It is difficult to say anything new about Napoleon Bonaparte, either in
reference to his genius, his character, or his deeds.
His genius is universally admitted, both as a general and an
administrator. No general so great has appeared in our modern times. He
ranks with Alexander and Caesar in ancient times, and he is superior to
Gustavus Adolphus, Turenne, Condé, Marlborough, Frederic II.,
Wellington, or any of the warriors who have figured in the great wars of
Europe, from Charlemagne to the battle of Waterloo. His military career
was so brilliant that it dazzled contemporaries. Without the advantages
of birth or early patronage, he rose to the highest pinnacle of human
glory. His victories were prodigious and unexampled; and it took all
Europe to resist him. He aimed at nothing less than universal
sovereignty; and had he not, when intoxicated with his conquests,
attempted impossibilities, his power would have been practically
unlimited in France. He had all the qualities for success in
war,--insight, fertility of resource, rapidity of movement, power of
combination, coolness, intrepidity, audacity, boldness tempered by
calculation, will, energy which was never relaxed, powers of endurance,
and all the qualities which call out enthusiasm and attach soldiers and
followers to personal interests. His victorious career was unchecked
until all the nations of Europe, in fear and wrath, combined against
him. He was a military prodigy, equally great in tactics and
strategy,--a master of all the improvements which had been made in the
art of war, from Epaminondas to Frederic II.
His genius for civil administration was equally remarkable, and is
universally admitted. Even Metternich, who detested him, admits that "he
was as great as a statesman as he was as a warrior, and as great as an
administrator as he was as a statesman." He brought order out of
confusion, developed the industry of his country, restored the finances,
appropriated and rewarded all eminent talents, made the whole machinery
of government subservient to his aims, and even seemed to animate it by
his individual will. He ruled France as by the power of destiny. The
genius of Richelieu, of Mazarin, and of Colbert pale before his
enlightened mind, which comprehended equally the principles of political
science and the vast details of a complicated government. For executive
ability I know no monarch who has surpassed him.
We do not associate with military genius, as a general rule, marked
intellectual qualities in other spheres. But Napoleon was an exception
to this rule. He was tolerably well educated, and he possessed
considerable critical powers in art, literature, and science. He
penetrated through all shams and impostures. He was rarely deceived as
to men or women. He could be eloquent and interesting in conversation.
Some of his expressions pierced like lightning, and were exceedingly
effective. His despatches were laconic and clear. He knew something
about everybody of note, and if he had always been in a private station
his intellectual force would have attracted attention in almost any
vocation he might have selected. His natural vivacity, wit, and
intensity would have secured friends and admirers in any sphere.
Nor are the judgments of mankind less unanimous in reference to his
character than his intellect and genius. He stands out in history in a
marked manner with two sides,--great and little, good and bad. None can
deny him many good qualities. His industry was marvellous; he was
temperate in eating and drinking; he wasted no precious time; he
rewarded his friends, to whom he was true; he did not persecute his
enemies unless they stood in his way, and unless he had a strong
personal dislike for them, as he had for Madame de Staël; he could be
magnanimous at times; he was indulgent to his family, and allowed his
wife to buy as many India shawls and diamonds as she pleased; he was
never parsimonious in his gifts, although personally inclined to
economy; he generally ruled by the laws he had accepted or enacted; he
despised formalities and etiquette; he sought knowledge from every
quarter; he encouraged merit in all departments; he was not ruled by
women, like most of the kings of France; he was not enslaved by
prejudices, and was lenient when he could afford to be; and in the
earlier part of his career he was doubtless patriotic in his devotion to
the interests of his country.
Moreover, many of his faults were the result of circumstances, and of
the unprecedented prosperity which he enjoyed. Pride, egotism, tyranny,
and ostentation were to be expected of a man whose will was law. Nearly
all men would have exhibited these traits, had they been seated on such
a throne as his; and almost any man's temper would have occasionally
given way under such burdens as he assumed, such hostilities as he
encountered, and such treasons as he detected. Surrounded by spies and
secret enemies, he was obliged to be reserved. With a world at his feet,
it was natural that he should be arbitrary and impatient of
contradiction. There have been successful railway magnates as imperious
as he, and bank presidents as supercilious, and clerical dignitaries as
haughty, in their smaller spheres. Pride, consciousness, and egotism are
the natural result of power and flattery in all conditions of life; and
when a single man controls the destinies of nations, he is an exception
to the infirmities of human nature if he does not seek to bend
everything before his haughty will. There have been many Richelieus,
there has been but one Marcus Aurelius; many Hildebrands, only one
Alfred; many Ahabs, only one David, one St. Louis, one Washington.
But with all due allowance for the force of circumstances in the
development of character, and for those imperial surroundings which
blind the arbiters of nations, there were yet natural traits of
character in Napoleon which call out the severest reprobation, and which
make him an object of indignation and intense dislike among true-minded
students of history. His egotism was almost superhuman, his selfishness
was most unscrupulous, his ambition absolutely boundless. He claimed a
monopoly in perfidy and lying; he had no idea of moral responsibility;
he had no sympathy with misfortune, no conscience, no fear of God. He
was cold, hard, ironical, and scornful. He was insolent in his treatment
of women, brusque in manners, severe on all who thwarted or opposed him.
He committed great crimes in his ascent to supreme dominion, and mocked
the reason, the conscience, and the rights of mankind. He broke the most
solemn treaties; he was faithless to his cause; he centred in himself
the interests he was intrusted to guard; he recklessly insulted all the
governments of Europe; he put himself above Providence; he disgracefully
elevated his brothers; he sought to aggrandize himself at any cost, and
ruthlessly grasped the sceptre of universal dominion as if he were an
irresistible destiny whom it was folly to oppose, In all this he aimed
to be greater than conscience.
Such was the character of a despot who arose upon the ruins of the old
monarchy,--the product of a revolution, whose ideas he proposed to
defend. Most historians, and all moralists, are on the whole unanimous
in this verdict. As for his deeds, they rise up before our minds,
compelling admiration and awe. He was the incarnation of force; he
performed the most brilliant exploits of our modern times.
The question then arises, whether his marvellous gifts and transcendent
opportunities were directed to the good of his country and the cause of
civilization. In other words, did he render great services to France,
which make us forget his faults? How will he be judged by enlightened
posterity? May he be ranked among great benefactors, like Constantine.
Charlemagne, Theodosius, Peter the Great, and Oliver Cromwell? It is the
privilege of great sovereigns to be judged for their services rather
than by their defects.
Let us summon, then, this great Emperor before the bar of universal
reason. Let him make his own defence. Let us first hear what he has to
say for himself, for he is the most distinguished culprit of modern
times, and it may yet take three generations to place him in his true
historical niche; and more, his fame, though immortal, may forever be in
doubt, like that of Julius Caesar, whom we still discuss.
This great man may quietly yet haughtily say to us who seek to take his
measure: "It is for my services to France that I claim to be judged. I
do not claim perfection. I admit I made grand mistakes; I even committed
acts which the world stigmatizes as crimes. I seized powers which did
not belong to me; I overthrew constitutions; I made myself supreme; I
mocked the old powers of earth; I repudiated the ideas in the name of
which I climbed to a throne; I was harsh, insolent, and tyrannical; I
divorced the wife who was the maker of my fortune; I caused the
assassination of the Duc d'Enghien; I invaded Spain and Russia; and I
wafted the names of my conquering generals to the ends of the earth in
imprecations and curses. These were my mistakes,--crimes, if you please
to call them; but it is not for these you must judge me. Did I not come
to the rescue of law and order when France was torn with anarchies? Did
I not deliver the constituted authorities from the mob? Did I not rescue
France from foreign enemies when they sought to repress the Revolution
and restore the Bourbons? Was I not the avenger of twenty-five hungry
millions on those old tyrants who would have destroyed their
nationality? Did I not break up those combinations which would have
perpetuated the enslavement of Europe? Did I not seek to plant liberty
in Italy and destroy the despotisms of German princes? Did I not give
unity to great States and enlarge their civilization? Did I not rebuke
and punish Austria, Prussia, Russia, and England for interfering with
our Revolution and combining against the rights of a republic? Did I not
elevate France, and give scope to its enterprise, and develop its
resources, and inspire its citizens with an unknown enthusiasm, and make
the country glorious, so that even my enemies came to my court to wonder
and applaud? And did I not leave such an immortal prestige, even when I
was disarmed and overthrown by the armies of combined Christendom, that
my illustrious name, indelibly engraved in the hearts of my countrymen,
was enough to seat my nephew on the throne from which I was torn, and
give to his reign a glory scarcely inferior to my own? These were my
services to France,--the return of centralized power amid anarchies and
discontents and laws which successive revolutions have not destroyed,
but which shall blaze in wisdom through successive generations."
Now, how far can these claims be substantiated? Was Napoleon, although a
usurper, like Cromwell and Caesar, also a benefactor like them; and did
his fabric of imperialism prove a blessing to civilization? What, in
reality, were his services? Do they offset his aspirations and crimes?
Is he worthy of the praises of mankind? Great deeds he performed, but
did they ultimately tend to the welfare of France and of Europe?
It was a great service which Napoleon rendered to France, in the
beginning of his career, at the siege of Toulon, when he was a
lieutenant of artillery. He disobeyed, indeed, the orders of his
superiors, but won success by the skill with which he planted his
cannon, showing remarkable genius. This service to the Republic was not
forgotten, although he remained long unemployed, living obscurely at
Paris with straitened resources. By some means he caught the ear of
Barras, the most able of the Directory, and was intrusted with the
defence of the Convention in a great crisis, and saved it by his "whiff
of grapeshot," as Carlyle calls his dispersion of the mob in the streets
of Paris, from the steps of St. Roch. This, doubtless, was a service to
the cause of law and order, since he acted under orders, and discharged
his duty, like an obedient servant of the constituted authorities,
without reluctance, and with great skill,--perhaps the only man of
France, at that time, who could have done that important work so well,
and with so little bloodshed. Had the sections prevailed,--and it was
feared that they would,--the anarchy of the worst days of the Revolution
would have resulted. But this decisive action of the young officer,
intrusted with a great command, put an end for forty years to the
assumption of unlawful weapons by the mob. There was no future
insurrection of the people against government till Louis Philippe was
placed upon the throne in 1830. Napoleon here vindicated not only the
cause of law and order, but the Revolution itself; for in spite of its
excesses and crimes, it had abolished feudalism, unequal privileges, the
reign of priests and nobles, and a worn-out monarchy; it had proclaimed
a constitutional government, in the face of all the European despotisms;
it had asserted that self-government was a possibility, even in France;
it had inspired the whole nation with enthusiasm, and proclaimed the
Republic when hostile armies were ready to march upon the soil of France
and restore the Bourbons. All the impulses of the Revolution were
generous; all its struggles were heroic, although it was sullied with
crimes, and was marked by inexperience and follies. The nation rallied
around a great idea,--an idea which is imperishable, and destined to
unbounded triumph. To this idea of liberty Napoleon was not then
unfaithful, although some writers assert that he was ready to draw his
sword in any cause which promised him promotion.
The National Convention, which he saved by military genius and supreme
devotion to it, had immortalized itself by inspiring France with
heroism; and after a struggle of three years with united Christendom,
jealous of liberty, dissolved itself, and transferred the government to
a Directory.
This Directory, in reward of the services which Napoleon had rendered,
and in admiration of his genius, bestowed upon him the command of the
army of Italy. Probably Josephine, whom he then married, had sufficient
influence with Barras to secure the appointment. It was not popular with
the generals, of course, to have a young man of twenty-six, without
military prestige, put over their heads. But results soon justified the
discernment of Barras.
At the head of only forty thousand men, poorly clad and equipped and
imperfectly fed, Napoleon in four weeks defeated the Sardinians, and in
less than two years, in eighteen pitched battles, he destroyed the
Austrian armies which were about to invade France. That glorious
campaign of 1796 is memorable for the conquest of Piedmont and Lombardy,
and the establishment of French supremacy in Italy. Napoleon's career
on the banks of the Po was so brilliant, unexpected, and startling, that
his nation was filled with equal astonishment and admiration. Instead of
predicted ruin, there was unexampled victory. The enthusiasm of the
French was unbounded. Had Napoleon died at the Bridge of Lodi, he would
have passed down in history as a Judas Maccabaeus. In this campaign he
won the hearts of his soldiers, and secured the admiration of his
generals. There was something new in his system of fighting, not seen at
least in modern times,--a rapid massing of his troops, and a still more
rapid concentration of them upon the weak points of the enemy's lines,
coming down on them like a mountain torrent, and sweeping everything
before him, in defiance of all rules and precedents. A new master in the
art of war, greater than Condé, or Turenne, or Marlborough, or Frederic
II., had suddenly arisen, with amazing audacity and faith in himself.
The deliverance of republican France from four great Austrian armies was
a grand service; and Napoleon merited its gratitude and all the honors
he received. He had violated no trust thus far. He was still Citizen
Bonaparte, professing liberal principles, and fighting under the flag of
liberty, to make the Republic respected, independent, and powerful. He
robbed Italy, it is true, of some of her valuable pictures, and exacted
heavy contributions; but this is war. He was still the faithful servant
of France.
On his return to Paris as a conqueror, the people of course were
enthusiastic in their praises, and the Government was jealous. It had
lost the confidence of the nation. All eyes were turned upon the
fortunate soldier who had shown so much ability, and who had given glory
to the country. He may not yet have meditated usurpation, but he
certainly had dreams of power. He was bent on rising to a greater
height; but he could do nothing at present, nor did he feel safe in
Paris amid so much envy, although he lived simply and shunned popular
idolatry. But his restless nature craved activity; so he sought and
obtained an army for the invasion of Egypt. He was inspired with a
passion of conquest, and the Directory was glad to get rid of so
formidable a rival.
He had plainly rendered to his country two great services, without
tarnishing his own fame, or being false to his cause. But what excuse
had he to give to the bar of enlightened posterity for the invasion of
Egypt? The idea originated with himself. It was not a national
necessity. It was simply an unwarrantable war: it was a crime; it was a
dream of conquest, without anything more to justify it than Alexander's
conquests in India, or any other conquest by ambitious and restless
warriors. He hoped to play the part of Alexander,--to found a new
empire in the East. It was his darling scheme. It would give him power,
and perhaps sovereignty. Some patriotic notions may have blended with
his visions. Perhaps he would make a new route to India; perhaps cut off
the empire of the English in the East; perhaps plant colonies among
worn-out races; perhaps destroy the horrid empire of the Turks; perhaps
make Constantinople the seat of French influence and empire in the East.
But what harm had Turkey or Syria or Egypt done to France? Did they
menace the peace of Europe? Did even suffering Egyptians call upon him
to free them from a Turkish yoke? No: it was a meditated conquest, on
the same principles of ambition and aggrandizement which ever have
animated unlawful conquests, and therefore a political crime; not to be
excused because other nations have committed such crimes, ultimately
overruled to the benefit of civilization, like the conquest of India by
England, and Texas by the United States.
I will not dwell on this expedition, which failed through the
watchfulness of the English, the naval victory of Nelson at the Nile,
and the defence of Acre by Sir Sidney Smith. It was the dream of
Napoleon at that time to found an empire in the East, of which he would
be supreme; but he missed his destiny, and was obliged to return,
foiled, baffled, and chagrined, to Paris;--his first great
disappointment.
But he had lost no prestige, since he performed prodigies of valor, and
covered up his disasters by lying bulletins. Here he first appeared as
the arch-liar, which he was to the close of his career. In this
expedition he rendered no services to his country or to civilization,
except in the employment of scientific men to decipher the history of
Egypt,--which showed that he had an enlightened mind.
During his absence disasters had overtaken France. Italy was torn from
her grasp, her armies had been defeated, and Russia, Austria, and
England were leagued for her overthrow. Insurrection was in the
provinces, and dissensions raged in Paris. The Directory had utterly
lost public confidence, and had shown no capacity to govern. All eyes
were turned to the conqueror of Italy, and, as it was supposed, of
Egypt also.
A _coup d'état_ followed. Napoleon's soldiers drove the legislative body
from the hall, and he assumed the supreme control, under the name of
First Consul. Thus ended the Republic in November, 1799, after a brief
existence of seven years. The usurpation of a soldier began, who trod
the constitution and liberty under his iron feet. He did what Caesar and
Cromwell had done, on the plea of revolutionary necessity. He put back
the march of liberty for nearly half-a-century. His sole excuse was that
his undeniable usurpation was ratified by the votes of the French
people, intoxicated by his victories, and seeing no way to escape from
the perils which surrounded them than under his supreme guidance. They
parted with their liberties for safety. Had Napoleon been compelled to
"wade through slaughter to his throne,"--as Caesar did, as Augustus
did,--there would have been no excuse for his usurpation, except the
plea of Caesar, that liberty was impossible, and the people needed the
strong arm of despotism to sustain law and order. But Napoleon was more
adroit; he appealed to the people themselves, recognizing them as the
source of power, and they confirmed his usurpation by an
overwhelming majority.
Since he was thus the people's choice, I will not dwell on the
usurpation. He cheated them, however; for he invoked the principles of
the Revolution, and they believed him,--as they afterwards did his
nephew. They wanted a better executive government, and were willing to
try him, since he had proved his abilities; but they did not anticipate
the utter suppression of constitutional government,--they still had
faith in the principles of their Revolution. They abhorred absolutism;
they abhor it still; to destroy it they had risked their Revolution. To
the principles of the Revolution the great body of French people have
been true, when permitted to be, from the time when they hurled Louis
XVI. from the throne. Absolutism with the consent of the French nation
has passed away forever, and never can be revived, any more than the
oracles of Dodona or the bulls of Mediaeval popes.
Now let us consider whether, as the executive of the French nation, he
was true to the principles of the Revolution, which he invoked, and
which that people have ever sought to establish.
In some respects, it must be confessed, he was, and in other respects he
was not. He never sought to revive feudalism; all its abominations
perished. He did not bring back the law of entail, nor unequal
privileges, nor the _régime_ of nobles. He ruled by the laws; rewarding
merit, and encouraging what was obviously for the interests of the
nation. The lives and property of the people were protected. The _idea_
of liberty was never ignored. If liberty was suppressed to augment his
power and cement his rule, it was in the name of public necessity, as an
expression of the interests he professed to guard. When he incited his
soldiers to battle, it was always under pretence of delivering enslaved
nations and spreading the principles of the Revolution, whose product he
was. And until he assumed the imperial title most of his acts were
enlightened, and for the benefit of the people he ruled; there was no
obvious oppression on the part of government, except to provide means to
sustain the army, without which France must succumb to enemies. While he
was First Consul, it would seem that the hostility of Europe was more
directed towards France herself for having expelled the Bourbons, than
against him as a dangerous man. Europe could not forgive France for her
Revolution,--not even England; Napoleon was but the necessity which the
political complications arising from the Revolution seemed to create.
Hence, the wars which Napoleon conducted while he was First Consul were
virtually defensive, since all Europe aimed to put down France,--such a
nest of assassins and communists and theorists!--rather than to put down
Napoleon; for, although usurper, he was, strange to say, the nation's
choice as well as idol. He reigned by the will of the nation, and he
could not have reigned without. The nation gave him his power, to be
wielded to protect France, in imminent danger from foreign powers.
And wisely and grandly did he use it at first. He turned his attention
to the internal state of a distracted country, and developed its
resources and promoted tranquillity; he appointed the ablest men,
without distinction of party, for his ministers and prefects; he
restored the credit of the country; he put a stop to forced loans; he
released priests from confinement; he rebuked the fanaticism of the
ultra-revolutionists, he reorganized the public bodies; he created
tribunals of appeal; he ceased to confiscate the property of emigrants,
and opened a way for their return; he restored the right of disposing
property by will; he instituted the Bank of France on sound financial
principles; he checked all disorders; he brought to a close the
desolating war of La Vendée; he retained what was of permanent value in
the legislation of the Revolution; he made the distribution of the
public burdens easy; he paid his army, and rewarded eminent men, whom he
enlisted in his service. So stable was the government, and so wise were
the laws, and so free were all channels of industry, that prosperity
returned to the distracted country. The middle classes were particularly
benefited,--the shopkeepers and mechanics,--and they acquiesced in a
strong rule, since it seemed beneficent. The capital was enriched and
adorned and improved. A treaty with the Pope was made, by which the
clergy were restored to their parishes. A new code of laws was made by
great jurists, on the principles of the Justinian Code. A magnificent
road was constructed over the Alps. Colonial possessions were recovered.
Navies were built, fortifications repaired, canals dug, and the
beet-root and tobacco cultivated.
But these internal improvements, by which France recovered prosperity,
paled before the services which Napoleon rendered as a defender of his
country's nationality. He had proposed a peace-policy to England in an
autograph letter to the King, which was treated as an insult, and
answered by the British government by a declaration of war, to last till
the Bourbons were restored,--perhaps what Napoleon wanted and expected;
and war was renewed with Austria and England. The consulate was now
marked by the brilliant Italian campaign,--the passage over the Alps;
the battle of Marengo, gained by only thirty thousand men; the recovery
of Italy, and renewed military _éclat_. The Peace of Amiens, October,
1801, placed Napoleon in the proudest position which any modern
sovereign ever enjoyed. He was now thirty-three years of age,--supreme
in France, and powerful throughout Europe. The French were proud of a
man who was glorious both in peace and war; and his consulate had been
sullied by only one crime,--the assassination of the heir of the house
of Condé; a blunder, as Talleyrand said, rather than a crime, since it
arrayed against him all the friends of Legitimacy in Europe.
Had Napoleon been contented with the power he then enjoyed as First
Consul for life, and simply stood on the defensive, he could have made
France invincible, and would have left a name comparatively
reproachless. But we now see unmistakable evidence of boundless personal
ambition, and a policy of unscrupulous aggrandizement. He assumes the
imperial title,--greedy for the trappings as well as the reality of
power; he openly founds a new dynasty of kings; he abolishes every
trace of constitutional rule; he treads liberty under his feet, and
mocks the very ideas by which he had inspired enthusiasm in his troops;
his watchword is now not _Liberty_, but _Glory_; he centres in himself
the interests of France; he surrounds himself, at the Tuileries, with
the pomp and ceremonies of the ancient kings; and he even induces the
Pope himself to crown him at Notre Dame. It was a proud day, December 2,
1804, when, surrounded by all that was brilliant and imposing in France,
Napoleon proceeded in solemn procession to the ancient cathedral, where
were assembled the magistrates, the bishops, and the titled dignitaries
of the realm, and received, in his imperial robes, from the hands of the
Pope, the consecrated sceptre and crown of empire, and heard from the
lips of the supreme pontiff of Christendom those words which once
greeted Charlemagne in the basilica of St. Peter when the Roman clergy
proclaimed him Emperor of the West,--_Vivat in oeternum semper
Augustus_. The venerable aisles and pillars and arches of the ancient
cathedral resounded to the music of five hundred performers in a solemn
_Te Deum_. The sixty prelates of France saluted the anointed soldier as
their monarch, while the inspiring cry from the vast audience of _Vive
l'Empereur!_ announced Napoleon's entrance into the circle of European
sovereigns.
But this fresh usurpation, although confirmed by a vote of the French
people, was the signal for renewed hostilities. A coalition of all
governments unfriendly to France was formed. Military preparations
assumed a magnitude never seen before in the history of Europe, which
now speedily became one vast camp. Napoleon quit his capital to assume
the conduct of armies. He had threatened England with invasion, which he
knew was impossible, for England then had nearly one thousand ships of
war, manned by one hundred and twenty thousand men. But when Napoleon
heard of the victories of Nelson, he suddenly and rapidly marched to the
Rhine, and precipitated one hundred and eighty thousand troops upon
Austria, who was obliged to open her capital. Then, reinforced by
Russia, Austria met the invader at Austerlitz with equal forces; but
only to suffer crushing defeat. Pitt died of a broken heart when he
heard of this decisive French victory, followed shortly after by the
disastrous overthrow of the Prussians at Jena, and that, again, by the
victory of Eylau over the Russians, which secured the peace of Tilsit,
1807,--making Napoleon supreme on the continent of Europe at the age of
thirty-nine. It was deemed idle to resist further this "man of destiny,"
who in twelve years, from the condition of an unemployed officer of
artillery, without friends or family or influence, had subdued in turn
all the monarchies of Europe, with the exception of England and Russia,
and regulated at his pleasure the affairs of distant courts. To what an
eminence had he climbed! Nothing in history or romance approaches the
facts of his amazing career.
And even down to this time--to the peace of Tilsit--there are no grave
charges against him which history will not extenuate, aside from the
egotism of his character. He claims that he fought for French
nationality, in danger from the united hostilities of Europe. Certainly
his own glory was thus far identified with the glory of his country. He
had rescued France by a series of victories more brilliant than had been
achieved for centuries. He had won a fame second to that of no conqueror
in the world's history.
But these astonishing successes seem to have turned his head. He is
dazzled by his own greatness, and intoxicated by the plaudits of his
idolaters. He proudly and coldly says that "it is a proof of the
weakness of the human understanding for any one to dream of resisting
him." He now aims at a universal military monarchy; he seeks to make the
kings of the earth his vassals; he places the members of his family,
whether worthy or unworthy, on ancient thrones; he would establish on
the banks of the Seine that central authority which once emanated from
Rome; he apes the imperial Caesars in the arrogance of his tone and the
insolence of his demands; he looks upon Europe as belonging to himself;
he becomes a tyrant of the race; he centres in the gratification of his
passions the interests of humanity; he becomes the angry Nemesis of
Europe, indifferent to the sufferings of mankind and the peace of
the world.
After the peace of Tilsit his whole character seems to have changed,
even in little things. No longer is he affable and courteous, but
silent, reserved, and sullen. His temper becomes bad; his brow is
usually clouded; his manners are brusque; his egotism is transcendent.
"Your first duty," said he to his brother Louis, when he made him king
of Holland, "is to _me_; your second, to France." He becomes intolerably
haughty, even to the greatest personages. He insults the ladies of the
court, and pinches their ears, so that they feel relieved when he has
passed them by. He no longer flatters, but expects incense from
everybody. In his bursts of anger he breaks china and throws his coat
into the fire. He turns himself into a master of ceremonies; he cheats
at cards; he persecutes literary men.
Napoleon's career of crime is now consummated. He divorces
Josephine,--the greatest mistake of his life. He invades Spain and
Russia, against the expostulations of his wisest counsellors, showing
that he has lost his head, that reason has toppled on her throne,--for
he fancies himself more powerful than the forces of Nature. All these
crimes are utterly inexcusable, except on the plea of madness. Such
gigantic crimes, such a recklessness of life, such uncontrollable
ambition, such a defiance of justice, such an abrogation of treaties,
such a disregard of the interests of humanity, to say nothing of the
welfare of France, prostituted, enslaved, down-trodden,--and all to
nurse his diabolical egotism,--astonished and shocked the whole
civilized world. These things more than balanced all the services he
ever rendered, since they directly led to the exhaustion of his country.
They were so atrocious that they cried aloud to Heaven for vengeance.
And Heaven heard the agonizing shrieks of misery which ascended from the
smoking ruins of Moscow, from the bloody battlefield of Borodino, from
the river Berezina, from the homes of the murdered soldiers, from the
widows and orphans of more than a million of brave men who had died to
advance his glory, from the dismal abodes of twenty-five millions more
whom he had cheated out of their liberties and mocked with his ironical
proclamations; yea, from the millions in Prussia, Austria, and England
who had been taxed to the uttermost to defeat him, and had died martyrs
to the cause of nationalities, or what we call the Balance of Power,
which European statesmen have ever found it necessary to maintain at any
cost, since on this balance hang the interests of feeble and
defenceless nations. Ay, Heaven heard,--the God whom he ignored,--and
sent a retribution as signal and as prompt and as awful as his victories
had been overwhelming.
I need not describe Napoleon's fall,--as clear a destiny as his rise; a
lesson to all the future tyrants and conquerors of the world; a moral to
be pondered as long as history shall be written. Hear, ye heavens! and
give ear, O earth! to the voice of eternal justice, as it appealed to
universal consciousness, and pronounced the doom of the greatest sinner
of modern times,--to be defeated by the aroused and indignant nations,
to lose his military prestige, to incur unexampled and bitter
humiliation, to be repudiated by the country he had raised to such a
pitch of greatness, to be dethroned, to be imprisoned at Elba, to be
confined on the rock of St. Helena, to be at last forced to meditate,
and to die with vultures at his heart,--a chained Prometheus, rebellious
and defiant to the last, with a world exultant at his fall; a hopeless
and impressive fall, since it broke for fifty years the charm of
military glory, and showed that imperialism cannot be endured among
nations craving for liberties and rights which are the birthright of
our humanity.
Did Napoleon, then, live in vain? No great man lives in vain. He is
ever, whether good or bad, the instrument of Divine Providence, Gustavus
Adolphus was the instrument of God in giving religious liberty to
Germany. William the Silent was His instrument in achieving the
independence of Holland. Washington was His instrument in giving dignity
and freedom to this American nation, this home of the oppressed, this
glorious theatre for the expansion of unknown energies and the adoption
of unknown experiments. Napoleon was His instrument in freeing France
from external enemies, and for vindicating the substantial benefits of
an honest but uncontrolled Revolution. He was His instrument in arousing
Italy from the sleep of centuries, and taking the first step to secure a
united nation and a constitutional government. He was His instrument in
overthrowing despotism among the petty kings of Germany, and thus
showing the necessity of a national unity,--at length realized by the
genius of Bismarck. Even in his crimes Napoleon stands out on the
sublime pages of history as the instrument of Providence, since his
crimes were overruled in the hatred of despotism among his own subjects,
and a still greater hatred of despotism as exercised by those kings who
finally subdued him, and who vainly attempted to turn back the progress
of liberal sentiments by their representatives at the Congress
of Vienna.
The fall of Napoleon taught some awful and impressive lessons to
humanity, which would have been unlearned had he continued to be
successful to the end. It taught the utter vanity of military glory;
that peace with neighbors is the greatest of national blessings, and war
the greatest of evils; that no successes on the battlefield can
compensate for the miseries of an unjust and unnecessary war; and that
avenging justice will sooner or later overtake the wickedness of a
heartless egotism. It taught the folly of worshipping mere outward
strength, disconnected from goodness; and, finally, it taught that God
will protect defenceless nations, and even guilty nations, when they
shall have expiated their crimes and follies, and prove Himself the kind
Father of all His children, even amid chastisements, gradually leading
them, against their will, to that blessed condition when swords shall be
beaten into ploughshares, and nations shall learn war no more.
What remains to-day of those grand Napoleonic ideas which intoxicated
France for twenty years, and which, revived by Louis Napoleon, led to a
brief glory and an infamous fall, and the humiliation and impoverishment
of the most powerful state of Europe? They are synonymous with
imperialism, personal government, the absolute reign of a single man,
without constitutional checks,--a return to Caesarism, to the
unenlightened and selfish despotism of Pagan Rome. And hence they are
now repudiated by France herself,--as well as by England and
America,--as false, as selfish, as fatal to all true national progress,
as opposed to every sentiment which gives dignity to struggling States,
as irreconcilably hostile to the civilization which binds nations
together, and which slowly would establish liberty, and peace, and
industry, and equal privileges, and law, and education, and material
prosperity, upon this fallen world.