he must do something to show his
strength, and peace was the gift he proposed to make to the nation. When
he returned he found a civil war raging in La Vendée. Before February he
had ended it. All over France brigandage had made life and property
uncertain. It was stopped by his new _régime_.
Two foreign enemies only remained at war with France—Austria and
England. He offered them peace. It was refused. Nothing remained but to
compel it. The Austrians were first engaged. They had two armies in the
field; one on the Rhine, against which Moreau was sent, the other in
Italy—now lost to France—besieging the French shut up in Genoa.
[Illustration:
“INSTALLATION OF THE COUNCIL OF STATE AT THE PALACE OF THE PETIT
LUXEMBOURG, DECEMBER 29, 1799.”
By Auguste Conder. The Councillors of State having assembled in the
hall which had been arranged for the occasion, the First Consul
opened the _séance_ and heard the oath taken by the sectional
presidents—Boulay de la Meurthe (legislation), Brune (war),
Defermont (finances), Ganteaume (marine), Roederer (interior). The
first Consul drew up and signed two proclamations, to the French
people and to the army. The Second Consul, Cambacérès, and the Third
Consul, Lebrun, were present at the meeting. Locré,
_secrétaire-général du Conseil d’État_, conducted the
_procès-verbal_. This picture is at Versailles.]
Moreau conducted the campaign in the Rhine countries with skill,
fighting two successful battles, and driving his opponent from Ulm.
Napoleon decided that he would himself carry on the Italian campaign,
but of that he said nothing in Paris. His army was quietly brought
together as a reserve force; then suddenly, on May 6, 1800, he left
Paris for Geneva. Immediately his plan became evident. It was nothing
else than to cross the Alps and fall upon the rear of the Austrians,
then besieging Genoa.
Such an undertaking was a veritable _coup de théâtre_. Its
accomplishment was not less brilliant than its conception. Three
principal passes lead from Switzerland into Italy: Mont Cenis, the Great
Saint Bernard, and the Mount Saint Gothard. The last was already held by
the Austrians. The first is the westernmost, and here Napoleon directed
the attention of General Melas, the Austrian commander. The central, or
Mount Saint Bernard, Pass was left almost defenceless, and here the
French army was led across, a passage surrounded by enormous
difficulties, particularly for the artillery, which had to be taken to
pieces and carried or dragged by the men.
Save the delay which the enemy caused the French at Fort Bard, where
five hundred men stopped the entire army, Napoleon met with no serious
resistance in entering Italy. Indeed, the Austrians treated the force
with contempt, declaring that it was not the First Consul who led it,
but an adventurer, and that the army was not made up of French, but of
refugee Italians.
This rumor was soon known to be false. On June 2d Napoleon entered
Milan. It was evident that a conflict was imminent, and to prepare his
soldiers Bonaparte addressed them:
“Soldiers, one of our departments was in the power of the enemy;
consternation was in the south of France; the greatest part of the
Ligurian territory, the most faithful friends of the Republic, had
been invaded. The Cisalpine Republic had again become the grotesque
plaything of the feudal _régime_. Soldiers, you march—and already
the French territory is delivered! Joy and hope have succeeded in
your country to consternation and fear.
“You give back liberty and independence to the people of Genoa. You
have delivered them from their eternal enemies. You are in the
capital of the Cisalpine. The enemy, terrified, no longer hopes for
anything, except to regain its frontiers. You have taken possession
of its hospitals, its magazines, its resources.
“The first act of the campaign is terminated. Every day you hear
millions of men thanking you for your deeds.
“But shall it be said that French territory has been violated with
impunity? Shall we allow an army which has carried fear into our
families to return to its firesides? Will you run with your arms?
Very well, march to the battle; forbid their retreat; tear from them
the laurels of which they have taken possession; and so teach the
world that the curse of destiny is on the rash who dare insult the
territory of the Great People. The result of all our efforts will be
spotless glory, solid peace.”
Melas, the Austrian commander, had lost much time; but finally convinced
that it was really Bonaparte who had invaded Italy, and that he had
actually reached Milan, he advanced into the plain of Marengo. He had
with him an army of from fifty to sixty thousand men well supplied with
artillery.
Bonaparte, ignorant that so large a force was at Marengo, advanced into
the plain with only a portion of his army. On June 14th Melas attacked
him. Before noon the French saw that they had to do with the entire
Austrian army. For hours the battle was waged furiously, but with
constant loss on the side of the French. In spite of the most intrepid
fighting the army gave way. “At four o’clock in the afternoon,” says a
soldier who was present, “there remained in a radius of two leagues not
over six thousand infantry, a thousand horse, and six pieces of cannon.
A third of our army was not in condition for battle. The lack of
carriages to transport the sick made another third necessary for this
painful task. Hunger, thirst, fatigue, had forced a great number to
withdraw. The sharp shooters for the most part had lost the direction of
their regiments.
“He who in these frightful circumstances would have said, ‘In two hours
we shall have gained the battle, made ten thousand prisoners, taken
several generals, fifteen flags, forty cannons; the enemy shall have
delivered to us eleven fortified places and all the territory of
beautiful Italy; they will soon defile shamefaced before our ranks; an
armistice will suspend the plague of war and bring back peace into our
country,’—he, I say, who would have said that, would have seemed to
insult our desperate situation.”
The battle was won finally by the French through the fortunate arrival
of Desaix with reënforcements and the imperturbable courage of the
commander-in-chief. Bonaparte’s coolness was the marvel of those who
surrounded him.
“At the moment when the dead and the dying covered the earth, the Consul
was constantly braving death. He gave his orders with his accustomed
coolness, and saw the storm approach without seeming to fear it. Those
who saw him, forgetting the danger that menaced them, said: ‘What if he
should be killed? Why does he not go back?’ It is said that General
Berthier begged him to do so.
[Illustration:
NAPOLEON THE GREAT CROSSING MOUNT ST. BERNARD, MAY, 1800.
Engraved by Antonio Gilbert in 1809, under the direction of Longhi,
after portrait painted by David in 1805. Dedicated to the Prince
Eugène Napoleon of France, Viceroy of Italy. It was soon after his
return from Marengo that Napoleon expressed a wish to be painted by
David. The artist had long desired this work, and seized the
opportunity eagerly. He asked the First Consul when he would pose
for him.
“Pose!” said Bonaparte. “Do you suppose the great men of antiquity
posed for their portraits?”
“But I paint you for your time, for men who have seen you. They would
like to have it like you.”
“Like me! It is not the perfection of the features, a pimple on the
nose, which makes resemblance. It is the character of the face that
should be represented. No one cares whether the portraits of great
men look like them or not. It is enough that their genius shines
from the picture.”
“I have never considered it in that way. But you are right, Citizen
Consul. You need not pose: I will paint you without that.” David
went to breakfast daily after this with Napoleon, in order to study
his face, and the Consul put at his service all the garments he had
worn at Marengo. It is told that David mounted Napoleon on a mule
for this picture, but that the General demurred. He sprang upon his
horse, and, making him rear, said to the artist, “Paint me thus.”]
“Once General Berthier came to him to tell him that the army was giving
way and that the retreat had commenced. Bonaparte said to him: ‘General,
you do not tell me that with sufficient coolness.’ This greatness of
soul, this firmness, did not leave him in the greatest dangers. When the
Fifty-ninth Brigade reached the battle-field the action was the hottest.
The First Consul advanced toward them and cried: ‘Come, my brave
soldiers, spread your banners; the moment has come to distinguish
yourselves. I count on your courage to avenge your comrades.’ At the
moment that he pronounced these words, five men were struck down near
him. He turned with a tranquil air towards the enemy, and said: ‘Come,
my friends, charge them.’
“I had curiosity enough to listen attentively to his voice, to examine
his features. The most courageous man, the hero the most eager for
glory, might have been overcome in his situation without any one blaming
him. But he was not. In these frightful moments, when fortune seemed to
desert him, he was still the Bonaparte of Arcola and Aboukir.”
When Desaix came up with his division, Bonaparte took an hour to arrange
for the final charge. During this time the Austrian artillery was
thundering upon the army, each volley carrying away whole lines. The men
received death without moving from their places, and the ranks closed
over the bodies of their comrades. This deadly artillery even reached
the cavalry, drawn up behind, as well as a large number of infantry who,
encouraged by Desaix’s arrival, had hastened back to the field of honor.
In spite of the horror of this preparation Bonaparte did not falter.
When he was ready he led his army in an impetuous charge which
overwhelmed the Austrians completely, though it cost the French one of
their bravest generals, Desaix. It was a frightful struggle, but the
perfection with which the final attack was planned, won the battle of
Marengo and drove the Austrians from Italy.
The Parisians were dazzled by the campaign. Of the passage of the Alps
they said, “It is an achievement greater than Hannibal’s;” and they
repeated how “the First Consul had pointed his finger at the frozen
summits, and they had bowed their heads.” At the news of Marengo the
streets were lit with “joy fires,” and from wall to wall rang the cries
of _Vive la république! Vive le premier consul! Vive l’armée!_
[Illustration:
KLÉBER, 1753 OR 1754–1800.
Engraved by G. Fiesinger, after portrait by Guérin.]
The campaign against the Austrians was finished December 3, 1800, by the
battle of Hohenlinden, won by Moreau, and in February the treaty of
Lunéville established peace. England was slower in coming to terms, it
not being until March, 1802, that she signed the treaty of Amiens.
At last France was at peace with all the world. She hailed Napoleon as
her savior, and ordered that the 18th Brumaire be celebrated throughout
the republic as a solemn _fête_ in his honor.
The country saw in him something greater than a peacemaker. She was
discovering that he was to be her law giver, for, while ending the wars,
he had begun to bring order into the interior chaos which had so long
tormented the French people, to reëstablish the finances, the laws, the
industries, to restore public works, to encourage the arts and sciences,
even to harmonize the interests of rich and poor, of church and state.
[Illustration:
“LUCIEN BONAPARTE, PRESIDENT OF THE COUNCIL OF THE FIVE HUNDRED, 18TH
BRUMAIRE, 1799.”]