29 files changed, 58323 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9f57f44
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,13 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
+*.htm text
+*.html text
+*.png binary
+*.jpg binary
+*.svg text
+*.pdf binary
+*.bmp binary
+*.zip binary
+*.midi binary
+*.mp3 binary
diff --git a/79253-0.txt b/79253-0.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..78e47b5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-0.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,26998 @@
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79253 ***
+
+
+
+
+NAPOLEON
+
+    Napoleon went forth to seek Virtue, but, since she was not to
+    be found, he got Power.—GOETHE.
+
+
+
+
+                                 NAPOLEON
+
+                              [Illustration]
+
+                                   _By_
+                                EMIL LUDWIG
+
+                              _Translated by_
+                           EDEN _and_ CEDAR PAUL
+
+                                 NEW YORK
+                             BONI & LIVERIGHT
+                                   1926
+
+                            Copyright, 1926, by
+                         BONI AND LIVERIGHT, INC.
+
+                      First Printing, December, 1926
+                      Second Printing, January, 1927
+                      Third Printing, January, 1927
+                      Fourth Printing, March, 1927
+                      Fifth Printing, May, 1927
+                      Sixth Printing, July, 1927
+                      Seventh Printing, September, 1927
+                      Eighth Printing, November, 1927
+                      Ninth Printing, December, 1927
+                      Tenth Printing, December, 1927
+                      Eleventh Printing, January, 1928
+                      Twelfth Printing, January, 1928
+                      Thirteenth Printing, March, 1928
+
+                        PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. BY
+                        QUINN & BODEN COMPANY, INC.
+                               RAHWAY, N. J.
+
+
+
+
+_To_
+
+ELGA LUDWIG
+
+_Moscia. Summer 1924_
+
+
+
+
+TABLE OF CONTENTS
+
+
+                               PAGE
+
+  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS          ix
+
+  CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE            xi
+
+               BOOK ONE
+
+  THE ISLAND                      3
+
+               BOOK TWO
+
+  THE TORRENT                    55
+
+              BOOK THREE
+
+  THE RIVER                     165
+
+              BOOK FOUR
+
+  THE SEA                       357
+
+              BOOK FIVE
+
+  THE ROCK                      545
+
+  ENVOY                         679
+
+  AUTHOR’S ACKNOWLEDGMENTS      683
+
+  INDEX                         685
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                                                               FACING PAGE
+
+  Buonaparte in 1783. The first known portrait, drawn by his
+    fellow-countryman Pontornini. Musée Nationale, Versailles            4
+
+  General Bonaparte in 1797. After a painting by Jean Guérin.
+    Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris                                       36
+      (From the “Corpus Imaginum” of the Photographic Society,
+        Charlottenburg.)
+
+  General Bonaparte in 1796. Engraving from the Kircheisen
+    Collection                                                          68
+
+  General Bonaparte. Unfinished portrait by Jacques Louis David.
+    From the collection of the Duke of Bassano                         100
+      (Photograph by Braun, Paris and Dornach.)
+
+  General Bonaparte in 1797. Drawing by Wocher in Basle. Town
+    Library, Basle                                                     140
+
+  General Bonaparte in 1798, during the voyage to Egypt. Sketch
+    by André Dutertre                                                  156
+
+  Bonaparte as First Consul. Painting by Girodet. Musée Nationale,
+    Versailles                                                         196
+      (Photograph in the Kircheisen Collection.)
+
+  Bonaparte as First Consul. Pencil sketch by J. D. A. Ingres.
+    Germain Bapst Collection                                           228
+      (Photograph in the Kircheisen Collection.)
+
+  Bonaparte in 1802, as First Consul. Engraving by Alexandre
+    Tardieu. After a drawing by Jean Baptiste Isabey                   260
+
+  Bonaparte as First Consul. Painting by J. D. A. Ingres. Musée
+    de Liége                                                           292
+      (Photograph by Braun, Paris and Dornach.)
+
+  The Coronation. Detail from the picture by Jacques Louis David.
+    Louvre, Paris                                                      324
+      (Photograph in the Kircheisen Collection.)
+
+  Napoleon as Emperor. Painting by Vigneux. Count Primoli Collection   356
+      (From the “Corpus Imaginum” of the Photographic Society,
+        Charlottenburg.)
+
+  Napoleon as Emperor. Bust by Houdon, Musée de Dijon                  388
+      (Photograph by J. E. Bulloz, Paris.)
+
+  The Emperor’s profile. Sketched during Mass in the Tuileries.
+    Germain Bapst Collection                                           420
+      (Photograph in the Kircheisen Collection.)
+
+  Napoleon as Emperor in 1809. Woodcut from a medal by J. P. Droz      452
+
+  Napoleon as Emperor. Engraving by Bourgeois, after a painting
+    by Jacques Louis David                                             484
+      (From the “Corpus Imaginum” of the Photographic Society,
+        Charlottenburg.)
+
+  Napoleon as Emperor in 1814. Painting by Horace Vernet. Tate
+    Gallery, London                                                    516
+      (From the “Corpus Imaginum” of the Photographic Society,
+        Charlottenburg.)
+
+  Napoleon as Emperor in 1815. Engraving by Robert Lefèvre, after
+    a painting by Muneret                                              548
+
+  Napoleon as Emperor in 1815. Woodcut, after a medal                  580
+
+  Napoleon at St. Helena. Watercolour painting, probably by
+    a Japanese, with a marginal inscription in Chinese
+    ideographs concerning the owner. Broadley Collection               612
+
+  Death mask of Napoleon. By Dr. Antommarchi                           644
+
+
+
+
+CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE
+
+
+BOOK ONE
+
+  1769.   August 15th, Napoleon born.
+  1779.   At School in Brienne.
+  1784.   At the military academy.
+  1785.   Sub-lieutenant of artillery.
+  1789.   To Corsica.
+  1791.   April, lieutenant in Valence.
+          October, to Corsica.
+  1792.   Putsch in Ajaccio. Banishment.
+  1793.   Captain. Siege of Toulon.
+  1794.   February, brigadier general.
+          August, arrested.
+  1795.   June, at the Ministry for War.
+          October, suppression of the Paris rising.
+          Commander of the Army of the Interior.
+  1796.   March 2nd, Commander of the Army of Italy.
+          March 6th, married to Josephine Beauharnais.
+
+
+BOOK TWO
+
+  1796-7. Battles of Millesimo, Castiglione, Arcola, Rivoli, Mantua.
+  1797.   At the castle of Montebello.
+          Peace of Campo Formio.
+  1798.   In Paris till May.
+          May 19th, embarcation for Egypt.
+          Battle of the Pyramids.
+  1799.   Jaffa, Acre, Aboukir.
+          October 7th, landing in France.
+          November 9th, coup d’état of the eighteenth Brumaire.
+          December 24th, First Consul.
+
+
+BOOK THREE
+
+  1800.   June 14th, battle of Marengo.
+          December 24th, attempted assassination.
+  1801.   Peace of Lunéville.
+          Concordat with Pius VII.
+  1802.   Peace with England.
+          Consul for life. Legion of Honour.
+  1804.   March 21st, duke of Enghien shot.
+          May 18th, assumption of imperial title.
+          December 2nd, coronation.
+  1805.   October, Trafalgar.
+          November, Vienna taken.
+          December 2nd, battle of Austerlitz.
+          Peace of Pressburg.
+  1806.   Confederation of the Rhine. Joseph, King of Naples.
+          Louis, King of Holland.
+          October 14th, battle of Jena.
+          Berlin. Continental System.
+  1807.   Battles of Preussisch-Eylau and Friedland.
+          June 7th, treaty of Tilsit.
+          Jerome, King of Westphalia.
+  1808.   Rome. Madrid. Bayonne. Joseph, King of Spain. Murat, King of
+            Naples.
+  1809.   Excommunication. Battles of Aspern-Essling, Wagram, and Vienna.
+  1810.   January, divorce.
+          April, married to Marie Louise.
+  1811.   March 20th, birth of his son.
+
+
+BOOK FOUR
+
+  1812.   Battles of Smolensk, Borodino, Vittoria, Moscow.
+          December, return to Paris.
+  1813.   April, battles of Lützen and Bautzen.
+          July, battle of Dresden.
+          October 16th to 18th, battle of Leipzig.
+  1814.   Battles of Brienne, La Rothière, Champaubert, Montereau,
+            Bas-sur-Aube, Laon, Arcis-sur-Aube.
+          April 6th, abdication in Fontainebleau.
+          April 20th, embarcation for Elba.
+  1815.   February 26th, sails from Elba.
+          March 13th, outlawed.
+          March 20th, Paris.
+          June, battles of Ligny and Waterloo.
+          June 23rd, second abdication.
+          July 13th, letter to the prince regent.
+          July 31st, declared a prisoner.
+
+
+BOOK FIVE
+
+  1815.   October 17th, arrival in St. Helena.
+  1821.   May 5th, death.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK ONE
+
+THE ISLAND
+
+    The story of Napoleon produces on me an impression like that
+    produced by the Revelation of Saint John the Divine. We all
+    feel there must be something more in it, but we do not know
+    what.—GOETHE.
+
+
+I
+
+A young woman is sitting in a tent. Wrapped in a shawl, she is suckling
+her baby, and listening to a distant rumbling and roaring. Are they still
+shooting, though night has fallen? Maybe it is only the sound of one of
+those autumn thunderstorms whose echoes reverberate from the mountains;
+or perhaps it is nothing more than the murmur from the surrounding forest
+of pines and evergreen oaks, where foxes and wild swine have their lairs.
+She looks like a gipsy, sitting there with her white breast half covered
+by the shawl, brooding within the murky tent, uncertain what the fate of
+the day may have been. Now she hears the sound of hoof-beats. Is it he?
+He promised to come; but it is a long way from the fighting line, and the
+mists are rising.
+
+The flap of the tent is thrown open, letting in a breath of night air.
+A man enters. An officer in a coloured tunic and wearing a plumed
+head-dress; a slim fellow, nimble of movement; a young patrician, in the
+middle twenties. He greets the woman ardently. Springing to her feet,
+she gives the nursling to her maid. Wine is brought. Taking the kerchief
+from her head, she stands before him, showing chestnut ringlets astray
+on a smooth, white brow. An eager question is on her well-shaped lips.
+Add to the picture that she has a long chin, a sign of energy; that her
+aquiline nose is thrown into relief by the firelight; and that on her hip
+there gleams the dagger which in this mountain land she never lays aside.
+We see a lovely amazon, daughter of an ancient race, sprung from men of
+action and resolution. The woman’s forebears, like the man’s, have for
+centuries been leaders and warriors; first across the water in Italy, and
+then in this craggy island.
+
+But now, when all have gathered together against the hated enemy, have
+joined forces in the attempt to drive out the French, here, in the
+wildest part of the mountains, whither the brave girl of nineteen has
+followed the husband fighting for their fatherland; who, now, could
+recognise in her the brilliant patrician, the magnet of all eyes? Here,
+nothing but pride and courage show that she is of noble birth.
+
+The man, full of life and vigour, ever in movement, tells her all his
+news. The enemy has been beaten, driven back towards the coast. There is
+no escape. Envoys have been sent to Paoli.
+
+“There will be a truce to-morrow. Letizia, we are winning! Corsica will
+be free!”
+
+Every Corsican longs for many children. It is a land where an affront is
+instantly avenged by a dagger thrust; where the vendetta is sacred; where
+family feuds last from decade to decade and from century to century. The
+man before us wants many children, to ensure that his race shall persist;
+and the woman has learned from mother and grandmother that children are
+tokens of honour. She had become a mother at fifteen; but the baby she
+has just been nursing was her first boy.
+
+The thought of freedom glows afresh, for the officer is adjutant to
+Paoli, the leader of the people.
+
+“No longer shall our children be the slaves of France!”
+
+
+II
+
+With the coming of spring, despondency prevails. The enemy has landed
+reinforcements; the children of the island take up arms once more; again
+the young wife accompanies her husband to the war; this time she carries
+a child beneath her heart, the child conceived during the storms of the
+previous autumn.
+
+“Often, in search of news, I would steal forth from our mountain nook to
+the battle-field; I heard the bullets whistling, but I put my trust in
+Our Lady”—so she would tell the story in later years.
+
+[Illustration: Buonaparte in 1783. The first known portrait, drawn by his
+fellow-countryman Pontornini. Musée Nationale, Versailles.]
+
+In May, the Corsicans were defeated. There was a terrible retreat
+through the dense forests and the rugged mountains. Among the multitude
+of men and the few women, rode Letizia, big with child, carrying her
+one-year-old boy in her arms, seated on a mule. They reached the coast
+safely. In June the defeated Paoli, accompanied by a few hundred of his
+faithful followers, had to flee to Italy. In July Paoli’s adjutant,
+Letizia’s husband, with other envoys, capitulated to the conqueror. The
+insular pride was humbled. But in August his wife brought the avenger
+into the world.
+
+She named him Napolione.
+
+This woman, who during the campaign had played the heroine and had
+shown a man’s courage, must now, in the great house by the seashore,
+become a prudent and thrifty housewife. Her young husband, fanciful by
+temperament, lived more on plans than on income. For years his energies
+were mainly devoted to the great lawsuit concerning his inheritance.
+As a student in Pisa, where among his fellows he was known as Count
+Buonaparte, he had lived well but learned little. After the birth of
+his second son, he cut his studies short. How was he to make a living?
+In troublous times, a man of the world takes the world as it is; comes
+to terms with the conqueror; all the more since the French, in order to
+secure their footing in the island, are inclined to show favour to the
+Corsican nobility.
+
+Soon he becomes assessor in the new law-courts; superintendent of a
+nursery in which the king of France, eager to turn the new possessions to
+account, wishes to grow mulberries; and when the distinguished marshal
+comes to stay, no expense must be spared. There are still flocks of sheep
+in the hills and vineyards along the coast; his brother, archdeacon
+at the cathedral, is well-to-do; and his wife’s half brother, another
+priest, a merchant’s son, is skilled in worldly affairs.
+
+By the time his proud and beautiful wife has reached her thirties, five
+boys and three girls have been born to her. This is well accordant to the
+notions of the islanders, for whom rivalries and vendettas are supreme
+virtues. But the rearing of eight children is a costly matter; so, day
+by day, the youngsters hear their parents talking about money. At length,
+however, the father finds a way out of his difficulties. Accompanied by
+his two eldest sons, now ten and eleven years of age, he sails to France,
+and journeys from Toulon to Versailles.
+
+He brings recommendations from the marshal in Corsica. The Buonapartes’
+Italian title of nobility is confirmed by the Herald’s College in
+Paris. To the Corsican official who has been loyal for a decade, King
+Louis makes a grant of two thousand francs. The two sons and one of the
+daughters are given scholarships in the Nobles’ Schools. One son is to be
+a priest; the other, an officer.
+
+
+III
+
+A taciturn boy, small, shy, and lonely, sits reading in a corner of the
+garden. It is his own plot in the school garden at Brienne, and he has
+made a fence round it. Really, only a third of the enclosure is his
+own, for he has fenced in the plots of neighbours on either side. They
+may come in too; but woe to any one else who disturbs his privacy! He
+rushes furiously at the intruder. A little while ago, when the boys had
+had a fireworks’ display, two of his schoolmates, who had been slightly
+burned, had run away to his garden for refuge. He had driven them out,
+flourishing a hoe at them.
+
+No punishment will bring him to reason in this matter. The masters shake
+their heads and let him go his own way.
+
+“The youngster is made of granite,” says one of them, “but there is a
+volcano inside.”
+
+No one may touch this little kingdom of his in the garden, though part of
+it is usurped. He has an ardent feeling for his own independence. Writing
+to his father, he says: “I would rather be the first among the workmen
+in a factory than the last among the artists in the Academy.” Did he get
+the idea out of Plutarch? Certainly he has an enthusiasm for that author,
+the lives of the great men as sketched by Plutarch, especially the Roman
+heroes. Of these, he is always dreaming. No one tells us that he ever saw
+this boy laugh.
+
+To his schoolfellows he seems half a savage, or at best a queer
+foreigner. He knows scarcely a word of French, and has little inclination
+to learn the language of the foe. What a tiny little chap he is, and what
+a ridiculous name! His coat is too long. No pocket-money, nothing to
+spend, and yet he claims to be of noble birth! The scions of the French
+nobility laugh. Who cares about Corsican noblemen?
+
+“If you Corsicans are such brave fellows, why did you let yourselves be
+beaten by our unconquerable troops?”
+
+“We were one to ten,” the lad angrily exclaims. “You just wait till I’m
+grown up, and I will pay you Frenchmen out!”
+
+“Your father is nothing more than a sergeant, after all!”
+
+An outburst of wrath from the boy, who challenges his tormentor. The
+young Napoleon is “kept in.” He writes to his father: “I am tired of
+explaining my poverty; of having to endure the mockery of these foreign
+boys, whose only superiority is in respect of money, for in nobility of
+feeling they are far beneath me. Must I really humble myself before these
+purse-proud fellows?” The answer from the island is: “We have no money.
+You must stay where you are.”
+
+He stays five years; and, just as his revolutionary feeling is
+intensified by every slight, so does his self-confidence grow
+proportionally with the growth of his contempt for his fellows. The
+masters, indeed, monks one and all, have a good opinion of him, although
+he does not make much headway except in mathematics, history, and
+geography—subjects which appeal to a precise mind, a seeing eye, and
+also to the bitterness of spirit characteristic of one who belongs to a
+conquered race.
+
+For always his thoughts turn back to his native island. In secret, he is
+angry with his father for having come to terms with the French. He has
+made up his own mind. He will get all he can out of the king at whose
+cost he now pursues his studies, so that in due time he may use the
+knowledge against his patron. He has a presentiment that some day he will
+set Corsica free. As yet all the lad of fourteen can do is to pore over
+books about his homeland, for he who would make history must first study
+history. He devours, too, all that Voltaire, Rousseau, and the great
+king of Prussia shortly before his death, have written on behalf of the
+liberation of Corsica.
+
+Such a boy as this—solitary, suspicious, questing and rebellious,
+brooding rancorously over vast designs—what is he likely to become?
+Precociously thoughtful; endowed with a knowledge of men that is beyond
+his years. When Joseph, his elder brother, wishes to abandon the priestly
+career and to adopt the profession of arms, the youngster writes of him:
+“1. He lacks courage to brave the perils of the battle-field.—He will
+be a good garrison officer: well-grown and handsome, quick-witted and
+therefore inclined to pay frivolous compliments, with his talents he
+will always make a good impression in society. But in battle? 2. ’Tis
+too late to make a change. He might have got a rich benefice, and what
+an advantage that would have been to the family! 3. What branch of the
+service will he enter? The navy? (a) He knows nothing of mathematics;
+(b) his health could never endure life at sea. He is too light-minded
+for the sustained work that will be needed if he is to be an artillery
+officer.” These are the reflections of a fifteen-year-old observer, who
+sees in himself the qualities that his brother lacks; and it is a perfect
+description of Joseph, who was, indeed, his father’s son.
+
+From this same father, Napoleon had inherited versatility and a vigorous
+imagination; from his mother came pride, courage, and accuracy; from both
+was derived his strong family feeling.
+
+
+IV
+
+“Only the sword-belt belongs to France; the edge is my own,” thinks
+the youth, as he first buckles on his sword. At sixteen he has become
+a sub-lieutenant—and he will don uniform a good many more times before
+he dies. He has qualified for this rank by a year in the Paris Cadets’
+School, where he spent his time as he had spent it at Brienne, poring
+over books. A lad of Spartan tastes, he finds the prodigal expenditure
+of the sprigs of the French nobility (by whom he is utterly outshone)
+extremely distasteful. Since, however, nature sets him, even more than
+most young men, in the centre of his own world, he makes a virtue of
+necessity, and pens a memorial to the effect that luxurious living is
+unsuitable for budding soldiers. He must not get into debt, for he
+knows how poor they are at home. Now, when his father dies, the family
+affection of this Italian becomes intensified. Though little more than a
+boy, he begins to save money in order to help his mother.
+
+After his examination, passed with fair credit, his superiors wrote
+of him: “Reserved and diligent, he prefers study to any kind of
+conversation, and nourishes his mind upon good authors.... He is
+taciturn, with a love for solitude; is moody, overbearing, and extremely
+egotistical. Though he speaks little, his answers are decisive and to
+the point, and he excels in argument. Much self-love, and overweening
+ambition.”
+
+Clad in his new uniform, the little sub-lieutenant goes to join his
+regiment at Valence, compelled by his poverty to walk a great part of the
+way. Three impulses stir his youthful heart: to despise and make use of
+his fellow-creatures, most of whom are empty-headed and pretentious; to
+extricate himself from the clutches of poverty; to learn much in order
+that he may rule others. The means and the goal are one. He is to be a
+leader in the struggle on the island, and then to make himself master of
+Corsica.
+
+How dull life is in this garrison town! Of course, a young man should
+learn to dance, should taste the pleasures of lively society. He tries
+this, but soon abandons the attempt, for his teeming pride makes him want
+to hide his poverty. However, any one who holds converse with members
+of the burgher class, lawyers and shopkeepers, hears strange talk, gets
+wind of things that the young viscounts in Paris never dream of. Is it
+really true? Has the spirit of Voltaire’s and Montesquieu’s, and Raynal’s
+writings actually climbed down so soon, to stalk among the provincial
+petty bourgeois? Is the movement which these prophets were conjuring up
+now seriously afoot? Can it be that the revolution is at hand?
+
+Books clamour it abroad. Reading is free as breathing; and when a man
+has read all the books in the lending library, he can spare a franc or
+two now and again to buy a new book. True, the youth lodges in a café,
+and the clicking of the billiard balls in the next room is tiresome.
+But it would be still more tiresome to move. In personal habits, he is
+conservative.
+
+What about his sentiments? Judge for yourselves. Like every young man
+of his generation, he is keenly interested in the State and society.
+There he sits in the room next the billiard-room; pale, lonely, in a hot
+and stuffy atmosphere. While his comrades, after their short hours of
+duty, scatter to seek distraction in gaming or the pursuit of women, the
+impoverished lieutenant bends over his books, reading with sure instinct
+about the things (and those only) that will be of use to him in days
+to come: artillery, its principles and its history; the art of siege;
+Plato’s _Republic_; the constitution of the Persian, the Athenian, the
+Spartan State; the history of England; the campaigns of Frederick the
+Great; French finances; the Tartars and the Turks, their manners and
+customs, and the topography of their countries; the history of Egypt
+and the history of Carthage; descriptions of India; English accounts of
+contemporary France: Mirabeau, Buffon, and Machiavelli; the history and
+the constitution of Switzerland; the history and constitution of China,
+India, the Inca State; the history of the nobility and the story of
+patrician misdeeds; astronomy, geology, and meteorology; the laws of the
+growth of population; statistics of mortality.
+
+He did not simply flutter the pages of his books, but was an attentive
+reader. There is extant a whole series of copy-books containing
+Napoleon’s notes, penned in an almost illegible handwriting. The contents
+of these, reprinted, occupies four hundred pages. Here we find a map of
+the Saxon heptarchy with a list of the kings for three centuries; item,
+the varieties of foot-race in ancient Crete; item, lists of the Hellenic
+fortresses in Asia Minor; item, the dates of twenty-seven caliphs, with a
+note of the strength of their cavalry, and an account of the misconduct
+of their wives.
+
+Especially frequent are memoranda concerning Egypt and India, including
+even the measurements of the Great Pyramid and a catalogue of Brahminical
+sects. He copies a passage from Raynal: “In view of the position of
+Egypt, lying betwixt two seas, and in fact betwixt the East and the West,
+Alexander the Great conceived the design of establishing the capital of
+his worldwide empire in that country, and of making Egypt the centre of
+world commerce. This most enlightened of the conquerors had realised that
+if there was any practicable way of amalgamating his conquests into one
+consolidated State, it was by this use of Egypt, created as a point of
+union between Africa, Asia, and Europe.” Thirty years later, he still had
+the words by heart. He had read them so often.
+
+At this date, too, he begins original composition, drafting more than a
+dozen essays and projects: the placing of artillery; suicide; monarchical
+authority; the inequality of men; and Corsica, above all, Corsica—each
+were the topics. Rousseau, the most popular author of those days, is
+pulverised by Napoleon’s realism. The young officer is epitomising
+Rousseau’s views on the origin of the human race (in the _Discours sur
+l’origine et les fondements de l’inégalité parmi les hommes_), but
+abruptly he breaks off the epitome with the comment: “I don’t believe
+a word of this.” Then come a couple of pages filled with his own
+counterstatement. Human beings were not, to begin with, solitary; nor
+were they nomadic. They were happy, and lived apart, because they were
+not numerous enough to be forced into close contact. When the population
+grew more thick upon the ground, “then imagination came forth from the
+cave in which for so long it had been prisoned: self-confidence, passion,
+and pride reared their heads; there arose ambitious men with pale
+features, who took control of affairs, and mastered the multicoloured
+young popinjays, the Lotharios and lady-killers.”
+
+Do not we already hear him rattling his chains, in the dark cavern where
+he himself is prisoned with his titanic imagination? Do not we see the
+fancy portrait of the young author, pale of visage, full of hatred for
+the brilliant lady-killers who are his messmates?
+
+Away from these fellows, who are Frenchmen! His gaze is still fixed upon
+his native isle, and it is to the advantage of Corsica that he twists the
+new sociological outlooks. We read in one of the essays: “How absurd to
+declare that divine laws forbid us to shake off a usurper’s yoke! Were
+that so, then every regicide who has clambered into the vacant throne
+would be under God’s protection, whereas in case of failure he would have
+lost his head. With how much better right, then, can a people drive out a
+usurping prince! Does not this speak for Corsicans?... Thus we can shake
+off the yoke of France, just as we shook off the yoke of Genoa. Amen.”
+
+Meanwhile, the fledgling genius wished to try its wings, and this
+urge led Napoleon to draft a novel on Corsica, and also some short
+stories. All were animated by hatred of France, but none of them were
+ever finished. Still he was learning his trade, spurred on by poverty,
+passion, and sentiment. Imagination rules the world, but cannons are the
+instrument whereby imagination realises its purposes. “I have no refuge
+but my work. I only change my linen once a week. Since I was ill, I have
+slept very little.... I eat only once a day.”
+
+He studies ordnance and munitions of war, always thinking in figures, so
+that every one says that he is a born mathematician. Now, side by side
+with the drafts of works of imagination, he draws up specifications of
+all the localities in the island where he would place batteries, dig
+trenches, station troops—if he had but the power! Beneath the network of
+poetical thoughts with which he has covered the island, he spreads over
+his maps a second network, wherein crosses denote big guns. Maps, maps!
+In his room beside the noisy café, he restudies everything conceivable,
+copies whole speeches out of the report of the parliamentary proceedings
+at Westminster, and sketches the remotest parts of the earth. At the end
+of the last of his copy-books, the final entry runs: “St. Helena, a small
+island in the Atlantic Ocean. English colony.”
+
+At this juncture he received a letter from his mother. Her powerful
+patron, the marshal, was dead; the house had lost its main prop; the
+mulberry orchard was no longer to be a means of livelihood; Joseph had
+no paid occupation; could the second son give any help? Shortly after
+this appeal reached him, he went home on furlough. Are we to consider him
+an unacknowledged conqueror, returning to the island of his plans and
+dreams? Read what he wrote in his diary:
+
+“Always alone, though in the midst of men, I go back home that I may
+give myself up to my lonely dreams and to the waves of my melancholy.
+Whither, now, do my gloomy thoughts tend? Towards death. Yet I stand
+on the threshold of life, and may reasonably expect to draw breath for
+many, many years. For the last six or seven years I have been far away
+from my country. How great the joy—to see my own people once more!—What
+demon, then, is it that tempts me to self-destruction?—Since misfortune
+dogs my footsteps, and nothing gives me pleasure, why should I go on
+bearing a life in which, for me, everything goes awry?—What a tragedy in
+the homeland? My fellow-countrymen, in chains, kiss the hand that beats
+them.—Proud, buoyed up by a sense of his own worth, so lived of yore the
+happy Corsican, giving his days to the service of the State, and spending
+his nights in the arms of his beloved wife—the nights which nature and
+affection made divine for him. With the disappearance of freedom, those
+happy times have vanished like a dream. Frenchmen, not only have you
+stolen from us our greatest good, but now you are corrupting our morals!
+That is how I see my country, and yet I am powerless to help. Are there
+not reasons enough for quitting a world in which I must glorify those
+whom I hate?—If it were but the life of one individual which stood
+between us and our liberties, I should not be slow to act.—Life has
+become a burden to me, I have no enjoyment, nothing but pain,—and because
+I cannot live after my own fashion, everything is loathsome to me.”
+
+
+V
+
+After a year spent in Corsica, a year rendered gloomy by money troubles
+and family cares, he was still in this mood of despair when his furlough
+expired. He returned not to Valence, but to Auxonne. What did the change
+matter?
+
+But, at last, recognition comes. His new general, who sees that this
+subaltern of nineteen is well informed, puts into his hands the task of
+carrying out some works upon the parade ground. “Difficult calculations
+are involved; and so, for the last ten days, I have been busied from
+morning till night at the head of two hundred men. This unusual
+preferment has given some of my superiors a spite against me. They are
+furious that so important a job should have been taken out of their hands
+and given to a lieutenant.”
+
+The old depression recurs. Promotion will be desperately slow, and when
+he becomes a captain he will be retired on half-pay. He will return home,
+to be despised because he is a pensioner of the French. At long last,
+he will be buried in his native soil. Of that privilege, at least, the
+French cannot rob him! Were they, then, nothing but froth, the dreams of
+liberty revealed in the books he had read? If mighty France herself was
+unable to shake off the yoke of the nobility, to rid herself of venality
+and nepotism, how was poor little Corsica to shake off the French tyranny?
+
+The young author fills his diary with new schemes. He would have had
+to pay heavily for it if the book had fallen into the hands of his
+superiors. “Draft for a memorial concerning monarchical authority. Set
+forth details as to the usurped power which kings enjoy to-day in the
+twelve monarchies of Europe. There are few of them who have not merited
+dethronement.” Thus does he vent his spleen in the faithful diary; whilst
+in public on every royal birthday, dressed in gala uniform, he must join
+in the cry: Long live the king!
+
+Another year of his youth is spent in the dull routine of such service,
+while Napoleon holds his peace and waits, dividing his energies between
+imaginative writing and mathematics.
+
+The year of destiny has opened. Into the most out-of-the-way regions of
+the slumbering province comes the presage of the trumpets that are about
+to sound. We are in the month of June 1789. The melancholy lieutenant
+feels that the day of vengeance draws near. Is the arrogance of those who
+have so long humiliated him, to bring destruction upon their own heads?
+May it not be that the call of the myriads is also the battle-cry of the
+island? He takes his _Letters on Corsica_; sends them to his admired
+exemplar Paoli, in exile; and writes:
+
+“General! I came into the world when my country was perishing. My cradle
+was surrounded by men with the death-rattle in their throats, and by
+those whom despair had driven to tears.... With them, hope vanished.
+Slavery was the reward of our subjugation. To justify themselves, the
+traitors have heaped calumnies upon you.... When I read this, my blood
+boiled, and I resolved to scatter the mists. Now I shall blacken with
+the brush of shame all who have betrayed the common cause.... If I lived
+in the capital, I should find other means.... Owing to my youth, this
+undertaking may be fruitless; but I shall be helped by my passion for
+truth, my love for my country, and my enthusiasm. If you, General, will
+encourage in this work a young man whose coming into the world you saw,
+I shall gain confidence.... My mother, Madame Letizia, has charged me to
+remind you of the old days in Corte.”
+
+We notice a new tone, a symphony of new tones: the soaring emotion
+of the epoch; the gesture of the tyrannicide; the whole equipment of
+scintillating words, not an uprush of feeling (as in the pages of his
+diary), but deliberately chosen with an eye to their effect. Only one
+thing is alarmingly original, quite peculiar to the writer: the decisive
+“I” at the opening of the letter, this “I” as a great thesis, fronting
+the world. Immeasurable self-confidence is breaking a trail; for now the
+drum-taps of a new era are sounding; an era which will give the palm,
+not to birth but to action, thus sweeping away the only hindrance that
+has hitherto been insuperable. An unprecedented claim is voiced, a claim
+which henceforward will never cease to be heard. But at the close of the
+letter, with a courteous turn of phrase, he slips back into the familiar,
+implying that he looks to Paoli for protection. What adroitness, what
+good manners, we find in all the letters of this adolescent, who in
+person is still rough and enigmatical!
+
+Paoli, the survival from an earlier day, is annoyed by such arrogance,
+and answers with civil irony that young people should not try to write
+history.
+
+Four weeks after the sending of the letter, young people begin to write
+history, for the first time in the eighteenth century. They storm the
+Bastille; the great signal has been given; and France leaps to arms. Even
+in the garrison town of our young lieutenant, the masses riot and loot,
+until the propertied classes join forces with the troops. Buonaparte
+is at his post with his battery in the streets, and helps to shoot down
+the people. This is the first time he has fired a gun in real earnest.
+He acts under orders from the king’s officers; but there can be no doubt
+that he acts whole-heartedly against the mob, which he despises no less
+than he despises the nobility.
+
+In the depths of his soul, he regards this as nothing more than a dispute
+among foreigners. What does he care about Frenchmen who raise their
+hands against other Frenchmen? His brain is fired by a single thought:
+“Corsica’s hour has come!” Madness or enthusiasm, an ideal or merely a
+catch-word? What matter? Let us carry the message to our island. Apply
+for leave; and, in the turmoil of the new movement, be the first to reach
+home!
+
+
+VI
+
+Lieutenant Buonaparte landed on his island like a prophet carrying a new
+doctrine to a foreign coast. He was the first to bring the red cockade;
+to promise liberty, equality, and fraternity. Was not this a race of free
+mountaineers, who of old had been self-governing, but for twenty years
+had groaned under the heel of the oppressor—a conqueror who ruled through
+the instrumentality of the nobles and the Church, but did not understand
+the people?
+
+What did it matter to the young Jacobin that until yesterday he had
+lived upon his patrician birth, that solely because of his rank he had
+been educated at the king’s cost? What was the king to him? At length
+the peoples were to be free to rule themselves. If the new France, just
+awakened, had proclaimed the right of self-government, Corsica, which
+the old France had loaded with chains, must proclaim its own freedom.
+Citizens, the hour has struck! To arms! Let every one wear the red
+cockade of the new era; let us form a National Guard, as they have done
+in Paris! Let us wrest the means of power from the king’s troops. I am an
+artillerist, and I will be your leader!
+
+Twenty years of age, pale of countenance, with cold, blue-grey eyes,
+but with a mouth full of glowing phrases, such is the aspect of young
+Buonaparte as he hastens through the streets of Ajaccio. Every one in the
+little town knows him, and he is followed by a growing number of persons,
+some eager for liberty, and others in search of a change of any kind.
+To the crowd in the square, he seems a man bringing passionate hopes;
+his figure is that of a tribune of the people. In this half-oriental
+atmosphere, and among these quarrelsome families (so he says later), “a
+man soon learns to study the human heart.”
+
+But there is a set-back. No reinforcements come from the mountains;
+and, when the regular troops put in an appearance, they scatter the
+revolutionists. Within a few hours, all have been disarmed, though,
+for prudence, no arrests are made. This is a further source of
+disillusionment. He is not even a martyr, but only a would-be popular
+leader who has been defeated; his position borders on the ludicrous.
+Yet the fever is still burning in his veins, and at all costs he must
+do something to cool himself. A statement of grievances to the National
+Assembly in Paris! First of all, in the florid style of the day, an ode
+to the new freedom, and then a spate of complaints and adjurations. To
+the gallows with the king’s servants! Arm the citizens of the island!—A
+committee promptly joins him in signing the document.
+
+Weeks of waiting. What answer will come from Paris? Here is the courier
+at last. The island is to be a French province, having the same rights as
+the other provinces; in accordance with Mirabeau’s proposal, Paoli and
+all the champions of liberty are free to return home. The lieutenant is
+taken aback. A province? In spite of the new ideas, and indeed because of
+them, the Corsicans are to remain Frenchmen? A strange form of liberty!
+But there, already, is the procession, headed by the authorities, on
+its way to the cathedral, where the decree from Paris is to receive a
+blessing. Buonaparte is prompt to seize the rope which all are seizing.
+He pens fiery manifestoes to his fellow-citizens, seeks supporters in the
+new political club, and engineers his elder brother’s election to the
+town council. Meanwhile he continues to work at his history of Corsica,
+and reads to his mother choice passages of what he is writing.
+
+“Can this be the great Paoli?” That is the question Buonaparte asks
+himself, when, after twenty years’ exile, the hero of his youthful
+enthusiasms returns amid popular acclamations. “His talk and his
+appearance are so humdrum, so politic, so unsoldierly.” But it was
+expedient to keep on good terms with Paoli, for he was to be the
+commander of the National Guard. In the mountains, the young artillery
+officer was for some time closely associated with the man who had been
+his father’s chief just before his own coming into the world.
+
+When they were sitting together or riding together—the tried veteran and
+the darkly aspiring young Corsican,—the latter would eagerly expound
+to the former his plans for an armed rising, and even for the forcible
+severance of the island from the new France. On these occasions, Paoli
+would look at Buonaparte with mingled pride and alarm. He could not but
+feel that the author of the _Letters on Corsica_ really had a claim upon
+him. But the young fellow had the devil in his body; and (which was
+worse) in his brain, for in the man’s brain was the image of the world
+throne in solitary splendour. Shaking his head, Paoli would exclaim:
+
+“There is nothing modern about you, Napolione. You come from the age of
+Plutarch!”
+
+For the first time in his life young Napoleon felt that he was
+understood. The Roman heroes of Plutarch were alone adequate to his
+aspirations. Paoli was the first to recognise the Roman in Buonaparte.
+
+At length he has a phrase upon which his self-esteem can luxuriate.
+Now, from his country retreat, when at Paoli’s instigation he writes a
+manifesto, the superscription penned by his fevered imagination runs
+as follows: “23rd day of January in the 2nd year, from my study at
+Midilli.” Ridiculous or sublime? However this may be, as soon as he
+has issued the dictatorial pronunciamento the young man has to hasten
+back to his military duties in France, for his furlough, though renewed
+again and again, has finally expired. Is he to sacrifice this last firm
+standing-ground? To what end? Why should he stay in the island any
+longer? The first place is occupied!
+
+
+VII
+
+“I am in a peasant’s hut writing to you, after a long talk with the
+good folk.... It is four in the afternoon; the weather is fresh but
+mild; I thoroughly enjoyed walking. No snow yet, but there is snow in
+the air—Everywhere I have found the peasants staunch; ... they are all
+ready to die for the constitution—The women are royalists almost without
+exception. No wonder for that, seeing that Liberty is fairer than they,
+and eclipses them. In Dauphiné, the priests have taken the oath of fealty
+to the constitution; they laugh at the bishops.—‘Good society,’ as it is
+called (three out of four are aristocrats), affects admiration for the
+British constitution. It is true that Peretti threatened Mirabeau with
+a dagger. This is little to our credit. The Patriotic Society must make
+Mirabeau a present of our national costume: biretta, vest, knee-breeches
+and hose, cartridge pouch, stiletto, pistol, and musket. It will
+certainly have a good effect.”
+
+Everything in this letter to Napoleon’s maternal uncle, the abbé Joseph
+Fesch, bears witness to observation and calculation, the elements upon
+which the politician’s influence is based: the weather, the State,
+travelling on foot, the conciliation of a man in high position, men’s
+motives—all have been the objects of careful consideration. Vanity and
+avarice, these are the weaknesses to which an appeal can be successfully
+directed. We see deep into his soul when, in a bluntly-worded letter
+dating from those weeks, he arraigns an opponent thus: “Your study of
+human nature has taught you the price of every man’s enthusiasm; for you,
+the difference between people’s characters was summed up in a few gold
+pieces more or less!”
+
+Gold pieces! Where were they to be had? Louis, the brother of thirteen,
+had come back to France with him. When Lieutenant Buonaparte (he had the
+full rank now) and his brother got back to Valence, they had no more
+between them than eighty-five francs, to provide for food, clothing, and
+the boy’s education. They had to brush their own clothes.
+
+Money! Not for enjoyment (he despises trivial pleasures), but to help
+him make his way in the world! Lyons Academy has offered a prize for
+an essay. Twelve hundred francs; one could for that sum equip half
+Corsica with weapons. “What truths and sentiments is it most important
+to inculcate upon men for their happiness?” The lieutenant smiles. The
+subject suits him very well. First of all, so to say, he leaves his card
+on the academicians who have chosen the theme. They are disciples of
+Rousseau. Our essayist opens by extolling the joys of nature, friendship,
+ardent idleness—three things which he neither knew nor prized. Suddenly
+the argument takes a political turn, against kings, and on behalf of the
+universalisation of the free enjoyment of possessions and rights. Then
+comes a sinister tone, as if the writer were contemplating in a mirror
+his own image as the pallid student of a few years before: “The ambitious
+man, pale of countenance, laughing sardonically, plays with crime, and
+intrigue is his chosen instrument.... If, at length, he gets his hand on
+the rudder of power, he soon wearies of the adulation of the crowd....
+Men of great ambition have sought happiness, and have found fame.”
+
+Sublime forebodings, worthy of any of the characters in Plutarch. Soon
+the author expresses himself more plainly. His ideal is Sparta; courage
+and strength are the outstanding virtues. A Spartan moved through life
+as a man moves in the plenitude of his powers. “He was happy because he
+lived in accordance with his nature. Only the strong man is good; the
+weakling is evil.” Another presage glows in the following utterance: “Men
+who are truly great are like meteors: they shine and consume themselves,
+that they may lighten the darkness of the earth.”
+
+This was too much for the Lyons Academy, which declared the essay
+“unworthy of commendation.” A fresh disappointment! The effort had
+brought neither money nor renown. With indefatigable assiduity, none the
+less, he resumes work on his Corsican novel, and pens a dialogue on love.
+
+What? Does this word, too, shed its lustre into the youth’s sombre mind?
+Are we to have an outpouring in the Rousseauist vein? Hearken to the
+words of our lieutenant, now twenty-two years of age: “I, too, was in
+love once, and learned enough of it to despise definitions, which only
+confuse the issue. I deny its justification; nay, more, I regard it as
+injurious to society and destructive to the happiness of the individual.
+Men could bless heaven if they were quit of it.”
+
+Fanfares interrupt these political and social musings, fanfares from
+Paris! Louis XVI, attempting to escape, had been caught at Varennes and
+brought back. The people had triumphed, and the revolutionary movement
+was intensified. On the second anniversary of the taking of the Bastille,
+the Red lieutenant proposed a toast to the patriots. From the island
+came to him sounds of confusion, the heart-beats of anarchy—for during
+these wild years the ripples of turbulence spread from Paris in widening
+circles, to reach distant shores. In Corsica, too, civil war is imminent.
+Back there, for a second venture!
+
+
+VIII
+
+Now the lieutenant has to play the part of Coriolanus. Catch voices,
+catch men; for, since the people have come into power, it is necessary
+to cultivate popularity. Archdeacon Lucien Buonaparte has chosen this
+convenient hour for dying, and the family is in easier circumstances.
+Mother’s brother Fesch, another cleric, has been prevailed upon to join
+the Jacobin Club. Joseph can influence opinion in the town council. Is
+there any other man in the island competent to direct a battery? Of
+course the leader of the National Guard would have the real power in his
+hands. But suppose one should fail to secure election?
+
+This time his furlough lasts only till the new year. Better be careful!
+He writes to his commanding officer: “Urgent circumstances have forced
+me to outstay my leave. But I have nothing to reproach myself with: more
+sacred duties, tenderer obligations, are my excuse.” He hopes that he
+will not be cashiered. No answer! Well, he must take the risk.
+
+Now comes the election of the commandant of the National Guard. Kinsmen
+everywhere, but that does not suffice. His mother keeps open house for
+party friends; often sympathisers from the hills have to be put up for
+the night; this is the way to catch votes. “At that time,” writes a
+comrade, “he would for a season be taciturn and reflective; then he
+would be genial once more, pleasant to all comers, conversationally
+inclined, prepared to visit any one who might be of use, and doing his
+utmost to win adherents.” When the commissaries come, he has one of them
+forcibly detained in his house; and he arranges that the supporters of
+a rival shall have a thrashing. This is a Corsican election! But when
+the palpitating day draws to a close, Napoleon has gained his end. He is
+second in command, with the rank of lieutenant colonel.
+
+Shall he seize the opportunity, this Italian, of sending in his papers
+in France? Shall he leave the French service? Better be careful, still!
+From the memoirs of great commanders he has learned that it is always
+wise to leave a line of retreat open. “In this difficult posture of
+affairs,” he writes to Valence, “a good Corsican’s post of honour is
+in his native country. That is why my own folk keep me from returning
+to France. Since, however, I am not one to compromise where duty is
+concerned, I had it in mind to resign my commission.” But, far from
+sending in his papers, he asks for arrears of pay, and actually speaks
+of France as “your nation.” In answer, he is cashiered by the French
+military authorities.
+
+Thus he has become a soldier of fortune more speedily than he had wished.
+He is without firm standing-ground; his only rights are the revolutionary
+rights of a National Guardsman, the member of a force which may go
+to pieces directly a reverse is sustained. Hic Rhodus! He must take
+advantage of the latent civil war between the townsfolk of Ajaccio and
+the Guard; must fan the flames, so that, amid the general confusion, he
+may assume the role of saviour! Is not the citadel, now occupied by the
+king’s regular forces, a standing menace? Did not Frederick and Cæsar
+always begin by storming citadels? Seize the commander of the regulars,
+drive out this well-born booby, and thus, at one stroke, free the island!
+France, now involved in wars, will be unable to reconquer Corsica. The
+liberator will become a popular hero, and old Paoli will be no more than
+a legend.
+
+On Easter Sunday, 1792, an open struggle occurred. Was the National Guard
+provocative; were the townsfolk playing double? Who began the affray? An
+everlasting problem! This much is certain, that Buonaparte, at the head
+of his battalion, tried to seize the fortress. But the garrison was not
+to be intimidated. Guns were trained on his men, and he had to withdraw.
+A complaint against the young officer was lodged in Paris; he was accused
+of armed rebellion, and a trial for high treason was impending. His
+exculpatory phrases deceived no one. Paoli, who had from the outset been
+somewhat alarmed at the zeal of his turbulent fellow-islander, hastened
+to proclaim his own loyalty to France, and to cashier the son of his old
+friend.
+
+“If you turn against me, Paoli, I will turn against you,” thought
+Buonaparte. “You had better be careful what you are about! To Paris,
+post-haste. Not for nothing is there a revolution there!”
+
+Through the streets of the French capital, these hot summer days, strolls
+our adventurer, for whom everything has gone awry. He has neither money
+nor position. In France, he is a lieutenant, but regarded more or less
+as a deserter; in Corsica, he is a cashiered lieutenant colonel. The
+gravest charges are likely to be brought against him, and to-morrow
+he may be actually starving. The Jacobins are his last hope, and he
+joins Robespierre’s faction, for nothing can save him but the fall of
+the dynasty. To him, the complete break up of the old order has become
+essential.
+
+Life in Paris is costly. He pawns his watch, and, in spite of this,
+gets into debt—a thing he has hitherto been sedulous to avoid. Fifteen
+francs due to a wine-dealer! He proposes to his friend Bourrienne that
+the pair shall become house-agents. Does he envy those who sit in high
+places? No, he merely despises them. “Any one who sees at short range all
+that is going on, must admit that the peoples are hardly worth wooing
+for their favours. Here, human beings are perhaps even more base and
+calumniatory.—Enthusiasm is merely enthusiasm, and the French nation is
+outworn. No one seeks anything but his own advantage, and every one tries
+to push his way into the first rank.—Ambition undermines everything. To
+lead a quiet life, for oneself and one’s family, that is the only lot
+worth having, with a fixed income of four or five thousand francs—if
+imagination would but cease to torment one, would quiet down!”
+
+Woe to him who is thus plagued by a lively imagination! What colossal
+possibilities may be cooling in this Parisian cauldron, may arise out of
+the chaos of this titanic time! Being an Italian, a foreigner, he can
+contemplate with equanimity the destinies of these Frenchmen, and, as
+a cold-blooded adventurer, can seek to turn their fortunes to his own
+account. The Jacobins are already coming to the front.
+
+When the sansculottes storm the Tuileries, Buonaparte is among the
+onlookers. What are the thoughts of the man under the harrow? “Thank
+God, we are free once more.” But what does the army officer say? “I saw
+soldiers threatened by civilians, and was terribly shocked.—Had the
+king shown himself on horseback, he would have gained the victory; such
+was the mood that morning.” A few days earlier, when the king had been
+masquerading in the red cap of liberty, Napoleon had written: “What a
+fool! Why didn’t he use grape-shot? If a few hundred of the mob had been
+shot down, the others would have run away!”
+
+Still, his main feeling was one of liberation. His opponents had been
+overthrown. The day after the storming of the Tuileries, he wrote to
+his uncle: “You needn’t worry about your nephews. They will know how
+to look after themselves.” The new government does the handsome thing
+by Napoleon. Not merely is the deserter taken back into the service,
+but he is promptly raised to the rank of captain. He has, however, no
+inclination to hasten to his regiment. What does it matter to him that
+the king of Prussia is on the Moselle? What does he care about the wars
+of France? “I am a Corsican! Back to the island!”
+
+
+IX
+
+Is it possible? Has not the fresh wind from the sea, has not even the
+pure breeze from the mountains, been able to dispel that partisan spirit
+into which, everywhere, the struggle of ideas tends to degenerate?
+Calumny, corruption, anarchy: these are the forms which the strife has
+assumed in the island. Saliceti, the Corsican delegate to the Convention
+in Paris, is Paoli’s mortal enemy, and is therefore friendly to the
+Buonapartes now that they have turned against Paoli. The Jacobin Club in
+Ajaccio is divided, but revolutionary feeling is in the ascendant; and
+Paoli, the only honest man in the island, is stigmatised as a traitor
+because he is a moderate.
+
+Who holds the reins of power? Every one and no one. Mutual suspicion is
+ripe, for in Paris the guillotine has been set up, the king has passed by
+that red road, and no one knows who will be the ruler there to-morrow. In
+Corsica, all go armed, and not the mountaineers alone; but orders from
+the coastland break unavailingly against the crags of the interior. Every
+one, here, is his own king; every one, his own avenger. Can there be a
+better field for this adventurer, who has nothing more to lose? He makes
+a third attempt to become master of the island.
+
+Brother Joseph, Brother Lucien, and Uncle Fesch, all have adherents,
+but Napoleon is the first to gather the scattered forces. He has the
+confidence of the deputy, who needs a skilled artillerist to help him
+in the next faction fight. For the same reason, the Club is inclined to
+court his favour. Might it not be a good move to accuse Paoli of treason
+against France? We know that he has been influenced by his twenty years’
+enjoyment of British hospitality, and is it not in his mind to sell us to
+England? If Lucien were to go to Marseilles, and whisper the suspicion
+in the commissary’s ears, Saliceti would soon be shouting it in the
+Convention. A little island like Corsica is a hot-bed of intrigue. Since
+public life is controlled by two or three families, family life becomes
+merged in public life.
+
+Ere long the Convention sends representatives to Corsica. Officers are
+appointed and dismissed without Paoli’s leave or advice. Buonaparte, now
+a captain in the French service, regains in the island his position as
+commander. Before this, his abilities and the affection of his soldiers
+have enabled him to usurp the command once more, and the official
+appointment is no more than an endorsement of an accomplished fact. His
+chances are improving.
+
+Then comes a terrible order from Paris. Paoli is to be arrested. But his
+opponents have overreached themselves. The hearts of the islanders warm
+towards the veteran hero. All rally to his support, and he defies the
+order.
+
+Young Buonaparte is at a loss. Always he has had his ear at the heart of
+the people, not in the spirit of a lover, but in the investigatory mood
+of a physician. He tries to gain time, seeks a middle course, publicly
+proclaims himself on the side of the maligned Paoli; but also explains
+that he is a supporter of the sagacious Convention. Yet the Convention
+mistrusts this supporter, and now issues a warrant for his arrest also.
+Paoli likewise suspects him of wanting to have a foot in both camps. In a
+Paolist manifesto we read: “Since the brothers Buonaparte have supported
+the slander, and have sided with the commission, it would be beneath the
+dignity of the Corsican nation to have anything more to do with them.
+Enough to abandon them to remorse and public execration.”
+
+The enemies of the family raided the Buonaparte mansion, looted the
+place, and would have made short work of the inmates had not these
+already taken refuge with the commission.
+
+Perhaps Buonaparte had wanted events to take this course. He had given
+the authorities in Paris plain proof that he was a staunch revolutionist.
+Certainly, they were now ready to show their trust in him. He, who
+a year before had led the Corsican volunteers against the French
+governmental artillery, was now made commander of this same artillery
+against the Corsican volunteers. Big guns! True, the others occupy the
+best positions, but at length he has power, ample power, with orders to
+protect the coast. Now then, Paoli, for our last duel!
+
+But the old man, enjoying the full tide of popular favour, has also the
+best of it as a soldier. He holds the citadel. When Napoleon, acting this
+time as a Frenchman, makes his second attempt to storm that stronghold,
+he succeeds no better than before. A last endeavour is made to take the
+fortress from the islands. It is fruitless!
+
+There is no longer a place for him and his in Corsica. They are banished
+by popular decree, and declared outlaws. The mother, so proud of her
+descent; her two sons, her two daughters, and her brother—all have been
+rendered shelterless by Napoleon’s unsuccessful attack on Paoli. They
+must escape from the island at a few hours’ notice. Through the silent
+woods, in whose recesses twenty-four years earlier she had found safety
+from the French, Letizia has now to flee towards the coast under the
+protection of the French. All her possessions are in the hands of her
+enemies. Nothing is left to her beyond the clothes she wears.
+
+The artillery officer, twenty-three years of age, stands on the deck
+of the sailing ship that is bearing him to Toulon. Throughout the long
+June evening, he watches the coast recede; every cape, every ridge,
+is familiar to him. Thrice he has tried to conquer the island, as its
+liberator. Now he has been driven out by the Corsicans as a Frenchman.
+He is full of rage and of a thirst for revenge. The victories of France
+will strengthen him, and in days to come he will, after all, be master of
+Corsica!
+
+But as he sails westward, and as the French coast draws near, our
+adventurer enjoys the sense of freedom that comes to him who is
+everywhere at home. Such is the happy lot of the man who has no country.
+
+
+X
+
+“How shabby their dresses are!” thinks Letizia Buonaparte, when her two
+half-grown girls come home from the market with their poor purchases.
+The refugees are living on the fourth floor of a confiscated house in
+Marseilles (the owner, a nobleman, has been guillotined). The mother is
+in the early forties. The three children with her are earning bread for
+the family as best they can; the two youngest are still in Corsica,
+cared for by relatives. Since the Buonapartes are “persecuted patriots,”
+they receive a part of their rations from the commandant. Letizia, who is
+proud as ever, makes no complaints.
+
+Soon Napoleon, who is travelling, has the chance of putting some
+lucrative opportunities in his brother’s way, affairs connected with the
+supply of munitions of war. Maternal Uncle Fesch lays aside the priestly
+habit and becomes a man of business, in the silk trade. Then Joseph, who
+is of fashionable exterior, resembling his father in appearance, and,
+as the eldest, following the father’s example in styling himself Count
+Buonaparte,—wins the hand of one of the two heiresses of a Marseilles
+silk merchant. Napoleon entertains thoughts of marrying his sister-in-law
+Désirée, the late silk merchant’s other daughter.
+
+He is on the move throughout this summer; now at Nice, with his regiment;
+now on the Rhone; now at Toulon. All the time, his soldier’s eyes are
+on the look out; his artillerist’s brain is noting the actual and the
+potential fortifications along this strip of coast. Soon he will make
+good use of the knowledge now acquired. Meanwhile he writes political
+dialogues. One of them in conversational form, appears as a pamphlet,
+printed at the public expense.
+
+In this conversation, the manufacturer is of a familiar type. The
+well-to-do folk of Toulon, like their brethren in Marseilles, are, in
+fact, under Robespierre’s rule, afraid of losing their heads or even
+their property. Concern for their money-bags tends to make them ever more
+solicitous for the welfare of the sometime royal house, now in exile.
+At length, in the hope of saving their capital, they call the enemies
+of France to their aid, handing over the remnants of the navy to the
+English, who in return promise them protection.
+
+This is a fearful blow for the young republic. On all fronts, France
+is at grips with the forces of reaction. Belgium has been lost; the
+Spaniards are advancing over the mountains; in Vendée, the Bourbon
+cause is gaining ground. Then comes the crowning disaster of Toulon.
+The republic calls up its last man for active service, enlists women,
+transforms the whole of France into an armed camp. Experts are doubly
+welcome.
+
+Before Toulon, preparations are being made to drive out the English. As
+to how this is to be done, the Convention leaves that to the commander
+of the forces, originally a painter of pictures, in whom revolutionary
+enthusiasm is to make up for the lack of technical knowledge of the art
+of war.
+
+Then it came to pass that young Captain Buonaparte, returning from
+Avignon whither he had been sent for a consignment of gunpowder, paid
+a visit to his fellow-countryman Saliceti, who introduced the young
+artillerist to the painter-general. After dinner, the dilettantes went
+for a stroll, and happened upon a 24-pounder, several miles from the sea.
+They began to boast of all that the gun would do. The expert assured them
+that, in its present position, it would be useless. He fired four shots
+to show them that the sea was quite out of range. Dumbfounded, they kept
+Buonaparte at Toulon, and set him to work.
+
+“At last, one end of the rope is in my hands. Grip and hold fast!” thinks
+the lonely man with the strong will. With amazing activity, our captain
+has heavy guns brought from all possible places along the coast. In six
+weeks, he has more than a hundred pieces of ordnance at his disposal.
+
+Now he will give a display of his talents as military commander. What is
+his plan? He will mount batteries on the tongue of land which divides
+the bay into twin harbours, and will thus cut off the hostile fleet from
+access to the sea. The British commander will not stay to be shot at in a
+mousehole with no outlet. He will set light to the arsenal and withdraw
+his forces from the town.
+
+“Fantastical nonsense!” say the amateurs, mockingly. But Buonaparte,
+who has friends in the Convention, has a complaint lodged there against
+his chief. He also sends to Paris his scheme for the bombardment of
+Toulon, many pages of manuscript, containing, in addition, counsel of a
+more general nature: “Our fire must always be concentrated. If we can
+breach the wall, the balance will incline to our side, resistance will
+be fruitless, the place will be won. To live, we must divide; to strike,
+we must unite. Victory is impossible without unity of command. Time is
+everything!” Thus does a captain of twenty-four write to the central
+authorities.
+
+He has a powerful ally in Paris, the younger Robespierre, who has the
+reputation of a man of talent, and is not completely overshadowed by his
+all-powerful brother. “Should you ever need a man of iron for street
+fighting,” said Joseph Robespierre to Maximilien, “a young man, a new
+man—then it must be this Buonaparte.” Indeed, the Corsican adventurer
+had already been asked whether he would become military guardian of the
+terrorists, but considerations of caution had led him to decline. Now
+his plan was approved, and the painter-general was recalled. Who would
+replace him?
+
+Buonaparte gnashes his teeth. Another dilettante! The new general is a
+medical man. He spends his time nosing out conspiracies hatched by the
+nobility—and meanwhile the enemy occupies the precious tongue of land.
+From Paris there had come State carriages filled with “men of genius,”
+clad in brilliant uniforms, and resolved to end the siege of Toulon,
+to take the place out of hand. Buonaparte led them to an unprotected
+battery. When the enemy opened fire, and they looked round vainly for
+cover, their guide said gravely: “We do without cover, nowadays; we
+have patriotism instead.” This young man with blue-grey eyes is more
+interested in actions than in intentions. Further complaints, and a
+new change in command. This time the chief is a tried warrior, who is
+prompt to appoint Napoleon battalion commander, and to adopt the young
+artillerist’s plan for driving the enemy from the tongue of land.
+
+When, finally, Toulon is stormed (still in accordance with Buonaparte’s
+designs), his horse is shot under him; and he is wounded in the calf
+by an English lance—this being his first and almost his last wound.
+Moreover, it is his first victory, although he is not the official
+commander; and it is a victory over England. The enemy retreats to the
+ships, fires the arsenal, and withdraws, all in one night, just as
+Napoleon had foretold.
+
+Conflagration and death, battle and the terrors of a naval port in which
+thousands of treasonable burghers are trying to escape the avengers; amid
+all the fierce passions of this December night, through the reek and the
+cries, across heaps of corpses, and to the accompaniment of the agonised
+curses of drowning civilians and the exultant shouts of looting soldiers,
+a new star rises in the firmament—Napoleon’s fame.
+
+
+XI
+
+The popular festival held in Paris to celebrate the liberation of
+Toulon and fresh victories on the northern and eastern fronts, spreads
+Napoleon’s name among the masses. He is raised to the rank of brigadier
+general, and his chief, sending in a report in which the subordinate is
+given due credit as the originator of the plan of siege, adds (betwixt
+fear and admiration) the amazing sentence: “Even though the Convention
+were to slight him, he would still force his way to the front.” But five
+other young officers are likewise mentioned in despatches, and when for
+the first time Napoleon sees his own name in the “Moniteur” there can be
+no doubt that he is vexed at being merely one among so many. How hard it
+is to climb!
+
+Already, however, there are some young fellows who have noted the rising
+of the new star. Marmont and Junot, unknown officers, want to join their
+fortunes to his. He appoints them his adjutants; Brother Louis, too, now
+sixteen years of age. He has a group!
+
+Big guns! The Convention commissions him to fortify the whole stretch
+of coast from Toulon to Nice. Is not Genoa, Corsica’s ancient enemy,
+farther along the coast? He who takes Genoa, has the island in his
+hands. Is not Genoa full of diplomats and agents? This is the place for
+weather-breeding among the neutrals; here, any one with sharp eyes and
+keen ears can learn a great deal, and keep his information to himself. He
+gets himself appointed people’s commissary, which gives him precedence
+over the chiefs in Genoa. Ostensibly the appointment is made that he may
+help in the settlement of frontier questions.
+
+In reality, this is the first step of Buonaparte the diplomatist. He
+intrigues with agents of various kinds, while taking note whether the
+representatives of France in that part of the world are genuinely
+revolutionary or only making a pretence of revolutionary fervour. At the
+same time, he keeps his eyes open to see where the cannons are. He comes
+back to Nice to write his report, and, without warning, he is arrested.
+
+For, meanwhile, Robespierre had fallen, and had perished by the
+guillotine. There is a general movement of repudiation. Every one wishes
+to make out that only under compulsion did he hold converse with the
+tyrant. Those who wish to prove themselves guiltless, look round for
+victims. The best victims will be those who are not in Paris to make
+a fight for it. Quick, quick, lest we should be suspected of having
+belonged to Robespierre’s faction! General Buonaparte! He has just been
+on a secret mission to hostile Genoa. Lay the traitor by the heels! He
+was colloguing with Robespierre to bring about the destruction of our
+southern army. Hale him to Paris for trial!
+
+Napoleon is in Fort Carrée near Nice. All his papers have been seized.
+It is his birthday. “To-day I am twenty-five,” he thinks, as he glances
+seaward through the grating. If he could lean out of the window, he would
+catch a glimpse of Corsica. How many attempts he has made there, only to
+be defeated! Was the destiny of a young aspiring soul ever before built
+upon such a series of catastrophes? What has Plutarch to say on this
+matter? Cashiered, banished, outlawed—as far as Corsica is concerned.
+Now, after all his plans, he is a prisoner of France. Next week,
+perhaps, he will be standing in the barrack yard, with his back against
+the wall, awaiting a score of bullets. What is to be done?
+
+His faithful followers advise him to flee. He answers in an impassioned
+tone such as we rarely encounter in the sixty thousand of Napoleon’s
+letters. He thanks them for their friendly counsel, but says: “Men may
+treat me unjustly; no matter, so long as I am innocent. My conscience
+is the tribunal before which I judge my own conduct, and my conscience
+is untroubled. Do nothing, for you would only compromise me.” The one
+genuine phrase in this letter wherein he poses as a martyr, is the last.
+To Junot, the enthusiastic admirer, he speaks of motives which Junot
+will understand. In reality, since he knows that there is not a jot of
+evidence of complicity with Robespierre, he does not wish to compromise
+himself. Flight would be an admission of guilt.
+
+Writing from prison to an influential diplomat, he says: “I am somewhat
+affected by the tragical death of the younger Robespierre, for I loved
+the man and believed him genuine. Nevertheless, had he been my own father
+I would have stabbed him had he wished to become a tyrant.” Is not that
+spoken like a true Roman? With even more circumspection, he writes to
+the Convention: “Although innocent of the charge, I shall never make any
+complaint against the committee, whatever it may decide.... But now hear
+me! Strike off my chains, and restore to me the respect of patriots! An
+hour afterwards, if the wicked clamour for my corpse, I shall be ready. I
+hold my life at little account, for I have risked it in the trenches too
+often. Nothing but the thought that I can serve my country enables me to
+endure my burdens cheerfully.”
+
+A week later, he is free. Saliceti, his fellow-countryman in the
+Convention, had been his accuser. Now, when the Corsican deputy has got
+over his first fright and feels that his own neck is safe, he pledges his
+word that Buonaparte is innocent. But at the close of his statement, he
+adds a phrase which is an unconscious prediction of the young officer’s
+triumphs: “Besides, we need him in the army.”
+
+
+XII
+
+How he is shunned! Powerful friends, to whom he sends letter after
+letter, long epistles, make no answer. He writes beseechingly for little
+things, such as “a good surveying outfit for the army,” when he wishes
+to force an influential comrade to reply. All at once comes a signal
+from the island. Old Paoli has summoned the English to his aid. Corsica
+must be saved for France! Back to Paris, in order to fan the flames. The
+expedition is actually decided on, and he eagerly hopes to secure the
+command. In a fortnight the fleet is back at Toulon, having sustained a
+reverse. Fresh disappointment! Why did they not put him in charge? Had
+he not conquered Toulon, fortified the coast—all with an eye towards the
+campaign against Corsica?
+
+Reaction is in full swing. Napoleon is suspect. The authorities offer him
+high command in Vendée, for this will separate him from his adherents. At
+the same time he is transferred to the infantry, as a “supernumerary.”
+How mortifying to a highly skilled artillerist!
+
+The pale young man grew paler than ever, for he had made up his mind to
+refuse. He expostulated with the People’s Commissary for War, who, in
+reply, twitted him with his youth. Napoleon looked the commissary, who
+knew little of active service, straight in the eyes, and said: “A man
+matures quickly on the battle-field, and it is from the battle-field that
+I come.” Refusal to obey orders; expectation of dire consequences; just
+as it had been three years before.
+
+[Illustration: General Bonaparte in 1797. After a painting by Jean
+Guérin. Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris.
+
+(From the “Corpus Imaginum” of the Photographic Society, Charlottenburg.)]
+
+What had I better do? Report sick? Apply for leave? The out-of-work
+general turns the possibilities over in his mind. Better stay where I am.
+Paris is the world’s navel. True, Marmont and Junot, who have joined him
+without leave, are also penniless. What’s Bourrienne doing? Speculating?
+Well, I can try that too, but assignats are falling. How badly you staged
+the last affair. Did you think you could make a coup d’état without
+cannon? But to Saliceti, who in his turn has had serious charges brought
+against him, and is being sheltered by a fellow-countrywoman, he writes:
+“You see, I might have paid you back in your own coin.... Who has played
+the better part, you or I? I might have taken vengeance on you, but have
+not done so.... Go in peace, to seek a refuge where you can, and meditate
+upon your country to better advantage. My lips will always be sealed
+about you. Take counsel with yourself, appreciate my motives ... they are
+noble and magnanimous.”
+
+During these summer weeks, the flood of life is obscurely murmuring, is
+heavily pulsing against the shores. He is profoundly moved by _Ossian_,
+the book of melancholy passion; and he is stirred by the tragical end
+of plays he witnesses, hastening from the theatre that his mood may
+not be jarred by the subsequent farce. “How preposterous, in this new
+opera, to give a happy ending to _Paul and Virginie_ by having the girl
+rescued!”—“But what is happiness?” asks the lady to whom he says this.
+
+“Happiness?” answers Buonaparte. “The highest possible development of my
+talents.”
+
+Just now they are lying fallow, that is what troubles him. He is a
+prey to increasing dejection and dumb rancour. When a comedy is being
+played (the wife of one of his friends reports this), every one else
+is laughing, but Buonaparte sits there in frozen silence. Sometimes he
+vanishes, to reappear with gloomy aspect at the other side of the stalls.
+Often enough his lips are twisted in an unsuccessful attempt to smile.
+He is an irresistible raconteur of campaign stories, but his laughter
+on these occasions is rough. He is often to be seen wandering through
+the streets, short in the leg, thin, sallow, sickly, irritable of mien,
+“awkward, hesitant, wearing an old round hat, from beneath which two
+badly powdered ‘dog’s ears’ project, scurf upon his collar, his ungloved
+hands are long and lean and dark, ill-fitting boots.”
+
+He now plans a book traffic with foreign lands; but his first attempt,
+with a consignment to Basle, miscarries.
+
+Sometimes he visits drawing-rooms, for, as he writes to his brother,
+every one here seeks distraction.... There are women all over the place,
+at the theatre, in the Bois, at the Library. The prettiest of girls are
+to be found in the studies of the learned. Indeed, it is right that women
+should rule here, for the men are infatuated, living only through and for
+women.
+
+When Buonaparte is in the salon of Barras, the tribune (who outdoes
+himself in splendour and extravagance, so that all Paris talks; who can
+never have enough women round him), when he stands there among women
+famous for their beauty like Tallien and Récamier, he, who is small
+and gloomy and angular, can only make an impression by cleverness and
+caprice. Even then he seems a freak.
+
+Always the solitary, he only “lets himself go” in his long letters
+to his brothers. He is educating Louis, and writes: “The lad is a
+good soldier. What especially pleases me is that he combines so many
+excellent qualities: ardour, spirit, health, talent, trustworthiness,
+good-nature.... He will certainly be the best of us four. Of course,
+none of us have enjoyed his advantages in the matter of education.” He
+is thinking of having Jerome, the youngest, sent to Paris. He is at odds
+with Lucien. This talented brother is his rival. Indeed, Lucien vies with
+Napoleon in his knowledge of men, was the first to understand Napoleon,
+did so already when he was seventeen while his brother was twenty-three.
+“In Napoleon,” wrote young Lucien to Joseph, “I detect an ambition which
+is not wholly selfish, but is greater than his love for the public
+welfare. In a free State he would certainly be a dangerous man. He seems
+to me inclined to become a despot. I think he would become one, were
+he king. At any rate, his name would be a terror to posterity and to
+sensitive patriots.” In Lucien’s mouth, such grandiose vaticination is no
+mere playing with words. His own ambition is so intense that in this age
+and country he regards a development of the kind as quite possible for
+his brother, and he is mortified at the prospect that Napoleon is likely
+to outshine him.
+
+For the nonce, Napoleon is in low spirits. He envies Joseph, whom money
+and happiness have made independent. He offers Joseph support in the way
+of introductions and papers; advises him to use the depreciated currency
+for the economical purchase of an estate. Yet we find him already writing
+to his elder brother, apropos of a letter on political questions: “Your
+letter was too dry; you must learn to write better than that.”
+
+A home! He wants a home of his own, like Joseph. More eagerly in each
+successive letter he urges Joseph to make sure for him of the wealthy
+sister-in-law, with whom he has been in affectionate correspondence for
+more than a year. When she is slow to make up her mind, he presses for a
+decision. His brother and one of his intimate friends have married well;
+comrades of his own age occupy prominent positions. Only he, with his
+surging thoughts and imaginative schemes, remains lonely and does nothing.
+
+“If you are going away for a long time,” he writes to Joseph, “send me
+your portrait. We have lived so long in close companionship that our
+hearts are intertwined. No one knows better than you how wholly I am
+yours. As I write these lines, I am more moved than almost ever before,
+feeling that it will be long before we meet again. I cannot write any
+more. Farewell, mon ami.”
+
+He is in a melting mood, and at times he seems utterly discouraged. “To
+clamber upwards from step to step, this is rather like an adventurer,
+like a man who is trying to make happiness.” Finally he says: “Life is a
+trivial dream, which fades away....”
+
+
+XIII
+
+Suddenly everything is in a flux. A new Minister for War has been
+appointed, and he is eager to effect changes on the Italian front. Does
+any one know of a new man to whom the command there can be entrusted?
+The enquiry passes from one to another, until some one recommends
+Buonaparte. He is summoned to the War Office. For years he has been
+making himself familiar with the Italian coast and the Italian frontier,
+and forthwith he expounds a detailed plan for a campaign in northern
+Italy, against Sardinia and Austria. It is substantiated by a display of
+intimate knowledge of the Alpine passes; of the weather and the snows;
+of seedtime and harvest; of the administration, the temperament, and
+the characteristics of the territories and the populations concerned.
+After the conquest of Lombardy, between February and July, the powerful
+position of Mantua must be wrested from the Austrians. Then the Army of
+Italy must move northward, and in Tyrol must effect a junction with the
+sister army, the Army of the Rhine. The joint forces will threaten Vienna
+and this will compel the emperor to accept a peace which will fulfil all
+that France has been expecting or imagining for years past.
+
+Overwhelmed by the cataract that issues from this brain, the minister can
+only say: “Your ideas, General, are equally brilliant and bold. We must
+examine them closely. Write a report for the committee. You can take your
+time.”
+
+“My plan is ready now. I can write it down in half an hour.”
+
+“A notable design,” say the members of the Committee of Public Safety
+when the report has been read to them; “notable, even if impracticable.”
+In any case, such an intelligence as this must be utilised in the
+Operations Department. A few days afterwards he has a seat in this
+department, where everything is decided.
+
+The great moment has come, the turning-point of his youth. At length he
+stands on the threshold of his career. The chance has come suddenly, for
+everything is sudden in this eruptive era. From now, when he is barely
+twenty-six, he will for twenty years, with unremitting vigour, move
+onwards towards his goal, drawing the chain of thought and action after
+him. Suddenly, twenty years hence, the chain will snap.
+
+Napoleon’s work begins. With burning energy, attending carefully to
+little things because his aim is the greatest of things, he devotes
+himself to “affairs.” The veil is lifted, for here he finds the most
+secret reports concerning all the armies of the republic. At the same
+time, his daily association with the leading civilian figures in France
+gives him authority. The suggestive influence of his personality makes
+itself felt.
+
+What is the first thing he aspires to gain for himself? Neither the
+command in Vendée nor the command of the Army of the Rhine. These are
+attainable, tangible magnitudes. Here, at the centre of all the real
+fronts, nothing allures him so much as the thought of a command which
+as yet lives only in his imagination; in a battle-ground which does not
+exist, but which he wants to create to-day, and which he will again want
+to create seventeen years hence. Asia! Directly he gets to work at the
+centre of things, he begins to emphasise the importance of galvanising
+Turkey into activity, of introducing artillery and the modern art of
+war on the Bosphorus, for in due time they can from that centre be used
+against the Russians and the Austrians. In fancy, he already sees himself
+conversing with the sultan, beyond reach of the eyes of these everlasting
+republicans, in an obscure and closed country into which the doctrine of
+liberty has never made its way—a land where a man can still do whatever
+he pleases. Twelve days after his entry into the ministry, he asks to be
+transferred to Turkey.
+
+The application is refused. Powerful opponents are already beginning
+to be afraid of this man. They want to get him out of the War Office;
+to send him to the front. His protest takes a new tone. As if he were
+foreseeing all the successes that are still hidden in his own heart,
+he begins to dictate. “General Buonaparte, who commands the artillery
+under the most critical circumstances and has contributed to the greatest
+successes, expects from the justice of the members of the Committee
+that they shall reinstate him in his functions, and shall spare him the
+distress of seeing his position usurped by men who have always kept
+themselves in the background, ... but who now press forward to snatch the
+fruits of victories whose dangers they well knew how to avoid.”
+
+In the third person, in the iron style of the historian. Roman.
+
+It avails nothing. Once more the insubordinate officer’s name is struck
+from the lists, and for a second time he has to yield. But he feels that
+his hour draws nigh; nothing, now, can seriously shake his position. A
+fresh change of government is at hand. Announcing to his brother the
+impending transformation, he says that he himself is in the good graces
+of all the party leaders who will have military posts at their disposal.
+“The prospect is rosy. Even were it otherwise, a man must live in the
+present. He who has courage, despises the future.”
+
+Because he despises it, it serves him. Henceforward, men will serve him
+for the same reason.
+
+A fortnight after this letter had been written, a conflict broke out
+between the government and the moderates, who were backed by the
+royalists. Once more, there was fighting on the boulevards, as there had
+been three years earlier. The National Guard is four times as strong
+as the governmental forces. Either from caution or from cowardice, the
+general of the Convention parleys with the leaders of the Guard. He is
+declared a traitor, and placed under arrest. The Convention meets in a
+panic. It is defenceless, intimidated by the left-wing and right-wing
+revolutionaries, who, for various reasons, have joined forces.
+
+In the evening, Buonaparte hastens to the Convention, for a successor
+to the arrested general is needed, and he learns that the name of one
+of his rivals has been proposed. The heart of the silent onlooker
+beats furiously. Will his name now be mentioned? If he is asked to take
+command, shall he accept a task which he had refused in the days when
+Robespierre was supreme? Does not every one who leads soldiers against
+the people make himself hated, precisely because of his success? “Appoint
+Buonaparte!” Yes, his name has come up. “I turned the matter over in my
+mind for nearly half an hour.” Such a mission will not bring renown, but
+it will bring power. He presents himself before the committee. It is past
+midnight; the tumult is expected to begin early next morning; everything
+must be ready within a few hours.
+
+In this situation, he demands that he shall be absolutely free from
+civilian supervision. This seems a monstrous request to make of the
+revolution, one of whose new principles it is to lay especial stress upon
+supervision of the dreaded military arm. “If you appoint me, I shall be
+responsible, and must have a free hand. To-day, it was the fault of the
+people’s commissaries that the general found himself in so precarious a
+position. Do you expect that the people will give us permission to open
+fire upon the people?” The only man he will share the command with is
+Barras, who is the most powerful among the leaders, but is in his hands.
+The minutes are passing. There is no choice.—Buonaparte was entrusted
+with the defence of the government, a fortnight after his name had been
+erased from the list of general officers.
+
+For seven years the Parisian populace, when roused to action, has had
+to encounter nothing more than extemporised opposition. That is why the
+revolution has always made headway. Buonaparte is the first to prepare
+for the struggle. In one night, he transforms the Convention into a
+fortress. Even the alarmed deputies are supplied with weapons. They are
+still more frightened when they hear talk of cannon.
+
+A young cavalry officer, Murat by name, undertakes to bring forty big
+guns from the suburbs. Murat thus opens a great career on the same day as
+his chief. Out in the streets he finds the masses, who are likewise on
+the prowl for artillery. Buonaparte cannot protect the Convention without
+ordnance. There are hours of tension, during which he must tranquilly
+devote himself to the disposition of his slender forces. At length, at
+five in the morning, he hears the rattling wheels of his old friends the
+big guns. Murat’s men were mounted, and they have won the prize. Forward!
+Within two hours, everything must be ready.
+
+In well-armed companies, the crowd advances threateningly. The lawyers
+in the Convention are shaking in their shoes. Speech after speech is
+made from the tribune, urging a parley, advocating the withdrawal of the
+troops. In the daylight, the situation is so menacing that the civilians
+utterly lose heart. They weaken; towards noon, some of the troops want
+to fraternise with the people. Night is falling. Now or never! Is
+the commander to allow the mob to triumph? In like circumstances, he
+had laughed at the weakness of King Louis. Shall he himself play the
+weakling, when he is in command of the guns?
+
+It is probable that Buonaparte ordered the firing of the first shot,
+or perhaps extorted the order from Barras, although in his report, and
+subsequently, he declared that his opponents had this “crime against the
+French people” on their consciences. Anyhow, the firing begins. The big
+guns win the day; blood besprinkles the pavements; the crowd scatters;
+in two hours the streets are clear. That night, Napoleon writes to his
+brother: “At length it is over; my first wish is to send you news.... We
+posted our troops, the enemy attacked us in the Tuileries. We killed a
+lot of them, our own casualties being thirty killed and sixty wounded.
+We have disarmed the companies of the National Guard, and everything is
+quiet. As usual, I have escaped without a scratch. Brigadier General
+Buonaparte. Postscript. Luck is on my side. My compliments to Désirée and
+Julie.”
+
+This is Napoleon’s first bulletin of victory. The enemy are Frenchmen;
+the battle-field is Paris; the offenders are revolutionists; most of the
+fatalities are on the opposing side; the signature, which in earlier and
+subsequent letters consists of nothing but the name, includes, to-day,
+the writer’s military title. Everything is calculated for effect. But his
+feelings break through, and in the postscript he discloses to his brother
+the two things he has most at heart: Luck and Woman.
+
+At a later date he said: “I have two men within me, the man of the head
+and the man of the heart.”
+
+
+XIV
+
+On the tribune of the Convention stands Buonaparte with his officers,
+hailed by the acclamations of the assembly, to whom the youthful saviour
+is being presented. He scarcely notices the applause, for such triumphs
+of the moment seem of little value to him. Coldly surveying the hall, he
+thinks: “So you are the leaders of the nation. You trembled with fear
+when you heard the thunder of the guns! You shall not forget how to
+tremble! I have become your protector. I shall go on protecting you until
+you have become my humble servants.”
+
+As a matter of course, he is appointed to the command of the Army of the
+Interior. He now has a great following: cashiered officers, who hope
+to climb in the footsteps of the cashiered general; officials who have
+dreaded the reaction; all who feel that they have been rescued. But the
+crowd must be learning to hate him; for, in that darkling hour, hundreds
+of unarmed citizens, idle spectators, women have perished. What is that
+to him? It is not his aim to be loved.
+
+Now, when he suddenly has money and servants and carriages at his
+disposal, he wants nothing for himself, everything for his kin. His
+younger brothers are given good positions; his mother can once more live
+a life after her own heart, and gratify her taste for saving; Joseph
+has the offer of several posts; there are places for the most distant
+relatives. But the letters become rarer, and the very first of them
+sounds a new note: “I shall do everything I can to help you, shall spare
+no effort which can contribute to your happiness.” From brother, he has
+become protector, head of the family.
+
+During these weeks, when he is tasting the joys of fulfilment, he becomes
+involved in the only passion of his life.
+
+Désirée has missed her chance. Only a few weeks before, writing from the
+office of the general staff, he had implored Joseph to intervene on his
+behalf, to demand a prompt answer. “I am burning with desire to have a
+home of my own.” At the same time, in several of his letters, we find
+more frequent references to charming women, allusions which betray a
+happy prospect of success. He has come to know la femme de trente ans,
+in her power and her beauty. He has made advances to two such women, in
+quick succession: one of them a Corsican of noble birth, a friend of his
+mother’s; the other, a pretty cocotte, Chénier’s mistress. Both of them
+are considerably older than he, and neither of them favours his suit. But
+the atmosphere surrounding these practitioners of the art of love, the
+electric atmosphere of the new salon, has exercised its influence on him:
+“A kiss for the two ladies: for the first, on the lips; for the second,
+on the cheek.” Since he has hitherto known almost nothing of women, his
+lonely heart is susceptible.
+
+Immediately after his appointment, the new generalissimo issues a decree
+against bearing arms. A search is made, and all weapons in civilian hands
+are confiscated. Now a boy of twelve, with engaging manners, turns up
+at the general’s office with a plea for the return of his dead father’s
+sword, which has been taken away from his mother. Napoleon concedes the
+point, and shortly afterwards the mother comes to thank him. What an
+elegant woman—wayward, gracious, captivating! Thirty or more; who can
+say? Not so much beautiful, as enthralling; slender; distinguished, but
+with a slightly foreign air; the dark skin of the Creole, for she was
+born in Martinique, though brought up in Paris; and during the days of
+the Terror she has learned to conquer by her charms.
+
+When the general pays her a visit at the little house in an
+out-of-the-way suburb, his eyes, sharpened by his own experience of
+poverty, detect evidence of an endeavour to put a good face upon poor
+circumstances. This does not trouble him. An army officer, who now, at
+the age of twenty-seven, can for the first time dispose of means which
+enable him to live as he pleases, he prizes money, but he does not prize
+rich people. Just as in the life of affairs, men can only move him by
+their capacity, by what they can do; so women can only please him by
+their capacity—by their personal appearance, their nature, and what they
+can make of these.
+
+Josephine makes a great deal, as she needs to do. From Martinique, her
+tropical home, she was able to save nothing when she lost her husband,
+Vicomte de Beauharnais. For years she was separated from him, but was
+reunited with him after her return to Paris from a prolonged visit to her
+native island. During the Terror, he was executed as a royalist; and she
+spent three terrible months in gaol, to be liberated after Robespierre’s
+fall on the very day when Buonaparte was imprisoned. Friends came to her
+assistance in her difficulties; but her position and that of her two
+lovely young children, Hortense and Eugene, was precarious.
+
+In this genteel poverty, it is expedient for her to make the best use of
+her charms. In any case, she is a born coquette, and is urged towards
+amorous adventures by the spur of her own love of pleasure. At this time,
+she is Barras’ mistress, her handsome friend Tallien having taken up with
+a wealthy banker, handing over the man of might to Josephine. However,
+the two women hold Barras in joint control. The Committee of Public
+Safety supplies them with horses and carriages. But Beauharnais, being of
+gentle birth, knows how to give attractive dinner parties, and associates
+with members of both factions, although the counts and marquises
+who frequent her house leave their wives at home. She has become an
+adventuress of the revolution.
+
+Well, what about Buonaparte himself? Any change in the political
+situation may cost him his position. What more is he, as yet, than an
+adventurer of the revolution? If Murat had failed to shark up those guns
+the other night, the general would have been shot. Life is insecure, both
+for him and for Josephine.
+
+What can be easier than to befool this misanthropic and misogynistic man
+in whose dumb soul the schoolmaster at Brienne had long ago discovered
+the hidden volcano? For the first time in his life he is in the toils of
+a woman, an expert in love; he is consumed by his passion for the Creole
+beauty. To Josephine, it seems a stroke of luck, and in cold blood she
+decides on marriage.
+
+“You have seen General Buonaparte at my house. He is to become a father
+to my orphaned children, a husband to my widowed self.... I admire
+the general’s courage, and I wonder how much he knows.... But, I must
+confess, I am alarmed at the energy which animates all his doings. In his
+questing glance there is something inexplicable, which intimidates even
+our Directors. What ought to please me most, the passionate ardour he
+displays, is the very thing which makes me hesitate. Now that I am past
+my first youth, can I hope that I shall be able to keep alive in him an
+affection so stormy that it borders on madness?”
+
+This lady of refinement does not fully understand what threatens her, and
+yet in the depths of her soul she shudders at the foreboding that she is
+to become the play of elemental forces. For, if this man who covets all
+or nothing and cannot rest until he has all, this man who has never given
+himself up to any one person or any one thing because it has been his
+unceasing wish to gain every one and everything, if Napoleon now gives
+himself for the first and only time in his life, he will stake his whole
+being, and will fetter it to the personality of the woman whom he clasps
+in his arms.
+
+“I am waiting for you; I am wholly filled with you; your picture and
+the intoxicating evening leave my senses no peace. Sweet, incomparable
+Josephine, what have you done to my heart? Are you angry with me? Do you
+look sad? Are you ill at ease?... But I find calm when I give myself up
+to my passion, that on your lips, at your heart, I may fan the flames
+which burn me. How plain it was to me last night that your picture can
+never replace the real you. At noon you will start; in three hours I
+shall see you; till then, mio dolce amor, a thousand kisses! But you must
+not give me kisses, for they burn my blood!”
+
+He does not tell her his plans, and yet he tells her something more.
+“These Directors fancy that I need their protection. They will consider
+themselves happy, some day, to secure mine. I shall make my way with the
+sword.”—“What do you think,” writes Josephine, “of this faith in success?
+Can such self-confidence be based on anything else than immeasurable
+conceit? A brigadier general is to protect the heads of the government!
+I don’t know what to make of it; and yet, often enough, this ludicrous
+self-assurance makes me believe that anything is possible which the
+strange man wants to achieve.”
+
+We feel as if we were standing in front of the iron door which guards
+a glowing human heart, and looking through the key-hole into the fiery
+furnace of a soul.
+
+But this woman, whom he possesses, why does he take her to wife? That
+he may possess her for himself alone? His egotism is against it, and,
+besides, he would be deluding himself. To gain advantages? In respect
+of money, and in respect of influence with the powerful, she can offer
+him nothing that he does not already enjoy. Of course she might prove
+useful to him; he is certainly flattered that she is of noble birth; and
+beyond doubt he has taken into consideration the fact that if she, who
+had a place in the days of the old regime, becomes his wife, this will
+put an end to the whispers that he is “only a Corsican.” Yet it is as
+a Corsican, with the family feeling of an Italian (a feeling that has
+come down to him through the generations, and masters even him), that he
+desires marriage with a woman of birth. Finally, is it not obvious that
+this man who is so utterly self-centred must passionately long for a
+perpetuation of his own ego?
+
+The one thing in the world which Napoleon cannot make without another’s
+aid is an heir, and this heir must be made out of good materials. He
+is no man of the people. He has come into being amid the struggles of
+old families, and beneath a coat-of-arms bearing two stars which he now
+wishes to fuse into one. If he has helped to break down the prejudices
+against the masses, he has been moved along this course by delight in
+the elemental energy of action, and never by humanist feelings. Why
+should he wish to mix his blood with that of the people? When he marries
+the woman who long ere this has granted him all, he does so because, in
+both branches of her ancestry, she is the offspring of a long line of
+noble forebears. It is her birth, in addition to her charms, which makes
+her a welcome figure in a drawing-room, despite her reputation and her
+position. Since the Thirteenth Vendémiaire, Barras, the most powerful of
+the Directors, has regarded Buonaparte as his main prop—and he wishes
+to bind the general to his service by handing over Josephine. In this
+realm of erotic freedoms, a man who should wish, of a sudden, to insist
+on points of honour would simply make himself ridiculous. There are no
+knights and ladies now, but only citizens and citizenesses, who pair and
+separate as they please.
+
+Barras has long since decided that Napoleon shall command the Army of
+Italy; and when Josephine, womanlike, is unable to make up her mind,
+Barras gives her a definite pledge to this effect. There are good
+reasons, too, why he should send the dangerous man to the most difficult
+front. Napoleon’s great plan, the one which has procured him his
+position on the general staff, is now sent to Nice, and comes back with
+annotations by the commander-in-chief there. The man who has drafted the
+plan, says that worthy, must have been a lunatic. He had better come and
+try his own hand at the job. That is exactly what the Directory has been
+angling for. The writer of the criticism is recalled, and the “lunatic”
+is sent to take his place.
+
+The position is assured; the prudent Josephine hesitates no longer. A
+legal friend has to certify that no birth certificate is now obtainable
+from the blockaded island in the West Indies, and that the authorities
+must therefore take the lady’s word for the statement that she is
+twenty-eight. Since this knocks five years off her age, the bridegroom is
+gallant enough to add a year to his own. Thus the marriage begins with
+a twofold falsification of dates. A marriage settlement arranging for
+the division of property is signed, although the vicomtesse owns nothing
+but debts, and the warrior declares that his only possessions are his
+clothes, his uniform.
+
+In the wedding ring, the words “To Destiny!” are engraved.
+
+Two days later, he leaves Paris. Eleven crazy love letters are sent to
+her from eleven halting places. In Nice he joins his army, and takes over
+a command which will lead him beyond the frontiers of Europe.
+
+It is the season of the equinoctial gales. From a turret he looks across
+at the enemy coast, and thinks: “This is the place I have always coveted
+as a starting-point. Behind me lies Paris; and her bedchamber, hung with
+mirrors. That is happiness. It is mine. Over there, across the mountains,
+in that hostile land, is fame. The goal of my desire.”
+
+As he turns away, he catches sight of a familiar line of mountains
+shimmering in the distant blue. No longer does this hold his attention.
+
+It is his lost homeland. The island.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK TWO
+
+THE TORRENT
+
+    So divine an illumination is always linked with youth and
+    productivity; and, in very truth, Napoleon was one of the most
+    productive men that ever lived.—GOETHE.
+
+
+I
+
+The towering peaks form a white, serrated ridge that thrusts upward
+into the blue of morning. Gleaming with perpetual snows, dangerous as
+the adventure he has undertaken, the Alps look down threateningly upon
+the bay, and mock the teeming crowds of men. Invincibly does nature,
+in symbolic fashion, here call a halt to the commander; here she has
+interposed a barrier between the land of his fathers and his new
+fatherland.
+
+But he, who never trusts in force alone, who always outbids force with
+prudence, has to good purpose been pondering the old problem. Hannibal
+crossed the Alps; he, Napoleon, will go round them. If we come to grips
+with the enemy at the weakest point, where the Apennines press close to
+the Alps and a slight depression facilitates an entry, we need not wait
+for the summer. The earlier in the year, the firmer the snows, and the
+less danger from avalanches. Forward, into the land of my fathers!
+
+Delay will be fatal. Not that the enemy is a danger to him. His foes
+are asleep in winter quarters: the Austrians in the east of Lombardy;
+the Sardinians in the west of the Lombard plain; and the numerous petty
+republics and duchies, the fragments of Italy, are not expecting an
+attack until the thaw has come. But the French soldiers are hungry.
+Paris, on the verge of ruin, through depreciation of the currency, can
+send them nothing but almost valueless assignats; and all of these
+disappear into the greedy maw of the army contractors. “France would
+tremble,” said one of the generals in his letters home just before
+Bonaparte’s arrival, “could every one know how many are dying here of
+famine and disease.” What will the new commander do if he brings neither
+money nor bread with him?
+
+“Soldiers, you are half starved and half naked. The Government owes
+you much, but can do nothing for you. Your patience, your courage, do
+you honour, but give you no glory, no advantage. I will lead you into
+the most fertile plains of the world. There you will find flourishing
+cities, teeming provinces. There you will reap honour, glory, and wealth.
+Soldiers of the Army of Italy, will you be wanting in courage and
+firmness?”
+
+A faint cheer from the ranks answered the new commander when, at the
+first parade, he addressed his men in the foregoing words. But when they
+were all back in camp, one said to another: “General doesn’t look very
+weatherproof, with his yellow hide. Fine talk, that, about the fertile
+plains. He’d better let us have some boots first, so that we can march
+there!” The people of Israel must have grumbled in much the same fashion
+when Moses spoke of the Promised Land. The new commander encounters
+nothing but opposition.
+
+Who knows him among the soldiers of this army, which has now been
+encamped for three years on the crests of the hills? Those of them who
+remain, that is to say: for a fourth of the men are in hospital; and an
+equal number have been killed, or taken prisoner, or have deserted! The
+officers? Will not they, like those captains in Auxonne seven years ago,
+be inclined to encounter this wonderful young man’s orders with passive
+resistance rather than ready obedience? Look at him as he sits there
+writing and calculating; his powdered hair is cut in a fringe over his
+forehead, but lengthens towards the back of the head to hang down over
+his shoulders; his coat is simple and scantily embroidered; he walks up
+and down and issues dictatorial orders, this foreigner whose French is
+still faulty. Not an officer in his staff is well-disposed towards him,
+except the three or four faithful followers whom he has brought with him.
+One of these latter tells us: “They looked upon him as a mathematician or
+a visionary.”
+
+What if he be both at once, and for this very reason a man of genius?
+
+At first, he seems to be nothing but a calculator. Consider one of his
+early letters to the Directors—for he promptly opens an epistolary
+campaign, carried on side by side with a campaign of cavalry and by
+guns, waged with the same ardour and the same success. “You are asking
+me to perform miracles, and I cannot do that.... Only with prudence
+and foresight can we achieve great ends. It is but a step from victory
+to defeat. In affairs of magnitude I have learned that, in the last
+resort, everything invariably turns upon a trifle.” But to Carnot, the
+great army organiser, to whom he can say much that is unsuitable for his
+official dispatches, he writes, gnashing his teeth: “Would you believe
+it, that I have not a single engineer officer here, not one who has ever
+taken part in a siege!... You can hardly conceive how furious I am that
+I have no artillery!” His actual resources totalled 24 mountain guns,
+4,000 underfed horses, frs. 300,000 in silver, and enough food to supply
+his 30,000 men for a month on half rations. With these vestiges of an
+equipment, he is to conquer Italy!
+
+Nevertheless, having undertaken the venture, he makes the best of the
+materials at his disposal. Getting to work like a hurricane upon this
+crowd of pitiful men who have run to seed, upon corps some of which have
+already begun to sing the royal anthem again, with indefatigable energy
+he succeeds in transforming them into a republican army.
+
+Here are some of his doings on the third day after his arrival. Sending
+a hundred and ten workmen to make a road. Suppression of a mutiny in a
+brigade. Quartering of two artillery divisions. Orders to two generals in
+case of horse stealing. Answer to the requests of two others concerning
+their commands. Order to a general in Toulon to bring his men to Nice.
+Order to another general to call up the National Guard of Antibes. Order
+to a general to find the most efficient officers in the mutinous brigade.
+Address to the general staff. Review of troops, with orders of the
+day.—During the first twenty days, one hundred and twenty-three written
+orders relate solely to the provisioning of the troops; among them are
+numerous complaints concerning peculation, short weight, and inferior
+goods; and these orders are issued on the march, from twelve different
+headquarters, in the interludes between six skirmishes.
+
+For hardly has he passed through the narrow defiles than, in accordance
+with his new principle, he has massed his forces to attack first one
+and then the other of the allied foes, and in two battles he defeats
+and separates them. In truth, these were mere advance-guard skirmishes,
+as becomes the nature of the French, and the previous training of these
+troops, which as yet know nothing of a great movement in open lines. At
+this stage of his campaign, speed and boldness are more important than
+elaborate strategy.
+
+When he is on one of these breathless rides, in the deep mountain
+valleys, through the passes, amid the thunder of his own and the enemy
+cannon, suddenly the glass covering Josephine’s miniature (which he
+carries in the inner pocket of his tunic, and has kissed hundreds of
+times) shivers into fragments. Growing paler than ever, he reins in his
+charger, and says to Bourrienne: “The glass is broken. My wife is ill or
+unfaithful. Forward!”
+
+Everything depends upon the fulfilment of his first old pledge. He knows
+that if, this once, he is able to do what he has promised, the army
+will believe him; and if it believes him, it will soon believe in him.
+In actual fact, a fortnight after his prophecy had been uttered, the
+army, which had won its first victories on entering the downward grades,
+found itself on the last elevation. The soldiers raised a hearty cheer.
+After the weary days in the narrow valleys, they at length caught sight
+of the plains of Piedmont lying at their feet, stretching out into the
+immeasurable distance, blossoming in the spring weather, offering all
+that they had gone short of for so long. The Po and other rivers were
+flowing towards the horizon, and at length the world of snows lay
+behind. “As if by a magician’s spell, they had been enabled to cross the
+gigantic barrier, which had seemed to them like the frontier of another
+world.”
+
+“All this is yours!” Their commander has forced one of the two opponents,
+the king of Sardinia, to make truce, thus compelling the surrender of
+everything that grows on Sardinian territory. This first truce of his
+campaigns was secured by Bonaparte through cunning and bluff, for he
+threatened the enemy with the use of overwhelming forces, which he did
+not possess, and, indeed, could not have used, pressed as he was on both
+sides. The soldiers are amazed; their general is a man of his word!
+Literally, in a fortnight, he has fulfilled his promise.
+
+Henceforward, the men under his command put their trust in Bonaparte. It
+is as Bonaparte that he begins to sign himself from the outset of the
+campaign. Since Italy is the enemy, he will have nothing more to do with
+an Italian name.
+
+Ere long, he will change his name again.
+
+
+II
+
+Why was he victorious? How can we explain that during the next few weeks
+he was able to deliver blow after blow? What is the solution of this
+riddle?
+
+First of all, he owes his success to youth and health. A body that can
+endure interminable riding without fatigue; the power to sleep at any
+moment, and to wake whenever he pleases; a stomach which can digest
+anything, and makes no complaint at being put on short commons; eyes that
+see and arrange everything.
+
+But it is to the revolution that he is indebted for the fact that at the
+age of twenty-seven, when his splendid powers are in their first vigour,
+he has risen to a leading place, and can wield unrestricted dictatorship.
+Only, thanks to the new ideas of equality, in a world which prizes a man
+for what he does and not for his birth, can any one become a leader in
+the prime of youth and after so rough an apprenticeship.
+
+Look at the men who are in the field against him. Archduke Charles, with
+his delicately shaped and decadent Habsburg nose, how can he, with his
+education, vie with the Corsican in indifference to hardships, rival
+Bonaparte in knowledge of men? How can Beaulieu, the Austrian commander,
+cope with the French general? The former is seventy-two; the latter,
+twenty-seven. General Colli suffers from gout, and has to be carried
+throughout the campaign. Alvintzy is in the middle sixties. The king
+of Sardinia is an old man. What can the excellent General Wurmser, who
+is deaf, and a slow, elderly gentleman, cautious in his movements, do
+against a commander who thinks nothing of changing his headquarters
+every day, who surrounds himself with young men, and who takes “Time is
+everything,” for his motto?
+
+The oldest man in Napoleon’s circle is the faithful Berthier, now
+forty-two, whom the new commander has taken over from his predecessor
+because Berthier has a good knowledge of the country. For two decades he
+is to be Bonaparte’s slavishly devoted chief of general staff. Next to
+be mentioned comes Masséna, a man of ardent temperament, who had been a
+cabin boy and a vagrant, and had served fourteen years under the Bourbons
+without rising to the rank of sergeant major; now, within a few weeks,
+he was to become a general. Augereau, too, a deserter from three armies,
+boaster, adventurer, and great thief. Such were the men drawn from the
+dregs of society out of whom their commander, the youngest of them all,
+was soon to make heroes and generalissimos, and subsequently princes and
+dukes.
+
+In every dispatch, he recommends for promotion those, and only those, who
+have displayed courage. Thus, after three battles, a grenadier rises to
+the rank of colonel, and will climb yet higher. On the other hand, many
+of the generals whom he has taken over with his command are dismissed
+with blunt censure: “Good enough for office work, knows nothing of war.”
+His subordinates do not necessarily incur his displeasure because they
+are beaten: “The fortune of war, dear Masséna, changes from day to day.
+To-morrow, or later, we shall win back what you have just lost.” But a
+division which has done badly is paraded to hear a rating. He says that
+he will have a mocking inscription worked upon its colours. Then the
+soldiers cry to him from the ranks: “To-morrow we will lead the van.”
+Next day, he has a thousand more enthusiasts among the troops. When they
+are victorious, in the orders of the day he calls them comrades and
+friends. Thus does he lead the sons of the people.
+
+For it is a people’s army that he is leading; that is the second great
+factor of his success. This, too, he owes to the revolution. Indeed,
+the people’s army is an expression of the revolution. The soldiers on
+the Austrian side must be used thriftily, for they cost a great deal,
+and it is not easy to replace them. They are drawn from a larger number
+of nationalities than the German emperor himself rules. Six different
+languages are spoken in the army, and there is no community of thought
+to hold it together. But the French are fighting as a united nation of
+thirty millions, and their army will be capable of perpetual regeneration
+for twenty years to come.
+
+What is the French army fighting for? The new freedom of the republic,
+and to spread throughout the world the few and simple ideas which animate
+it! The French are fighting for the world revolution, and nothing short
+of that. But the army is not in pursuit of purely ideal aims. It has to
+defend liberty against the environing forces of legitimate monarchy,
+against the legitimists who are more concerned with self-defence than
+with the cause of the fallen Bourbons. The French cannot achieve their
+end by simply defending their own frontiers. They are surrounded by kings
+and emperors who wish to keep their peoples from any attempt to imitate
+the French revolution, and are therefore trying to destroy the very focus
+of the new ideas. Thus France is forced to assume the offensive as a
+means of self-defence. Those who in such a fashion become conquerors in
+spite of themselves, are surely entitled to declare that their conquests
+are achieved in the name of liberty.
+
+This brings us to the third factor of Napoleon’s success. While the
+commander is engaged in the attempt to conquer Lombardy, and then Italy,
+for France, he issues a series of manifestoes to tell the inhabitants
+of the territories he is invading that he comes to free them from the
+Habsburgs and the Sardinians, from dukes and patrician senates. Will not
+all who have been discontented with the old order be roused to action
+by the torrential force of such appeals? Have not the oppressed masses
+long had it in mind to rid themselves of their rulers? Have not the ideas
+of the revolution crossed the frontiers years ago, rousing, in many of
+the towns, students and burghers to revolt? Here in Italy were young
+people who longed for freedom; leaders who had been vainly clamouring
+for “Italia unità.” The revolt, though still in chains, was rattling its
+chains outside the kings’ palace doors. The malcontents were ready to
+welcome the invading army, and to believe in its mission.
+
+The commander, a man of Italian blood, bearing an Italian name, and
+speaking Italian as his mother tongue, was not for them a French warrior.
+He was the herald of liberty and equality, and the two great words headed
+all his letters. How terrible would be the disillusionment, should the
+invader prove, after all, a foreign oppressor! The commander is well
+aware how much turns upon this. Will he be able to keep his famished army
+within bounds? Can he make his soldiers behave as well as if they were
+fresh from a well-provisioned garrison town?
+
+“Looting is on the wane,” he writes home. “The thirst of an army which
+lacked everything has been quenched. There is an excuse for the poor
+devils. They have spent three years in the marches of the Alps, and now
+I have led them into the Promised Land! A famished soldier perpetrates
+excesses which make one ashamed of being a man.... I intend to restore
+order, for I will not remain in command of a robber band.... To-morrow I
+am going to have several privates and a corporal shot, for having looted
+the plate from a church. Discipline will be re-established within a day
+or two. Italy has been amazed at the valour of our soldiers, and shall be
+amazed at their good behaviour. There have been terrible moments; things
+have happened which have made me shudder. Thank God, the retreating enemy
+behaved even worse!”
+
+He puts his men on their honour. “Swear to me”—thus runs one of his early
+manifestoes—“to spare the peoples you are liberating; otherwise you will
+be the scourges of the people! Your victories, your courage, the blood
+of our fallen brothers, will be lost; honour and glory, too! I and my
+generals would blush at leading an undisciplined army!” Hard to carry
+out, despite his adjurations. Throughout the campaign, he is hampered by
+this problem of looting. Again and again he issues orders to his generals
+telling them they are to shoot any one who fails to hand over his plunder
+within twenty-four hours, even if the stolen goods be horses and mules.
+
+There are revolts and counter-attacks. Priests and nobles, agents of
+the princes, incite a town to resist. He is pitiless in his shootings,
+ruthless in his reprisals, whenever, in the conquered territory, any one
+raises a hand against the new master. But this becomes increasingly rare,
+for in the towns he is skilful in enlisting the civic sense on the side
+of a new order which assumes imposing lineaments. He understands (and
+this is an additional factor of success) the Italian temperament; knows
+how to appeal to the sense of historic veneration: “Peoples of Italy,
+the army of France comes to break your chains. It is a friend to all the
+peoples. Have confidence! Your property, your customs, your religion,
+shall be respected.” He goes on to speak to them of Athens, Sparta,
+classical Rome.
+
+History inspires him. While with rapid strokes he is making history,
+history gives his spirit wings. In boyhood, he had studied Plutarch;
+as lieutenant, he had read the history of all times; now, from moment
+to moment, he turns the knowledge to account. Knowing who has ruled in
+every part of these territories, understanding how the governments he has
+overthrown came into being, he has appropriate measures for each area.
+Time-honoured figures are ever present to his imagination; he wants to
+resemble them, to outdo them. Thus, whatever he does is conceived in a
+historic setting; and he compels his army, the country with which he is
+dealing, and, soon, Europe as a whole, to breathe the same atmosphere.
+These first victories, which in reality are nothing more than big
+skirmishes, are by the magic of his words transformed into battles, and
+the battles are magnified into history. In this way, half of what he
+achieves is achieved by the power of words. To the lands he is freeing,
+to his soldiers, he invariably suggests that they have done the whole
+thing themselves. Read his proclamation to the army in Milan.
+
+“Soldiers, like a torrent you have rushed down from the heights of the
+Apennines.... Milan is yours.... We are the friends of all the peoples;
+but, above all, we are the friends of the offspring of Brutus and Scipio
+and the other great men who are our models. To re-establish the Capitol,
+to set up there the statues of the heroes, to awaken the Roman people
+which for centuries has been paralysed by servitude—that is the fruit of
+your victories, that will amaze posterity. It is your title to immortal
+fame that you have given a new visage to the most beautiful land in
+Europe.... Then you will return to your homes, and your neighbours will
+point you out to one another, saying: ‘He was with the army in Italy!’”
+
+Did a commander ever before make such alluring appeals to soldiers and
+peoples, to friends and foes? Who understood so well as Napoleon how to
+influence people through their imaginations instead of through a sense of
+obedience? At Arcola he shouts to his men: “Are you cowards, or are you
+the victors of Lodi?” In a month or two, he will be urging them onward by
+reminding them that they are the victors of Arcola. “We have crossed the
+Po, and have opened the second campaign,” he writes to the Directors. All
+his reports to Paris are penned with consummate art. What he writes is
+the truth, but it is so skilfully adorned that it develops a life of its
+own as soon as the government communicates it to the press, and when from
+France it makes its way into foreign lands.
+
+With the pen, Bonaparte rounds off the victories he has won with the
+sword.
+
+
+III
+
+“I have received your peace treaty with Sardinia. The army has approved
+it.”
+
+The Directors quake as they read the words. The arrival of this dispatch
+cancels the joy they had felt at the coming of so many captured colours.
+When, before, had a general in the field dared to write in such a fashion
+to his government? “For this letter, the young hero ought to be stood up
+before a firing squad,” cry his opponents. But the fame of his victories,
+the glory of his conquest of Lombardy, have already secured him so strong
+a position in the hearts of the people that no one dares attack him.
+Recently, when the governmental commissary, his fellow-Corsican Saliceti,
+came to his camp, Bonaparte ignored the official’s authority, and himself
+signed the truce with Sardinia. These negotiations were the first in
+which he proved his mettle as diplomatist. When the other side wanted to
+bargain, he took out his watch, named the hour at which he had decided
+to attack, and said they had better make up their minds quickly. “I may
+lose battles,” he said, “but no one will ever see me lose minutes either
+by over-confidence or by sloth.” With this truce, he for the first time
+dispossessed a king. Without asking for instructions, he entered into
+negotiations with the dukes, with Tuscany. Was he not, before long, to
+do the same thing with the pope? What was the best way of dealing with
+this dangerous conqueror?
+
+“We will send him a partner,” thought the Directors, with a smile. “Let
+him share the supreme command with Kellermann, while Saliceti decides
+upon political issues.” Orders to this effect reached him at Lodi, on the
+day of battle.
+
+That was the first real battle he had won. A colossal bluff and a bold
+movement enabled him to storm the bridge over the Adda and to defeat the
+alarmed Austrians. There were to be much greater victories in days to
+come; but, in the history of the man’s spiritual development, not one of
+them was to equal this in importance.
+
+For now, after a battle which decided the first part of his campaign,
+having taken much booty and sustained only trifling losses, and having
+made himself master of a territory opened to him by an hour’s struggle
+on the bridge,—this evening, Bonaparte feels for the first time how
+obscure plans and brilliant exploits of war, dream and reality, are
+interconnected. The consciousness of his own powers makes him realise
+that boundless possibilities lie before him. That was the first time on
+which a word concerning such aims crossed his lips. To his friend Marmont
+he said: “I feel that deeds await me of which the present generation has
+no inkling.” Long afterwards, in retrospect, he declared: “That evening,
+after the battle of Lodi, I first became aware that I was an exceptional
+man; from then I date the awakening of an ambition to do the great things
+which hitherto had existed for me only as the fantasies of a dream.”
+
+Such was his mood when the new orders came from Paris. What? The conquest
+of two or three continents was looming before his imagination—and he was
+to go halves with Kellermann? He strode up and down the room, pursing his
+lips, and then he issued his fiat to the government:
+
+“If you put hindrances in my path, if you make my actions dependent upon
+the commissary’s decision, ... you must not expect any more good results
+from me.... Here it is indispensable that you should have absolute
+confidence in your commander. If I do not enjoy that confidence, I shall
+without complaint endeavour to win your approval in some other post.
+Every one has his own way of making war. General Kellermann has more
+experience, and would doubtless do it better; but, together, we should
+do it badly. I cannot serve the country unless I have your complete
+and undivided trust. Much courage, I know, is needed to write you this
+report, for it would be easy to charge me with ambition and pride! But
+you are responsible for my having to express my feelings.... I cannot
+serve jointly with a man who regards himself as the best commander in
+Europe. For the rest, one bad general is better than two good generals.
+With war, as with governance, it is a question of tact.”
+
+The general does not seem inclined to yield up his place to any one. If
+the authorities in Paris insist on a divided command, is it not likely
+that he will march ahead on his own initiative, gain further victories
+with his unaided talents, then turn back to threaten France, and, as a
+condottiere, overthrow the government? The Directors think it will be
+better not to insist; with a smile, a wry one this time, they give way.
+After his first, noiseless victory over the government, Bonaparte feels
+he is master. Henceforward he behaves, substantially, as a king who
+is his own commander-in-chief, but who can only secure reinforcements
+and other requisites by reiterated adjurations. For months and years,
+therefore, his dispatches are still written in the tone of a subordinate;
+of one who does not threaten, but advises. Yet in reality he acts all the
+time as if he were already in the land of the sultan, towards which his
+masterful character draws him.
+
+The Paris courier has been sent off. Bonaparte’s first “No” is on its
+way. Another restless night in camp, and then to Milan!
+
+In everything, he imitates the Roman general celebrating a triumph. As of
+old, the prisoners lead the way, the only difference being that nowadays
+they are not in chains. They are followed by five hundred cavalrymen.
+The citizens, who are used to seeing brilliant uniforms, are astonished
+at the tattered tunics, the sorry screws, the jaded appearance of the
+riders; and they are still more amazed when they see the thin little man
+on the inconspicuous white nag, at the head of his weary-looking suite.
+How grey the whole procession looks in the light of this brilliant spring
+day. At the gate the venerable archbishop, with a train of counts and
+dukes, bids him welcome. He dismounts, but does not draw near to the
+reception committee; he merely listens with forced politeness to the
+words of greeting. The onlookers are wondering what answer he will make.
+For a few seconds he keeps his lips tightly pressed together, and then
+contents himself with a single sentence, to the effect that France wishes
+the Lombards well. Remounting, he salutes, and rides on.
+
+Leaders and crowd are deeply impressed; no enthusiasm, only astonishment.
+Not a sign of arrogance about this conqueror; nothing but resolution, and
+a force of will before which all must bend. Was his conduct deliberately
+planned to produce such an impression, though never before had he
+experienced anything of the kind? Was he “play-acting”? If so, all the
+more remarkable his knowledge of men; all the more plain that he was a
+master of the ruler’s art!
+
+Nevertheless, he is absent-minded to-day, for he has not all that he
+wants.
+
+Now, the streets echo to the shouts of the crowd, who cannot restrain
+their expressions of astonishment as they watch the men who follow the
+commander—marching in a slack and almost disorderly fashion, clad in
+scarecrow uniforms patched with many colours. These Frenchmen seem in
+almost sorrier case than the prisoners!
+
+[Illustration: General Bonaparte in 1796. Engraving from the Kircheisen
+Collection.]
+
+The commander is taking his ease in the archbishop’s palace. He is
+having a bath. Hot baths are his one luxury, a luxury that he will
+continue to indulge in down to the day of his death, taking them hotter
+and hotter, staying in them longer and longer, as time goes on. Nothing
+can break him of the habit, for a hot bath is the only thing which really
+refreshes him, soothes his nerves. In the evening there is a reception.
+“You will be free, and in a safer position than the French. Milan will be
+the capital of this new republic, which has a population of five million.
+You shall have five hundred pieces of ordnance, and the friendship of
+France. From among you I will choose fifty men, who shall rule the
+country in the name of France. Adopt our laws, modifying them to suit
+your own customs.... Be sagacious and united, and all will go well. Such
+is my will. If Habsburg should again seize Lombardy, I swear to you that
+I will take up your cause, that I will never desert you. If your land
+perishes, I shall be no more. Athens and Sparta did not last for ever!”
+
+Never since the days of Plutarch’s heroes did a commander talk like this.
+It was the conqueror’s first speech from the throne, and was compounded
+of all the elements with which, in his speeches and letters, he was to
+work upon the mind of Europe for twenty years to come. Everything is
+single and definite; there is so much fixity of purpose that every one
+wishes to comply. You are vassals, but free. I am your master, but I
+will protect you. Five hundred pieces of ordnance and the friendship of
+France. “Such is my will.” Then it is all over.
+
+Through the May night, the wealthy town blazed with fireworks and
+resounded with music. The young commander-in-chief has moved on to the
+Palazzo Serbelloni; the banquet is over, and he stands at the window. The
+triumphal entry of which he dreamed in youth, towards which his virginal
+fancy strained, has now been accomplished. Does he look forward or back?
+With what is his mind busied?
+
+“What do you imagine the Parisians are thinking of us?” he asks his
+adjutant. “Do you expect they are satisfied?” When Marmont makes the
+conventional reply, Napoleon goes on: “But Paris has seen nothing, so
+far. The future hides much greater victories. The goddess of fortune
+has not smiled on me that I may scorn her. The more she favours me, the
+greater shall be my demands. In a few days we shall reach the Adige; then
+Italy will be at our feet. Perhaps we shall cross the river, and press
+onward. Our age has produced nothing great. I want to set an example.”
+
+
+IV
+
+A royal couch in the Serbelloni Palace; never has he lain so soft before.
+But it is far too wide for one! Where is Josephine? What are triumphal
+entries and victories worth, without her? Fireworks and flags! Why has
+she not come? Is she really ill? Has she a lover?—He lies awake for hours.
+
+From the very first this man, who inspired respect even in the veterans
+among the generals, imperilled that respect by his way of showing his
+wife’s picture to all and sundry, and when he was in the middle of a
+conversation about service matters. “You will come soon, won’t you?” So
+he wrote in one of his almost daily letters. “You must come to me. I want
+you on my heart, in my arms! Quick! Fly, fly!” He knows her frivolous
+disposition; that her senses are easily aroused; that she is always ready
+to give herself up to new impressions, new admirers. But now, now! What
+can be keeping her? He had expected her to come to Milan. His ambition
+had been to escape thither from the savagery of the campaign, that in
+one of the palaces of that city he might give her capricious charms a
+splendid setting worthy of her and himself.
+
+But there is something which our great calculator has left out of his
+calculations. By his very feats of arms, he has kept her away from
+his side. For years in Paris she has been living in the half-world.
+Now, in this city which she loves, she wishes to shine forth in an
+assured position, as wife of the great commander whose name is in every
+newspaper, on every one’s lips. Does the little general really think she
+married him for love? When the first captured colours are exhibited,
+she drives out among the people, and, while she is loudly cheered, she
+thinks to herself how much more gratifying this is than to rough it in
+foreign towns surrounded by unmannerly soldiers. She seldom writes to
+him. His own words grow ever more urgent. “Have you a lover, have you
+taken up with some stripling of nineteen? If so, you have reason to dread
+Othello’s fist!” She laughs, and says to Tallien: “A queer fellow, this
+Bonaparte!”
+
+Another day, in the middle of a letter to Carnot dealing with urgent
+affairs, he writes: “I am in despair. My wife won’t come here. I am
+sure she must have a lover, and that that is what keeps her in Paris. I
+loathe women, one and all!” Then comes a letter in which she grasps at an
+expedient. Since there is no other way of avoiding the dangers and the
+dirt of camp life, she writes to him that she has hopes....
+
+Thunder and lightning! Have all the spirits of good fortune united to
+shower blessings on him? Among his successes, that was the only thing he
+lacked to complete his happiness. For, if destiny is to carry him to the
+lofty altitudes he foresees, to the heights he has resolved to scale,
+then his greatest need is to have heirs. But this battle is only planned,
+not yet won; new dangers are impending. He shudders. Is it true? Is it
+his child?
+
+“I am sorry!”—the words are penned in his almost illegible handwriting on
+the commander-in-chief’s official stationery. “I have been pestering you
+with complaints, and you are ill. Love had robbed me of reason. Forgive
+me, but I think I shall never be reasonable again. My life is an unending
+dream; gloomy forebodings make it hard for me to breathe; I have lost
+all hope. Write me ten pages, for nothing else can console me. You are
+ill, you love me, you are with child, and I never see you. Who takes care
+of you? Hortense? I love the sweet girl more than ever when I think of
+her as taking care of you.... Soon you are to have in your arms a child
+as fascinating as yourself. If I could only spend a whole day with you.
+You know, if I saw a lover with you, I should instantly tear the man to
+pieces!”
+
+But who is to help her through her time of trouble? There is no
+friendship in the world, only the ties of blood. “I am in despair,” he
+writes to Joseph under the same date. “My wife is ailing; I do not know
+whether I am standing on my head or my heels; dreadful forebodings rack
+my heart. Write to me, I implore you. Since early childhood, we have
+been bound together by kinship and affection. Do for her what I would
+so eagerly do for you.... You know how much I love her; know her ardent
+nature; know that I have never loved so passionately, that Josephine is
+the first woman whom I have adored. Her condition drives me crazy....
+But as soon as she is well again, well enough to travel, she must come
+to me. I must have her in my arms; I love her to distraction, and cannot
+live without her. If she no longer loves me, there is nothing more for me
+in the world. Oh, mon ami, do not keep the courier more than six hours
+in Paris; send him back to me with an answer which will give me new
+life. Be happy! For myself, nature has doomed me to win none but outward
+victories!”
+
+On the same day, he dictates, inter alia: Order to Berthier to occupy
+Alessandria; dispatch to the Directors concerning urgently needed
+reinforcements; ultimatum to the Genoese Senate anent the murder of
+soldiers; letter introducing Murat to the same Senate; plan to sell some
+cannon which are still left on the Riviera; order to Masséna to procure
+ammunition from the arsenal in Venice; order to Lannes to advance no
+farther; order to send all suspects to Tortona; order to send a division
+to Toulon; report to Kellermann that money and troops are on the way.
+
+His letter has an effect. Joseph asks Josephine to come with him to
+Milan. What pretext can she find for refusing? She sighs, packs her
+trunks, sheds tears at a farewell festival in the Luxembourg, gets
+into the carriage. After all, to-morrow is the thirtieth of June, the
+season is at an end, and she has good company for the journey. Of course
+Joseph, her vis-à-vis, is a homely fellow, but Junot is a dapper young
+man; Fortuné, her lap-dog, is a darling, as ever. Then there is Charles,
+another young officer whose acquaintance she has recently made, and who
+has danced attendance on her ever since. Is he on the lookout for a
+career, or a conquest? What a choice Christian name, Hippolyte! How fine
+he looks in his chasseur uniform. He tells such amusing stories, has an
+expert knowledge of the latest shawls and wigs, and his legs are so well
+turned!
+
+Milan. Bonaparte is away? More battles near Verona? No matter, this is
+a lovely place! Such a splendid palace; they all flock to pay their
+respects. But Hippolyte is hors concours; no one can rival the grace with
+which, sword clanking, he strides up and down the Corso. What a pity one
+has to be circumspect in one’s behaviour under so many prying eyes. But
+Hippolyte knows his way about, and has found a discreet staircase....
+
+Suddenly there is a stir of excitement. The commander-in-chief is coming
+from Verona. For two days and two nights, the lava of this volcano
+overwhelms her.
+
+
+V
+
+Thrice do the soldiers of Emperor Francis try to relieve Mantua, which
+Bonaparte is besieging. Mantua is the key position. Old Wurmser, marching
+down beside Lake Garda with fresh troops, drives back the opposing
+forces. If Bonaparte is to make front against him, Mantua must be
+abandoned for a time. Meanwhile, however, the enemy has blocked the line
+of retreat upon Milan. A terrible reverse, and the French army is in the
+utmost danger. Bonaparte, hastening from Milan, rides under the hot July
+sun across the plain, busily inspecting one division of the army after
+the other, gathering all his strength, for the fate of the whole campaign
+is at stake. A period of the utmost activity, and of extreme tension.
+
+“Since I left you,” he writes on one of these evenings, “I have been sad.
+I can only be happy when I am near you. I spend my whole time thinking
+of your kisses, your tears, your bewitching jealousy. The charm of the
+incomparable Josephine is perpetually rekindling the flames of my heart
+and my senses. When shall I be free, at length, free from cares and
+duties, free to devote all my time to you, with nothing in the world but
+to love you.... Since I have known you, I have come to respect you more
+day by day, which shows how wrong La Bruyère was when he said that love
+comes suddenly. Everything in nature runs its course, and increases by
+degrees.... Be less beautiful, less tender, and above all less jealous.
+Your tears inflame my blood.... Join me quickly, so that, before we
+die, we may be able to say: ‘We have had so many happy days!’ A million
+kisses, even for your horrid Fortuné!”
+
+Neither now nor later could the commander-in-chief rid his home of this
+lap-dog. He tells us that on his wedding night the dog was in bed with
+Josephine. “I had to choose between sleeping beside the beast or not
+sleeping with my wife. A terrible dilemma, but I had to take it or leave
+it. I resigned myself. The dog was less accommodating. I have the marks
+on my leg to show what he thought about the matter!”
+
+Amid the hurly-burly, the general’s lady arrives at Brescia. Almost
+immediately she has to be sent back to Milan. She has a narrow escape of
+being seized by the enemy, together with some recruits and cannon. Now
+she has an excuse, and, in the future, she will be slower to comply with
+his invitations.
+
+During these weeks, Bonaparte for the first time loses courage, though it
+is only for a few hours of one night. Instead of simply issuing orders,
+he holds a council of war, much to the astonishment of his generals. In
+this critical situation, he proposes to retreat across the Po, but the
+mad Augereau thumps the table, shouting: “For the sake of your own fame,
+I insist that we attack.” He flings from the room. The counsels of the
+others are divided.
+
+See him before the decision, brooding over his maps. He is alone. Moths
+are fluttering round the candles, and at last burn themselves to death.
+The midsummer night is sultry. As he listens to the drums and the
+shouting without, he thinks: “To-morrow will settle whether we can keep
+Lombardy. Perhaps it will be the turning point in my fame, my destiny.
+Shall I stake all on one card? What if Wurmser’s strength is greater than
+the reports say? Josephine is sleeping now, in the great bed. Or, who
+knows, she may be laughing softly in the embrace of some puppy who has
+bewitched her.”
+
+He decides to fight. Next day, he is victorious at Castiglione.
+
+Soon afterwards, he writes: “Three days without a letter from you; I
+have written daily. This separation is terrible; the nights are long
+and savourless, the days monotonous.” At this time, Josephine writes
+to Tallien in Paris: “I am bored to death.” He is busied in battles
+and victories; she is fêted and honoured. To both of them life seems
+wearisome: to him, because she is too far away; to her, because he is too
+near. Three days later: “The enemy has been beaten, my darling. Eighteen
+thousand prisoners, the others dead or wounded. Wurmser has only Mantua
+left. This is the biggest success yet: Italy, Friuli, and Tyrol are saved
+for the republic. In a few days we shall see one another again, that is
+the reward for labour and pains. A thousand glowing kisses!”
+
+When the commander can draw breath, the statesman must turn every moment
+to account. In Modena he assembles deputies from all the States as far
+south as Bologna, and at a formal sitting he gives them a constitution,
+that they may unite to form henceforward one State, the new republic. Is
+he happy, now that he is at work State-building? His wife in Milan must
+be in love with some one, or she would write to him differently!
+
+“Your letters are cold”—this is from Modena on the same day. “Their tone
+suggests that we must have been married for half a century at least.
+Friendship and winter, it is odious and spiteful. What more am I to
+expect of you? That you have ceased to love me? That is an old story.
+That you should hate me? Well and good. That is what I wish. Everything
+degrades, save only hatred. But indifference with a heart of marble,
+lack-lustre eyes, languid gait?... A thousand kisses, tender as my heart.”
+
+Fresh crises call him northward once more. He comes, he fights, he is
+driven back. The gloomy November weeks, in which his fate again trembles
+in the balance, are not gladdened by any consolation from her. Far from
+it, for his most intimate friends, alive to all that goes on in Milan,
+venture cautious hints that my lady Josephine is having a merry time
+there. This is the day after the defeat at Caldiero. He sends to Paris a
+despairing appeal for reinforcements.
+
+Complications thicken; courage wanes; every one turns for help to the
+chief. He seems to be thinking with thirty heads these days, when the
+battle of Arcola is impending. It is in a crazy mood of despair that
+he writes to her in the evening, his pen storming over the paper: “I
+no longer love you, I hate you. You are hateful, stupid, inept. You do
+not write to me, do not love your husband. What are you doing all day,
+Madame? What important business makes it impossible for you to write to
+the man who loves you?... Who is the fairy prince that claims all your
+time, so that you cannot write to your husband? Take care, Josephine:
+some fine night, the door will burst open, and I shall be there! Quite
+seriously, I am uneasy, my pretty one. Do write me four pages full of
+sweet words which will warm my heart with joy and happiness. In a few
+days I hope to clasp you in my arms, and to cover you with a million
+kisses, hot as the equator.”
+
+How his heart flutters, uncertain whether she is still to be trusted,
+miserable if she be unworthy of trust. There is a crisis in his own soul
+as well as out there on the battle-field. Responsibility, uncertainty,
+storm in the heart of this man, who has perhaps already been dishonoured
+in his private life, and to-morrow may be dishonoured as a military
+commander—the man who still hopes to rule the world. During these days,
+when a suicide occurs among the troops, he issues an order: “The soldier
+must conquer the pain and the melancholy of the passions.”
+
+Two days after the date of the letter last quoted, he is standing near
+Arcola on a bridge spanning the Adige. The enemy is bombarding this
+bridge. The French troops shrink back; there seems no way of forcing
+a passage across the river. At length, after repeated summonses, the
+soldiers advance once more, but there are calls from the ranks to
+Napoleon: “Do not go any farther, General. You will be killed, and then
+we shall be lost!” Marmont is a little in the van. Turning round to see
+if his men are following, he notices that the commander is in the arms
+of Muiron, the adjutant, apparently wounded. Around them a group of
+motionless figures. Now that the movement of the vanguard is arrested,
+the troops seek the shelter of the embankment. Bonaparte, who has
+recovered, stumbles and falls into the ditch at the foot of the dyke. His
+brother Louis and Marmont drag him out. A horse! Confusion, shots; Muiron
+covers the general with his own body, is hit, and falls. Bonaparte saves
+himself on horseback.
+
+That evening in camp, he is greatly depressed. Second day’s fighting,
+and a vain attempt to storm the enemy’s position. This abominable river.
+Seems impossible to get across it. For a long time, the fortunes of the
+third day are no better than those of the first two.
+
+At the eleventh hour, he has recourse to cunning. While the fight on the
+river rages uncertainly, he sends all the trumpeters and drummers he can
+get together, with part of the guard, in a wide half-circle to reach a
+position in the enemy’s rear. There the charge is sounded. The wearied
+Austrians are panic-stricken, and one of their divisions draws back. The
+French, encouraged by the rout of part of the foe, assume that all the
+opposing army is retreating, and act accordingly. Courage and ruse have
+snatched victory out of a morass of despair. The name of another village
+becomes famous. Arcola medals are struck in Paris. A picture is painted,
+showing the commander on the bridge of Arcola, waving imaginary colours.
+
+The danger is over for a time. The enemy supports are withdrawn from
+Mantua, and soon the town must fall. Bonaparte makes a fresh disposition
+of his troops, and hastens to Milan. At length he will be able to
+administer the province from the capital, and have Josephine and hold her
+fast.
+
+But Josephine is harder to catch than Wurmser. “I reach Milan, rush to
+your house, having thrown aside everything in order to clasp you in my
+arms. You are not there! You are gadding about somewhere, running away
+when I come to seek you. You care nothing about your Napoleon. A whim led
+you to give me your love, and now fickleness has made you indifferent.
+Inured to dangers, I know how to meet reverses of fortune.... Don’t put
+yourself about, amuse yourself, happiness is made for you, all the world
+is happy to have the chance of pleasing you, your husband alone is most
+unhappy.”
+
+Next morning. “You have no reason to trouble yourself about the happiness
+or unhappiness of a man whom you do not love. But it is my fate to love
+you.... Take no part in the unhappiness of your husband, who lives only
+for you. It would be unjust if I were to ask you to love me as I love
+you. Who can expect delicate lace to weigh as heavy as gold.... My fault
+is that nature has denied me the charms which might bind you to me. What
+I do deserve is nothing more than this, that Josephine should show me
+a little consideration, a little respect, for I love her to the verge
+of madness, her and her alone. Farewell, adorable woman.... If I were
+certain that she could no longer love me, I would hide my pain, and would
+content myself with being useful to her whenever I could.... I open the
+letter once more, to send you a kiss. Ah, Josephine! Josephine!”
+
+What a confession! With ardour and ambition he pushes forward to the
+goal, but the enemy has escaped, and what is to be done? Resignation must
+be the first aim after a failure, not raging and cursing. A man must
+retain his self-respect, and act prudently. A little mockery, embellished
+with courtesy, will have its due effect. Next day, he has turned things
+over in his mind. I must have her. How shall I lure her back? To extol
+my exploits does not move her in the least. What does influence her?
+Flattery and service. Such is his calculation. A miscalculation: for he,
+who is masterful with kings, fails to see that the charming Josephine
+would fear a master, even though she would not worship him; that nothing
+makes her more secure in her own position than his confessed passion.
+
+Napoleon’s mistake is the outcome of his pride. His pride will lead him
+to the limits of what is humanly possible, but will in the long run
+mislead him into the greatest of his blunders. Now, it is pride that
+prevents his veiling a passion which he does not master because he does
+not wish to do so. After all his carefully planned phrases to the effect
+that he wishes to be of use to her, the foolish human heart drives him,
+with the gesture of a love-sick youth, to tear open his letter that he
+may “send a kiss.”
+
+
+VI
+
+What is Paris saying?
+
+Paris is radiant, for, after long years, it once more has a hero to
+worship. Bonaparte’s picture is in all the shops; rhymed comparisons of
+him with the heroes of antiquity are in every one’s mouth; the actors
+speak of him when instructions are sent to announce a new victory; the
+colours he has taken from the enemy are on show at the Luxembourg; his
+reports, cut about by the Directors, appear in the “Moniteur.” Songs,
+medals, caricatures (a recent importation from across the Channel),
+enliven the boulevards.
+
+He knows all this. He knows, likewise, that the rapid growth of his
+popularity is alarming the Directors, who feel that he has long ceased to
+be their creature. “The fellow’s perpetual victories will be the death
+of us,” they think, and put their heads together. A people’s army is
+invincible, but it is dangerous unless its officers are genuinely devoted
+to the government. For the last seven years, it has been the rulers’ way
+to threaten with the guillotine any general who has dared to meddle in
+politics on his own account. “A commander who does not comply with our
+orders, who makes light of the commissaries we send to his camp, must be
+dismissed, even if his name be Napoleon Bonaparte. Saliceti is too much
+under his thumb, being a fellow-Corsican, and having an uneasy conscience
+because he betrayed Bonaparte not very long ago. Let us send another
+commissary, Clarke, who is both prudent and ambitious.”
+
+Elegant and high-spirited, himself a general, Clarke, while on the
+journey to Milan, looks forward to twisting Bonaparte round his fingers.
+That gawky little fellow in the threadbare uniform whom he had often
+met at Barras’ should be easy enough to deal with. But in the Palazzo
+Serbelloni, the envoy is abashed before the commander. Napoleon has not
+grown any taller, certainly; but the manner of his entries and exits,
+while all wait for his coming or make way for his going, suggests the
+ruler rather than the simple warrior. The commissary has a courteous
+reception, but he is far from being able to penetrate Bonaparte’s secret
+plans and report them to his masters. On the contrary, within a couple
+of days the commander-in-chief has full knowledge of the Directors’
+private designs, about which Clarke ought to have kept his mouth shut.
+The commissary has bowed before the higher authority. “Here is the man of
+the future,” says he to himself; and promptly changes sides. Napoleon’s
+suspicions are now confirmed. He knows that the Directors are using his
+conquests as mere pawns in the game they are playing to secure peace
+with the Austrians. They have no intention of keeping Italy, and still
+less do they think of revolutionising it. Now that he is fore-warned, he
+will make all his preparations to thwart the government’s plans.
+
+But he still has need of the Directors. “Reinforcements! Reinforcements!
+Not in name only, not on paper merely, but armed men in the flesh.... My
+best soldiers are wounded; none of my staff officers and generals are
+fit for active service. The new levies are raw and unsteady. The army is
+reduced to a handful of exhausted warriors. We are forsaken in the middle
+of Italy. The few brave fellows left to me, are marked out for death
+unless you send ample reinforcements. Soon may strike the hour of the
+valiant Augereau, the indomitable Masséna, Berthier, myself. What will
+happen then to the lads in the ranks? This thought makes me cautious. I
+no longer dare to defy death, for if I were to fall it would demoralise
+those who are the object of all my care.”
+
+Could anything be more artfully phrased?
+
+Yes, he has another string to his bow. When he does not threaten imminent
+destruction, he cajoles with gifts. Month after month, to this government
+whose only resources have for some time been piles of almost worthless
+paper currency, he sends a consignment of hard cash, gold extorted from
+princes and republics by the terms of truce. He is the first commander to
+send money home, instead of continually demanding money. And in addition
+he has little presents to spare for the Directors. “I am sending a
+hundred of the finest horses I can lay my hands on, to replace any you
+may have that are not really good enough to draw your carriages.”
+
+He asks for the troops quartered in the southern provinces of France,
+and is told that they are needed for home service. “It is better,” he
+rejoins, “that there should be broils in Lyons, while we keep Italy,
+than conversely.” When told to leave all diplomatic negotiations to the
+commissaries, his answer runs: “For such matters, you do not merely
+need a one and only general; you must see to it that no one and nothing
+interfere with him in his work.... My advance is no less precise than my
+thought process.... We have to do everything with a weak army: thrust
+back the German troops; lay siege to fortresses; keep our lines of
+communication open; threaten Genoa, Venice, Tuscany, Rome, and Naples;
+show our strength here, there, and everywhere. For this, absolute unity
+of the military, political, and financial command is indispensable....
+Unless the general remains the great centre, you will be exposed to
+incessant danger. I hope this language will not be ascribed to personal
+ambition. For my own part, I am unfortunately overburdened with honours,
+and my health has been so seriously undermined that I may soon have to
+ask you to appoint my successor. I can no longer mount a horse; nothing
+is left to me but courage.... I am continuing the negotiations. Troops!
+troops!—if you want to keep Italy. Bonaparte.”
+
+The more popular he becomes, the more often does he tender his
+resignation, though his health is in truth excellent, and day after day
+he rides until his horse stumbles from fatigue. Woe to the Parisian
+lawyers if they run counter to his wishes! While he strengthens France’s
+power in Italy, he is consolidating his own influence in Paris; this is
+his new idea. Although he neither champions popular freedom nor believes
+Italy ripe for it, he insists upon the formation of the “Cisalpine
+Republic,” against the wishes of the Directors—among whom Carnot, at
+least, is a convinced democrat, though he wants to use Italy as a pawn in
+the French game.
+
+This is the first occasion on which Bonaparte builds up an organism
+out of centrifugal forces. In days to come, he will repeat the process
+again and again, on an ever grander scale of creation, his aim being to
+establish a United Europe. He now welds together the half dozen petty
+States of northern Italy, prescribes their constitution, appoints and
+dismisses their officials. Throughout, he is the dictator, and yet all
+the time he acts on rational principles and allows for elasticity in
+matters of detail. He issues brilliant proclamations, announcing that
+these States are to be free whether they like it or not, and that they
+are to pay him promptly in hard cash for the privilege.
+
+“The French Republic has sworn hatred of the tyrants, brotherhood with
+the peoples. This principle of the constitution is the principle of the
+army as well. The despot who has so long kept Lombardy enslaved, has done
+great injury to France.... The victorious army of an insolent monarch
+was compelled to spread terror among the conquered. But the republican
+army, while waging war to the death against its enemies, the kings,
+gives a pledge of friendship to the peoples it has set free. Respect for
+property, humanity, and religion—this is our animating principle. But the
+Lombards owe us, who are their brothers, a fair return.... Lombardy must
+support us with all her resources. We need provisions, for France is so
+far away that we cannot supply our requirements thence. We are entitled
+to them by the right of conquest; friendship must hasten to offer them to
+us. We have to requisition twenty million francs from the provinces. They
+are so rich that this will not be a serious burden.”
+
+Then he takes whatever he wants out of the taxes, the countryside, the
+camps, the arsenals, and the domains. In the articles of every truce,
+he demands money, oxen, and pictures. If he sends pictures and statues
+to Paris, this will not, of course, stabilise the currency; but it
+will tickle the vanity of the Parisians, and win him popular favour.
+In a period of intense financial stringency, Bonaparte, with Italy as
+his source of supply, stocks the Louvre with precious works of art,
+contributing far more than the most resplendent of kings.
+
+But all the time, while he is ruthlessly extorting money from the
+Italians, he is not less ruthless with Frenchmen who are trying to
+feather their own nests. In one of his early despatches, he writes: “The
+army consumes five times as much as it should, because the commissariat
+officers are falsifying their accounts.... Prodigality, venality, and
+peculation are rife. There is only one thing to do: a committee of three
+must be appointed, with power, during from three to five days, to shoot
+every dishonest administrator.” When the deliveries of hay are found to
+be short weight, he declares: “It is of the utmost importance that not
+one of these rascals shall escape. Too long have the army and the country
+been the victims of cupidity.” Innumerable are the documents bearing his
+signature which are directed against these plunderers. When the influx
+of women camp-followers exceeds all bounds, he issues the following
+order: “Any woman found among the troops without a permit twenty-four
+hours after the posting of this notice, will be blackwashed and publicly
+exposed for two hours.”
+
+On the other hand, this strict disciplinarian was humane in his desire to
+put an end to some of the barbarities which still characterised war in
+those days: “The infamous practice of flogging men to make them disclose
+secrets, must come to an end. The only result of torturing people in this
+way is that the poor wretches say whatever they think will please their
+captors. I forbid the use of means that are equally repugnant to humanity
+and reason.”
+
+
+VII
+
+As a diplomat, he strengthens all the instruments of diplomacy: flattery
+and threats; lying and frankness—or sometimes, even in diplomatic
+negotiations, he will play the bluff soldier. He is especially shrewd in
+his dealings with the Vatican.
+
+As thorough-going revolutionists, the Directors wish to put an end to
+the temporal power of the pope; for the Papal States are the focus of
+the religion which revolutionary France has rejected. The prospect of
+this moral success, to be gilded by the wealth of the Vatican, charms
+them more than all Bonaparte’s activities in the formation of border
+States. They insist upon his advancing against Rome. Now he will be able
+to see it close at hand, this city with which, from childhood onwards,
+his imagination has associated power, greatness, and fame. Like Cæsar,
+he will be able to pluck laurels from the Capitol, for the papal troops
+cannot stand against him for a moment.
+
+But he holds his hand. For him, the pope is the only ruler who cannot
+be dethroned by big guns. He sees the idea behind the papacy, with
+its millennial influence on France and Europe; he knows the moral
+repercussions of martyrdom, and he has determined not to wage war
+upon the pope, unless it be a make-believe. “The influence of Rome is
+incalculable. It was a serious error to break with this power, which will
+profit by our mistake.”
+
+He moves southward, and, literally, crosses the Rubicon, but there he
+stops. Because he is the stronger, he offers a truce; henceforward this
+will be his technique. The aged pope accepts the offer, for Bonaparte is
+wise enough to leave all ecclesiastical questions open. Pius VI promises
+to pay France several millions; to hand over one hundred pictures, busts,
+vases, or statues as the French commissioners shall determine. There
+are only two articles for which the commander-in-chief makes a specific
+demand: He wants the busts of Junius Brutus and Marcus Brutus from the
+Capitol. He is a Roman from Corsica; he crosses the Rubicon, spares Rome,
+and does not enter the city; but he requisitions the busts of the two
+heroes of antiquity.
+
+When the pope fails to pay up, and makes difficulties, Napoleon sets
+out towards Rome a second time, but does not go to the city. After a
+trifling skirmish, he is willing to make peace. He will soon want to use
+his soldiers in the north. A pope on the run would carry his treasures
+with him, and what would there be left then for the poor Directors in
+Paris? On his own initiative, he actually pardons the French priests
+who have refused to take the oath of allegiance to the constitution and
+have sought refuge in Rome. He makes friends everywhere among the clergy,
+compares a “citizen archbishop” to one of the apostles, and writes as
+follows in several of his letters to high ecclesiastics: “The teaching of
+the Gospels is based on equality, and is therefore the most suitable for
+any republic.” What will they say to that in Paris, where Christ has been
+done away with?
+
+Finally, he sends to the pope, who is on the point of taking to flight,
+an assurance that there is nothing to be afraid of. “Tell the Holy Father
+that I am not an Attila; and that even if I were, the Holy Father should
+not forget that he is a successor of Leo.” He thus dresses himself in
+historical trappings when he is dealing with the oldest of the thrones.
+But when the nuncio is slow to sign the new agreement, the polished man
+of the world is suddenly metamorphosed into a soldier, who tears up the
+draft and throws it into the fire. “We are not discussing terms of peace,
+Monsignore; there is merely a suspension of hostilities.” The other side
+is alarmed. He doubles his demands, and this time he gets what he wants.
+Thereupon the pope writes his “dear son” a letter, and gives the child of
+the revolution his blessing.
+
+He never wraps up his doings in mystery, as the diplomats of those days
+were wont to do. An hour after his first truce has been arranged, he
+discussed recent happenings with the freedom of a historian in the next
+generation. Talking to the conquered Piedmontese over the dinner table,
+he says: “My attack on the castle of Cossaria was needless; but your
+movement of the 17th was a sound tactical manœuvre.”
+
+At the end of the second campaign, he again shows himself a master in
+respect of both self-confidence and moderation. He has moved forward out
+of Lombardy in the beginning of March, and by the end of the month he
+is already in Styria, a few days’ march from Vienna. If the Army of the
+Rhine follows up his blow by similar victories, they will be able to
+dictate peace to Emperor Francis. Yet he chooses to halt, and to offer
+peace to the vanquished. True, the Army of the Rhine is still a good way
+off, whilst Austria and Hungary are arming themselves in frenzied haste.
+To stay where he is as a menace, this is the conqueror’s logic.
+
+Bonaparte, however, is a statesman. The Directors want peace before
+the elections, and he still has need of the Directors. How would it
+be if he, he alone, the soldier, were to bring France the peace for
+which she has been waiting five years? Is he to share the glory of this
+achievement with his rivals in the Army of the Rhine? The fortune of
+war is uncertain, and none but the foolhardy will tempt it unless they
+must. Once more he has broken the troops of the Empire, cut off as they
+are from the Rhenish armies. For a year, Europe has been afraid of
+the new commander; it will become him now to make a gesture of peace,
+so that people may learn to revere the new statesman. Without courtly
+periphrases, and as an equal, he writes to the defeated Austrian leader,
+Emperor Francis’ brother:
+
+“Commander-in-Chief, Sir! Our valiant soldiers are waging war and want
+peace. Has not the war lasted six years? Have we not killed enough
+people; have we not brought enough suffering upon mankind? Everywhere
+there is a reaction towards humaneness, and almost everywhere the enemies
+of France have laid down their arms. Your nation is the only exception.
+The omens of this new campaign are sinister. However it may end, each
+of us will slay a few thousands of the other’s soldiers; and yet, in
+the end, we shall make peace, for everything comes to an end, even the
+fiercest hatred.... You, who stand so near to the throne, uplifted above
+the petty emotions of statesmen and governments, are not you disposed to
+win for yourself the title of benefactor of mankind, saviour of Germany?
+I regard it as quite possible for you to save your country by force of
+arms. But, even then, Germany will be laid waste. If these lines could
+save the life of but one man, I should pride myself more upon my civic
+crown than upon the melancholy renown of the battle-field.”
+
+This letter makes a strong appeal to Archduke Charles. A highly cultured
+man, declared enemy of all wars, and only acting as commander-in-chief
+from a sense of duty, with this document in his hand he will be able
+to make headway against the war party in Vienna and to influence the
+emperor. For what would happen should they refuse? Bonaparte would
+certainly publish his letter and their reply. He would have another
+chance of parading before Europe the humanist ideals of the republic,
+and contrasting with them the feudal militarism of the empire. He would
+lay the country waste with fire and sword, while censuring us before the
+world for our truculence. He is following up his letter by advancing his
+troops, and he has already occupied Leoben.
+
+The emperor’s envoys arrive. The French commander meets them at the foot
+of the stairs, speaks of the emperor and the archduke with respect. When
+they beg for a ten days’ truce (during which Vienna will be able to
+continue preparations for war), he answers by inviting them to supper.
+After the meal, he agrees to a five days’ suspension of hostilities.
+
+While comparative calm now reigns in Vienna, the Directors in Paris are
+much perturbed. Is this general of ours going to make the Great Peace
+all by himself? If he can do that, he will only have to come to Paris
+afterwards, and with one hand he will be able to push us from our seats.
+Most politely, therefore, they instruct him to await the coming of the
+envoy they are sending. All the more does Bonaparte press the other
+side for a decision. He knows what reports concerning him are current
+in Paris, and he cracks his whip over the Directors’ heads: “I should
+like to have a rest. I have justified your confidence in me; in all my
+undertakings I have hazarded my life; I have covered myself with more
+glory than the most fortunate man could wish; now I have advanced upon
+Vienna, leaving Italy’s lovely plains behind me, as I advanced once
+before in search of bread for the army which the republic could no longer
+feed. Calumny vainly attempts to discredit my intentions. My civic
+career, like my military career, will be unique and simple.”
+
+Ironies, beneath whose mask the writer is moving towards unnamed goals.
+
+Endless negotiations. But why should the matter drag on? Give us
+Belgium and Lombardy. You can compensate the dispossessed princes with
+possessions in the Holy Roman Empire! Habsburg accepts this principle,
+for neither the emperor nor any one of the German princes is concerned
+any longer about the Holy Roman Empire. It is very old, in poor health,
+and will soon be laid in the tomb. This plan will give France a finger in
+the pie across the Rhine. But how Habsburg is to be compensated for the
+loss of Lombardy, remains uncertain.
+
+Opportune is the arrival of letters from Venice reporting insurrections
+against the French and the murder of a number of French soldiers. At
+length the day of vengeance has come! Venice, too, is outworn, and ripe
+for destruction. “Since the discovery of the Cape route to the Indies
+and the rise of Triest and Ancona, Venice has been on the decline,” he
+writes to the Directors, to soothe their conscientious scruples—i.e., for
+use in a justificatory campaign. “It will hardly survive the blow. This
+wretched and cowardly population, unfitted for freedom, without land or
+water, must, of course, be handed over to those to whom the hinterland
+is allotted. First of all, we shall take the ships, empty the arsenal,
+carry off the big guns, and close the banks; we shall also keep Corfu and
+Ancona.” Thus weakened, the Lagoons were to pass to Habsburg.
+
+Bonaparte dealt in summary fashion with the old lords of the region,
+with the few patrician families which, as the successors of strong men,
+had ruled Venice for centuries, and had made of it one of the most
+reactionary States in the world. “You have stirred up the peasants
+against us,” he wrote to the doge while the negotiations with the
+Austrians were in progress. “Thanks to you, every one is shouting: ‘Death
+to the French!’ Hundreds of our soldiers have already perished through
+your machinations. Do not lie to me! You incited these disturbances. Do
+you imagine that because I am in the heart of Germany I shall be unable
+to enforce respect for the greatest nation in the world? I shall take
+vengeance for the blood of my companions-in-arms. War or peace! Unless
+you instantly hand over the ringleaders, I shall declare war.”
+
+This is his tone when he wishes to terrify a dozen tottering old
+patricians. When the envoys from the Senate come to his camp, he
+pretends to fly into a passion: “I shall have no more constitution and
+no more Senate. For Venice, I shall be a second Attila. Make me no more
+proposals. I will be your lawgiver.” When the city is being handed over,
+the doge, a man of ninety, falls dead—the last doge of Venice. Bonaparte
+never forgot this scene.
+
+Has he done with Italy now? Has not he got all he wants; has not he
+reached his end?
+
+There is no end, for every step forward opens a new vista. Venice is
+merely a springboard, whence he can start his swim into the open sea. The
+islands first; then the Adriatic; and now he contemplates a more distant
+horizon. When he was in Ancona a while back, forcing his terms of peace
+upon Rome, he stood on the shore, looking seaward. There were the Ionian
+Islands, and beyond them lay Turkey. He wrote: “From this point, we could
+reach Macedonia in twenty-four hours; the place would be invaluable for
+our influence upon the destinies of the Turkish Empire.” As brigadier on
+the general staff he had thought of engulfing himself in Turkey. From
+Ancona he sends agents to open up relationships with powerful pashas in
+Janina, Scutari, and Bosnia.
+
+Now, when he is in Leoben, he makes sure of the island possessions of
+Venice, arranges for the occupation of Corfu and Zante, “to control
+simultaneously the Adriatic and the East. No one will be able to save
+the Turkish Empire. We shall watch its death agony. The occupation of the
+Ionian Islands leaves us the choice between supporting Turkey and making
+sure of our own share of the spoils.”
+
+The political reality underlying this is an attack on England. France
+has long looked forward to the acquisition of strongholds in the
+Mediterranean, and to thus imposing a barrier between England and India.
+In Bonaparte, this general aim acquires the impulsive energy of a
+personal ambition. He does not want the East that he may inflict a mortal
+wound on England as his arch enemy; he is in search of means to injure
+England that thereby he may win the East. Since his imagination always
+runs far ahead of his achievements, Europe, of which but yesterday he
+first seized a corner, is already beginning to seem too small for him. He
+says to Bourrienne:
+
+“Only in the East have there been great empires and mighty changes; in
+the East, where six hundred million people dwell. Europe is a mole-hill!”
+
+
+VIII
+
+A high-arched room, in the baroque style; the walls are white, picked out
+with gold. On a long couch upholstered in green silk, a sixteen-year-old
+lieutenant, a spoiled darling, with the fawning manners of a page, is
+sitting between two women of ripe beauty. One of them is the youth’s
+mother; but when her smiling glance roves coquettishly over the
+surrounding group of smartly dressed officers, we gather that she is
+thinking far less of maternal obligations than of hours in which such
+boys as hers are engendered. Without words, she seems to add: “Creole
+women are adepts in the art of love!” Another connoisseur in the same
+art is the handsome general who stands behind her, craning forward
+over her shoulder that he may see far down into her corsage—as fashion
+and the lady’s pride in her charms make it easy for him to do. This is
+Masséna, whose talent as a soldier is to be ever prompt to attack,
+being too unrestrained and uncultured to count the cost; but his flaming
+impetuosity often saves his troops in moments of danger. His temperament
+is so ardent, that he must always have at least two women in his train;
+and his appetite for money is no less keen. Money and women—he steals
+both, whenever he has the chance.
+
+All the qualities that Masséna lacks, you will find in the little man
+with the big head who stands in front of the ladies making conversation.
+He is ugly, touchingly grotesque in his movements, and at the moment
+intoxicated by his success in winning—no one knows how—the love of a
+pretty member of the Visconti family. This is Berthier, chief of general
+staff, unresting in his activity; a man who will do administrative work
+one day, and take a fortress by storm the next; a great student of maps,
+for he is one of the few among these officers who is well grounded in the
+theory of his profession.
+
+There is Murat, theatrically decked out in green satin, twisting the huge
+plumed hat he holds in his hands. Of proletarian birth, like most of the
+men at this remarkable headquarters, he is fond of talking in asides.
+Now he laughs too loudly because the ribald Augereau, the avaricious and
+extravagant peasant’s son, has been telling him an after-dinner story.
+Murat, though he fears neither artillery fire nor the frowns of princes,
+is now painfully embarrassed because Josephine calls to him across the
+room. She wants to hear the joke!
+
+But Joseph, a man of the world, who dreads what the enfant terrible may
+blurt out, nods meaningly to Murat, implying to him that for God’s sake
+he must hold his tongue. Elise is sitting in the embrasure of one of the
+windows. Not so good-looking as the other women, and finding her husband
+a bore, she is apt to be censorious, and would carry tales to Mother
+Letizia, who abhors Josephine’s loose morals.
+
+Now comes the bright sound of laughter from the garden. That is
+Pauline’s birdlike voice. She is making the most of the days of freedom
+left to her before her marriage to General Leclerc, the husband chosen
+for her by Napoleon. She is playing blind-man’s-bluff with Hippolyte, and
+her pleasure in the game is doubled by the knowledge that she is annoying
+Josephine.
+
+Here is the chief, coming slowly along the passage. For two long hours
+he has been walking up and down with the Parisian dramatist Arnault.
+This companion has been carefully chosen. The newcomer has asked many
+questions about the army and the battles. Bonaparte has answered them
+with a detailed report of his own doings, which he knows that Arnault
+will spread far and wide. Now he has steered the conversation to the
+topic of the governmental crisis, long drawn out. As the two come into
+the reception room, he says, ostensibly with indifference, and yet with
+emphasis enough to fix the words in Arnault’s memory: “I can hardly
+conceive any other way out of their difficulties than that they should
+bend before the power of one strong man. But where is such a man to be
+found?”
+
+As Bonaparte enters, the officers rise to their feet, break off all
+conversation, and look expectantly at this man of twenty-seven, though
+most of them are older than he and all of them a good deal taller. Only
+the page continues to loll on the couch, for Eugene knows that his mother
+is unchallenged mistress of the house.
+
+We are at Montebello, the huge castle near Milan, where Bonaparte is
+passing the summer. He is almost wholly the statesman now, for the war
+has been ended by the arrangement entered into at Leoben, and nothing
+more is needed than a formal ratification. He might be in Paris,
+receiving the adulation of which he dreamed in youth; but he prefers
+to stay in Italy. He will not return to Paris until the political
+consequences of his victories have assumed a concrete form, until the new
+States are consolidated and the Italian business over and done with.
+Meanwhile, during the many months he spends at Montebello, the life there
+is not so much that of a military headquarters, as that of a minor court.
+
+But in no respect does he behave like an upstart. There are no pretences.
+In everything he will make his influence felt as one who is a child of
+the revolution that established a regime of equality. He has appointed
+sons of the people to the leading positions in his army; but he has no
+fear of what his noble guests, the dukes and princes of Italy, may think
+of it, should one of his valiant generals commit a solecism. He sees no
+reason for hiding his origin like a parvenu, although his adoption of
+French nationality might well incline him to conceal his Corsican birth.
+In actual fact, he parades it. Before the close of the previous year,
+he had summoned the whole family to Milan. Now, with lavish oriental
+hospitality, he has invited them all to Montebello, and those who seek
+his favour must show his relatives due honour. Half Italy pays court to
+him, for his name is already acquiring the mythical power of that of a
+man of destiny. Besides the numerous persons who wish to harness their
+fortunes to his chariot, not a few come from afar to ask the sage’s
+advice concerning family matters and private affairs.
+
+He has found it hard to persuade his mother, proud and a woman of strict
+principles, to make friends with Josephine, whose reputation is an
+offence to her. Josephine reciprocates Madame Letizia’s dislike; but
+Napoleon, though he idolises his wife and can refuse her nothing, compels
+her to observe the outward forms of respect. Now, the friction between
+the two women has become even greater than at first. “This Creole says
+soft nothings to every man, and kisses every woman, instead of attending
+to her business of bearing children.” The Corsican mother has given birth
+to thirteen. Josephine’s barrenness dishonours Napoleon and his family.
+Letizia fancies that in the eyes of many of his adversaries she can read
+satisfaction and mockery because the great man cannot procreate a child.
+But it is not his fault. Josephine has led, and still leads, too loose a
+life. That is what is amiss.
+
+When Letizia first met Napoleon again, after his battles and victories,
+she embraced him and said:
+
+“You are thinner than ever! You are wearing yourself out!”
+
+“Not a bit of it. I am really living, now!”
+
+“Yes, for posterity....”
+
+“Well, do you call that dying?”
+
+When he leaves her, he says to her: “Do take good care of yourself,
+Mother. If you die, there will be no one left with any authority over
+me.” His Corsican clannishness is almost as strong as his cosmopolitan
+self-confidence.
+
+Three sisters, three brothers, and Uncle Fesch are, in their various
+ways, enjoying themselves at Montebello. The fascinating Pauline, sixteen
+years of age, cannot forgive Josephine, who, in deference to Napoleon’s
+wishes, has interfered with her plans for a love marriage. She weds
+Leclerc in the castle chapel, and at the same time Elise and Bacciochi
+have to resolemnise their union in church, for the chief is eager to keep
+in the good graces of the Vatican. After the ceremony Letizia, who has no
+interest in these intrigues, returns to Corsica.
+
+“This island, this province,” as Bonaparte now calls it, as if it were
+an island or a province like any other, has now been regained from
+the English, who had occupied it in response to Paoli’s call for aid.
+Bonaparte managed the affair from a distance, while busied in his
+campaign on the mainland. One foggy night, a couple of dozen Frenchmen,
+taking with them plenty of money and an abundance of weapons, landed in
+Corsica “to encourage the patriots,” circulate pamphlets, and so on.
+Napoleon also sent Saliceti, his friend and his opponent of earlier days.
+Thus, by proxy and from afar, he was able to achieve what he had thrice
+failed to do in person.
+
+“Can it really be only four years?” thinks Signora Letizia, when those
+who had driven her and hers into exile receive her with acclamations. Is
+this the very citadel which was for so long the centre of Napoleon’s
+thoughts and feelings? Now, simply because he orders it, Elise’s husband
+is to be commandant there. For a long while, already, Lucien has been
+intendant of the forces. To Napoleon, in Italy, his native island now
+seems an ancient family seat, a romantic and medieval spot where his
+kindred can dwell when convenient. With a contemptuous smile, not long
+ago, he had read a letter from the Bourbon pretender, in which Louis
+offered him the title of duke, or even hereditary viceroy, of Corsica, if
+he would espouse the royalist cause.
+
+In Montebello, Bonaparte first learns how to separate his private life
+from his public life—a lesson which those born in the purple learn from
+childhood upwards.
+
+The guardianship of the castle, strangely enough, is entrusted, not to
+French soldiers, but to three hundred Polish legionaries. In several of
+his battles, there had been danger that he would be taken prisoner, so he
+has formed a bodyguard, forty strong. They are called guides, are chosen
+from among the tallest and best of his soldiers, and have a dare-devil
+for their leader.
+
+The castle is thronged with orderlies and couriers. Envoys are flocking
+from all quarters. The lion of St. Mark and the key of St. Peter gleam on
+foreign epaulettes; Vienna, Leghorn, and Genoa are also represented at
+Montebello. Napoleon lives in state. Following the custom of the country,
+he keeps open house. Interested spectators are admitted to the gallery
+of the banqueting hall; and he drops a hint, lest they should forget to
+spread the news when they return home, that like them he drinks the wine
+of the country.
+
+The reports of those who come to see him on service matters or other
+official business express astonishment that this young commander-in-chief
+is never embarrassed. He is dignified and yet perfectly natural; always
+the most simply dressed man in the company. None the less, he knows quite
+well how to keep people at a distance. Though nearly every one who comes
+to see him towers over him in stature, he never tries to appear taller
+than he is. Instead, those conversing with him are inclined to stoop a
+little, and thus seem to be paying court to him. Henceforward, throughout
+life, he is able from his natural defect to derive an advantage whose
+ultimate psychical consequences are incalculable. One of the visitors
+to Montebello wrote: “Should this man have the luck to escape death in
+battle, within four years he will be in exile or seated on a throne.” The
+writer was only three years out in his reckoning.
+
+A student of his epoch, one who knows how fame is manufactured, he has
+in attendance an able journalist, the first publicity agent in history,
+whose business it is to blow Napoleon’s trumpet in Paris and subtly to
+discredit the Directors. Being a disciple of Plutarch, Bonaparte knows
+through whose agency the story of great men’s deeds is handed down to
+posterity; that is why the faces of poets, historians, artists, and men
+of science are so often seen at his Italian castle. A year before, a few
+days after the triumphal entry into Milan, and when overwhelmed with
+urgent business, he had found time to pen the following remarkable lines
+to a great astronomer:
+
+“The sciences which are the glory of the human mind, the arts which
+beautify the world and bequeath great deeds to our offspring, must be
+cherished with especial care in free States. All men of genius, all those
+who are famous in the world of learning, are Frenchmen, no matter to what
+country they may belong.” Hitherto, such men have had to lead a retired
+life. Now, freedom of thought prevails; intolerance is a thing of the
+past, there are no despots left. The talented can foregather under his
+patronage, and fearlessly tell him all their wishes. Any such person who
+wants to go to France may be sure of a cordial reception, “for the French
+people would rather win a great mathematician, painter, or other man of
+note, than win the wealthiest of provinces. That is why, Citizen, I ask
+you to make these sentiments widely known among the great men of Milan!”
+
+He commissions an attaché, who, like most of his tribe, has little to
+think about and nothing to do, to make a register of the art treasures in
+the possession of the petty States of Italy. In subsequent treaties, he
+demands the best of these for Paris.
+
+For the Paris Conservatoire, he instructs experts to make copies of the
+best Italian music. Writing on this topic, he says: “Of all the arts,
+music has the strongest influence on the passions, and for that reason
+the legislator must make it one of his chief concerns. An inspired
+symphony composed by a master cannot fail to stir our feelings, and
+has far more influence than a treatise on morality, which convinces
+our reason without affecting our conduct.” When he becomes a member of
+the Institute, he flaunts this title at the head of all the letters he
+writes as commander-in-chief, and declares: “The true power of the French
+Republic must henceforward consist in this, that no new idea shall arise
+anywhere which is not the property of France.” In confidential talk he
+says: “The soldier must, above all, regard his commander as wiser and
+more cultured than himself; and the soldier will regard this title with
+respect for the very reason that its meaning is obscure to him.”
+
+Such actions disclose, not the statesman alone, but the man born to
+rule, the prince who regulates every gesture, every word that he says or
+writes, with an eye to the legend as to his personality which he wishes
+to inculcate upon his people. But when the door is closed, and he is
+among intimates, he opens his heart.
+
+Here is a description of Napoleon as he was in those days, penned by an
+exceptionally shrewd observer: “The power of the man impressed every one
+with whom he came in contact.... His demeanour was still rather ungainly
+at times; but there was something imperious in his nature, his glance,
+and his speech. Every one obeyed his orders. In public, he deliberately
+tried to heighten this impression. In private life, on the other hand,
+he was unconstrained, genial, and even confidential; with a taste for
+witticisms, which were never ill-natured, but were merry and discreet.
+Frequently, he shared in our amusements. He did not take his work too
+strenuously, not finding it necessary at that time to measure out his
+hours; and in leisure moments he was always accessible. But when he had
+withdrawn to his work-room, his door was closed to every unauthorised
+intruder, without distinction of rank.—He needed a great deal of sleep,
+like all people of nervous temperament and very active mind. I have often
+known him to stay in bed for ten or eleven hours at a stretch; but if it
+was necessary to wake him up, he was unperturbed, and could easily make
+up for the lost hours afterwards—or could store up reserves of sleep in
+expectation of a strenuous time. He had the precious faculty of being
+able to go to sleep wherever and as often as he pleased. Fond of vigorous
+exercise, he rode very often, and at a great pace, though he had an
+exceedingly bad seat.”
+
+He has a taste for talking, and chooses politics or general questions of
+life as his theme; if the conversation flags, he suggests the telling of
+stories; should this be followed by a general silence, he spins a yarn of
+his own, pregnant and humorous.
+
+The loveliest women set their caps at him in vain; he is wholly devoted
+to Josephine. Not, indeed, so frenzied in his adoration as he was a year
+back, when she betrayed or disillusioned him; it is she, and she alone,
+who has trifled away this passion for self-surrender. Now there is a
+moving note in his tone towards her; a fervent courtship, a smile, a
+petition: “You are sad,” he wrote to her while still in the field. “You
+do not write; are you longing to get back to Paris? Have you ceased to
+care for me? The thought makes me wretched. My life has become unbearable
+since I have known that you are not happy. Perhaps I shall soon make
+peace with the pope; then I shall join you at once.” Three days later:
+“The peace with Rome has just been signed. Bologna, Ferrara, and Romagna
+are ceded to us.—But there is not a word from you! Good God, how have I
+offended you?—I fear you know only too well how absolute is your power
+over me! For life, wholly yours.”
+
+Now, at Montebello, he is for the first time tasting the joys of
+uninterrupted connubiality, while he is delighted to watch Josephine’s
+winning charm in social intercourse. Occasionally he steals time for a
+brief love festival. They drive across to Lake Maggiore; and when, among
+the rhododendron bushes beneath the baroque stone edifices on Isola
+Bella, Grassini, the heroine of La Scala, uplifts her thrilling voice and
+sings an appassionata by Monteverde, Napoleon sits wrapped in thought,
+his companion’s hand clasped in his own.
+
+“In the carriage”—so his adjutant relates—“he would take marital
+liberties which were apt to be rather embarrassing to Berthier and me.
+But it was all so simple and natural, that there was no ground for
+offence.”
+
+
+IX
+
+What is Paris saying?
+
+Since yesterday, there has been a watchman on duty there. Hitherto,
+the cabinet ministers had all been nothing more than lawyers; now, a
+statesman was at work in that innermost circle. Sprung from the old
+nobility of France, a bishop, then as a republican placed under the ban
+of the Church by the pope, Talleyrand had recently spent years of waiting
+in the United States. Now he was back in Paris, and had grasped a share
+of power. The recently elected Chambers were predominantly “right,” and
+had been railing against the Directors; the commander-in-chief in Italy
+wanted to revolutionise Europe; he wished to perpetuate the war; the rape
+of Venice was an infamy. Perhaps many of the accusations were only too
+true, but when the echoes of what was being said in the place of words
+made their way into the place of deeds, they could not fail to arouse
+the contempt of the man of might. He sent the Chambers a memorial, or,
+rather, a memento: “Speaking in the name of eighty thousand men, I warn
+you that the days when cowardly lawyers and pitiful chatterers could
+allow valiant soldiers to be butchered are over and done with!”
+
+[Illustration: General Bonaparte. Unfinished portrait by Jacques Louis
+David. From the collection of the Duke of Bassano.
+
+(Photograph by Braun, Paris and Dornach.)]
+
+At this date, Bonaparte had dispatched Augereau to defend the Directors,
+as he himself had defended them a year or two before; for the growing
+power of royalists and priests were becoming an ever greater menace to
+the new constitution of the Republic. If either of the Bourbon brothers
+should venture to set foot on French soil, all the malcontents would
+flock to his standard, and in a hand’s turn he would win his way to the
+throne. But the Bourbons stayed in their safe retreats, and the Directors
+could risk a little coup d’état. Now, they were five instead of three,
+and felt more self-confident.
+
+Called to office after this coup, an expert was for the first time in
+charge of the Ministry for Foreign Affairs. From afar, he measured the
+strength of his only rival. Though he had never seen Bonaparte face to
+face, he knew him for the coming man. To begin with, at any rate, he was
+willing to play second fiddle, and set to work that he might win the
+confidence of one greater than himself.
+
+In all respects, Talleyrand was Napoleon’s counterpart. Not a born
+negotiator; passionless, except for his avarice; cold and crafty, never
+natural and frank; always adapting himself to the mood of those he
+wished to use as his tools. His cynic’s head, his long, pointed, prying
+nose, now surmounted the gold-braided collar of the republic; they would
+surmount the imperial and the royal uniform; and then, for a fourth time
+in the service of the ruler of the French, he would don the livery of
+the bourgeois king. For forty years he served the man who happened to be
+in power; but never unreservedly, and therefore he was never tied to any
+ruler’s fortunes. Lamed by an accident in childhood, he was unable to
+enter the army, and became a priest, remembering that, in this guise, the
+great Richelieu had been master of France. Talleyrand was the only man
+in the country able to measure his strength against that of Bonaparte.
+Never would the man of destiny be able to shake off Talleyrand even
+when he had come to hate the subtle diplomat; and when the final breach
+between the two men occurred, it was at the very time when Talleyrand,
+with a smile, could limp across the body of the master he had cast down
+and enter the cabinet of the enemy. Talleyrand was the man who overthrew
+Napoleon; but, if we think of elemental forces, Napoleon was felled by
+his own hand.
+
+Talleyrand’s breadth of view and utter lack of principle make their
+due impression on the distant Bonaparte. These September days, the
+commander has gone to Udine, to sign the peace whose preliminaries had
+been arranged in the spring. In this sprig of the old nobility, in this
+connoisseur of the rococo, in this cold nihilist, Napoleon sees the
+tool he will need. Hitherto, he has wanted none but soldiers. Now, when
+he has become a statesman, he wants and finds a statesman. While he is
+discussing matters with the Austrians, he sends the new Minister for
+Foreign Affairs a long letter (a letter of betrothal, we might call it),
+disclosing his whole political programme:
+
+“The organisation of French power has only just begun—Despite our good
+opinion of ourselves,—we Frenchmen are still tyros in political matters.
+As yet we do not even understand the difference between executive,
+legislature, and judiciary. In such a State as ours, where all authority
+issues from the nation, where the people is sovereign—governmental power,
+in the full comprehensiveness I ascribe to it, must be regarded as the
+true representative of the nation, who rules in accordance with the
+constitution.”
+
+“Does your heart express itself so openly, Bonaparte?” thinks the
+inscrutable recipient, smiling to himself as he reads.
+
+“It is an immeasurable misfortune that, in the eighteenth century, a
+nation of thirty million persons should still be compelled to take up
+arms in order to save the country. These forcible means are a burden upon
+the legislator, seeing that a constitution for human beings must take
+human beings into account.”
+
+“Is your aim so high?” muses the reader, with astonishment. “He is
+already sated with martial fame, and aspires, under the new constitution,
+to become dictator!” Talleyrand reads on:
+
+“Why should we not make sure of Malta?—I had good reason for confiscating
+the estates of the Knights of Malta.—With Malta and Corfu in our hands,
+we should be masters of the Mediterranean. If we cannot dislodge England
+from the Cape, we must take Egypt. With twenty-five thousand men and from
+eight to ten ships of the line, the expedition could be risked. Egypt
+does not belong to the sultan. I wish you could find out what impression
+an Egyptian expedition would make upon the Porte.—The break-up of the
+huge Turkish Empire, day by day more imminent, must lead us to think of
+our trade in the East.”
+
+As he sits in the Foreign Office, reading this, the diplomat raises his
+eyebrows yet higher. He feels that the writer is a man of genius, if not
+the very devil. A week or two later, comes another letter.
+
+“If our doings are guided by a sound policy, which is nothing else than
+the calculation of combinations and chances, we shall for a long time to
+come be the Great Nation and the arbiter of Europe. The scales are in
+our hands, and, should fate be propitious, within a few years there may
+be great happenings. To-day, these may seem the vague anticipations of a
+visionary enthusiast; but a cold, pertinacious, and far-sighted man will
+be able to make them a reality.”
+
+
+X
+
+How slow these German diplomats are to make up their minds. For weeks we
+have been at it, discussing matters far on into the night, and still the
+titled negotiators hesitate to sign the document, though any reasonable
+man would come to a decision in an hour or two! Throughout, the Austrians
+are looking over their shoulders at the emperor in Vienna. In the room
+where the conversations take place, there is an empty throne on which the
+shadowy Francis is supposed to be sitting beneath the canopy. “Better
+carry that chair away before we begin,” says the commander. “I have never
+been able to see a raised seat without wanting to sit in it.”
+
+His letters to the enigmatical Minister for Foreign Affairs, those fervid
+preludes, had been nothing more than the soliloquies of a man chafing at
+idleness, to whom weeks spent in thinking about peace seem wasted, even
+though the peace be one for which Europe has been longing for years. His
+patience is exhausted, and he assumes a menacing tone: “I have been too
+lenient with you,” he growls to the Austrians. “I might have made the
+conditions much harsher! You are frittering away my time. I stand before
+you as the equal in rank of any of your princes. Don’t talk to me about
+congresses.... With the means at our disposal, in a couple of years we
+Frenchmen can conquer the whole of Europe. Not that we want to do so.
+Our wish is to give our citizens peace, and quickly.... You tell me that
+this, that, and the other are your instructions. If, when the sun is
+shining, your instructions said that night had fallen, would you insist
+that it was dark?”
+
+At last, to give them a salutary fright, he bursts into a rage, dashes a
+vase to the ground, and thus forces them to sign the peace in which every
+one gets what Napoleon had promised six months before in Leoben.
+
+When Europe learns the news, there will be a sigh of relief. But what
+is going on in Bonaparte’s mind? The day after he has signed at Campo
+Formio the peace which ends a six years’ war, the peace he has fought for
+and won, he writes to the Directors, in the most matter-of-fact way: “It
+is absolutely indispensable to our government that we should speedily
+overthrow the English monarchy. Unless we succeed in doing this, we can
+be sure that the corruption and the intrigues of these active islanders
+will ruin us. The moment is favourable. Let us concentrate our energies
+upon increasing our navy, so that we may crush England. Then Europe will
+be at our feet.” He issues a manifesto to the navy: “Comrades! Now that
+we have established peace on land, let us conquer the freedom of the
+seas. Without your aid, the glory of the French name could be carried
+only through a corner of the Continent. With your help, we shall cross
+the ocean, and the fame of our nation will reach the most distant lands!”
+
+His mind is full of titanic schemes. As he gallops along the causeway
+of his great deeds, fame vanishes behind him in the dust raised by
+his charger’s thundering hoofs, but fame ever looms in front of him,
+beckoning from the mirage of his fresh designs. In this spirit he hastens
+back to Milan, to Montebello, whence he is to give Italy her final
+orders; for now, carrying the peace treaty, he will go to Paris. In the
+tone of a prince speaking to his people, Bonaparte issues a proclamation
+to the newly formed Cisalpine Republic:
+
+“Yours is the first nation in history to win freedom without partisan
+struggles, without a revolution, and without a blow. We have given you
+liberty, and you will know how to keep it!... Let your minds be full
+of the sense of your own strength, and of the self-respect proper to
+the free man.... Had the Romans of old used their powers as the French
+are using their powers to-day, the Roman eagles would still wave above
+the Capitol, and the human race would have escaped being dishonoured by
+eighteen centuries of slavery! To consolidate your liberties, and with
+the sole end of bringing you happiness, I have completed a task such as
+hitherto has only been performed by ambition and the will-to-power....
+In a few days I shall leave you.... Your happiness and the glory of your
+republic will always be matters very dear to my heart.”
+
+Is this a warrior blowing a trumpet? Is it a poet, into whose mouth the
+ecstasy of life puts words that are to arouse popular enthusiasm? During
+these very days, in the company of a diplomat belonging to this very
+country, he is strolling to and fro in the park of Montebello. His whole
+nature is straining towards Paris; his companion is a good listener, and
+a man of ability. Napoleon, in one of those bursts of frankness which
+genius sometimes allows itself, delivers himself as follows:
+
+“Do you fancy that I have won my triumphs in Italy that I may help the
+lawyers of the Directory ... to achieve greatness? Or can you imagine
+that I want to stabilise the republic? What a ridiculous notion, a
+republic with thirty million inhabitants! With our customs! With our
+failings! France will soon forget these whims. The French need glory
+and the gratification of their vanity, but they do not understand the
+elements of freedom. Look at the army! Our victories have restored the
+French soldier to his true self. I am the idol of the soldiers. If the
+Directors, for instance, were to try to withdraw my commission, they
+would soon see who is master of the army.
+
+“The people needs a chief, made resplendent by fame and victory; it does
+not want theories and governments, the phrases and the oratory of the
+ideologues. Give the masses a toy! They will play with it, and allow
+themselves to be led—provided always that the leader is adroit enough to
+hide his true aims! Here in Italy, it is not necessary for me to be so
+circumspect.... Still, the time is not yet ripe. For the present, it is
+necessary to yield to the fervour of the moment, so here we shall have
+two or three republics after the French model.... Peace is opposed to my
+interests.... If peace were firmly established, and if I were no longer
+at the head of the army, I should have to renounce the power and position
+I have gained, and should have to pay homage to the lawyers in the
+Luxembourg. If I leave Italy, it is only that I may play the same part
+in France. But that fruit, likewise, is not yet ripe. Paris is divided.
+There is a Bourbon party, and I cannot fight on its side. In due time I
+shall weaken the republicans, but I shall not do so to the advantage of
+the old dynasty!”
+
+Such are Bonaparte’s real plans. What he says is true: “Everything has
+happened as I foresaw; and I believe that I am the only person in the
+world who is not surprised. So will it be in the future; I shall make my
+way whithersoever I will.”
+
+A stream of confessions is forcing a way for itself. The words have
+come down to us in the memoirs of the man who heard them; of course the
+speaker would have denied them, had the hearer then ventured to repeat
+them. But it is true that he is far from being satisfied with what he has
+hitherto achieved. Seated beside Bourrienne in the carriage in which he
+is driving away from Italy after a stay of nearly two years, he says: “A
+few more campaigns like this, and we shall have made a fairly great name
+for ourselves, a name that will go down to posterity.” When his friend
+interposes that Bonaparte has already secured a notable reputation, the
+commander laughs him to scorn:
+
+“You flatter me, Bourrienne! If I die to-day, ten centuries hence my
+record will not occupy more than half a page in universal history!”
+
+
+XI
+
+The Luxembourg palace has been transformed into an amphitheatre. Weapons
+and colours, the latest trophies, are displayed, side by side with the
+gold-blazoned slogans of the revolution, on the venerable walls within
+which, of old, the satellite peers used to circle round their central
+luminary, the king of France. Paris has assembled, and all are dressed in
+gala attire, as if for a May Day festival—though it is chill December.
+The front seats are filled with pretty women, friends of the men in
+power, for they want to get a close view of the little commander with the
+leathery yellow skin, the hero of the occasion.
+
+“He has already been a week in Paris, and not a soul has set eyes on him.
+Why does he modestly shun the acclamations of his people?”
+
+“There is the signal for the entry! Look, the five Directors are coming
+on to the platform!”
+
+The chorus sings the anthem of liberty, the crowd joining in the refrain.
+A pause. The sound of clanking sabres and clinking spurs is heard upon
+the perron without. People crane from the windows, look down from the
+roofs. He is coming! He is coming!
+
+Napoleon wears a field uniform, for this looks less pretentious. His mien
+is grave and unassuming, as with firm step he strides along the gangway
+to the dais. He carries a roll of paper, and three adjutants follow in
+his train. But, as well as these, hard upon the heels of the plainly
+uniformed little figure with the martial gait, comes a man wearing silk
+stockings, and resplendent in gold lace; he walks with a limp. At this
+moment, a cannon shot is heard, the first shot of a salute; the sometime
+lieutenant of artillery is being honoured in appropriate fashion.
+Thunders of applause shake the building, and are echoed outside by the
+thousands who are waiting to greet Napoleon on his departure. Quiet once
+more. Talleyrand is speaking. Brilliantly, smoothly, with undercurrents
+of meaning which few can understand, he praises the classical simplicity
+of their great general, the saviour of his country, who scorns pomp,
+and is a servant of the things of the spirit. The minister closes with
+the words: “All France will be free; save only him, perhaps—that is his
+destiny.”
+
+Applause, as usual; but is there one among these thousands, even among
+those in the inner councils, who realises the profound truth of the
+closing phrase? Does any one of the auditors feel the poignancy of the
+satire?
+
+Napoleon quietly comes to the front. What is he going to say?
+
+“The French nation had to fight with its kings in order to win
+freedom.... Religion, feudalism, monarchy, have in turn ruled Europe for
+two thousand years. The era of democratic constitutions has only just
+begun. It has been your achievement to extend the domain of the Great
+Nation to its natural frontiers. You have done more. The two loveliest
+countries of Europe, renowned for science, art, and genius, see the
+spirit of freedom, buoyed up by hope, rising out of the tombs of their
+ancestors. These are the pedestals on which two mighty nations are
+uplifted. I have the honour to present you the treaty of Campo Formio,
+ratified by Emperor Francis.... As soon as the fortunes of the French
+nation are established upon the best organic laws, Europe, too, will be
+free.”
+
+The soldierly voice is silent. For a moment, not a sound is to be heard.
+Then come salvos of applause. Are they applauding the speech? It lacks
+the charm of the popular orations and the speeches from the tribune with
+which the walls of Paris are often placarded. The hearers are astonished;
+many of them are positively amazed. Alarm and veneration are the
+prevailing sentiments. The applause is not for the speech, but for the
+man. He has spoken on many fronts, has harangued a crowd in Corsica, but
+has never before addressed society folk, or politicians.
+
+His speech was that of a statesman. At first perhaps not a soul but
+Talleyrand understood it. All that he had said of their own epoch,
+seemed false. England and America had been democracies for many, many
+years. France had been fighting nearly a decade for her recognition as
+a democracy. Now, at last, recognition had come, in this peace with
+Germany. There was the tangible proof of it in the parchment which
+betokened peace on the Continent.
+
+But the story was not finished—such was the implied menace that sounded,
+with a metallic ring, from the concluding words of the statesman hidden
+in the soldier. The Directors understood his meaning, knew that the
+threat was for them. But Barras pulled himself together, delivered a
+fulsome speech, and then, for the first and last time embraced the little
+general, whose wife he would infinitely rather have held in his arms.
+
+Josephine, where was Josephine? Why was she absent on the great
+occasion? No one knows with certainty how or where she spent these weeks.
+She did not reach Paris until a month after Napoleon. When she came, she
+was serene, charming, rather tired. In Paris, she promptly resumed her
+old life, and took up the threads of some of her old amours.
+
+Meanwhile, another woman had entered Napoleon’s orbit. She was handsome,
+but was too intelligent to please him. This was Necker’s daughter,
+Madame de Staël. An influential woman, as well as an interesting; it
+was at her suggestion that Talleyrand had been appointed Minister for
+Foreign Affairs. She besieged Bonaparte with letters; she would fain
+have harnessed him to her chariot wheels, but he jibbed at the prospect.
+Now, when she had met him in the flesh, he parried her advances with a
+few civilities; but he could not prevent this talented woman from seeing
+further into his mind than most men had succeeded in doing. Here is her
+pen picture of the commander, an early impression:
+
+“His face is thin and pale, but not unpleasing. Being short of stature,
+he looks better on horseback than on foot. In social life, he has rather
+awkward manners, though he is by no means shy. When he is on the alert,
+he is a little contemptuous in his bearing; whereas his natural demeanour
+is a trifle common. The contemptuous pose suits him better.... When he is
+speaking, I am enthralled by an impression of his pre-eminence, though
+he has none of the qualities of the men of the study and of society.
+If he recounts his personal experiences, he often discloses the lively
+imagination of an Italian.... But I always become aware of a profound
+irony, which nothing escapes, neither the sublime, nor the beautiful, nor
+even his own fame.... I have known not a few men of note, some of them
+savage by disposition, but the dread with which this man fills me is a
+thing apart. He is neither good nor bad, neither gentle nor cruel. He is
+unique; he can neither inspire nor feel affection; he is more and less
+than a man. Character, mind, speech—all have a strange stamp. This very
+strangeness helps him to win over the French.
+
+“He neither hates nor loves; for him, no one exists but himself; all
+other people are merely ‘number so-and-so.’ A great chessplayer, for whom
+humanity-at-large is the adversary he hopes to checkmate. His success
+is quite as much due to the qualities he lacks as to the qualities he
+possesses.... Where his own interest is involved, he pursues it as the
+just man seeks virtue; if his aim were good, his perseverance would be
+exemplary.... He despises the nation whose applause he seeks; there
+is not a spark of fervour intermingled with his craving to astound
+mankind.... I have never been able to breathe freely in his presence.”
+
+If we discount in these sentences all that may reasonably be regarded as
+due to the mortified vanity of a notable and much admired woman, enough
+will still remain to be worthy of careful study. Each moment she tries
+to pierce his armour, only in the next breath to acknowledge herself
+his prisoner. She moves in a Rousseauist world of abstract virtue and
+goodness, with which a dictator can have nothing to do, and she therefore
+cannot regard Bonaparte with enthusiasm; but nevertheless she foresees
+his aim, which was not publicly disclosed till near the end of his
+career, and hers is the credit of having been the first to recognise his
+genius.
+
+“Picture to yourself a little man,” writes a German at this date in one
+of his letters home. “No taller than Frederick the Great; very regularly
+and slenderly built; lean, but sturdy; a large head; high forehead;
+dark-grey eyes; thick, dark-brown hair; Grecian nose, so long that it
+almost hangs down over the mouth; his mouth is full of humaneness and
+grace; the firm chin is rather prominent. His movements are brisk, but
+he has a fine and dignified bearing. You may see him run down a long
+staircase in five or six strides, and yet, as he finishes the last
+stride, he stands before you as graceful as ever. Unless he is fixing his
+gaze upon some object he particularly wishes to examine, he is generally
+looking upwards. It was always a delight to me to contemplate his
+beautiful, deep, sensitive eyes, at once severe and kindly, like those of
+our own Frederick.”
+
+
+XII
+
+On the way to Paris, Napoleon had had to spend a few days in Rastatt,
+to discuss with the imperial envoys certain details connected with the
+carrying out of the peace treaty and the evacuation of Mainz. Here,
+expected with mingled curiosity and scepticism, he had assumed royal
+airs. He had alternately scolded and made much of the envoys, as best
+suited his plans at the moment, giving one of these Austrian counts a
+watch and the other a jewelled hat-buckle. “The two poor envoys were
+amazed that I had so much money to spend, for they were as poor as church
+mice.”
+
+This oriental lavishness in present-giving, the outcome of kindliness
+quite as much as of arrogance, will be a persistent characteristic. He
+will become known as a caliph who loves to shower gifts, displaying a
+mingled disdain and generosity which throw a searching light upon his own
+spiritual make-up. But if he has to acknowledge some genuine service,
+then this same man (who from underlings exposed to danger demands
+scrupulous exactitude in the fulfilment of duty) will express his thanks
+in the most courtly fashion, as if he were one of Arthur’s knights, and
+the world a jousting-place. The warrior who has captured so many of the
+enemy colours is given one of the flags from Arcola, as a keepsake. He
+passes it on to General Lannes, writing:
+
+“At Arcola, there was a moment when the fortune of the day was so
+uncertain that nothing but the utmost bravery on the part of the leaders
+could have saved the situation. Thereupon, bleeding from three terrible
+wounds, you left the field hospital, resolved to conquer or die. Again
+and again I saw you in the foremost ranks of the brave. You were the
+first ... to cross the Adda. Yours must be the honour of owning and
+guarding this glorious flag.”
+
+He knows exactly how his words will affect the people of Paris. If he
+makes a public display of such expressions of approval, he is just as
+sedulous to draw near to the footlights when he has to censure or to
+condemn. That is one of the tricks of his trade.
+
+Now, he is careful to behave in such a way that all Paris, every one
+of his opponents, the whole press, shall exclaim: “The modesty of
+true greatness!” Twice more, during these days, he makes ceremonial
+appearances, one of them being at a festival held in his honour by
+Talleyrand. He had hastened to pay his respects to the Minister for
+Foreign Affairs on the day after his return to Paris. Neither of them had
+as yet disclosed his ultimate plans, but Bonaparte, in his dealings with
+this scion of the old nobility, had not forgotten to speak of his own
+exalted antecedents. “You are the nephew of the archbishop of Rheims,”
+he had said in the first half hour. “One of my uncles, who helped in my
+education, is an archdeacon—in Corsica, you know, that means much the
+same as being a bishop in France.” In this way Napoleon implied that he
+was no parvenu whom a man of ancient lineage was, in his heart, entitled
+to despise. From the first, he looked upon Talleyrand as a possible
+antagonist.
+
+He has bought the little house in which Josephine used to live. Here he
+leads a retired life, with his wife, who has at length arrived in Paris.
+His circle is small, consisting of his brothers and a few friends who
+come and go. He often wears mufti, drives out alone, avoids parties, is
+easy of access. When he is cheered at the theatre, he draws back into
+the recesses of his box. This is the man who, a little while ago at
+Montebello, was keeping up a princely state. “If I am seen three or four
+times at the theatre, people will cease to notice me,” he says to an
+intimate. “You expect me to be pleased by such public demonstrations?
+There would be quite as big a crowd to see me guillotined!”
+
+He invites men of learning to his house; attends most of the sittings
+of the Institute, and is willing to read a paper there now and again;
+discusses mathematics after dinner with Laplace, and shows the astronomer
+new Italian methods of calculating orbits; argues with Chénier about
+poetry, and even metaphysics (if he can’t help himself!).
+
+But he silently follows, all this time, every move made by the Directors,
+whose power is continually on the wane. Knowing them to be his secret
+enemies, he keeps out of their path, and has them watched by his
+brothers. He gathers information as to the relative strength of the
+various parties, and ponders his own course. “Paris has no memory. A new
+reputation drives out an old one; and if I linger here inactive, I shall
+be lost. I must not stay here.” Often he walks to and fro in the garden,
+arms locked behind, thinking.
+
+“Too soon. Better wait until they have made a complete mess of things.
+Become their colleague, a member of the Directory, just when the pillars
+are crackling? A good thing that I am not yet forty, as the law demands.
+Meanwhile, I must capture the fancy of the crowd! How? There is peace
+throughout the Continent. Hardly a rival left to dread. Hoche, the
+most dangerous of them, is dead, thanks be! One of Josephine’s lovers;
+a handsome fellow, certainly. His passing troubled her little; she is
+inconstant by nature. Carnot thrust aside, Moreau defeated. Augereau, in
+command of the Army of the Rhine, is jealous of me; I must put a spoke
+in his wheel. The Corsican stalwarts have little influence now; but that
+woman who came to warn me against the risk of poisoning was stabbed next
+day; there are conspiracies. Too soon. I must leave Paris once more.
+
+“Get to work against England? That would be the best plan, if only these
+idiots had not allowed the navy to get into so wretched a condition!
+I’ve been worrying them about the matter ever since the siege of
+Toulon. During the naval war of the last five years, we’ve lost half a
+dozen sea-fights. What about invasion? If only that were possible! Any
+one who could defeat England would be master of the world. Sail along
+the coast, study the possibilities, and then, if there seems no chance
+of a successful landing on the other side of the Channel, back to the
+Mediterranean! Only there, in the East, can I throw off all restraint,
+and keep France a-quiver with curiosity and excitement. Egypt’s the
+place, in the footsteps of Alexander; and there we can strike England a
+shrewd blow!”
+
+After long preparations, the general visits Dunkirk and the Flemish
+coast. He asks questions wherever he goes, not forgetting to
+cross-examine fishermen and smugglers. Returning unexpectedly, he gives
+Josephine a fright, but it escapes his notice that she hastens to pen a
+few lines to the secretary of an old flame. In his campaigns, hundreds
+of spies have brought him secret missives; what would he say if he could
+read this one? “Bonaparte has come back this evening. Please tell Barras
+how sorry I am that I cannot come to supper after all. Say that he is
+not to forget me. You know better than any one what my position is.—La
+Pagerie Bonaparte.”
+
+Thus undermined is the marriage in which he still puts his trust. Thus
+equivocal is the position of Barras, the impotent Director, who hates
+and mistrusts the mighty commander of the forces. Thus nonchalant is
+Josephine, as with carefree heart she makes her way through society,
+passing her time in women’s boudoirs and men’s bedrooms—and, among the
+men, she has to put up with Bonaparte, although when she signs her
+married name she prefixes to it her maiden name, as though she were still
+mistress of her own destinies and free to choose her lover.
+
+No doubt Barras is cursing Bonaparte this evening, but next day the
+general writes to him and the other Directors a long report, which
+begins as follows: “Even with our best efforts, it will take us several
+years to get the upper hand at sea. The invasion of England would be
+a desperate venture; it will only be possible if we take the islanders
+by surprise.... We shall need long nights, so it must be in winter.
+Consequently we cannot make the attempt till next year. Before then,
+it is likely enough that hindrances will have arisen on the Continent.
+Perhaps the great moment has been lost for ever.”
+
+After this amazingly perspicacious renunciation of his scheme for the
+invasion of England, he goes on to formulate a yet more amazing plan
+for achieving the same end by other means. Substantially, he proposes
+eight naval campaigns, ranging from Spain to Holland, all the political
+conditions and consequences being carefully considered. If, however,
+ships and money are not forthcoming, the next best expedient will be to
+attack English commerce, beginning in Egypt, whence Bonaparte could get
+back to direct further operations against England.
+
+Enough for the Directors to hear the word Egypt, and they are ready to
+agree to this last plan. He shall have the command there, and all the
+help they can give. So dangerous a man as this—the farther away he is,
+the better! Best of all would be, to make an end of him!
+
+The Egyptian plan is not new; it has been mooted at intervals for years.
+Talleyrand had brought it forward in connection with Bonaparte’s letter,
+though his comment had been: “The leader of this campaign would not need
+to be a man of exceptional military talent.” Was this remark prompted
+by a wish to keep Bonaparte in France, or was it nothing more than a
+spiteful innuendo? However that may be, the talented commander, when he
+read the words at a much later date, wrote in the margin: “Crazy!” But we
+anticipate. He drafted the terms of his own nomination as chief of the
+Army in the East: plenipotentiary powers; a commission to take Malta and
+Egypt, to drive the English from the Red Sea, to cut a canal through the
+Isthmus of Suez in order that France may be secure in the possession of
+the Red Sea.
+
+With feverish energy he now devotes himself to preparations for the new
+undertaking. He has long been familiar with all the essentials of the
+problem. The Mediterranean is his home. In childhood, he was wont to
+contemplate the Moor’s head on the scutcheon of Corsica; sailing ships
+from Africa often visited the island; not long ago, he had deprived Genoa
+and Venice of their fleets; he was already in touch with Tunisians and
+Greeks, with Albanians and Bosnians. Over all these machinations brooded
+the spirit of Alexander, who had chosen Egypt as the centre of his world
+empire.
+
+For the first time, during these weeks of waiting, do the elements
+of Bonaparte’s nature become formally compacted within him. What has
+been no more than a scheme of the unbridled imagination, the plan of
+one who aspires to resemble the most splendid exemplars of the ancient
+world, is now dissected, pondered, weighed in the calculating brain; it
+is refashioned, reconsidered; by degrees it is adapted to the actual
+possibilities of the situation. When preparing his Egyptian campaign,
+Bonaparte attempts, in the grand style, to unite the calculator with
+the dreamer, while it escapes his notice that there is an incalculable
+residue. His imagination, nourished upon dreams of the heroic age, blinds
+him to the fact that we are no longer living in the days of classical
+antiquity, that caliph and conqueror can no longer command millions of
+unthinking slaves, that even in distant Africa the peoples are awakening.
+Bonaparte is making ready for a titanic and insoluble conflict; and
+the more deeply he becomes involved in it, the more defiantly will he
+continue his vain attempts to solve it.
+
+This man of genius, born two thousand years too late, is already spinning
+the threads of his own doom. With the hand of a demigod, he is sketching
+the outlines of his own fate.
+
+
+XIII
+
+“I am going to the East,” he writes to his brother, “with all the means
+to ensure success. Should France need me, ... should war break out and
+take an unfavourable turn, I shall come home, and public opinion will be
+more solidly on my side than it is now. But if the fortune of war should
+favour the republic, if another commander like myself should appear upon
+the scene, I shall, perhaps, be staying in the East, do the world more
+service than he can.” When Bourrienne asks how long they are to be away,
+Bonaparte answers: “Six months or six years.”
+
+At the last moment, fate wants to give him another warning. In Rastatt,
+Austria refuses to cede the left bank of the Rhine; in Vienna,
+Bernadotte, who is French envoy there, is so provocative that a new war
+already seems imminent. Would it not be better to stay in Europe? But the
+Directors speed the departure, saying that matters have now gone too far
+to withdraw. In May, exactly two years after Napoleon’s entry into Milan,
+four hundred ships set sail from Toulon. Josephine waves farewell to
+her husband, and (doubtless with more concern) to Eugene. Not until the
+whole mighty apparatus has been set in motion at the master’s nod, does
+he disclose to his subordinates the goal of the voyage. All are on deck,
+watching the gradual disappearance of the European coast; but Napoleon,
+on the “Orient,” standing beside the mainmast among the eight-pounders,
+is not, like the others, looking back at Europe. His gaze is directed
+towards the south-east.
+
+At the same hour, Nelson and three other British admirals, standing on
+the decks of their ships, are searching the seas with telescopes for
+a sign of the hated enemy, who is, it is supposed, about to sail for
+Sicily. Where is he to be found? Yesterday, Nelson’s fleet was scattered
+by a storm. Days pass before the ships can get together again, and the
+very storm which had detained Bonaparte for twenty-four hours in Toulon,
+saves the French. They reach Malta before the English fleet, and seize
+the important island by a coup de main. By the time the cat arrives, the
+mouse is gone. Under all sail, Nelson presses on to Egypt, but finds no
+one there, for he has outstripped the enemy. He tries the Syrian coast.
+Nothing! Back to Sicily. No one! “The Devil has the devil’s own luck,”
+says Nelson, cursing himself and the foe.
+
+The French fleet is four weeks on the voyage, and Napoleon, who is a bad
+sailor, spends most of the time in bed. Is not this symbolic? Will the
+seasick general ever win to the command of the sea? He is restless lying
+down, and, to pass the weary hours, he makes Bourrienne read aloud to him.
+
+For on board this fleet there are not only two thousand guns. A
+whole university is sailing to the East. Astronomers, geometricians,
+mineralogists, chemists, antiquarians, bridge-builders, road engineers,
+orientalists, political economists, painters, poets—one hundred and
+seventy-five learned civilians, with hundreds of boxes full of apparatus
+and books. Everything in this land of ancient story is to be meticulously
+studied. For France, Bonaparte is to win a colony, and for himself an
+African reputation. The soldiers have bluntly nicknamed these learned
+passengers, collectively, “the donkeys.” But Bonaparte prizes them, and
+his wrath breaks loose on any of his officers who grumble at the presence
+of so many “idlers.” He has chosen his experts with the utmost care,
+and has thought out every detail of what they are to do. He has brought
+a font of Arabic type, extracted with great difficulty from the State
+printing house. He has taken especial pains in the choice of books for
+the library with which the flagship is freighted for the voyage to Egypt.
+Novels are good for officers; and when he finds them reading novels, he
+laughs good humouredly. For himself, he has only _Werther_ and _Ossian_,
+works of passion, his inseparable companions. On this journey, however,
+he seldom reads them.
+
+What does Bourrienne read aloud to the chief? Travels in Egypt, which
+have been collected from various quarters, from Rome and elsewhere;
+Plutarch; Homer; Arrian’s account of Alexander’s campaigns; the Koran,
+which, logically enough, is housed among the political works, beside the
+Bible and Montesquieu.
+
+After dinner, he is fond of holding sessions of “the Institute.” He uses
+the name jestingly, and yet in the discussions he takes it seriously
+enough. He propounds a subject for debate, and nominates the champions.
+Mathematics and religion are his favourite topics on these occasions, for
+he has always been both calculator and dreamer. There sits the famous
+Monge, a man with a crooked nose, a receding forehead, and a massive
+chin; Napoleon has admired him for years, and thinks more of him than
+of any of the others. Beside Monge is Desaix, whom Bonaparte has just
+summoned from the Army of the Rhine; he has a thick nose and thick
+lips, a somewhat negroid but kindly face, and the strategist rivals
+the mathematician in the shrewdness of his eyes. Look at Kléber, a man
+of fearless countenance, full of courage and resolution; beside him,
+Laplace, who peers earnestly at the company from beneath his eye-shade;
+next is Berthollet, with a head like a ram. Kléber runs atilt at
+geometry; but when one of the professors wishes to take up the cudgels on
+behalf of the things of the spirit, Bonaparte signs to him not to waste
+breath, and points with a smile to Berthier, who has fallen asleep in the
+corner over the _Sorrows of Werther_.
+
+The weather is getting much warmer. Napoleon, wishing to breathe the
+night air, lies on deck till a late hour. His intimates are sitting round
+him in a circle, and discussion turns on the planets, on the question
+whether they are inhabited. Pros and cons are voiced by the disputants.
+This leads to the problem of the creation. The sons of the revolution,
+disciples of Voltaire, be they generals or be they professors, are
+agreed upon one point, that the universe and its origin are rationally
+explicable in terms of natural science, without reference to the idea of
+God. Napoleon lies there, listening in silence. Then, pointing to the
+stars, he interjects:
+
+“You may say what you like, but who made all those?”
+
+
+XIV
+
+Bonaparte rides slowly across the desert sands to look upon the face
+of the Sphinx. The eyes of stone and the eyes of steel meet. Like the
+Sphinx, he knows how to be silent, but we can guess his thoughts.
+
+“Alexander stood here. Cæsar stood here. They lived two thousand years
+after this image was sculptured, as I live two thousand years after them.
+Immeasurable empires, consecrated to the sun, extended around the Nile.
+Millions obeyed the will of one. What the ruler dreamed, was fashioned
+by his slaves with their myriad hands. Everything was possible to him.
+The king was the son of the gods. All obeyed him as the descendant of
+the original conqueror. Because that first conqueror named himself king,
+and son of the gods, all believed him. Here, in the East, it is possible
+to say to human beings, ‘I am your god,’ and all believe. Europe is a
+mole-hill.”
+
+Soon, not many miles away, Napoleon makes ready for battle. Eight
+thousand Mamelukes, the best cavalry in the world, are ready to crush
+the invader. He rides up and down in front of his troops, points to the
+pyramids in the distance, and exclaims: “Soldiers, forty centuries are
+looking down on you.” The Mamelukes charge the French, but are driven
+back by artillery fire; their camp is soon in Bonaparte’s hands; they
+flee to the Nile, crossing the river in boats and by swimming; since it
+is notorious that they always have gold with them, the fight continues
+for hours on the bank and in the water until the victors have secured
+some of the treasure.
+
+In Cairo, he knows how to win the support of the pashas and the sheiks.
+He gives out that he loves and venerates the Turks and the sultan.
+He is only attacking the Mamelukes, who are their enemies likewise.
+Periphrases, bowings and scrapings, elaborate metaphors—these come
+natural to him, the man of the Mediterranean who is half an oriental.
+They are devices for lying even more circumstantially than do the
+diplomats of Europe with their speedier and directer methods. Here he is
+following the oriental custom. While still on board the “Orient,” he had
+dictated to his interpreter a letter to the pasha of Egypt. It began as
+follows:
+
+“Thou who shouldst be supreme over all the beys, but hast, as I know,
+neither power nor prestige in Cairo, thou wilt welcome my coming.
+Assuredly thou knowest that I have it not in mind to do anything against
+the Koran or against the sultan. Come, therefore, to my help, and join
+with me in cursing the godless race of beys!”
+
+To approximate his own creed to the faith of Allah, he begins, like a
+conjuror, to juggle with the Trinity. First of all he explains that he
+has conquered the pope and the Maltese, and that for him the Koran is
+the word of God just as much as the Bible. But, at a later date, when
+the forces sent to dislodge his own are being disembarked, he argues as
+follows: “Allah is Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet. To the divan of
+Cairo, chosen from among the ablest, most learned, and most enlightened
+of men! The blessing of the Prophet be upon you!” He goes on to say that
+he has allowed these men to be landed in order that he may kill them
+all at one blow, “which will be a glorious sight for Cairo.” There were
+Russians on board the invader’s ships. “The Russians hate all who, like
+you and myself, believe in one God, for, in their own legends, they speak
+of three gods. They will learn, soon enough, that there is but one God,
+the father of victory, who graciously fights on the side of the good.”
+
+Out of this potpourri of the religious, which ends on a more pagan
+note than he seems to be aware, he subsequently extracts unchristian
+France as a political instrument, saying that the religion of France is
+especially akin to Mohammedanism. He is continually appealing to the
+Koran as the basis of his thought. The holy book which he has included
+in the political section of his travelling library, shall be made to do
+him good service. When he dismisses a dangerous cadi in Cairo, he finds
+a justification for his action in the Koran: “All that is good comes
+from God; he gives us victory.... Whatever I undertake must succeed. All
+those whom I call my friends, thrive. But any one who helps my enemies,
+perishes.”
+
+If he had but had the luck to have been born here in Egypt four thousand
+years ago, he would have gained the victory by the power of suggestion
+alone. But nowadays even these brown fellows are sceptical! He despises
+them, while showering them with superlatives; but, at the same time,
+he threatens to punish with the utmost rigour any of his soldiers who
+injure a native. The first order of the day to the Army in the East runs:
+“The peoples with whom we are now in contact do not treat their women as
+we treat ours. Nevertheless, any one who harms a woman is looked upon
+as a monster here as in Europe. Looting enriches very few, dishonours
+all, destroys the sources of aid, and makes us hated by those with whom
+it is to our interest that we should be friends.” No one is to enter a
+mosque, and groups must not even assemble round the doors. By cajolery
+and threats, by tolerance and intrigue, by Allah and the sword, by all
+the methods of the oriental, Bonaparte secures an authoritative position
+within a few weeks.
+
+At length he can regard himself as master in the East. Is he any the
+happier for that?
+
+Junot has received a letter about Josephine. If only this letter, like
+hundreds more, had been intercepted by the English! Then, at least,
+Napoleon could still have enjoyed the bliss of ignorance! For Junot feels
+it his duty to tell his commander and old friend all about the matter. It
+concerns Hippolyte Charles, as well as Josephine. Napoleon had cashiered
+the young man. Josephine had found him a job with an army contractor, and
+had lost sight of him for a time. But she has met him again, has come
+across him at a fashionable dancing school. Her old passion has revived.
+He has such graceful hips! He makes such elegant sallies! Now he has the
+added charm of wealth. Meanwhile, Josephine has bought a fine estate near
+Paris (though it is not yet paid for); the young dandy is living with
+her at Malmaison as master of the house....
+
+Bonaparte walks up and down as he talks things over with Junot. He grows
+paler and paler; his face twitches; twice or thrice he strikes his
+forehead despairingly with his fist. Suddenly, turning upon Bourrienne,
+who is sitting in front of the tent, he says: “You are not a true friend!
+These women! Josephine! You ought to have told me. Junot, he is really
+my friend. Josephine—and I am more than two thousand miles away! How can
+she betray me like this? Damn these puppies and coxcombs! I’ll make short
+work of the lot of them. I will divorce her. Yes, a public, sensational
+divorce! I will write instantly. I know everything. If she is guilty,
+farewell! I will not be a mock for the flâneurs on the boulevards.”
+
+Bourrienne tries to pacify him; tells him that fame is more important
+than family happiness. “Fame! What is that worth? I would give everything
+in the world, so much do I love her, if only Junot’s news were false.”
+
+But the English may intercept and publish anything he writes, so in his
+letter to his brother Joseph he can do no more than hint at this private
+calamity. The missive has a peculiar charm, which is perhaps given to
+it by the writer’s enforced restraint, by the need for using veiled
+expressions. Tædium vitæ of genius at its climax. This private letter is
+penned the day after a victorious and virile despatch:
+
+“No other country in the world is so rich as Egypt in maize, rice,
+vegetables, and meat. Barbarism reaches its highest level here. There is
+no money, not even for paying the troops. In two months I can be back in
+France. Look after my interests, I beseech you; I have a great deal of
+trouble at home; the veil has been torn off once for all—I have no one
+left in the world but you. Your affection is precious to me. Only one
+thing could increase my bitterness—if I were to lose you, if you also
+were to play the traitor. How terrible that all my affections should be
+concentrated upon one personality. You understand me? Make arrangements
+that as soon as I return home I shall have at my disposal a country
+house near Paris or in Burgundy, a place where I can spend the winter in
+absolute seclusion. Mankind has become loathsome to me. I need rest and
+solitude. Greatness bores me to death. The fount of feeling is dried up.
+At twenty-nine years of age, I find that fame is vanity. I’ve got to the
+end of everything. Only one resource is left to me, to become an absolute
+egoist. I shall keep my house in Paris, and not hand it over to any one!
+I have nothing more than what I brought into the world with me. I have
+never been unjust to you, that you must admit, though I have often wanted
+to be. You will understand. Kiss your wife for me, and Jerome. Bonaparte.”
+
+This cynicism and misanthropy, the desire for vengeance and the demand
+for satisfaction, have at length, and for the first time, become merged
+in a symphony of melancholy. The melancholy note had been sounded twelve
+years before in his diary, but since then it has been silent. A heart
+that desired to give itself wholly, in which trust had been ever renewed
+despite many disillusionments, now seems to have been pierced through and
+through. Victory, glory, to be a second Alexander—all dust and ashes. If
+a man is deceived where he least deserves it, and where he has trusted
+with all the ardency of youth, what is greatness to him? He begins
+his letter with rice and vegetables, and ends with solitude and utter
+disheartenment. What is left for him in the world besides his brother? “I
+have got to the end of everything.”
+
+
+XV
+
+A blow quickened him back to life.
+
+Returning from a ride in the desert, he entered Marmont’s tent to find
+that all his associates were greatly perturbed. What had happened? The
+French fleet had been destroyed. The day before, there had been a
+sea-fight in Aboukir Bay, and only four ships had escaped. All the rest
+had been sunk or captured by Nelson.
+
+The officers stood in gloomy silence. The grenadier on sentry duty in
+front of the tent understood, every one understood, the meaning of this
+reverse. Napoleon’s face paled, but he recovered his composure instantly,
+realising that it was his business to restore the morale of the others.
+After a brief pause, he was ready with encouraging words: “So we are cut
+off in Egypt. Good. We must keep our heads above the stormy waters; the
+sea will soon be smooth once more.—Perhaps we are predestined to change
+the face of the East. Here we must remain, or achieve a grandeur like
+that of the ancients!”
+
+A terrible reverse! What will Paris say? He is not admiral of the
+fleet, and was not present at the battle of the Nile, but the disaster
+will certainly affect his prestige. How are we to get home again? On
+Turkish ships? But will the sultan remain neutral any longer? He has
+been wavering between Russia and France, and will be likely, now, to
+turn against the French. England, too. The fleet annihilated; thirteen
+battleships gone. How many years will it be before we can again face
+England on the high seas? A decade, perhaps. Allah is Allah, but behind
+what cloud was my star hidden?
+
+No, not my star! For, when he reports the defeat, he conceals nothing,
+but is careful to explain in his official despatches that fortune had
+delayed Nelson’s return until the French had been able to secure their
+footing in Egypt.
+
+Weeks of uncertainty. This is a new phase in Bonaparte’s life. He must
+remain inactive, while he waits for news that will throw light upon the
+state of affairs in Europe. If England keeps good watch, perhaps no
+letter will be able to cross the seas. For the first time in his career,
+he begins to wonder how he can kill time. The administration of a whole
+army, the suppression of disturbances, the rehabilitation of crumbling
+fortresses—these are no more than variants of idleness. The hours
+hang heavily, and he becomes more nervous, more fanciful than of yore.
+Bourrienne tries to tranquillise the commander’s mind, saying: “Let us
+wait till we hear what the Directory proposes to do!”
+
+“The Directory? A dung-heap! The Directors hate me, and will leave me
+here to rot!”
+
+If he could only ride! But it is too hot, at any rate to ride in uniform,
+and an attempt to wear Arab clothing has been abandoned. Sometimes he
+goes for a ride, in spite of the heat. When, on his return, he finds that
+no despatches have come, he grows meditative:
+
+“Do you know what I have been thinking, Bourrienne?—If I ever see France
+again, my greatest ambition will be to conduct a campaign on the Bavarian
+lowland. There I could win a great battle, and take vengeance for
+Blenheim. Then I should retire to my country seat, and lead a quiet life,
+perfectly contented.” The fire still glows; the kettle goes on simmering!
+In the plain of the Po, his restless spirit was yearning for the East;
+having made his way to Egypt, he craves for Bavaria; and always he thinks
+in terms of battles.
+
+Now, when his future is so uncertain, when he is perhaps cut off from all
+chance of returning home, and when there is no longer a strong tie of
+personal affection to bind him to distant Europe, he opens negotiations
+with the shah of Persia and Tippoo Sahib, England’s enemies: asking
+the former for a right of way to India; and offering the latter an
+alliance, and deliverance from “The iron yoke of England.” The prospect
+of following in Alexander’s footsteps looms nearer. But when he comes
+to practical calculations he begins to doubt the possibility: “Only if
+fifteen thousand men can be left here, and I have another thirty thousand
+at my disposal, shall I be able to venture a march on India.”
+
+Although all remains in the realm of fancy, such imaginative excursions
+fill Bonaparte’s happiest hours; he luxuriates in these vast plans.
+Four years later, he declares: “In Egypt alone did I feel free from
+the trammels of civilisation; and there I seemed to have the means of
+realising all my dreams. I pictured myself on the road to Asia, the
+founder of a new religion, mounted on an elephant, wearing a turban,
+and holding a new Koran which contained my own message. My plan was to
+weld the experiences of two worlds, to force history into my service, to
+attack the English power in India, and, through my conquests there, to
+reopen communications with Europe.”
+
+Are these the visions of a poet? Or is it that the conqueror and the poet
+are close kin? In Egypt, he has a romantic name for himself, “Sultan El
+Kebir”—he is, in truth, always the sultan, more or less. El Kebir is his
+third name, as visionary as the whole campaign.
+
+His lively imagination, his spleen on account of his wife’s
+infidelity—these combine with the influences of climate and lack of
+occupation to drive him into an amourette. A pretty young woman, the
+wife of a lieutenant, had sailed with the army from Toulon, in male
+attire. She was the illegitimate daughter of a cook, had herself been a
+dressmaker before marriage, was piquant, blonde, violet-eyed. He takes
+her to himself, and sends her husband back to France on official service.
+She soon learns to play Cleopatra’s part boldly and charmingly; graces
+the head of his table; drives out with him. But Eugene, her rival’s son,
+is adjutant, and his duty is to follow the carriage on horseback. This
+conjuncture is disagreeable to all parties, and so the young man is given
+furlough.
+
+Eugene knows more than he cares to know about the scandal attaching to
+his mother’s name; Bonaparte has himself enlightened the youth. What a
+painful situation! His mother, not far on in the thirties, is a coquette,
+and makes his step-father (the hero of the nation!) ridiculous in all
+men’s eyes by her open and shameless intrigue with a young coxcomb
+who is but little older than her son. Eugene himself has to look on
+while Napoleon, commander-in-chief of the army and pasha of the new
+French colony, flaunts his mistress before the public gaze. The little
+dressmaker, who would probably find the handsome adjutant more to her
+taste than his step-father, laughs gaily, showing her white teeth.
+Anyhow, she has cut out the Creole countess, and she glories in the new
+spirit of equality. Napoleon Bonaparte is the central figure of the
+composition. All he asks of the young woman is that she shall give him a
+child.
+
+An heir, that is what he has been wanting for years! If she will but
+provide one, he will marry her, for divorces can be arranged. One of his
+ruling passions is the desire to found a family. The mother would be of
+working-class origin? So are most of his generals! What matter, so long
+as the child is legitimate, and of the blood of Bonaparte? He believes in
+the equality of all who play an active part in the world; but he believes
+no less strongly in legitimacy. The hereditary succession of kingship is
+over and done with. The hereditary succession of efficiency is the new
+doctrine. Such is the fallacy by which his mind is enslaved.
+
+After a while, he says savagely to one of his confidants: “The silly
+fool of a woman does not even know how to make children!” The gibe is
+retailed to her, and she exclaims mockingly: “It’s not my fault, you
+know!” Bonaparte hears of the rejoinder, and his face is shadowed. He
+has no proof to the contrary, nothing but the inner consciousness of a
+productivity such as no mortal has ever had before.
+
+His spirit embraces the whole world in its grasp. But if nature has
+denied him the capacity for reproduction, the foundation of all activity
+has been shattered. His self-confidence would collapse.
+
+
+XVI
+
+In the Institute, the commander-in-chief sits as an equal among equals.
+He never tries, in argument there, to gain a victory by rank instead of
+reason. Yet many of the questions that are discussed relate to army
+matters of immediate practical importance, such as the filtering of Nile
+water, the erection of windmills, the search for ingredients needed to
+make gunpowder. On one occasion, Napoleon grew heated. Berthollet said
+quietly: “You are wrong, my friend, for you have lost your temper.” A
+naval surgeon supported Berthollet. “You men of science are as thick as
+thieves,” exclaimed Bonaparte. “Chemistry plays the cook for medicine,
+and plays the assassin for science!” The surgeon’s answer came pat: “But
+how, Citizen-General, would you define the conqueror’s art?” Within the
+republic of learning, this equality pleased the dictator, whom elsewhere
+hardly any one now ventured to contradict.
+
+For weeks in succession, the orders of the day ended with the words: “No
+news from France.” Everything was at a standstill; widespread uncertainty
+prevailed. Amid the general inertia, the travelling university was an
+exception; the savants were hard at work, studying, advising, ever ready
+to help in the second line. As far as they were concerned, this time of
+waiting was a great opportunity for research. A thorough investigation of
+the country and its resources was in progress: the fishes of the Nile and
+the minerals of the Red Sea, the flora of the Delta and the constituents
+of the desert sand—all were now for the first time being elaborately
+scrutinised. The exploitation of the natron lakes and the Nile mud was
+under consideration. The physicians of the expedition were enquiring
+into the causes of oriental plague; and of trachoma, the terrible form
+of ophthalmia which is so frequent a cause of blindness in Egypt. A
+dictionary and a grammar were printed; some of the buried temples of
+Upper Egypt were disinterred; the Wells of Moses were discovered. One
+day, an engineer officer came back from Rosetta bringing with him a
+granite slab on which there was a polyglot inscription, chiselled in
+Greek and in two variants of the ancient Egyptian picture-writing. The
+riddle of the hieroglyphs had been unriddled.
+
+What especially interested the commander, however, was the possibility
+of cutting a canal through the Isthmus of Suez. He made long journeys
+in the desert, always exposed to the danger of Bedouin raids; traced
+the line of the ancient canal; planned the course of a new channel. All
+his speculations were confirmed half a century later by Lesseps. Not
+like an adventurer whose schemes have miscarried, but in the spirit of a
+conqueror, he designed to separate the continents and link the seas.
+
+Now at length! Some merchants on small vessels have managed to slip
+through the English lines. From them, Napoleon learns that the
+destruction of the French fleet off Aboukir has brought about a general
+transformation. The sultan has entered into an alliance with Russia,
+and the two powers have declared war on France. Achmed, the Turkish
+commander, is marching on Egypt through Syria. The malcontents in Cairo,
+encouraged by these tidings, rise in revolt. The insurrection is quelled
+by artillery fire, and the heads of the rebels are exposed on pikes as a
+warning. “This will have a salutary effect. Clemency is no good here.”
+
+On the whole, the commander is more relieved than alarmed. If the Turks
+are marching southwards, so much the better; at length he will have a
+chance of beating them in open fight.
+
+From most of his close associates he conceals his deeper cause for
+anxiety. When he left France to occupy Egypt, his aim was to secure a
+position that would help him in his scheme for the conquest of India.
+“With ships, we can cross the seas; with camels we can cross the
+desert.” He had allowed fifteen months for the conquest of Egypt and the
+consolidation of his power there, and for the preparation and equipment
+of his forces for the Indian campaign. That would need forty thousand
+men, as many camels, and one hundred and twenty field-guns. He had asked
+for extensive reinforcements; ships, guns, and men. These were to support
+his land army by sea.
+
+The battle of the Nile had frustrated his fine schemes. The English
+were blockading the coast; the sultan had become his enemy; Egyptian
+sentiment was now hostile. But it was Napoleon’s way to adapt his plans
+to changing circumstances, and it seemed to him that he could derive
+advantage from the turn of events. The Turks and the English are going to
+make a joint landing? That threatens our very existence here? Well, then,
+let us attack to escape destruction! Seize all the magazines and ports
+from the Turks, arm the Syrian Christians, stir up the Druses! If we were
+to take the fortress of Acre, opinion in Cairo would veer round to our
+side. By June, we shall be in Damascus; shall thrust outposts forward
+into the Taurus; march eastward with 26,000 Frenchmen, 6,000 Mamelukes,
+and 18,000 Druses. Desaix will come direct from Egypt. The sultan will
+find it expedient to keep quiet. The shah of Persia has already agreed to
+our marching by way of Bassora and Shiraz. By March, if Allah favours us,
+we shall reach the Indus.
+
+Once more, Bonaparte fashions a splendid dream out of pressing
+embarrassments. He sets out for Syria.
+
+There are practically no roads. Sometimes he rides as many as forty-five
+miles in fifteen hours, invariably by night, without water, and almost
+always with the vanguard. When Jaffa falls, three thousand Turkish
+soldiers surrender. What on earth is he to do with them? Keep them
+prisoner? His own men are on short commons; and, besides, he would then
+have to spare thousands of Frenchmen to guard the Turks. Send them home?
+He has no ships. Exchange them? The Turks have no prisoners. Set them
+free? Then they will reinforce Acre, the next stronghold. What on earth
+is he to do? Council of war!
+
+All are in favour of killing the prisoners. Only a few days before,
+the Turks killed one of our envoys! Our own troops would be infuriated
+if they were to go hungrier still because of these fellows. Bonaparte
+wavers, thinks matters over for three days, and finally agrees. The
+prisoners are marched down to the sea and slaughtered. Subsequent
+military critics, especially the Germans, have agreed that there was no
+choice.
+
+Acre lies before us. There we shall find stores of new weapons. Then
+onwards towards the north! The great dream renews itself during these
+weeks. Now that Turkey has declared war, he is completely isolated, and
+forced into a life-and-death struggle. Everything is possible, for needs
+must when the devil drives. But he is not quite easy in his mind about
+the Indian scheme, for he mentions an alternative plan to one of his
+officers: “After I have seized Acre, I shall march upon Damascus and
+Aleppo, augmenting my army as I go, for I shall announce to the people
+the overthrow of the tyrannous pashas. Then, with overwhelming forces,
+I shall take Constantinople, make an end of Turkey, and found a new and
+great empire. This will bring me immortal fame. Perhaps I shall then make
+my way home through Adrianople or Vienna, after annihilating the house of
+Habsburg.”
+
+Always the same visions, magnified now, when the situation grows
+desperate.
+
+He reaches Acre. Not a big fortress, but well supplied with modern
+weapons, and defended by English officers and artillerists. Three
+successive attempts to storm the place are fruitless. English battleships
+arrive to support the besieged, and threaten the besiegers.
+
+At last, after eight months, he has direct news from Paris! It is little
+to his taste. Talleyrand has not gone to Constantinople to treat with the
+sultan. Is the rogue hedging? The French Republic is at war with Naples
+and Sardinia. Moreau and Augereau, Bonaparte’s rivals, have high command.
+Why, in God’s name, do we squat here on the burning sands, inactive?
+Storm the place! Are our schemes to be wrecked against these miserable
+walls?
+
+Who is in charge of the defence! Phélippeaux is there, a skilled
+engineer, one of Napoleon’s old comrades at the Cadets’ School in Paris,
+afterwards an émigré who had entered the English service!
+
+Why can they not take the place by storm? Bonaparte has no patience
+for a slow siege, for starving his enemy into surrender. The whole idea
+is foreign to his impetuous temperament. A fortress, like a woman, must
+be taken by storm, or not at all. He cannot beg, serve, or woo; and he
+cannot wait. Now time presses, and to wait is out of the question. Storm!
+
+The soldiers begin to murmur. Even among the officers there are
+mutterings which are the heralds of mutiny. “Let us have Kléber for our
+leader; he is humane and gentle.”
+
+Bonaparte sits in his tent, thinking matters over. A terrible hour! Is
+England to be ever invincible, even on land, even here in the East?
+Is the siege to drag on for months? Impossible! Europe is full of the
+clash of arms. Turn back, without having won a victory? An unprecedented
+experience, an entirely new feeling; but there is no choice. The
+enterprise must be abandoned. Back to Egypt! It is only half the truth
+to say that Acre barred his march upon India. Who can tell whether, if
+the fortress had been taken, he would have pressed on towards the Indus
+notwithstanding the ominous news from Paris. We should have to reckon
+with incalculable feelings here. Every coincidence is symbolical. Before
+Acre and on the Po, France is at war with the same monarchical coalition.
+None but the son of the revolution can save the situation. Contrary to
+his usual custom, he does not ride in the van, but for hours after the
+columns have started southward, till nightfall indeed, he stays behind on
+an elevation to contemplate the stubborn fortress, his mind filled with a
+sort of ferocious melancholy.
+
+A ghastly retreat. No roads, no water, the plague as rearguard. Is
+Bonaparte’s career to be ruined by the desert and the black death? Calm
+of aspect, he visits the sick in hospital, and encourages them wherever
+possible. The doctor points to fifty cases as hopeless. They must be
+put out of their misery, thinks Bonaparte; their path to death must be
+smoothed. With a royal assumption of responsibility, he orders a lethal
+dose of opium. The doctor demurs. It remains uncertain whether some one
+else carried out the order. “In such circumstances,” he says later, “I
+would have had my own son poisoned.”
+
+Two thousand sick men and six thousand who are still in health make their
+way slowly through the desert. Every four of the healthy has to carry a
+comrade who is too ill to walk, for there are not enough horses to bear
+the sick and the maimed. The staff officers are all marching with the
+rest. This is by Napoleon’s command. An equerry asks him which horse he
+will ride. “Did you not hear the order?” retorts the commander, striking
+the man with his whip. “Every one on foot!”
+
+At length the retreating army reaches Cairo. By entering with a triumphal
+display of captured colours, and by proclamations and marches, he makes a
+vain attempt to delude the people of Egypt.
+
+What is Paris saying? What shall he tell Paris? We did not occupy Acre,
+because the plague was raging there! That was why we withdrew from the
+siege! In the Institute, a committee is appointed to substantiate this
+tale. A doctor stands up, and, in the presence of a hundred savants,
+refuses to attach his name to this fiction. The commander yields with a
+wry face, but bears no grudge against the stalwart, whom he promotes more
+than once in years to come.
+
+The Turks now arrive by sea, intending to make an end of the French.
+Once more, the whole existence of the expeditionary force is at stake.
+The enemy is to land in Aboukir Bay, just a year after the battle of the
+Nile. He lets them land, and then inflicts a crushing defeat on them,
+though their army outnumbers his by two to one. After the battle, Murat
+meets him, and embracing him, says: “General, you are as great as the
+world, but the world is too small for you!” Bonaparte writes to Cairo:
+“You will have heard of the battle on the shores of Aboukir Bay, one of
+the finest I have ever seen! Of the army the enemy had landed, not a man
+escaped.”
+
+At this time he notices among the Mamelukes who have entered his service
+a tall, handsome fellow with blue eyes, a Georgian named Rustam, who has
+five times been sold as a slave. Fidelity is written on his countenance.
+Napoleon gives him a sword with an enchased hilt and scabbard, and makes
+him his body-servant. For fifteen years, Rustam sleeps outside his
+master’s door.
+
+After the victory at Aboukir, Napoleon enters into a parley with the
+admiral of the blockading fleet. Ostensibly he wishes to discuss an
+exchange of prisoners with the English. Really he is hungering for news;
+newspapers are worth more than king’s crowns. Some one manages to get
+hold of what he covets, and an adjutant brings them into his tent. The
+commander is asleep. “Here are newspapers, General. Bad news.” He sits
+up. “What’s happened?”
+
+“Scherer has been beaten. We have lost nearly the whole of Italy.”
+Napoleon jumps out of bed, seizes the papers, and goes on reading them
+all through the night, with an occasional pause for an outburst of wrath.
+At dawn, he sends for his admiral-in-chief, is closeted with the seaman
+for a couple of hours, and then sets out for Cairo.
+
+“I have made up my mind to return to France,” he says behind shut doors
+to the faithful Marmont. “You will come with me. Our armies in Europe
+have been defeated. God knows where the enemy will have got to by now.
+Italy is lost. What are they about, these incompetent idiots at the head
+of affairs? Stupidity and corruption! I have borne the whole burden
+single-handed, and by my victories have propped up a government which
+could never have maintained itself but for me. As soon as I leave,
+everything collapses. If I start at once, I shall get to Paris almost
+as soon as the news of my latest victory. My presence will restore
+confidence to the troops, and will reanimate the citizens with hopes for
+a happier future.”
+
+“My future,” he thinks, as soon as Marmont has gone. “People will say
+I have abandoned the army in Egypt. It will get along all right under
+Kléber. I came here to found a colony. It is founded, and the Turks have
+been beaten. Help can only come from France, and no one but myself can
+send it. I have nothing more to gain here, but everything to win on the
+battle-fields of Europe. Thirty years! How many days before I can get
+away? The admiral says it is a bad wind for Toulon, and that English
+warships swarm in the Mediterranean. I’m afraid I can’t get to Paris in
+an air-balloon! But Paris is the heart of the world. I must risk the sea
+passage.”
+
+
+XVII
+
+They show no lights, the two small frigates which had once flown Venetian
+colours. The vessel freighted with the commander is the “Muiron,” thus
+rechristened in memory of the lieutenant who had died to save him at
+Arcola. Fifteen years later he is to do still more honour to this name.
+Here, off Cape Bon, is the most dangerous point. Literally, they sail
+through the English fleet, for they know the ships by their lights. An
+August night, but cold, for the mistral is blowing. They sit on deck in
+the starlight, feeling dull and rather depressed. Let’s liven things
+up with a game of cards; there’s just light enough to play! Bonaparte
+cheats, and is delighted that no one notices. Next morning, with
+mischievous glee, he owns up, and restores his ill-gotten gains.
+
+What a different voyage from that of fifteen months ago! Only two ships
+now, and then there were four hundred. Half of the army is dead bones.
+True, France still holds the land of ancient story—but for how long? The
+hopes of striking an effective blow against England have been dashed.
+What has become of the plan for a landing at Dover? Gone to join the
+scheme for the invasion of India! He has had to steal away furtively from
+Egypt, for there might have been a mutiny had his impending departure
+become generally known among the soldiers of the army of occupation.
+Kléber was not appointed commander-in-chief until Napoleon had gone. The
+last order of the day had been dry and brief. The civilians had been sent
+to Upper Egypt, for Monge and Berthollet, who were in the know, and were
+now on board, might have blabbed the news to their colleagues. But poets
+were a nuisance! One of the fellows, keen-witted, had guessed what was in
+the wind, and had stolen aboard the frigate, whose destination was still
+undisclosed. Oh, well, let the beggar come along. He and his tribe are
+the brokers of fame, so we can’t do without them. After the last victory,
+Paris will be on our side.
+
+For weeks, the two frigates are in continual danger. “What would you
+do, if the English fleet were to heave in sight? Fight? Impossible!
+Surrender? You would none of you like that any better than I should. The
+only other alternative is to blow up the ship.” A general silence. Monge,
+who is sitting beside the commander, grows pale. “That shall be your
+charge,” adds Napoleon, turning to him with a mischievous smile. A few
+days later, a ship is sighted, and is wrongly supposed to be an English
+man-of-war. The mathematician vanishes, and is found afterwards at the
+door of the powder magazine.
+
+This incident gives us the measure of Bonaparte’s authority.
+
+After a six weeks’ cruise in the Mediterranean, an island is sighted
+on a fine October morning, a familiar ridge of mountains is seen or
+the horizon. The captain of the frigate consults his chart. “That is
+Corsica,” says Bonaparte unhesitatingly. Does he order the seamen to
+clap on all sail and make for the island? No, they must find out,
+first, whether the place is still French. But a strong wind is blowing
+shoreward, and, even under light canvas, progress is rapid. His thoughts
+run swiftly, too.
+
+“‘Still French?’ My question used to be, ‘French yet?’ Only six years
+ago. I was twenty-four then, and to be master of this island seemed to
+me the greatest thing in the world. Since then, I have had Italy at my
+feet; Egypt has been conquered; Paris smiles. All has happened as if by
+natural sequence. The wind is freshening. What will be the answer from
+the shore?” The signals show that the harbour is open to a French ship.
+The native island of the man without a country is home to him once more.
+
+They land, and all Ajaccio crowds to the harbour; thousands who once
+cursed the name of Bonaparte are now eager to welcome him. He regards
+the throng cynically. Many address him with the familiar “thou”; and
+hundreds wish to shake hands with him. He accepts these demonstrations
+unmoved. But suddenly he hears a voice: “Figlio! Caro figlio!” Camilla is
+speaking, his old nurse, a vigorous peasantwoman, hardly fifty years of
+age. The sight of her is the only thing that stirs his emotions.
+
+Napoleon makes for his ancestral home, which his mother has had set
+in order once more, though she is away just now. He summons those
+best fitted to give him the news he craves. There, beside the family
+hearth, he learns what has, during the last three months, happened to
+his creations. Mantua and Milan have gone, and with them most of Italy,
+won by his feats of arms three short years ago. Genoa is still French,
+though hard to keep. Masséna has been forced back through Switzerland!
+The English have landed in Holland! What is the first thing to do? Make
+for Nice! Instantly take the lead! Win back all in a storm of victories.
+“What’s that you say?” Two of the Directors forcibly removed! Only
+by such tricks can the shaky government still keep in power? General
+Moulin is one of the Directors? Moulin, who the devil is he? The other
+substitute? Sieyès, you say? Another coup must be impending—perhaps a
+forcible change of government. We must make all speed for Paris. On
+board! On board! Take a big rowing boat in tow!
+
+Two days’ sail towards Toulon. Twilight when the coast is sighted. The
+lookout man reports English ships. “Put about!” orders the admiral.
+“Forward!” thunders Bonaparte. In case of need, we can make the shore
+in the big rowing boat! Once more his star blinds the enemy; once more
+he escapes capture by the English. Night falls. Impossible to land at
+Toulon? Let us make for Fréjus, then. Uncharted rocks there? Rocks
+everywhere! In sight of the French coast after a seven weeks’ voyage, we
+must run all risks to land!
+
+Does this Italian love the country on which he now sets his foot? To him
+it is nothing more than the fiddle on which he can play a better tune
+than on any other instrument.
+
+Next day, in the little town of Fréjus, Bonaparte’s name is on every
+one’s lips. Why is the harbour full of rowing boats, laden with
+sightseers? Why this popular rejoicing? What has the man done in Africa,
+that the inhabitants of the provincial town should greet him as if he
+were a Roman imperator celebrating a triumph? An official says something
+about quarantine. “We prefer the plague to the Austrians, and the
+Austrians are almost at our gates!” shouts the crowd, escorting him
+through the streets as a deliverer.
+
+“France seems to be in a bad way,” thinks the man in the carriage, as
+he acknowledges the vociferations. “It looks as if every one had been
+waiting for me. A while back would have been too soon. To-morrow would
+have been too late. I have come at the right moment.”
+
+He drives westward from Fréjus, and stays for a time in Aix, questioning
+every one he meets. At Aix, a copy of a letter comes into his hands,
+an old letter that had miscarried: “The Directory is waiting for you,
+General; for you and your brave companions!” This was written in the
+panic of rulers who are at their wits’ end for a saviour! What had
+he better do? Stay where he is for a time, and write before going to
+Paris. “Egypt is wholly ours, and safe from invasion.—I was cut off from
+newspapers till the end of July, but when I heard of your troubles I
+instantly set out for home. I had to take all risks, for my place was
+the spot where I could be of most use. Had there been no frigate, I
+should have wrapped myself in my cloak and should have sailed in the
+first cockle-shell I could find. With Kléber in command, Egypt is in good
+hands. When I left, the whole country was under water—the best Nile for
+fifty years.”
+
+[Illustration: General Bonaparte in 1797. Drawing by Wocher in Basle.
+Town Library, Basle.]
+
+This carefully worded epistle goes as a herald to Paris. The people
+there must be told who is on the way. His northward journey is a via
+triumphalis; salutes are fired everywhere. Passing through Valence,
+he recognises among the onlookers the good woman who keeps the café
+where he used to lodge, the place with the billiard room; he gives her
+a keepsake from the East. In Lyons, he waits two or three hours to see
+the performance of a hastily extemporised drama, “The Hero’s Return.”
+Everything shows the powerful spell already exercised by his name.
+Perhaps the most signal instance is the sensational end of Baudin, one of
+the best of the deputies, who utters a shout of joy on hearing the news
+of Napoleon’s return, and drops dead from surcharge of emotion. The light
+that radiates from the commander is so strong that it kills.
+
+Paris draws near. He is still gathering news. But about private affairs,
+about Josephine, he can ask no questions. Is he already a divorcé? Where
+are his brothers? The news of his coming has been noised abroad; why
+has no one come to meet him? She, where is she? Will she, after all, be
+waiting for him in the mirrored room, ready to welcome him with a smile?
+In the grey dawn he passes the octroi, drives along the outer boulevards,
+turns into his own little street. There is the house. A woman stands
+alone at the door. Who is it?
+
+His mother.
+
+
+XVIII
+
+“Bonaparte’s landing is one of those events which at first we hesitate to
+believe. The news spread over night at theatres and in social gatherings.
+In the most obscure pot-houses, people were drinking to celebrate his
+return....” “Every one hails him with delight, for he brings us new
+hope....” “Glory, peace, and happiness follow in his train.”
+
+These and similar items catch Bonaparte’s eye as he flutters the
+newspapers. Day by day he can read an abundance of details, mingled
+truth and falsehood, concerning his aspect, demeanour, and dress. Even
+the opposition press pins its hopes on him: “His Egyptian campaign has
+miscarried; but what matter? He is satisfied with having undertaken it,
+and it is difficult to say whither his rashness may lead. All the same,
+his bold ventures restore our courage.”—He is received with acclamation,
+and his plans are consolidated.
+
+But his wife is away. When the news that he had landed reached Paris,
+she was dining with Gohier, the first of the five Directors. She and
+her host were equally alarmed. Both had uneasy consciences, and now the
+volcano was rumbling beneath them. Some time ago, Barras (who during this
+period seems still to have been an occasional recipient of her favours)
+had advised her to procure a divorce from the absent and almost vanished
+adventurer, and to marry handsome Hippolyte. She had received no letters
+from Napoleon. If he had written any, they must have miscarried. But her
+brother-in-law’s hostile attitude showed her what was in the wind. Barras
+was right. She would do well to act first.—Then Paris was electrified by
+the news of Napoleon’s great victory over the Turks. Perhaps it would
+be wiser, after all, to stay in her present safe harbourage. Unstable
+and frivolous, she had of late been coquetting with the thought of
+reconciliation. A glance at her own image in the mirror, a knowledge
+of the way she could turn men’s heads, sufficed to convince her of the
+possibility.
+
+Now, at Gohier’s table, she pulls herself together, and her host tries
+to outdo her in self-command. They drink to the general’s return. She
+hurries home, packs up all that can set off her beauty to the best
+advantage, and in a trice is driving southward. As her carriage rattles
+past the barrier, she thinks: “Act promptly, and take the enemy by
+surprise—is not that the secret of his military success? On the return
+journey, I shall be with him day and night, and shall win him over before
+the tale-bearers can get at him!”
+
+But she misses him, learns that he has passed her, and hastens back to
+Paris. She has lost three precious days, during which his relatives have
+told him all the scandal. True, some of his intimates warn him against
+applying for a divorce. In Paris, a cuckold is always a figure of fun.
+He is resolute, however: “I have done with her. What do I care about the
+chatter? It will only last for a day or two.” He has her trunks packed,
+and carried down to the porter’s lodge, so that she shall not enter the
+house. Could he give plainer proof that he dreads his own weakness?
+
+She comes, breaks through the first line of defence, enters the fortress.
+He has locked himself in. She calls to him and pleads with him through
+the door. During her journey, the more she has come to realise that his
+name is in every one’s mouth, the more fervent have been her hopes for a
+reconciliation, and the more has her pride been humbled. But the citadel
+holds out. At length she decides to call up reinforcements for a final
+assault. Hortense and Eugene must come to her aid. They clamour, beseech,
+shed tears. Thus a night passes.
+
+No dispassionate observer can fail to understand Josephine’s motives in
+making this ridiculous scene. What of Bonaparte himself, the man with so
+profound a knowledge of the human soul? Was he duped by a woman?
+
+There he lies, returned after a long absence, with his head full of
+schemes for the conquest of a nation. Let us try to follow his thoughts.
+“They have deceived me one and all. The government, the political
+parties, my own companions-in-arms, were all endeavouring, during my
+absence, to exclude me from power, for they regarded me as a danger to
+themselves. As long as I was out of range, no one wanted me back; my
+brothers no more than the rest. This capricious woman, whose pretty whims
+I have never tried to restrain—would it be reasonable for me to expect
+that she should have spent a year and more thinking of no one but her
+absent husband, whose return seemed ever more unlikely as the days went
+by? When I am there, she is fascinating. If I make truce with her now,
+when the game is in my hands, she will agree to all my conditions, and I
+can exact guarantees for the future. What a lovely voice she has. There
+cannot have been any falling off in her charms, or she would not have so
+many admirers. What a fool, compared with her, was that little woman in
+Egypt, and even she could not give me an heir. Where shall I find a woman
+who will make a more perfect lover and a better wife than Josephine?
+Besides, she has had two children, and may yet have more.”
+
+He opens the door and, heroic in his silence, suppresses, once and for
+all, the accusations with which his heart is filled. In this matter, as
+in others, he holds fast to his resolves. Next day she confesses that she
+is in debt to the tune of two million francs. He pays without a word.
+
+It is hard for his brothers, and still harder for his sisters, to accept
+the situation; but they do not venture a remonstrance.
+
+Nor is there time for the further discussion of family matters. Events
+are on the wing. His brothers have not been idle while he has been
+away. Joseph, after being envoy in Rome, is now on guard as one of the
+Parisian deputies. Lucien is leader of the opposition, although, being
+only twenty-four, he is under the legal age. A brilliant orator, dreaded
+in debate, a Hotspur with a taste for theatrical displays, burning with
+ambition, too headstrong for constructive work. He and Sieyès have been
+working at plans for a coup d’état on their own, but they lack the
+support of a great soldier whom the troops would follow. Now the soldier
+has come, and Lucien will keep his private wishes to himself. He, too, is
+a Bonaparte.
+
+Dangerous, inscrutable, and cunning is Joseph’s new brother-in-law,
+Bernadotte. He is slow in coming to greet Bonaparte. When he does
+come, and Bonaparte speaks of the desperate situation of the republic,
+Bernadotte rejoins: “It will be able to make headway against its enemies
+both abroad and at home!” He looked searchingly at his interlocutor, and
+for a moment the masterful eyes of the two men clash. But Bonaparte,
+controlling his emotions as usual, attempts a diversion to political
+issues, speaks again of the dangers, and then passes severe strictures on
+the Jacobin Club. Thereupon Bernadotte breaks in: “Your brothers founded
+it!”
+
+Bonaparte is still loathe to take offence, and replies: “Well, well,
+General, I would rather live in the woods than in a State where there is
+no security!”
+
+Bernadotte, mockingly: “Good God! What security is lacking to you?”
+
+Now, Bonaparte is about to make an angry rejoinder, but Josephine
+intervenes to keep the peace. And yet the hidden fact is that Josephine
+is, in a sense, the cause of the dissension. For Bernadotte has married
+Désirée Clary, to whom Napoleon had once paid court, with whom he had
+not found favour when he was still obscure, and to whom he had preferred
+Josephine when his fortunes were on the mend. Now he can forgive neither
+himself nor Bernadotte. Throughout his career, Bonaparte will try, by
+showering benefits on her, to atone to Désirée for what she has lost by
+not marrying him, though it was mainly her doing that they did not become
+man and wife. For her sake, he continually advances Bernadotte, who no
+less persistently betrays him.
+
+All that his brothers and other intimates have told him about affairs
+in Paris during his absence, their picture of anarchical corruption and
+violent impotence, fills him with forebodings and urges him to speedy
+action. The number of the holders of power must be reduced, and their
+term of office must be lengthened. The government is a plateau; it must
+become a towering peak. A ten years’ triumvirate—that will be the best
+plan.
+
+At the Luxembourg they are all uneasy, now that he is back. Every one of
+the Directors mistrusts him, and each of them is suspicious of his four
+co-Directors likewise. Which of them is intriguing with Bonaparte? Sieyès
+is on friendly terms with Lucien, Barras with Josephine, Gohier with
+both. What about Ducos? Is General Moulin to be relied on?—Immediately
+after reaching Paris Bonaparte had sent Moulin a Damascus blade with a
+diamond-studded hilt, and Moulin could not in decency refuse the gift.
+
+Such are the secret thoughts of the Directors. Look at Bonaparte’s
+get-up when he first came to pay us his respects! Did any one ever see a
+general in such a rig? Much more like an adventurer! Mufti; green coat;
+round hat; Mameluke sword. The man wants to dazzle Paris into believing
+him a pasha. Did you notice that he has had his hair cut short? Wants
+to win people by an affectation of simplicity! Yet to-day he comes to
+call in great style. General on horseback, with all his aides. Brilliant
+uniforms. Paris agog. Very sinister, this change of aspect. Look at the
+way he sits and questions the five of us, as if he were a monarch holding
+audience.
+
+“Why do you let the man impose on you?” say his enemies angrily to the
+Directors. “He made a frightful mess of the Egyptian campaign. Your
+proper course is plain enough. Have him arrested for deserting the army
+under his command! He’s got something up his sleeve, you may be sure!”
+
+Bonaparte, meanwhile, receives visits from Jacobin leaders and Bourbon
+agents; gives advice to all and sundry, but tells no one what he really
+thinks; behaves like a man of family who has just returned from a long
+journey, and, with an air of good-natured boredom, allows his relatives
+to tell him all about their squabbles while he has been away. He has
+been home for two weeks now. The tension is increasing. Affairs of State
+are at a standstill, or nearly so; for the Five, who should be carrying
+on the work of government, are busied in intrigue. Amid the general
+confusion, the Councils have utterly lost prestige. The new constitution
+is rocking in the blast, but no one seems to know from which quarter
+the wind is blowing. Who is the real holder of power in the State? Who
+controls the army? General Moulin? General Bonaparte?
+
+While no one can tell from day to day how the relationships between
+Napoleon and the government are likely to shape themselves, he goes
+to the Institute to deliver a lecture on the vestiges of the ancient
+Suez canal, and describes the Rosetta stone. On November 1st, there
+is a State banquet in honour of a victory won by Masséna. Where is
+Bonaparte? No doubt it is not to his taste to celebrate the triumphs of a
+brother-in-arms!
+
+That evening he is closeted with Lucien and Abbé Sieyès. Talleyrand has
+at length brought him in touch with the ablest of the Directors. Sieyès
+and Bonaparte, the man who has rediscovered the constitution and the man
+who has rediscovered the secret of power, sit face to face; they vie with
+one another in ambition and in intellectual ability. “I have made the
+Great Nation,” says the general. “You could not have done so, had we not
+first made the Nation,” counters the abbé.
+
+They discuss the details of the proposed coup d’état. On the critical
+day, they will spread the report that a Jacobin conspiracy is afoot.
+The Councils, in alarm, will transfer their sessions from Central
+Paris to Saint-Cloud. “As a measure of precaution,” Bonaparte will be
+entrusted with the command of the Paris garrison. Sieyès has come to an
+understanding with Ducos. Persuasion, threats, or money, will induce the
+other three Directors to resign. Barras will take money. But what about
+Gohier? “Make short work of it,” says Lucien. “Dissolve the Councils by
+force.” But at night Napoleon, when he is alone, turns matters over in
+his mind:
+
+“Force! How silly it was to use force four years ago! We see where it has
+led! The supreme art is to maintain the appearance of legality. Without
+cannon or bloodshed, without arrests and parties, that is the secret of
+the ideal coup d’état. Otherwise you set up something that may last a
+year before it wears out. After ten years of revolution, the republic is
+heartily sick of it all. She is an amazon who has borne arms till she is
+tired, and now asks nothing better than to be led by a strong man. She is
+ready for me.
+
+“Can I depend upon Sieyès? Behind that receding forehead of his, he
+thinks too much. For ten years he has been building constitutions, but
+he is nothing more than the ideologue whom a vigorous general can use
+before casting aside. Had I not arrived in the nick of time, he would
+have joined forces with Moreau. I shall turn the pair of them to account.
+I know I can trust Berthier, Bourrienne, Murat, Marmont, and Leclerc.
+Is Lucien faithful? For the time being. Bernadotte? His spiteful look
+betrayed his true feelings. Still, he will not come into the field
+against me. What about Talleyrand? A dangerous man, and for that very
+reason I must have him on my side. Moulin? No time to waste; there are
+too many generals in Paris. Watch out!”
+
+Next evening he went to Talleyrand’s, for a private talk with that
+intriguer. They sat late, discussing plans. Suddenly there was a noise
+in the street. Trotting horses, which stop in front of the door. The
+patrol? “Bonaparte turned pale, and I fancy I must have done the same,”
+wrote Talleyrand in his Memoirs. Both men believe that they are about
+to be arrested. Lights out, and on tiptoe to the balcony. False alarm!
+An ordinary street scene, nocturnal revellers and police, nothing more.
+The conspirators breathe again. But why do not the Directors have them
+arrested on suspicion? The answer is simple. Bonaparte is already too
+commanding a figure to be touched!
+
+On the 6th, there is a banquet at the Luxembourg. Bonaparte and Moreau
+are the guests, but the latter has the place of honour, and the hosts
+eye Bonaparte askance. He reciprocates his entertainers’ suspicions, and
+eats nothing but bread and eggs, handed him by a trusty servant. After
+half an hour, he makes his excuses, and goes back to his confederates, to
+talk over the plan for bringing about the downfall of the men with whom
+he has just been dining. Next evening, Talleyrand, Roederer, and Sieyès,
+dine with Bonaparte; Jourdan and Bernadotte, who are to be won over, have
+also been invited. After dinner, he asks Jourdan what is to happen. This
+simple question is evidence enough of the prevailing crisis. Two generals
+who have never before exchanged a word except about commonplaces, meet,
+and look one another in the face. “What is going to happen?” enquires
+one. The other significantly grips his sword-hilt. The plotters agree to
+take action in forty-eight hours. The parts to be played by members of
+the inner ring are assigned. Murat, Lannes, and Marmont are to inform the
+officers of the three branches of the service; Berthier will acquaint the
+general staff.
+
+Lucien undertakes to manage affairs in the Council of Five Hundred.
+He is president for the month, having been elected in honour of his
+brother’s return. The president of the Council of Ancients is also a
+party to the conspiracy. The bedells will be told to overlook certain
+names when notices of the sitting are sent out. As soon as Bonaparte
+has been appointed commander of the Paris garrison, he will hand over
+the Tuileries to Lannes and the Palais Bourbon to Murat. Gohier and his
+wife will be invited to breakfast by Josephine—eight o’clock. Bonaparte
+will offer himself to Barras for luncheon, in order to put Barras off
+his guard. Joseph will persuade his brother-in-law Bernadotte to keep
+quiet, if Bernadotte will not actively participate. Roederer writes the
+proclamation. His son knows a friendly printer who will set it up and
+machine it—on the quiet.
+
+“Was Brutus’ mood so paltry?” thinks Bonaparte. “But, in truth, we too
+wish to slay some one—Anarchy! A new era, a new century, to be ushered in
+by such petty and distasteful means! Camp life is cleaner!”
+
+
+XIX
+
+November 9th, a foggy autumn morning; the Eighteenth Brumaire is dawning.
+A bustle in the street opposite Bonaparte’s house; officers arriving on
+horseback and in carriages. Is the blow to be struck at last? Most of
+those present were with him in Italy. The house is too small for such
+a concourse. They stroll up and down in the garden, discussing their
+chances; lively and cheerful as if they were on the Rhine. Appearances
+must be kept up. No one must be able to say that uniformed officers were
+about so early. All goes well. Messengers come to confirm the carrying
+out of the programme; both Councils were summoned at seven o’clock, but
+undesirable members have not received notice. The initiates were the
+first comers, and, as soon as there was a quorum, Lucien in the Council
+of Five Hundred and his colleague in the Council of Ancients had proposed
+Bonaparte’s appointment to the command of the Paris garrison.
+
+Here is the messenger with the commission, duly sealed! The formalities
+are being strictly observed. The general joins his faithful followers.
+Everything goes on as if they were in camp. With a great suite, he rides
+through the town, to the amazement of a huge crowd, which does not,
+however, show any political interest. A dragoon regiment which had been
+through the Italian campaign with Napoleon turns up on the Boulevard
+Madeleine without awaiting the orders of its colonel. Other officers
+follow with Ducos and Marmont. The latter summoned them at an early hour.
+When they said they could not come for lack of horses, he borrowed some
+from a riding-school.
+
+The Tuileries garden is crowded. Many remain on horseback; but Bonaparte
+dismounts and enters the Council of Ancients. Is he going to make a
+speech to people whom he despises, in this dark and unfamiliar hall?
+Why does he not take the oath to the constitution, the constitution he
+is about to destroy? The law directs that a general appointed to a new
+command should take this oath. Evading the formality, he speaks from the
+rostrum:
+
+“The republic is in danger.... Recognising this, you have passed a law
+that will save it. Do not search history for examples that may give
+reason for restraining your activities. No epoch in history is like the
+end of the eighteenth century, and in that end there is nothing like this
+moment.... We want a republic based on liberty and equality. We shall
+have it. With the aid of all the friends of liberty, I shall save the
+republic. In my own name and in that of my companions-in-arms, I swear it
+to you!”
+
+“We swear it!” comes like an echo through the open doors of the hall.
+The Ancients move uneasily in their seats. “Companions-in-arms?”
+But Bonaparte has left the hall, drawing a breath of relief. These
+lawyers’-eyes; bespectacled eyes! Effete pygmies! Has he noticed that he
+spoke to them as if he were on the parade ground, and that they did not
+like his tone?
+
+His words and his voice have a very different ring outside, when, having
+remounted his charger, he summons his troops to save the republic. Then
+comes a report from Lucien, who has meanwhile adjourned to the following
+day the sitting of the Council of Five Hundred. What is that you say? The
+Directors’ guard is on the way hither? Do they come as friends or foes?
+“Is Sieyès sending them?” Their colonel says no. The two men laugh.
+
+In fact, Sieyès, pale of countenance, is still at the gate of the
+Luxembourg. For the last fortnight, our clever abbé has been taking
+riding lessons. It had been his design to ride at the head of his guard
+to join his new comrades. Before all the world, he would show his
+equality with these comrades by leaning from his saddle and embracing
+them. But the guard has started without his orders; their colonel has
+brought them to the Tuileries, riding hell-for-leather, too hot a pace
+for the abbé. Almost unnoticed, and much crestfallen, Sieyès drives
+after them in a carriage, with Ducos, who is pliable, by his side. Every
+one in the know is aware by this time what will happen to the other three
+Directors.
+
+Moulin looks at the matter from a soldier’s standpoint. He estimates the
+opposing force at the Tuileries to be eight thousand strong, and his
+adjutants report to him that all the important points of the town are in
+Bonaparte’s hands. He writes, therefore, saying: “At your service.”
+
+Honest Gohier is at home, blustering ineffectually. He had not thought
+it advisable to accept the strange invitation to an eight o’clock
+breakfast, and had been content to send his wife. Now, a sort of hostage,
+she is drinking tea with Josephine, while Bonaparte is betraying her
+husband—not, indeed, stealing his mistress, but stealing France. When the
+first news comes, Gohier sends to his colleagues, summoning them to a
+meeting of the Directory. No one turns up. Moulin has joined Sieyès and
+Ducos. Barras says he is in his bath.
+
+When Talleyrand, the messenger of fate, visits Barras, the Director is
+shaving; he seems to be devoting the day to the arts of the toilet! But,
+at a glance or two from the other augur, he throws up the game, being
+content to ask for a safe-conduct. When his secretary brings this demand
+to Bonaparte, the general harangues the man publicly in the Tuileries
+garden: “What have you done with France, that I should let you off so
+easily? I gave you peace, and I find war.... What have you done with the
+hundred thousand Frenchmen who were the companions of my glory? They
+are dead! We can go no farther along that road, for in three years it
+leads to despotism! We want a republic based on equality and liberty,
+toleration and morality!”
+
+Thus berated, the little secretary shakes in his shoes. In reality,
+Bonaparte is perfectly calm, but it suits him to simulate wrath in the
+presence of so many witnesses. In a couple of hours, all Paris will hear
+of it.
+
+Here comes Gohier. He does not lack courage, anyhow. Bearding the man
+of power surrounded by his troops, Gohier reminds him of his duty to the
+Directory.
+
+“The Directory no longer exists!” storms Bonaparte. “The republic is
+in danger, and I intend to save it. Sieyès, Ducos, and Barras have
+resigned.” As he speaks, a letter from Moulin is brought to him. “Are not
+you in league with Moulin? No? Well, here is his resignation too. You are
+the last. Do you intend to hold out all by yourself?”
+
+Gohier is a stickler for the law, and refuses to give way. He goes back
+to the Luxembourg, and there he and his friends are kept under guard by
+five hundred men until all is over. Barras is waiting at home, uneasy
+till he has the answer to his message. What if Bonaparte were now to
+take vengeance? Who can depend on Josephine’s moods? Here is Talleyrand
+back again, with the safe-conduct and a bag of gold. As to this last,
+no one knows whether Barras had the fingering of the money, or whether
+Talleyrand kept it as messenger’s fee.
+
+Thus the five heads of the republic were rendered powerless by General
+Bonaparte. But this was only the first day. To-morrow, at Saint-Cloud,
+greater difficulties may have to be faced. Lucien, who has been all over
+the place, and is fully informed, exclaims with well-grounded anger: “The
+whole job ought to have been finished in one day! You have left them too
+much time! The Five Hundred are already crying out that they have been
+tricked! To-morrow all will be in the melting-pot once more! The only
+thing to do is to send soldiers to clear out the Chambers, and to put the
+most dangerous members of the Councils under arrest.”
+
+Certainly there may be complications to-morrow. Bernadotte had wanted
+the Jacobin Club to appoint him general of the opposing forces. “But the
+fellows were in too great a funk!” The generals unsympathetic to the coup
+d’état must be put under lock and key. Bonaparte’s associates urge this
+again and again, but in vain. He is resolute to maintain the semblance of
+legality.
+
+“People would say I was afraid of the generals. No one shall have a right
+to accuse us of illegality. No parties; no force! The whole people must
+be associated with the decision through the votes of its deputies! No
+civil war! What begins with the shedding of civilian blood, will come to
+a shameful end!”
+
+But at night, prepared for all eventualities, he has loaded pistols handy
+to his bedside.
+
+
+XX
+
+Next morning, an endless string of carriages and carts, an endless
+succession of riders and pedestrians, makes its way to Saint-Cloud, as
+if to see a great military review. Bonaparte, too, drives instead of
+going on horseback attended by a bevy of mounted officers. That might
+be provocative. He has made up his mind to observe constitutional
+formalities to the very last moment. Could any one say that there had
+been a breach of law the day before? Are not the Councils entitled to
+remove their sittings to a spot beyond the precincts of the town, if
+they think that this would be safer? Is it not within their competence
+to appoint a new commander for the Paris garrison? Had not the Directors
+the right to resign? Will any one pretend that the Jacobin peril, which
+is the occasion for these happenings, is imaginary? To-day, at public
+sittings, the Councils will alter the constitution. Three rulers will be
+provisionally appointed. Borrowing a title from ancient Rome, they can be
+called Triumvirs, or, perhaps better, Consuls. Then the Councils will be
+prorogued, everything being done in due form of law.
+
+But the deputies hold other views. Like cloud-drifts hanging low,
+they flit through the valleys of this forsaken palace, discussing the
+situation, and giving vent to their protests. Since the hall that is
+being furbished up for the sitting will not be ready before one o’clock,
+they have plenty of time to foment their wrath.
+
+In a small room fronting on the park, sit the three men who will be
+Consuls to-morrow. At least Sieyès and Ducos remain seated most of the
+time, but the third walks up and down impatiently, as his adherents come
+and go to report. He thinks: “How infernally slow civilians are! They
+have needed a whole morning to arrange a few benches. Then they must take
+an oath one by one, a thing which our recruits do in chorus, and get
+through it all in a couple of minutes! Why should I have to wait in a
+back room while these lawyers are deliberating in the council chamber?”
+
+The Ancients meet upstairs in the Salle Apollo; the Five Hundred,
+downstairs in the Orangerie. Spectators, safe people, throng the hall of
+the Five Hundred. When, after the swearing-in, the discussions at length
+begin (Lucien is in the chair), the protests of the opposition gain
+weight from the circumstances. Speakers point to the threatening force
+of soldiery outside. When some of the orators exclaim: “No dictatorship!
+This Cromwell wants to bind us in chains!” almost all the delegates
+applaud. The reports that come to the back room are more and more
+unfavourable. The officers grow restive: “Chase the beggars out! What
+else have we got our men here for?”
+
+Bonaparte’s only answer is a cold glance. Buckling on his sword, he
+silently mounts the stairs to the hall of the Ancients. Two or three
+of the stalwarts follow him, shaking their heads. Is he going to talk
+once more, as he did yesterday, instead of shooting? Amazed but curious,
+the president allows him to speak. Will he put up a better case than
+yesterday, speaking to the point, and not simply haranguing them about
+himself?
+
+“Yesterday, I was sitting quietly at home when you summoned me....
+To-day, I am overwhelmed with calumnies.... Since my return, all parties
+have been busied with my name.... The Council of Ancients must decide
+quickly. I am no intriguer. You know me. Have I not given proof and to
+spare of my devotion to the country?... Am I, a man whom even the great
+coalition could not conquer, to tremble before a few rioters? If I am a
+crafty schemer, you may well be all Brutuses!”
+
+Uneasy stirrings; smiles. Why does he speak, instead of acting? He is
+not sure of his ground, for he goes on to say: “All France shall know
+what we have lived through.—Every one of the parties wishes to turn this
+crisis to its own account, and every one of them would like me to side
+with it. But I have come to the Councils. If you hesitate, and if liberty
+is overthrown, you will be answerable to the world and to posterity!”
+His periods grow ever more confused. The Ancients surround the rostrum,
+interrupting him, demanding names. Suddenly he turns, and waves his
+hand towards the doors, as if pointing to the soldiers, who are out of
+sight. He seems to be looking for an exit. He apostrophises the invisible
+soldiers:
+
+“You, comrades, whom I see united in this circle, raise your bayonets
+with which we fought our way to victory together, raise them against my
+breast! But if an orator in foreign pay dares to call your general an
+outlaw, smite the wretch with the thunderbolts of battle! The god of
+battles and the goddess of good fortune are on my side....”
+
+Will not a burst of laughter sweep the speaker away, and his coup d’état
+along with him? At length Bourrienne comes up to him from behind, takes
+him by the arm, and whispers in his ear: “Do stop, General. You really
+don’t know what you’re saying!” He turns, and follows Bourrienne from the
+hall. A deputy devoted to his interest takes the floor promptly, and does
+his best to put a good face upon the matter.
+
+[Illustration: General Bonaparte in 1798, during the voyage to Egypt.
+Sketch by André Dutertre.]
+
+Outside, he draws a breath of relief. What could have been the matter
+with him? Why had his brain been clouded? Amid all the turmoil of battle,
+he is calm, fully master of himself; his decisions are well-rounded,
+brilliant, and cool, like polished marble spheres. Why is he unequal to
+the occasion on this day of days, when his whole future is at stake?
+
+Because he is a man who knows how to command, but does not know how to
+beg. He can cajole, threaten, feign hesitation, lie; outdoing in these
+arts all the diplomatists with whom he negotiates treaties. He meets them
+as equals, but is always sustained by the feeling that, if he does not
+get his way by diplomacy, he can enforce his wishes by artillery fire. He
+can endure everything, except having to ask favours, and except having
+to submit to a law which is not of his own making. He wants order and
+legality, but not such as existed before he established them!
+
+With titanic energy, as he already foresees, he will lead this country
+towards order, will found an orderly State after a decade of chaos. No
+one will be the worse for humble birth or for poverty, since all will
+have equal opportunities. But in these halls to-day sit lawyers, ridden
+by the spirit of faction, corrupt, outworn, besoiled by the grime of
+party politics. He is to implore them to be good enough to give him (and
+others) a power which has long been his, and which stands outside there,
+impatient to get to work!
+
+He, who in the Institute could sit quietly among the savants, learning
+and questioning, is so little able to understand the mood of these
+legislative assemblies that he actually fancies the day already won. He
+sends a message to Josephine to tell her that all is going well; says a
+few encouraging words to his followers, and goes quickly downstairs to
+play a similar part before the Council of Five Hundred. It is just as
+well that his friends take the precaution to send into the hall with him
+four stalwart grenadiers, whose strength and loyalty can be thoroughly
+depended on.
+
+No matter that this escort is quite out of keeping with his determination
+to be strict in the observance of parliamentary forms! Followed by his
+grenadiers, carrying hat and riding whip in his hand, he enters the
+hall of the Five Hundred. “Bonaparte!” All turn towards the door. The
+Jacobins shout: “Down with the tyrant! Down with the dictator! Outlaw
+him!” A few of the more hefty among the Five Hundred hurl themselves
+upon him; the grenadiers rally to his protection, encircling him, and
+sheltering him with their big bodies from the angry Jacobins’ blows. The
+combat sways to and fro for a while, a knot of struggling and shouting
+people. Then, step by step, the five force their way backwards towards
+the door. Outside, surrounded by his own supporters, he is for a moment
+too much discomposed to speak; but, rallying quickly, he makes for the
+back room.
+
+During the Italian campaign, Bonaparte was under fire in the front
+ranks on several occasions. At Lodi, and again at Arcola, he had been
+in imminent peril. But here, he was for the first time involved in a
+rough-and-tumble affray where fire-arms and cold steel are against
+the rules. Towards the close of his career, he was to have a similar
+experience. In such a chance medley, he could not draw his sword. He
+must assume his antagonists to be unarmed, though some of them were in
+truth armed. To use his sword seemed to be in hopeless conflict with the
+fundamental principles of the coup d’état—as he envisaged it.
+
+But at length he has to abandon these principles of his. In person, he
+has been rescued from the blows of his adversaries, but their fists have
+shattered his doctrine. Force has been used against him. He strides
+furiously up and down the room; his pride is touched to the quick; in his
+anger, he scratches his cheek till his finger-nails are bloody. Blood?
+In an instant he has recovered his composure. This blood will be most
+useful! Attempted assassination in the council chamber! He will show his
+soldiers how these villains have manhandled the commander of Paris! The
+pretence that the other side had been the first to break the law, frees
+him from the tyranny of his principles.
+
+In the assembly hall, meanwhile, Lucien is fighting for him. “Hors la
+loi! Outlaw him!” cry most of the deputies. Lucien tries to still the
+clamour with voice and bell. The attempt is vain. A formal demand is
+made for a vote on Bonaparte’s outlawry, and every one knows what that
+means in revolutionary Paris. Since there is no other way out of the
+difficulty, Lucien, whose pose to-day is that of the defender of law and
+order, with an imposing gesture throws off his toga and storms out of the
+hall. None too soon!
+
+He finds his brother with the troops. Napoleon had turned pale when
+the news had been brought of the vote of outlawry. Then, running to
+the window, he called to the troops: “To arms!” Going out, he mounted,
+and was quick to notice that the soldiers were not sufficiently moved,
+were not yet ripe for action. Night was falling, and all were waiting
+on events. Lucien came out, leapt into the saddle, and the two brothers
+rode up and down the front. Outside the railings were Sieyès and Ducos in
+a carriage, ready for flight to-day, or to become rulers to-morrow, as
+events might decide. The movement seemed to be without a head.
+
+Then Lucien grasped the opportunity. He could make a better job of
+speaking to the soldiers than Napoleon had made of speaking to the
+deputies:
+
+“Soldiers, as president of the Five Hundred I tell you that in the hall
+there the majority is being terrorised by a handful of armed Jacobins.
+These rascals are in English pay. They have dared to outlaw your general,
+who was appointed by the Councils. They actually tried to assassinate
+him. Look at the wounds! Use your bayonets to guard him against their
+daggers, so that the deliberations concerning the welfare of the country
+can be conducted in peace! Recognise as deputies none but those who come
+with me into the midst of your ranks. Drive out the rest, all who would
+stay in the hall!”
+
+Napoleon listens with pinched lips. When Lucien has finished, he speaks
+in his turn, shouting: “Kill any one who resists. Follow me! I am the god
+of battles!” Lucien, who is afraid of another speech, hisses: “For God’s
+sake, hold your tongue!”
+
+“Long live Bonaparte!” shout the soldiers, who regard the brothers as
+military and civil authority conjoined. But not a man moves. All is lost,
+if they will not march now. Lucien grasps at the last expedient. With
+a theatrical flourish, he snatches an officer’s sword and points it at
+Napoleon’s breast: “I swear that I will run my brother through, should he
+ever dare to threaten the liberties of France!”
+
+The phrase has the desired effect. Murat orders the sounding of a general
+advance, summons a troop of soldiers to follow him, and shouts: “Lads,
+chuck the whole rabble of them out of the hall!” At length he has raised
+a laugh. With bayonets at the charge, but good-humouredly and without
+hurting any one, they thrust from the hall any of the deputies that
+are valiant enough to offer resistance. In the failing light, there
+is a confused scene in which red togas, birettas, and the caps of the
+guardsmen are intermingled. The last of the fleeing deputies escape
+through the windows.
+
+The priceless Lucien now hastened upstairs to the Council of Ancients.
+Grossly exaggerating the injuries sustained by his brother at the hands
+of the Jacobin deputies, he induced the Ancients, in a panic, to appoint
+the three Consuls, and to adjourn their sitting until a late hour that
+night. Then the leaders foregathered in a small café for a meal, being
+all much in need of food.
+
+That night, the most trustworthy among the deputies reassembled in the
+deserted hall at Saint-Cloud. By the light of a pair of candles, the
+thirty who were left to represent the people of France voted whatever
+they were told. While a hundred or so people of fashion, pretty women and
+their gallants, mockingly watched the midnight ceremony—while all went
+smoothly, society-at-large being quite undisturbed and the proletariat
+unruffled—the indefatigable Lucien insisted that the political mass
+should be worthily celebrated. At two in the morning, to the sound of
+drums, the three Consuls took the oath. “Long live the republic!” called
+a few weary voices.
+
+At three o’clock, Consul Bonaparte drives back to Paris with Bourrienne.
+He looks straight in front of them, saying never a word. Not until he is
+at home, and Josephine is present, does he open his mouth:
+
+“I say, Bourrienne, did I talk a frightful lot of nonsense to-day?”
+
+“A fair amount, General.”
+
+“Those idiots drove me crazy. I’m no good at speaking in public
+assemblies.”
+
+Then, instead of going on to talk about the coup d’état, or to
+congratulate himself upon its amazing success (for from to-morrow onwards
+he will rule France) he alludes to personal enmities. Bernadotte’s
+conduct is what rankles!
+
+“That fellow Bernadotte! He wanted to betray me! His wife—his wife has a
+great deal of influence over him. I should have thought I had done enough
+to placate him! You were there, and you know. I regret having gone so far
+to please him. He will have to clear out of Paris. There is no other way
+in which I can pay my score.... Good-night, Bourrienne. To-morrow night
+we shall sleep in the Luxembourg.”
+
+
+
+
+BOOK THREE
+
+THE RIVER
+
+    One who thoughtfully ponders the centuries,
+    Surveys the whole in the clear light of the spirit;
+    All that is petty has vanished from sight;
+    Oceans and continents alone are of account.—GOETHE.
+
+
+I
+
+About twenty men are seated round a large oval table. Some are quite
+young, some middle-aged, some elderly. They are plainly dressed, in
+accordance with the fashion of 1800, when wigs were no longer worn,
+and lace was out of date; those of them that are in uniform are not
+resplendent with gold braid, and they wear no orders. Some have the
+bold, self-confident look of the man of action; others, the thoughtful
+mien of the savant. From town and from countryside, from office and from
+laboratory, they come, but are unified by a common experience and a
+common aim. For ten years, they have been living through a revolutionary
+epoch; they meet to bring that epoch to a close. Around them is the chill
+splendour of the Tuileries, the palace of the last Bourbon kings. The
+golds and the reds of the rich carpets and the silken hangings are out
+of keeping with their bourgeois circumstantiality; the silvery sheen of
+the candles, reflected in rainbow tints from the myriad facets of the
+candelabras, recalls an era that scintillated with light and glowed with
+colour.
+
+The Directors before them had been wont to entertain their lady friends
+in royal halls, but that was in the Luxembourg, the former meeting-place
+of the peers of France. The Tuileries seemed full of Ghosts. Did not
+a curse lie upon the place? The dictator had broken the spell. Two
+months after the coup d’état, he had come with his fellow Consuls to
+take possession of the palace, which exerted a magical lure upon his
+imagination. Yet when, seven years after the arrest of the last scion of
+the royal line, the first of the bourgeois rulers made his formal entry,
+the affair had a strong flavour of burlesque. The Parisians could not
+but laugh to see the numbers of the hackney carriages peeping out from
+beneath the slips of paper which had been carelessly pasted over them.
+This seemed to symbolise the ludicrous aspect of time’s revenges.
+
+The Consul’s own mood was no less haphazard as he looked round with
+childlike curiosity. “Well, here we are in the Tuileries,” he said to one
+of his friends; “let’s see to it that we stay here!”
+
+Several of those now seated at the oval table, had waited here of
+old—wearing powdered wigs, lace jabots, and pumps—tremulous with
+eagerness to learn whether His Majesty would receive them, and when. Some
+of them had sat at a similar table in the Luxembourg. There had been no
+stability about those deliberations. Laws had come and gone, urgency
+orders and exceptional provisions; transitional decrees had pushed
+foregoing decrees out of the way; three constitutions had risen and set,
+had shot up into the air swiftly and brilliantly like rockets, to vanish
+like these and to fall like rocket-sticks. The whole decade during which
+the new ideas had been trying to realise themselves in the concrete,
+had passed swiftly over Paris like a single night, amid a confusion of
+flashing lights and rumbling drums. The city had been like an armed camp
+with no fighting fronts and no battles, but perturbed by the to-and-fro
+march of armed political parties, deafened by the noisy wrangling between
+the old order and the new wishes, dazzled by the glare of venturesome
+ideas, confused by the clamour of disappointed hopes and the clash of
+warring ambitions—a titanic bacchanal of liberty, equality, and cozenage.
+Surveying the medley, looking down from the skies, were the shades of the
+two men whose books had set the whole in motion: Rousseau, with eyes of
+disgust; Voltaire, with a mocking smile.
+
+But suddenly the tumult had been stilled. That little man at the head
+of the table had stilled it, the little general in the well-worn green
+uniform. Not that he, presiding over the Council of State, is in fact
+presiding over the State; the parties have withdrawn into their caves,
+satisfied or rancorous, but at any rate silenced. France, weakened by
+clubs and corruption, by the Terror and the demagogues, is turning back
+(like an adventuress weary of errant amours) to the arms of a strong man
+who can master her.
+
+Enough, now, for Bonaparte that he should aspire to fulfil this masterful
+lover’s role. No longer did he need to fight for the position. The man
+for whom France was longing, must be a man of order; must be one who
+had never before held power, who belonged to no party, and who none
+the less enjoyed popular favour. He must, therefore, be a soldier and
+a conqueror. Moreau lacked the self-confidence and adroitness needed
+to make him a successful rival; the other great generals were dead or
+overshadowed; there were no civilian competitors. After Bonaparte’s
+outstanding military successes, it was easy for him to win supreme power
+in the State. He would have won it without a struggle had he not been so
+stubborn in his desire to observe constitutional formalities.
+
+The attempt to be strictly constitutional had been a ludicrous failure,
+and had imposed artificial obstacles in his path. Yet this very fact was
+a token and a guarantee of his political talents. He was a man with a
+firm grip on the sword-hilt, but he was also a man who clearly understood
+the limits of the power of the sword. “Do you know,” he said in those
+days, “what amazes me more than all else? The impotence of force to
+organise anything. There are only two powers in the world: the spirit and
+the sword. In the long run, the sword will always be conquered by the
+spirit.” Napoleon was the greatest military commander of his day, but
+neither now nor later was it his habit to strike the table with mailed
+fist, neither in Paris at this juncture nor elsewhere when negotiating a
+truce or a peace or an alliance. He was a political genius, who prized
+the sword, indeed, but prized it only as one of the two powers. His ear
+was never deafened by the clash of arms. As now, so for fifteen years to
+come, he is ever on the watch for indications of public opinion; always
+listening to the voice of the people, a voice which defies calculation;
+a voice which Napoleon, a man of figures, vainly tries to calculate.
+Precisely because of his failure to do this, the attempt to reckon with
+public opinion is always alluring to the imaginative side of his nature.
+
+Because Bonaparte believes in the power of the spirit more than in the
+power of the sword, he strives for order and peace more resolutely than
+for war and conquest. The history of the next ten years will prove it.
+
+For him, order denotes equality, but not liberty. He adopts into his
+dictatorship the former of these two gods of the revolution. Except
+for a few vacillations, he will cherish equality to the end, despite
+appearances to the contrary. But liberty? What is liberty? “Both the
+savage and the civilised man need a lord and master, a magician, who
+will hold the imagination in check, impose strict discipline, bind man
+in chains, so that he may not bite out of season; one who will thrash
+him, and lead him to the chase. Obedience is man’s destiny; he deserves
+nothing better, and he has no rights!” These threatening words of the
+misanthropist disclose no more than half of his secret thoughts. Through
+all the phases of his rule, he is ever in search of the efficient man,
+and to such a man he grants power over thousands; just as he himself,
+through energy and diligence, through natural and acquired superiority,
+has won to power over millions. In spite of all, he is the son of the
+revolution; and in this sense he will remain the son of the revolution,
+whatever forms his power may assume.
+
+In part, that is the explanation of the mysterious influence he wields.
+The wider his domain extends, the more plainly do all realise that
+they are living in a system which promises to every efficient man the
+gratification of his wishes, and guarantees to every efficient man place
+and power and wealth; which does these things because the Master has
+himself risen out of the crowd. He shows this, now, in his very first
+step. Sieyès has drafted a constitution. There is to be a grand elector,
+a president who can only represent and sign his name. With soldierly
+curtness, Bonaparte puts his pen through the item. “Away with this fat
+hog!” Instead, there is to be a First Consul, with plenary powers, and
+plenty of work. He is to be war lord and also director of foreign policy;
+he is to appoint all ministers and envoys, councillors of State and
+prefects, officers and judges. Thirty nominated senators are to elect
+their colleagues; but neither the Senate nor the Legislative Assembly
+nor the Tribunate is to have any power to initiate legislation. These
+bodies are merely brought into existence to give politicians a platform
+for their orations, and to provide senators with high salaries and
+opportunities for a resplendent life.
+
+Although everything was dependent upon the will of one man, that one
+man insisted that those dependent on him should themselves be men, and
+not mere names. Neither birth nor pretentiousness nor prominence in a
+political party could lead to the front in the army or in civil life.
+Nothing but energy and capacity could ensure promotion. Such was the
+principle upon which Napoleon chose the members of the Council of State.
+
+This last was a round table of experts, selected by the dictator on his
+own initiative. Among them was Laplace, whom, to honour the Institute,
+Napoleon had also appointed Minister for Home Affairs—an appointment
+the great mathematician held for a time, until he turned back from the
+mechanics of the State to the mechanics of the heavens. There, too,
+was Roederer, official and journalist, the most independent man to be
+encountered by Napoleon during twenty years, and the most valuable
+recorder of conversations. Tronchet, also, one of the finest jurists of
+the age, was there. In the council chamber, all alike were citizens,
+and addressed one another by that plain title. Royalists and Jacobins
+sat there side by side, under a regime of equality, since reason was
+enthroned.
+
+When the minutes of the sittings are shown to the citizen-consul, he
+says: “It is essential to give a full and accurate report of the opinions
+expressed by legal luminaries, for their words are weighty; but what we
+soldiers and moneyed men think is of little account. In the heat of the
+moment I have often said things which an instant afterwards I saw to have
+been unjust. I do not wish to seem better than I am.” When he noticed
+that the councillors were simply echoing whatever he said, he was quick
+to call them to order: “You are not here, gentlemen, to agree with me,
+but to express your own views. If you do that, I can compare them with
+mine, and decide which is better.”
+
+The sittings, often enough, do not begin before nine in the evening, for
+up till then the Consul has been dealing with the urgent affairs of the
+day. They may last till five o’clock in the morning. The councillors get
+very tired during the small hours. Perhaps the Minister for War goes
+to sleep. Napoleon shakes them up, exclaiming: “Do let’s keep awake,
+citizens. It’s only two o’clock. We must earn our salaries.” He, who
+presides, is indeed one of the youngest of the company, being now thirty.
+But in three campaigns he has learned how to watch over the interests of
+hundreds of thousands. Was not the management of an army which set out
+from the Alps, crossed the sea, and marched far into the desert—was not
+this the best school for the study of State administration? There, too,
+he had to think of money and bread, of rights and laws, of rewards and
+punishments, of rest and obedience and order.
+
+During the very first night after the coup d’état, he had appointed
+two committees to draft a legal code; this was the first act of his
+dictatorship! The prevailing chaos had been the outcome of a lack of law.
+Down to the outbreak of the revolution, there had been no unified legal
+system in France. The revolution brought the promise of such a system;
+but even now, after eleven years, the promise was unfulfilled. That first
+summer, three great lawyers were set to work; four months later a draft
+of the Civil Code, subsequently rechristened the Code Napoléon, was
+ready; then the draft was discussed in the Council of State. In eighteen
+months the laws were voted. They passed into effect in 1804.
+
+After more than a century, this Code is still the law of France; it
+was adopted in many of the lands conquered by Napoleon, having great
+influence on the legislation of Central and Southern Germany, Prussia,
+Switzerland, and Spain; and its influence spread still farther afield,
+to Central America and South America. All that is new and morally
+decisive in the Code Napoléon is revolutionary law. The law-book which
+the Dictator discussed in all its details for many months, the law-book,
+many of whose most contentious points were the direct outcome of his
+decisions, borrowed the fixed principles of reason that had been sketched
+in the first days of the revolution. Experienced and dispassionate
+minds, under Napoleon’s guidance, worked them up, purified them, and
+made them into a new system of the rights of man. In this system, there
+was no longer a hereditary nobility; all children had an equal share in
+inheritance; all parents became legally responsible for the maintenance
+of their children; Jews became equal with Christians before the law;
+civil marriage was open to all, and was dissoluble.
+
+Concerning this matter, as concerning all matters of family law, his
+Corsican family feeling persistently influenced his judgments: “We know
+that adultery is not a rare occurrence, but an ordinary one; that it can
+happen on any convenient sofa.... Some sort of restraint must be imposed
+upon these women who commit adultery for trinkets or verses, for Apollo
+and the nine Muses.”
+
+His sense of order leads him to be a thorough-going supporter of
+marriage. He even sees to it that women shall follow their husbands
+into transportation, “for how can we forbid a woman to do so when she
+is convinced of her husband’s innocence? Or is this conviction of hers
+to deprive her of her rights as married woman; is she to lose the title
+of wife, and to become the man’s concubine? Many men have only become
+criminals owing to their wives. Are we to forbid those who have been the
+cause of the misfortune from sharing that misfortune?” He also thinks
+highly of the custom of old Roman days, when, at marriage, the woman was
+formally described as passing from her father’s guardianship into that of
+her husband. “That would be excellent in Paris, where women do as they
+please. It would influence some of them, though not all.”
+
+Therefore, though he favours divorce, it must not be too easy: “What
+would happen to the most intimate of natural ties if people were suddenly
+to become estranged? Unless we make divorce difficult, a young woman
+will be ready to marry a quite unsuitable man, for fashion, convenience,
+simply to get a roof over her head. The law must warn her against
+this.... In truth, there are only three valid grounds for divorce:
+attempted murder, adultery, and impotence.”
+
+Such are the plastic thoughts of this expert in human nature, whose
+mathematical talents still leave him free to subsume facts under ideas;
+one who has an intelligence well fitted for the consideration of laws,
+seeing that it is equally swayed by theory and practice, by energetic
+activity and sceptical suspense. The conflict of trends within the
+legislator’s mind is obvious, and it was intensified by his thoughts
+concerning Josephine’s former infidelity and present faithfulness. (We
+know that she manifested a lively interest in the drafting of those
+sections of the Code that related to divorce! Napoleon at this time was
+already wondering whether, if his wife remained childless, he would
+not have to divorce her for reasons of State. Her own dread of this
+possibility led her to use her influence in favour of strengthening the
+marriage tie, whereas he was driven by self-interest to insist that
+marriage must not be indissoluble.)
+
+It is a personal feeling, too, which drives him to avoid scandal, to save
+the honour of marriage. He opposes the interference of the law-courts in
+conjugal questions; prefers that such matters should be settled by mutual
+understanding, so that the veil shall not be stripped off. “The desire
+of both parties for divorce is an indication that divorce is necessary.
+It is not the business of the court to establish the fact that this
+mutual desire exists; the court has simply to pronounce the divorce when
+the desire exists.” His strong family feeling leads him to add that
+maltreatment, perversion, and adultery should be concealed beneath the
+formula of mutual desire; the need for divorce is to be settled at a
+family council, and the judge has merely to confirm this decision.
+
+For the same reason, he introduces a semi-divorce, a judicial separation
+from bed and board. This is always to be arranged after a mutual
+private understanding, for it will be a barrier to the possibility of
+reconciliation if the grounds for the separation have been made public.
+His aim in all these matters is to maintain family life; he is a champion
+of order, an anti-revolutionist. His social sense is so strong that
+he maintains it would be necessary to punish an adulterous woman by
+criminal procedure unless she were punished by being divorced. Similar
+considerations regarding the sanctity of marriage lead him to raise the
+age at which marriage becomes permissible. At the revolution it had
+been lowered to thirteen for women and fifteen for men; he insists upon
+fifteen and twenty-one respectively.
+
+For children, the Code promises all the things which the ensuing century
+is slowly to build up. Under the fatherhood of the man to whom they are
+born in lawful marriage, they have a secure position even before they
+enter the world. True, “the father cannot recognise the child as his own
+if he has been absent for fifteen months”—the figure is specified by
+Napoleon—“and has fought at Marengo.” But, a man of position as well as
+a man of the world, he concludes by saying: “I will sacrifice honour to
+truth, but why should I sacrifice the wife’s honour when no one will gain
+thereby? If the husband is not sure of his dates, he had better hold his
+tongue; the child’s interest is paramount.”
+
+When some one proposes to restrict the elder children’s right to
+maintenance, he rejoins: “Is a father to have the right to drive his
+fifteen-year-old daughter out of the house? Let us suppose him to have
+an income of sixty thousand francs, can we allow him to say to his son:
+‘You are old enough to tend for yourself; be off with you to work!’ If
+we limit this duty, we shall tend to make children entertain thoughts
+of putting their father out of the way.” The suggestion is made that
+adoption shall be feasible by simple declaration before a notary, with
+revolutionary speed. He opposes the plan:
+
+“We are not concerned here with a trivial formality. Human beings are
+controlled through their imaginations; that is what distinguishes them
+from animals. The main defect of the newer legislation is that it makes
+no appeal to men’s imaginations. A soldier does not face death in order
+to earn a few pence a day, or to win some paltry order of merit. None
+but the man who touches his heart, can stir his enthusiasm! A notary
+cannot touch our hearts merely because we pay him a fee of twelve francs;
+that is why we need a legislative act. What is adoption? An imitation of
+nature, a sort of sacrament. By the will of society, the offspring of
+one human being’s flesh and blood is supposed to become the offspring of
+another’s flesh and blood. Could any action be more sublime? Thanks to
+it, two creatures between whom there is no tie of blood, become inspired
+by a natural mutual affection. Whence must this action come? Like the
+lightning, from on high!”
+
+“In these sittings,” says Roederer, “the First Consul manifested those
+remarkable powers of attention and precise analysis which enabled him for
+ten hours at a stretch to devote himself to one object, or to several,
+without ever allowing himself to be distracted by memory or by errant
+thoughts.”
+
+Bonaparte is filled with respect for the logicality and mental energy of
+the octogenarian Tronchet; and the old lawyer responds with admiration
+for the analytical faculty and the sense of justice of the young Consul,
+who, in the case of every ordinance, asks: “Is it just?” and “Is it
+useful?” He is never tired of enquiring how predecessors have solved the
+problems under consideration, paying special attention to Roman law and
+to the legal institutions of Frederick the Great.
+
+Not only are thirty-seven laws discussed at this table; furthermore,
+the Consul propounds question after question concerning other matters.
+How is bread made? How shall we make new money? How shall we establish
+security? He makes all his ministers send detailed reports, and this is
+a great tax upon their energies. But he affects not to notice that they
+are overworked, and when they get home they often find letters from him
+requiring an immediate answer. One of his collaborators writes: “Ruling,
+administering, negotiating—with that orderly intelligence of his, he
+gets through eighteen hours’ work every day. In three years he has ruled
+more than the kings ruled in a century.” He spoke to every expert in the
+phraseology of the craft, so that none of them could ever plead in excuse
+that his questions had not been understood. Even the most hidebound
+royalists were amazed at the technical accuracy of his enquiries.
+
+His unfailing memory was the artillery wherewith he defended the fortress
+of his brain. Ségur, returning from an official inspection of the
+fortifications on the north coast, sends in a report. “I have read your
+report,” says the First Consul. “It is accurate, but you have forgotten
+two of the four guns in Ostend. They are on the high road behind the
+town.” Ségur is astonished to find that Napoleon is right. His report
+deals with thousands of guns, scattered all over the place, but the chief
+pounces on the omission of two.
+
+By slow degrees, the huge machine (which for ten years has been standing
+still or moving backwards) is set in regular motion once more. Throughout
+the last decade, all the reports from the provinces have been full of
+complaints regarding the lack of public safety, sanitation, and order;
+the louis-d’or used to exchange for twenty-four francs, but now the ratio
+is one to eight thousand; the Directory’s attempt to stabilise the franc
+has been an utter failure; the newly enriched have bought up the State
+domains, the Church lands, and the seignorial estates. No one is paying
+taxes. What is the new dictator going to do about it all?
+
+Within a fortnight after the coup d’état, he had arranged for the
+establishment of tax-collecting offices in all the departments, for,
+as he put it: “Security and property are only to be found in a country
+which is not subject to yearly changes in the rate of taxation.” Two
+months later, the Bank of France came into being; next year, there were
+new boards to supervise taxation, the registration of landed property,
+and forestry. Whereas his predecessors had simply squandered the State
+domains, he used what was left of them to defray repayment of national
+debt. The funds rose from 7 to 17; he continued the process of debt
+cancellation, renovated the Chambers of Commerce, regulated the Stock
+Exchange, put an end to speculation in the depreciated currency, stopped
+the frauds of the army contractors and other war profiteers, and by these
+and similar measures restored manufacturing industry whose productivity
+had sunk to a quarter or half of its former level.
+
+What was his magical spell?
+
+At the head of affairs was himself, a man of indomitable energy, and
+incorruptible. Men of the same stamp, energetic, diligent, and bold, were
+put in charge of the ministries, the departments, and the prefectures.
+Favouritism was done away with; sinecures were abolished. Preferment was
+obtainable only by the efficient, and to them it came regardless of birth
+or party. All officials, down to the mayors, were appointed from above,
+and paid from above—“a hierarchy, all First Consuls in miniature,” to
+quote his own words.
+
+There was no political opposition. “No reaction is possible,” he
+prophesied. “I have not relied upon the credit or upon the strength of
+a party, and am therefore indebted to no one.—The men of intelligence
+who, a little while ago, were perpetrating crimes, are now being used by
+me to upbuild a new social edifice. There are excellent workmen among
+them but the trouble is that they would all like to be master builders.
+Typically French, that trait; every one thinks himself competent to
+rule the country!” Being careful to satisfy all parties, he gives the
+two most coveted portfolios to two rogues, mutually hostile, but both
+men of remarkable ability. Having done this, he is able to say: “What
+revolutionist can fail to have confidence in the social system when
+Fouché, the Jacobin, is Minister of Police. What nobleman would be
+unwilling to live under Talleyrand as Minister for Foreign Affairs? I
+have one of them on my right, and the other on my left. I open a wide
+road, in which all can find room.”
+
+To all the prefects and all the generals the order went forth: “No more
+clubs; no more parties. Tell the National Guardsmen and the citizens
+whenever you can, if a few ambitious fellows still feel the need to
+hate, that the rudder of State is now in strong hands, accustomed to
+overcome obstacles.” A few weeks after the coup d’état, he issued a great
+proclamation, commending the new constitution to the people. It closed
+with the simple and lofty words: “Citizens, the revolution has returned
+to the principles with which it began. It is at an end.”
+
+
+II
+
+It is not war.
+
+“Returning to Europe after eighteen months’ absence, I find that war has
+broken out once more between the French Republic and Your Majesty. The
+French people summons me to the first position in the State.” In these
+terms, shortly after the coup d’état, he addresses the German emperor,
+just before marching against him. Napoleon writes as proudly as any
+monarch, as if before the journey he had already been the first man in
+the State; and he writes with the natural dignity to which, in large
+measure, he owes his success. That is his way. In this manner he puts
+his adversary in the wrong. But the emperor is unmoved. Well, Bonaparte’s
+plans were made long since; he has only to carry them out.
+
+First of all he surrounds himself with a guard, every member of which
+must have been through four campaigns—as many as the commander, but no
+more. Then, while he sends Moreau to fight on the Rhine, he makes his
+own preparations for an adventure in Italy. If he were to come along
+the coast, as he did four years ago, they would be ready for him. He
+must find a new plan! At Dijon, in full view of the Austrian spies, he
+collects from the rawest levies a pitiful reserve corps, and smiles as
+he reads the mocking comments in the Viennese papers. Meanwhile, he
+prepares a force of 32,000 men, no more, but the finest soldiers under
+his command. They are for a bold venture of which no one dreams, any
+more than they dreamed of his Egyptian campaign. Did not Hannibal cross
+the Alps, bidding the mountains make way for him? But nowadays a general
+must get cannon through the passes! Cut down trees, then, and make huge
+sleighs on which to drag the ordnance over the snows!
+
+Thus in the spring after the coup d’état an army climbs the Great St.
+Bernard, for the first time in two thousand years. The old monks in
+the hospice can hardly believe their eyes. The herdsman who guides the
+commander’s mule, prattling the while about his wishes and his troubles,
+will soon afterwards learn that he has been talking to a fairy godmother,
+will be enriched by the gift of a house and a farm. Even the common
+soldiers seem to realise the epic character of this campaign, and vie
+with one another in their zeal to drag the guns. They are following
+their tried and trusted leader; they are returning to that Lombardy
+whither, four years ago, he had led them as to the Promised Land; these
+reflections, and the urgency of the occasion, increase the mysterious
+suggestiveness of the expedition. So little do the Austrians realise
+what is impending, that their chief, writing to a lady friend in Pavia,
+tells her she is quite safe there; no need to leave. Twelve hours later,
+Bonaparte enters the town.
+
+Nevertheless, the great blow seems to him a questionable success. When,
+in the middle of June, he attacks the Austrians in the plain, the enemy,
+whose forces greatly outnumber his, drives him back. Where is Desaix with
+the promised reserves? The affair begins to have the look of a general
+rout. The commander, by the roadside, flicks the dust nervously with
+his riding-whip, as he watches the beaten army pass by. “Stand firm!
+Wait a little! Reinforcements are coming! Only an hour!” But the flight
+continues. Has fortune, too, been routed? At length Desaix arrives, and
+hurls himself on the dismayed Austrians; the dragoons charge; the enemy’s
+lines are broken. The battle of Marengo, which Bonaparte had lost at
+five o’clock, was won by Desaix at seven—but Desaix fell in the hour of
+triumph.
+
+Sad at heart, Napoleon remained on the field of battle. The best of his
+generals was dead; but an even more painful thought was that Desaix, not
+himself, had won the victory. He himself had been defeated. Maybe he was
+consoled by the knowledge that he alone had designed the whole campaign,
+and that he alone was responsible for the plan of battle in accordance
+with which Desaix had arrived in time to snatch success out of the jaws
+of failure. Perhaps he realised that this great battle, which opened and
+closed the campaign, had been won by him no otherwise than the Eighteenth
+Brumaire. Then, also, he had lost the day, and the crown of victory had
+been gained for him by another!
+
+Yet in neither case can this judgment be maintained when all the
+circumstances are reviewed. Only three or four miles from the spot where
+this evening he dictates to Bourrienne the report of the battle, is
+the point on the map into which, four months earlier, he had thrust a
+pin, saying (to this same Bourrienne): “Crossing the Alps at the Great
+St. Bernard, I shall fall upon Melas, cut off his communications with
+Austria, and meet him here in the plains of the River Scrivia at San
+Giuliano.”
+
+This was no time for reminiscences! Statesman as well as commander, he
+was already parleying with Vienna, acting on the principle: “We must
+fight and negotiate at the same time.” Now, on the battle-field, he
+writes again to Emperor Francis:
+
+“The cunning of the English has neutralised the effect which my simple
+and frank advances must otherwise have had on Your Majesty’s heart. War
+has become actual. Thousands of Frenchmen and Austrians are no more.—The
+prospect of the continuance of such horrors is so great a distress to
+me, that I have decided to make another personal appeal to you.—On the
+battle-field of Marengo, amid grief and pain, surrounded by fifteen
+thousand corpses, I implore Your Majesty, it behooves me to give you an
+urgent warning. You are far from the scene, and your heart cannot be so
+deeply moved as mine is on the spot. You rule over many States.—Let us
+give our generation peace and tranquillity. If the men of later days are
+such fools as to come to blows, they will learn wisdom after a few years’
+fighting, and will then live at peace one with another.”
+
+This long letter, of which only a few of the most weighty sentences have
+been quoted here, is as brilliant as had been his plan for the battle
+of Marengo, and it was as fruitful as his victory. For the first time
+it gave plain expression to his longing for peace. In days to come, he
+will write half a dozen such letters after as many decisive victories. Is
+Bonaparte, the great military commander, a pacifist after all?
+
+By no means, but he is not a swashbuckler either. His nerves always
+remain sensitive to the impressions of the battle-field; and he has an
+unfailing reserve of scepticism as regards successes won merely by the
+sword. He is fond of camp life, and he has a chessplayer’s love for the
+great game of war; but, before all, he is a statesman. It was in this
+very plain of Lombardy that the sense of statecraft first awakened in
+him. It was there that, with kings and countries as pieces, he began to
+play that other great game of chess, the diplomatic game. Delight in the
+use of spiritual force has taken possession of his soul. He will never
+renounce the sword, will never allow its edge to become blunted. It is as
+the wielder of the sword that he is acclaimed as the hero of Europe. But
+he also has the Golden Goblet, and does not wish to risk it anew every
+year.
+
+He knows, too, that, while France is always eager for glory, an even
+greater need at the moment is tranquillity. Above all, the country has
+need of him, personally; but he has enemies in his rear. Before, it
+mattered little that he should be away for a year or two at a time;
+but now, when he is dictator, so long an absence would be fatal. These
+multiple considerations explain his letter to Emperor Francis—surely an
+unparalleled despatch from a conqueror on the battle-field. As soon as he
+has written it, he hastens to Milan.
+
+What is Paris saying?
+
+Is the capital satisfied at length? Is it not like Josephine, before whom
+one can pour out all the treasures of the world—to find only that she
+takes them as a matter of course, and holds out her hand for more? Paris
+is by no means enthusiastic about the new master. “For eleven years,”
+writes Roederer in his diary, “the Parisian’s first thought on waking
+in the morning had been: ‘When shall we be able to rid ourselves of
+tyrants?’ Now, the Parisians were saying: ‘Everything seems to be going
+on well. But these enterprises that are being started, this capital that
+is being invested, these houses that they are building, these trees that
+they are planting—what will happen to the lot of them, if the Man should
+perish?’—His supreme calling was not the general’s, but the statesman’s.
+His victories, indeed, had made him the cynosure of all eyes; but it
+was his talent for statecraft that had raised men’s hopes.” Thus the
+Parisians are uneasy, but wellwishing. One among them, however, foresees
+the future, and writes to Napoleon at the theatre of war:
+
+“General, I have just returned from the Tuileries, and shall not attempt
+to describe either the enthusiasm of the French or the amazement of
+foreigners.... Will posterity believe the miracle of this campaign?
+Favourable, indeed, are the auspices that preside over your homecoming!
+Never has there been an empire that was not founded upon miracle. In this
+instance, miracle has become reality.”
+
+Napoleon smiles, thinking: “In truth, Talleyrand is more than a
+flatterer; he is a soothsayer! But why does he give a name to my secret
+thoughts? Would he play the part of the Roman of old, who tempted Cæsar
+with a crown?”
+
+Here is another missive from Paris. A police report from Fouché, who
+tells how Talleyrand had recently summoned a few intimates to discuss
+what had better be done should the Consul have a misadventure, or
+perchance be defeated. The news of Marengo had come while they were at
+supper! “So he was alarmed!” thinks Bonaparte. “There were stirrings
+of what remained of a conscience. Good friends! Fine confidants! Their
+alleged concern for my safety, is but the mask for their secret longing
+to rid themselves of their master!”
+
+Is it a mocking smile or is it an expression of pensive anxiety that
+purses Napoleon’s lips? Certainly, he must be back in Paris as soon as
+possible! But this evening he goes to the Scala, where the heroine is the
+lovely Grassini—whose advances he had scorned a year or two back. Now she
+sings for his ear, has eyes for him alone; and though she may be piqued
+that his beckoning nod comes so late, the handsome Italian prima donna
+gives herself to the conqueror of Italy for the asking. She shall go to
+the Paris opera. As star, or as his mistress? Time will show!
+
+Since in Germany, too, the enemy has been defeated, the subsequent peace
+of Lunéville is extremely favourable to France, the Rhine frontier being
+conceded, and the re-establishment of the Cisalpine Republic agreed to.
+Could more have possibly been achieved by a few weeks’ campaign? His
+colleagues and other false friends make ready to receive him as hero
+of the hour; they write to him about plans for a triumph. “I shall make
+an unlooked-for entry into Paris,” he rejoins, with malicious double
+meaning; “and I have no desire for triumphal arches or any kind of
+ceremonial. I have a sufficiently good conceit of myself to scorn such
+plummery. The only genuine triumph is public content.”
+
+A little later, he writes in a vein that is equally modest, or equally
+proud: “I accept the offer to erect a monument in my honour and should
+like a site to be chosen. But I would rather leave the actual building of
+the monument to future centuries, should these confirm your good opinion
+of me.” It is as if he could sense the coming storm of iconoclasm, could
+foresee that in less than twenty years his idolaters of to-day will be
+rolling his eagles in the dust!
+
+After his return, the dictator devotes all his energies to the
+consolidation of peace. He outsoars himself: for whereas formerly, by
+forced marches and crashing blows, he has imposed his will on one country
+after another, now, by shrewd negotiation, he cements peace with his
+sometime foes. Within two years of his seizure of power, France is at
+peace with Austria, Prussia, Bavaria, Russia, Naples, Spain, Portugal and
+even with England.
+
+Nine legitimate and therefore ardently legitimist rulers now recognise
+the republic which they had been fighting for a decade. France, which
+two years before had been threatened by disruption from within and by
+dangerous impacts from without, had become the leading power on the
+Continent.
+
+It is as First Consul, not as general and not as emperor, that Bonaparte
+leads the revolution to victory. In a Europe all the rest of which
+(except for Switzerland) is ruled by kings and princes, he not only
+establishes peace between the new ideas and the old forces, but also,
+unchallenged, compels his border States, Holland and northern Italy, to
+adopt the consular constitution. Neither Austria nor England attempts
+to interfere when, with a turn of the hand, he extends his grip over
+Piedmont, Genoa, Lucca and Elba. At the same time, when the compensation
+of the princes on the left bank of the Rhine is in question, the members
+of the oldest reigning houses of Germany throng around the great
+huckster, the man who has robbed them of their lands—thus teaching him to
+despise birth and heritage, nobles and crowns.
+
+Only one chasm gapes in the structure he is building, but he will be able
+to close it.
+
+At the opening of the revolution, Reason took the place of Christ.
+Indeed, this anti-Christian notion became extremely popular. Bonaparte
+stood almost alone in his rejection of it. Four years earlier, in Italy,
+he had granted the pope all kinds of things which Paris wished to
+refuse; and, for reasons of his own, he had always been chivalrous in
+his attitude towards the clergy. Now he wished to heal the breach that
+had existed for ten years between France and the Church. He did not do
+this because he was a believer. “Among the Turks, I was a Mohammedan;
+now I shall become a Catholic.” He knew that this oldest of the powers
+could not be conquered either by the sword or by the spirit. He must come
+to terms with it in order to make use of it. “Catholicism kept the pope
+in being for me,” he said later: “and, in view of my grip upon Italy, I
+continued to hope that sooner or later I should be able to bend him to my
+will. What immense influence I should then wield! What a means to have at
+my disposal in my dealings with Europe!”
+
+It will be difficult to make Paris accept the rehabilitation of the
+Church! As a preliminary step, he is actually willing to present himself
+before the bishops in the guise of a philosopher: “I am aware that in
+no State can a man be truly virtuous and upright unless he knows whence
+he comes and whither he is going. Unaided reason cannot tell us these
+things. Without religion, we grope in the dark. But the Catholic faith
+throws a clear light upon the origin and the destiny of human beings.”
+Rome is dumbfounded for a time, when this and similar speeches are
+reported; but the shrewdest of worldly sages can find his master in
+the Vatican. When Cardinal Consalvi comes to Paris in order to discuss
+matters with Napoleon, and, at the first official audience, the consul
+wishes to browbeat him, the prince of the Church smilingly stands his
+ground. What a spectacle for Talleyrand, who looks on in silence! Still,
+agreement is reached on various important points, such as the celibacy
+of priests, the choice of bishops by Rome, and the re-establishment of
+the old canon law. But though these concessions are made to the Church,
+the payment of stipends by the State, which gives the latter decisive
+influence, is to remain.
+
+A great ceremony in Notre Dame seals the agreement. The Consul, with the
+other State dignitaries, had wanted only to come for the Te Deum; but he
+found it expedient, after all, to attend Mass, stipulating that he was
+not to be expected to take the sacrament, “or to participate in all the
+rest of the hocus-pocus that makes a man ridiculous.” To his brother, he
+said on this occasion: “We’re going to Mass to-day. What will Paris say
+about it?”
+
+“The audience will look on at the play, and will hiss if it does not
+please.”
+
+“Then I shall have the church cleared by the guards!”
+
+“But what if the grenadiers join in the hissing?”
+
+“They won’t. My old war-dogs will be just as respectful in Notre Dame as
+they were in the Cairo mosques. They will keep their eyes on me, and when
+they see that their general is serious and well behaved, they will follow
+his example, saying to themselves, ‘Those are the orders of the day!’”
+
+
+III
+
+The ground is still unsteady beneath his feet. His consulship is for ten
+years only, and there are but eight years more to run. Then a rival may
+take his place. He is dependent on popular favour, which he must court,
+and which he despises. What sort of a position is that for the head of
+a State in his dealings with foreign potentates? They will not take him
+seriously, any more than if he were an American president. Turning these
+thoughts over in his mind, he makes a sign to the Senate.
+
+Always compliant (being dependent on his good graces), the Senate now
+proposes to ensure that the First Consul shall hold office for an
+additional term of ten years after the expiry of the present term. Put
+out of humour by this suggestion, he jogs the senators’ thoughts and
+induces them to propose a lifelong tenure of the consulship. But, prudent
+as Cæsar, he says that the matter must be referred to the “people,”
+the source of all power. A plebiscite is taken, and there are nearly
+four million ayes against a handful of courageous noes. His powers are
+enlarged. He now has sole authority to sign treaties with foreign States;
+he alone appoints the senators, who are themselves entitled to dissolve
+the Chambers; and he is granted the right to appoint his successor. When
+he compares his position with that of other European rulers, and notices
+that they all wear crowns, he consoles himself with the naïve sophism:
+“Henceforward, I am as good as the other sovereigns, for they, likewise,
+rule for life only!”
+
+By no means all among the millions who have voted for him are his
+whole-hearted adherents. Even in Paris, when he makes a triumphal entry
+into the Luxembourg, there is so little public applause that he says
+afterwards to his Minister of Police: “Why did you not work up opinion
+beforehand?”
+
+Said Fouché: “We are still the children of the ancient Gauls, of whom it
+was said that they could neither endure liberty nor tolerate oppression.”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“I mean, Citizen Consul, that, in your last steps, the Parisians fancy
+they see the loss of liberty, and a tendency towards absolutism.”
+
+“I should not care to rule for six weeks, if I had but the shadow of
+power, and could not be master!”
+
+“You have only to be humane, strong, and just, at one and the same time,”
+rejoins the fox (who never showed any of these qualities himself), “and
+soon you will win all hearts once again.”
+
+“Public opinion is capricious. I shall know how to mend it,” said
+Bonaparte, turning his back on his interlocutor.
+
+A two-minutes’ talk like this, and Napoleon has made up his mind. He
+dismisses Fouché, but not because he is afraid of the ex-cleric (whom he
+despises, rather). He abolishes the Ministry of Police, and transfers its
+functions to the Ministry of Justice, “for I wish to show Europe that
+my policy is peaceful, and that the French love me sincerely.” We must
+get used to such phrase-mongering, in which he cloaks his policy. To
+keep Fouché quiet, he makes the ex-minister a senator. When, on leaving
+office, Fouché discloses to the Consul a reserve fund of two and a half
+million francs, Bonaparte is amazed, and tells him to keep half the sum
+“as a token of personal regard.” In the anteroom, the departing Fouché
+grins over his mental arithmetic, adding the undisclosed residue of the
+reserve to the amount of the First Consul’s gift.
+
+Such are Bonaparte’s methods with a dangerous man who knows too much. As
+for public opinion, he can take his measures to get that on his side.
+It is because he is determined not to be indebted to any party or any
+individual, that he demands a popular ratification of his appointment as
+Consul for life, just as he had asked for popular approval after the coup
+d’état. The result gives him assurance that the revolution is over. “This
+consultation of the people has a twofold advantage. Besides confirming
+the prolongation of the consular term, it throws light on the sources
+of my power, which otherwise might have seemed ambiguous.” The phrasing
+shows that he is aware of his dangerous position betwixt revolution and
+legitimacy. To the very last, he will be worried by this problem.
+
+Like a Roman imperator, Bonaparte wishes to concentrate all the powers of
+State in his own hands; but whereas the Roman’s title to power was the
+commandership of the armies, Napoleon is supreme because of his supreme
+efficiency. That is why he bases his power, not upon the army, which
+loves him, but upon the people, to which he is hostile. He wants to be
+“tyrant,” in the classical sense of the term; but he wishes to be tyrant
+on a democratic footing, as the outcome of a free popular decision. The
+people, the source of power, is to transfer power to Napoleon. None knows
+better than he the weakness of any such fiction, but it is imposed on him
+by the spirit of the age. After all, Bonaparte can fearlessly quote in
+his own favour the revolutionary principle that power must go to talent
+instead of to birth, for where can a more talented man than himself be
+found? But instead of contenting himself with talent as the source of
+his power (the talent that has brought him victory in war and in peace,
+the talent that has enabled him to grasp the reins), he muddies this
+splendid source by a popular vote, feels morally compelled to do so, and
+even fancies that he is clarifying the waters by his action. If Bonaparte
+saves the revolution, he certainly kills the republic.
+
+These ideas are not the outcome of calculating policy, but of the mood
+which seeks its stimulus in classical life. It is the same mood as that
+which draws him towards the East; the same mood as that which, on the
+day of the coup d’état, led him to make a fool of himself before the
+Councils. “Your place is among the men of Plutarch,” said the first who
+really understood Bonaparte in early youth. The Consul was not a democrat
+in the sense that he believed in popular sovereignty. What he lacked was
+such days as those of classical antiquity, when genius did not need to
+entrench itself behind representative assemblies, but held sway on its
+own initiative; or Asia, where, even in modern times, there are monarchs
+in the literal sense. In his work-room at Saint-Cloud there are two
+busts, Scipio’s and that of Hannibal’s. No other position than that of
+Roman emperor or that of caliph was suited to his temperament.
+
+Immediately after the coup d’état, the Bourbons, with a childlike
+frankness, had made advances to him. The brother of the executed king,
+now Count of Provence, and in future days to reign as Louis XVIII, asked
+the son of the revolution to help him to the throne. The demand was
+thrice repeated, and a handsome reward was offered. The Consul made no
+answer to the first two applications. To the third he replied as follows:
+
+“Sir, I have received your letter, and thank you for what you are so
+kind as to say about myself. You cannot seriously wish to come back, for
+your return would cost a hundred thousand lives. You must sacrifice your
+personal interests to the peace and happiness of France, and history will
+thank you for the sacrifice. I am not insensitive to the misfortunes of
+your family.... I shall be happy to do all in my power to contribute to
+the welfare and tranquillity of your retirement. Bonaparte.”
+
+Very different is Napoleon’s reception of the Vendée royalists, for he
+hopes to win them over to his side. At first they fail to understand him
+when, after a long time of waiting, the man of destiny, wearing his old
+green coat, and with untidy hair, makes advances to them.
+
+“Come over to my side. Mine will be the government of youth and
+enthusiasm!... You struck shrewd blows for your princes.... But your
+princes have by no means covered themselves with glory. Why were they not
+in Vendée to lead the fight? Was not that their place?”
+
+“They were kept in London by political considerations,” answered the
+nobles.
+
+“They should have crossed the Channel in the first fishing smack they
+could get hold of,” he answered passionately, and, so the report runs,
+“in a voice that seemed to come from the depths of his stomach.” Yes, my
+fine noblemen, from the depths of his stomach! The phrase carries with
+it the implications of an incident in universal history which was still
+recent, still vivid in Napoleon’s memory. That was the tone proper to
+the bold adventurer who, in a tiny frigate, had made his way across the
+storm-tost Mediterranean, through the enemy fleet, to reach the coast
+where power was his for the seizing. Hear how he mingles flattery and
+threats, the young wizard who has turned the whole continent upside down!
+
+“What would you like to be? General or prefect? You and yours can have
+whatever you please, if you will come over to my side. Nothing? Would you
+think it a disgrace to wear the coat that Bonaparte wears?... Unless you
+will make peace, I will march against you with a hundred thousand men,
+and burn your towns to ashes!”
+
+“If you do,” answers the count firmly, “we shall annihilate your columns.”
+
+“You dare to threaten me?” he exclaims—this time “with a terrible voice.”
+But upon receiving a matter-of-fact answer, he is calm once more. The
+noble emissaries retire in disgust, having achieved nothing, having been
+perplexed by his foreign accent, and by the impetuous imagination, which
+leads him to complicate the issues to such an extent that it is often
+hard to follow his meaning.
+
+None the less, the Consul induces a great many of the émigrés to return,
+disarming their hostility by making suitable provision for them. Forty
+thousand families promptly come back. At the same time, he negotiates
+with the Jacobins, although these, “with their metaphysics, are enough
+to ruin twenty governments.” He feels sure of the support of those who
+follow the middle courses of democracy, for the democratic masses feel
+safe under his rule, now that Paris is no longer a sort of civilian camp,
+and now that (a benevolent despot) he is doing all in his power to bring
+better times.
+
+Consider these instructions issued to various authorities:
+
+“If the cold should be sharp, as it was in 1789, you must have fires
+kept alight in the churches and market-places, so that as many people
+as possible can warm themselves.”—“The winter is very severe, meat is
+dear, we must provide work in Paris. Get on with the cutting of the
+Ourcq canal, with the construction of the Quai Desaix, with the paving
+of the back streets.”—“The law directs that all beggars shall be laid
+by the heels. Were we to do nothing more than this, our conduct would
+be barbarous and absurd. Arrest them, certainly, that you may give
+them work and food. We must have several homes of refuge in every
+department.”—“There are a great many out-of-work shoemakers, hatters,
+tailors, and saddlers. See to it that five hundred pairs of shoes are
+made every day.” He writes to the Minister for War saying that special
+orders for supplies for the artillery are to be issued. To the Minister
+for Home Affairs: “We must provide work, especially this month before
+the holidays. Issue an order that in May and June two thousand of the
+Saint Antoine workmen are to supply chairs, chests of drawers, armchairs,
+etc.... Send me your proposals to-morrow, so that a beginning may be made
+promptly.”
+
+He reads a by-law that no one wearing a workman’s blouse is to walk
+through the Tuileries garden. Instantly he has the regulation cancelled,
+and gives express permission for such people to go through. He learns of
+a proposal to close the public reading-rooms: “I won’t allow anything of
+the kind. I have not forgotten my own experience, how useful it was to
+know of a well-warmed room where I could read the newspapers and recent
+pamphlets. I will not allow others who are as poor as I was then to be
+robbed of these comforts.” In the Théâtre Français, the stalls are to be
+very cheap on Sundays, “so that the people may enjoy the performance.”
+There are to be no gambling hells in France: “They bring families to
+ruin, and I should set a bad example were I to tolerate them.”
+
+By his new education law, he establishes public elementary schools,
+middle schools, lycées, and technical colleges, throughout the country.
+There are to be six thousand free scholarships, and a third of these
+are to be reserved for the sons of specially deserving persons. Within
+three years, there are 4,500 elementary schools, 750 middle schools,
+and 45 lycées. He honours the Institute by choosing a third of his
+first senators from among its members. The Ministry for Home Affairs
+is instructed to draw up lists “of the ten best painters, sculptors,
+composers, musicians, architects, and other artists whose talents make
+them worthy of support.” He orders great frescoes to be painted, which
+shall depict striking incidents in his battles. He gives his reasons for
+this State regulation of art, saying: “People complain that we have no
+literature. That is the fault of the Minister for Home Affairs!”
+
+But if he tranquillises persons of all occupations by bringing them
+prosperity, what opening will be left, in this nation of the ambitious,
+for the pursuit of fame? If there is to be no war and no court life,
+where will the French find an outlet for their vanity? He answers this
+question by founding the Legion of Honour.
+
+The Legion will form a group of stalwart supporters, for those who
+have taken a solemn oath to resist any attempt at the restoration of
+the feudalist regime will not be so likely to side against Bonaparte.
+Besides, it is not to be merely an officers’ club, inasmuch as the aim
+is to provide distinctions for all who do good service. He therefore
+appoints a natural philosopher to the office of arch-chancellor; and
+when, in the Council of State, a warning reference is made to the kinship
+between these orders of distinction and the abuses which have been swept
+away, he answers with perfect seriousness:
+
+“I doubt if there has ever been a republic without such distinctions.
+You declare that they are toys for children. Well, grown men are led by
+toys. I would not say that from a rostrum, but in a council of sages
+and statesmen I can speak my mind. I do not think that the French
+love liberty and equality; they have not been changed by ten years of
+revolution; they are what the Gauls were, fierce and fickle. They are
+accessible to only one sentiment, the love of honour. That is why we must
+have distinctions.... Soldiers must be allured by fame and pay.... Here
+is a new kind of money assessed at a different valuation from current
+coin. Its source is inexhaustible. With no other kind of money, is it
+possible to reward actions which are so sublime that they cannot be
+valued in current coin.” In these notable words, we hear the rippling of
+the three fountains of his soul: contempt for mankind, understanding of
+the masses, and the critical aloofness of the foreigner who has chosen a
+new fatherland.
+
+
+IV
+
+On Christmas Eve, 1800, the Consul was driving to the opera. Josephine
+and her daughter were following in another carriage. In a narrow street
+an empty cart partially blocked the way, and caused a halt. The cart was
+pushed aside, and the coachman whipped up his horses. The instant after
+the carriage had passed, an infernal machine hidden in the cart exploded.
+About twenty persons were killed, but no one in either Napoleon’s or
+Josephine’s carriage was hurt. On reaching the opera, Napoleon went
+straight to his box. When his wife arrived, he said calmly: “Josephine,
+those rascals wanted to blow me up; send for a copy of the music.”
+Outwardly unmoved, he listened to the performance of Haydn’s recent work,
+_Creation_.
+
+Ordinarily, good music made him forget all his schemes; but this evening
+his brain was busily at work, pondering the causes and foreseeing
+the consequences of the attempt on his life. It mattered little who
+“the rascals” were, revolutionaries of the left or revolutionaries of
+the right. He knew well enough that he had plenty of enemies on both
+sides. The question was, whether it would suit him best to assume that
+his would-be assassins belonged to the right or to the left. His mind
+was soon made up on this point. Had the attempt been successful, the
+consequences for France would have been immeasurably great. Well, the
+consequences of the unsuccessful attempt should be no less momentous. It
+was a lucky chance, and he would make it solve the problem of personal
+power.
+
+Next morning, when people came to offer congratulations on his escape,
+and when all were agreed in the opinion that the outrage must have been
+planned by the royalists, with assumed heat Napoleon declared they were
+absolutely mistaken. “This was the work of Septembrists, intellectuals,
+the non-commissioned officers of the revolution—persons with a bolder
+imagination and more culture than the masses, but in close touch with
+them, and always ready to spur on the workers!” When, in the Council of
+State, a proposal was made to institute special proceedings, Bonaparte
+objected on the ground that the method would be too slow. His speech was
+impassioned:
+
+“Either we must do nothing at all, and, like Augustus, forgive the
+sinners; or else we must act promptly, take far-reaching steps which will
+guarantee social order once for all.... No ordinary criminal procedure
+will suffice; this is a matter for statesmanship.... Blood must flow.
+As many of the guilty must be shot as there perished innocent persons
+in the streets. Two hundred of these raging wolves must be seized and
+transported. They are always watching and waiting for their prey. All our
+troubles are due to these metaphysicians!”
+
+Old Tronchet shakes his head. The attempt had been the work of émigrés
+and Englishmen.
+
+“Are you proposing that I should transport noblemen or priests?” asked
+Napoleon angrily. “Vendée is quiet, and I do not want to banish the
+servants of the most widely spread religion in the world. I shall have
+to dismiss all the members of the Council of State, for, with two or
+three exceptions, every one of you believes in this fable of a royalist
+plot.... Do you think me a child? Am I to say that the country is in
+danger? Has France ever been in better case since the revolution, the
+army more victorious, the country more peaceful? A pretty thing that men
+who have never been among the true friends of liberty, should now display
+so much concern for liberty! Do not think to excuse yourselves by saying:
+‘I defended the patriots in the Council of State.’ That might go down in
+a drawing-room, but it will not go down here, among the most enlightened
+men in France!” He abruptly closes the sitting. Do the councillors
+understand his drift?
+
+These alarums and excursions are not the outcome of any sense of personal
+danger, for if that were his motive, if his own alarmed will-to-live were
+at work, he would seek out the real offenders as object for vengeance.
+The whole scene was statecraft. Whom can we frighten here at home? Whom
+can we pacify across the frontier? That is what the Consul is asking
+himself. Those are the considerations that guide his actions. Of course,
+there is a personal motive as well. He thinks that his own safety can
+best be guarded by draconian measures. “I did not sleep well o’ nights,”
+he said at a later date, “until I had had these leaders of the great
+towns sent across the seas. I was not afraid of the sort of conspirator
+who gets up at nine o’clock in the morning and puts on a clean shirt!”
+
+At the same time, he is infuriated by an anonymous pamphlet, “Cæsar,
+Cromwell, and Bonaparte,” in which the writer advocates the establishment
+of a hereditary monarchy. Who is daring to disclose his own secret
+thoughts, even though the indiscreet pamphleteer is a sympathiser? When
+one of his confidants says that the only thing wrong with the pamphlet
+is that the disclosure is premature, Bonaparte lets the observation
+pass. But these two attempts, the attack on his body and the attack on
+his mind, have terrible consequences as far as freedom is concerned.
+The Tribunate and the Chambers are purged of a fifth of their numbers,
+Constant, Chénier, and other noted democrats being excluded; sixty-one
+out of seventy-three newspapers are suppressed; pamphlets and plays
+are subjected to a censorship. When the Council of State reminds him
+of the freedom of the press, he answers: “Do you think that, in such a
+situation, we can allow public meetings?... And is not every journalist
+an orator? Do not the subscribers to his newspaper really form a club?
+Calumny is like an oil spot, which always leaves traces.... In England
+it is different; there the Government is old-established; here it is
+new. People would write worse things about me day by day; saying, for
+instance, that I am so afraid of being poisoned that I dare not eat!...
+The only way of keeping the political parties in check is to deprive them
+of their battle-ground.”
+
+Sound reasoning, appropriate measures. But the spirit of free thought
+stands weeping at the door; her fascinated gaze is fixed upon power
+enthroned.
+
+
+V
+
+The man who was certainly in part responsible for the before-mentioned
+pamphlet, perhaps its author, the man who had thus inflicted a grave
+injury upon the First Consul, was the very man who had been his main
+buttress on the Eighteenth Brumaire, and who had saved the situation that
+day—Brother Lucien. The most gifted of Napoleon’s four brothers, six
+years younger than the Consul, scaling the heights of ambition at an even
+earlier age than his great brother, though helped in his upward progress
+by that brother’s prestige, Lucien coveted the highest for himself. To
+stand in the shadow of Napoleon’s great name, to be under his protection,
+and even to be the object of his love—these were more galling to Lucien
+than Napoleon’s disfavour in later days. He never forgot the incidents of
+the coup d’état. He had been the king-maker. How, then, could he obey the
+man whom he had raised to the throne?
+
+[Illustration: Bonaparte as First Consul. Painting by Girodet. Musée
+Nationale, Versailles.
+
+(Photograph in the Kircheisen Collection.)]
+
+Needs must, however. Shortly after Brumaire, he becomes Minister for
+Home Affairs, a mere instrument of the master brain. Is it not natural
+that he should critically examine all that comes to him from the chief,
+wondering whether he can make a better job? Hostile to Josephine, he is
+hostile to her confidants. This brings him into conflict with Fouché,
+who is always ready to blame the Minister for Home Affairs for anything
+untoward, like the publication of the pamphlet.
+
+By temperament, Lucien was as unscrupulous and amoral as his brother.
+Though very like his brother, he lacked the boldly calculating brain, and
+may even be said to have had semi-criminal traits beneath his smiling
+exterior. A Napoleon, like the other, but one degree more adventurer and
+several degrees less statesman. At twenty-five years of age, Lucien was
+powerful and yet embittered, his audacious spirit urging him to more
+and yet more hazardous adventures. His first wife was an innkeeper’s
+daughter; he sold monopolies; speculated in grain; lived beyond his
+means, instead of setting to work; bought the finest house in Paris,
+furnished it sumptuously, rebuilt it, and refurnished it; gave splendid
+banquets, indulged in amateur theatricals, wrote verses. All these
+extravagances were undertaken in the half-conscious desire to eclipse his
+brother.
+
+Between two such men, in such a relationship, how can a breach be
+avoided! Lucien taunts the Consul, saying that he, Lucien, had won the
+victory on the Nineteenth Brumaire. In the first flush of his wrath,
+Napoleon has it in mind to banish Lucien; but, in the end, he is content
+to deprive the young man of ministerial office. This will put a term to
+the monetary scandals attaching to Lucien’s abuse of his position. Lucien
+goes to Madrid as envoy. His ability in this new post enables him to work
+successfully against England, and also to divert the flow of a good many
+millions into his own pockets. Being now a widower, he soon returns, and
+marries his lady love, a beauty whose reputation is of the same sort as
+Josephine’s in earlier days. The First Consul is furious, for he has
+been working to promote a marriage that would have brought political
+advantages.
+
+Joseph, too, man of the world and good fellow, is inclining to join the
+ranks of the sceptics, now that, with his brother’s aid, he has risen
+to wealth and power; he frequents Madame de Staël’s circle, and speaks
+critically of the Consul. He is no longer content with the position of
+envoy in Rome, refuses the presidency of the Italian Republic and the
+chancellorship of the Senate; cannot forget that he is the eldest; looks
+upon himself as head of the family.
+
+Louis still vacillates, the poet in his temperament taking charge from
+time to time. For years he is in love with one of Josephine’s relatives,
+and has no affection for Hortense, whom he is forced to marry. Years
+afterwards he will sing the love of his heart.
+
+Jerome, the youngest, good-natured and frivolous, is brought up by his
+brother with paternal strictness. “I send you Citizen Jerome Bonaparte,
+who is to serve as a midshipman. As you know, he must be kept under
+strict discipline. See to it that he fulfils all his duties.”
+
+His sisters, again; he has loaded them with money and honours, but they
+give him little thanks, and are incessant in their demands for more.
+There is Elise! She and Lucien, her favourite brother, vie with one
+another in escapades that are the talk of Paris. At amateur theatricals,
+they disport themselves in pink tights, and the Consul thunders:
+“Disgraceful behaviour! While I am wearing myself out trying to make
+people moral and respectable once more, my brother and my sister appear
+before the footlights almost naked!” But as soon as his back is turned,
+they laugh merrily, and follow their own bent.
+
+Caroline, who has married General Murat, is already involving her husband
+and Bernadotte in intrigues against the Consul. The public learns nothing
+of these matters, but they come to Napoleon’s ears, and he says angrily
+that Murat deserves to be shot.
+
+Pauline loses her husband in a colonial campaign. She does not regret
+the loss. By her second marriage, she becomes Princess Borghese in Rome.
+Her innocence is no more than a cynical pose, but her brother remains
+fonder of her than of any of the others. Even when the looseness of her
+life imperils his reputation, and he thinks it necessary to remonstrate,
+he words his remonstrances cautiously.
+
+Uncle Fesch, at first a priest, and then an army contractor, now enters
+political life and resumes the clerical habit. Napoleon secures his
+appointment as archbishop and then as cardinal. All the Bonapartes
+exploit the man of power, that they may win money and position, lead a
+splendid life, and enjoy themselves, whereas in his life of superhuman
+toil there is little scope for pleasure.
+
+Only his mother continues to hold aloof. Although she is not better
+pleased with Josephine now than formerly, although she is still the
+woman of Corsica and continues to talk an island dialect, he invites
+her, immediately after the coup d’état, to come and live with him in the
+Tuileries. She refuses, prefers to stay with Joseph. At the first great
+parade he holds in the courtyard of the palace, when she appears on the
+balcony among the highest State officials, she is very simply dressed,
+all in black, and yet looks prouder than Josephine, hard by, decked
+out in peacock array. Letizia mistrusts all this splendour, being now
+inured to the vicissitudes of life. When any one tries to flatter her by
+speaking of her son’s greatness and power, she sagely answers, in her
+Italian French: “Pourvou que cela doure.”
+
+What is the source of these family dramas, some of which will end in
+farce, others in tragedy?
+
+In Napoleon’s heart, had he been nothing more than a parvenu of the
+familiar type, he would, when pressed by his nearest and dearest for a
+share in his good fortune, graciously or ungraciously, but infallibly,
+have kept this dozen or so of men and women far from his circle of
+influence, for he would have been fain to conceal an origin which
+conflicted with his affectation of French nationalism. He is dictator
+of France, and yet every time his mother opens her mouth she reminds
+all the nationalists of his foreign birth. Here is the sister of a man
+who ranks with kings, and she plays the maddest pranks before the eyes
+of the monarchs of Europe, who naturally delight in pointing the finger
+of scorn at the ill-breeding of the upstart’s relatives. His brothers
+wallow in the practice of corrupt methods which it was a primary aim of
+the revolution to abolish. All this occurs in Paris, where irony has ever
+been the fundamental tone of criticism!
+
+Yet he does not merely tolerate these embarrassing kinsfolk; he is
+continually showering honours on them, promoting them to high office,
+making them his representatives abroad.
+
+Herein we see the working of his Italian blood, and, above all, of his
+island upbringing. Every Corsican family, patriarchal by tradition,
+is clannish to the core, while filled with sentiments of hatred and
+vengefulness towards the rival houses of the puny isle. Such traditions
+are older than those of many of the royal families, and as a result
+of them the urge towards the gratification of pride and towards the
+vindication of honour is more powerful than the desire for wealth. With
+this inborn clannishness is associated and intertwined the intense
+longing of a conqueror to preserve for the heirs of his body all that he
+has snatched for himself by the strength of his genius and through the
+favour of fortune. Nevertheless, destiny (tragical in its working, being
+conditioned by his innermost sentiments, and therefore inexorable) has
+made this man childless. The wife, into whose arms he has been driven by
+all the passion of love, the wife who has borne two healthy children in
+previous marriage, remains barren in her second union; and the infirmity
+of barrenness, but for which the history of Europe would have taken a
+different turn, is obviously a consequence of her devotion to the art of
+love, of the facile amorousness with which she won Bonaparte’s affection
+and held him for a time in thrall. For, when she first met him, she was
+little over thirty; and, as for him, in subsequent relationships with
+other women, he was able to procreate three sons. He urgently needs a
+legitimate heir. Even an heiress would serve his turn. There can be no
+doubt that Josephine’s failure to satisfy him in this crucial instance
+had a decisive effect on his plans.
+
+In view of the plenitude of his powers, how could it be otherwise? During
+the first years of his rise, Roederer propounds the great theme: “The
+royalists are saying: ‘Who will be Bonaparte’s successor!’ If you die
+to-morrow, what will happen to us? You must nominate your successor.”
+
+“What you suggest would not be a strong policy.”
+
+“France would be more at ease if she knew who was to succeed you.”
+
+“I have no children.”
+
+“You could adopt one.”
+
+“That would not meet the difficulties of the moment. I can see no other
+way out than that the Senate should appoint my successor. Only three of
+the senators and myself should know his name. But who is it to be?”
+
+“They had better choose a lad of twelve.”
+
+“Why do you want him to be a child?”
+
+“A boy who can grow up in your school; one whom you can train and love.”
+
+At length the Consul, driven into a corner, exclaims: “My natural heir is
+the French people.”
+
+The man who speaks is not old. He is little more than thirty. Though
+he is appointed dictator for ten years only, he plainly foresees that
+he will be monarch. But he is already alarmed by the dangers of the
+position. When he looks round in search of an heir, his only hope is in
+his brothers. The best return they can make for the gifts he showers on
+them is that they should raise up heirs to his name, heirs who will at
+least have the advantage of Bonapartist blood. That is why Napoleon is so
+furious with Lucien, not because he has taken a wife with a bad name, but
+because he has taken a wife with no name. Lucien must get a divorce, and
+thus win freedom to marry a woman of royal blood.
+
+Lucien refuses, quite as much owing to spite for his all-powerful brother
+as owing to affection for his wife. He is, indeed, fond of her; but he is
+so ambitious that he would sacrifice anything in the world for the sake
+of supreme power. After a stormy scene between the pair, Bonaparte comes
+into Josephine’s room, and his voice is shaken with emotion as he says:
+“It is all over! I have given Lucien his dismissal.”
+
+Similar considerations explain the long-lasting quarrel with Louis, to
+whom Josephine looks for the salvation of her own line. He cannot endure
+Josephine’s daughter Hortense, who reciprocates the dislike and loves
+another man. Josephine, however, forces her to marry Louis, and the son
+of this ill-assorted union becomes Napoleon’s darling, and is looked
+upon as likely to be the heir. Thereupon, his sisters begin to intrigue,
+spreading abroad the report that Napoleon is really the father. Through
+these disputes, the unity of the family is shattered, at the very time
+when Europe envies it for its good fortune. Letizia sides with the young
+people who have been forced into a marriage; and also espouses the cause
+of the ostracised Lucien, whom she follows to Rome. There she can live
+happily, far from the glowing star that has sprung from her womb. There
+she can live as an Italian, a wealthy and respected associate of Rome’s
+leading families, and treated by the pope with all the honours due to a
+woman of royal blood.
+
+What if Bonaparte were to divorce Josephine? His sisters, who hate “the
+old woman,” do what they can, and trot attractive beauties up and down
+in full view. As Josephine grows older, Napoleon’s relations with her
+become more tranquil, but he needs her friendship. He has ceased to be
+fastidious and has transient love affairs with one pretty actress after
+another, or makes this or that companion of his sisters the mistress of a
+few evenings or a night or two.
+
+Georges, who, like all the rest, is afraid of him, describes him as “an
+amiable and considerate man,” who plays hide and seek with her, helps her
+to undress, and bends to her “childish caprices.” Since her Christian
+name is Josephine, he refuses to call her by it, and invents for her an
+Italian name. She is Giorgina. He asks her to tell him her own story,
+listens attentively, and nods approvingly—for he has taken care to learn
+all about her, and is pleased that she tells him the truth.
+
+Sometimes the Consul’s servants catch sight of him in the evening, as, in
+his stockinged feet, he steals up a secret winding staircase to visit the
+lovely Duchatel. She is gentle, slender, and blonde—the type he prefers.
+Duchatel is one of Josephine’s ladies-in-waiting. He likes to play cards
+with her sometimes, talking to her in an undertone about matters of love,
+while the uneasy Josephine, at another card table, strains her ears to
+catch what he is saying. The lady-in-waiting retires. Napoleon follows,
+to find her in the place of assignation. His wife, beside herself,
+pursues them, rattles the door-handle. Napoleon comes to the door in a
+rage. Next day he threatens her with divorce, but he is softened by her
+tears.
+
+These amours are but occasional. He is always up to the eyes in work.
+Besides, he has made up his mind to avoid what has proved disastrous to
+so many kings. He will not squander his resources on inamoratas, and he
+will not allow them to interfere in matters of State. As regards affairs
+of love, he is prematurely old. It is with a sense of shock that we find
+this man of thirty writing in a letter to a friend: “My old heart, which
+now knows human beings for what they are....”
+
+Josephine is racked with anxiety about his conduct, just as formerly he
+was racked with anxiety about hers. She relies on dresses, hats, the arts
+of the toilet; spends more than the late queen of France; and has still
+so little reticence that, though she is the first lady in the land, she
+cannot refrain from telling her maid when the Consul has spent the night
+with her. He forgives her much. Sometimes she sits at the weary man’s
+bedside, reading to him in her lovely alto voice. He thanks her with his
+eyes. He is conservatively inclined, this man of the revolution. Rarely
+does he part with a general, dismiss an official. How, then, shall he
+divorce this woman whom he loves, despite her faults?
+
+In the pleasant gardens at Malmaison, where during his year’s absence in
+Egypt she lived with her light-of-love, Hippolyte, he runs races with
+Bourrienne, Rapp, and a few men of letters, while Eugene and Hortense
+look on. When he trips and falls, he joins merrily in the others’
+laughter. Then he gets into his carriage for the drive to Paris, saying:
+
+“Now I can put my head in the collar once more.”
+
+
+VI
+
+“Bonaparte very seldom writes with his own hand. He dictates everything,
+while walking up and down his study; dictates to a young man of twenty
+named Méneval, the only one who has the entry to this study and the three
+other rooms of the private suite. No use approaching Méneval; nothing to
+hope in that quarter; indeed, no one would dare to try. But the First
+Consul himself jots down the memoranda that relate to his most important
+plans. This ... very special map, he locks up with his own hand, and
+always carries the key about with him. If he leaves his study, Méneval
+has to put the map away in a cupboard screwed to the floor. Of course the
+map might be stolen, but it would instantly be missed. Suspicion would at
+once fall upon Méneval and the underling, who cleans the study and lights
+the fire, so the underling would have to make a bolt for it.... All the
+secret memoranda concerning his military operations must be in it, and
+since the only way of overthrowing his power would be to destroy his
+plans, the theft of this map would bring everything to naught.”
+
+Who writes the foregoing? A Bourbon spy? Or is it a traitor among the
+Consul’s intimates?
+
+Neither the one nor the other. The young man of twenty named Méneval
+writes it; and it is dictated to him by his chief, the First Consul,
+who is walking up and down the study. Acting on Bonaparte’s orders, the
+Minister for Justice is sending a provocative agent to Munich, where the
+man is to get in touch with English agents of the Bourbons. The letter
+is to be part of the outfit. Many other details are given. We are told
+more about the royalist menial who cleans the study and lights the fire;
+what this fellow will get if he brings off the coup successfully; where
+he will spend the night during his escape. The commander is drafting the
+plan of a little campaign directed against himself.
+
+He has good reason to be on his guard. Uneasy winter weeks are these,
+during which he collates the data sent in by a hundred spies in London,
+Vendée, and Paris itself. “Has the time come to strike?” his agents are
+continually asking. “Wait,” he replies, and quietly goes on gathering
+information. At length he has all the proofs in his hands. His deadly
+enemies of the extreme right and the extreme left, the royalists and the
+Jacobins, have joined forces for the destruction of their great enemy.
+Pichegru, the friend of the Bourbons, and Moreau, the champion of the
+republicans who are opposed to the dictatorship, are working together.
+Both the generals are his rivals. Now is the time to strike.
+
+When the plot became public property, alarm spread across Europe. The
+legitimate rulers were amazed at Napoleon’s perspicacity, but put their
+trust in his enemies, whose number must be greater than the “Moniteur”
+was willing to admit. The English ambassador compromised! The great
+Moreau in jail!—Bonaparte hesitates a long time before arresting Moreau,
+having high esteem for the man who had shared his laurels. On the day
+of the arrest, the Consul sends repeatedly for news. Is his memory at
+work? Less than four years ago, he himself had a scare that night in
+Talleyrand’s house when he believed his own arrest to be imminent! The
+trial is distressing; Moreau’s complicity is clearly proved; but Napoleon
+thinks it better to pardon the victor of Hohenlinden on condition
+of withdrawal to the United States. Pichegru is found strangled in
+prison. Thirteen of the conspirators are executed. A man named Querelle,
+personally involved in the conspiracy, reveals that one of the Bourbon
+princes has been privy to the plot.
+
+The Consul lends an eager ear. A Bourbon prince! Talleyrand draws
+attention to the fact that for a long time the duke of Enghien has been
+living close to the Rhine frontier—presumably in order to watch through
+a telescope what is going on in France. Would a man spend his time thus
+inertly in Baden, simply in order to make love to a cardinal’s niece? The
+duke of Enghien is a scion of the house of Condé; he is a Bourbon, and is
+in English pay. Most likely he is the Bourbon prince incriminated in the
+affair. At any rate, he is in touch with the agents who swarm in South
+Germany. An example must be made of this suspect of the blood royal. That
+will put an end to the reiterated attempts on the part of the exiled
+Bourbons to disturb the peace of France and to trouble the sleep of its
+master!
+
+In a lengthy despatch, the Consul orders an attack on the little Badenese
+town of Ettenheim, just across the Rhine. The number of boats and the
+soldiers’ rations are prescribed with as much care as if the expedition
+were the siege of Mantua. Three hundred dragoons make a raid into Baden
+and carry off the duke. Four days later, he is brought in secret to the
+fortress of Vincennes.
+
+Two of Napoleon’s confidants warn the dictator that no compromising
+documents have been found among the duke of Enghien’s belongings. But
+Talleyrand, who has ever an eye to his own future, advises court martial
+and the severest measures, knowing that the moral reprobation thus
+aroused will, in the end, prove disastrous to Napoleon. Brother Joseph is
+alarmed at the same thought. He reminds Napoleon of the veneration they
+had shared for the great Condé during their cadet days; of the verses
+they had recited about the hero of the seventeenth century. Was the only
+remaining descendant of that famous man to be slaughtered?
+
+“I have made up my mind to pardon him,” answers the Consul. “But that is
+not sufficient. I feel that I am strong enough to have him fighting on my
+side.”
+
+Joseph returns home, able to reassure Madame de Staël and his other
+quests.
+
+The duke, who was two years younger than Napoleon, and who would probably
+have won renown but for the peculiar political circumstances which had
+brought Napoleon fame and power, was tried by court martial the same
+evening. With a brave and knightly bearing, he faced the twelve staff
+officers who formed the court, while a member of the Council of State,
+acting as prosecutor, asked the questions that had been drafted by
+Napoleon.
+
+“Did you never have any dealings with English agents?”—“No.”—“Was it
+not your intention, if Pichegru’s conspiracy had been successful, to
+cross the Rhine and invade Alsace?”—“No.”—“Have you been in receipt
+of an English pension?”—“Yes.”—“Did you wish to enter the English
+service?”—“Yes, in order to free my country.”—“This means that you
+placed yourself at England’s disposal in order to take up arms against
+France?”—“How can a Condé return to his homeland except under arms?”
+
+A death sentence follows, and next day at dawn the duke of Enghien is
+shot.
+
+In one respect the treatment of the duke of Enghien was definitely
+illegal. The French had no right to kidnap him in foreign territory and
+to bring him across the frontier. Once he was on French soil, there was
+legal warrant for condemning him to death as a person who (according
+to his own admission) desired by force of arms to overthrow the extant
+form of State. With the primary reservation regarding the French raid
+into Baden, of course absolutely indefensible, the condemnation was
+technically just.
+
+Nevertheless, as Talleyrand subsequently said of the affair, it was worse
+than a crime—it was a blunder. In time of revolution, hundreds are put
+to death who are more innocent than was this prince. Even though he may
+not have been privy to the plot, he would have hailed with delight the
+assassination of the usurper, and would, sword in hand (to quote his
+own words), have joined in the march on Paris to take vengeance on any
+of the regicides who remained alive. There would have been very little
+said about the court martialling and shooting of this young officer, had
+he not been a Bourbon, had he not been a symbol of that prince-ridden
+Europe whose system had been ended on French soil by the revolution. The
+shooting of the duke of Enghien was a challenge to a dozen thrones, and
+to the many millions of Europeans who believed in rule by divine right.
+It gave the signal for a rallying of forces against the dictator who
+had had neither part nor lot in the reign of terror, and who during his
+seven years as military commander and as statesman had never committed an
+outrage.
+
+The day after the execution, a few tongue-tied and crestfallen guests
+were seated at his board. Josephine was doing her best to hide her fears,
+and Napoleon had been taciturn despite his tumultuous thoughts. Then,
+suddenly, he broke out: “At any rate, they will know now what we can
+do. Henceforward, I hope, they will leave us in peace.” After dinner,
+he walked up and down the room, explaining to the silent listeners his
+reasons and what he thought of it all. Continuing to pace the room, he
+went on to speak movingly of genius, of statesmanship, and above all of
+Frederick the Great, for whom he had so profound an admiration:
+
+“Ought a statesman to indulge in feelings? Is he not an isolated
+individual, always alone though always in company? Policy is his
+telescope, which must neither reduce things in size nor magnify them.
+Even while he is attentively watching the course of events, he must be
+pulling the strings which move them. Often enough, ill-matched horses
+are harnessed to his chariot. Do you think he can allow himself to heed
+some of those feelings which may in other respects be of great importance
+to the welfare of society?... How often he will have to do things which
+seem quite out of keeping with the whole!... Try to get outside the
+limitations of your own epoch, enlarge your imagination instead of being
+content merely to blame, and you will see that those great personalities
+you had regarded as violent and cruel, are nothing but statesmen! They
+know themselves better than others know them; they are the best judges
+of their own conduct; if they have true ability, they will even know how
+to control their passions, for they will be competent to calculate the
+precise effect of these.”
+
+Suddenly breaking off this monologue, which discloses some of the
+deepest recesses of his soul, he sends for the documents bearing on the
+conspiracy and has them read over to him.
+
+“You see,” he says, “we have incontrovertible proof that the conspirators
+wanted to spread disorder in France, and hoped, through killing me, to
+slay the revolution! It was my business to defend the revolution, to
+avenge it! The duke was a conspirator just like another, and had to be
+treated in the same way as the others.... The madmen seek to kill me,
+though they would gain nothing by it, for a gang of fanatical Jacobins
+would take my place.... These Bourbons! If they ever do regain power,
+I will wager that their first concern will be with etiquette. If they
+were prepared to share in the rough and tumble of the battle-field,
+with its blood and its grime!... But how can they expect to win back a
+kingdom with a letter dated from London and signed Louis? All the same,
+letters like that will incriminate incautious recipients.... I have shed
+blood; I had to. Perhaps I shall shed more in the future. But always
+without passion, quite simply, because blood-letting is indicated. I am a
+statesman: I am the French revolution, and shall know how to protect it!”
+Abruptly he dismisses his guests.
+
+Such is his mood; such are his motives, his views, the undercurrents of
+his feelings. But his notable inferences are not yet disclosed.
+
+
+VII
+
+A week after the court-martialling of the duke of Enghien a committee
+of the Senate comes to see the Consul, with a very remarkable twofold
+request: for the establishment of a State tribunal and the foundation
+of a monarchy. This is a cautious improvisation, to test the current of
+popular opinion. Can anything be more logical, or simpler? To scare the
+terrorists, to safeguard the head of the State, two things are requisite,
+a State tribunal and an heir!
+
+As with all the decisions of his life, so also this premature resolve
+to become an emperor is an outgrowth of circumstances. In none of the
+decisive moments of his career, do we find evidence that he had a
+definite scheme of life, which he systematically endeavoured to realise.
+When he first invaded Italy, it was not in search of the crown of Milan,
+and still less in search of the crown of France. But, as he winged his
+soaring flight, the natural sequence was that wider and ever wider vistas
+of land and sea should unfold themselves before his eyes. What happened,
+was a fulfilment of his own guiding principle: “He will not go far who
+knows from the first whither he is going.” Improvisation, which, in
+amazing fashion, characterises so much of his activity, merely deprives
+him of the nebular glory of the mystical hero. As far as details are
+concerned, it leaves him free to make exact preparations, while restoring
+to him, as a whole, a liberty and a guilelessness which strengthen his
+genius.
+
+Was the desire to become emperor a mistake? What urged him towards the
+adoption of such a role?
+
+First of all, the imaginative side of his nature, which for the second
+time is blinding the cold reason of the calculator. Thus was it in
+Egypt, and thus was it to be for a third time in Russia. His ideal
+drives him to take this step. He had grown to manhood amid dreams of the
+antique world; classical imagery had filled his mind; his dictatorial
+nature necessarily craved for the forms of Roman imperialism. A poetical
+temperament which makes him look upon the successive occurrences in his
+life as phases in the unrolling of a saga, and makes him feel, on the
+very evening after a battle has been won, that the battle has already
+passed into the realm of history; this engine, driven by the power of
+fantasy; this eye that looks upward and beyond to see how posterity will
+crown his deeds with fame—they need a symbol which no one has to-day, but
+which shone over Europe two thousand years ago.
+
+Yet the mathematician in him also needs this symbol; the statesman needs
+it, that he may safeguard his country without perpetual wars. Lastly, and
+perhaps most passionately of all, the man with strong family attachments
+needs it; the man who feels he has won nothing, if what he has won be no
+more than an adventurer’s prize that will perish with the winner.
+
+“The name of king is outworn. It carries with it a trail of obsolete
+ideas, and would make me nothing more than the heir of dead men’s
+glories. I do not wish to be dependent upon any predecessor. The title
+of emperor is greater than that of king. Its significance is not wholly
+explicable, and therefore it stimulates the imagination.” Here, in two or
+three sentences, are compendiously disclosed the impetuous and the hot,
+the cunning and the cold, motives of his soul.
+
+Does he see the dangers, or does he overlook them? What are his
+antitoxins? “What is a throne? A piece of wood covered with satin!” When
+he has become emperor he will ask the question and answer it thus, more
+than once. But with this satin-covered piece of wood, as he knows, he
+can influence grown men, just as he could influence them with the toys
+of the Legion of Honour. Indeed, the glamour of the throne is stronger,
+and therefore he will take the establishment of his throne more seriously
+than he took the foundation of the Legion of Honour. It is an instrument
+of policy, a means for the management of men. In the real world, where no
+one can call familiar spirits to his aid, the private person, the poet
+or the philosopher, can raise his head heavenward without bearing the
+burden of a crown; but the statesman needs the insignia of power, for the
+dull populace cannot believe in the reality of power unless he who wields
+power wears the insignia.
+
+Are we to suppose that he, who can calculate all eventualities, does not
+see the danger that lurks in the symbol of the crown? Does he not know
+that for thousands of years people have regarded the monarch as akin to
+God? If he is aware of this, how without disaster will he be able to
+harmonise the illusion with his political cynicism? If the crown is the
+gift of his genius, how can he bequeath it without bequeathing the genius?
+
+Nevertheless, all his endeavours, like those of the emperors of ancient
+Rome, are now concentrated upon the bequest of power. He, whose own
+genius has taught him that genius is always aboriginal and primary; he
+who with his own eyes has seen hereditary power perish amid blood and
+grime, and whose inmost heart said aye to the act of regicide; he, who
+to-day reproaches the Bourbons, not with their origin, but with the
+cowardice that keeps them trembling in their mouseholes; he, Napoleon
+Bonaparte, who feels himself to be the one man of a millennium; he, a
+principle of whose rule it is to grant honour and wealth only to merit
+and courage and talent; he, who is the symbol of revolt incorporated in
+human flesh—believes that in the place he has fought and won for himself
+through the storms of eight years, he will be able to perpetuate his
+blood for the sole reason that it is his own!
+
+He knows Plutarch and the story of the Cæsars. He has studied the history
+of the great kings of France and England and Prussia, and has learned to
+look with contempt upon their decadence. And yet he is ready and eager
+to restore the hereditary principle for the succession to this, the
+highest office in the State! Here, and here only, he wishes to combine
+the newest of the new with the old, so that, as he says later in a
+phrase both profound and tragical: “I might achieve that harmony which
+I regarded as essential for the tranquillity of the world, a solitary
+man, driven forward by the impetus of my own personality. That is why I
+dropped sheet-anchors everywhere.”
+
+But side by side with these heroic words, which sufficed to class him
+with the heroes of Plutarch, were housed the simplest feelings of
+domestic life. For, when his confidant Roederer urged him to seek a new
+wife, who would bear him a son, Napoleon answered in great excitement:
+
+“Hitherto I have always ruled justly. It might be to my interest to seek
+a divorce. But what right have I to put away a good wife merely because
+I have become a greater man than I was when we married? She would have
+followed me into exile or imprisonment. Now I am to divorce her? I am
+not strong enough to do that. A human heart beats in my bosom; my mother
+was not a tigress.” After Josephine’s death, he would be free to choose
+a new partner. But, as things are, what will be the best way of solving
+this problem of the succession? “My brothers, like myself, were born in
+petty circumstances, but they did not force themselves upwards unaided as
+I did. The man who is to rule France must either be born to greatness, or
+he must be one of those whose inborn strength enables them to distinguish
+themselves from the herd.”
+
+In this last idea is implicit the disastrous error which in due time is
+to lead him to inevitable destruction.
+
+For the nonce, however, all is done quietly and soberly, just as on two
+previous occasions. Wishing to be independent of the parties and to stand
+above them, he again demands a popular vote; and the very Frenchmen who
+twelve years earlier had destroyed, not only the king, but kingship, now
+re-establish both, doing this with even more enthusiasm than when, two
+years before, they had made Napoleon Consul for life. In a few days,
+everything is settled. First of all there are votes in the Chambers. In
+the Senate, only three adverse votes, those of personal enemies. In the
+Tribunate, Carnot is alone in recording his dissent, Carnot who admires
+Napoleon, but is a far-sighted devotee of the principle of freedom.
+The result of a plebiscite is overwhelmingly in favour of the adoption
+of the imperial title with hereditary succession. In May 1804, the new
+constitution is promulgated. It is short and businesslike, as if it were
+a mere paragraph modifying an old constitution.
+
+He never affects to believe that his power has a mystical origin, or even
+that it really springs from the people. See him, a few days after he has
+been proclaimed Emperor, seated in a bow window one evening after dinner.
+He is astraddle on a chair, with his chin resting on the back. For a
+long time he is silent while Josephine and Madame de Rémusat are talking
+(the latter records the incident). Then he stands up, turns to Madame
+de Rémusat, and, after posing for a while as an easy-going and cheerful
+man of the world, of a sudden, with that free gesture which always
+amazed his associates and still amazes posterity, he tore off the veil,
+disclosed his motives, expounded his thoughts as if he had been writing a
+predecessor’s history:
+
+“You were all very angry with me about the execution of the duke of
+Enghien. You seem still to be fond of traditional memories. My own
+memory goes back only to the time when I began to be something. What is
+a duke of Enghien to me? An émigré, more important than the others, and
+therefore one whom it is all the better to destroy.... Two years ago,
+power dropped into my hands in the most natural way in the world....
+It is true that the duke compelled me to cut the crisis short. I had
+expected to carry on the Consulate for another two years, although its
+forms conflicted with the reality of things. France and I could have
+walked along arm-in-arm for a while longer, for France had confidence in
+me, and wanted everything that I wanted. But after this conspiracy, which
+was to set the Continent in motion, it was necessary to show Europe the
+error of her ways....
+
+“The political parties I wished to conciliate, the royalists and the
+Jacobins, will not lose heart as long as they have somebody to dread.
+I realised, therefore, that no pact between them could be concluded,
+but that it would be possible to conclude one with them to my own
+advantage.... Now, they have been reduced to silence. Still opposed
+to me are the republicans, the cranks who believe that Europe will
+look on quietly while a republic is being established upon the ruins
+of a monarchy.... That is why I preferred the imperial dignity to a
+dictatorship, for in an empire people no longer feel that they are
+travelling in unmapped country....
+
+“You will soon see what a lure court etiquette will exercise on the
+émigrés. The old familiar forms of address will win over the nobility....
+You French love monarchy. It is the only form of government which really
+suits you. I will wager, Monsieur de Rémusat, that you feel a hundred
+times more at ease now that you call me ‘Sire’ and I address you as
+‘Monsieur’.... Your vanity was always being bridled; the strictness of
+the republic would have bored you to death.... Liberty is no more than a
+pretext; equality is your hobby horse; the people are content to be ruled
+by a prince who comes from the army.... To-day, soldiers and people are
+on my side. A man who could not rule under such conditions would be an
+idiot.”
+
+He broke off, resumed a formal demeanour, and gave Monsieur de Rémusat an
+order of no importance whatever in the dry tone of the absolute master.
+
+These moments of confession; these quarters of an hour in which we stand
+opposite him, silently listening and watching, while he lounges on his
+chair, this newly made emperor of thirty-four in his well-worn green
+coat, looking askance up and down the room, rising to walk restlessly to
+and fro, pouring out his most intimate thoughts and then with a brusque
+transition cutting off all the springs of familiarity; when we see him
+in such movingly close proximity, in scenes full of nature and purpose,
+full of surrender to destiny and animus against the present—we can see
+and hear for ourselves even more than he frankly discloses in simulated
+self-forgetfulness. We become aware of his easy contempt for persons
+of noble birth, which is none the less conjoined with a secret wish
+to make a good impression on them; we discern programmes which he is
+always willing to adapt to changing circumstances; we observe the robust
+cynicism aroused in him by the folly of mankind, and see that it exists
+side by side with the foreign character traits of this Corsican, the very
+traits which enable him to rule the lovely Marianne with such gallant
+rigour.
+
+Of course he discloses no more than half his motives, for he is here
+confining himself to political issues. Still, at the outset of the
+imperial epoch these political issues exert a predominant influence.
+It seems as if, to begin with, he regards the change of title with the
+utmost sobriety: “My brother will not hear a word of his new title,”
+writes Napoleon to Madame de Staël. “He says he is just the same man he
+was before, and at the same time he puts on great airs. The truly great
+man is the one who fully realises that such empty names, which only the
+system of society compels us to assume, make no difference to friendship,
+to family life, or to social relationships. I am certain that since I
+have been ‘Your Majesty,’ not one of those who live with me will have
+been able to detect any difference in me.”
+
+Yet it is an event that now for the third time he takes leave of his
+name. It may be nothing that the leading persons in the country who
+appear at the first court reception address him and Josephine as “Sire”
+and “Madame,” and that the members of the noblesse, who on this same
+polished floor fifteen or twenty years earlier had said “Sire” and
+“Madame,” should feel their hearts revive as they bandy courtiers’
+compliments. That may be nothing. Certainly, as regards essential nature,
+clothing, and deportment, the Emperor of to-day is no different from the
+Consul of yesterday.
+
+But the proclamation, the thousand and one letters, memoranda, and
+decrees, will henceforward be signed with a new name. For eight years
+they have been signed with the rudiments of a “Bonaparte.” Now he signs
+with a name which he himself has never written since he was a child,
+and which his nervous hand will speedily compress into an initial N.
+and a flourish. Josephine has always addressed him as “General.” His
+brothers and his sisters have for a long time past spoken to him with
+the ceremonial “you” instead of the familiar “thou” (the change was
+initiated, not by the Consul himself, but by Joseph). Only his mother in
+rare moments of expansion has occasionally used her son’s Christian name;
+and she utters it in her own dialect as “Napolione.”
+
+There is a profound significance in the newness of this name when, adding
+to it a brand-new title, he writes for the first time in his life:
+
+Napoleon I., Emperor of the French.
+
+
+VIII
+
+With the first steps, the dilemma begins. The new coins he issues bear
+the legend: “Emperor according to the Constitution of the Republic”—this
+paradox will dog him for another four years. When the anniversary of
+the taking of the Bastille and the outbreak of the revolution comes
+round once more, he celebrates it with imperial pomp. The gesture
+may look sublime, but it is nothing more than a measure of political
+expediency. Even on this very first occasion, the anniversary of the
+day of liberation is postponed to a Sunday. A year or two later, the
+commemoration is completely ignored. With it vanishes the revolutionary
+calendar, for the old one is restored by degrees.
+
+All flock to his standard. Ere long, one hundred and thirty of those who
+twelve years earlier had voted for the king’s execution, hold office
+under the Emperor. This is the revolutionary picture caricatured in
+France, while Europe looks on, watching how first the forms, and then by
+slow stages the content, for whose sake so much blood has been shed, are
+laid aside in the museum of history. What can Europe do but smile?
+
+Still more broadly smiles the old noblesse. In the Faubourg
+Saint-Germain, which the emperor watches as closely as he watched the
+working-class quarter of Saint Antoine, anecdotes are rife concerning
+the new master in the old Tuileries. Now that he is called “Sire,” just
+like the last of the Bourbons, all the lorgnettes are turned on him, and
+he has become the focus of criticism. As far as his own personality is
+concerned, so great is his native dignity that he is practically above
+criticism; in Milan, already, when no more than a general of the French
+Republic, he ruled simply because he was there. But his relatives, with
+their childish curiosity and jealousy, and with their gossip about
+everything that goes on in the palace, soon become the targets of
+mockery. Magnified by rumour, and carried across the frontiers, this
+ridicule besmirches the master.
+
+Henceforward England keeps in Paris, in addition to ordinary spies,
+a horde of quilldrivers, whose tales find credence whenever they are
+enlivened with wit. Caricatures pass from hand to hand, showing the
+little lieutenant being taught by the great Talma how to walk like an
+emperor—Napoleon, who has often taught Talma the best way of playing the
+royal roles in Corneille! How otherwise could old Europe defend herself
+against this saga which had become reality? The only resource was to
+degrade to farce what was being staged with all the crude seriousness of
+tragi-comedy.
+
+For the Emperor needs a court! It is his way to do everything with due
+attention to detail; but the details of court life are beyond the range
+of his studies, and he has to call in the experts of the old regime. The
+sometime chamberlain at the court of the late king must lay aside his pen
+(literature had been the resource of his retirement), to resume his staff
+of office. Josephine, who at first is attended by no more than a few of
+the ladies of the former court, is at a loss as to the management of an
+empress’ train. What has become of Marie Antoinette’s lady-in-waiting?
+She is still alive, and keeps a school in Paris. Bring her forth from her
+obscurity! She comes, and in the same rooms, before the same mirrors,
+arranges the folds of the train round these Creole feet which know very
+different dances from those of the poor dead queen.
+
+The Emperor organises his court with the same seriousness and the same
+precision as if he were organising the general staff of a new army. No
+one knows better than Napoleon the vanity of these things: “I am well
+aware that plenty of people are writing unfavourably about them. Even
+you, Monsieur Roederer, are not complaisant enough to suppose that I have
+a little common sense! You ought to understand without my telling you
+why I have given my new marshals, plain republicans though they be, the
+title of ‘Monseigneur’; it is only to safeguard my own imperial title of
+‘Majesty’? The marshals, having grand titles of their own, cannot make
+fun of mine.” His very first undertakings as Emperor involve him in the
+toils of such contradictions.
+
+The two ex-consuls (these are the only offices suppressed by the Emperor)
+become respectively arch-chancellor and arch-treasurer of the Empire.
+Talleyrand, as grand chamberlain, brings back the old arts and graces
+into the old house. How easy it would be for the Emperor to appoint
+none but gentlemen and ladies of the old regime to the leading offices
+at court! Instead, he chooses the scions of the proletariat and the
+bourgeoisie, the men who have risen with him: Berthier, Murat, Lannes,
+Ney, and Davoust. Fourteen generals, who in youth had been bakehouse
+lads, stable boys, waiters, cabin boys, or vagrants, must now exchange
+their campaigners’ uniforms for the gold-braided coats of the marshals
+of France, must double their military duties with offices at court, must
+wear lace ruffs and buckled shoes; their wives must learn how to curtsey
+in the grand manner, how to stand and sit properly, how to scratch at
+the door instead of knocking—all that Europe may see how the Emperor, who
+was himself a lieutenant, promotes his lieutenants according to merit.
+Marmont is there, still wearing his arm in a sling; he is decked out in
+silk and satin and gold; but the slit sleeve, with its reminiscence of
+martial glory, seems to mock the splendour of his breeches. The Emperor
+tactfully drops out of the ceremonial two details that were degrading to
+the dignity of the courtiers: the presentation of the shirt at the king’s
+levee, and the kissing of the ruler’s hand.
+
+But how is the charm of the rococo court to be revived, now that a
+soldier sits upon the throne? True, that, after hours of deliberation,
+it is possible to decide what colours the empress and the highnesses
+(Napoleon’s relatives) must wear when they go out hunting. When, however,
+the time has come to bring down the stag, and the Emperor’s thoughts
+are wandering in other fields, no one else ventures to shoot, with the
+result that the stag escapes because the chief sportsman has so much else
+on his mind. The ceremonial “was conducted as if to the sound of drums;
+everything seemed to happen at the storming pace; and the dread which
+he inspired in all, drove away grace and ease.... Court life was cold
+and dull, was gloomy rather than dignified. Since we were following a
+prescribed ritual, our inner feeling was that we were only machines which
+some one had placed upon the new gilded couches.”
+
+The Emperor is bored by ladies’ society. With blunt circumstantiality,
+he asks how many children they have had, and whether they suckle their
+own babies. He tries to make himself agreeable, but often fails, when
+his thoughts range to other matters. At Saint-Cloud, in a room full of
+ladies, he can find nothing to say but, again and again: “How hot it is
+here!”
+
+All the same, every one attached to the court grows rich. He gives
+princely salaries to the court officials, and only shows thrift in his
+payments to some of the members of the old noblesse, maliciously implying
+that such work is nothing more than their duty. In general, he pays
+munificently, for “ambition is the mainspring of action. People work so
+long as they are aspiring upwards.... I have made senators and princes
+in order to promote ambition, and to make them dependent on me.” He thus
+uses both honours and money to attach people to his cause, making, not
+friends, but dependents.
+
+He knows the value of money; and though at all the critical moments of
+his career he surprises us by improvisation, we are, in general, just as
+much astonished by the way in which he continually displays a bourgeois
+rationality and foresight. His own demands are moderate. The Emperor’s
+personal salary is fixed at twenty-five millions, the amount paid to the
+late king; but where as Louis had spent forty-five millions, Napoleon
+saves twelve. The whole court, resplendent though it is, does not cost a
+fourth as much as the Bourbon court. France, which has to foot the bill,
+owes this economy to the care and knowledge of the master, who once had
+to live on ninety francs a month, and even now declares that he could get
+along well enough with twelve hundred francs a year and a horse.
+
+There was no change in his routine of life. The Emperor was called
+at seven, and held his first reception at nine. Most of the day, his
+secretaries were engaged in taking down from dictation. This dictation
+was at the speed of ordinary conversation, and must be transcribed with
+perfect accuracy. At night, when he had some difficulty in sleeping,
+Méneval must come to record his master’s night thoughts. His dinner took
+twenty minutes, and he hardly noticed what he was eating. He was much
+more plainly clad than his gaily bedecked courtiers; and when, on State
+occasions, he had to dress ceremoniously, he was always in a bad temper
+while being arrayed, and greatly relieved when he could doff his finery.
+When he entered Saint-Cloud after the place had been done up, he regarded
+it with disfavour, saying: “Rooms like this are suitable for a kept
+woman; they lack seriousness.”
+
+He does not allow himself to be enslaved by anything, and never insists
+that his bed or his meals or the lighting shall be just so and no
+otherwise. Even the snuff-box that he always carries is no more than
+a toy. The only things which the Emperor finds indispensable are open
+fires, hot baths, eau-de-cologne, Chambertin, and clean linen twice a day.
+
+Josephine is extravagant. Her seven hundred dresses and two hundred and
+fifty hats, her jewels, her shawls, and her hair-dressing, cost millions;
+and although the Emperor wants her to shine in all the splendours which
+he scorns for himself, he often grumbles at the preposterous totals of
+the bills.
+
+His brothers and sisters squander money too. He gives them everything,
+and they are never satisfied. There is an absurd rivalry between the
+five couples (Lucien is still banished) and Josephine, whom all the
+others detest. Of the six grand dignitaries who draw fabulous salaries,
+four are his near relatives, by blood or by marriage. Joseph is grand
+elector; Louis, constable; Eugene, arch-chancellor of State; and Murat,
+high admiral. Since the brothers are to be styled Imperial Highnesses,
+the sisters have their noses put out of joint, and make a collective
+demand, complaining that Hortense, as the wife of Louis, has become
+Imperial Highness, while they are “nothing.” He eyes them for a moment,
+and replies with a witticism which deserves a place in universal history:
+“When I listen to you, I can almost believe that His Majesty our father
+of blessed memory must have bequeathed us crown and realm!”
+
+Indeed, one could almost believe it. For when he complies with their
+demand, with a good nature he is not apt to show towards others, and
+when for ten years to come he showers honours and wealth, crowns and
+territories, upon these brothers and sisters who show no gratitude,
+who never obey him, and never cease to trouble him—we cannot but ask
+ourselves once more what can be the prejudice which blinds his eyes
+where they are concerned. His pride is great; he is lonely in his
+self-confidence; his path is that of a pioneer; in this instance as in
+others, his motives must be mixed; in part obscurely felt, in part coldly
+calculated.
+
+He is half an oriental, and it tickles his fancy to bestow diadems as
+he used to bestow swords and snuff-boxes; but all the same, he warily
+contrives that power shall be given to those only on whom he can rely.
+Well, what is thicker than blood? Even his companions-in-arms seem to
+him less trustworthy than his relatives; but for his trust in them, his
+relatives will repay him with ingratitude, and in the end his sister will
+betray him. Because in this one respect he infringes his own principle of
+equality and departs from his determination to choose only the efficient,
+because he appoints brothers and nephews to high office and looks upon
+them as his heirs, he cannot give them the free hand which it is his
+way to give all his generals within the limits of their commissions. By
+treating his relatives as an all-powerful minister treats princes who are
+still under tutelage, he enrages them, and lays up a store of bitterness
+for himself.
+
+Joseph is already animated by a mocking spirit. He tells his daughter
+to address His Majesty as “Consul”; holds disputations in democratic
+circles; refuses to become a minister of State; but accepts an allowance
+of two millions as an imperial prince, and lives at the Luxembourg, which
+his brother hands over to him. At length Napoleon loses patience. The
+ostensible cause of his anger is a trifle, but all the rage of his heart
+is now vented in this complaint:
+
+“What on earth is Joseph thinking about? Does he imagine that he has been
+made prince in order to hobnob with my enemies and walk up and down the
+streets of Paris in brown surtout and round hat? I have sacrificed my
+own personal pleasures in order to become what I am. I am as well fitted
+as another to shine in society!... But things of that sort do not help a
+man to rule. Does he dream of disputing with me for the supreme power? My
+strength is builded on a rock!...
+
+“Do you know what he ventured to say to me recently in the presence
+of two others? I ought not to have my wife crowned; the step would be
+opposed to his interest; it would give Louis’ children a better position
+than his, because they would be the grandsons of an empress! He had the
+impudence to talk to me about his rights and his interests! He wanted
+to touch me on the raw! He might almost as well have boasted he had
+slept with my mistress, or hoped to do so soon. My mistress! Power is my
+mistress! The conquest of that mistress has cost me so much that I will
+allow no one to rob me of her, or to share her with me!”
+
+Thus does the volcano suddenly spout forth great rocks, in the midst of
+a conversation about trifles. But the rest of the conversation does not
+turn wholly on trifles. He speaks bitterly of his brothers and sisters,
+comparing them with Eugene and Hortense. “My stepchildren always side
+with me. If their mother is put out because I take a fancy for a pretty
+girl, they say to her: ‘Oh, well, he’s still quite young, you know. You
+mustn’t make a fuss. No doubt he has faults, but you must not forget how
+much he has done for us all.’”
+
+But nothing will keep him from pushing his brothers’ advancement. When
+Joseph refuses all other occupations, Napoleon forces him into the army.
+“He must have military rank, get a nice wound, and win a good reputation
+for himself. I shall only give him easy jobs. Then he can win a battle,
+and I shall be able to promote him to a higher rank than all the other
+commanders.” It sounds like the education of a degenerate son by a great
+father.
+
+Louis has an enthusiasm for poetry; he becomes chief of the imperial
+guard, so that he may have a dignified position; but he can stay at home
+when the guns begin to shoot.
+
+Murat and Caroline are frightfully extravagant; their table service is of
+gold. “As for Caroline, my own sister, if I have to discuss anything with
+her, I must make longer speeches than at the Council of State....
+
+“The whole lot of them are always thinking about my death. It’s rather
+nasty of them to be continually bringing that into my mind.... Were it
+not that I find some happiness in my home life, I should be miserable!
+Why are they always so suspicious of my wife? What has she more than
+they? Diamonds and debts!... She’s a good wife to me, and does them no
+harm! She’s rather fond of playing the empress, with her jewels, her
+dresses, and the whimsies natural to her age. I have never been blinded
+by love. But I am just. She shall be crowned, even if it costs me two
+hundred thousand men!”
+
+Thus he is continually bickering with a family which he could reduce to
+nonentity in a moment, but from which he is unable to cut adrift.
+
+Only one of them is incorruptible, asks for nothing, and holds aloof.
+Lucien writes from Rome:
+
+“Mother thinks that the First Consul is wrong to take the Bourbons’
+crown. She has uneasy presentiments which she will not confide to me. Her
+dread is that a gang of fanatics will assassinate the Emperor.”—While
+this dignified mother of the family, still a beautiful woman though
+well over fifty, is led by her knowledge of the world and her gloomy
+forebodings to keep herself to herself, while she holds her tongue and
+only mentions her anxieties to a few intimates, in the Tuileries her
+children are quarrelling about titles and precedence, disputing who is to
+sit at the Emperor’s right, debating whether they are entitled to walk
+out of the room in front of a sovereign prince!
+
+Then Napoleon summons Madame Mère to Paris. But here is one who will
+not obey him. At first she makes excuses. When more urgent commands are
+sent, she sets out on the journey, but takes her time, and does not reach
+Paris for the most splendid festival that a mortal mother can ever have
+witnessed. She hears and reads all that a gaping world says and writes
+about the affair. Her only comment is: “Pourvou que cela doure!”
+
+
+IX
+
+Meanwhile, Letizia’s protector the pope has become more compliant, and
+is already on the way to Paris. What else could the Holy Father do?
+The man of might had summoned him, and the Emperor must be kept in a
+good humour. Besides, he who is to be crowned is an Italian. As one of
+the cardinals had put it, in the decisive conclave: “After all, we have
+this satisfaction, that we are taking vengeance on the Gauls by setting
+an Italian family to rule over these barbarians.” Napoleon is still
+regarded as a foreigner in France! But why does he not go to Rome for his
+coronation? Why is he not content to be anointed in Rome, as Charlemagne
+had been, and all the emperors of the west since Charlemagne’s day? What
+does he want a pope for at all?
+
+In this matter, once more, he is trying to harmonise the new with the
+old. At first he is silent about details, and merely asks the pope “to
+give the highest religious consecration to the anointing and crowning of
+the first Emperor of the French.” For weeks, letters have been exchanged
+between Rome and Paris, but the exact nature of the ceremony still
+remains obscure. Pius VII. is in an uneasy frame of mind as he draws
+near to Paris, and his spirit is by no means one of benediction. Never
+before has a pope been summoned in this way, much as a great physician is
+summoned. When the Emperor meets the pope at the gate of the city, the
+Holy Father does not fail to note that Napoleon neither kneels to receive
+a blessing nor kisses hands in token of fealty. Paris is a town where
+people’s faith is unstable and where popes are held in little honour. The
+visitor is chilled.
+
+But Josephine is different. All devotion, she confides to him that she
+and her husband were not married in church, and that therefore from the
+pope’s point of view they are not married at all. She is eager to grasp
+the opportunity of consolidating her union, which seems to her frail in
+view of her barrenness. Taking the hint, Pius insists upon a religious
+celebration of the marriage before he will crown her as empress. In the
+palace chapel, two days before the festival, Uncle Fesch, clad in purple,
+solemnises the union of the pair who eight years before had needed the
+intervention neither of priests nor civilian officials before coming
+together. There are no witnesses, not one who could laugh over this
+comedy in which cheating is still the order of the day—for even the
+Corsican uncle is not aware what is about to happen.
+
+On December 2, 1804, in Notre Dame, an abundance of precious stones
+reflects the light of a myriad candles, so that the place looks more like
+a banqueting hall than a church. Everything has been prepared for weeks
+beforehand. A skilful museum director has even produced a colourable
+imitation of Charlemagne’s sceptre. Ancient parchments from the days of
+the Roi Soleil had been consulted, to ensure that the crowning of this
+revolutionist should vie in every respect with that of the legitimate
+monarchs of France. Ségur had studied the etiquette of the occasion with
+the utmost care; Isabey had rehearsed the whole affair with an array of
+dolls; the old palace, Paris, France, were in a fever.
+
+The Emperor is in a pleasant humour. Early in the morning he makes sure
+that Josephine’s crown is a good fit. The great procession drives to the
+cathedral. Napoleon, robed in an antique imperial mantle, strides to the
+high altar leading the empress by the hand. Josephine’s charm helps to
+divest the great moment of a certain sense of embarrassment. Surrounded
+by attendant cardinals, the pope is seated, waiting. The organ peals
+forth.
+
+Then, when the appointed instant has come, and all are expecting this man
+who has never bowed the knee to any one, to kneel before the Holy Father,
+Napoleon, to the amazement of the congregation, seizes the crown, turns
+his back on the pope and the altar, and, standing upright as always,
+crowns himself in the sight of France. Then he crowns his kneeling wife.
+
+None but the pope had known his intentions. Informed at the eleventh
+hour, Pius had lacked courage to threaten immediate departure. Now, all
+he could do was to anoint and bless the two sinners. Moreover, the crown
+on the Emperor’s head is not a Christian crown at all, but a small
+pagan circlet of golden laurel leaves. All who describe the occasion
+agree in saying that the Emperor was pale but handsome. He resembled
+Emperor Augustus; and from now onwards, as if by some mystical power, his
+features grew more and more like those of the first emperor of Rome.
+
+Thus, in this symbolical hour, Napoleon reduces to mockery the
+legitimate formalities he is affecting to copy. Furthermore, he makes a
+laughing-stock of the pope, who will not forget the slight. In an instant
+the cloud of Bourbon reminiscence has been scattered; the flavour of
+imitation and parody has vanished; and on the steps of a temple there
+stands a soldier, a Roman imperator, whom a dozen years before this day
+no one had ever heard of, who since then has performed no miracles but
+only done deeds, and has now crowned himself with the golden laurels of
+these deeds. But his mantle is broidered with golden bees, the emblem of
+activity.
+
+Several incidents show that he has not, throughout this day of his
+coronation, wholly surrendered to the mood of a man who has made his own
+destiny.
+
+When he was seated on the throne, crown on head, with the pope in front
+of him, he said in a low aside to his brother: “Joseph, if only Father
+could see this!” The remark, poignant at such an hour in the mouth of a
+man who was never wont to speak of his father, is fundamentally natural.
+The perfect simplicity, the unsophisticated innocence, of his course of
+action, lead his mind back to his origin. Memories of family feuds on
+the island, of the pride and ambition of the Corsican clans, direct his
+thoughts towards the stock from which he has sprung.
+
+Semblance never holds his attention, which always reaches out to the core
+of reality. Thus he is not bewildered even in this amazing hour. When
+he wants to whisper something to his uncle, who stands just in front of
+him during Mass, he gives the cardinal a gentle dig in the back with his
+sceptre. As soon as all is over, and, alone with Josephine, he goes in
+to dinner, he says with a sigh of relief: “Thank God we’re through with
+it! A day on the battle-field would have pleased me better!” At their
+little dinner he tells her to keep on her crown, as if he and she were
+poet and actress, for, he says, she is charming, his little Creole woman
+as empress. Thus, in the most natural way in the world, he unmasks the
+whole masquerade, and we are at ease once more as we see the son of the
+revolution laughing his own empire to scorn.
+
+[Illustration: Bonaparte as First Consul. Pencil sketch by J. D. A.
+Ingres. Germain Bapst Collection.
+
+(Photograph in the Kircheisen Collection.)]
+
+The freedom of spirit shown by the foregoing petty details is splendidly
+illuminated by an admission he made the same evening, when, to a
+confidant, he summed up the whole matter with sceptical emotion: “No,
+Decrès, I have come into the world too late. There is nothing great left
+for me to do. I do not deny that I have had a fine career, but what a
+difference between me and the heroes of antiquity. Look at Alexander, for
+instance. After he has conquered Asia, he declares himself to be the son
+of Jupiter, and the whole East believes him, save only his mother and
+Aristotle and a handful of Athenian pedants. But if I, nowadays, were to
+declare myself the son of the Father Eternal, every fishwife would laugh
+in my face. There is nothing great left for me to do.”
+
+This was said a few hours after he had crowned himself emperor; said
+quite simply and quite truthfully. Is it not plain why the East has
+always allured him, and will continue to allure him? By nature he is
+endowed with immense powers, and is overburdened by their incredible
+weight. Nothing can be adequate to his aspirations, now that he has
+learned how readily people obey the man who can command obedience by
+his skill and by his deeds. He is strong in his own strength; what does
+Voltaire’s enlightenment, what does Rousseau, matter to him? How can
+he wish to establish democracy, to install popular government, when he
+knows the weakness of the popular instincts, and all the corruptness of
+the leaders of the people? To expand his sway, to spread his name widely
+and ever more widely, to leave more record of himself in the book of
+universal history than that half page of which he spoke a few years ago,
+to sacrifice life itself to the little golden circlet on his head, to do
+these things without enjoyment and without leisure and without pause—this
+is all that life now offers.
+
+When, during these days, the sketch for an imperial seal is laid before
+him, and he sees a lion couchant, he draws his pen across the picture,
+and writes in the margin: “An eagle volant.”
+
+
+X
+
+But with a sinister energy the dangerous fluid of divine right radiates
+from the golden circlet, and slowly spreads its waves through the brain
+of the wearer, the chosen man. Vainly he endeavours to master and
+transform the millennial force that has been stored up in this crown, or
+to make light of it; it masters him, and from time to time forces him to
+quit the realm of his self-control. When, a year after his coronation as
+emperor, he crowns himself in Milan with the iron crown of the Lombards
+(for the border States, like France itself, are to become monarchies),
+his voice reverberates through the cathedral as he thunders the
+traditional formula of the Carlovingian kings: “God gave it to me, woe
+to him who touches it!” Of course, it is only the statesman who speaks,
+for sound political reasons saying something he does not believe. But,
+though he is well aware of the contradiction, he will not always be able
+to solve it with the same vigour as in Notre Dame.
+
+In the first place, the new position makes it necessary to impose new
+fetters on the mind. The Ministry of Police is revived; and France is
+parcelled out into four great sectors, in which the most trusty members
+of the Council of State, each with an army of spies, keep watch upon
+the mood of the country, for he wants to collect “moral statistics.”
+Fouché is reappointed Minister of Police, and, since Napoleon’s ties with
+Talleyrand become increasingly close, the Emperor is by degrees enmeshed
+in the nets of the two great intriguers—though he is aware that they are
+playing a double game between himself and the Bourbons, and, by a second
+relay of spies, fruitlessly endeavours to keep watch and ward over his
+watchers.
+
+Sinister figures, these two ex-clerics, whom he hates, who hate him, but
+whom he will never be able to shake off.
+
+Fouché is a man of humble origin, pale, with a cold manner, taciturn,
+parchmenty. Though orders flash on his breast and a lace ruffle waves
+there, were it not for his piercing eyes he would look like a mummy in
+court dress.
+
+Talleyrand is in all respects the man of noble birth. Lame though he be,
+the prettiest women pay court to him. His charm is that of a rolling
+sphere, whose living summit is everywhere and nowhere. The assertion
+that he betrayed his master only for the sake of France, is belied by
+his immeasurable avarice and venality. For the nonce, he continues to
+serve the Emperor; but, from the first, the two men have mistrusted one
+another. Once, indeed, Talleyrand made a sacrifice for Napoleon. Late
+in the evening, when the two were on a journey together, the Emperor
+summoned the minister to his bedside for a talk about public affairs.
+Suddenly Napoleon fell asleep, and Talleyrand sat on guard till morning,
+not stirring, lest he should wake his master. That is his version of
+the affair. But the man’s whole nature is so remote from any idea of
+sacrifice or sympathy, that we may suppose rather that his motive was the
+hope that Napoleon might reveal some important secret by talking in his
+sleep.
+
+A dozen times every year, the name of Madame de Staël crops up. Afraid
+of her and her works, he keeps her away from Paris with an obstinacy
+which arouses wonder. Yet she says of him: “His look grows infinitely
+tender when he speaks to women.” Throughout Europe, the champions of the
+freedom of the spirit fall away from him; Byron, who had greatly admired
+him; Beethoven, who cancels the original dedication of the _Eroica_ to
+Napoleon. With painfully mixed feelings the Emperor must have read the
+tribute of the mad tsar Paul, who had already acclaimed the First Consul
+as the suppressor of the revolution.
+
+Since Marengo, he has been doing his utmost to maintain peace on the
+Continent, and for four years he has been successful. His hope is that
+the re-establishment of monarchy will appease the united princes, will
+assuage the anger they still cherish against France. The death of two
+men comes to thwart his plans. Tsar Paul is murdered, and this enemy of
+England is succeeded by a youthful son, an idealist, trained by French
+apostles of the enlightenment, a man with democratic leanings, gentle,
+muddle-headed, animated by the wish to be a better sovereign. Alexander,
+therefore, quickly comes to an understanding with England, where, after
+Fox’s brief predominance and death, a transient attempt at peace with
+France has been followed by a revival of the old jealous enmity. England
+fails to evacuate Malta as had been arranged, imposes new conditions, and
+is the first to break the peace. Once more there arises the menace of a
+European coalition under English leadership, a coalition that will aim at
+a Bourbon restoration, for talent enthroned in France sets so dangerous
+an example to all other countries.
+
+Thus, a year after the coronation, the war with England is resumed, and
+will not end until Napoleon’s star sets. There is no campaigning, at
+first; simply a state of war, in which this great military commander
+cannot force a decision, and which, therefore, he cannot bring to a
+close. England has two notable advantages over her continental rivals,
+and over France in particular. It is an island realm; and it spreads
+athwart the world. Napoleon’s historical sense, growing ever more alert,
+shows England to him as a new empire of Alexander, extending like
+Alexander’s from homeland isles and peninsulas to Asia and to Africa,
+invincible so long as it remains a united whole. The dream of our new
+oriental splits upon this rock.
+
+On this rock, too, are wrecked the mathematician’s calculations. The
+day after Aboukir, he had said that a decade would be needed for the
+rebuilding of France’s fleet. Half that time has elapsed, and England’s
+naval predominance has steadily grown. During the brief peace, the
+soldiers of the unsuccessful Egyptian campaign are brought back to France
+in English bottoms; England is confirmed in the possession of the Cape
+and other overseas colonies; and France has more urgent claims on her
+energies than the building of the new fleet.
+
+Fundamentally, what was a ship to the Emperor? He was competent to
+design a big gun, to cast it, to place every screw; and to repair every
+wheel and every shaft of an ammunition wagon. He knew when every horse
+in a cavalry squadron would have to be re-shod, and how much it would
+cost; and he knew exactly how many loaves a field bakery could turn
+out a day. This far-reaching knowledge was one of the secrets of his
+predominance; made his subordinates zealous in their terror of his
+incessant control, whether in peace time or in war time; aroused respect
+for the all-embracing intelligence of the chief; and ensured the exact
+carrying-out of his military ideas.
+
+But one who would know a ship, must grow up in a ship, just as one who
+would know ordnance must have passed his youth among big guns. Even
+though his admirals were astonished to find how quickly he made himself
+at home in naval matters, how shrewd were his questions, and how sensible
+were his orders, still their commendation of Napoleon was no more than
+the praise of a kindly expert who, tacitly, is criticising a talented
+amateur. Napoleon knew this well enough. Since he lacked a great admiral
+quite as much as a great fleet, and had never been willing to entrust
+the conduct of a campaign to any subordinate, he invented a new kind of
+war which was to enable him, after all, to get the better of England.
+The European ports from Hamburg to Taranto were to be closed to English
+ships, and thus the nation of traders was to be vanquished in a trade
+war. At the same time, he revived his plans of invasion; for, could he
+but set foot on the island, he would be the military commander, and in
+his own element.
+
+Just as he had done before the Egyptian campaign, so now in Boulogne, he
+studies the possibilities of embarkation and disembarkation. On land, his
+fantasy has found satisfaction and his mathematical powers have gained
+conquests in ardent imaginings; and yet, all the time, his battles have
+been realities, have realised these imaginings. But here, at sea, he is
+an amateur, not an expert; is, for the first time, the onlooker instead
+of the man of action. In none other of his private letters do we find
+sentences akin to those which he writes from the coast to Josephine after
+a stormy night in which a gunboat has broken away from her moorings:
+“A wonderful sight! The minute-guns were firing; watch-fires were
+lighted along the coast. A raging, foaming sea; uncertainty and anxiety
+throughout the night. But a kindly spirit brooded over the ocean and the
+night. No lives were lost, and I lay down to sleep with the feeling that
+I had been witnessing a romantic and epic vision—so that I could almost
+believe that I had been looking on quite alone.”
+
+A wonderful sight; but, alas, only a sight! The Ossianic note is sounded
+again, for the first time after fifteen years. Napoleon waxes romantic.
+How moving and how significant are the closing words of this artist, who
+suddenly feels that he has been robbed of the human material with which
+he works, and who is even a little alarmed (we cannot help but read this
+through the lines) at the unwonted sensation of being quite alone.
+
+The unfamiliar element leads him astray. When a storm is threatening,
+he orders a naval review. Admiral Bruix does not carry out the order.
+The Emperor finds that no preparations are being made, and sends for the
+admiral. A terrible scene.
+
+“Why did you not obey my orders?”
+
+“Your Majesty can see that for yourself. You would not needlessly risk
+brave men’s lives in such weather!”
+
+The Emperor, surrounded by his rigid officers, turns pale with wrath, and
+says: “Sir, I have given you an order. The consequences are no concern
+of yours. Do what you are told!”
+
+“Sire, I cannot obey.”
+
+An ominous pause. Napoleon strides towards Bruix, riding-switch in hand,
+threateningly, though the switch is not raised. The admiral draws back a
+step, and lays his hand on his sword-hilt. A petrified group.
+
+“You will leave Boulogne within twenty-four hours, and betake yourself to
+Holland. Rear-Admiral Magon, carry out my orders.”
+
+A naval review is held in a raging storm. A number of chaloupes are
+capsized, and their crews struggle in the water. The Emperor, to save
+himself, jumps into the first boat; all who can, follow his example. Two
+hundred bodies are washed ashore next day.
+
+This incident, unique in Napoleon’s career, a blunder, an act of cruelty,
+a direct disobedience on the part of a subordinate, is a warning symptom.
+But there is a third indication.
+
+A year before, an American inventor had come to Paris, and had offered
+the French admiralty two new inventions: one of them a ship to be
+propelled by steam power instead of by the wind; the other, a submarine
+boat which was to sink ships by the discharge of a kind of torpedo.
+“The man is a charlatan,” was Napoleon’s comment on Fulton, after an
+experiment in which the inventor’s “plunging boat” had secured a partial
+success; and he brushed the whole matter aside. If the American had
+brought him models of a machine gun and a field telegraph, he would have
+opened his purse.
+
+Napoleon failed to conquer England because this was the one matter in
+which he was not confident of victory. Failure was inevitable because
+here, and here only, his self-confidence was at fault; because his belief
+in his own powers was weakened by his want of expert knowledge and by the
+inaccessibility of the foe. By land! Yes, if he could only get at this
+island by land! The thought brings back to his mind the scheme of five
+years ago, when he had planned an attack on India by way of Herat. But
+for such a scheme, quiet and time are needed.
+
+His first aim is to keep the peace, to bring about which he has worked
+with his best powers for years. Immediately after the coronation,
+he writes in this sense to six monarchs, addressing each in a style
+appropriate to his correspondent’s character, thinking out the effect of
+every detail, and considering even the exact working of his signature.
+Note, for instance, how he writes to the shah:
+
+“My reputation reaches so far, that you cannot fail to know who I am and
+what I have done; how I have made France supreme among the nations of
+the West; and how great an interest I take in the rulers of the East....
+Orientals are full of courage and spirit, but their ignorance of certain
+arts and their neglect of military discipline put them at a disadvantage
+in war when they are faced by soldiers from the North.... Write me your
+wishes, and we will renew friendly and commercial relationships....
+Written in my Imperial Palace of the Tuileries ... in the first year of
+my reign. Napoleon.” But, in the heading, the document sets forth a title
+which never existed, a title which Napoleon obviously uses to show the
+ruler of Persia that the writer is the general who made himself famous
+in the Egyptian campaign. The document purports to come from “Bonaparte,
+Emperor of the French.”
+
+On his table, as he signs the letter to the shah, lies a letter to George
+III., though England and France are at war. It is penned with wonderful
+art, and is both moving and politic: “Does not all the blood that is
+being shed without apparent advantage to any one, touch the consciences
+of the governments? I am not ashamed to take the first step. It seems to
+me I have shown the world that I have no dread of war and its caprices.
+My heart, indeed, longs for peace; but war has never dimmed my fame.
+I implore Your Majesty not to deprive yourself of the good fortune of
+restoring peace to the world! Do not leave this precious task to your
+children. Never was there a more favourable opportunity of stilling
+angry passions. If this chance be missed, what will be the outcome of the
+war? During the last ten years, Your Majesty has won more territory and
+more treasure than all Europe possesses. What further could you expect
+from the war?”
+
+How could the writer fail to smile at the realisation that the last
+argument could with equal force be turned against himself? The appeal
+is fruitless, for neither England nor the rulers on the mainland will
+tolerate the new power of France or its upstart emperor. A fourth
+coalition of the princes against the republic is imminent.
+
+During the years of peace, he has been tolerably well content. His
+intimates at Malmaison have often described him as cheerful. Now he
+must take up arms once more, and resign himself to the knowledge that
+“it lies in the nature of things to continue this struggle between the
+past and the future, for the enduring coalition of our enemies makes it
+essential to attack them if we are to escape annihilation.” There is
+the simple truth, spoken without exaggeration and without bitterness.
+If he did not create this nature of things, at any rate he stabilised
+it. Even though the first wars of France in the revolutionary epoch were
+purely defensive, the subsequent campaigns became offensive, and were
+transformed into wars of conquest by the impetus of the people’s army and
+the outstanding genius of its commander.
+
+Nevertheless, when he is thus challenged by opponents whom he has twice
+defeated, can we wonder that concrete plans which have hitherto followed
+his soaring imagination at a respectful distance, should now, likewise,
+begin to outsoar the boundaries of reason? In the opening years of the
+nineteenth century and here in the West, the Emperor might have kept the
+peace for another decade, that in the end he might measure his strength
+against England’s in Asia. But when Europe’s persistent desire for
+revenge upon revolutionary France spurs him into action, he conceives the
+great plan of a unified European realm. Now for the second time (and
+for the last time down to our own days) a great and saving work will be
+attempted, and the attempt will fail.
+
+Thus it is that Napoleon’s crowning political thought issues out of a
+personal defensive. Now, when a new coalition is being formed, and formed
+against him, his ideal takes a fresh shape. For years his inward gaze
+has been concentrated on Alexander; now, instead, he sees the figure
+of Charlemagne. He goes to Aix-la-Chapelle, for a ceremonial visit to
+the tomb of the great Frankish emperor. “There will be no peace in
+Europe,” he says at this time to his trusted companions, “until the whole
+continent is under one suzerain, an emperor whose chief officers are
+kings, whose generals have become monarchs.... Would you tell me that
+this plan is but an imitation of the old imperial constitution? Well,
+there is nothing new under the sun!”
+
+This gradual transformation of his ideal, and the sustenance of the new
+ideal by the historical imagination, has immeasurable consequences.
+Precisely because the adoption of the Carlovingian scheme involves for
+him a renunciation, he storms forward in pursuit of it as if he were
+fighting for a province. The haste with which he tries to reconstruct the
+empire of Charlemagne is new, is symptomatic of a fever which will drive
+him towards new goals before he has reached the old ones.
+
+
+XI
+
+Since the spring, his army has been assembled in Boulogne in readiness
+for the repeatedly postponed landing in England. But in the autumn, when
+the menace of a fresh Austrian attack becomes a certainty, with a change
+of plans which is decided on in a couple of days and is carried out in a
+fortnight, he directs all his forces eastward, and is across the Rhine in
+advance of the news of his first movement. Just before leaving the coast,
+he dictates to Daru the whole scheme of the attack on Austria, “the
+order and length of the marches, the meeting places of the columns, the
+attacks by storm, the movements and the blunders of the enemy—all this
+two months before the events, and at a distance of six or seven hundred
+miles from the scene of action.”
+
+Austria had good reason for taking up arms once more. On the knob of the
+new king of Italy’s sceptre, the lion of Venice was graven. This, and
+the seizure of Genoa, were urgent warnings to the Habsburg ruler not to
+venture across the Alps a third time. Francis must be content to fight
+the matter out on German soil. England was liberal with proffers of
+money; and the inexhaustible forces of Russia were again available for
+the coalition, as they had been when it was victorious during Bonaparte’s
+absence in Egypt. The new tsar was determined to overcome Europe’s old
+prejudice against Russia, and, with an exchange of roles, to draw his
+sword against the tyrant of the West. The secret of Napoleon’s fighting
+technique had been learned, and this time the engineer should be hoist
+with his own petard.
+
+But the soldier of genius can evolve new methods of victory. By forced
+marches he encircles the Austrians before they realise what is afoot,
+encloses them in an iron ring at Ulm, and compels the capitulation of an
+army which has not even a chance to fire a shot. “I have attained my end,
+and have annihilated the Austrian army by simple marches. Now I shall
+turn against the Russians. They are lost.”
+
+The habit of success is making him thrifty of his words. “I had a
+rough time of it, rougher than necessary,” he writes to Josephine;
+“wet through day after day for a week, and my feet very cold.” Among
+the gold-bedizened marshals, who are for the first time parading their
+splendours on foreign soil, stands Napoleon to receive the capitulation
+of Ulm. He wears the uniform of a private soldier, a mantle weather-worn
+at elbows and skirt, a hat without a cockade. His arms are locked behind.
+Of the imperial purple there is no sign.
+
+Once more, as on the evening after Marengo, he offers peace, sends an
+admonitory letter to the defeated Austrian emperor, writing as usual
+with the frankness which is so annoying to the diplomats of Europe: “You
+will understand that it is only right and proper if I take advantage of
+my good luck to impose, as condition of peace, that you should give me
+guarantees against a fourth coalition with England.... Nothing would
+make me happier than to combine the tranquillity of my people with your
+friendship, upon which I venture to make a claim, despite the number and
+strength of my enemies in your entourage.” At the same time, he marches
+on Vienna.
+
+Then, while he is advancing at topmost speed, comes a blow. He learns
+that two days after his victory on land had come the sea-fight of
+Trafalgar, when England had almost annihilated the French fleet. Eighteen
+ships have been lost; Nelson is dead; the French admiral is a prisoner.
+Is this another disastrous hour, like the one when the news of Aboukir
+reached him in the desert? Courage! Then the situation was a hundredfold
+more difficult. We are not now cut off from Paris by the sea; we need
+no ships. With redoubled speed he marches on Vienna, which the enemy
+surrenders without a blow.
+
+But the tidings of Trafalgar have renewed Francis’ fixity of purpose,
+and have made Alexander firmer than ever. Both try to win over Prussia,
+which hesitates, and protracts negotiations. Napoleon vainly tempts
+the tsar with the promise of Turkey. In Brünn there is a great game of
+hide-and-seek, in which each power tries to keep the others in suspense
+and is disavowed by its own plenipotentiaries. The Emperor is the only
+ruler who improvises a political idea. Two days before the decisive
+battle, for which preparations are already being made, he writes to
+Talleyrand, who is negotiating in Brünn:
+
+“I should have no serious objection to handing over Venice to the elector
+of Salzburg, and Salzburg to the house of Austria. I shall take Verona
+... for the kingdom of Italy.... The elector can call himself king of
+Venice if he has a fancy that way.
+
+“The electorate of Bavaria would become a monarchy.... I will give
+back the artillery, the magazines, and the fortresses, and they must
+pay me five millions.... To-morrow, I think, we shall have a pretty
+big battle with the Russians. I have done my utmost to avoid it, for
+it is only useless bloodshed. I have exchanged a few letters with the
+tsar, and learn from what he writes that he is a good fellow, with bad
+counsellors.... Write to Paris, but don’t say anything about the battle,
+for that would make my wife anxious. You don’t need to worry. I am in a
+very strong position here, and my only regret is for the almost needless
+bloodshed which the battle will cost.... You write home for me; I have
+been in camp among my grenadiers for the last four days, and have to
+write on my knees, so I can’t manage many letters.”
+
+Such is the Emperor’s mood just before the most famous of his victories.
+While he is studying his maps, noting the name of every Moravian village,
+the width of every stream, and the condition of every road, and while he
+does his best to keep himself warm by the camp-fire, he is thinking of
+the ministers in Paris who are awaiting his commands, and of his wife
+who may be anxious. In the same half hour, he drafts a new programme
+for the partition of four or five States, talks of new crowns, of war
+indemnities, and of handing over fortresses. Twice his laments for the
+useless bloodshed light up the written page like the rising sun of one of
+these December days. Need we be surprised that such a man conquers the
+legitimate princes, who at this moment are dining in their palaces?
+
+In the evening, when he learned the enemy’s movements, he clapped his
+hands, and, “trembling with joy” (the words are his adjutant’s), said:
+“They are walking into the trap! They are delivering themselves into my
+hands! By to-morrow evening, their army will be annihilated!”
+
+Then he sits down with his staff to supper in a peasant’s hut, and,
+an unusual thing with him, remains at table for some time after his
+meal, emotioned and musing. He goes on to speak at considerable length
+concerning the nature of tragedy. From this, he passes to Egypt: “If I
+had taken Acre, I should have donned a turban, have clad my soldiers in
+wide Turkish trousers. But only in the utmost need should I have exposed
+my Frenchmen to serious danger; I should have made of them a corps of
+immortals, the Holy Battalion. I should have fought the war with the
+Turks to a finish by the use of Arab, Greek, and Armenian levies. I
+should have won a great battle at Issus, instead of in Moravia, should
+have become Emperor of the East, and should have made my way back to
+Paris through Constantinople.” The concluding words, so one who heard
+the soliloquy tells us, were accompanied with a smile, as if to show his
+awareness that he was being carried away by a rapturous dream.
+
+But is not the scene we are describing a dream? Must we really and
+truly believe that, little more than a century ago, a mortal man, the
+understudy of a demigod, stormed across modern Europe and remoulded it
+in accordance with his will? Did it not all happen in the Homeric age,
+when two princes in single combat would settle the fate of generations?
+Or, perhaps, he is a character in a fairy-tale, this man in the middle
+thirties, a little fellow, seated in a wattle-and-dab hut, on an unknown
+plain. He wears a greasy coat, a clammy shirt; stuffs potatoes and onions
+into his hungry mouth. Next day, by this one battle, he will renew the
+glories of Charlemagne, dead a thousand years since. Now, over night, his
+unbridled imagination wanders across Asiatic deserts, where a stone-heap
+successfully resisted him; dwells on that old frustrated plan; while his
+errant thoughts follow the wraith of the Macedonian to the Ganges.
+
+Day dawns. A year ago, on the altar steps in Notre Dame, he had crowned
+himself with the circlet of golden laurels. In a fervent proclamation,
+he reminds his soldiers of that day, and concludes with the promise that
+for this once he will keep out of the firing line.
+
+Never before has history recorded such words uttered by a commander. They
+have always been eager to declare their determination to defy death in
+the forefront of the battle. Napoleon, whose grenadiers have seen him
+in twenty fights and regard him as a heavenborn leader, can venture to
+tell his men that he will reward their valour by being careful of his own
+safety.
+
+Then the Emperor defeats both his enemies, and makes famous for a
+thousand years an out-of-the-way spot of which no one had ever heard
+before—the plain of Austerlitz.
+
+“Soldiers,” he says next day to the victors, “I am pleased with you....
+Name your children after me, and if one of them should prove worthy of
+us, I will make him my own son and appoint him my successor!” That is the
+emotional note he keeps for the army. To his wife, he writes as simply as
+possible: “I have beaten the Russian and Austrian armies. Rather tired,
+after a week in the open, when the nights have been chilly. To-night I
+shall sleep in a bed, in Prince Kaunitz’ fine castle. I’m wearing a clean
+shirt, the first time for a week.... I hope to get two or three hours’
+sleep.”
+
+Quite a simple matter, these momentous happenings! It is but a new
+song in the rhapsody when, a day later, Emperor Francis comes to Count
+Kaunitz’ castle, to beg for an interview with the little Corsican
+lieutenant. But the bird has flown. When the two men meet at length,
+it is in a windmill. Napoleon greets his brother emperor courteously,
+saying: “I regret, Sire, that I must receive you here, in the only palace
+I have entered for two months.” What self-confidence in the soldier
+interviewing the man born in the purple; what subtle mockery in the mouth
+of one who knows that in his distant capital, at news of his splendid
+victory, flags will soon wave and songs resound.
+
+But the distinguished guest, a man of sound sense and good breeding,
+knows how to parry the thrust: “Your present quarters are so profitable
+to you, Sire, that I think they cannot fail to please you.” Both smile;
+and unobtrusively they eye one another up and down, for, though they have
+fought for a decade, they have never met. Of the same age, they had both
+reached power at twenty-six or thereabouts, though in such different
+ways; and neither of them can foresee how close Napoleon’s will-to-peace
+is one day to bring them, or how widely Francis’ will-to-revenge will
+ultimately sever them.
+
+“Yesterday I had the German emperor in camp with me and we had two
+hours’ talk.... He threw himself on my generosity. But I took good
+care of myself, as I am used to doing.... We have agreed to make peace
+promptly.... The battle of Austerlitz is the finest of all I have fought.
+We have taken forty-five regimental colours, more than one hundred and
+fifty guns, the flag of the Russian guard, twenty generals, and thirty
+thousand prisoners in all. More than twenty thousand killed—a ghastly
+sight!” Did the jubilant outburst of a conqueror ever come to a stranger
+close? He luxuriates in the figures of his gains, and then, suddenly, the
+corpses of the dead rise before his eyes! Henceforward, such references
+become frequent; he writes in simple and heartfelt words about bloodshed.
+
+In the peace negotiations, the minister has a contest with his master.
+The day after Austerlitz, Talleyrand writes to the Emperor: “How easy
+would it be, now, to destroy the Habsburgs once for all. But it would
+suit our book better to strengthen them, to give them a fixed place in
+France’s system!” Napoleon, however, enforces the peace of Pressburg, in
+which the old German empire is shattered into fragments, while Austria
+vanishes from Germany and Italy. What is in the conqueror’s mind?
+
+Europe! A league of States under French hegemony. Russia is Asia; England
+is detached, an island. The Continent must be unified, must consist
+of middle-sized and small powers overshadowed by the eagles of France,
+and democratically ranged side by side. Now, after Austerlitz, the new
+thought takes shape. The victory has put it within his power to realise
+the greatest aim of a European, the unification of Europe.
+
+He did not set out towards this goal. It was a gradual growth, the
+fruit of circumstances. He did not deliberately provoke the wars that
+were fought when the new idea was in its inception. Since Marengo, his
+chief wish has been for peace. At that time, Austria had been loath to
+make peace. The Austrian renewal of the attack was a logical outcome of
+legitimist theory, for Habsburg and the revolution could not jointly
+rule Europe. Austerlitz had settled the dispute once more. Now it had
+become possible to reunite Charlemagne’s resurrected Europe. But neither
+the kings and emperors (who were only beaten, not convinced), nor he
+himself (who had gained all by the sword and not by persuasion), could
+march along the way of the spirit towards the unification of Europe. The
+determinisms of his own past left Napoleon no option but to create his
+United States of Europe by force. Not till ten years later did he come to
+see that he had been seeking to achieve a great end by false means.
+
+When he came to understand this, it was too late; he was impotent, in the
+great epilogue of his exile.
+
+
+XII
+
+“Tell the pope that I am keeping my eyes open; tell him that I am
+Charlemagne, the Sword of the Church, his Emperor, and as such I expect
+to be treated.”
+
+Thus threateningly he writes to Rome. If he must bow before this
+mole-hill, at least he will enforce obedience. His demeanour is infused
+with a new tone since Austerlitz and Pressburg. From conquered Austria,
+he writes in a dictatorial style which neither he nor Europe has
+hitherto known. The queen of Naples, despite his yearlong warnings, has
+permitted English ships to anchor in the bay. An army order is issued:
+“The Bourbon dynasty has ceased to reign in Naples.” Simultaneously, he
+writes to Brother Joseph: “I think I have already told you that I intend
+the kingdom of Naples to accrue to my family, so that, like Switzerland,
+Holland, Italy, and the three German kingdoms, it may belong to my
+federated States or, rather, to the French Empire.”
+
+Henceforward he endeavours to make the plan a reality, the plan whereby
+Europe shall be governed by one emperor with kings as vassals. Paris,
+which now acclaims the conqueror, shall be the capital city of the
+Continent. The Emperor has, in the best sense of the term, “come home
+again.” He exclaims: “This campaign has made me fat! I believe that if
+all the princes of Europe were to ally themselves against me, I should
+develop an absurdly wide paunch!” In such a mood does he hurl himself
+from recent events into new adventures and allow them to run their course.
+
+During the next few months he organises, from Paris, the following
+realms: Joseph becomes king of Naples; the princes of Bavaria and
+Württemberg are turned into kings; Baden is changed into a grand duchy;
+Eugene weds a daughter of the House of Wittelsbach; a Badenese hereditary
+prince marries a niece of Josephine’s; a Württemberg princess is reserved
+for his youngest brother; sixteen States of southern and western Germany
+are joined together to form the Confederation of the Rhine, vassals of
+the Emperor, liable for the payment of tribute and the provision of
+troops, and the sixteen German princes hasten to Paris to vow allegiance,
+hoping to get a share for themselves in the great mart; a dozen small
+principalities are wiped out; imperial fiefs are established for
+Talleyrand, Berthier, and Bernadotte.
+
+Meanwhile Napoleon announces, curtly and conclusively: “Holland has no
+executive. She must have one. I will give her Prince Louis. We will
+frame a treaty.... For me the whole matter is settled: either thus, or
+annexation to France.... Not a minute must be lost.” Why “not a minute”?
+Holland has been dependent for years; she only needs a crowned vassal;
+her dependence is to be made clearer by the phrasing, “Napoleon bestows
+his brother on Holland.” The Dutch object? Then they shall be gobbled up;
+the choice is quickly made. Louis does not care for the honour; climate
+bad; health weak? “It is better to die sitting on a throne, than to live
+a mere prince in France.” Hortense must become a queen, Josephine is
+aglow for the consummation; the Dutch must present a solemn petition, and
+must be graciously received by the Emperor in the Tuileries. But Napoleon
+is so overcome by the irony of the situation, he is so contemptuous, that
+after the audience he cannot resist telling his little nephew (son of the
+new king of Holland), in front of the ladies of the court, the fable of
+the frogs who wanted a king.
+
+What next? His sisters are complaining and intriguing. Are there no more
+kingdoms available? The pity of it. Oh well, a few grand duchies must be
+vacated! Through Murat’s promotion, Caroline becomes grand duchess of
+Cleves; Elise is made grand duchess of Tuscany; and the lovely Pauline
+Borghese weeps because she is nothing more than princess of Guastalla.
+“Why, it’s no more than a village! And I’m to be princess of that?”
+Still, she soon finds consolation in an ocean of diamonds and lovers.
+
+None of the clan are equal to the occasion. King Joseph, in his first
+proclamation, compares the love of his subjects (who have never clapped
+eyes on him till yesterday) towards himself with the love of the French
+towards their emperor. He covers himself with ridicule, and makes the
+Emperor furious. King Louis utters piteous sighs because the war with
+England forces him to interfere with “his country’s” trade; and he sends,
+instead of troops, long letters to the Emperor filled with complaints.
+“Really, you are throwing unnecessary burdens upon me,” replies Napoleon,
+in a hectoring tone. “It is all due to your narrow-mindedness and
+your lack of interest.... I wish you were not always whining!... Leave
+wailing and complaining to women; a man must be determined.... You are
+governing far too gently. You allow me to bear the full brunt of the war
+expenses.... See to it that you raise an army of thirty thousand men. You
+only think of yourself; that is neither good nor magnanimous.... More
+energy!”
+
+Elise, who dominates her husband, gives a constitution to Tuscany, holds
+reviews of the troops, changes her favourites every quarter, and amuses
+Napoleon by an assumption of the imperial style: “My people is content;
+the opposition is crushed; your commands, Sire, have been carried out. I
+am much pleased with the Senate; it is showing deference to my authority.”
+
+Murat, for excess of zeal, draws upon himself a reprimand phrased with
+Napoleon’s customary bluntness: “I have seen decrees issued by yourself
+which are quite senseless. You seem to have lost your reason!... All you
+appear to have in mind is to reign and nothing more!”
+
+Pauline, however, is immortalised by Canova, in a work which outlasts all
+the realms Napoleon has set up.
+
+Young Jerome, who has gone to America in his capacity of midshipman,
+has meanwhile married a lady of the middle class without consulting his
+family. The Emperor, who has more crowns to dispose of than siblings to
+give them to, and cannot spare any of his brothers, is outraged by this
+marriage. He pursuades his mother to utter a prohibition. When the young
+man’s ship puts in to Lisbon, the vessel is surrounded; Jerome alone is
+permitted to land. Bidding the lady farewell, the youthful husband swears
+everlasting troth; he travels alone to Paris; is received by the Emperor
+with threats and lures; at length he gives up his spouse for the sake
+of princely honours and a post as admiral; maybe, even, he will become
+a king. The wife fruitlessly endeavours to land on the Continent; she
+journeys to England, where she brings a child into the world. There she
+meets Lucien, her companion in misfortune. He has been well received by
+the English, and settles in the island realm with his wife and children.
+He writes poetry. An epic. What is it called?
+
+_Charlemagne._
+
+The only member of the family who is active, loyal, and, for the most
+part, judicious in his undertakings is Napoleon’s step-son Eugene. The
+Emperor loves him, publicly praises his work whenever possible, and now,
+when Eugene becomes viceroy of Italy and spouse of the Bavarian Princess,
+Napoleon writes: “You are working too hard, dear son. That is all very
+well for yourself, but you have a young wife who has hopes.... Why do
+you not go once a week to the theatre and occupy the royal box?... One
+can accomplish much business in a short time. I am leading the same kind
+of life as yourself, but my wife is getting on in years—also I have
+more business to deal with!” To his step-daughter-in-law, from whom he
+categorically demands a male heir (seeing that Hortense’s son has but
+one life, and the dynasty needs additional safeguards!), he writes:
+“Do not give us a daughter, please! Here is a recipe for you: drink
+some undiluted wine, daily—only you’ll never believe me!” When, in his
+despite, she gives birth to a daughter, he says: “If one begins with a
+daughter, one is destined to have a dozen children!”
+
+How marvellously Napoleon, the great stylist, can accommodate his tone to
+every circumstance—to inspire dread or to flatter, to praise, to spur on,
+to punish, or to persuade. He pours this out upon a family which is ever
+acting in opposition to him, and expends himself thus in the interludes
+of all his other business.
+
+The Emperor’s mother lives in Paris, as retired a life as her son will
+allow. She is watchful and conciliatory. He has installed her in the
+Trianon; gives her one million a year. No one understands why she is
+so thrifty. Some use the word “miserly.” But she maintains that “we
+Corsicans have experienced many revolutions; all this may come to an
+end; what will then happen to my children? It is better that they should
+come to their mother, than go to strangers who might leave them in the
+lurch.” From time to time she holds a reception, where she carries
+herself with natural dignity, and far more regally than many of her
+children who wear the royal crown. If any one haggles as to the price
+of the beads with which she works, she smiles and says: “No, you can’t
+impose upon me. I do not play the princess as my daughters do.” Though
+she is the mother of the Emperor, and of kings and princes, she laments
+that not a single trustworthy person is in her immediate entourage. She
+only unbends over a game of reversi with old friends of hers; or when she
+chats of an evening with her faithful servant, discussing “the happy days
+gone by.... They all say that I am the happiest of mothers. In truth I am
+always full of worry. Every news item makes me tremble lest the Emperor
+lie dead upon the battle-field.”
+
+On Sundays, following the tradition of her patrician ancestors, she
+dines with her children at the Tuileries. She does not invariably obey
+the Emperor; and when he constrains her, she is resentful. No doubt
+he is aware that she is too proud to accept the relationship which
+circumstances have established between them; and whenever he looks in the
+mirror, he cannot fail to see his increasing personal resemblance to his
+mother, in forehead, mouth, eyes, and hands. Sometimes he teases her:
+
+“Do you find life at court tedious? Look at your daughters! Why do you
+hoard your money? You ought to spend freely!”
+
+“You’d better allow me two millions instead of one, if that is what you
+want. But it’s my nature to be thrifty.”
+
+She has as keen an eye for the detection of flatterers as Napoleon
+himself, and gently warns him against them from time to time. Though
+she never asks anything for herself, she will often enough beg him to
+help the numerous Corsicans who come to visit her, and thus does her
+best for whilom family friends. Once, indeed, and late in the day,
+she puts in a plea for something she has much at heart. She would like
+Ajaccio to become the capital of Corsica, instead of Corte. A stirring of
+family pride! The Emperor issues a decree to this effect, understanding
+perfectly well what moves her, and says: “My mother was born to reign
+over a kingdom.”
+
+But she cannot get him to do anything for Lucien. “I love him more than
+all the others,” she says, “because he’s not been so lucky.” The Emperor
+is adamant: “No feelings of affection can weigh against reasons of State.
+I will only accept as relatives, those who serve me. He who does not soar
+with me, ceases to belong to my family.”
+
+
+XIII
+
+At Paris, in his study, Napoleon has a silent witness of his activities;
+a bronze bust of Frederick the Great.
+
+He had grown up in the days when the renown of the last of the famous
+commanders was still fresh; and, indeed, he had become lieutenant before
+the king died. Like all the generals of the day, in the art of war he was
+a disciple of Frederick. He had not yet come into personal contact with
+the Prussian army, but he still had considerable respect for it, although
+Frederick’s immediate successor had won no laurels against the soldiers
+of France. He knew Frederick William III. to be foolish and weak; and
+if, none the less, he tried to induce the Prussian ruler to enter into
+an alliance, and hoped to turn Prussia’s antagonism towards Austria and
+Russia to his own uses, it was because he continued to entertain an
+unavowed respect for the only foreign army in Europe which had covered
+itself with glory during the eighteenth century. But when Prussia
+showed him, not her strongest side, the military, but her weakest, the
+political, his respect waned.
+
+In the previous year, before Austerlitz, he had offered Frederick
+William an alliance. After Trafalgar, when Francis and Alexander were
+courting Prussia, and after Austerlitz, when the indications were in
+favour of France, the weakling monarch continued to vacillate, always
+hoping to better his position by neutrality. Then, when the Emperor was
+stronger than ever before, the Prussian ruler seized the first pretext
+for making warlike preparations against France. Had not Napoleon violated
+Prussian neutrality last year by marching through Ansbach?
+
+What has really decided the king’s attitude is the mood of the democrats,
+in conjunction with his dread of mortified national pride, and, in
+especial, with his uncertainty as to the loyalty of some of his bellicose
+generals. In Nuremberg, a bookseller had been tried by court martial and
+shot for publishing a lampoon against the French army and circulating
+it in places which, in accordance with the terms of the treaty, were
+legitimately occupied by French troops. The decision of the court was
+formally just; but the indignation it aroused, being moral, was juster.
+The Emperor realised this, and wanted to avoid war. He proposed a mutual
+withdrawal of troops. Through the mouth of his envoy, he explained that
+Frederick William had only to say whether the presence of French soldiers
+in Westphalia annoyed him. Then he wrote personally to the king: “I hold
+unalterably to our alliance.... But if your answer shows me that on your
+side you repudiate this alliance, and put your trust solely in the power
+of arms, then indeed I shall be compelled to make war. Nevertheless,
+battles and victories notwithstanding, my feelings will remain unchanged.
+Since I regard this war as a wicked one, I shall, even then, propose
+peace.”
+
+In private, however, with mingled feelings of anger and contempt, he says
+hard things about Prussia. He cannot believe that country to be so mad as
+it seems. “Its cabinet is despicable; its sovereign a weakling; its court
+ruled by young officers who will risk anything.”
+
+A fortnight before the outbreak of war, he still finds it impossible to
+believe in its coming.
+
+He is mistaken. The men of noble birth who officer the Prussian army,
+the men who, under Frederick the Great, defeated France, and were
+subsequently defeated by France, want to rehabilitate themselves. The
+middle classes are inspired with ardent nationalist sentiments. The
+Prussians are ready to “risk anything”; their eyes are fixed on a
+protectress in whom they trust. The queen of Prussia is a passionate
+advocate of war, for the tsar is now allied with Prussia, and during his
+stay in Berlin she has recognised in him the manliness that is lacking in
+her husband. After Austerlitz, Alexander had promptly withdrawn into his
+own realm, to await a more favourable opportunity. Now the opportunity
+had come.
+
+We learn from Talleyrand that Napoleon was full of secret disquietude at
+having to draw the sword once more. He had been dazzled by the feats of
+the great Frederick’s soldiers. Never before had he fought against an
+army famous in story. “I fancy we shall find them tougher metal than the
+Austrians.” All the more reason for getting quickly across the Rhine! A
+week after the beginning of the advance, he gains his first victory. At
+Saalfeld, the best of the Prussians fell, Prince Louis Ferdinand, the
+first and finest blossom shattered in the first storm.
+
+Confusion prevails among the Prussians, and the king contributes to its
+spread. General Scharnhorst had advised him to attack two weeks earlier,
+but the irresolute ruler had waited for the French offensive. The duke of
+Brunswick is commander-in-chief; but instead of leaving the management
+of the campaign to this officer, at the last moment the king comes to
+the fighting front. “We don’t know whether the headquarters should be
+called royal or ducal.” The duke obeys the king when he ought to command.
+Questions of precedence necessitate the division of the forces into
+three army corps, for Prince Hohenlohe, who is a reigning prince, cannot
+possibly fight under a duke. Once more the enemy holds out the hand
+of friendship. Two days before the main battle, and while confident of
+victory, Napoleon writes:
+
+“I do not wish to derive any advantage from the folly of your advisers,
+whose blunders in statesmanship amaze Europe.... Well, we are at
+war.... But why should we lead our subjects to slaughter one another?
+I care nothing for a victory that is bought with the lives of many of
+my children. If I were at the beginning of my career, and had reason
+to dread misadventure in battle, I should have no right to use such
+language. But, Sire, you will be defeated. You will sacrifice the
+quiet of your days and the lives of your subjects without the smallest
+justification.... I have nothing to gain from Your Majesty; I do not
+want and never have wanted anything from you. This war is unwise! I know
+that my letter may wound your royal sensibilities, but the circumstances
+make bluntness essential. I am telling you what I really think....
+Restore peace to yourself and your territories. Even if I could never
+be your ally, you will always find in me a man, ... whose greatest wish
+it is never to shed blood by making war with princes who are not the
+adversaries of his industry, his commerce, and his policy.”
+
+Louise, who has followed her husband to the front, is a woman with more
+peaceful instincts than is pleasing to the ambition of the generals on
+the headquarters staff. When the letter is read, however, she agrees
+with their scornful view that Napoleon writes as he does because he is
+afraid of a catastrophe to himself. Is she, then, unable to realise that
+destiny has placed her among these men to-day, that she may influence
+her weak-willed husband in the direction of a humane settlement of the
+dispute? She cannot see it! Napoleon is nothing but “an infernal monster
+risen out of the mire,” and to-morrow he must fall!
+
+“My affairs march very well,” writes this monster, meanwhile, to his
+wife. “Everything is going just as I should like. The king and the
+queen are in Erfurt. If they want to see a battle, they will have this
+gruesome delight. I feel splendid. Although I am travelling from eighty
+to a hundred miles a day, I have put on weight. I go to bed at eight in
+the evening, get up at midnight, and remember when I do so that you have
+not yet retired to rest.” The last night before the battle he refuses to
+go to bed. At three in the morning, one of his officers urges him to take
+a nap, but he exclaims: “Impossible! I have my plans here” (he touches
+his forehead), “but nothing yet in my maps!” Then he quickly explains
+the whole plan. “Do you understand?... To horse with you and find me a
+place from which I can get a commanding view of the battle-field. I shall
+be there at six.” Then he throws himself on the camp-bed, and instantly
+falls asleep.
+
+In the course of that night, the Prussian headquarters staff is informed
+by its scouts that remarkable movements are going on among the French
+troops. Oh, well, to-morrow will be time enough to discuss the matter!
+But before the day dawns, the Emperor has ridden along the front, has
+fired his guard with enthusiasm, has recalled the day of Austerlitz.
+
+He defeats the Prussians near Jena, while simultaneously Davoust is
+routing a superior force of the enemy at Auerstädt.
+
+When the valiant duke of Brunswick is fatally wounded, no one ventures to
+take over the command. They all lose their heads, and what is left of the
+army of the great Frederick flees in disorder through Saxony eastward.
+
+“Chère amie, I did some fine manœuvring against the Prussians, and won
+a great victory yesterday. Twenty thousand prisoners, and we took about
+a hundred cannon and colours.... Have been camping here for a couple of
+days. I’m feeling splendid. Farewell. Take good care of yourself, and
+love me.”
+
+In Weimar, he meets the reigning duchess. Charles Augustus, the duke,
+has been in a warlike frame of mind for the last twenty years. He is
+Prussophil, and, in defiance of advice, has joined issue with the
+Emperor. Now, as Prussian general, he is in full flight after the
+disaster at Jena. No one knows his whereabouts. The court has also fled
+from Weimar. Only the duchess and her minister, Goethe, remain behind.
+When the Emperor sees the lady for the first time, he says: “I am sorry
+for you! How could the duke ...!” But to his amazement (for he is always
+against women’s rule—in especial, when the woman happens to be a German)
+the duchess answers him with so much clarity, simplicity, and dignity,
+explains the duke’s friendship with Prussia in so steadfast a manner,
+that he is shaken, behaves courteously, returns in the evening in order
+to have a long talk with her, and, after having vowed the annihilation of
+her dynasty, promises her that nothing shall be done to injure the duchy.
+Why?
+
+Because this woman has never interfered in politics, has not now affected
+a knowledge she does not possess, but in simple camaraderie has spoken
+on behalf of her absent husband, and with princely demeanour has pleaded
+for her country. She has made use neither of cajolery nor anger, but has
+kept the golden mean between pride and deference becoming to a conquered
+monarch. Years afterwards, the Emperor remembered this woman who by her
+noble bearing had saved her country and her dynasty.
+
+In Berlin, he meets another woman. Count Hatzfeld, who has been
+negotiating with the conqueror on behalf of Berlin, writes indiscreetly
+to one of the discredited generals, and gives him details concerning the
+strength of the French troops. His letter is intercepted. The Emperor, in
+a rage, declares he is to be shot as a spy. Berthier is depressed by the
+command; Rapp endeavours to soften Napoleon. Countess Hatzfeld is brought
+to see him; she falls at his feet. He invites her to Potsdam: “When I
+showed her the count’s letter she answered me guilelessly, with a sob,
+and with deep emotion: ‘Yes, that is certainly his handwriting.’ As she
+read the document the tone of her voice moved me to my innermost being.
+I pitied her. You see,” he concludes his report to Josephine, “I love
+good, simple, and gentle women.”
+
+Love? There stands the man of might; the countess is naught to him as far
+as her womanhood goes; hardly has he noticed her figure or her dress. But
+these natural passions, womanly pleadings, tears, and silences, move him
+deeply. He throws the letter into the fire: “The proof I had has been
+burned. Your husband is safe.”
+
+Thus does Napoleon the Conqueror deal with two German women whose
+husbands have fought against him. He deals leniently with them because
+their conduct appeals to his heart.
+
+He dislikes Queen Louise. A politician, that woman, who has driven her
+country and her consort into a disastrous enterprise, who has egged this
+quiet-loving man into war when he could have had peace with honour.
+Napoleon execrates such a woman. Since she seizes every opportunity to
+spit fire at him, he determines to strip her of all her womanly dignity.
+He jeers at her in official bulletins: “She is a woman with beautiful
+features but little brain.... She must be terribly tortured by pangs
+of conscience for all the suffering she has brought upon her country.
+Her husband is a man of honour who desired happiness and peace for his
+people.”
+
+He has made a triumphal entry into Berlin. His suite is brilliantly
+dressed, but he is as simply clad as ever, and his hat is adorned with
+a cockade worth about a penny. Nothing interests him so keenly as Sans
+Souci. He holds the sword of the great Frederick in his hands, and takes
+it away as a trophy more priceless than any other he could ever find in
+his whole life. He would not exchange it for the throne of Prussia. But
+he heartily despises Frederick’s descendants, and publicly attacks the
+queen:
+
+“In the queen’s rooms was found the tsar’s picture, which he himself had
+given her. Also there was her correspondence with the king.... These
+documents go to prove how unhappy those princes can be who permit their
+wives to interfere in affairs of State. Notes and State papers reeked of
+musk, and lay beneath ribbons and laces and other fal-lals of the toilet.”
+
+An unworthy tone! He seems to have forgotten the patriotic impulse of
+the queen. If, however, we compare these taunts with what the best and
+greatest of contemporary Prussian statesmen, the non-Prussian Baron vom
+Stein, wrote about Queen Louise, we can understand the Emperor’s humour,
+though hardly excuse it.
+
+Serious considerations restrain him from destroying the house of
+Hohenzollern, though he had already drafted a decree to dethrone the
+king. Napoleon has to bear the tsar in mind. In Berlin he thinks in
+terms of Europe as a whole: “On the Elbe and on the Oder we have won our
+India, our Spanish colonies, and our Cape of Good Hope.” The grandiose
+words as yet only announce the start of the voyage; but with mighty
+strokes of the oar he is now to round the cape of his hopes. In the
+castle at Charlottenburg he dictates the greatest, most un-bloody, and
+most dangerous of all his declarations of war: Charlemagne closes all the
+harbours of Europe against English ships. If the island cannot be reached
+by his sword? Well, henceforward, Europe shall be placed out of her
+reach! All merchandise, parcels, postal communications, etc., from and to
+England and her colonies are to be held up; every Englishman at large on
+the Continent is now a prisoner of war.
+
+How is the carrying-out of the scheme to be supervised? Hitherto, action
+has always followed close upon the heels of thought. Now, he has to
+make treaties with various States, and, first of all, with Russia and
+Austria. Austria has fragments of the sometime realm of Poland within
+her frontiers; but Russia wants them for herself; Poland, tossed between
+the two, pays allegiance to neither. As to a god, the Poles turn to the
+Emperor. He, the champion of the freedom of the peoples, must come to
+their aid and free them. What is to be done? How does Napoleon solve the
+Polish problem?
+
+“Shall I set up the throne of Poland anew, and thus restore a great
+nation to life? God alone, who has the fashioning of all things in his
+hands, can solve this riddle.” Words of Delphic cunning, which he sends
+forth throughout Poland. God alone sees the smile with which he signs
+the proclamation! In addition he takes three measures. He demands that
+the Poles shall provide troops, for “not until you have an army of forty
+thousand men will you be worthy of the name of Nation.” Next he proposes
+to the Austrians an exchange of Galicia for Prussian Silesia. But the
+real key to the Polish problem he fishes out of the Bosphorus, for he
+tells the sultan to drive the Russians out of Moldavia, and to meet him,
+the Emperor, on the Dniester; thereby he hopes to bind, not only Russia,
+but also the trembling Austria, to the lower Danube.
+
+There he sits in Sans Souci, the ancient candelabra in Frederick’s study
+scintillate over his head, Voltaire’s picture smiles sideways, through
+the wraith, at his great fellow-countryman. He sits alone at his game of
+chess, calculates the moves of his unseen opponent, his glance takes in
+wider and wider circles; suddenly the traits of his new ancestor suffer a
+change, the big blond beard vanishes, the nose is flatter, the eyes lose
+some of their confident glance, then become bolder again: instead of the
+great Charles, he is facing the great Alexander. Yes, now, indeed, he
+will conquer England in India! World dominion hovers before his eyes.
+
+A new opponent leaps on to the board. Couriers bring the news of a revolt
+in Spain. He pales. The whole game is imperilled. Once more Napoleon sees
+clearly that he who would vanquish England must gain Russia’s friendship.
+But in order to conquer Russia or to win her over to his side, he needs a
+fulcrum. He has one ready to hand: Poland in revolt. Napoleon journeys to
+Warsaw.
+
+While in imagination he had, during these weeks, been weighing the fate
+of continents, his heart had felt lonely. Yet he did not trouble himself
+about women. Only to his wife did he write gallant things: “I love you,
+and long for you.... These Polish women [in Posen] are all Frenchwomen in
+their hearts. But for me there is only one woman. Do you know who she is?
+I would tell you what she is like, only I should have to flatter her too
+much, so that you could recognise yourself in the description. Seriously,
+my heart can say naught but good of her. Oh, these long nights, all
+alone!”
+
+Josephine, with the keenness of a foxhound, senses a rival under these
+cajoleries. But she has no reason, as yet, to be jealous, or to make so
+long a journey. He answers her that “the agitation of your letter tells
+me that you beautiful women know of no limits to your powers. What you
+wish must come to pass. I, on the other hand, recognise that I am the
+most enslaved of men. My master has no mercy on me, for my master is the
+nature of things.”
+
+Hardly has he finished touching upon these airy trifles in weighty
+words, when a courier brings him tidings of the great consequences of a
+trifling affair: the beauty to whom Caroline had introduced him in the
+previous winter, and who was expecting a child before he went away, has
+been confined. At last! It is then proved that he does not lack the power
+which Dame Nature grants to other men! A great gift from above. A boy. He
+turns to his intimate and exclaims with the ingenuous delight of a youth:
+“Duroc! I’ve got a son!”
+
+
+XIV
+
+The brilliantly lighted ball-room forms a background where Poland
+displays her greatest beauty and her most precious jewels. This is the
+evening of evenings. In the old palace of Poland’s kings at Warsaw, the
+Emperor of the French is to be shown the calibre of the nation that has
+been suffering so long. Will he admire the national dance, its music and
+its figures? Will the eyes of the ladies ravish him, those eyes which are
+pools of Slavic melancholy? Will the flattery of the speeches or the
+idolising comparisons appearing in the newspapers make his heart as wax?
+Such, according to the sanguine, are the questions upon which hang the
+fate of the nation. The procession has passed by; he has spoken to many
+in cheerful vein; now he is standing in a recess, dividing his attention
+between his interlocutor and the dancers. He is thinking of Paris, where,
+for seven years, he has never failed to be in January.
+
+[Illustration: Bonaparte in 1802, as First Consul. Engraving by Alexandre
+Tardieu. After a drawing by Jean Baptiste Isabey.]
+
+Suddenly his gaze is focused on a special point, and he forgets to carry
+on the conversation. A hundred watchful eyes follow the glance of the
+huntsman. Who is the quarry? A little later he approaches a group, asks
+for the names of those composing it, and smilingly, with a courtliness of
+manner rarely shown by him on public occasions, he draws the lady of his
+choice out of the circle of her companions. She is a gentle, fair-haired
+beauty, dainty and small, has blue eyes, appears to be of a yielding
+disposition, and is eighteen years of age. She is simpler in her dress
+than any of the others, and her behaviour is correspondingly quiet and
+without display or the lures of coquetry. The Emperor chooses her as
+partner in a contra-dance, delights in her grace and her lovely voice,
+finds her broken French bewitching. While she smiles and is covered with
+confusion, her name is whispered from room to room throughout the palace:
+Countess Walewska.
+
+“Who is she?” asks Napoleon later of his friend Duroc. She is the
+daughter of an ancient line, the family so impoverished that the lady has
+been married off to a wealthy old count whose youngest grandchild is ten
+years older than the new wife.
+
+“I had eyes only for you,” he writes to the countess next day. “I admired
+only you, and longed to be with you alone. Send me an answer quickly, in
+order that the fire which is consuming me may be appeased. N.” But the
+messenger, Duroc, returns with neither answer nor tidings of any sort.
+The Emperor is nonplussed. Something quite new. Twelve years ago the
+brigadier general had had such a rebuff. But Napoleon, never. Have not
+all women, whether princesses or actresses, have not all the beauties,
+invariably come to him at his slightest nod of invitation? The more
+enchanting, therefore, is this lady who shrinks back so virginally from
+the unveiled desire of a man.
+
+“Have I displeased you? I hoped the opposite. Or has your first feeling
+vanished? My passion grows. You rob me of my rest. Vouchsafe a little
+joy, a little happiness, to the poor heart that would fain worship you!
+Is it so hard to give me an answer? You now owe me two.” This second
+letter is unsigned. Suppose an amateur of such matters to come across
+it in a collection of love letters, would he dream of ascribing its
+authorship to Napoleon? Neither heavy nor dictatorial, neither emotional
+nor stilted, but romantic rather is the tone. Nevertheless, since worldly
+convention demands that she should pay no heed to his suit, again his
+missive remains unanswered. Terrible the position of the adjutant who for
+the second time has failed in the carrying out a movement ordered by his
+chief. The Emperor, controlling his passion, thinks:
+
+“If neither my pleading nor my rank has any effect on this tender
+creature, I must try to gain my end by a half-promise, which I need not
+regard as binding.” He writes: “There are moments in life when high
+position is a heavy burden. That is borne in on me at this moment.... If
+only you would! None but you can overcome the obstacles which separate
+us. My friend Duroc will do what he can to make it easy for you. Oh,
+come, come! All your wishes shall be fulfilled! Your country will be even
+dearer to me, if you have compassion on my heart. N.”
+
+Now we should recognise his wonted style, even without the capital N.
+Nevertheless, how amazingly the loneliness of the man of might breathes
+from these lines. The third love-letter is intelligently composed, and
+therefore achieves its purpose—but it discloses to us the tragical mask
+of destiny, the destiny of one who wishes to walk along the course he
+has planned for himself, and who is sacrificing his human happiness to
+this heroical monomania. He roams through the splendid palace, arms
+locked behind. For weeks his mood has been one of yearning, but always he
+has been alone. For months he has hardly been near a woman. Now, having
+fallen passionately in love, storm-tost, he dismisses his secretaries,
+will not discuss matters with his generals, refuses to admit deputations,
+will not go out riding. The whole mechanism he has constructed is
+stationary. The palace, the army, Paris, Europe—let them wait. He, more a
+slave than any other, refuses to-day to obey the nature of things; a man
+of thirty-seven whose wife, well past forty, no longer stirs his passion.
+Profoundly moved by a girl, twice rebuffed, he must devise lures from his
+other realms, must tempt her with the freedom of her country, in order
+that, after nearly a decade of quiescent feeling, he may spread upon the
+shoulders of a young woman the mantle of his yearning for tranquillity.
+
+She, alarmed at the assault of this virile will, sits the same afternoon
+among her friends and relatives who are urging the sacrifice upon her,
+for Poland’s sake. In this mood, she at length goes to see him. The three
+evening hours she spends with him are spent in tears. By gentle arts he
+restores her to calm, and to her astonishment she finds that this dreaded
+man of iron is a tender wooer.
+
+“Marie, sweet Marie, my first thought is yours!” she reads next morning.
+“I shall see you at dinner. I pledge you my word. Please wear the nosegay
+that I send; it will be a secret messenger of our feelings amid the
+crowd; thus we shall understand one another. If I lay my hand on my
+heart, you will know that it is wholly yours; for answer, press your
+flowers to your bosom. Love me, my charming Marie; do not take your hand
+away from the flowers.”
+
+Not until three days later does she become his. Then she comes to
+see him every evening. But, as well as this, she must be present at
+every reception, for otherwise he stays away. What is she to him? The
+second creature in the world who asks nothing from him; his mother
+was the first. Never has he known another woman who did not expect his
+magician’s hand to shower on her the treasures of the universe: jewels,
+palaces, crowns, money. This woman wants nothing from him, and gives him
+everything. Countess Walewska is the quiet and loving companion whom
+Napoleon’s stormy soul has sought. It will be long before he will be
+willing to part from her. “She is an angel. It may justly be said that
+her spirit is as lovely as her features.”
+
+Josephine wants to come? Now? He smiles. Since the Cairo days, Bonaparte
+has never had a mistress while campaigning, whereas his generals have
+had plenty of love-affairs. There can be no doubt that the story of this
+intrigue, distorted of course, will quickly be carried to Paris, and in
+a veiled form will find a way to Josephine’s ears. She is waiting there,
+waiting to be summoned to his side. Now, in the most graceful way in the
+world, he deceived the wife who had deceived him for years. The weather,
+the roads, the public insecurity, made it impossible. “How gladly should
+I be spending the long winter nights at your side.... If you are always
+weeping, then you lack courage and character. I cannot endure cowardly
+people. An empress must have courage!”
+
+Now he betrays her. “I laughed when you wrote to me that you had taken
+a husband in order to be with him. In my simplicity, I had believed
+that woman was made for man; man for country, family, fame. Forgive my
+ignorance. One can always learn something from lovely women.... Besides,
+I could not think of any lady with whom I was exchanging letters. If
+there really were one, I can assure you she would have to be as beautiful
+as a newly opened rose. Does that apply to the lady of whom you speak?”
+
+See how this ambiguous trifling amuses him. His heart is so light
+sometimes. He can play the gallant as if there had never been a
+revolution in the world. When, after a few weeks, he resumes a
+campaigner’s life, his farewell to his Polish inamorata is an au revoir.
+
+Now Russia is open to him for the first time, a land like the desert.
+Endless steppes, covered with snow or mud; no bread, and hardly any
+roads. After a few skirmishes, the tsar slowly retreats. Can we follow
+him? Whither is he enticing us? Who will feed the army? There is nothing
+in this land to be seized, nothing such as there is in prosperous
+Germany, no storehouses. Had not a few hundred Polish Jews, shrewd
+speculators, seen the chance of striking good bargains, the regiments
+would have perished, at this early date, in the year 1807. When the
+Emperor, whose carriage has perforce been left behind, is riding towards
+Pultusk, he hears murmurs from the ranks. This is a sound he has almost
+forgotten; he heard it for the first and last time eight years ago at
+Acre. His generals report suicides among the men. Thousands of starving
+soldiers desert, to become marauders. The Emperor is dumbfounded at
+the news, but what can he do? “I know my Frenchmen,” he says. “It is
+difficult to march them on distant expeditions. France is too beautiful.”
+
+It is not surprising, therefore, that when he compels the Russians to
+fight, for the first time he should fail to conquer in the open field.
+He is not actually beaten at Eylau, but both the contending armies
+sustain terrible losses, and the issue is indecisive. A first warning not
+to campaign against Russia! Report after the battle: the soldiers are
+rifling the potato clamps for food, and the horses are tearing straw from
+the roofs. The whole countryside is filled with invalided soldiers, and
+none of the colonels know how many men are left in their commands. The
+Emperor speaks:
+
+“We shall stay here a couple of days more, and then withdraw a few
+miles. Post guards on all the bridges over the Vistula; no one must be
+allowed to cross, except the amputated. Don’t bother about stragglers; no
+punishments.” But these signs of the disintegration of his army trouble
+him more than in former days. A cramp of the stomach, from which he has
+already suffered at times, becomes more frequent, and he says: “I bear
+within me the germs of an early death, and shall die of the same trouble
+as my father.” Cancer is the family heritage: his grandfather, his
+father, his uncle, Lucien, and Caroline, all perished of this disease.
+
+He writes to his brother: “We are living here amid snow and mud, without
+wine, bread, or brandy.” But this is a private missive. From Osterode,
+where he is housed in a barn among the soldiers, and eats whatever they
+can shark up for him (a comrade among his men, as he had been years
+before in Italy), his bulletins to Paris speak of a great victory, and of
+a Russian rout. The casualties are stated at a third of the true figures.
+The French army is in fine case, and can stay where it is for a year if
+thought best.
+
+For the second time he must learn that his nerves are not made for
+waiting. Here, as in Egypt, this commander finds that there is something
+uncanny about standing still. Only once more in the whole course of his
+fifteen years as a conqueror will there be another such pause of two or
+three months in a place far from Paris. Both these epochs of tedious
+consideration, cautious negotiation, are filled out in the interludes of
+work by giving free rein to his pent-up emotions. They are filled out
+with idylls.
+
+Finckenstein, a fortified Prussian castle, is now the scene of his
+activities, while he is awaiting the thaw on the roads and in the hearts
+of his adversaries. There are huge fireplaces, which are a delight to
+him, “for I love to look into the fire at night when I can’t sleep.” The
+place is roomy enough to house the envoys and couriers. For ten weeks,
+the world is ruled from here. In the great bedroom upstairs, he has had
+his iron camp-bed set up beside the huge four-poster.
+
+No one knows that the Polish countess occupies the next room—or hardly
+any one except Constant, his valet, and Rustam, the Mameluke. She rarely
+goes out, and then only after dark. The time is passed in embroidery,
+reading, and waiting, until the door opens, and he enters, to devote
+himself to her for a time. He has his meals with her alone. In these
+two rooms are the commander’s headquarters, and here the Emperor has
+enshrined his idyll. There are no dynastic wishes to trouble him as in
+Paris, no jealousies, and no bargainings for jewels; there is no wish to
+shine; nothing but the desire to remain hidden from the world, a wordless
+wish in the eyes of this sweet girl of eighteen who has learned to love
+him.
+
+“I know,” he says to her, “you would rather live without me. Yes, yes,
+don’t protest; I know it! But you are good and gentle; your heart is
+pure. You don’t want to rob me of the few hours of happiness which you
+can give me every day? To think that people regard me as the happiest of
+men!”
+
+A dispatch comes to tell him that his nephew and heir, the son of King
+Louis, is dead. How the news affects him is shown by his moving words
+to Josephine; but he cannot tell his wife all the thoughts that now
+enter his mind at Finckenstein. That little cocotte in Cairo, what he
+had really hoped from her was a son. How if this beautiful woman, this
+noblewoman whom he loves, were to give him an heir? Would he then make
+her his empress? Why not? He looks at Walewska, but keeps his own counsel.
+
+What is Paris saying?
+
+With ear attent, he listens to the rumours that reach him across the
+Polish steppe. The funds are falling. Malicious jests are current on the
+boulevards. “Where are our brave lads?” ask the Parisians. Caution is
+needed! What begins as a gentle shower, may turn into a raging storm; and
+the man who knows how to control the thunder is far away. He offers the
+beaten Prussians a separate peace, and even proposes a conference, but
+Queen Louise holds firmly to the alliance with the tsar. Austria, too, is
+deaf to his voice.
+
+Despite all, here and now, with enemies to right and to left of him, and
+without any firm standing-ground, he begins to dream once more of the
+conquests of Alexander. Messengers bearing heavily sealed letters ride
+forth from the courtyard of Finckenstein; strangers bringing dispatches
+arrive from remote lands and make their way to him across distant
+mountains. To this northern headquarters comes a Persian envoy, and the
+messenger of the King of Kings reverently bows his head to greet the
+sublime Emperor of the West. Next day, Napoleon and the Persian emissary
+come to an understanding. The Emperor will force the tsar to give back
+Georgia to the shah. In return, the shah will spur on the Afghans and
+the tribes of Kandahar to attack the English in India; he will equip an
+army for the invasion of Hindustan. If the Emperor wishes to send an army
+against India, his men shall have free passage across Persia.
+
+Hardly has the Persian departed, when a gorgeously attired Turk rides
+in past the astonished sentries, bringing golden gifts and a dispatch.
+A bespectacled oriental expert translates it. Standing in front of
+the fire, the Emperor, having reduced the eastern bombast to sober
+proportions, dictates a letter to the sultan: “I regret very much that
+you ask for no more than five hundred men instead of several thousand....
+State your demands clearly, and whatever you want shall be instantly
+done. Get into communication with the shah of Persia, for he, too, is an
+enemy of the Russians.... I offered your envoy the artillerymen and other
+soldiers you need, but he would not accept them, being afraid of hurting
+Mohammedan susceptibilities. I am so powerful, and I am so desirous for
+your victory (I wish this because of my friendship for you, and not on
+political grounds alone), that I can deny you nothing.”
+
+The same day, he writes to Brother Louis, who has been sending urgent
+appeals from his new kingdom, a letter which may be regarded as a
+sort of general instruction for kings, and which occupies five pages
+of print. He also sends orders to Joseph, as to the latter’s conduct
+in Naples. To Jerome, who in Breslau is commanding a corps of pretty
+actresses instead of his soldiers, Napoleon writes to ask why his
+brother never sends complete reports, and why he has left six hundred men
+in Schweidnitz, four hundred in Brieg. “Let me know your exact plans,
+down to the smallest details, so that I can form an accurate picture
+of your situation.” He likewise sends a missive to all the bishops in
+France. They are to institute a public thanksgiving for the Emperor’s
+victories; but he aims, also, at exercising personal influence on each
+of his episcopal correspondents, for he has learned that the dispute
+between himself and the pope is making the ecclesiastics more and more
+uneasy in their consciences. Meanwhile he sends a dozen orders to Fouché:
+concerning Madame de Staël, and the extent of her influence; concerning
+the salons of the aristocratic quarter; and so on. He enquires about
+the two leading Parisian theatres; their condition, their finances, and
+their repertoire. “What has become of my librarian?” he asks in another
+letter. “Is he dead, or enjoying himself in the country? That would
+be a fine way of fulfilling his duties! I ordered him to send me all
+newly published books, and to let me have the publishers’ announcement
+lists, but I have not had a word from him.” Draft for a new historical
+university, where young people may learn about modern happenings as
+well as the story of ancient days. To the Minister for Home Affairs:
+“Literature needs encouragement. Let me hear your proposals for livening
+up the various forms of belles lettres.” Enquiries as to the building of
+a new Stock Exchange and of the Madeleine. How can six millions be best
+applied for the encouragement of manufactures, and what will be the best
+way of raising the money? Two millions are to be spent in renovating his
+palaces. Arrangements must be made for the Paris newspapers to publish
+articles ostensibly based on information from Bucharest and Tiflis, and
+describing Russia’s desperate situation.
+
+He smiles, glancing at his demure little friend. “You marvel at my
+manifold activities? I have to keep watch on all my posts. Before, I was
+only an acorn. Now I am an oak, the ruler of nations. All eyes are fixed
+on me because I am in so outstanding a position. A man must play his
+part, and cannot always be natural. But, for you, I will become the acorn
+once more.” Simple words, tranquilly uttered. One more evening with her,
+and then he must take the field again, for May has come, and the idyll
+ends with the leaving of winter quarters and the extinction of the fires
+at Finckenstein. He will see her again. They are both sure of this. But
+were he to forget her, he could read the posy in the ring she gives him:
+
+“If you cease to love me, forget not that I love you.”
+
+
+XV
+
+On the Memel, where it flows past Tilsit, a huge raft is anchored in
+mid-stream. The tree trunks and the planks are covered with carpets,
+and in the centre a tent gleams in the June sunlight, with the colours
+of France and of Russia flying above it. On the western and the eastern
+banks are ranged the guards of the two emperors. Boats set out from
+either shore. Napoleon and the tsar enter the peace-tent simultaneously.
+The soldiers, who were shooting one another only ten days back, cheer
+lustily, and those in front, who can see, pass the word to the thousands
+in the rear. The foes of yesterday have embraced, their masters have made
+friends.
+
+Immediately after the great victory of Friedland, Napoleon, as was his
+way, had offered his hand to the vanquished. At the opening parleys,
+since the appropriate response had not been made by the sultan, he had
+given a hint that the tsar might well hope, some day, to establish the
+cross once more on the dome of St. Sophia. The words were carefully
+chosen, for he knew that the man to whom they would be reported next
+day, a romanticist and a mystic, would be amenable to their influence.
+Alexander had been prompt to take the proffered hand of friendship. Now
+the enemies of Austerlitz and Friedland stood face to face in amicable
+converse. Napoleon coldly scrutinised his only serious rival on the
+Continent, a young man with feminine lineaments, compact, delicately
+moulded, rosy; hearing and eyesight rather weak. In an instant he felt
+assured that the tsar was a man whom he could win over.
+
+By the end of a fortnight, the sometime adversaries have not merely
+entered into an alliance, but have made friends. How has this come about?
+
+“He is an amiable and pleasant fellow, a hero of romance,” says Napoleon
+of him at this time. Inasmuch as the Emperor is bored by novels, and has
+no use for heroes of romance in the practical world of his calculations,
+there is an undercurrent of criticism in these pretty phrases. But he
+adds: “A handsome young man, more intelligent than is usually supposed.”
+At a later date, Napoleon utters profound truths regarding Alexander:
+“The tsar is an attractive figure, well formed to exercise a victorious
+charm on those with whom he comes in contact. Had I been inclined to
+surrender to superficial impressions, I should have become devoted to him
+instantly. But there is something peculiar about him, which I can best
+express by saying that in all he is and does there seems to be something
+lacking. The strangest point about the matter is that it is impossible
+to foresee precisely what will be lacking in any given instance, for
+the defect is infinitely variable.” Thus, the man whose friendship is
+all-important to him seems to him utterly feminine. His final judgment
+takes the form of an overwhelming compliment: “Were Alexander a woman, I
+think I should fall passionately in love with him.”
+
+It is not surprising that such a man should in a trice be mastered
+by the seductions of the man of power; nor is it remarkable that
+subsequently the tsar should forsake the Emperor, for the surrender
+and the abandonment are both feminine. No one has ever given a better
+description of Alexander than Metternich: “A mingling of masculine merits
+with feminine defects; favourite ideas, imperfectly thought out, initiate
+sudden impulses. As a result, sudden embarrassments. He gives his word
+too quickly, and then finds it very difficult to keep; not strong enough
+for ambition in the grand style, and not weak enough for mere vanity; the
+man of the world rather than ruler. There is a sort of periodicity in his
+enthusiasms and disenchantments, a periodicity of five-year terms during
+which an idea waxes and wanes. At the close of each cycle, a new one
+opens. To begin with, he is a liberal. Then he is filled with hatred for
+the Frenchman; then he passes under the Frenchman’s influence.”
+
+Five years hence, the new period will come to an end, and the friends of
+to-day will be at war again.
+
+Maybe Napoleon already foresees this in the splendid tent, where for
+two hours the emperors discuss the affairs of the world; certainly he
+foresees it during the long dinners and during the rides and drives
+together. Napoleon’s handling of Alexander is masterly. At first, the
+Emperor assumes the role of the cavalier, who cannot sufficiently extol
+the heroism of the Russians; then he conveys the implication that ere
+long he must surround himself with a bodyguard of his ministers, lest
+he should be carried away by the tsar’s charm. At table, in order to
+dazzle Alexander, he talks of his good luck—a thing to which the man
+of destiny rarely alludes. He tells an anecdote, for which this is the
+only warrant, of an incident that had happened in Egypt. He had fallen
+asleep beneath an ancient wall, which had suddenly crumbled to pieces
+without injuring him. Awaking, he found in his hand something which at
+first he believed to be a stone, but which, on examination, he saw to be
+a wonderfully beautiful cameo of Augustus. Could any playwright invent
+a more marvellous scene than this one invented by the Emperor, in an
+after-dinner hour, to stir the imagination of the mystical idealist, his
+companion?
+
+Enthralled, the tsar listens to the man of wonders. If he could only know
+all that Napoleon knows! “I feel that I am not really emperor as you are,
+for I am dependent on my generals.” He asks a hundred questions about the
+art of war. Naïvely, when the two men are out walking together, the tsar
+asks: “What sort of position is this? How would you defend it, and how
+would you attack it?”—“I explained matters to him; and I told him that,
+if I were ever again at war with Austria, he should lead an army corps of
+thirty thousand men under my orders, so that he could learn the art of
+war.”
+
+Was ever woman in such humour wooed? Soon an offensive and defensive
+alliance is concluded.
+
+“The lands between the Elbe and the Memel” (this is a secret note to
+the treaty), “are to form the barrier between the two great empires,
+a barrier to render harmless all the pin-pricks which, in disputes
+between nations, are apt to precede the firing of the guns.” In this
+treaty, each party to the alliance gives only in order to take; and
+in a couple of words the tsar sacrifices Prussia, the Emperor Poland,
+although each of the two rulers has pledged a woman to maintain the
+integrity of her country. Almost grotesque is the calm with which, seated
+in a small room in an out-of-the-way and little known town hard by the
+shores of the Baltic, the two men pore over the map and cut pieces out
+of countries like Hotspur and Owen Glendower in the play. The Emperor
+gives Coburg, Mecklenburg, and Oldenburg, whose rulers have ties with the
+tsar, receiving the Ionian islands and Cattaro in return. Only when the
+tsar asks for the Bosphorus, does the Emperor demur. “Constantinople?
+That carries world dominion with it!” In the thorny thicket of these
+negotiations, we have stumbled upon the decisive word that slumbers
+beneath the treaties and notes. It is plain that when two men are
+dividing the world between them, they will in the long run come to blows.
+
+The king of Prussia joins their company; and, since he lacks dignity and
+intelligence, he is ignored by both the emperors. Napoleon privately
+considers him a dullard, possessing neither talent nor character, and
+adversely criticises everything connected with him; even his dress, which
+is the uniform of a hussar, headgear and all complete. Since the king is
+anxious about the very existence of Prussia, he leaves no stone unturned
+to secure the safety of his State, and summons the queen to Tilsit. The
+Emperor, curious to see his beautiful foe, intimates that he would be
+pleased to receive the lady there. He uses the neutral zone as a pretext
+for not setting out to meet her; but he has a charming residence prepared
+for her reception. Then, with a brilliant suite, though himself dressed
+in the simplest attire, he rides forth to visit her, and is received by
+the queen, who stands at the head of the flight of steps to welcome him.
+
+She is clad in white silk, adorned with ancient jewels, beautiful and
+bitter. With seemingly innocent words, Louise breaks down the unbearable
+constraint:
+
+“Sire, I hope you will excuse these narrow steps.”
+
+“What would one not excuse to reach such a goal,” he answers. But when he
+continues to speak in this complimentary tone, she says with dignity:
+
+“Sire, have we come here to speak of trifles?”
+
+Then she pleads as spouse and mother, and appeals to his “magnanimous
+heart.”
+
+“You will be glad to be back in Berlin?”
+
+“Not in all circumstances. It depends upon you whether we return home
+without sorrow in our hearts.”
+
+“Madame, I should be only too pleased....”
+
+When she moved to speak, he interjected:
+
+“Madame, how came Prussia to venture upon this war?”
+
+“The fame of Frederick the Great deceived us as to our strength.”
+
+“How many times have I offered peace? Austria showed more wisdom after
+Austerlitz.”
+
+“To-day, I beg you to establish a claim upon our gratitude.”
+
+“Have you not, yourself, destroyed my friendship for Prussia?”
+
+“Your heart is noble; it unites with other fine qualities, the possession
+of a great character.”
+
+“Unfortunately, general considerations often stand in the way of special
+wishes.”
+
+“I do not understand questions of high politics; yet I do not feel that I
+am foregoing any of my dignity as a woman if I assure you....”
+
+He listens to her with growing interest. She notices “a kindly smile
+trembling at the corners of his mouth, which seemed to guarantee
+success,—when, at that moment, the king entered the room.”
+
+The conversation has no political consequences, but the human appeal has
+been very great. “It was just as well that the king put in an appearance
+when he did,” the Emperor says to the tsar with a spice of coquetry.
+“I might have made her promises.... An exquisite woman. Instead of
+depriving her of a crown, one is tempted to lay one at her feet.” After
+another talk with Queen Louise, Napoleon writes to Josephine: “She is a
+bewitching woman, and is most amiable in her behaviour towards me. But
+you have no cause for jealousy.... I should have to pay dearly for it
+were I to play the gallant here.... She has been punished for her love
+of domination; but she has displayed much character in the midst of her
+misfortunes.... One has to concede that she said many sensible things.”
+
+Even more amazing is his effect upon her, who had once called him an
+infernal monster. She writes: “His head is shapely, his lineaments are
+those of a thinker, his whole appearance reminds one of a Roman emperor.
+When he smiles, his mouth assumes a kindly expression....”
+
+This is Napoleon’s greatest victory. What other woman has, after a few
+weeks’ acquaintance, been able to portray him more charmingly? And yet
+she has reasons enough to detest him, for, in spite of the humility of
+her attitude, he is as unyielding as iron. Soon, however, she arouses his
+irritability. When, at last, everything has been signed, and the Emperor,
+“in consideration of his friendship for the tsar,” has secured the
+kingdom of Prussia against dissolution (though monstrous cantles have
+been sliced off!), she cannot refrain from making renewed attempts to
+soften him. Finally, he sees her into her carriage, and she seizes this
+opportunity to ask him, for the last time, why so mighty a man should
+have foregone the chance of earning her eternal gratitude. He throws
+courtesy to the winds, and answers with ironical bitterness:
+
+“What will you, Madame? I am to be pitied, for this is obviously the work
+of my evil star!”
+
+
+XVI
+
+What is Paris saying?
+
+“Even were I ten thousand miles away from my homeland, I could not leave
+the field free for bad citizens to stir up my capital to strife!” He has
+now been ten months absent—longer away than ever before or afterwards.
+
+He tightens up the home government all the more rigorously since he fears
+that his censorious Parisians are slipping out of his hands. This city,
+renowned for its biting wit, is not only venting its feelings in songs
+and jokes that are the delight of the boulevards; it is now assuming a
+sceptical tone, and is more amused than impressed by his expeditions.
+Yes, he is right, these Parisians need to be ruled by “an iron hand in
+a velvet glove.” Now they are to experience both again, only the velvet
+seems to have worn rather thin. Indeed, the whole tone of the capital has
+become lax and disorderly. Do they want to return to Directory days, when
+every one said and printed exactly what he pleased?
+
+A new and more rigid censorship of newspapers and plays is introduced.
+Historical drama must deal only with matters of the remote past; and even
+Corneille, his ideal, is pruned of certain passages. Before every opera
+he must be consulted, not merely as to the general question of acceptance
+after it is written, but earlier, as to the choice of topic; religious
+subjects are forbidden, and mythology is recommended. With lavish means,
+on the imperial scale, a university is founded, modelled after the Jesuit
+schools he detests; the professors are exempt from military service,
+but to some extent celibacy is insisted on. Chateaubriand is attacked,
+and his “Mercure de France” is suppressed, because in opposition salons
+he has criticised the Emperor, and has quoted Tacitus the historian as
+having taken vengeance on Nero the tyrant.
+
+Madame de Staël’s new requests for permission to return to Paris are
+rejected, “for she is able to make people think, people who had never
+learned or had forgotten how to think.” To the arch-chancellor he writes:
+“Summon Count R., and let him know that his wife’s boudoir is the talk of
+Paris.” To Fouché: “You are not policing Paris properly. Malicious gossip
+is ripe. Keep watch on the speeches that are being made at Citerni’s
+restaurant and in the Café Foy.” That young people may learn who pleases
+God, every child in France patters the following catechism: “We owe our
+Emperor Napoleon I. love, respect, obedience, loyalty, military service,
+... ardent prayers for his welfare, ... because God has showered gifts on
+him in peace and war, and has made him God’s image on earth.”
+
+He has moved a long way. When the heir of countless generations believes
+such things of himself, others (or some of them) can believe them of
+him. But it is only three years since the Emperor, on the day of his
+coronation, had said that every fishwife would laugh in his face were he
+to declare himself the son of God....
+
+Is he no longer the same man? As of old, in personal matters he renounces
+display. He will not have money lavished on his study. Here, apart
+from the great writing table, there are only a small settee (on which
+he lounges when he is dictating, unless he wanders about the room),
+two tall bookcases, a couple of chandeliers, and the bust of Frederick
+the Great; in another simply furnished study, he has a bust of Cæsar.
+Looking through some bills, he says: “I was charged much less when I was
+lieutenant. Why should I pay more than any one else?” When the private
+theatre of the palace is to be done up, he remarks: “There must still be
+a lot of upholstered benches and candelabras that were supplied at great
+expense for my coronation. No doubt they are stored away somewhere.”
+
+When Rémusat exceeds the Emperor’s wardrobe allowance of twenty thousand
+francs, he is dismissed, and his successor is handed a long inventory of
+requirements, a list personally drafted by the Emperor: “I think we can
+make a few more savings even than this. See to it that the tailor does
+his work properly. Lay the new clothes out for my inspection and approval
+on the day of delivery, and then put them away at once in my drawers.”
+In the case of uniform coats which are to be delivered every quarter, he
+remarks: “This coat must last three years.... In addition, forty-eight
+pairs of white breeches and waistcoats, at eighty francs a suit = frs.
+3840. One pair of breeches and one waistcoat must be delivered every
+week, and they must last three years.... Also twenty-four pairs of shoes,
+to be delivered a pair every fortnight, must last two years = frs. 312.”
+Shirts are the only things he orders in large quantities, to be delivered
+a dozen every week, must last six years.
+
+Here, in his intimate life, he is the same man as before; just as, when
+he is campaigning, he is the old Bonaparte—a man of few enjoyments. But
+upon the formalities of majesty, upon court ceremonial, upon all the
+outworn display of the world whose power he has broken, he will squander,
+not money alone, but, more precious, time, and, more precious still,
+human dignity and his own freedom.
+
+He no longer laughs sarcastically when those who dwell in the
+aristocratic quarter frequent his court; he is genuinely pleased. His
+mood is difficult to understand. The men of birth who had mortified him
+in his cadet days by making fun of his poverty, now throng the court
+of this same Corsican, and their shadows on the shining parquet floor
+seem to mock the humility of their gestures. They are all back in the
+Tuileries now, the Montmorencys, the Montesquieus, the Radziwills, the
+Noailles, the Narbonnes, the Turennes, who for years had sworn the death
+of the upstart. The princes of the Confederation of the Rhine clank
+through the halls in their German uniforms; the Mecklenburger pays
+his court to the empress; the heirs apparent of Baden and Bavaria are
+privileged to hear the discussions at the Council of State. To the old
+nobility this was a pastime; to the Emperor it was policy, for he wished
+to make sure of the allegiance of their class.
+
+But now there happens something which should never have happened.
+Napoleon, the man who counts his coats as he counts his soldiers; the man
+who in the army gives promotion only for good service, and will never
+make an inefficient soldier a lieutenant merely because he is some one’s
+son or nephew; the man who sits contentedly in a barn among his officers,
+or by the camp-fire among his grenadiers; the man who has expunged the
+privileges of birth from his legal code; the man who has contraposed the
+new idea of individual ability to the old idea of hereditary dignity,
+and has thus turned a whole continent upside down—this same Bonaparte,
+in the autumn of the year 1807, founds a new nobility, “because it is a
+part of human nature that a man should wish to hand down to his children,
+not property alone, but also tokens of esteem.” Counts and princes, dukes
+and majorats, were created, not, as before, in order to bestow a supreme
+dignity upon the bravest marshals, the ablest senators and ministers, but
+that the sons and grandsons of these new nobles, ne’er-do-wells, wealthy
+Parisian idlers, and degenerates, might enjoy the privileges which the
+men of a whole decade had fought and bled to abolish!
+
+Even the Legion of Honour was now desecrated by its own creator, for
+these appointed knights, every one of whom had done good service to his
+country, were to be entitled to bequeath the semblance of this service as
+well as their property; and the great dignitaries were to bequeath their
+princely rank and appellation. Certainly, the bequest did not carry with
+it any special civic privileges, but none the less the new institution
+conflicted with the spirit of the Code Napoléon. “Liberty,” he wrote
+with too much truth in a private letter at the time of the issue of this
+decree, “liberty is only the need of the few whom nature has endowed with
+exceptional talent; and there is no danger in restricting it. The crowd
+loves equality. I do not injure the many when I distribute titles without
+raising the old question of birth; they are bourgeois crowns, which any
+one can win. Clever men impart their own movement to those whom they
+rule. My movement is an upward one, and therefore the nation must move
+upwards.... I know that these dukes whom I am endowing so richly that I
+make them independent of me, will endeavour to elude me, and that they
+are relying on what they call the caste spirit. But I can run quicker
+than they, and shall soon overtake them.”
+
+Rarely has a great error had so grand a foundation. Not many months
+before, in his letters, he had positively cudgelled his brother for
+having founded a nobility in Holland; and, speaking of his own intention
+to do the same thing, had excused himself by saying that the Dutch were a
+trading people, and that in the militarist French Empire matters were on
+an altogether different footing. But in the very fact that he himself had
+transformed France into a militarist State, lay the first danger; and the
+second danger was the imperial crown, which, with inexorable logic, was
+now diffusing its ancient symbolical power athwart his realm.
+
+Before, when he had been Consul, he could with impunity bestow civic
+crowns, gather honour and glory into a Legion, and transmit the
+stupendous momentum of his flywheel to the strongest of the lesser
+wheels in his country. But when he granted estates to the best among
+his followers, he had to supply titles to go with their estates, titles
+which were necessarily inheritable; and when to the second and third
+best he now gave titles without lands, the recipients naturally begged
+that the titles, too, should be hereditary. Thus in a generation,
+several thousand, and in three generations, as many as twenty thousand,
+would bear these new titles, not for services rendered, not for deeds
+splendidly performed, but with the semblance of superiority, and, if not
+with the political privileges attaching of old to birth and title, still
+with the social privileges which in former days had aroused revolt in the
+masses.
+
+The treason and ingratitude which he is here laying up in store will in
+due time open his eyes to his mistake. In truth, the death sentence he
+passes on equality will prove to have been a more grievous blunder than
+the execution of the duke of Enghien. Then he was destroying a scion of
+the past; now he is creating forebears who will resuscitate that past.
+
+The resolve issues from a moody mind; for this is a dark year in
+Napoleon’s soul, although nothing seems to be going awry. “You do not
+understand the nature of human motives,” he said at this period to an
+honest democrat. “You democrats are unable to draw distinctions between
+one another, whereas personal interest plays its part in what every one
+does. Look at Masséna. He has won an abundance of fame; but what he wants
+now is to become a prince, like Murat and Bernadotte. Soon he will get
+himself killed in the forefront of the battle, thanks to his eagerness to
+win this distinction. Ambition is what spurs the French!”
+
+He grows colder in his manner, forbids his brothers to speak to him
+uninvited, is less regular in the arrangement of his work, needlessly
+extends sittings far into the night. Even at Fontainebleau, in the
+interludes between hunting and festivities, he will have nothing but
+tragedies staged; rises from his bed at midnight, and dictates to his
+secretaries till morning; can only soothe the increasing irritability of
+his nerves by spending hours in a hot bath. The cramps in his stomach
+trouble him more frequently and grow more severe.
+
+He has periods of gloom like those from which he suffered in youth,
+speaks of the roaring of the sea and the moaning of the wind, has the
+candles shaded when he is listening to the mournful songs of Italian
+singers. None of his associates understand these moods; they can only
+wonder, and they guess at political motives. They do not realise that
+now, when the dream of his fancy is being fulfilled, he cannot but be
+disillusioned by the fulfilment, which comes otherwise than he had
+dreamed, and far too slowly. “You are just like all the rest of them,”
+he says roughly to one of his ministers who congratulates him on the
+treaty of Tilsit. “I shall not be master until I have signed the peace of
+Constantinople!”
+
+Worldwide power! Asia! These are the thoughts that continue to pulse in
+his brain. If he, who is always studying the tragical figures of the
+heroes of antiquity in search of his own image, could find the true
+reflexion of his own soul, it would be in the verses at this time being
+written by a German poet to describe the inner aspect of the Faustian
+unrest which he, the Emperor, with ever more violent blows, is now
+producing in the countries of Europe.
+
+But these dark hours are followed by others in which his mind recovers
+the wonted clarity of its calculations. Thus, to the tsar, the other
+ruler of vast territories, he writes this imaginative programme:
+
+“An army of fifty thousand Frenchmen and Russians, with perhaps a few
+Austrians, could march to Constantinople, and thence hurl itself upon
+Asia. Once it had reached the Euphrates, England would lie at the feet of
+the Continent.... Within a month of our coming to an understanding, our
+armies can be at the Bosphorus: the influence will make itself felt as
+far as India.... Of course the arrangements could only be concluded in a
+personal interview with Your Majesty. Everything can be signed and sealed
+before the middle of March. By May 1st, our troops will be in Asia, yours
+in Stockholm. England will collapse beneath the weight of the events with
+which the atmosphere will be charged. It is true that Your Majesty and I
+have proposed to enjoy peace within our far-flung empires.... But it is
+always wise and politic to do what destiny commands.... That will make
+this crowd of pygmies bow their heads, the pygmies who cannot see that
+the prototype of the present age must be sought in the remote periods of
+history, and not in the newspaper articles of the century that has just
+closed.... In these few lines I am pouring out all my soul before Your
+Majesty.”
+
+All his soul? Part of it, since the jewels are cut for the delectation
+of a muddle-headed idealist whose own dreams will be reflected with
+rainbow tints from their sparkling facets. But the undertaking has
+its elements of well-considered realism. At about this time he has an
+interview with a general who has been in India. This expert declares the
+scheme practicable, and the Emperor’s hesitations superfluous. Thereupon,
+the latter repeatedly strokes his visitor’s face with both hands, and
+“bubbles over with an almost childlike joy.”
+
+Thus imaginative was Napoleon.
+
+The present leads him once more to the shade of Charlemagne. The previous
+year he had thought of visiting Rome to have himself crowned Emperor of
+the West. The pope was to lose all temporal authority, and to content
+himself with a few millions as revenue; but the cardinals had vetoed
+the scheme. Thereupon he had rancorously exclaimed: “The whole of
+Italy will be subject to my laws. I will not disturb the independence
+of the Holy See, if Your Holiness will pay me the like consideration
+in temporal matters. No doubt Your Holiness is sovereign in Rome, but
+I am Emperor of Rome!” This threatening demeanour, this Carlovingian
+defiance, is in sharp conflict with the constitutional law on which his
+power is assumedly based. In Rome, as in India, he aims at the forcible
+realisation of things which only the vision of his great forerunners
+created.
+
+More and more frequent become the signs which show that Napoleon’s
+historical fantasies are tending to outsoar the limits which, were he
+still an accurate calculator, he would regard as attainable—and terrible
+will be the ultimate result.
+
+In Rome, for the time being, he is still the stronger; but so much has
+the habit of command grown upon him, so overweening has his belief in his
+unconquerable sword become, that he has lost sight of the moral canons
+which, ten years earlier, he (then a mere military commander with no
+experience in political matters) had with clear insight defended against
+the hectoring Directors, and had subsequently, though at considerable
+risk to his popularity, incorporated in the Concordat. Now he writes to
+Eugene that one of the cardinals has died leaving a history of the popes.
+“If it represents an attempt to set forth all the harm the popes have
+done to the Church and to Christendom, let it be published forthwith.”
+
+Because the pope refused to exclude English ships from his ports, the
+Emperor occupied Ancona, relying “upon the protection of God, who crowns
+all my enterprises with his glory—If Your Holiness would like to give
+my envoy his papers, you are at liberty to do so. I should even prefer
+that you should receive the English, or the caliph of Constantinople.—In
+conclusion I pray to God that he may keep you for many years more at the
+head of our Holy Mother the Church. Your pious son, the Emperor of the
+French and the king of Italy, Napoleon.”
+
+The year before, simultaneously with these burlesque menaces, he had
+sent warnings through Uncle Fesch that his own role resembled that of
+Constantine, and had touched upon the old struggle of the Middle Ages
+about investiture: “For the pope, I am Charlemagne, seeing that I have
+joined the crowns of France and Lombardy, and that my dominions border
+on the East.... On condition of good behaviour, I shall make no change
+in the outward semblance of things, but if the pope thwarts me I shall
+degrade him to the status of a Roman bishop, ... and shall introduce the
+Concordat into Italy: for whatever can make people happy in France, can
+make them happy in Italy as well; and what does not contribute to the
+happiness of life in one land, cannot do so in the other.”
+
+This is truly Lutheran terminology! The man who lets his imagination
+riot when his temporal affairs are merged in historical mysticism,
+becomes circumstantially clear when religious mysticism is a cloak for
+worldly concerns. Napoleon’s reasoning inclined him towards Protestantism
+throughout life, and it was only on grounds of policy that he resisted
+the inclination to impose Lutheranism on France. Having determined to
+make short work of it with the Head Shepherd (since the pope hesitated
+to give England the go-by), he proposes to sweep away the hindrance that
+severs the North Italian and the South Italian kingdoms, that he may at
+length have all Italy for his own—the Italy of which he wrongfully calls
+himself king.
+
+Now he writes to Eugene, the viceroy, in the style of his military
+decrees: “The present pope has too much power. Priests are not made to
+rule. Why will he not render unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar’s, and
+refrain from troubling my States? Perhaps the time is not far distant
+when I ... shall summon the Churches of France, Germany, Italy, and
+Poland to a council, and settle matters without the pope.” He wants
+to secure a majority among the cardinals by the appointment of French
+cardinals, but the pope will not allow their number to be increased,
+and proposes to make up for this refusal by agreeing to crown Napoleon
+Emperor of the West. Now, however, what he had vainly asked for a
+year earlier has ceased to charm his imagination. Since it has become
+possible, he regards it as already achieved; and when the pope shows
+himself pliable in money matters, Napoleon makes this an occasion for
+further exactions. He threatens “to reunite this group of my crown lands
+with the Empire at once, and to revoke the gift of Charlemagne.”
+
+In a word, having a large appetite, he will make one mouthful of all the
+Papal States. Thereupon the enraged pope breaks off the negotiations,
+the Emperor has Rome occupied, and in April the Papal States become a
+province.
+
+Napoleon, who has ranged from Cairo to Vienna, and will range from Madrid
+to Moscow, Napoleon, who has often been in Italy, hesitates to set
+foot in Rome; caution or circumstance always keeps him away. He never
+confirms by actual inspection the image he has carried in his mind from
+boyhood upwards. Now for the second time his generals take possession of
+what he had been wont to regard as the Eternal City. No member of his
+entourage protests against the occupation. But his mother feels it to be
+a mistake, and her distress affects her health. Whereas formerly she had
+been content to say sceptically of her son’s great fortune: “if only it
+lasts!” now, with a presage of destruction, she confides her misgivings
+to her intimates:
+
+“I foresee that he will bring disaster on himself and all his family. He
+should be content with what he has. He tries to grasp too much, and will
+lose all!”
+
+
+XVII
+
+“What the German peoples ardently desire is that persons who are
+not of noble birth but are talented shall have equal rights to your
+consideration and to office, so that there may be an end, once and for
+all, to any kind of subordination, and to all intermediaries between the
+ruler and the lowest classes of the population. The advantages brought
+by the Code Napoléon, publicity of legal procedure, and trial by jury,
+will be characteristics of your monarchy. To lay my whole thought before
+you: for the consolidation of this monarchy, I look more to the effects
+just named than to the results of the greatest victories. Your people
+must have a liberty, an equality, and a prosperity hitherto unknown in
+Germany. This way of ruling will be a stronger barrier between you and
+Prussia than the Elbe, than fortresses, than the protection of France.
+What nation would ever wish to go back to Prussian rule when it had once
+experienced the advantages of a liberal government?”
+
+In these sentences (which are written as a private lesson, and are
+not penned with an eye to public effect), the Emperor expounds to his
+youngest brother the great mission that is being entrusted to the latter
+when he takes charge of the new kingdom of Westphalia. Jerome’s task
+was to plant the fundamental ideas of the revolution on German soil, a
+pioneer work, this introduction of the first glimmer of self-government
+in a part of western Europe where hitherto the inhabitants had known
+only how to obey. In Holland and Italy, ideas of self-government were by
+no means new. But as far as concerned the princes of the Confederation
+of the Rhine, although, acting under orders, they could introduce the
+new legal codes, they lacked the traditions and the talents that might
+have made it possible to initiate such changes from within. We can now
+understand the historic mission of the youngest of the Bonapartes. He was
+to make a great experiment in democracy; he was to transform four million
+Germans from subjects into citizens. Had this impetus been successful,
+the whole nation might have been spared resubjugation to princely
+arrogance after the War of Liberation.
+
+But the young man of twenty-three who, coming at the end of this long
+family, had been reared as a prince, regarded his kingship as a gallant
+adventure, in which money and vital energy could be squandered. Youth
+was like champagne, which bubbles when the cork is drawn. He forsook the
+arms of his Württemberg consort for those of innumerable mistresses; ran
+into debt, became involved in manifold scandals, and procreated children
+all over the place; amused himself more than his subjects; and, by this
+traditional deportment of one born in the purple, succeeded for decades
+to come in discrediting the fine notion of the choice of the fittest.
+There was something to be said for the German view that, if they must
+have a prince to ride across fields and men, they would like him to be
+one who had inherited the position. Jerome, however, laughed at the
+world’s mockery, and even laughed at his great brother’s exhortations.
+
+Napoleon had a predilection for his youngest brother, the sort of
+weakness that fathers are apt to have for the latest born of their sons.
+The brio of the young man’s life was in keeping with his own tempo.
+Besides, Jerome was always amiable, took nothing amiss. For instance, on
+one occasion he asked Napoleon to make him commander-in-chief, and showed
+no offence at a refusal couched in the following terms: “Are you serious?
+After you have been through six campaigns, and after you have had a half
+a dozen horses shot under you, you can ask me again!”
+
+When Jerome went to war, he took his whole court with him—not the queen,
+indeed, but all the prettiest of her ladies. He issued proclamations in
+the style of the Roi Soleil. But he was not mortified to receive the
+following imperial admonition:
+
+“I have read an order of the day issued by you, in which you make
+yourself ridiculous. You are king, and the Emperor’s brother! Fine
+qualities in war! In war, a man must be a soldier before everything. When
+I am in camp, I need neither ministers nor luxury. You must camp with the
+advance guard, be in the saddle day and night, march with the advance
+guard, so that you may get all the news without delay. If you don’t like
+that, you had better stay at home in your palace! You make war like a
+satrap! God in heaven, you never learned that from me! I ride in front of
+the skirmishers, and do not allow even my minister for foreign affairs to
+follow me.... You make vast claims; you have a certain amount of talent
+and a few good qualities, but these are put quite in the shade by your
+follies. Furthermore, you are insufferably conceited, and know absolutely
+nothing of public affairs.”
+
+The king sticks the letter into his jabot with a laugh. But the Emperor?
+Cannot he realise, while he talks to his brother like a father, that
+every one to whom he gives unmerited power endangers the very essence of
+power? That these golden crowns and the extemporised coats-of-arms he
+provides for them create very unstable kings and princes? That homunculus
+escapes from the phial and makes fun of his master? This perennial
+weakness where his relatives are concerned leads him, at times, to assume
+what is a very unusual role for him, that of the good-natured man;
+for, though he begins by issuing orders to his brothers, he very often
+gives way to them in the end. “My brother, inclosed you will find the
+constitution of your kingdom”—thus he begins a missive of instruction in
+matters of high politics, with a sentence that might have been taken out
+of a comic opera. When he is in a friendly humour, he will end a letter
+full of reproaches with a paternal smile: “Mon ami, I love you, but you
+are so frightfully young!”
+
+Napoleon is no longer young. Inevitably, as his plans grow, there must
+be an increase in that harshness which, in him, is mainly the outcome
+of overwork. When, twelve years earlier, he had come down from the Alps
+as a conqueror and his fame had spread before him across the plain of
+Lombardy, his youth had endowed the novelty of this campaign with a
+sort of romantic innocence which carried his contemporaries off their
+feet. Now, when the mountain torrent has long since widened into a
+river, bearing on its broad bosom ships freighted with the treasures
+of the world, and when the river is drawing near to the ocean in which
+its waters will soon mingle with all the waters of the earth; now,
+the gravity of this labour of Atlas has stamped its imprint upon his
+features, has written its message in his heart. Rare have become the
+hours of tranquillity, few the moments of merriment and sportive humour;
+and the heroical cynicism of his mission moulds him before the eyes of
+the world into a statue of bronze.
+
+True, he had sent for his Polish countess. She was installed in the
+very street where Josephine had first charmed him, and where, again and
+again, a quaint superstition led him to house his lady friends. Walewska
+is munificently provided for, and Napoleon’s physician visits her every
+day. But, though there is no secret about the matter, she leads a retired
+life, does not use the box at the opera he has reserved for her, and
+seldom sees him now that she has come to Paris. This is an interlude
+between one idyll and the next. He has made up his mind that the child
+she is to bear him will be a son; and the event may have still greater
+consequences to-day than it would have had yesterday.
+
+For the first of his illegitimate children, the one of whose birth he
+had received tidings in Berlin (when he had been reassured to learn that
+there was no justification for the common belief that he was sterile),
+has been put out of court by the mother’s unwise importunity. Shortly
+after his return to Paris, she had called. He would not see her, sending
+a message to say that he received no one whom he had not summoned. He
+provided her with a house and an income, and would have nothing more to
+do with her. But he had the boy brought to him, and playfully teased
+the little chap. For a moment, he even thought of adopting him. All had
+to be done secretly. The invisible master, whom he called the “nature
+of things” and on rare occasions “fate,” forbade him the unconcealed
+enjoyment of this most natural of scenes in our human life, one in which
+Napoleon could not play his part until he was nearly forty. At length he
+had a son of his body, who might become his heir. Yet he, Emperor of the
+West, could not step forward and say: “This is my son!” Wishing to give
+the boy at least half his own name, he called him Léon.
+
+But the mother had become completely estranged from him, and Napoleon
+soon ceased to have any serious thought of making the child his
+successor. Perhaps he thought that the boy came of a bad stock; maybe he
+had a foreboding that this half Napoleon would become a half criminal and
+an outright ne’er-do-well.
+
+All the more vigorously does his advance in years urge him towards a new
+marriage. There are long conversations between Napoleon and Josephine,
+between reason and sorrow; and after them it is not Josephine alone
+in whom the servants note the traces of tears. “How terrible to die
+childless!” he says on one occasion. Nevertheless his fondness for his
+helpmate increases. We know how difficult he found it to break with
+any of his collaborators; and his temperamental conservatism makes him
+cling to this first companion of his rise. “If I were to divorce her,”
+he says to Talleyrand who advises him to take this step, “the witchery
+of my home would be gone. I should have to go to school again in order
+to understand the ways and fancies of a young wife. The empress adapts
+herself to me perfectly, and understands me so well. Besides, it would be
+very ungrateful to divorce a woman who has done so much for me.” Such are
+the motives, tender and reasonable, respectable and convenient—in a word,
+thoroughly middle class—which make the man cleave to his wife.
+
+But the difficulties grow in number, and the need for a decisive step
+becomes more urgent. While he ponders the moral impression which his
+divorcing Josephine will make in France (where she inspires far more
+personal affection than he does), he, as his manner is, lays his
+plans deliberately, that, at last, he may make an advance which no
+one anticipates, and will enable him to fulfil two wishes at once. He
+arranges for an interview with a man whom he has long needed, and whom he
+may now need more than ever. His mother is always interceding with him
+on Lucien’s behalf; now, Napoleon, who is travelling in Italy, sends for
+Lucien.
+
+The conversation between the brothers is the most interesting of all
+Napoleon’s recorded conversations, and has been reported by Lucien with
+fidelity and picturesqueness. Napoleon is there portrayed to the life.
+
+
+XVIII
+
+Lucien was now just thirty-two. It was on a December evening when he had
+reached the castle of Mantua, after a journey during which the dread of
+imprisonment, aroused by his brother’s summons, had been continually
+present to his mind. On entering a room extravagantly lighted by
+numerous candelabra, he was blinded for a moment by the glare. Then he
+heard Rustam’s voice announcing him: “Sire, your brother Lucien!”
+
+The man to whom the announcement is made does not stir. He is seated
+at a large round table, which is covered by a huge map of Europe, the
+biggest Lucien has ever seen. Supporting his head on his left hand, with
+the other hand he is thrusting coloured pins into the map, pins which
+presumably represent army corps or whole armies. It is so many years
+since Lucien has seen his brother, and Napoleon has changed so much, that
+the visitor is not quite sure whether he is looking at the Emperor, and
+he remains motionless for several minutes. At length the man sits up,
+yawns, rubs his back against the chair, takes up a small bell from the
+table, and rings it with one strong movement. The visitor advances a step
+or two:
+
+“Sire, I am Lucien.”
+
+The Emperor jumps up from his chair, dismisses the servant, and takes
+his brother by the hand affectionately, though with a certain amount of
+reserve. Lucien feels called upon to embrace Napoleon, who does not repel
+the advance, but accepts it with a passive coldness, as if no longer used
+to such intimacies. Then, taking the visitor by the hand once more, he
+pushes Lucien gently away to scrutinise him the better:
+
+“So it’s you, is it? How are you? How is your family? When did you leave
+Rome? Have you had a pleasant journey? What about the pope? How is he?
+Does he like you?”
+
+[Illustration: Bonaparte as First Consul. Painting by J. D. A. Ingres.
+Musée de Liége.
+
+(Photograph by Braun, Paris and Dornach.)]
+
+Lucien notes the nervousness masked by this flood of questions, turns
+them off lightly, and says he is glad to find his brother in good health.
+
+“Yes, I’m very well.” He pats his waistcoat, and adds: “I’m getting fat,
+and I’m afraid I shall get fatter still.” He looks keenly at Lucien,
+takes a pinch of snuff, and says: “As for you! Do you know that you are
+looking uncommonly well? You used to be rather too thin. Now, you are
+almost handsome.”
+
+“Your Majesty is good enough to make fun of me.”
+
+“No, no, it’s quite true. But let’s sit down and have a talk.” They seat
+themselves opposite the huge map, the Emperor fidgets with the pins, and
+Lucien waits for him to begin. But, since Napoleon does not open the
+ball, the younger man says, hesitatingly: “Sire....” At this moment, the
+Emperor sweeps all the pins flat, and says abruptly: “Well, what have you
+to say to me?”
+
+Lucien replies that he hopes his brother has forgiven him.
+
+“You can have my pardon soon enough. It depends entirely on yourself.”
+
+Lucien expresses his willingness to do anything compatible with his
+honour.
+
+“Well and good, but what sort of things will square with your honour?”
+
+Lucien speaks of nature and religion.
+
+“But politics, Sire; do politics mean nothing to you?”
+
+Lucien demurs, saying that he has retired into private life.
+
+“It rested entirely with yourself. You could have been a king just as
+well as your brothers.”
+
+“Sire, my wife’s honour, my children’s position....”
+
+“You keep on speaking of your wife, when you know perfectly well that she
+has never been your wife. Is not, and never will be, for I shall never
+recognise her.”
+
+“Ah, Sire!”
+
+“No, never, though the heavens should fall! Since you are my brother, I
+can forgive the wrong you have done me. But upon her my curse will rest!”
+There is a long tirade, until at length Lucien intervenes, laughing
+nervously, and saying:
+
+“Moderate your words, Sire. There is a proverb: ‘La processione torna,
+dove esce,’” and Lucien thinks it expedient to add a French translation.
+When Napoleon continues to talk of his brother’s wife as a woman of bad
+reputation, and Lucien shows signs of taking offence, the Emperor tries
+to mollify him by admitting that these reports may be calumnious, but
+adds that nothing will induce him to recognise her. Besides, it is now
+a fundamental law, as firmly fixed as the Salic law, that no marriage
+in the Emperor’s family is valid without the Emperor’s consent. Lucien
+reminds him of the date of the marriage, and Napoleon answers: “Yes, but
+the law was passed because of what you had done!” This Napoleonic logic
+makes Lucien smile.
+
+“What are you laughing at? I don’t see anything laughable in it! I know
+what you and your wife and my enemies say about the matter. You choose
+your friends from among my enemies. But no good Frenchman approves of
+what you have done. The only way in which you can regain popular esteem
+is by espousing my cause, like Jerome.”
+
+Lucien, who is in the Emperor’s hands, has absolutely determined to let
+nothing affront him. But he is spurred into opposition, springs to his
+feet, and does not sit down again:
+
+“Your Majesty is mistaken! When your courtiers approve your attitude
+towards me as thanks for the services I was so happy to render you, they
+are only acting after their kind. On my side, too, my servants tell me
+that I am right!”—At these words, Napoleon’s brow is furrowed, his eyes
+flash, and his nostrils work, “an unmistakable sign of rage in members
+of our family.” But Lucien has taken the bit between his teeth, and goes
+on: “What ought the nation to do for me? What gratitude does it owe me?
+It ought to look upon me as the saviour of the man who has saved it.... I
+am proud to think that it will rather be inclined to compare me with you
+than with Jerome. No, Sire, public opinion, which is mightier by far than
+all the kings in the world, assigns every one to his true place, whatever
+courtiers may say.”
+
+Napoleon grows calmer. Instead of flying into a passion, as Lucien
+dreaded for a moment, he controls himself, and says quietly:
+
+“Talleyrand is right. You speak of the affair with an ardour worthy of
+a political club. Such eloquence, Citoyen, is, believe me, long since
+out of fashion. I am well aware that you did me good service on the
+Nineteenth Brumaire; but as for having been my ‘saviour,’ of that proof
+is lacking. This much I remember clearly, that you disputed with me the
+unity of power which I needed for the saving of France, and that I and
+Joseph spent half a night before we could get you to pledge yourself to
+silence when these questions should be touched upon.... Finally, after
+the victory, you were inclined to oppose my personal elevation, and this
+conduct on your part releases me from all obligation to show gratitude.
+
+“But you, do you owe me no gratitude? When you ‘saved’ me at Saint-Cloud,
+were not you yourself in mortal peril? I sent my grenadiers to save you
+from the hands of assassins. And if you, a bad brother, an unnatural
+brother, had really allowed that vote of my outlawry to be taken, do
+you imagine that I should have been such a fool as to accept the decree
+unresistingly? Had I not adherents enough, with God’s aid, to defend this
+head that was destined to wear so many crowns?” He goes on to speak for a
+whole hour of those days, and of Corsican compatriots who had helped him;
+suddenly gives the conversation an intimate turn; speaks of his generals
+and the extent of their devotion; refers to political conflicts in which
+the brothers had held divergent views, and shows how his view had been
+right. Then he changes the subject, saying abruptly:
+
+“Enough. That is all ancient history, like your great day of the
+Nineteenth Brumaire. I did not summon you that we might deliver lectures
+to one another.” A long pause.
+
+“Listen to me, Lucien, and weigh my words carefully, for, above all,
+let us avoid getting heated.... I am too powerful to have any desire to
+lose my temper. You have come to me trustfully. Corsican hospitality
+shall never be violated by the Emperor of the French. This virtue of
+our forefathers and fellow-countrymen is a guarantee for your absolute
+safety.” The Emperor strides up and down the hall for a long time,
+pulling himself together, and then turns to Lucien, whose hand he takes
+and presses:
+
+“We are alone here. You see? We are alone. No one can overhear us. I am
+wrong about your marriage.... Knowing your wilfulness as I did, knowing
+your self-love—for everything, you know, depends on self-love, which
+regards itself as a virtue, just as we princes dignify by the name
+of policy everything which turns on our passions—I ought not to have
+interfered with your union. People slandered your wife to me, though some
+ventured to speak well of her, especially Mamma, who loves her, saying
+she makes you happy and is a good mother.... Lebrun, indeed, has sung
+her praises so often that Josephine once told the good fellow he must
+be in love with her himself. I was very much amused at my wife, who has
+more of a temper than people fancy. Still, I must say that Josephine
+never shows her claws to me! Well, I have no disrespect for your wife,
+but I detest her because this passion of yours for her has robbed me of
+the most capable of my brothers. However, her beauty will pass; you will
+be disillusioned; then, returning to political life, you will oppose my
+policy, and I shall have to take measures against you whether I like it
+or not; for—let me say this to you—unless you are on my side, Europe is
+too small for the pair of us!”
+
+“You are making fun of me.”
+
+“No, I’m in earnest; friend or foe! It is easier for you to-day than
+ever before. You need not be surprised: there has been a change in my
+family policy. You will see soon enough. Your children, which hitherto I
+have wanted to exclude, can now be of great use to me, but they must be
+dynastically recognised. The offspring of a marriage I do not recognise
+can have no right to the throne. Tell me, then, what would you do in my
+place?”
+
+Lucien advises him to make the Senate pass a simple resolution to the
+effect that the children come within the right of succession.
+
+“Of course I know that I can do that, but I must not. As you said just
+now, public opinion has to be conciliated. What would the family, the
+court, France, which all watch my slightest movements, say about such a
+step? A recantation of that kind would do me more harm than the loss of a
+battle.”
+
+Lucien points out that he cannot possibly ask pardon for a marriage which
+had been entered into long before Napoleon’s accession to the throne.
+“Grant my request, Sire. You will have no more faithful servant than I.
+All the rest of my life will be an expression of my gratitude.”
+
+The younger man goes on talking for a long time, and throughout his
+speech Napoleon is incessantly taking snuff, but spilling most of
+the tobacco, so nervous is he, growing more and more anxious; in his
+perplexity exclaiming at length: “Good God, you press me hard, and I
+am weak. But I shall not be so weak as to move the Senate to pass the
+resolution you ask for. I cannot recognise your wife!”
+
+Thereupon Lucien, who is now almost beside himself, says: “Well, then,
+Sire, what do you really want of me?”
+
+“What do I want? Simply that you should divorce your wife.”
+
+“But you have always maintained that we are not married, so how can we
+get a divorce?”
+
+“I expected you to say that. What do you think I can mean by asking you
+to procure a divorce? Obviously, thereby I recognise your marriage, but
+not your wife. The divorce will be the best thing for your children, just
+like all that you have hitherto refused to do, all that I have so much
+wanted you to do: to annul the marriage and divorce her.”
+
+“That would be a dishonour for me and my children, and I will never do
+it!”
+
+“Why is it, that with all your mother wit, you cannot see the difference
+between my earlier proposals and my present ones. In the former case, if
+your marriage had been declared null, your children would have become
+bastards!”
+
+Lucien points out the difference between his children’s dynastic rights
+and their civic rights. “You can bestow your thrones upon whom you will,
+Sire, for you won them at the point of the sword. But no one shall cheat
+my children out of their share in the modest heritage of Carlo Bonaparte,
+for they are as legitimate as any one else’s both by canon law and by
+State law. The pope has even given one of my daughters the name of his
+mother!”
+
+“Calm yourself!... Of course the divorce I ask for implies the
+recognition of your marriage. Nor do I wish to force an actual separation
+from your wife. She shall be honoured in accordance with her merits if
+she will make this sacrifice to my policy and to the future interests of
+France. I would even pay her a visit. But if she refuses, you and she
+will both be blamed for having sacrificed the true greatness of your
+children to your own egoism, and your children will curse your memory!”
+
+Lucien answers mournfully.
+
+“You are really incorrigible,” rejoins Napoleon. “You take everything so
+tragically. I am not asking for any tragedies! Think it over.”
+
+After Lucien has again and again insisted upon his point of honour, and
+has several times wished to take leave, the Emperor once more brings up
+the distribution of the thrones. Eugene’s position in Italy is merely
+provisional, and he would much rather see Lucien installed there.
+Napoleon complains about Hortense, too. None of them are satisfied.
+“Pauline is naturally the most reasonable in the matter of ambition, for
+she is the queen of fashion. Besides, she grows more lovely day by day.
+Josephine is ageing, and is greatly distressed about a divorce.”
+
+Lucien pricks up his ears. Napoleon goes on as if he were talking at
+random:
+
+“Can you believe it? She always bursts into tears when her digestion
+is a little upset, for she fancies she is being poisoned by those who
+would like me to marry some one else. That is despicable. Still, in the
+end, I shall have to get a divorce. I ought to have taken the step long
+ago, and I should have had quite big children by now; for, I may as well
+tell you”—he speaks earnestly—“people are wrong in thinking it is my
+fault we have no children. I have several. Two I know of for certain.”
+He mentions, without naming her, Léon’s mother; and then, wonder of
+wonders, the Polish countess. “She is an exquisite woman, an angel....
+You laugh to see that I am in love. Yes, I really am; but I never forget
+considerations of policy. She wants me to marry a princess. Of course, as
+far as feelings go, I would much rather raise my beloved to the throne.
+You, in your dealings with your wife, ought in like manner to be guided
+by considerations of policy!”
+
+“Sire, I should act as you are doing if my wife were only my mistress.”
+
+The Emperor grows more and more animated; speaks of a fixed intention to
+get a divorce; deplores having given the Bavarian princess to Eugene,
+who does not care for her and did not choose her for himself; remarks
+that he might long since have had Lucien’s daughter betrothed to the
+prince of Asturia “or some other great prince, perhaps even a great
+emperor.... Your divorce would have to precede mine, or be simultaneous.
+Then there would be less chatter about my divorce; for yours, in view of
+your obstinate refusal for so long previously, will certainly arouse more
+interest. Will you do me this service? I think you really ought to.”
+
+Lucien looks at him so quizzically that the Emperor is amazed, eyes his
+brother up and down, and says: “Why not?”
+
+Lucien smiles at the unreasonableness of the demand. Napoleon is
+embarrassed, but returns to the charge. Suddenly he addresses his brother
+as “my dear President” (Lucien having long ago been president of the
+Council of Five Hundred), and adds with emphasis: “Service for service,
+of course—and this time you will not find me ungrateful!”
+
+Lucien sank “into a sort of reverie, which was by no means unpleasant,”
+so that for a few moments he hardly noticed what Napoleon was
+talking about. Before long he realised that the Emperor was saying,
+confidentially, that his only reason for wanting Lucien’s divorce was
+that this would probably minimise the effect of his own on public
+opinion. Lucien, as tactfully as he could, alluded to his own advantages,
+pointing out that his wife was a young woman and was not barren. Napoleon
+took no offence. “Your wife, oh, yes, your wife, didn’t I tell you? She
+will become the duchess of Parma, your eldest boy will be her heir,
+without having any claim of succession to your rights as a French prince.
+For this is only the first stage to which I shall raise you, until
+something better can be found: an independent crown.”
+
+At the word “independent,” Lucien cannot restrain a smile, for he is
+thinking of the part his brothers have to play. Napoleon notices the
+expression on his face.
+
+“Yes, independent. You will know how to reign.... You need only take your
+choice!” His eyes flash fire, and he bangs the enormous map with the
+flat of his hand. “I’m not talking at random. All this belongs to me or
+soon will. Even to-day, I can do what I please. Would you like to have
+Naples? I will take it away from Joseph.... Italy, the loveliest jewel
+in my imperial crown? Eugene is no more than viceroy. He hopes to become
+king, expects to outlive me, but he will be disappointed in this matter.
+I shall live to be ninety, for I cannot do with less than that for the
+complete consolidation of my empire. Besides, Eugene will not suit me in
+Italy, after I have divorced his mother. Would you care for Spain? Do you
+not see that it is ripe to fall into my hands, thanks to the blunders of
+the Bourbons you are so fond of? Would you not like to be king in the
+country to which you went as envoy? What would you prefer to have? It is
+for you to say. Anything and everything is at your disposal, if only you
+will divorce your wife before I divorce mine!”
+
+Lucien is spell-bound for a time by the feverish haste with which
+Napoleon speaks. At last he says: “Not even your lovely France, Sire,
+would bribe me to this divorce; and besides....” He hesitates; but the
+Emperor guesses his thoughts, and says dryly, with an imperious air such
+as Lucien has never before seen him assume:
+
+“Do you think that you, as a private individual, are in a more secure
+position than I upon my throne?... Do you believe that your friend the
+pope is strong enough to protect you against me if I should seriously
+propose to take measures against you?” After reiterating arguments and
+enticements, he says in a formal tone: “You may be quite sure of this:
+everything for the divorced Lucien; nothing for the undivorced!”
+
+Lucien glances at the door, as a hint to the Emperor that he would be
+glad to be given his dismissal; but Napoleon takes him by the hand, and
+says “in a vague tone, and with a demeanour which might mean anything”:
+
+“If I get a divorce, you will not be the only other one. Joseph is merely
+waiting for my divorce to arrange for his own. Madame Julie has been
+good for nothing but to bring girls into the world, whereas I urgently
+need boys. The only use of girls is to marry them off in advantageous
+alliances. Besides, your eldest girl is nearly fourteen, so you tell
+me; just the right age. Won’t you send her to Mamma? If you do what I
+want, I will get Mamma to arrange something good for her.... You are
+not afraid that we shall do any harm to your spoiled darling? Tell her
+we shall be good friends, and that I will not pull her ears as if she
+were a child.... I need more nephews and nieces! The divorced Josephine,
+the grandmother of Hortense’s children, will always be the enemy of my
+legitimate and my adopted sons.” Then, murmuring as if to himself, “It
+must be done. I have no other way of undermining the power of Louis’ and
+Hortense’s children.”
+
+He comes back to the subject of his own illegitimate children, says
+he intends to adopt them, enters into details, and suddenly exclaims:
+“You cannot suppose that I have not the power to legitimise my natural
+children, just as Louis XIV. declared his bastards, the fruit of a
+twofold adultery, to be within the right of succession to the throne.”
+Again he speaks of Joseph’s intention to procure a divorce, and, when
+Lucien is sceptical, he rubs his hands delightedly, saying:
+
+“Yes, yes! Joseph and you will both divorce your wives! We will all three
+get divorces, and then marry again, all of us, on the very same day!”
+He adds a number of quips in the like merry vein. Then, suddenly: “But
+why have you become so serious? One might think you a sage of classical
+antiquity! You must stay with me for three days. I’ll have a bed made
+ready for you in the next room to mine!”
+
+He presses this invitation. Lucien, who dreads his brother’s
+blandishments, has to invent an excuse, and says that one of his children
+is ill.
+
+His wife, he goes on to say, has suffered because of the Emperor’s
+dislike; so much so, that he had been afraid at one time her anxiety and
+distress about the matter would be too much for her.
+
+“Is that really so? I’m sorry. You must take care of her! Whatever
+happens, she must not die before you get your divorce, for if she did I
+should not be able to legitimise her children!”
+
+Lucien pretends that he will think the matter over.
+
+“That’s all right. Well, well, go if you must! But be sure to keep your
+word!” Napoleon takes Lucien by the hand, and at the same time presents
+his cheek for a kiss, which is not as brotherly as it might be. Lucien
+departs, and when he is in the anteroom he hears the Emperor calling:
+“Méneval!”
+
+Lucien quickens his steps, for again the dread of imprisonment has seized
+him.
+
+No one, no historian and no imaginative writer, has ever given a
+more brilliant description of Napoleon than the foregoing, penned by
+his brother with obvious fidelity. This evening, the Emperor is in a
+quandary. He wants the help of a man whom he cannot coerce, and one
+who in certain respects is his equal. In the light thrown by Lucien,
+Napoleon’s character becomes positively transparent. He develops himself
+under our very eyes, showing us all the interplay of his motives.
+
+He lavishes temptations in the endeavour to overpersuade his adversary.
+Every move is carefully thought out, that it may exercise its appropriate
+influence upon the ambition of his interlocutor, whom he tries to win by
+the studied gradations of the dialogue. The visitor finds him brooding
+over the map of Europe, and is greeted in a way which is to alarm and to
+inspire confidence by turns. The wife, the bone of contention, is first
+vilified and then extolled. Napoleon goes back to the phraseology of the
+Jacobin Club, calls his brother “citizen,” pulls out one emotional stop
+after another. He reminds Lucien that they are both Corsicans; says with
+a challenging irony that Europe is too small for the pair of them; talks
+of Mamma and Pauline, of Joseph and Louis, using names that carry with
+them reminiscences of the nursery in which the Bonaparte children had
+played together. Thus he spins his web round Lucien.
+
+And yet—this is the marvel—we are shown the bubbling up of his nature,
+the beating of his heart, the quivering of his brain. Again and ever
+again, imagination and passion seem to carry him beyond the limits of
+self-restraint. Though his brother is a declared opponent, he makes
+all kinds of confessions: about Josephine and the countess; about his
+stepchildren and his generals; about his own blunders and his new,
+far-reaching plans. There is a flood of confidential admissions. Why?
+
+Because this Lucien, though an adversary, though no less gifted than
+Talleyrand, is a brother, and therefore, to the clannish Napoleon, is,
+in spite of everything, worthy of confidence. It moves us to see the way
+in which Napoleon detains him in private talk for hours, till midnight
+is long past; how he presses Lucien to stay for a few days, that they
+may thrash matters out; and how Lucien insists on going, not because he
+really needs to, but because he does not wish to bow before the force of
+his brother’s genius. For there is a secret contest between the pair, not
+about love or divorce, not about honour or crowns. To-day, just as seven
+years before, when the younger man could not bring himself to obey the
+elder, the contest is between the innermost self-esteem of one rival and
+of the other. After all these years, in the privacy of his own thoughts
+Lucien is still convinced that he could have managed everything much
+better than Napoleon.
+
+And yet, all the time, he loves him after his own fashion. Every word of
+his report betrays the obscure enmity between the brothers, the enmity
+that lives side by side with love. That is why he concedes nothing.
+The memory of the Nineteenth Brumaire has to be revived, and once more
+each of them is confident he was right. While these expert realists are
+talking, with the old phrases on their lips, the old verbiage about the
+greatness and the safety of France, they are really moved by nothing
+but their own passions. We seem to see them posturing before the crowd
+(a doubt seizes them—“We are alone here. You see. We are alone. No one
+can overhear us”); but in truth they are alone, in a strange and foreign
+castle, beneath huge candelabra, on which the candles are burning low.
+
+Nevertheless, despite Napoleon’s wealth and all his crowns, despite his
+stupendous powers of intellect and imagination, how poor a man he is,
+entangled in the threads of destiny, the threads which he has spun, but
+which are now spinning themselves in defiance of his wishes! For all his
+omnipotence, he is the slave of an incalculable, much-courted power,
+public opinion, which will not allow him to effect a reconciliation
+with his brother, to recognise his own children, or to marry the woman
+he loves. The impotence of the man of might is displayed in his own
+exclamations. He asseverates his power to do anything and everything—and
+yet he dare not do what he wants. How pleased he is with his brother,
+whose affairs he could manage so beautifully now that they have met after
+many years of separation. If Lucien would only stay with him, were it but
+for three days, they would certainly be able to come to an understanding.
+“Good God, you press me hard, and I am weak.”
+
+During this night when an emperor was offering his brother a choice
+among the thrones of Europe, was there not talk of the heritage of
+Carlo Bonaparte, a poor nobleman, on a small, out-of-the-way island?
+Did the Emperor of the French, who will never hear a word of his being
+a foreigner in France, conjure up the shade of the Corsican; was it he
+who evoked the penates of his birthplace for the protection of Brother
+Lucien, a negotiator in a hostile camp? Surely what we are recounting is
+a saga, told at midnight beside the fireplace in Mantua? Yes, it is the
+saga which the little Corsican lieutenant has woven out of the threads of
+his life: first a narrow band; but as he trails it after him, twists it
+and loops it, mixes colours and patterns, by degrees a carpet is formed;
+greater and more varied become the pictures produced out of the one
+thread, pictures of lands and thrones, of seas and men.
+
+The whole has been woven in the most natural way in the world. Not by a
+miracle, but only through the working of his talents, has the man become
+master of men. To-night he wants to add yet another to the long list of
+his subjects. He has not enough time, even though he hopes to live till
+he is ninety. He cannot allow his brothers to have girl children, or
+to live with the women of their choice. But if these undesired nieces
+throng his stage, he must set up new nephews against them. If a wife is
+in danger of dying of grief, she must at least be good enough to wait
+until she is divorced. When the men of the family have at length forsaken
+the wives who are barren or can only bear daughters, then, on the same
+day, they will take new wives unto themselves—and all will go happily
+ever after. Look at him, when the conversation is drawing to a close,
+rubbing his hands in his satisfaction, the little magician who stands in
+front of his immense map. By the time he has impaled all the countries
+with his coloured pins, impaled them like butterflies to put away in his
+collection—well, by that time the candles have burned out and a large
+slice of to-morrow has already been devoured.
+
+
+XIX
+
+The Spanish dynasty seemed about to fall. Immediately after the
+conversation recorded above, war was declared. Had not the Emperor
+already predicted it? A king who had degenerated into being his wife’s
+souteneur; a queen who only lacked courage to be a Messalina; a faithless
+minister; hatred between father and son; rascality, bribery, and
+corruption—to such a pass had sunk the house of Bourbon! He who wished to
+dethrone those who represented it, must use the same means as were used
+by the Spanish royal house itself. Never before had Napoleon’s actions
+been more fiercely unscrupulous; never before had the degeneracy of his
+opponent been a more useful weapon to his hand. He had always adapted his
+methods to his adversary; and, in the case of this decayed dynasty, he
+had recourse to the wiles and trickery similar to those which the Spanish
+house availed itself of in a last effort to preserve its integrity.
+Absorbed in his schemes, he forgot the Spanish people, which was in no
+way responsible for such princes, and which in no way resembled the royal
+rulers: in days to come the Emperor was bitterly to rue his forgetfulness.
+
+He who is for England, is against me! In support of this principle,
+Napoleon had already chased the Portuguese royal family from the throne.
+Now, since Spain, too, is on the side of England, in a prolonged intrigue
+he turns to his own advantage the struggle between the king and the crown
+prince; brings the latter to the front; then orders him to withdraw
+in favour of the father; and, finally, at a meeting of all parties in
+Bayonne, is able, by threats and cunning, to ensure that the Spanish
+crown shall be his own. The Mediterranean must belong to him; the coasts
+at any rate, from Gibraltar to Cattaro. This is an essential part of the
+war on England.
+
+At first his generals have an easy task in their work of conquest. “Do
+you know why I am invading Spain?” says Napoleon to Metternich. “I must
+feel safe at my back.” Alas for him when he is no longer safe in that
+quarter!
+
+On the critical day when he has settled matters with the Spanish princes,
+and has arranged that they shall be kept in a mild imprisonment, he is
+in a condition of moderate intoxication. The new crown gives him fresh
+impetus. He no longer sees Spain; his eyes are turned to contemplate the
+worldwide empire of Spain in the days of her vanished glory. On this
+occasion, a witness tells us, “the Emperor spoke, or rather dictated,
+at great length, in the Ossianic vein, ... like one whose heart was
+uplifted.... In his picturesque, metaphorical style, he referred to the
+powerful kingdoms of Mexico and Peru, describing the might of their rule
+and their influence. Never have I heard him display such a wealth of
+imagery as on this day. He was sublime.”
+
+The one thing he lacks is an occupant for the vacant throne, since
+Lucien has not accepted the bribe. The only way out of the difficulty
+will be a general post, like that which occurs when a vacancy is filled
+in the upper ranks of the officialdom and every one is promoted a step.
+Let us do away with the kingdom of Holland, make it into a province,
+and discrown Louis. The victim protests: “It does not suit me to be
+governor of a province. A king must rule by divine right.... How could
+I demand loyalty from my people if I myself were false to the oath I
+swore when I ascended the throne?” Napoleon is troubled once more by the
+consequences of having founded a dynasty. This modern Roman should have
+put his provinces in charge of generals and regents, whom he could recall
+whenever he pleased. But the ermine in which he dresses his puppets, all
+the apparatus of coronation and Mass and anointing, awaken ideas which
+were being laid to rest, and fully justify little King Louis in his
+refusal. Joseph is more accommodating. Till yesterday, he was king in
+Naples: why should he not be king in Madrid to-morrow? Shortly after the
+Bayonne intrigue, King Joseph I. enters his new capital, acclaimed, not
+indeed by the hearts of the people, but by the proper number of salute
+guns and all the ceremonial suitable to the occasion. Murat, whose wife
+has long been pestering her brother for a crown, Murat the son of the
+proletariat, becomes king of Naples, and thus the imposing couple gain a
+statelier field for their intrigues, and in due time for their treason.
+
+But this Spanish affair is a great adventure, and has serious
+consequences. There is muttering “at the Emperor’s back,” for the
+Spaniards are proud, and will not endure the conquest without a struggle.
+In front, across the Rhine, all the Prussians and all the Austrians who
+hate the Emperor have now reason to dread that Prussia and Austria may
+share the fate of Spain, and have good grounds for yet another renewal
+of their offensive. In Berlin, Napoleon had declared that on the Elbe
+he had conquered the Ganges. Now he fails to see that in his dealings
+on the Tagus he is raising up new enemies on the Danube. But he knows
+that he cannot do as he pleases in Spain unless the tsar holds Austria
+in check for him. The tsar is a man of unstable character. The only
+way to win over Alexander is by suggestion, as two years before, in
+Tilsit, and for this a personal interview will be necessary. The Emperor
+thereupon proposes to meet the tsar in central Germany, half way between
+their respective empires, thus initiating a form of policy new to him, a
+conference. Always before, when he has left France, it has been sword in
+hand, and he has invariably paved the way for negotiations by fighting.
+Now, to avoid a fight, a conference table is established in Erfurt.
+
+Napoleon prepares for this new sort of campaign with as much care as
+if he had been preparing for a military expedition. Day after day he
+summons court officials and other dignitaries. “My journey must be
+extremely imposing. I want great names for the headquarters, ... and
+I wish to amaze Germany by the splendour of the occasion.” For others
+are coming besides the tsar. The great double stars are attracting
+all the lesser stars. How can he best influence this assembly? The
+play’s the thing wherein he’ll catch the conscience of the kings! He
+stage-manages his theatre elaborately, devotes much thought to the cast,
+amends passages, and gives Talma (for whom he feels something akin to
+friendship) hints as to what requires to be emphasised—all with an eye to
+the royal audience. “You are going to play your parts in a theatre where
+the stalls will be filled with kings.”
+
+In actual fact, the evenings at the theatre form the climax of the
+Erfurt weeks. Among the audience are four kings and thirty-four princes,
+rivalling one another in the splendour of their retinues. The Emperor of
+the West and the Emperor of the East occupy the royal box. Almost every
+evening, this distinguished audience sees and hears what the kings of
+saga or the kings of history proclaim, what they struggle for, what they
+suffer. Talma, as Orestes, thunders forth:
+
+    The gods are the rulers of our times,
+    And yet fame is created by our own deeds.
+    Why should the heart allow the heavens to threaten?
+    Resolve to become immortal
+    And you will be as gods upon the earth!
+
+The next evening they see Voltaire’s _Mahomet_, of which the Emperor is
+especially fond, were it only because the hero so seldom quits the stage.
+The prophet’s disciple exclaims:
+
+    All men are equal; it is not birth,
+    But virtue alone which makes them different.
+    There are certain mortals favoured by the gods,
+    Who achieve everything by their own merits,
+    Who owe nothing to their forefathers.
+    Such a one is he whom I have chosen as master;
+    He alone, in all the world, has deserved his position.
+
+Is there any one among the audience whose heart does not beat faster as
+he glances at the man up there in the royal box—though the passion may
+be a passionate antagonism? The princes by right of birth may dread to
+look at the Emperor, but at least their eyes will seek one another as
+if to secure a common understanding. They do not dare to smile. They
+tremble before the man who sits there in a plain green coat, the man who
+is revolt incorporated in human form. He knows what the German princes in
+the stalls do not yet know, that a new and stronger utterance will soon
+be made by Mahomet:
+
+    See, the Roman Empire falling into ruins,
+    That great torn body, whose scattered limbs
+    Lie spread about the earth dishonoured and lifeless:
+    On these fragments of a world we shall upbuild the far-flung East,
+    A new god reveals himself to the blind world!
+
+Finally, the Emperor’s policy of to-day and to-morrow is voiced in the
+words:
+
+    Who was it made the master a king?
+    Victory alone has crowned him! But now
+    To the name of Conqueror he will add
+    The name of Peacemaker.
+
+At this instant, when all glance at him questioningly, Napoleon makes a
+slight movement as a sign that such is actually his intention, and for
+a political instant the illusion of the theatre is dispelled. But when,
+next evening, Œdipus proclaims: “A strong man’s friendship is a gift of
+the gods!” the two emperors rise and clasp hands.
+
+Napoleon knows well enough that Alexander is not a strong man, that his
+friendship is not a gift of the gods. He tries, therefore, by suggestion,
+to win over this vacillating personality. If the tsar is to be influenced
+to move along the lines laid down in the letter previously quoted, if
+he is to agree to divide with Napoleon the empire of the world, he will
+require a course of psychomagnetism, renewed from day to day. Napoleon
+rarely leaves the tsar to his own thoughts, but treats him like a woman
+who is to be wooed and won. The only person who is allowed to help the
+Emperor in this matter is Talleyrand.
+
+The diplomat still limps after Napoleon as the Emperor strides forward,
+though recently the differences between the two men had found vent.
+
+Talleyrand’s shrewdness had led him—sooner than Napoleon, sooner than any
+one—to detect the first cracks in his master’s system. A year before,
+after the drawn game of Eylau, he had foreseen the possibility of his
+master’s failure in Russia. This had come to him as the vision of a great
+statesman, and he had promptly deduced therefrom the mission of a great
+and statesmanlike traitor. Matters had been privately arranged between
+Napoleon and Alexander; the Emperor was relying on the tsar (to the
+exclusion of Talleyrand); Napoleon was cherishing a Carlovingian dream,
+interpenetrated with thoughts of Cæsarism: the fantastical elements in
+Napoleon’s schemes for world conquest had estranged Talleyrand from his
+master’s policy. But instead of cutting adrift from Napoleon, he had been
+content, on specious pretexts, to resign his ministerial post, receiving
+instead a lucrative position among the dignitaries of the empire. Both
+men hoped to gain by the change; Napoleon thinking that he would be able
+to keep better watch on Talleyrand, and Talleyrand fancying that he would
+be able to keep better watch on the Emperor’s secret thoughts. He was
+still grand chamberlain; and Champagny, his successor as minister, was a
+butt for Napoleon’s shafts of ridicule. Thus, even after the divorce from
+his master, Talleyrand remained the sultan’s favourite, and his power
+was redoubled by his shifts as a trickster no longer hampered by official
+responsibility.
+
+His doubts as to the stability of Napoleon’s position were confirmed
+by the progress of events in Spain. Directly he saw that the Emperor’s
+mind was set on this act of plunder, he realised that its upshot would
+be disastrous, and for that very reason encouraged his master to the
+venture. Since the days of Louis XIV., said Talleyrand, the Spanish
+crown had always been an apanage of the rulers of France. Napoleon,
+when his mind had been rendered effervescent by this and similar
+pseudo-arguments, decided upon the occupation of Catalonia “for the
+duration of the war with England.” Now the intriguer promptly returned to
+a critical attitude, and laughed to himself when the Emperor gave him the
+ignominious task of entertaining the infantes of Spain in their durance
+at his mansion near Valençay.
+
+He wants privacy, that he may keep watch on the kidnapped princes, and,
+through their instrumentality, not only spy upon England, but also keep
+England informed. Thence it is but a step to open betrayal, and that
+step Talleyrand now takes. This is in keeping with his whole career as
+a statesman. Henceforward he sends Tolstoy and Metternich (the envoys
+of Tsar Alexander and Emperor Francis in Paris) private information.
+How can he make his duplicity square with his duties to the master, to
+whose service he is pledged as imperial official, court official, and
+confidential adviser?
+
+There is a scene about the matter.
+
+“Well, you see,” says the Emperor on his return from Spain, “they all
+walked into the net I spread for them!”
+
+“I think, Sire, you have lost more than you have won by what has happened
+at Bayonne.”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“Something quite simple. Let me explain my meaning by an example. If a
+man of standing commits follies, keeps mistresses, treats his wife and
+his friends badly, he will be blamed; but his wealth and his power
+will enable him to regain the good opinion of society. But if the same
+man cheats at cards, he is expelled from good society, which will never
+forgive him.”
+
+The Emperor turns pale—so Talleyrand reports and will not speak to him
+for the rest of the day. Why does he not drive the plain speaker out
+of his circle? Why does he not banish Talleyrand to the West Indies?
+Napoleon receives a moral castigation from a scion of the old nobility,
+and still keeps the man in his entourage! Or was Talleyrand lying? We
+may have all the more confidence in the diplomat’s memoirs, seeing that
+they were written twenty years later, after the Restoration; were written
+to show how he had always played double, and (of course, owing to his
+respect for the claims of the legitimate rulers!) had served his imperial
+master only by halves. We can assume that the words were actually spoken,
+and to a man to whom hardly any one now spoke the truth, to a man whom
+even fewer now ventured to affront. Why does Napoleon keep Talleyrand in
+his service?
+
+“He is the only one who understands me,” said the Emperor of Talleyrand
+again and again. That accounts for much. Talleyrand’s unscrupulous way
+of thinking, his freedom from all qualms of conscience, furnished a
+tilting-ground on which the Emperor could joust freely when running a
+political course. The others had principles or considerations which must
+first be leapt over. Because Talleyrand was exempt from all prejudices of
+class and time, and also lacked the ordering ideas with which Napoleon
+fashioned his realm out of the chaos of chances, the wily opportunist,
+whose only passion was for money, was the best adviser of the other
+realist, who could only assuage his stormy imagination in a perpetual
+succession of new plans.
+
+That is why they understood one another, though only in the superficial
+regions of their respective characters. Napoleon never plumbed the depths
+of the treason that Talleyrand was preparing.
+
+Here, in Erfurt, the great day for the double-dealer has at last dawned.
+When the German princes gather round him and listen as he talks of the
+Emperor, he gives little heed to these pygmies, for there is some one
+else who will pay a far higher price for information, will pay both in
+political advantages and in ready cash.
+
+Alexander is prompt to seize the opportunity! The Russian has been well
+informed by his representative in Paris, and is almost as inquisitive
+concerning this Frenchman as he is concerning the Emperor. Talleyrand
+soon meets the tsar in the reception room of the Princess of Thurn and
+Taxis, who keeps open house every evening after the play. Talleyrand’s
+report of the encounter, written several decades later, reads like the
+utterance of a Mephistopheles: “The arts which I had prepared for the
+capture of the tsar were quite unneeded. At my first word he understood
+me, just as I had wished him to understand.”
+
+The play of their eyes conveyed a meaning which was not manifest in the
+words, for on the first day Talleyrand had said to the tsar: “Sire, what
+are you thinking of doing here? It lies with you to save Europe. But you
+will not succeed in your task unless you become a match for the Emperor.
+The French people is civilised: their ruler is not. The ruler of Russia
+is civilised: his people is not. Thus, the ruler of Russia should be the
+ally of the French people.... Your Majesty should not allow yourself to
+be inveigled into any disciplinary measures against Austria, but should
+consent to undertake the same duties towards that country as those my
+master has undertaken.”
+
+During the long evenings, over a glass of punch or a dish of tea,
+Talleyrand (who, like Napoleon, knows the manifold arts of the seducer)
+instils into the tsar’s brain all the truths and the hopes he wishes
+to bring to life within this suggestible spirit. The tsar shows his
+appreciation of the diplomat’s indiscretions at France’s expense by
+bestowing his favour upon the Emperor’s confidential adviser. He promises
+the hand of a Russian princess to one of Talleyrand’s nephews; she is
+the richest heiress in the eastern realm.
+
+Alexander, who in any case had come to Erfurt in a cautious frame of
+mind (for his relatives had succeeded in arousing suspicions before he
+started), is now for the first time able to resist Napoleon. In their
+private interviews, each is always trying to humbug the other; the
+honeymoon atmosphere of Tilsit has vanished, and the tsar’s enthusiasm
+for the Emperor is a thing of the past.
+
+Napoleon is taken aback. He makes Talleyrand draft the new treaty of
+alliance. Then, with great labour, he transcribes it, inserting his own
+emendations, and takes it to Alexander, who has to promise that no one
+shall hear a word of what is written in this secret document. The tsar
+gives the required pledge; but the very same evening he hands Talleyrand
+the amended treaty, so that the author of the draft learns what
+alterations his master has made. In the end, this treaty is not signed.
+
+At night, the Emperor summons Talleyrand, who plays the part of Iago
+admirably. The Emperor says: “I can make no headway with him; he takes
+such short views.”
+
+“But he is completely under your spell, Sire.”
+
+“He makes you think so, and you are taken in by him. If he is really fond
+of me, why won’t he sign?”
+
+“He is a man of knightly faith,” answers Talleyrand. “His simple word and
+his inclinations will bind him more strongly than a treaty.”
+
+“I shall not talk to him about this matter any more; for if I do, he
+will think I have it very much at heart. Our private interviews will
+be enough to make Austria believe that there is a secret treaty.... I
+cannot understand your fondness for Austria, a country whose whole policy
+recalls that of our old regime!”
+
+When fundamental principles are under discussion, Talleyrand is apt to
+become more communicative: “It seems to me that Austrian policy is also
+that of the new regime, and I venture to say it ought to be your own
+policy. People count on you, Sire, to safeguard civilisation.”
+
+“Civilisation!...” Napoleon halts in front of the fireplace, and, with
+a sudden change of tone, says softly: “Do you know why no one will
+negotiate with me plainly and straightforwardly? Because I have no
+children.... That is the secret. People are afraid of me, and every one
+wants to snatch what advantages he can. This is an unfortunate state of
+affairs for the world, and it must be altered.”
+
+A few days pass. Intercourse between the two rulers seems more cordial;
+etiquette has been forgotten; they come and go freely, like ordinary
+friends in private life. Napoleon spreads his nets cunningly. He says to
+the tsar: “Yes, I need rest; I need a home. How can one get these when
+one has no children? My wife is ten years older than I,” he goes on,
+falsely adding four years to Josephine’s tale. “Please excuse me. What I
+have just said may sound rather absurd, but I do not wish, where you are
+concerned, to hide the stirrings of my heart.” A pause. “Hullo, I see
+it’s almost dinner time, and Baron Vincent is still waiting my leave to
+depart.”
+
+The kings of the drawing-room are fond of describing Napoleon as a man
+of camps; but how prettily he can introduce a delicate topic just before
+dinner, so that he can slip away without having it discussed at this
+state. Late that evening he summons Talleyrand to his bedside; orates,
+questions, suggests combinations, and issues orders by turns. At length
+he speaks of divorce. “Fate constrains me to it, and it is essential to
+the tranquillity of France. I have no successor. Joseph is a man of no
+account, and his children are all girls. I must found a dynasty, and my
+consort must be the daughter of a great line. Alexander has sisters, and
+one of them is of suitable age. Have a talk with Romanzoff. When the
+Spanish affair is settled, I shall discuss the partition of Turkey. Tell
+him this, and use other arguments as well. I know you have long been in
+favour of the divorce.”
+
+Next day, Talleyrand broaches the topic with the tsar, who has been
+influenced by the suggestion the Emperor has instilled with his
+assumption of melancholy overnight. “No one fully understands the man’s
+character,” says Alexander, much moved. “All the commotion he spreads
+abroad is an inevitable outcome of his position. No one realises how good
+he is. You know him so well. What is your opinion?”
+
+Talleyrand has no intention of saying what he really thinks, but deems it
+expedient, at this juncture, to let Alexander know what Napoleon had let
+fall about the Russian princess. “I should have no objection,” rejoins
+the tsar promptly, “but I cannot dispose of my sister’s hand without my
+mother’s consent.”
+
+Thereafter, a long conversation between the emperors, and a renewal of
+intimacy; Alexander spends some more evenings with Talleyrand, talking
+over the teacups—but no conclusion is reached. The expanded treaty
+of alliance between the emperors is not signed at Erfurt, nor is the
+marriage to Alexander’s sister arranged. Although Napoleon receives more
+adulation than ever before, he is disappointed at having to leave without
+his treaty and without his Russian bride. The only one who brings home
+substantial advantages is Talleyrand, for he has secured the new niece’s
+millions.
+
+Meanwhile the thirty-eight princes have been cajoled or threatened,
+rewarded or ignored, by the Emperor and his train. “In Erfurt,” writes
+Talleyrand, “not a man among them was bold enough to face the lion.... On
+the last day he was surrounded by princes whose armies he had seized or
+destroyed, whose States and existence he had curtailed, but not one of
+them ventured even to proffer a request. The only wish of them all was
+to be seen; and to be seen last if possible, in order to remain in his
+memory.”
+
+In any case, Napoleon thinks Vienna will believe that to have been
+settled which unfortunately has not been settled. Fear will achieve
+what he has failed to secure through a treaty. He does not know that
+Talleyrand has betrayed him to Metternich, saying: “It rests with you
+to restore your relationships with Russia to the intimate footing that
+existed before Austerlitz. Nothing but an alliance between Austria and
+Russia can save the vestiges of Europe’s independence.” The Austrian
+diplomat writes exultantly in his report: “At length we have entered a
+new epoch, in which allies offer themselves to us from within the French
+Empire.”
+
+Farewells are taken. The Emperor, watched by the princes, exchanges
+a brotherly kiss with Alexander. All the onlookers are profoundly
+impressed by this token of friendship in the pair who rule the world. But
+Talleyrand, hat in hand, smiles inwardly, for over the teacups at the
+German princess’ he has been able to undermine the foundations of this
+friendship.
+
+In four years his labours will bear fruit, and the fruit will poison
+Napoleon.
+
+
+XX
+
+Brightly, against this dull background of German princelets, shines the
+torch of the German spirit. “I have gained only one thing here to take
+back with me to Paris: that you will have a pleasant memory of me.” To
+the Weimar circle, the Emperor says these words on the evening of his
+departure, for here and in Erfurt he has spent several evenings among
+those who are the true princes of Germany—princes who have no ancestors,
+but only genius. Himself a genius without ancestors, it is solely among
+them that he feels at home; though, during this fortnight, he experiences
+so much that increases his misanthropic contempt for his fellow-men,
+a contempt which has its counterpart in the respect he feels for the
+German spirit. The works of the masters of German literature are, indeed,
+unknown to him; but he knows their reputation, he knows the position
+they occupy in the invisible German and the imperial French Republic.
+That is why he seeks them out.
+
+Two years before, in Potsdam, he had summoned Johannes von Müller to his
+presence, and nothing throws a stronger light upon the significance of
+their conversation than the reserve with which the Prussianised Swiss
+historian treats the incident. With all the precision of a mind that knew
+so well how to classify its materials, the Emperor was able, without
+periphrases, to come direct to the topics which must interest every
+historian, and were especially interesting to this one. Within three
+minutes, the pair were deep in the profoundest problems of history.
+
+The Emperor spoke of Tacitus. Then he sketched the main epochs of
+intellectual life, and waxed enthusiastic concerning the wonderful
+manner in which Greek culture was renovated by Christianity when Roman
+culture was decaying. How adroit had been the Greek tactic, when Greece,
+conquered by the Roman sword, had found a way to reassert her dominance
+over the things of the spirit. These words, addressed by Napoleon so soon
+after the battle of Jena to a man of learning in Prussian service, convey
+both recognition and a challenge. The Emperor showed himself even more
+affable by going on to advise Müller to write a history of the Napoleonic
+exploits—advice he had never given to any Frenchman. Then he spoke of the
+basis of all religions, and of the need for religion. “The conversation
+was a long one,” writes Müller. “It embraced nearly all lands and nations
+in its scope.... The more interesting he became, the more did he drop
+his voice, so that at length I had to come very close to him, and no one
+else in the room can have heard what he was saying. Much of it, indeed, I
+shall never disclose.”
+
+From this remarkable conclusion to a bald report, we may infer, not only
+the discretion of the grave historian, but also the splendid frankness
+which the Emperor could show when holding forth in monologue to a man of
+mark.
+
+Now, in Weimar, he pays especial attention to old Wieland, compares him
+to Voltaire, but asks him rather critically when he mixes up romance and
+history. “A man of outstanding intelligence, like you, should know how to
+keep them apart. Running them together is apt to lead to confusion.”
+
+Something more serious than literary criticism is involved, for when
+Wieland ably defends his misuse of history, and goes on to speak of
+virtue as an example, the Emperor pulls him up with customary bluntness,
+saying: “But don’t you know what happens to people who are always
+expounding virtue in the realm of fable and nowhere else? In the end they
+come to believe that virtue itself is nothing more than a fable.”
+
+Napoleon turns back to Tacitus, for he always keeps a sharp eye on this
+Roman historian, as if the man, like Madame de Staël to-day, might
+still work mischief in Parisian drawing-rooms. As a development of this
+criticism, speaking in a modern ball-room, Napoleon utters great things
+concerning the activities of men: “Tacitus has not sufficiently studied
+the causes and the inner motives of events. His enquiries into the
+mystery of actions and states of mind have not been sufficiently profound
+to enable him to hand down an unprejudiced judgment to posterity. A
+historian should take men and nations as they are, should appraise them
+as their time and their circumstances have made them.... I have heard
+him extolled because he would fain make tyrants dread the people, but
+that would be very unfortunate for the people! Perhaps I am boring you?
+We did not come here to talk about Tacitus. Look how beautifully Emperor
+Alexander dances!”
+
+Wieland has been waiting for this moment. In a carefully prepared speech,
+he defends the old Roman against the new, so that, at the end, the
+Weimarian dignitaries and any others who are listening cannot restrain
+their jubilation.
+
+The Emperor has listened attentively. All now look at him, wondering what
+he will say. Will he politely withdraw from the discussion? Napoleon,
+as if on the battle-field, has been wondering upon what private
+information his adversary’s unexpected attack can have been based, and
+how the onslaught can best be parried. Unquestionably, the speech was not
+improvised. But how on earth had it entered Wieland’s mind to get up that
+particular topic? Suddenly the Emperor, who in the interim has talked to
+hundreds upon hundreds of persons, recalls his conversation with Johannes
+von Müller two years back.
+
+“I certainly have a strong opponent,” he says, when the old gentleman
+has finished the harangue. “You make full use of your advantages. Do you
+happen to be in correspondence with Herr Müller, whom I met in Potsdam?”
+
+Every one in the audience smiles, including Wieland, who is fonder of wit
+than of himself, and frankly rejoins:
+
+“Yes, Sire, it was he who told me that you do not like Tacitus.”
+
+“Well, I do not admit defeat,” says the Emperor. He returns to his Greek
+and Christian ideas, develops them further and more boldly, for he
+sees that the clever old Wieland is a sceptic: “Furthermore,” he says
+in low tones, shading his mouth with his hand, and coming close to his
+interlocutor, “it remains an open question whether Christ ever lived.”
+
+Conqueror and poet. One of them is still in his prime, a ruler who has
+re-established the Christian faith upon the ruins of the revolutionary
+cult of reason, but is now more or less at odds with the Church. The
+other is a venerable poet, a pagan whom Napoleon has just coupled with
+Voltaire, a man who has maintained the cause of reason against the cause
+of Christ, a member of a conquered nation, and physically so frail
+that again and again he has to lean on the back of a chair. The former
+whispers to the latter that it is probable Christ never lived. But the
+old man has for half a century been justly regarded as the wittiest among
+the Germans. He will show the Emperor that, in the intellectual world at
+any rate, a German can courteously exchange thrusts with a Frenchman, and
+he hastens to reply: “I know that there are foolish people who doubt
+that Christ lived. But it would be just as absurd to doubt that Julius
+Cæsar lived; or that you, Sire, are alive to-day!”
+
+Thus with a sally in the French manner Wieland upholds both German
+courtesy and wit, and the historicity of Christ. The Emperor, without
+committing himself, is content to drop the subject, and to clap the poet
+on the shoulder, saying: “Excellent, excellent, Herr Wieland!” Then
+raising his voice, he talks to his ball-room audience about the value
+of Christianity as one of the buttresses of the State. But although he
+was obviously eager to continue his talk with Wieland, the latter showed
+plainly that he was too tired to stand any longer, and thus the old man’s
+fatigue put a premature end to a scene which the aid of a couple of
+chairs might have made even more valuable.
+
+One of the silent witnesses of this conversation was Goethe.
+
+A few days earlier, in Erfurt, the Emperor had had an hour’s talk with
+Goethe. They were together in a room where, as was Napoleon’s custom
+when on a journey, he breakfasted, received, commanded, philosophised,
+and signed documents. Their conversation was a union of two minds, the
+balancing of counter-poised electrical forces. It was a process of mutual
+accommodation in which the two greatest men of their day contemplated
+the world together; a duologue in which most of their thoughts were
+never uttered, and in which the best elements were an expression of the
+homage the two paid one another. Goethe, who learned everything from
+nature, though in the reality of the world of men he could only find the
+confirmation of his previous imaginings, felt that this conversation was
+one of the greatest events in his life, and he described it as such. To
+the Emperor it was less significant.
+
+For Goethe had followed the Emperor’s course for a decade, marvelling
+all the while; and in his old age he said such profound things about
+Napoleon that a century after their utterance they have not been
+excelled. Napoleon, on the other hand, knew almost nothing about
+Goethe; in especial, he never surmised the poet’s personal admiration
+for himself, since the German had hitherto confided his feelings only
+to his intimates, and even now kept his own counsel. Though the Emperor
+had read _Werther_ several times, the mood that work had aroused was
+as completely a thing of the past as those youthful feelings which are
+merely compensatory derivatives for an unoccupied imagination. What this
+grey-headed poet now signified, was at that time not realised by more
+than a hundred Germans, and hardly one Frenchman; and, since his name
+in his own country was little known (and, where known, was unpopular
+and evoked no enthusiasm), it was natural that the Emperor should know
+nothing of him save that he had written some wonderful things which were
+unknown to any except the poet’s immediate circle, and that Goethe, at
+the time of the battle of Jena, was minister to that Saxon prince who had
+incurred the Emperor’s displeasure. When Napoleon summoned Goethe to an
+audience, he had less to expect from the poet than he had expected from
+Müller and from Wieland.
+
+But such as Napoleon and Goethe need but look in a man’s eyes to know all
+about him. Napoleon sits breakfasting at a large, round table; on his
+right is Talleyrand; on his left, Daru. Now he looks up, and, seeing the
+poet framed in the doorway, invites Goethe to approach. The Emperor is
+silent, amazed. There stands the sexagenarian, the most beautiful, the
+halest of old men, Goethe in the calm of his age, at the pinnacle of a
+strenuously wrought harmony of spirit, a harmony he had never possessed
+before and was so soon to lose. Napoleon is too full of admiration to
+speak. Then, more to himself than to his companions, he says:
+
+“Voilà un homme!”
+
+That is the golden shaft which pierces the heart and illuminates the
+scene: the word of a seer, deeply felt, an impression rather than a
+judgment—and it is meet that such it should be. For, precisely because
+the world ruler does not know that a world ruler is now before him,
+this utterance, the like of which he had never made to or of any one in
+the past and which he is never to make in the future, shows the godlike
+kinship of a genius with his brother genius. It is as if two elemental
+forces hovering on high had recognised each other through a rift in the
+clouds, and had, despite themselves, stretched out arms to one another
+until the tips of their forefingers had met; then the mists of time once
+more rose between them. A fleeting moment in the course of a thousand
+years; there has been nothing to compare with it since the meeting
+between Diogenes and Alexander.
+
+Goethe’s discretion prevented him from recording the conversation for
+many a year, and even then the record was incomplete. Other memoirs
+provide us with fragments only.
+
+Napoleon praises _Werther_, and adds: “I do not like the end of your
+romance.”
+
+“I can well believe that, Sire. You would rather that a romance had no
+end.”
+
+The Emperor calmly accepts this wellnigh threatening epigram. He then
+continues to criticise the story, saying that Werther’s love was not
+the only factor of the catastrophe, for ambition was likewise at work.
+The poet laughs (in two letters Goethe mentions this—a freedom rarely
+indulged in when the Emperor was present), and admits that the criticism
+is sound; but he adds that surely an artist may be forgiven for using an
+artifice which few readers will detect.
+
+[Illustration: The Coronation. Detail from the picture by Jacques Louis
+David. Louvre, Paris.
+
+(Photograph in the Kircheisen Collection.)]
+
+The Emperor is well content with his little victory in the other man’s
+domain. Turning now to drama, he makes “very remarkable observations,
+like one who had studied tragedy with the closest attention, in the
+spirit of a judge presiding over a criminal trial, and of one who keenly
+regretted the departure of the French theatre from nature and truth.” He
+spoke unfavourably of the drama of destiny, saying that it was a relic of
+less enlightened days:
+
+“What have we to do with destiny now! Politics are destiny!”
+
+As he utters these words, he gives an object lesson in his own fashion,
+turning to Daru to discuss requisitions, and then speaking to Soult who
+has just entered. Turning back to Goethe, he manœuvres to get the poet to
+himself, and asks personal questions. Then he assumes the offensive:
+
+“Does it please you here, Herr Goethe?”
+
+But Goethe, too, knows how to seize political opportunities, and rejoins:
+“Very much; and I hope these days will also prove advantageous to our
+little country.”
+
+“Is your people happy?” asks the Emperor, not noticing that he has
+phrased the question as if he were talking to a sovereign prince—for he
+must often have used such words in conversation with rulers. Really, he
+has no interest now in Saxony, and is thinking: “How can this man of
+genius be useful to me? What a pity he does not write history. But as a
+novelist he might describe this congress, or he might write a play.—He
+would certainly do either much better than our folk; and, besides, this
+would have redoubled value coming from a foreigner.” He therefore says:
+
+“You would do well to stay here for the whole period of the conference,
+that you may write your impressions of this great drama. What does Herr
+Goethe think of the suggestion?”
+
+Napoleon ends with this question (so unconsonant with his customary
+dictatorial manner) almost all his advances to the poet who is so hard to
+lure out of his reticence. Goethe says cautiously:
+
+“I have not the pen of a classical author.”
+
+“That’s in the political vein,” thinks the Emperor. But what he says is:
+
+“Your duke has invited me to Weimar. For a time he was sulky, but now he
+is in a better humour.”
+
+“If he was sulky, Sire, the punishment was certainly rather sharp; but
+perhaps I ought not to express an opinion on these matters. At any rate,
+we all owe him reverence.”
+
+“Splendid!” thinks Napoleon. “He stands in front of his master, but lets
+me see he knows that the duke is a donkey. I must get this man to write
+my ‘Cæsar’ for me! The effect in France would be bigger than that of
+winning a battle!” His spoken words are:
+
+“Tragedy should be the school of kings and peoples; there is no other
+field in which the poet can win such laurels. Why do you not write
+‘Cæsar’s Death,’ more worthily, more splendidly than in Voltaire’s
+attempt? This might be the greatest work of your life. The aim of the
+tragedy would be to show how much happiness Cæsar would have conferred
+on the human race had he been given time to carry out his far-reaching
+plans. Come to Paris! I urge you to do so! Thence you will get a wider
+prospect of the world, and there you will find the most abundant
+materials for new imaginative creations.”
+
+The poet expresses his thanks for the proposal, and says he would deem
+himself happy were it possible to accept.
+
+“That is as far as I had better go,” thinks the Emperor, as he had
+thought recently in his dealings with the tsar; “if I am too insistent,
+he will fancy I have a strong interest in the matter. It is very strange!
+He wants nothing from me, not even to shine in my presence. What can
+charm him out of himself, this incorruptible man? He must come and see
+the plays we are presenting here; that will stimulate his ambition to
+write better ones.”
+
+Out loud: “I hope you will come to the theatre this evening. You will
+find a lot of princes there. Do you know the prince-primate? You’ll
+see him in his box, fast asleep, with his head pillowed on the king of
+Württemberg’s shoulder. Do you know the tsar? You ought to dedicate
+something to him in honour of Erfurt!”
+
+Thus the Emperor gives a third hint. Will Goethe take it? But the poet
+only smiles civilly, and candidly declares:
+
+“I have never done anything of that sort, Sire, and therefore I have
+never had occasion to repent it.”
+
+A touch! A touch! The Emperor of the French cannot but feel it!
+Marvellous to relate, the son of the revolution tries to strengthen his
+position by referring to the Roi Soleil:
+
+“In the reign of Louis XIV., our great authors held other views!”
+
+“No doubt they did, Sire; but we do not know whether they may not have
+repented.”
+
+“How true!” is the Emperor’s thought when he hears this sceptical
+answer, which is really a skirmisher’s attack on the part of the German.
+Consequently, he makes no attempt to detain the poet when the latter,
+with a deprecatory gesture, himself closes the interview and bids the
+Emperor farewell—another breach of court traditions, with which Goethe is
+perfectly familiar.
+
+Thus the amazing upshot of this uncanny conversation between the two
+men of genius is that the Emperor, to whom the duologue was merely
+interesting, had vainly solicited a favour of the poet to whom it was
+the greatest encounter in his life. The explanation is simple: The
+Emperor wanted to make use of the poet, whereas the poet did not need
+the Emperor. Napoleon wanted Goethe to write for him. But to Goethe,
+Napoleon’s actions were merely the precious material which enabled him
+to penetrate to the heart of the other’s genius; and he could do this
+without a journey to Paris.
+
+Although the poet did not respond to the Emperor’s invitation by so
+much as a poetically worded compliment, years afterwards, in a tragical
+moment, Napoleon remembered the man whom, by three great words, he had
+set apart from all contemporaries.
+
+
+XXI
+
+Two months after this conversation, Napoleon is in Madrid, standing in
+front of the picture of Philip II. He has been over the palace, and has
+made a quick transit through the galleries; but here, in front of this
+conqueror’s image, he stands so long that the members of his suite watch
+in dumb amazement while the Emperor seems to be holding converse with the
+king. The man contemplating the picture is unable to say: “Upon my realm
+the sun never sets.” Perhaps this worldwide empire cannot be achieved
+without the aid of the Inquisition—which Napoleon has just suppressed,
+when invading Spain. Has he always been too lenient? Too democratic?
+Still, he has, in a dozen countries, put liberty in harness, that she may
+be broken in to dragging the dictator’s chariot. Perhaps the trouble is
+that he talks and writes too much? Philip, with the unfathomable eyes,
+was always silent. He does not look happy. But who is happy?
+
+A gloomy and joyless war had led the Emperor to this southern capital,
+for the intrigues with which the Spanish affair had been begun had
+wrought their own revenges. The kings and princes with whom he had dealt
+so high-handedly in the previous spring, had deserved no better fate; but
+the Emperor had failed to understand the temper of the Spanish people.
+When these had taken up arms in defence of their injured pride, the
+Emperor had regarded the insurgents as mere windbags. “They were worthy
+countrymen of Don Quixote. Ignorance, arrogance, cruelty, cowardice—these
+made up the spectacle before our eyes. Monks and inquisitors had stolen
+away Spanish brains.... Their soldiers were like the Arabs, and would
+only fight from behind the protection of walls; their peasants were no
+better than fellaheen; their monks were ignorant and dissolute; their
+grandees were degenerate, and had neither energy nor influence.”
+
+Entangled in this error, he failed to realise that, though he might
+conquer them to-day, his conquest would be for the day only. To-morrow
+the Spaniards, supported by England (which here finds its greatest
+rallying point), will begin to shoot once more from the houses, and who
+shall hinder them? The Emperor was already willing to admit it to his
+confidants. To Vincent, who had been a comrade in his earliest campaigns,
+he said:
+
+“This is the stupidest thing I have ever done in my life! Can you think
+of any possible way in which I can free myself from the embarrassment?”
+
+“You have simply to withdraw, Sire, and leave the country to itself.”
+
+“Fine words! Remember my position. I am a usurper. To gain this position,
+I needed to have the best head and the best sword in Europe. If I am
+to keep what I have won, all must be convinced of this. There must be
+no falling off in the prestige of my head and my sword. In face of a
+watchful universe, it is impossible for me to say that I have made a
+serious mistake, and to withdraw with a defeated army. You must see for
+yourself that the thing can’t be done. I am still asking for your advice!”
+
+Conviction that he has made a blunder, and that it is impossible for him
+to retrieve it; crude admissions made to an old companion-in-arms, whose
+advice he asks; is this young Bonaparte, or Napoleon growing old? In a
+week, he had beaten Frederick’s famous army. But in Spain, he effects
+very little in eight months. When he has to deal with armies in a country
+which can feed his soldiers, a country with roads and towns, he is always
+victorious; but when he must campaign in trackless regions, such as the
+desert, the plains of Poland, or the mountains of Andalusia, the tempo
+is too tedious for his impetuous nature, and the circumstances are too
+incalculable for his mathematics.
+
+His royal brother, instead of supporting him in this perplexing
+situation, makes difficulties. King Joseph wants to be a Spaniard, and
+to win his subjects by kindness. There are scenes between the brothers.
+With good reason the new king feels that he has made himself ridiculous
+by having to run away, and because he can only return under shield of
+the advancing Emperor. But with even better reason does the man of iron
+complain to Roederer about the king:
+
+“Joseph wants to be loved by the Spaniards, and to make them believe in
+his affection. Kings cannot inspire affection through tenderness. They
+must make themselves feared.... He writes that he wants to retire to
+Morfontaine; at this busiest of moments, he proposes to leave me in the
+lurch.... He says that he would rather pass the time at his country-seat
+than in a land bought with blood unjustly shed.... The blood is that
+of the foes of France! If he is king of Spain to-day, it is because he
+wanted to be; he could have stayed in Naples had he wished. Support me? I
+need no family.... My brothers are not Frenchmen, as I am.... The king of
+Holland, too, talks about going into private life. It seems to me that I,
+if any one of us three, have the best right to retire to Morfontaine!”
+
+Why does he not break with Joseph? Here is Marshal Soult, commander
+in Spain, and perhaps the most highly prized among all his generals.
+Why does he not give Soult a crown, just as he has given one to Murat?
+“Joseph writes to say that if I value any one more highly than himself,
+that is the man I had better make king. I certainly did not make Joseph
+a king because I thought such a lot of him! If I distributed thrones
+according to merit, I should have made a very different choice! I need
+my family to stabilise my dynasty, for that is the system on which I am
+working.”
+
+Now, in Madrid, he issues decrees to establish the new order of things;
+which is welcomed by few, loved by no one, threatened by England, and
+detested by the Spanish people. Nothing can restrain him. Only last
+October he had written to his wife from Weimar, saying that the tsar had
+been dancing, but he himself would not dance, for “forty years are forty
+years.” Moreover, he often makes fun of the way in which he is putting
+on fat. Yet on Christmas Eve, afoot, he crosses the Sierra de Guadarrama
+in a snowstorm, as if he had still been the general at Lodi. He defeats
+the English; but on these miry roads, deep in snow, he is no more able to
+follow them in retreat than he could follow the Russians after Friedland;
+and he gnashes his teeth when the enemy escapes to the ships. Shall he
+follow up the other portion of the English forces, away there in the
+mountains? That would be to withdraw the nucleus of his power still
+farther from France. Here he is, waiting in the centre of Castille; but
+what is Paris saying?
+
+He is in camp at Astorga when the courier arrives. Now he will learn what
+is going on at home. As he is reading one of the letters, he begins to
+tremble with a dumb wrath. Silently he paces up and down for an hour,
+without saying a word even to those who are deepest in his confidence.
+Then he suddenly issues order that the headquarters staff is to return.
+For his own part, leaving army and generals, he hastens to Valladolid,
+and thence to the frontier.
+
+“King Philip was right with his unfathomable gaze!” thinks the Emperor as
+he drives northward in his travelling carriage. “Instead of abolishing
+the Inquisition in Spain, I should have set it up in France. A conspiracy
+in Paris, and not one organised by the enemy! Fouché and Talleyrand, whom
+I could only use because they hated one another, and because each watched
+the other and told tales, have become reconciled and have entered into an
+alliance. Murat in it, too!”
+
+The warning letters, which had decided him to return, were from Eugene
+and from his mother. Letizia is active in spite of her years; active
+in playing her part when danger threatens, though she withdraws when
+festivals are the order of the day. She is the Corsican mother, and
+safeguards her children. The scope of Talleyrand’s treason, and how long
+he has been playing a double game, can at present only be guessed. That
+he has advised the Austrian envoy to take the offensive against France
+immediately, now when the Emperor is busy elsewhere, is not known, for
+there are no incriminatory documents. Even if such documents were in
+the Emperor’s possession, how could so great a master have such great
+servitors arrested? Slowly and invisibly has the power proceeding from
+himself grown in their hands, ultimately to be turned against him whom
+they hate. During the fortnight’s journey to Paris the waters of his
+wrath are rising against these creatures of his making.
+
+Arrived in the capital, the Emperor calls a Council of State composed of
+many senators and all his ministers, that they may be witnesses to his
+vengeance. The two delinquents are present. Napoleon loses no time before
+he begins his attack on Talleyrand: “You are a thief and a scoundrel, for
+whom nothing is sacred. You would sell your own father! I have showered
+benefactions upon you, and yet there is nothing that you would refuse to
+do against me. You it was who advised me to undertake the mad venture
+in Spain, and now you criticise it to all and sundry. It was you who
+informed me of the duke of Enghien’s whereabouts and incited me to take
+ruthless measures against him.... You have intrigued with the dethroned
+Spaniards who were placed in your charge. To-day, because you consider
+the Spanish affair a mistake, you have the effrontery to declare that you
+had always warned me against it.... You shall restore to me the keys of
+your office as grand chamberlain.... I could break you like glass if I
+chose; I have the power! But I despise you too much to give myself the
+trouble!...”
+
+For half an hour, Napoleon holds forth in this fashion. His hearers sit
+petrified. Silently, Talleyrand bows, and withdraws: “What a pity,” he
+says smilingly to a friend he meets outside, “that so great a man should
+be so ill-mannered!” Within the council chamber, the Emperor now proceeds
+to his attack on Fouché, whom he charges with having failed to work up
+public opinion, with having supported the enemies of the Emperor....
+
+His hearers sit petrified. Silently, Fouché bows—and remains! The Emperor
+commands that the higher officials shall renounce all right of criticism;
+they are to become mere tools of his thoughts. He declares menacingly
+that doubt is the first step on the road to betrayal, which, in its turn,
+becomes actual as soon as it takes the form of opposition.
+
+Meanwhile, all Paris is convinced that both the unfaithful servants are
+to be banished or placed in confinement. But neither is dismissed! Fouché
+remains, for who could replace the man with a hundred eyes? Talleyrand,
+smiling as ever, continues to come to court; he has retained his official
+position; at the Sunday receptions, he always places himself so that his
+master cannot fail to see him; answers in the stead of his neighbour
+when the Emperor has put a question to the latter; and, in general,
+demonstrates the truth of Lannes’ soldierly judgment: when Talleyrand is
+kicked from behind and one is conversing with him at the moment, not a
+sign of his feelings can be detected in his face! Ere long he is to be
+seen once more, limping away from the chill festivities in the brightly
+lit Tuileries, following in his master’s wake to resume his labours in
+the Emperor’s study, for “he is the only man with whom I can really talk!”
+
+Weighty matters have to be talked over. Germany has awakened; slowly
+she is beginning to stir; all eyes are fixed on Austria. The Prussian
+king hesitates as usual; and an order, dated from Madrid, has banished
+Baron vom Stein from Prussia. Tyrol is seething with mutiny, like Spain;
+Austria, now allied not only with England but also with Turkey, is arming
+for the fifth time. What matters it, then, that Saragossa, after a heroic
+struggle, should have fallen? Troops cannot be withdrawn from Spain so
+long as insurrection is rife. How can a war be undertaken, seeing that a
+vast army of a quarter million men is tied up in Spain? It is precisely
+on account of this situation that Austria has found courage to take up
+arms against the Emperor.
+
+The Russian menace is Napoleon’s last hope. When the Russian envoy,
+Romanzoff, is leaving for St. Petersburg, the Emperor overwhelms him with
+gifts and with promises. Thinking to make himself agreeable to the tsar,
+he pledges himself to the evacuation of Prussia; and urges Alexander, for
+his part, to proclaim the alliance of the two emperors to a trembling
+central Europe.
+
+But Alexander vacillates; he allows himself to be reassured by Vienna,
+Berlin, and London; timid and hesitant as he is, he yields to the threats
+of his grand dukes (who to a man detest Napoleon), and yet cannot make
+up his mind to go whole-heartedly over to their side; Vienna’s hopes of
+securing one of the tsar’s sisters as bride for an Austrian archduke are
+frustrated: the tsar elects to remain neutral!
+
+The Emperor is cut to the quick by his friend’s breach of faith;
+indeed, it is the unkindest cut of all. He has given too much personal
+confidence, his pride is wounded, his labour lost. Literally, there
+remains nothing for him to do but to raise an army out of the very earth:
+the levies for the following year are now being called up, a year in
+advance; money must be procured by every possible and impossible means;
+the funds have fallen to 78, in consequence of the Spanish affair. Still,
+Austria is ready far earlier than he had expected. When, in April, the
+semaphore announces that the enemy is on the march, and Napoleon is
+informed of the news in his bed at ten o’clock that night, he orders the
+mobilisation of his troops for midnight, and is furious when the unwieldy
+machine is not ready until four hours later.
+
+When he arrives in Bavaria, he sees the mistakes committed by the
+Austrians in their advance. He can hardly believe his good luck; it was
+as if “he grew; his eyes gleamed, and with a delight which his glance,
+his mood, and his movements all betrayed, he exclaimed: ‘I’ve got
+them! Their army is lost! A month hence, and I’ll be in Vienna!’” He
+underestimates the time: he will be there in three weeks! He incites his
+soldiers to marches of over sixty-five miles in forty hours, and beats
+his foe in a series of five battles. Later he was to call these five days
+his finest achievement from the point of view of manœuvring. The last
+day he is wounded on the foot; and, since fate wills that the legend of
+his invulnerability (in which the army whole-heartedly believes and to
+which even he is inclined to lend an ear) shall be exploded, the bullet
+hits his Achilles’ tendon.
+
+But he speeds away again, and crosses Germany. Napoleon’s carriage is
+outwardly plain, but within it is comfortably built. The Emperor can
+sleep in it; by day he can govern from it, just as well as from the
+Tuileries or from a tent. He is the first to overcome the friction which
+brings movement to a standstill; and, though he does not travel as fast
+as we do nowadays, he travels faster than any man ever travelled before.
+Five days take him from Dresden to Paris. In a number of lock-up drawers
+within the carriage, he collects reports, dispatches, memoranda; a
+lantern hanging from the roof lights up the interior; in front of him
+hangs a list of the different places he must pass through, including
+where relays of horses are awaiting him. Should a courier reach him,
+Berthier, or another official who happens to be at hand, must take down
+the more pressing orders, while the carriage goes jolting on its way.
+Before long, orderlies are to be seen flying off in every direction.
+
+On the box seat, the Mameluke is enthroned in solitary grandeur. Two
+postilions whip up the six horses. The carriage is surrounded by a crowd
+of equerries, pages, and light cavalrymen; when the procession sets
+forward, the road is all too narrow to accommodate it, eddies of dust and
+heat envelop it, night and fog encompass it. The peasants stand aside to
+let the tornado pass; they are agape with wonderment and firmly believe
+that the devil is hiding inside the great Napoleon. He leaves behind him
+a trail like that of a paper-chase: for he throws out of the windows of
+the carriage, not only all the envelopes and other useless paper, but all
+the reports he does not wish to file (torn into tiny fragments); all the
+newspapers he has read; and, finally, books, which he glances at when he
+has a moment to spare, and then consigns to their fate in the mud of the
+highway.
+
+Wherever he gets out of his carriage, a hot bath is ready for him. Then,
+at two in the morning, he will dictate till four, snatch three hours’
+sleep, and start off again at seven. At his halts, four light cavalrymen
+surround him in a square, and follow him in all his movements, if,
+for instance, in the daytime he studies the country through his small
+telescope. Should he need the large telescope, he uses the shoulder of
+the page in waiting as a rest. Whether his halt be short or long, in
+wartime the map is always ready to his hand, in carriage or tent, in camp
+and by the watch-fire. Any member of his escort who fails to show him
+in the map the precise point where the halt has been made, the area he
+now wishes to study, receives a volley of abuse—be it Berthier himself,
+Prince of Neuchâtel. Through all countries, for the whole duration of his
+life, the map follows him, pierced with coloured pins, illuminated at
+night by twenty or thirty candles, and with a pair of compasses lying on
+it. This is his altar, before which he offers up his prayers. It is the
+real home of the man who has no home.
+
+Now, without a blow, he takes Vienna for the second time, and occupies
+the same room as of old in the palace of Schönbrunn; but the war is not
+over.
+
+For what has meanwhile been happening in his wide realms is unfavourable
+to him, and encourages the enemy. There is bad news from Spain; in
+northern Italy, Eugene has been fighting unsuccessfully; and since, at
+this instant, Murat has to advance from Naples, the Roman Emperor makes
+as short work of it with Rome as the Hohenstaufen had done many centuries
+before. Four years ago, at the same writing table, he had penned a decree
+annihilating the royal house of Naples. Now he repeats the manœuvre
+with the pope. Since Napoleon, at this juncture, has to strike with his
+sword in all directions, he no longer troubles himself about moral and
+political consequences, and ventures this dangerous edict for little
+better reason than that a junction must be effected between his armies in
+Italy.
+
+But anger is a contributory cause. When he had been in Spain at the
+beginning of the year, he had let fall expressions showing how out of
+humour he was with Rome: “Last year, the pope was impudent enough to
+neglect sending us the consecrated candles he sent the heads of other
+States. Write to Rome saying that we don’t want any, not even for the
+three kings of our house. Say that at Candlemas I always get consecrated
+candles from my own clerics, and that the value of these things does not
+depend upon purple or the other insignia of power. In the realm of the
+shades, there will be priests just as good as the popes! Thus a candle
+blest by one of my own clergy will be just as holy as one sent by the
+pope. I won’t have his candles, and none of the princes of my house may
+accept them.”
+
+In this way he trumped the pope’s trick, like a Protestant, like a
+revolutionary. Such was Napoleon’s mood, in the slough of the Spanish
+roads and battles. Now, in Schönbrunn, he bluntly deprives the Holy
+Father of power as sovereign prince. The pope is relegated to the
+Vatican, and assigned a revenue of two millions.
+
+Many members of the Emperor’s retinue are shocked, for some of them are
+good Catholics, and it is only five days from the feast of Pentecost.
+Is he not challenging God? Those in whom faith becomes intensified into
+superstition are likely enough, ere long, to find confirmation of their
+presentiments. In five days, at Pentecost, Napoleon will be defeated for
+the first time in his life.
+
+Some regard the battle of Aspern-Essling as indecisive; at any rate, no
+one can consider it a success for Napoleon. When the bridge across the
+Danube was swept away, this was just as much and just as little due to
+chance as were all the great happenings whereby at Lodi, Rivoli, Marengo,
+and on many other occasions, he had, by precisely such improvisations,
+wrested victory from God. A friend of his youth, Marshal Lannes, is
+mortally wounded. Napoleon hastens to the dying man’s side, and, so the
+story runs, his old comrade shows hostility both in word and glance.
+That evening Napoleon sits long before his untasted supper, silent, and
+refusing to see any one.
+
+“Conquered? Conquerable?” he muses, staring forth gloomily into the
+future. “Has Achilles’ heel indeed been hit? That marksman aimed better
+than Talleyrand. No, it was my own fault. Too hazardous to cross the
+river in full view of the enemy! Lannes was right; he was already half
+way over. What is Paris saying? What will be the best way of reporting
+this in Paris?” In uneasy mood, he goes back to Schönbrunn, a huge,
+lonely palace in the midst of a hostile land. His Polish mistress! If
+only he had had the lovely Walewska with him. She is sitting now in a
+Polish castle, far away, but her thoughts fly towards him. His hopes of a
+child by her last year had been dashed.
+
+He sends for her.
+
+Strange news from Rome! To Napoleon’s edict of deposition, the pope
+has promptly replied by a bull of excommunication. Does this alarm the
+Emperor? He laughs. He laughs at Catholic mediævalism, and the soldier,
+the self-made man, thinks:
+
+“Is this vengeance for my having, in Notre Dame, snatched from him the
+crown which the holy man wanted to place on my head with his own hands?
+And what is holy? It is doubtful if Christ ever lived; the only certain
+thing is that we can make use of him. But in these enlightened days, none
+but children and nursemaids are afraid of curses. I have been outlawed
+twice ere this, on the Nineteenth Brumaire, and in Corsica. Such farces
+bring good luck!” Much refreshed by these thoughts, he prepares for the
+counterstroke on the Marchfeld, and at Wagram is again victorious, as in
+thirty battles, his excommunicated weapons being too much for the pious
+archduke Charles. Towards the end of his two days’ battle, when all was
+going well, and the commander was overpowered by fatigue, he made Rustam
+spread a bearskin for him on the battle-field, told the Mameluke to call
+him in twenty minutes, lay down, and fell fast asleep for the prescribed
+period, to awaken fully reinvigorated. The war was finished, and a truce
+was agreed on. Next day, reporting the new victory to his wife, he adds:
+“I’ve been burned as brown as a berry.” He has been thoroughly toned up,
+and his mood is rejuvenated.
+
+Returning to Schönbrunn, he finds Walewska awaiting him. How many lovely
+women have glided through the secret portals and discreet chambers of
+this vast palace, to revivify the Habsburgs? Now the adventurer from the
+Mediterranean sends evening after evening to fetch the countess, who is
+housed near by; and again and again he warns the groom of the chambers
+to be careful lest the carriage should be overturned on the rough road.
+For the second time, the pair live three months together. He had looked
+forward to this in Finckenstein, and had promised her that it should
+happen; but the where and the when depended on the course of universal
+history, and not wholly on himself.
+
+In a few weeks, she knows that she is with child. Will she this time give
+him the gift that he has been asking from women for twelve years, and
+has only once received? Thus, the idyll gains a new content; and when,
+at midnight on August 15th, lying in her arms, waiting for his fortieth
+birthday to dawn, and thinking how early next morning salutes and bell
+peals will hail the coming of this day, throughout France, and indeed
+in all the countries over which he rules,—the day to which the pope
+had complacently transferred the feast of St. Napoleon—may it not seem
+strange to him that the first to congratulate him should be this beauty
+of twenty summers, who can speak but haltingly the two languages in which
+he is at home, and whose glances convey more meaning than her words? His
+thoughts may well fly back to that time ten years ago when he sailed
+homeward from Egypt, hazarding all to the luck of the seas, out of which
+the great English net could so readily have fished him. Now he is a
+different man, but not a happier one, for he is the slave of “the nature
+of things.”
+
+He is different, also, from the man he was two years ago in Finckenstein.
+Then he was the builder of a world empire, the potentate to whom the
+kings of the East and the kings of the West paid homage; now, that empire
+is on the defensive, and even a great victory like that he has just won,
+can only be turned cautiously to account.
+
+On the day of Wagram, his people in Rome had committed a blunder of which
+he has only just heard:
+
+“I am very much annoyed at the arrest of the pope. That was an idiotic
+thing to do! You should have arrested Cardinal ——, while leaving the pope
+at his ease in Rome.” He had laughed at the symbolic power of the bull
+of excommunication. “Excommunication” is an empty word, an airy nothing,
+which the French bishops can blow away; but as statesman he realises
+instantly that the imprisonment and deportation of the Holy Father are
+very serious matters. This rash action has put him in the wrong, for a
+banished pope is morally stronger than a pope fulminating bulls.
+
+Other letters are coming to hand, from Spain this time, telling how
+England has made good her losses there; and how, in the forest wilds,
+the visible-invisible Spanish people, allied with England, is standing
+more stoutly to arms. The news from Paris is that Fouché has overstepped
+his orders, and has called up the National Guard everywhere; his obvious
+intention has been to intensify the dread of England throughout the
+country, and to fan the flames of discontent among the newly levied
+conscripts.
+
+A difficult and dangerous situation, and one whose difficulties and
+dangers thicken as the radius widens. The despatches from Rome and Paris
+are a week old, and those from Spain date from more than a fortnight
+back. By the time fresh orders from Schönbrunn can reach Valladolid, the
+whole position will have changed. If only he had the power to issue his
+commands with the velocity of light, then he would be able to rule the
+world from this office on the Danube. As things are, he must cut short
+the negotiations, which Austria, encouraged by England and Hungary, has
+been protracting for weeks. When, recently, the victor demanded a third
+of the monarchy, with nine million souls, he was met with a refusal.
+Now he pursues a different plan. With the splendid frankness which
+is so baffling to diplomats of the old school, in one of his endless
+conversations (this particular talk with Count Bubna lasted seven hours),
+he explains his own difficulties to his opponent:
+
+“I was to blame for Aspern-Essling, and suffered for my mistake: but the
+confidence of my soldiers remain unshaken.” In broad outline, he sketches
+his own tactics on the battle-field. “But I will tell you the mistake you
+are always making.... You draw up your plans the day before the battle,
+when you do not yet know your adversary’s movements, or what positions
+you will have to occupy. But for my part, I never issue orders long in
+advance, and am especially cautious overnight. At peep of day, I send
+out my scouts, survey the field for myself, and keep my troops in mass
+formation as long as I am still in doubt.... Then I hurl myself on the
+enemy, attacking him wherever the ground makes attack most favourable....
+You are right when you remind me that my free use of artillery fire
+causes much bloodshed. But what am I to do? My troops are weary; my men
+want peace. That is why I have to be sparing with the bayonet, and to use
+cannon more than formerly.”
+
+Later he comes to the condition of the alliances: “To-day I am sure of
+the tsar, but what guarantee have I that he will stand by me? As regards
+Prussia, I have known for a long time that that country is oscillating
+between you and me.” Suddenly he demands only half of what he had asked
+before, disavows his minister, and offers an alliance. Needs must, for he
+has to get back to Paris. A new basis for negotiation! Austria is to lose
+a fragment to the Confederation of the Rhine, and another to Russia; a
+pathway to the Balkans has to be left open for Napoleon. Several more
+weeks pass in negotiation. His impatience is soothed by the bright
+glances of Walewska.
+
+In October, Napoleon is holding a great review in Schönbrunn. A young
+man forces his way into the palace. He is arrested. When searched, he is
+found to be carrying a long knife and the picture of a girl. Examined in
+the guard room, he refuses to give any information, and says he will only
+explain himself to the Emperor in person. Soon the lad of eighteen, a
+fair-haired youth, serious of aspect, frank and courageous but courteous,
+is confronted with Napoleon. His name is Friedrich Staps, and he is the
+son of a Tyrolese pastor. Napoleon questions him in French, Rapp acting
+as interpreter.
+
+“Yes, I intended to kill you.”
+
+“You must be mad, young man, or ill.”
+
+“I am neither mad nor ill, but in the full possession of my faculties.”
+
+“Then why do you want to kill me?”
+
+“Because you are ruining my country.”
+
+“Your country?”
+
+“It is mine, as it is that of all good Germans.”
+
+“Who was the instigator?”
+
+“No one. My heart told me that by killing you, I should do good service
+to Germany and to Europe.”
+
+“Have you ever seen me before?”
+
+“In Erfurt. Then I believed you would make no more wars, and I was your
+greatest admirer.”
+
+The Emperor sends for his physician, in the hope that the young fellow
+will be declared a lunatic; but the doctor, having made his examination,
+says that Staps is of sound mind.
+
+“I told you so,” says Friedrich.
+
+The Emperor is uneasy. He is loath to make an end of so frank and bold a
+youth. He has not to do here with a partisan, with a conspiracy, with one
+who is out to destroy a principle; he has not to do with an ideologue,
+but with an idealist. Germany has sent forth against him a Brutus with a
+long knife.
+
+“You are distraught. You are bringing affliction on your family. Ask my
+forgiveness, and say you are sorry. Then I will grant you your life!”
+
+Never before has Napoleon spoken thus, at any rate to an assassin. The
+young man remains steadfast. Has Napoleon lost the power of suggestion?
+“Well?”
+
+“I do not want your forgiveness, and I am not sorry. My only regret is
+that I have failed.”
+
+The Emperor grows angry.
+
+“The devil! A crime means nothing to you, then?”
+
+“To kill you would not be a crime, but a public service,” says Staps,
+still perfectly respectful, indeed, thoroughly well bred.
+
+“Hm. Whose portrait is this?”
+
+“The girl I love.”
+
+“Will she approve this attempt of yours?”
+
+“She will be sorry it has miscarried, for she hates you as much as I do.”
+
+“What a pretty girl,” thinks the Emperor looking at the miniature in his
+hand. “Am I really to be baffled by this young fellow? No, I will save
+him, will pardon him. What does it matter to me if he hates me?” Still
+holding the miniature, he looks Staps squarely in the face: “If I pardon
+you, I suppose it will gladden the heart of this girl?”
+
+Friedrich’s blue eyes flashed, and he says firmly:
+
+“Then I shall be able to kill you after all!”
+
+The Emperor turns away, and leaves the prisoner to his doom. To
+Champagny, who is present, he talks for a long time about the
+Illuminates. Then, with a sudden transition he says:
+
+“We must make peace. Drive back into the town. Summon the Austrians. We
+are practically agreed on the main points, and the only trouble relates
+to the war indemnity. The difference amounts to fifty millions. Reduce
+the demand by half. Get the matter settled. I was satisfied with the last
+draft. Add whatever clauses you think necessary. I leave everything in
+your hands. Make peace.”
+
+So great is the impression wrought by the youth. We cannot call it alarm.
+Caution is too mild a word. The trouble is that a shadow has fallen
+across his soul. After negotiating for three months, the Emperor, simply
+that he may save one day, leaves the conclusion of the peace to his
+minister. He has Staps examined once more, but the enthusiast prefers
+death to recantation. Next morning at six, the minister brings the treaty
+which has been arranged during the night. The Emperor, well content,
+praises his minister:
+
+The same morning, the assassin is shot, and the Emperor returns to
+the topic: “The thing is unprecedented! So young a man, a German, a
+Protestant, well brought up; and such a crime! How did he meet his end?”
+The answer is that Staps, in face of the firing squad, had cried in loud
+tones: “Liberty for ever! Death to the tyrant!” The Emperor holds his
+peace.
+
+Napoleon commands that the long German knife shall be brought back with
+him to Paris.
+
+
+XXII
+
+The Empress Josephine is lying in a swoon on the floor. Napoleon summons
+the palace prefect, and orders him to bear her to her chamber. The
+Emperor goes in front, carrying a lighted candle. Since the staircase
+is narrow, he passes the candlestick to a servant, and helps Bausset
+to carry Josephine. He carefully lays her on her bed, and, in a state
+of great excitement, leaves the room. Hardly is he out of sight, when
+the empress opens her eyes: cries and fainting fit were all a pretence!
+Bausset betrayed her secret later, stating that, as he carried her up the
+stairs, she had whispered that he was holding her too tightly, and was
+hurting her.
+
+All the same, fear and sorrow are in very truth her portion; for she has
+been informed that she must leave the Tuileries, where, for more than a
+decade, she has ruled as queen. The Emperor himself has broken the news
+to her. Matters cannot continue as in the past: every one is counting on
+his death: across the frontier are the Germans with their long knives;
+here at home is Fouché, colloguing with the English. Napoleon needs a
+son; and his son must be the child of a princess of royal blood. The
+scene with Josephine took place shortly after his return from Schönbrunn.
+Probably he was feeling sore because he could not place his Polish love,
+who bore his child in her womb, straightway upon the throne. For a
+certainty, he did not as yet know the name of his future bride.
+
+Mother, sisters, brothers, are sitting in silence, with stony faces,
+round the table, in family conclave: Josephine is likewise present. She
+can detect the smothered joy in the minds of these witnesses who at
+last have gained their end. The “old woman” must go! With uncontrolled
+emotion in his voice, the Emperor declares that all hope of an heir from
+the empress is quenched, and that it is solely on this account that he
+must part from her. “God alone knows how hard a step this is for me to
+take.... But no sacrifice is too great for the sake of France.... For
+fifteen years, the empress has made my life beautiful by her presence.
+She was crowned by my own hands.... I have determined that she shall
+preserve the rank and the title of empress; and, above all, that
+she shall look upon me as her lifelong friend.” Josephine exercises
+admirable self-control, but asks the arch-chancellor to read her words of
+acquiescence.
+
+The memorandum concerning the divorce is then signed by all. Napoleon’s
+signature is more legible than usual. It is vigorous, and a long, firm
+flourish underlines his full name: he thus brings a very serious matter
+to a close, in manly fashion. Nervously, Josephine adds her signature
+to the right of his, quite near, as though pleading for his support.
+Madame Mère writes her M. as her son has written his N., and follows him,
+likewise, in the concluding flourish.
+
+That night, Josephine makes an amazing entry into his room, and
+approaches his bed, tears streaming down her face, and her hair falling
+round her shoulders. Next day, supported by Napoleon, a veritable Niobe,
+she quits the palace and drives to Malmaison. Before leaving, however,
+she has (foolishly perhaps) besought Méneval to speak of her as often as
+possible to the Emperor.
+
+Napoleon went alone to Trianon, which was at this time unoccupied. There
+he held a death watch such as no lover had ever held before over the love
+from whom he was to be eternally severed: he remained there for three
+days, absolutely inactive—this being as great an achievement as if a
+Buddhist holy man had for three days done Napoleon’s work! He received
+no one, he dictated never a word, read nothing, noted down nothing; for
+three days the mighty wheel stood still, the wheel which for fifteen
+years had rotated by the strength of its own impetus. Soon afterwards he
+visited his divorced lady at her house in Malmaison. Then he wrote to her:
+
+“I found you to-day in a worse condition of mind than I had hoped, mon
+amie.... You should not give yourself up to so profound a melancholy.
+Take good care of your health, which is so dear to me. If you love
+me, then show me how strong and happy you can be. You cannot doubt my
+fondness, or all the tenderness I feel for you. You cannot believe that I
+shall ever be happy if you are unhappy.... I was very sad when I got back
+to the Tuileries; the great palace seemed so empty; I felt so lonely....
+Farewell, chère amie; sleep soundly, and remember that I wish it
+thus....” After fifteen years of intimate association, the man of forty
+writes in so natural and so grateful a fashion—though at the same time we
+may detect a gentle hint of a determined will that commands.
+
+Then come endless calculations: he will allow her three millions per
+annum; the set of rubies he will pay extra for: “this will cost me quite
+four hundred thousand francs and I will have it valued, for I do not
+wish to be cheated by the jeweller.... In the wardrobe at Malmaison you
+should find five to six hundred thousand francs. You can take this money
+in order to increase your silver plate and your underclothing. I have
+ordered a beautiful china service for you, but I have told the makers to
+await your commands, for I wish it to be really lovely.... The page who
+saw you this morning, tells me you were weeping.... I shall take my meals
+all by myself.... Have you really lost courage since going to Malmaison?
+And yet that house has been the witness of our happiness, and our
+feelings for one another. These feelings must never change; nor can they,
+at least as far as I am concerned.... I should so much like to pay you a
+visit; but first I must know if you are a valiant woman or a weakling.
+I am rather weak myself, and am suffering greatly. Farewell, Josephine.
+Good-night.”
+
+A melting mood has once more taken possession of him. The tone resembles
+that of the passionate letters sent from Milan by the young general to
+his faithless wife in Paris. It is set in a minor key; and the same
+melody that surged up and soared above the whole orchestra of his senses
+in those days, is now played by the ’cello as a solo echoing through the
+desolate halls of the Tuileries.
+
+Shortly after this, a masked ball was given by the arch-chancellor. Among
+the guests was Princess Metternich, whose husband had formerly been envoy
+at the court of Paris. A man clad in a green domino took her by the arm
+and led her aside. Every one knew who he was, for although no one fully
+knew Napoleon unmasked, the masked Napoleon was impossible to mistake:
+the tragi-comedy of genius in this world. After a few quips, he asked her
+whether she thought that an archduchess would accept the offer of his
+hand.
+
+“I do not know, Sire.”
+
+“Were you in the archduchess’ place, would you accept the offer?”
+
+“I should certainly refuse it,” says the Viennese lady with a smile.
+
+“How unkind! Will you write to your husband, to ask his views on the
+matter?”
+
+“I think you had better say that to Prince Schwarzenberg, Sire; he is the
+envoy now.”
+
+Thus with one of his improvisations does Napoleon begin his new wooing
+after the divorce. It is a splendid return to the straightforwardness of
+the revolution. The same evening, he instructs Eugene, who next morning
+approaches the Austrian ambassador. None of the Habsburg clan understand
+promptness and simplicity in such campaigns; but to the Emperor these
+qualities come naturally. The tsar makes no sign. Vienna, beaten in four
+wars, must at length be pacified. What could be more obvious than this
+solution? Why get a divorce if you do not forthwith do your utmost to
+attain the unattainable?
+
+The Corsican family feeling is at work once more. He, who so rarely holds
+a council of war, summons a family council before the divorce and before
+the marriage. There they sit, just as six weeks earlier, round the oval
+table; all the great dignitaries are there; according to the report
+of one of those present, general embarrassment prevails. The Emperor
+announces his desire for an heir, and then speaks with an assumption of
+dubiety:
+
+“Were it possible for me to be guided by personal feelings alone, I
+should choose my bride out of the circle of the Legion of Honour,
+from among the daughters of the heroes of France, and should make the
+worthiest of Frenchwomen empress of the French. But a man must adapt his
+actions to the customs of his own century, to the usage of other States,
+to political considerations. Many sovereigns have sought my alliance, and
+I do not think there is any reigning house to which I cannot propose this
+personal tie. Three of them have now to be considered: the Austrian, the
+Russian, and the Saxon. I should like to hear your views.”
+
+Thus does the curse of legitimacy break once more into the mighty
+dictator’s private preserve. Legitimacy is the rock on which he will be
+shipwrecked. Why should he not choose Countess Walewska whom he loves?
+Or, if the empress is to be a Frenchwoman, why not a daughter of one of
+those heroes to whom he has given kingdoms? He has shaken the old world
+to its foundations; has with his own hands placed two crowns on his
+head; has kept kings of ancient lineage waiting in his ante-rooms; has
+dethroned one such, and placed an innkeeper’s son upon the vacant throne.
+Has he done all these things that to-day, debarred from the choice of the
+woman of his heart, on the prowl for an heir, he must “adapt his actions
+to the customs of his own century”—customs which hitherto he has defied
+like a demigod?
+
+But no such unconventional possibilities are discussed in these cold,
+imperial halls, for one and all are against a Frenchwoman. Eugene and
+Talleyrand are for Austria. Murat demurs, saying that Marie Antoinette
+had brought bad luck to France. Some voice the advantages of a Russian
+alliance. Others favour Saxony. The Emperor listens to their views,
+closes the sitting, and does what he has already made up his mind to do.
+That same evening he sends a message to Vienna. The only one present
+at the council who saw clearly was the minister who had strongly urged
+the claims of Russia, but who did not venture to utter his real reasons
+except in private; “Within two years, we shall certainly be at war with
+both the monarchies with whose ruling house the Emperor does not ally
+himself by marriage—and Austria is the only one of the three a war with
+which would not be dangerous!”
+
+By the Emperor’s instructions, the court of St. Petersburg is informed
+that he has been kept waiting too long. Furthermore, it would be
+inconvenient to have a priest of the Russian Orthodox Church in the
+Tuileries. Finally, he has been informed “that Grand Duchess Anna, who
+is fifteen years old, is not yet ripened to womanhood. Inasmuch as, in
+young girls, two years elapse between the appearance of the first signs
+of womanhood and complete maturity, this will not suit the aims of the
+Emperor, who does not wish to be married for three years before he can
+have a child.” This gynecological excursus is the last we hear of the
+Russian wooing which had begun so inauspiciously in Erfurt.
+
+But the Habsburgs are a prolific family, so that he may regard an
+Austrian princess as practically guaranteed against barrenness. When he
+learns that the mother of his chosen bride has given birth to thirteen
+children, that one of her ancestresses has had seventeen, and another
+actually twenty-six, the Emperor exclaims: “That’s the kind of womb I
+want to marry!” There could be no doubt about the answer to his proposal;
+Francis would accept it, and his eighteen-year-old daughter would
+comply.... Acceptance is taken for granted in the first letter of his
+courtship, which the Emperor writes with his own hand, legibly in places,
+for it is penned with Méneval’s aid, and with more pains than might be
+gathered from an inspection of the schoolboy script:
+
+“Chère Cousine, The brilliant qualities which distinguish your person
+have aroused in us the desire to serve you and to honour you. Inasmuch
+as we are approaching the emperor, your father, with the request that he
+will entrust us with Your Imperial Highness’ happiness, may we venture to
+hope that you will graciously accept the sentiments which move us to this
+step. Dare we flatter ourselves that you are not deciding on this step
+solely from a sense of duty and filial obedience?... If Your Imperial
+Highness has no more than a trace of inclination towards us, we shall
+carefully cherish this sentiment, and make it our supreme task to be
+agreeable to you always and in all things, so that we may look forward to
+the happiness of winning your whole heart....”
+
+Did ever a great genius write a more preposterous letter? He knows
+perfectly well that her acceptance will be dictated by filial obedience
+and nothing more; that she cannot possibly have a trace of liking for the
+devil who, during the years of her childhood, has been despoiling her
+father of one province after another, so that she has learned to cross
+herself at the sound of his name. He knows that he has better things to
+do, that he has other supreme tasks, than to make himself agreeable to a
+little goose, who is not distinguished by any other quality than by the
+luck of being born a Habsburg; who is neither beautiful nor wise, neither
+brave nor passionate. Yet the equivocal nature of his position constrains
+Napoleon, who has never asked a favour, to write such a letter as the
+foregoing!
+
+With the gesture of a sultan, he gives to his friend Berthier (who is to
+woo for him by proxy in Vienna) tokens of affection for his bride: his
+miniature set in diamonds, and jewellery worth one-and-a-half-millions.
+But at the proxy wedding in the Hofburg, Napoleon is represented by the
+bride’s uncle, Archduke Charles, whom he has worsted in a dozen battles.
+
+The Emperor, meanwhile, gives more attention to clothing and furniture
+than to affairs of State; orders for Marie Louise a trousseau to the tune
+of five millions, for what she is bringing with her has cost only half a
+million; studies all the details of Marie Antoinette’s journey, lest the
+Habsburgs should be able to plume themselves on breaches of etiquette;
+orders fashionable coats from his tailor, and buckled shoes from his
+shoemaker; goes out hunting, rides vigorously, in the hope of sweating
+off his fat; even finds that his dancing days are not yet over.
+
+While on her way to Paris, Marie Louise receives a love letter, quite
+illegible, for all she can make out is the capital N. of the signature;
+flowers greet her wherever she halts for the night; in Compiègne she is
+expecting to be received by the terrible man whom she is to wed; he is
+waiting there for her with all his family.
+
+But suddenly, with a surge of vigorous youth, the firm will and the
+fierce impatience of the revolutionist break through this hedge of
+antiquated formalities. Laying aside his new embroidered coat, and
+donning his old uniform, he jumps into a calash undecorated with armorial
+bearings, and drives to meet the bridal procession. There it is; the
+horses are being changed in a downpour of rain. He wants to take Marie
+Louise by surprise, but her master-of-the-horse, recognising him,
+exclaims, “His Majesty”; so the little coup fails to come off. In a
+moment he is in the carriage beside her, dismisses the lady-in-waiting,
+kisses his bride, laughing the while, for he is wet through. In her
+embarrassment, she finds a pretty phrase: “Your portrait does not flatter
+you, Sire!”
+
+“She is by no means beautiful,” he meditates, as he takes stock of her.
+“Marked with smallpox, though not badly, thick lips; watery blue eyes;
+full-bosomed for her years; but fresh and young.”
+
+With disgust, that evening, the masters of the ceremonies see their
+whole programme, which has been rehearsed for weeks in advance, torn to
+tatters. The meeting with the imperial family has been effected with
+scant formality; all come and go as they please; the girls who present
+bouquets must cut their compliments short, for every one is wet and cold;
+supper is improvised, with Caroline as third at table. At one in the
+morning the whole company retires to rest. But the Emperor has taken his
+uncle the cardinal aside, and has asked Fesch, as an authority upon these
+matters, whether Marie Louise is not already his wife, thanks to the
+proxy marriage in Vienna. “Yes, Sire, according to civil law,” answers
+the priest, foreseeing what is about to happen.
+
+Next morning the Emperor has breakfast for two brought to the empress’
+bedside. Within an hour all Compiègne knows.
+
+By this night attack, made on the spur of the moment, Napoleon conquers
+the world of legitimacy after the same fashion as he has conquered it
+in the field, taking the Habsburg fortress by storm, as beseems his
+reputation.
+
+With a mischievous double meaning, he writes next day to his unsuspecting
+father-in-law: “She fulfils all my hopes, and we do not cease to give
+one another proofs of the tender feelings that unite us. We suit one
+another exceedingly well.... Allow me, therefore, to thank you for
+this lovely gift.” Uncle Fesch does not give their union the blessing
+of the Church until after they have made their imposing entry into
+Paris. In Josephine’s case, he was eight years too late; this time the
+sanctification has been delayed no more than a fortnight.
+
+The Emperor finds his bride charming. “You should all marry Germans,” he
+tells his intimates; “they are gentle, good, unspoiled, and as fresh as
+roses.” He is delighted that she gets on well with his family. Domestic
+peace is new to him. He graces the intimacies of the toilet with his
+presence; pinches her cheeks caressingly; calls her his “bonne petite
+animale.”
+
+Two or three weeks later, there is news from Poland. The child conceived
+during the weeks at Schönbrunn has been born—a boy. There is a strange
+medley of feelings in Napoleon’s soul. From that same Austrian palace,
+where he has stayed only in the absence of its rightful owner, has come
+the new wife, who as yet gives no signs of capacity for doing her duty.
+He vacillates; sends for the Polish countess. But, soon after this,
+Marie Louise finds that she is with child. “The Emperor’s jubilation
+almost passes description,” writes Metternich to Vienna. At this early
+stage, the empress’ condition is solemnly announced to the Senate and the
+nation; prayers for the successor to the throne are to be said; there is
+to be a festival of rejoicing as sumptuous as those of pagan times.
+
+When the lovely Walewska arrives, he gives her everything she can ask
+for; sees the baby and fondles it; makes it a count of the Empire, with
+the chancellor for guardian. But nothing beyond this unites the sometime
+lovers. Napoleon has become a respectable married man.
+
+In all respects, now, this man’s career seems to be transcending familiar
+limitations, outstepping traditional horizons. Thus among the women who
+have crossed his path new relationships begin. The Polish countess,
+whose eyes Josephine would at one time have been glad to scratch out,
+is invited to Malmaison. Walewska brings Josephine Napoleon’s son, that
+son whose absence from her own womb decided Josephine’s fate. See the
+group on the terrace. One of them is a grey-headed woman, who was born in
+the West Indies, had a taste of prison, and then became empress of the
+French. The other, young and blooming, was brought up in an impoverished
+Polish noble family, was married off to a wealthy old man, and was then
+switched into a new career through Napoleon’s chance glimpse of her at
+a ball. Between them is the child of the man who had loved both and
+forsaken both, that he might compel a stupid little Habsburg girl to
+immortalise a name which had long ere this immortalised itself.
+
+When the empress’ hour comes, he has to make a choice great as destiny
+itself. Paris knows, France knows, that the young wife is in labour. All
+are waiting for the heir; enemies are dreading him before he is born;
+the common people, who at such moments are always dynastically inclined,
+are praying for mother and child. Throughout the night Napoleon has
+been watching by his wife’s bedside, but has withdrawn for a time. The
+accoucheur brings him dread tidings: “The child is in a bad position;
+there is danger to the life of both mother and infant!”
+
+The whole structure of his dynastic schemes is tottering. What will he
+say, this man of iron, when the doctor asks whether the first thought is
+to be for the mother or for the child? Will he not answer that, before
+all, it is necessary to save the child, for whose first cry millions
+besides Napoleon are waiting? What does Marie Louise matter? When she has
+borne him a healthy boy, she will have fulfilled her earthly mission.
+Surely the Emperor can have no choice?
+
+“Do exactly what you would do if an ordinary citizen’s wife were in
+labour. The mother’s life comes first!”
+
+Two hours later, however, the baby has been born, and the mother is
+in good case. With rapt attention, Paris counts the cannon shots.
+Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one—so far, it may only be a girl. But when the
+twenty-second gun booms out, the whole city is in a frenzy of delight.
+The crowd surrounding the old Bourbon palace cheers madly. The salute
+is still thundering. The little lieutenant of artillery stands by the
+window, mechanically noting the calibre of the guns from the pitch of the
+gun-fire, glancing down upon the mutable many without—while his thoughts
+reach far back into the past, and roam yet farther forward into the
+future.
+
+The groom-of-the-chambers sees that there are tears in the cold,
+grey-blue eyes.
+
+[Illustration: Napoleon as Emperor. Painting by Vigneux. Count Primoli
+Collection.
+
+(From the “Corpus Imaginum” of the Photographic Society, Charlottenburg.)]
+
+
+
+
+BOOK FOUR
+
+THE SEA
+
+    It is essential that this man shall be ruined!... But
+    since, here below everything takes place by natural causes,
+    the daimons trip him: thus, in the end, even Napoleon is
+    overthrown.—GOETHE.
+
+
+I
+
+The old struggle in Napoleon’s mind between mathematics and fantasy had
+ripened. The issue of the struggle was now to decide the history of his
+world dominion.
+
+For now, at the climax of his career; fortified by his ties with the
+Habsburgs, ties for whose sake he had broken the familiar associations
+of years of married life; fortified by having a legitimate heir, whose
+birth gave firm anchorage to his adventurer’s dynasty; having gained
+the mastery over conspiracies, and having learned to dominate all the
+political parties—he was once more free as he had been eleven years
+earlier, when the victory of Marengo had safeguarded the tranquillity
+he needed for the internal development of France. True, England was
+unconquered; but Russia seemed still friendly. True, Spain was uncoerced;
+but Europe from Reggio to Hammerfest was allied to France, this being a
+euphemism for dependence on France. For the last time in his life, he was
+free to make a great decision.
+
+Had he been nothing more than a mathematician, he would have been content
+with his calculations within the resuscitated realm of Charlemagne, and
+dreams of world dominion would have yielded place before the reality
+of the United States of Europe under France’s leadership. Had he been
+nothing but a visionary, he would have aimed, like a new Alexander, to
+march towards the Ganges; and England would have been merely a pretext
+for his onslaught on India. But he was both mathematician and visionary,
+and was therefore in danger of disavowing himself. For, as calculator, he
+failed to grasp an eminently real factor which could not be expressed in
+figures. The moods of un-uniformed men in Spain and in Germany could play
+no part in the cipherings of a military commander who thought in terms
+of army corps and big guns. Nevertheless such moods should have come
+within the scope of his visions as a seer!
+
+Thus during these decisive years, after the birth of his heir, and before
+his next warlike designs have become active, his mind is alternately
+dominated by his two fundamental impulses, and the whole future depends
+upon which of the two will be supreme when the moment for action comes.
+Will his awakened fantasy warn him that it is dangerous to brave the
+anger of exasperated peoples, or will his calculating faculty disclose to
+him the danger that will await him on the distant road to the East? What
+will happen should he err in both respects? Then, indeed, his whole world
+will go up in flames.
+
+He feels that his powers are ripening. In addition to the two energies
+we have been considering, a third is growing to maturity, the sense of
+destiny. Words unheard before, or rarely expressed, now find voice: “I
+feel that I am being driven towards an unknown goal. But as soon as I
+have reached it, as soon as I no longer have an inexorable mission, an
+atom will suffice to overthrow me. Till then, no human powers can effect
+anything against me. The days are numbered.”
+
+Truly they are numbered; and through these prophetic words there already
+breathes the foreboding of an exit, although he does not know the way
+thither. Now, on the path towards the tragical catastrophe, the clarity
+of his inner vision is dimmed. Yet he himself speaks of the campaign
+against Russia as the “fifth act,” though the full significance of the
+term is not apparent to him. Tones like those of his youthful days
+resound in the new harmony. “I have got to the end of everything,” he had
+said when he was thirty, on the Nile. Now, at forty-three, he declares in
+the Council of State: “All this will last as long as I do, and no longer.
+Perhaps when I am dead, my son will think himself well off if he can be
+sure of an income of forty thousand francs a year.”
+
+But at the same time his ardour increases. Since those days when it
+seemed to him that (thanks to the acceleration of genius) he had got to
+the end of everything, since the days of the Egyptian campaign, he had
+been guided by a religious faith that it was his destiny to become a
+second Alexander. Now, when for the first time he is equipped with means
+for the carrying out of his design, is he to annihilate his dream by
+figures, which are not more potent in the world than dreams? When the
+arch-chancellor wishes him a happy new year, he answers, as if suddenly
+rejuvenated: “I must grow wise if you are to be able to repeat this
+greeting thirty years hence.”
+
+Napoleon never grew wise, but he was always clever. When he finds that
+his commercial warfare is reacting to the detriment of his own country,
+he disregards his own prohibitions, and grants licenses for the import
+of certain raw materials and dyes from England, in part because they are
+urgently needed for French industry, and in part because the articles
+in question are among the requirements of Parisian luxury. Soon, in all
+continental countries, huge sums are made by smugglers who import the
+very colonial produce which the Emperor wishes to prevent his chief enemy
+from marketing. These goods are then retailed at a great profit. Is the
+smartest dealer in Europe to be robbed of his gains by smugglers? He
+would rather have the business under his own control, so he imposes a
+fifty per cent. duty on all the colonial produce his agents can find on
+the Continent, and pouches these receipts for France. Since at the same
+time he has all English woollen textiles that he can lay hands on burned,
+he opens opportunities for illicit gains which are so large that for
+their sake people will ignore the risks of draconian punishments. He has
+to carry on a guerilla warfare, just as in Spain, though this time he is
+fighting the nation of shopkeepers with trade weapons.
+
+It is likewise a war of decrees. Since Paris has prohibited all trading
+in English wares, London reciprocates by demanding from all neutral
+countries enhanced dues for permission to call at the blockaded ports.
+Paris counters this move by declaring that the vessels of neutrals which
+shall call at the ports of London or of Malta, run the risk of capture
+as prizes. London responds by sending her ships out under false colours,
+and Paris thereupon has all merchantmen trading in Mediterranean waters
+overhauled and searched. The American government forbids its citizens
+to have business dealings with Europe, or even to have any private
+intercourse with the Continent; but the Emperor promises all kinds of
+privileges to the Americans if they will cease to call at English ports.
+So paradoxical is the situation resulting from the endeavour to strangle
+overseas trade, by which Napoleon had hoped to extort the freedom of the
+seas!
+
+The Emperor’s hopes are rising. The English pound sterling is still
+quoted at seventeen francs, the English banks are failing, and in
+parliament the opposition is against the continuance of the war. In spite
+of this, his peace proposals are rejected. The disturbances in Spain are
+at once the cause and the consequence of England’s defiant attitude.
+
+There is still an army numbering a quarter million men stationed in
+Spain; and, despite all endeavours, Wellington’s thirty thousand are not
+driven out, for the bands of native insurrectionaries led by officers and
+monks carry on unceasing guerilla warfare against the French invaders.
+The Emperor’s quarrel with the pope stiffens the antagonism of the
+monks. While French children on the northern slopes of the Pyrenees are
+being taught that Napoleon is God’s vicegerent, Spanish children on the
+southern slopes are learning that the Emperor is the devil incarnate and
+that the murder of a Frenchman is a deed pleasing to the Almighty.
+
+In so fanatical a land, where hardly any regular troops are left for the
+French to fight against, Napoleon’s generals feel out of their element.
+Disunion prevails. Masséna is sent against Portugal. At the same time,
+Napoleon deprives Joseph of four provinces. When the king journeys to
+Paris to demand the cancelling of the decree, the Emperor declares
+that his brother has ceded these lands. Napoleon places a general to
+administer each province, and appoints a marshal in supreme command. He
+carries out this Roman system of ruling through military governors thus
+ruthlessly and persistently because of his intense disappointment in the
+rule of the members of his family to whom he has allotted crowns, and,
+above all, in the behaviour of his brothers. Terrible battles, made more
+ghastly by famine and disease, are meanwhile forcing Masséna to retreat.
+The Emperor, in a fury, recalls him.
+
+Will Napoleon at length realise that his presence is essential? Marshals,
+officers, and, above all, the rank and file of the army, eagerly await
+his coming. Full well does he know this; and yet he does not go. Does
+he fear assassination at the hands of some fanatical Spaniard? Or is
+it treachery at home that deters him; such conspiracies as those which
+called him back to Paris so suddenly when he was encamped near Astorga?
+Is he to get enmeshed in this southern corner of his empire at the moment
+when the whole is at stake? What is Spain to him? He chooses the oldest
+of his companions-in-arms: Marmont is sent to clear up the mess and bring
+the campaign to an end.
+
+The second kingly brother had, with good reason, thrown up his job.
+Napoleon had deprived him of all the Dutch territory on the left bank of
+the Rhine; had insisted upon the removal of the rest of the protective
+duties against France; and (this was the worst of all) had angered the
+Dutch, who are traders and seamen, by the measures he had compelled them
+to take against England. The Emperor had expected both his brothers to
+run counter to the currents of national feeling in their respective
+kingdoms, underestimating alike the strength of popular sentiment and the
+sense of honour of the two men he had forced to become monarchs. It would
+have been easier for military governors to cope with the rising tide of
+nationalism and to dispense with a feeling obligation towards the people
+they ruled, than it was for kings burdened with historic crowns.
+
+When Louis found it impossible to put up any longer with the Emperor’s
+tutelage, he abdicated in favour of his younger son, and fled by night
+from his kingdom for an unrevealed destination. Napoleon’s catchpolls
+sought him far and wide in Europe, to discover him at length in Austria.
+The Emperor was greatly enraged, yet he could not but see that he was
+himself more to blame than Louis. He therefore made no attempt to punish,
+but sent his own body physician to care for the fugitive, who had excused
+the flight on the ground of illness. To his mother, the Emperor wrote
+saying that there were tidings of Louis’ whereabouts. “You need not be
+anxious; but his conduct has been of a kind which can only be explained
+by his illness. Your very affectionate son, Napoleon.”
+
+The wording of this subscription stands out among the numberless letters
+in which the dictator of Europe was accustomed to express his will to
+those who usually received these missives with trembling. The fugitive
+king, meanwhile, drawing a breath of relief, settled down to a literary
+life in Graz, writing in three volumes under the title _Marie, ou les
+peines d’amour_ (1808), the story of the love affair which the Emperor
+had so ruthlessly frustrated. But when Joseph wished to follow Louis’
+example, feeling that he would rather retire into private life than
+continue to play the part of king in a pack of cards, he was restrained
+from abdication by the iron hand of the Emperor. Napoleon considered
+that his democratically inclined brother would do more mischief as an
+intriguer in Paris than in his position as nominal chief and military
+commander; so Joseph had once more to put his hand to the task of war,
+for which, to the Emperor’s great annoyance, he was utterly unfitted.
+
+The most frivolous members of the family, Jerome and Pauline, were
+amusing themselves with love affairs. Murat and Caroline were immersed
+over head and ears in old and new intrigues. As for Elise, she had so
+much printed in the Tuscan newspapers anent her reviews and hunting
+parties that the Emperor was even more annoyed by her craze for notoriety
+than by the things she actually did, and wrote to her, saying: “Europe
+pays very little heed to what the grand duchess of Tuscany is doing.”
+
+The most dangerous man in his family circle has not yet become an object
+of his menaces. Since the old king of Sweden was on friendly terms with
+England, the Emperor had made him abdicate in favour of an uncle; and
+the new ruler, who is devoted to the cause of Napoleon, has declared
+war against England. Being old and childless, he thinks he cannot
+please the Emperor better than by appointing as successor one who is
+closely connected with Napoleon by marriage. Thus it is that Bernadotte,
+Joseph’s brother-in-law, who during the wars has made friends in Swedish
+Pomerania, is unexpectedly nominated crown prince of Sweden—as a result
+of a complicated intrigue, in which Fouché has played a considerable
+part. The Emperor would have found it difficult, in any case, to object
+to this selection of a French general as heir to a foreign throne; and it
+was practically impossible for him to interfere with the promotion of his
+sometime rival, the man who had nearly prevented the coup d’état of the
+Eighteenth Brumaire, and had subsequently become the husband of the woman
+whom Napoleon had once thought of marrying. “A good soldier,” growled the
+Emperor; “but with no talent for ruling; one of the old Jacobins, with a
+bee in his bonnet like the rest of them, and therefore he will never be
+able to keep his position on a throne.... Still, I could not interfere,
+were it only because it would be impossible to do anything more effective
+against the English than to set a French marshal upon the throne of
+Gustavus Adolphus.... I am glad to be quit of him.”
+
+Is he really so carefree? Hitherto these folk whom he cannot trust have
+always been kept under his own eyes in Paris.
+
+Bernadotte triumphans! Soon, at last, he too will wear a crown, and will
+not even have to thank this detested Bonaparte for the gift. To Napoleon,
+therefore, who till yesterday was Bernadotte’s supreme war lord, the
+crown prince of Sweden now writes a bitter-sweet letter, offering
+soldiers and iron, but asking for money. The Emperor smiles. He knows
+what is written between the lines, and makes no direct answer. He has
+Bernadotte informed that he does not correspond with royal princes. His
+old opponent will not forget the gibe. In less than two years, Bernadotte
+will take vengeance for it, and for all that has gone before!
+
+Ruefully, the Emperor watches the flames that are springing up
+everywhere, the flames his family mania has lighted. He does not conceal
+from his intimates that he is disappointed with his kin and his nobles.
+Writing to one of them at this time, Napoleon says: “I ought never to
+have had Murat and my brothers crowned. Live and learn!... It was a
+mistake, too, to give back the confiscated estates to the émigrés. I
+should have kept the lands as State domains, and have been content to
+allow the former owners a modest income. I can’t stomach them, these
+people of the old regime; their light and airy graces are out of keeping
+with my serious temperament. I myself did not succeed to a heritage,
+but was content to take what belonged to no one. I ought to have been
+satisfied with the appointment of governors and viceroys. Some of my
+marshals, even, are beginning to dream of greatness and independence.”
+
+At length he has realised that it is dangerous to play the emperor! His
+troubles are the fruit of his wish to safeguard a dynasty (this meaning
+that the spirits of revolt and of genius, from whose union Napoleon has
+sprung, are to be taught to walk in the paths of legitimate mediocrity).
+They are the outcome of the weak moments of a man who in his hours of
+strength believed in the immortality of deed and of fame, of a man who
+in these hours of strength felt no need of the perpetuation that is
+achieved by means of a family line. The brothers, and brothers-in-law,
+and marshals, who all shine by reflected light, will take vengeance ere
+long. When his star pales, and the skies of Europe are overcast, they
+will still try to shine across the Continent in the afterglow of his
+splendour!
+
+Deeply ingrained in him was the illusion that his good fortune would be
+transmitted to his son. When, after the boy’s birth, a great reception
+was held, and all the notables came to offer congratulations, the
+Schwarzenbergs were among the guests. Schwarzenberg, as Austrian envoy
+in Paris, had done much to promote the marriage. The Emperor, full of
+gratitude, went up to Princess Schwarzenberg and, taking from his coat a
+scarab pin, presented it to her, saying:
+
+“I found this scarab in the tomb of an Egyptian king, and have worn it
+ever since as a talisman. Please accept it; I no longer need such a
+mascot.”
+
+He feels that the birth of his son has placed him above all possibility
+of danger, and that everything will go well with him in future. He can
+have no further need for an amulet!
+
+These kings, these brothers, have been but a substitute for the sons that
+were lacking. Now, when he can feast his eyes on a son of his body, he
+recognises his mistake, and the disastrous consequences of Josephine’s
+barrenness are plainer than ever. Too many battles have been fought,
+too many years have passed, there has been too much self-restraint and
+self-denial, for it to be possible now to give this heir a great place in
+his system. The boy has been born too late. The tempo of Napoleon’s life
+has been so rapid. The man who at two-and-twenty was still a lieutenant,
+had become an emperor at thirty-four. Such a man should have had his
+first-born son long before the age of forty-one. He has recklessly
+expended his vital energies, and cannot look forward confidently to many
+years of power. How can he reasonably expect to establish the child
+securely as his successor?
+
+It is, indeed, a poignant sight. Watch this man who is now growing old
+with fearful speed, as he dandles the long-desired infant on his knees,
+tries his own hat on the baby’s head, watches the child crawling on the
+floor while he sits at breakfast, and even (when the youngster grows a
+little older) allows him to run about the study. Napoleon is playing the
+war game, with little wooden rods representing soldiers dispersed over
+the floor, and is planning how to make an end of Wellington in Spain.
+The boy is brought to the door. According to the rule of the house, the
+governess may not cross this threshold, so Napoleon himself goes to the
+door for the child, sets him down among the mimic armies, and, with the
+tolerance of a grandfather, lets the child play riot with the battle.
+Laughing, he pulls faces at his infant son in front of the looking-glass;
+buckles round the body of the two-year-old the sword with which he
+has conquered Europe; and, with his actor’s instincts, feels that the
+boundaries between jest and earnest are being broken down. Imaginings are
+ripening into reality, while all that has seemed to him real is not more
+than an image and a parable.
+
+He says that the child is “spirited and sensitive. Just what I want him
+to be.... My son is sturdy, and in splendid health. He has my lungs, my
+mouth, and my eyes.... I do hope he will turn out well.” In such simple
+fashion he writes to Josephine, and to her only. He insists upon her
+keeping up the old tone of comradeship, and scolds her when, after the
+divorce, she writes to him as “Your Majesty.” “You have written me an
+unkind letter. I am always the same; my feelings do not change.... I
+shall say no more until you have compared this letter with yours. Then
+you can judge for yourself which of us two is more friendly, you or I.”
+To no one else can he speak so simply, unless it be to Berthier, whom he
+often calls his “wife.” The only thing that annoys him with Josephine is
+that she is always running into debt. He thinks that she ought to be able
+to save half of her allowance of three millions. “Then in ten years you
+would have put by fifteen millions for your grandsons.... Let me know
+that you are quite well again. I am told that you are getting as stout
+as one of our good Norman peasant women.” But when Josephine continues
+to be spendthrift, he tells the steward of her property not to make her
+any further payments till evidence is forthcoming that she is no longer
+squandering money.
+
+He sees very little more of her, however; and he will have nothing to do
+with the lady friends of earlier years. His attitude towards marriage
+is that of a respectable citizen, and that of an Italian. Besides, as a
+sovereign prince he wishes to set a good example to his subjects. Since
+Marie Louise makes no nationalist pretensions (for, being of a dull,
+easy-going, and fickle temperament, she has promptly come to regard
+herself as a Frenchwoman), the two get on very well together. He has
+always time to spare for her. When she is learning to ride, he walks
+patiently at her bridle. He, who has never waited before, will even wait
+when she is late for dinner. She is not afraid of him, and is saucy
+enough to tell the Austrian envoy that she thinks her husband is a little
+afraid of her. It is important to the Emperor that he should make a good
+impression upon the Hofburg. Regarding it as politically expedient that
+a report of his wife’s happiness shall be sent to Vienna, he brings
+Metternich to see the empress, and tells the envoy to stay until some
+one fetches him. Napoleon goes away, locking the door of the room after
+him. He does not release the prisoners for an hour, and then, with a sly
+laugh, asks Metternich whether he is satisfied, now, that the empress is
+happy.
+
+These are nothing more than jests, but that he can find it possible
+to make them in a period of grave decisions indicates that there is a
+certain release of tension in his heavily laden heart. In truth, Marie
+Louise’s only service to him was that, during the years with which we are
+now dealing, her freshness did actually bring him such a solace.
+
+But the marriage did not effect the desired release of political tension.
+Felix Austria, accustomed to gain advantages by these royal marriages,
+had hoped for a couple of provinces as dower, but had received nothing.
+All the more, therefore, must Emperor Francis feel rancorous on account
+of the humiliation inflicted upon him by the little Corsican; for, as
+soon as the gates of the Hofburg had closed behind Marie Louise, he could
+not but regard the marriage as detrimental to his dignity. To appease his
+legitimist misgivings, the Habsburg ruler had a search for Buonaparte
+ancestors made in musty old Tuscan documents, and when next he met his
+son-in-law was able to assure the latter that the Buonaparte lineage
+had been traced as far back as the eleventh century. At that time, said
+Francis, there had been members of the family in Treviso. Thereupon the
+first and last of the Buonaparti made the delicious answer:
+
+“Thank you, Sire. I prefer to be the Rudolf of my race!”
+
+Witty, but unwise, for such words from an upstart sovereign could not
+but rankle in the mind of this descendant of an ancient line! When, as
+would soon come to pass, the question whether the emperor of Austria
+was to take sides for or against his son-in-law was to be decided by
+Francis’ mood, the memory of this and similar slights may have played a
+considerable part. Napoleon recognised this when it was too late. “Had I
+but made myself agreeable to that simpleton, who knows but that in the
+plains of Leipzig there might have been a hundred thousand fewer men in
+the opposing army!”
+
+All the same, the revolutionist admired many of the ways of the
+legitimate ruler. One day he caught sight of a letter his wife had
+addressed to her father as follows: “His Sacred Majesty, the Apostolical
+Emperor.” Napoleon considered this an excellent idea; and in private,
+no doubt, his thoughts turned to Alexander of Macedon who had declared
+himself to be the son of Jupiter.
+
+The apostolical emperor was especially out of humour with his son-in-law
+on the pope’s account. Napoleon was continually tightening the bonds
+round the Holy Father. Pius VII. was kept at Savona. A man by no means
+learned in canon law, he was cut off from his advisers, and subsequently
+deprived of his papers, in order to make him pliable. A schism was
+threatening. Thirteen of the cardinals had failed to put in an appearance
+at the Emperor’s wedding, for the pope would not recognise the divorce
+which Fesch had pronounced. Now Napoleon has cases filled with the
+Vatican State papers brought to Paris, thus arousing the belief that he
+really intends to make this city the capital of Christendom; he summons
+a council at which the prelates of his European realm appear; he extorts
+a decree depriving the pope of the investiture in case of dissent, and
+ultimately compels Pius to agree to this—at any rate for France.
+
+Europe is troubled by these matters, and split into factions. On the
+whole, the Russians and the Poles are glad that things are going ill
+with the Roman pontiff; the Prussians and the English are, of course,
+delighted; but what arouses general surprise is that the inhabitants
+of the Papal States are also on the side of the Emperor. This little
+country, now doubly robbed of its master, is glad to accept the Code
+Napoléon, modern education, a rational system of administration, vigorous
+road construction, and the draining of the Pontine marshes. Whereas the
+son of the revolution has long since brought back the old spirit of Rome
+to Paris, he now transplants young revolutionary practice from Paris to
+Rome. Thus does Napoleon build bridges.
+
+The excommunicated Emperor cunningly tries to turn the curse against
+the pope. When, in newly annexed Holland, he receives the clergy in the
+presence of the Protestants, he rebukes the bishops as follows: “Are you
+of the religion of Gregory VII.? I am not. My religion is that of Jesus
+Christ, who said: ‘Render unto Cæsar the things which are Cæsar’s.’ In
+accordance with the same text, I render unto God the things which are
+God’s. I have received my sceptre from God. But I wear a worldly sword,
+and know how to use it! God erects thrones. I did not raise myself to my
+throne: God set me upon it! You poor mortals wish to resist? You will
+not pray for your monarch, because the priest of Rome has excommunicated
+him? Do you think I am the sort of man to kiss the pope’s toe?... Prove
+to me, imbeciles, that Jesus has appointed the pope his vicegerent, and
+that the pope has power to excommunicate a monarch!... Be good citizens,
+and sign the Concordat. You, Mr. Prefect, must take such measures as will
+prevent my hearing any more of these matters.”
+
+To so preposterous a travesty of his own innermost thoughts has Napoleon
+come. He does not believe a word of what he is here thundering out;
+and in private mocks at this official doctrine, as he has always done.
+Nonetheless, to the circlet of golden laurels with which he had crowned
+himself before the eyes of the priest of Rome, there now attaches a
+vestige of divine right which makes the crown a heavy one to wear.
+
+
+II
+
+“Kindly inform me why the price of salt in the neighbourhood of Strasburg
+has risen one sou.”
+
+Closely following upon the heels of this enquiry to the Ministry for
+War, comes a command to the Admiralty: two entire fleets are to be
+constructed in the course of the next three years, one Atlantic fleet
+and one Mediterranean fleet; the latter against Sicily and Egypt, the
+former against Ireland. As soon as the Spanish affair is in better case,
+preparations are to be made for an expedition to the Cape in 1812. An
+army of from sixty to eighty thousand men is to be got ready for an
+attack on Surinam and Martinique. “Having eluded the enemy cruisers,” the
+expeditionary forces are to share out the two hemispheres.
+
+We see how closely at this date, when imaginative fantasies threaten to
+develop into adventures, the exact observations of the father of his
+country are allied to the rhapsodical plans of the world conqueror. For
+that is what Napoleon now attempts: he is actually trying to realise his
+old dream of world conquest.
+
+“You want to know whither we are going? We shall have done with Europe;
+then, as robbers of robbers less bold than ourselves, we shall march to
+the attack, seize India, over which they have made themselves masters....
+I must take India ... in the rear, if I am to strike successfully at
+England.... Just imagine Moscow occupied, the tsar conciliated or killed
+by his people, perhaps a new, dependent throne,—and tell me whether
+an army of Frenchmen, reinforced by auxiliary troops from Tiflis,
+cannot press forward to the Ganges, and thence, at a touch, destroy the
+whole structure of English commerce!... At one blow, France would have
+established the independence of the West and the freedom of the seas!”
+A witness reports that while he was voicing these ideas “his eyes shone
+with a wonderful light, and he went on to point out the reasons for the
+adventure, all the difficulties it entailed, the means of achievement,
+and the prospects of success.”
+
+Shall the tsar be conciliated or killed? That is the question which
+troubles the Emperor the whole year round. Calculations and presentiments
+make him desire to have Alexander as his friend rather than his enemy.
+Napoleon has nothing to gain by a defeat of Russia. On the contrary!
+He dreads being forced into this war, and endeavours, as on former
+occasions, to avoid it; though only if the tsar, as previously agreed,
+shall participate in the great final struggle as an ally. Napoleon keeps
+the tsar under observation, and perceives that suggestions are having
+less and less effect upon Alexander. He therefore writes to a prince of
+the Confederation of the Rhine in these amazing terms: “This war will
+break out in spite of the tsar, in spite of me, and in spite of the
+interests of the two empires.”
+
+Never before had the Emperor or the Consul declared, in such words, that
+war was unavoidable. Precisely because all rational need for the campaign
+was lacking this time, he found it necessary to proclaim the war with the
+tsar to be the work of fate. At the very first hand-clasp, in the peace
+tent on the Memel, the seed of this war was sown. During the days of
+intimacy which followed, when the encounter blossomed into friendship,
+that seed invisibly took root and grew. In later days, Talleyrand’s
+treacherous diplomacy cherished its growth; and when, at Erfurt, the
+emperors embraced, they could already feel between them the coils of
+the snake. That they did not become related by marriage was neither an
+accident nor the outcome of a conscious desire: it was consequent upon
+the mistrust which had invaded the tsar’s mind, a mistrust of which
+he could not rid himself and which was to prove well founded. Two men
+wishing to divide Europe between them, could not see with complacency
+the half in a rival’s hands. Their intentions were honourable at the
+outset; but they were impossible of fulfilment. The day of contest must
+inevitably come at last. “He alone is still weighing upon the pinnacle of
+my edifice. My rival is young; daily his strength is waxing; daily mine
+is waning.” This gloomy recognition spurs him ever onward.
+
+It is useless to try to interpret such decrees of destiny as the outcome
+of political causes.
+
+Somewhat earlier, the Emperor has asked the tsar to lay an embargo on
+all neutral ships, as he himself has done, and thus give England the
+death-blow. The tsar cannot agree to this, for it would fatally injure
+his own sea-borne trade; he will only continue, as before, to confiscate
+all the prohibited goods he discovers, but he needs colonial wares from
+the neutrals. Being unable to stop this leak in the East, the Emperor has
+to exercise redoubled care on the German coast, and he therefore annexes
+the mouths of the Weser and the Elbe with the Hansa towns and part of
+Hanover. “Circumstances demand these new guarantees against England.”
+Oldenburg is swallowed up with the rest, though the heir to this duchy
+has married Alexander’s sister.
+
+The Emperor’s high-handed proceedings were a logical outcome of his
+policy, but they were necessarily an offence to the tsar. Alexander
+regarded them as a breach of the treaty of Tilsit, in which the
+integrity of Oldenburg had been guaranteed. He issued a circular to
+the powers protesting against this insult to his house, a remonstrance
+almost equivalent to a declaration of war. In this document he enquired
+what could be the use of alliances unless the treaties in which they
+were incorporated were strictly observed, so that the cabinets of Europe
+could not but smile at the concluding words of the circular, in which he
+described the alliance between Russia and France as permanent. His next
+step was a ukase in which he threw Russia open to colonial goods, while
+imposing prohibitive import duties on wine and silk, the products of
+French industry.
+
+The maps lie spread on the tables in St. Petersburg and Paris. Where can
+either power best harass the other? The tsar proposes to make peace with
+Turkey. The Emperor incites Austria to seize Serbia, to advance towards
+Moldavia and Wallachia, promising not to interfere; this will keep
+Alexander busy. Metternich nods assent, but does not move. “What about
+Poland?” thinks Alexander. “Has not Napoleon already enlarged the duchy
+of Warsaw by the addition of Galicia? Is there any guarantee that he will
+not re-establish the kingdom of Poland?” Caulaincourt, French ambassador
+in Russia, who admires the tsar and wants peace, gives the desired
+guarantees. But the Emperor would only agree to a secret ratification.
+If the differences between France and Russia should culminate in war, he
+will need Poland for his operations against the tsar; Polish hopes must,
+therefore, be fostered. Penetrating this design, Alexander demands an
+open treaty, which shall put an end to Polish expectations.
+
+When Masséna is defeated in Spain, the Emperor entertains fresh doubts.
+Caulaincourt, who is back in Paris, does his utmost to intensify these
+misgivings, dilates on the tsar’s will-to-peace, and ventures far in his
+defence of Alexander. The Emperor leads him on; hears all he has to say;
+asks a thousand questions concerning the tsar and the court, Alexander’s
+piety, the nobles, and the peasants; takes Caulaincourt by the ear, a
+sign of affability.
+
+“You must be in love with him!”
+
+“I am in love with peace.”
+
+“So am I. But I will not allow any one to dictate to me. Evacuate Danzig,
+forsooth! Next I shall have to ask Alexander’s permission before I can
+hold a review in Mainz. You are a fool. I am an old fox, and know the
+people with whom I am dealing.... We must deprive this Russian colossus
+and his hordes of the power to inundate the south once more.... I shall
+advance northwards, and re-establish there the old boundaries of Europe.”
+
+Quite unsubstantial reasons, masks, mere pretexts. Warningly Caulaincourt
+quotes Alexander’s words: “I shall learn from his own teachings, which
+are those of a master. Our climate will make war for us. The French are
+not inured to it as we are. Miracles only happen when the Emperor is
+present, and he cannot be everywhere.” Napoleon is greatly moved by these
+words; he tramps restlessly up and down the room; the conversation lasts
+for hours. Since he cannot refute Caulaincourt’s arguments, he makes
+vague answers behind which his titanic wishes loom.
+
+“A well-fought battle will put an end to the fine resolves of your friend
+Alexander.... He is false, ambitious, and weak; he has the character
+of a Greek. Believe me, it is he, not I, who wants this war, for he
+cherishes a hidden design.... He is out of humour because I did not take
+his sister.” When Caulaincourt gives proofs to the contrary, Napoleon
+says: “I have forgotten the details.”—Forgotten! This is a new word in
+the Emperor’s mouth. He knows his position to be weak; himself a man of
+facts, he now brushes away those which he finds inconvenient.
+
+He sends a more resolute envoy to the tsar. When a proposal comes from
+St. Petersburg that Warsaw shall be exchanged for Oldenburg, the Emperor
+says threateningly to the Russian ambassador, raising his voice so that
+every one in the room may hear: “Not one Polish village!”
+
+But these political incidents and discussions are merely the forms of
+destiny. Schemes flash like lightning through his brain; his soul is
+devoured by wishes: and he will rather reveal these things to a dangerous
+enemy like Fouché than to a shrewd adherent like Caulaincourt. He cannot
+rid himself of the ex-Jacobin and ex-cleric. Last year, he had cashiered
+the Minister of Police, for Fouché was obviously intriguing with England.
+But Napoleon was as lenient as he had been at the time of the conspiracy
+which had brought him back hot foot from Astorga. Instead of banishing
+the man, the Emperor had appointed him senator—at the same time writing
+to him words which give a glimpse into the inferno of these struggles
+between the monarch and the spy: “Although I do not doubt your devotion,
+I find it necessary to have you watched all the time. This is a fatiguing
+necessity, and I should not be called upon to do anything of the kind.”
+
+But though he dismisses Fouché from his ministerial post, and has the
+watcher watched, Napoleon cannot get on without him, and talks to him
+about the most private matters.
+
+“Since my marriage, people fancy that the lion is asleep. They will soon
+learn whether I am asleep. I need eight hundred thousand men, and have
+them; I shall tow all Europe in my wake. Europe is nothing more than
+an old woman, and with my eight hundred thousand men I can make her do
+whatever I please.... Did not you yourself say to me: ‘You let your
+genius have its way, because it does not know the word impossible.’ How
+can I help it if a great power drives me on to become dictator of the
+world? You and the others, who criticise me to-day and would like me to
+become a good-natured ruler—have not you all been accessories? I have not
+yet fulfilled my mission, and I mean to end what I have begun. _We need
+a European legal code, a European court of appeal, a unified coinage, a
+common system of weights and measures. The same law must run throughout
+Europe. I shall fuse all the nations into one._... This, my lord duke,
+is the only solution that pleases me....” Having said this, he suddenly
+sends Fouché from the room.
+
+Here we have it plainly disclosed, Napoleon’s vision of the United
+States of Europe. The plan is recorded by one who, in his memoirs,
+would fain have discredited the Emperor—this plan with its extremely
+rational deductions and its daimonic inspiration. Europe is no longer
+a “mole-hill” as it was in the days of Milan and Rivoli, when he was
+nothing more than General Bonaparte, and when to the young man of
+genius all possible adversaries seemed too petty. Fifteen years later,
+Europe has become a plastic material; and Bonaparte is the emperor,
+the legislator, the great orderer, the enemy of the anarchy out of
+which he sprang, the modeller who would mould the clay into a splendid
+whole. Throughout the intervening years he has been marching along a
+predestined path; now he displays before us, in this statement of his
+aims, the productive consequences towards which he has been moving along
+that road of force through ever new hecatombs of slaughter. Behind him
+lie Charlemagne’s visions of a united Europe; in front of him glide new
+forms; and Cæsar, half way towards the realisation of his dream, is well
+aware that the spirit will ultimately overpower the sword. He has himself
+said this; and what he is now striving to establish by force with the aid
+of eight hundred thousand men, will some day come into existence as a
+voluntary amalgamation based upon reason and necessity. All the nations
+will fuse into one.
+
+This, my lord duke, is the only solution that pleases me.
+
+
+III
+
+While Napoleon is pouring his thoughts into Fouché’s ears, Alexander is
+pouring gold into Talleyrand’s pockets, and no doubt Talleyrand is going
+shares with Fouché. The bank could have informed Napoleon to whom Count
+Nesselrode, the new secretary to the Russian embassy, was paying out such
+large sums of money. From month to month Talleyrand lets Russia know
+how the French preparations for war are advancing, and when they will
+be completed. The limping Mephistopheles must have smiled to himself,
+sometimes, when Russia paid him for his information with licenses for the
+import of English goods into Russian harbours—documents which he could
+sell for hard cash in Paris!
+
+Is the tsar richer than the Emperor? Russia is still allied to France,
+but the Russian market has been closed to French goods, and the famous
+1811 vintage has one purchaser the less. Since England and Spain have
+long ceased to be customers, French industry is in a bad way. But when
+the Minister for Finance urges peace because tranquillity is essential to
+the restoration of French finances, the Emperor cuts him short by saying:
+“Not at all! It is true that our finances are disordered, but that is why
+we need war!”
+
+This argument was valid in the past, when the general had sent from
+Italy the money which the indebted Directory needed, and when, as Consul
+and Emperor he had made money by his wars. The French State, suffering
+more than any other from the effects of the blockade it had itself
+established, showed a deficit for the first time, though the deficit
+amounted to hardly more than fifty millions. Yet, even now, the Emperor
+refused to sanction any kind of State loan; “that would be immoral,
+for it would lay a burden upon later generations.” Nevertheless, he
+introduced indirect taxes and monopolies; nor did he act unwisely in
+doing so, since he expected to acquire fresh markets, and thereby more
+stable finances, from the Russian war. But victory was essential!
+
+He enthusiastically lays his plans before the Chambers of Commerce.
+“England has harmed herself far more by her blockade than she has harmed
+any other country; she has taught us how to dispense with her products.
+In a couple of years’ time, Europe will have adapted herself to the new
+ways of feeding her populations. Soon, we shall have more than enough
+beet sugar and shall be able to do without cane sugar.... Every year
+I draw only nine hundred millions revenue from my own country; three
+hundred millions I put away, and store in the cellars of the Tuileries.
+The Bank of France is full of silver; the Bank of England has none.
+Since the peace of Tilsit, I have received more than a milliard francs
+in indemnities. Austria is bankrupt. England and Russia will soon follow
+suit. I alone have money!”
+
+All the same, no one has much faith in his fine words. The more the
+Emperor’s plans for world conquest force the pace of recruiting, the
+more keenly does he keep watch upon the internal tranquillity of France.
+As the ruthlessness of his dictatorship increases, the mood of the
+citizens of France becomes gloomier and gloomier. Any criticism, even
+in the remotest corner of the realm, is immediately pounced upon and
+prosecuted. There are more than three thousand persons locked up in
+gaol without trial, because this one “hates the Emperor,” or this other
+has certain “religious outlooks,” or another has written, “in private
+letters, unfriendly expressions in regard to the government.” A new
+press bureau, with the absurd name of “Bureau of Public Opinion,” is
+established to manufacture political trends. When a Dutch newspaper
+publishes the statement that it is within the competence of the pope to
+excommunicate kings, not only is the journal suppressed, but the author
+of the offending article is arrested. In a certain book, an appreciation
+of the English constitution has to be deleted; another work has to be
+rechristened “Campaigns of Napoleon the Great,” whereas the author’s
+original title had been “History of Bonaparte.”
+
+While oppression of thought is rampant, it is not inconsonant with the
+imperialistic spirit to find that such men as Monge and Laplace, Guérin
+and Gérard, are willing to accept baronial honours. And when the French
+version of _The Robbers_ is prohibited in Hamburg, the last of the
+republicans recall with ironical bitterness the day twenty years earlier
+when the revolution had conferred the right of French citizenship upon
+its German author.
+
+What cares the Emperor for the mood of these ideologues? Under the spell
+of the evolution of his own powers, his eyes fixed upon the goal of his
+life’s aspiration, he misjudges now, as earlier in his struggle with
+the pope, the moral impression he is making upon his contemporaries.
+Yet in the past he had never failed to take this into account; at each
+step, he had questioned public opinion. Now, he allows the newfangled
+Bureau to manipulate public opinion: “What do I care for the opinion of
+the drawing-rooms and the babblers! I recognise only one opinion, that
+of the peasants!” Certain it is that the peasants are his most faithful
+supporters, mainly because he rescued their lands from the dangers
+threatened by the revolution. Now that the Spanish war has swallowed up
+larger and larger armies, the peasants have to pay eight thousand francs
+for a substitute, simply to save the few remaining sons to carry on the
+work of agriculture on the lands of their fathers. Many thousands of
+these young men are trying to evade service; and those who in the early
+days of the war would have joyfully rallied to the colours, have now
+to be rounded up by mobile columns or forced into the ranks by threats
+against their families and the communes to which they belong.
+
+Why should the Emperor be surprised at such a change of mood? Had not
+General Bonaparte set out to carry the ideas of the revolution to the
+peoples groaning under the yoke of emperors and kings? Did not the
+First Consul go forth to repel in his one campaign, did not the Emperor
+likewise go forth to repel in his three wars, the ever-renewed onslaughts
+of the allied monarchs? That by wars thus forced upon him he won more
+than freedom for the land of his adoption, that by the battles of
+Austerlitz, Jena, and Wagram he obtained new provinces from the enemy,
+was the outcome of his genius, and encouraged the people’s army to fresh
+deeds of valour. Even the rivalry with England was comprehensible to the
+French people; had it not been ever thus in the days of their fathers
+and grandfathers before them? But what could the peasant of Provence
+make of these purely political struggles in Spain and in Russia? The
+Emperor could not explain to him the plan for setting up a United States
+of Europe. Men had disappeared in the rivers of Andalusia, the names of
+which fell haltingly from a Frenchman’s lips. The peasant needed the
+support of his son’s young arm, now that the years were creeping onward.
+So it was that he purchased his son’s freedom from military service, and
+growled as he paid.
+
+What had the German peasants to say when, addressed as “contingents,”
+they answered the call of their kings and accompanied the foreign Emperor
+into distant lands? Thousands of peasants from the valley of the Main
+were dispatched to Spain; Jerome sent thirty thousand Westphalians to the
+Oder; Saxons guarded the Vistula; Württembergers and Bavarians flowed
+in a steady stream eastward, for “if the princes of the Confederation
+of the Rhine” (thus writes the Emperor to one of these same princes)
+“give me the least cause to doubt their willingness to undertake a joint
+defence, then, I tell them frankly, they are lost. I prefer open enemies
+to untrustworthy friends.” Such is the crack of the master’s whip. He
+deals more politely with the Habsburg. All being well, Austria may even
+be rewarded for her aid by receiving Silesia.
+
+Germany, composed as she is of many small and disintegrated fragments,
+serves Napoleon admirably in his jig-saw game with the nations. The three
+southern States have had their inhabitants and their lands bartered and
+exchanged at will; and, since Eugene has lost his throne to the Emperor’s
+son (the baby was made “King of Rome”) he is immediately installed as
+ruler in the hastily concocted “grand duchy of Frankfort.”
+
+What of Prussia? Why should Prussia continue to exist? Had he not, in
+Tilsit days, merely preserved this kingdom to please the tsar? But
+he is about to destroy the tsar! By notices and decrees, the Emperor
+announces that now, just before the war with Russia begins, Prussia is
+to be parcelled up. Does he not know that for the last year Prussia
+has been the ally of Russia, and that in a secret treaty the tsar has
+promised Frederick William his assistance? The Emperor hears much of
+defiant songs, of volunteer corps, of discontent in the universities, of
+the Tugendbund. Beware! Remember Spain! Do not trust to the proverbial
+“tolerance and coldness of these north Germans”! Surely it would be wiser
+to utilise the Prussian army before destroying it....
+
+The great-hearted Scharnhorst assures Frederick William that now is the
+time to strike. But Metternich, in Vienna, tricks the Prussian general
+when he proposes an alliance, and advises him to seek alliance with
+Russia rather than with the Habsburg emperor. For only if the man with
+whom he exchanges these words of false friendship, becomes an opponent,
+only if Prussia enters the war as Austria’s enemy, can Austria hope to
+enclose Silesia once more within her borders. At the same time Hardenberg
+bends before the Vienna wind, to-day as always. The king, who will take
+no risks, and who considers Napoleon absolutely unconquerable, at last
+makes up his mind to enter into alliance with the Emperor; his resolution
+comes too late to secure favourable terms. Silesia and Poland are already
+alive with troops, and Prussia is surrounded. In such circumstances it is
+natural that she should be treated as a vassal, should have to tolerate
+the passage of armies, should have to put up with requisitionings, should
+have to look on patiently while her eastern fortresses are manned by
+French soldiers and her auxiliary corps commanded by foreign marshals.
+Metternich writes to his master in gleeful mood: “Prussia need no longer
+be reckoned among the powers.”
+
+And yet! And yet! Although Europe, from Capua to Tilsit, at the outset
+of 1812, is rallying to Napoleon’s standard, although his arm reaches
+from Finisterre to Bukovina, he feels how uncertain is the outcome of his
+campaign, and, as Count Ségur tells us, starts up from the conning of his
+interminable lists and calculations to exclaim in terror: “I am not ready
+to undertake a war in such far-off lands! I need three years more!”
+
+But the machine rolls on; no master hand can stay it. An inner impulse
+urges him forward; the whole history of his rise to power impels him;
+all the shades of vanished years drive him on. He, who has built so many
+harbours wherein to seek refuge in times of storm and stress, is in the
+end tossed out upon the open sea, more roughly, more speedily than he
+had wished, and, with the wild determination of the adventurer, he now
+recklessly seizes the steering-wheel which for so long he has manipulated
+with statesmanlike care. “Do you not see,” he exclaims to his brother,
+“that I can only keep my seat upon this throne by means of the fame
+which brought me to it? That a private individual such as I, who has
+merely risen to become a ruler, dare not call a halt? That such a one is
+constrained to mount higher and ever higher, and is doomed to perish the
+moment he stops climbing?”
+
+His soul is a-flicker with excitement, so that at one moment he is eager
+for the final struggle, and at the next dreads it. His letter to the
+tsar, with which, as heretofore, he begins the campaign, still preserves
+a friendly tone. At the same time he says to a Russian colonel who is
+on spy duty in Paris: “Since the tsar is young and I have yet many
+years to live, I had thought to preserve the peace of Europe by means
+of our good feelings towards one another. My feelings have not changed.
+Tell him this; and say, in addition, that if the fates decree that the
+two greatest powers of the world are to come to blows over girlish
+peccadilloes, I shall enter the lists as a gallant knight, without hatred
+and without enmity. I suggest to him the possibility of our meeting for
+breakfast together between our respective outposts.... I still hope
+that we shall not spill the blood of hundreds of thousands of brave men,
+simply because we cannot agree as to the colour of a ribbon!”
+
+How his own unrest vibrates through these brilliant subterfuges, which
+he specially adapts to cajole Alexander’s feminine disposition! A grey
+gauntlet of steel is hurled from one world power to the other; the great
+fight between birth and genius is now to take place in all its grandeur.
+And he who, after two decades of dreaming, sees his dream descending out
+of the clouds earthwards, talks as if nothing more were at stake than a
+girl’s quarrel or the colour of a piece of ribbon—when in reality the
+fate of the world hangs in the balance!
+
+
+IV
+
+What is passing in Alexander’s mind? Estranged from the Russian nobility,
+railed at by his mother, cheated out of his hopes of setting up the
+cross once more on St. Sophia, deeply concerned about Poland (which
+his adversary threatens to liberate)—there are reasons enough, both
+in political and court life, why he should no longer regard Napoleon
+as his friend. After Tilsit, Metternich had said that it would take
+five years for the tsar’s feelings to swing to the opposite pole.
+That period had now elapsed, and although the tsar’s was one of those
+nervous temperaments in which moods decide actions, on his side, too,
+the struggle could assume allegorical greatness. But he lacked a grand
+aim and a lofty thought. He was not even fighting to win warlike renown
+against the master craftsman in the art of war. The impulses that drove
+him to the fight were merely the outcome of a confused mysticism, in
+whose waters he had drowned his old veneration for the magician of Tilsit.
+
+Politically, he makes two successful moves in the game, one of these
+being intimately adapted to the peculiarities of human character, and
+therefore weighty with consequence. To cope with Napoleon, he needs
+tranquillity on his southern and his northern borders. He finds means
+to keep the sultan neutral; but in the case of Sweden he manages even
+better, for he is able to secure an alliance. He and Bernadotte meet on
+the frontier; and here, for the second time, the tsar of all the Russias
+succumbs to the charm of a French revolutionary. Sweden is in danger of
+English vengeance. Norway belongs to the Francophil Danes. The community
+of interests between Sweden and Russia secures expression when Russia, in
+return for a promise of help in the coming war, guarantees that Sweden
+shall have Norway.
+
+But this prospect of territorial enlargement is not the thing that spurs
+Bernadotte to action. He, who is king in Napoleon’s despite, cares no
+more about his new subjects than those who had become kings by Napoleon’s
+favour cared about theirs. But the tsar, too, has an imagination. Looking
+forward to the winning of this game, he sees in broad outline what
+lies beyond. He sees, not only the Emperor’s defeat, but the Emperor’s
+destruction; and while Napoleon, at the head of the greatest army known
+to history, is slowly advancing to swallow up the tsar, Alexander is
+promising Bernadotte, the friend of Bonaparte’s youth, no less a prize
+than the throne of France.
+
+To such heights, this summer, do the opposing eagles soar.
+
+In Dresden, the Emperor treats all the princes to the spectacle of a
+review, just as he had done four years earlier in Erfurt. The only
+sovereign from among that company who is absent, is the one he is now to
+fight. But Alexander’s place has been taken by the Habsburg ruler. Only
+once before have Napoleon and Francis met, on the day after Austerlitz.
+Twice, since then, has the victorious Emperor of the French occupied the
+Austrian’s abandoned capital. When peace had been made between them, and
+the victor had wedded the daughter of the vanquished, the girl had been
+sent alone from Vienna to distant Paris.
+
+Now Marie Louise sits between husband and father at the sparkling board,
+and to outward seeming all is well. The father-in-law is pledged in
+alliance, and the Emperor has appointed his wife regent of France. But
+vainly has he forbidden her to be so foolish as to attempt the outshining
+of her step-mother on these festal occasions. The empress from Paris
+sheds tears at the prohibition, while the empress from Vienna weeps
+because her pearls are smaller than those worn by Marie Louise. The old
+jealousies between the principalities and powers now find vent in family
+quarrels which the courtiers try to gloss over. When a health is drunk to
+the boy who should be a tie between all four of them, both the men and
+both the women drown their thoughts in their champagne, though each knows
+perfectly well what the others are thinking.
+
+The December meeting in the windmill near Austerlitz, and the May meeting
+in the palace of the Saxon kings! Son-in-law and father-in-law will never
+set eyes on one another again.
+
+Meanwhile, half a million men are being ranged between Königsberg and
+Lemberg. The master of these legions journeys to Posen, and announces
+the “Second Polish War,” for his ostensible aim is merely to wrest
+Poland from the tsar—most of the old kingdom, at any rate, as far as
+Smolensk. “There or in Minsk,” he tells a confidant, “the campaign will
+end. I shall winter in Vilna, organise Lithuania, and live at Russia’s
+expense. If, then, peace cannot be secured, I shall, next year, advance
+into the centre of the enemy’s land, and stay there until the tsar
+becomes pliable.” The whole disposition of Napoleon’s troops is made in
+accordance with this scheme. At Russia’s expense? What supplies can he
+get from Russia? Has he accurate information regarding the resources of
+this foreign land?
+
+In Gumbinnen, he sends for a Prussian president. Speaking of the stores
+of grain he has collected in the German ports, and proposes to have sent
+to Kovno, he says:
+
+“I presume there are plenty of mills in Kovno?”
+
+“No, Sire; very few mills are to be found there.”
+
+The Emperor looks at Berthier “dubiously.” This glance of the supreme
+war lord at his chief of general staff is a fore-shadowing of the
+disillusionments he is to experience in the unknown land beyond the
+Memel. It is not the mere lack of mills which disturbs him, but the
+fact that he is taken by surprise. For a whole year, the Emperor has
+been preparing the great campaign. Troops, parks of ammunition, reserve
+corps, fourteen hundred pieces of ordnance, siege trains, bridge-building
+materials, pontoons, have been assembled from seven realms, counting
+the Confederation of the Rhine as one. Eight Baltic fortresses are used
+as storehouses, to which hundreds of ships and thousands of wagons
+bring wheat and rice. Some of the wagons are drawn by oxen which are
+destined for the slaughter house at the end of their journey—a symbol of
+compulsory military service, in which a man serves only that he may die.
+Now Napoleon learns that he is about to enter a country without mills.
+He can build them, no doubt; but at what cost in time and men! Are other
+surprises awaiting him across the Russian border? It will be impossible
+to carry fodder for one hundred and fifty thousand horses. That is why
+he has waited till June, when the grass will be green. But what if the
+steppe should disappoint him here?
+
+And what if his men’s spirit should disappoint him?
+
+On the frontier, warning voices make themselves heard. He is told that
+these young recruits are hardly able to endure the long marches, and that
+the heat will be too much for them. In Dresden, Murat had vainly asked
+for furlough. Now, in Danzig, he and Berthier and Rapp are dining with
+the Emperor in gloomy silence. Napoleon, emerging from his thoughts of
+world conquest, suddenly asks Rapp: “How far is it from Danzig to Cadiz?”
+Rapp is bold enough to answer: “Too far, Sire!” Thereupon the master
+rejoins:
+
+“I can see, gentlemen, that you no longer have any taste for fighting.
+The king of Naples would rather be back in his pretty kingdom; Berthier
+would like to be playing the sportsman in Grosbois; Rapp would fain be
+enjoying the sweets of Parisian life!”
+
+The marshals answer never a word, for they will not deny that it is so.
+But that it should be so, is a new experience for Emperor Napoleon.
+
+[Illustration: Napoleon as Emperor. Bust by Houdon, Musée de Dijon.
+
+(Photograph by J. E. Bulloz, Paris.)]
+
+When he reaches the Memel, the symbolic significance of the Russian
+frontier captivates his imagination to such an extent that he is the
+first to cross the river, and he gallops several miles eastward before
+returning slowly to the bridge. Well, he is over now, and this time,
+in very truth, he has crossed the Rubicon. At his nod, three armies
+advance into the interior of Poland. The main army is under his immediate
+command, the second being commanded by Eugene, and the third by Jerome.
+Why does he venture to entrust a whole army to the leadership of this
+amateur (who made such a fool of himself in the last war), even with the
+safeguard of veteran generals as advisers? Napoleon thinks he can risk
+it. The enemy has at most three hundred thousand men.
+
+Where is the enemy? In two armies, led by Barclay de Tolly and Bagration.
+They are somewhere in Lithuania, far away, and the total force is only
+one hundred and seventy thousand. Napoleon’s overestimate of the strength
+of his opponents was a disastrous error, for if he had himself had
+fewer mouths to feed, he would have had a much better chance of getting
+adequate supplies for his soldiers. Why is he so keen on superiority of
+numbers? General Bonaparte was used, with forty thousand men, to defeat
+an enemy that greatly outnumbered him, his method being to crush one wing
+of the foe after another. The cumbrous multitude he has collected for the
+present campaign is symptomatic of his own increasing age, and of the
+lust for power which makes him pile up weight, instead of equipping the
+spirit with wings. Is he no longer the commander of the days of Rivoli?
+
+In a sense, he is still that commander, for, even with this gigantic
+array of troops, he will be a victorious invader. His first army will
+march from Tilsit upon Vilna, to take up a position between the Russian
+detachments, so that his second and third armies can separately defeat
+the enemy. But the Russian distances weaken his influence. Upon a front
+of such vast extent, he cannot show himself everywhere. Those who command
+under him are too independent of one another (Davoust and Murat nearly
+fight a duel), and yet they are too dependent upon him. Never did he
+suffer more than in this campaign from the lack of speedy means of
+communication. His was the central brain in all his undertakings, so that
+a telegraph would have been far more useful to him than to his opponents.
+
+The Russians are aware of their own weakness. Neither of the two
+commanders ventures to stand firm. Both of them withdraw before the
+invaders, at first without any mutual understanding, to get into touch
+later, far in the rear. These are not the tactics of inspired leaders.
+Though the Russians do the right thing, it is merely because they are
+afraid of the forces that outnumber theirs, and because they dread the
+great name of Napoleon. They are but instruments in the hands of fate.
+
+For a time, the Emperor pauses in his advance. In Vilna, he says: “If
+Monsieur Barclay imagines that I am going to run after him to the Volga,
+he is making a great mistake. We will follow him to Smolensk and the
+Dvina, where a good battle will provide us with quarters.... It would
+certainly be destruction were we to cross the Dvina this year. I shall go
+back to Vilna, spend the winter there, send for a troupe from the Théâtre
+Français, and another to play opera. We shall finish off the affair next
+May, unless peace is made during the winter.”
+
+News from the outer world is satisfactory. At length the United States
+has declared war on England, and has gained some victories at sea. In
+England the opposition, which wants peace, is gathering strength. Even in
+Spain things are not going so badly. Forward! A good battle!
+
+But where is the enemy? The Emperor goes scouting, accompanied by only
+one officer; there is no trace of the Russians. Uneasiness grows. Since
+the invaders are marching light, and therefore too quickly, part of the
+army, on bad roads and amid heat and rainstorms, gets separated from its
+commissariat, upon which everything depends. In Vilna he fails to find
+the tsar, though Alexander has been there just before. At this moment,
+news is brought that the supplies are delayed, for the commissariat
+wagons have stuck fast in a morass, and the vessels that are bringing
+other supplies have run aground in the river; moreover, ten thousand
+horses have perished, through gorging themselves upon rank grass. The
+shortage cannot be hidden from the troops, who scatter through the town,
+and plunder so recklessly that there will be no supplies left for the
+next comers.
+
+The Emperor can get nothing from the inhabitants of this land either by
+threats or cajoleries; and yet he detests rapine, which leads to chaos.
+The Lithuanians note that even now he has not granted the Poles the
+promised kingdom. They do not hail him as a liberator, as the people
+of Lombardy had done long years before. They give no help; they give
+nothing; they are hardly willing to accept in payment the forged rouble
+notes, millions of which he has had printed in Paris. They pray.
+
+What is to be done? Now is the time to win over the tsar. He writes: “All
+that has taken place is out of keeping with Your Majesty’s character,
+and with the personal consideration you have sometimes shown me in
+the past.... When I crossed the Memel, I had it in mind to send you
+an adjutant, as I have always done in previous campaigns.” But, since
+the tsar had refused to receive his last envoy, “I realised that the
+invisible providence whose power and dominion I recognise would decide
+this matter, as he had decided so many others.... Nothing, therefore, is
+left but to conclude with the request that you will remain convinced of
+the steadfastness of my kindly feelings towards you.”
+
+Before writing this long and unctuous letter, in which nothing is genuine
+except the perplexity and the faith in destiny, he has had a conversation
+with a captured general who is to convey the missive. The way in which
+the Emperor hectors the prisoner, smacks of comic opera: “What does
+the tsar expect from this war? I have seized one of his best provinces
+without firing a shot, and neither of us knows what we are quarrelling
+about!” Then, as his way was, he spent an hour or more pointing out the
+Russians’ mistakes, asking why they had not defended Vilna, and talking
+to this captive just as if he had been berating one of his own generals
+in Spain. “Are you not ashamed of yourselves?” is the burden of his
+song. He waxes enthusiastic about the Poles, whom as a rule he frankly
+despises; but now it suits him to make much of their contempt for death.
+He says that he has thrice as many soldiers as the tsar, and much more
+money, so that he will be able to carry on the war for three years. These
+falsehoods are uttered in simulated anger, which he allows to flash out
+by fits and starts. The Russian meets bluff with bluff, saying that in
+Muscovy they have made preparations for a five years’ campaign. But now
+the turn has come for one of the Emperor’s bursts of frankness, in words
+suited to the ears of this officer blown him by a chance wind, but of
+course designed to impress the tsar, to whom they will be reported.
+
+“I am the man of calculations. When I was in Erfurt, my reckonings
+convinced me that it would suit my book better to walk hand in hand with
+you Russians, instead of quarrelling with you. We might still have been
+good friends.... Then the tsar made peace with me, when his country
+wanted war; now he makes war on me, when his country wants peace. It
+puzzles me that so distinguished a man can have anything to do with such
+persons as some of his present advisers.... How can any one make war
+through a council of war? If at two in the morning a good idea enters
+my mind, in a quarter of an hour I have issued my orders, and half an
+hour later my outposts are executing it. But what happens among you?”
+Napoleon shows the prisoner a letter from the Russian general staff
+which his men have intercepted. “You can take it with you, for it will
+while away the tedium of your journey.... Tell the tsar I pledge him my
+word that five hundred and fifty thousand men have already crossed the
+Vistula. But I am a man of calculations, not a man of passion. I am still
+willing to enter into negotiations. What a glorious reign he might have
+had, if he had not broken with me!”
+
+The general is alarmed by this flood of confessions. But in the evening,
+when he dines with the Emperor and three of the marshals, he is placed on
+an entirely different footing, for the Emperor proceeds to cross-question
+him like an explorer eager for information.
+
+“Have you any Kirghiz regiments?”
+
+“No, but we are making experiments with Bashkirs and Tartars, who are
+very like the Kirghiz.”
+
+“Is it true that when the tsar was in Vilna, he went to tea every day
+with a pretty lady there? Let me see, what was her name?”
+
+“The tsar is courtly to every lady.”
+
+“Is it true that Baron vom Stein dined with the tsar?”
+
+“All persons of note were invited to dinner.”
+
+“How can the tsar tolerate such a man as Stein at his table! Does he
+think the fellow can be fond of him? Angels and devils cannot be good
+companions.... What is the population of Moscow? How many houses? How
+many churches?... Why are there such a lot of churches?”
+
+“Because our people are very pious.”
+
+“Nobody is pious nowadays. Which is the shortest way to Moscow?”
+
+“All roads lead to Rome, Sire. You can choose your own route to Moscow.
+Charles XII. marched by way of Pultava.”
+
+At this mischievous answer, the Emperor thought fit to turn the
+conversation. As for the general, he had wit enough to report in St.
+Petersburg that Napoleon was extremely nervous.
+
+This nervousness increases mile after mile. The Emperor tries to join
+battle, but the Russians evade the issue. Barclay, who is waiting for a
+junction with Bagration, retreats aimlessly; Bagration does not come,
+for he believes that he is facing, not Jerome, but the main body of the
+invaders. Still, Bagration retreats. Jerome, who ought to follow him
+up, is too slow in his movements, so that Davoust, who is waiting for
+a junction with Jerome, has to let the enemy slip. The Emperor, in a
+rage, cashiers Jerome (who retires in dudgeon to Cassel), and gives the
+command to Davoust. Too late! His fondness for Jerome, the braggart, has
+cost him the chance of a decisive battle. As difficulties increase, the
+Emperor redoubles the pace of his advance; but as the tempo is quickened,
+the difficulties are redoubled. There is no means, now, of providing
+for the army. The retreating Russians burn their storehouses. No bread,
+no vegetables, nothing but meat. Dysentery breaks out. The horses eat
+the thatch from the roofs, and collapse in great numbers, so that their
+corpses line the road. During this advance in which there are no battles,
+the Bavarian leader estimates the losses of his corps at nine hundred men
+a day.
+
+What is Paris saying?
+
+Very little news comes to hand; hardly a word even from the empress. It
+seems as if the couriers were already being cut off. But here is a report
+from the Tuileries, written by the governess, to let him know how the
+child is getting on. He rejoins: “I hope to hear from you soon that the
+last four teeth have been cut. I have seen to it that the nurse shall get
+everything she needs. You can assure her of this.”
+
+See the Emperor in the sun-parched steppe; before him rises the smoke
+of the burning villages he has yet to reach, behind him the stench of
+decomposing bodies. The strange food and the unaccustomed heat lead to
+a recurrence of his attacks of gastric spasm; he can no longer bear to
+ride, and, since wheeled traffic is constantly coming to grief, he
+covers great distances on foot, accompanied by the whole of his staff,
+pursued by the thought: Where is the fight to take place? Couriers arrive
+less frequently, and, when they do come, bring no news calculated to
+interest him in his present state of nervous tension. Yet here he is,
+pacing up and down within his tent; and the pen of his secretary, instead
+of, as usual, ordering masses of men to move from one place to another,
+hastens over the paper to record the master’s concern about the four
+teeth which are still lacking to an infant in a forlorn palace twelve
+hundred miles away. Soon the Emperor will be in Vitebsk. How far is it
+thence to Paris?
+
+“Too far, Sire,” is re-echoed from unseen lips.
+
+At last! We’ve got him! There stands Barclay, held in check for the
+moment by Murat! He thinks to escape to Smolensk on the morrow; such are
+the tidings! The hour has struck. But the Emperor is ill, irresolute.
+With unwonted consideration, he does not wish his exhausted army to
+go straight from the heat of the march into the heat of battle; with
+unwonted caution, he wishes to collect more troops than he really needs
+before beginning the attack, in order that the battle may be “another
+Austerlitz.” He waits till morning.
+
+The Russian laughs. Under cover of the morning mists, he makes good his
+retreat; and when the air clears not a trace of the foe is to be seen,
+nor can a guess be made as to the direction he has taken. At midday the
+Emperor returns from the search, flings his sword on the table, and
+exclaims:
+
+“Here I remain. Let us rally our forces. The campaign of the year ’12 is
+at an end.” When Murat urges him to continue the forward march, Napoleon
+answers: “In ’13 I shall be at Moscow; in ’14 at St. Petersburg. This war
+will last three years!”
+
+It is time that the scattered army should be reorganised. Nearly a third
+of the forces has been struck off the lists, although no battle has taken
+place; the country has devoured them. Where are the auxiliaries—the
+Prussians under Macdonald, the Austrians under Schwarzenberg? Trustworthy
+news is lacking. Too far! What a country! How is one to pass the weary
+hours when there is no fighting? Wait? In Cairo there were a hundred
+men of science in his train, and the country was full of unsolved
+riddles.—The following letter bears witness to a sense of boredom the
+Emperor has not known since the days of his lieutenancy:
+
+“Send us some entertaining books,” the secretary writes to the librarian
+in Paris. “If there are some good novels, new or old, which the Emperor
+has not read, or memoirs pleasantly written, we should be most grateful;
+for time hangs so heavily on our hands in this place.”
+
+Can we not see him standing in front of his tent in his old green coat?
+He takes one pinch of snuff after another, and from time to time looks
+through his telescope across the plain. Then a grenadier approaches
+with a paper in his hand; the Emperor reads it, puts it away; the two
+secretaries gaze dumbly from the gloom of the tent, like two tamed
+animals awaiting the nod of their tamer. Rustam sits apart Turk fashion;
+for him alone is the weather never too hot. All movement is paralysed,
+activity is stopped, one can go neither forward nor backward. Napoleon
+calls towards the tent: “Méneval! Order some novels!”
+
+News comes at last: England has secured a treaty with the tsar and with
+the Spanish regent. This arouses the Emperor: he sees in it the birth
+of a fresh coalition; perhaps, even, encirclement. Must he really lie
+up here till Europe rises against him or goes to sleep? Over there is
+Smolensk. The two Russian armies have doubtless by now met in the town.
+That is where the real Russia begins: surely they will not evacuate and
+burn the old town of the Blessed Virgin, as they have been doing in the
+Polish and Lithuanian wilderness! Should victory be achieved at Smolensk,
+then the march on Moscow or St. Petersburg can be undertaken at will.
+
+He questions his generals. Many of them utter words of warning. But the
+Emperor replies: “Russia cannot continue this sacrifice of her towns.
+Alexander can only begin negotiations after there has been a big battle.
+No blood has yet been spilled. Even if I have to march as far as the holy
+city of Moscow, I am determined to force a fight and win!”
+
+At last the two Russian armies have effected a junction; they plan a
+systematic retreat, preceded by a stubborn resistance; wave after wave of
+the weary French army breaks against the walls of Smolensk. The veterans
+think of Acre, thirteen years gone by.... In the end, the town falls,
+but it falls amid the flames; a heap of ruins is all that is left in the
+victor’s hands. Is the Emperor beginning to understand the moral strength
+of this people? Can he not see that day by day its mood becomes more
+fanatical, that it would rather burn its ancient holy things than leave
+them to the enemy? There remains nothing for a starving army to plunder.
+
+The Emperor, indeed, is in sorry plight. King Lear upon the heath. Power
+crumbles in fragments from his body; every gesture melts in the air; from
+afar the laughter of the rational world comes echoing, to be lost in the
+void. An end must be made. A second message is sent to the tsar. No use
+writing, for that last letter from Vilna has remained unanswered. Once
+more a captured general is ushered into his presence, and once more the
+Emperor’s secret meditations are unveiled. In conclusion he says:
+
+“Can you write to the tsar? No? Still, you can write to your brother
+at headquarters and tell him what I am saying to you. You will greatly
+oblige me if you tell him that you have seen me and that I have charged
+you to write to him. He would do me a real service if he himself would
+let the tsar know, or get the grand duke to do it for him, that my
+greatest wish is to conclude peace.... What are we fighting for? Of
+course, if you were the English, that would be a different matter!
+But the Russians have done nothing to me. You want to buy coffee and
+sugar cheaply? Very well. That can be arranged. But do you fancy it
+will be easy to beat me? Then get your council of war to consider the
+situation; if it thinks the Russians can achieve a victory, choose your
+battle-ground.... Otherwise I shall be compelled to take Moscow, and, in
+spite of every precaution, I shall perhaps not be able to save it from
+destruction. A capital which has been in the possession of the enemy, is
+like a woman who has lost her honour.... What do you think? If the tsar
+wishes to conclude peace, surely none will oppose him?”
+
+As a young lieutenant, as a young general, he had never asked a favour;
+he could not; he knew only how to command. Even to kings he wrote in the
+tone of a commander, and the word “please” had only twice passed his lips
+during the course of this last decade: the first time, when he asked the
+pope to anoint him emperor; the second time, when he besought Francis of
+Habsburg for his daughter’s hand. Yet to-day, what a tone! What thoughts
+must be passing through the captive’s mind at the moment when his sword
+is given back to him!—Can this be the master of the world? Has he not
+begged me, a poor man, begged me and my brother, to do him a service? How
+came these things to be? Has he no other messenger? Coffee and sugar are
+to blame, it seems, for the fact that an army of hundreds of thousands
+of men is perishing in my land! And, as though the whole thing were some
+brilliant game of chess, the master player sends his challenge, while
+Little Mother Russia is suffering and weeping, and sees one of her cities
+after the other go up in flames, and the images of her saints reduced to
+ashes!
+
+The letter to the captive general’s brother is duly written, passes
+Berthier’s censorship, is delivered—but is never answered. The Emperor is
+beside himself with rage: he passes through a period in which he makes
+impulsive and vacillating decisions. When Rapp asks whether the army is
+to go forward or to retreat, Napoleon answers: “The wine is poured out;
+it must be drunk to the last drop. I am for Moscow.... Too long have I
+played the emperor; it is time I became the general once more.” The eyes
+of the officer light up as he recognises the old ring in the voice!—We
+are at the beginning of September.
+
+On the sacred soil of the heath near Borodino, Kutusoff, Barclay’s
+successor, must at length put up a fight. The armies now are of equal
+strength: this is the game the Emperor proposed. No one sleeps, for
+to-morrow, to-morrow at last, the battle will be joined! Then will golden
+Moscow lie at our feet, and all our troubles will be at an end. In the
+middle of the night, a courier arrives from Paris. The Emperor, bending
+over his maps, asks if there is anything urgent to attend to. Silently
+his secretary hands him a dispatch from Spain: Wellington has gained a
+decisive victory over Marmont in the fight near Salamanca. The Emperor
+reads the report, makes no comment, and resumes his interrupted work. At
+the eastern extremity of Europe, at the point where it loses itself in
+the Asiatic wastes, in a few hours he is to vanquish the Russians. This
+is no time to trouble his mind as to the significance of the victory of
+the detested Briton at the southern extremity of Europe. Day has dawned.
+To-day, as every day, the guards call the salute: “Vive l’Empereur!”
+
+He shows them his son’s picture, which the courier that night had brought
+him from Paris. There they stand, the old war-dogs, never dreaming
+that France has been beaten in Spain, but admiring the portrait of the
+beautiful boy who is their leader’s very own son. When the picture is
+brought back to the tent, the Emperor says, speaking like a poet: “Hide
+it away. He is too young to look upon a battle-field.”
+
+In fierce fighting, on this day of Borodino, salient points are taken,
+lost, and retaken. The guards shout. They want to decide the issue, here,
+on the Moskva, as they have so often done before. His generals beseech
+him to order the advance, and his intimates urge him to action, but he
+will not give the word. For the first time, when the fight is on, he
+will not stir from his place. He is feverish, panting for breath, racked
+with a cough, and his legs are swelled. He sits motionless on his horse,
+and cannot make up his mind to order the advance of the guards, although
+the fate of the day seems to hang on it. “Suppose there should be another
+battle to-morrow? What men shall I have left to fight it with?” At night
+the Russians withdraw. Next day, when the fallen are counted on the
+field, they number seventy thousand dead or half-dead—more than in any of
+his previous battles. The Emperor exclaims:
+
+“Fortune is a strumpet. I have often said so. Now the truth is coming
+home to me.”
+
+But the way to Moscow is open. Half a million men had been chosen for the
+invasion. One hundred thousand of them are still following him, when,
+from an elevation, with his back towards the setting sun, he first sees
+the city of a thousand cupolas, and upon the hill in its centre that
+fragment of the East, the Kremlin. Napoleon, as he gazes at the sight, is
+filled with weariness rather than with exultation, and he says in a low
+tone:
+
+“Moscow! It is time!”
+
+
+V
+
+“Where are the keys of the city? Why are not the mayor and corporation
+here to hand them over?”
+
+For the greater part of the afternoon he waits while the army marches
+past him, waits for the keys of the town. At Vienna and Milan, at Madrid
+and Berlin, he had ridden through the gates as a conqueror. Are these
+Tartars ignorant of the fine old Roman custom? From afar can be heard the
+noise made by Kutusoff’s soldiers, as the half-beaten army evacuates the
+Eastern side of the town, while Napoleon’s men are streaming in from the
+west. The advance guard of the French and the rear guard of the Russians
+are almost in touch. It is a silent entry, for the town is like a city
+of the dead; the houses are empty. “Still, there are plenty of houses,”
+think the weary campaigners; “we shall find food, and be able to sleep at
+our ease.”
+
+The Emperor and his staff ride slowly through the streets whose silence
+is so ominous. The Kremlin is their destination. Here is the ancient
+fortress. The newcomers look with astonishment at its walls. All the
+gates are open, but there is no one there to act as guide. The golden
+and red halls are forsaken, as in the vision of a dream. The invaders
+make their way into a huge room where the windows are boarded up. The
+grenadiers knock the boards away with the butt ends of their muskets, and
+the Emperor recognises by the canopy that he is in the coronation room of
+the tsars of Muscovy; but the throne is veiled.
+
+Peace is the only thing lacking to him in this moment of fulfilment.
+Where is the peace? He has nothing but a victory. Who has cheated him
+of its fruits? Only the vast, strange land; the steppe has cheated him
+to-day, as the desert cheated him thirteen years ago. Why did he not
+free the serfs in Lithuania, and thus win guides and new soldiers, as he
+had planned to do aforetime with the liberated Arabs? What if he were to
+adopt this policy now? The town is deserted, but there are peasants in
+the surrounding countryside. Why not summon them, make terms with them?
+We are masters here; this enigmatic realm can still offer much of what we
+desire!
+
+Night comes, but sleep is coy. “Let us do some work, then, to distract
+our minds,” he says to Caulaincourt. He opens the map of Poland;
+satisfies himself that it was impossible to stay there; in six weeks he
+can be in St. Petersburg. The muster rolls (they are his Bible, which
+he always takes with him on a journey, and perpetually cons even in
+peace time) show him what forces are still at his disposal. His spirits
+rise as he looks at the columns of figures. “In a few weeks I could get
+together a quarter of a million men here. There are plenty of roofs to
+cover them, but what about food? The city seems to be in the middle of a
+desert!”
+
+A red glare shows through the windows. Fire! Oh, well, we’re used to
+that. There were several fires here and there yesterday evening. But
+orderlies rush in, and generals arrive. A hundred messengers have
+reported the outbreak of fires all over the city. Not accidental fires,
+but prearranged, for the fire-engines have been broken or removed. Do
+these lunatics mean that Holy Moscow should go up in flames? What will
+the Emperor do? Ségur, who was with him in these dark hours, tells us
+what happened:
+
+“It seems as if the encircling flames have spread to the Emperor’s mind.
+By turns, he leaps to his feet, sits down again, or tramps hastily
+through the rooms of the palace. His abrupt movements betray his terrible
+agitation. He abandons an urgent task, resumes it, abandons it once more,
+that he may fling the window wide. He exclaims:
+
+“‘What a dreadful sight! Their own work! So many palaces! How stupendous
+a decision! Who could have expected anything of the kind? What men they
+are! They are Scythians!’
+
+“Suddenly we are informed that the Kremlin has been mined. Some of the
+servants are panic-stricken; the guard quietly awaits orders. The Emperor
+smiles incredulously, but he continues to pace convulsively to and fro,
+halting at every window to watch the raging element as it seizes the
+bridges and the gates, simultaneously imprisoning him and besieging
+him. The air is full of smoke and flying sparks; the equinoctial gale
+increases the fury of the conflagration.
+
+“Murat and Eugene arrive hotfoot, force their way to the Emperor, and
+urge him to flee. In vain! Napoleon, master in the palace of the tsars,
+is steadfast. He will not yield even to devouring flame. But suddenly
+comes the cry: ‘Fire in the Kremlin!’ The Emperor is to see the danger
+close at hand.
+
+“A Russian military policeman has been seized in a turret of the
+arsenal. Brought before the Emperor, the man admits that he has fired
+the Kremlin, acting under orders. The Emperor makes a sign of rage and
+contempt. The prisoner is led out into the courtyard and is cut down by
+the grenadiers. This incident decides the Emperor’s action.
+
+“We hasten down the northern staircase, and the Emperor orders us to
+guide him out of the town. But all the gates of the citadel are blocked
+by the flames. At length an alley-way leading to the Moskva is discovered
+between two rocks. Through this narrow passage we are able to escape from
+the Kremlin. But what has been gained? How can we cross the river? The
+soldiers, blinded by the sparks and deafened by the storm, do not know
+where they are, and the streets are hidden amid the smoke. The only way
+out of the inferno is through a winding street where the houses are on
+fire.
+
+“Heedlessly the Emperor strides along this dreadful exit, undismayed
+by the crackle of the flaming beams and by the crash of the falling
+roofs.... We can hardly breathe, so intense is the heat. Our guide loses
+his way, and we should all have ended our lives in the flames had not
+some marauders belonging to the first army corps recognised the Emperor
+and found a way for him and the rest of us out of the smoking ruins.
+
+“We meet Davoust. He has been injured on the Moskva, but has had himself
+carried back among the blazing houses, hoping to find the Emperor or
+perish with him. The general embraces Napoleon in a fever of delight.
+The Emperor responds in friendly fashion, but with that calm which never
+leaves him in the hour of danger.”
+
+He awaits the end of the conflagration in the Petroffsky palace, a
+suburban retreat. On the fourth day, he returns to the Kremlin, where
+very little damage has been done. On the fifth day, his patience gives
+out. For the third time, he writes to the tsar. Even now, when he is in
+possession of the capital, he feels he is grasping at the air. He is so
+cut off from the enemy that once more he has to make use of a Russian
+prisoner (this time only a captain), in order to find a contact with the
+tsar. Napoleon receives the man in the throne room. Does he sense the
+heroic grotesqueness of the scene? An officer of no account, powerless,
+unknown, is the representative of Holy Russia; before him, in the storied
+hall of the tsars, stands the mighty Emperor of the French, the conqueror
+at whose slightest nod all Europe trembles. The Emperor speaks, chaffers,
+poses conditions with this man, as though the occasion were another
+Tilsit and the captain the tsar.
+
+“I am conducting a purely political war,” Napoleon reiterates. “All I
+need is the fulfilment of our treaties. Had I taken London, I would not
+have offered to leave it so speedily. From here, however, I intend very
+soon to withdraw. If the tsar wants peace, he must let me know of his
+desire.... I am setting you free, but on condition that you make your way
+to St. Petersburg. The tsar will be glad to see an eyewitness of recent
+happenings in Moscow. You must tell him everything.”
+
+“I shall not be permitted to enter his presence, Sire.”
+
+“Appeal to Court Chamberlain Tolstoy. He is an upright man. If he fails
+you, get the tsar’s body servant to introduce you to his presence, or you
+must approach His Majesty during one of his daily walks....” The captain
+gets cold all over; it seems to him that he is being urged to commit a
+crime, an attempt on the tsar’s life. He can promise nothing; stammers.
+
+The Emperor says: “Very well. I shall write a letter to your emperor and
+you must see that he gets it.” This last missive, which finds its way
+from one emperor’s hands into those of the other, is the strangest of the
+trio.
+
+“My Lord Brother.... Beautiful, magical Moscow exists no more.... This
+deed is loathsome, and to no purpose. Did you wish to rob me of my
+means of support? They were in the cellars, to which the flames never
+penetrated. How could you consign to destruction the loveliest city in
+the world, a city it has taken hundreds of years to build; how could you
+lay it waste for so little gain!... Out of kindness, and in the interests
+of Your Majesty, I have now taken charge of the town which the Russian
+army had sacrificed. At least the municipal authorities and the militia
+should have been left in the city, as was the case in Vienna, on two
+occasions, and in Berlin and Madrid; Milan, likewise, acted thus when
+Suvaroff entered at the head of his army.... It is surely impossible that
+you, with your high principles and your good heart, can have consented
+to such abominations, for they are unworthy of a great ruler and a great
+nation. Your people were so busy getting the fire-engines away, that they
+abandoned one hundred and fifty pieces of ordnance.... I have warred
+against Your Majesty without bitterness. A sign from you, before or
+after the last battle, would have stayed my forward march; nay, for Your
+Majesty’s sake, I should have wished to forego my entry into Moscow....
+If you have preserved any of your former friendship towards me, you will
+receive this letter favourably. In any case, you will be grateful to me
+for informing you of the recent occurrences.”
+
+The letter of a tutor to his pupil, angry and threatening, written from
+the depths of his isolation, with intent to rouse the recipient. Thus
+might an impeccable moralist write to a ne’er-do-well! The whole epistle
+turns upon the two words “receive favourably”; this is the aim; on these
+words are built up the writer’s hopes. Will the letter fulfil its mission?
+
+The advance of the invader, the threatening proximity of the foe, the
+burning of Moscow, have filled all hearts in St. Petersburg with despair.
+The court is for peace. Can a more favourable opportunity present itself?
+The enemy is becoming more embarrassed day by day. Emperor Napoleon is
+eager for negotiations. The madcap grand duke Constantine is in favour
+of a parley; the tsarina-mother, she who hates the upstart, who refused
+her daughter to him as bride, who railed at Alexander for weeks after
+the Tilsit meeting, even she advises the tsar to clasp hands once more in
+friendship with the Emperor. Now is the time!
+
+But Alexander held firm. Two men were responsible for his unwonted
+steadfastness. One was a Frenchman, Bernadotte. He and the tsar had
+recently met in Finland, and Bernadotte had strengthened Alexander in his
+determination to persevere, had even handed back the Russian auxiliary
+corps which the tsar had lent for the conquest of Norway. Bernadotte’s
+hatred was so fierce, he had so inflexibly made up his mind to destroy
+Napoleon, and he so greedily coveted the crown of France which the tsar
+had promised him, that he would stick at nothing.
+
+The other was a German, the best the nation had nurtured in its downfall
+and in its fight for freedom. Four years had passed since Napoleon
+pronounced a verdict of outlawry on Baron vom Stein. The baron spent them
+far from his homeland; and had become the tsar’s trusted adviser. In
+every respect he was Napoleon’s exact contrary. He was now to fight the
+Emperor to a decisive issue.
+
+This time Stein would conquer.
+
+
+VI
+
+In many lands, among the many wise and energetic men, who for seventeen
+years had pitted themselves against the General, the Consul, and the
+Emperor, none proved equal to the task except Talleyrand and Stein: The
+former did so, because he succeeded in paralysing Napoleon’s productive
+will by the genius of his malicious cunning; the latter, because, to
+Napoleon’s amoral energy, he contraposed a moral energy which was
+wedded to fervour. Just as Stein embodied the virtues of the Germans,
+so Napoleon gathered into himself the talents of the Italian character;
+and yet, since neither Teutonic virtues nor Italian talents are mutually
+exclusive, but, rather, cut athwart one another, each man could
+understand the opponent so far, that Stein, had he been a Frenchman
+(Carnot’s blood brother), might have proved the mainstay of the Emperor.
+Pride and practical good sense would have brought the two men together.
+
+But this mutual respect could never have bridged the abyss of alienation
+which must have continued, in spite of everything to hold them asunder.
+For, just as Napoleon lived entirely without feeling for a fatherland;
+just as he would gladly have made his career anywhere, and merely placed
+the French before other peoples because he chanced to be their emperor,
+so, on the other hand, Stein lived and wrought entirely for the sake of
+his fatherland; and his Teutonic solidity (firmly rooted in the native
+soil), the whole weight of his rich soul, remained estranged from the
+agility, the swiftness, which was so essential a part of Napoleon’s
+make-up, and which the Emperor utilised so adroitly. Here was a statesman
+whose one thought was Germany and the Germans, who wanted unity among the
+stocks speaking the same speech, even if such unity had to be achieved
+against the wishes of the weakling princes. Over the way stood the man
+who could only think in terms of Europe and Europeans, people whom he
+wished to weld together for a fight against the self-same princes.
+
+A baron of the empire, and therefore an independent though petty prince,
+Stein was a worthy son of ancestors who for seven centuries had tilled
+and ruled the same fragment of German soil. Having left the home of his
+fathers for one reason only, that he might serve the nation, he regarded
+with mistrust, and soon with growing contempt, the other German princes,
+who were so eager to barter lands and liberties—their own and their
+subjects—for the favour of the world conqueror. Napoleon, sprung from
+an impoverished noble stock, a man who had in early youth been driven
+forth from the ancestral vineyard, despised these lickspittle princes
+as heartily as did Stein, and in secret he honoured none but the few
+irreconcilables.
+
+But whereas the contempt with which he regarded the decadence of the
+European princes was mingled with amusement, Stein’s attitude towards
+them was purely one of rancour. Their innate impotence, which encouraged
+the self-confidence of the brilliant upstart, was a challenge to the
+self-respect of Stein, the man who would fain believe in the knightly
+order to which he belonged; and just as the Corsican used his own career
+as an argument to strengthen his conviction that a new and splendid epoch
+was in the making, the German could not fail to consider the behaviour
+of his fellow-princes as melancholy evidence of the collapse of the old
+order, and must perforce regard the king of Prussia with a contempt no
+less hearty than the hatred he cherished for the Emperor of the French.
+
+Thus Napoleon’s pronouncement of outlawry against Stein was symbolic of
+the differences between the two men in respect of nationality, class, and
+epoch. Had the imperial baron been a king, he would, far more worthily
+than any Habsburg, or Hohenzollern, or other among the defeated monarchs,
+have embodied, in opposition to the son of the revolution, that idea of
+legitimacy for which the German nation was willing to battle with no less
+ardour than it would display in the fight against the foreigner. Apart
+from the duke of Brunswick and one or two of the younger princes, Stein
+stood alone in those days as saviour of the pride and dignity of the
+German rulers.
+
+Now his great moment has come. From Madrid, the Emperor had sent forth
+his decree of banishment against the Prussian minister. Twice, for
+this, time was to exact vengeance. Now was the first occasion. Nothing
+but the sentence of outlawry had brought Stein into contact with the
+tsar, for whose soul he was wrestling with his old enemy. In all
+Alexander’s vacillations, no influence did more to strengthen him than
+the indomitable spirit of the German exile. When the Emperor, not long
+before, holding forth to the Russian general, had spoken with so much
+acerbity about Stein, it was because, from afar, he had sensed this
+influence, and because he was afraid of the imperial baron. He knew
+Stein to be a vigorous idealist, an undismayed monarchist; and he knew
+that in the decisive hour such a man was likely to exercise a potent
+suggestive influence upon the tsar, also an idealist, though irresolute
+and timid. Stein, knowing human character as he did, and knowing that
+the tsar, in a hazy fashion, was eager to live in accordance with the
+moral law, would dilate upon Napoleon’s contempt for morality and itch
+for dictatorship. Stein would not tempt Alexander with countries to be
+annexed, but with principles to be obeyed; and would rouse to action
+a modern monarch who would know better than the German princes how to
+defend rule by right divine.
+
+This German was the only person at the tsarist court who had no axe to
+grind. Driven from his own home by the homeless Napoleon, he was ready
+betwixt night and morning to change his present hospitable asylum for
+any other. The tsar knew that Stein was not a place-hunter, but an
+independent foreigner whose counsel was not tainted by any thought of
+personal advantage; for this reason, he had more trust in the German
+baron than in his own Francophil minister. Perhaps he had heard of the
+splendid words uttered by the German when the news of the burning of
+Moscow had arrived. Stein, sitting at table, had raised his glass, and
+had exclaimed: “Three or four times, ere this, I have lost my baggage. We
+must get used to throwing away such things. Since we must die, let us be
+valiant.”
+
+His enemy in Moscow will soon make up his mind to the same thing. He
+throws away the baggage of the past, and marches on; he makes up his mind
+to retreat. Not a word has come from St. Petersburg. Five weeks have been
+wasted, and the winter draws near! He has been waiting on events, waiting
+and listening; this is ill suited to his temperament, out of keeping with
+his energetic nature. The novels he has ordered from Paris have not yet
+come to hand, so he hunts up whatever can be found in the Kremlin. But he
+reads very little. After meals, which, contrary to his usual custom he
+protracts to the uttermost, he sometimes lies for hours, book in hand,
+but meditating with fixed gaze.
+
+What is there to do in a burned city where nothing is left to organise!
+On one or two evenings, the Emperor has some French plays performed
+by a troupe of actors which had remained behind at the time of the
+evacuation. This reminds the holiday-making ruler of the charter of the
+Comédie Française, and he sends instructions for its amendment. Half the
+day is whiled away in issuing army orders which by no means appear to
+emanate from a wearied brain, and are far from being commonplace; on the
+contrary, they are as crystal clear as in earlier days. But since nothing
+remains to be hoped for, since provisions are dwindling and the cold
+season is imminent, he calls a council of war in mid-October, although he
+knows that only one way lies open to him.
+
+Daru counsels: make the winter quarters here; await reinforcements from
+liberated Lithuania; in the spring, march upon St. Petersburg. The
+Emperor remains for long in a brown study. Then he says:
+
+“That is the advice of a lion. But what will Paris say? Who can calculate
+the effect of six months’ separation? France may grow accustomed to my
+absence; Germany and Austria might turn it to account.” The only possible
+order is for the whole army to turn back. What trophies shall we bring
+back with us to Paris? The giant cross of gold from the church of St.
+John within the Kremlin walls is taken down from the cupola that it may
+be set up on the dome of the Invalides. But can we not devise some better
+revenge against the false friend? The Emperor orders the Kremlin to be
+blown up.
+
+Eight miles away from Moscow he reins in, and waits for news of the
+explosion. The unending stream of the grand army flows steadily by the
+Emperor; it is flanked by the sick and the wounded; it is laden with
+booty, rested but undisciplined. At last come tidings: the explosion has
+missed fire. He is silent. But when Rapp expresses anxiety about the
+approach of winter, Napoleon rebukes him, saying: “Can’t you see how
+lovely the weather is, even to-day, on October 19th? Do you not recognise
+my star?”
+
+Such words hardly ever fall from his lips, and this day he is full of
+cares. He realises that the baggage train is going to cause delay, and
+yet he has not the heart to order his men to leave their booty behind;
+they must have something to take home. Russian troops have encircled the
+French army, and recently they pressed so hard on Murat’s squadrons as to
+drive these back upon the town. On the eastward march, the Emperor had
+longed for nothing so much as a good action to take place; but now, on
+the westward march, there is nothing he dreads more than to have to put
+up a fight. Get to Smolensk as quickly as possible; we will find winter
+quarters there!
+
+Is the beginning of his career falling into step with the end? Again,
+as in Egypt, the army marches with the baggage in the middle; again
+the troops have to defend themselves from the swarming enemy. Once
+the Emperor is saved from being made prisoner only by the presence of
+mind of one of his men. “Cossacks! Turn about!” cries Rapp, pointing
+to a thicket. The Emperor will not follow this advice. The adjutant,
+thereupon, seizes the bridle-rein and turns Napoleon’s horse round. “You
+must!” Never, in his whole life has he heard such an order addressed to
+him. What is he to do? Reason tells him to flee.
+
+But the Emperor remains where he is, and draws his sword. Rapp, Berthier,
+Caulaincourt, do the same. They place themselves to the left of the road
+and await the riders, who are barely forty paces away. Then the officers
+of the suite cover Napoleon until the guard cavalry comes to the rescue
+and puts the Cossacks to flight.
+
+New thoughts flit through his brain after this adventure. Shall Alexander
+harness him to a triumphal car? He procures a dose of poison from his
+physician, and wears it always in a black silk bag around his neck, in
+case he should be made a prisoner. Since the day when he was so nearly
+captured, the ambition of every Russian flying column is to procure the
+head of the “wicked infidel.” Russian headquarters issues a warrant
+against the Emperor; it is embellished with his picture, and orders the
+corps leaders to have “every man of small stature” among the prisoners
+brought before them for examination: any one of them may be Emperor
+Napoleon!
+
+As in Egypt the heat of the march had killed hundreds of men, so now does
+the Russian cold devour them by thousands. Snow and ice bring down the
+horses, guns get stuck, munition wagons are blown up, cavalry soldiers
+must pad the hoof, frozen men line the roads.
+
+Not more than fifty thousand reach Smolensk, one-tenth of all the
+invading host. They have no more supplies, and cannot winter here. The
+freezing army pushes forward. Thousands have thrown their weapons away;
+now, even the guard weakens. The Emperor comes among his grenadiers:
+
+“You see the disorder of my army. These poor deluded men are throwing
+their muskets away. Are you going to follow this shameful example? If so,
+then there is no hope left to us! On you the whole future of the army
+depends!” He marches among them. A silent procession (thus described
+by one who met it): first come the generals, few of whom are mounted.
+Ghosts in rags, in scorched cloaks, lean, grey, with matted beards, bent
+and silent: prisoners of fate. These are followed by the Holy Legion, a
+legion composed of officers, most of them leaning upon sticks, their feet
+swathed in remnants of sheepskin. Then come the survivors of the cavalry
+guard.
+
+Last of all three men on foot: to the right, the king of Naples, no
+longer concerned about his peacock splendours; to the left, the viceroy
+of Italy. In the middle walks a little man, wearing a Polish fur coat and
+a cap of red fox, and helping himself along with a birchen staff. Thus in
+silence he wends his way through Russia.
+
+
+VII
+
+What is Paris saying?
+
+He does not know. For the first time since he was in Egypt, his
+calculations concerning Paris have no solid foundation in fact. Not
+to know what is going on in his capital: a dreadful position this,
+like that of a traveller who fancies that during his absence his wife
+may be betraying him! Writing to Maret in Vilna, he says: “For more
+than a fortnight I have had no courier, so that I am in the dark as to
+all that is going on ... in France and Spain.... The army is terribly
+disorganised. It would take at least a fortnight to set things straight,
+but we cannot possibly spare the time. Shall we be able to maintain our
+position in Vilna? Only if we are not attacked during the first week.
+Food! Food!... Make sure that there shall be no foreign envoys in Vilna,
+for the army is not in a fit condition to be seen. Send them all away.”
+
+Here is the courier at last. Why does the Emperor turn pale? What
+terrible news can have come from Paris? Can anything have happened there
+worse than what he has just been living through? The fact is that,
+through English newspapers, through letters, and through rumour, France
+has long since learned the whole truth, which had been glossed over in
+the Emperor’s bulletins. Many of the Parisians are fickle, and many of
+them are easily reduced to despair. A good part of Paris has already
+given up the Emperor for lost. Alarmist reports and spiteful quips are
+rife on the boulevards. But what is this item?
+
+A coup d’état had been planned, and had been frustrated. But what a
+background of discontent is revealed! Malet, who had been a general
+in the days of the republic, had years before been concerned in a
+conspiracy, imprisoned, and then committed to a lunatic asylum. Having
+received distorted news about the Emperor’s disasters and the burning of
+Moscow, he had escaped. With a number of accomplices, he had published
+a forged dispatch announcing Napoleon’s death. The conspirators had
+seized the Minister of Police; had declared a provisional government;
+had bamboozled the National Guard, the militia, the prefects, and even
+veteran generals. At length, however, two undismayed officers had seen
+through the cheat, had seized the conspirators, and from the balcony of
+the governor’s residence had shouted, “Vive l’Empereur.” Therewith the
+spectre had been laid.
+
+In his tent, on which the snow is falling, the Emperor contemplates this
+document with dismay. More serious news even than that which recently
+arrived from Salamanca! The offenders had been shot; the whole affair
+had fizzled out. But for a time the conspirators had been masters of the
+Paris police, and one who controls the Paris police is master of France!
+No carriages would venture into the streets! When an elderly nobleman
+had asked what was afoot, a workman had laughed, saying: “Citizen, the
+Emperor is dead. At noon the republic will be proclaimed!” Greatly shaken
+by the tidings, the Emperor drops the newspaper containing these details,
+and says to his intimates:
+
+“What about the dynasty? Did no one think of my wife, my son, all the
+institutions of the Empire? I must get back to Paris instantly!”
+
+The dangerous possibilities revealed by this interlude, flash like
+lightning through his mind. “The workman who laughs—he is the people! I
+toil day and night for years at my great building; I break with the woman
+I love, and take an emperor’s daughter to wife, that our heir, the pledge
+of earthly immortality, may grow up in our palace. Then some foolhardy
+officer, a man no one has ever heard of, has merely to call out that the
+Emperor is dead, and instantly a clamour about ‘citizens’ and ‘republic’
+rises once more from the people! The regent, the heir, the Council of
+State—all these count for nothing? The bottomless cask of the Danaids!
+But I will make a bottom for it. Like the Capets, I will have my son
+crowned in my own lifetime, and muster my faithful supporters in Paris!”
+
+Fortified by the approach of danger, the Emperor grips the reins firmly
+once more. “He is pale, but his face is calm; nothing in his features
+gives any sign of trouble.” His health is better, too. Now the army nears
+the Beresina. Having received false intelligence to the effect that
+the auxiliary armies are close at hand, he draws his own forces more
+compactly together, and has the rest of the baggage train burned, that
+the horses may be freed to draw the remaining guns. If only the bridge is
+still standing! He writes: “Should the enemy have seized the bridge-head
+and burned the bridge in order to prevent our crossing, it would be very
+serious.”
+
+Next day they come to the river. No bridge, no boats; two armies
+outnumbering the French are waiting on the other shore; between runs the
+broad river with marshy banks. Is there any way out of the difficulty?
+
+He makes a shrewd plan, like those of his early days as general. He will
+decoy the Russians away. Out of eighteen hundred horseless cavalrymen of
+the guard, of whom only eleven hundred still have their weapons, he forms
+two battalions. Then he has all the regimental eagles burned, for even in
+this dread hour Napoleon thinks of honour and glory, and he will not risk
+the loss of colours to the enemy. After midnight, he at length lies down
+in his tent, where he overhears Duroc and Daru, who believed him to be
+asleep, discussing in an undertone the possibility of a catastrophe. The
+phrase “State prisoner” has caught his ear. He fingers the black bag he
+is wearing round his neck, and sits up in bed:
+
+“You think they would dare?”
+
+“I would not trust the enemy’s magnanimity,” says Daru, composedly.
+
+“But France! What would France do?”
+
+Daru’s answer is evasive; but when pressed, he says: “I think, Sire, the
+sooner you are in Paris, the better. When you are there, you will have a
+better chance of saving us all.”
+
+“Then you feel I am a burden on you here?”
+
+“Yes, Sire.”
+
+“And you don’t want to be State prisoners?”
+
+There is a long silence. Then the Emperor resumes:
+
+“Have my ministers’ reports been destroyed?”
+
+“Hitherto you have always refrained from giving us the order.”
+
+“It must be done. Destroy the lot of them. We are in a very difficult
+position.”
+
+This is the only admission of the kind made by the Emperor during all
+the weeks of the Russian campaign. It is the voice of a man who regards
+himself as a moriturus. But nature is more sensible than fate, and in a
+few moments he is fast asleep.
+
+Next morning, while the enemy has been lured down stream and is being
+kept at a distance by artillery fire, the sappers, neck-deep in the
+freezing water and amid the drifting ice, hastily build two bridges.
+The crossing of the river takes two days more. With the cavalry, which
+swims the stream, the army still numbers about twenty-five thousand men.
+The Emperor, though the risk of his being taken prisoner is imminent,
+remains until all have crossed; and then, on the third day, surrounded by
+the old guard, he too makes his way over the river. But there are still
+stragglers to come, and these perish during the next few days betwixt ice
+and fire.
+
+In the ensuing week the Emperor’s life is twice in danger. The first
+peril is from a Cossack attack. On the next occasion the trouble is
+an assassination plot in which one of his own Frenchmen is engaged.
+It is early on the morning of December 5th when Major Lapie meets the
+officers of the Prussian guard of honour in front of the Emperor’s tent.
+“Now then, gentlemen, the hour has come!” The senior captain is to cut
+down the Mameluke, and then to make an end of Napoleon. Presumably the
+conspirators have seen Schiller’s _Wallenstein_ on the German stage! The
+Prussian wants the Frenchman to do the deed, but Lapie says he is not
+sure of his men. Then Caulaincourt, to whom the conspirators’ behaviour
+seems suspicious, comes forward, claps his hands, and says: “Now,
+gentlemen, it is time to start!”
+
+That evening the Emperor, who has not heard a word of the affair, summons
+his marshals. “I shall be stronger when I can speak from my throne in the
+Tuileries than I am at the head of an army which has been destroyed by
+the cold.... Had I been a Bourbon, born to rule, it would have been easy
+for me to avoid making mistakes.” He takes the marshals aside by turns,
+asking each for his advice; he flatters, praises, and encourages; he
+smiles and charms. Obviously his design is to counteract the possibility
+of revolt.
+
+Next, he tells Eugene to read them his latest bulletin, the first in
+which he admits disaster. “Men who had not been sufficiently steeled by
+nature to rise superior to all vicissitudes of fate and fortune, lost
+courage and equanimity, and could dream of nothing but misfortune and
+defeat. But those who were equal to the occasion were able to keep up
+their spirits, and regarded every fresh difficulty as a fresh opportunity
+for glory.”
+
+The only reason why the army had wasted away was the rigour of the
+climate. “His Majesty has never been in better health.”
+
+The unfeeling, metallic tone! Again we are listening to General Bonaparte
+who, having recovered confidence in his destiny, and having regained
+health, is able to use the old language. The incisive sentence at the
+close is, of course, added for the special benefit of Paris, which for
+several weeks has had no news as to his state of health. But, on the
+whole, the mood in which he ends the Russian campaign, exactly six months
+after it had begun, is one of heroic cynicism. The command of the army is
+handed over to Murat, who is to lead the survivors home. There are still
+nine thousand men under arms.
+
+Now there is something new. The Emperor embraces every one of the
+generals present. Is this the last coup of a trickster who wants to
+strengthen their waning loyalty? Is he really overcome by his feelings?
+Every one of these soldiers, that evening, could feel the beating of the
+Emperor’s heart.
+
+He gets into the sleigh with Daru and Caulaincourt, and the three drive
+away. To be on the safe side, he travels under an assumed name, that of
+his secretary, Rayneval. This is his fifth name. The fourth had been
+Napoleon.
+
+When they are driving through the snows across the Polish plain, he
+suddenly has the sleigh stopped at a cross road. This must be near
+Countess Walewska’s mansion; he wants to go there. Napoleon is on the
+flight from Russia, his head full of world-shaking plans; he is forsaking
+his army because Paris needs him and he needs Paris—and now comes this
+lyrical thought, the painful recollection of a frustrated idyl. But the
+urgent warnings of his companions, who remind him that they are alone
+in a couple of sledges and that Cossacks are scouring the countryside,
+induce him to abandon his plan. He wraps his furs around him once more
+and goes to sleep.
+
+Five days afterwards he leaves the sleighs waiting on the bridge near
+Warsaw, and at noon goes on foot with Caulaincourt into the town.
+Should any one recognise him, they will face it out, and declare that
+the interlocutor is seeing ghosts, or must be mad. Napoleon sends
+Caulaincourt to the embassy; but, in order to keep his own identity
+secret, he himself goes to an inn, which, of all names in the world,
+still calls itself the Hôtel de l’Angleterre. The low-ceilinged
+white-washed room is cold; there is only green wood, and the maidservant
+cannot get the stove to light; he must keep on his furs, his cap, and
+his big boots, while he tramps up and down the room, thrashing his arms
+like a coachman to keep himself warm. It is thus he is found by two
+Polish noblemen for whom he has sent through the embassy. They can hardly
+believe their eyes, but the ghost laughs at their astonishment.
+
+“How long have I been in Warsaw? A week? No, only a couple of hours. It
+is but one step from the sublime to the ridiculous. How are you, Monsieur
+Stanislas?... Dangers? Not a bit of it. I thrive on excitement. The more
+I am tossed to and fro, the better I feel. The shadow kings grow fat in
+their palaces, but I put on flesh when riding my nag in the field.... So
+you’ve been anxious here? The army is in splendid condition. I have still
+one hundred and twenty thousand men! Gave the Russians a good hiding
+everywhere. They never ventured to stand up against me. The army will
+winter in Vilna. I am returning to Paris, and there I shall raise three
+hundred thousand soldiers! In six months I shall be back on the Memel.
+
+“I have been through other fights! At Marengo I was beaten until six in
+the evening, but next day I was lord of Italy. At Aspern-Essling I made
+myself master of Austria, though the archduke believed he had held me in
+check there. It was not my fault that the Danube rose sixteen feet in
+one night. But for that, I should have finished off with the Habsburgs
+once for all. However, it was written in the stars that I was to marry an
+archduchess....
+
+“The same thing in Russia. I can’t prevent its freezing there. Morning
+after morning, the report was that ten thousand horses had perished
+during the night. Bon voyage! Our Normandy horses cannot endure the cold
+like the Russians; the same with our soldiers.... Perhaps people will say
+that I stayed too long in Moscow; but the weather was beautiful, and I
+was waiting for peace. A great political drama! Nothing venture, nothing
+have. One step from the sublime to the ridiculous!... Who could have
+foreseen the burning of Moscow?... I never felt better in my life!”...
+
+Such is the spate of words that for two hours flows from the mouth of
+a man who, after unspeakable losses, wishes to give the impression of
+desperate courage.
+
+Napoleon becomes an adventurer. To impress these Poles, who will pass on
+what he says, he invents an army which has vanished long since; cold
+which really did nothing more than complete the destruction that other
+forces had begun; battles he never fought. He intersperses these figments
+with historical parallels of worldwide significance; treats what has just
+been happening as if it were ancient history; appeals to providence; and
+repeats no less than four times the cynically imposing aphorism about the
+sublime and the ridiculous, which blunts the edge of criticism. Great
+realist though he is, the world and what he is doing with it are becoming
+drama to him; and thus Napoleon, when his own fortunes are declining, is
+slowly mounting the ascent towards supreme irony.
+
+The two Poles see nothing of all this. Their thoughts are concentrated
+upon their country’s debts, and they would fain get money from this man
+who is still numbered among the great ones of the earth. They seize their
+opportunity when at length there is a pause in the torrent of speech. He
+gives them an order on the treasury for six millions, which he thinks
+will buy support for him in Poland. Then his visitors wish him a happy
+journey, and, with secret scorn, watch the incognito drive away hastily
+in his sleigh.
+
+[Illustration: The Emperor’s profile. Sketched during Mass in the
+Tuileries. Germain Bapst Collection.
+
+(Photograph in the Kircheisen Collection.)]
+
+Day and night, night and day, they glide swiftly westward; for Germany,
+too, is under snow. Day and night, night and day, questions, commands,
+and plans are churning in his brain. “Is England really invincible? Now,
+the English can trade freely in the Baltic; English goods can enter
+Cadiz, and can make their way into the Levant.” He must put off his
+scheme for the conquest of India, but will abate no jot of his other
+designs! Will the Confederation of the Rhine still answer to his nod?
+How will it be possible to explain this crash in Russia? The disaster
+cannot be hushed up indefinitely. Is there any chance of raising another
+hundred and twenty thousand men in France? Next year’s levies must be
+called up in advance. Make peace with the pope at once, and with Spain
+likewise, for he must feel safe at his back. A National Guard, that was
+the best thought of the revolution; in that way he will be able to raise
+a million armed citizens within three months.
+
+Night. Change of horses. He thrusts out his head. “Where are we?”
+
+“In Weimar, Sire.”
+
+“Weimar? How is the duchess? And how is Herr Goethe?”
+
+
+VIII
+
+Forty bowed backs receive the beaten war lord on his return home. The
+sight of the court dresses which he has embroidered with his contempt
+revives his belief in the folly and the weakness of these men whose only
+wish is to be ruled. But his glance strays to the bars of the golden cage
+in which the son of liberty has locked himself up. He does not realise
+that the people of his capital are weary and disaffected; and instead
+of following the example of his own youth, instead of with disarming
+frankness acknowledging the faults he hopes to better, he postures as
+Cæsar before his servile officials, and rails at the weather god, though
+but yesterday he had boasted his power to make what weather he pleased
+throughout Europe.
+
+During the nine days’ drive from Warsaw to Paris, the uncertain mood of
+the adventurer had given place once more to the steadily aspiring flame
+of the imperator. Although the Russian winter had set in later than
+usual, he carries off the reverse by saying: “The army sustained heavy
+losses, but that was because the winter began so early.... The king of
+Naples is not fitted for high command, and he lost his head after my
+departure.... All the same, I have three hundred battalions left, without
+bringing a single man back from Spain.”
+
+Has his contempt for his fellows risen to such a pitch that he can serve
+up these fables to experienced men who have known the truth for months?
+But their consciences are uneasy. They feel responsible for the October
+putsch, or at any rate guilty for not having made an end of the whole
+business within the first quarter of an hour. On the other hand the
+Emperor, whose own heart accuses him, is glad to play the accuser, for
+it galls him that in the decisive hour they should have forgotten the
+empress and the heir to the throne. In memorable words, at the first
+reception in the Tuileries, he tries to hammer his point into the heads
+of his councillors.
+
+“The apostles of the rights of man are really to blame for all that
+has happened. They declared rebellion to be a duty. They flattered the
+people, imputing to it a sovereignty it is incapable of exercising. They
+destroyed respect for law by establishing the supremacy of an assembly
+which knew nothing of administration and law, instead of holding fast to
+the nature of things! Any one who wishes to build up a State once more,
+must be guided by the very opposite principles. History depicts the human
+heart, and we must study history if we would learn the merits and defects
+of legislation.... When I undertook the reconstruction of France, my
+prayer was that I might be spared for a considerable number of years,
+seeing that what has been destroyed in a moment will take a long time to
+refashion. The State needs courageous officials. ‘The king is dead; long
+live the king!’ That was the watchword of our fathers. The phrase makes
+us realise the advantages of monarchy.”
+
+Were it not for the prettily turned expression about history and the
+human heart, Emperor Francis might have subscribed to this speech, and
+it might have been an ornament to the pages of any of the familiar
+expositions of monarchical doctrine. Why should people go on quarrelling
+about such matters? The ancient dispute between tradition and revolution
+has been settled, now that the son of the revolution has acknowledged the
+supremacy of tradition. No matter whether an heir be named Bourbon or
+Bonaparte! When we compare the two fathers we see that they are very much
+alike! His marriage with the daughter of one who rules by right divine
+has complicated the problem, and has sophisticated his own genius.
+
+Or does he believe no more than half of what he is saying? Before
+setting out on the Russian campaign, he had frankly explained his plans
+to Metternich: “The legislature belongs to me; all I need is to put the
+key of the deliberative chamber in my pocket. France is less suited for
+democracy than a good many countries.... When I get back, therefore,
+I shall transform the Senate and the Council of State into an Upper
+House and a Lower House, most of whose members I shall myself nominate.
+These will constitute a real popular representation, consisting only of
+experienced business men, without an ideologue among them. Then France
+will be satisfactorily ruled, even under a prince who is a mere figure
+head (and such will come), for whom the ordinary education of hereditary
+princes will suffice.”
+
+These Cæsarist ideas betray the monarchist, but also the sceptic.
+Although, when he shows people his son’s portrait, they tell him that
+the little boy is the loveliest child in France, the flattered father
+knows perfectly well that dynasties last a long time whereas genius is
+fleeting. Foreseeing the decadence of his own blood, having studied that
+decadence in the annals of all princely houses, he wants to rid himself
+of waverers that he may fortify the position of his heir. For the very
+reason that he understands the contradiction inherent in monarchy, he
+wishes to build his own monarchy on a rock.
+
+For the time being, his business is to buttress it anew with the power
+of the sword. What has been the fruit of the war games in which he
+moved his myriads over Europe? Those leather-bound muster rolls of his
+contained the death sentences of numberless youths, even though there
+were marshals’ batons to be won by a few among the best of them! Of the
+old guard, four hundred men, and of the cavalry guard, eight hundred men,
+made their way back to Königsberg; a few thousand officers and sergeants,
+broken men most of them, have survived the storms of war. Except for the
+auxiliaries, who are not under France’s orders, that is all that remains
+of the Emperor’s hosts. Marshal Ney, on his flight from Russia, seems
+like a hero out of a Greek tragedy when he reaches Prussia, and makes
+his way into the first Prussian government office on his route. When old
+acquaintances look at him incredulously, as if questioning who this man
+can be, he rejoins with a superb gesture: “I am the rear guard of the
+Grand Army.”
+
+A new army must be made, and it must be made in a few weeks. The year
+1813 will supply one hundred and forty thousand recruits, but where are
+the rest to come from? The Emperor has a magic wand, and can conjure
+up men whenever he needs them. The passing of a new law is all that is
+requisite for the levying of the National Guard and for the drafting
+of eighty thousand soldiers from the dependencies of France. Add one
+hundred thousand belonging to the oldest conscript levies; and call up
+the youngsters who should not, properly speaking, be enrolled until
+1814. Soon he will have half a million under arms once more. “The French
+people,” he says to the Prussian envoy, “will follow me whatever I do,
+and, if needs must, I shall arm the women!”
+
+With unbroken will, he charms into existence the innumerable machines
+without which he cannot ply his trade. But how shall he explain these
+unexpected measures to the people? The enemy is far from the frontier.
+
+A stroke of luck! At the close of the year, Yorck, a Prussian general,
+acting on his own initiative, enters into an agreement with his Russian
+neighbours, declares the force under his command neutral, and thus opens
+the door to a change in the military situation for which the German
+nation has long been eager. The Emperor can use the incident in order
+to whip up the enthusiasm of the French. For the moment, the treason
+of his ally costs him no more than twenty thousand men; but it serves
+as the text for a manifesto in Paris, and for hectoring letters to the
+princes of the Confederation of the Rhine. He would not, says Napoleon,
+need their help at all, had not Yorck’s secession compelled his army to
+withdraw.
+
+The summons of France is actually obeyed. The German princes, including
+the Habsburg ruler, once more collect money and levy troops. One of them
+is servile enough to send an assurance that he is “delighted to be able
+to give the Emperor opportunity for winning fresh laurels.” The king
+of Prussia cashiers Yorck, and assures the Emperor of his fidelity to
+the alliance. But Frederick William conveys a hint to the tsar, goes to
+Breslau, wobbles between the parties, what time a wave of enthusiasm is
+spreading far beyond Prussia’s borders, and threatening to sweep away the
+debile monarch. Youths, politicians, and poets are voicing the call of
+national sentiment. Stein is the man to treat with the tsar on behalf of
+his country, and in Königsberg the baron takes matters into his own hands.
+
+The Emperor is ever on the watch. In a circular, he warns the princes
+against the intrigues of those “who by rebellion and revolution are
+trying to give Germany a new form. Should they succeed in infecting the
+Confederation of the Rhine with their doctrines, intolerable sufferings
+may await these territories.”
+
+He feels the stirring of the new spirit. Now, for the first time, does
+the Emperor seem to become aware of the growth of a national sentiment
+among the Germans, as among the Spaniards. Shortly before the Russian
+campaign, he had said that hardly so much as a night watchman was needed
+to keep the Germans quiet. “Since Germany has no America, nor yet a
+sea, nor yet a great number of strongholds, nor even Englishmen as
+there are in Spain, there is nothing to be afraid of, and would not be
+though the Germans were as lazy, dirty, superstitious, and monk-ridden
+as the Spaniards. How could there be anything to fear from such honest,
+reasonable, cool-headed, and patient people, who have so little
+inclination to violence that throughout the war not one of our soldiers
+has been murdered in Germany?”
+
+A wonderfully true picture of the Germans, and yet there is a slight
+miscalculation. He has overlooked the romanticism by which these people
+can be stirred, and without a knowledge of which they cannot be
+understood. Of course the Italian, with his fiery imagination, cannot
+grasp the nature of an imagination that works slowly and lacks ardour.
+Napoleon, who knows how monarchical the Germans are in their sentiments,
+believes that when he holds the princes in his hands he must be master of
+the German people.
+
+Besides, were the Germans a people? Was this realm, which ten years
+earlier had been formally liquidated by the abdication of the last of its
+emperors, really anything more than a “metaphysical concept”? Only for a
+moment, only for two years, will the German peoples be united. Then, as
+soon as the enemy’s power has been broken, they will fall asunder once
+more. Not for half a century, and not until another Napoleon threatens
+them, will they at length become a nation—though even then, only a
+fragment. So atrophied was Napoleon’s own sense of nationality, that the
+quarrels and jealousies of the German princes made him believe that the
+Germans were disintegrated for all time; whereas, had he been able to
+understand the forces that were at work, he would have realised that the
+jealousies of the rival sovereign houses were the only obstacle to the
+reunion of these kindred stocks.
+
+But the sublime breathing of history sometimes determines the rhythm of
+an epoch even in despite of the will of the genius that animates it. In
+sweeping curves, during these years, the spirit of liberty returns to
+her primal home in the hearts of the people. For, just as Bonaparte, in
+the name of liberty, had defeated the princes and stirred the peoples
+to revolt; so now, in the name of liberty, the peoples arose to defeat
+him, the prince of princes. Doubtless this great movement of destiny
+was complicated by numerous petty wishes, and blurred by minor circles.
+It is not the force of legitimism which now, after twenty years, is at
+last gathering strength to slay the spirit of revolt. Pallid, disunited,
+decadent, and with never a great figure among them, are the princes in
+the league they form against the one man who rules in virtue of his
+self-made power.
+
+But the fact that the peoples of Spain and Germany are eager to force
+their princes into the fight, gives to the tragical collapse of the
+usurper a semblance of poetical justice, and that is why we who look on
+find it easier to bear the sight of the slaying of the lion by the spears
+cast by such a legion of hunters.
+
+
+IX
+
+Letizia looks anxiously at her son. His face is clouded, though he keeps
+his thoughts to himself. What can she do to help him? Intimates? Many of
+them, she sees plainly enough, are betraying him. He needs his brothers,
+that he may have the support of steadfast hearts, even though he thinks
+them lacking in intelligence. She therefore puts her trust in her other
+sons, writes to London and to Graz, smooths the path for reconciliation.
+One day, after a decade of estrangement, comes a letter from the
+ambitious Lucien, who says he is always at Napoleon’s service.
+
+But the Emperor cannot believe that he, the mightiest of his family,
+needs any assistance from the others. Though he has always regarded
+Lucien as the most capable of his brothers, he proposes merely a formal
+promotion. In imperial fashion, he answers through his mother: “Please
+write to let him know in my name that his letter has awakened an echo
+in my heart. I think of raising him to the throne of Tuscany. He loves
+the fine arts. It will suit him to reign in Florence, and to revive the
+glories of the Medicis.” There is no place for Lucien at the centre of
+things! As for Louis, who also offers to devote his powers to the cause
+of France (in so far as he can honourably do this), and who sends a copy
+of his last volume of verse—the ex-king of Holland is met with a rebuff:
+“The idea you seem to have formed about my position is quite erroneous.
+I have more than a million men under arms, and two hundred million
+francs in my war chest. Holland remains French.... Still, I am ready to
+greet you in the spirit of one who brought you up as if he had been your
+father.”
+
+The Emperor reads this answer to his mother before sending it. She tries
+to mitigate its harshness in a long covering letter; tells Louis how
+pretty his children have grown; urges him to come to Paris in any case.
+“The Emperor has forgotten to give me your poems. I will ask him for
+them, and will let you know what I think of them when next I write.”
+
+Next day, the old lady finds a savage article in the “Moniteur,” in
+which she learns that the king of Naples will have to recall his envoys
+from Vienna. When she asks what this signifies, her friends reluctantly
+explain that Murat has been persuaded by Caroline to intrigue with the
+Habsburgs, so that the pair are now playing double. Letizia writes
+to upbraid her daughter. Joseph is out of humour, for he thinks that
+Napoleon is not supporting him properly in the Spanish war. She does her
+best to appease him through the instrumentality of his wife. Furthermore,
+she tries to mollify Jerome, whom the Emperor had sent home in disgrace.
+Finally, she gets to work on Hortense, who is doing all she can to hinder
+Louis’ coming to Paris.
+
+Now a woman well over sixty, she does her utmost to keep the peace
+between her sons, daughters, sons-in-law, and daughters-in-law. But it
+seems to her that the greatness for which the world envies her family has
+brought in its train nothing but discord, jealousy, arrogance, ostracism,
+and betrayal. Her thoughts fly back to her native island, where her
+kindred always formed a united front against other clans. Moreover, her
+eyes, though old, are clear-sighted; and she sees that the star of the
+Buonaparti is paling.
+
+The Emperor has little personal feeling about these matters. In his
+present situation, he regards them from a purely political outlook.
+No doubt he says to himself that Murat and Caroline are traitors; but
+his main concern is, how he can make sure of the support of Murat’s
+soldiers. He therefore writes in a conciliatory strain to Caroline; keeps
+her husband informed about the impending campaign; and asks for troops,
+which Murat ultimately agrees to send, for both he and Caroline think
+that Napoleon may prove victorious after all, and are afraid of being
+dethroned unless they keep in his good graces. At the same time, they
+wish to have a secure footing in the other camp, and therefore conclude
+secret treaties with England and with the ex-king of Sicily (whose
+dominions they themselves have filched).
+
+Napoleon even seeks to conciliate Bernadotte, though he cannot but regard
+the crown prince of Sweden as a treacherous kinsman and an enemy of his
+house. He offers Pomerania as the reward of alliance and the prize of
+victory. But for Bernadotte, the bid is not high enough; this Frenchman
+prefers to join the coalition against France. His ambition is to reign
+there; France is worth more than Pomerania. Bernadotte enters into
+especially close relationships with Prussia. In Berlin he meets Madame
+de Staël, and these fellow-countrymen of the Emperor, united in their
+detestation of him, foregather among the oppressed Prussians.
+
+A third enemy, whom the Emperor approaches with blandishments during
+these feverish weeks, is the captive pope. Pius VII. has been brought
+to Fontainebleau, and Napoleon gets to work on him through the
+instrumentality of prelates devoted to the imperial cause, adding
+personal suggestion until the old man gives way. How great will be the
+power of the Church (this is the Emperor’s theme) when Catholicism has
+been re-established throughout Germany! By trifling concessions upon
+matters of form, and by cunning devices, Napoleon is able to secure a
+new Concordat. Thanks to this reconciliation with the Church, he is able
+to recruit new Catholic soldiers in all the lands under his sway. When
+the pope, a week after signing the Concordat, wants to revoke it, the
+Emperor says with a smile: “Your Holiness, being infallible, cannot have
+made a mistake in entering into this arrangement!”
+
+During these weeks, a desire for peace suddenly spreads throughout
+Europe. The pope wants peace on the Vistula, and Metternich wants it in
+London. Count Bubna, with whom Napoleon had negotiated years before in
+Schönbrunn, comes to Paris to advise peace, for Vienna can neither send
+nor refuse the troops which the Emperor has demanded. In February, peace
+can be had for the asking. Why does the man who needs peace most of all,
+make impossible stipulations?
+
+For ten years, one war after another has been practically forced upon
+the Emperor as a consequence of his first victories. Now, when he is in
+grievous peril, and when his isolation is increasing, the will-to-war
+grows in him as in the early days of his career. When unconquered, he
+would gladly have laid aside the sword; now, after his defeat, he craves
+for new victories. But though his shield has been tarnished in Russia,
+though he would fain win fresh glories for himself and for France, these
+are but the pretexts of destiny. In very truth, he is stiff-necked, and
+will prove himself to be so at three congresses during this year 1813.
+The reason is that all the elements of his character are now rolling
+inexorably forwards; the reason is that, “in accordance with the nature
+of things,” he is advancing along a road on which he must march to the
+bitter end.
+
+Forward! Since the war must be, the allies are arming everywhere. England
+makes treaties with Sweden and Prussia; to conciliate the latter, the
+tsar renounces his claims to East Prussia; Prussia calls Germany to arms;
+Austria makes a truce with Russia, tries to enter into an agreement with
+Saxony and Bavaria and even King Jerome. Emperor Francis withdraws his
+troops to Cracow, ostensibly to save them for the coming campaign.
+
+“The first step towards desertion!” exclaims Napoleon, when this news
+comes to hand. He must now withdraw his own forces from the Vistula to
+the Oder. In Vienna, he once more offers Silesia. The offer is declined
+with thanks, for the Austrian role is to be one of armed mediation.
+While the whole world is thus preparing for the struggle, and when in
+the middle of March the first signal is given in Paris by the Prussian
+declaration of war, Talleyrand, in his open ambush, says with a smile:
+“The hour has struck; the Emperor Napoleon must become king of France.”
+
+A remarkable flash of insight, on the part of one who cannot but hope
+that no step so sensible as this shall be taken—and who must, none the
+less, at bottom, wish for it. Nevertheless matters have gone too far; not
+the levying of troops alone, but the preparations in the minds of men.
+Every one knows that the last great combat is imminent, that nothing can
+avert it. The only one who could have called a halt, and will not do so,
+is driven onward in his own despite, and he is weary. There are new signs
+of this growing weariness.
+
+First of all, there is the simplicity upon which he insists in his
+environment. “I want my journeys to be very differently arranged. I shall
+not take so many people with me; fewer cooks and less table furniture; no
+meal to consist of more than three courses.... I shall not take any pages
+with me; they are of no use whatever; only two bedmakers instead of four;
+two tents instead of four; and so on.” At the same time, he orders plans
+for a small palace, “a comfortable place rather than an imposing one
+(the two things are incompatible); ... my room must open on the garden;
+... or, preferably, I must have a north room and a south room, according
+to the season; all arranged as in a well-to-do country gentleman’s
+mansion.... It is to be a holiday seat, or a dwelling for a man in his
+declining years.”
+
+In 1805, when he was in the plenitude of his powers, he had said: “The
+war need not take long. I am still good for six years, but then it will
+be time to call a halt.” Now, when he takes the field once more, four
+months after his return from Russia, his mien is quiet and careworn as
+he steps into his travelling carriage in the courtyard at Saint-Cloud.
+He leans back among the cushions, with his hand pressed to his forehead.
+To Caulaincourt, his travelling companion, he acknowledges his distress
+“at having so soon to leave my good Louise and my lovely boy. I envy the
+poorest peasant in my dominions. By the time he grows old, he has already
+paid his debt to his country, and can stay at home with his wife and
+children. I am the only person whom an inexplicable fate leads back ever
+and again into the field.”
+
+No more pages, he is in his declining years, wants to stay at home with
+wife and child—and this is only seven years after the programme just
+quoted! Are these fourth-act moods, these shadows that fall across his
+soul, merely the consequences of the Russian catastrophe? Are they not,
+rather, the essential causes of new defeats? The moods of a man growing
+prematurely old, one whose work is often interfered with by illness,
+one who is being increasingly mastered by the natural inclinations of
+a family man well on in the forties. He wants to spend at the domestic
+fireside the evening of a life which is not equipped for seven or eight
+decades like that of his mother or his brothers.
+
+He is himself in the frame of mind with which he had reproached his
+marshals at Danzig less than a year ago, when he had declared they would
+rather have an easy life of it in their country seats than go campaigning
+with him. Is not such a longing natural in a man who has been working
+himself to death for twenty years, and who has chosen the bee for his
+escutcheon?
+
+But those on whom the Parcæ bestow the ecstasies of youth, must pay for
+it by the oncoming of age. He has had such wonderful successes that he
+must not expect to garner also the joys of content in achievement. He has
+conjured up the gods; now they have come!
+
+
+X
+
+At the first review in Mainz, there are only one hundred and eighty
+thousand men instead of the three hundred thousand he had hoped to
+assemble there. The army is very short of cavalry; the equipment is
+inadequate, for it has been far too hastily got together; the best guns
+have been lost in Russia, or are tied up in Spain; the general staff has
+been decimated; the ambulance service is defective. He sees all that is
+amiss, but even this imperfect army reminds him of old times and old
+happiness. He recalls the April days in Cannes and Nice, seventeen years
+before, when he had taken over the command of half-starved and ragged
+soldiers, that he might lead them through the mountains to victory. With
+these memories surging up in his mind, he gathers his energies, and
+utters the darkly challenging words: “I shall conduct this war as General
+Bonaparte.”
+
+Such is the signal, a mingling of impetus and self-restraint, with which
+he launches himself into the first battle. At Lützen, he exposes himself
+more than he has done for years. During the first day’s fighting, he does
+not sleep at all; on the second day, when everything is going well, he
+has his bearskin spread on the ground in the middle of Marmont’s corps;
+and when, an hour later, they wake him to let him know that all is going
+on well, he leaps to his feet with the ironical remark: “You see, the
+best things come to one while one is asleep.”
+
+But hardly has the general won this victory than the emperor-politician
+resumes the ascendant. He sends letters in all directions; forces the
+vacillating king of Saxony to a decision, talks to the princes of the
+Confederation of the Rhine about providence and the fortune of war, that
+he may keep them up to the scratch; sends his ministers to the Russian
+outposts; abruptly and informally offers the tsar Poland in exchange
+for Prussia, and suggests other territorial rearrangements, until
+Alexander weakens; and he writes to Emperor Francis in terms of unusual
+self-commendation: “Although I personally led all the movements of my
+army, and was several times within range of grape-shot, I have not had
+even a graze.” The words and the actions are those of one who feels weak,
+and would fain appear strong. Henceforth the warnings of fate thicken.
+
+True, he gains another victory at Bautzen, but does not take any
+prisoners. On the second day of the battle, he is riding under fire,
+accompanied by Caulaincourt and his friend Duroc—the latter having for
+a decade been his inseparable companion in the field. Men are being
+shot down in his immediate neighbourhood. He gallops to an adjoining
+elevation; adjutants follow him. Dust and smoke; a tree close at hand is
+smashed to splinters. He thunders past. On the hillock, a young officer
+comes up to him and stammers: “Marshal Duroc has been killed.”
+
+“Impossible! He was at my side a moment ago!”
+
+“The cannon ball which struck the tree, brought down the marshal as well.”
+
+The Emperor slowly rides back into camp. He says:
+
+“When will fate have a little discrimination? What will be the end of
+it all? Caulaincourt, my eagles are again victorious, but my star is
+setting.”
+
+Duroc has not been killed outright, but he is dying. Terrible is the
+aspect of this shattered comrade. Greeting and farewell, both men in
+tears. Duroc murmurs: “I told thee at Dresden what would happen; the
+inner voice.... Give me some opium.”
+
+This tone, the sudden use of “thee,” the last request of a man who has no
+fear of death. The Emperor walks unsteadily as he leaves the cottage.
+
+From a farmyard, he contemplates for a while the spot where his friend
+had fallen, and then makes his way to the place where the guard is
+encamped, with his own tent in the middle. That evening, wearing his
+grey field-coat, he sits gloomily on a campstool, apart from his suite;
+he listens to the sounds of the camp, where the guardsmen are cooking
+supper and calling to one another; in the distance, the men of a yager
+corps are singing a song. Bivouac fires are glowing in the half-darkness
+of the May night; two burning villages flame like torches in the sky. An
+officer draws near, and hesitates to give his report. Before the words
+are spoken, the Emperor understands that Duroc is dead.
+
+Next day, he orders the purchase of land where a memorial is to be
+erected, and he pens the inscription: “Here died, gloriously, in the arms
+of his friend the Emperor, struck down on the field of battle by a cannon
+ball, General Duroc, Grand Marshal of the Emperor Napoleon.”
+
+General Bonaparte used to have no time for such feelings. He concealed
+his heart-ache, and stormed onward, even when he lost his wife’s love.
+Now it behoved him to push forward into Silesia, to follow up the
+Russians into Poland, to take advantage of the misgivings of the allies;
+and, by delivering blows in rapid succession, to fetter the vacillating
+Austrian to his side. In later years, he said frankly that his failure to
+do these things had been the greatest mistake in his life. Once more, the
+deliberations of the emperor are impeding the activities of the general.
+His private letters from France are full of reports concerning the
+clamour for peace. “What especially determined my course of action was
+Austria’s preparation for war, and the desire to gain time. This led me
+to interrupt the course of my victories.” In Silesia, at the beginning of
+June, he agrees to a six weeks’ truce, thus giving his adversaries time
+to attain complete unity at the congresses of Reichenbach and Prague.
+
+Is he deceived as to the frame of mind of the wavering German princes?
+He knows them all. “The Saxons are just as German as the others, and
+would gladly follow Prussia’s example. The king is faithful to me, but
+I do not trust his troops.... Austria’s impudence is indescribable.
+While uttering honeyed words, she tries to snatch from me Dalmatia and
+Istria.... There never was anything so false as the court of Vienna. If,
+to-day, I were to grant Austria’s demands, she would ask to-morrow for
+Italy and Germany.” Now, when he sees that the Habsburg ruler is about
+to go over to the enemy, he realises too late that his marriage has
+been a mistake, for he has gained nothing by it, and has lost much. His
+own patrician family feeling had made him believe that there must be an
+imperial family feeling. The old tone of contempt for hereditary monarchs
+is at length heard once more. To his intimates, he again and again says
+frankly what he thinks of the kings who are kings by birth:
+
+“Among those who are born to sit on the throne, the ties of nature count
+for nothing. The interests of his daughter and his grandson will not move
+Emperor Francis an inch from the calculations of his cabinet. These men
+have no blood in their veins, nothing but frozen politics! What pygmies
+they are, the kings by the grace of God—and the grace of Napoleon! My
+leniency has been my blunder. In Tilsit I could have crushed them, but I
+was too generous. History should have taught me that houses so degenerate
+deserve neither loyalty nor faith! Now, England is filling their coffers
+with gold. But I shall prove myself a better statesman than these born
+kings who never leave their golden cages!”
+
+In this atmosphere of intrigue, when he has to rub shoulders with princes
+who dare not fight either for him or against him, traitors are his best
+confidants.
+
+The Emperor therefore summons Fouché, to whom he says: “Your friends
+Bernadotte and Metternich are my worst enemies. Your Bernadotte can do
+us an immense amount of harm, for he is able to give my enemies the key
+to our policy, and he can explain to them the tactics of our armies....
+His head has been turned because legitimate princes flatter him!” There
+we have it once more, the word whose mystical power explains half of
+Napoleon’s perpetual unrest. He can never refrain from a tremor when he
+speaks of the legitimate rulers, whom he regards with mingled contempt
+and envy. Whether he is mimicking them, or whether he is railing at them,
+he, who is an upstart, is always pondering this problem of birth.
+
+Instead of listening to the call of the nations, which soon rises clear
+above the babble of the princes, he can only look on with malicious
+delight at the manœuvres of the chessplayers in the cabinets. He watches
+how England doles out subsidies to Prussia; how Alexander and Francis
+hold converse about the weakness of their ally, the king of Prussia; how
+Frederick William, in his dread of revolution, disbands the enthusiastic
+Landsturm, refuses to give high office to Scharnhorst the boldest and to
+Stein the ablest of his advisers, dismisses and banishes Schleiermacher
+for a speech voicing the popular sentiment. The Emperor sends Fouché on a
+secret mission (in plain words, as a spy) to the congress of Prague.
+
+In Spain, meanwhile, though Napoleon in the north has been strengthening
+his position by two victories, Joseph has been utterly crushed by
+Wellington at Vittoria. The king of Spain has run away. When the princes
+learn in Prague that the south of France now lies open to an English
+invasion, their inclination to defiance is promptly strengthened. The
+Emperor, who had left the best of his generals to fight for Joseph in
+Spain, is beside himself with wrath. “He alone is to blame!” writes
+Napoleon to Paris. “The English reports show how utterly stupid was his
+command. Never was anything so absurd! Of course he is no soldier, but he
+is responsible.... Make the king understand that he is not to see any one
+till I come back.... Otherwise his house in Paris will become a centre of
+intrigue, and I shall have to put him under arrest, for my patience is at
+an end. I will no longer have my affairs imperilled out of consideration
+for idiots who are neither soldiers nor statesmen!”
+
+His eldest brother is his closest intimate in the family,—and now the
+Emperor thinks that Joseph in a private house in Paris is more to be
+dreaded even than as king in Madrid! Will Napoleon at length learn his
+lesson, and, after this outburst, leave Joseph at peace? Hardly! For
+even little Jerome has an army once more, and is again making a mess of
+things; he gives one of the generals new marching orders, with the remark
+that he is acting on instructions from the Emperor. The latter hears of
+it too late. “I will not tell you in plain terms what I think of your
+conduct; enough that I will not tolerate it any longer! If you again make
+false representations of the kind, I shall publish an order of the day
+to the effect that in future no attention is to be paid to anything you
+say.... By such behaviour you may disturb the march of my whole army. It
+is sheer cheating!”
+
+Soon afterwards Junot, one of the oldest of his comrades, becomes
+affected with megalomania; he loses a battle in Illyria, and then, in a
+fit of frenzy, throws himself out of a window. Bourrienne, who had for a
+time been cashiered on account of peculation, and had then been appointed
+chargé d’affaires in Hamburg, had, after all, to be dismissed once more
+for the old offence. “If he dares to interfere in public business, I
+will have him arrested, and make him disgorge his ill-gotten gains!”
+Bernadotte, the most faithless, has actually landed in Pomerania with
+his Swedes, has advised the allies to stand firm, and will deceive them
+as he has deceived others. To crown all, a sworn enemy of the Emperor is
+now to join the opposing combination. General Moreau, who had been exiled
+to America for his share in Cadoudal’s conspiracy, is on his way to join
+the foes of France, and will share with Bernadotte the distinction of
+fighting against his native land.
+
+In this situation, on the horns of a dilemma, too cautious to turn his
+victories to account, and too powerful to accept the terms on which alone
+he would be able to make peace, the Emperor has recourse to his whilom
+methods. He invites Metternich to Dresden, and tries to win over the
+Austrian diplomat by suggestion. The interview is typically Napoleonic,
+lasting nine hours without a break. The Emperor gains nothing by it, but
+posterity gains a great deal.
+
+Standing in the middle of the room, his sword buckled on and his hat
+under his arm, the Emperor receives the minister. After making formal
+enquiries about his father-in-law’s health, he forthwith assumes the
+offensive: “So you, too, want war. Well, you shall have it. I have
+crushed the Prussians at Lützen, and have beaten the Russians at Bautzen.
+You are waiting for your turn? Be it so, we shall meet again in Vienna.
+Men are incorrigible! Three times I have replaced Emperor Francis on his
+throne; I have promised always to live at peace with him; I have married
+his daughter. Even at that time I thought: ‘You are making a fool of
+yourself.’ Still, I did it; and now I regret it!”
+
+We see that he is not disposed to be civil; that to his father-in-law’s
+envoy, on whom he wishes to make a good impression, he is blunter than
+he had been to Francis on the day after Austerlitz. Metternich speaks of
+world peace, which will only be possible if the Emperor is willing to
+accept a reasonable curtailment of his dominions. It will be necessary to
+give back Warsaw to the tsar and Illyria to the emperor of Austria, to
+set the Hansa towns free, to enlarge Prussia.
+
+“What you are asking is that I shall dishonour myself. I will die rather
+than cede a hand’s breadth of soil. Your born kings can accept defeat
+twenty times over, and still go back to their palaces. I am the child of
+fortune, and I cannot do this! My power will not outlast the day on which
+I cease to be strong, on which I cease to be feared.... Through the cold
+of Russia I lost everything except honour.... Now I have a new army; you
+shall see it; I will hold a review for your benefit!” Here we have once
+more the pride of the born soldier facing those who are born kings; here
+we have General Bonaparte. When the minister ventures to declare that
+this army of which Napoleon speaks would be glad if peace were made,
+the Emperor cuts Metternich short with one of his amazing outbursts of
+frankness:
+
+“It is not the army that wants peace! My generals want it! Really, I have
+no generals left. The cold of Moscow has demoralised them all. There, the
+bravest among them cried like children. A fortnight ago, I could still
+make peace; now, after two victories, I can no longer do so.”
+
+“Europe and you, Sire, will never come to terms. When you have made
+peace, it has been nothing more than a truce. To you, success and failure
+are equally strong motives for war. This time the whole of Europe will
+fight against you.”
+
+The Emperor laughs savagely:
+
+“Do you think to destroy me by a coalition? How many of you are there,
+then, Messieurs les Alliés? Four, five, six, twenty? The more, the
+merrier!” He goes on to warn Metternich against counting on Germany,
+whose peoples he is holding together by the presence of his soldiers and
+whose princes are held together by their dread of Austria. He advises
+armed neutrality, so long as the negotiations are going on in Prague,
+whereas Metternich talks of armed mediation. These finesses of the old
+diplomacy are to mask the gulf between them. Then, for a whole hour, they
+dispute about the relative strength of the opposing armies, each claiming
+the possession of exact information about the other side.
+
+“I have detailed and accurate lists of your forces,” says the Emperor.
+“I have had so many spies at work, that I know to a unit even how many
+drummers you have. But no one knows better than myself how much or how
+little value to attach to these secret service reports. My calculations
+are based on more exact data, upon mathematical inferences. In the last
+resort, no one has more than he can have.” The Emperor shows the Austrian
+envoy the muster rolls of the Austrian army, which till yesterday
+had been part of the French alliance. Metternich can see for himself
+whether the figures are accurate. The Emperor then spends hours upon a
+description of the Russian campaign. When the minister remarks that the
+imperial troops are composed of striplings, and asks what Napoleon will
+do when these children, like those who have gone before them, have been
+swallowed up by the war, the Emperor is overcome with wrath. He turns
+pale, his features are distorted, and he shouts at Metternich:
+
+“You are not a soldier. You do not know what passes in a soldier’s mind.
+I grew to manhood on the battle-field. Such a man as I does not care a
+snap of the fingers for the lives of a million men!” He flings his hat
+into a corner of the room. Now, there is nothing assumed about his anger,
+and what he has just said is the revelation of an innermost truth. The
+man who turns pale at the sight of a dying horse, who cannot bear to see
+a human being pass away, remains and must remain impassive when, in his
+army lists, he adds up the figures, shifts the hundreds of thousands
+from column to column, and erases the myriads of slain. Is not war made
+with human lives, and does it not end with corpses? What is the use of
+reproaching a craftsman for using the tools of his trade? But as far as
+morals are concerned, the minister has the best of the argument, and he
+would have been glad if all France could have heard Napoleon’s words.
+
+“France has no reason to complain,” says the Emperor more calmly. “To
+spare France, I have sacrificed Germans and Poles. In Russia I lost
+three hundred thousand men, but only a tenth of them were Frenchmen!”
+Meanwhile, he has picked up his hat for himself, a thing he has certainly
+not done for the last ten years; he has acted sensibly, as if he had
+still been General Bonaparte. Then he plants himself in front of the
+Austrian and says:
+
+“It was exceedingly stupid of me to marry an archduchess. I was trying
+to weld the new with the old, to make Gothic prejudices square with
+the institutions of my own century. Now I can see the whole extent of
+my error! The blunder may cost me my throne, but I will bury the world
+beneath its ruins!”
+
+This tragical admission is the climax of the interview, and the
+turning-point of the problem of war or peace. The rancour engendered
+in him by his own mistake spurs him on, regardless of prudential
+considerations, into the fight with a coalition whose forces outnumber
+his by three to one. Like a great gambler who realises that he has
+made an irretrievable blunder, he is impelled by the stubbornness
+characteristic of such natures as his to stake all upon a single throw.
+He will show that, blunder notwithstanding, he can still win.
+
+By the time he dismisses Metternich, he has fully recovered composure.
+His hand on the door-handle, he says: “We shall see one another again
+before you leave?”
+
+“I am at Your Majesty’s service. But I have no longer any hope of
+succeeding in my mission.”
+
+The Emperor looks at him quizzically, and taps him gently on the
+shoulder: “Do you know what will happen? You will not make war on me!”
+
+After three days’ negotiation, Metternich wishes to depart, but the
+Emperor is afraid of the final rupture. Napoleon summons the Austrian
+envoy several times, and then invites him to an early interview in the
+garden. The two men walk up and down.
+
+“Now then, you must not assume this injured air!” In ten minutes
+they arrange for a prolongation of the truce, and talk about further
+conversations in Prague. Everything is left hanging in the wind; and
+in the memorandum he signs with Metternich, the Emperor recognises his
+father-in-law’s position of armed neutrality, which can only be a stage
+on the way to war. Then he drives off to Mainz, that he may see once more
+the wife who is daughter of that same Austrian ruler. He has appointed
+her regent in Paris again, but has expressly forbidden his ministers
+to submit certain kinds of documents for her consideration. “There are
+details with which a young woman’s mind must not be besmirched.”
+
+Had the Habsburg archduchess been a staunch wife and an affectionate
+daughter, she would have journeyed on to Vienna, and would have brought
+about a reconciliation which there was really nothing to prevent except
+the two men’s wounded pride. She had a passably good understanding. Only
+a few weeks before, the Emperor, writing to Francis, had said: “She fills
+the post of prime minister to my great satisfaction.” We cannot for a
+moment suppose that now, at the height of the crisis, he can have failed
+to let her know all the hazards of the hour, were it only to ensure that
+in the event of a breach her feelings would be on his side. But the
+little goose made no move. Her only concern was to send costly gifts
+which would make an impression on her relatives.
+
+In Prague, each party keeps the other in suspense; Fouché does his master
+harm by gossiping with all and sundry; Bernadotte cements his alliance
+with his new friends. When, at the last moment, it seems possible that
+the Emperor may give way, Alexander and Frederick William are so much
+alarmed at the prospect that they compel Metternich to make the terms
+more exacting, for they realise that so favourable an opportunity is
+not likely to recur. The Emperor now angrily draws back, and on the day
+after the expiry of the truce he receives his father-in-law’s declaration
+of war. No doubt, in the interval, he has secured reinforcements; but
+he can no longer trust the Confederation of the Rhine, and has to keep
+watch upon his German auxiliaries. He stands to arms in Saxony and
+Silesia, faced by Schwarzenberg in command of three armies, two of them,
+respectively led by Blücher and Bernadotte, holding Silesia and the
+north. With Schwarzenberg is Moreau, who has just arrived, and who, on
+his last visit to Germany, had been the conqueror of that country.
+
+Thus paradoxical is the marshalling forces in the game of chess. Under
+the Emperor of the French, are fighting three German kings against
+a German general, who a little while back had been the Emperor’s
+subordinate in the war against Russia. Against Napoleon, are fighting two
+French generals. One of them is leading Prussian troops against the man
+who had for years pushed him to the front; nor is this general really
+a royalist, for he, too, is a son of the revolution. Blücher is the
+only true-hearted foe, for Blücher, whom Napoleon defeated seven years
+earlier, has never fought on the Emperor’s side, and has never espoused
+his cause. The one element in Napoleon’s favour is that three monarchs
+have their fingers in Schwarzenberg’s pie, three commanders who know as
+little about the trade of war as Brother Joseph did in Spain.
+
+At the end of August, the Emperor opens the second Saxon campaign with
+a great victory near Dresden. But on the third day, when he might have
+followed up the allies and scattered them, he is seized by a violent
+attack of gastric spasm. For a whole hour he fancies he has been
+poisoned; his will is paralysed, and he withdraws instead of pursuing.
+Thereby he loses an army corps, and thus (according to the report of
+Daru, his daily companion) “causes the disaster of 1813.” In this first
+battle against the hated Bonaparte, Moreau falls. Is it an omen? When the
+Emperor hears the news, the rivalry of his youth flames up anew, and from
+his very soul he cries: “Moreau is dead! My star!”
+
+His other army has been defeated by Blücher on the Katzbach. Once more,
+considerations of statesmanship outweigh those of generalship. How can I
+divide my adversaries? It will be better to spare Bohemia for the sake of
+Austria, for the defeat has aroused alarm there. He will make a surprise
+march on Berlin, and will thus lure the Prussians out of Silesia.
+
+But what the tsar had said years ago is still true.... Miracles only
+happen when the Emperor is present, and he cannot be everywhere. He
+is thus hampered in his great enterprise. Lack of fighting spirit,
+difficulties of food-supply, and the frequency of desertion, are
+continually making it necessary for him to visit his flanking armies: so
+that in popular parlance, in consequence of his rushings to and fro, he
+is nicknamed the “Bautzen Messenger.” His armies suffer more and more
+from lack of food. They are so thickly set upon the ground that they have
+long since eaten the country bare.
+
+Nevertheless, he has not nearly enough soldiers. Since the 1814 levies
+are already with the colours, he orders the Senate to call up also
+those of 1815, and even the men whose liability to service has nearly
+expired on account of advancing years—the very peasants whom, when
+setting forth on this campaign in a mood of self-pity, he had envied
+for their fortunate position. But when will the reinforcements arrive?
+Who will train them, and how long will it take? Vainly now, at the end
+of September, he sends an envoy to his father-in-law, to talk of peace;
+he is prepared to make great sacrifices, “if only you will listen.”
+But Francis remains firm, and is at length able to detach an important
+member of the Confederation of the Rhine: the king of Bavaria falls away.
+Thereupon the anxious chessplayer, round whom the clouds are gathering,
+says to his old comrade something which he has never before been willing
+to admit:
+
+“Marmont, my game is going awry.”
+
+With this admission, the Emperor’s genius spreads its wings and flies
+away.
+
+
+XI
+
+On Düben Heath is a Saxon fortress, Düben Castle. There, one morning,
+the Emperor is at work, planning the march on Berlin, the defeat of
+Bernadotte and Blücher, smashing blows which will finish off the enemy.
+
+Then a number of generals are announced. He comes out of his study to
+meet them, knowing what they want, for his intimates have kept him
+informed of the growing discontent among the leaders, who wish to winter
+quietly on the Rhine. Marshal Ney has recently reported: “I am no longer
+master of my army.” One of the visitors begins to speak hesitatingly;
+a second puts forward dubious reasons; then, nodding to encourage one
+another, they all obsequiously beg him not to march on Berlin. Leipzig
+will be a better point of attack.
+
+The Emperor listens to them in silence as he wonders: “Is my power
+vanishing?” At length he replies: “The secession of Bavaria is imminent.
+A movement on Leipzig, a backward movement, will arouse despair among the
+soldiers. But I will think over what you have said.” He spends the rest
+of the day alone, refusing himself to all visitors, brooding over his
+maps. Caulaincourt, on duty outside, listens for sounds from within, but
+can only hear the windows rattling in the October gale which is howling
+round the castle. At length he is allowed to enter. The Emperor walks up
+and down, and, speaking rather to himself than to Caulaincourt, he says:
+“The French cannot endure reverses.” Then he sinks into a reverie.
+
+Next day he announces that they will go to Leipzig. It is October 15th:
+general animation; orders are issued; every one is delighted. Discussing
+with Marmont the latest steps of the Habsburg ruler, Napoleon says in
+conclusion: “I prefer a man of honour who simply keeps his word, to a
+conscientious man who does what he thinks right.... Emperor Francis
+has done what he believes to be the best for his subjects; he is
+conscientious, but he is not a man of honour.”
+
+Next day begins the great “Battle of the Nations.” The Emperor has only
+one hundred and eighty thousand men against three hundred thousand of the
+allies; by the evening he has won only part of the battle-field. On the
+second morning Bernadotte arrives with reinforcements. The Emperor sees
+that things are going badly, and would like to withdraw, but he cannot
+make up his mind to a step that would give the impression of defeat. Once
+more he tries negotiation. General Merveldt has been taken prisoner;
+his sword is restored on parole; he is to go to Emperor Francis with
+proposals for an armistice.
+
+“I will retire behind the Saale, while the Russians and the Prussians
+withdraw beyond the Elbe, and you Austrians go back into Bohemia;
+Saxony must remain neutral.” Then, livening up, he develops to this
+enemy general nothing less than a new plan for Europe. Hanover is to
+be returned to England; the Baltic coast is to be freed; any of the
+princes of the Confederation of the Rhine who wish to do so can leave the
+Confederation; Poland, Spain, and Holland are to be independent; the only
+reservation is as regards Italy, which must not become Austrian. “Be off
+with you! You have a splendid peace mission. Should fortune favour it,
+you will earn the love of a great nation. But if your side refuse peace,
+we shall know how to defend ourselves.”
+
+General Merveldt departs in amazement, and his report seems incredible
+to his master. What! The Emperor Napoleon, in the course of war, between
+battles, is willing to renounce half Europe and chooses a prisoner to
+bring this offer? We did not know he was so weak.
+
+The Emperor is anxiously awaiting his emissary’s return. Till far on into
+the night, therefore, he refrains from issuing orders for the morrow; he
+speaks of the ties of kinship, and of his wife and child. Suddenly he is
+attacked by his gastric trouble, and staggers against the wall of the
+tent, his face pale. They wish to send for his physician. “No! my tent is
+transparent. If I am up and about, every one is at his post.”
+
+“At least lie down, Sire!”
+
+“No, I will die standing.”
+
+“Do let me fetch the doctor, Sire.”
+
+“No, I tell you! I can send a sick soldier to hospital. But who can send
+me?” Terrible moments pass. “I’m getting better now. See to it that no
+one comes into the tent!”
+
+Half an hour later, he issues orders, but not for a retreat. Instead, the
+army moves a little nearer to Leipzig. The enemy now outnumbers him by
+two to one.
+
+When day comes, he takes up his headquarters in a windmill. The attack
+upon the French starts from three sides. It appears that, at the last
+moment, Bernadotte has persuaded the Saxons to turn their guns against
+France. “Infamous!” exclaims the Emperor, and all around echo the word.
+Saxon officers who remain faithful to him, break their swords. A dragoon
+belonging to the escort wheels his horse, and shouts: “We’ll do for them
+yet, the scoundrels! We Frenchmen, too, are here! Vive l’Empereur!” The
+whole escort follows him at the charge. Soon a young officer, who has
+seized one of the Saxon eagles, gallops back with it to the Emperor, and
+collapses from his wounds as he arrives. “These sons of France!” says
+Napoleon softly.
+
+On the second day of battle, he loses sixty thousand men. He is beaten,
+but even the German critics say of the affair: “The allies did not secure
+an overwhelming victory, such as might have been expected from the
+enormous preponderance of their forces.”
+
+During the hasty retreat of the defeated army through the town of
+Leipzig, the Emperor dictates orders for the withdrawal. “They had
+brought him a wooden stool,” writes an eyewitness. “On this, he now
+fell into a slumber of exhaustion, his hands loosely folded in his lap.
+In gloomy silence the generals were standing round the fire, while the
+soldiers were marching past a little way off.”
+
+Next morning the pursuing enemy spread disorder in the streets; a bridge
+was blown up prematurely, so that the rear guard was forced to surrender;
+one of the marshals escaped by swimming across the river, another was
+drowned, several were wounded and taken prisoner. When, subsequently
+Macdonald came across Augereau, for whose corps he had been waiting,
+Augereau laughed him to scorn: “Do you think me such a fool as to let
+myself be slaughtered in a Leipzig suburb? I won’t do that for a madman’s
+sake!”
+
+Here we have it for the first time, a sign that one of Napoleon’s
+oldest companions-in-arms has become completely indifferent to the
+Emperor’s fame; is animated by the mere will-to-live, reasonable enough
+in a private soldier, but unworthy of a marshal of France. On the very
+same day, another friend of Bonaparte’s youth writes to the Emperor,
+complaining that in the report of the previous day’s fighting his
+services have been overlooked, although for ten hours he had held a part
+of the plain for whose defence another man is now given the credit.
+“Never in my life have I served you more faithfully than I did on this
+occasion.... Sire, I could not suffer anything worse than to be forgotten
+at such a time.” The letter is signed, “Marmont.”
+
+These two utterances on the day after Leipzig are the shadows of coming
+events. Marmont and Augereau will both desert the Emperor in the decisive
+hour.
+
+Fifty miles away, Goethe is sitting in his room at Weimar. Napoleon’s
+picture has fallen from its nail. The poet has heard the sound of the
+Leipzig guns. The first news of the French defeat has arrived. Though
+none of the allied generals can say, yet, whether the Emperor may not
+be able to collect his forces once more, and to resume his career of
+victory, Goethe, who only a few months earlier had declared Napoleon to
+be invincible, already realises the full extent of the disaster. On the
+day of the retreat, as if everything had happened a hundred years before,
+and the whole matter had become legendary, he writes the following verses:
+
+    He who feels courage in his royal breast
+    knows no shudderings, treads gladly
+    the undermined road leading to the steps of the throne,
+    knows the danger and nevertheless mounts confidently.
+    The golden circlet’s tremendous burden,
+    he does not try its weight; resolute and calm,
+    he presses it gladly on his bold brow,
+    and bears it lightly, as if it were a laurel crown.
+    Thus didst thou. What seemed so far away,
+    thou hast tranquilly learned to make thine own;
+    and whatever fierce obstacles might block the path,
+    thou sawest them, contemplated them, and understood them.
+    A joyful day dawned, it summoned thee,
+    thou wast summoned, and thus it came to pass....
+    And thou still standest despite all that has happened to thee,
+    despite the foe, who, with war and death
+    threatens thee from without and from within....
+    The peoples are agape, they chatter, they are full of vain imaginings—
+    What do they care for, but games?...
+    The false world, it wooes us for our treasure,
+    for our favour, for our position,
+    and, even if one makes one’s lover one’s equal,
+    love does not suffice him, he wants the whole kingdom.
+    So was it with this man!—And now, declare it abroad,
+    even if it cost you your life:
+    To every man, be he whom he may,
+    there comes a last happiness and a last day.
+
+At the same date, Schelling writes: “I do not believe that Napoleon’s end
+is yet very near. If I am right, he will still be spared; and, even if
+all his helpers fall away from him, he will still live to drink the cup
+of humiliation to the dregs.” When, almost immediately afterwards, the
+Bavarians definitively changed sides, Hegel wrote: “In Nuremberg, the mob
+has welcomed the incoming Austrians with the most hateful jubilation....
+Nothing more contemptible can be imagined than the mood and the conduct
+of the burghers.”
+
+Three outstanding Germans, immediately after Leipzig!
+
+Certainly, it is far from being a final defeat. Fighting, and fighting
+victoriously, the Emperor withdraws. In Erfurt, Murat presents himself,
+wishing to go back to his kingdom. The master allows him to do so,
+saying: “By next May, I shall have an army of a quarter of a million on
+the Rhine!” Thus does his intelligence work; such is the quality of his
+imagination; he can still think only in hundreds of thousands. In Mainz,
+his troops are attacked by typhus, and he hastens to move what is left
+of them across the Rhine. During the retreat, he works from three in the
+morning till eleven at night.
+
+Meanwhile, the advancing allied headquarters are thronged by the princes
+who are deserting the cause of Napoleon. All is promptly forgotten
+and forgiven. But there is one honest man left who finds strong words
+to describe what is happening: “What do you think of these wretches’
+behaviour?... They have had better treatment than they deserve.... All
+these princelets are weaklings, to whom a far more honourable existence
+has been conceded than their pitiful conduct would seem to justify....
+The retention of their sovereignty, which consists in pretentiousness,
+pleasure seeking, and the lust for dominion, has cost them nothing more
+than the blood of their subjects.”
+
+Such is Baron vom Stein’s judgment concerning his peers, the German
+princes.
+
+
+XII
+
+Letizia is sitting by the fire. In her hand is a letter from Mainz, in
+which her son answers her intercession for Louis by imposing certain
+conditions. But this is not what troubles her; she is thinking of the
+Emperor’s parenthetical allusion to the turn in his fortunes. He writes:
+“In this situation, when all Europe is rising against me, and my heart is
+so full of care....” She has never warned him of the impending dangers;
+they are both of them too proud for that. But she has often uttered her
+foreboding to intimates, with her phrase “Pourvou que cela doure!” She
+has never been disturbed by the thought of any disaster to herself. She
+thinks only of her dear ones. Who will help them when everything falls
+to pieces? To whom, she is now asking herself, can the Emperor look for
+support?
+
+When he returns, she has to endure the recognition that the treachery
+begins among her own children. Murat, who is always led by a keener
+intelligence than his own (that of Caroline), signs a truce with England
+and enters into an alliance with Austria. Elise has an adviser, Fouché,
+who keeps away from Paris until the Emperor’s fall. “The only thing
+that could save us all would be the Emperor’s death.” Such are the
+ex-minister’s words to the Emperor’s sister. But Elise writes to her
+mother asking what dances are to be given that winter in Paris. Louis
+defies orders, and, being unable to stay in Austria any longer, comes to
+Paris without leave. Napoleon proposes to banish him to a distance of two
+hundred miles from Paris. The mother intercedes between the pair; there
+is a further interview, as a result of which Napoleon and Louis are once
+more estranged. Jerome has left his subjects in the lurch, and has fled
+incognito from Cassel. Joseph, despite the Emperor’s reiterated requests,
+persists in his refusal to undertake the defence of Paris. Lucien keeps
+his distance, still in a bad humour.
+
+Such is the gallery of brothers and sisters, the relatives upon whom for
+a decade the Emperor has been trying to build up his dynasty. What can
+be the feelings of a mother who has always cherished the most tender
+affection for that one of her children who happened to be suffering most
+keenly?
+
+But in Morfontaine a cheerful mood prevails. The company there consists
+of Joseph, the Spanish king without a country; Jerome’s wife, a queen in
+like situation, whose father has gone over to the allies; the sometime
+grand inquisitor of Spain says Mass in the chapel; there are two colonial
+bishops; German, Spanish, and Italian courtiers without a court—a
+brilliant company, like the audience at private theatricals, watching
+actors who will soon come down from the stage to take their place on the
+floor of the drawing-room. Only one of them hopes to draw a big fish out
+of the troubled waters, Bernadotte’s wife, Joseph’s sister-in-law, the
+woman to whom twenty years before the Emperor had given the go-by. She
+knows that her husband, commander of one of the allied armies, is already
+on the Rhine; she hopes that ere long, in Notre Dame, he will place
+Josephine’s crown on her pretty brown head.
+
+[Illustration: Napoleon as Emperor in 1809. Woodcut from a medal by J. P.
+Droz.]
+
+At this country-seat, more intrigues are carried on against Napoleon
+than Joseph is aware of; for Joseph is not himself an intriguer; he is
+merely easy-going and vain. The Emperor recognises this, now that it is
+too late, and says to Roederer:
+
+“That has been one of my mistakes. I fancied I needed my brothers for the
+dynasty, but it is safe without them. It has been brought into being in
+the heart of the storm by the nature of things. The empress suffices....
+Everything has been quiet for a year past. There is only disquiet when
+Joseph lives in Paris.... He cannot forget that he is the first-born.
+Was there ever anything more absurd? If he were talking of our father’s
+vineyard, that would be another story!... His interests are in women,
+houses, furniture. He likes to go out rabbit shooting, and to play blind
+man’s buff with the girls. I am tied to nothing; care not a jot for
+houses or for women; though I do feel a little concern about my son.”
+
+Thus does his monomania make headway in these weeks of increasing peril.
+We see that all the rest, court included, has been nothing more than a
+game. He cares not a jot for anything outside the one passion of his
+soul—except that he is a little concerned about his son.
+
+He now quickly makes up his mind to restore the Spanish crown to King
+Ferdinand, who is set at liberty; but the Cortes must approve the treaty.
+This is Talleyrand’s advice, for Talleyrand has now been recalled to the
+Tuileries. Insistence on ratification by the Cortes will delay matters.
+The traitor’s aim is to keep a French army in the south, so that France
+may be weakened for the benefit of the allies, for whose cause Talleyrand
+is now working. Joseph protests.
+
+“My present situation makes it impossible for me to think of any sort
+of foreign dominion,” writes the Emperor to his brother. “I shall
+deem myself lucky if the peace treaty will allow me to keep the old
+boundaries of France. Everything is crashing round me. My armies have
+been destroyed, and it will hardly be possible to make the losses good.
+Holland is gone, and Italy is uncertain.... Belgium and the Rhine
+province are discontented; the Spanish frontier is held by the enemy....
+How is it possible, at this crisis, to think of a foreign throne?” When
+the prefect of police advises him to leave a larger body of National
+Guards in Paris, during the campaign that is now imminent, he rejoins:
+“Who can guarantee that they will be faithful to me? Am I to leave so
+large a force in my rear?”
+
+He is in despair. Surely there is no other word for the description
+of these thoughts? His family, his allies, his own capital, all seem
+untrustworthy to him. Thus completely has his mood changed since the
+battle of Leipzig. Count Lavalette, Postmaster General, one of the most
+honest men in Paris, who often came to see him at this time, found
+him one evening in a condition of great depression. Napoleon received
+Lavalette in his bedroom, standing in front of the fire, his hands
+stretched out towards the blaze. The visitor, though a stout-hearted
+fellow, advises peace, saying that the French are mutable. But when
+he ventures to mention the name of the Bourbons, on whom perhaps the
+Emperor’s mantle may fall, Napoleon turns away from the fire and silently
+throws himself on the bed. When, a few minutes later, the count draws
+near, he finds that Napoleon is sleeping.
+
+These healthy reactions are a sign of returning courage. Napoleon’s
+overthrow is close at hand; he foresees the catastrophe; but when people
+talk to him about the Bourbons, to whose throne he has mounted and who
+may dispossess him in turn, he cannot be bothered with the topic. It
+bores him, and he goes to sleep.
+
+Awakening reinvigorated, he recognises that the Bourbon sympathies of
+the northern provinces are a danger; he notes that the funds have fallen
+to fifty, and that the shares of the Bank of France have declined to
+half their former value; and he finds that the new National Guard, which
+after all he is obliged to call up, fails to materialise. He therefore
+gladly accedes to a proposal that issues from the allies in Frankfort.
+They are as disunited as he can possibly wish. Metternich, being a
+statesman, thinks it will be better not to occupy Paris. The tsar, being
+a romanticist, wants to take vengeance for Moscow by blowing up the
+Tuileries. In the end, Austria gets her way. The offer to France is that
+the country is to retain her natural frontiers; the Rhine, the Alps, the
+Pyrenees. The Emperor feels that he is saved. Without a moment’s delay
+he will accept the Frankfort proposal. Maret has actually drafted the
+dispatch.
+
+Suddenly he changes his mind. Why? Perhaps he has been put out of temper
+by the opposition voiced in the Chambers. There, at length, the members
+are showing themselves refractory. “We will not vote further armaments
+unless the government agrees that they are to be used only for defence.
+The Emperor must pledge himself to carry out all the laws that protect
+liberty.” Thunders of applause greet these words. For the first time in
+fifteen years, an assembly has ventured to criticise Napoleon. In his
+hatred for all Chambers, the Emperor flies into a passion, forbids the
+printing of the speech, closes the House, receives a few of the deputies,
+scolds them:
+
+“The throne is nothing more than a piece of wood covered with satin.
+I, and I alone, represent the people. I am the State. If France wants
+a different constitution, let her find another monarch for herself. Do
+you think my words proud? I utter them because I have the courage, and
+because France owes her greatness to me.” After this language in the vein
+of the Roi Soleil, on New Year’s Day he openly threatens the deputies,
+and says he will have them closely watched.
+
+That very day, Blücher crosses the Rhine.
+
+Thus, after twenty years of effort, and after six great wars, the more or
+less united powers of Europe and the old monarchical idea, incorporated
+in a Prussian field marshal, have made their way back across the boundary
+river of the revolution—and in the same hour, the heir of these modern
+ideas scatters their representatives and threatens imprisonment. With
+a similar logic, the manifestoes of the conflicting worlds have changed
+places. In Notre Dame, where for twenty years nothing has been heard
+but thanksgiving services, prayers are now offered up on behalf of the
+success of French arms. From the allies, on the other hand, who have so
+long heard talk of success of the French arms as heralding the liberation
+of conquered peoples, come assurances to conquered France that the
+invaders are “liberators.”
+
+The legitimists have at length learned from their great foe the technique
+of his battles and his proclamations. But if they are able to turn the
+lesson to good account, it is only because of their preponderance of
+power, and because of the weariness of a nation, which, after twenty
+years of glory, now seeks nothing but repose.
+
+To begin with, they weaken their position by asking too much; for when
+they offer nothing better than the old frontiers of 1792, the Emperor
+breaks off negotiations, and makes ready to repel their onslaught. In
+spite of all difficulties, he is able to strengthen his fighting front.
+His spirits are now steadily rising. When a pious count advises him to
+send the empress and her ladies to kiss the relics of Ste. Geneviève,
+Napoleon bursts out laughing, and says: “You’re a pretty bigot! I am
+going to fight it out!”
+
+But to whom, in this stern moment, does he entrust the capital? Who
+merits all his confidence?
+
+Joseph! Joseph, who understands nothing about war and has been keeping
+open house for the Emperor’s enemies, becomes lieutenant general of
+France and governor of Paris! This domestic peace treaty throws a glaring
+light upon the Emperor’s isolation, upon his lack of confidence in his
+supporters, and upon his family feeling. Shortly before leaving for the
+front, Napoleon has coldly ordered his brother to choose between openly
+declaring himself to be the friend of the empress-regent or continuing to
+be banished from Paris. “You can live in retirement at your country-seat,
+so long as I am alive. If I die, you will be killed or imprisoned. At
+Morfontaine, you will certainly be of no use either to your own people or
+to France, but at any rate you will not do me any harm. Make your choice.
+Feelings, whether friendly or hostile, are useless and out of place.”
+
+The tone is that of a man fighting to save his crown. He reckons with the
+likelihood of death; burns a great many State papers; and provides for
+his natural sons. Little Léon is to receive a fixed income, Walewska’s
+boy is to have a big majorat. As for his legitimate heir, who is now
+nearly three years old, Napoleon has the child in his arms when he
+takes leave of the officers of the National Guard. “I entrust to you
+the dearest of my possessions. You are answerable!” Once more he urges
+tenacity on his brother; once more he leaves his wife regent of their
+son’s realm. Next morning he quits Paris.
+
+He will not re-enter the city for more than a year, after devious
+wanderings.
+
+
+XIII
+
+In a few weeks he is beaten.
+
+His first strokes are successful. Near Brienne, where he forces Blücher
+to retreat, and where he himself takes so active a part in the fight
+that he is obliged to draw his sword in self-defence, he recognises
+the tree under which “as a twelve-year-old youngster I used to sit and
+read Tasso.” A romantic encounter which links his later life with those
+early days when his dreams were first dreamed! His historical feeling
+concerning himself grows in such circumstances to legendary proportions.
+
+Immediately thereafter, Blücher gains a victory over him near La
+Rothière. Paris is threatened. The Emperor’s strength seems broken.
+Caulaincourt, in a letter, begs him to yield; Maret does the same by word
+of mouth. Napoleon pays little heed to what Maret is saying; absently,
+he flutters the pages of a book by Montesquieu. Then, pointing to a
+passage, he bids Maret read aloud. “I know of nothing nobler than the
+determination of a monarch of our day to prefer to bury himself beneath
+the ruins of a throne rather than accept proposals to which no king
+should ever hearken.”
+
+“I know of something nobler still!” exclaims Maret. “That you should
+sacrifice your glory and thereby fill the abyss wherein, otherwise,
+France will find her grave!”
+
+“Very well,” answers the Emperor. “Make peace. Caulaincourt can conclude
+it, and sign the documents. I shall bear the shame. But do not claim
+from me that I myself should dictate my own abasement!” Maret writes to
+Caulaincourt in Châtillon, where he is negotiating anew with the enemy.
+Caulaincourt demands confirmation. Meanwhile the Emperor has veered
+about. He writes to Joseph: “Hold the gates bravely. Have two guns
+mounted and see that the National Guard takes up its position there....
+Place fifty men at each gate armed with service muskets, one hundred
+with fowling pieces, and one hundred with pikes. Thus, each gate will be
+guarded by two hundred and fifty men.”
+
+Crœsus has become a beggar! Only six months ago, nay, even three months
+back, Napoleon would have added three noughts to the figures! But now,
+encircled by the conglomerated forces of so many princes, two cannon
+and a hundred fowling pieces must suffice to save Paris! He sees the
+absurdity, for the same evening Maret finds him depressed. The minister,
+however, tries to persuade the Emperor to dictate the conditions of
+peace: Belgium and the left bank of the Rhine are to be free, Italy must
+be yielded up, everything which Bonaparte and Napoleon conquered must be
+given back in order that he may keep Paris and the piece of wood covered
+with satin. He will sign to-morrow, he says. Those who love him, tremble
+at thought of the moment when with one stroke of the pen he will lose all
+that his warlike deeds have won.
+
+But fate guards him from this. News comes during the night. The enemy’s
+position is worse than it seemed the previous day. Once more the war
+lord’s imagination gets to work. When, next morning, Maret arrives with
+the papers for the Emperor’s signature, he finds his master brooding over
+the map. Napoleon hardly notices his entrance. All the minister can catch
+is a few hurried words:
+
+“Other matters are to the fore! I am determined to smash Blücher!” When,
+at the self-same hour, Joseph’s letter arrives wherein he states that
+Paris is in peril, Napoleon, in the interludes of issuing army orders,
+dictates, from the depths of his heart, this rock-like answer:
+
+“Should Paris be taken, I shall no longer continue to live.... I have
+commanded you to do all that is needful to safeguard the empress, the
+king of Rome, and our family.... I have the right to claim the assistance
+of my kin, for I have helped them so often in the past....
+
+“If Talleyrand considers that the empress should in any case remain in
+Paris, this advice is secret treachery. Do not trust him! For sixteen
+years I have associated with him, and have often given him favours. But
+nothing is more certain than that he is the greatest enemy of our house,
+now that luck has forsaken us. Take my advice to heart. I understand
+events better than the young folk. If I lose the fight and die, you will
+be the first to hear of it.... I fancy that Madame Mère could find asylum
+with the queen of Westphalia. For God’s sake, do not allow the empress
+and the king to fall into the hands of the enemy! Austria would then lose
+interest in the war, and would take the empress to Vienna. England and
+Russia would make the French see things from their outlook, and our cause
+would be lost....
+
+“Perhaps I shall conclude peace in a day or two.... Never since the
+world began has a sovereign allowed himself to be taken alive in an open
+city.... So long as I live, I must be obeyed. If I die, my reigning son
+and the regent his mother must not allow themselves to be taken, were it
+only for France’s honour. On the contrary, they must withdraw with the
+last of their soldiers and entrench themselves in the remotest village.
+Otherwise it might be said that I had sacrificed my son’s throne....
+
+“I would rather know that my son had been killed than that he was
+being brought up in Vienna as an Austrian prince. I have never seen
+_Andromache_ played without lamenting the fate of Astyanax, and I have
+always regarded it as a stroke of good fortune that his father did not
+live to see it. You do not know the French people. The consequences of
+these vast events are incalculable!”
+
+This hunted man is panting for breath. For the first time since his
+youth, death or collapse seems close at hand; perhaps both. When he
+writes commanding Joseph to prepare for either eventuality, the two main
+elements of his soul are mingling, and both are scattering sparks. His
+calculating temperament is reckoning up the disastrous consequences that
+would ensue, should Austria’s ambition cease to be operative; but at
+the same time his idea of the destiny of his nearest and dearest takes
+a soaring flight. Were he to fall next day, this letter would remain
+to show that honour and glory had been the last flames of his heroic
+imagination. But to-day, as always, everything discloses a meditation
+upon the historical parallels which have throughout life been his spur to
+greatness.
+
+Thus the letter is the burning-cold document of a statesman and poet, and
+only in this frame of mind is it becoming for a Napoleon to perish.
+
+At the same time, he is a great military commander to the last. When
+he divides the remnants of his army into two halves, and begins by
+defeating Blücher with one of them in a brilliant advance, the six
+battles he fights in nine days, from Champaubert to Montereau, are
+still in the avalanche tempo of General Bonaparte. But that the names
+of these battle-fields are French, tells us the whole story; hitherto
+his victories have always borne foreign names. At Montereau he is an
+artillerist once more, training the guns with his own hand as at Toulon.
+He cries: “Forward, comrades! The cannon ball that will hit me has not
+been cast!”
+
+He has settled accounts with Blücher. Now to deal with Schwarzenberg!
+But the Austrian is afraid of having his renown as commander dimmed,
+and is sedulous to avoid a decisive conflict; he actually writes direct
+to Berthier, suggesting that a truce be arranged in Châtillon. Enough
+for the Emperor to read this, and his lust for battle is redoubled.
+Another letter to Joseph, written with his own hand this time, breathing
+defiance, shrewd, bold:
+
+“You have been talking to my wife about the Bourbons, but you should
+avoid such topics. I have no wish to take shelter behind my wife.... That
+would only sow dissension between us.... I have never tried to win the
+applause of the Parisians, for I am no stage puppet.... Besides, the real
+Paris is something very different from the passions of the three thousand
+persons who are raising all the clamour. Of course it would be easier
+to explain that one cannot levy any soldiers, than it is to make the
+attempt.... Je vous embrasse!”
+
+It is many, many years since he has penned these words at the close of
+a letter. Not since the Marengo days has he written thus to any of his
+brothers or to any of his commanders—and Joseph is both. His heart is
+beating more vigorously. Next day, writing to Savary, who has informed
+him about a petition to the monarchs, and about the regency and fears
+and intrigues, his phrasing is more incisive, and bears witness to the
+excitement of a campaign:
+
+“They shall learn that I am still the man of Wagram and Austerlitz!
+I will have no intrigues in the State.... Let me tell you that if a
+petition against the public authority is being circulated, I will arrest
+King Joseph and all the others who sign it!... I want no tribunes of the
+people! I myself am the great tribune!”
+
+Meanwhile the allies are quarrelling. The tsar wants Paris to be placed
+under a Russian governor until the nation chooses Bernadotte or another;
+Austria will hear of nothing but a Bourbon restoration; Schwarzenberg
+wants peace to be made at once, and instead of joining battle is content
+to assume “a military attitude.” But Blücher, who has remarshalled his
+forces, simply cries “Forward!” and is on the march. When the allies
+once more send a proposal for the re-establishment of the old frontiers
+of France, the Emperor is enraged, saying: “I am so angry, that I feel
+dishonoured by the mere suggestion.” Being reminded that the enemy
+outnumbers him by three to one, he answers heroically: “I have fifty
+thousand men. Add myself, and you get a hundred and fifty thousand!”
+
+Now, at the beginning of March, when he is to attack Blücher once more,
+for the command of his other army he puts his trust in Marmont, his
+earliest companion-in-arms.
+
+But the spirit of revolt is rising. It had shown itself to Napoleon
+at Düben Castle in the previous autumn; during the winter it had been
+fomented in his brother’s circle; now it was to eventuate in treason
+under fire. Marmont, the first among men still above ground who had
+served under Napoleon, is also the first to betray him. Oudinot and
+Macdonald have lost the battle of Bar-sur-Aube. Now, at Laon, Marmont
+makes no more than a pretence of fighting, leaves his artillery in the
+town square, thus snatches victory from his master, and even allows
+himself to be surprised in his camp. “The Emperor would have been
+justified in cutting him down,” says Berthier, “but is so fond of him
+that, after making a scene, he has left him in command of his corps.”
+
+What is more natural than that, during these days, his heart should go
+out to the friends of his youth? But Marmont is not the only traitor to
+whom he is lenient! Augereau, who had fought beside him at Rivoli, begins
+to make signals to the Austrians, fails to be at his post. The reprimand
+he receives is an affectionate one. Napoleon writes to him almost as if
+they were still brothers in the field, as of old.
+
+“Six hours’ rest were not enough for you?... What pitiful excuses you
+are making, Augereau! No money! No horses! I command you to take the
+field within twelve hours of receiving this. If you are still the old
+Augereau of Castiglione, you can keep your command. But if you find the
+burden of your sixty years so heavy, hand over the command to the oldest
+of your generals. The country is in danger!... You should be the first
+in the firing line. We must all put on our seven-leagued boots, and must
+find the reckless courage of ’93. If the French soldiers see your plumes
+at the outposts, you will be able to lead your men whithersoever you
+please.”
+
+Here we have General Bonaparte once more. The red of sunset reminds us of
+the glories of sunrise.
+
+Owing to Marmont’s retreat, the Emperor is left unsupported at
+Arcis-sur-Aube, and has no more than a few thousand men with which
+to face a great army. Defeat is inevitable. During the height of the
+battle, a dust eddy sweeps across the field. A thousand dragoons are
+panic-stricken, and take to flight, shouting: “The Cossacks!” The
+Emperor gallops forward into the press. “Dragoons! Turn and fight! You
+are running away, but I stand firm!” He draws his sword and charges
+the enemy, followed only by his staff and the bodyguard. Six thousand
+Cossacks take to flight. It is years upon years since he has led a
+cavalry attack. His horse is shot under him, and he mounts another.
+Berthier reports that the Emperor was obviously hoping to find death on
+the field.
+
+But death does not come for the asking. No more than Cæsar, Cromwell, or
+Frederick, is Napoleon destined for this swift, heroic end. Such men are
+something more than military commanders, and must live out their lives
+as leaders of nations,—even though they have to fight against their own
+nation. Henceforward the blows thicken, and each blow is symbolical.
+
+But who can wonder if, at last, men forsake the despiser of men? He has
+made princes of his soldiers; should it surprise us that they prefer
+their princedoms to a soldier’s death? Need we wonder that a wife sprung
+from an ancient ruling house, married off to an upstart, should be quick
+to repudiate him and to become a Habsburg once more? That his brothers,
+in whom he has shown too much trust, should, when disaster comes, think
+of themselves rather than of the man to whom they owe everything?
+
+When, in his last letters to Marie Louise, he asks her to write to her
+father, she complies with a bad grace, and, instead of following the
+example of Maria Theresa, she pens cold letters which can serve as hints
+to her father and his ministers. News reaches the allied headquarters
+that the English have landed in Bordeaux, and that the Bourbon flag has
+been hoisted there; a letter from the Emperor to his wife is intercepted,
+a letter in which he announces his intention to withdraw behind the
+Marne. It is enough; at length all are agreed for the march on Paris.
+
+In this utmost danger, Napoleon has still a last bold shift. He will arm
+the peasants as a national reserve; they will be ready to his hand, for
+they hate the invading foreigners. But now tidings come that Marmont has
+allowed himself to be beaten once more, and is withdrawing to Paris with
+Mortier. Like one who hears that his house is on fire, the Emperor storms
+back towards Paris, entrusts the command of his troops to Berthier, and
+rides citywards with his bodyguard. Then, leaving everything behind,
+he jumps with Caulaincourt into a post-chaise, hoping it will not be
+too late to seize the reins of power. After how many victories has he
+not driven in such a carriage through the gates of his capital? Always
+his thoughts have circled round the problem, “What is Paris saying? How
+shall I find things there?” But now there is only one idea pulsing in
+his brain: Will three persons stand firm till I come; three to whom I
+can entrust the safety of the realm? The empress as regent, Joseph as
+governor of Paris, Marmont as leader of the strongest corps!
+
+Night. Change of horses. A squad of soldiers led by an officer. The
+officer reports: “I am under Marshal Mortier’s orders, and am seeking
+quarters for the troops that are being withdrawn.”
+
+“Troops being withdrawn? Where is the empress? Where is King Joseph?”
+
+“Her Majesty, with the king of Rome, fled yesterday to Blois. King Joseph
+left Paris to-day.”
+
+“Where is Marmont?”
+
+“I don’t know, Sire.”
+
+Beads of sweat form on the Emperor’s forehead; his lips twitch nervously;
+he is horrified at the news. He breaks out: “Forward! To-morrow the
+guards will be here. The National Guard is on my side. Once within the
+walls of Paris, I shall only leave the town as a conqueror or as a dead
+man!”
+
+With difficulty, Caulaincourt persuades him to renounce this foolhardy
+design. The Emperor orders that Marmont’s corps is to take up its
+position behind the Essonne. Then he says to his minister: “Hasten to
+Paris! Go on negotiating for a treaty. I have been betrayed and sold. You
+have full powers. I will wait for you here. It is not far. Forward!”
+
+He drives a hundred paces nearer, and can see the waters of the Seine.
+But what is mirrored therein? The enemy’s watch-fires! At the outposts,
+the invaders are cooking supper and singing songs; while the Emperor,
+on the left bank with two post-chaises and a few servants, watches them
+under cover of the darkness.
+
+Then he has the carriage turned, and drives to Fontainebleau.
+
+
+XIV
+
+Next morning, Talleyrand is sitting in his bedchamber, submitting to the
+ministrations of his valet. This statesman of the revolution still has
+his wig dressed in the rococo style. The door is thrown open, and almost
+before the servant has time to announce him, Count Nesselrode hurries
+in to greet the friend of many years’ standing. He gets covered with
+powder from head to foot, Talleyrand informs us. Two hours later, the
+tsar himself comes to stay with his intimate friend as guest; he will not
+put up at the Elysée for fear of bombs. The moment for which Napoleon’s
+minister has worked indefatigably for six years has come at last, and
+the smiling victors shake hands with a sense of moral righteousness:
+virtue has triumphed! After knocking at the gates of Paris for two and
+twenty years, the legitimist monarchs have at length been admitted.
+This is their great moment. They have ridden into the city. A small
+party of Bourbon supporters has hailed them as liberators; the Faubourg
+Saint-Germain has rallied. Elsewhere in Paris, silence reigns. Every one
+is calmly waiting to see whether, on the morrow, Napoleon or Louis is to
+be called master.
+
+The Emperor’s fate is sealed, for Joseph, in his cowardly flight and in
+spite of Napoleon’s warnings, has not taken Talleyrand along with him,
+but has left that cleverest and most dangerous of enemies in Paris. It is
+not fixity of purpose on the part of the nation that brings the Emperor
+to his doom; nor are the four allied foes unanimous as to his fate. He is
+ruined by the co-operation of faithless servants and treacherous friends,
+under the guidance of a man who is both—for Talleyrand, with the good
+graces of the tsar, takes upon himself the spiritual leadership of the
+next ten days. Now the intriguer is in his true element.
+
+Yesterday he received another guest. Talleyrand by no means hates the
+Emperor, but has from the first sign of Napoleon’s decline, forsaken
+his master in order that he himself may climb. He has no wish to wreak
+vengeance on a prisoner, and, indeed, has no reason for revenge.
+Still, it would be convenient were the disturber of the peace quietly
+to disappear; and therefore he promises a goodly reward to a certain
+Maubreuil (a monarchist officer with an adventurous past) if this man
+“will carry out an important commission on the road to Fontainebleau.”
+But the adventurer’s heart fails him at the last moment, and he is
+content to attack Jerome’s brave young wife and carry off her jewels,
+instead of making an attempt on Napoleon’s life. Blücher, too, on his own
+initiative, has sent a detachment with definite orders to make an end of
+the Emperor.
+
+“Well, what does France want?” asks the tsar of the abbé, as a man of
+wide experience. Talleyrand has long had in mind the restoration of the
+former king, but he thinks it best to ask whom Alexander would recommend.
+Somewhat diffidently, the tsar mentions the name of Bernadotte.
+Talleyrand smiles: “France does not want any more soldiers. If we wanted
+one we should keep the one we have already, the finest soldier in the
+world. No other, in his place, would find a hundred men to follow him.”
+Talleyrand says this to the conqueror, says it in plain words to the
+tsar; the defeated Emperor at Fontainebleau could have wished no greater
+tribute of admiration than such words from such lips in such a situation.
+
+A day later, Talleyrand summons the Senate, and the legislature confirms
+the decision that the Emperor must abdicate. There is a general swing
+of opinion in this direction. Caulaincourt is the only one who puts up
+a fight for Napoleon, and tries to win over the tsar. For a moment,
+Alexander’s impressionable heart is touched; the image of his whilom
+friend rises before his mind; he wavers, and says that he will do his
+best with his allies to save the crown for the king of Rome.
+
+But while the impotent Caulaincourt is trying to persuade the vacillating
+tsar, and is doing what he can to save the house of Bonaparte, at this
+same hour on the third of April, Talleyrand has summoned Marshal Marmont
+who, with his twelve thousand men across the Seine, is still a power,
+since the main body of the allies has not yet reached Paris.
+
+See them sitting there, Napoleon’s companion-in-arms and senior officer,
+hobnobbing with the doyen of the Emperor’s ministers. The diplomat
+reasons coldly with the soldier, who hardly needs to listen to the
+arguments. He is hopelessly disillusioned, tired out. His faith had been
+shaken three years ago in Spain. His thoughts run this wise: “What is
+the use of trying to march with a dead man? The king is dead; long live
+the king! At the military academy, we were all monarchists. His defeat
+is a proof that the Bourbons have the right of it. The only choice is
+between being stood up in front of an old wall or taking one’s stand
+behind an old throne. The oath of allegiance? That has been abrogated.
+The ties of friendship? Only the other day, he was scolding me after the
+Laon affair.” Acting on the suggestion of his old acquaintance, Marmont
+writes to Schwarzenberg, the allies’ commander-in-chief:
+
+“By the decree of the Senate, the army and the people have been released
+from their obligation of fealty to Napoleon. I am ready to promote an
+understanding between people and army, in order to avoid civil war.”
+Upon this pretext, which he subsequently endeavoured to fortify with
+the excuse of patriotism (the paltry argument of every turncoat), the
+Emperor’s senior marshal destroys the Emperor. Augereau, in a shameful
+proclamation, is quick to follow Marmont’s lead.
+
+At the time when Talleyrand is winning over the marshals, the Emperor in
+Fontainebleau is reviewing his guards. To them he exclaims: “Never shall
+we allow any one to wear in Paris the white cockade of the émigrés....
+In a few days we will attack the enemy in Paris!” The officers brandish
+their swords enthusiastically, shouting: “À Paris! Vive l’Empereur!” He
+waves his hand to them, and, smiling joyfully, he briskly mounts the
+steps, surrounded by his last ministers in their embroidered coats.
+
+Soon afterwards, a carriage draws up in the courtyard. Caulaincourt steps
+out; he is pale, having passed the night in a vigil. He approaches the
+Emperor. Berthier enquires: “Well, my lad, how goes it?” The minister
+hesitates to answer, for he does not like Berthier’s tone. Are the very
+nearest going to fall away too? He finds the Emperor at work.
+
+“What do they want of me?” asks Napoleon eagerly.
+
+“Great sacrifices, that you may retain the crown for your son.”
+
+“You mean that they refuse to treat with me! They want to make a helot of
+me, to hold me up as a warning to all those whose genius enables them to
+rule men and to make the born kings tremble on their ancient thrones!”
+
+Bonaparte’s metallic tone! Such is the mood produced in the Emperor by
+the sight of his guards, by the perusal of his latest muster rolls, by
+the study of his maps. Now the minister mentions the most moderate of the
+tsar’s demands. Napoleon is to abdicate in favour of the king of Rome,
+and then the terms of a regency will be discussed. But there is talk of a
+Bourbon restoration. The Emperor leaps to his feet:
+
+“They are mad! The Bourbons in France; they would not be able to hold
+their position for a year! Nine-tenths of the nation cannot endure them;
+my soldiers will never serve under them. They have lived for twenty years
+upon the alms of a foreigner, at war all the time with the fundamental
+principles of their homeland! The Senate consists entirely of regicides,
+or the sons of regicides. I was a newcomer, with nothing to take
+vengeance for; a man whose only business it was to upbuild.... No doubt
+they can draw profit out of the crash, can exile me and my family; but
+the Bourbons—never!”
+
+Thus does his work roll before his mind as in a rhapsody, lighted up by
+his contempt for those whom he succeeded and who are now to succeed him.
+He becomes the soldier once more. “They demand my abdication. Will the
+crown then be secure for my son? I have still fifty thousand men. They
+will march with me to Paris. After the victory, the people shall decide.
+If, then, the French want to chase me away, I will go.” See the conflict
+in his soul. As statesman, he is willing to abdicate, that his son may
+reign; as soldier, he is still eager to fight, that he may retain all.
+
+But while enthusiasm grows in the rank and file of his army, while the
+common soldiers are willing to give their lives for the Emperor, the
+marshals are malcontent. Although they have not yet heard of Marmont’s
+defection, they cherish like wishes, and would gladly shake off their
+allegiance to Napoleon if they could do so decently. This marked
+difference between the mood of the men and that of their leaders is
+once more a vengeance for the system of titles and monetary rewards
+with whose aid the military commander, when he had become an emperor,
+had transformed generals into marshals. Next day, the seniors among
+them are of one mind. Ney, Macdonald, Oudinot, and Lefèvre, in the most
+subservient way possible, speak to him of the advantages of abdication.
+
+The Emperor shows them his maps, which are again beset with coloured
+pins; he points out to them that the enemy is in an unfavourable
+position, and enumerates his own resources. All is vain! The frame of
+mind they had shown in Düben Castle, intensified a hundredfold, blocks
+his way. Silently he dismisses them, for he wants to think over a plan.
+Mentally, he has mustered his forces, and the total of his additions does
+not seem to him a bad one. A conditional renunciation, therefore, will
+not betoken anything more than an armistice, a postponement.
+
+A few hours after the audience of the marshals, he sends for
+Caulaincourt, and points to a holograph document on the table:
+
+“There is my abdication. You can take it to Paris.”
+
+The minister reads:
+
+“Since the allied powers have declared that Emperor Napoleon is the
+only obstacle to the peace of Europe, Emperor Napoleon, faithful to his
+oath, declares himself ready, for the welfare of his country, which is
+inseparable from the rights of his son, from those of the regency of the
+empress, and from the maintenance of the laws of the Empire, to descend
+from the throne, to give up France and even life itself.”
+
+What a style! A diplomatic document, involved in its phraseology,
+cautiously worded, ambiguous, penned for the inspection of diplomats of
+the old school. Nothing of Napoleon in it. The minister begs for the
+companionship of two of the marshals for so important a mission.
+
+“Take Marmont and Ney,” says the Emperor, adding, “Marmont is my oldest
+comrade.”
+
+“Marmont is not here.”
+
+“Macdonald, then.”
+
+Late that evening, three hours after the interview with Napoleon, the
+plenipotentiaries are at the Elysée confronting the allied princes and
+ministers. Most of the negotiations are carried on between the tsar
+and Caulaincourt. The latter’s contention that the French are heartily
+against the Bourbons has its effect; the parleys continue far into the
+night. Suddenly an announcement is made in Russian; the Frenchmen do not
+understand. Thereupon the tsar speaks: “You are relying, gentlemen, upon
+the unshakable loyalty of the troops towards the imperial regime. Well, I
+have just been informed that the advance guard, the sixth army corps, has
+deserted the Emperor. It has come over to our lines.”
+
+The allies’ task has become easier; they now demand instant and
+unconditional abdication. Meanwhile the Emperor sends one courier after
+another from Fontainebleau to his minister. He writes:
+
+“If they refuse to negotiate with me, what kind of a treaty will it
+be?... Bring back my act of abdication, I command you.... I will sign no
+treaty!”
+
+Next day at six o’clock in the morning the Emperor is at work with
+Berthier. A captain is introduced, an adjutant of Mortier’s.
+
+“Well, what news?”
+
+“The sixth army corps has gone over to the enemy. It is marching to
+Paris.”
+
+The Emperor seizes him by the arm and shakes it.
+
+“Marmont? Are you sure? Did the troops know where they were being led?”
+
+“During the night they were led into the Austrian camp. They were told
+that they were marching against the enemy.”
+
+“My men have to be duped before they can be torn away from me! Did you
+see Marmont at the time he set out?”
+
+“No, Sire.”
+
+“The cavalry, too?”
+
+“In close columns.”
+
+“Where is Mortier?”
+
+“He sent me to tell you that his corps will be loyal to you in life and
+in death. He awaits Your Majesty’s orders. The young guard is ready to
+die for you. All young France is ready!”
+
+The emperor steps close up to the young officer, looks him straight in
+the eyes, and with a friendly gesture allows his hand to slip under the
+fringe of the epaulette so that it may rest on the captain’s shoulder.
+Thus does the ageing Napoleon find support once more in the young men of
+France.
+
+When Caulaincourt brings the demands, he is accompanied only by Macdonald.
+
+“Where is Ney?”
+
+Silence. A pause. Then he is told the conditions. They probe him to the
+quick. To disavow the dynasty! For a decade the dynasty has been his goal.
+
+“My personal withdrawal did not suffice? Must I, with my signature,
+disinherit my wife and my son? I cannot do this! I won their throne for
+them by my deeds!” The paradox has taken such deep root in his thoughts
+that he has ceased to be aware of his existence. Then he counts his
+troops again.
+
+“I have twenty-five thousand men here; I can speedily bring up another
+eighteen thousand from Italy; Souchet has eighteen thousand, Soult forty.
+I shall fight!...”
+
+The remaining troops are loyal, but the leaders are weary of the
+struggle. Why does he not place himself at the head of his guards?
+Because he can only think in terms of marshals, because the feudalist
+atmosphere is cutting him off from his stalwarts.
+
+Here they all come again! They warn him, even Berthier joins with the
+others now, that Fontainebleau can easily be surrounded. He listens to
+them with dignified composure. Then he abruptly asks them whether they
+are prepared to march with him to the Loire; or to Italy, where they can
+join Eugene’s forces. Behind the proposal, we sense new plans of our
+adventurer. But the men who stand before him are marshals and Frenchmen;
+they breathe the words “civil war”; they advise him to abdicate. The
+island of Elba has been chosen for his dwelling place; he had better take
+what he can get! He dismisses them.
+
+“None of them has either heart or reins! I am not so much beaten by
+fortune, as by the ingratitude of my brothers-in-arms. It is infamous.
+All is over!”
+
+Without, in the drawing-room, groups of courtiers and dignitaries have
+assembled. Voices are hushed as though a king lay dead. All are awaiting
+the signature. The Emperor is well aware of this, he allows no one to
+enter his room, he will keep them waiting till morning. After a feverish,
+sleepless night, his negotiators find him sitting in his dressing-gown
+before the fire, a broken man and pitiable.
+
+They bring him the deed which they have signed in Paris that night. He
+is to receive Elba, and two million francs as annual subsidy; he is to
+retain the title of Emperor; he is to have a guard of four hundred men.
+Talleyrand had warned the allies that this proximity of the lion to
+France was a menace; he suggested Corfu, and even mentioned St. Helena.
+Fouché endeavours to shield the Emperor from a slow descent from the
+heights; in elegantly phrased letters he suggests that Napoleon should
+go straight to America, where, as a free citizen, life could be started
+anew.—The farther away from the coasts of Europe, the better!
+
+All this leaves the Emperor cold. He is visioning something different.
+He sees how Macdonald is standing the test; in his secret heart he
+is comparing this marshal with those others who have shown so much
+ingratitude; he feels now that he has not honoured the man enough. In
+this hour when he has to sign his abdication, Napoleon says:
+
+“I have not sufficiently rewarded you. Now I can do no more. Take the
+sword which Sultan Selim gave me and keep it in remembrance.” While all
+are waiting for the signature, the Emperor sends for the gilded scimitar,
+and embraces the general as he presents it. Then Napoleon signs the act
+of abdication.
+
+“The allied powers having declared that Emperor Napoleon is the sole
+obstacle to the re-establishment of peace in Europe, the Emperor,
+faithful to his oath, declares that he renounces, for himself and his
+heirs, the thrones of France and Italy, and that there is no sacrifice,
+not even that of life, which he is not ready to make for the interests of
+France.”
+
+The deed is done! All breathe freely again. The generals and the
+courtiers leave Fontainebleau; Maret alone remains. They hasten to Paris;
+even Berthier throws himself into the arms of the provisional government.
+Talleyrand and Fouché are at the head of things.
+
+But the Emperor remains another nine days in his palace, and he is
+not alone. Around him, unshaken, his guards are encamped; they still
+muster twenty-five thousand men. Who else is with him? His brothers
+have taken to their heels. What is Josephine doing, at Malmaison? After
+she has wept, and sworn that she will follow the forsaken Emperor, she
+receives Napoleon’s conqueror with sparkling eyes and adorned with all
+the pitiful appeal of a Niobe. The tsar wishes to play the part of a
+knightly cavalier, and succumbs to the renowned charms of the first
+empress. But Hortense, her daughter, receives the tsar’s visit coldly and
+off-handedly. As soon as he is gone, she hastens to Fontainebleau and
+remains with the Emperor till his departure.
+
+At first, his mother is with him. But, wishing to see her in safety, he
+persuades her to go away with Jerome. They will meet again later. When
+the empress says good-bye to Letizia, she utters polite commonplaces
+and wishes her mother-in-law well. The old lady, who sees through Marie
+Louise, and knows that all she cares for is security and enjoyment,
+answers this daughter of the Habsburgs: “That will depend upon you, and
+upon your future conduct.”
+
+The Emperor has no word from wife or son in reply to his numerous letters
+and messengers. While for himself he asks neither land nor money, for her
+he demands that, in addition to Parma, she should have Tuscany, or at
+least a strip of it which would bring her lands nearer to Elba and thus
+set up a link between man and wife. He writes to her advising as to the
+best halting-places on the route; Corvisart is to decide which waters
+will do her health most good; she is to take her personal treasure with
+her. Then he writes to the palace prefect that all the diamonds which are
+not her or his personal property must be given back to the treasury, for
+they belong to France.
+
+Meanwhile the government has sent a confidential agent to the Tuileries
+with orders to seize the imperial treasure. All the gold and securities,
+valued at one hundred and fifty millions, were taken away; in plain
+words, stolen. These sums had been saved by Napoleon from his civil list
+during the fourteen years of his rule. His silver plate, all personal
+articles of value, his golden snuff-boxes, and even his handkerchiefs
+embroidered with the initial N., were taken at the same time. The order
+for this bears, among others, Talleyrand’s signature. The Emperor, who
+until yesterday was the wealthiest man in Europe, journeys to Elba with
+three million francs as his fortune!
+
+He is profoundly disheartened. Can anything disillusion him further?
+Lucien writes to the pope the day after the abdication, and becomes a
+Roman prince. Murat, acting on the advice of Fouché (who holds the net
+of intrigues during these last weeks), has entered Rome, has advanced
+his troops towards Tuscany, invading Elise’s realm—always spurred on
+by Caroline, and always in alliance with England, which has occupied
+Tuscany. Elise, who at the last moment has staked on the wrong hazard,
+and has through a false calculation remained faithful to her brother,
+flees before her sister’s troops, brings a child into the world while
+lying up at a mountain tavern, and in Bologna is taken prisoner by the
+Austrians. The only two of the pack who have behaved decently are Jerome
+and his wife.
+
+The last days pass in sinister silence. “If a carriage drives into the
+palace yard, all prick up their ears. Is any one coming to bid Napoleon
+farewell? No one comes while affairs are being wound up. But a day or
+two before the departure, a veiled lady arrives, late in the evening. No
+one knows her, and she is not admitted. Countess Walewska waits a whole
+night, and when she goes away in the morning she leaves a letter for him.
+He sends after her, but she has gone. He writes:
+
+“Marie!... The feelings which animate you touch me profoundly. They are
+worthy of your lovely soul and the goodness of your heart.... Think
+affectionately of me! Never doubt me! N.”
+
+As soon as he has recovered his old tranquillity of mind, the Emperor
+is promptly animated with new energy. Has he not an island as base of
+operations? Who knows what may come of it? Corsica, too, is an island in
+the Mediterranean! He orders a monograph and studies the geography and
+statistics of Elba. “The air is wholesome, the inhabitants are honest
+folk, and I hope that my good Louise will like the place well enough.”
+He chooses his four hundred men; but the whole guard wants to go with
+him, though this will involve leaving wife and children. Among them are
+men whose hearts he had won two-and-twenty years earlier when he had
+been captain in Toulon, men who had followed his fortunes from Cairo to
+Moscow, through sixty battles.
+
+He cheers up. Discussing predetermination with the palace prefect, and
+how death has passed him by during the last battles, he adds:
+
+“A violent death is cowardice. I can see no greatness in shirking
+responsibility in that manner, like one who has gambled away his
+fortune.... Suicide is incompatible with my principles and with the
+position I have occupied in the world.” They walk up and down the terrace
+in silence for a time, and then he says with a smile: “Between ourselves,
+a living drummer is better than a dead emperor!”
+
+All the formalities have been accomplished; the allied commissioners
+who are to accompany him to Elba, four in number, have arrived; the
+start is fixed for noon. He writes in simple terms to tell his wife,
+and concludes: “Farewell, my good Louise. You can rest assured of the
+courage, the tranquillity, and the affection of your husband. N.” He adds
+as a postscript: “A kiss for the little king!”
+
+The start will be an easy matter, for no one has come to take leave.
+
+But there are to be leave-takings after all. The old guard is waiting
+for him in the palace yard, drawn up in a square. As he comes down the
+steps, thousands of eyes are fixed on him. He must say something. What
+can he say? For twenty years he has only spoken to these men just before
+a battle and just after a victory, to inspire them or to thank them.
+Well, he will thank them now, though there has been no victory; he will
+thank them for the hundred victories of the past. He steps forward. “Vive
+l’Empereur!” He enters the square, and says:
+
+“Soldiers of my old guard, I take leave of you. For twenty years I have
+seen you always upon the path of honour and glory. During the last few
+weeks, you have been models of bravery and fidelity, just as in the
+years of good fortune.... But there would have been civil war. That is
+why I sacrificed all other interests to those of the country. I am going
+away.... You, friends, continue to serve France. Her happiness has been
+my only thought. My good wishes go with you. Do not mourn my fate. If I
+have determined to go on living, it is that I may increase your fame. I
+shall write the story of the great deeds we wrought together. Farewell,
+my children. I would gladly press you all to my heart. At least let me
+kiss your colours!”
+
+The general holds out the colours. Napoleon embraces him, and kisses the
+flag. “Good-bye, comrades!” He gets into the carriage. “Vive l’Empereur!”
+He drives away.
+
+The war-hardened veterans stand there, blubbering like children. Their
+father has gone away. Never had he spoken to them more movingly. The
+dignified pathos of ancient Rome, the ardent imagery of his manifestoes,
+the similes and the exaltations, have vanished with the fever of
+battle. This Emperor spoke like a commander, this commander spoke like
+a company leader. His words were manly, blunt, and restrained. When he
+kissed the colours, it was an unparalleled gesture; never before had he
+done anything of the kind. They will tell their grandchildren what the
+great Emperor, their “petit caporal,” has said to them this day. The
+grandchildren will tell their grandchildren in turn, and so the story
+will go down the generations.
+
+But hardly has he left this soldierly atmosphere, in which he grew to
+manhood and then to greatness, when he has to face the mob. After the
+sobs of his old soldiers, come clamour, cries, and curses! As the train
+of carriages drives swiftly through Provence, the threatening shouts of
+the people deafen him: “Down with the tyrant! Kill the wretch!” In the
+villages where the horses are changed, women rage round his carriage,
+screaming at him, flinging stones, trying to force the coachman to
+shout “Vive le Roi!” At one of these villages, the crowd has prepared
+an effigy, a uniform coat stuffed with straw and smeared with mire
+and blood. Here they hail him with the cry: “Kill the murderer!” The
+carriages press on at top speed and the journey becomes a flight.
+Napoleon’s first flight.
+
+With rigid face, the Emperor looks at the mob and listens to the cries of
+execration. Are these the same people who ran beside his carriage, eager
+to catch a glance from his eyes? They are indeed the same! What he is now
+experiencing, he had foreseen, with the seer’s vision of the misanthrope,
+at his first entry into Paris when the crowd had jubilantly welcomed
+him as conqueror. He sits huddled in a corner of the carriage, pale and
+silent; at each halt, the foreign commissioners jump out to guard the
+windows of his coach. Will he bear all this without making a sign? Will
+he draw his sword? He does not wear one now. In mufti, he can get away
+from his country, but not in his green uniform. Only once before has
+he had such an experience. It was on the Nineteenth Brumaire, when the
+radicals were shaking their fists at him. Then he did not draw his sword.
+Then, as now, he was powerless against the mob, for it was not his trade
+to beat the mutable many, nor was it his talent to persuade them. He is
+not a tribune; he is an emperor. One who can command as well as he, can
+do nothing but command. If he fights, it must be in a battle.
+
+Movement! Air! In a lonely road, he has the carriage stopped, and one of
+the post-horses taken out of the traces. He fixes a white cockade on his
+plain round hat, and rides in front of the carriages, outstripping them,
+his servant following. Thus he makes his way to Aix, but halts short of
+the town, enters a wayside inn, and gives his name there as Campbell, a
+British colonel. This is his sixth name.
+
+The little Provençal maid who waits at table prattles: “They’ll finish
+him off before he reaches the sea!” “Colonel Campbell” nods, saying “Of
+course, of course!” to all her utterances. Then, when he is left alone
+with his servant, his head droops on the man’s shoulder, he has a nap to
+make up for two sleepless nights. Kindly nature, this is your gift to the
+greatest of your warriors! When he wakes, the recent sounds and sights
+recur to his mind. With a shudder, he says in low tones:
+
+“Never again! I shall be happier in Elba than ever before. The sciences
+now, nothing more. I do not want to wear another European crown. You have
+seen what the people really is. Was I not right to despise man?”
+
+When the carriages reach the inn, he thinks it wise, warned by his
+previous experiences, to change his clothes once more. Since time
+presses, he puts on the uniform of an Austrian general which belongs to
+Commissioner Koller; surmounts it with the cap of Truchsess, the Prussian
+colonel; and has a Russian cloak hung round his shoulders by Shuvaloff.
+Thus bedecked in a carnival costume, pieced together from garments
+belonging to the three allied powers, a fool on the heath, does Emperor
+Napoleon escape from his country.
+
+Fréjus at last! This is the port where he landed on his return from
+Egypt, a beaten commander, who had lost all the battleships of France,
+and ought to have been tried by court-martial! But how enthusiastic,
+then, had been his reception by this leaderless people, for the memory
+of his successful Italian campaign was still fresh. Then, he had driven
+through triumphal arches on the journey to Paris; the journey he had now
+been making in the reverse direction, in danger of being stoned, and
+escaping murder only by a mummer’s disguise! Fifteen years lie between,
+the rebirth of a State, the glory of a nation. Europe lies between, the
+clash of arms, dead soldiers rotting in their graves, the returning hero
+received with frenzied acclamations, a marshal rising from pothouse
+to palace, men of genius taking sides for and against the conquering
+nation—and a circlet of little golden leaves which the foreigner from
+the Mediterranean island had, with the simplicity of the self-made man,
+placed on his own brow.
+
+
+XV
+
+How big Corsica is! How high her mountains! Bastia is an admirable
+harbour; its fortifications can be seen through a spyglass. If taken from
+the eastern side....
+
+When the ruler of Elba rides among the hills of his new home, the
+silhouette of his old home lies spread before him; everything looms
+larger across the water. Forty times bigger, ten times as many
+inhabitants; he has all the figures, to a unit, in his head. Elba is
+nothing more than a mole-hill.
+
+On the clear May morning when he landed, he was welcomed by a deputation
+of peasants and petty burghers in Porto Ferrajo. Timidly they had paid
+their compliments to the man who was to reign over them. But their
+astonishment was great when, instead of inviting them to a banquet,
+he leapt into the saddle and rode off to inspect the fortifications.
+On the morrow, orders began to fly about the sleepy little isle:
+Pianosa was to have two more batteries; the mole must be lengthened;
+the roads improved. When first the four hundred grenadiers appeared in
+the land, the natives looked at them askance as men of a foreign race.
+Soon, however, the forces were increased by the creation of a foreign
+battalion, and a National Guard. Napoleon once more has an army of over a
+thousand men; soon he has a small flotilla likewise. What for? Just for
+him to see after and take care of. He has a Council of State; Bertrand
+and Drouot (the generals who have accompanied him into exile) and a dozen
+inhabitants of the island, are members; and, together with Napoleon who
+presides over the assembly, they discuss improvements in the iron mines
+and the salt pits. Have you no mulberry culture here? The silkworms bring
+in good money over there, in Lyons; and if the French government imposes
+a tariff upon our produce, we can easily sell to Italy.
+
+Save! We are so poor, and France makes no move to pay the promised
+allowance. The white house is smaller than the one in Ajaccio, and
+very much simpler; but there is no money for building additional
+accommodation; and when the “grand marshal” Bertrand draws up a list of
+mattresses and other bedgear, his master underlines the mistakes,—for he
+has every detail of his establishment by heart.
+
+Is this indefatigable man never to realise what a parody is his
+administration over the tiny island, the diminutive army, the small
+household? Never! Here in Elba, where in the best of spirits and health
+he throws himself whole-heartedly into his undertakings, he comes to
+realise that it was not the masses that had allured him. To order, to
+build, to press his finger into the wax of humanity, these things he
+must do, urged onward by the impulse of his artist’s soul. But, since
+humanity is not as wax, and since his constructions can never be finished
+and are always vibrant with life; since the opposition of material
+forces also takes a hand in the game, even when matter seems to have
+been conquered—he can only fulfil his mission by coercing and conquering
+the human spirit, by issuing orders and bringing suggestions to bear, by
+constant vigilance and constant upbuilding; in a word, by ruling. He has
+never been a dilettante or a parvenu; and, this being so, he drives the
+little wheel to-day with just as much precision and earnestness as he had
+driven the earth’s sphere in former days.
+
+But soon, when most of his enterprises are in good going order, he feels
+he is becoming lazy, even when he is studying mathematics. This causes
+him to reconsider his position.
+
+“It is by no means difficult to accustom oneself to a life of
+meditation,” he writes, “if one possesses within oneself the necessary
+reserves. I work hard in my study; when I emerge I have the delightful
+spectacle of my old grenadiers in front of me.... Born kings must suffer
+terribly when they are dethroned, for pomp and etiquette are the very
+marrow of their lives. For my part, I have always been a soldier, and
+became a king only by chance, so that these things have been nothing but
+a burden to me, whereas wars and camps come naturally. Out of my great
+past, I regret naught but my soldiers. After all my treasures and my
+crowns, my most cherished possessions are the couple of French uniforms
+they have allowed me to keep.”
+
+These are the words of an unpretentious king. Do people not believe him?
+And does Europe laugh when, in his kingdom of Lilliput, he preserves
+the forms of kingship? Does Europe begin to suspect a secret in the
+island? The innate dignity, whereby long ago the young general had wrung
+respect from the bearers of inherited rank, to-day is still able to hold
+satirical visitors in check. Every one admires the natural simplicity of
+the lonely man who, despite the exiguity of his dwelling, still holds to
+the title of “Majesty.” He lives in his island sans palace or fittings,
+sans court or ministers, only surrounded with the aureole of his deeds.
+
+This return home brings solace to his heart—for Elba is Italy. The
+peasant speaks to him in the language Napolione had learned at Letizia’s
+knee. The Mediterranean amid whose waters he was born and reared, the
+islands with their quiet shores, do they not all of them bring back
+memories of youthful days? Stone-pines, fig trees, and crags; the white
+houses among the vineyards; the sails, and the fishermen’s nets; pride of
+clan, and the headkerchief worn at church; all these things seem to take
+him gently by the hand and lead him back to the dreams of childhood. Now
+the storm-racked nerves relax, and at length know a spell of repose. In
+these wholesome months, the Emperor comes to look upon his career as a
+visionary flight into the land of childish imagination; and it is only
+when he contemplates the men of his old guard that he realises something
+did happen during the years that separate Corsica from Elba.
+
+“The Emperor lives very contentedly on his island,” writes one who
+accompanied him there. “He seems to have forgotten the past. The
+management of his small household gives him occupation; he is now looking
+out for a suitable site to build his country-seat; we ride, and drive,
+and sail round the coasts as much as we please.”
+
+Since he has plenty of time on his hands, and since thrift is essential,
+he examines everything, to the minutest details. Just as, in the
+Tuileries, he himself drew up the list of his clothing, so now, in Elba,
+he says to Bertrand: “My underlinen is in a lamentable state. Part of it
+has never been unpacked, and it has not been marked. Give orders that
+everything must be laid out in drawers and presses, and that no one is to
+be given anything belonging to our court without furnishing a receipt....
+There are not enough ordinary chairs. Have a sample sent from Pisa; they
+must not cost more than five francs apiece.”
+
+Europe laughs when it hears of this. Posterity stands bewildered before
+such energetic renunciation.
+
+Once only do we hear a gentle sigh. He has climbed to the top of a hill
+whence he can look over the whole of his realm. Surveying the prospect,
+he says: “One must acknowledge that the island is very small.” Like
+distant thunder, the fate of a man seems to rumble in these words; for an
+all too great imagination, confined within the narrow limits of Europe
+and cribbed within the circle of the folk intelligence of the nineteenth
+century, is doomed at the outset to be crushed.
+
+With the summer, comes his mother. She, alone, is happy. Her son is
+no longer threatened with assassination or with battles. Here, all is
+peaceful and warm; Elba is almost as lovely as Corsica. Daily intercourse
+with him renews for her the good old times. It is as well that she has
+come; for, from the millions which she alone has put by, she now brings
+her son what he needs; and when he receives her banknotes, may we not
+picture mother and son smiling at one another? On his name-day, she
+invites him to a little rustic feast.
+
+[Illustration: Napoleon as Emperor. Engraving by Bourgeois, after a
+painting by Jacques Louis David.
+
+(From the “Corpus Imaginum” of the Photographic Society, Charlottenburg.)]
+
+A dozen and more St. Napoleon days she has spent in Paris: the guns would
+fire the salute from the Invalides, Masses would be said; Senate and
+ministers, the court and foreign diplomats, would throng the halls of the
+Tuileries. When, in the evening, the rooms were filled with guests, and,
+amid the strains of music, there came and went all that France possessed
+of great names, of beauty, and of precious jewels; when the fireworks
+filled the August night-sky with brightness, and thousands of tiny lamps
+formed the initial N.—Letizia, surrounded by the kings who were the fruit
+of her womb, would stand silent and proud, thinking the old words so full
+of ominous warning. But to-day she is blithe; to-day she compares this
+jocund festivity with the little town of Ajaccio; to-day, for the first
+time, she thinks: “All the same, we achieved something fine!”
+
+Letizia had been able, while in Rome, to heal many wounds dealt in the
+heat of the fray. The pope, on his return, had pardoned the mother of
+his sometime foe. She was not surprised when the whole court, when even
+her secretary (a Corsican), speedily went over to the Bourbon king. Has
+she not always foretold it? Caroline, alone, is not permitted to appear
+before her.
+
+Pauline, Princess Borghese, merry and brilliant, does not hang long in
+the wind. She has always been the most affectionate, and has been clever
+enough to prefer real diamonds and nights of love to uncertain thrones
+and crowns. She comes to the island, so that, with her mother, she may
+bring cheer to the Emperor. She shakes out a basketful of gossip and news
+for his delectation.
+
+Hardly a word from his brothers. One letter comes from Lucien. What
+propositions can he be laying before his banished brother? Will he, who
+lives in princely fashion in Rome, with magnanimous generosity offer
+Napoleon money or bring his influence to bear in his imperial brother’s
+behalf? What does the “Prince of Canino” by the pope’s grace write in his
+letter? He owns smelting furnaces, and Elba has iron ore wherewith to
+feed them: he asks his brother to provide him with the minerals. Crowns
+and gold, he has refused; but iron, which his brother still possesses, he
+can make good use of. Maybe he, who is a poet, is enjoying the farce of
+these blast-furnaces! Is it not a kindness that one still thinks of the
+exile? Who else writes?
+
+Josephine is dead. A few weeks after Napoleon’s departure, she died at
+Malmaison. No one knows if she ever wrote to him; what is certain is
+that she left debts amounting to three millions, which he had to pay.
+Hortense has been separated from her husband. She has become a duchess,
+and has made her most graceful curtsey before the Bourbon king, in the
+very room where she and her mother had held sway for so long. Little
+Léon, whom Letizia had for a time with her in Rome, resembles his father;
+he is reported to be courageous and full of pranks. These are all the
+members of Napoleon’s family about whom he has news.
+
+An English vessel brings the unknown lady who visited Fontainebleau
+to the island. In a marquee, beneath the chestnut trees, the Emperor
+receives Countess Walewska. For two days and two nights they are
+inseparable. The Emperor only issues forth to give the necessary orders,
+and the four-year-old boy, dressed in the Polish national costume, plays
+in the meadow with the tall grenadiers. The Emperor would like to keep
+Walewska by his side, but he does not wish to provide the empress with
+an excuse for not coming to live with him. Thus, for the second time,
+he sacrifices on the altar of the Habsburg princess the phantom of his
+happiness. Walewska sails away. Her ship encounters bad weather, and the
+Emperor is filled with restless anxiety until he receives tidings that
+she has arrived safely at Leghorn.
+
+How marvellously are the threads weaving themselves into the tissue of
+a legend! With wizard spells this man of forty-five links up epochs and
+customs. Here he is, a petty prince on a Mediterranean isle: he receives
+his beloved, the lady with whom he had lived in the imperial palace at
+Schönbrunn when he himself was an enemy and unknown to the proprietor;
+to-day he is once again this man’s foe, and another woman whom he had
+invited to his arms from the self-same palace has long since forsaken
+him; yet his natural son, born in a lonely castle in Poland, is playing
+beneath the trees of the southern land and wears the dress of a foreign
+folk which the Emperor had once promised to free. Who could believe that
+all this had come to pass within five years? A hundred years seemed
+likelier for the accomplishment of so many events. With such nets, what
+other fish could one expect to catch but the golden ones of the fairy
+tale? A thousand years ago a great emperor was banished and left forsaken
+on an island; but from a distant realm a beautiful, tragical woman found
+the way to him across the sea, and brought him his son.
+
+In truth Napoleon is forsaken by wife and child. This loss cuts him no
+less, maybe even more cruelly, than the loss of power, for his conception
+of marriage is conservative and bourgeois. Constantly, even during the
+via dolorosa of his last journey through France, he has written to Marie
+Louise; he has planned a new house for her. But his letters remain
+unanswered. Believing that his correspondence has been intercepted, he at
+last writes to the grand duke of Tuscany, her uncle, begging for news;
+for “I trust that Your Royal Highness has preserved a little friendliness
+towards me, in spite of the events which have changed the sentiments of
+so many men.... If so, I beg that you will look favourably upon the tiny
+commune which feels the same towards you as does Tuscany....” Ay, thus
+writes the prince of this diminutive isle, a prince with no more than
+twenty thousand subjects, to the mighty grand duke! But the grand duke
+keeps silence.
+
+When Napoleon realises the sluggishness of the human heart, his old
+defiance regains the ascendant. It is with a sense of relief that we
+hear his well-known voice ring out again, after the anguish of this
+grovelling letter—a letter that would never have been written but for his
+wife’s sake. He exclaims: “These sovereigns, who were wont to send me,
+in all solemnity, their delegations of ambassadors, who gave a daughter
+of their blood to share my bed, and who called me ‘Brother,’ are now
+cursing me as a usurper, and spit upon my picture since they cannot
+spit upon the original. They have bespattered the majesty of kings with
+mud! What is the title of emperor? Had I no other name to bequeath,
+posterity would laugh.... In classical days, the vanquished were robbed
+of their children, that these might be paraded before the people when the
+conqueror was celebrating his triumph....”
+
+What must be the tenor of Napoleon’s thoughts when he learns how, on that
+shameful day of cowardice and confusion, the lad of four had refused to
+leave the palace of his father; of how, when the little king of Rome
+had met his grandfather for the first time, he had uttered the innocent
+words: “I have seen the emperor of Austria. He is not handsome.” This
+was precisely what Napoleon had wished to avoid. The fate of Astyanax
+has been prepared for the boy; and even though he is made much of, the
+child is well aware that he must no longer mention his father’s name.
+Though he has received the symbolical names of Napoleon Francis and
+thus embodies the unhappy union of two antagonistic worlds, the name of
+Napoleon is soon destined to be heard no more. For, when the young cuckoo
+is introduced into the Habsburg nest, he is called Francis, and nothing
+else. Later, when the empress’ secretary is leaving Vienna and presents
+himself to take farewell, the boy draws him into a window recess and says
+in a hurried whisper: “Tell my father I love him tremendously!”
+
+What must be the tenor of Napoleon’s thoughts when he hears gossip
+about a certain Neipperg, an Austrian officer, a man of no account, and
+one whose only way into history is through the bedroom of a Habsburg
+princess—who would herself never have been heard of had it not been for
+her marriage to Napoleon. Thus terrible are the blows of fate, and his
+intimates think it natural enough when they see their master weeping over
+his boy’s portrait.
+
+But now Pauline arrives, fascinating as ever, in the best of spirits.
+To amuse him, she mimics the grimaces that are made by the worthies
+of the island and their wives when, at the weekly receptions, the
+Emperor asks them how many children they have, and whether they
+think he ought to build a hospital. As the year draws on, Italians
+from the mainland come in increasing numbers. Persons with
+satisfactory recommendations—historians, poets, men of birth, and even
+Englishmen—secure a good reception; and he will talk to them for hours,
+though only of the past, with never a word about the future. He is
+delighted to hear such visitors rail at the Austrian regime which has now
+been set up once more, but he will pay no heed to conspirators who wish
+him to come to Italy as leader of a revolt. His thoughts range towards
+the other coast, and by slow degrees mature into plans.
+
+What is Paris saying?
+
+To him this is still the question of questions. The news brought to him
+in the journals twice a week, and the information he gleans from his
+visitors, lead him to turn new possibilities over in his mind. But it
+must not be supposed that Napoleon began the new epoch with a definite
+plan. When he landed in Elba, it was an open question in his mind whether
+he would ever quit the island. Still, the thought of future possibilities
+was intensified in him by the usual forebodings of an adventurer—the
+adventurer he had become since the failure at Moscow. “A living drummer
+is better than a dead emperor.” Slowly, as the conditions change, he
+makes plans and rejects them, renews and modifies his designs. They turn
+upon what is happening in Paris and in Vienna.
+
+What is Paris saying about the Bourbons? Hardly is Napoleon away, when
+they make their “entry” after the usual manner of exiled kings who
+return; and though the newspapers, under duress of the censorship the
+Emperor had established, lie like troopers, in his remote island he can
+learn the ridiculous truth. Four persons are sitting in a small carriage.
+The Parisians, whose risibilities are easily touched, certainly have
+something to laugh at. The king is there, in an amazing rig-out, in
+plain clothes, but decked with gigantic epaulettes; a man so fat that he
+has three chins; and he smiles at the gaping crowd. Beside him is the
+duchess of Angoulème, her face tearful with reminiscence. On the opposite
+seat are the prince of Condé, a very old man, and the duke of Bourbon;
+they wear the uniforms of the good old days, which none of the younger
+onlookers have ever seen before. This carriage, freighted with the
+resurrected ghosts of those who had been laid to rest twenty-two years
+ago, was attended by Emperor Napoleon’s sulky-looking guard, men whose
+uniforms, shot and slashed, bore witness to the titanic struggles that
+had been waged in the interim.
+
+The Emperor makes eager enquiries concerning the habits of his successor
+on the throne, and is gratified to learn that Louis has taken over his
+room without making any changes. The king’s demeanour is said to be far
+from regal. According to a German description of this date, Louis was
+“extremely obese, so fat that he can hardly walk. Wearing black satin
+boots, he is supported on each side, and would stumble over a straw. He
+is clad in a sort of blue soutane with a turn-over red collar and hanging
+golden epaulettes of an antique pattern.” This sort of thing keeps the
+Emperor amused for a whole hour. For a dozen years, England has been
+publishing caricatures depicting Napoleon’s camp manners in the palace
+of the Bourbons, and now this legitimate ruler, set up by England, is a
+veritable caricature of a monarch. What is Louis doing to show his good
+will towards the people?
+
+He has granted a constitution? But soon comes news that this gracious
+gift exists only on paper. The old inequalities, the privileges of caste,
+which had cost the present king’s brother his head, are quietly stealing
+in through the back door. The nobles are not liable to military service,
+and men of humble birth have no chance of rising to high office. The
+new nobility is made a mock of. King Louis, a good old man, reasonable
+enough, is led by his brother, the gloomy count of Artois. Around the
+latter are concentrated the vengeful émigrés, who are demanding the
+return of their property; but the law guarantees the rights of the actual
+holders. The king, therefore, gives peerages and large pensions to the
+émigrés.
+
+What is this? So the clergy is rising to power once more! The priests are
+on the side of the old nobility, and by threats of hell-fire induce the
+dying to execute wills in favour of the sometime owners of confiscated
+property. On Sundays, though the new constitution guarantees religious
+freedom, all business is suspended under threat of punishment. Religious
+processions again make their way through the streets. But there is a
+reaction against ecclesiasticism. When Christian burial is refused to an
+actress who has lived a gay life and is the darling of the Parisians,
+there is a riot, the first under the restored regime.
+
+People are beginning to see how much they owed to their foreign
+liberator. With intense delight, the exile contemplates a caricature
+showing Louis riding pillion behind a Cossack, making his way into France
+over French corpses. When Wellington, the conqueror of Spain, comes to
+Paris as British ambassador, he meets angry glances when he walks the
+streets. What is the new regime doing for the thousands who may no longer
+remain soldiers? The officers are put on half-pay, and those who are not
+practising Catholics are cashiered. A new royal guard, consisting of
+gentlemen of noble birth, is richly endowed; the nobles’ military academy
+is reopened; but the schools for the orphans of members of the Legion of
+Honour are done away with. Disillusionment spreads through France more
+quickly than the Emperor had expected.
+
+But the tone in Elba is not Jacobin. Napoleon does not abandon
+his system, although he recognises his mistakes: “France needs an
+aristocracy. For its foundation, however, time and memories are
+requisite. I made princes and dukes, and gave them land and wealth; but
+they were men of low birth, so it was impossible to make noblemen of
+them. I tried, therefore, to unite them by marriage with old families.
+Had I been granted the twenty years I wanted for the establishment of
+France’s greatness, I could have done much. Fate willed otherwise.”
+
+On the whole, like a chessplayer when the game is finished, he frankly
+acknowledges the wrong moves that have led to his defeat. Nor is he
+cautious in the choice of persons to whom he pours out such confessions.
+He tells English visitors that he ought to have made peace after Dresden.
+But when they ask why he did not make peace in Châtillon, he answers
+proudly:
+
+“I could not make a peace dishonourable to France. Belgium was part of
+France when I rose to power. Could I cede the lands I had conquered,
+and go back to the Bourbon frontiers? Never!... I am a born soldier.
+Suddenly, I found myself in the midst of the revolution. The throne was
+vacant. I took it, and kept it as long as I could. Now I am once more
+what I was to begin with, a soldier....”
+
+Those who know the man will recognise from such thoughts that he is still
+unbroken. But what amazes us is the freedom with which he speaks of the
+past. Never, in Elba, does he show any desire to falsify his history. And
+yet, during the first months, he believes his career finished, and has no
+thought of trying a new coup de main. He even fancies that he would like
+to become a justice of the peace in England. “What would happen to me if
+I went to England? Would people throw stones at me? The London mob is a
+dangerous factor.” The Englishmen to whom he thus talks assure him that
+their country is hospitable. He makes a mental note of this assurance.
+
+The Vienna congress is the first thing to set him in motion. Four
+monarchs, allied against one republic, were at length able, after a
+decade, to annihilate it; five monarchs, now all united, had assembled to
+reorganise Europe, and there was no longer an enemy worth considering to
+hold them in check; but four and a half conquerors (if the Bourbon ruler
+can be accounted as half) were soon to be disunited, thanks to the inborn
+jealousy with which each one of them regarded his fellows. Does the tsar
+want to take the whole of Poland as his share of the spoil; and does
+Prussia want Saxony? What will happen, then, to Galicia; and what about
+the worthy king of Saxony, Bourbon’s ally? A split is inevitable. By
+New Year, three months after the opening of the congress, the coalition
+has been broken up. Ministers and potentates who had so recently been
+celebrating their victory in a series of festivities, have begun to cheat
+one another. The Habsburg ruler is now allied with England and France
+against the Russians and the Prussians, by whose side the Austrians had a
+few months earlier been fighting against Napoleon.
+
+Metternich’s levity, laziness, vanity, intriguing disposition (this is
+Stein’s description), dominated the situation: “he twists our excellent
+and victorious monarchs round his fingers.” A Saxon nobleman writes from
+Vienna: “The king of Prussia is the embodiment of wrath.... The king
+of Denmark is ... well-meaning and sometimes intelligent. The king of
+Bavaria looks like an uncouth and morose wagoner. The grand duke of Baden
+is huge, gloomy, vain, and robust.... The old duke of Weimar lives as
+jovially as ever he did.” The hopes of the man of Elba rise as he reads
+and hears all this. “My time will come,” he thinks, “when the congress
+goes up in the air!” Henceforward, he is in receipt of secret information
+concerning the currents of opinion in Vienna. The faithful Maret is able
+to arrange an intelligence service. But while the congress, a brightly
+lit pleasure ship, rolling for lack of ballast, is intriguing and
+enjoying itself, in the crow’s nest sits Napoleon’s old enemy, keeping
+anxious watch. He has his spies in Leghorn, who report every ship that
+sails to Elba, and tell him the names of the passengers.
+
+Thus do the old adversaries eye one another across mountains and seas and
+across the documents of the diplomats, until it seems as if all these
+people of importance had come together in Vienna to furnish a lively
+setting for the game of chess the two experts are playing. Does either of
+them recall that night just before the Eighteenth Brumaire, when they
+had been scared by the clatter of hoofs from the mounted patrol, and had
+turned pale in their dread of arrest?
+
+This much is certain, that at Vienna Talleyrand remains a shrewd judge of
+men. Regarding Murat as a dangerous personality, he would like to have
+the king of Naples shipped off to the Azores, nearly a thousand miles
+from the nearest continent. But his ruling passion, avarice, comes in
+the way. At the congress, Murat, driven into a corner in the defence of
+his kingdom, promises Talleyrand a large sum of money in return for the
+minister’s princedom of Benevento. Talleyrand therefore drops the plan
+against Murat, and concocts a new scheme. The Emperor is to be kidnapped.
+But the spies in Leghorn report that this will only be possible if one of
+the four captains who command his ships can be suborned.
+
+When Napoleon gets wind of these intrigues, the adventurer’s blood of
+his Corsican home runs swiftly through his veins. He has the defences
+of Elba strengthened, and his artillerymen are trained in the use of
+hand-grenades. “I am a soldier, and am ready to face a firing squad.
+But I will not be deported! Before they can do that they will have to
+take my citadel by storm.” No attempt is made. In Vienna there is now a
+better understanding, and the likelihood of the rupture of negotiations
+diminishes. In France, however, disaffection to the Bourbons is growing.
+The general upshot is to stimulate the Emperor’s determination. His
+thoughts run as follows:
+
+“If the congress closes with a peace festival after all the documents
+have been signed, the phalanx will have been reconstituted. But now, when
+it is still imperfectly consolidated, a touch will break it to pieces.
+France is murmuring against the Bourbons; Paris makes fun of them; every
+one detests the allies. There are a hundred signs to show that the old
+army is devoted to me—the Emperor. The Bourbons are fainthearts, and will
+run away. As soon as I regain my position, my son and heir will be sent
+back to me.”
+
+Calculations, only calculations; and never has he reckoned more soberly.
+None the less, though he considers his figures with the utmost care, in
+the last resort he relies upon psychological reactions. “I count upon
+taking them by surprise. A bold deed upsets people’s equanimity, and they
+are dumbfounded by a great novelty.” He adds: “I am the cause of France’s
+unhappiness. I must effect a cure.” In the end of February, he sends for
+his treasurer. “Have you plenty of money? How much does a million in gold
+weigh? What is the weight of a hundred francs? How much does a box filled
+with books weigh?... Take a couple of packing cases, put all the gold
+coin you have at the bottom, and fill up the case with my books; my valet
+will give them to you. Discharge the present staff of servants; pack
+their trunks and pay them off. Everything must be kept strictly secret.”
+
+In alarm, the man hastens to General Drouot. They exchange glances, but
+keep their own counsel. Next day, Napoleon orders that no ships are to
+leave the harbour. Everything has been quietly prepared; an expedition
+like that to Egypt, but on a small scale.
+
+On the eve of his departure, he plays a game of écarté with the ladies;
+but he soon leaves the table and goes into the garden, whence he does not
+return. His mother, according to her own story, finds him sitting under a
+fig tree. After brief hesitation, he lays his hand on her forehead, and
+says, much moved:
+
+“I will tell you all about it. No one else must know, not even Pauline.”
+
+Then he goes back to his old tone, as if he were talking to Berthier:
+
+“I must tell you that I am leaving next evening.”
+
+“Where are you going?”
+
+“To Paris.” A pause. “I should like your advice.”
+
+The mother’s heart stops beating for a moment. How she has enjoyed the
+last six months; the period of quiet intercourse with her son. An end
+to the tranquillity and the security! But Letizia is a proud woman and
+a clever one. She knows that nobody can hold him back when he has made
+up his mind, and that the only effect of anxious dissuasion will be to
+disturb his composure. She says:
+
+“Follow your destiny. It cannot be God’s will that you are to die from
+poison, or after an inactive old age; though it may well be his will that
+you are to die sword in hand. Let us put our trust in Mother Mary.”
+
+On the last evening, the authorities are summoned by their sovereign.
+He announces his imminent departure. “I have been extraordinarily well
+pleased here. As a sign of confidence, I am leaving my mother and my
+sister. To your care, too, I entrust this country, to which I attach
+great importance.” The governor and the mayor express their lively
+regret. The tone befits the departure of a distinguished guest, who has
+been spending a few months in a lovely island for the benefit of his
+health, and is sorry that the time has come for his return home.
+
+He goes on board, and at dawn seven little frigates, carrying a thousand
+men and a few guns, set sail for the French coast. He stands on the deck.
+The outlines of Elba, where he has lived so peacefully, and of Corsica,
+where many years before he had made stormy attempts to force his way
+upwards, fade into the distance. Slowly the coast of the French Riviera
+begins to show clearly through the mists of the first day of March. Let
+us look into the Emperor’s mind:
+
+“What is the minimum? Defeat and death. What is the maximum? Europe?
+No use thinking any more about Europe! The dream of the United States
+of Europe is finished. I cannot get another million Frenchmen, and
+the foreign nations are not ready for my scheme. I must give France a
+constitution, and must accommodate myself to governing through Chambers.
+The time for dictatorships is over. Besides, we are not in Paris yet.
+What will the army do?”
+
+His thoughts are coloured with the spirit of the time. He is a man of
+forty-five, with more past than future; no longer young enough to take
+the world by storm, but not too old for a desperate venture. Thus does
+Napoleon again draw near to French shores, in a mood betwixt courage and
+renunciation.
+
+
+XVI
+
+The mountains are calling, the valleys are echoing, as the procession
+of a thousand men who landed at Cannes wends its way through one Alpine
+village after another. An enthusiastic crowd encircles the old guard
+which has pursued its way along the road of history without jubilation
+and without sorrow, imperturbable as a rock. The peasants, these sons of
+the hills, in the self-same hamlets, had once before seen him, a lean,
+small, unknown general; in those days he had relieved them from the
+burden of maintaining an undisciplined soldiery, and had led the troops
+over the Alps to victory. These mountain folk were the first to see the
+miracle he wrought; they plumed themselves on the thought that from their
+villages the Emperor had gone forth. And now, of a sudden, he is among
+them again! Surely the procession of the thousand will work a spell, and
+seem to be the march of prophets and saviours?
+
+They come from their mountain fastnesses; women and children bring up the
+rear; songs against the king are composed and sung; in the lesser towns,
+the bolder spirits force the city fathers to go forth to meet the new
+comer; for more than a hundred miles he encounters none but peasants.
+
+Napoleon had reckoned upon this. He would not face a march through Aix
+and Avignon, through the monarchical provinces. He preferred to leave
+his few cannon behind in the snow-covered mountain paths, in order the
+quicker to reach Dauphiné. Here the peasants had received the most
+generous distribution of the nobles’ lands. They are full of anger now
+against king, priest, and émigré, who, after the lapse of twenty-five
+years, are contesting the peasants’ right to hold these lands. Was not
+the great revolution made to protect the poor? Was it not made by
+peasants in the country and workmen in the town? The Consul had not taken
+back anything from them; even the Emperor had only called up their sons;
+they have never ceased to look upon him as one of themselves, for their
+minds moved slowly and their hearts were constant. Now, the king had
+come back again, and forthwith the nobles had begun to squabble over the
+fields the peasant had tilled.
+
+The souls of the countryfolk were heavy at the change of fortune. Fifteen
+years ago the mood had been similar when Napoleon, returning from Egypt
+in his little ship, had landed, and the whole of southern France had
+hailed him as saviour. What can have happened in the last ten months, to
+make these people receive with every token of joy the man whom they had
+so recently execrated? True, he had passed through another part of the
+country at that time; and the national misfortune had needed a scapegoat.
+His disfavour among the folk had been as brief as his defeat. But belief
+in him lasted as long as the years of his glory.
+
+What will the first troops we meet do? He himself, when he took leave,
+had urged them to serve the fatherland. And the fatherland was the
+king! They wear the Bourbon’s white cockade, they eat the king’s bread,
+from the lips of patrician officers they have received a new and ugly
+picture of the erstwhile leader. Everything will depend on his power of
+suggestion. Uncertain feelings govern his heart as he strides inland from
+Cannes. To his left, lies the fort of Antibes. Does he recognise the
+tower wherein he was thrown when Robespierre fell? In just such a tower,
+the Bourbon will fling him, against just such a wall Europe will stand
+him, if he should fail on the morrow to accomplish what his glance and
+his word have so often succeeded in doing before.
+
+Outside Grenoble, near La Mure, he has his first encounter with the royal
+troops. They have orders to exterminate him and his “band of brigands”;
+the officers have taken the oath to the king just as in former days they
+had taken the oath to the Emperor. The order to attack is given. Is the
+blood of brethren to be shed? That is what Napoleon has spent a lifetime
+in avoiding. Is this highway to be turned into a battle-field? He alights
+from his horse, takes ten strides towards them, and shouts:
+
+“Soldiers of the fifth army corps! Don’t you know me? If there is one
+among you who wishes to kill his Emperor, let him come forward and do so.
+Here I am!” Saying which, he throws open his grey cloak.
+
+A terrible pause. What will happen?
+
+Those are our brethren! This is our general! We have seen him in so many
+battles, standing on a hillock, or sitting over the bivouac fire, or
+facing the musket shots and cannon balls! Must not nature and remembrance
+overpower the influence of recent vows? The soldiers cry: “Vive
+l’Empereur!” A general running to and fro ensues, guards and soldiers
+mingling; caps are stuck upon bayonet points—what does one more hole
+in the blue cloth matter? An hour later, two thousand instead of one
+thousand fall in behind their leader.
+
+This encounter on the high road to Grenoble, this moment of time, his
+call, his aspect, were decisive. The man of action had won back to
+leadership through his own deed; the middle-aged warrior had regained
+life, power, and realm, by a look and a word. Thus he reaches Grenoble.
+By a manifesto he communicates his thoughts to the people:
+
+“Frenchmen!... After the fall of Paris my heart was torn, but my spirit
+remained unshaken.... My life belongs to you, and must once more be made
+useful to you. In my exile, I heard your plaints and your cries.... You
+accused me of too long a slumber, saying I was sacrificing the interests
+of the country to my own repose. Encompassed by dangers, I have sailed
+over the sea. Now I am in your midst, to demand my rights, which are also
+your rights.
+
+“Soldiers! We are not conquered!... Marmont’s treachery delivered the
+capital into the hands of the enemy, and disorganised our army.... Now
+I have come! Your general, who was elected to the throne by the suffrage
+of the people, and raised aloft on your shields, has returned to you.
+Rally to him!... Wear the tricolour cockade again, the cockade of our
+days of victory! Let the eagles which you bore at Ulm and Austerlitz, at
+Jena, Eylau, and Friedland, at Eckmühl and Wagram, at Smolensk and on the
+Moskva, at Lützen and Montmirail, once more wave on high!... Possessions,
+rank, and glory, for yourselves and for your children, have no worse foes
+than those princes who have been forced upon you by foreign powers....
+Victory will guide us forward through the storms, and the eagles shall
+fly from one church steeple to the other until at last they alight on
+Notre Dame!”
+
+Vive l’Empereur! The troops in Grenoble, together with the imperial
+nobles, come over. Seven thousand men follow him to Lyons. Lyons comes
+over. Masséna, who had been serving the king, journeys from Marseilles
+and pays homage to the Emperor.
+
+“Where is Ney?” Embarrassed silence. “With the king?”
+
+They tell him about the council of war in Paris. Since the terrible news
+was brought, the fat king and his lean court have sat there trembling.
+The “Moniteur,” which had lied in Napoleon’s favour for fifteen years,
+now lies on behalf of the king: the Emperor, it announces, is dead. Just
+as they are deliberating what to do, old Count Condé enters the room and
+asks his royal cousin whether on Maundy Thursday the king himself should
+not officiate at the washing of feet. The king is writing a manifesto to
+the army. But who is sitting by him, his mainstay, the true leader of the
+Bourbon army? What is the man’s name?
+
+It is Marshal Ney. When, on the retreat from Moscow he had been cut
+off from the main body and appeared to be lost, his master had cried:
+“Ney is lost! I would give the two hundred millions from my cellars in
+the Tuileries, if I had him again!” Now he rises from among the royal
+plenipotentiaries gathered round the conference table; he swears to
+annihilate his sometime master. But when the breeze of general enthusiasm
+sweeps by him, he veers; his corps dons the tricolour cockade, and in
+Besançon he sends word to the Emperor that he would like to write a
+vindication of his conduct. But the Emperor waves the proposal aside,
+saying: “Tell him I love him the same as ever, and that to-morrow I shall
+embrace him.”
+
+What a master-stroke! True, he forgives; but he leaves Ney on tenterhooks
+till the morrow. Next day, the marshal stammers: “I love you, Sire; but
+as a son of the fatherland ... I was forced to kneel down before that fat
+hog to receive the cross of St. Louis! Had you not come, we should have
+chased him away ourselves.”
+
+“Marvellous! How vacillating he is, how pale!” These thoughts flit
+through the Emperor’s mind as he asks his questions.
+
+The count of Artois has fled. The very morning of the flight, the guards
+had sworn to die with him; by midday, they had rallied to the Emperor.
+Such behaviour does not please Napoleon, and he keeps this portion of
+the guard at arm’s length. But there is one man who had remained loyal
+to Louis until the Bourbon was in safety; not till then does he change
+sides. This recruit, Napoleon welcomes, and with his own hand decorates
+him with the emblem of the Legion of Honour!
+
+But what a change! The more this avalanche of soldiers grows as he
+marches forward towards Paris, the more peaceful do his speeches become.
+In one town after another, he addresses the municipal councillors and the
+citizens in the following words: “War is at an end. Peace and liberty!
+The principles of the revolution must be protected from the onslaughts of
+the émigrés. The treaties with Europe must be adhered to. France will win
+back her glory without war. We must be content to be the most esteemed
+nation, without trying to dominate other countries.”
+
+Does the people grasp the significance of the new tone? If the nation
+understands, is there belief in its genuineness? Must one be content?
+Glory without war? To a high official, an old acquaintance whom he meets
+on the march and in whom at length he finds an intelligent listener after
+addressing dull-witted citizens and partisan officers, he gives this
+political explanation:
+
+“The spirit of the people is changed. In earlier days, the nation thought
+only of glory; now it thinks only of liberty. In the past, I brought the
+nation glory; I will not withhold liberty now. Freedom can be enjoyed in
+full, when power rests upon a good constitution.... Only—no anarchy! That
+would bring us back to the days of the despotic republicans, when every
+one had a finger in the pie. I shall retain only so much power as is
+essential for governing properly.”
+
+In the naïve closing sentence lies the new problem. He has broached the
+question; he is determined to stabilise the basic ideas of democracy.
+One thing is the same as on the Eighteenth Brumaire: no party politics!
+“I don’t want to write to them,” he says, when advised to forgive the
+turncoats. “They would believe that I was pledged to them. How are things
+in the Tuileries?”
+
+“Nothing has been changed; not even the eagles have been removed.” He is
+gay, bubbling over with good humour. He laughs.
+
+“I suppose King Louis found the eagles decorative! What are they playing
+at the theatre? How is Talma? Were you at court? I’ve been told that the
+Bourbons looked like parvenus, did not know what to talk about, nor how
+to behave.”
+
+How inquisitive he is! How full of malicious joy! How he yearns for the
+air of Paris! He seeks his revenge in mockery, he whom the others had so
+long held up to ridicule. He is told of the parsimony of the court. He is
+shown the king’s effigy on a twenty-franc piece.
+
+“Do you see? They’ve got it again: ‘God protect the king’! My device
+is: ‘God protect France’! They’ve left out those words. They were always
+like that: everything for themselves; nothing for France!” In the course
+of three minutes he enquires after twenty persons. When he is told that
+Hortense has been made a duchess, he answers simply:
+
+“She should have called herself Madame Bonaparte. That name is worth more
+than all the rest.”
+
+His words are symbolic of the new epoch. If he calls himself Bonaparte
+once more, grants a constitution, allows liberty, and does not grasp at
+more power than he actually needs, he can make himself king of France.
+Then, after the failure of his attempt at the unification of Europe, he
+will still be able to become the happy exemplar of a modern prince by
+God’s grace. He has always ruled as circumstances might dictate. Now,
+called to power for the second time, and after his imaginative flight
+towards far horizons, he will still prove himself a master. The road lies
+open.
+
+The road to Paris is likewise open. The Bourbon king has run away, and
+the majority of the inhabitants are on the Emperor’s side. Any one
+who might still have dreaded a fight with the last royal troops, must
+have overestimated them. When the Emperor is yet a hundred miles from
+the capital, the remnants of the royal guard flee from the city. The
+Emperor’s army overtakes the king, but allows him to escape to a seaport,
+being content to take the silver he is carrying off with him in sixty
+carts, and to seize his cannon. France has a hearty laugh at this fat old
+gentleman, who had been escorted from England to Paris by enemy soldiers,
+and now makes all speed back to England with the soldiers of France
+chasing him.
+
+Paris is calm. The town has long since forgotten how to take the
+initiative. During the twenty days between the Emperor’s landing in
+the south and his arrival at the capital, the thermometer of the press
+registers the following degrees: “The monster has escaped from his place
+of exile.”—“The Corsican werewolf has landed at Cannes.”—“The tiger
+appeared at Gap, troops were sent against him, the wretched adventurer
+ended his career in the mountains.”—“The fiend has actually, thanks
+to treachery, been able to get as far as Grenoble.”—“The tyrant has
+reached Lyons, where horror paralysed all attempts at resistance.”—“The
+usurper has dared to advance within a hundred and fifty miles of the
+capital.”—“Bonaparte moves northward with rapid strides, but he will
+never reach Paris.”—“To-morrow Napoleon will be at our gates.”—“His
+Majesty is at Fontainebleau.”
+
+When, at length, without having had to fire a shot, the Emperor mounts
+the steps of the palace he had been compelled to leave thirteen months
+before, Paris is overawed by his soldiers, and the émigrés have fled with
+the king. All is quiet. He notes the fact, listens attentively, and says:
+“They have let me come, just as they let the others go.”
+
+Now he has his first disappointment! The march on Paris had been
+glorious, and in after days he spoke of it as the most splendid
+experience in his life. But here, in the city which will ultimately
+decide his fate, the city whose favour he has wooed more assiduously than
+he ever fought for any realm, the city he has never wholly conquered, he
+encounters moral resistance. Those whose favour he courts are no longer
+in the arms of their new friend; but they are listless, as if, after
+excess of passion, their vital energy had run down. Still, here he is,
+and he must bestir himself.
+
+He looks to Vienna for a sign.
+
+A week after Napoleon’s landing in France, Metternich goes to bed at
+three o’clock, and is awakened at six by a messenger who hands him a
+despatch. He reads the inscription on the envelope, “General Consulate,
+Genoa,” angrily turns over and goes to sleep again. He does not open
+the missive till several hours later, to read: “Campbell, the English
+commissioner, has just called to enquire whether Napoleon has been seen
+in Genoa. He has vanished from the island of Elba.”
+
+The bomb! Those who were yesterday still intriguing against one another,
+now become thick as thieves once more. The vows which have so often been
+broken are renewed. The first to think of declaring the man an outlaw
+is Baron vom Stein, whom Napoleon had outlawed five years earlier. The
+possibility is discussed, but father-in-law Francis of Habsburg cannot
+make up his mind to the step; he would like to ask Marie Louise first.
+Four years ago she was devoted to her husband. She has never breathed
+a word of complaint to her father or to any of her women friends. Why
+should she? Napoleon had done whatever she wanted; she had been courted
+and wealthy; he had been the most equable of husbands; the parents had
+shared in the games of the little boy. Will she now become the Emperor’s
+advocate?
+
+The wife of Napoleon and the mistress of the Austrian officer prefers to
+take up her pen and write a formal declaration to the congress. She will
+have nothing to do with the Emperor, and she will put herself under the
+protection of the allies. Such is her answer to that hour when Napoleon
+had had to choose between the mother’s life and the child’s, and had
+decided in favour of the mother. Not until his wife has cast her vote
+against him, is the Emperor made an outlaw: “The powers declare that
+Napoleon Bonaparte has placed himself outside the bounds of civil and
+social relationships, and that as an enemy and disturber of the peace of
+the world he is consigned to public prosecution.”
+
+The tidings leave him unmoved. He is used to being outlawed. When he left
+Corsica, he and all his relatives were under sentence of outlawry. The
+word “outlaw” had been shouted at him in the Orangerie at Saint-Cloud.
+The pope had pronounced the major excommunication against him. All three
+anathemas had glanced harmless from his coat of mail, so that he deemed
+himself impregnable. But this fourth ban will lay him low.
+
+He still continues to hope in the Habsburg. Announcing his intention to
+summon the Electoral Colleges of the Empire to a great assembly, he
+speaks of the gathering, in Carlovingian terminology, as a Champ de Mai,
+for he intends to have the empress and his son crowned there. He thinks
+that this will ensure Austrian support, and writes to his wife:
+
+“I am master of France. The people and the army are wild with enthusiasm!
+No one but the so-called king has run away to England.... I expect you
+here in April with my son.” The thought of his dynasty is ineradicable.
+
+But even this most natural of feelings assumes a distorted form, for
+his feelings are in pawn to the old world. Writing to the man who has
+just outlawed him, he says: “At the moment when providence has recalled
+me to the capital of my States, it is my chief desire, the object of my
+tenderest inclination, to see my wife and son once more.” He goes on to
+speak of his wife, who must certainly reciprocate his longing. Then:
+“All my endeavours are directed towards the firm establishment of this
+throne which the love of my people guarantees and restores to me; and
+towards handing it down to my son in due time, based upon an imperishable
+foundation.... Since a lasting peace is essential to the attainment of
+this important and sacred aim, there is nothing nearer to my heart than
+to remain at peace with all the powers.”
+
+Is this sublime, or is it ridiculous? Napoleon renounces war, and
+abandons his designs on Europe. He speaks truth when he says that he
+needs nothing more than France. The monarchs who had conquered him last
+year have formed a new alliance against him, and have declared him an
+outlaw. The sentence of outlawry has been signed by Emperor Francis, in
+the Austrian capital, with Marie Louise’s express authorisation. She
+had left him after the last defeat; had thrown up the regency which
+she had sworn to carry on faithfully; had taken the boy with her; had
+thrown herself into another man’s arms, and is still living with him: the
+Emperor knows these things. But now, instead of beginning the new era
+with a clear-cut severance from all that has overthrown and disappointed
+him, he begins by suing for the friendship of this old throne which had
+triumphed over his new one.
+
+This is the ban, this is the outlawry, which will for the second time
+bring him to his doom.
+
+
+XVII
+
+The adventurer now becomes a rat-catcher, like the Pied Piper of Hamelin.
+Bourbon had been clever enough to invite the best talents to serve him;
+and as a result of this, when once the royalist national anthem had been
+sung, all went smoothly for him. Some of these men know not whether
+to go or to stay: they wait upon events. But Napoleon, who has always
+commanded, who has never canvassed for any one’s services, places the
+flute of the tempter to his lips: he knows that now is the time for
+suggestion and smiles. The loyal few, he restores to their posts, with
+a shake of the hand. Maret, Davoust, and Caulaincourt, form part of his
+ministry.
+
+He knows all that those who have proved ungrateful have been doing,
+and he judges them by their record. Officials, officers, and court
+dignitaries, again flock to his levees. A count of the old aristocracy
+comes likewise. Napoleon had called this man back from exile and had
+made him senator; but at the Bourbon restoration the count had gone over
+to the king. Now, as the Emperor draws near, the count casts his eyes
+heavenward and seems to imply that his actions were dictated by God’s
+inscrutable will. The Emperor smiles. Not a word is exchanged. But the
+count comes no more to court. When, on the other hand, one of Marmont’s
+generals, a man who had delivered a decisive speech in the war council
+before the marshal’s defection, approaches Napoleon and begins to
+stammer out an explanation, the Emperor does not smile. He says, in an
+overbearing tone: “What do you want of me? Can you not see that I do not
+know you?”
+
+Here is Oudinot: for twenty years he was Bonaparte’s companion-in-arms;
+now he comes back to the Emperor. “You see, Oudinot? You were worshipped
+as a god by the Lorrainers; two hundred thousand peasants were ready,
+even last year, to go through fire and water for your sake. To-day I have
+to protect you against these same peasants!”
+
+Here is Rapp. He has wavered longer than the rest, and even now comes
+hesitatingly to his master. “You’ve kept us waiting a long time! Did you
+really want to take up arms against me?”
+
+Rapp is an Alsatian, half a German, and as such he is more a man of duty
+than a man of feeling: “My duty, Sire, constrained me.”
+
+“Diable! The soldiers would not have obeyed you; your Alsatians would
+have stoned you!”
+
+But Rapp is nothing if not thorough: “You must admit, Sire, the position
+was a difficult one. You abdicate, you leave France, you advise us to
+serve the king, you come again....”
+
+“Were you often here? How did they treat you? At first, I suppose, they
+flattered you. Soon they’d have chucked you out of doors. That is what
+your fate would have been.... Have you read Chateaubriand’s pamphlet? Is
+it true that I am a coward on the battle-field? They are always accusing
+me of ambition because they have nothing better to say. Does one get as
+fat as I, if one is constantly being spurred on by ambition?... Once
+again, General, we must serve France. Then we can be gathered to our
+fathers.”
+
+In such a debonair and lively manner does he play with this doughty and
+decorous old comrade. But Rapp holds his own: “You must admit, Sire, that
+you made a mistake in not concluding peace after Dresden. You treated as
+nonsensical my reports concerning German sentiment....” The Emperor is
+quick with his repartee:
+
+“You do not understand what such a peace would have meant!” Suddenly
+his tone changes into one more suitable to the camp than to this palace
+and to this hour; it is intimate and familiar, and goes home to Rapp’s
+heart: “Or were you perhaps afraid of beginning a fresh war, you who for
+fifteen long years had acted as my adjutant? When you returned from Egypt
+you were nothing more than a soldier. I have made a man of you. To-day
+you can have whatever you like to ask for.... I shall never forget your
+conduct before Moscow. At Danzig you achieved the greatest that any man
+could achieve. Ney and you, you belong to the tiny legion of those who
+have strength of character!” The Emperor embraces him, kisses him again
+and again. Then, pulling Rapp’s moustache, he says:
+
+“Eh? One of the braves of Egypt and Austerlitz—and you wanted to forsake
+me! You shall take command of the army on the Rhine, while I am dealing
+with the Prussians and the Russians. In two months, I hope you will
+be receiving my wife and my son in Strasburg. From to-day, you are my
+adjutant!”
+
+“At your orders, Sire!”
+
+Had the Emperor ever seen _Wallenstein’s Death_ performed on the German
+stage, as had, perhaps, that would-be murderer in Poland? He must have
+this fellow, Rapp, about him. The man is fundamentally honest, and is as
+brave as he is honourable; of all the Grand Army, he is the officer who
+was most frequently wounded. He only went over to the king from a sense
+of duty; he is not to be bought by the lure of promises. And yet, in a
+quarter of an hour, he is not only the Emperor’s man once more, but has
+accepted the posts of army commander and adjutant, as of old. Fidelity,
+Napoleon realised it well, is what the Emperor most urgently needs.
+
+Ney’s case is a more difficult one. Remorse keeps Ney sleepless. With
+distraught countenance and extravagant words he addresses his master:
+“Perhaps you have heard, Sire, before I marched to Besançon, I said at
+the council of war—here, in the Tuileries, I promised the king—”
+
+“Well, what did you promise?”
+
+“To bring you in an iron cage, and place you before his throne—”
+
+The Emperor stiffens. Then: “Foolishness! Such thoughts are unworthy of a
+soldier!”
+
+“You are mistaken, Sire,” exclaims the Marshal yet more excitedly; “allow
+me to finish. I said it, yes—but—I wanted to hide my real feelings—”
+
+The Emperor is incensed. Ney quickly withdraws, and only after the lapse
+of two months takes command in the campaign. Thus near to madness had
+these iron warriors been brought through their struggle between duty
+and inclination, when the one great will which mastered them had been
+withdrawn. Berthier, who also rallied to Napoleon, had gone through the
+same experience.
+
+“The donkey,” exclaims the Emperor leniently, when talking of his old
+favourite. “He’s a good fellow. I ask nothing of him than that he should
+present himself before me in the uniform of the royal guard!” But
+Berthier, since the Emperor’s return, rushes all night through the rooms
+of his mansion, and at last throws himself headlong from a balcony, like
+Junot, to perish on the cobbles instead of dying in the battle-field.
+
+Forwards! We have no time for loitering! Who else is there? Ah, Madame
+de Staël pops up again. This old opponent writes to him, admires his
+conduct, and promises that if he will restore the two million francs
+which France still owes her father, she will in future devote her
+literary gifts to the cause of France. The pity of it! Through making
+this stipulation, so splendid a woman must come down to history as beaten
+in the game! The Emperor mischievously replies that, to his great regret,
+he is not wealthy enough to fulfil her condition.
+
+Who else is there? Marmont? Augereau? They are declared outlaws by the
+Emperor, because they sold the fatherland to the foreigner. And then, at
+long last, Talleyrand likewise! The lightning flashes that travel from
+Vienna to Paris and from Paris to Vienna strike a deadly blow at this
+hostile friendship which has lasted for eighteen years. Each man thinks
+in his secret heart: “A pity that so fine a brain should be working for
+the other side!”
+
+What about the second of the Dioscuri? Fouché is back again! He takes
+up his service as Minister of Police in the twofold capacity of working
+for and against his master. He says of the Emperor: “Well, he’s here. We
+none of us exactly wished him back again; now we shall have to keep close
+watch on him.... The man has returned even madder than when he left. I
+give him three months!” Meanwhile, he corresponds with Metternich; but
+spies soon tell the Emperor, who angrily apostrophises him: “You are
+a traitor!” Lavalette, who is in waiting, hears the words through the
+half-open door. “Why do you consent to be my minister if you mean to
+betray me? I know that you are exchanging letters with Metternich through
+the intermediation of a bank official in Basle. I could have you hanged,
+and all the world would applaud my action.” Fouché’s answer has not been
+recorded!
+
+The minister owed his present position to his radical outlook, for he had
+been a revolutionary in theory ever since Robespierre’s time. The Emperor
+needed him in the cabinet as a decoy for the democrats. But Fouché not
+only betrayed his master to Metternich, he likewise betrayed Metternich
+to the radicals; he wanted to set up a republic—with Fouché at the head.
+Carnot, who was a more violent antagonist of the king than even the
+Emperor himself had been, now, for the first time since the days of the
+Directory, entered the ministry.
+
+But, as spiritual leader, the Emperor wins over his whilom enemy,
+Benjamin Constant, a friend of Madame de Staël. This old-time democrat,
+who had recently been thundering in the press against the brigand of Elba
+and comparing him to Attila and to Genghis Khan, is needed now that the
+Emperor proposes to govern through Chambers. Napoleon, therefore, invites
+Constant to an audience. The Emperor has not seen him for fifteen years.
+The interview, recorded by Constant, occupies four pages of print. We
+are shown, without periphrases, the last transformation of Napoleon,
+the statesman who was ever ready to adapt his course to the demands of
+practical politics.
+
+“The nation again wishes for tribunes and assemblies. It has always
+wanted them, for it threw itself at my feet when I climbed to power....
+I assumed less power than was actually conceded me. To-day, all is
+otherwise. The preference for constitutions, for elections, for speeches,
+is again to the fore. This is, however, the desire of a minority. The
+majority desires myself, alone.... I am not only the soldiers’ Emperor;
+I am also the Emperor of the workers and peasants.... Thus, in spite of
+all, the people comes back to me. I treat the people severely, I never
+flatter the people; and yet the people cries: ‘Long live the Emperor!’
+This is because there are common bonds between us....
+
+“It is otherwise with nobility. The nobles thronged my ante-rooms
+begging and receiving the posts they coveted.... But no common bond has
+ever existed between us. The horse submitted to the rider, it had been
+well trained; all the same, I felt it tremble beneath me.... Yes, I
+endeavoured to set up a world monarchy, and for this I needed unfettered
+power. Who, in my place, would not have wished to do likewise? Did not
+the world itself encourage me? Princes and subjects hastened to come
+beneath my sceptre’s sway.... But if France is to be the whole of my
+dominions, then a constitution is better....
+
+“Tell me your ideas. Freedom of speech, free elections, responsible
+ministers, freedom of the press?... I am agreeable to all this.
+Especially the freedom of the press. To try and crush this any longer
+would be absurd.... I am the man of the people. If the people really
+wants freedom, I must give it.... I am no longer a conqueror; I can no
+longer be a conqueror. I know what is possible and what is impossible. My
+sole mission now is to set France on her feet once more and to give her
+a constitution adapted to the temperament of her people....
+
+“I do not hate freedom, although I gave it a wide berth when I met it
+on my way. I understand liberty; I was nourished on this idea. The
+labours of fifteen years have been destroyed; if I wished to begin all
+over again, I should need twenty years and should have to sacrifice two
+million men.... I want peace; I can get it only through victory. I will
+not fill you with false hopes; I foresee a terrible war. In order to win
+through, I must have the support of the people. The people will ask for
+freedom in exchange for its support. Very well, the people shall have
+freedom.... My situation is a new one for me. I am getting older. At
+forty-five one is no longer the man one was at thirty. The repose of a
+constitutional king would suit me excellently. And I am sure that this
+state of things would meet with the approval of my son.”
+
+Such were the basic ideas of Emperor Napoleon on his return from Elba;
+he was to become king of France. That his ideas are genuine and his
+intentions pure, is proved by the realism of his motives. We have not to
+do with a man who pretends to a change of heart; this is no hero who,
+in commune with his maker upon an island, has become a saint. Here we
+have the man himself, wishful to rule as circumstances permit; a man
+who has ever been mindful of public opinion. He recognises that he has
+to do with a new epoch. If he himself did not inaugurate such an epoch,
+at least, through his fall, he made its realisation possible. Napoleon
+feels that a land which has experienced the dictatorship of genius, can
+no longer revert to the dictatorship of inheritance. If the spirit of
+the revolution has become petrified into a single huge figure, a new
+structure must arise from its ruins, and the stone blocks that are used
+in the building must be so placed as to secure wider levels and a less
+tapering pinnacle. In very truth, the son of the revolution, even when
+he becomes a tyrant, cannot be succeeded by a king who reigns by God’s
+grace. He can only be succeeded by democracy.
+
+For this reason, the Emperor deals more severely with the émigrés than
+he was wont; he confiscates estates; he disbands the royal guard; and
+does at the end of his career what he should have done at the start,
+namely, he abolishes feudal titles, thus ridding himself of the old
+nobility whose false compliments had cost him so dear. By these decrees
+he recreates the revolutionary spirit, and makes it stronger than it has
+been since his coronation, eleven years earlier. He issues the following
+declaration to the civil authorities:
+
+“I have returned to-day for the same reason which brought me back from
+Egypt: because things are not going well with the fatherland.... I do not
+want to carry on any more wars. We have to forget that we were masters of
+the world.... In those days, I pursued the aim of creating a great United
+States of Europe, and I was compelled to neglect many points of home
+policy which would have secured the freedom of the citizens of France.
+Now I shall work for no other object than for France’s consolidation and
+tranquillity, for the protection of property, for the free interchange
+of ideas: the prince must be the first servitor of the State.” Among
+the hearers are many who, but a year ago, amid the thunder crashes of
+the catastrophe, had listened to other words uttered by these self-same
+lips: “I am the State.” Nevertheless they pin their faith to his new
+constitution, whose elaboration is entrusted to Constant.
+
+When the constitution is placed before them, they are alarmed.
+“Additional Act?” Are we once more to be cheated? The democrats pour
+forth a hail of criticism. Simultaneously, news comes from Vienna: the
+powers declare war on Napoleon; no harm shall come to France. A signal!
+For twenty years, so the saying runs through the land, we have desired
+peace. At last we have got it. Is it once more to come to an end? “I
+cannot hide the fact from you any longer,” says a councillor of State to
+the Emperor; “the women are your declared enemies, and these opponents
+are always dangerous in France.” No one wants any more levies to be made.
+Instead of two hundred and fifty thousand men, only sixty thousand answer
+his call.
+
+This decision of the powers is an expression of the mood of the princes,
+and not of the peoples they govern, for these, just like the French
+people, are eager for repose. The sentence of outlawry is not so much a
+political move as an insistence on a point of honour, and the expression
+of Emperor Francis’ desire to exact moral vengeance. But it gnaws at
+the foundation of Napoleon’s power. When he had first come back, France
+had been in his favour. Since, however, all the other States of Europe
+are against him, France will make no more sacrifices on his behalf. The
+funds, which had risen when he reached Paris, fall.
+
+The Emperor is alarmed. An intimate, from whom he has asked news of
+the recruiting campaign, says to him: “Your Majesty will not be left
+unsupported.” To which the Emperor replies in low tones: “I was almost
+afraid I should be!”
+
+His friends find him less active than of yore; he is fatter, his features
+are lax, he needs many hot baths, and lies in them a long time; he takes
+a great deal of sleep. “He seemed full of cares,” writes one of his
+circle. “The self-confidence of his speeches, his authoritative tone, had
+vanished.”
+
+Only four weeks ago, at his first advent, he appeared rejuvenated and
+lively. Why this relapse?
+
+First and foremost, his wife’s behaviour has shaken him. A semi-anonymous
+letter from Vienna, addressed to Lavalette, has fallen into his hands.
+Herein are described Marie Louise’s scorn for the Emperor, her love for
+Neipperg; and a number of shameful details are added. The Emperor is
+surprised holding this letter, in his dimly lighted study, crouched over
+the fire, silent.
+
+When Méneval, who was to have accompanied Marie Louise on her return
+journey to Paris, comes back from Vienna, he finds the Emperor, in
+the very midst of these eventful weeks, lying on a sofa, sunk deep in
+reverie. For many hours that day, and for half the next, the secretary
+has to give his master a precise account of everything that is happening
+over there, of all he has observed. The Emperor spoke as though
+“overwhelmed by a calm sorrowfulness, and seemed so resigned that I was
+deeply moved. He was no longer confident of victory, and I felt that his
+belief in his good luck, which had sustained him during the march to
+Paris, had forsaken him.” Méneval has to describe every trait and gesture
+of the little son. The Emperor, an ageing man, paces to and fro in the
+garden on this day in May, alone; he has to rely on a stranger’s word to
+know what his boy is like, whether the child is growing up to resemble
+his father or his grandfather.
+
+These things weigh him down. Tragically, the conflicts within him are
+renewed. Now that he wishes to be a democrat in response to the spirit of
+the time, now that his will-to-peace is great, the menace from without
+frustrates his attempts to establish democracy or maintain peace. If no
+one in Europe were to lift a finger in order to replace Louis on the
+throne, Napoleon might content himself with ruling within the boundaries
+of France, might introduce the freedoms he had promised. But the powers,
+which have no more lands to reclaim (since they have received back all
+that was ever taken from them, and now possess what they had had before
+the revolution), come forward as they had in ’92, because the wind
+blowing from this stormy corner of Europe threatens their inherited calm,
+and because none of the monarchs can sleep sound o’ nights so long as
+their Bourbon cousin is standing on the English shore of the Channel
+looking plaintively across the waters towards France, the land of his
+fathers.
+
+[Illustration: Napoleon as Emperor in 1814. Painting by Horace Vernet.
+Tate Gallery, London.
+
+(From the “Corpus Imaginum” of the Photographic Society, Charlottenburg.)]
+
+Never had Napoleon taken up arms more reluctantly than he did when this
+war was forced upon him by the Vienna decree. Never had the rapidity and
+clear-sightedness of a dictator or the sympathy of public opinion been
+more necessary to him than in this terrible crisis. Just now, when every
+one wants peace, he is obliged to arm for war; just now, when he is to
+bestow liberties on the people, his actions are hampered at every turn.
+The struggle of the legitimists with this interloper (the upshot of which
+had been his own legitimisation), the struggle which had placed him on
+the throne, is resumed when, too late, he is cured of his longing to pose
+as legitimate monarch. Though he is reaching out towards liberty once
+more, he is now to sustain his final defeat.
+
+Thus the great renewal gets no further than the Additional Act to the
+Constitutions of the Empire, which, as earlier with his great decrees, he
+leaves to the approval of the “sovereign people.”
+
+Nevertheless, the sixty-seven articles evolved out of Constant’s head
+contain all the newer democratic elements; they are a great advance upon
+English constitutional law, and remain as a model for the whole of the
+subsequent century. No one henceforward can be imprisoned or banished
+without due form of law; religious belief and the press are to be free.
+The legislative body is changed into a Lower House, the Senate becomes an
+Upper House without the former privileges, all deliberations are open to
+the public, both Houses may initiate legislation and reject the budget,
+the ministers are to be responsible to parliament, the interpretation of
+the law devolves upon the Chambers.
+
+A number of new laws, each a dagger in the dictator’s heart! Yet he
+yields in everything save two points which he carries, after a lively
+debate against Constant: the hereditariness of the peerage, into which
+“after one or two successful battles,” the nobility would again pour;
+and his right to confiscation, for “without this right I should be
+defenceless against the party factions. I am not an angel, but a man who
+cannot allow himself to be attacked without meting out punishment.”
+
+These two concessions to him create as bad an impression as the words
+“Additional Act” had done. Since he will allow no discussion on the
+matter, but only consents to the empty form of a plebiscite, as he
+had done in the days when he wished to become consul for life and
+subsequently emperor, the democrats begin to grumble, and no one is aware
+how greatly the nation is to be congratulated on this latest work of its
+leader. Instead of the four million votes he had received of yore, his
+constitution receives only just over one and a half million votes, for
+most of the citizens abstain.
+
+A few venture to protest. Honest Carnot says: “Your Additional Act has
+not pleased the people; it will not meet with acceptance. Promise me
+that you will amend it. I must tell you the truth, for your and our
+salvation hangs upon your tolerance.” His tone is upright, but wholly
+unprecedented. Since the days when Bonaparte was a lieutenant no one had
+ever spoken thus to him. He makes a gesture of annoyance, and Carnot
+continues: “This word alarms you, Sire? Yes, you must show tolerance in
+the face of the national will.”
+
+“The foe is at our gates,” answers the veteran soldier. “First of all,
+help to chase him away. Then I shall have time to occupy myself with your
+liberal panaceas.” Even though he profoundly recognises the demands of
+the new age, he finds it impossible to deliberate with representatives of
+the people.
+
+Napoleon knows only how to command!
+
+
+XVIII
+
+On a bright spring morning, the plain is lively as on days of high
+festival. The Parisians are flocking in crowds to the Champ de Mai.
+The whole town has come forth to this revival of the Carlovingian folk
+assembly. The old troops are there, and the new. The platforms are gaily
+decorated with tricolours. Six hundred deputies and several hundred
+peers are waiting for the Emperor, who is to take the oath to the new
+constitution before starting on his campaign. It is the first time for
+two or three years that the people of the gay city have had a chance of
+glutting their lust for merrymaking. Under the king, all had been sober
+and staid.
+
+Now the procession is coming forth from the town; from afar can be heard
+the fanfare of the trumpets, and every one is expecting the hero of the
+occasion, the warrior Napoleon, to be dressed as beseems the posture of
+affairs, seeing that within a few days he will be fighting for throne and
+country at the head of his troops. Rumour has run through Paris saying
+that he still wears his old green coat, in which people love best to see
+him.
+
+But what is the pageant which unfolds itself?
+
+First comes the guard of honour, followed by the eagles and the colours;
+then heralds and pages, clad in many-coloured costumes, as if in an
+allegorical picture; then the Emperor’s coronation coach, drawn by eight
+horses. In it is seated a man picturesquely attired in white silk, almost
+overshadowed by a hat decked with huge ostrich plumes, and burdened by
+his vast coronation mantle; a solitary man, glittering with gold. Is this
+the Emperor?
+
+The masses are dumbfounded, for they wanted to fraternise with their
+ruler returned from exile; they are stupefied by the spectacle of a
+Cæsar whose chill splendours seem to repel the cordiality they would
+fain exhibit. Painful indeed is the forlorn aspect of this middle-aged
+man, whose wife has not returned to him and whose son is far away, as he
+drives among the gaping crowds in his stately chariot.
+
+When, after High Mass, the spokesman of the new Chambers confronts the
+Emperor, this citizen speaks in tones which ring athwart the plain:
+“Trusting your pledges, the deputies will sagaciously revise our laws,
+and harmonise them with the constitution”—the implication being that the
+representatives of the people are not yet satisfied, but want more than
+this Additional Act. Then the spokesman of the Chambers and the citizens
+expresses his hopes of victory, and wishes success to the eagles.
+
+The Emperor has to hide his vexation. He announces the new constitution,
+and swears to observe it faithfully. Then the soldiers must acclaim
+the oath. But they can hardly recognise their master in this pompously
+attired ruler. They want the old green coat; their hero should be wearing
+the tricolour cockade, not gold and plumes. Their cheers lack enthusiasm.
+An eyewitness writes: “These were not the cheers of Austerlitz and
+Wagram. The Emperor could not fail to notice it.”
+
+A week later, when he opened both Houses with a speech from the throne,
+he was careful to avoid everything which had put people out of humour
+at the Champ de Mai. The Lower House promises to devote its energies to
+the defence of the nation; but goes on to say: “Even the will of the
+victorious ruler would not induce the nation to transcend the bounds of
+defence.” The peers in the Upper House utter a like warning in their
+address, saying: “The French government will never be led away by the
+seductions of victory.” Napoleon stands there constrained to silence, but
+trembling with wrath. He would like to sweep them all away, but dares not
+even give them the lie.
+
+Among the new peers is Lucien. He has come to join his brother after
+all. A glance and a hand-clasp have reconciled the brothers. For the
+first time in his life he is styled prince and imperial highness. He is
+the Emperor’s companion, delivers speeches, even gives lectures in the
+Institute, and receives large sums of money. Louis is ill, and does not
+come. Jerome is ready and willing. Hortense must replace the missing lady
+of the house, and her sons have once more become important to the man
+without a son. Napoleon appears on the balcony with his nephews, to show
+the crowd, to show France, that the Emperor still has heirs. Unseen, the
+spirit of irony contemplates this tragical conclusion to the history of
+his dynastic delusion.
+
+Once he drives with Hortense to Malmaison, but goes alone into the room
+where Josephine died, to come forth from it in silence.
+
+Next day he sets out for the war, hoping it will be his last war. It is.
+
+Carnot, to whom at this late hour he divulges his plan, strongly advises
+him to wait until the army has been reinforced. Neither the Russians
+nor the Austrians can arrive before the end of July. The English and
+the Prussians will not venture to attack until their allies have joined
+them. During these six weeks, Napoleon could double his forces, transform
+France into an armed camp, fortify Paris on the side whence the onslaught
+will come. The Emperor shakes his head:
+
+“I know all that. But it is essential that I should win a brilliant
+victory without waiting so long!”
+
+He knows what is at stake. It is his way to assume the offensive. But the
+master of figures would have done well to wait awhile, and collect his
+forces. “I must win a brilliant victory soon!” Is not that the thought
+of a beaten champion? Perhaps it is; but the gloomy vaticinations of the
+ruined Cæsar are fortified by the memories of General Bonaparte. Not
+since his youth has he ventured to do what he now proposes, to advance
+with a small army, without reserves, mobile, swift. Such, then, is his
+plan. He will not give his four opponents time to get together. The two
+that appear to be ready must be separately attacked and defeated. That is
+the picture which hovers before his mind. What Napoleon, the Emperor, now
+begins at Charleroi, when his prospective opponents are the Prussians and
+the English, Bonaparte, the unknown general, had begun at Millesimo, when
+his prospective opponents were the Austrians and the Piedmontese. His
+last battle is the parallel of his first.
+
+But during these twenty years, all the commanders of Europe have learned
+the tactics of the new master of the art of war; and he, during these
+twenty years, has worn out his machinery. Moreover, swift though his
+movements are in the days before Waterloo, he no longer possesses the
+old tempo. As in his recent campaigns, so now, anxious considerations
+hamper the boldness of his attack. Having taken Charleroi, he fails next
+day to make a mass onslaught on Blücher, sends Ney with half the army
+along the Brussels road against the English, only to learn with alarm
+in the afternoon that he is faced by the whole of the Prussian army. He
+sends to recall the marshal, writing: “The fate of France is in your
+hands.” Ney, instead of continuing his advance, must envelop the Prussian
+enemy. Too late! Ney has become involved in the fight with Wellington at
+Quatre Bras, can spare only one army corps, and sends it to a place where
+it can be of no use. This makes it impossible for him to gain a victory
+over the English, and he is driven back.
+
+Napoleon, this same day, fighting with only half his army at Ligny,
+secures a victory.
+
+The last victory! Blücher falls from his wounded horse, and is reported
+killed. Gneisenau retains composure, prevents the retreat from
+degenerating into a rout, and sends to let his ally know that they can
+form a junction at Wavre the next day. With an inertia which we should
+wonder at did we not know that Napoleon is ailing and prematurely old,
+the Emperor makes no move on the day after his victory. Too late he
+sends Grouchy with thirty thousand men to follow up the Prussians, not
+believing that they can reorganise their forces speedily, or that after
+the heavy losses they have sustained they will be able to effect a
+junction with the English. Yesterday, he had dealt with the Prussians
+singly; to-morrow he will be able to defeat the English, now cut off from
+their allies. His seventy thousand men will suffice. He fails to allow
+for Gneisenau’s imperturbability and for Blücher’s impetuosity.
+
+For the first time, he underrates an opponent. At Friedland,
+Aspern-Essling, and Laon, he was not beaten. Nor was he beaten in Russia.
+At Leipzig, and at Arcis-sur-Aube, he was defeated; but it was because
+he had only a small army with which to meet the onslaughts of vastly
+superior forces; those of three great powers in one case, and those of
+four in the other. Never, yet, had any isolated commander been able to
+say: “I have defeated Napoleon.”
+
+Now he thinks too much of his victory, and too little of his opponent.
+For the first time he fails to focus his lens accurately, with the result
+that one point escapes his reckoning. But it is not that he makes a
+wanton and ill-considered onslaught. Nor is the trouble on this occasion
+that family feeling makes him entrust leadership to inefficient hands.
+If he had kept Grouchy’s force with him, his enemy would have scarcely
+outnumbered him. But the course of the decisive battle shows that this
+error in calculation was not the main cause of the French defeat.
+
+The final cause, as any one can recognise who studies all the elements in
+Napoleon’s fate, was the man’s advancing years.
+
+His activity was undermined by his ailments, and that is why, on the
+morning of the battle of Waterloo, he failed to attack promptly. In the
+middle of June, the sun is above the horizon by four. If the Prussians
+were able to march upon the roads that had been softened by the recent
+heavy rains, the French veterans could have done the same—for the
+Emperor’s soldiers on this occasion were almost all of them tried men.
+But he waits till noon, that he may place his guns better when the ground
+becomes less sodden! At Jena, in October, in a Scotch mist, he had headed
+his troops, shouted to encourage them, attacking so early in the morning
+as to arouse many of his foes from their slumbers. To-day he waits till
+noon.
+
+The loss of this half-day is to destroy him. He rides to an elevation
+bearing the fatal name of La Belle Alliance; he arranges his troops
+in three lines, rides along the front, shouts to his men in metallic
+phrases; he is going to break through the enemy and enter Brussels; he
+already has the proclamation to the Belgians in his pocket. He has only
+wasted half a day!
+
+In the afternoon, when battle is already joined, news comes that Bülow’s
+corps is advancing. The Emperor turns pale, and sends Grouchy orders to
+come back. Will the orders reach him? If they do, will he be able to
+disengage himself from the enemy? Everything turns upon the fortune of
+the next hour. The English must be beaten before the Prussians can come
+to their aid. Napoleon delivers a great cavalry attack on the centre, but
+the English stand firm. Shall he use the old guard? Not yet! Not yet!
+Bülow is already beginning to fire. At all costs he must keep the line
+of retreat open, for otherwise there may be a catastrophe. But, in fact,
+the English forces are already half defeated. It is five o’clock, and the
+guard might have finished their defeat, for at this hour Wellington sent
+a message to his Prussian ally: “Unless your corps keeps marching, and
+attacks without respite, the battle will be lost.” This would have been
+the moment for an attack by the old guard, but once more caution makes
+the Emperor hold his hand at the critical moment. He sees that a second
+Prussian corps is about to attack.
+
+A dread decision! A brilliant gamester staking his last coins, but to-day
+he must not be beaten. At length, towards seven, he sends the last five
+thousand guardsmen, the veterans, to the attack. Now, it is only a
+forlorn hope. “Vive l’Empereur!”
+
+This cry has shaken half Europe. Is it not a century old? In a decade
+it has gained a legendary force throughout the Continent. But what is
+imperishable? Even the eagles of Marengo are not imperishable. Is the
+mythical energy of this cry, Vive l’Empereur, to subside with the setting
+of to-day’s sun? Yes, to-morrow it will be heard no more!
+
+The second Prussian corps pours a deadly fire on the guard, which yields
+ground. The opposing force continues to grow; at eight, the third army
+corps appears on the scene, and a hundred and twenty thousand of the
+allies are now attacking half that number of Frenchmen. The battered
+French army takes to flight, and Bonaparte, in his last hour as a
+commander, is for the first time in his life commander of a routed army.
+After an hour on horseback in the open, exposed to the British fire, the
+Emperor rides into the centre of one of the two remaining French squares.
+When these, likewise, break up, he gallops across country protected only
+by mounted grenadiers. Though in bodily pain, he has to stay in the
+saddle until five in the morning, when he is able at length to secure a
+few hours rest in an old cart.
+
+Is he discouraged?
+
+By no means! What is Paris saying? This is the thought which continually
+drives him onward. He does not venture, as he had done last year, to
+assemble the guards in Laon or Soissons, or to betake himself to one of
+the fortresses. He thinks only of Paris, as the place from which more
+soldiers can be gathered. Calculations, as of old: “I can still mobilise
+a hundred and fifty thousand men; with the National Guard, there will be
+three hundred thousand in all. That will be enough to stop the advance
+of the enemy.” The last orders he sends to Paris end with the words:
+“Courage! Firmness!”
+
+Two days later, he is once more in the Elysée, which he had left so
+recently. Has the whole campaign been a dream? In nine days he has lost
+the empire which he had fought nine years to win.
+
+
+XIX
+
+Not lost yet!
+
+In the cabinet and in the Chambers, opinions are divided. He sits in
+council with his brothers and his ministers; he is worn out, but there
+is no sign of collapse. What does he propose? To work hand in hand with
+the Chambers? Far from it; he proposes dictatorship. In this national
+crisis, he needs, for a short time, full freedom of movement. Some of
+the ministers point out to him that the Chambers no longer trust him.
+Then Lucien takes the floor, and with all the fire of a youth urges the
+Emperor to dissolve the Chambers, declare Paris in a state of siege, take
+all power into his hands, get together the remaining troops—thus alone,
+now, can France be saved!
+
+He listens. Sixteen years have passed since that November day at
+Saint-Cloud when this very Lucien had made the same proposal, and, with a
+single speech, had snatched his brother from the abyss. Then Lucien had
+raised Napoleon higher than he had wished. The Emperor approves the plan,
+but does not instantly act on it. Instead, he listens while Davoust, the
+Minister for War, refuses to place the remnants of the armed forces at
+his disposal. While they are disputing, news comes from the Chamber of
+Deputies. It has declared itself in permanent session, will regard any
+attempt to dissolve it as high treason, and will impeach any one who may
+dare to try. “I can see only one man between us and peace,” said old
+Lafayette from the rostrum. “If we rid ourselves of him, peace will be
+ours for the asking!”
+
+Is this the cry of the people? Paris is perfectly calm, so it is nothing
+more than the cry of a liberated democracy. But it is also the cry of a
+society which loves change and bears adversity badly, for the House of
+Peers now passes a vote identical with that of the Chamber of Deputies.
+The Chambers demand that the Emperor shall appear before them. Why does
+he not go? Who would venture to oppose him openly? “I ought to have
+gone,” he said subsequently, “but I was tired out. I could have dissolved
+them, but I lacked courage; I am only a man, after all. My memories of
+the Nineteenth Brumaire terrified me.”
+
+Now the Chambers send for the ministers. The Emperor replies that he
+has forbidden them to go. The Chambers rejoin that they will depose
+him unless the ministers come. He gives way. He sends Lucien and the
+ministers to the Chamber of Deputies, and they report that he has formed
+a commission to negotiate with the enemy. “The powers will not treat with
+him!” cry the Chambers. “They have outlawed him. He must abdicate. If he
+refuses, we shall depose him!”
+
+While this is going on in the Chambers, the Emperor, much agitated, is
+walking to and fro in the garden with Constant. At length he is roused,
+and flames out:
+
+“Not my own future, but that of France is at stake! Have they considered
+the consequences of my abdication? The army is grouped round me. Do they
+think they can fight the general dissolution with ideology? I could
+have understood it if I had been repelled when I landed three months
+ago. But to-day, when the foe is only a hundred miles from Paris, they
+cannot overthrow a government without suffering for it. A fortnight
+back, to repudiate me would have been a bold action. Now, I am part of
+what the enemy is attacking, a part of France which it is their business
+to defend. France will sacrifice itself if it sacrifices me! It is not
+liberty which would fain depose me, it is Waterloo—fear!... All I want
+now is to be the commander; but even if part of the troops were to fall
+away, I should promptly replace them by workmen, who can readily be moved
+to revolt.”
+
+At this moment, the two men in the garden hear shouts from the avenue,
+“Vive l’Empereur!” Whose are these last voices raised for Napoleon? The
+workers from Saint-Antoine; men whose troubles he had remembered in
+days of need, men who cared little about the suppression of liberty,
+for equality had made them free. There they were, peering through the
+railings which separated the son of the revolution from them just as
+it had separated the kings, but shouting through the bars of the cage
+into which he had shut himself: “Dictatorship! National Guard! Vive
+l’Empereur!”
+
+“You see?” said Napoleon to Constant. “I never loaded those fellows
+with honours. What have they got to thank me for? I left them poor men,
+just as I had found them. Nothing but instinct leads them to me. If I
+liked, these rebellious Chambers would be dissolved within the hour....
+I need merely say the word, and all the deputies who oppose me would be
+butchered! But for one man, the price is too high. Blood must not flow in
+Paris!”
+
+This mood of renunciation, which is akin to justice, this refusal to
+employ brute force in his extremity, just as he had refused (to begin
+with) sixteen years earlier, resembles the mood of Brumaire. But what was
+then the prudence of a statesman who did not wish to tarnish the origins
+of his long career of power, is now a prudence which does not beseem
+the adventurer he is to-day. Nevertheless, his unwillingness to use the
+bayonets with which, to-day, he could again have cleared the Chambers,
+is one more sign of his recognition of the new epoch, which wants more
+freedom and less force.
+
+Meanwhile, the Chamber of Deputies is in secret session. Lucien has
+presented the imperial message. The deputies are willing to discuss
+matters. Some of them speak, in civil terms, of the abdication as a
+sacrifice necessary for France. Honest Carnot mounts the rostrum, and, in
+this moment of disaster, is almost alone in espousing the cause of the
+Emperor whom almost alone he had openly attacked in the days when all
+others had been subservient to the man of the hour. But now Sieyès, too,
+speaks in favour of the Emperor, speaks like a Roman of old: “Napoleon
+has lost a battle.... Let us help him to drive the barbarians from our
+country, for no one else is equal to the task. If, when he has done it,
+he wants to play the despot, we can hang him. But to-day we must march
+with him shoulder to shoulder!”
+
+Lafayette springs to the rostrum once more: “Have you forgotten where the
+bones of our sons and our brothers whiten? In Africa, on the Tagus, on
+the Vistula, amid the snows of Russia. Two million have been the victims
+of this one man who wanted to fight all Europe! Enough!” In the small
+hours, the Chamber demands Napoleon’s abdication.
+
+The Emperor hesitates. In the morning there is another cabinet council.
+Much agitated, he paces the room, uttering gibes about these Jacobins,
+foreseeing a new Directory. Then the commandant of the Palais Bourbon
+arrives with a message from the Chambers. He stammers when he attempts to
+discharge his commission, but at length manages to get the words out. If
+the Emperor does not abdicate, the Chambers will outlaw him. Savary and
+Caulaincourt come in. All present urge him to the step, for even Lucien
+has given up the game. The Emperor says:
+
+“I have accustomed them to great victories, and now they do not know how
+to endure a single day of adversity. What will happen to France?” He adds
+in low tones: “I have done what I could.”
+
+After this epilogue of six words, which tells the whole story, at noon
+he dictates his declaration to the people. He is making the sacrifice,
+his political life is at an end, he proclaims his son emperor as Napoleon
+II., the Chambers must establish a regency. To whom does he dictate these
+words? Who among his intimates can hold the pen firmly enough to write
+them down?
+
+Lucien! The brother who for years from the enemy coast had gazed
+enviously at this city and this throne; who, if he had been a little
+less of a poet, might long since have collected the malcontents around
+him; and who might even now come to the front, not indeed as a second
+Napoleon, but at least as a second Bonaparte—and that would be something.
+Lucien sits there, a man of forty now. He had been no less ambitious
+than the Emperor, but had had to content himself with the modest career
+of a virtuoso and a Mæcenas. For four whole weeks, now, he has been
+an imperial prince! Smiling inwardly, he pens his great brother’s
+abdication; writes from dictation, still a mere hodman, but this time
+animated with a humorous sympathy which atones for the old discords.
+
+For, in truth, it is the eternal recurrence of the similar. As before,
+come cries from the Chambers, “Outlaw him!” As before, five Directors,
+like those Bonaparte had once deposed, are appointed. They call
+themselves a provisional government. But when they proceed to elect from
+among their own number one to function as president of the Directory, who
+is chosen to take over the authority from Napoleon’s hands? Who, by his
+own vote, has decided his own choice as president?
+
+Fouché.
+
+But the Chamber has become less turbulent. Those who, yesterday, were
+thirsting for Napoleon’s blood, to-day send a deputation to thank him
+for his abdication. To these polite gentlemen the Emperor says: “I fear
+things will turn out badly, now that there is no head. I trust France
+will never forget that my sole object in abdicating was to promote the
+welfare of the nation, and that I have abdicated in favour of my son.
+Only under my dynasty, will France remain free and happy.”
+
+At the very time when he is saying this, Fouché and the others are
+considering the possibility of having one of the Orleanist Bourbons,
+a member of the Brunswick family, or even the king of Saxony, as
+Napoleon’s successor. Moreover, the five Directors are appointed to form
+a government, not a regency; and, in his decrees, Fouché often speaks of
+the nation, but never of Napoleon II. The Emperor notes all this, but
+holds his peace. Slowly his dream of a dynasty vanishes, the dream for
+whose realisation he has fought half a lifetime. It has become for ever
+unattainable. When Lavalette comes to see him in the evening, he is in a
+hot bath, has been there for several hours.
+
+“Where am I going? Why not to America?”
+
+“Because Moreau went there.”
+
+To the Emperor this answer seems surcharged with emotion, for he has
+serious thoughts of seeking an asylum in the United States, and he asks
+the government for a frigate. But the only answer is a request that he
+should leave Paris, for crowds are flocking round the Elysée, clamouring
+for a dictatorship. He burns a number of documents, and then betakes
+himself to Malmaison.
+
+In the garden there, the garden that is full of memories of Josephine,
+he passes two whole days in a state of reverie. The few who remain
+faithful to him are there: his mother, Hortense, Caulaincourt, Lavalette,
+Lucien, even Joseph. But when the Emperor asks who will go with him, the
+answers are evasive. Letizia, indeed, will go gladly, but he thinks that
+at her age it would be dangerous. Lavalette has a daughter growing up,
+and his wife is expecting another child; perhaps he will follow later.
+Drouot, who shared the Elba exile, is wanted in France. The secretary had
+promised the day before to accompany Napoleon into exile, but now his
+mother, who is blind, has implored him not to leave her. “You are right;
+you must stay with your mother,” says the Emperor, turning away.
+
+Pauline, before the last campaign, had pressed her jewels on him; now
+Hortense offers him a diamond necklace; a quixotic return of imperial
+gifts, a gesture suitable to the strange turn in his fortunes. He tells
+Hortense she will have a million, but no one knows if it will ever be
+paid. Lucien and Eugene get money, and he gives little Léon something for
+his mother—still dealing in hundreds of thousands.
+
+But he does all these things like a man in a dream. He does not say a
+word about the last few weeks, but talks only of old times, and chiefly
+of Josephine. “I have promised the minister to go away. I shall start
+to-night. I am weary of myself, of France, and of Paris. Make your
+preparations.”
+
+Whither away? Conjectures, deliberations. Spectral is the tone of the
+manifesto he now addresses to the army:
+
+“Soldiers!... I am with you even though I am away. I know every corps.
+If any one wins a victory, I shall approve his courage.... Show, in days
+to come, that, before all, you serve your country, show it by obeying
+me; and show that I have earned your affection (if indeed I have earned
+it) by my ardent love for our common mother. One more storm, and the
+coalition will be shattered! Napoleon will know you by the blows that
+you deal out. Save the honour and the liberty of the French. Be what you
+have been for twenty years, and you will be unconquerable!”
+
+The government suppresses the document, but could have published it
+without risk. No one could be more aloof, no living man could have become
+more completely a part of history, than this man who speaks of himself as
+if he were speaking of a stranger. He seems to be no longer present in
+the flesh.
+
+Suddenly he is startled! The old sounds assail his ears. The noise of
+cannon shots reaches him from the plain of Saint-Denis; the foe is at the
+gates. Officers and soldiers, scarred and tattered, but hastily patched
+up, bring him the news, vague and dispersed like the sound of the firing.
+Instantly he returns to life. “In two detachments? You must attack and
+defeat them separately; first one and then the other.” At night he
+elaborates a plan for the defence of Paris. Next morning it seems as
+if the familiar sounds had rejuvenated him, and he writes to the five
+Directors as General Bonaparte had written of old:
+
+“I offer to place myself at the head of the army. At sight of me, the
+soldiers will recover their courage, hurl themselves on the foe, and
+punish him. I pledge you my word as general, soldier, and citizen that I
+will not retain the command an hour after the victory has been won. I vow
+to conquer, not for myself but for France.”
+
+It is impossible that after such words he should fail to conquer, unless
+he is slain in the first onslaught. In this mood of impending death, he
+writes his magnificent letter. Napoleon, in the garden, surrounded by his
+remaining officers, restlessly awaits the answer.
+
+Fouché’s great moment has come. To this ex-master of his, to the man whom
+he so cordially detests, he does not even vouchsafe a written answer.
+The Emperor, who is trembling with eagerness to take up arms, and who
+has never since he grew to full manhood had to wait for another man’s
+permission, tears the response out of the returning messenger. It is
+curt: The Emperor is mistaken if he thinks the members of the government
+are such fools as to entertain his proposal; all they ask is that he
+should go away as soon as possible. Napoleon says bitterly: “I ought to
+have hanged him long ago. Now I must leave the job to the Bourbons.”
+
+Mufti; a rapid gathering together of necessaries; Hortense sews her
+necklace for him into a black silk belt. For a few minutes he entertains
+the thought of Corsica, with Lucien as governor of the island. His
+mother’s eyes sparkle. But he knows that the scheme is impracticable.
+America is his last resource. The only thing lacking is the frigate
+for which he has been asking. All are aware that every hour increases
+the risk to his liberty. It is said that Wellington has demanded his
+surrender, and the number of the deputies in favour of his being handed
+over is steadily increasing. Lavalette urges him to start, but the
+Emperor is stubborn.
+
+“I cannot leave without an order from the government to the captain.”
+
+“Why not, Sire? Have the anchor weighed, promise the crew money, send
+the captain ashore if he won’t set sail. You may be sure that Fouché has
+already promised to hand you over to the allies.”
+
+“Drive to the Minister for the Navy!”
+
+The councillor drives to Decrès’, and finds him in bed. Decrès refers the
+messenger to Fouché, saying: “I can do nothing.”
+
+Fouché cannot be found. The councillor gets back to Malmaison at one in
+the morning. The Emperor is awakened, gets up, still thinks the United
+States will be best, but hesitates. “Over there, they will grant me land,
+or I will buy an estate and till it. I shall end where mankind began. I
+shall live upon the produce of my fields and my herds.”
+
+“But what if they propose to hand you over?” enquires the secretary.
+
+“Then I shall go to Mexico. There I shall find patriots at whose head I
+can place myself.”
+
+“The leaders there might turn against you.”
+
+“All right; I shall leave them and go to Caracas. If I don’t like it,
+I shall go on to Buenos Ayres or to California. I shall sail across
+the seas until I find a city of refuge where I can be safe from the
+persecutions of my fellows.”
+
+“But what if the English catch you, Sire?”
+
+“I must risk that. A bad government, but a great nation, noble and
+generous. England will treat me properly. Besides, there is no choice. Am
+I to allow myself, like a ninny, to be taken prisoner here by Wellington,
+to be led in triumph through the streets of London like King John the
+Good of old? Since they have no use for my services here, I must go
+elsewhere. Ability will do the rest.”
+
+“Your Majesty was not made for flight.”
+
+“Flight! What are you talking about?” He looks at the secretary
+“questioningly and proudly.”
+
+“The English must certainly be on the watch for you already. Your end
+ought to be the worthiest possible.”
+
+“Suicide, like Hannibal? Leave that to weaklings and persons of
+disordered mind! Whatever fate may hold in store for me, I would never
+deliberately shorten my life by a single day.”
+
+“I did not mean that, Sire. But what if you were to hand over liberty
+and life to the enemies of France in order to save France? That is how
+Napoleon the Great should act.”
+
+“All very fine, but to whom am I to hand myself over? To Blücher? To
+Wellington? They have no plenipotentiary powers. They would simply take
+me prisoner, and do what they pleased with France and with me.”
+
+“The tsar, perhaps?”
+
+“You do not know the Russians! Still, I will think the matter over. To
+sacrifice my own person would be easy enough. The question is, whether it
+would help France?”
+
+Almost every element that goes to make the statesman seems to have been
+eliminated from this all-too-human dialogue. Here is an adventurer
+hankering after fresh voyages in every corner of the world. Here is the
+man without a country, the ocean traveller without any earth under his
+feet, always on board, always driven hither and thither, a bold pirate
+fearless of death. Ay, fearless of death! The dry manner in which, once
+again, he waves aside the idea of suicide, the sober realism of his
+outlook, this grasp at the flying moment, the old-time dauntlessness of
+the islesman—what unconquerable vital energy!
+
+Now he is to start. The last person with whom the Emperor has a quiet
+talk is his mother. But a soldier rushes in; he will not let any hold him
+back: the soldier is Talma. The call of his heart and his love of the
+tragical have urged him to come for a great farewell; he feels he must be
+there. Later he is to represent this leave-taking between mother and son,
+in all its dignified simplicity, in a pathetic scene on the stage. Then
+the Emperor invites young General Gourgaud, the scatter-brained idealist,
+into his dilapidated carriage. Bertrand and his wife, who had lived with
+him in Elba, and two others, accompany him. They drive to Rochefort, to
+the port where they hope to find a frigate. The pace is too slow for a
+fugitive. He still looks over his shoulder, listening for the call which
+shall summon him back at the eleventh hour. They meet two regiments
+marching northward. The men raise a cheer, and the Emperor discusses with
+the generals the possibility of overthrowing the government if he places
+himself at their head and marches on Paris.... Away again, at length the
+long drive is over, and he stands gazing at the Atlantic Ocean. Joseph is
+there, and urges Napoleon to charter a brig which is taking a cargo of
+spirits to America. The Emperor assumes the name of Muiron, his seventh
+name. This name calls up the vision of another coast, the Mediterranean
+with its many isles, and Corsica, and then Italy; and again he sees the
+young, small, lean general, with long hair falling on his shoulders
+and cold grey-blue eyes, and the bridge of Arcola where the fate of a
+man and a country hung in the balance; and he sees Lieutenant Muiron
+fling himself before the young general in the mêlée, he sees Muiron
+fall, and he knows that by this love-death the lieutenant’s name will
+be immortalised. It would seem that once again a new epoch is opening
+before the genius of energy, and that across the seas, in new zones, on
+uninhabited prairies, the adventurer will swing himself into the saddle,
+will watch the increase of his herds; maybe, even, will travel to Mexico
+and become the leader of a band of rebels!
+
+But God is wiser.
+
+He sees to it that this great life shall have an epilogue such as no
+man has ever lived through before, an epilogue which shall fitly round
+off its tragical poesy. Once more the Almighty stifles the adventurous
+impulse in the soul of Napoleon; once more there are days of questioning,
+negotiation, vacillation—ten days before the final decision.
+
+The Emperor crosses to a small island. They think of chartering two
+fishing smacks which the English will never dream of searching for
+Napoleon; but in the end he rejects the plan. There are two American
+ships available. Negotiations are entered into with a Danish sloop.
+Enthusiastic youths from the naval training school propose to carry
+him off in an advice-boat. Sixteen midshipmen will spirit him out of
+the harbour at dead of night. They sit packed together in the little
+room, feverishly discussing the plan with Las Cases, the Emperor’s new
+confidant. The man to whom this madcap venture is proposed, talks over
+the situation coolly with his companions, asking each in turn for an
+opinion as to the best course. Most of them advise a return to the army,
+for there are still good prospects that the soldiers in the south will
+support him. He emphatically refuses:
+
+“Nothing will induce me to light up a civil war. I will have no more to
+do with politics; I need repose; I shall go to America!”
+
+But his self-respect makes him shrink from the thought of escaping in
+disguise.
+
+News comes that the Bourbon has re-entered the land of his fathers, once
+more under the protection of allied troops. The path of escape seaward
+is now blocked by an English cruiser which bears the ominous name of
+“Bellerophon.” The Emperor has missed his chance. Here are his thoughts:
+“A return to Paris is impossible. The port is blockaded. Shall I allow
+myself to be seized like a pirate, and taken in chains to London? England
+has been my foe for twenty years. Next to the French, the English nation
+is the greatest and the most distinguished in the world. Have I not been
+an Emperor? Has not, from of old, chivalry toward a fallen enemy aroused
+universal admiration? In Corsica, they knife any one who violates the
+rights of hospitality.”
+
+Making up his mind, he dictates the following letter to the prince regent:
+
+“Your Royal Highness, Exposed to the factions which distract my country
+and to the enmity of the greatest powers of Europe, I have closed my
+political career, and I come, like Themistocles, to throw myself upon
+the hospitality of the British people. I put myself under the protection
+of their laws, and beg Your Royal Highness, as the most powerful, the
+most persistent, and the most generous of my enemies, to grant me this
+protection. Napoleon.”
+
+Eight lines, three words of respect, neither arrogance nor humility,
+almost courtly. There is, however, one word which embodies the pathos
+of the step he is taking, and assumes that his adversary will give
+moral guarantees; that in this century, after such a life, Napoleon
+will be as welcome a guest in the enemy land, as of old in Persia had
+been—Themistocles. It is overwhelming self-confidence, based upon
+historical parallels, which determines the last great step of his
+career, as, in youth, it had determined his first advances to Paoli. Now,
+this self-confidence will be his ruin.
+
+Next day, Las Cases hands the letter to the captain of the “Bellerophon,”
+and negotiates with Maitland for Napoleon’s reception on board.
+Admiral Hotham, Maitland’s immediate superior, was not a party to the
+negotiations, but had long since received orders to seize the fugitive if
+possible. In accordance with international law, this was quite in order,
+for England, with the other powers in Vienna, had decreed Napoleon’s
+outlawry. But it is an undisputed fact that Captain Maitland, supreme
+on his own ship, guaranteed his guest’s liberty, saying: “Napoleon will
+receive all proper attention in England. Our people are generous and
+democratic.”
+
+No record was taken at the time of the terms of the understanding in
+accordance with which the man who had been the master of Europe went on
+board one of his enemy’s ships. Nevertheless, it was not an affair of
+hours, but, rather, of days; not the outcome of haste and desperation,
+but the logical conclusion of a long chain of reasoning. Napoleon’s own
+experience of the last twenty years had shown him that verbal agreements
+are untrustworthy, whereas written agreements are comparatively reliable.
+Yet he takes this last step, one of profound historical significance,
+without any written document having been signed, sealed, and delivered.
+In truth, he cannot await an answer from London. He trusts, however,
+not in the mere word of a captain in the navy, but in the moral effect
+of what he is doing. That is why, just before going on board the
+“Bellerophon,” he writes the above-quoted heroic lines, addressed to
+the ruler of the land in which he seeks hospitality, and the supreme
+commander of all its navies.
+
+Then, in uniform, Napoleon boards the British vessel.
+
+
+XX
+
+Maitland stands on the quarter-deck. Napoleon raises his hat, a thing
+he has not always done to greet princes, and addresses the captain as
+follows: “I come to place myself under the protection of your king and
+your laws.” The British naval officers are introduced to him, and he
+asks about the sea-fights in which they have been engaged. Then, with
+the detachment of a man discussing ancient history, he talks about the
+English navy and the French, says that the English sailors are cleaner
+and more efficient, and argues with his host about certain punishments
+customary in the navy after a fight. Then he passes to generalities:
+
+“I really cannot understand why your ships have defeated our French
+vessels so easily. The best of them were ours to begin with. A French
+ship is stronger in every respect than an English vessel of the same
+type. It has more and heavier guns, a larger complement.”
+
+“I have already explained that to you, Sir. Our seamen have had more
+experience than yours.”
+
+Napoleon does not move an eyelash. The conversation remains strictly
+academic; they talk of the nautical science of their respective countries.
+
+“If you had tried to escape in a French frigate,” says Maitland, “you
+would have seen for yourself how well we can shoot.”
+
+No repining! Here stands a gamester who has lost the game. All that the
+Emperor troubles to dispute is Maitland’s contention that two frigates
+with a few twenty-four pounders could not possibly have got the better
+of the “Bellerophon,” which carried seventy-four heavy guns. The captain
+proves that it would have been impossible. Napoleon examines the ship’s
+guns, praises what he sees, but has some criticisms to make here and
+there. Maitland declares afterwards, when alone with his own people, that
+he has been amazed by the extent of the Emperor’s technical knowledge.
+
+The ship puts out to sea.
+
+Meanwhile, the legitimate ministers and kings are discussing their
+course. Not a single member of this circle proves great enough to advise
+a great gesture, before Europe and before history. Ten days after leaving
+the roads of Rochefort, the “Bellerophon” anchors in Plymouth harbour.
+It is a fine morning in the end of July, and the water is thronged with
+rowing boats full of people anxious to catch a glimpse of the caged lion.
+Since no decision has yet arrived from London, civilian visitors are
+not allowed on board. But it is a great time for the crew. They can see
+Napoleon every day, and he converses with any of them that are able to
+speak French. The gaping crowds in the boats are the thousands who for
+twenty years past have heard nothing but abuse and mockery of “Boney”;
+have seen numberless caricatures of him, depicted as a hideous monster.
+Now, they are all animated with the same curiosity; they all want to
+feast their eyes upon this dread spectre.
+
+For the most part, Napoleon stays in his cabin. He does not want to
+become a raree-show. A few days’ patience, and he will be able to go
+ashore, and live where he pleases. At length, however, feeling the need
+for fresh air, he comes up the gangway and mounts the poop. There he
+stands, the great defeated foe, in his old world-famous green coat;
+defenceless. Thousands of eyes instantly converge on him, so that it
+seems as if he must be consumed in their fire.
+
+But the man with the simple, impenetrable countenance, who is thus
+pilloried, must radiate an aura of dignity and suffering, for an
+extraordinary thing happens. Thousands of heads are bared. As far as
+Napoleon’s gaze can reach, on the boats, the ships, throughout the
+harbour, not a man remains covered. The greeting is universal, but
+for one exception. Only one man among all those onlookers keeps his
+three-cornered hat on his head. It seems as if the whole nation were
+willing to pay the Emperor the homage which a pettifogging captain
+withheld.
+
+Such was the judgment of the British nation, which in this tense moment
+cleared itself from all the contumely so soon to be heaped upon its
+name. The waiting lasted three days. On the fourth, British officers
+entered the Emperor’s cabin, and laid before him a paper containing the
+government’s decision. No direct answer had come from the prince regent.
+
+The document was to the effect that it would not be consistent with the
+government’s duties towards England and her allies to allow General
+Bonaparte any further opportunity of disturbing the peace of Europe, and
+it would therefore be necessary to restrain his liberty to “whatever
+extent may be necessary for securing that first and paramount object.”
+St. Helena would be his place of residence, as it was healthy, and would
+admit of a smaller degree of restraint than might be necessary elsewhere.
+He could take with him three officers, a physician, and twelve servants.
+
+Such was the reply of the modern Xerxes.
+
+Napoleon, we are told, “laid the paper on the table, and, after a pause,
+began to protest in vigorous terms.” He said:
+
+“I am not a prisoner of war!... I came on board the ‘Bellerophon’ of my
+own free will, after previous negotiation with the commander. I threw
+myself on your protection, and claimed the rights of hospitality. The
+tricolour was still waving over Rochefort and Bordeaux. I might have
+gone back to the army; or might for years have lived secretly among the
+people, who were devoted to me.
+
+“Instead, I came to this country as a private person. I asked the
+commander of one of your warships whether he was disposed to take me
+and my train to England. He told me he had orders to this effect from
+his government. If I have fallen into a trap, your government has acted
+dishonourably and has dishonoured your flag.... St. Helena will kill me
+in three months. I am used to riding twenty leagues a day. What can I do
+on a little rock at the world’s end? I will not go!... If your government
+wishes to kill me, that can be done here.... I gave the prince regent an
+opportunity of performing the finest action of his life. I have been the
+greatest of his country’s foes, and I paid you the highest compliment in
+the world by voluntarily entrusting myself to your protection.... What
+you are proposing will be an everlasting disgrace to the whole British
+nation!”
+
+The most characteristic point in this protest, which he renews in
+writing, is the moral indignation with which it thrills. International
+law is but lightly touched upon, for what he claims is a hero’s right.
+Such were the words spoken in the heat of the moment, in that small
+cabin, to the officers who had brought him notice of his doom, and
+who subsequently recorded them for posterity. Though spoken in haste,
+they have a historical ring and some of the sentences are modelled for
+imperishability. A soul has been wounded, a soul that is mourning, not so
+much on account of its own loss of freedom, as because the world fails to
+recognise greatness.
+
+Thus, in the first moment of his doom, he recognises that which,
+a century later, cannot be more profoundly expressed by the great
+grandchildren of the men of those days, who have been brought up on
+contemplation of the legend of Napoleon’s career. Themistocles feels that
+he has been betrayed. Once again, one of these legitimate princes has
+failed to seize the opportunity of performing the finest action of his
+life. A man void of imagination, a weakling in possession of brute force,
+he crushed the great and splendid thing which has fallen into his hands.
+
+But from under the brutal pressure of this fist, the spirit of what he
+is crushing rises in a tenuous column. He upon whom the doom is enforced
+has acquired a power over himself, a power which sustains him in his
+powerlessness—stoicism. After the first outbreak, he bears the injustice
+with indomitable firmness, enduring for ten days the indignity of his
+position at Plymouth, and unruffled while England seizes his baggage and
+his money.
+
+In due course, the Emperor and his companions were transferred to the
+“Northumberland,” which set sail for St. Helena. It was on an August
+morning that, for the last time, Napoleon set eyes on the coast of
+France, looming through the mist. But what did he care about the coast?
+The centre of his interest lay many miles to the eastward—Paris, which
+he had wooed more hotly than all the rest of the world, Paris, which had
+rejected his suit.
+
+By evening, he loses sight of Europe, which he has ruled. Darkling is the
+sea, which he has never been able to rule. He stands in the bows, not
+looking backwards, nor forwards either. As on the voyage to Egypt, he
+looks upwards towards the stars. He is seeking his own star.
+
+A great saga is drawing to its close.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK FIVE
+
+THE ROCK
+
+    On Judgment Day, before God’s throne,
+    There stood at last, Napoleon.
+    The Devil had his list begun
+    Of crimes the Bonapartes had done,
+    When God the Father, or God the Son,
+    Cut Satan short before God’s throne:
+    “Don’t bore us all to death with reading
+    A German professorial pleading!
+    If you’re bold enough to face him,
+    In your kingdom you may place him.”—GOETHE.
+
+
+I
+
+The sea spreads out into the vast distance. It is like a mirror of steel.
+The man on the rock, hands clasped behind, stares across the watery
+plain. He is lonely, so lonely.
+
+One looking at him from a distance would see a fat man with short legs, a
+man of uncertain age. He is wearing a green coat, decorated with the star
+of the Legion of Honour; silk stockings; three-cornered hat in his hands.
+The head is large; the brownish hair makes a bush at the back; there is
+no sign of whitening. The short neck springs from powerful shoulders.
+The features are as if hewn out of stone, with a yellowish tint, like
+the marble of an ancient statue that has been darkened in the course of
+the ages; no wrinkles, but the classical profile is somewhat marred by
+the heaviness of the chin. The only beautiful features are the nose and
+the teeth. These last are perfect, and he has never lost a tooth. His
+hands, too, are beautiful. All through his campaigns he was scrupulous
+in his care for them; and, when correcting the letters and despatches
+he dictated, he generally used a pencil in order that he might avoid
+staining his fingers with ink.
+
+The doctors have told us a good deal about his physical condition.
+“Pulse never more frequent than 62; bosom well padded, almost like a
+woman’s, and with very little hair; partes viriles exiguitates insignis
+sicut pueri.” He himself knows much about his body, he has studied his
+battle-field of his life in order that here, likewise, he may utilise his
+forces to the best advantage.
+
+“I have never yet heard my own heart beating; it is almost as if I had
+none,” he says, half seriously. Moderation, he assures us, is the secret
+of his amazing faculty for work. “Nature has bestowed on me two valuable
+gifts: the capacity for sleeping whenever I want to; and the incapacity
+for committing excesses in drinking and eating.... However little a man
+may eat, he always eats too much. One can get ill from over-eating,
+but never from under-eating.” The alternation between campaigning and
+sedentary life enables him again and again to escape from the air of the
+study, and to fortify his constitution by long rides and drives. “Water,
+air, and cleanliness are my favourite medicines.”
+
+With a body thus steeled, he can drive without stopping from Tilsit to
+Dresden, nearly five hundred miles, and be quite fresh at the journey’s
+end: can ride fifty miles from Vienna to Semmering, breakfast there,
+and be back at work in Schönbrunn the same evening; can gallop in five
+hours from Valladolid to Burgos, a distance of about eighty miles. After
+long rides and marches through Poland, he reaches Warsaw at midnight
+and receives the new authorities at seven next morning. These are the
+excesses he practises to restore the balance of his natural forces. After
+a long spell of sedentary life, he will start off on a ride of seven
+days, or will go out shooting for the whole day; after great exertions,
+he will keep his room for twenty-four hours. He believes that his energy
+has saved his life. He says to Metternich: “Sometimes death only comes
+from lack of energy. Yesterday, when I was thrown out of my carriage, I
+thought I was done for. But I had just time to say to myself that I would
+not die. Any one else in my place would have been killed.”
+
+His muscles are powerful, but his nerves are sensitive. Accustomed to
+command, he cannot endure anything in the nature of compulsion. If his
+coat is at all tight, he tears it off; the same with shoes that pinch
+him in the slightest. On these occasions, he will box his servants’
+ears. If he has to wear court dress, they watch out while they help him
+on with his coat. When his mind is busy (when is it not?) he will push
+away his breakfast, jump up from his chair, and stride about, talking,
+issuing orders. His handwriting is nothing more than a series of violent
+contractions of the hand which cannot keep up with the furious pace
+of his thoughts; a sort of involuntary shorthand, which in places has
+not been deciphered after a hundred years of study. He cannot endure
+the smell of paint or size; he always masks unpleasant odours by using
+eau-de-Cologne. If his nerves are utterly exhausted, he soothes them in
+a hot bath. When the war with England broke out, he worked continuously,
+with four secretaries, for three days and three nights, and then spent
+six hours in his bath dictating dispatches. This nervous irritability is
+the antithesis of his slow circulation. He thinks that, the constitution
+of his nerves being what it is, he would be in danger of going mad, “if
+it were not that my blood works so slowly.”
+
+[Illustration: Napoleon as Emperor in 1815. Engraving by Robert Lefèvre,
+after a painting by Muneret.]
+
+But there is no evidence at all that his nervousness ever rose to the
+pitch of convulsions, that he suffered from epilepsy. This illness
+usually begins in childhood, and none of his schoolmates have reported
+that he had fits. Never was any one’s life more closely watched than
+Napoleon’s; and the documents upon which the assertion that he was an
+epileptic is based are scanty, confused, and untrustworthy.
+
+As long as his body remained healthy, he was able to endure all the
+tensions and shocks to which he was exposed. It was when he was
+approaching forty that he began to show the first symptoms of a stomach
+trouble which was in those days summarily diagnosed as cancerous. Beyond
+questions, the tendency to it was inherited. During the last three years
+of warfare, he was put out of action in decisive hours by paroxysms of
+gastric spasm. His courage and resolution were practically unimpaired;
+had it not been for these attacks, the history of his decline would have
+been different.
+
+
+II
+
+The soul which governed this body was driven forward by three fundamental
+powers:
+
+Self-confidence, energy, imagination.
+
+“I am not as other men; the laws of morality and convention cannot be
+applied to me.” In these cold words, he emphasises the “I” with which
+he began his first political writing in the days of his youth. They are
+a plain acknowledgment of a fact, by a man of thirty to whom nothing
+is more alien than vanity. “I alone, because of my position, know what
+government is,” he said when he was Consul. “I am persuaded that no one
+save myself could govern France at this moment. Were I to die, it would
+be a great misfortune for the nation.” He utters such words seldom,
+and only when he is with an intimate; but these sayings show with what
+scientific aloofness he could contemplate the phenomenon, Napoleon. When,
+during the Russian disaster, he was asked who in spite of all would
+defend him in France, he replied: “My name.”
+
+His contemporaries and posterity have held this fundamental feeling to
+be ambition. That view is mistaken. Common ambition distinguishes itself
+from Napoleon’s self-confidence as a restless, climbing animal does from
+a bird of prey whose free flight, by a law of nature, assumes wider and
+wider circles as it swings heavenwards. Napoleon’s aspiration is neither
+restless nor envious: it is nothing but his natural disposition which, as
+Consul, he once charmingly explained to his friend Roederer:
+
+“I have no ambition whatever; or if I have, then it is so inborn, so
+intimately knit up with my very life, that it is as the blood in my
+veins. It does not incite me to outstrip my associates.... I have never
+had to fight for or against it; it does not urge me to greater speed
+than is natural to me, it comes out only when circumstances and my ideas
+demand.”
+
+Already in the days when he was a general, ideas and circumstances forced
+upon him the conviction that he was the man predestined to rebuild
+France. It is nothing other than the conviction of his mission which
+makes him say to Roederer: “Circumstances have changed. I am now one of
+those who found States, not one of those who ruin States.” Another time,
+he speaks of Corneille, but he means himself when he says: “Whence did
+this man acquire his antique greatness? From himself, from his soul?
+Very well. Do you know what that is called, My Lord Cardinal? It is
+called genius. Genius is a flame, which comes from heaven, but seldom
+finds a head ready to receive it. Corneille is a man whom the world has
+recognised.” When his interlocutor observed that the poet had not seen
+the flame, so how could he recognise it, the Emperor answered scornfully:
+“Precisely for that reason I consider he is a great man!”
+
+He thus, indirectly by anticipation, announces his own genius to the
+world, just as Goethe had announced his own.
+
+The will-to-power, not as an endeavour or even as a question, but,
+rather, as simplicity, dwells within him close at hand. He calls interest
+the key to ordinary deeds; the will to govern the intellect, he describes
+as the strongest of all the passions: and the artistic urge of genius,
+he depicts in the following words: “I love power, yes, I love it, but
+after the manner of an artist: as a fiddler loves his fiddle in order to
+conjure from it tone, chords, harmonies.”
+
+That is why it is his nature to command. “Wherever I may be, I command,
+or else I keep silence.” He might have added: “I negotiate,” for he had
+spent a quarter of his time in negotiating. Even as a young general of
+twenty-seven, he aroused the respect of all who came in contact with
+him. He never learned to obey; but to command came to him naturally at
+the very outset, just as a calf stands and walks in the first hour of
+its life. Because this power of commanding comes so naturally, he never
+acquires the art of asking; because he can command as no other, he is
+denied the gift of being able to ask favours.
+
+His self-confidence confers on him a natural dignity that amazes and
+angers the legitimist world, which believes dignity to be consonant only
+with heredity and culture. The friends of his youth stand embarrassed
+when they recognise him as their commander in the field and yet
+realise the solitude which his position as leader entails. All his
+companions-in-arms speak of him with spontaneous homage. One of his
+intimates writes: “When he speaks, every one listens, for he speaks as
+an expert; if he is silent, his silence is respected; and no one would
+venture to say that he was silent because of ill humour. We all felt that
+between him and us there lived a great thought which was wholly occupying
+his mind and forbade familiar accost.” This statement is all the more
+surprising since it was made during a campaign, when tent life usually
+breaks down barriers. With absolute ingenuousness he once said, while
+playing and chatting with friends at Malmaison: “I have no sense of the
+ridiculous. Power is never ridiculous.”
+
+An adept at analysis, the greatest psychologist of his epoch, he knows
+all about his own qualities, and is therefore able, by degrees, to
+elaborate these instincts into principles. “The goodness of a king,” he
+informs his brother Louis, King of Holland, “must always bear a regal
+stamp and must never be monkish.... The love which a king inspires should
+invariably be a manly love, wedded to reverence, fear, and esteem. If
+people speak of him as ‘a good man,’ his rule is a failure.” This love
+and fear which he himself inspires has the greatest practical results.
+
+Nevertheless, the dignity which holds people at a distance is not
+assumed, for a leading element in it is a bewildering naturalness, which
+grows with the years and with his successes. His unsophisticated and
+frank realism, the sterling simplicity of his character, shows itself
+in a hundred gestures and words, and in the freshness with which he
+repeatedly makes fun of his own ardency. He expresses this in a profound
+saying: “A truly great man will rise superior to the events which he
+himself has brought about.” The greatest successes, whose fateful origin
+and consequences he fully grasps, he sums up to his intimates in a
+schoolboy’s laugh. Many have reported this, for between the boisterous
+gaiety of a soldier and the most delicate curl of the lip are many
+shades of good humour; he possesses all.
+
+On the eve of his coronation he exclaims: “Is the result not truly
+delightful, to be named brother by the kings?” Or he sends his
+ambassador to St. Petersburg with the words: “Our brother in Russia is
+fond of luxury and festivity. Very well, then, give him his fill of
+them!” Sometimes his simplicity of manner infringes etiquette, and the
+legitimists blanch: “When I was an insignificant lieutenant,” he begins
+once at table with the kings in Dresden. General consternation! Every one
+gazes into his plate. Napoleon clears his throat: “When I had the honour
+of serving as lieutenant in the second artillery regiment at Valence....”
+Or he is sitting with the tsar in Tilsit, and, since he is ever eager to
+learn, he asks off-handedly across the table: “How much does your tax
+on sugar bring in yearly?” We are told that this question places all
+present in a state of grave embarrassment. Why? Because, as a big man of
+business, he calls money by its name; whereas the kings never mention it
+by name, though they are glad enough to reap the harvest!
+
+Since he was not vain, he knew when he had made mistakes. His whole life
+long he was in the habit of saying that next day he might lose a battle;
+he frequently consulted his friends and his experts, and was inspired
+with the feeling of God-given necessity. How well Napoleon could bear to
+be told the truth, we can learn from Marmont—who, when he praises, is one
+of the most trustworthy of witnesses, for he wrote his memoirs long after
+the Emperor had publicly stigmatised him as a traitor. “Napoleon had a
+strong sense of justice, and would readily forgive an improper word or
+other sign of anger in one who had good grounds for complaint, provided
+of course he was alone with the offender.... He made kindly allowance for
+others’ weaknesses and could never resist the appeal of well-grounded
+sorrow. One who chose time and place, could say anything to him. He was
+always willing to listen to the truth. Though it did not invariably
+influence him, there was no danger in uttering it.”
+
+He saw through the wiles of flatterers, and they gained nothing from him.
+Byzantine bombast, devoid of political value, infuriated him. “How could
+you depict the French eagle tearing the English leopard to pieces, at a
+time when I cannot safely send even a fishing-smack out to sea? Break up
+your moulds instantly, and never show me anything of the kind again!”
+
+On the other hand, those who fearlessly speak the truth to him, impress
+him. He praises Chateaubriand, who has attacked him. In the days when
+he was Consul he was wont, after a sitting of the Council of State, to
+invite to dinner the man who had most vigorously opposed his wishes. In
+the Russian campaign, a captive general tells him some home truths about
+the burning of Moscow. Napoleon dismisses the prisoner in a rage; but
+presently has him recalled, and shakes the Russian’s hand, saying: “You
+are a brave man!” Méhul plays a trick on the Emperor, producing his new
+opera as the work of an Italian composer, and thus earning approbation.
+Paisiello also plays a trick by introducing into one of his own
+compositions an aria by Cimarosa, a composer whose work Bonaparte cannot
+endure. The Consul applauds; and when afterwards told of the deception,
+he only laughs.
+
+Madame de Staël has been a worry to him for fifteen years, voicing
+Europe’s call for freedom. He suppresses her books, banishes her from
+Paris, continues to take measures against her even when he is in Russia,
+speaks of her as the dangerous driving-wheel which sets the salons in
+motion; but he pays this enemy the high compliment of dreading her, and
+acknowledges as much in many of his private letters.
+
+In the Bavarian muster rolls, he comes across the name of a former
+regimental comrade, a declared royalist. He makes this man his military
+attaché. They have not met for fourteen years. Now, during the
+campaign, they meet, and the old companion introduces himself. The
+Emperor rides with him out of the press, dismounts, and sits down on a
+convenient stone; the other wishes to hold his horse. “Let be,” says
+Napoleon; “that’s not your business,” and beckons a chasseur to take the
+bridle-rein. The Emperor promptly becomes reminiscent: “Do you remember
+how, at the lieutenants’ mess in Besançon, you flung your table napkin
+down and shouted: ‘I will not sit beside an officer who belongs to the
+Jacobin Club!’ That is ancient history, and is of no consequence now.” He
+beckons his attendant staff and points to his interlocutor, saying: “Look
+at this fellow. Ability of the old school. He and I worked at equations
+together.” Then, coming down to practical matters: “Have you plenty of
+ammunition? What is your artillery like? How soon will you be ready?”
+
+Unique, perhaps, in Napoleon’s life, is the scene at Erfurt in the year
+of 1813, when von Müller, the Weimar chancellor, braves his anger. Two
+privy councillors have written letters in cipher. These have been seized
+at the outposts. The writers have been arrested. Müller has been sent
+for. The Emperor has stormed at him, threatening to burn Jena, to shoot
+the culprits. Müller breaks in impetuously: “No, Sire, you will not
+commit this abomination! You will not tarnish your record for all time by
+shedding innocent blood!” In his excitement, the German presses so close
+that the Emperor anticipates a personal attack, and lays his hand on his
+sword-hilt. Müller is dragged back by a companion. A pause. “You are a
+bold man, but I see that you are a good friend. Berthier shall look into
+the matter once more.” The privy councillors are pardoned.
+
+This scene, creditable to both participants, is another proof of
+Napoleon’s invulnerable dignity. It is invulnerable, unless the arrow is
+poisoned. A sense of honour is the vulnerable point of self-confidence.
+“If the French people expects certain advantages from me,” said Bonaparte
+when First Consul, “it must put up with my weaknesses, and the chief
+of these is that I cannot endure an affront.” It was he who said:
+“I am a man whom people may kill, but will not affront.” Bourrienne
+tells us that from Bonaparte’s earliest days he had no faith in law
+or morality, but always believed in honour. This compensated for his
+fundamental amoralism. The power exercised over him by his conception
+of honour distinguishes him absolutely from the condottieri of the
+Renaissance, with whom he ought never to have been compared. When he
+is Consul, betwixt night and morning he breaks off his intimacy with
+this very Bourrienne, who has been his private secretary for so long,
+because Bourrienne is involved in an unsavoury financial scandal. Years
+afterwards, he refuses to admit Bourrienne to the Legion of Honour,
+saying: “One who worships the golden calf may have money, but not
+honour.” When a bill signed by King Jerome goes to protest, Napoleon
+writes: “Sell your diamonds, your silver plate, your furniture, your
+horses—anything to pay your debts. Honour comes first!”
+
+He was so sensitive on this point that after his coronation he summoned
+to his presence a notary who had long before advised Josephine against
+marrying a person of doubtful character; Napoleon wished to rehabilitate
+himself in this man’s mind. In exile at St. Helena, he remembered how his
+German teacher in Brienne had always treated him with contempt: “I should
+very much like to know whether Herr Bauer ever learned how I made good!”
+
+He is a stickler for morality, just as he is for honour. “Nothing can
+be worse in a ruler than immorality. He makes it fashionable, and it
+poisons society.” Napoleon does not say this merely because he has been
+warned by the example of the Bourbons and the Directors. He has an inborn
+sense of decency, which is part of his dignity. No one has ever recorded
+having heard Napoleon, the soldier, tell an obscene story. Nor did he
+ever listen to one complacently. When he becomes First Consul, he forbids
+Josephine to have anything more to do with friends of hers who are
+leading gay lives. Years afterwards, when the empress allows Tallien to
+visit her, Napoleon writes to reprimand his wife, saying: “I can see no
+excuses for Tallien. I know that some poor devil has married her with her
+eight bastards, and I despise her even more than I did before. She was an
+amiable cocotte; now she is nothing more than a common woman.”
+
+Talleyrand, who has had a liaison for many years, is told that he must
+marry his inamorata or quit Napoleon’s service within twenty-four hours.
+Berthier is made a prince, but the same condition is imposed on him,
+Napoleon saying: “This passion of yours has lasted too long, and is
+becoming ridiculous. You are a man of fifty, but may live to be eighty,
+and these thirty years are left you for marriage.” The revolution had
+encouraged nudity in mythological representations, but Napoleon wants
+nakedness to be draped. When, in one of the squares there is set up a
+fountain where there is a group of naiads with water spouting from their
+breasts, he has “these wet-nurses” removed as improper, and decrees that
+“the naiads were virgins.” His own women friends must not make themselves
+conspicuous. He lavishes money on them; but if they are actresses, he
+does not allow his liaison to be used as a reason for promotion. On the
+other hand, like any bourgeois he boasts of sharing his wife’s bedroom,
+saying: “It has a remarkable influence upon conjugal life, strengthens
+the man’s influence, guarantees his faithfulness, promotes intimacy and
+good morals; a couple will never become estranged if they spend the whole
+night together. As long as Josephine and I kept this custom, she was
+familiar with all my thoughts.”
+
+One of the most sublime forms of his egotism is gratitude. This is
+not ordinary kindness, but the pride of a man who feels he is unique,
+and overwhelms with benefits any one who has ventured to be useful to
+him, lest he should possibly remain in the other’s debt. That was the
+consideration which really underlay his frequently declared policy, that
+he would never make use of any party, lest he should incur obligations.
+We must not look upon these things in a romantic light. But it is an
+actual fact that he was not content to promote only the friends of his
+youth, his fellow-students at the military academy. As soon as he rose
+to power, he found for the priest who had been headmaster at Brienne a
+sinecure at Malmaison as librarian—without any books! The sometime school
+porter became lodge keeper at his country house. A young lady of noble
+birth to whom, in his lieutenant days, he had once paid court for a whole
+evening, and who sixteen years later applied for help to the Emperor,
+received what she wanted, together with a post for her brother, and a
+friendly letter. He remembered many of his former associates in his will.
+Years after his brief intimacy with “Giorgina,” when he hears that she is
+in difficulties (though she has made no application to him), he provides
+her with a competency.
+
+Hitherto we have been talking about money, or money’s worth. But the
+nature of his gratitude is different when he loves, as in the case of
+Josephine. When we consider his relationships with her, we realise the
+truth of Marmont’s tribute, which is all the more remarkable as coming
+from an enemy: “He had a grateful, kind, indeed affectionate, heart.” At
+the time of the coronation, he says to Roederer: “What right have I to
+put away a good wife merely because I have become a greater man than I
+was when we married?... Before all, I am a just man.” A little later, he
+writes to Josephine: “As far as I am concerned, I deem ingratitude the
+greatest weakness any one can have.”
+
+
+III
+
+Napoleon’s self-confidence, his self-esteem, his egotism, lies at the
+root of his wavering between revolution and legitimacy. Relying entirely
+upon himself, scorning all whose pride rests upon the accident of birth,
+he has nevertheless to take the egotism of others into account in so
+far as this egotism becomes embodied in achievement. And yet he is
+constitutionally incapable of suffering others to be on an equal footing
+with himself. For his own sake he has to choose the most capable to
+fill administrative and other positions, and yet he has to please the
+masses: he must stand for equality of all, and at the same time bear the
+individual in mind. These contradictions give rise to a tragical conflict.
+
+Both the weapons he has chosen for his battle of life, namely, the spirit
+and the sword, he conceives of in a revolutionary sense. “Why is the
+French army the most dreaded in the world? Because the officers became
+émigrés; non-commissioned officers replaced them, and became generals.
+One can lead a people’s army with non-commissioned officers, for they
+have risen from the people.” For years, Napoleon refused to confer the
+grand cross of the Legion of Honour upon Metternich and Schwarzenberg. It
+was only after their gallant behaviour during the fire at Schwarzenberg’s
+mansion, that the Emperor relented, and conferred the decoration. The
+orders which his brother, the king of Holland, distributed with so lavish
+a hand, Napoleon would not allow to be worn in Paris. He sends his
+brother the following memorandum for kings:
+
+“How can one give this indelible mark of appreciation to a man one does
+not know, to a person who may before long prove to be a rogue? Learn
+to know those who gather round your throne! The wish to distribute
+decorations should not be gratified suddenly, as one can gratify a
+desire to go out for a day’s shooting. Noteworthy achievements must
+come first.... You have as yet done nothing to deserve the honour of
+decorating others with your effigy....”
+
+His egotism makes him emphasise the advantage of the lack of any ancestry
+to an original or unusual person. When flatterers suggest that one of
+his Italian forebears should be canonised, he calls the suggestion an
+idiocy. Metternich lays before Napoleon an ancestral tree manufactured
+in Vienna from records of the Buonaparte family in Tuscany. The Emperor
+says: “Take these papers away!” In the official gazette, Napoleon has
+the following notice inserted: “To all questions as to when the house
+of Bonaparte began, the answer is simple: on the Eighteenth Brumaire.
+How can one show so little tact and good breeding for all one owes the
+Emperor as to stress the question of his ancestry?” Once he is so angry
+because some one has contradicted him in this matter of his genealogy
+that he exclaims: “I shall not suffer any one to insult me by treating me
+as if I were a king!”
+
+Then come transitions in which the cleavage begins to show itself. “I
+shall be the Brutus of the kings and the Cæsar of the republic:” which
+saying is certainly ambiguous. “I know of no aristocracy but the rabble
+which I have allowed to escape; and of no rabble but the aristocracy
+which I have created:” here there is hardly any ambiguity. “Tacitus is
+praised because he made the tyrants fear the people—and that was a very
+bad thing for the people:” which is open to but one interpretation.
+
+No one, in the presence of such a man, can be satisfied with the facile
+assertion that Napoleon only pretended to believe in the principles of
+freedom until he attained to power, and then promptly betrayed them. On
+the contrary, we have here to do with a spiritual struggle. This is the
+one problem with which the self-confident man had to wrestle; a problem
+he never solved.
+
+“I am the man of the people: its pulse beats in unison with my own....
+The aristocracy remains always aloof, and never forgives.” Such
+utterances show us the original trend of his character. Inasmuch as he
+overcomes this trend, never becomes an ideologue, but gets the better
+of his inborn sympathies, he is a statesman of genius. Of course it is
+ridiculous when he, who only rewards merit, decorates his baby son’s
+cradle with the grand cordon of the Legion of Honour; or again, when he
+has the deposed king of Spain, who addressed him as “cousin,” informed
+through the intermediation of Talleyrand that the Emperor must be
+addressed as “Sire.” These weaknesses are grotesque, and yet they are
+superficial; he himself recognises them and spurns them if the mood is
+upon him. When he is hesitating whether he shall send Eugene, or perhaps
+better still Talleyrand (a man sprung from the old noblesse), to prepare
+the ground for the “imperial diet” at Erfurt, he suddenly, in virile
+fashion, ceases to bother about the question: “After all, what does it
+matter to me whether I am criticised? I will show them that I do not
+care.”
+
+A more serious problem, both for him and for us, is when the origin and
+the laws of the right of succession to the throne come up for discussion.
+“It is false to call me a usurper; I have simply taken the unoccupied
+place which Louis could not keep for himself. Had I been Louis I should
+have hindered the revolution in spite of the amazing progress which has
+accrued to thought because of the change.... My strength is in my good
+luck; I am as new as the Empire.” Yet, in spite of this somewhat confused
+reasoning, he ventures a step farther, and writes to Brother Louis: “I
+hold myself responsible for everything that has happened since Clovis’
+days down to the days of the Committee of Public Safety; and I shall
+consider everything that is deliberately said against the governments as
+an attack on myself.”
+
+Thus we see that his egotism reaches so paradoxical an intensity in
+the championship of legitimacy, and that he sails so near the serious
+acceptance of rule by divine right (which is otherwise only used by
+him as a political formula), that he makes himself responsible for the
+actions of those very kings whose dethronement has opened the way to his
+rise!
+
+All his life he restlessly hovered round this question of status. At
+Kaunitz Castle, during the night after Austerlitz, while at every minute
+Austrian and Russian colours, captive generals, and dispatches from the
+beaten commanders, are being brought to him, he thrusts everything aside
+because the courier from Paris has entered the room. Then he does the
+same with all the tidings from the capital, in order to read a letter
+full of gossip from a lady, who tells how the Fronde of the Faubourg
+has sworn never to put in an appearance at court. He is furious: “Ah! so
+these people fancy that they are stronger than I? Very well, gentlemen of
+the old aristocracy, we shall see! We shall see!” This is on the evening
+after the battle of Austerlitz!
+
+Here we see such hatred as that which a man gradually comes to feel for
+a woman who stubbornly resists his wooing. He must win over the spirit
+of tradition, cost what it may. One evening, not very long before the
+scene just described, he takes Roederer from the drawing-room into the
+billiard-room, begins knocking the balls about, and then says, apropos of
+nothing in particular:
+
+“Your Senate has no feelings for the aristocratic, no esprit de corps in
+favour of the imperial system.”
+
+“Sire, it is devoted to your person.”
+
+“That is not what I want. It must be devoted to my mantle, no matter
+who wears it. The mantle ought to be enough to guarantee the safety of
+the wearer. This is the aristocratic spirit, which is lacking to you
+ideologues!”
+
+The whole problem of hereditary succession is implicit in these
+considerations; it logically develops therefrom, leading to the second
+marriage, and thus to the tragical issue. There are only two things which
+Napoleon cannot create unaided: children and ancestors. He therefore asks
+the world of legitimate rulers to enter into an alliance with him, which
+will settle his difficulty as far as offspring is concerned, and will
+also provide his children with an ancestry. He is not really a man of the
+people, but a nobleman; and who can complain because he regards himself
+as such?
+
+“I am in a peculiar position. The genealogists want to trace my pedigree
+back to the deluge, while there are some who describe me as sprung from
+the lower middle class. Truth lies between. The Bonapartes are a good
+Corsican family, not celebrated, but certainly better than these coxcombs
+who believe themselves entitled to humiliate us.”
+
+This is the tone of the sixteen-year-old lad, scion of the lesser
+territorial nobility, whom a handful of counts made fun of at the
+military academy and slighted at the boarding school in Paris. They are
+the very words which the young man had used in his letters and literary
+sketches when the noblesse of monarchical France had mortified him.
+Nothing can expunge the memory of his early mortifications. It may well
+be that, but for these never-to-be-forgotten affronts suffered at the
+hands of a few silly young marquises, his whole outlook upon the question
+of legitimacy would have been different; his court life, his marriage,
+his destiny, would have been different; and therewith the course of
+European history would have been other than it was.
+
+His egotism finds expression in the struggle with France, just as it
+does in the struggle with the noblesse. He does not wholly belong to
+the high nobility, and therefore throughout life he remains critical
+of the pretensions of birth. In the same way, though formally he was a
+Frenchman, he was not French by blood, and he was therefore irritably
+critical of the French, just as he was irritably critical of the
+noblesse. He conquered both, but never felt perfectly secure in either of
+his conquests.
+
+But he had more success with France than with the legitimists. Because he
+is not really a Frenchman, France never becomes his legitimate spouse;
+she remains his beloved mistress. He knows this; he wooes, gives himself,
+renounces; and from the perpetual uncertainty of his relationship to
+France, he derives the keenest joys of his life. “I have only one
+passion, only one mistress: France. I lie by her side. She has never been
+untrue to me; she pours out her blood for me, and lavishes her treasures
+upon me. If I need half a million men, she gives them!” When he chides
+his mistress, he does it as a jealous lover; he rules her “with an iron
+hand in a velvet glove”; he gratifies all her caprices; and he knows
+better than any one else how to allure her by the glamour of fame and
+fantasy. That is why she beams on him when he comes home victorious;
+that is why she gives him her children.
+
+Yet lover and mistress remain critical of one another. Mutual jealousy
+persists. Neither of them ever forgets the wish to master the other.
+Hear his exclamation in the tone of a despotic lover: “I swear that I
+do everything for the sake of France alone! If I do not give her more
+liberty, it is because she does not need more!” He is standing in the
+middle of his drawing-room, scrutinising his guests sharply as he speaks
+to them with raised voice. Among intimates, he will often use harsher
+words: “Always the same old Gauls! The same frivolity, the same vanity!
+When, if ever, will these be replaced by a proper pride?”
+
+The French, likewise, remain sceptical. Must they not, in confidential
+talks, say of this Italian the very thing that he once wrote to his
+brother Louis? “Since you ascended the throne, you have forgotten that
+you are a Frenchman, and have strained every nerve to persuade yourself
+that you are a Dutchman. The foreign environment tickles your fancy,
+but it is still foreign.” Roederer writes of Napoleon: “He is making a
+mistake. They are by no means so enthusiastic about him as they were
+about Lafayette (who did nothing practical for them). At bottom, they
+merely admire and respect him because he is useful to them.”
+
+Such a liaison cannot fail to end tragically. The mistress discards her
+lover when he is no longer useful to her.
+
+Tragical, too, is the ending of another embodiment of his egotism, its
+noblest incorporation. “I wish I could be my own posterity, and read
+what such a poet as Corneille would make me feel, do, and say.” From
+boyhood’s days down to the time of his exile, in the island where he was
+born and in the island where he died, his self-esteem is nourished on
+historical parallels. History, he said, was the only true philosophy. Had
+he not had his peculiar feeling for history, Napoleon’s career would have
+been very different; nay, it would have been impossible. His political
+calculations are fed from two sources, history and imagination; the first
+of these streams being intellectual, and the second passionate. It is
+history alone which gives him alighting places on his flight. In his own
+age he is unique; he travels alone; nowhere but in history can he find
+prototypes by whose example he can guide his impetuous progress. With
+Cæsar, the lieutenant begins to soar. At Rochefort, the Emperor ends the
+active phase of his existence by trusting too implicitly in the heroic
+example of Themistocles.
+
+Between the opening and the close, we find numberless indications of
+the way in which his imagination remains at work, mirroring the great
+incidents of classical and modern history. Why is he opposed to Tacitus
+and Chateaubriand? Because they warn the people against tyrants. Why does
+he blame the assassins of Cæsar? Because he wishes to defend his own
+sentence upon the duke of Enghien. When he is First Consul, he actually
+thinks of writing a few chapters of Roman history, to prove “that Cæsar
+never wanted to become king, and that he was murdered because he wished
+to re-establish order by uniting all parties.” He goes on to add that
+Cæsar had been killed in the Senate House, and that in the Senate were
+forty Pompeians, personal enemies of the dictator. Napoleon’s unexpressed
+inference is that he must clean up the Senate, and he does so.
+
+In the Roman style, he sketches the ideas for eight splendid bas-reliefs
+which, on triumphal arches, are to illustrate the doings of his reign;
+they are to be representations of fact, devoid of self-commendation,
+and only in a formal sense illustrations of historical egotism. He
+summons historiographers and imaginative writers from all civilised
+lands, and converses with them for hours, in order that, through their
+intermediation, he may win the approval of posterity. When his portrait
+seems to him too crudely lifelike, he says that Alexander never sat to
+Apelles; David must paint him “in a tranquil attitude, mounted upon a
+fiery steed.” It pleases him to write army orders when he is sitting
+in Frederick the Great’s study; at Sans Souci, to invite the biographer
+of the former master of the house to dine with him; in Lombardy, to
+visit the arch of Augustus, in Egypt, the pillar of Pompey, and on these
+monuments to inscribe the names of those who have recently fallen; in
+Madrid and Moscow, to study the environment and the habits of Philip and
+of Catherine. But his pleasure in these things is not purely æsthetic.
+The hours he devotes to them are heroical; they are Napoleon’s true
+recompense; they are realisations of his earliest dreams.
+
+With his own hand, he is continually writing his own history. The young
+general records his first victories in orders of the day; with each
+new campaign, and after every battle, he adds to the long series; and
+the work is done with the hand of an artist, is wrought with an eye to
+immortal fame. When he is offered the crown of Italy, he surveys his own
+deeds of little more than five years ago as if they had come down in
+legend: “When, a few years later, we learned on the banks of the Nile
+that our aims had come to naught, we were bitterly distressed at this
+evil turn of fortune; but, thanks to the courage of our armies, we were
+able to appear in Milan at a time when Italy believed us to be still on
+the shores of the Red Sea.” Actually, in the interim, he had, before the
+eyes of all the world, trampled on the constitution of France, and even
+the meanest herd in the Apennines knew of his return from Egypt.
+
+When he is carrying on a struggle with the pope he pens a long letter,
+and sends it to Eugene for the latter to copy, since ostensibly it is to
+be a letter from Eugene to the pope; therein Eugene is made to say that
+Napoleon can only be compared to Cyrus and Charlemagne.
+
+At the height of his career, he says to his Austrian ambassador: “Don’t
+you make any mistake, I am a Roman emperor, in the best line of the
+Cæsars. Chateaubriand has compared me with Tiberius, who could only
+travel from Rome to Capri. A pretty idea! Trajan. Aurelian—that would
+be another story. They were self-made men, who shook the world out of
+old ruts. Do you not see the resemblances between my regime and that of
+Diocletian? The net so widely spread; the Emperor’s eyes everywhere; the
+civil authority omnipotent throughout an empire that is fundamentally
+warlike.... A man is born to be a Cæsar.”
+
+This is not a proclamation, not a political letter, not an attempt to
+seduce any one. The words are spoken lightly, in a drawing-room, without
+emotion and without ulterior aim, with all the simplicity of a man aware
+of his own strength.
+
+After victories and successes, this historical feeling for his own
+personality becomes as objective as the attitude of the chessplayer
+towards the pieces on his board. We seem to be contemplating a man whose
+fondness for the game is the only thing which makes him want to win;
+and who, as soon as he has won, can converse dispassionately with his
+defeated opponent about the mistakes they have made and the artifices
+to which they have had recourse. When he is talking to enemy generals
+whom he has taken prisoner or with whom he is negotiating, he will say:
+“You ought to have done this, that, or the other. There, you were in an
+advantageous position. That would have been an excellent move.”
+
+Immediately after his victory at Wagram, he says to Count Bubna: “I am
+certain that you are damnably strong, for you can deliver shrewd blows.
+At what figure do you estimate my forces?... You appear to be uncommonly
+well informed! Would you care to have a look at my army?... No? Well, at
+least you had better study my position on this map. It was my own fault
+when I failed to win a victory at Aspern-Essling. I got the punishment I
+deserved.”
+
+Only with regard to one matter does this detachment fail him—Waterloo.
+In St. Helena, an English surgeon ventured to say that people in England
+would be glad to hear his opinion of Wellington. The remark was followed
+by an embarrassing silence.
+
+Fame is the supreme goal of his egotism; substantially, it is the only
+goal. All his energies are directed towards this end: his consciousness
+of his uniqueness; his historic sense; his sense of honour; his
+dignity; the boy’s dreams, the youth’s plans, the man’s deeds, the
+prisoner’s unrest. Posterity is the great confused picture which fills
+his imagination; and the desire of his heart would seem to be rather
+the Latin “gloria” which thinks of future generations, than the French
+“gloire” which suns itself in the smile of contemporaries. He is animated
+by a daimonic being’s eager wish for immortality, although he knows that
+he must share the fate of all mortal men. “Better never to have lived;
+than to exist, and pass without leaving a trace.”
+
+He modifies the coronation oath by swearing, not only to protect the
+realm and the happiness of France, but also to rule for the glory of his
+people. On one of the battle-fields of Henry IV in Normandy he has a
+column erected with the inscription: “Great men love the fame of those
+who resemble themselves.” Frederick’s sword is “more precious than all
+the treasures of the king of Prussia”; but it is not only when he is
+campaigning that his thoughts turn towards the future. When he is having
+houses built for the unemployed, his order to the minister to whom the
+task is entrusted ends with the phrase: “We must not pass out of the
+world without leaving traces that will commend us to the thoughts of
+posterity.” At the close of his career as Emperor, he refuses to make
+peace on terms that will involve the renunciation of territories upon
+whose conquest part of his fame depends; and towards the end of his life
+he utters a melancholy parable, darkly significant, lonely as his own
+destiny:
+
+“The love for glory is like the bridge which Satan tried to build across
+chaos in order to make his way into paradise. Glory is a connecting link
+between past and future, from which an abyss separates him. I leave to my
+son nothing but my name.”
+
+
+IV
+
+Energy is the second element in Napoleon’s make-up. How does this quality
+show itself?
+
+First of all in calculation. Never a trace of the flash of genius; but,
+rather, continuous weighing, over-elaborating, discarding:
+
+“I have known myself to argue with myself over the thoughts concerning
+a battle, and have contradicted myself.... When I have drawn-up a plan
+of battle I am the most pusillanimous of men. I magnify the dangers and
+the incidents, am in a terrible state of excitement even when I seem
+cheerful; I am then like a girl who is going to have a baby.” This is the
+mood of an artist during the conception of his work. He once described
+these feelings to Roederer in even franker terms:
+
+“I am always at work; I think a great deal. If I appeared to be ever
+ready and equal to any occasion, it is because I have thought over
+matters for long before I undertake to do the slightest thing; I have
+foreseen all eventualities. There exists no guardian angel who suddenly
+and mysteriously whispers in my ear what I have to do or to say.
+Everything is turned over in my mind, again and again, always, whether I
+am at table or at the theatre. At night, I wake up in order to work.”
+
+This constant deliberation builds up something within him which he names
+“the spirit of things:” the precision, which penetrates he touches; the
+thinking in numbers, to which he ascribes part of his success and for
+which he has to thank his mathematical training. There is nothing too
+small for this brain; for the sum total of millions of details is a plan
+whose scope is world embracing. If one of his officers writes to say that
+the Emperor’s instructions have been carried out, Napoleon waives this
+general statement aside and demands details. Nothing is so small but
+he wants to know all about it and judge its importance for himself. He
+writes to Eugene, who is in Italy:
+
+“How is it possible that you are distributing three million seven hundred
+and forty-seven thousand rations of meat?... I can calculate a similar
+gross total for dried vegetables, wine, salt, and spirits. But I want
+calculations according to corps. I am robbed of fifty per cent., even
+as much as seventy per cent.... How can you allow them to calculate for
+one million three hundred and seventy-one thousand rations of hay? I
+should have to provide twelve thousand horses to eat it, not counting
+the Istrians and Dalmatians! You know I have only seven thousand.... The
+office charges are insane! Frs. 118,000 for four months! That equals frs.
+400,000 a year! Such a sum should suffice for the whole of Italy!”
+
+This is but one example among many. Thousands of such letters, hailing
+from every corner of the military and civil administration, personally
+dictated, are to be found in the volumes of correspondence, and must
+sadly disappoint those who expect to find only ideas and temperament
+in the letters. He is the man who, in the midst of his wars in Italy,
+writes home that they must concoct a letter, nominally written by a
+German patriot and dealing with Austrian politics, and have it circulated
+throughout Germany; again, in the throes of a campaign, he has to write
+to Murat, King of Naples, detailing how the latter is to behave at balls
+or when he visits the theatre, whom he is to invite and whom to exclude
+from his invitations. While the preparations are being made for the
+Erfurt gathering, he suddenly remembers that some one must be there to
+introduce the actresses to the gallant grand dukes. He never demonstrates
+more forcibly the way he formulates destinies in figures than by the
+following incursion into social life: “Each household should have six
+children, seeing that, on the average, three are sure to die. Of the
+three who survive, two should replace the father and mother; the third
+will serve for an unforeseen emergency.”
+
+His precision of thought goes to such grotesque lengths!
+
+A third means for expressing this energetic faculty is his tempo.
+“Activity! Speed!” he writes with his own hand at the foot of an
+order. The king of Prussia has depicted this peculiarity with especial
+felicity: “We need but see him ride: he always gives his horse rein, and
+never troubles about what may be happening in his rear!” But Napoleon
+negotiated better than he rode, for he never negotiated until after long
+reflection. “Not a moment must be lost,” is the slogan even when nothing
+presses for decision. The instinctive impetus of an overburdened but
+short life drives him forward; it seems as if he could not arrive quickly
+enough at the end of his career. He writes to Bernadotte, in the course
+of a campaign: “I have lost a whole day through you, and the fate of the
+world hangs upon one single day.”
+
+The drive he imposes upon himself has its reaction upon those who serve
+him. He drives them, not only in the field, but also in circumstances
+which ordinary governments would take months to decide. He demands a
+treaty with Russia from Talleyrand, saying it is to be drawn up and ready
+in a couple of hours. To explain the reasons for his second marriage, he
+wants a circular letter sent to all his ambassadors and consuls; this
+is to be drafted “in the course of the day.” One night he is immersed
+in thoughts concerning the embellishment of Paris. Next morning he says
+to his Minister for Home Affairs: “I require that Paris shall have two
+million inhabitants by the end of ten years. I want to do something
+useful and great for the city. What do you suggest?”
+
+“Provide the town with a good water-supply, Sire,” and the minister
+expounds a plan whereby the Ourcq water can be conveyed to Paris.
+
+“Your proposal is good. Summon G.; he must send five hundred men to La
+Vilette to-morrow, in order to start work on the canal.”
+
+Another of his weapons is memory. “I always know my position. I cannot
+remember a single Alexandrine, but I never forget a figure relating to
+my military situation.” This is the productive memory. Although he
+pronounces them abominably, he retains the names of all the important
+places—important from his point of view—in all the countries where he
+has fought. The Postmaster General reports that the Emperor is able to
+mention, offhand, distances which he himself has to hunt up in works of
+reference. On his way back to Paris from the camp at Boulogne, Napoleon
+encounters a troop of soldiers who have lost their way, asks the number
+of their regiment, whence they set out, and when. He tells them their
+line of march! “Your battalion will be at H. this evening.” At this time,
+two hundred thousand men were on the march close at hand!
+
+His technique is to arrange things in his head “as in a wardrobe.” He
+says: “When I wish to put any matter out of my mind, I close its drawer
+and open the drawer belonging to another. The contents of the drawers
+never get mixed, and they never worry me or weary me. Do I want to sleep?
+I close all the drawers, and then I am asleep.”
+
+Among the numerous heraldic emblems which might have tickled the fancy of
+an upstart—stars, tutelary deities, saints, beasts of prey—he finds none
+to please him. He chooses the bee, thus emphasising once more his opinion
+that a man of talent who aspires and works unceasingly, can achieve
+everything that can otherwise be achieved through what is vaguely spoken
+of as genius. He declares that genius is industry; meaning, of course,
+that genius is industry among other things. He says that work is his
+element, that for which he has been created. Had he left nothing behind
+him, had all his works perished, still his industry and his glory would
+have been an emblematic stimulus to the youth of countless generations
+after he had passed away.
+
+Many witnesses testify to his amazing powers of continued work. Roederer,
+who was his close companion during the Consulate, writes as follows:
+“That which especially characterises him is the power and persistence of
+his attention. He can work for eighteen hours at a stretch, it may be at
+one piece of work, it may be at several in turn. I have never seen his
+mind flag. I have never seen his mind without a spring in it, not when
+he was physically tired, not when he was taking violent exercise, not
+even when he was angry. I have never seen him distracted from one affair
+by another, neglecting the matter in hand for one which he is about to
+work. Good or bad news from Egypt never interfered with his attention
+to the civil code, and the civil code never interfered with the steps
+it was necessary to take for the safety of Egypt. No one was ever more
+wholly immersed in what he was doing, nor did any one ever make a better
+distribution of his time among all the things he had to do. Never was any
+one more stubborn in rejecting the occupation or the thought which was
+not appropriate to the hour or the day; nor was any one ever more adroit
+in seizing an occupation or a thought when the right moment had come.”
+
+He robbed hundreds of his fellow workers of health and youth, because
+he demanded too much of them when he demanded from them what he exacted
+from himself. His private secretary would be sent for at a late hour,
+and would get to bed at four in the morning; at seven, the poor man
+would find new tasks ready for him, and would be told that they must be
+finished within two hours. When Napoleon and his secretary were together
+all day, one dictating and the other writing from dictation, at meal
+times the chief would order food for two, and would share with his
+subordinate at a corner of the work-table, just as he would have shared
+with his adjutant on a boundary stone. During the Consulate he would
+sometimes begin a sitting with his ministers at six in the evening and
+keep it up till five next morning. In the three months at Schönbrunn, his
+official correspondence comprised four hundred and thirty-five letters
+occupying four hundred folio pages of print. This was only his political
+and administrative correspondence; in addition he wrote a great many
+private letters, and delivered innumerable orders by word of mouth.
+
+These are the main forms of his energy. It is with their aid that he
+enters upon his duel with the world, availing himself of their interplay,
+and speaking of his genius as a talent for combination. In his plans
+and orders, he is fond of the phrase “at the given moment.” He is not
+hampered by any principle; is always willing to modify his scheme to
+suit the weather of destiny, to adapt his combinations to the slightest
+modifications of the situation. This man of iron will had a most supple
+intelligence. While forcing all those with whom he came in contact to
+bend before his resolves, he himself showed a wonderful elasticity in
+compliance with the will of circumstances.
+
+“The weakness of a captain who, instead of forcing his way into port,
+preferred to let himself be chased on the open sea—this, and some of
+the trifling defects of our frigates, were the reasons why I failed to
+change the face of the world. Had Acre fallen, we should have made our
+way to Aleppo by forced marches, have enlisted Christians, Druses, and
+Armenians; have speedily reached the Euphrates: thence I should have gone
+to India, and should have stablished new institutions everywhere.”
+
+Whether these vaticinations were historically tenable, may remain an
+open question; but his belief that he could have done what he describes,
+bears witness to his realism. In this world of figures and magnitudes,
+for Napoleon everything depends upon the individual behaviour of the
+individual man at his post. Since the failure of any one individual may
+give the totality of circumstances a new trend, he is always ready to
+adapt the trend of his own intelligence to changing circumstances. But he
+does not himself attribute his successes to this, saying that they were
+due to his having been born at the right moment, and that under Louis
+XIV. he would only have become a marshal like Turenne.
+
+Napoleon’s energy is very little disturbed by the passions. His
+self-confidence and his sense of dignity made self-command easy to
+him, and, being habituated to surprise, he was always fully master of
+himself. “Since I am used to great events, they make no impression on
+me at the moment when they are reported; I feel the pain an hour later.”
+This sometimes makes him appear more stoical than he might wish people
+to believe him. When Hortense’s boy dies, he tells her to be composed,
+saying: “To live means to suffer; but the brave man is continually
+striving for self-mastery, and achieves it in the end.”
+
+Nevertheless, he sometimes loses his temper. The fierceness of his
+passion is then proportional to his pride, the irritability of his
+nerves, and the impatience of his creative will—the will of one who
+needed a thousand hands to complete his work. The stories about his
+threatening an ambassador with his fist, and similar outbursts of
+violence, are fabulous; but there is trustworthy evidence as to the
+terrible moment when Berthier had infuriated the First Consul by his
+tactlessness. Led on by Talleyrand as Mephistopheles, Berthier, in the
+Tuileries, had urged upon the Consul the need of assuming the title of
+king. Bonaparte’s anger flashed from his eyes, his lips twitched, he
+seized the offender by the throat, and pushed him back against the wall,
+shouting: “Who put you up to raising my bile in this way? You will pay
+for it, if you dare to do anything of the kind again!”
+
+Even amid his anger, his faculty for combination is at work, and he
+realises that the notion cannot have originated in the good Berthier’s
+mind. In its psychical significance the scene is unique.
+
+Often he is a rough, irritable soldier, who furiously lifts a badly
+closing window off its hinges and hurls it into the street; lashes a
+groom with his whip; when dictating a letter, utters curses against the
+addressee, which his secretary suppresses; even before the vicars-general
+speaks in an unseemly way, asking, “Which of you leads this blockhead of
+a bishop by the nose?”
+
+One of these vicars-general, who has been absent from duty for a long
+time, returns, and comes to report.
+
+“Where have you been, misérable?”
+
+“At home, with my people.”
+
+“How dare you stay away so long when you know that your bishop is such a
+damned fool?”
+
+More important are the occasions when he simulates anger to gain some
+political end. Occasionally he gives the show away afterwards. “You think
+I was in a rage?” he says in Warsaw. “You are making a mistake. While
+I have been here, my wrath has never exceeded bounds.” One day he is
+playing with his little nephew and gossiping with the court ladies, in
+the best of humours. The English ambassador is announced. Instantly his
+face changes like an actor’s, his features are convulsed, he turns pale,
+strides towards the Englishman and storms at him for a whole hour in the
+presence of numerous witnesses. He is genuinely angry with England and he
+is genuinely annoyed at being disturbed by this visit; but the wrathful
+mask, the scene he makes, the angry expressions he uses, are political
+expedients.
+
+The frequency of such incidents made many people believe that Napoleon
+was a passionate man. Talleyrand has more insight: “He’s a perfect devil.
+He humbugs us all, even about his passions, for he knows how to act them,
+though they are really there!”
+
+Self-command and coldness are so dominant in him that he never takes the
+vengeance that might seem appropriate to his irritable sense of honour
+and to the extent of his power. He never punished rivals or traitors
+unjustly. He only banished those whom he had good reason for wishing
+out of the way; and it was a point of chivalry with him to leave beaten
+enemies, great or small, unmolested.
+
+Here is a scene with the Badenese envoy. The envoy asks compensation
+for the duke of Brunswick. The Emperor angrily refuses: not because the
+duke is supposed to have incited Prussia to make war against France; but
+because, long before this, during the first campaign against France in
+1792, he had issued the famous manifesto of Coblenz, in which he had
+said that in Paris he would not leave one stone standing on another.
+“What harm had this city done to him?” fiercely enquires the Emperor two
+decades later, the man who in those days had been Lieutenant Bonaparte.
+“This affront must be avenged!”
+
+
+V
+
+Napoleon’s energy is most conspicuous in his role of conqueror. But in
+this case it finds a more spiritual expression than one would be led
+to anticipate from a soldier. “I have seldom drawn my sword; I won my
+battles with my eyes, not with my weapons.” To gain a knowledge of his
+soul, it is not important to understand the new forms of his art of war;
+of importance is to understand the way in which his whole being vibrated
+before, during, and after a fight. In this, too, he is wholly original.
+
+Even courage, that fundamental virtue of the soldier, assumes in Napoleon
+a form peculiar to himself. During his youthful days, and again during
+the last campaigns he displayed so much personal courage that he can
+venture to say, “no soldier is proof against cowardice”; but such moments
+of panic fear must be utilised against the foe. What he believes himself
+almost alone to possess is “two-o’clock-in-the-morning courage”: courage
+in face of the unforeseen, the sudden; courage which demands presence of
+mind and power of determination. But he despises the “chivalrous” courage
+of the duel, which he crushingly describes as “cannibal courage.”—“Since
+you have both fought at Marengo and Austerlitz you do not need to give
+any further proofs of your courage. Women are fickle, and so is good
+luck. Go back to your regiments and become comrades again.”
+
+The commander of armies clearly recognises the line of demarcation
+between humaneness and coldness. The same man who, in his study, could
+exclaim to Metternich: “Such a man as I does not care a snap of the
+fingers for the lives of a million men”; will say on the field of battle:
+“If the kings of the world could contemplate such a sight as this, they
+would hanker less after wars and conquests.” Another time he writes
+to Josephine: “The earth is strewn with dead and bleeding men; this
+is the obverse of war; the heart is tortured at the sight of so many
+victims.” Calculation and feeling are at cross purposes in this case,
+and he excuses himself for the duties imposed by his own craft: “He who
+cannot look upon a battle-ground dry-eyed, allows many men to be killed
+purposelessly.” This is what he wants above all to avoid. For the great
+aim, Europe entrusts him with a million men: his lesser aim, the taking
+of this trench or that bridge, must be thriftily achieved, for “he who
+heedlessly allows ten men to be killed where at most two need have died,
+is answerable for the lives of eight men.”
+
+Since most of his wars are fought from political necessity, and are
+always conducted without hate, as soon as the fight is finished the foe
+ceases to exist. He writes from Schönbrunn: “I am appalled to learn that
+the eighteen thousand prisoners on the island of Lobau are suffering from
+hunger; this is inhuman and unpardonable. Have twenty thousand rations
+of bread sent there immediately; a similar amount of flour for the
+bake-houses.” But when, after the truce, soldiers are still being killed
+by the embittered Tyrolese, he is furious, and orders that “at least
+six of the larger villages are to be plundered and burned, so that the
+mountain folk may not soon forget the vengeance that has been exacted.”
+
+War is for him an art, “the most noteworthy art, one which contains
+within itself all the other arts.” Like a true artist, he declares that,
+in the long run, this art cannot be taught: “You fancy that because
+you have read Jomini you are fitted to be a leader in war?... I have
+fought in sixty fights, and I can assure you that I have learned nothing
+from any of them. Cæsar used the same tactics in his last battle as
+he had used in his first.” In typical artist fashion, he contradicts
+himself in the definitions of those things in which he is a master.
+After the Spanish campaigns, he delivers the following lecture to one
+of his generals: “War is decided far more by the power of strategical
+calculation than by material forces.” At another time he will maintain
+that it is the superior numbers or the moral courage of the troops which
+constitutes the deciding factor. Sometimes he even goes so far as to say
+that inspiration decides an issue: “The result of a battle hangs on a
+thread and is mostly the outcome of a sudden thought. One approaches the
+enemy according to a prearranged plan, one comes to blows, one fights for
+a while, the critical moment draws near, a spark of inspiration flames
+up—and a small reserve division does the rest!”
+
+More logically, but not less as the artist, he speaks of the decisive
+moment which, after a couple of engagements, one can find out for oneself
+without any difficulty. “Such moments are not more than quarter hours....
+In every battle a moment comes when the bravest of soldiers would like
+to turn tail: it needs but a trifle, but a plea, to put heart into him
+again.” This power of suggestion has won him many a victory, for soldiers
+constitute the only mass to which he can speak with effect. The soldier
+understands him, because Napoleon is simple. The Emperor even describes
+war as “a simple art like everything that is beautiful.” By this
+contention he seems to uphold the idea that war is the highest of all
+arts. “The military profession is a freemasonry ... and I am the grand
+master of its lodge.”
+
+He draws this personal influence from the history of his own rise, which
+is known to every soldier. As a young general, he had learned to put
+up with his dependence on the civil authority; and as emperor he still
+commiserates his royal adversaries because their generals’ activities
+are frustrated by civilian control. On the other hand, he knows the
+dangers of amateurishness, and writes to Joseph: “When the king himself
+commands, the soldier does not feel commanded. The army applauds him as
+when a queen is riding by. If one is not oneself a general, one must give
+the generals full power of command.”
+
+Because he is the only ruler in Europe who has risen from the ranks, from
+youth upwards he remains familiar with details, and always understands
+how things look to an officer on the fighting front. “There is nothing
+connected with the art of war which I cannot do with my own hand: power,
+siege engines, artillery.” But he does not concern himself with these
+details unless it is necessary, and laughs at the romantic anecdote in
+a book where he is said, one night, to have taken over the duties of a
+sentry who had gone to sleep at his post: “That is a civilian’s idea, the
+sort of thing a lawyer would think of, and was certainly not written by a
+soldier.”
+
+But he is a stickler for equality in the army, and in this matter
+remains true to the revolution until the very end of his career. No one
+is promoted unless his record in the service justifies the advancement.
+If Napoleon makes an exception in the case of his brothers, we must
+remember that after he has made them kings he continues to scold them
+as if they were subalterns. He writes to Jerome, commenting on a report
+from Silesia: “Besides, your letter is too clever for my taste.... What a
+man needs in war is precision, firmness, simplicity.” When Joseph plays
+the prince in Boulogne, and vies with Marshal Soult in the splendour of
+his receptions, Napoleon scolds him. “In the army, no one must put the
+commander in the shade. On review days, it is the general and not the
+prince who must give a dinner. At a review, a royal colonel is a colonel
+and nothing more. Discipline can tolerate no exceptions. The army is a
+whole. Its commander is everything. Keep to your own regiment.”
+
+[Illustration: Napoleon as Emperor in 1815. Woodcut, after a medal.]
+
+Nevertheless, a wounded commander-in-chief has become a private soldier.
+At Eylau, where there have been heavy losses, the Emperor forbids a
+famous surgeon to go out of his way in order to care for a wounded
+general: “Your business is to attend to all the wounded, and not to any
+one in particular.” A German officer reports that after a fight Napoleon
+would often stand by the wounded and see that they were carefully lifted
+into the stretchers: “If this good fellow pulls through, there will be
+one victim the less.”
+
+In all the memoirs, we read how in camp the Emperor would foregather
+with his men at the bivouac fire, ask whether their food was being
+properly cooked, and laugh at their replies. When they confided all their
+troubles to him, and often said “thou” to him, this was not the assumed
+good fellowship of a condescending monarch, but a genuinely paternal
+relationship. If he calls them “my children,” to them he is their “little
+corporal,” meaning the comrade who takes the responsibility. “I have
+received your letter, dear comrade,” he writes to a veteran grenadier
+who wishes to re-enter the service. “You need not speak to me of your
+deeds, for I know you to be the bravest grenadier in the army. It will be
+a pleasure to see you once more. The Minister for War will send you your
+orders.”
+
+He never confides his plans to any one; but when it is a question of
+rewarding merit, he calls in Everyman as adviser. After a fight, he often
+forms a circle, speaks to the officers, the non-commissioned officers,
+and the rankers individually, asking who were the most valiant, rewarding
+then and there, allotting eagles with his own hand. “The officers pointed
+out, the soldiers confirmed, the Emperor approved,” relates Ségur as
+eyewitness.
+
+It is true that Napoleon loves war, but as a fine art, just as he loves
+power. It is true that he laughs incredulously at a traveller who tells
+him a tale of a Chinese island where there are no weapons.
+
+“What do you mean? But they must have weapons!”
+
+“No, Sire.”
+
+“Pikes, anyhow; or bows and arrows?”
+
+“Neither the one nor the other.”
+
+“Daggers!”
+
+“Not even daggers.”
+
+“But how the devil do they fight there?”
+
+“There has never been a war on the island.”
+
+“What, no war?”
+
+It sounds to the traveller as if the very existence of such people under
+the sun outrages the Emperor. The thought stirs a soldier’s bile!
+
+All the same, he looked forward to the coming of peaceful days, not with
+an ardent desire for them perhaps, but with the seer’s vision. He showed
+his superiority to all the modern commanders against whom he fought, in
+that he, the greatest soldier of the new times, declared the primacy of
+the spirit over the sword. When Canova made a statue of him in which he
+was shown with a threatening mien, he said contemptuously: “Does the man
+think I achieved my conquests with blows of my fist?” But, more than
+this, he himself defined a commander as something above and beyond a
+soldier. When First Consul, he said in the Council of State:
+
+“In what does the commander’s superiority consist? ‘In his mental
+qualities: insight, calculation, decision, eloquence, knowledge of men.’
+But all these qualities are what make a man shine in civil life.... If
+bodily vigour and courage sufficed the commander, any brave private could
+be a leader of armies. Everywhere, crude force now yields ground to moral
+qualities. The man with the bayonet bows before the man who possesses
+exceptional knowledge and understanding.... I knew perfectly well what I
+was about when, as the head of the army, I bore the title of Member of
+the Institute; and the youngest drummer understood what I meant.”
+
+At a later date, he spoke more decisively.
+
+“_War is an anachronism. Some day, victories will be won without cannon
+and without bayonets.... Whoever troubles the peace of Europe, wants
+civil war._”
+
+Remember that these are the words of Napoleon, the military commander.
+
+
+VI
+
+His energy is concentrated on human beings. Very rarely does he come into
+conflict with natural forces; and whenever he does so, he is beaten.
+But, in general, all he has to do is to compel men to conquer, for him,
+the mountains and the miles. Human beings are the material in working
+with which the energy and the imagination of this artist are destined
+to become weary; them he must overcome if he is to do his work at all.
+No mortal ever conquered more men than did Napoleon. He subjugated, not
+only armies and peoples, but something more: individuals, and the best of
+these.
+
+To achieve his goal, he followed the road of contempt; and used as his
+means, glory and money. Self-confidence and experience had convinced him
+that every one acts only from self-interest; that some are driven to
+grasp at money through love of pleasure, or avarice, or clannishness;
+that others seek public recognition in order to gratify their vanity,
+their jealousy, or their ambition. Denying the force of ideal motives,
+Napoleon relied exclusively upon material means; and if the spur of
+ambition occasionally assumed the aspect of a desire for eternal glory,
+this occurred against his will, but the magic of his personality
+sometimes exercised a more puissant lure than the well-calculated
+material attractions offered by others. To quote Goethe: “Napoleon, who
+lived wholly for ideas, was nevertheless unable to grasp the nature of
+ideal motives; he repudiated the ideal, denied that there was any such
+thing, at the very time when he himself was eagerly trying to realise the
+ideal.”
+
+Yet to Napoleon the Mephistophelian conception of men was as alien as it
+was to Goethe. He said: “Most people bear within themselves the seeds
+of good and of evil, of courage and of cowardice. Thus is human nature
+created: upbringing and circumstance do the rest.” Since, for twenty
+years, he needed this human nature, daily and in quantities of a hundred
+at a time, the subtlest knowledge of it was a primary condition of his
+success. Among all the materials which Napoleon bent to his uses, the
+human heart was the most familiar.
+
+“I am a great friend of analysis.... ‘Why’ and ‘How,’ are such useful
+questions, that they cannot be uttered too often.” Coldly and clearly as
+a nerve specialist, he controls all psychical symptoms, utilises every
+method for the attainment of such control, and trusts especially to
+physiognomy—for he knows his Lavater. He is fond of reproving people.
+“According as they react, I discover the pitch of their souls. If I
+strike brass with a glove, it gives back no tone: but if I strike with a
+hammer, it rings out.” A person meeting Napoleon for the first time, is
+gripped by the magnetism of his glance.
+
+By talking and questioning, he makes himself acquainted with the atlas of
+human types, an atlas he is ever enlarging. He questions so long that a
+stranger grows embarrassed, confused, and alarmed; he questions until his
+questions become ridiculous; but he must at all costs get the information
+he needs, even if he is not negotiating. In what way can the twenty
+minutes that a doctor sits at Napoleon’s table in St. Helena be put to
+the best use by the ex-Emperor?
+
+“How many patients suffering from ailments affecting the liver had you on
+board? How many cases of dysentery? What is the fee for a consultation
+in England? What is the pension awarded to an army surgeon?... What is
+death, or how would you define it? When does the soul quit the body? When
+does a body first receive a soul?”
+
+Another means is monologue. One of his intimates declares that the right
+of the Emperor to hold forth in monologue was the only real pleasure his
+high estate awarded him! We have testimonies concerning other men of
+action: but who ever talked so much as Napoleon! Since he always faces
+the world alone, he must continually hold forth that he may convey his
+suggestions to the world. His conversations often lasted from five to
+eight hours, some of them ten or eleven hours; and during the greater
+part of them Napoleon took the floor. We must admit that this was more in
+accordance with the Italian manner than the Roman; Italian, too, were the
+rapidity of his utterance, and his foreign accent: but he gesticulated
+little; and only when much moved did he unclasp his hands—generally they
+were clasped behind his back, as if he wished to throw out his chest
+against the world.
+
+Upon all who serve him, he lavishes money with oriental profusion. But
+as far as his personal expenditure is concerned, he is thrifty. During
+the Consulate he says: “A man who has been through so many wars will have
+acquired a little property whether he will or no. I have a private income
+of from frs. 80,000 to frs. 100,000, with a house in town and a country
+mansion. What more do I need? If I should get out of humour with France,
+or France with me, I should retire from public life without a qualm....
+But every one round me is stealing; the ministers are weak. Some people
+must be laying by vast sums.... What is to be done about it? France is
+corrupt through and through. It has always been like that; as soon as a
+man becomes a minister, he builds himself a palace.... Do you know what
+they are trying to make me pay for my installation in the Tuileries?
+Two millions!... It must be cut down to eight hundred thousand. I am
+surrounded by a pack of scoundrels.”
+
+“Your great operations,” answers Roederer, “must cost you much more than
+these domestic defalcations.”
+
+“All the more reason why I should watch over my personal expenditure.”
+
+This conversation tells us how the head of the State, a man of thirty,
+regards money. He needs nothing for himself, and complains of the
+venality and profusion of those by whom he is surrounded; acknowledges
+that he has himself made money out of the wars; rails at the tradesmen
+who want to charge two millions for the equipment of a palace, when,
+as far as his own taste is concerned, he sees no reason for spending
+anything at all. Amid the frightful corruption which is a heritage of the
+revolution, he fights with the army contractors and war profiteers; but
+as soon as, by drastic punishments, he has succeeded in putting an end to
+this scandal, he assigns preposterous incomes to his marshals, some of
+whom receive more than a million francs a year. As Consul, he rids the
+State of the thieves who are making away with the national property; and
+then, as Emperor, he burdens this same State with extortionate salaries.
+
+Still, there are a few persons who make money thanks to their
+relationship with him, though without his aid. “When I have nothing
+left,” he says to Talleyrand, “I shall turn to you. Tell me honestly, how
+much have you made out of me?”
+
+“I am not a rich man, Sire, but all that I have is at your service.”
+
+Napoleon’s way of dealing with men is modified by a hundred and one
+considerations. If we wish to study the variations of his technique, we
+must class his instruments in groups.
+
+Generals and marshals are the easiest to keep dependent, for they have
+unceasing opportunities of winning military renown; and, since he pays
+them so liberally for their services, they grow more and more wealthy.
+By loading them with money, he gains two ends, spreading effulgence
+around himself, and keeping his most powerful officers in a state of
+dependence. It delights him to see these soldiers unused to money
+spending extravagantly, running into debt, and then turning to him for
+help in their difficulties. He leads them from profusion to want, and
+then back to profusion again. At the same time, he gives them little
+scope for originality, reserving important decisions for himself, so that
+even the commanders of armies rarely have a chance of proving themselves
+men of genius. He shrewdly regulates his public mention of them in his
+bulletins, both in respect of time and form, so that, through their
+vanity and jealousy, he can get his way with his generals.
+
+The result is that their sentiments towards him are a mingling of hatred
+and love, whereby they are chained to his service more firmly than if
+the feeling had been one of pure affection. Perhaps only two of them are
+wholly devoted to him, Berthier and Duroc, whose love for him he compares
+with that of a child and a dog. Ney speaks of himself as a loaded musket
+which is fired when and where the Emperor orders. Napoleon, for his part,
+has a personal affection for those only who have risen with him, and
+in his memoirs he pays his tribute to them. He extols Desaix’s mental
+balance. Moreau has “more instinct than genius”; whereas Lannes has “more
+courage than sense,” though as time goes on he makes good in the latter
+respect. Kléber seeks glory only as a means of enjoyment. Masséna is
+not really courageous until he is under fire. Murat “has not a spark of
+intelligence, but what dash! He is a duffer and a hero.” Napoleon cannot
+break away from these witnesses of his rise, although almost all of them
+have learned the weight of his anger. In his tent, after Wagram, Napoleon
+thunders at Marmont for having made a mess of things, and a quarter of an
+hour later appoints him marshal.
+
+Sometimes the Emperor’s misanthropy got the better of him. “In those
+moods, I begin to distrust even my companions-in-arms; that causes me
+intense suffering, and I do everything I can to rid myself of such
+horrible suspicions.” Yet he really knew. Lannes’ death touched him to
+the quick, but he never really uttered the moving farewell words which
+he publishes. Indeed, he confided to Metternich: “Lannes hated me. When
+I heard that, on being wounded, he had called out my name, I knew it was
+all up with him. He called on me as a dying atheist calls on God.”
+
+The remembrance of friendships formed in youth does not prevent him
+from scolding the most exalted of his marshals like schoolboys when he
+considers they have behaved foolishly or have been wanting in courage.
+He says to Junot: “Your conduct was unprecedented, extraordinarily
+indiscreet.... You have a strange notion of your military duties. I don’t
+recognise you!” To a general in Lombardy: “Under your command, there has
+been very little honesty and a great deal of avarice; but I never knew
+until to-day that you were a coward. Leave the army, and never let me see
+your face again!” In Spain, one of his generals capitulated in the open
+field. Six months later, this man ventured to appear before Napoleon at a
+review. The Emperor stormed at him in full hearing of the troops; would
+not be appeased. The witnesses say that the scene lasted a whole hour. “A
+man may have to surrender a fortress. The fortune of war is uncertain,
+and defeat is always possible. Any one can be taken prisoner. The thing
+may happen to me to-morrow. But honour, before all! On the battle-field,
+a commander’s business is to fight: and if he capitulates instead, he
+deserves to be shot.... A soldier must know how to die. Have we not all
+to face death?... As a subject, you committed a crime in capitulating; as
+a general, a stupid blunder; as a soldier, your action was cowardly; but
+as a Frenchman, your surrender was dishonourable!”
+
+He alarmed the diplomats of his day by a frankness which none of them
+trusted. “Tact, and putting all the cards on the table, will do better
+service in diplomacy than cunning. The tricks of the diplomats of the
+old school are out of date; all their rogueries have been exposed long
+since.... Nothing betrays weakness more than the attempt to deceive.”
+
+Just before the renewal of the war with England, he tells the British
+envoy how many years it will take before France can face England at sea,
+but he explains how quickly he can increase his army to four hundred
+thousand. In Schönbrunn, he says to the Austrian negotiator: “That is my
+last word. If you defeat me, I shall propose more favourable terms; but
+if I gain the victory, I shall make them harder. What I want is peace.”
+
+He studies every shade of expression when he wishes to influence the
+envoys of foreign powers. We see this especially when he is adapting his
+demeanour towards the Austrians with an eye to the Habsburg traditions.
+He waits for the formal reception on his birthday, and then, faced by
+the semicircle of the diplomats, he stops in front of Metternich to say:
+“Well, Monsieur l’Ambassadeur, what does your emperor want? Would he like
+me to come to Vienna?” This is calculated to intimidate the Austrian
+envoy, and at the same time to advertise Napoleon’s threatening attitude
+throughout Europe. But two days later, when Metternich comes to a private
+interview, the Emperor says: “To-day, we won’t play at being Emperor of
+the French and Austrian envoy. There is no audience now, so we need not
+make any fine speeches.”
+
+Shortly before the conclusion of the first peace with Austria, he wishes
+to avoid meeting the defeated archduke in Schönbrunn, lest he should
+commit himself prematurely to peace terms. He therefore arranges that
+the meeting shall take place in a hunting lodge. “I shall spend only two
+hours there: one of them will be occupied in having dinner, and the other
+will be devoted to talk about the war and to mutual protestations of
+respect.” When the First Consul receives Count Cobenzl, he has personally
+arranged the stage in the Tuileries; writing-table in the corner; no
+chairs, so that they will have to sit on the sofa; only one lamp, no
+lights in the chandelier, although it is late in the evening. When
+Talleyrand ushers in the Austrian, the room seems almost dark, and the
+Consul, on the farther side of it, is scarcely visible; the stranger is
+perplexed, and has to sit exactly where his host chooses.
+
+He is even more subtle in his dealings with the princes. During the years
+of his supreme power, he ceases to pay them visits. In Tilsit, he becomes
+the host within two days; in Dresden, though he is the king of Saxony’s
+guest, he plays the master. He avoids having anything to do with queens.
+When Queen Louise pathetically implores justice, he begs her to sit down.
+“Nothing interrupts a tragical scene more effectually than this. When
+people sit down, tragedy becomes comedy.”
+
+In his dealings with the peoples he was less happy, and his only
+tolerable successes were secured with the French and the Italians. During
+the Consulate, he said in the Council of State: “My policy is to rule
+in accordance with the will of the majority. This, I think, implies the
+recognition of the sovereignty of the people. I became a good Catholic
+when I wanted to finish the war in Vendée; in Egypt, I was a Turk; when I
+wished to win over the Italians, I was an ultramontane. If I reigned over
+the Jews, I should rebuild Solomon’s temple. That is why I propose to
+talk about freedom in that part of San Domingo where the slaves have been
+liberated, while maintaining slavery in the other part of the island.”
+
+His policy was not very successful in the negro republic; he did better
+in Poland, which he tried to win over by festivities and phrases; and
+better still with the Jews. These had been granted equal rights by
+the revolution, and on the Rhine many of them were doing harm by the
+practice of usury. Napoleon, who knew their value as traders, did not
+have recourse to crude prohibitions. He bethought himself of Jewish laws
+and customs; summoned to Paris their highest council, the Sanhedrin,
+which had not met for centuries; left the decision to this body, and was
+able to arrange that the supreme Jewish authority should forbid usury as
+sinful. But in Spain he made a complete mess of things, overlooking the
+risks he was running, and advising Joseph to make himself agreeable to
+the whole nation “by instilling fear into the rabble.”
+
+The Germans puzzled Napoleon most of all. They had everything he lacked,
+and none of the things he had. He therefore, even in the midst of his
+successes, regarded them with a mixture of fear and admiration; they
+seemed to him uncanny. When he went to Erfurt and wished to influence
+the German princes by the drama, he told the managing director not to
+stage any comedies. “No one understands comedies on this bank of the
+Rhine. Corneille’s _Cinna_ might be played, for therein great interests
+are portrayed; then a scene depicting royal clemency, which would
+certainly have a good effect.” He went on to misquote _Cinna_. Rémusat,
+having put him right, said: “In this sacred office, to which God’s grace
+has appointed the king, the past is justified, and the future is free.
+He who is advanced to this office, cannot be held culpable; whatever he
+does, he remains invulnerable.”
+
+“Splendid!” exclaims the Emperor, “especially for the Germans, who
+always cling to the same ideas, and are still talking about the death
+of the duke of Enghien! We must broaden their moral outlook. That will
+be good for people with melancholy ideas, the sort of persons with whom
+Germany is filled.” It is as if he were talking about German music, of
+which he knows practically nothing; but really he is thinking of German
+philosophy. The one is as uncongenial to him as the other, for he is fond
+of Italian arias and the wisdom of Voltaire, but says that “Kant is an
+obscure writer.” This misconception of his prevents him from foreseeing
+the possibility that so slow-moving a people may one day become inspired
+with a passionate enthusiasm.
+
+Perhaps the reason for the misinterpretation lies in the impracticability
+of understanding the masses of a foreign nation. In northern Italy, he
+did indeed make headway, for he was a young man, his ideas were naïve,
+the yearning of the oppressed was still fresh in him; and he was the
+herald of the revolution. But the dictator could no longer bring a torch
+to foreign peoples. Nevertheless, he continued to watch the sentiments of
+the masses. “A ruler should reign for the masses, without asking whether
+he is pleasing Mr. So-and-So.... Men of mark look from above, and have
+no party ties; one who belongs to a party, is a slave.” Such were his
+principles, but his actions told another story.
+
+The masses, even in France, saw a man who made himself dreaded. They
+feared him for a decade, but became sceptical at his first failure. “A
+ruler should be dignified in his demeanour towards the people,” says
+Napoleon. “But he must not flatter the crowd, which will then think
+itself cheated if he does not give it everything. You ask me why I make
+threatening speeches? I make them in order to avoid having to do the
+things I threaten!”
+
+But this severity is, in the long run, out of keeping both with his own
+simplicity of nature and with the instincts of the crowd. He could not
+seduce the masses by the offer of fame and money, so he showed them
+symbols: crowns and coronation ceremonies; courts and splendour and
+princes: but the people felt the growing distance between them and their
+ruler, and were not deceived.
+
+When the people of Paris learned that the Emperor, in his theatre, would
+no longer allow King Henry to say, “I tremble,” but only, “I shudder,”
+because, though a king (being only a man) may tremble, he may not admit
+it—the crowd must either feel angry or become derisive. But the crowd
+did not hear the words in which the Emperor instructed Talma how to play
+Cæsar:
+
+“When Cæsar utters his long tirade against kingship, saying, ‘for me, in
+whom the throne inspires nothing but contempt,’ he does not mean a word
+of what he says. He only talks like that because he knows that his Romans
+are standing behind him, and wishes to persuade them that the throne is
+an abomination to him. In reality, it is already the goal of his desire.
+Consequently those words ought not to be spoken with conviction.”
+
+He wants to use religion, just as he uses the drama, that he may lull the
+masses to sleep. Here is what the newmade Consul says to the Council of
+State: “What I see in religion is, not the mystery of the incarnation,
+but social order. It associates with heaven an idea of equality, which
+prevents the poor from massacring the rich. Religion has the same sort
+of value as vaccination. It gratifies our taste for the miraculous,
+and protects us from quacks; for the priests are worth more than the
+Cagliostros, the Kants, and all the German dreamers.... Society cannot
+exist without inequality of property; but this latter cannot exist
+without religion. One who is dying of hunger when the man next him is
+feasting on dainties, can only be sustained by a belief in a higher
+power, and by the conviction that in another world there will be a
+different distribution of goods.”
+
+Though he knows all this, and though he takes kindly measures for the
+relief of the poor, he can never free his mind from thoughts of the
+rabble and the mob. When he turns from contemplating the princes to
+contemplating the masses, his contempt for his fellows diminishes, but
+not enough. The masses, like the princes, are to be used for his own
+ends. He says: “The men of intelligence who have changed the world,
+have never done so by influencing the leaders, but have always set the
+masses in motion. He who influences princes is only an intriguer, and his
+results are second rate; but he who moves the masses, changes the face of
+the earth.” Democracy came between him and the people; and what he has to
+say about parliamentarism is not creative but critical:
+
+“The republic is the political form which elevates the soul and contains
+the germ of great things: but, precisely because of its greatness, it
+will sooner or later perish; for it needs a unified authority to maintain
+its power, and this must lead either to despotism or to a patriciate.
+The latter is the worst of despotisms; Rome, Venice, England, and even
+France are instances. If the republic wishes to attain greatness, the
+central authority must be established upon a permanent parliamentary
+majority; ... but this can be secured only by corruption, which is the
+cancer of the peoples, and a terrible weapon in the hands of the central
+authority. The liberals have discovered the expedient of constitutional
+monarchy. That is a mezzo termine, which has its advantages, but only
+when the popular assembly, whose business it is to bridle the monarchical
+authority, is elected by universal suffrage.”
+
+Napoleon recognised the existence of all the problems that confronted
+the nineteenth century; but he never understood the social problem, with
+which his own story began.
+
+
+VII
+
+Imagination, the third element of his personality, is the real driving
+force of his self-confidence and his energy. Continually at war with
+the calculating part of his nature, fantasy, in the end, brings this
+harbourer of opposites to destruction. The imaginative power, which
+links the poet to the statesman (enabling both unceasingly to dwell
+in the affective world of strangers as well as in their own), is also
+the source of his knowledge of men and his guide to the management of
+men. But always his energy interacts with other qualities. One who, for
+analytical purposes, would force the living whole of his character into
+the framework of a system, cannot avoid, from time to time, breaking
+threads that he may bind other threads together.
+
+“I know not what I do, for everything depends on events. I have not a
+will of my own, but expect everything from their outcome.... The greater
+one is, the less can one have a will. One is always dependent upon events
+and circumstances.” Such words, casually introduced into a letter from
+husband to wife, express the distantly visible forms of his fantasy; for
+only the imaginative man, not tied to systems and principles, trusts
+himself to the movements of the moments, allows his spirit to roam
+freely, and discovers his course as he goes. In this sense, his whole
+career is improvisation, though in the converse way from that in which
+most people improvise. He calculated little things in advance with great
+precision; whereas his worldwide designs were originated, transformed,
+improvised, in accordance with circumstances and developments. “One who
+has become familiar with affairs, despises all theories, and makes use
+of them only like the geometricians, not in order to move forward in a
+straight line, but merely to keep heading in the same direction.”
+
+This direction, this fundamental idea of the statesman, was, moreover,
+only possible in a man whose mind was simultaneously imaginative and
+mathematical. It is his most ardent vision and his coolest calculation;
+it is his political aim, his hope, his ambition: Europe. If this vision
+could be realised only by force of arms, that was because of the
+fierceness with which the first republic of Europe was again and again
+attacked by the European princes. We have seen how earnestly he strove
+for peace. No doubt he chose his means badly, his error being due to
+the time, the circumstances, and his own domineering character. But his
+mistakes as to method still leave undiminished the genius of the seer
+who looked forward towards an aim which was again to become an object of
+statesmanship a hundred years after his fall.
+
+“There are in Europe more than thirty million Frenchmen, fifteen million
+Italians, thirty million Germans.... Out of each of these peoples, I
+wanted to make a united national whole.... That would have supplied
+the best chance of establishing a general unity of laws; a unity of
+principles and thoughts and feelings, of outlooks and interests.... Then
+it would have been possible to think of founding the United States of
+Europe after the model of the United States of America or of the Greek
+Amphictyonic League.... What perspectives of strength, greatness, and
+prosperity this opens up!... For France, unity has been wrought; in
+Spain, it has proved unattainable; to establish the Italian nation, I
+should have needed twenty years; to make the Germans a nation, would
+have required still more patience, and all I could do was to simplify
+their monstrous constitution. At the same time, I wanted to pave the
+way for the unification of the great interests of Europe, just as I
+had unified the parties in France.... The transient mutterings of the
+peoples troubled me little; they would have been reconciled to me by
+the result.... _Europe would soon have become one nation, and any who
+travelled in it would always have been in a common fatherland.... Sooner
+or later, this union will be brought about by the force of events. The
+first impetus has been given; and, after the fall and the disappearance
+of my system, it seems to me that the only way in which an equilibrium
+can be achieved in Europe is through a league of nations._”
+
+Here there is no talk of a dictatorial welding together of different
+stocks, or of an enthusiastic fraternisation. He speaks only of
+interests, and of a preliminary unification of these on a national and
+racial basis. The work of the nineteenth century was to inaugurate the
+preliminaries by the establishment of the nations. The twentieth century
+opens with the realisation of the Napoleonic idea.
+
+
+VIII
+
+The effects underlying his energy and his imagination are dominated by
+the clarity of his thought. Napoleon hated less, and loved more, than he
+would have been willing to admit. In this domain, we find the converse of
+what happens in the matter of his sympathies in war time, when a million
+men are coldly sacrificed, while one man wounded and bleeding touches him
+to the heart. Since his fantasy needs enormous masses, he is enraged when
+Joseph says: “I am the only person who cares for you.” Napoleon rejoins:
+“Nothing of the sort. I need five hundred million men to love me.” In
+these icy words glows the volcano which one of his school masters heard
+rumbling long ago.
+
+Emotionally convinced of his mission to order the affairs of the
+nations, he deliberately rejects anything that may distract him from this
+aim, and nothing sustains him but his monomania. Even in the drama, he
+objects to the interweaving of love stories, saying: “Love is a passion
+which should only be the main theme of a tragedy, and never a subsidiary
+motif.... In the days of Racine, it was the whole content of a human
+life. That happens in a society where no great deeds are being done.”
+
+If love becomes intrusive, he annuls it. “I have no time to be bothered
+with feelings and to repent them like other men.... There are two
+motives to action: self-interest and fear. Believe me, love is a foolish
+blindness!... I love no one, not even my brothers—Joseph a little, from
+force of habit, and because he is the elder. I am fond of Duroc, too;
+he is serious and resolute; I believe the man has never shed tears in
+his life!... Let us leave sensibilities to women. Men should be firm of
+heart and strong of will, or else they should have nothing to do with
+war or governance.” Another time: “The only friend I have is Daru; he is
+unfeeling and cold; that suits me.” Last of all, in St. Helena: “A man of
+fifty has done with love.... I have an iron heart. I never really loved;
+perhaps Josephine, a little; but then I was only seven-and-twenty. I
+incline to the view of Gassion, who once said to me that he did not love
+life well enough to give it to another being.”
+
+Always half ashamed of his feelings; ever ready to make excuses for them;
+“perhaps,” “a little.” Yet this is the same man who said: “I am the slave
+of my way of feeling and acting, for I value the heart much more than the
+head.” This very feeling is his fantasy.
+
+One in whom egotism is supreme, will be more inclined to jealousy than
+to love. His first letters to Josephine show him devoured by jealousy.
+Years later, as Consul, when he is inspecting his new bridge in course of
+construction across the Seine, he has to step aside with his companions
+for a moment to let a carriage pass. In the carriage sits Hippolyte,
+his sometime rival. That was long ago; everything has been condoned;
+the man’s name is never mentioned in his presence. But now, at a chance
+encounter in the street, Bonaparte grows pale and confused, and takes a
+little while to recover composure.
+
+From time to time, he shows an involuntary kindliness. On one of the
+Italian battle-fields, he sees a dog howling over the dead body of its
+master. “The poor beast seemed to be asking for an avenger, or begging
+help. I was profoundly moved by the dog’s suffering, and at that moment
+I should have been very much in the mood to grant quarter to an enemy. I
+understood why Achilles surrendered Hector’s body to the weeping Priam.
+Such is man; so little can he count upon his moods. Impassively I had
+sent my soldiers into the battle; dry-eyed I had watched them marching
+past in an advance where thousands of them would meet their fate; then I
+was shaken to the depths by the howling of a dog.”
+
+Affectionate tones are to be heard in many of his letters. To Cambacérès:
+“I am so sorry to hear that you are not well. I hope it is only a passing
+trouble. If you did not take so much medicine, you would be better
+already.... But anyhow, you must do your utmost to get well, if only
+because of my friendship for you.” To Corvisart: “Dear Doctor, I wish
+you would see to the arch-chancellor and to Lacépède: the former has
+been ailing for a week, and I am afraid he is in the hands of a quack;
+Lacépède’s wife has been ill for some time. Give them the benefit of your
+advice, and cure them as soon as you can. You will save the life of a man
+of note, and one who is very dear to me.”
+
+Chénier, who has written against him for years, is assisted by him in
+poverty and given a secure position. Carnot, for ten years an enemy of
+the Emperor, is heavily in debt; Napoleon learns this, settles the debts,
+and refuses to hear of being given a note of hand; reckons up the pay
+which Carnot would have received as general in active service, makes this
+calculation the basis of a large pension; and when Carnot says he would
+like to do some work for his money, Napoleon commissions him to write
+a military treatise, lest his pensioner should have to undertake duties
+that might go against the grain.
+
+During the Hundred Days, learning that some of the Bourbon princes
+are greatly distressed for lack of money, he sends them large sums
+anonymously. On one occasion his secretary is asleep, and he himself has
+nothing particular to do; he looks through a pile of begging letters, and
+writes in the margin of each the amount of an allowance which is to be
+given to the sender. Hundreds of officers whom, in fits of anger, he has
+sworn to have shot, remain at their posts—to forsake him in the end. When
+he orders Jerome to get a divorce, he is alarmed at his own harshness.
+After he has written to enforce his command with threats he sends a
+letter to his mother saying that she had better write to Jerome at once
+and get his sisters to write as well, “for if I have passed judgment on
+him, nothing can alter it, and his life will be spoiled.”
+
+From his few friends, he demands blind devotion. Never is the
+self-centred nature of Napoleon more plainly shown than in the words the
+exile speaks to Montholon, from whom he has been temporarily estranged:
+“I love you like a son, for I believe that you love me only; otherwise
+you could not love me at all. According to my way of feeling, it is not
+in our nature to love several persons at once. People deceive themselves
+in these matters; they cannot even love all their children with the same
+intensity. For my part, at any rate, I want to be the supreme object of
+affection in the case of those whom I love and honour with my confidence.
+I cannot bear partings. They stab me to the heart, for my disposition is
+too sensitive; spiritual poison affects the body more powerfully than
+arsenic.”
+
+Logically enough, he dislikes western views concerning the enlightenment
+of women. He always hankers after the East, and in this matter he is an
+oriental. “Nature intended women to be our slaves; and it is only because
+of our distorted outlooks that they venture to describe themselves as
+our rulers.... For one who can influence us in a good direction, there
+are a hundred who will only lead us into follies.... What a mad idea to
+demand equality for women! They are our property, we are not theirs; for
+they give us children, but we do not give them any. They belong to us,
+just as a tree which bears fruit belongs to the gardener.... In this
+difference, there is nothing degrading; every one has his privileges, and
+every one his duties. You, ladies, have beauty, attractiveness; but also
+dependence.”
+
+
+IX
+
+Throughout life, the imagination of this creator was troubled by the
+thought of the Creator. This ruler of men was greatly disturbed that
+there should be no one who ruled all men. It was not that he ever
+regarded himself as divine; he laughed at all mystical interpretations
+of his own power: but there was one great power which remained
+uncoercible—no matter whether it were called God, destiny, or death. How
+do self-confidence and fantasy escape from this snare?
+
+First of all by the rejection of dogma. “My firm conviction is that Jesus
+... was put to death like any other fanatic who professed to be a prophet
+or a Messiah; there have been such persons at all times. For my part,
+I turn from the New Testament to the Old, and there I find one man of
+mark, Moses.... Besides, how could I accept a religion which would damn
+Socrates and Plato?... I cannot believe that there is a god who punishes
+and rewards, for I see honest folk unlucky, and rogues lucky. Look at
+Talleyrand; he is sure to die in his bed!... How could I have remained
+independent if I had been subject to the influence of a confessor to
+threaten me with the pains of hell? Think what powers a confessor who is
+a rascal can exercise!...”
+
+In this matter he is consistent; from childhood, when he would not
+go to Mass, until the end of his life, he rejected (for himself) all
+the religions. The man who, in his own life, would not recognise the
+existence of miracle, and ascribed everything that he was able to achieve
+to the working of the healthy human understanding, boldness, power of
+combination, knowledge of men, and imagination, could not possibly
+believe in the miracles recorded in the Bible. He was perfectly logical
+when he told one of his subordinates it was impossible that two million
+men could have quenched their thirst at the Wells of Moses.
+
+Even more uncongenial to him is any dread of a great assize. He does not
+talk about morality; or at most, he does so with some political end in
+view. Only towards the last, on the island, he says once in an evening
+conversation with his intimates: “How happy should we be here if I could
+confide my troubles to God, and could expect from him happiness and
+salvation! Have I not a just claim to it? I, who have had so unusual a
+career, have never committed a crime, and need not fear to step before
+God’s judgment seat and await his sentence. Never has the thought of
+committing a murder entered my mind.”
+
+For these reasons, he does not falter in the days of misfortune. Five
+years before the end, he expresses the hope that he will die without a
+confessor, but adds that no one can be certain what he will do in his
+last hours. In fact, this heart of steel was steadfast to the end.
+
+Nevertheless, his ideas as to the nature of the creation developed,
+and just as the revolutionist became a legitimist, so the materialist
+became a theist. But these developments were not transformations;
+there was simply a broadening of the basis of his thought. Throughout
+life, he had a sense that things had come into existence by a natural
+process: “When out hunting, I had the deer cut open, and saw how like the
+beast’s internal organs were to those of a human being. Man is merely
+a more perfect creature than a dog or a tree. The plan is the first
+link in a chain whose last link is mankind.” It should be remembered
+that the Emperor had not read Goethe’s _Zur Morphologie_, or Lamarck’s
+_Philosophie zoologique_. He had actually refused to receive Lamarck.
+
+Still more remarkable are his deductions concerning psycho-physical
+processes. In a Christmas discourse at St. Helena, he expresses his
+doubts as follows: “How can any one understand that God should sanction
+the caprices of a ruler who sends thousands of men into battle that they
+may die for him?... Where is the soul of a child; or that of a madman?...
+What are electricity, galvanism, magnetism? In these lies the great
+secret of nature. I am inclined to believe that man is a product of
+these fluids and of the atmosphere; the brain sucks them in and imparts
+life, and the soul is composed of them. After death, they return into
+the atmosphere, whence they are sucked up again by other brains.” After
+giving utterance to these Goethean motifs, he is alarmed at his own
+temerity. Breaking off suddenly, he says, as a soldier among soldiers:
+“Oh, well, my dear Gourgaud, when we are dead, we are simply dead.”
+
+Side by side with this scepticism, there exists and expands a theism. To
+Laplace, who denies the existence of God, he says: “You should be more
+ready than any one else to admit that God exists, for you, more than
+most, have seen the wonders of creation. If we cannot actually see God
+with our own eyes, this is because he did not wish our understanding to
+reach so far.” On another occasion: “We believe in God because everything
+around us testifies to his existence.” In St. Helena: “I have never
+doubted the existence of God, for, even if my reason were incompetent to
+grasp him, still my inner feelings would convince me of his reality. My
+temperament has always been in harmony with this feeling.”
+
+How shall such a spirit come to terms with destiny? Since his self-esteem
+makes it impossible for him to believe that any man can have beaten
+him, he is forced to ascribe his defeat to fate. But this sense of the
+workings of destiny is present in his mind before the final overthrow;
+it accompanies him throughout life, and appears to be an equivalent for
+the reverence, devotion, and faith by which other men live. With the
+aid of his belief in destiny, Napoleon wages a heroic struggle. In his
+strongest moments, he feels that he wears armour of proof: “I have a soul
+of marble. The lightnings were unable to destroy it, but broke on it in
+vain.” Once he expresses his defiance even more poetically: “Should the
+heavens fall down on us, we shall hold them off with the points of our
+lances!”
+
+But these defiant moods are rare. In general, he is resigned to fate.
+There are hundreds of his sayings to bear witness to this. Here are
+three: “All that happens, is written; our hour is fixed, and no one can
+postpone it.... No one can escape his fate.” To the duchess of Weimar:
+“Believe me, there is a providence which guides all. I am merely its
+instrument.” To Johannes von Müller: “Fundamentally, all things are
+linked together, and are subject to the unsearchable guidance of an
+unseen hand. I have only become great through the influence of my star.”
+In such tropes we see awareness of God and a sense of dependence welded
+into pride in his own mission. At these times, a prophetical effulgence
+seems to radiate from him, but is obscured again and again by the
+self-confidence of his iron energy.
+
+Yet Napoleon was far from believing in his star as another man may
+believe in a god or a talisman. He could not bear to have the greatness
+of his deeds minimised by insistence on his good fortune. He was,
+therefore, far less superstitious than other men of his type. Louis
+brings him a valuable knife, but hesitates to give it to him; Napoleon
+snatches it from his brother’s hand, saying: “Don’t bother, it won’t
+cut anything but bread!” He scolds Josephine because she consults
+fortune-tellers; but then, being curious, asks her to tell him all about
+the hocus-pocus. He wants to have the signing of the peace of Pressburg
+postponed for a few days, that it may take place after the reintroduction
+of the prerevolutionary calendar; but he does not order this, being
+content to use the unwonted phrase, “that would please me very much.”
+Schwarzenberg’s death, in 1820, is a great relief to him; for when a
+fire broke out in the Schwarzenberg mansion at the ball given in honour
+of Napoleon’s second marriage, the Emperor had interpreted this as a bad
+omen for himself; now Schwarzenberg’s death is a derivative for his own
+uneasy forebodings!
+
+Apart from these trifles, in a life so packed with important happenings,
+we do not hear of a single day during twenty years on which he forms,
+postpones, or modifies a resolution on superstitious grounds. But he
+makes an adroit use of his “star” and his “destiny” for political or
+rhetorical purposes. Since he wishes to pose before Europe as the Man
+of Destiny, he tries to work upon suggestible minds like Alexander’s by
+such turns of phrase as the following: “It is wise and politic to do
+what fate commands, and to march on the road along which we are led by
+the irresistible course of events.” His mind is fond of playing with
+the kindred notions of destiny, circumstance, and chance; and while
+he regards destiny as involved in more or less obscurity, he believes
+himself able to calculate the chances of a coming battle with almost
+mathematical certainty. “In these matters one must be careful not to make
+a slip, for an overlooked fraction can modify the whole result.... To
+people of mediocre intelligence, chance will always remain a mystery; but
+to the clear-sighted, it becomes a reality.”
+
+Sometimes he lumps them all together—talents, destiny, and power,—and
+shows himself an energetic fatalist when he says: “Against attempts on my
+life, I trust in my luck, my good genius, and my guards.”
+
+In this virile spirit, he strides resolutely along betwixt life and death.
+
+A modern tragedy depicts a man who wishes to die. Napoleon says that
+the portrait is well limned, but unnatural: “A man must wish to live,
+and must know how to die.” That is why, from youth upwards, he opposes
+suicide; first, in an essay; then, in an order of the day; then, with
+the reiterated argument that suicide is cowardice, especially in hours of
+misfortune. A careful study of the documents shows that the story of his
+having attempted suicide just before the first abdication is apocryphal.
+The leading memoirs make no reference to the matter, and such accounts
+as we have are at second hand and untrustworthy. There is no doubt that
+during his last battles Napoleon deliberately sought a soldier’s death;
+but he never tried to poison himself.
+
+Yet it was not only in those last days at Fontainebleau, and after
+Waterloo, that he suffered from tedium vitæ. The weariness recorded in
+the diary of the lad of sixteen, and in the letter which the man of
+thirty wrote from Cairo to his brother, were little in evidence during
+the most energetic years of febrile activity. Those who trouble to ask
+whether persons of genius are happy, will have to agree that this man of
+genius, who was not fitted by nature for happiness, enjoyed during the
+climax of his career, hours of content, and even sublime moments. But
+there were periods of doubt:
+
+“For the tranquillity of France,” says Bonaparte at Rousseau’s tomb, “it
+would have been better if this man had never lived.”
+
+“Why, Citizen Consul?”
+
+“He paved the way for the revolution.”
+
+“Surely you are not the man to deplore the revolution?”
+
+“Time will show whether it would not have been better for the peace of
+the world if neither Rousseau nor I had lived.”
+
+Gradually these doubts fade. But what he never loses is the sense of
+daimonic loneliness, which increases as his soaring flight leads him to
+chillier altitudes. “There are times when life is hard to bear.” Since
+the sea has always been unfriendly to him, there is only one place where
+he really feels at home—the desert, which to him is the image of the
+infinite. The desert is the sublime vacancy which expands before him when
+the myriad-faceted pictures of ordinary life sink from sight.
+
+But never was Napoleon more perfectly freed from the tyranny of his
+thoughts, never was he happier, than when seated alone in his box at the
+theatre, watching a tragedy being enacted.
+
+Nothing else could restore his inner peace of mind; for, since he loved
+less than most, he was doomed to a tragical loneliness, the price he had
+to pay for his egotism. “There is neither happiness nor unhappiness,”
+he said. “The life of a happy man is a picture showing black stars on a
+silver background. The life of an unhappy man is a picture showing silver
+stars on a black background.” But it is not these heroic images which
+best characterise the loneliness of a soul. Even more poignant voices
+reach us from the familiar arena of the daily struggle:
+
+“Don’t you understand, Caulaincourt, what is going on here? The folk I
+have got together want to enjoy themselves; the poor devils don’t realise
+that a man has to fight before he can get the repose he longs for. What
+about myself? Have not I a palace, a wife, a child? Do I not weary myself
+to the utmost with every possible kind of tension? Do I not day by day
+give my life to my country?”
+
+He gives his life to his work, for that is what he means when he talks of
+his country. A human note, gently plaintive, and fraught with the lofty
+irony of the finale, sounds when he says on the island:
+
+“The whole time I was bearing the world on my shoulders. ’Tis rather a
+tiring job!”
+
+
+X
+
+A volcano made the island, which was flung up from beneath the waters
+thousands upon thousands of years ago. Forth from the midst of the sea,
+projects the gloomy mass of rock. Steep, black, and deeply furrowed are
+the walls of lava that run down from the heights into the waves. The
+chasm above the harbour looks like the gate of hell to one who first
+sees it from a ship; and the traveller fancies that these dark ramparts
+must have been built by the hands of demons. Nothing betrays the work
+of man but the cannon placed among the rocks. When the voyager lands,
+the ground crunches softly beneath his feet, for the soil is made of
+disintegrated lava. He is treading the road of death.
+
+An extinct volcano in the Atlantic Ocean, two thousand miles from Europe
+and nearly a thousand from Africa, guarded by British guns—such is the
+rock of St. Helena, on which this limitless life might have ended like a
+tragedy of Æschylus. But, owing to the mendacity of a moralising century,
+the malice of English oligarchs, and the dry spitefulness of a colonial
+governor, the island becomes the stage for a tragi-comedy.
+
+The diligence of a few farmers and the energy of the East India Company
+had made the place pleasant enough. Hundreds of frigates had, by degrees,
+brought garden mould, building stone, and timber. But since no one would
+stay long on the rock unless under compulsion, there were twelve hundred
+negro slaves and Chinese to serve the five hundred whites who dwelt there
+for a few years at a time.
+
+No one can stay there. On this island, no one reaches the age of sixty,
+and very few live to be fifty; the climate is deadly. We are in sunless
+tropics, where the fierce heat of the equator is variegated with cloud
+bursts, and where within an hour a damp sultriness may give place to a
+cold downpour. The skin of those who, just before, were dripping with
+sweat, is suddenly chilled by the storming south-east trade wind, whose
+vapours are arrested by the rock. One who, after a burning day, ventures
+abroad in the evening, will pant for breath as he walks. Those who stay
+for a year, suffer from dysentery, giddiness and fever, vomiting and
+palpitation. Above all, they suffer from liver disease. Whenever England
+tried to station a squadron at St. Helena, the sailors died by hundreds;
+the ships had to put out to sea, and to keep under sail. The officials
+and the planters fall sick. Unless they have the luck to live in one of
+the four or five sites protected from the wind, they and their families
+are soon compelled to seek some healthier place of residence.
+
+The inhabitants will tell you that one of the most unwholesome regions
+is a chilly tableland seventeen hundred feet above sea level; a lonely
+place, on the windy side of the island, made specially insalubrious by
+the persistence of fogs. There grow sparse gum trees, blighted by the
+trade wind, gnarled and twisted, leaning away from the prevailing blast.
+The St. Helenians call the region Deadwood. Here is Longwood. That is
+the place selected by England as the one in which the sick foe can most
+certainly be killed. It was not a temporary asylum, chosen hastily and in
+an emergency; it was not originally intended for the Emperor; it was made
+ready for him while he was living elsewhere on the island, in poor case,
+but still in fairly good health.
+
+Till yesterday, Longwood had been a stable, built fifty years before,
+and only at the last moment transformed into a dwelling-house. Negroes,
+and the carpenters of the “Northumberland,” fixed a wooden floor over
+the mud of the interior, neglecting to clear away the cattle dung. Soon
+after the Emperor’s entry, the planks rotted and broke, the stinking
+damp soaked through the flooring, and he had to move into another room.
+For himself and his followers, a home has been made out of a cow-shed, a
+wash-house, and a stable. In his bedroom, a dark and narrow corner, the
+brown nankeen which covers the walls is stained with saltpetre; smells
+from the kitchen invade it. In this last point it resembles the lodging
+he had in a café thirty years ago when he was lieutenant in Valence.
+But in that earlier abode his books kept dry; here they are attacked by
+mould. The dining-room is lighted through a glass door; the drawing-room
+is furnished with a worm-eaten mahogany suite; the servants’ quarters are
+flooded by the rain, for the roof here is made of roofing-felt.
+
+The Emperor lives in two small rooms, each about fourteen feet by
+twelve, and ten feet high. The bedroom boasts a threadbare carpet,
+muslin curtains, a fireplace, painted wooden chairs, two small tables,
+a wash-hand-stand, and a sofa. The work-room has a bare table, under
+which two chairs are tucked; rough shelves closely packed with books, and
+an extra bed where he would rest sometimes in the daytime or which he
+would use on the nights when he was restless and sleepless. The bedroom
+contains some trophies rescued from his ruin; the little camp-bed he had
+used at Austerlitz, hung with green silk curtains; a silver lamp; and, on
+the wash-hand-stand, magnificent silver ewers and basins.
+
+These rooms, and indeed the whole premises, swarm with rats, which kill
+the fowls, gnaw the leg of a sick horse, bite General Bertrand in the
+hand, and spring out of Napoleon’s three-cornered hat as he takes it from
+the sideboard.
+
+Who lives in the house besides the rats? Three counts and one baron with
+their families (all of them officers, and accustomed to court life), two
+valets, and the rest of the Emperor’s staff with their dependents; nearly
+forty persons in all, when they first land. After six years, at the end
+of Napoleon’s life, the number has been reduced by half.
+
+Las Cases and his young son hold out for a year. Marquis and émigré,
+older than the Emperor, a sprig of the Faubourg, count of the empire, it
+was not until the Hundred Days that Las Cases became one of Napoleon’s
+close associates. He was a man of the world, author of some works on
+geography; later he was to write his _Memorial of St. Helena_, which is
+said to have brought him thousands of pounds. He was shorter than the
+Emperor, and as lean as General Bonaparte had been. He was cultured,
+pleasant of temper, always ready to serve: certainly the most agreeable
+companion and secretary the prisoner had. He entertained the Emperor
+with witticisms the Parisians had made at Napoleon’s expense, thereby
+unfolding the comic obverse of a tragic career. Las Cases taught the
+Emperor English, thus widening the scope of the exile’s reading. When
+the two men exchanged notes in English, the count would underscore the
+Emperor’s mistakes. Las Cases, under various pretexts, finally abandoned
+the island, and left a vacant place which during the last years of the
+Emperor’s life was never to be filled.
+
+For Bertrand, sometime governor of Illyria, and devoted to the Emperor,
+is touchy, and is too proud to write from dictation; in other respects,
+he observes a faultless passivity, except when he shows fear of offending
+his wife. This lady, a beautiful creole, half-English with the head of a
+young lord, had been loath to share Napoleon’s exile. At Plymouth, she
+had tried to throw herself overboard; she is miserable, thinks of Paris,
+and weeps over her youth; consorts much with the enemy. One day her place
+is empty at the Emperor’s board. Napoleon says that his house is not
+an inn; Bertrand is aggrieved at the reproach, and does not put in an
+appearance next day. Then the Emperor is so unhappy that he cannot eat,
+and pushes his plate away, saying softly and with deep melancholy: “If,
+in Longwood, they are going to fail in their respect for me, my lot is
+bitterer than if it had happened in Paris.”
+
+Gourgaud is unbearable. The young general had been through the last
+campaigns as Napoleon’s adjutant. His affection for his chief has made
+him accompany the Emperor to St. Helena; but he is quite unable to
+overcome his feelings of wonder at his self-sacrifice. After a few weeks’
+sojourn on the island he meets a charming lady, and writes in his diary:
+“O liberty, why am I a prisoner?” He is useful to the Emperor because of
+his erstwhile position on the general staff; he is conversant with the
+science of strategy, understands maps and mathematics. Not a day goes
+by, however, but Gourgaud is offended. Innate vanity and jealousy are
+increased a thousandfold by the narrowness of the circle; he becomes the
+incarnation of the grotesque, which, from the first day on the island,
+begins to encompass the Emperor about. Gourgaud has the temperament of
+a snarling dog; he cannot allow Las Cases to take precedence; Napoleon
+vainly tries to smooth the young man’s ruffled plumes, and only by
+resorting to command is he able to prevent a duel. “You followed me here
+in order to comfort my life, so you are brothers. Am I no longer here to
+care for you? And are you not aware that the eyes of strangers are upon
+you?”
+
+The Emperor learns patience upon the rock. He also learns
+considerateness, especially where Gourgaud is concerned. A dozen times
+and more, he speaks to the young man in fatherly fashion; tries to
+persuade him to bear with his companions; cajoles him with the promise
+of a wealthy and beautiful Corsican bride. Another time he sends the
+general to a little festivity in the town: “You will meet the Baroness
+Stürmer there, and see Lady Lowe. At your age, it is always agreeable
+to consort with pretty women. You will go to sleep filled with pleasant
+thoughts, and by to-morrow morning you’ll feel fit for work once more.
+We’ll talk over the Russian campaign....” A voice from Tartarus! But
+next day Gourgaud again takes offence because in a picture of the group
+which has been painted by one of the valets, he appears in civilian
+dress. A few days later he reminds his master of an episode near Brienne:
+Gourgaud saved Napoleon’s life by cutting down a Cossack who was about to
+attack the Emperor. The Emperor pretends to have forgotten; Gourgaud is
+outraged, saying that all Paris was buzzing with talk of the incident.
+Napoleon smiles: “You are a brave man, but amazingly childish.”
+
+Las Cases’ servant steals a diamond cross belonging to Gourgaud; in order
+to secure peace, the Emperor has to put the cross in his own pocket, and,
+later, present it to Gourgaud with the assurance that he had taken it
+himself. Again, Gourgaud complains that he is short of money and has not
+enough to keep his mother in comfort. The Emperor writes: “General! We
+are here on a battle-field. He who runs away because he does not receive
+enough money, is a coward!... I do not owe you any thanks. If you had
+remained in France you would have been executed, for you had a command
+in the ’15 campaign!” In rare moments only, does the rage in his heart
+find such vent. Napoleon does, indeed, tell Gourgaud that he is free to
+leave any day he pleases. But immediately afterwards the Emperor turns
+the conversation on to cannons, gun-carriages, and cartridges. Next day
+he says:
+
+“My dear Gourgaud, how glum you look! Have a cold rub down; that’ll do
+you good. One must curb one’s imagination, otherwise one is liable to go
+mad; it is like the Danube: at the source of the river one can cross it
+in a bound.... When I die, I shall leave no family behind me but you. I
+am no longer wealthy, but I have a few million still. In addition you
+will inherit my writings. I know what I owe you. But, while we are here,
+I want my friends to cheer me, and not to make me sadder by pulling long
+faces.... Do you fancy that I have no terrible moments? At night I wake
+up and think of what I was and to what I have come.”
+
+When such poignant words are uttered at the table of this tiny court,
+all sit silent and tremble. Each one feels that from this room, this
+house, this island, an echo like a belated rock-fall from the volcano
+must surely find its way to Europe’s shore. For a few days thereafter,
+intrigues are discontinued and enmities subside. But next week, over
+a trifle, the quarrels break out anew. Gourgaud can stand life on the
+island no more. He leaves at the end of two years. He makes friends with
+the English, and, when he bids farewell to Emperor and island, he sails
+away with letters of introduction from the governor who is the deadly foe
+of his master.
+
+[Illustration: Napoleon at St. Helena. Watercolour painting, probably by
+a Japanese, with a marginal inscription in Chinese ideographs concerning
+the owner. Broadley collection.]
+
+Count Montholon is the most loyal of the exile’s companions. As a
+youngster of ten he had been instructed by Captain Buonaparte in
+mathematics. Later, he had served in two score battles under his master,
+and was much at the Emperor’s court. Many decades after Napoleon’s death,
+he proved his fidelity to the House of Bonaparte; for, just as now he
+offers up six years of his life to live with his exiled master on this
+rocky site, so, too, he devotes six further years to Napoleon’s nephew,
+sharing the third Napoleon’s captivity in a fortress. The only drawback
+in St. Helena is that the count’s wife does not get on with Madame
+Bertrand. One day the countess declares in the hearing of all that the
+Bertrands’ latest born is puny because the mother’s milk is good for
+nothing.
+
+Meanwhile Madame Bertrand is reckoning that her eldest is sure to be
+made grand marshal as soon as Napoleon II ascends the throne. How much
+jealousy rages in these breasts because, meanwhile, under Napoleon I,
+Bertrand remains “grand marshal,” while Montholon superintends culinary
+affairs and Gourgaud attends to the Emperor’s stable. Besides, none of
+them have enough to do. Their duties cannot occupy more than two hours of
+the endless day. At last things come to such a pass in this ramshackle
+palace that the members of the little court can only communicate with one
+another in writing. Even Countess Montholon and her children have in the
+end to forsake the Emperor and the island.
+
+Who is really loyal, loyal in his heart of hearts?
+
+Three servants. Marchand, the valet, who has attended the Emperor for
+the last four years; and two Corsicans who, in the hurry of departure,
+Napoleon had pressed into his service, thereby linking up the island of
+his birth with the island of his latter days. These servants never have
+any dealings with the English foe, who would gladly draw their secrets
+from them. Cipriani has a special reason for his reticence: as sergeant
+he had seized Capri from the governor of Capri who to-day is governor
+of St. Helena. Santini occasionally asks for a day off in order to go
+shooting. But his sport is soon stopped when the fact gets known that he
+intends to shoot “that monster, the governor,” and then to put a bullet
+through his own head.
+
+The Emperor sternly forbids his man to contemplate any such deed, for who
+in Europe would not immediately cast suspicion on himself? But when the
+servant has withdrawn, the master thinks indulgently: “We Corsicans are
+all like that!”
+
+
+XI
+
+A lean, middle-aged man with restless movements, red-haired, freckled,
+with a large brown patch on the cheek; his throat is stringy; he has pale
+golden eyebrows shading eyes which can look no one in the face; he is
+clad in a British uniform—such is the governor of the prison.
+
+He lives in a fine country house, in the most sheltered part of the
+island, with a garden which is the oldest and most luxuriant in St.
+Helena. When he pays his first visit to Longwood, the Emperor says:
+“Execrable! A real hang-dog face, like that of a Venetian sbirro. He
+glared at me with the eye of a hyena caught in a trap. Perhaps he is my
+executioner.”
+
+It was not Sir Hudson Lowe’s position which made him seem so obnoxious to
+the prisoner, who was on excellent terms with two or three army officers
+and with the admiral. But Lowe had been an English Fouché on the small
+scale, had been chief of the spy service in Italy, and had taken over his
+present delicate task in Fouché’s spirit. It was true that the peace of
+Europe depended on his watchfulness; and since, in Europe, people loved
+sleep more than greatness, one section of the public was hounding Lowe on
+to be brutal.
+
+The English press was describing the prisoner in atrocious terms. One of
+the most noted of English journals pilloried him as the murderer of the
+Jaffa prisoners, described his sisters as whores, and spoke of Murat as
+a waiter; a special law was passed to make any attempt at freeing him
+a capital offence, with the proviso that the offender would be denied
+spiritual consolation on the way to execution; the prince regent was
+said to have “besmirched his name” by presenting some fowling-pieces to
+Napoleon. The honour of England is saved only by the Whigs; and by the
+formal protest of two members of the House of Peers, the duke of Sussex
+and Lord Holland. Lady Holland ventures to send the Emperor books and
+fruit; another noblewoman, who in earlier days had wanted to raise a
+corps of amazons against him, now boldly espouses his cause in London; a
+great English lawyer writes twenty-one theses to prove that Napoleon’s
+detention after peace has been signed is illegal; Thomas Moore and Lord
+Byron save England’s credit before the tribunal of history. Germany’s
+good fame is rescued by the fierce attacks upon Lowe in the German press,
+attacks that go on for years.
+
+The governor is attacked because he has turned the whole island into a
+prison. He has issued regulations arranged in twenty-four paragraphs,
+informing the captains and crews of vessels that touch at St. Helena
+about all the things that are forbidden, under penalty; posters in
+the streets of Jamestown prohibit contact with the French; no one may
+approach Longwood without a written permit. Every movement of the
+prisoners is watched through a telescope; for six long years British
+officers keep their eyes riveted on the place of detention, but can
+rarely see anything more noteworthy than the lizards on the roof.
+Semaphores keep the governor informed as to all that is going on. They
+report: “General Bonaparte is out of bounds.”—“He is accompanied.”—“He
+is alone.”—One flag was kept in reserve for a terrible emergency, to
+announce the news that General Bonaparte had vanished. This blue signal
+was never hoisted.
+
+The “bounds” are a twelve-mile ring round Longwood, subsequently
+restricted to an eight-mile ring; at 9 p.m. (or, when the restrictions
+are increased, at sunset), a cordon of sentries at fifty paces’ interval
+is posted. If Bertrand, who lives at Hutt’s Gate (a small villa about a
+mile away), is summoned by the Emperor after nightfall, he is escorted to
+Longwood by two soldiers with fixed bayonets—these bayonets, so runs the
+order, “must point at the Frenchman’s heart.”
+
+The Emperor, who has for thirty years been accustomed to horseback
+exercise, may not go out of bounds unless accompanied by a British
+officer. He protests, “Not because I object to the red uniform more
+than another; after their baptism of fire, all soldiers are alike. But
+I refuse to do anything which involves the acknowledgement that I am
+a prisoner.” When in high spirits, as he was sometimes in the early
+days of his captivity, he would defy the regulations. Once he gave the
+English officer the slip, rode across country with Gourgaud, burst into
+a private plantation, saying to the owner: “Don’t let any one know that
+we have been here!” But during the latter part of his stay at St. Helena
+he kept within bounds, and, indeed, rarely left the grounds of Longwood.
+Sometimes he would order his horse for a ride; and then, when all was
+ready for the start, overwhelmed with bitterness at sight of the officer
+who was to accompany him, he would countermand the order and re-enter the
+house.
+
+The result of this lack of outdoor exercise is that his health suffers
+more and more. The climate alone would have brought premature death, but
+confinement to the house quickens the pace of his maladies. For lack of
+movement, his legs swell. Furthermore, while Sir Hudson Lowe is giving
+dinner parties, for weeks at a time Napoleon cannot get even fresh water
+or milk. His stomach trouble grows much worse. The sick man would like
+a wider bed, but there is no room for one; he must content himself with
+rigging up a sofa beside his camp bed.
+
+He and his companions have been deprived of their money. The letters he
+writes to France asking for funds are intercepted. Being positively in
+want, he has some of his silver plate put up to auction. When this is
+reported to the governor by semaphore, the inhabitants are forbidden to
+buy; Lowe himself purchases the articles at knock-down prices through
+an agent. Six months later, when the governor reads in the newspapers
+what Europe thinks of his conduct, he is greatly incensed, makes the
+regulations stricter than ever, supplies Longwood with uneatable meat and
+sour wine.
+
+Like the villain in the folk-tale, Lowe is continually on the lookout for
+new ways of mortifying his prisoner. On the anniversary of Waterloo, he
+holds a great review close to Longwood. He invites “General Bonaparte”
+to Plantation House on the prince regent’s birthday. Another invitation
+is “to meet the countess” (Lady Loudoun, wife of the governor general
+of India). When the mail brings him a new lampoon against Napoleon, the
+governor sends it to one of the Emperor’s companions; but when a bust of
+the king of Rome, modelled by an admirer, arrives, he proposes to impound
+it, for documents may be hidden in its interior. He intercepts a letter
+from Napoleon to the prince regent, in which the prisoner begs for news
+of his wife and child; refuses to allow a Viennese traveller who has seen
+the little boy to visit Longwood; and when, through the kindly thought of
+a nurse and the loyalty of a valet, a lock of the boy’s hair at length
+reaches the Emperor by devious channels, Lowe sends home a detailed
+report concerning the obvious dangers of a conspiracy to liberate the
+caged eagle.
+
+To begin with, the gaoler sees the prisoner a few times. “Throw away that
+cup of coffee,” says the Emperor after one of these interviews; “the man
+was near it.” From the first, Lowe does his utmost to shorten Napoleon’s
+life. When the Emperor’s vital energies begin to flag, the governor
+deprives him of the services of the English surgeon in whom Napoleon
+has confidence because this man, O’Meara, has refused any information
+beyond medical bulletins. O’Meara is one of those on whom Lowe has to
+keep a wary eye. It is not enough to surround Longwood with spies; the
+whole island is beset with them; they watch all the officers; and when
+they have nothing better to do, they watch one another. Soon a network
+of intrigue envelops the little house, whose interior is hung with yet
+another network—that of the jealousies which of old had been so rife in
+the Tuileries.
+
+In the third year of the captivity, O’Meara reports to London that the
+Emperor’s liver trouble has been greatly aggravated by the climate, the
+dampness of his dwelling, the lack of exercise, and the vexations to
+which the prisoner is subjected. It is amazing that the illness does not
+advance with more rapid strides. This would happen, were it not for the
+energy with which the patient bears up, and were it not that his body
+has not been weakened by any excesses.—Since this report is shown to the
+British Minister for Foreign Affairs, and presumably to the prince regent
+as well, and since in spite of it the Emperor is kept for three years
+more at St. Helena instead of being sent to the Azores or some other
+suitable place, the bad faith of Napoleon’s custodians may be taken as
+proved—and Lowe was a worthy interpreter of his instructions.
+
+The man’s animus, and the craftiness of his designs, are well shown by a
+passage in one of his reports. Lowe says he will arrange matters so that
+Napoleon will be able to resume horse exercise. Otherwise the prisoner
+might die of apoplexy, and that would be extremely inconvenient. Death
+from some lingering disorder would be better, for then the British
+doctors would have no difficulty in certifying that death was due to
+natural causes.
+
+In the early days at St. Helena, the Emperor compiles a long official
+protest (it occupies twelve pages of print); it contains all his grounds
+of objection, and he has a private copy made upon silk, hoping that he
+will be able to smuggle it away to Europe. In this document he reiterates
+his refusal to allow himself to be addressed as “General Bonaparte,” for
+that implies a disavowal of his position as popularly elected Consul and
+Emperor. He remarks that he had proposed, as a reasonable compromise, to
+name himself Duroc or Muiron, after one of his two dead adjutants; but
+that England had refused to concede to him this “privilege accorded to
+persons of sovereign rank.” The governor had even attempted to address
+him as General “Buonaparte.”
+
+In this tragi-comical fashion, after bearing seven names, he returns
+with the eighth, to the first name by which he had been known.
+
+Soon there are actual hostilities. The lust of battle glows once more
+in the prisoner. He displays a vigour of hatred which in former days he
+had hardly ever shown in words, for then he had simply annihilated the
+objects of his wrath. Longwood, too, inaugurates a system of signals,
+though a less conspicuous one than that of the British, who use flags
+and semaphores. When the governor approaches, the Emperor, warned by his
+vedettes, hastens indoors, and tells his servants to say he is “not at
+home.” Once, however, he is taken by surprise in the garden; Lowe bluntly
+tells him that his establishment is too costly, and asks him to cut down
+expenses. The soldier flames in the Emperor.
+
+“How dare you talk to me of such matters? You are nothing but a gaoler.
+You have only commanded brigands and deserters. I know the name of every
+English general who has won distinction. All I have ever heard of you
+is that you were one of Blücher’s quilldrivers, and a robber captain
+who never had the honour of commanding real soldiers.—Don’t send me any
+more food! I will take meals with those brave fellows of your 35th, over
+there; not one of them will refuse to share his rations with an old
+fellow-soldier. You can dispose of my life as you please, but not of my
+heart. That is still as proud on this rock as it was when all Europe was
+awaiting my orders.—You would stick at nothing. You would poison me if
+you had the courage, or were sent orders to do so!”
+
+Without a word, the governor turns on his heel, mounts his horse, and
+gallops away. The Emperor compares past and present. “In the Tuileries, I
+should have blushed at such a scene.”
+
+For ever, the governor remains on the watch, negotiates about details
+with the Emperor’s companions, but does not see the living Napoleon
+again. One day, however, Lowe makes another attempt, persists in spite
+of a refusal to admit him, wants to see with his own eyes that “General
+Bonaparte” is still there. The servant announces this importunacy. Then
+the governor hears the Emperor shout through the door:
+
+“Tell him he can bring his executioner’s axe if he likes. But if he wants
+to enter my room, he must do so over my dead body. Give me my pistols!”
+
+Lowe was able to satisfy himself as to the general’s presence when
+Napoleon lay dead.
+
+
+XII
+
+The Emperor rises as late as possible, so that the day may seem shorter.
+He rings; Marchand enters; Napoleon asks about the weather, slips on
+his white morning gown, and retains his headgear—a red chequered Madras
+kerchief he has been wearing all night. The red kerchief seems to be a
+whimsical parody of the turban he once dreamed of donning! Cold douche
+and rub—but of eau-de-Cologne, alas, there is none! Then Dr. O’Meara
+pays a visit. He speaks Italian with the Emperor, and gossips over the
+ludicrous happenings on the island. Sometimes there is no sugar to
+sweeten the coffee. Has the mailship come to port with fresh newspapers?
+Nothing as yet. Gourgaud arrives and writes from dictation. Where were
+we? The pyramids? The Emperor paces to and fro in the narrow room; a map
+of Egypt lies spread on the table.
+
+He breakfasts with Gourgaud since the young man chances to be there.
+The talk is of artillery fire, and means of defence against it. In the
+afternoon, lounging on the sofa in the bedroom, he reads. The old home
+on the other island was certainly more comfortable. A couple of bound
+volumes of the “Moniteur” pass the hours. If he wearies of reading, his
+book will sink on to his knees, and his gaze will wander to Isabey’s
+portrait of wife and child. Nearby, on the white lacquered shelf, are
+two eagles, candlesticks, from Saint-Cloud. Between them is the marble
+bust of his son; and, hanging to the faded gilt frame of the mirror, four
+miniatures of the boy. There is also a picture of Josephine; and the gold
+watch of Rivoli, suspended by a chain made from the fair plaited hair of
+Marie Louise, hangs to the wall. There hangs also the silver alarum clock
+of Frederick the Great. Jetsam from the past, adorning his last, tiny
+bedroom!
+
+He dressed for dinner in the old green coat; sported the decoration of
+the Legion of Honour; wore white silk stockings, and shoes with golden
+buckles. He was waited on at table by his Parisian servants in their rich
+liveries of green and gold. The table in his fusty dining-room was set
+with a dinner service of Sèvres depicting Napoleon’s battles, branched
+candlesticks, glass globes crowned with eagles. Cipriani carved for His
+Majesty and served his master with great ceremony. Conversation was
+usually carried on in monosyllables; it concerned the cost of various
+things in Paris; the price of the throne and the sceptre. After dinner,
+the company would pass into the drawing-room for a reading of Corneille;
+the same plays over and over again; the Emperor read with too much
+feeling to read well. Sometimes his hearers would nod: “Madame, you are
+asleep!” or, “Gourgaud, wake up!”
+
+“At your orders, Sire.”
+
+Occasionally he plays chess with Bertrand or reversi with Montholon. Then
+it is time to withdraw.
+
+“What o’clock is it?”
+
+“Eleven, Sire.”
+
+“Another victory over time. One day the less!”
+
+Thus passed more than two thousand days and nights. His campaigns in
+Italy and Egypt and his coup d’état had taken half the time!
+
+The best way of getting through the weary hours is by reading and
+dictating. For five-and-twenty years he had had no time for reading; in
+earlier days he had devoured and annotated a whole library of books. What
+is he reading to-day?
+
+The things which the young man had not had an opportunity of reading. In
+those days, standing outside the closed portals of the world, he gathered
+materials from all sides, went to first-hand sources: a practically
+minded student. Now, standing on the further side of the portals of
+the world, which have now closed behind him, he surveys the material:
+a sceptical philosopher. In those days, he searched history; now, he
+searches the poets, and especially relishes those passages from the poets
+which apply to his own case. An epic lies behind him; in the epics of
+others, he tries to find his prototype.
+
+First of all, the _Iliad_. He sometimes browses over this till midnight.
+“Now, at length, I understand Homer. He is, like Moses, a child of his
+epoch: poet, orator, historian, lawgiver, geographer, theologian.... I
+am specially struck by the rough manners of the heroes as compared with
+their lofty thoughts.” Napoleon finds ease of heart in Homer. He cares
+less for the _Odyssey_. This seems to him no more than the story of an
+adventurer: he himself is more than that. Next in order of preference
+come Sophocles’ _Œdipus_, a tragedy of banishment; Æschylus’ _Agamemnon_;
+Milton’s _Paradise Lost_; the Bible. Corneille and Racine depict, in
+the French style, the heroes of antiquity, who for thirty years have
+been his models: unending are his readings of _Cinna_ and _Philoctète_.
+Ossian rises out of the roar of the Atlantic: this he reads in an Italian
+translation. In addition, the satirists of the social life of Europe:
+Molière, whom in the ardent years of conquest and success the Emperor
+had scorned; and Beaumarchais’ _Figaro_ and the _Barbier de Séville_.
+Finally, all the latest publications, whether memoirs or pamphlets, and,
+preferably, anything against himself.
+
+The golden day for him was when the ship arrived with cases of books. In
+the course of his stay, he collected three thousand volumes; they were
+ranged on the bare damp shelves. Unfortunately, he reads so fast that a
+book hardly lasts him an hour, and the servant is kept busy carrying away
+armfuls of finished books which only a day before had been brought from
+the shelves. As soon as a book is read (or rejected) the Emperor flings
+it on to the floor.
+
+In the early days on St. Helena, Napoleon’s actions were performed at his
+erstwhile speed, a speed which was many times faster than that of any of
+his associates. He forgot that now it was expedient to go slower. The
+consequence was that the few duties the prisoner imposed upon himself
+came to an end too quickly.
+
+When, on taking leave of the imperial guard, he had promised that, during
+his reign in Elba, he would record their deeds, this had only been
+thought of as a way out of the threatened idleness. In the days of his
+first exile, he had begun no such record. Now, during the first year of
+his second exile, he dictates the whole of his memoirs. This work too,
+like all else in his life, is begun on the inspiration of the moment.
+Some pamphlets have arrived. In one of them, his landing at Cannes in
+the year ’15 is falsely described. He tells his doctor the true sequence
+of affairs; paces up and down, declaiming; motions to Montholon while
+continuing his tirade, and dictates, without a pause, the whole chapter
+dealing with his return from Elba. Separated from his archives by five
+thousand miles and more, lacking documents, from his unerring memory, and
+with an inspiration unsurpassed in the days of his greatest activity, he
+dictates the story of the Hundred Days. Then, suddenly, he breaks off.
+What’s the use of it all?
+
+Another day, the report of an incident in the Lower House excites him:
+he thereupon dictates for fourteen hours without a rest. Those who take
+down his words, collapse, and replace one another at the task. Napoleon
+laughs them to scorn, and continues his dictation. Or, again, he sends
+for Montholon in the middle of the night to pen his recollections of more
+recent times.
+
+Since he loves above all to dwell on his early victories, his friends at
+first advise him: “Perhaps Your Majesty might set about describing the
+Italian and Egyptian campaigns, and the days of the Consulate?” Set about
+describing! No one seems to notice, and least of all the Emperor, that
+these events are being spoken of as one might speak of the Thirty Years’
+War. And just as, in those days, the man in whose heart and brain these
+things first took birth had projected his thoughts to the ends of the
+earth and had commanded his legions, so now, to the last instruments in
+his service, he communicates the details of his early campaigns, and in a
+few weeks describes how he conducted the wars from 1796 to 1799. Up and
+down, up and down, the Emperor paces, noticing nothing, wholly absorbed.
+Without, doors bang, people talk; the amanuensis is disturbed by these
+noises; not so Napoleon.
+
+Las Cases, after taking down the description of the battle of Arcola,
+exclaims: “That’s finer than the _Iliad_!” The Emperor makes a wry face,
+and laughingly rejoins: “Bah! You still fancy yourself at court! I
+shall rewrite that chapter twenty times ere I shall be satisfied.” This
+expostulation is only a defence against flattery, for he has no intention
+of writing the chapter again; all he does is to make certain emendations
+when it is read over to him.
+
+On the other hand, he dictates the events of Waterloo over and over
+again. Since, in spite of his historical objectivity, he cannot
+understand the result of this battle which undid him, he is always
+searching for new formulations. When, through the good offices of some
+sympathetic Englishmen, an opportunity occurs for smuggling documents to
+Europe, he works laboriously at the battle of Waterloo in order to dim
+England’s glory in the eyes of the European continent. But, he avers:
+“this task always makes me sad.”
+
+In these memoirs, there are errors here and there. They are not due to
+lapses of memory, but to the author’s desire to emphasise his own place
+in history. Such errors are not more serious than those to be found
+in Cæsar’s works, are not serious errors at all. When he erroneously
+records that in his lieutenant days he received the gold medal from
+the academy of Lyons for his solution of a problem, and states that
+the money prize was of great use to his mother; when telling the story
+of his battles he ascribes to himself certain deeds which, in reality,
+had been performed by his generals (at Marengo, for instance); when he
+invents a treaty in which the tsar, before the Russian campaign, is
+made to propose the division of Europe we have inaccurate statements
+regarding the individuals concerned, but the broad facts are correct. It
+is true that, in accordance with his conception of the hero, he formally
+idealises the hero’s deeds; but he seems to us to lose more than he
+gains thereby. Since he is describing the period of his rise to power,
+he cannot materially falsify the facts: the immeasurable consequences of
+his first victory were bound to give rise, on the one hand, to a certain
+boastfulness, and, on the other, to detraction. But these volumes, which
+deal for the most part with the exploits of the commander, furnish but
+little real knowledge of Napoleon. Where we have to seek for the true
+Napoleon is in the memoirs of those who had the privilege of recording
+his conversations in exile.
+
+Soon, indeed, his pleasure in dictation evaporates. Though he had
+intended to dictate in a few weeks the campaign of 1800 which had lasted
+but that amount of time, he postpones this labour, and tells Gourgaud
+to collect material bearing upon the Russian campaign. Then the young
+general, who had himself participated in the campaign of 1812, sets to
+work to read—not a Russian work dealing with the campaign, but an English
+work dealing with the life of the Emperor who is there, three rooms away,
+and could probably furnish full particulars!
+
+Napoleon, the movement of whose mind was from events to ideas, and very
+rarely from thought to deed, is still true to type. When he reads news
+from Paris, he dictates rejoinders which demonstrate his expertise, and
+he compiles financial schemes. From his rock, from his little room, he
+answers the sounds coming from the outer world, although the sounds are
+no summons and his answer dies away into the void. He often proposes
+to write a treatise on the art of war, but he gives the notion up, “for
+the generals who in days to come get beaten will blame me, and say they
+were following my principles.... I could instruct them, for I am a good
+teacher; but I cannot have my principles of warfare set down in print.”
+He mistrusts every systematisation, for he is essentially a man who has
+learned by experience, by the unexpected. But if an isolated problem
+crops up in the course of a book he is dictating, then he deals with it
+in the precisest of terms. Thus, he makes Gourgaud calculate how much
+water a fire hose can deliver, for he wants to introduce the fire hose to
+combat the consequences of artillery fire.
+
+Congenial society occasionally shortens the day. Or visitors come to see
+the Emperor. English travellers, men of learning, colonial magnates, are
+admitted to audience. On their return to Europe, they bear witness to
+his mental alertness. Napoleon himself desires such reports to be spread
+abroad, for they can do nothing but good to his cause now that Las Cases’
+diary has aroused fresh sympathy for his plight.
+
+“Scatter your complaints throughout Europe! I myself do not complain.”
+And he adds the orphic saying:
+
+“I command, or else I hold my peace.”
+
+His visitors tell him interesting things. An English admiral, whose
+vessel had been lying off the coast during the battle of Waterloo,
+assures the Emperor that Wellington had already given orders to ship
+the English army because Blücher did not arrive. When his companions
+inform him of the enthusiasm with which the enemy officers were filled
+after their interview with the Emperor, he says, assuming the role of
+the revolutionary: “Of course, these people belong to us. They all come
+from England’s third estate, and are the natural foes of their haughty
+aristocracy.”
+
+All the men in the services are on his side. English sailors, on shore
+leave for a day or two, will prowl round the place all night. At the
+first opportunity, they pounce upon him, stuttering incoherent words,
+presenting him with flowers. The Emperor claps them pleasantly on the
+shoulder. When the garrison is changed, he receives the members of the
+officers’ corps, exactly as though they had been Frenchmen and he their
+army chief. They form a semicircle; he asks, “How many years’ service;
+how many wounds? I was greatly pleased with the 53rd regiment. I shall
+always be delighted to hear of good strokes of luck coming in its way.
+You are sad, Admiral Bingham, that these brave soldiers are leaving you.
+To comfort your heart, My Lady must bear you a little Bingham!” The army
+men laugh. The admiral blushes. When, next day, the transport hoists
+sail, the men give the prisoner three hearty cheers. A few months later,
+all Europe is agog with the anecdote.
+
+On another occasion, he sees a medal displayed on the chest of a captain,
+half raises it, and reads: Victory at Vittoria. The Emperor allows the
+decoration to slip from his fingers, and passes without a word to the
+next visitor.
+
+Each of England’s allies sends a commissioner to the island. They are
+there merely to gratify the curiosity of their sovereigns. The prisoner
+refuses them access to his presence, and, though they are here on
+this desolate rock with the sole purpose of seeing that he is in safe
+custody, during all the years of their sojourn they never clap eyes on
+him once. Here is a fresh focus of intrigue and boredom. The only one
+of the commissioners whom the Emperor allows his suite to make friends
+with is Monsieur le Marquis. This is the representative chosen by His
+Very Christian Majesty King Louis XVIII to keep watch on his formidable
+predecessor. The marquis sees that Napoleon gets all the most recent
+periodicals; the Emperor reciprocates by the loan of books. When tidings
+are brought announcing the assassination in France of a Bourbon duke,
+General Bonaparte sends his condolences to the marquis of the old
+nobility by the intermediation of Count Bertrand, who is also a sprig of
+the noblesse. A scene out of comic opera!
+
+When the prisoner is in happy vein he seeks other pastimes. One evening
+he spends fluttering the pages of the official year-books of his reign,
+and says, like the bewitched tinker in the old folk-tale: “It was a fine
+empire. I ruled eighty-three million human beings; more than half the
+population of Europe!” He spends the whole of another evening with Las
+Cases chatting over old times. They laugh, the Emperor’s spirits rise, he
+orders champagne to be brought, and before they realise it the hands of
+the clock point to eleven. Napoleon says delightedly: “How quickly the
+time has gone! What agreeable hours! My dear fellow, you are sending a
+happy man to bed.”
+
+Words which grip one perhaps more poignantly than any complaint could do.
+
+He takes Montholon’s seven-year-old child on his knee and recites La
+Fontaine’s fable of the wolf and the lamb. The child has not fully
+understood, and makes a delicious muddle of lamb, wolf, and His Majesty.
+Another happy half hour in the Emperor’s life! Again, he strolls up and
+down the room in the evening after dinner, humming an Italian aria, and
+laughing gleefully, for he has just read that King Louis always speaks of
+him as “Monsieur de Buonaparte.” If he has a sleepless night, he makes
+Las Cases tell him anecdotes from the Faubourg; or he says to Gourgaud:
+“Let us exchange stories about love affairs. I never had enough time to
+spare for women. Otherwise they would have ruled my life for me.” If he
+gets bored in his bath, he takes the opportunity of demonstrating to
+Gourgaud why the pressure of the water upon a floating body is equal to
+the weight of the body. On one occasion, in the drawing-room, he has his
+own height and that of his companions measured against the door.
+
+Sometimes he will not dress or go out in the morning, putting off both
+until the afternoon. On one of these occasions, after an exceptionally
+torrid evening, he does not re-enter the house till midnight, and says
+that he has won a real victory by staying out so long. Another day he
+goes up the stair-ladder into his valet’s garret, having been told
+that it is so nicely furnished. He is shown his own wardrobe, which is
+stowed away there, and is amazed to find what a lot of clothing he still
+possesses. He fingers the uniform he had worn as Consul (a gift from the
+city of Lyons), the spurs he had worn at Wagram, the cloak of the Marengo
+days. He makes no comment; goes down the stair-ladder in silence.
+
+Amid these desperate attempts to kill time, does the prisoner come across
+no one whose situation moves him?
+
+Yes, there is one. Of all the dwellers on this rock, the one whose lot
+touches the Emperor’s heart most profoundly is a slave, a Malay who
+passes by the name Tobias, has been kidnapped, sold into slavery, and
+cast up on this remote island. Napoleon comes across him working in the
+garden, or meets him in the road, is never weary of studying him, and
+gives him a gold coin whenever he sees him. The Malay thanks him in
+broken English: “Good gentleman.”
+
+“Poor devil!” says the Emperor to his companion, obviously picturing
+himself in the position of this dusky piece of flotsam. “Snatched from
+his family, torn from his home, robbed of himself, sold into slavery! Was
+there ever a greater piece of wickedness? If a captain did it, he was a
+villain; but if the crew combined to seize poor Tobias, they were hardly
+responsible. Wickedness is always individual, never collective. Joseph’s
+brethren could not make up their minds to kill him, but Judas betrayed
+his master.”
+
+After the next encounter with the Malay: “What a pitiful machine man is,
+after all! Not one bodily wrapping like another; not one soul that does
+differ from all the rest. Those who fail to recognise this, make a great
+many mistakes. Had Tobias been a Brutus, he would have hurled himself on
+death; an Æsop, and he would have been governor by now; a good Christian,
+and he would have blessed his chains. But he is only poor Tobias, so he
+is none of these things, merely bows his head in his simplicity and goes
+on with his daily task.”
+
+The two continue their walk: “Certainly it is a long way from poor Tobias
+to King Richard. But the deed which brought the fellow here is no less
+shameful, for this man had his family, his friends, his own life. What a
+crime to have condemned him to slave on this island until the day of his
+death!” Suddenly, Napoleon stops short, and eyes Las Cases quizzically:
+
+“I read from your face that you are thinking he is not the only sufferer
+of the kind on this island.” Las Cases nods assent, and the Emperor
+bursts out with a youth’s ardour: “There is no warrant for such a
+comparison! True, the violence done to us is more refined in its cruelty,
+but, in compensation, we are more distinguished victims.... The world has
+its eyes fixed on us. We are the martyrs of an immortal cause! Millions
+weep for us, the fatherland sighs, the spirit of glory mourns....
+Adversity, too, has its heroism and its fame. Had I died on the throne,
+surrounded by all the emblems of power, I should have remained a riddle
+to many. To-day the wrappings have been stripped from me; thanks to my
+misfortunes, every one can judge me in my nakedness.”
+
+Subsequently, the Emperor buys the slave, wishing to send him back to his
+own land and his own folk, but the governor forbids the repatriation: “It
+is plain to me that General Bonaparte is trying to win the hearts of the
+coloured population, in the hope of setting up a second negro empire, as
+in San Domingo.”
+
+Tobias, therefore, remains a captive; a slave in a far country, like the
+Emperor.
+
+
+XIII
+
+“I am very old to make a journey of two thousand leagues. Perhaps I
+should die on the way; but, never mind, I should die nearer you.”
+
+Thus writes his mother. The Emperor reads the letter again and again,
+when it is delivered to him a year after it was penned. The powers
+forbade the journey: who could tell, the old lady might concoct a plan
+for his escape! Letizia had been banished from France when the other
+members of her family were expelled. For the second time in her life, she
+is unable to go to her island home: the first time had been long ago when
+Corsica was in revolt; now, Europe stands in the way. She, therefore,
+goes to Rome, where the moral power of the pope upholds her; always
+making fresh attempts to secure her son’s removal to a more healthy
+abiding place. Although the tsar is favourable to such a transfer,
+Habsburg and England are determined Napoleon shall die; so there is
+nothing more to be done. Neither mother nor any of the brothers and
+sisters is allowed to send money to the exile.
+
+When the monarchs assemble in Aix-la-Chapelle for the congress, Letizia
+writes to the princes: “A mother, more bowed with grief than words can
+tell, has long been hoping that the meeting of your imperial and royal
+highnesses would give her back her life. It is impossible that the
+captivity of Emperor Napoleon should not come up for discussion. Your
+magnanimity, your power, and your memory of earlier events, will surely
+incline Your Imperial and Royal Majesties to work for the liberation of
+a prince for whom you once professed friendship. I pray to God and to
+you, for you are God’s representatives on earth. Interests of State have
+their limits. Posterity, which confers immortality, admires a generous
+conqueror.”
+
+No answer.
+
+Later the captive learns that his mother has been accused of fostering a
+conspiracy in Corsica. She is said to have provided money amounting to
+millions. The pope is ordered to send his secretary of State to see the
+old lady and to make enquiries. Letizia gives the emissary the following
+message: “Tell the pope, and may the monarchs mark my words: If I were so
+fortunate as to possess all these millions they have credited me with, I
+should certainly not spend them in buying champions for my son’s cause.
+He has enough of them already. I would, rather, equip a fleet capable of
+rescuing him from the island where he is unjustly detained.”
+
+What a feeling of pride and elation fills the son’s heart as he reads
+his mother’s words! But he never hears of Letizia’s bitter remark to
+an Austrian noble: “Why is my daughter-in-law amusing herself in Italy
+instead of joining her husband in St. Helena?”
+
+Round what sun are the other planets turning? What an anticlimax!
+
+Lucien and Joseph have gone to America, and are later joined by Jerome.
+They assume exotic titles. The Spanish revolutionaries have offered their
+ex-king the crown of Mexico. This piece of news excites the prisoner:
+
+“Joseph will refuse. He is too fond of the pleasures of life to bother
+himself again with the burden of a crown—and yet, it would be a stroke
+of luck for England that the whole problem of Spanish America should be
+solved in this way. For if Joseph were to become king of Mexico a breach
+with France and Spain would be inevitable. For myself, his acquiescence
+would be weighty with consequences. He loves me and would use his
+position as a weapon to coerce England into treating me differently.
+Unfortunately, he is sure to refuse.” Thus quickly and hopefully does
+Napoleon, in the first year of his captivity, toy with every fresh
+opportunity.
+
+The other brothers and sisters retire into obscurity. Jerome alone lives
+to be an old man, and, in the days of the third Napoleon, appears once
+more at court. The Emperor receives few letters from his brothers and
+sisters. Caroline begs her mother to send some money. Letizia refuses:
+“All I have belongs to the Emperor, from whom I have received all I
+possess.” To Lucien she writes: “When one is no longer king, one makes
+oneself a laughing-stock if one tries to live ostentatiously. Rings may
+adorn the fingers; but, if they fall off, the fingers still remain.”
+Hortense and Pauline once more play comedy as they had done at Malmaison.
+
+Other tidings give Napoleon food for thought. Bernadotte becomes king.
+And Désirée? At last Napoleon’s early love wears a crown; she also lives
+to see the Second Empire. Countess Walewska, now a widow, marries a
+French nobleman. He approves the step, passes her situation in review,
+considers all he has done for her son, and then says complacently: “She
+is rich, and must have saved.” The tactless Gourgaud makes answer: “Your
+Majesty paid Madame Walewska ten thousand francs a month.” The Emperor
+blushes, and asks with embarrassment: “How do you know that?”
+
+King Murat and Marshal Ney are both shot after court martial. Their
+master accepts their fate with soldierly fortitude. His only annoyance is
+that Murat should have been such a fool as to land in Calabria. He bears
+his brother-in-law no grudge. Even Marmont, who lives happily under the
+Bourbons, comes in for no more reproach than: “I am sorry for Marmont;
+I was really fond of him. He’s not a bad fellow. They appealed to him
+through his feelings. He fancied he was to be saviour of his country, and
+behaved like a madman. He would have done better to shoot himself....
+Human nature is weak.”
+
+And yet it is precisely Marmont who stifles every movement which might be
+of advantage to the exile. Murmurings against the Bourbon ruler spread
+throughout the land. But when, once more, the émigrés and the members of
+the new nobility are placed in great positions, notwithstanding their
+lack of qualifications for such posts, and a Richelieu is given high
+office in spite of his long absence from France and his ignorance of
+French affairs; when Lafayette, the veteran fighter for liberty, becomes
+leader of the proletariat and makes ready for a new revolution, gathering
+his forces in the clubs and even in the schools, and preparing among
+the troops “the men of the coming day,” to clear out the Bourbons, who
+can only maintain their position by the aid of foreign armies; when
+the radical provinces, eager to flaunt the tricolour cockade, rally in
+support of Napoleon II—it is Marmont, Bonaparte’s eldest comrade, who
+crushes the movement, and thereafter becomes minister.
+
+The Emperor composedly reads that Louis XVIII. has dissolved the Chambers
+because many of the members favour Orleans or Napoleon. Executions for
+treason are the order of the day. But who is the most trusted associate
+of the Bourbon? A little nobody of a Corsican, whom Letizia once upon a
+time had made her private secretary—a sinecure job created to provide the
+man with a livelihood. Since all these events take place during the first
+year, the Emperor is filled with hope, and meditates upon the chances of
+a fresh revolution.
+
+“What a cruel decree of fate that just at this moment I should be held
+prisoner! Who is there to set himself at the head of things? Who will
+be there to save thousands of the bravest from the scaffold?” He stays
+alone in his room until the morrow, when he speaks absently of Elba.
+Soon stranger ships heave in sight, the prisoner counts the shots. What
+is happening? The Emperor sends his friends to gather tidings; they hear
+nothing; but hope is strong. “What children we are, to be sure,” he
+exclaims next day. “And I, instead of giving a good example, am no better
+than the rest of you. Were I in America, I should think of nothing but my
+garden.”
+
+Nevertheless, he would not have gone to America. He owns as much when
+he says: “If I were in America with Joseph, instead of suffering here,
+nobody would ever think of me, and my cause would be lost. I may have
+another fifteen years of life, but I am doomed to die here—unless France
+should summon me.”
+
+These hopes are not unfounded. England considers it wise to increase
+the garrison from two hundred men to three thousand, in order to keep
+guard on one individual, although the cost of the troops in St. Helena
+is £320,000 a year. Still, there are possibilities, for the soldiers are
+whole-heartedly on his side. On one occasion six officers were arrested.
+They had come from Rio de Janeiro, and had planned to get the Emperor
+away in a kind of submarine. Again, two captains, travellers to India on
+a ship which has touched at the island, make him proposals for an escape:
+Napoleon listens attentively, but decides not to accept. On a third
+occasion, Montholon breaks in on the Emperor while he is at work with
+Gourgaud to remind his master that the passport of a certain individual
+expires in an hour’s time and a decision must be made. Montholon writes:
+“It had been proposed to take the Emperor to America for the sum of one
+million francs payable on landing. The Emperor’s word would suffice.
+Unfortunately I may not divulge any more of the scheme, lest I expose
+the originator, for whose loyalty to the Emperor we must be eternally
+grateful. The Emperor listened to me, and considered all I had to say:
+he paced to and fro several times in silence, asked Gourgaud and myself
+for our opinions. He took no part in the discussion. In the end, he said:
+‘You must decline the offer.’”
+
+There he stands, he has not been captive a year as yet, passably well
+in health, athirst for action, goaded by the pin-pricks of a mighty
+government and a puny governor. Before him opens out the possibility of
+escape, escape with the aid of English officers. The fact that risk is
+attached does not alarm one who is used to bold enterprises. There he
+is, dictating the story of his youth, when suddenly, at the end of his
+career, a friend makes proposals that are certainly not cobwebs of the
+brain. Napoleon is silent, he questions, he is silent again. Then: “You
+must decline the offer.” Why?
+
+Because France is once more in a state of unrest, and so he decides
+to stay where he is. He is so sure of a change of feeling among the
+people that, later, when a ship is sighted and signals to the station,
+the Emperor says: “Perhaps the vessel brings news of my recall. If the
+prince regent dies, the young queen will summon me to England. She was
+always against my being sent to St. Helena.” When, on the outbreak of
+fresh revolts in Paris, his companions mention the possibility of France
+demanding his return, he concedes the point, adding:
+
+“But what can they hope from my return? That I should again conduct wars?
+I am too old. That I should seek for fresh glories? I am sated with
+them.... It will be much better for my son that I should stay here. If
+Christ had not died upon the cross, he would not have become the Son of
+God. My martyrdom will give the crown back to my son, if he lives.”
+
+Napoleon’s feeling for the dynasty is as deep as ever. His preoccupation
+with the thought of founding a line overpowers, in his maturer years, his
+impulse to action, to adventure, and even to win fame.
+
+Though he is inspired with these lofty moods of hope and heroical
+renunciation, nevertheless despondency overwhelms him at times; then he
+becomes greatly depressed, and the most trifling upset in the household
+will seem an intolerable burden. When Bertrand stays away from dinner in
+a pet, the Emperor is out of sorts for days: “I know that I have fallen
+from my high estate, but that one of my nearest companions should rub
+it in is dreadful....” He groans. Las Cases offers to intervene. “No, I
+forbid it. I had to say that much. But now all is forgotten and I shall
+behave as though I had noticed nothing.” If travellers should wish to
+see him on such days, he refuses, saying: “Tell them, dead men do not
+receive visitors.” Occasionally Napoleon broods alone for the whole
+evening, sends at last for one of his companions, says a word or two, and
+dismisses him.
+
+A quarrel arises between Montholon and Gourgaud as to whose room shall
+be furnished first, the Emperor has to mediate, the countess weeps,
+the Emperor proposes a game of chess. Dinner. A reading from the Book
+of Esther. Sometimes these scenes verge on the grotesque: a cow has
+escaped, the Emperor shows his vexation, Gourgaud sits glum throughout
+dinner because he is responsible for the cow, and is feeling aggrieved
+by his master’s anger. After dinner, the Emperor speaks of Islam and
+his preferences for the Mohammedan faith, then passes to a discussion of
+the trinity; finally he withdraws, making painful attempts to conceal
+his angry mood and muttering between his teeth: “Moscow! Five hundred
+thousand men!”
+
+Gourgaud, who has left him overnight in an agreeable state of excitement,
+finds him next day in a gloomy temper: “What sort of an education will
+they give my son? Will they teach him to loathe his father? Hateful
+thought!” When Las Cases, who has copied out the chapter on Waterloo,
+deplores that victory should have been snatched from the Emperor’s grasp,
+Napoleon makes no reply, but says to Las Cases’ son in a voice which
+seems to come from a great distance: “My lad, go and fetch _Iphigenia in
+Aulis_; that will do us good.” Or he has Racine’s _Andromache_ read to
+him.
+
+    I am come to the place where my son
+    lies captive: for one moment only,
+    allow my tears to flow with his!
+    This is all that is left to me
+    of Hector and of Troy. Permit me, Lord,
+    to visit him once on every day....
+
+But the Emperor breaks in on the reading with the cry:
+
+“Enough! Leave me; I would be alone!”
+
+
+XIV
+
+With the growing inactivity and boredom, the moods of this tortured heart
+become more and more agonising; this many-toned instrument can no longer
+be controlled; discords arise.
+
+He has been an emperor! How can he cease to play the part to which the
+society of a handful of courtiers and the degrading mockery of the enemy
+constrain him? In order to protest against the use of the title of
+general and against the illegality of his captivity, he drives out, at
+first, in full imperial grandeur, his carriage drawn by six horses, and
+an equerry in uniform riding at each door. His companions appear before
+him in general’s uniform or in court dress; no one opens conversation
+uninvited; when he takes his walks in the garden his suite does not
+approach till he gives a sign; visits are announced by an adjutant
+general, booted, and wearing a sword. When Gourgaud rises as Countess
+Montholon enters the room, he is reproved for this breach of etiquette.
+
+Meanwhile he makes fun of the whole thing, mockingly calls Gourgaud
+“my grand master of the horse,” or announces at table: “I have been
+anointed by the pope; thereby I have become a bishop, and have the power
+to consecrate you as priests.” When he teases his friends about their
+all being in the “Dictionary of Weathercocks,” whose pages he is at the
+moment fluttering, Gourgaud ventures to say that the Emperor himself
+deserves a place in it. “Oh; and pray why?”
+
+“Because you first of all recognised the republic, Sire, and yet, later,
+you were the crown.”
+
+“You are right. Oh, well, the Empire was certainly the best of the
+republics!”
+
+At the feast of Epiphany, he has a cake made for the children. Then
+he crowns little Napoléon Bertrand as king. When he is informed that
+there has been a complaint from the governor about the expenses of his
+household, and that, now that the price of meat has risen to forty sous,
+they must be more moderate in their consumption, he turns the matter off
+with a laugh, saying: “Parbleu! You might have answered that it costs us
+more than a crown.”
+
+Never before has so much self-control been forced on him. Impassively he
+reads Lowe’s answer to a statement of grievances from Bertrand, who had
+said something about “the Emperor.” The governor writes that he is not
+aware of the presence of any emperor on the island.—The prisoner asks
+Gourgaud to order his horse to be saddled. Gourgaud replies that he has
+not seen the animal for three days, since the blacksmith insists on being
+paid three napoleons before he will send it back. The Emperor masters his
+anger, and says nothing more at the time; but next day he bursts out at
+Gourgaud: “Why did you insult me by talking to me about the blacksmith’s
+bill?” The day before, by a superhuman effort, he had managed to restrain
+his wrath, but by the torturing thoughts of the intervening hours his
+pride had been broken. The adjutant’s sullen reply had disturbed the
+Emperor’s equanimity quite as much as Austria’s desertion had done in
+earlier years.
+
+A soldier and a southron, he is choked sometimes by the passion for
+vengeance. On one occasion, when uneatable meat is served at dinner,
+he contents himself with the remark: “I should trouble little about
+myself, if I could only feel sure that some day our humiliations would be
+proclaimed to the world, so that those who are responsible for them would
+be covered with shame!”
+
+With a sublimity of spirit which grows in him now, he tries to moderate
+the natural rebelliousness of his disposition: “I am living here under a
+weight, so to speak; a weight which compresses the spring, but does not
+break it. Resignation—that is the dominion of reason, the real triumph of
+the soul.” This masterful man does his utmost to regulate his own conduct
+in accordance with the foregoing axiom. Subsequently he says: “Misfortune
+has its good side; it teaches us truths.... For the first time, I am able
+to contemplate history as a philosopher.”
+
+For the first time, too, he is able to contemplate the present with a
+tranquil mind. During the early weeks of his stay on the island, when
+he was out walking with a pretty young Englishwoman, he conversed with
+her agreeably about various topics: how the climate was bad for the
+complexion; Ossian; the plantations. At this moment some negro slaves
+carrying heavy boxes crossed the path, and the lady called to them
+imperiously: “Get out of the way!”
+
+The Emperor interposed: “But, Madame, please remember that the men are
+carrying burdens!”
+
+Collapse of lady! Yet Napoleon Bonaparte himself would not have been so
+considerate in the days before he came to St. Helena.
+
+In all matters now, except when he is playing the shadow emperor in
+pursuance of his feud with Lowe, Napoleon adopts a simplicity of life
+which outdoes that even of his poorest days as a lieutenant. When for
+some time there has been very little to eat, and the cook has had to eke
+things out with French beans, he eats them enthusiastically, praises the
+dish and the cooking.
+
+“In Paris, I could get along with twelve francs a day. Dinner frs. 1.50;
+reading room; theatre in the evening, pit; I should hire a room for
+frs. 20 a month. I should only want one servant; and I should associate
+exclusively with people of like fortune. One can be happy in any station
+in life. When my mother sang lullabies over my cradle, there was not a
+word about what I was destined to become. I believe ‘Monsieur Bonaparte’
+would have been quite as happy as ‘Emperor Napoleon.’ Everything in life
+is relative.”
+
+His doctor has a fainting fit. Coming to himself, he finds that he is
+being attended to, not by a servant, but by the Emperor in person.
+Napoleon has lifted him on to the bed, has unfastened the collar of his
+shirt, and is kneeling beside him, administering vinegar.—When Cipriani,
+the Corsican servant, is dying, the Emperor asks the doctor whether a
+visit from the master would stimulate the man’s flagging forces.
+
+“The excitement would kill him.”
+
+“Oh, well, I suppose I had better not go.”
+
+When playing reversi, he establishes a bank. For whose benefit? The money
+is to be used to buy the freedom of the most beautiful female slave on
+the island. One evening, his companions find him at work beside the lamp,
+slowly and carefully stitching the pages of a manuscript.
+
+Sometimes, however, his dreams reawaken, and flutter against the bars
+of the cage. “I wish they would transfer me to a desert island, where
+I could have two thousand people of my own choice, with muskets and
+cannon. I should found a glorious colony, and should end my days happily
+in that model land. There I should not find it necessary to be at grips
+all the time with antiquated ideas.” Having said this apropos of nothing
+in particular, he passes on to the details of the scheme, dictating
+specifications—how much money and stores would be needed for the founding
+of his colony.
+
+A chained sculptor, his plastic impulses must be content with such
+outlets in the world of imagination; but, side by side with these
+capriccios, he displays a heroic simplicity. One day, during the early
+weeks at St. Helena, he is out riding with Las Cases. “We came to a field
+that was being ploughed. The Emperor dismounted, and took the handles of
+the plough. With incredible speed, he drove a long and perfectly straight
+furrow. All this without saying a word until he had finished, when he
+told me to give the ploughman a napoleon. We remounted, and rode on our
+way.”
+
+
+XV
+
+“No one but myself can be blamed for my fall. I have been my own greatest
+enemy, the cause of my own disastrous fate.”
+
+This admission, the profoundest of all those made by the exile shows
+that Napoleon has completely outgrown the cloudy Cæsarist fancies of
+his middle period. Had he been a believing Christian, the confession
+would have rounded off his atonement upon the rock. His sense of
+responsibility, however, is not directed towards God but only towards
+himself, and therefore the utterance represents a great man’s final
+settlement of accounts with destiny. But, at the same time, it is a last
+outburst of defiance, for his self-overweening esteem made it impossible
+for him to admit that there were any greater forces in the world than his
+own. Napoleon alone could overthrow Napoleon.
+
+The remark was not the outcome of transient depression. During the
+closing years of his power, he had again and again spoken to his
+intimates about his faults and errors; now, upon the island, such
+admissions are frequent. Some of them are ardent, and some of them are
+cold; for even in these self-examinations there is an alternation between
+fantasy and realism. From time to time, we have the heartfelt cry of a
+penitent: “When I close my eyes, all my mistakes parade themselves before
+me, like figures in a nightmare.” Or, again: “I wanted too much.... I
+strung the bow too tightly, and trusted too much in my good fortune.”
+
+But he will coldly reckon up the cases in which he has failed to
+understand men, coming at this late hour to views which the ablest
+observers had held while he was still on the throne. The reader who knows
+his story will require no comment on the remarks that follow.
+
+“I considered Emperor Francis a good man; but he was only a blockhead,
+and in Metternich’s hands he became an instrument for my destruction.”—“I
+ought to have left Talleyrand at his post. What concern was it of mine
+that he was plundering the foreign chancelleries. I should have been
+content with having him closely watched. He served me well, as long as
+he could hope to make anything out of me. If I had kept him in office,
+I should still have been on the throne.”—“If only that man Fulton, with
+his steamboat, had been right, I should have been master of the world.
+But those idiots of savants made fun of his invention, just as they make
+fun of electricity. All the same, gigantic powers are hidden in steam and
+electricity!”
+
+He regrets that at Tilsit he had decided to maintain the Hohenzollern
+dynasty. He regrets having crossed the Memel too early; having crossed
+it in 1812, before he had settled matters in Spain. He regrets that, in
+defiance of Carnot’s advice, he began the last campaign too early, and he
+regrets that at Waterloo he did not send the guard forward soon enough.
+Most of all, he regrets having, when his power was finally broken,
+entrusted himself to England, instead of to the tsar, or, better still,
+to the United States. Always, when he hears of crises in France, he
+regrets that he did not go to America.
+
+“From that vantage ground I should have been able to guard France against
+humiliation from abroad, reaction from within; the dread of my return
+would have sufficed. In America I should have established the centre of
+a new French fatherland. Within a year, I should have had sixty thousand
+men grouped round me.... It would have been the most natural place of
+refuge—a land of vast expanses where a man can live in freedom. If I had
+had a fit of the blues, I should have mounted a horse, ridden hundreds of
+miles, enjoyed travel with the ease of a private individual, lost amid
+the crowd. In Europe I was too popular; bound up, in one way or another,
+with every nation.... As a fugitive, and disguised, I could certainly
+have escaped to the United States; but both expedients would have been
+undignified. I put my trust in the approach of danger, thinking that the
+nation would be forced to turn to me as its saviour; that is why I stayed
+as long as possible at Malmaison and in Rochefort. The destiny that
+brought me to St. Helena was the outcome of those feelings.”
+
+This is the most productive of his meditations. The other mistakes of his
+career had entailed such complicated consequences that it was impossible
+for him to trace what might have been had he acted otherwise. But the
+final resolve at Rochefort had, as its inevitable upshot, brought him
+to this rock. In that respect, therefore, his mind was continually
+busied with alternative possibilities. Although, when in fancy he roams
+across the American prairies, he sometimes pictures himself as founding
+new States there, and sometimes as galloping through the wilds, we may
+ascribe it to the infinite variety of human passions that he should at
+the same time justify his final blunder on patriotic grounds.
+
+His critical faculty is most keenly at work when he is pondering his
+dynastic aspirations. In the last days of the Empire, he had confided
+his doubts to a few choice spirits; now, when it is too late, he freely
+acknowledges his error. “I was a softy where my family was concerned; by
+sticking to their point they could get anything out of me. What terrible
+mistakes I made there! If my brothers had communicated a common impulse
+to the masses I placed under their rule, we should have been able to
+make our way to the ends of the earth!... I was not so lucky as Genghis
+Khan, whose four sons vied with one another in their father’s service.
+If I made any one king, he instantly regarded himself as king by divine
+right; the mere word was as infective as the plague. The new king was no
+longer my representative, but became a fresh enemy; instead of serving
+me, he wanted to make himself independent. I was the only stumbling block
+in his path. In the twinkling of an eye, they all became kings warranted
+genuine; under my protection, they all tasted the sweets of dominion. I
+alone bore the burden. Poor devils! Once I had been defeated, the enemy
+did not even bother to declare their formal deposition.”
+
+That was as far as his penitence reached. However self-critical he might
+be, Napoleon never uttered a word of regret for having assumed a crown,
+or for having wished to found a dynasty. On the contrary, again and again
+he returned to his basic social idea: “I was the natural mediator in
+this struggle between the revolution and the past; my empire was in the
+interests of the rulers as well as in that of the peoples. My aim was
+the social rebirth of Europe; fate interfered before I had completed my
+task.” In line with his general conception of kingship, he deplores that
+the kings should have made an end of Murat. They would have done better
+to show the peoples that kings are above the law. Though the guillotining
+of King Louis had opened the road along which he himself had advanced
+to a throne, he condemned the act of regicide; not because he regarded
+the Bourbons as competent rulers, but because continuity seemed to him
+essential.
+
+[Illustration: Death mask of Napoleon. By Dr. Antommarchi.]
+
+For he will never misunderstand Europe’s historical conditions; he
+will never try to establish offhand in Europe that which he dreams of
+establishing in the promised land of America or in the utopian island
+of his fancy. He always sees what is, as an outgrowth of what has been;
+always transforms the extant, instead of destroying it; he never wants
+to build entirely anew. Consequently, he does not discard the old forms,
+but uses them as a foundation for his new buildings. With a passion for
+ordering and arranging, and with a hatred for destruction, he feels how
+much can be done when the basis is secure. “When I rose to power, people
+thought I was going to be a Washington. Words cost nothing! In America,
+the role would have suited me well enough; there would have been no merit
+in adopting it on the western side of the Atlantic. In France, I could
+only become a Washington as a king among kings.”
+
+That is the truth as he sees it. Since, at bottom, he despises the purple
+he has hung round his own shoulders, he would have been careful to avoid
+taking it to America, just as Washington had resisted the solicitations
+of his officers. By birth, he had been neither proletarian nor prince,
+but a member of a petty noble family which had fallen on evil days. Thus
+his position was an intermediate one, sandwiched between the classes. In
+his conversations with Englishmen about England, he displayed the naïveté
+of his class feeling, and his faith in the right of succession, for he
+closed an attack upon the British nobility in the following remarkable
+way:
+
+“It is not a handful of nobles or rich men that makes a nation, but the
+mass of the people. True, as soon as the mob gains the upper hand it
+adopts an alias, and speaks of itself as the People; whereas, if it is
+conquered, a few poor wretches are hanged, and spoken of as robbers and
+rebels. ’Tis the way of the world: mob, robbers, rebels—or heroes. As the
+fortune of war may decide!”
+
+After a reading of Voltaire’s _La mort de César_, he remarks that in
+youth he had himself wanted to write a “Cæsar.” One of his auditors,
+with a courtly double meaning, says that the Emperor has done so.
+Napoleon laughs the flatterer to scorn. “I? You poor babe! Yes, if I had
+been completely successful! But, in fact, Cæsar had no better luck than I
+have had—for he was assassinated!”
+
+Closely associated with his self-criticism is his own estimate of
+his deeds. His historical sense, which is an integral part of his
+composition, leads him to an objective clarity in his contemplation of
+himself; perhaps an attitude of mind we may vainly seek for elsewhere in
+history before his day. Las Cases tells us that Napoleon talks of his
+career as if three hundred years lay behind him; and Countess Montholon
+movingly observes: “It seemed to me as if we found ourselves in another
+world, and I was listening to a Dialogue of the Dead.”
+
+He stubbornly defends his alleged crimes, the poisoning of the
+plague-stricken in Jaffa, the execution of the duke of Enghien. One
+day he is seized with the impulse to confide to an English physician
+the whole story of the Enghien episode; since, as Consul, he ran the
+risk of being murdered, a counterstroke was necessary. Another time he
+deliberately sets himself to the task of finding out what O’Meara really
+thinks of him. The Emperor knows the doctor to be whole-heartedly devoted
+to his person, but of independent character. They are sitting over a jug
+of porter, drinking together. Napoleon suddenly puts his question:
+
+“What sort of a man did you think I was before you came to know me? Speak
+your mind frankly!”
+
+O’Meara gives the description of an amoral chimera, a man capable of any
+crime to achieve his end.
+
+“I expected as much!” exclaims the Emperor. “Probably many Frenchmen
+think the same. They’ll be saying: Yes, he climbed to the top of the
+ladder of fame, by his own efforts; but in his climb he had to commit
+many atrocities.’” Thereupon he launches forth into vehement self-defence.
+
+One night he summons Montholon in order to dictate the thoughts which
+throng his sleepless brain. He sets down how he was ever inclined
+to peace, how before a battle and after a victory he always entered
+negotiations. Or he compares the two revolutions, adding: “Cromwell
+achieved his aim when he was in the full maturity of his age, and
+attained to the highest rung of the ladder through cunning and hypocrisy.
+But Napoleon came to the fore as a stripling, and his first steps are
+illuminated with deeds of glory.... Whose blood have I shed? Who can
+boast that in my place he would have acted differently? What epoch
+confronted with similar difficulties has ever come through with such
+blameless results?... I believe it to be without parallel in history
+that a plain man should have attained to such amazing power without
+committing a single crime. In face of death itself, I could make no other
+declaration.”
+
+Something now occurs which takes us wholly by surprise. Instead of, in
+the midst of this harangue, laying the blame for ill success on others,
+instead of allowing his inborn misanthropy to storm the heavens in
+resentment, he shows us that his days of exile have fostered his sense
+of justice. He who, for a lifetime, had declared that cupidity lay at
+the root of all men’s endeavours, and had dealt with his fellows on that
+presupposition, now becomes a cautious analyst; the man of power becomes
+a philosopher; Napoleon becomes tolerant.
+
+Now, he declares that mankind is prone to gratitude rather than to
+ingratitude; the only trouble is, people always expect more thanks
+than the deed is worth. Las Cases informs us that his greatest censure
+nowadays is expressed by silence. He defends even those who were
+faithless: Augereau, Berthier, were not equal to the magnitude of their
+positions; he excuses his brothers. From the altitude of these judgments,
+he surveys the wide perspective with a tolerant eye. We seem to be
+listening to the imprisoned Socrates when we read:
+
+“It is difficult to give people their due.... Do they even know
+themselves? Those who forsook me would never have believed, in the days
+of their good fortune, that a time would come when they would deny me....
+Our last trials were more than human nature could endure. As a matter
+of fact, I was left in the lurch rather than actually betrayed, just
+as Peter denied his master.... Perhaps they have already shed tears of
+repentance. Who ever had more friends and more adherents than I? Who has
+ever been more beloved?... My fate might have been far worse!”
+
+
+XVI
+
+The Emperor’s companions keep diaries. He is well aware of this; he even
+has a look into one of them, but he reserves his thoughts. As a realist
+he calculates the monetary worth of these records, and he foretells what
+the writers will earn when they publish their books after his death; his
+only mistake is that he underestimates the amount. He bequeaths to each
+of his secretaries those portions of his writings which he has dictated
+to them severally. But he is correct in his estimate of the incalculable
+value the diaries will have for posterity in the study of himself.
+
+Accustomed as he is to dictate, he shapes his sentences carefully
+even when conversing, so that his hearers may record his sayings with
+advantage. The value to future generations is thus enhanced, and
+these summaries of his thoughts raise him above his present wearisome
+existence. His passionate feeling for historical events drives him to
+this self-expression, no less than regard for those who shall come after.
+
+Five days pass, sometimes, without his seeing anybody; he reads and
+he writes nothing. The future gives him no more food for thought. But
+during these periods of seclusion he surveys his life as a whole. Then
+his soul is shaken, and his lightning glance searches through and
+through his personality for a hundred hours at a stretch. Never has any
+man before him had to submit to such a scrutiny. The tension of his
+being is at these moments greater than at Austerlitz, more elemental
+than in the Council of State: he is a bound Prometheus, one who wishes
+to promote human happiness; and, shackled to the rock, he groans. Yet
+he is but a little man in an old green coat! The visions, the dreams,
+which for twenty years he was able and willing to conjure into reality,
+he now dissects into ideas. Thus, in the end, he becomes the severest
+commentator upon his own life story.
+
+A book arrives. It is a collection of his manifestoes and decrees. He
+reads. Then he throws the volume aside, strides to and fro, and says to
+Las Cases:
+
+“Every future historian will have to allow me my share.... Facts speak
+for themselves. I closed up the chasm of anarchy, and put an end to
+chaos. I cleansed the revolution from the filth it had accumulated, I
+ennobled the peoples, I stabilised the thrones. I encouraged all those
+who had talents, rewarded every merit, and widened the boundaries
+of fame and glory.... Could not historians protect me against many
+grave charges?... If I am accused of despotism, they can claim that
+dictatorship was necessary in the circumstances. Is it freedom I
+attacked? They can answer that anarchy was still threatening on our very
+threshold. Love of war? I was never the aggressor. Striving for world
+dominion? This arose accidentally, because of the conditions of the time.
+Too ambitious? Yes, true indeed. But my ambition was of the sublimest:
+to found the kingdom of reason, with full development and unrestricted
+enjoyment of all the human faculties. The historian may deplore that such
+ambition could not wholly attain its goal.” After a momentary silence,
+he concludes: “There, my dear fellow, in a few words, you have my entire
+story.”
+
+Here he is on the defensive. But neither in such moods nor in any other
+do we ever hear him rave enthusiastically over his battles. In all the
+six years of his captivity, he does not seem, even once, to have sung the
+praises of General Bonaparte. If he is summing up what he achieved, he
+says:
+
+“My fame does not rest upon my forty victorious battles, nor does it lie
+in the fact that I bent the monarchs to my will. Waterloo will wipe out
+the memory of so many victories; the last act makes one forget the first.
+What will never pass away, is my book of laws, the minutes of my Council
+of State, my correspondence with my ministers.... Through its simplicity
+my code of laws has had more effect than any civil codes before it; the
+schools I have set up, my methods of instruction, are creating a new
+generation; crime has decreased during my rule, whereas in England crime
+has become more prevalent.... _I wanted to found a European system, a
+European code of laws, a European court of appeal; there would have been
+but one people throughout Europe._”
+
+He reads in an English newspaper that Napoleon has hidden away vast
+treasures. He leaps to his feet, and dictates, to the man who happens to
+be his companion at the moment, these splendid sentences:
+
+“Would you like to know about Napoleon’s treasures? Yes, they are vast,
+but they are not hidden away. The harbours of Antwerp and Flushing,
+where there is room for the largest fleets in the world, harbours which
+are open all through the winter; the waterworks at Dunkirk, Havre, and
+Nice; the huge docks at Cherbourg; the port of Venice; the high roads
+from Antwerp to Amsterdam, from Mainz to Metz, and from Bordeaux to
+Bayonne; the passes over the Simplon, Mont Cenis, La Corniche, and Mont
+Genèvre, which open up the Alps in four directions, and excel all the
+constructions of the Romans. Then there are the roads from the Pyrenees
+to the Alps, from Parma to Spezia, and from Savona into Piedmont; the
+bridges across the Seine, and the bridges of Tours and of Lyons; ...
+the Rhine-Rhone canal and the draining of the Pontine marshes; ...
+the re-establishment of the Church destroyed by the revolution; the
+setting up of new industries; the new Louvre; warehouses, streets, the
+water supply of Paris, the quays along the Seine; ... the revival of
+the weaving mills in Lyons; more than four hundred sugar factories;
+the repair and embellishment of the royal palaces at a cost of frs.
+50,000,000, and the refurnishing of them out of Napoleon’s private
+fortune at a cost of frs. 60,000,000; the redemption of the only
+remaining crown diamond, the Regent, which had been pawned to Jews in
+Berlin for frs. 3,000,000; the Napoleon Museum, where all the works
+of art had been obtained by purchase or by the peace treaties; many
+millions for the support of agriculture and horse breeding.... These are
+the treasures of Napoleon, which represent an expenditure of milliards,
+and will outlast the centuries! These are the monuments which defy
+calumny.... Moreover, history will record that they were all erected
+while long wars were being waged, and without loans being raised to pay
+for them!”
+
+There he is in his little room, in the narrow house, on the rock in
+the midst of the sea, defending his work, and, with a regal gesture,
+shaking things together pell-mell—main roads, sugar factories, crown
+diamonds, and the Catholic Church! Foreseeing the criticisms of history,
+he is fully aware of the truth about himself; though a century will
+elapse before posterity will begin to see in him something more than the
+military commander whose fame (as he says) was dimmed by the failure at
+Waterloo.
+
+One evening, after dinner, the question assumes a personal aspect. An
+inquisitive member of his circle has asked when he was happiest, and all
+present give their ideas. Napoleon tells them that he was made content by
+his marriage and when his son was born, “I cannot say happy, but content.”
+
+“When you were First Consul?”
+
+“I was not yet sure enough of myself.”
+
+“At the coronation?”
+
+“In Tilsit, I think. By that time I had learned the vicissitudes of
+fortune; Preussisch-Eylau had been a warning to me, and nevertheless I
+had won a victory there; I had dictated the terms of peace; the tsar
+and the king of Prussia were paying court to me. But no, I am wrong,
+that was not the best. The happiest days I ever knew were after my first
+victories in Italy, when the masses surrounded me, shouting: ‘Evviva il
+liberatore!’ I was only twenty-six, but I foresaw what I might become.
+It was as if I were being lifted up into the air, and the world were
+disappearing beneath my feet!”
+
+With a sudden transition, he hums an Italian song, and then stands up,
+saying: “Ten o’clock. Time for bed.”
+
+How pale do these comparisons of happy moments seem in contrast with
+the fiery rhapsody of his deeds! It was in the work he did that was
+concentrated the life happiness of the man who enjoyed nothing but the
+completed action. He surveys his past; doubts this suggestion and that,
+saying that he was no more than “content,” and finally hears again the
+first chorus of evvivas. In imagination he is again the youth soaring
+upwards; and in the evening of his life, spent in this tropical exile,
+the vision of fame floats once more before his eyes. That was what the
+disciple of the classical heroes had set out to win—fame!
+
+Fame, whose lure he had felt for the first time on the island of his
+birth, still allures him on the island to which he had been banished.
+Moreover, he knows that it is the glamour of warlike fame which has made
+him most widely known among men. He asks whether there can be any one in
+Paris who has never heard of Napoleon; he does not really mean Paris,
+but the world. When Las Cases tells him how, in the remotest valleys of
+Wales, shepherds had asked for news of the First Consul, or how yellow
+men in China had spoken of him in the same breath with Tamerlane, then
+the Emperor Napoleon forgets the shame and the weariness of his life on
+the rock, and knows his happiest moments. If he is in such a mood, some
+trifling item in the newspaper may arouse a flight of fancy:
+
+“Yes, the reaction is doomed! Nothing can destroy great principles; they
+will endure for ever in the light of the wonderful deeds we have done!
+The first stains have been washed out in the waters of glory, and now
+the principles are immortal.... Adorned with our laurels, acclaimed by
+the peoples, sanctified by treaties with the powers, they are breathed
+from all lips and hearkened to by all ears.... They will rule the world;
+will become the faith and the morality of all the peoples; and, say what
+you will, this new epoch is associated with my name. I lighted the torch;
+friends and foes alike will acclaim me the leading champion, the greatest
+representative of the new principles. After my death, for the nations I
+shall still be the sun of their rights; my name will be the war cry of
+their struggle, the slogan of their hopes!”
+
+Still, these heroics about himself lack the right conclusion. Politically
+he overestimates the value of his martyrdom; it has not been able to
+save the dynasty: but he does not foresee the effect which this last act
+of the drama will have upon the hearts of men. A soldier’s death looms
+before his eyes; he had sought it under fire on the last battle-fields;
+again and again he turns his own story over in his mind, in search of
+the romantic moment which would have been the most appropriate close; he
+often recurs to the subject in conversation. Like a playwright he looks
+for the fitting climax: “I ought to have died in Moscow. Till then my
+fame was undiminished.... If only heaven had sent me a bullet in the
+Kremlin! My dynasty would have been established; history would have
+compared me with Alexander and Cæsar. Whereas, as things have turned
+out, I am practically nothing.” On another occasion he thinks that death
+shortly before attaining the goal, would have had even more effect on
+posterity: “Had I fallen at Borodino, my death would have been like
+Alexander’s. A death at Waterloo would have been a good one. But perhaps
+Dresden would have been better. No, no, at Waterloo would have been best.
+The love of the people, their mourning!”
+
+Once he summarises the whole as follows:
+
+“Taking it all in all, what a ballad my life has been!”
+
+
+XVII
+
+Sunrise. A man stands at the door of a house where all the inmates are
+still asleep. He wears a white coat, red slippers, a broad-brimmed straw
+hat; he holds a spade in one hand, and rings a huge bell with the other,
+rousing the sleepers to work. A wall is to be raised, a ditch lengthened;
+land is to be reclaimed from the inroads of the sea; this is the scheme.
+Doors open, tent-flaps are flung back, and from all directions men flock
+to the master’s side. They are armed with shovels, rakes, axes; and are
+eager to carry out the Emperor’s commands.
+
+He resembles the centenarian Faust.
+
+The last year of his life has opened. He has made up his mind, come what
+may, to stay on this rock; and, since no one offers to make a verdant
+bower for him, he has decided, after yearlong feuds and resistance to his
+plans, to make a garden for himself. A half-circle of wall is to protect
+the growths from too much sun, from the trade wind, and from the watchful
+eye of the sentry. Cisterns are to store rain water; within the ramparts,
+earth is distributed for the flowers and the bushes; four-and-twenty
+large trees are planted; peaches, oranges, and, in front of his window,
+an oak. The trees have been imported from the Cape, and are brought
+to Longwood with the aid of the English artillery regiment—an old
+acquaintance of the Peninsular War. Chinese gardeners, Indian coolies,
+French servants, English stablemen, all help in the work; the doctor
+must take a hand too, with Montholon and Bertrand; and when the English
+officer on duty draws near, he sees the Emperor take a turf from his
+grand marshal’s hands, fit it into its place on the bank, and pat it down
+carefully. But since Napoleon knows that transplanted soldiers must be
+especially well treated in foreign parts, he waters the square of grass
+assiduously.
+
+The work goes on for seven months; and, when it is finished, the garden,
+so swiftly brought into being on the rock, is regarded as a wonder. The
+governor’s daughter comes secretly to look at it. This is the last
+miracle wrought by Napoleon.
+
+It is because he has become aware of the decline in his energies, that he
+has decided to beautify the place in which he is to pass the remainder
+of his days. He is overheard murmuring to himself Voltaire’s line: “See
+Paris once more? I cannot hope for that.” When his birthday comes round,
+he says it will be the last, gives the children presents; “at dinner,
+where we were all assembled, he beamed on us like a father in the family
+circle.”
+
+That autumn, he takes his last ride, a long one, going out of bounds for
+the first time after four years.
+
+He seldom dictates now, but has a fancy to do so sometimes at night
+when sleep will not come; dictates comments on the battles of Turenne,
+Frederick, and Cæsar; literary criticism upon Voltaire’s _Mahomet_ and
+Virgil’s _Æneid_; remarks on suicide, which he had condemned long ago
+when he had been a lieutenant. His best secretaries, Gourgaud and Las
+Cases, have left the island long since. For a quarter of an hour at a
+time, he will stand drumming with his fingers on the door of the veranda,
+watching the gulls, or gazing at the clouds; he no longer scrutinises the
+ships through the telescope; he is only waiting for death.
+
+The news of a fresh conspiracy against the Bourbons, originating in the
+army and widely supported by civilians, no longer excites him. During
+the last six months of his life, he rejects two schemes of rescue. “It
+is written in the stars that I am to die here. In America I should be
+assassinated, or forgotten. Nothing but my martyrdom can save my dynasty.
+That is why I prefer to stay in St. Helena.”
+
+His mortal illness gains on him. The climate of the island is dangerous
+to persons whose livers are healthy when they first come; Napoleon, at
+thirty-five, had foretold that he would die of liver trouble like his
+father, and his liver complaint is greatly aggravated. He says that his
+stomach burns like fire; in some of the paroxysms, he rolls on the floor
+in agony. He complains of a pain in the gastric region, “like the stab
+of a penknife.” He shivers with cold, though he is burning within; when
+hot compresses are applied, they can never be hot enough for him.
+
+He watches his symptoms, and studies their meaning; will not take any
+medicine until its action has been explained to him. He says ruefully:
+“I have got so fond of my bed that I would not exchange it now for a
+throne. What a pitiful creature I have become! I, who hardly ever needed
+sleep, pass my days in lethargy. It seems a desperate resolve merely to
+open my eyes. Often enough, I used to dictate on different topics to four
+secretaries at once. In those days, I was Napoleon.” His mood vacillates
+between heroic pathos and irony. When his valet reports that a comet is
+visible, the Emperor rejoins: “That was the sign before the death of
+Cæsar.” But when his doctor declares that there is no comet to be seen,
+the sick man says: “Well, people die without comets!”
+
+His medical attendant is a Corsican named Antommarchi. Owing to the
+quarrel with the governor, the prisoner had no doctor for a year after
+O’Meara’s departure. At length Madame Letizia, after much effort, was
+able to arrange for the sending of this compatriot as his physician,
+together with two priests, a body servant, and a cook. Thus it is that,
+after years of silence, the Emperor hears trustworthy details about his
+mother. Once, during these last days, he says in simple words what she
+means to him: “All that I am and was, I owe to my mother; she taught me
+her own principles, and encouraged in me the habit of work.”
+
+Now there are five Corsicans round the lonely man. Only two of them are
+any good: the body servant and the cook. Of the two priests, one is a
+deaf old man, partially paralysed, and unable to articulate clearly; the
+other, fresh from the seminary, is ignorant and uncouth. Antommarchi,
+too, is a young man, inexperienced but pretentious. Still, the sight of
+these islanders, men of his own race, revives memories of his Corsican
+home. Hence, towards the close, feelings reawaken which in early life he
+had stifled because of his determination to be a Frenchman. Napoleon dies
+as he was born, an Italian.
+
+He often talks Italian, now, or intersperses his French with strange
+locutions literally translated from his mother tongue. When he reads
+an attack made on him by a senator who declares that in the day of the
+Empire France had chosen her master from among a people whom the Romans
+did not consider good enough, to use as slaves, Napoleon’s comment is
+that it is a great compliment to the Corsicans, “for the Romans knew that
+this people could not be forced to serve.... Besides, Corsica, lying
+between France and Italy, was an appropriate birthplace for a man who was
+to rule both.”
+
+Then, suddenly, it is again his fatherland. “Ah, Doctor, where are the
+lovely skies of Corsica? If only I could have fled thither, the people
+would have received me with open arms, and would have become my family.
+Do you think that the allies could have mastered me in Corsica? You know
+our mountaineers, their courage and their pride! I am familiar with every
+ravine in the island, every stream!” He declares that he would fain have
+made much of this island (about which he never troubled after leaving
+it), would have signalised his love for it before all France. Only his
+misfortunes had prevented his carrying out these plans. He speaks of the
+spiritual greatness of the islanders, of their veneration for honour, of
+the blood feuds they hand down from generation to generation; he speaks
+of Paoli. “Everything is better there, the very smell of the ground. If
+my eyes were shut, I should recognise it; I have never come across it
+anywhere else.... No longer to own the house where one was born, to be
+homeless—this is to be without a fatherland!” Thus late, thus painfully,
+and thus indirectly, does this man without a fatherland make his great
+discovery; or thus late does he acknowledge his true feelings.
+
+The Corsican doctor has no great sympathy with the Emperor; he does
+not credit Napoleon’s sufferings; he believes them to be simulated for
+political ends, in the hope of a removal to Europe; and is absent during
+the worst paroxysms. Thus the political use the Emperor has made of his
+ailments works out its own revenge; for now, when he is really dying, his
+own compatriot regards his sufferings as spurious. There is ample record
+of these differences between doctor and patient. Napoleon wishes to get
+rid of Antommarchi, and asks Lowe to have him sent back to Europe. This
+is a new triumph for the governor, to whom the quarrel between the great
+Corsican and the little is useful ammunition. Only four weeks before
+the Emperor’s death, his gaoler once more tries to force a way into his
+presence, and the consequent excitement is very bad for Napoleon.
+
+The number of the faithful diminishes, as if to justify the misanthropist
+at the close of his life. Now, in the very last weeks, four of the
+servants and the old priest set sail for Europe; two others fall sick,
+and the last remaining members of his suite are meditating flight:
+Montholon is corresponding with the countess about the possibility of a
+substitute; Bertrand is about to yield to the continued solicitations of
+his family, and return to France. Montholon, to induce him to remain, has
+to assure him that when the Emperor talks of being seriously ill, this is
+not done merely to play upon Bertrand’s sympathies. When Bertrand finally
+decides to remain, the invalid is greatly encouraged. The only one who
+never thought of leaving, was Marchand, the valet. The Emperor says to
+him: “If this goes on much longer, no one will be left here but you and
+me. But you will look after me till the end, and will then close my eyes
+for me.”
+
+What really cuts him to the heart is that the man who has been his close
+companion for so many years should now let long-hidden truths peep out.
+He has had an argument with Bertrand, who says: “It would have been
+the happiest day in my life if, after the deposition of the king, the
+Convention had raised the duke of Orleans to the throne.” The Emperor
+makes no immediate rejoinder, but afterwards says bitterly: “Bertrand,
+who owes everything to me, whom I made one of the grand officers of my
+empire!”
+
+As his strength wanes, he looks round for something to lean on, and, for
+the first time in his life, he appeals to his relatives for help. Pauline
+is the dearest of them. Dictating a letter to her in the third person,
+he gives a bulletin of his condition, and ends as follows: “The Emperor
+earnestly hopes that Your Highness will acquaint influential Englishmen
+with his situation. He is dying on this dreadful rock, forsaken by all.
+His death struggle is terrible.”
+
+In the middle of April, three weeks before the end, behind locked doors,
+he dictates his will to Montholon. Then the amanuensis has to redictate
+the document to the Emperor, for it must be in his own handwriting, that
+it may be above suspicion. The Emperor sits writing for five hours, in
+a cold sweat. The testament is characterised alike by statesmanlike
+greatness and by human feelings; it represents, as it were, a survey of
+his whole life.
+
+
+XVIII
+
+He begins his testament by declaring that he dies in the apostolical and
+Roman religion, in the bosom of which he was born,—the faith which he
+re-established in France, which he always protected, although, in his
+innermost soul, he never accepted its teachings. Then his thoughts turn
+to the glory of a hero’s grave, and, with a turn of phrase which shows
+that he regards himself as a Frenchman by choice rather than by birth, he
+writes: “It is my wish that my ashes shall be laid to rest on the bank of
+the Seine, in the midst of the French people, which I have loved so well.”
+
+Next come thoughts of his son, upon whom are lavished all the hopes a
+man can entertain concerning what will happen after his own death, and
+for whom he wishes to concentrate such rights as he may possess, such
+treasures as he may own, and such teachings as he may utter. He tells
+his “beloved wife” that he retains for her the most tender sentiments,
+and beseeches her to watch over their son, since the lad is being brought
+up as an Austrian prince. She is never to forget that the young Napoleon
+was born a Frenchman. She must never allow the boy to become a tool in
+the hands of the triumvirs who oppress the peoples of Europe—among whom
+the greatest oppressor is the child’s own grandfather.
+
+Then comes a last thrust at the enemy: “I am dying before my time,
+murdered by the English oligarchy and its hired assassins.” But, in the
+challenging tone of a tribune, he adds: “The English people will not
+be slow to avenge me.” He closes this part of his will by declaring
+that he had been defeated “through the treachery of Marmont, Augereau,
+Talleyrand, and Lafayette.” Though he adds, “I forgive them,” behind this
+mask of Christian charity the warrior’s steel glitters in the words: “May
+the France that is yet unborn forgive them as I do.”
+
+Now, quite in the patrician style, he thanks his beloved mother and his
+brothers and sisters for the interest they have continued to feel in him.
+“I pardon Louis for the libel he published in 1820: it is full of false
+assertions and falsified documents.” Then come the actual bequests.
+
+The main substance of what he has to leave consists of his savings out of
+the civil list during fourteen years, together with all the furniture,
+plate, etc., he had himself bought for his palaces; and also his Italian
+property. He estimates it as amounting to more than frs. 200,000,000,
+and points out that, as far as he is aware, no law has deprived him of
+it. Half of it is bequeathed to the surviving officers and men who had
+fought in the glorious campaigns from 1792 to 1815, in sums proportional
+to their rates of pay on active service; the other half is to go to the
+provincial towns and communes that had suffered in the two invasions. His
+aim, in these provisions, is to put the Bourbon government in the wrong
+for laying an embargo, at the time of his abdication, upon all his money
+and securities. These clauses in his will are to promote a Napoleonic
+sentiment among soldiers and civilians alike; his secret hope being that
+his testament will exercise an influence in favour of his dynasty, like
+Cæsar’s will when disclosed to the Roman populace by Mark Antony.
+
+Now comes legacies to ninety-seven specified individuals. The list was
+drawn up in the course of ten days. “His mind is continually at work
+discovering new objects for his liberality; day after day he recalls the
+names of additional old servants whom he wants to remember in his will.”
+The bequests are to come from a special property of frs. 20,000,000, of
+whose ownership he feels more secure than of the great imperial treasure.
+Frs. 6,000,000 had been deposited in hard cash on leaving Paris in 1815.
+
+Who are the legatees?
+
+Montholon is to have frs. 2,000,000; Bertrand and the valet Marchand,
+about half a million each. The valet is the only one whom Napoleon
+honours with the name of friend, and he adds: “It is my wish that he
+should marry the widow, sister, or daughter of an officer of my old
+guard.” Marchand, Bertrand, and Montholon are to be the executors, and
+all three of them have to affix their seals to each page of the will.
+Thus the last document penned by Napoleon’s hand bears four seals: the
+Emperor’s eagle volant, the arms of the two counts of the old noblesse,
+and the plain monogram of the man of the people in whom the Emperor
+showed supreme confidence by appointing him one of his executors. “The
+services he has rendered me are those of a friend.”
+
+Every one of the servants on St. Helena receives a competence; so do the
+three surgeons Larrey, Percy, and Emmery. Of Larrey, Napoleon adds: “He
+is the most virtuous man I have ever known.” Similar large sums, frs.
+100,000 in most instances, are left to various generals who had been
+closely associated with him, to his secretaries, to two authors, the Elba
+guards, and the children of generals killed in battle. The stablemen,
+the valets, the orderly officers, the huntsmen, a house-porter, a
+librarian, the children or grandchildren of old family friends in
+Corsica; the children or grandchildren of his nurse (if in need, despite
+previous benefactions); the children or grandchildren of his sometime
+tutor in Auxonne; those of the general in command at Toulon under whom
+he had had his first experience of active service; those of the deputy
+who had helped him to get his plans put in force against Toulon; those
+of Muiron, “our aide-de-camp, killed at our side at Arcola, covering us
+with his body”—all are remembered. The next item to the Muiron bequest
+is a legacy “to the subaltern officer Cantillon,” who had been acquitted
+of the charge of attempting to assassinate Wellington. “Cantillon had
+as much right to assassinate that oligarch, as the latter had to send
+me to perish upon the rock of St. Helena. Wellington, who proposed this
+outrage, attempted to justify himself by pleading the interest of Great
+Britain. Cantillon, if he had really assassinated that lord, would have
+excused himself, and have been justified, by the same motives, the
+interest of France.”
+
+This revolutionary outcry about Cantillon concludes the list of legatees.
+In the instructions to the executors, the following items are enumerated:
+the malachite furniture from Russia; the golden table service (which
+was presented to him by the town of Paris); a small farm on the island
+of Elba which had been purchased with Pauline’s money; a store of
+quicksilver at Venice, reckoned to be worth frs. 5,000,000; gold and
+jewels in a hiding-place at Malmaison; and so on, the fantastic inventory
+of a monarch and an adventurer.
+
+To his mother, he leaves his silver night-lamp which has lighted many a
+sleepless night during his sojourn on St. Helena; each brother and sister
+receives a special bequest; Joseph and Lucien, as if no cloud had ever
+shadowed his relations with them, are mentioned calmly one after the
+other, each receiving “an embroidered mantle, vest, and small-clothes,”
+though the living Napoleon had given a crown to one and offered a crown
+to the other.
+
+But the principal legatee of Napoleon is his son. First of all, the
+boy is to have all his “arms, field-beds, saddles, spurs, snuff-boxes,
+orders, books, body linen, which I have been accustomed to wear and
+use.... It is my wish that this slight bequest may be dear to him,
+as recalling to him the memory of a father of whom the universe will
+discourse to him.” Amid the inventories, which mention such items as
+two pairs of night-drawers and two pillow-cases, there flash out such
+entries as the following: “My sword, the one I wore at Austerlitz; ...
+my gold travelling box, the one I made use of on the morning of Ulm, of
+Austerlitz, of Jena, of Eylau, of Friedland, of the island of Lobau, of
+Borodino, and of Montmirail; ... four boxes found on the table of Louis
+XVIII. in the Tuileries on March 20, 1815; ... my alarm-clock, it is the
+alarm-clock of Frederick II. which I took at Potsdam (in box No. III);
+... a blue cloak (that which I had at Marengo); ... a consular sword; ...
+a grand collar of the Legion of Honour.” Each list of items finishes with
+a charge to one or other of his confidants to take care of the articles
+named, “and to convey them to my son when he shall attain the age of
+sixteen years.”
+
+Here is another entry: “Marchand shall preserve my hair, and cause a
+bracelet to be made of it, with a gold clasp, to be sent to the empress
+Marie Louise, to my mother, and to each of my brothers, sisters, nephews,
+nieces, the cardinal, and one of larger size to my son.”
+
+Various persons and places are named in which his son is likely to be
+interested. “I wish my executors to make a collection of engravings,
+pictures, books, and medals which may give my son sound ideas, and
+destroy the erroneous ideas which the policy of a foreign land may have
+tried to impress on him. I want him to be able to see things as they
+really were.... My memory will be the glory of his life.... I do not
+expect my son to benefit by my mother’s will, for he is likely to be
+wealthier than her other children, but I hope that she will leave him
+some such precious legacy as her own portrait and my father’s, or some
+trinkets which he will know have come down to him from his grandparents.”
+
+It may seem as if his life were ending with very simple thoughts, since
+he makes this touching reference to his parents; but in the next clause
+the abyss yawns. Those who are about his son, Bertrand’s children
+perhaps, or Montholon’s, are “to see to it that he resumes the name
+of Napoleon as soon as he comes of age, and is able to do so without
+inconvenience.”
+
+After this sedulous care for the legitimate heir, there follows, at
+the very last, a clause of a few lines, §37, in which Napoleon writes:
+“I should not complain if little Léon were to enter the civil service,
+should he be so disposed. I should like Alexandre Walewski to serve
+France in the army.” The writer could not foresee that, some decades
+after the death of his legitimate son, Léon was to end his ne’er-do-well
+life in America as the husband of a cook; but that Count Walewski was
+to attain high distinction, as a diplomat under Louis Philippe, and as
+minister of State and senator during the second empire. By his talent and
+good looks, Marie’s son was to show that he had, in very truth, been a
+love child.
+
+But there is a second testament for the legitimate heir. Two weeks
+before his death, towards three in the morning, the Emperor sends for
+Montholon, who has been tending him faithfully for the last few weeks:
+“When I entered the room, I found him sitting up, and the fire glancing
+in his eyes made me fear a fresh attack of fever. He perceived my
+uneasiness, and said kindly: ‘I am not worse, but my mind has been roused
+by discussing with Bertrand what my executors ought to say to my son when
+they see him ... it is better, therefore, that I should, in a few words,
+give you a summary of the counsels which I bequeath to my son. Write:’”
+
+There follow twelve printed pages, containing the Emperor’s political
+testament. Not a word about war, but a great many words about peace;
+and, as regards Europe, we find almost all the leading thoughts of the
+century which opened with his rise to power. We are given a glimpse
+of a fancied second reign. He tells us how he would govern, loftily
+criticising his own previous work. He looks forward to new political
+forms, and, with a seer’s vision, contemplates the twentieth century.
+From the rock, he issues an appeal for the union of Europe, a manifesto
+on behalf of an understanding among the peoples to promote liberty,
+equality, civilisation, talent, and commerce. All these thoughts form
+themselves in the mind of the dying Napoleon during one of the last
+restless nights of his illness:
+
+“My son should not think of avenging my death; he should profit by it....
+The aim of all his efforts should be, to reign by peace: if he should
+recommence my wars out of pure love of imitation and without any absolute
+necessity, he would be a mere ape. To do my work over again would be to
+suppose that I had done nothing; ... the same thing is not done twice
+in a century. _I was obliged to daunt Europe by arms; in the present
+day, the way is to convince her reason._... I have implanted new ideas
+in France and in Europe; they cannot retrograde: let my son bring into
+blossom all that I have sown....
+
+“It is possible that the English, in order to efface the remembrance of
+their persecutions, will favour my son’s return to France; but in order
+to live in a good understanding with England it is necessary, at any
+cost, to favour her commercial interests: this necessity leads to one of
+these two consequences—war with England, or a sharing of the commerce of
+the world with her. This second condition is the only one possible in
+the present day; questions of foreign policy will, in France, for a long
+time, take precedence of questions of home policy. I bequeath to my son
+sufficient strength and sympathy to enable him to continue my work with
+the sole aid of a lofty and conciliatory diplomacy....
+
+“Let not my son ever mount the throne by the aid of foreign influence;
+his aim should not be to fulfil a desire to reign, but to deserve the
+approbation of posterity. Let him cherish an intimacy with my family,
+whenever it shall be in his power. My mother resembles the great women
+of classical antiquity.... The French nation, when it is not taken the
+wrong way, is more easily governed than any other; its prompt and easy
+comprehension is unequalled; it immediately discerns who labours for, and
+who against it; but then it is necessary always to speak to its senses,
+otherwise its uneasy spite gnaws, it ferments and explodes....
+
+“Let him despise all parties; let him only see the mass. Excepting those
+who have betrayed their country, he should forget the previous conduct
+of all men, and reward talent, merit, and services, wherever he finds
+them....
+
+“France is the country where the chiefs of parties have the least
+influence: to rest for support on them, is to build on sand. Great things
+can only be done in France by having the support of the masses....
+
+“I relied on the whole mass of the people without exception; I set the
+example of a government which favoured the interests of all.... To
+divide the interests of a nation is ... to engender civil war. A thing
+indivisible by nature cannot be divided; it can only be mutilated. I
+attach no importance to the constitution; but its fundamental principle
+should be universal suffrage.
+
+“The nobility I created will not be a buttress to my son....
+
+“My dictatorship was indispensable, and the proof of this is that I was
+always offered more power than I wanted.... It will not be the same with
+my son: his power will be disputed; he must anticipate every desire for
+liberty.... The aim of a sovereign is not only to reign, but to diffuse
+instruction, morality, and wellbeing. Anything false is an untrustworthy
+prop....
+
+“The French people is animated by two equally powerful passions, which
+seem opposed, but which, nevertheless, are derived from one and the same
+feeling, namely, love of liberty and love of distinction. A government
+can only satisfy these two wants by the most exact justice.... In order
+to govern, it is not necessary to pursue a more or less perfect theory,
+but to build with the materials which are under one’s hand; to submit to
+necessities, and profit by them....
+
+“The liberty of the press ought to become, in the hands of the
+government, a powerful auxiliary in diffusing, through all the most
+distant corners of the Empire, sound doctrines and good principles. To
+leave it to itself would be to fall asleep beside a danger.... Under pain
+of death, nowadays, one must either direct or hinder everything.
+
+“My son ought to be a man of new ideas, and of the cause which I have
+made triumphant everywhere: ... to reunite Europe in the bonds of an
+indissoluble federation....
+
+“Europe is moving towards an inevitable transformation: to endeavour to
+retard this progress, would be to waste strength in a useless struggle;
+to favour it, is to strengthen the hopes and wishes of all....
+
+“My son’s position will not be free from immense difficulties. _Let him
+do by general consent what circumstances forced me to work for by force
+of arms._ If I had remained victorious over Russia in 1812, the problem
+of peace would have been solved for a hundred years to come. I cut the
+Gordian knot of nations; at the present day it must be untied.... It is
+no longer in the north that great questions will be decided, but in the
+Mediterranean; on the shores of the Mediterranean, there is enough to
+content all the ambitions of the different powers, and the happiness of
+civilised nations may be purchased with fragments of barbarous lands.
+_Let the kings listen to reason; Europe will no longer provide matter for
+maintaining international hatreds._ Prejudices are dispersing; interests
+are widening and becoming fused; trading routes are being multiplied. No
+longer can any one nation monopolise commerce....
+
+“All that you say to my son, or all that he learns, will be of little use
+to him, unless he has in the depths of his heart that sacred fire and
+love of good which alone can achieve great things.
+
+“I hope, however, that he will be worthy of his destiny.
+
+“If they refuse you permission to go to Vienna....”
+
+The document suddenly breaks off; Napoleon’s powers have flagged; like
+the utterance of an oracle, the soothsaying ends in the middle of a
+sentence. But what this man on his deathbed designed for the instruction
+of his poor little son, can serve to instruct Europe a century after
+it was written. The political problems of our own day, however we may
+attempt to solve them, are in truth solved here by the sovereignty of
+genius.
+
+
+XIX
+
+After this brilliant outpouring, the productive spring dries up.
+Agreeable visions float before his mind. It seems as if fate intends him
+to enjoy the euthanasia. The day after writing his political testament,
+he lies free from pain and care, surrounded by the mist-wreaths of hope:
+
+“When I am dead, each of you will have the sweet consolation of returning
+to Europe. You will see again, the one his relatives, the other his
+friends; but for my part, I shall meet my brave warriors in the Elysian
+Fields. Yes,” he continued, raising his voice, “Kléber, Desaix,
+Bessières, Duroc, Ney, Murat, Masséna, Berthier; all will come to meet
+me: they will talk to me of the deeds we did together. I shall recount to
+them the later events of my life. When they see me, they will be inspired
+with their old enthusiasm, their old passion for glory. We shall talk of
+our battles to the Scipios, to Hannibal, Cæsar, and Frederick. What a
+delight that will be. If only people here on earth are not terrified at
+seeing so many soldiers put their heads together!”
+
+Such is the dying man’s flight of fancy. In all the thousands of his
+recorded utterances, there is none that shows the naïveté of his mind
+more plainly than this reverie. He looks into a world peopled by the
+shades of the heroes, sees his generals there in familiar converse with
+those of ancient Rome, enters an idyllic paradise in which they talk
+of big guns. While Napoleon is speaking, the English doctor (whose
+ministrations the Emperor has at length consented to accept) enters the
+room.
+
+At this moment, the music of flutes, to which he has, in fancy, been
+listening, breaks off; once more he hears the rattle of the drums. The
+statesman recurs to the present. Without transition, he passes into a new
+register, after his manner, and makes a formal oration which embodies
+what he wishes to be the official view of his death:
+
+“Come nearer, Bertrand, and translate what I say word for word to this
+gentleman. My death is the results of injuries worthy of the hands that
+have inflicted them. I surrendered to the British people, that I might
+settle down at a British fireside. In defiance of international law, I
+was loaded with chains.... England overpersuaded the princes, and the
+world saw an unprecedented sight. Four great powers hurled themselves
+upon one solitary man. How shamefully you have treated me on this rock!
+There is no possible mortification to which you have not subjected
+me!... With cold calculation, you have slowly done me to death! The vile
+governor has been the executioner appointed by your ministers! I end like
+the proud republic of Venice! I bequeath the shame of my death to the
+royal family of England!”
+
+After this outburst, he sinks back upon his pillows. The doctor stands
+there dumbfounded, and Napoleon’s companions are in little better case.
+What was it? An epilogue; a protest; a commination? Pure politics! In the
+evening, he has an account of Hannibal’s campaigns read aloud to him.
+
+Next day, April 21st, a fortnight before the end, he sends for the
+Corsican abbate. Since this man’s coming, Napoleon has had Mass read
+every Sunday, but otherwise has had nothing to do with the priest. Now he
+says:
+
+“Do you know what a ‘chapelle ardente’ is? Have you ever officiated at
+one before? Never? Well, now you will officiate at mine.” Details follow.
+“After my death, you will set up your altar at my bedside, and will say
+Mass with the usual ceremonies until I am under ground.”
+
+In the evening, the priest spends nearly an hour with him. Since, we
+are told, Vignali was not dressed for the occasion, he can only have
+conversed with Napoleon, and cannot have confessed him. Napoleon has not
+communicated for forty years, and does not do so now.
+
+The sick man is much wasted; for several weeks he has not been shaved;
+his face is sunken and dusky. Now he has his bed carried into the
+drawing-room, for he finds the bedroom too confined. He is racked by
+terrible attacks of gastric spasm. In the intervals of calm, he continues
+to speak of persons to whom he wishes to leave legacies. Sometimes he
+dozes and dreams. In these dreams, women appear to him; Marie Louise is
+not one of them: “I saw my good Josephine, but she would not put her arms
+round me.... She was unchanged, loving as always. She said we should soon
+meet to part no more. She assured me—— Did you see her too?” Just like
+the dream about his generals; from the paradise of children, from the
+land of faëry.
+
+When he feels better, he has the latest newspapers read aloud. An attack
+on him in one of them excites him, and he has his will brought to him.
+Breaking the seals he has laboriously affixed, without saying a word he
+writes with tremulous hand:
+
+“I had the duke of Enghien arrested and brought to trial because this
+trial was necessary for the safety, the interest, and the honour of the
+French people, at a time when the count of Artois, according to his own
+admission, was maintaining sixty assassins in Paris.”
+
+Like two ghosts, they face one another; the dead Bourbon and the dying
+Bonaparte.
+
+On the 27th., he asks for the will once more, and laboriously reseals
+it. He has inventories made of the contents of his boxes and cupboards;
+valuable documents are put into envelopes, on which he writes the
+inscriptions. All this is done in the intervals between attacks of
+vomiting. His companions have to affix their seals, and every one of them
+must verify a written record of the packets. So great is his mistrust of
+England.
+
+Is there anything still to do? Various articles which have not yet been
+dealt with are lying on the counterpane. “I am very weak; there is not
+much time left; we must finish things off.” What is that? Hortense’s
+diamond necklace, which used to gleam from her neck on festal occasions
+in the Tuileries, and was sewn into his waistband the day he left
+Malmaison. This he gives to Marchand. There is a plain golden snuff-box.
+Toilsomely, with the point of a penknife, he scratches his initial N on
+the lid, and gives the box to the doctor, saying:
+
+“I expressly demand that a post-mortem shall be made, and, in especial,
+that the stomach shall be examined. I believe that I am dying of the same
+illness as my father. Ask Louis to send you the report about that, and
+compare it with what you find at the autopsy. Then you may at least be
+able to spare my son this horrible illness. Tell him how he can guard
+against it, and how he can be saved from the dread of it which has so
+afflicted me.”
+
+For six years he has been blaming the climate of the rock for his liver
+trouble; only a few days ago he had charged England with killing him in
+the unwholesome prison-house. By ordering a post-mortem examination, he
+is risking the collapse of this theory; indeed, that is what he expects.
+All is done for his son’s safety. He hopes that the lad can be saved from
+the family disorder.
+
+Is everything ready? Can we start? Wait a moment! There is still lacking
+an official address to the authorities. He dictates the following letter:
+
+“Monsieur le Gouverneur! Emperor Napoleon died on the ——, after a long
+and painful illness. I have the honour to inform you of the fact....
+Please let me know what arrangements your government has made for the
+conveyance of his body to Europe, and also in respect of the members of
+his suite.”
+
+“Count Montholon, you will sign that.”
+
+Napoleon had dictated sixty thousand political letters. Perhaps this
+one, the formal report of his own death with the date left open, is
+the most remarkable of them all; for who would have expected that
+destiny would leave so much time and so much tranquillity of mind in
+face of approaching death to a man who had faced sudden death on sixty
+battle-fields? The lines above quoted seem rather a grotesque close to
+his domineering career, and we feel a hope that this gruesome epistle
+will not be his last.
+
+It is not the last. On the 29th., after a feverish night, he dictates
+the drafts of two communications. One deals with the utilisation of
+Versailles; the other with a reorganisation of the National Guard. But
+these are not addressed, as they would have been before his abdication,
+to the Minister for Public Works and to the Minister for War. He dictates
+the superscriptions: “First Dream”; and “Second Dream.” Then he says: “I
+feel so wonderfully well now; I could go for a thirty-mile ride.” Next
+day, he becomes icy cold and sinks into a delirium, which lasts five days
+till the end.
+
+But Napoleon Bonaparte’s vital energies do not subside so easily. During
+these five days, there is a lucid interval, and he seizes the opportunity
+for issuing orders and making declarations:
+
+“When I lose consciousness, you must on no account admit an English
+doctor.... You will remain true to my memory, and will not do anything
+that might harm it. All my laws and all my actions were based upon the
+strictest principles. Unfortunately, the circumstances were so grave
+that I could not be lenient, and had to postpone many good things. Then
+came the disasters. I could not string the bow more tightly; ... that
+was why France never secured the liberal institutions I had intended to
+introduce. But the country credits me with my good intentions; it loves
+my name and my victories. You will do the same! Be true to our principles
+and to our fame!”
+
+His thoughts are still circling round his work. With the mournful glance
+of a dying sculptor, he sees before him nothing but a fragment; and with
+his last breath he tells those around him what he had designed to fashion.
+
+Next day, his mind is wandering once more amid memories of youth and
+of Corsica. But still, from time to time, there revives the wish to be
+useful to his son. His fantasy creates possessions on the island, and the
+faithful Marchand takes down from dictation these mind-wanderings that
+are so precise in their details:
+
+“I leave to my son my house in Ajaccio with its outbuildings; two houses
+adjacent to the saltpits with their gardens; and all my estates in the
+Ajaccio district. These will bring him an income of frs. 50,000. I
+bequeath....”
+
+This is Napoleon’s last command. He has won and lost half the world; but
+in his dying visions he sees the Corsican home of his ancestors, together
+with the son to whom he had intended to leave half the world as heirloom.
+The strains mingle; to keep his son from want, he bequeaths the lad a
+house which he does not own. Then his mind turns back from his kin. He is
+once more the soldier, on his first campaign, in Italy. Around him flit
+the wraiths of his earliest comrades. He shouts:
+
+“Desaix! Masséna! Victory is ours! Quick! Forward! We have them....”
+
+Next day the abbate goes to him unsummoned. Beneath a layman’s dress, the
+priest carries something he seeks to hide. He demands to be left alone
+with the dying man. After a while he comes out, saying: “I have given
+him extreme unction. Owing to the condition of the stomach, no other
+sacrament was possible.”
+
+A terrible last night. Towards morning, when he is murmuring in delirium,
+Montholon hears the words:
+
+“France!... Armée!... Tête d’armée.... Josephine!”
+
+This is Napoleon’s last utterance.
+
+Next moment, with amazing energy, he springs out of bed, overpowering
+Montholon, who is alone with him. The two fall to the floor, and he
+grips Montholon so fiercely that the count cannot even cry for help.
+Archambaud, who is in the next room, hears the noise, comes in, and
+releases Montholon. No one knows what enemy the Emperor was trying to
+strangle in this last fight.
+
+The rest of the day he lies breathing quietly. By signs he seems to ask
+for water, but since he can no longer swallow they must be content with
+holding a sponge moistened with vinegar to his lips. Mist and rain drive
+fiercely round the house. A count of the old noblesse and a man of the
+people watch by the camp-bed of Austerlitz.
+
+At five o’clock, the rage of the south-east trade wind is redoubled, and
+two trees of the latest planting are uprooted.
+
+At this moment, the man on the bed is in the throes of a prolonged rigor.
+There is no sign of pain; his eyes are widely opened, staring into
+vacancy; the death-rattle is in his throat. As the tropical sun sinks
+into the sea the Emperor’s heart stops beating.
+
+
+XX
+
+On the study table, in the garish light of noon, lies the naked corpse
+of Napoleon. Five English surgeons, three English army officers, and
+the three Frenchmen, surround the extemporized post-mortem table,
+where Antommarchi is performing the autopsy. The Corsican doctor has
+removed the liver and incised it. He holds up the organ for the others’
+inspection, and demonstrates, as if to a class of students. “You see,
+gentlemen, how this ulcerated part of the stomach has become adherent
+to the liver. What are we to infer? That the climate of St. Helena
+has intensified the gastric disorder, and has thus brought about the
+Emperor’s premature death.”
+
+A vote is taken: England against France. The majority declare the viscera
+to be healthy, while the Corsican is ostentatiously thrusting his finger
+through the perforated wall of the stomach. Medical report.
+
+The Emperor’s body was embalmed, and at the lying-in-state was covered
+with the gold-embroidered cloak of Marengo. The whole garrison, by its
+own wish, marched past. All who saw the body testify to the calm and
+serenity of the features. In mysterious fashion, his face, which, since
+the days of the coronation, had tended to assume the robust maturity of
+the Roman emperors, had now returned to the delicacy of youth.
+
+The British authorities refused to allow the shipment to Europe. The
+grave was dug in a secluded valley, beside a spring shaded by two weeping
+willows. He was accorded the honours of a British general; salvos of
+artillery and musketry were fired over the grave, what time there
+fluttered in the breeze the colours on which were emblazoned the names of
+the English victories in Spain. The governor was present, and declared
+that he had forgiven the Emperor.
+
+Six stone slabs from gun emplacements cover the tomb. A seventh was
+needed for the artillery officer’s grave; but, since it was not available
+at the moment, three glazed tiles were taken from the cooking-stove of a
+new house. The governor would not allow the inscription “Napoleon” to be
+placed on the tomb, but insisted upon “Napoleon Bonaparte.” There was,
+therefore, no inscription. The furniture of Longwood was sold by auction;
+the house was bought by a farmer, who turned the place into a mill; the
+two rooms in which the Emperor had lived for six years were restored to
+their former uses, becoming a byre and a pig-sty.
+
+One thing only did England do in honour of the dead: a sentry was posted
+at the grave. For nineteen years, the guard was relieved at the proper
+intervals; then the dead Emperor was brought home to Paris.
+
+Without waiting for this, all the others return to Europe. The governor
+was publicly horsewhipped in London by Las Cases’ son; he died in
+obscurity. Bathurst, who, as Minister for War and Plantations, had been
+responsible for the treatment of Napoleon, ultimately killed himself in
+an access of melancholia. All England was writing and talking about the
+barbarous treatment of the great exile.
+
+The Corsican doctor goes to Italy. Lucien refuses to see him. In Parma,
+Marie Louise also shuts her door against him, but he sees her in her box
+at the theatre. In Rome, Antommarchi visits Letizia Bonaparte, and for
+three days she makes him tell her all his news. He leaves the silver
+lamp with her, and sails back to Corsica. Letizia sits by the fireside,
+weeping over the fate of her second son, Napolione.
+
+She has still fifteen years to live. She outlives Elise; outlives
+Pauline, who dies with a mirror in her hands; outlives several of her
+grandchildren, and three popes. She is half paralysed, and has become
+blind. But she sits there facing her son’s bust, her spirit unbroken,
+mourning her dead.
+
+Like a princess, she welcomes to her palace all those who have remained
+faithful to the Emperor. Her servants are the last persons in Europe to
+wear his colours; her carriage is the last to bear his escutcheon. She
+has news at times from Vienna and her grandson, but the young man is not
+allowed to visit her. When he is one-and-twenty, he dies. Now, Marie
+Louise writes to her. She does not answer the letter. At last she is told
+that she may return home, but she refuses to go, since the same right is
+not accorded to her children.
+
+[Illustration: Letter to Countess Walewska]
+
+Nine years after the Emperor’s death, the Bourbon dynasty is overthrown,
+and the Orleans monarchy is established. The new king knows how strong
+the Bonapartists are, and he orders that the statue of Napoleon, which
+fifteen years before had been removed, shall be replaced on the Vendôme
+column. When Jerome brings his bed-ridden mother these tidings, she has
+a renewal of health and is able to leave her bed. For the first time
+after a long interval she makes her way into the drawing-room, and her
+blind eyes turn towards the bust. She says in a toneless voice:
+
+“Once again the Emperor is in Paris.”
+
+
+
+
+ENVOY
+
+
+To write the history of a man, or the history of an epoch, these are two
+distinct undertakings, differing both in name and technique. Vain has
+been the attempt to combine them. Plutarch renounced the one, and Carlyle
+renounced the other; that is why both these masters were able to achieve
+their respective tasks. It would be fair to say that Plutarch’s example
+has found no imitators; no one, after Plutarch, has made it his specific
+task to write the history of great minds upon a strictly historical
+foundation.
+
+Such a work does not come within the domain of the historian, seeing that
+the search for truth demands other talents than those requisite for the
+art of portrayal. Artists have sometimes dramatised historical figures
+with a free hand; sometimes they have produced one of those horrible
+mishmashes which pass by the name of “historical novel”—of which Goethe,
+like Napoleon, said that they confuse everything.
+
+The attempt is especially difficult when, not works, but deeds, are the
+milestones along the road of life. Cæsar, Frederick, and Napoleon, only
+became great powers through their victories in the battle-field; and yet
+their battles tend, more and more, to become unmeaning for posterity.
+Nowadays, it is only in military academies that Pharsalia, Rossbach, and
+Austerlitz, have a historical significance. Not one of the three great
+generals I have named would mean any more to us than Crassus, Seydlitz,
+or Masséna, had they, too, been nothing more than military commanders;
+it is the political genius of Cæsar, Frederick, and Napoleon, that makes
+these men supreme. In his highest embodiment, the statesman shapes all
+our destinies. Where genius and character intersect, is the focus for the
+searcher of the soul.
+
+In this book, I have tried to write the inner history of Napoleon. Since
+his personality finds expression in every step of his political career,
+his ideas as founder of States and as legislator, his attitudes towards
+revolution and legitimacy, towards the social order and the problem of
+Europe—are valuable means of portrayal. Irrelevant was the course of the
+battles; irrelevant the contemporary position of the European States,
+in so far as this was manifested only in coalitions or antagonisms as
+mutable as the weather.
+
+Every difference of opinion with his brothers or his wife, every hour
+of gloom or elation, his outbursts of wrath and his accesses of pallor,
+tricks or acts of kindness towards friend or foe, every word to his
+generals or to women (as reported in letters or authentic conversations),
+seemed more important than the order of battle at Marengo, the items of
+the peace of Lunéville, or the details of the Continental System. What
+we have all learned about him at school and the university has here been
+restricted to a minimum; but there has been a broad demonstration of the
+things that are lacking amid such everyday knowledge. Yet we have not
+been concerned only with that Napoleon intime who is so favourite a topic
+with French writers; but, rather, with the Napoleonic figure as a whole,
+in public career and in private life, as representative of all mankind.
+Affairs of State and love affairs that happened on the same day, have
+been referred to on the same page: they derive from the same source; they
+determine one another; and a study of the imbroglio of the human heart
+will often give us more information concerning great plans than all the
+calculations of the tactician.
+
+Napoleon’s personality, which has no more to do with the nation for which
+or against which he was fighting than it has to do with morality, has
+not been treated here as miraculous, nor yet as split up into abstract
+concepts. In the episodes of his life I have tried to grasp the innermost
+moods (of which his rise was a natural and logical outcome), and to trace
+his movement towards the climax of St. Helena. To examine this man’s
+inner life; to explain his resolves and his refrainings, his deeds and
+his sufferings, his fancies and his calculations, as issuing from the
+moods of his heart—the disclosure of this _great chain of affects_, was
+at once the means and the end of the portrayal.
+
+That is why there was no place in my record for portraits of the
+generals. Nothing could be admitted to this one volume which did not
+throw light upon the history of the one interior.
+
+If we wish to give a picture of a life so full as this man’s, we must
+perforce follow his tempo; the writer, therefore, is bound to the words
+of the person being described, and can never let that person speak too
+much. For, in truth, a man always explains himself better than any one
+else can do it for him; even when he is mistaken, or when he is lying,
+he reveals himself to those who come afterwards, to those who know the
+truth. But the author must forget that he, too, knows the end. Only if,
+from moment to moment, he describes the feelings as they must have been
+experienced by one without foresight into the completed destiny, will he
+be able to generate that tension which, in actual life, made the sequence
+of events vibrant with passion.
+
+Thus with his own sympathy, he forces the heart of the man to reveal its
+sympathy. In the present work, the spirit of dispassionate analysis is
+shown once only, towards the end. We cannot study the motor engine till
+it stops running.
+
+Such a portrayal, which brings us into close proximity with its object,
+may give the impression of being a work of pure fancy. If, by its method
+of treatment, it is to be sharply differentiated from an imaginative
+creation, it must throughout cling to the framework of historical truth.
+One who believes that there is a logical succession of happenings in
+which there is no room for chance, will guard against retouching any
+detail; he will never bend a date or an incident to fit a preconceived
+purpose, even though, for stylistic purposes, he may think fit at times
+to leave one or the other unmentioned.
+
+In this book, all the data are recorded facts, except the soliloquies.
+To it there might well be applied Goethe’s judgment upon Bourrienne’s
+_Memoirs_: “All the nimbus, all the illusion, with which journalists
+and historians and poets have surrounded Napoleon, vanishes before
+the awe-inspiring realism of this book: but the hero is by no means
+diminished thereby; he grows. We learn from this what a splendid thing
+truth is, when any one has the courage to speak it.” Napoleon’s life is a
+great epic, written by the hand of fate; its full meaning will not reveal
+itself to one who gives rein to imagination, but only to him who gives
+himself up to the amor fati.
+
+Thus, likewise, for the reader of these pages should be reconstructed
+the tragedy which once only in a millennium a mortal man has created out
+of his life. What a man can attain through self-confidence and courage,
+through passion and imagination, through industry and will, he attained.
+To-day, in the age of the revolutions which once again are opening every
+path to the man of supreme ability, the ardent youth of Europe can find
+as an example and a warning no greater man than the one who, of all men
+of the West, made and suffered the most violent commotions.
+
+
+
+
+AUTHOR’S ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
+
+
+The author wishes to thank Monsieur Edouard Driault, editor of the “Revue
+des Etudes Napoléoniennes,” Versailles, and Herr F. M. Kircheisen, for
+kindly help in supplying material for the illustrations; and to make due
+acknowledgments to Professor Pariset of Strasburg and Herr Kurt Wildhagen
+of Heidelberg, for advice during the preparation of the book.
+
+
+
+
+INDEX
+
+
+  Abdication. _See_ Demand, He drafts and He signs
+
+  Aboukir, 131, 135, 232, 240
+    Bay, 126, 135
+
+  Academy, 6
+    on Board, 119
+
+  Achilles, 598
+
+  ACHMED, 131
+
+  Acknowledgement of Democracy, 513
+
+  Acre, 132, 133, 134, 135, 242, 265, 397, 574
+
+  Adaptation to Circumstances, 574
+
+  Adda, 66, 113
+
+  Additional Act, 514, 517, 518, 519
+
+  Adige, 70, 77
+
+  Admiral. _See_ Emperor and Admiral
+
+  Admiralty, 372
+
+  ADOLPHUS. _See_ GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS
+
+  Adrianople, 133
+
+  Adriatic, 90
+
+  Advancement of Relatives, 224
+
+  Adventurer once more, 419
+
+  ÆNEID, 655
+
+  ÆSCHYLUS, 607, 622
+
+  ÆSOP, 629
+
+  A-flicker with Excitement, 384
+
+  Africa, 11, 117, 232, 528
+
+  Again attacked, 237
+
+  Against the Grain, 157
+
+  Again Unity of Command, 82
+
+  _Agamemnon_, 622
+
+  Aix, 140, 479, 497
+
+  Aix-la-Chapelle, 238, 631
+
+  Aim. _See_ True
+
+  Ajaccio, 18, 24, 27, 139, 251, 481, 485, 673
+
+  Alarm. _See_ Emperor’s
+
+  Aleppo, 133, 574
+
+  Alessandria, 72
+
+  ALEXANDER THE GREAT (of Macedon), 11, 115, 117, 119, 121, 127, 229,
+      232, 238, 242, 259, 324, 359, 361, 370, 565, 653
+
+  ALEXANDER I, Tsar of Russia, 232, 240, 252, 253, 270, 271, 292, 308,
+      311, 312, 314, 315, 316, 317, 318, 320, 334, 373, 374, 375, 376,
+      378, 385, 386, 391, 397, 406, 409, 411, 433, 437, 443, 467, 604.
+      _See also_ TSAR ALEXANDER, _also_ What is ALEXANDER Thinking?
+    as Prototype, 11
+
+  ALEXANDRINE, 571
+
+  Allah is Allah, 122
+
+  Alliance, La Belle, 523
+
+  All young France is ready, 472
+
+  Alps, 40, 55, 63, 179, 289, 455, 497, 650
+
+  Alsace, 207
+
+  ALVINTZY, 60
+
+  America, 109, 171, 473, 530, 533, 537, 632, 634, 635, 643, 645, 655.
+    _See_ He should, _also_ United States
+
+  Ambitions. _See_ BERNADOTTE’S Great
+
+  America, Spanish, 632
+
+  American Marriage. _See_ JEROME’S
+
+  Amours, 202
+
+  Amphictyonic League, 595
+
+  Amsterdam, 650
+
+  Anachronism. _See_ War
+
+  Ancients. _See_ Council of Ancients
+
+  Ancona, 89, 90, 284
+
+  Andalusia, 329
+
+  _Andromache_, 460, 637
+    and Astyanax, 460
+
+  An everlasting Disgrace, 542
+
+  Anger. _See_ Genuine
+
+  Angleterre, Hôtel de l’, in Warsaw, 418
+
+  ANGOULÈME, Duchess of, 489
+
+  An Idyll renewed, 486
+
+  ANNA, Grand Duchess, 349
+
+  Annexations, 89
+
+  Another Family Council, 348
+
+  Ansbach, 252
+
+  Antibes, 57, 498
+
+  Antiquity. _See_ Heroes of
+
+  ANTOINETTE, MARIE, 219
+
+  ANTOMMARCHI, 656, 658, 674, 676
+
+  ANTONY. _See_ MARK ANTONY
+
+  Antwerp, 650
+
+  Anxieties. _See_ JOSEPHINE’S
+
+  Any Crown You like, 300
+
+  APELLES, 565
+
+  Apennines, 55, 64, 566
+
+  Apollo, Salle, 155
+
+  Apostolical Emperor, 370
+
+  ARCHAMBAUD, 674
+
+  ARCHDUKE CHARLES. _See_ CHARLES
+
+  Arcis-sur-Aube, 463, 522
+
+  Arcola, 64, 65, 76, 77, 78, 112, 137, 158, 536, 624
+
+  ARISTOTLE, 229
+
+  Arm the Peasants, 464
+
+  Army. _See_ Tatterdemalion
+    Grand. _See_ Grand Army
+    in the East, 116
+    of Italy, 40, 50, 56
+    of Liberators, 61
+    of the Interior, 45
+    of the Rhine, 40, 41, 86, 87, 114, 120
+
+  ARNAULT, 93
+
+  ARRIAN, 119
+
+  Artillery Fire, 532
+
+  ARTOIS, Count of (afterwards Charles X), 490, 501, 670
+
+  “As General Bonaparte,” 433
+
+  Asia, 11, 41, 128, 188, 229, 232, 237, 244, 282
+
+  Asia Minor, 11
+
+  Asiatic Conquests. _See_ Dreams of
+
+  Aside. _See_ Naïve
+
+  Aspern-Essling, 337, 341, 419, 522, 567
+
+  A Son!, 260
+
+  Assassination. _See_ Attempted
+
+  Astorga, 331, 363, 377
+
+  Asturia, 299
+
+  Astyanax, 460, 488
+
+  At Headquarters, 92
+
+  Athens, 63, 69
+
+  Atlantic Fleet, 372
+
+  Attacked. _See_ Again
+
+  Attempted Assassination, 159
+
+  Attempted Rising, 24
+
+  Attempt on His Life, 193.
+    _See also_ I intended
+
+  At the masked Ball, 347
+
+  ATTILA, 86, 90, 511
+
+  Audience of Kings, 309
+
+  Auerstädt, 255
+
+  AUGEREAU, 60, 75, 81, 92, 101, 114, 133, 448, 462, 463, 468, 510,
+      647, 660
+
+  AUGUSTUS, 194, 228, 272, 566
+
+  AURELIAN, 566
+
+  Austerlitz, 243, 244, 245, 251, 252, 253, 255, 270, 274, 318, 334,
+      381, 386, 387, 395, 439, 461, 500, 509, 520, 561, 562, 577, 609,
+      649, 663, 674, 679.
+    _See also_ Eve of Austerlitz
+
+  Austria, 40, 87, 118, 179, 183, 238, 244, 251, 258, 259, 274, 308,
+      314, 315, 318, 333, 369, 370, 375, 380, 382, 383, 410, 419, 430,
+      435, 439, 440, 451, 455, 459, 462, 639
+    Felix, 369
+
+  Auxonne, 14, 56, 662
+
+  Avignon, 497
+
+  Awaiting the Signature, 473
+
+  Azores, 494, 618
+
+  Aztecs and Incas, 307
+
+
+  Back Room at Saint-Cloud, 155
+
+  Back to Europe, 308
+
+  Back to Paris, 525
+
+  Baden, 206, 246, 279, 493
+
+  Bad News from Spain, 399
+
+  Bag of Gold, 153
+
+  BAGRATION, 389, 394
+
+  Ball. _See_ At the Ball
+
+  Ballad. _See_ What a Ballad
+
+  Baltic, 273, 420
+
+  Banishment, 29
+
+  Bank of England, 380
+
+  Bank of France, 454
+
+  Barbier de Séville, 622
+
+  BARCLAY DE TOLLY, 389, 390, 394, 395, 399
+
+  BARON VOM STEIN, 406
+
+  BARRAS, 38, 43, 44, 47, 50, 80, 109, 115, 142, 146, 147, 152, 153
+
+  Bar-sur-Aube, 462
+
+  Basle, 38, 511
+
+  Bassora, 132
+
+  Bastia, 480
+
+  Bastille, 16, 217
+
+  BATHURST, 676
+
+  Battalion, Holy, 242
+
+  Battle, Death in. _See_ He seeks
+    of Jena, 255
+    of the Nations, 446
+
+  BAUDIN, 141
+
+  BAUER, 556
+
+  BAUSSET, 344
+
+  Bautzen, 434, 439, 445
+    “Messenger,” 445
+
+  Bavaria, 127, 183, 241, 246, 279, 334, 430, 446, 493
+
+  Bayonne, 308, 312, 650
+
+  BEAUHARNAIS. _See_ EUGENE, _also_ HORTENSE, _also_ JOSEPHINE
+    Vicomte de, 47
+
+  BEAULIEU, 60
+
+  BEAUMARCHAIS, 622
+
+  BEETHOVEN, 231
+
+  Belated Blessing, 226
+
+  Belgium, 30, 89, 453, 458
+
+  Belle Alliance, 523
+
+  “Bellerophon,” 537, 538, 539, 540, 541
+
+  Benevento, 494
+
+  BENJAMIN CONSTANT, 512.
+    _See also_ CONSTANT
+
+  Beresina, 415, 416
+
+  Berlin, 256, 257, 258, 274, 290, 308, 334, 400, 405, 445, 446, 651
+
+  BERNADOTTE (afterwards CROWN PRINCE, then King, of Sweden), 118, 144,
+      145, 148, 149, 153, 161, 198, 246, 281, 365, 366, 386, 406, 429,
+      436, 438, 443, 445, 446, 448, 452, 462, 467, 571, 633
+    Désirée. _See_ DÉSIRÉE
+    triumphans, 365
+
+  Bernadotte’s Ambitions, 386
+
+  Bernard. _See_ Great St. Bernard
+
+  BERTHIER (afterwards Prince of Neuchâtel), 60, 72, 81, 92, 100, 120,
+      148, 149, 219, 246, 256, 335, 336, 351, 368, 388, 398, 411, 461,
+      462, 464, 468, 471, 473, 474, 495, 510, 555, 557, 575, 587, 647,
+      668
+
+  BERTHOLLET, 120, 129, 138
+
+  BERTRAND, 481, 484, 535, 609, 610, 613, 615, 621, 636, 638, 654, 658,
+      659, 661, 664, 669
+    Madame, 10, 613, 627
+    Napoléon, 638
+
+  Besançon, 501, 509, 555
+
+  BESSIÈRES, 668
+
+  Betray. _See_ Old Friends
+
+  Bible, 120, 122, 601, 622
+
+  Big Guns, 13
+
+  BINGHAM, 627
+
+  Birchen Staff. _See_ Leaning
+
+  Blenheim, 127
+
+  Blessing. _See_ Belated
+
+  Blindness. _See_ Brotherly Blindness
+
+  Blindness to its Dangers, 212
+
+  Bloodhound, A, 187
+
+  BLÜCHER, 443, 444, 445, 455, 457, 459, 460, 461, 462, 467, 522, 534,
+      619, 626
+
+  Blunder. _See_ Consequences of a
+
+  Body of Steel, 548
+
+  Bohemia, 447
+
+  Bois (de Boulogne), 38
+
+  Bologna, 75, 99, 476
+
+  BONAPARTE. _See_ As General Monsieur
+    and Europe, 184
+    and the Sphinx, 121
+    Caroline. _See_ CAROLINE
+    CARLO, 298, 305
+    Elise. _See_ ELISE
+    Jerome. _See_ JEROME
+    Joseph. _See_ JOSEPH
+    La Pagerie. _See_ JOSEPHINE
+    Letizia. _See_ LETIZIA
+    Louis. _See_ LOUIS
+    Lucien. _See_ LUCIEN
+    Napoleon Francis. _See_ NAPOLEON FRANCIS
+    Pauline. _See_ PAULINE
+
+  Bon, Cape, 137
+
+  “Boney,” 540
+
+  Bordeaux, 464, 541, 650
+
+  BORGHESE, 199, 200, 485.
+    _See also_ PAULINE
+
+  Born to rule. _See_ Man born to rule
+
+  Borodino, 399, 653, 663
+
+  Bosnia, 90
+
+  Bosphorus, 41, 259, 273, 282
+
+  Boulogne, 234, 235, 238, 572, 580
+
+  Boulogne, Bois de. _See_ Bois
+
+  BOURBON, Duke of, 490
+    Palais, 529
+
+  Bourbons—never!, 469
+
+  Bourbons’ Return, 489
+
+  BOURRIENNE, 25, 37, 58, 91, 107, 118, 119, 124, 127, 148, 156, 161,
+      179, 204, 438, 556, 681
+
+  Breach between the Brothers, 197
+
+  Brescia, 74
+
+  Breslau, 268, 425
+
+  Brienne, 6, 9, 48, 457, 556, 558, 611
+
+  Brieg, 269
+
+  Broil with Prussia, 252
+
+  Broils. _See_ Family
+
+  Brooding Lad, 8
+
+  Brother Lucien. _See_ Sire
+
+  Brotherly Blindness, 456
+
+  Brotherly Hate, 304
+
+  Brothers. _See_ Dangerous
+
+  Brothers and Sisters, 198
+
+  Brothers, The. _See_ Breach between
+
+  BRUIX, 234, 235
+
+  Brumaire, 528.
+    _See also_ Eighteenth, _also_ Nineteenth
+
+  BRUNSWICK, 253, 255, 408, 576
+
+  Brussels, 523
+
+  BRUTUS, 64, 85, 149, 343, 560, 629
+
+  BRUYÈRE. _See_ La Bruyère
+
+  BUBNA, 341, 430, 567
+
+  Bucharest, 269
+
+  Buenos Ayres, 534
+
+  BUFFON, 10
+
+  Bulletin from Russia. _See_ Last
+
+  BÜLOW, 524
+
+  Bukovina, 384
+
+  Bureau of Public Opinion, 380, 381
+
+  Burgos, 548
+
+  Burgundy, 125
+
+  BUONAPARTE. _See_ BONAPARTE
+
+  Burning Street, 403
+
+  But Talleyrand is indispensable, 313
+
+  BYRON, 231, 615
+
+
+  Cadets School, 9, 133
+
+  Cadiz, 388, 420
+
+  CADOUDAL, 438
+
+  CÆSAR, 24, 85, 121, 182, 186, 195, 212, 277, 285, 322, 326, 371, 378,
+      421, 463, 519, 521, 560, 565, 566, 567, 578, 592, 624, 645, 646,
+      653, 655, 656, 661, 668, 679.
+    _See also_ Christ
+    _Cromwell, and Bonaparte_, 195
+
+  Cæsar’s Chariot, 519
+    _Death_, 326
+
+  Cæsars, 566
+
+  CAGLIOSTRO, 593
+
+  Cairo, 121, 122, 131, 132, 135, 136, 185, 264, 267, 286, 396, 476, 605
+
+  Cajoleries, 272
+
+  Calabria, 633
+
+  Calculation, 569
+    and Imagination, 117
+
+  Calculations. _See_ I am the Man and Yearnings
+
+  Caldiero, 76
+
+  California, 534
+
+  CAMBACÉRÈS, 598
+
+  CAMILLA, 139
+
+  Campaign. _See_ Excitement of
+
+  _Campaigns of Napoleon the Great_, 380
+
+  CAMPBELL, 479, 504
+
+  Campo Formio, 104, 109
+
+  Candour to Opponents, 341
+
+  Canino, 485
+
+  Cannes, 433, 497, 498, 503, 623
+
+  CANOVA, 248, 582
+
+  CANTILLON, 662
+
+  Cape Bon, 137
+
+  Cape (of Good Hope), 89, 103, 258, 372, 654
+
+  Capets, 414
+
+  Capitol, 64, 85, 105
+
+  Capri, 566, 613
+
+  Capua, 383
+
+  Caracas, 534
+
+  Care for the Children, 173
+
+  CARLO BONAPARTE, 298, 305
+
+  CARLYLE, 679
+
+  CARNOT, 57, 71, 82, 114, 214, 407, 511, 518, 521, 528, 598, 642
+
+  CARNOT’S Advice, 521
+
+  CAROLINE BONAPARTE (afterwards wife of MURAT), 198, 224, 247, 260,
+      266, 352, 364, 428, 429, 451, 475, 485, 632
+
+  Carpet, The, 305
+
+  Carrée, Fort, 34
+
+  Carthage, 10
+
+  CASES. _See_ LAS CASES
+
+  Cassel, 394, 452
+
+  Castiglione, 75, 463
+
+  Castille, 331
+
+  Catalonia, 312
+
+  CATHERINE THE GREAT, 566
+
+  Cattaro, 273, 307
+
+  COULAINCOURT, 375, 376, 377, 401, 411, 417, 418, 432, 434, 446, 457,
+      458, 464, 465, 467, 468, 471, 472, 507, 529, 531, 606
+
+  Cause. _See_ Espouse my
+
+  Cave. _See_ Imagination
+
+  Chains. _See_ In Chains, _also_ Strike
+
+  Chamber of Deputies, 526, 528.
+    _See also_ Lower House
+
+  Chambers, 153, 186, 195, 455, 496, 511, 517, 519, 525, 526, 527, 528,
+      529, 530, 634.
+    _See also_ General
+
+  Chambers of Commerce, 176, 379
+
+  Chambers take the Initiative, 526
+
+  Champaubert, 460
+
+  CHAMPAGNY, 311, 343
+
+  Champ de Mai, 506, 518, 520
+
+  Champion of the Family, 172
+
+  Chance. _See_ Circumstances
+
+  Chance missed, 235
+
+  Channel, 115, 516
+
+  Chapelle ardente, 669
+
+  Characterisation. _See_ German
+
+  Chariot. _See_ Cæsar’s
+
+  CHARLEMAGNE, 226, 227, 238, 242, 245, 258, 259, 283, 284, 285, 359,
+      566
+
+  _Charlemagne_, 248
+
+  Charleroi, 521, 522
+
+  Charles XII, 393
+
+  CHARLES AUGUSTUS, 255
+
+  CHARLES, Austrian Archduke, 60, 88, 338, 351
+
+  CHARLES, Hippolyte, 73, 123.
+    _See also_ HIPPOLYTE
+
+  Charlottenburg, 258
+
+  CHATEAUBRIAND, 277, 508, 554, 565, 566
+
+  Châtillon, 458, 461, 492
+
+  CHÉNIER, 114, 195, 598
+
+  Cherbourg, 650
+
+  Chess. _See_ Game
+
+  Chessplayer, 567
+
+  Childlessness. _See_ Tragedy of
+
+  Children. _See_ Care, _also_ Name your
+
+  China, 11, 652
+
+  Chinese Island where there are no Weapons, 581, 582
+
+  Christ, 86, 184, 321, 322, 338, 636.
+    _See also_ Jesus
+    and Cæsar, 322
+
+  Christianity, 319, 322
+
+  CIMAROSA, 554
+
+  _Cinna_, 591, 622
+
+  CIPRIANI, 613, 621, 640
+
+  Circumstances and Chance, 604
+
+  Cisalpine Republic, 82, 105, 182
+
+  CITERNI, 277
+
+  City. _See_ Rome, _also_ The Eternal
+
+  Civil Code, 170
+
+  CLARKE, 80
+
+  CLARY. _See_ DÉSIRÉE, _also_ JULIE
+
+  Cleaning up the Mess, 176
+
+  Clear the Hall, 160
+
+  CLEOPATRA, 128
+
+  Cleves, 247
+
+  Climax of the Scene, 302
+
+  CLOVIS, 561
+
+  Coblenz, 577
+
+  Coburg, 273
+
+  Cockade. _See_ Red
+
+  Code, Civil, 170
+
+  Code Napoléon, 170, 171, 172, 173, 280, 286, 371
+
+  Coffee and Sugar, 398
+
+  COLLI, 60
+
+  Colours. _See_ Kissing
+
+  Command. _See_ Again, _also_ Last, _also_ Unity
+
+  Commander. _See_ Statesman
+
+  Commander of the Forces, 45
+
+  Comédie Française, 410
+
+  Commercial Warfare, 361
+
+  Committee of Public Safety, 40, 42, 47, 561
+
+  Companions, 610.
+    _See also_ Fate
+
+  Company at Morfontaine, 452
+
+  Comparison with Napoleon, 407
+
+  Compiègne, 351, 352
+
+  Concerning the Germans, 591
+
+  Concordat, 284, 372, 429, 430
+
+  CONDÉ, 206, 207, 490, 500
+
+  Confederation of the Rhine, 246, 279, 287, 341, 373, 382, 388, 420,
+      424, 425, 433, 443, 445, 447
+
+  Confessions, 214
+
+  Confidants conspire, 331
+
+  Congress. _See_ Tidings
+
+  Conquests. _See_ Dreams and Plans
+
+  CONSALVI, 185
+
+  Consequences. _See_ Political
+
+  Consequences of a Blunder, 208
+
+  Consequences of Marmont’s Desertion, 471
+
+  Conservatoire, 98
+
+  Considerations, 639
+
+  Conspiracy, 148
+
+  CONSTANT, Benjamin, 195, 511, 512, 514, 517, 527
+
+  Constant (Napoleon’s Valet), 267
+
+  CONSTANTINE (Roman Emperor), 284
+    (Russian Grand Duke), 405
+
+  Constantinople, 133, 242, 273, 282, 284
+
+  Consul, First, 166, 174, 175, 183, 185, 186, 187, 190, 201, 203, 204,
+      205, 206, 207, 210, 225, 232, 280, 373, 379, 381, 498, 550, 554,
+      555, 556, 565, 575, 582, 586, 597, 605, 629, 646, 651, 652
+    for Life, 186, 187, 213
+
+  Consuls, 154, 155, 160, 161, 165
+
+  Contempt for his Fellows, 583
+
+  Content. _See_ Form without
+
+  Continent, 109, 114, 116, 183, 214, 244, 246, 248, 258, 282, 361,
+      367, 524
+
+  Continental System, 258, 680
+
+  Contradictions of Monarchy, 423
+
+  Convention, 26, 27, 28, 31, 33, 35, 42, 43, 44, 45, 658
+
+  Conversation. _See_ Memorable
+
+  Conversation with Rapp, 508
+
+  Conversation with Wieland, 320
+
+  Corfu, 89, 90, 103, 473
+
+  CORIOLANUS, 23
+
+  CORNEILLE, 218, 276, 551, 564, 591, 621, 622
+
+  Corniche, 650
+
+  Corsica, 1-49, 85, 95, 96, 113, 117, 138, 199, 251, 338, 476, 480,
+      483, 484, 496, 505, 533, 535, 537, 631, 657, 662, 673, 676
+    again, 138
+
+  Corsica comes to St. Helena, 656
+
+  Corsica’s Struggle, 4
+
+  Corsican Election, 23
+
+  Corsicans, 294
+
+  Corso, 73
+
+  Corte, 16, 251
+
+  Cortes, 453
+
+  CORVISART, 475, 598
+
+  Cossaria, 86
+
+  Council. _See_ Another Family
+
+  Council of Ancients, 149, 150, 155, 156, 16
+    of Five Hundred, 149, 150, 151, 153, 155, 157, 158, 159
+    of State, 166, 169, 170, 192, 194, 195, 207, 224, 230, 279, 332,
+      360, 414, 423, 554, 582, 590, 592, 649, 650
+
+  Councils, 146, 147, 153, 154, 156, 159, 188
+
+  Counterplot. _See_ Plot
+
+  Counterstroke. _See_ Stroke
+
+  Countess. _See_ Polish, _also_ Walewska
+
+  Cracow, 430
+
+  CRASSUS, 679
+
+  _Creation_, 193
+
+  Crete, 11
+
+  CRŒSUS, 458
+
+  CROMWELL, 195, 463, 647
+
+  Coup d’État. _See_ Plans
+
+  Courage, 577.
+    _See also_ Returning
+
+  Court. _See_ Little Court, _also_ Plebeians at Court
+
+  Court Dress. _See_ Mummy in
+
+  Courtship, 351
+
+  Crises, 75
+
+  Criticism of the French, 215
+
+  Crowd. _See_ Tuckets
+
+  Crown. _See_ Any
+
+  Curse of Legitimacy, 422
+
+  CYRUS, 566
+
+
+  Dagger in the Dictator’s Heart, 517
+
+  Daily Life, 621
+
+  Daimonic Loneliness, 605
+
+  Dalmatia, 436
+
+  Damascus, 132, 133, 146
+
+  Danaids, 414
+
+  Danger and Discouragement, 77
+
+  Dangerous Brothers, 438
+
+  Dangers. _See_ Blindness to
+
+  Dangers of Distance, 340
+
+  Danube, 259, 308, 337, 341, 419, 612
+
+  Danzig, 376, 388, 432, 509
+
+  DARU, 238, 323, 325, 410, 415, 418, 444, 597
+
+  Dauphiné, 20, 497
+
+  DAVID, 565
+
+  DAVOUST, 219, 255, 390, 394, 403, 507, 526
+
+  Days, Hundred, 599, 609, 623
+
+  Deadly Climate, 608
+
+  Deadwood, 608
+
+  Death, 674.
+    _See also_ Waiting
+
+  Deathbed. _See_ Justifies
+
+  Death in Battle. _See_ He seeks
+
+  DECRÈS, 229, 533
+
+  Defeat, 448.
+    _See also_ First at Waterloo, 524
+
+  Defence. _See_ Napoleon’s
+
+  Defenceless, 540
+
+  Delta, 130
+
+  Demand for Abdication, 527
+
+  Democracy. _See_ Acknowledgment Fiction of, 188
+
+  Denmark, 493
+
+  Deputies in secret Session, 528
+
+  DESAIX, 120, 132, 179, 587, 668, 673.
+    _See also_ Quai
+
+  Deserter, 25
+
+  DÉSIRÉE CLARY (afterwards Wife of Bernadotte), 30, 44, 46, 145, 452,
+      633
+
+  Destiny, 603.
+    _See also_ Follow, _also_ Sense, _also_ To Destiny
+    Man of, 604
+
+  Destruction of the Fleet, 126
+
+  Devotion to Josephine, 99
+
+  Dialogue of the Dead, 646
+
+  Diarists, 648
+
+  Dictator. _See_ Dagger
+
+  Dictatorship, 195
+
+  Dictionary of Weathercocks, 638
+
+  Die Standing. _See_ I will
+
+  “Diet, Imperial” at Erfurt, 561
+
+  Dignity, 552.
+    _See also_ Imperial
+
+  Dijon, 178
+
+  DIOGENES, 324
+
+  Dilemma. _See_ Tragical
+
+  DIOCLETIAN, 567
+
+  Dioscuri, 511
+
+  Diplomat, 88
+
+  Diplomats. _See_ Hectoring
+
+  Directors, 48, 49, 50, 57, 65, 66, 67, 72, 79, 80, 81, 82, 84, 85,
+      87, 88, 89, 97, 101, 104, 106, 108, 109, 114, 115, 116, 118, 127,
+      139, 146, 147, 151, 152, 154, 165, 284, 529, 532, 556
+
+  Directory, 51, 106, 114, 127, 140, 153, 175, 276, 379, 511, 528, 530
+
+  Disastrous Inertia, 435
+
+  _Discours sur l’origine et les fondements de l’inégalité parmi les
+      hommes_, 11
+
+  Discoveries. _See_ Explorations
+
+  Disgruntled Kings, 363
+
+  Disillusionment. _See_ Victory
+
+  Disquiet. _See_ Growing
+
+  Distance. _See_ Dangers of
+
+  Divine Right. _See_ Rulers
+
+  Divorce, 345.
+    _See also_ Marriage and
+
+  Dniester, 259
+
+  Domingo, 590, 630
+
+  Don Quixote. _See_ Quixote
+
+  Don’t you know me?, 499
+
+  Dover, 137
+
+  Dramas, Family. _See_ Opening
+
+  Dream, first, 672
+
+  Dream, second, 672
+
+  Dream, trivial. _See_ Life
+
+  Dreams and Mathematics, 131
+    of Asiatic Conquests, 41
+
+  Dresden, 335, 386, 388, 434, 438, 444, 492, 508, 548, 553, 589, 590,
+      653
+
+  DRIAULT, 683
+
+  Driven out, 533
+
+  DROUOT, 481, 495, 531
+
+  Drums of the Revolution, 15
+
+  Drum-Taps, 166
+
+  Düben Castle, 445, 462, 470
+
+  Düben Heath, 445
+
+  Duchatel, 203
+
+  DUCOS, 146, 147, 150, 151, 153, 155, 159
+
+  Dunkirk, 115, 650
+
+  DUROC, 260, 261, 262, 415, 434, 435, 587, 597, 618, 668
+
+  Dvina, 390
+
+  Dynastic Snare, 301
+
+  Dynasty. _See_ Spanish
+
+
+  Eagle Volant, 230
+
+  East, the, 90, 91.
+    _See also_ Army in the East, _also_ Lure of the East, _also_
+      Messengers from the East
+
+  East India Company, 607
+
+  Eckmühl, 500
+
+  Egypt, 10, 11, 103, 115, 116, 117, 119, 122, 123, 124, 126, 127, 128,
+      130, 131, 136, 137, 138, 140, 141, 204, 210, 239, 242, 272, 372,
+      411, 413, 495, 498, 514, 543, 566, 573, 620, 621
+
+  Egyptian Plan, 116
+
+  Eighteen-hour Day, 174
+
+  Eighteenth Brumaire, 150, 179, 196, 197, 338, 365, 494, 502, 560.
+    _See also_ Nineteenth Brumaire, _also_ Brumaire
+
+  Eighty-five Francs, 21
+
+  Elba, 184, 473, 475, 476, 477, 479, 481, 482, 483, 484, 485, 489,
+      491, 492, 493, 494, 496, 504, 511, 513, 531, 535, 623, 634, 661,
+      662
+
+  Elbe, 258, 273, 286, 308, 374, 447
+
+  Electoral Colleges of the Empire, 505
+
+  ELISE, Bonaparte (afterwards Grand Duchess of Tuscany), 92, 96, 198,
+      247, 248, 364, 451, 452, 475, 676
+
+  EL KEBIR, 128
+
+  Elysée, 466, 471, 525, 530
+
+  Elysian Fields, 668
+
+  EMMERY, 661
+
+  Emperor. _See also_ Apostolical, I am, Return, Self-crowned
+    and Admiral, 234
+    and his Mother, 495
+    and the Slave, 630
+    drives a Plough, 641
+    of the East, 242
+    of Rome, 283
+    of the West, 283, 285, 290
+
+  Emperors. _See_ Two Emperors
+
+  Emperor’s Alarm, 414
+
+  Emperor scores over the Poet, 321
+
+  Emperor’s Onslaught, 324
+
+  Empire. _See also_ Holy Roman Empire, Turkish Empire
+
+  End of Everything, 125
+
+  Energy in narrow Bounds, 481
+
+  ENGHIEN, 206, 207, 208, 210, 214, 281, 332, 565, 591, 646, 670.
+    _See also_ Kidnapping
+
+  England, 33, 91, 103, 105, 109, 114, 116, 127, 183, 207, 212, 233,
+      235, 237, 239, 240, 244, 247, 248, 258, 259, 282, 285, 306, 307,
+      312, 328, 333, 359, 361, 362, 363, 365, 373, 374, 377, 379, 380,
+      382, 390, 396, 420, 430, 436, 451, 459, 475, 490, 492, 503, 538,
+      541, 542, 584, 588, 593, 607, 614, 624, 626, 631, 632, 634, 635,
+      650, 669, 671, 675, 676
+
+  England’s Enmity, 232
+
+  Enmities. _See_ Intrigues
+
+  Enmity. _See_ England’s
+
+  Epilogue, 675
+
+  Equality at the Front, 581
+
+  Equality, not Liberty, 168
+
+  Erfurt, 255, 308, 309, 313, 315, 317, 318, 322, 326, 342, 350, 374,
+      392, 450, 555, 561, 591
+    “Imperial Diet,” 561
+
+  _Eroica_, 231
+
+  “Espouse my Cause,” 294
+
+  Essling. _See_ Aspern-Essling
+
+  Essonne, 465
+
+  Eternal City. _See also_ Rome, The Eternal
+
+  Ettenheim, 206
+
+  Etiquette and Parody, 638
+
+  EUGENE DE BEAUHARNAIS (afterwards Viceroy of Italy), 47, 93, 118,
+      128, 143, 204, 222, 224, 246, 248, 249, 284, 285, 298, 299, 300,
+      331, 336, 348, 349, 382, 389, 402, 412, 417, 531, 561, 566, 569
+
+  Euphrates, 574
+
+  Europe, 11, 51, 64, 69, 85, 87, 88, 100, 104, 105, 109, 123, 137,
+      183, 205, 211, 217, 218, 239, 240, 244, 245, 246, 251, 258, 282,
+      287, 314, 318, 329, 334, 359, 362, 364, 365, 366, 368, 374, 375,
+      376, 377, 378, 383, 384, 396, 399, 430, 440, 447, 455, 473, 480,
+      483, 484, 492, 496, 498, 521, 524, 528, 538, 543, 554, 580, 582,
+      589, 595, 596, 612, 624, 625, 626, 631, 643, 644, 645, 650, 658,
+      665, 667, 668, 676, 680, 682.
+    _See also_ Back to, Bonaparte and, Farewell, Partition, United,
+      and United States of
+
+  Europe is a Mole-hill, 91, 121, 378
+
+  Europe too small, 296
+
+  European System, 650
+
+  Eve of Austerlitz, 241
+
+  Everyman, 581
+
+  Everything is crashing round me, 453
+
+  Evil. _See_ Prophet of
+
+  Examination of a Prisoner, 393
+
+  Excommunication and Victory, 338
+
+  Execrated by the Mob, 479
+
+  Execration. _See_ Public
+
+  Excitement of the Campaign, 461
+
+  Explorations and Discoveries, 130
+
+  Extinct Volcano, 607
+
+  Eylau, 265, 311, 500, 580, 651, 663
+
+
+  Faithful grow weary, 658
+
+  Faithful Servants, 613
+
+  False to his own Principles, 279
+
+  Falsifications, 625
+
+  Fame, 568
+    still lures him, 652
+
+  Family. _See_ Champion
+    Bequests, 662
+    Broils, 428
+    Council. _See_ Another
+    Dramas. _See_ Opening
+    Man. _See_ Genius and
+    Troubles. _See_ More
+
+  Fantastic Schemes, 283
+
+  Fantasy and Number again, 359
+
+  Farewell Europe, 543
+
+  Farewell to the Guard, 477
+
+  Fatal War, 373
+
+  Fate of old Companions, 633
+
+  Father. _See_ Our
+
+  Fatherland. _See_ Without
+
+  Faubourg. _See_ Faubourg Saint-Germain
+    Saint-Antoine, 527
+    Saint-Germain, 218, 466, 562, 609, 628
+
+  Faust, 654
+
+  Felix Austria, 369
+
+  FERDINAND, 453
+
+  Ferrajo, 481
+
+  Ferrara, 99
+
+  Fertility. _See_ Habsburg Fertility
+
+  FESCH, 20, 23, 27, 30, 95, 199, 226, 284, 352, 353, 371
+
+  Fiction of Democracy, 188
+
+  _Figaro_, 622
+
+  Fighting. _See_ Street
+
+  Finckenstein, 266, 267, 268, 270, 339
+
+  Finisterre, 384
+
+  Fire!, 402
+
+  First Consul. _See_ Consul, First
+    Defeat, 337
+    Dream, 672
+    “I,” 16
+    Overtures for Peace, 87
+    Place is occupied, 20
+    Sword, 9
+    triumphal Entry, 68
+    Victory, 33
+
+  Five Hundred. _See_ Council
+
+  Fleet. _See also_ Destruction Through
+
+  Fleet sets sail, 118
+
+  Flight homewards, 136
+
+  Florence, 427
+
+  Flushing, 650
+
+  Foe. _See_ Overestimating
+
+  “Follow your Destiny,” 496
+
+  FONTAINE, LA, 628
+
+  Fontainebleau, 281, 465, 466, 467, 468, 471, 473, 474, 486, 504, 605
+
+  Foolish Speech, 156
+
+  Fop and the Husband, 73
+
+  Forces. _See_ Commander
+
+  Forebodings. _See_ Gloomy
+
+  Foreign Office, 103.
+    _See also_ Ministry for Foreign Affairs
+
+  Forgotten!, 376
+
+  Former Fellow-student, 555
+
+  Form without Content, 216
+
+  Fort Carrée, 34
+
+  Fortress. _See_ Invincible
+
+  Fortuné, 73, 74
+
+  “Fortune is a Strumpet,” 400
+
+  Fortune of War, 457
+
+  Fortune’s Wheel. _See_ Turn of
+
+  FOUCHÉ, 177, 182, 186, 187, 197, 230, 231, 269, 277, 331, 332, 333,
+      340, 345, 365, 377, 378, 379, 436, 437, 443, 451, 473, 474, 475,
+      511, 530, 532, 533, 614
+
+  FOUCHÉ’S Rise, 530
+
+  FOUCHÉ, TALLEYRAND and, 182
+
+  Four Teeth, 394
+
+  Fourth-act Moods, 432
+
+  Fourth Name, 217
+
+  Fowler, 81
+
+  FOX, 232
+
+  FOY, 277
+
+  France, passim. _See also_ All young, History, In southern, and King
+      of
+    greets him, 141
+    is his Mistress, 563
+
+  FRANCIS, Emperor of Holy Roman Empire and of Austria, etc., 73, 87,
+      104, 109, 180, 181, 239, 240, 243, 252, 312, 350, 369, 370, 386,
+      398, 422, 430, 434, 436, 437, 439, 443, 445, 446, 505, 506, 515,
+      642
+    King of Rome, 488.
+      _See also_ NAPOLEON FRANCIS
+
+  Frankfort, 382, 455, 456
+
+  FREDERICK THE GREAT, 8, 10, 24, 111, 112, 175, 208, 251, 253, 255,
+      257, 259, 274, 277, 329, 463, 566, 568, 621, 655, 663, 668, 679
+
+  Frederick’s Sword, 257
+
+  FREDERICK WILLIAM III, 251, 252, 383, 425, 437, 443
+
+  Fréjus, 140, 480.
+    _See also_ Landing
+
+  French. _See_ Criticism of
+    are easy to rule, 666
+    remain sceptical, 564
+
+  Frenzied Energy, 72
+
+  Friedland, 270, 331, 500, 522, 663
+
+  Friends betray him. _See_ Old
+
+  Friendship. _See_ Last
+
+  Fridericus Rex, 251
+
+  Friuli, 75
+
+  Fronde, 562
+
+  Fruitless Wooing, 316
+
+  Fulfilment. _See_ Tragedy of
+
+  FULTON, 235, 642
+
+  Further Peace Proposals, 180
+
+
+  Galicia, 259, 375
+
+  Gambler. _See_ Great
+
+  Game of Chess, 443
+
+  Ganges, 242, 308, 359, 373
+
+  Gaoler, 617.
+    _See also_ Lowe
+
+  Garda, 73
+
+  Garden. _See_ Kingdom
+
+  Gardener, 654
+
+  Gassion, 597
+
+  General against People, 43
+    and King, 580
+    and the Chambers, 151
+    Bonaparte. _See_ As General Bonaparte
+    grows dangerous, 65
+
+  Generals. _See_ Sons of the People
+
+  GENGHIS KHAN, 511, 644
+
+  Genius and Family Man, 213
+    German. _See_ Homage
+
+  Genoa, 12, 33, 34, 82, 96, 117, 139, 184, 239, 504
+
+  Genoese Senate, 72
+
+  Genuine Anger, 575
+
+  GEORGE III, 236
+
+  George, Mademoiselle (Giorgina), 202, 203, 558
+
+  German. _See also_ Homage, Two Germans, and Unconquerable
+    Characterisation, 111
+    Genius. _See_ Homage
+    Opinions. _See_ Other
+
+  Germans. _See_ Concerning
+
+  German Spirit, 425
+
+  German Women. _See_ Two German Women
+
+  Germany, 87, 90, 109, 171, 184, 206, 244, 285, 286, 308, 309, 319,
+      333, 335, 359, 382, 407, 410, 420, 425, 427, 429, 430, 436, 440,
+      443, 570
+
+  Gibraltar, 307
+
+  Giorgina, 202, 203, 258
+
+  Giuliano, San, 180
+
+  GLENDOWER, 273
+
+  Gloom, 37.
+    _See also_ Hours
+
+  Gloomy Forebodings, 459
+
+  GNEISENAU, 522
+
+  Goblet, golden, 181
+
+  God protect France, 503
+    protect the King, 502
+
+  “God’s Image on Earth,” 277
+
+  GOETHE, 1, 53, 163, 256, 322, 323, 324, 325, 326, 327, 357, 421, 449,
+      545, 551, 583, 602, 679, 681.
+    _See also_ How is
+
+  Goethean Motifs, 602
+
+  Goethe is imperturbable, 327
+
+  Goethe’s Epilogue, 449
+
+  GOHIER, 142, 146, 147, 149, 152, 153
+
+  Golden Goblet, 181
+
+  Good-night, Bourrienne, 161
+
+  Gospel and Republic, 86
+
+  Gospels, 86
+
+  GOURGAUD, 535, 602, 610, 611, 612, 613, 616, 620, 621, 625, 626, 628,
+      633, 635, 636, 637, 638, 639, 655
+
+  Gourgaud’s Petulance, 611
+
+  Government. _See_ Tottering
+    grows uneasy, 80
+
+  Grand Army, 424
+
+  Grape-shot. _See_ Why not use
+
+  Gratitude, 558
+
+  GRASSINI, 100, 192
+
+  Graz, 364, 427
+
+  Great Ambitions, 66
+
+  Great Britain, 662.
+    _See also_ England
+
+  Great Gambler, 442
+
+  Great Nation, 103, 109, 147
+
+  Great Pyramid, 11
+
+  Great St. Bernard, 178, 179
+
+  Greece, 319
+
+  GREGORY VII, 371
+
+  Grenoble, 498, 499, 500, 504
+
+  Grosbois, 389
+
+  Grouchy, 522, 523, 524
+
+  Growing Disquiet, 297
+
+  Grumble. _See_ Peasants
+
+  Guadarrama, 330
+
+  Guard, National. _See_ National Guard
+
+  Guard. _See_ Farewell
+
+  Gumbinnen, 387
+
+  Guns. _See_ Big
+
+  GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS, 365
+
+
+  Habsburg Fertility (missing index entry added by transcriber), 350
+
+  Hamburg, 233, 381
+
+  Hamelin, 507
+
+  Hammerfest, 359
+
+  Hampered Energies, 523
+
+  HANNIBAL, 55, 178, 189, 534, 668, 669
+    modern, 178
+
+  Hanover, 374
+
+  Hansa Towns, 374, 439
+
+  Harassing Restrictions, 616
+
+  HARDENBERG, 383
+
+  Hat, 441
+
+  Hate. _See_ Brotherly
+
+  HATZFELD, 256
+
+  Havre, 650
+
+  HAYDN, 193
+
+  Headquarters, 92
+
+  Head Shepherd, 285
+
+  Heart. _See_ Sluggishness
+
+  He cheers up, 476
+
+  Hector, 598, 637
+
+  Hectoring the Diplomats, 104
+
+  He drafts an Abdication, 470
+
+  He dreams of India, 127
+
+  HEGEL, 450
+
+  Heir. _See_ Hunt for, _also_ Search for at last, 353
+
+  Helena. _See_ St. Helena
+
+  HENRY IV, 568, 592
+
+  Herald’s College, 6
+
+  Herat, 236
+
+  Hereditary Titles, 280
+
+  Heroes. _See_ Rebels of Antiquity, 229
+
+  _Hero’s Return_, 141
+
+  Herr Goethe. _See_ How
+
+  He seeks Death in Battle, 463
+    should have gone to America, 643
+    signs the Abdication, 474
+    threatens Paris, 100
+    threatens Rome, 284
+
+  Hesitations, 444
+
+  Hindustan, 268.
+    _See also_ India
+
+  HIPPOLYTE, 73, 93, 123, 142, 204, 597
+
+  His Dealings with the Masses, 592
+    Feeling for History, 565
+    first Sword, 9
+    Generals love and hate him, 587
+    little Son, 368
+    social Philosophy, 593
+    Son’s Heritage, 663
+    Son’s Portrait, 488
+    Successors steal his Property, 475
+    unfailing Memory, 175
+
+  History and France, 64
+
+  _History of Bonaparte_, 380
+
+  HOCHE, 114
+
+  Hofburg, 351, 369, 370
+
+  Hohenlinden, 206
+
+  HOHENLOHE, 253
+
+  Hohenstaufen, 336
+
+  Hohenzollern, 258, 408, 642
+
+  Holland, 116, 139, 183, 246, 247, 280, 287, 307, 371, 427, 428, 447,
+      453, 552, 559
+
+  HOLLAND, 615
+
+  Holy Battalion, 242
+    Father, 340, 370
+    Legion, 412
+    Moscow, 402
+    Roman Empire, 89
+    Russia, 404
+
+  Homage to German Genius, 318
+
+  Homely Monarch, 483
+
+  HOMER, 119, 622
+
+  Honour, 556.
+    _See also_ Legion of, _also_ Policy and
+
+  Hope. _See_ Stirrings
+
+  Hopeless, 14
+
+  HORTENSE DE BEAUHARNAIS (afterwards Wife of Louis Bonaparte), 47, 71,
+      143, 198, 202, 204, 222, 224, 247, 249, 298, 301, 428, 474, 486,
+      503, 520, 531, 533, 575, 633, 671
+
+  Hostilities, 619
+
+  Hôtel de l’Angleterre in Warsaw, 418
+
+  HOTHAM, 538
+
+  HOTSPUR, 273
+
+  Hours of Gloom, 637
+
+  House of Peers, 526.
+    _See also_ Upper House
+
+  “How is Herr Goethe?”, 421
+
+  How many of you are there?, 440
+
+  Human Heart. _See_ Sluggishness
+
+  Humaneness, 578
+
+  Hundred Days, 599, 609, 623
+
+  Hungary, 87, 341
+
+  Hunt for an Heir, 129
+
+  Husband. _See_ Fop
+
+  Hutt’s Gate, 615
+
+
+  “I.” _See_ First
+
+  Iago, 315
+
+  “I alone have Money,” 380
+
+  I am a Roman Emperor, 566
+
+  “I am the Man of Calculations,” 392
+
+  “I am the State,” 455
+
+  Ideals and Looting, 62
+
+  Idyll. _See_ An Idyll Secret
+
+  I have lost all Hope, 71
+
+  “I intended to kill you,” 342
+
+  _Iliad_, 622, 624
+
+  Illuminates, 343
+
+  Illyria, 438, 439, 610
+
+  Imagination, 594.
+    _See also_ Calculation
+
+  Imagination in its Cave, 12
+
+  “Imperial Diet” at Erfurt, 561
+
+  Imperial Dignity, 211
+
+  Imperialists. _See_ Rival
+
+  Imperturbable. _See_ Goethe is
+
+  Improvisation, 210
+
+  I must not stay here, 114
+
+  Inca State, 11
+
+  Incas. _See_ Aztecs
+
+  Indies, 89
+
+  In Chains, 615
+
+  Incorruptible. _See_ Letizia is
+
+  Increasing Tension, 146
+
+  India, 10, 11, 91, 127, 131, 137, 236, 258, 259, 268, 283, 359, 373,
+      617
+
+  Indus, 132
+
+  In Favour of the Working Classes, 191
+
+  Inertia. _See_ Disastrous Inertia
+
+  Influence. _See_ Stein’s
+
+  In Motley, 480
+
+  Inner Man, 303
+
+  Inquisition, 328, 331
+
+  In Pawn to the Old World, 506
+
+  In southern France, 30
+
+  Institute, 98, 114, 120, 129, 135, 147, 192, 520, 582
+
+  Interior. _See_ Army
+
+  In the Elysian Fields, 668
+
+  In the travelling Carriage, 335
+
+  Intrigues. _See_ Island of
+    and Enmities, 612
+
+  Invalides, 484
+
+  Invincible Fortress, 133
+
+  Invitation to Paris, 326
+
+  Inward Reserves, 482
+
+  Ionian Islands, 90, 91, 273
+
+  _Iphigenia in Aulis_, 637
+
+  Ireland, 372
+
+  Iron Age, 510
+
+  ISABEY, 227, 620
+
+  Islam, 637
+
+  Island, The. _See_ Corsica
+    This. _See_ This Island
+    of Intrigues, 27
+
+  Isola Bella, 100
+
+  Israel, 56
+
+  Issus, 242
+
+  Isthmus of Suez, 116, 131
+
+  Istria, 436
+
+  Italia unità, 62
+
+  Italian Temperament. _See_ Understands
+
+  Italy, 3, 40, 55, 56, 58, 59, 62, 63, 70, 75, 81, 82, 83, 89, 90, 93,
+      94, 96, 105, 106, 107, 136, 138, 139, 150, 178, 183, 210, 239,
+      240, 244, 246, 283, 284, 285, 287, 291, 298, 300, 336, 379, 412,
+      419, 436, 447, 453, 458, 472, 473, 481, 489, 535, 569, 591, 621,
+      632, 652, 676.
+    _See also_ Army, _also_ Eugene
+    Viceroy of. _See_ Eugene
+
+  I will die standing, 447
+
+
+  Jacobin Club, 23, 27, 145, 153, 303, 555
+
+  Jacobins, 25, 26
+
+  Jaffa, 132, 614, 646
+    Prisoners, 132
+
+  Jamestown, 615
+
+  Janina, 90
+
+  Jealousy, 76
+
+  Jena, 255, 256, 319, 323, 381, 500, 523, 555, 663.
+    _See also_ Battle of
+
+  JEROME BONAPARTE (afterwards King of Westphalia), 37, 125, 198, 248,
+      268, 287, 288, 294, 364, 382, 389, 394, 428, 430, 438, 452, 467,
+      474, 476, 520, 556, 580, 599, 632, 677
+
+  Jerome makes himself ridiculous, 288
+
+  Jerome’s American Marriage, 248
+
+  Jesus Christ, 371, 372, 600.
+    _See also_ Christ
+
+  JOHANNES VON MÜLLER, 319, 321, 323, 603
+
+  John (author of Revelation). _See_ St. John
+
+  JOHN THE GOOD, 534
+
+  JOMINI, 578
+
+  JOSEPH I, King of Spain, 308, 330.
+    _See also_ Joseph Bonaparte
+
+  JOSEPH (son of Jacob), 629
+
+  JOSEPH BONAPARTE (afterwards King of Naples, then King of Spain), 8,
+      13, 23, 27, 30, 38, 39, 45, 46, 72, 73, 92, 124, 144, 149, 198,
+      206, 207, 216, 222, 223, 224, 228, 246, 247, 268, 295, 300, 301,
+      302, 303, 308, 316, 330, 362, 364, 365, 428, 437, 438, 444, 452,
+      453, 456, 458, 459, 460, 461, 464, 465, 466, 531, 535, 579, 580,
+      590, 596, 597, 632, 634, 662
+
+  Joseph makes Difficulties, 330
+
+  JOSEPHINE DE BEAUHARNAIS (afterwards Empress), 47, 48, 49, 50, 51,
+      58, 70, 72, 74, 75, 76, 78, 79, 92, 93, 94, 95, 99, 100, 109,
+      113, 114, 115, 118, 123, 124, 141, 143, 144, 145, 146, 149, 153,
+      161, 172, 193, 197, 199, 202, 203, 208, 213, 214, 216, 217, 218,
+      222, 226, 227, 234, 239, 246, 247, 257, 260, 264, 267, 275, 289,
+      290, 291, 296, 298, 301, 303, 316, 344, 345, 347, 353, 354, 367,
+      368, 452, 474, 485, 521, 531, 556, 557, 558, 578, 597, 603, 621,
+      670.
+    _See also_ Devotion
+
+  Josephine cometh not, 70
+
+  Josephine’s Anxieties, 203
+    Infidelity, 124
+    Plan of Campaign, 142
+    Swoon, 344
+
+  JOSEPHINE (Giorgina), 203, 558
+
+  JOURDAN, 149
+
+  Joyful Days for Letizia, 484
+
+  JUDAS, 629
+
+  JULIE CLARY (afterwards Wife of Joseph Bonaparte), 44, 301
+
+  JUNOT, 33, 35, 36, 73, 123, 124, 438, 588
+
+  Jupiter, 229, 370
+
+  Justifies himself on his Deathbed, 670
+
+
+  Kandahar, 268
+
+  KANT, 591, 593
+
+  Katzbach, 444
+
+  KAUNITZ, 243, 561
+
+  Kaunitz Castle, 561
+
+  KEBIR, EL, 128
+
+  KELLERMANN, 66, 67, 72
+
+  Key of St. Peter, 96
+
+  Kidnapping of Enghien, 206
+
+  Kill you. _See_ I Intended
+
+  King of Rome, 382
+
+  Kingdom in a Garden, 6
+    of Westphalia, 287
+
+  Kingdoms. _See_ New
+
+  King Lear upon the Heath, 397
+
+  King Log and King Stork, 247
+
+  King of France, 431
+
+  Kings. _See_ Audience of, _also_ Disgruntled
+
+  KIRCHEISEN, 683
+
+  Kissing the Colours, 478
+
+  Kléber, 120, 134, 137, 141, 587, 668
+
+  Königsberg, 387, 423, 425
+
+  KOLLER, 480
+
+  Koran, 119, 122, 123, 128
+
+  Kovno, 387
+
+  Knights of Malta, 103
+
+  Kremlin, 400, 401, 402, 403, 409, 410, 653
+
+  KUTUSOFF, 399, 400
+
+
+  La Belle Alliance, 523
+
+  LA BRUYÈRE, 74
+
+  Lacépède, 598
+
+  La Corniche, 650
+
+  Lady hesitates, 48
+
+  Lagoons, 89
+
+  LAFAYETTE, 526, 528, 564, 633, 660
+
+  LA FONTAINE, 628
+
+  LAMARCK, 602
+
+  La Mure, 498
+
+  Landing at Fréjus, 140
+
+  LANNES, 72, 112, 149, 219, 333, 337, 338, 587
+
+  Laon, 462, 468, 522, 525
+
+  LA PAGERIE, 115.
+    _See also_ JOSEPHINE.
+
+  LAPIE, 416, 417
+
+  LAPLACE, 114, 120, 169, 602
+
+  La Rothière, 457
+
+  LARREY, 661
+
+  La Scala, 100, 182
+
+  LAS CASES, 536, 538, 609, 610, 611, 624, 626, 628, 630, 636, 637,
+      641, 646, 647, 652, 655, 676
+
+  Last Bulletin from Russia, 417
+    Command, 673
+    Gifts, 671
+    Letter, 405
+    Offers of Friendship, 254
+    Touches, 149
+    Will and Testament, 659
+
+  LAVALETTE, 454, 511, 515, 530, 531, 533
+
+  LAVATER, 584
+
+  La Vendée. _See_ Vendée
+
+  La Vilette, 571
+
+  Lavishness. _See_ Oriental
+
+  Leads a retired Life, 113
+
+  Leaning on a birchen Staff, 412
+
+  Lear. _See_ King Lear
+
+  LEBRUN, 296
+
+  LECLERC, 93, 148
+
+  LEFÈVRE, 470
+
+  Legality. _See_ Semblances
+
+  Legatees. _See_ Ninety-seven
+
+  Leghorn, 96, 486, 493, 494
+
+  Legion of Honour, 192, 211, 212, 279, 348, 491, 501, 547, 556, 559,
+      560, 621, 663
+
+  Legions. _See_ Many
+
+  Legitimacy. _See_ Curse
+
+  Legitimist Weaknesses, 561
+
+  Leipzig, 370, 446, 448, 449, 450, 454, 522
+
+  Lemberg, 387
+
+  LEO, 86
+
+  Leoben, 88, 90, 93, 104
+
+  LÉON, 290, 299, 457, 486, 531, 664
+
+  LESSEPS, 131
+
+  LETIZIA BONAPARTE (“Madame Mère”), 4, 5, 16, 29, 30, 92, 94, 95, 199,
+      202, 225, 250, 331, 345, 427, 428, 451, 474, 483, 485, 486, 496,
+      631, 632, 634, 656, 676.
+    _See also_ Joyful Days
+    at the Fireside, 451
+    implores, 631
+    is full of Trouble, 427
+    is incorruptible, 250
+
+  Letter to Louis of Bourbon, 189
+    with an open Date, 672
+
+  _Letters on Corsica_, 15, 19
+
+  Levant, 420
+
+  Liberation. _See_ Price of, _also_ War of
+
+  Liberators. _See_ Army
+
+  Liberty. _See_ Equality
+
+  Lieutenant Reads, 10
+
+  Life at Montebello, 96
+
+  “Life is a trivial Dream,” 39
+
+  Life, retired. _See_ Leads
+
+  Ligny, 522
+
+  Lilliput, 483
+
+  Limping Mephistopheles, 379.
+    _See also_ TALLEYRAND
+
+  Lion, Advice of. _See_ That is
+
+  Lion of St. Mark, 96, 239
+
+  Lisbon, 248
+
+  Lithuania, 387, 410
+
+  Little Court, 93
+
+  Little Mother Russia, 398
+
+  Lobau, 578, 663
+
+  Lodi, 65, 66, 158, 331, 337
+
+  Log. _See_ King Log
+
+  Loire, 473
+
+  Lombardy, 40, 55, 62, 65, 68, 69, 75, 83, 89, 178, 284, 289, 391,
+      566, 588
+
+  London, 205, 334, 361, 362, 492, 538, 615, 617
+
+  Loneliness, 38.
+    _See also_ Daimonic
+
+  Lonely Man, 263
+
+  Longwood, 608, 610, 614, 615, 616, 617, 619, 675
+
+  Looting. _See_ Ideals
+
+  Loudoun, 617
+
+  LOUIS XIV, 302, 312, 327, 574.
+    _See also_ Roi Soleil
+
+  LOUIS XVI, 22, 44, 221, 644
+
+  LOUIS XVIII. _See_ Louis of Bourbon
+
+  Louis of Bourbon, Count of Provence (afterwards Louis XVIII), 96,
+      189, 209, 466, 490, 491, 501, 502, 516, 561, 627, 628, 634, 660,
+      663.
+    _See also_ Letter to, and Louis XVIII
+
+  LOUIS BONAPARTE (afterwards King of Holland), 21, 33, 38, 77, 198,
+      202, 222, 223, 224, 246, 247, 267, 268, 303, 307, 308, 363, 364,
+      427, 428, 451, 452, 520, 552, 561, 564, 603, 671
+
+  LOUIS FERDINAND, 253
+
+  LOUIS PHILIPPE, 664
+
+  LOUISE, MARIE. _See_ MARIE LOUISE
+
+  Louise, Queen of Prussia, 254, 257, 258, 267, 274, 275, 590
+
+  Louvre, 83, 650
+
+  Love Letter from the Battle-field, 74
+
+  Love of Frankness, 554
+
+  LOWE, SIR HUDSON, 614, 615, 616, 617, 618, 619, 620, 638, 640, 658
+    Lady, 611
+
+  Lowe’s Animus, 618
+
+  Lower House, 517, 520, 623.
+    _See also_ Chamber of Deputies
+
+  Lucca, 184
+
+  LUCIEN BONAPARTE (Archdeacon), 23
+
+  LUCIEN BONAPARTE (Napoleon’s Brother, afterwards Prince of Canino),
+      27, 38, 39, 96, 144, 146, 147, 149, 150, 151, 153, 155, 158, 159,
+      160, 196, 197, 198, 201, 202, 222, 225, 249, 251, 266, 291-306,
+      427, 452, 475, 485, 520, 525, 526, 529, 531, 533, 632, 662, 676
+
+  Lucien as Rival, 196
+
+  Lucien’s Portrait of Napoleon, 291
+
+  Luck. _See_ Stroke of
+
+  Lunéville, 182, 680
+
+  Lure of the East, 90
+
+  Lutheranism, 285
+
+  Lutheran Terminology, 285
+
+  Lützen, 433, 439, 500
+
+  Lyons, 21, 22, 81, 141, 481, 500, 504, 625, 629, 650, 651
+    Academy, 21, 22
+
+
+  MACDONALD, 396, 448, 462, 470, 471, 472, 473
+
+  Macedonia, 90
+
+  Machiavelli, 10
+
+  Madame Mère, 225, 345, 459.
+    _See also_ Letizia
+
+  Madeleine, 269
+
+  Madras, 620
+
+  Madrid, 197, 286, 308, 327, 330, 333, 400, 405, 408, 438, 566
+
+  MÆCENAS, 529
+
+  Maggiore, 100
+
+  Magon, 235
+
+  MAHOMET, 310.
+    _See also_ MOHAMMED.
+
+  _Mahomet_, 309, 655
+
+  Mai. _See_ Champ
+
+  Main, 382
+
+  MAITLAND, 538, 539
+
+  Mainz, 112, 376, 433, 442, 450, 451, 650
+
+  Malay. _See_ Tobias
+
+  Malet, 413
+
+  Malmaison, 124, 204, 237, 346, 347, 353, 474, 485, 520, 530, 531,
+      533, 552, 558, 633, 643, 662, 671.
+    _See also_ Reveries
+
+  Malta, 103, 118, 362
+
+  Maltese, 122
+
+  Mamelukes, 121, 132, 135
+
+  Mameluke, The, 335, 416.
+    _See also_ RUSTAM
+
+  Man. _See_ Inner, _also_ Lonely, _also_ Only the strong
+    born to rule, 98
+    of Destiny, 604
+    of Figures, 570
+
+  Manœuvres. _See_ Poet’s
+
+  Mantua, 40, 73, 75, 78, 139, 206, 292, 305
+
+  Many Legions, 387
+
+  MARCHAND, 613, 620, 658, 661, 663, 671, 673
+
+  Marchfeld, 338
+
+  Marching to Victory, 239
+
+  March of the Thousand, 498
+
+  Marengo, 173, 179, 180, 182, 232, 240, 245, 337, 359, 419, 461, 524,
+      577, 625, 629, 663, 675, 680
+
+  Maret, 413, 455, 457, 458, 459, 474, 493, 507
+
+  Marianne (the French Republic), 216
+
+  MARIA THERESA, 464
+
+  MARIE, 263, 476, 664.
+    _See also_ WALEWSKA
+
+  MARIE ANTOINETTE, 219, 349, 351
+
+  MARIE LOUISE, 351, 352, 354, 369, 370, 386, 387, 432, 464, 475, 476,
+      477, 487, 505, 506, 515, 621, 663, 670, 676
+
+  Marie Louise’s Treason, 505
+
+  _Marie, ou les peines d’amour_, 364
+
+  Marie’s Posy Ring, 270
+
+  MARK. _See_ ST. MARK
+
+  MARK ANTONY, 661
+
+  MARMONT, 33, 36, 66, 70, 77, 125, 136, 148, 149, 150, 220, 363, 399,
+      433, 445, 446, 449, 462, 463, 464, 465, 467, 468, 470, 471, 472,
+      499, 507, 510, 553, 558, 587, 633, 634, 660
+
+  Marmont’s Desertion, Consequences of, 471
+    Treason, 468
+
+  Marne, 464
+
+  Marriage. _See_ Jerome’s, _also_ Reasons for, _also_ Undermined
+    and Divorce, 171
+
+  Marseilles, 27, 29, 30, 500
+
+  Martinique, 46, 47, 372
+
+  Martyrdom. _See_ Price
+
+  Masked Ball. _See_ At the
+
+  Masséna, 60, 61, 72, 81, 91, 139, 147, 281, 362, 363, 375, 500, 587,
+      668, 673, 679
+
+  Mathematician and Seer, 56
+
+  Mathematics. _See_ Dreams and
+
+  MAUBREUIL, 466
+
+  Maundy Thursday, 500
+
+  Mecklenburg, 273
+
+  Mediterranean, 91, 103, 115, 117, 121, 137, 138, 339, 476, 480, 483,
+      486, 535
+    Fleet, 372
+
+  Medicis, 427
+
+  MÉHUL, 554
+
+  Melas, 179
+
+  Member of the Institute, 582
+
+  Memel, 270, 273, 373, 388, 389, 391, 419, 642
+
+  Memoirs, 623
+
+  _Memoirs_ (Bourrienne’s), 681
+
+  Memorable Conversation, 439
+
+  _Memorial of St. Helena_, 609
+
+  Memory, 572
+    unfailing, 175
+
+  Méneval, 204, 205, 221, 302, 346, 350, 396, 515
+
+  Mephistopheles, 314, 575
+    the limping, 379.
+    _See also_ TALLEYRAND
+
+  “Mercure de France,” 277
+
+  MERVELDT, 446, 447
+
+  MESSALINA, 306
+
+  Mess, Cleaning up the, 176
+
+  Messenger. _See_ Third
+
+  Messengers from the East, 268
+
+  Messiah, 600
+
+  Metternich, 271, 307, 312, 318, 347, 353, 369, 375, 383, 385, 423,
+      430, 436, 438, 439, 440, 441, 442, 443, 455, 493, 504, 511, 548,
+      559, 578, 587, 589, 642.
+    _See also_ News for
+
+  Metz, 650
+
+  Mexico, 307, 534, 536, 632
+
+  Midilli, 20
+
+  Milan, 64, 67, 69, 70, 72, 73, 75, 76, 78, 80, 93, 94, 97, 105, 118,
+      139, 181, 210, 218, 230, 347, 378, 400, 405, 566
+
+  Millesimo, 521
+
+  MILTON, 622
+
+  Ministry for Foreign Affairs, 101.
+    _See also_ Foreign Office
+    for War, 372.
+      _See also_ War Office
+
+  Minsk, 387
+
+  Mio dolce Amor, 49
+
+  MIRABEAU, 10, 18, 20
+
+  Miscalculation, 79
+
+  Mob. _See_ Execrated
+
+  Modena, 75, 76
+
+  Modern Hannibal, 178
+
+  Mohammed, 122.
+    _See also_ Mahomet
+
+  Mohammedanism, 122
+
+  Moldavia, 259, 375
+
+  Mole-hill. _See_ Europe.
+
+  MOLIÈRE, 622
+
+  Monarch. _See_ Homely
+
+  Monarchy. _See_ Contradictions
+
+  Money, 586.
+    _See also_ I alone
+
+  MONGE, 120, 138
+
+  “Moniteur,” 33, 79, 205, 428, 500, 620
+
+  Mont Cenis, 650
+
+  Monsieur Bonaparte, 640
+
+  Montebello, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 100, 105, 113.
+    _See also_ Life at
+
+  Montereau, 460
+
+  MONTESQUIEU, 10, 120, 279, 457
+
+  Monteverde, 100
+
+  Mont Genèvre, 650
+
+  MONTHOLON, 599, 612, 613, 621, 623, 628, 635, 636, 646, 654, 658,
+      659, 661, 664, 672, 674
+    Madame, 638, 646
+
+  Montmirail, 500, 663
+
+  MONTMORENCY, 279
+
+  Moodiness, 281
+
+  Moods. _See_ Fourth-act
+
+  MOORE, 615
+
+  Moravia, 242
+
+  MOREAU, 114, 133, 148, 167, 178, 205, 438, 443, 444, 530, 587
+
+  More Family Troubles, 364
+
+  More Peace Proposals, 236
+
+  Morfontaine, 330, 452, 457
+
+  _Mort de César_, 645
+
+  MORTIER, 464, 471, 472
+
+  Moscow, 286, 373, 393, 395, 396, 397, 398, 399, 400, 401, 402, 404,
+      405, 409, 410, 413, 419, 440, 455, 476, 489, 500, 509, 554, 566,
+      637, 653
+
+  Moskva, 399, 403, 500
+
+  Moselle, 26
+
+  MOSES, 56, 130, 600, 601, 622
+    Wells of, 130, 601
+
+  Mother. _See_ Emperor and his
+
+  Mother Letizia, 94
+
+  Mother Russia, 398
+
+  Mother’s Life comes first, 354
+
+  Motley, 480
+
+  MOULIN, 139, 146, 147, 148, 152, 153
+
+  MUIRON, 77, 535, 536, 618, 662
+
+  “Muiron,” 137
+
+  MÜLLER, JOHANNES, 319, 321, 323, 603
+    (Chancellor, Weimar), 555
+
+  Mummy in Court Dress, 231
+
+  Munich, 205
+
+  MURAT (afterwards King of Naples), 43, 44, 48, 72, 92, 135, 148, 149,
+      160, 198, 219, 222, 224, 247, 248, 281, 308, 330, 331, 336, 349,
+      364, 366, 388, 390, 395, 402, 411, 412, 417, 421, 428, 429, 450,
+      451, 475, 494, 570, 587, 614, 633, 644, 668
+    and Bernadotte, 429
+
+  Murder. _See_ Slow
+
+  Mure, 498
+
+  Muscovy, 392, 401.
+    _See also_ Russia
+
+  Mutable Many, 355
+
+  My Cause. _See_ Espouse
+
+  “My Game is going awry,” 445
+
+  “My Sceptre is from God,” 371
+
+  “My Star is setting,” 434
+
+  Mystifications, 204
+
+  My Strength is builded on a Rock, 223
+
+
+  Naïve Aside, 228
+
+  Name your Children after me, 243
+
+  Naples, 82, 183, 246, 300, 308, 336, 412, 421, 494, 570
+    King of. _See_ Joseph, _also_ Murat
+
+  NAPOLEON I, passim. _See also_, Comparison, Lucien’s Portrait, Resume
+      the Name, St. Napoleon
+    II, 529, 530, 613, 634.
+      _See also_ NAPOLEON FRANCIS
+    III, 613
+    and Maitland, 538
+    and the Royalists, 190
+    FRANCIS, King of Rome (“Napoleon II”), 382, 488, 660.
+      _See also_ Napoleon II, Rome, King of
+
+  Napoleonic Idea, 596
+
+  Napoleon Museum, 651
+
+  Napoleon’s Defence, 209
+
+  Napoleon the Conqueror, 257
+
+  Napoleon’s Treasure, 651
+
+  Napoleon II, 529
+
+  NAPOLIONE, 5, 19, 216, 676
+
+  NARBONNES, 279
+
+  Nation, Great. _See_ Great Nation
+
+  National Assembly, 18
+    Guard, 17, 23, 24, 42, 44, 57, 177, 414, 420, 424, 454, 457, 458,
+      465, 481, 525
+
+  Natural Philosophy, 601
+
+  NECKER, 110
+
+  NEIPPERG, 488, 515
+
+  NELSON, 118, 119, 126, 240
+
+  NERO, 277
+
+  NESSELRODE, 379, 465
+
+  NEY, 219, 423, 445, 470, 471, 472, 500, 501, 509, 510, 522, 587, 633,
+      668
+
+  Ney’s Remorse, 509
+
+  New Testament, 600
+
+  New Kingdoms, 246
+    Programme, 502
+
+  News for Metternich, 504
+
+  Nice, 30, 33, 34, 51, 57, 139, 433, 650
+
+  Niemer. _See_ Memel
+
+  Nile, 121, 126, 130, 131, 135, 141, 360, 566
+
+  Nineteenth Brumaire, 295, 304, 479.
+    _See also_ Eighteenth Brumaire, _also_ Brumaire
+
+  Ninety-seven Legatees, 661
+
+  Niobe, 346, 474
+
+  NOAILLES, 279
+
+  Nobles’ School, 6
+
+  Normandy, 568
+
+  “Northumberland,” 543, 608
+
+  No Sea Legs, 233
+
+  “Not one Polish Village,” 377
+
+  Notre Dame, 185, 227, 230, 242, 338, 452, 456, 500
+
+  Not so lucky as Genghis Khan, 644
+
+  No Tragedies!, 298
+
+  Norway, 386
+
+  Novels, 396
+
+  Number again. _See_ Fantasy
+
+  Nuremberg, 252, 450
+
+
+  Oder, 258, 382, 431
+
+  _Odyssey_, 622
+
+  Œdipus, 310
+
+  _Œdipus_, 622
+
+  Offers of Friendship. _See_ Last
+
+  Old Companions. _See_ Fate of
+    Friends betray him, 462
+    Home, 139
+    Regime, 218
+    Tempo and the New, 522
+    Testament, 600
+
+  Oldenburg, 374, 375, 377
+
+  O’MEARA, 617, 620, 646, 656
+
+  Omens. _See_ Russian
+
+  On Foot into Warsaw, 418
+
+  “Only the strong Man is good,” 22
+
+  Onslaught. _See_ Emperor’s
+
+  On the Alert, 494
+    the Banks of the Seine, 465
+    the “Bellerophon,” 539
+
+  Opening of the Family Dramas, 199
+
+  Operations Department, 40
+
+  Opinion, Bureau of Public, 380, 381
+
+  Opinions. _See_ Other, _also_ Two
+
+  Opponents. _See_ Candour to
+
+  Orangerie, 155
+
+  Orbits of the Satellites, 632
+
+  Orestes, 309
+
+  “Orient,” 118, 121
+
+  Oriental Devices, 128
+
+  Oriental Lavishness, 112
+
+  ORLEANS, 634, 658, 676
+
+  _Ossian_, 37, 119, 622, 639
+
+  Ostend, 175
+
+  Osterode, 266
+
+  Othello, 71
+
+  Other German Opinions, 450
+
+  OUDINOT, 462, 470, 507, 508
+
+  Our Father of Blessed Memory, 222
+
+  Ourcq, 191, 571
+
+  Outbreak of War, 253
+
+  Outlaw him, 158
+
+  Overestimating the Foe, 389
+
+  Over my dead Body, 620
+
+  Overtures. _See_ First
+
+  OWEN GLENDOWER, 273
+
+
+  PAGERIE. _See_ JOSEPHINE
+
+  PAISIELLO, 554
+
+  Palais Bourbon, 529
+
+  Palazzo Serbelloni, 69, 70, 80
+
+  PAOLI, 4, 5, 15, 16, 18, 19, 20, 24, 25, 27, 28, 29, 36, 95, 538, 657
+
+  Papal States, 84, 285, 371
+
+  _Paradise Lost_, 622
+
+  Parcæ, 432
+
+  Paris, passim. _See also_ Back to, He threatens, Invitation to,
+      Putsch in, Rising in, Road to, Tsar in, What is
+
+  PARISET, 683
+
+  Parma, 300, 475, 650, 676
+
+  Parody. _See_ Etiquette
+
+  Partition of Europe, 273
+
+  Patriotic Society, 20
+
+  _Paul et Virginie_, 37
+    Tsar of Russia, 230, 232
+
+  PAULINE BONAPARTE (afterwards Princess Borghese), 92, 95, 198, 247,
+      248, 298, 303, 364, 485, 488, 495, 531, 633, 659, 662, 676
+
+  Pause in the Advance, 390
+
+  Pavia, 178
+
+  Peace. _See_ First Overtures
+    Policy, 183
+    Proposals. _See_ Further, _also_ More
+    with Rome, 185
+
+  Peasants. _See_ Arm
+    begin to grumble, 382
+
+  Peninsular War, 362, 654
+
+  People. _See_ General
+    needs a Chief, 106
+
+  People’s Commissary for War, 36
+
+  PERCY, 661
+
+  PERETTI, 20
+
+  Persia, 268
+
+  PETER. _See_ ST. PETER
+
+  Petersburg. _See_ St. Petersburg
+
+  Petroffsky Palace, 403
+
+  Pharsalia, 679
+
+  PHÉLIPPEAUX, 133
+
+  Philip II, 327, 328, 331, 566
+
+  PHILIPPE. _See_ LOUIS PHILIPPE
+
+  _Philoctète_, 622
+
+  _Philosophie Zoologique_, 602
+
+  Pianosa, 481
+
+  PICHEGRU, 205, 206, 207
+
+  Picture of Philip II, 328
+
+  Piedmont, 58, 184, 650
+
+  Pied Piper, 507
+
+  Pin. _See_ Scarab
+
+  Pisa, 484
+
+  PIUS VI, 85
+    VII, 226, 227, 370, 371, 429
+
+  Place occupied. _See_ First Place
+
+  Plan. _See_ Egyptian
+
+  Plans for a Coup d’État, 147
+    for a Rescue, 635
+    for World Conquest, 372
+
+  Plantation House, 617
+
+  PLATO, 10
+
+  Plebeians at Court, 219
+
+  Plot and Counterplot, 205
+
+  Plough. _See_ Emperor drives
+
+  PLUTARCH, 6, 7, 19, 21, 34, 64, 69, 97, 119, 188, 212, 213, 679
+
+  Plymouth, 540, 542, 610
+
+  Po, 58, 65, 75, 127
+
+  Poet. _See_ Emperor scores
+
+  Poet’s Manœuvres, 325
+
+  Poland, 258, 259, 273, 285, 329, 375, 383, 385, 387, 401, 420, 433,
+      435, 447, 486, 492, 548, 590
+
+  Polish War, Second, 387
+
+  Poisoning the Plague-stricken, 134
+
+  Policy and Honour, 293
+    towards the Peoples, 590
+
+  Polish Countess, 261
+    Village. _See_ Not one
+
+  Political Consequences, 194
+    Programme, 102
+    Testament, 665
+
+  Politics on the Stage, 310
+
+  Pomerania, 365, 429, 438
+
+  POMPEY, 566
+
+  Pontine Marshes, 650
+
+  Pope. _See_ Gregory VII, _also_ Leo, Pius VI, Pius VII, Short Way with
+
+  Porte, 103
+
+  Porto Ferrajo, 481
+
+  Portrait. _See_ His Son’s
+    of Napoleon. _See_ Lucien’s
+
+  Portugal, 183, 362
+
+  Posen, 260, 387
+
+  Posy Ring. _See_ Marie’s
+
+  Potsdam, 256, 319, 321, 663
+
+  “Pourvou que cela doure,” 199, 225, 451
+
+  Poverty, 7
+
+  Prague, 435, 437, 440, 442, 443
+
+  Preamble, 660
+
+  Pressburg, 244, 603
+
+  Preussisch-Eylau. _See_ Eylau
+
+  Priam, 598
+
+  Price of Liberation, 83
+    of Martyrdom, 636
+
+  Princes. _See_ Servile
+
+  Princess. _See_ Which
+
+  Principles. _See_ False to
+
+  Prison, 34.
+    _See also_ Socrates
+
+  Prisoner. _See_ Examination
+
+  Programme. _See_ New, _also_ Political
+
+  Prometheus, 649
+    bound, 649
+
+  Promised Land, 56, 59, 63, 178
+
+  Property. _See_ His Successors
+
+  Prophet, 122
+    of Evil, 311
+
+  Protestantism, 285
+
+  Provence, 382, 478
+    Count of, 189.
+      _See also_ Louis of Bourbon
+
+  Province. _See_ This Island
+
+  Prussia, 8, 171, 183, 212, 251, 252, 253, 256, 257, 273, 274, 276,
+      286, 308, 333, 334, 383, 408, 424, 425, 429, 430, 433, 435, 439,
+      493, 568, 571, 576, 651.
+    _See also_ Broil with, _also_ Louise, Queen of Prussia
+    vacillates, 383
+
+  Psychologist, 584
+
+  Public Execration, 28
+    Opinion, Bureau of, 380, 381
+
+  Pultava, 393
+
+  Pultusk, 265
+
+  Putsch in Paris, 413
+
+  Pygmies, 436
+
+  Pyramid, 11
+
+  Pyrenees, 362, 455, 650
+
+
+  Quai Desaix, 191
+
+  Quatre Bras, 522
+
+  Queen of Prussia. _See_ Louise
+
+  QUERELLE, 206
+
+  QUIXOTE, 328
+
+
+  Racine, 597, 622, 637
+
+  RADZIWILL, 279
+
+  RAPP, 204, 256, 342, 388, 389, 398, 411, 508, 509.
+    _See also_ Conversation
+
+  Rastatt, 112, 118
+
+  RAYNAL, 10, 11
+
+  RAYNEVAL, 418
+
+  Reading, 622
+
+  Reasons for the Marriage, 50
+
+  Rebels or Heroes, 645
+
+  Rebuffs. _See_ Two Rebuffs
+
+  RÉCAMIER, 38
+
+  Red Cockade, 17
+    Sea, 116, 566
+
+  Regent Diamond, 651
+
+  Reggio, 359
+
+  Regime. _See_ Old
+
+  Reichenbach, 435
+
+  Relatives. _See_ Advancement of, _also_ Untrustworthy
+
+  RÉMUSAT, 214, 215, 278, 591
+
+  _Republic_, 10
+
+  Rescue. _See_ Plans
+
+  Reserves. _See_ Inward
+
+  Restoration, 313
+
+  Resume the Name of Napoleon, 664
+
+  Resurrexit, 677
+
+  Retired Life. _See_ Leads
+
+  Retrospect, 646
+
+  Return of the Emperor, 497
+
+  Returning Courage, 454
+
+  Revanche!, 264
+
+  Revelation of St. John the Divine, 1
+
+  Revenges. _See_ Time’s
+
+  Reveries at Malmaison, 531
+
+  Reverse, 18
+
+  Revolution. _See_ Drums
+
+  Revolutionary Traits, 559
+
+  Revolution is at an End, 177
+
+  “Revue des Etudes Napoléoniennes,” 683
+
+  Rex. _See_ Fridericus
+
+  Rheims, 113
+
+  Rhine, 89, 118, 150, 178, 206, 207, 238, 253, 308, 373, 382, 388,
+      420, 424, 425, 433, 443, 445, 447, 450, 452, 453, 455, 458, 591.
+    _See also_ Army of, Confederation
+    -Rhone Canal, 650
+
+  Rhodes, 24
+
+  Rhone, 30
+
+  Rhythm of the Epoch, 426
+
+  RICHARD, 630
+
+  RICHELIEU, 101, 633
+
+  Ridiculous. _See_ Jerome makes
+
+  Ring, Posy. _See_ Marie’s
+
+  Rio de Janeiro, 635
+
+  Rising. _See_ Attempted
+    in Paris, 42
+
+  Rival. _See_ Lucien as
+    Imperialists, 374
+
+  Riviera, 72, 496
+
+  Rivoli, 337, 378, 389, 462, 621
+
+  Road to Paris, 503
+
+  _Robbers_, 381
+
+  ROBESPIERRE, Joseph, 32, 35
+    Maximilien, 25, 30, 34, 35, 47, 498, 511
+
+  Rochefort, 535, 540, 541, 565, 643
+
+  Rock, The. _See_ St. Helena
+
+  ROEDERER, 149, 169, 174, 181, 201, 213, 219, 453, 550, 558, 562, 564,
+      569, 572, 585
+
+  Roi Soleil, 227, 288, 327, 455.
+    _See also_ Louis XIV
+
+  Romagna, 99
+
+  Roman, 19.
+    _See also_ Holy
+
+  ROMANZOFF, 316, 333
+
+  Rome, 63, 82, 85, 86, 99, 185, 212, 225, 226, 245, 283, 285, 292,
+      336, 337, 338, 340, 371, 372, 382, 393, 459, 465, 467, 469, 475,
+      478, 485, 486, 488, 566, 593, 631, 676.
+    _See also_ He threatens, Peace with, The Eternal, Understanding
+
+  Rome, King of, 382, 459, 465, 467, 469, 488, 617.
+    _See also_ Napoleon II, _also_ Napoleon Francis
+
+  Rossbach, 679
+
+  Rosetta, 130, 147
+
+  Rothière. _See_ La Rothière
+
+  ROUSSEAU, 8, 11, 21, 111, 166, 229, 605
+
+  Royalists. _See_ Napoleon and
+
+  Rubicon, 85, 389
+
+  RUDOLF (of Habsburg), 370
+
+  Rulers by divine Right, 437
+
+  Ruling from afar, 269
+
+  Russia, 183, 211, 239, 251, 258, 259, 311, 314, 318, 359, 360, 373,
+      375, 379, 380, 382, 383, 386, 387, 396, 397, 398, 404, 412, 418,
+      419, 420, 423, 430, 432, 433, 439, 441, 443, 459, 522, 528, 553,
+      554, 571, 662, 667.
+    _See also_ Muscovy, _also_ Last Bulletin
+
+  Russian Omens, 265
+
+  RUSTAM, 135, 266, 292, 339, 396.
+    _See also_ Mameluke
+
+
+  Saale, 446
+
+  Saalfeld, 253
+
+  Saint-Antoine, 218, 527
+
+  St. Bernard, Great, 178, 179
+
+  Saint-Cloud, 147, 153, 154, 160, 189, 220, 221, 295, 432, 526, 620.
+    _See also_ Back Room
+
+  Saint-Denis, 532
+
+  STE. GENEVIÈVE, 456
+
+  Saint-Germain, 218, 466
+
+  St. Helena, 13, 473, 541, 543, 545-677.
+    _See also_ Corsica comes
+
+  St. John, Church of, in Moscow, 410
+
+  ST. JOHN THE DIVINE, 1
+
+  ST. LOUIS, 501
+
+  ST. MARK, 96
+
+  ST. NAPOLEON, 339, 484
+
+  ST. PETER, 96, 648
+
+  St. Petersburg, 333, 349, 375, 376, 395, 396, 401, 404, 405, 409,
+      410, 553
+
+  St. Sophia, 270, 385
+
+  Salamanca, 399, 414
+
+  SALICETI, 26, 27, 31, 35, 37, 65, 66, 80, 95
+
+  Salle Apollo, 155
+
+  Salzburg, 240
+
+  San Domingo, 590, 630
+
+  San Giuliano, 180
+
+  Sanhedrin, 590
+
+  Sans Souci, 257, 566.
+    _See also_ Visions in
+
+  SANTINI, 613
+
+  Saragossa, 333
+
+  Sardinia, 40, 59, 60, 65
+    King of, 59, 60
+
+  Satan, 568
+
+  Satellites. _See_ Orbits
+
+  Savants. _See_ To the
+
+  SAVARY, 461, 529
+
+  Savona, 370, 650
+
+  Saxony, 325, 433, 443, 447, 493
+
+  Scala, La, 100, 182
+
+  Scarab Pin, 367
+
+  Scene with Lucien. _See_ Climax
+
+  Scepticism, 600
+
+  Sceptre. _See_ My Sceptre
+
+  SCHARNHORST, 253, 383, 437
+
+  SCHELLING, 450
+
+  Schemes. _See_ Fantastic Schemes, _also_ Worldwide Schemes
+
+  SCHERER, 136
+
+  SCHILLER, 416
+
+  SCHLEIERMACHER, 437
+
+  Schönbrunn, 336, 337, 338, 339, 340, 342, 345, 353, 430, 486, 548,
+      573, 578, 588, 589
+
+  SCHWARZENBERG, 348, 559
+
+  Schweidnitz, 269
+
+  SCHWARZENBERG, 367, 396, 443, 444, 461, 462, 468, 604
+
+  SCIPIO, 64, 189, 668
+
+  Scion of the lesser Nobility, 562
+
+  Scrivia, 180
+
+  Scutari, 90
+
+  Sea Legs. _See_ No
+
+  Search for an Heir, 201
+
+  Second Dream, 672
+    Polish War, 387
+    Wife, 369
+
+  Secret Idyll, 267
+    Session. _See_ Deputies
+
+  Seeks Death. _See_ He seeks Death
+
+  Seer. _See_ Mathematician
+
+  SÉGUR, 175, 227, 402
+
+  Seine, 465, 650, 659
+
+  Self-confidence, 551
+    Criticism, 642
+    Crowned Emperor, 227
+
+  SELIM, 474
+
+  Semblances of Legality, 154
+
+  Semmering, 548
+
+  Senate, 90, 186, 198, 201, 210, 214, 296, 297, 353, 423, 445, 467,
+      468, 469, 484, 518, 562, 565.
+    _See also_ Genoese
+    House (Roman), 565
+
+  Sense of Destiny, 360
+
+  Sensitive Nerves, 549
+
+  Serbelloni, Palace, 69, 70, 80
+
+  Serbia, 375
+
+  Servants. _See_ Faithful
+
+  Servile Princes, 317
+
+  Sèvres, 621
+
+  Seydlitz, 679
+
+  She lays Siege, 143
+
+  Shepherd, Head, 285
+
+  Shiraz, 132
+
+  Short Way with the Pope, 336
+
+  Shot at Dawn, 207
+
+  SHUVALOFF, 480
+
+  Sicily, 118, 119, 372, 429
+
+  Siege of Toulon, 31
+
+  Sierra de Guadarrama, 330
+
+  SIEYÈS, 139, 144, 146, 147, 148, 149, 151, 152, 153, 155, 159, 168,
+      528
+
+  Signature. _See_ Awaiting
+
+  Silesia, 259, 382, 383, 435, 443, 444
+
+  Simple Tastes, 221
+
+  Simplicity, 553
+
+  Simplon, 650
+
+  “Simply Dead,” 602
+
+  Simulated Wrath, 576
+
+  “Sire, your Brother Lucien,” 292
+
+  Sisters. _See_ Brothers and
+
+  Slow Murder, 669
+
+  Sluggishness of the human Heart, 487
+
+  Smelting Works, 485
+
+  Smolensk, 387, 390, 395, 396, 397, 411, 412, 500
+
+  Snare. _See_ Dynastic
+
+  SOCRATES, 647
+
+  Soissons, 525
+
+  Sombre Thoughts, 366
+
+  Son! _See_ A Son!, _also_ His little
+
+  Sons of the People as Generals, 60
+
+  Son’s Portrait. _See_ His
+
+  SOPHOCLES, 622
+
+  _Sorrows of Werther_, 120.
+    _See also_ _Werther_
+
+  SOUCHET, 472
+
+  SOULT, 325, 330, 472, 580
+
+  Southern France. _See_ In southern
+
+  Spain, 116, 171, 183, 259, 300, 306, 307, 308, 312, 328, 329, 330,
+      333, 336, 359, 362, 363, 368, 375, 379, 382, 383, 390, 399, 420,
+      421, 427, 433, 437, 444, 447, 468, 560, 590, 595, 642, 675.
+    _See also_ Bad News
+
+  Spanish America, 632
+
+  Spanish Dynasty, 306
+
+  Sparta, 21, 63, 69
+
+  Spezia, 650
+
+  Sphinx, 121.
+    _See also_ Bonaparte
+
+  Spirit and Sword, 167
+
+  STAËL, 110, 198, 207, 216, 231, 277, 320, 429, 510, 511, 554
+
+  Stage. _See_ Politics on the
+    Management, 589
+
+  STANISLAS, 419
+
+  STAPS, 342, 343, 344
+
+  State. _See_ I am
+
+  State, Prisoner, 415, 416
+
+  Statesman and Commander, 181
+
+  Stein, 258, 333, 393, 406, 407, 408, 409, 437, 451, 493, 505
+
+  Stein’s decisive Influence, 604
+
+  Stickler for Morality, 557
+
+  Stirrings of Hope, 634
+
+  Stock Exchange, 176, 269
+
+  Stockholm, 282
+
+  Stork. _See_ King Log
+
+  Storming Pace, 220
+
+  Storming the Habsburg Fortress, 352
+
+  Story of Waterloo, 624
+
+  Strasburg, 372, 509
+
+  Street. _See_ Burning
+    Fighting, 44
+
+  “Strike off my Chains!”, 35
+
+  Stroke and Counterstroke, 375
+
+  Stroke of Luck, 424
+
+  Strong Man. _See_ Only the
+
+  Struggle against Venality, 84
+
+  Struggles in Vienna, 492
+
+  Strumpet. _See_ Fortune
+
+  “Stupidest Thing in my Life!,” 329
+
+  Stürmer, 611
+
+  Styria, 86
+
+  Subordinates. _See_ Treatment
+
+  Successors steal his Property, 475
+
+  Such is my Will, 69
+
+  Suez, 116, 131, 147
+
+  Sugar. _See_ Coffee
+
+  Surinam, 372
+
+  SUSSEX, 615
+
+  SUVAROFF, 405
+
+  Sweden, 365, 386, 430
+
+  Swiftly westward, 420
+
+  Switzerland, 10, 139, 171, 183, 246
+
+  Sword. _See_ First Frederick’s Spirit
+
+  Sympathetic, 598
+
+  Syria, 119, 131, 132
+
+  System. _See_ Continental European
+
+
+  TACITUS, 277, 319, 320, 321, 560, 565
+
+  Tagus, 308, 528
+
+  TAMERLANE, 652
+
+  Talk. _See_ Tea
+
+  Talking and Questioning, 585
+
+  TALLEYRAND (afterwards Prince of Benevento), 100, 101, 102, 103, 108,
+      109, 110, 113, 116, 133, 147, 148, 152, 153, 177, 182, 185, 205,
+      206, 208, 219, 230, 231, 240, 244, 246, 253, 291, 295, 303, 311,
+      312, 313, 314, 315, 316, 317, 318, 323, 331, 332, 333, 338, 349,
+      374, 378, 379, 406, 431, 453, 459, 465, 466, 467, 468, 473, 474,
+      475, 494, 510, 557, 560, 561, 571, 575, 576, 586, 589, 600, 642,
+      660
+    and Fouché, 182
+    as Internationalist, 315
+    indispensable, 313
+    is a Traitor, 312
+    rules, 467
+    smiles, 333
+
+  TALLIEN, 38, 47, 71, 75, 557
+
+  TALMA, 218, 309, 502, 535, 592
+
+  Taranto, 233
+
+  TASSO, 457
+
+  Tastes. _See_ Simple
+
+  Tatterdemalion Army, 57
+
+  Taxis. _See_ Thurn
+
+  Tea and Talk, 314
+
+  Teeth. _See_ Four
+
+  Tempo, 571.
+    _See also_ Old
+
+  Terminology. _See_ Lutheran
+
+  Terror, 46, 167
+
+  Testament, Napoleon’s, New, 600
+    Old, 600
+
+  “That is the Advice of a Lion,” 410
+
+  Théâtre Français, 191, 390
+
+  The Eternal City, 286.
+    _See also_ Rome
+
+  “The Mother’s Life comes first!”, 354
+
+  The People need a Chief, 106
+
+  Themistocles, 537, 542, 565
+
+  Thinking. _See_ What is Alexander
+
+  Thinking Things over, 491
+
+  Third Messenger, 404
+
+  Thirteenth Vendémiaire, 44, 50
+
+  Thirty Years’ War, 624
+
+  This Island, this Province, 95
+
+  “This War will last three Years,” 395
+
+  Thoughts. _See_ Sombre
+
+  Thousand. _See_ March
+
+  Three Years. _See_ This War
+
+  Thrift, 278
+
+  Through the Enemy’s Fleet, 137
+
+  Thurn and Taxis, 314
+
+  TIBERIUS, 566
+
+  Tidings from the Congress, 493
+
+  Tiflis, 269
+
+  Tilsit, 270, 274, 282, 308, 315, 375, 380, 383, 384, 385, 390, 404,
+      406, 548, 553, 589, 642, 651
+
+  Threatens Rome. _See_ He threatens
+
+  Three Cheers, 627
+    Fundamental Powers, 550
+
+  “Time is Everything,” 32, 60
+
+  Time’s Revenges, 408
+
+  Tippoo Sahib, 127
+
+  Tiring Job, 606
+
+  Tirol. _See_ Tyrol
+
+  Titles. _See_ Hereditary
+
+  Tobias, the Malay, 629, 630
+
+  “To Destiny!”, 51
+
+  TOLLY. _See_ Barclay de Tolly
+
+  TOLSTOY, 312, 404
+
+  “Too far, Sire,” 388
+
+  Too small. _See_ Europe
+
+  To Rochefort, 535
+
+  Tortona, 72
+
+  To the Savants, 97
+
+  Tottering Government, 145
+
+  Toulon, 6, 30, 31, 32, 33, 36, 57, 72, 115, 118, 128, 137, 139, 140,
+      460, 476, 662.
+    _See also_ Siege of
+
+  Tours, 650
+
+  Trafalgar, 240, 252
+
+  Tragedies. _See_ No Tragedies
+
+  Tragedy of Childlessness, 200
+    of Fulfilment, 282
+
+  Tragical Dilemma, 516
+
+  TRAJAN, 566
+
+  Transitional Characteristics, 560
+
+  Travelling Carriage, 335
+
+  Treason. _See_ Marie Louise’s Treason, _also_ Marmont’s Treason
+
+  Treatment of Subordinates, 588
+
+  Treviso, 370
+
+  Trianon, 249, 346
+
+  Tribunate, 214
+
+  Triest, 89
+
+  Trinity, 122
+
+  Triumphal Entry. _See_ First
+
+  Triumvirs, 154
+
+  TRONCHET, 169, 174, 194
+
+  Troubles thicken, 515
+
+  Troy, 637
+
+  TRUCHSESS, 480
+
+  True Aim, 299
+
+  Tsar Alexander, 271.
+    _See also_ Alexander
+    breaks away, 334
+    in Paris, 466
+
+  Tuckets for the Crowd, 105
+
+  Tugendbund, 383
+
+  Turks. _See_ Victory
+
+  TURENNE, 279, 574, 655
+
+  Turn of Fortune’s Wheel, 40
+
+  Turkey, 41, 90, 333, 375
+
+  Turkish Empire, 90, 91, 103
+
+  Tuscany, 66, 82, 427, 475, 487, 559
+
+  Two Emperors, 244
+    German Women, 256
+    Hundred and Fifty Men, 458
+    Opinions, 275
+    Rebuffs, 46
+
+  Tyrol, 40, 75, 333
+
+
+  Udine, 102
+
+  Ulm, 239, 500, 663
+
+  Unconquerable German, 343
+
+  Undermined Marriage, 115
+
+  Understanding with Rome, 85
+
+  Understands the Italian Temperament, 63
+
+  Under the Stars, 120
+
+  Unfailing Memory, 175
+
+  Unfeeling, 597
+
+  Unflagging Industry, 573
+
+  United Europe, 82, 378, 667
+
+  United States of America, 100, 390, 530, 533, 595, 643
+    of Europe, 245, 359, 378, 496, 514, 595, 596
+
+  Unity of Command, 67
+
+  Untrustworthy Relatives, 144
+
+  Upper House, 517, 520
+
+
+  Vacillations, 536
+
+  Valençay, 312
+
+  Valence, 9, 14, 21, 24, 141, 553, 608
+
+  Valladolid, 331, 340, 548
+
+  Varennes, 22
+
+  Vatican, 84, 85, 95, 185, 337
+    State Papers, 371
+
+  Venality. _See_ Struggle
+
+  Vendée, 31, 36, 41, 189, 205, 590
+
+  Vendémiaire, Thirteenth, 44, 50
+
+  Vendôme Column, 676
+
+  Venice, 72, 82, 89, 90, 100, 117, 239, 240, 241, 593, 650, 662, 669
+
+  Venetian Sbirro, 614
+
+  Verona, 73, 240
+
+  Versailles, 6, 672
+
+  Viceroy of Italy. _See_ Eugene
+
+  Victory. _See_ Excommunication and, First Victory, Marching to
+    and Disillusionment, 78
+    over the Turks, 135
+
+  Vienna, 40, 86, 88, 96, 103, 118, 133, 286, 317, 334, 336, 348, 349,
+      351, 369, 386, 387, 400, 405, 430, 431, 439, 443, 459, 460, 488,
+      489, 492, 493, 494, 504, 511, 514, 515, 516, 538, 548, 559, 589,
+      668, 676
+
+  Vilette, 571
+
+  Vilna, 387, 390, 391, 392, 393, 397, 413, 419
+
+  VIGNALI, 670
+
+  Vincennes, 206
+
+  VINCENT, 316, 329
+
+  VIRGIL, 655
+
+  VISCONTI, 92
+
+  Visions in Sans Souci, 259
+
+  Visitors, 262
+
+  Vistula, 265, 382, 393, 431, 528
+
+  Vitebsk, 395
+
+  Vittoria, 437, 627
+
+  Vive l’Empereur, 399, 414, 448, 468, 477, 478, 499, 500, 524, 527
+    le Roi, 478
+
+  “Voilà un homme!”, 323
+
+  Volant. _See_ Eagle
+
+  Volga, 390
+
+  VOLTAIRE, 8, 10, 120, 166, 229, 259, 309, 320, 321, 591, 645, 655
+
+  Volcano. _See_ Extinct
+
+
+  Wagram, 338, 340, 381, 461, 500, 520, 567, 587, 629
+
+  Waiting for Death, 655
+
+  Walewska, 260, 264, 267, 289, 338, 339, 342, 349, 353, 418, 457, 476,
+      486, 633
+    again, 339
+
+  WALEWSKI, 664
+
+  Wallachia, 375
+
+  _Wallenstein_, 417
+
+  _Wallenstein’s Death_, 509
+
+  War. _See_ Fatal, Fortune of, Outbreak, Peninsular, This
+    as an Art, 579
+    Office, 40, 41.
+      _See also_ Ministry for War
+    of Liberation, 287
+
+  Warfare. _See_ Commercial
+
+  War is an Anachronism, 582
+
+  Warnings, 520
+
+  Warsaw, 259, 260, 375, 376, 418, 419, 421, 439, 548, 576.
+    _See also_ On Foot
+
+  WASHINGTON, 645
+
+  Waterloo, 523, 524, 527, 567, 605, 617, 624, 626, 637, 642, 650, 651,
+      653
+    _See also_ Defeat, Story
+
+  Wavre, 522
+
+  We have to forget, 514
+
+  We must be content, 501
+
+  “We need him in the Army,” 36
+
+  Weathercocks, Dictionary of, 638
+
+  Weimar, 255, 256, 318, 320, 325, 330, 421, 449, 493, 603
+
+  Wellington, 362, 368, 399, 437, 491, 522, 524, 533, 534, 567, 626, 662
+
+  Wells of Moses, 130, 601
+
+  _Werther_, 119, 323, 324.
+    _See also_ Sorrows
+
+  Weser, 374
+
+  West Indies, 51, 313
+
+  Westminster, 13
+
+  Westphalia, 252, 287.
+    _See also_ Kingdom of
+
+  Westward. _See_ Swiftly
+
+  What a Ballad my Life has been, 653
+    is Alexander thinking?, 385
+    is Paris saying?, 276
+
+  Where is Ney?, 500
+    is the Enemy?, 391
+
+  Which Princess?, 349
+
+  Whither to go, 534
+
+  Why not use Grape-shot?, 26
+
+  WIELAND, 320, 321, 322, 323
+
+  Wife. _See_ Josephine, His second, Marie Louise
+
+  WILDHAGEN, 683
+
+  Will. _See_ Last
+
+  Without a Fatherland, 657
+
+  Women. _See_ Two German
+    are Slaves, 599
+
+  Wooing. _See also_ Courtship, Fruitless
+
+  Words overheard, 415
+
+  Working Classes. _See_ In Favour of
+
+  World Conquest. _See_ Plans
+
+  Worldwide Schemes, 103
+
+  Wrath. _See_ Simulated
+
+  WURMSER, 60, 73, 75, 78
+
+  Württemberg, 246, 326
+
+
+  Xerxes, 541
+
+  Xerxes’ Answer, 541
+
+
+  Yearnings and Calculations, 346
+
+  YORCK, 245, 424
+
+  “You are frightfully young!”, 289
+
+  “You must!”, 411
+
+  Young France is ready, 472
+
+  Your Brother Lucien. _See_ Sire
+
+  “Your holiness being infallible,” 430
+
+
+  Zante, 90
+
+  Zeus thunders, 332
+
+  _Zur Morphologie_, 602
+
+[Illustration]
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79253 ***
diff --git a/79253-h/79253-h.htm b/79253-h/79253-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..266c1a9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/79253-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,31300 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html>
+<html lang="en">
+<head>
+    <meta charset="UTF-8">
+    <title>
+      Napoleon | Project Gutenberg
+    </title>
+    <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover">
+    <style>
+
+a {
+    text-decoration: none;
+}
+
+body {
+    margin-left: 10%;
+    margin-right: 10%;
+}
+
+h1,h2,h3 {
+    text-align: center;
+    clear: both;
+}
+
+h2.nobreak {
+    page-break-before: avoid;
+}
+
+hr.chap {
+    margin-top: 2em;
+    margin-bottom: 2em;
+    clear: both;
+    width: 65%;
+    margin-left: 17.5%;
+    margin-right: 17.5%;
+}
+
+img.w100 {
+    width: 100%;
+}
+
+div.chapter {
+    page-break-before: always;
+}
+
+ul {
+    list-style-type: none;
+}
+
+li.indx {
+    margin-top: .5em;
+    padding-left: 2em;
+    text-indent: -2em;
+}
+
+li.ifrst {
+    margin-top: 2em;
+    padding-left: 2em;
+    text-indent: -2em;
+}
+
+li.isub1 {
+    padding-left: 3em;
+    text-indent: -2em;
+}
+
+li.isub2 {
+    padding-left: 4em;
+    text-indent: -2em;
+}
+
+p {
+    margin-top: 0.5em;
+    text-align: justify;
+    margin-bottom: 0.5em;
+    text-indent: 1em;
+}
+
+table {
+    margin: 1em auto 1em auto;
+    max-width: 40em;
+    border-collapse: collapse;
+}
+
+th {
+    padding: 0.25em;
+    font-weight: normal;
+}
+
+td {
+    padding-left: 2.25em;
+    padding-right: 0.25em;
+    vertical-align: top;
+    text-indent: -2em;
+    text-align: justify;
+}
+
+.pad-top td {
+    padding-top: 0.75em;
+}
+
+.sub {
+    padding-left: 6.25em;
+    font-size: 90%;
+}
+
+.tdc {
+    text-align: center;
+    padding: 0.75em 0.25em 0.5em 0.25em;
+    text-indent: 0;
+}
+
+.tdpg {
+    vertical-align: bottom;
+    text-align: right;
+    white-space: nowrap;
+}
+
+blockquote {
+    margin: 1.5em 10%;
+}
+
+figcaption p {
+    text-align: center;
+    margin-bottom: 1em;
+    font-size: 90%;
+    text-indent: 0;
+}
+
+.figcenter {
+    margin: auto;
+    text-align: center;
+}
+
+.noindent {
+    text-indent: 0;
+}
+
+.pagenum {
+    position: absolute;
+    right: 4%;
+    font-size: smaller;
+    text-align: right;
+    font-style: normal;
+}
+
+.poetry-container {
+    text-align: center;
+}
+
+.poetry {
+    display: inline-block;
+    text-align: left;
+}
+
+.poetry .stanza {
+    margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;
+}
+
+.poetry .verse {
+    padding-left: 3em;
+}
+
+.poetry .indent0 {
+    text-indent: -3em;
+}
+
+.right {
+    text-align: right;
+}
+
+.smaller {
+    font-size: 80%;
+}
+
+.smcap {
+    font-variant: small-caps;
+    font-style: normal;
+}
+
+.titlepage {
+    text-align: center;
+    margin-top: 3em;
+    text-indent: 0;
+}
+
+.x-ebookmaker img {
+    max-width: 100%;
+    width: auto;
+    height: auto;
+}
+
+.x-ebookmaker .poetry {
+    display: block;
+    margin-left: 1.5em;
+}
+
+.x-ebookmaker blockquote {
+    margin: 1.5em 5%;
+}
+
+/* Illustration classes */
+.illowp75 {width: 75%;}
+.x-ebookmaker .illowp75 {width: 100%;}
+.illowp62 {width: 62%;}
+.x-ebookmaker .illowp62 {width: 100%;}
+.illowp50 {width: 50%;}
+.x-ebookmaker .illowp50 {width: 100%;}
+.illowp56 {width: 56%;}
+.x-ebookmaker .illowp56 {width: 100%;}
+.illowp59 {width: 59%;}
+.x-ebookmaker .illowp59 {width: 100%;}
+.illowp48 {width: 48%;}
+.x-ebookmaker .illowp48 {width: 100%;}
+.illowp46 {width: 46%;}
+.x-ebookmaker .illowp46 {width: 100%;}
+    </style>
+  </head>
+
+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79253 ***</div>
+
+<main>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_i">[i]</span></p>
+
+<h1>NAPOLEON</h1>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ii">[ii]</span></p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>Napoleon went forth to seek Virtue, but, since she was
+not to be found, he got Power.—<span class="smcap">Goethe.</span></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">[iii]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true">
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp46" id="cover" style="max-width: 100.0em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Image of the book’s cover">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>NAPOLEON</p>
+    <p><i>By</i><br>
+    EMIL LUDWIG</p>
+    <p><i>Translated by</i><br>
+    EDEN <i>and</i> CEDAR PAUL</p>
+    <p>NEW YORK<br>
+    BONI &amp; LIVERIGHT<br>
+    1926</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">[iv]</span></p>
+
+<p class="titlepage smaller">Copyright, 1926, by<br>
+<span class="smcap">Boni and Liveright, Inc.</span></p>
+
+<p class="titlepage smaller">First Printing, December, 1926<br>
+Second Printing, January, 1927<br>
+Third Printing, January, 1927<br>
+Fourth Printing, March, 1927<br>
+Fifth Printing, May, 1927<br>
+Sixth Printing, July, 1927<br>
+Seventh Printing, September, 1927<br>
+Eighth Printing, November, 1927<br>
+Ninth Printing, December, 1927<br>
+Tenth Printing, December, 1927<br>
+Eleventh Printing, January, 1928<br>
+Twelfth Printing, January, 1928<br>
+Thirteenth Printing, March, 1928</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage smaller">PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. BY<br>
+QUINN &amp; BODEN COMPANY, INC.<br>
+RAHWAY, N. J.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">[v]</span></p>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><i>To</i><br>
+ELGA LUDWIG<br>
+<i>Moscia. Summer 1924</i></p>
+
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">[vi]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[vi]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="TABLE_OF_CONTENTS">TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<nav>
+
+<table>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td class="tdpg smaller">PAGE</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">List of Illustrations</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS">ix</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Chronological Table</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHRONOLOGICAL_TABLE">xi</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td colspan="2" class="tdc">BOOK ONE</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">The Island</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#BOOK_ONE">3</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td colspan="2" class="tdc">BOOK TWO</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">The Torrent</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#BOOK_TWO">55</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td colspan="2" class="tdc">BOOK THREE</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">The River</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#BOOK_THREE">165</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td colspan="2" class="tdc">BOOK FOUR</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">The Sea</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#BOOK_FOUR">357</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td colspan="2" class="tdc">BOOK FIVE</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">The Rock</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#BOOK_FIVE">545</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr class="pad-top">
+    <td><span class="smcap">Envoy</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#ENVOY">679</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Author’s Acknowledgments</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#AUTHORS_ACKNOWLEDGMENTS">683</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Index</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#INDEX">685</a></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+</nav>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">[viii]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[ix]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<table>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td class="tdpg smaller">FACING PAGE</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Buonaparte in 1783. The first known portrait, drawn
+    by his fellow-countryman Pontornini. Musée Nationale,
+    Versailles</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus01">4</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>General Bonaparte in 1797. After a painting by Jean
+    Guérin. Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus02">36</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="sub">(From the “Corpus Imaginum” of the
+    Photographic Society, Charlottenburg.)</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>General Bonaparte in 1796. Engraving from the Kircheisen
+    Collection</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus03">68</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>General Bonaparte. Unfinished portrait by Jacques Louis
+    David. From the collection of the Duke of Bassano</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus04">100</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="sub">(Photograph by Braun, Paris and Dornach.)</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>General Bonaparte in 1797. Drawing by Wocher in
+    Basle. Town Library, Basle</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus05">140</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>General Bonaparte in 1798, during the voyage to
+    Egypt. Sketch by André Dutertre</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus06">156</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Bonaparte as First Consul. Painting by Girodet. Musée
+    Nationale, Versailles</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus07">196</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="sub">(Photograph in the Kircheisen Collection.)</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Bonaparte as First Consul. Pencil sketch by J. D. A.
+    Ingres. Germain Bapst Collection</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus08">228</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="sub">(Photograph in the Kircheisen Collection.)</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Bonaparte in 1802, as First Consul. Engraving by
+    Alexandre Tardieu. After a drawing by Jean Baptiste Isabey</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus09">260</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Bonaparte as First Consul. Painting by J. D. A. Ingres.
+    Musée de Liége</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus10">292</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="sub">(Photograph by Braun, Paris and Dornach.)</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The Coronation. Detail from the picture by Jacques
+    Louis David. Louvre, Paris</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus11">324</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="sub">(Photograph in the Kircheisen Collection.)</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Napoleon as Emperor. Painting by Vigneux. Count
+    Primoli Collection</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus12">356</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="sub">(From the “Corpus Imaginum” of the
+    Photographic Society, Charlottenburg.)</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[x]</span></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Napoleon as Emperor. Bust by Houdon, Musée de Dijon</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus13">388</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="sub">(Photograph by J. E. Bulloz, Paris.)</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The Emperor’s profile. Sketched during Mass in the
+    Tuileries. Germain Bapst Collection</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus14">420</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="sub">(Photograph in the Kircheisen Collection.)</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Napoleon as Emperor in 1809. Woodcut from a medal by
+    J. P. Droz</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus15">452</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Napoleon as Emperor. Engraving by Bourgeois, after a
+    painting by Jacques Louis David</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus16">484</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="sub">(From the “Corpus Imaginum” of the
+    Photographic Society, Charlottenburg.)</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Napoleon as Emperor in 1814. Painting by Horace Vernet.
+    Tate Gallery, London</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus17">516</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="sub">(From the “Corpus Imaginum” of the
+    Photographic Society, Charlottenburg.)</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Napoleon as Emperor in 1815. Engraving by Robert Lefèvre,
+    after a painting by Muneret</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus18">548</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Napoleon as Emperor in 1815. Woodcut, after a medal</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus19">580</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Napoleon at St. Helena. Watercolour painting, probably
+    by a Japanese, with a marginal inscription in Chinese
+    ideographs concerning the owner. Broadley Collection</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus20">612</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Death mask of Napoleon. By Dr. Antommarchi</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus21">644</a></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">[xi]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHRONOLOGICAL_TABLE">CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE</h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<table>
+  <tr>
+    <td colspan="2" class="tdc">BOOK ONE</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1769.</td>
+    <td>August 15th, Napoleon born.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1779.</td>
+    <td>At School in Brienne.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1784.</td>
+    <td>At the military academy.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1785.</td>
+    <td>Sub-lieutenant of artillery.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1789.</td>
+    <td>To Corsica.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1791.</td>
+    <td>April, lieutenant in Valence.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>October, to Corsica.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1792.</td>
+    <td>Putsch in Ajaccio. Banishment.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1793.</td>
+    <td>Captain. Siege of Toulon.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1794.</td>
+    <td>February, brigadier general.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>August, arrested.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1795.</td>
+    <td>June, at the Ministry for War.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>October, suppression of the Paris rising.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>Commander of the Army of the Interior.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1796.</td>
+    <td>March 2nd, Commander of the Army of Italy.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>March 6th, married to Josephine Beauharnais.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td colspan="2" class="tdc">BOOK TWO</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1796-7.</td>
+    <td>Battles of Millesimo, Castiglione, Arcola, Rivoli, Mantua.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1797.</td>
+    <td>At the castle of Montebello.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>Peace of Campo Formio.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1798.</td>
+    <td>In Paris till May.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>May 19th, embarcation for Egypt.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>Battle of the Pyramids.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1799.</td>
+    <td>Jaffa, Acre, Aboukir.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>October 7th, landing in France.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>November 9th, coup d’état of the eighteenth Brumaire.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>December 24th, First Consul.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td colspan="2" class="tdc">BOOK THREE</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1800.</td>
+    <td>June 14th, battle of Marengo.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>December 24th, attempted assassination.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1801.</td>
+    <td>Peace of Lunéville.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>Concordat with Pius VII.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1802.</td>
+    <td>Peace with England.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>Consul for life. Legion of Honour.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xii">[xii]</span></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1804.</td>
+    <td>March 21st, duke of Enghien shot.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>May 18th, assumption of imperial title.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>December 2nd, coronation.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1805.</td>
+    <td>October, Trafalgar.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>November, Vienna taken.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>December 2nd, battle of Austerlitz.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>Peace of Pressburg.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1806.</td>
+    <td>Confederation of the Rhine. Joseph, King of Naples.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>Louis, King of Holland.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>October 14th, battle of Jena.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>Berlin. Continental System.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1807.</td>
+    <td>Battles of Preussisch-Eylau and Friedland.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>June 7th, treaty of Tilsit.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>Jerome, King of Westphalia.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1808.</td>
+    <td>Rome. Madrid. Bayonne. Joseph, King of Spain. Murat,
+    King of Naples.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1809.</td>
+    <td>Excommunication. Battles of Aspern-Essling, Wagram,
+    and Vienna.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1810.</td>
+    <td>January, divorce.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>April, married to Marie Louise.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1811.</td>
+    <td>March 20th, birth of his son.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td colspan="2" class="tdc">BOOK FOUR</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1812.</td>
+    <td>Battles of Smolensk, Borodino, Vittoria, Moscow.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>December, return to Paris.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1813.</td>
+    <td>April, battles of Lützen and Bautzen.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>July, battle of Dresden.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>October 16th to 18th, battle of Leipzig.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1814.</td>
+    <td>Battles of Brienne, La Rothière, Champaubert, Montereau,
+    Bas-sur-Aube, Laon, Arcis-sur-Aube.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>April 6th, abdication in Fontainebleau.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>April 20th, embarcation for Elba.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1815.</td>
+    <td>February 26th, sails from Elba.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>March 13th, outlawed.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>March 20th, Paris.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>June, battles of Ligny and Waterloo.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>June 23rd, second abdication.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>July 13th, letter to the prince regent.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td>July 31st, declared a prisoner.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td colspan="2" class="tdc">BOOK FIVE</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1815.</td>
+    <td>October 17th, arrival in St. Helena.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>1821.</td>
+    <td>May 5th, death.</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_ONE">BOOK ONE<br>
+THE ISLAND</h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span></p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>The story of Napoleon produces on me an impression like
+that produced by the Revelation of Saint John the Divine.
+We all feel there must be something more in it, but we do not
+know what.—<span class="smcap">Goethe.</span></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span></p>
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+<p>A young woman is sitting in a tent. Wrapped in a shawl,
+she is suckling her baby, and listening to a distant rumbling and
+roaring. Are they still shooting, though night has fallen?
+Maybe it is only the sound of one of those autumn thunderstorms
+whose echoes reverberate from the mountains; or perhaps
+it is nothing more than the murmur from the surrounding
+forest of pines and evergreen oaks, where foxes and wild swine
+have their lairs. She looks like a gipsy, sitting there with her
+white breast half covered by the shawl, brooding within the
+murky tent, uncertain what the fate of the day may have been.
+Now she hears the sound of hoof-beats. Is it he? He promised
+to come; but it is a long way from the fighting line, and the
+mists are rising.</p>
+
+<p>The flap of the tent is thrown open, letting in a breath of
+night air. A man enters. An officer in a coloured tunic and
+wearing a plumed head-dress; a slim fellow, nimble of movement;
+a young patrician, in the middle twenties. He greets the
+woman ardently. Springing to her feet, she gives the nursling
+to her maid. Wine is brought. Taking the kerchief from her
+head, she stands before him, showing chestnut ringlets astray
+on a smooth, white brow. An eager question is on her well-shaped
+lips. Add to the picture that she has a long chin, a
+sign of energy; that her aquiline nose is thrown into relief by
+the firelight; and that on her hip there gleams the dagger which
+in this mountain land she never lays aside. We see a lovely
+amazon, daughter of an ancient race, sprung from men of
+action and resolution. The woman’s forebears, like the man’s,
+have for centuries been leaders and warriors; first across the
+water in Italy, and then in this craggy island.</p>
+
+<p>But now, when all have gathered together against the hated
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span>enemy, have joined forces in the attempt to drive out the
+French, here, in the wildest part of the mountains, whither the
+brave girl of nineteen has followed the husband fighting for
+their fatherland; who, now, could recognise in her the brilliant
+patrician, the magnet of all eyes? Here, nothing but pride and
+courage show that she is of noble birth.</p>
+
+<p>The man, full of life and vigour, ever in movement, tells her
+all his news. The enemy has been beaten, driven back towards
+the coast. There is no escape. Envoys have been sent to Paoli.</p>
+
+<p>“There will be a truce to-morrow. Letizia, we are winning!
+Corsica will be free!”</p>
+
+<p>Every Corsican longs for many children. It is a land where
+an affront is instantly avenged by a dagger thrust; where the
+vendetta is sacred; where family feuds last from decade to decade
+and from century to century. The man before us wants
+many children, to ensure that his race shall persist; and the
+woman has learned from mother and grandmother that children
+are tokens of honour. She had become a mother at fifteen; but
+the baby she has just been nursing was her first boy.</p>
+
+<p>The thought of freedom glows afresh, for the officer is adjutant
+to Paoli, the leader of the people.</p>
+
+<p>“No longer shall our children be the slaves of France!”</p>
+
+<h3>II</h3>
+
+<p>With the coming of spring, despondency prevails. The
+enemy has landed reinforcements; the children of the island take
+up arms once more; again the young wife accompanies her husband
+to the war; this time she carries a child beneath her heart,
+the child conceived during the storms of the previous autumn.</p>
+
+<p>“Often, in search of news, I would steal forth from our mountain
+nook to the battle-field; I heard the bullets whistling, but
+I put my trust in Our Lady”—so she would tell the story in
+later years.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp62" id="illus01" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus01.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>Buonaparte in 1783. The first known portrait, drawn by his
+    fellow-countryman Pontornini. Musée Nationale, Versailles.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>In May, the Corsicans were defeated. There was a terrible
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span>retreat through the dense forests and the rugged mountains.
+Among the multitude of men and the few women, rode Letizia,
+big with child, carrying her one-year-old boy in her arms, seated
+on a mule. They reached the coast safely. In June the defeated
+Paoli, accompanied by a few hundred of his faithful
+followers, had to flee to Italy. In July Paoli’s adjutant,
+Letizia’s husband, with other envoys, capitulated to the conqueror.
+The insular pride was humbled. But in August
+his wife brought the avenger into the world.</p>
+
+<p>She named him Napolione.</p>
+
+<p>This woman, who during the campaign had played the heroine
+and had shown a man’s courage, must now, in the great house
+by the seashore, become a prudent and thrifty housewife. Her
+young husband, fanciful by temperament, lived more on plans
+than on income. For years his energies were mainly devoted
+to the great lawsuit concerning his inheritance. As a student
+in Pisa, where among his fellows he was known as Count
+Buonaparte, he had lived well but learned little. After the
+birth of his second son, he cut his studies short. How was he
+to make a living? In troublous times, a man of the world takes
+the world as it is; comes to terms with the conqueror; all the
+more since the French, in order to secure their footing in the
+island, are inclined to show favour to the Corsican nobility.</p>
+
+<p>Soon he becomes assessor in the new law-courts; superintendent
+of a nursery in which the king of France, eager to turn
+the new possessions to account, wishes to grow mulberries;
+and when the distinguished marshal comes to stay, no expense
+must be spared. There are still flocks of sheep in the hills and
+vineyards along the coast; his brother, archdeacon at the
+cathedral, is well-to-do; and his wife’s half brother, another
+priest, a merchant’s son, is skilled in worldly affairs.</p>
+
+<p>By the time his proud and beautiful wife has reached her
+thirties, five boys and three girls have been born to her. This
+is well accordant to the notions of the islanders, for whom
+rivalries and vendettas are supreme virtues. But the rearing
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span>of eight children is a costly matter; so, day by day, the youngsters
+hear their parents talking about money. At length, however,
+the father finds a way out of his difficulties. Accompanied
+by his two eldest sons, now ten and eleven years of age, he sails
+to France, and journeys from Toulon to Versailles.</p>
+
+<p>He brings recommendations from the marshal in Corsica.
+The Buonapartes’ Italian title of nobility is confirmed by the
+Herald’s College in Paris. To the Corsican official who has
+been loyal for a decade, King Louis makes a grant of two
+thousand francs. The two sons and one of the daughters are
+given scholarships in the Nobles’ Schools. One son is to be a
+priest; the other, an officer.</p>
+
+<h3>III</h3>
+
+<p>A taciturn boy, small, shy, and lonely, sits reading in a
+corner of the garden. It is his own plot in the school garden at
+Brienne, and he has made a fence round it. Really, only a
+third of the enclosure is his own, for he has fenced in the plots
+of neighbours on either side. They may come in too; but woe
+to any one else who disturbs his privacy! He rushes furiously
+at the intruder. A little while ago, when the boys had had a
+fireworks’ display, two of his schoolmates, who had been slightly
+burned, had run away to his garden for refuge. He had
+driven them out, flourishing a hoe at them.</p>
+
+<p>No punishment will bring him to reason in this matter. The
+masters shake their heads and let him go his own way.</p>
+
+<p>“The youngster is made of granite,” says one of them, “but
+there is a volcano inside.”</p>
+
+<p>No one may touch this little kingdom of his in the garden,
+though part of it is usurped. He has an ardent feeling for
+his own independence. Writing to his father, he says: “I would
+rather be the first among the workmen in a factory than the last
+among the artists in the Academy.” Did he get the idea out of
+Plutarch? Certainly he has an enthusiasm for that author,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span>the lives of the great men as sketched by Plutarch, especially
+the Roman heroes. Of these, he is always dreaming. No one
+tells us that he ever saw this boy laugh.</p>
+
+<p>To his schoolfellows he seems half a savage, or at best a
+queer foreigner. He knows scarcely a word of French, and has
+little inclination to learn the language of the foe. What a
+tiny little chap he is, and what a ridiculous name! His coat
+is too long. No pocket-money, nothing to spend, and yet he
+claims to be of noble birth! The scions of the French nobility
+laugh. Who cares about Corsican noblemen?</p>
+
+<p>“If you Corsicans are such brave fellows, why did you let
+yourselves be beaten by our unconquerable troops?”</p>
+
+<p>“We were one to ten,” the lad angrily exclaims. “You just
+wait till I’m grown up, and I will pay you Frenchmen out!”</p>
+
+<p>“Your father is nothing more than a sergeant, after all!”</p>
+
+<p>An outburst of wrath from the boy, who challenges his tormentor.
+The young Napoleon is “kept in.” He writes to his
+father: “I am tired of explaining my poverty; of having to endure
+the mockery of these foreign boys, whose only superiority
+is in respect of money, for in nobility of feeling they are far
+beneath me. Must I really humble myself before these purse-proud
+fellows?” The answer from the island is: “We have no
+money. You must stay where you are.”</p>
+
+<p>He stays five years; and, just as his revolutionary feeling is
+intensified by every slight, so does his self-confidence grow proportionally
+with the growth of his contempt for his fellows.
+The masters, indeed, monks one and all, have a good opinion of
+him, although he does not make much headway except in mathematics,
+history, and geography—subjects which appeal to a
+precise mind, a seeing eye, and also to the bitterness of spirit
+characteristic of one who belongs to a conquered race.</p>
+
+<p>For always his thoughts turn back to his native island. In
+secret, he is angry with his father for having come to terms
+with the French. He has made up his own mind. He will get
+all he can out of the king at whose cost he now pursues his
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span>studies, so that in due time he may use the knowledge against
+his patron. He has a presentiment that some day he will set
+Corsica free. As yet all the lad of fourteen can do is to pore
+over books about his homeland, for he who would make history
+must first study history. He devours, too, all that Voltaire,
+Rousseau, and the great king of Prussia shortly before his
+death, have written on behalf of the liberation of Corsica.</p>
+
+<p>Such a boy as this—solitary, suspicious, questing and rebellious,
+brooding rancorously over vast designs—what is he likely
+to become? Precociously thoughtful; endowed with a knowledge
+of men that is beyond his years. When Joseph, his elder
+brother, wishes to abandon the priestly career and to adopt the
+profession of arms, the youngster writes of him: “1. He lacks
+courage to brave the perils of the battle-field.—He will be a
+good garrison officer: well-grown and handsome, quick-witted
+and therefore inclined to pay frivolous compliments, with his
+talents he will always make a good impression in society. But
+in battle? 2. ’Tis too late to make a change. He might have
+got a rich benefice, and what an advantage that would have
+been to the family! 3. What branch of the service will he enter?
+The navy? (a) He knows nothing of mathematics; (b) his
+health could never endure life at sea. He is too light-minded
+for the sustained work that will be needed if he is to be an
+artillery officer.” These are the reflections of a fifteen-year-old
+observer, who sees in himself the qualities that his brother
+lacks; and it is a perfect description of Joseph, who was, indeed,
+his father’s son.</p>
+
+<p>From this same father, Napoleon had inherited versatility
+and a vigorous imagination; from his mother came pride, courage,
+and accuracy; from both was derived his strong family
+feeling.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span></p>
+
+<h3>IV</h3>
+
+<p>“Only the sword-belt belongs to France; the edge is my own,”
+thinks the youth, as he first buckles on his sword. At sixteen
+he has become a sub-lieutenant—and he will don uniform a good
+many more times before he dies. He has qualified for this rank
+by a year in the Paris Cadets’ School, where he spent his time
+as he had spent it at Brienne, poring over books. A lad of
+Spartan tastes, he finds the prodigal expenditure of the sprigs
+of the French nobility (by whom he is utterly outshone) extremely
+distasteful. Since, however, nature sets him, even more
+than most young men, in the centre of his own world, he makes
+a virtue of necessity, and pens a memorial to the effect that
+luxurious living is unsuitable for budding soldiers. He must
+not get into debt, for he knows how poor they are at home.
+Now, when his father dies, the family affection of this Italian
+becomes intensified. Though little more than a boy, he begins
+to save money in order to help his mother.</p>
+
+<p>After his examination, passed with fair credit, his superiors
+wrote of him: “Reserved and diligent, he prefers study to any
+kind of conversation, and nourishes his mind upon good
+authors.... He is taciturn, with a love for solitude; is moody,
+overbearing, and extremely egotistical. Though he speaks little,
+his answers are decisive and to the point, and he excels in argument.
+Much self-love, and overweening ambition.”</p>
+
+<p>Clad in his new uniform, the little sub-lieutenant goes to
+join his regiment at Valence, compelled by his poverty to walk
+a great part of the way. Three impulses stir his youthful
+heart: to despise and make use of his fellow-creatures, most
+of whom are empty-headed and pretentious; to extricate himself
+from the clutches of poverty; to learn much in order that
+he may rule others. The means and the goal are one. He is to
+be a leader in the struggle on the island, and then to make
+himself master of Corsica.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span></p>
+
+<p>How dull life is in this garrison town! Of course, a young
+man should learn to dance, should taste the pleasures of lively
+society. He tries this, but soon abandons the attempt, for his
+teeming pride makes him want to hide his poverty. However,
+any one who holds converse with members of the burgher class,
+lawyers and shopkeepers, hears strange talk, gets wind of
+things that the young viscounts in Paris never dream of. Is
+it really true? Has the spirit of Voltaire’s and Montesquieu’s,
+and Raynal’s writings actually climbed down so soon, to stalk
+among the provincial petty bourgeois? Is the movement which
+these prophets were conjuring up now seriously afoot? Can
+it be that the revolution is at hand?</p>
+
+<p>Books clamour it abroad. Reading is free as breathing; and
+when a man has read all the books in the lending library, he
+can spare a franc or two now and again to buy a new book.
+True, the youth lodges in a café, and the clicking of the billiard
+balls in the next room is tiresome. But it would be still more
+tiresome to move. In personal habits, he is conservative.</p>
+
+<p>What about his sentiments? Judge for yourselves. Like
+every young man of his generation, he is keenly interested in the
+State and society. There he sits in the room next the billiard-room;
+pale, lonely, in a hot and stuffy atmosphere. While his
+comrades, after their short hours of duty, scatter to seek distraction
+in gaming or the pursuit of women, the impoverished
+lieutenant bends over his books, reading with sure instinct about
+the things (and those only) that will be of use to him in days to
+come: artillery, its principles and its history; the art of siege;
+Plato’s <i>Republic</i>; the constitution of the Persian, the Athenian,
+the Spartan State; the history of England; the campaigns of
+Frederick the Great; French finances; the Tartars and the
+Turks, their manners and customs, and the topography of their
+countries; the history of Egypt and the history of Carthage;
+descriptions of India; English accounts of contemporary
+France: Mirabeau, Buffon, and Machiavelli; the history and
+the constitution of Switzerland; the history and constitution of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span>China, India, the Inca State; the history of the nobility and
+the story of patrician misdeeds; astronomy, geology, and
+meteorology; the laws of the growth of population; statistics
+of mortality.</p>
+
+<p>He did not simply flutter the pages of his books, but was an
+attentive reader. There is extant a whole series of copy-books
+containing Napoleon’s notes, penned in an almost illegible handwriting.
+The contents of these, reprinted, occupies four hundred
+pages. Here we find a map of the Saxon heptarchy with
+a list of the kings for three centuries; item, the varieties of
+foot-race in ancient Crete; item, lists of the Hellenic fortresses
+in Asia Minor; item, the dates of twenty-seven caliphs, with a
+note of the strength of their cavalry, and an account of the
+misconduct of their wives.</p>
+
+<p>Especially frequent are memoranda concerning Egypt and
+India, including even the measurements of the Great Pyramid
+and a catalogue of Brahminical sects. He copies a passage
+from Raynal: “In view of the position of Egypt, lying betwixt
+two seas, and in fact betwixt the East and the West, Alexander
+the Great conceived the design of establishing the capital of
+his worldwide empire in that country, and of making Egypt
+the centre of world commerce. This most enlightened of the
+conquerors had realised that if there was any practicable way
+of amalgamating his conquests into one consolidated State, it
+was by this use of Egypt, created as a point of union between
+Africa, Asia, and Europe.” Thirty years later, he still had
+the words by heart. He had read them so often.</p>
+
+<p>At this date, too, he begins original composition, drafting
+more than a dozen essays and projects: the placing of artillery;
+suicide; monarchical authority; the inequality of men; and
+Corsica, above all, Corsica—each were the topics. Rousseau,
+the most popular author of those days, is pulverised by Napoleon’s
+realism. The young officer is epitomising Rousseau’s
+views on the origin of the human race (in the <i>Discours sur
+l’origine et les fondements de l’inégalité parmi les hommes</i>),
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span>but abruptly he breaks off the epitome with the comment: “I
+don’t believe a word of this.” Then come a couple of pages filled
+with his own counterstatement. Human beings were not, to begin
+with, solitary; nor were they nomadic. They were happy,
+and lived apart, because they were not numerous enough to be
+forced into close contact. When the population grew more
+thick upon the ground, “then imagination came forth from
+the cave in which for so long it had been prisoned: self-confidence,
+passion, and pride reared their heads; there arose ambitious
+men with pale features, who took control of affairs, and
+mastered the multicoloured young popinjays, the Lotharios
+and lady-killers.”</p>
+
+<p>Do not we already hear him rattling his chains, in the dark
+cavern where he himself is prisoned with his titanic imagination?
+Do not we see the fancy portrait of the young author, pale of
+visage, full of hatred for the brilliant lady-killers who are his
+messmates?</p>
+
+<p>Away from these fellows, who are Frenchmen! His gaze is
+still fixed upon his native isle, and it is to the advantage of
+Corsica that he twists the new sociological outlooks. We read
+in one of the essays: “How absurd to declare that divine laws
+forbid us to shake off a usurper’s yoke! Were that so, then
+every regicide who has clambered into the vacant throne would
+be under God’s protection, whereas in case of failure he would
+have lost his head. With how much better right, then, can a
+people drive out a usurping prince! Does not this speak for
+Corsicans?... Thus we can shake off the yoke of France,
+just as we shook off the yoke of Genoa. Amen.”</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the fledgling genius wished to try its wings, and
+this urge led Napoleon to draft a novel on Corsica, and also
+some short stories. All were animated by hatred of France,
+but none of them were ever finished. Still he was learning his
+trade, spurred on by poverty, passion, and sentiment. Imagination
+rules the world, but cannons are the instrument whereby
+imagination realises its purposes. “I have no refuge but my
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span>work. I only change my linen once a week. Since I was ill,
+I have slept very little.... I eat only once a day.”</p>
+
+<p>He studies ordnance and munitions of war, always thinking in
+figures, so that every one says that he is a born mathematician.
+Now, side by side with the drafts of works of imagination, he
+draws up specifications of all the localities in the island where
+he would place batteries, dig trenches, station troops—if he
+had but the power! Beneath the network of poetical thoughts
+with which he has covered the island, he spreads over his maps
+a second network, wherein crosses denote big guns. Maps,
+maps! In his room beside the noisy café, he restudies everything
+conceivable, copies whole speeches out of the report of
+the parliamentary proceedings at Westminster, and sketches
+the remotest parts of the earth. At the end of the last of his
+copy-books, the final entry runs: “St. Helena, a small island in
+the Atlantic Ocean. English colony.”</p>
+
+<p>At this juncture he received a letter from his mother. Her
+powerful patron, the marshal, was dead; the house had lost its
+main prop; the mulberry orchard was no longer to be a means
+of livelihood; Joseph had no paid occupation; could the second
+son give any help? Shortly after this appeal reached him, he
+went home on furlough. Are we to consider him an unacknowledged
+conqueror, returning to the island of his plans and
+dreams? Read what he wrote in his diary:</p>
+
+<p>“Always alone, though in the midst of men, I go back home
+that I may give myself up to my lonely dreams and to the waves
+of my melancholy. Whither, now, do my gloomy thoughts
+tend? Towards death. Yet I stand on the threshold of life,
+and may reasonably expect to draw breath for many, many
+years. For the last six or seven years I have been far away
+from my country. How great the joy—to see my own people
+once more!—What demon, then, is it that tempts me to self-destruction?—Since
+misfortune dogs my footsteps, and nothing
+gives me pleasure, why should I go on bearing a life in which,
+for me, everything goes awry?—What a tragedy in the homeland?
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span>My fellow-countrymen, in chains, kiss the hand that
+beats them.—Proud, buoyed up by a sense of his own worth, so
+lived of yore the happy Corsican, giving his days to the service
+of the State, and spending his nights in the arms of his beloved
+wife—the nights which nature and affection made divine for
+him. With the disappearance of freedom, those happy times
+have vanished like a dream. Frenchmen, not only have you
+stolen from us our greatest good, but now you are corrupting
+our morals! That is how I see my country, and yet I am
+powerless to help. Are there not reasons enough for quitting
+a world in which I must glorify those whom I hate?—If it were
+but the life of one individual which stood between us and our
+liberties, I should not be slow to act.—Life has become a burden
+to me, I have no enjoyment, nothing but pain,—and because I
+cannot live after my own fashion, everything is loathsome to
+me.”</p>
+
+<h3>V</h3>
+
+<p>After a year spent in Corsica, a year rendered gloomy by
+money troubles and family cares, he was still in this mood of
+despair when his furlough expired. He returned not to Valence,
+but to Auxonne. What did the change matter?</p>
+
+<p>But, at last, recognition comes. His new general, who sees
+that this subaltern of nineteen is well informed, puts into his
+hands the task of carrying out some works upon the parade
+ground. “Difficult calculations are involved; and so, for the
+last ten days, I have been busied from morning till night
+at the head of two hundred men. This unusual preferment has
+given some of my superiors a spite against me. They are furious
+that so important a job should have been taken out of their
+hands and given to a lieutenant.”</p>
+
+<p>The old depression recurs. Promotion will be desperately
+slow, and when he becomes a captain he will be retired on half-pay.
+He will return home, to be despised because he is a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span>pensioner of the French. At long last, he will be buried in his
+native soil. Of that privilege, at least, the French cannot rob
+him! Were they, then, nothing but froth, the dreams of liberty
+revealed in the books he had read? If mighty France herself
+was unable to shake off the yoke of the nobility, to rid herself
+of venality and nepotism, how was poor little Corsica to shake
+off the French tyranny?</p>
+
+<p>The young author fills his diary with new schemes. He would
+have had to pay heavily for it if the book had fallen into the
+hands of his superiors. “Draft for a memorial concerning
+monarchical authority. Set forth details as to the usurped
+power which kings enjoy to-day in the twelve monarchies of
+Europe. There are few of them who have not merited dethronement.”
+Thus does he vent his spleen in the faithful diary;
+whilst in public on every royal birthday, dressed in gala uniform,
+he must join in the cry: Long live the king!</p>
+
+<p>Another year of his youth is spent in the dull routine of
+such service, while Napoleon holds his peace and waits, dividing
+his energies between imaginative writing and mathematics.</p>
+
+<p>The year of destiny has opened. Into the most out-of-the-way
+regions of the slumbering province comes the presage of
+the trumpets that are about to sound. We are in the month of
+June 1789. The melancholy lieutenant feels that the day of
+vengeance draws near. Is the arrogance of those who have
+so long humiliated him, to bring destruction upon their own
+heads? May it not be that the call of the myriads is also the
+battle-cry of the island? He takes his <i>Letters on Corsica</i>;
+sends them to his admired exemplar Paoli, in exile; and writes:</p>
+
+<p>“General! I came into the world when my country was
+perishing. My cradle was surrounded by men with the death-rattle
+in their throats, and by those whom despair had driven to
+tears.... With them, hope vanished. Slavery was the reward
+of our subjugation. To justify themselves, the traitors
+have heaped calumnies upon you.... When I read this, my
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span>blood boiled, and I resolved to scatter the mists. Now I shall
+blacken with the brush of shame all who have betrayed the common
+cause.... If I lived in the capital, I should find other
+means.... Owing to my youth, this undertaking may be
+fruitless; but I shall be helped by my passion for truth, my
+love for my country, and my enthusiasm. If you, General, will
+encourage in this work a young man whose coming into the
+world you saw, I shall gain confidence.... My mother,
+Madame Letizia, has charged me to remind you of the old days
+in Corte.”</p>
+
+<p>We notice a new tone, a symphony of new tones: the soaring
+emotion of the epoch; the gesture of the tyrannicide; the whole
+equipment of scintillating words, not an uprush of feeling (as
+in the pages of his diary), but deliberately chosen with an eye
+to their effect. Only one thing is alarmingly original, quite
+peculiar to the writer: the decisive “I” at the opening of the
+letter, this “I” as a great thesis, fronting the world. Immeasurable
+self-confidence is breaking a trail; for now the drum-taps
+of a new era are sounding; an era which will give the palm,
+not to birth but to action, thus sweeping away the only hindrance
+that has hitherto been insuperable. An unprecedented
+claim is voiced, a claim which henceforward will never cease to be
+heard. But at the close of the letter, with a courteous turn of
+phrase, he slips back into the familiar, implying that he looks
+to Paoli for protection. What adroitness, what good manners,
+we find in all the letters of this adolescent, who in person is
+still rough and enigmatical!</p>
+
+<p>Paoli, the survival from an earlier day, is annoyed by such
+arrogance, and answers with civil irony that young people
+should not try to write history.</p>
+
+<p>Four weeks after the sending of the letter, young people
+begin to write history, for the first time in the eighteenth century.
+They storm the Bastille; the great signal has been given;
+and France leaps to arms. Even in the garrison town of our
+young lieutenant, the masses riot and loot, until the propertied
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span>classes join forces with the troops. Buonaparte is at his post
+with his battery in the streets, and helps to shoot down the
+people. This is the first time he has fired a gun in real earnest.
+He acts under orders from the king’s officers; but there can be
+no doubt that he acts whole-heartedly against the mob, which
+he despises no less than he despises the nobility.</p>
+
+<p>In the depths of his soul, he regards this as nothing more
+than a dispute among foreigners. What does he care about
+Frenchmen who raise their hands against other Frenchmen?
+His brain is fired by a single thought: “Corsica’s hour has
+come!” Madness or enthusiasm, an ideal or merely a catch-word?
+What matter? Let us carry the message to our
+island. Apply for leave; and, in the turmoil of the new movement,
+be the first to reach home!</p>
+
+<h3>VI</h3>
+
+<p>Lieutenant Buonaparte landed on his island like a prophet
+carrying a new doctrine to a foreign coast. He was the first
+to bring the red cockade; to promise liberty, equality, and
+fraternity. Was not this a race of free mountaineers, who of
+old had been self-governing, but for twenty years had groaned
+under the heel of the oppressor—a conqueror who ruled through
+the instrumentality of the nobles and the Church, but did not
+understand the people?</p>
+
+<p>What did it matter to the young Jacobin that until yesterday
+he had lived upon his patrician birth, that solely because
+of his rank he had been educated at the king’s cost? What was
+the king to him? At length the peoples were to be free to rule
+themselves. If the new France, just awakened, had proclaimed
+the right of self-government, Corsica, which the old France
+had loaded with chains, must proclaim its own freedom. Citizens,
+the hour has struck! To arms! Let every one wear
+the red cockade of the new era; let us form a National Guard,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span>as they have done in Paris! Let us wrest the means of power
+from the king’s troops. I am an artillerist, and I will be your
+leader!</p>
+
+<p>Twenty years of age, pale of countenance, with cold, blue-grey
+eyes, but with a mouth full of glowing phrases, such is
+the aspect of young Buonaparte as he hastens through the
+streets of Ajaccio. Every one in the little town knows him, and
+he is followed by a growing number of persons, some eager for
+liberty, and others in search of a change of any kind. To the
+crowd in the square, he seems a man bringing passionate hopes;
+his figure is that of a tribune of the people. In this half-oriental
+atmosphere, and among these quarrelsome families (so
+he says later), “a man soon learns to study the human heart.”</p>
+
+<p>But there is a set-back. No reinforcements come from the
+mountains; and, when the regular troops put in an appearance,
+they scatter the revolutionists. Within a few hours, all
+have been disarmed, though, for prudence, no arrests are made.
+This is a further source of disillusionment. He is not even a
+martyr, but only a would-be popular leader who has been defeated;
+his position borders on the ludicrous. Yet the fever is
+still burning in his veins, and at all costs he must do something
+to cool himself. A statement of grievances to the National
+Assembly in Paris! First of all, in the florid style of the day,
+an ode to the new freedom, and then a spate of complaints and
+adjurations. To the gallows with the king’s servants! Arm
+the citizens of the island!—A committee promptly joins him
+in signing the document.</p>
+
+<p>Weeks of waiting. What answer will come from Paris?
+Here is the courier at last. The island is to be a French province,
+having the same rights as the other provinces; in accordance
+with Mirabeau’s proposal, Paoli and all the champions
+of liberty are free to return home. The lieutenant is
+taken aback. A province? In spite of the new ideas, and indeed
+because of them, the Corsicans are to remain Frenchmen?
+A strange form of liberty! But there, already, is the procession,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span>headed by the authorities, on its way to the cathedral,
+where the decree from Paris is to receive a blessing. Buonaparte
+is prompt to seize the rope which all are seizing. He
+pens fiery manifestoes to his fellow-citizens, seeks supporters in
+the new political club, and engineers his elder brother’s election
+to the town council. Meanwhile he continues to work at his
+history of Corsica, and reads to his mother choice passages of
+what he is writing.</p>
+
+<p>“Can this be the great Paoli?” That is the question Buonaparte
+asks himself, when, after twenty years’ exile, the hero of
+his youthful enthusiasms returns amid popular acclamations.
+“His talk and his appearance are so humdrum, so politic, so
+unsoldierly.” But it was expedient to keep on good terms with
+Paoli, for he was to be the commander of the National Guard.
+In the mountains, the young artillery officer was for some time
+closely associated with the man who had been his father’s chief
+just before his own coming into the world.</p>
+
+<p>When they were sitting together or riding together—the
+tried veteran and the darkly aspiring young Corsican,—the
+latter would eagerly expound to the former his plans for an
+armed rising, and even for the forcible severance of the island
+from the new France. On these occasions, Paoli would look at
+Buonaparte with mingled pride and alarm. He could not but
+feel that the author of the <i>Letters on Corsica</i> really had a claim
+upon him. But the young fellow had the devil in his body;
+and (which was worse) in his brain, for in the man’s brain was
+the image of the world throne in solitary splendour. Shaking
+his head, Paoli would exclaim:</p>
+
+<p>“There is nothing modern about you, Napolione. You come
+from the age of Plutarch!”</p>
+
+<p>For the first time in his life young Napoleon felt that he
+was understood. The Roman heroes of Plutarch were alone
+adequate to his aspirations. Paoli was the first to recognise
+the Roman in Buonaparte.</p>
+
+<p>At length he has a phrase upon which his self-esteem
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span>can luxuriate. Now, from his country retreat, when at Paoli’s
+instigation he writes a manifesto, the superscription penned by
+his fevered imagination runs as follows: “23rd day of January
+in the 2nd year, from my study at Midilli.” Ridiculous or
+sublime? However this may be, as soon as he has issued the
+dictatorial pronunciamento the young man has to hasten back
+to his military duties in France, for his furlough, though renewed
+again and again, has finally expired. Is he to sacrifice
+this last firm standing-ground? To what end? Why should
+he stay in the island any longer? The first place is occupied!</p>
+
+<h3>VII</h3>
+
+<p>“I am in a peasant’s hut writing to you, after a long talk
+with the good folk.... It is four in the afternoon; the
+weather is fresh but mild; I thoroughly enjoyed walking. No
+snow yet, but there is snow in the air—Everywhere I have found
+the peasants staunch; ... they are all ready to die for the
+constitution—The women are royalists almost without exception.
+No wonder for that, seeing that Liberty is fairer than
+they, and eclipses them. In Dauphiné, the priests have taken
+the oath of fealty to the constitution; they laugh at the bishops.—‘Good
+society,’ as it is called (three out of four are aristocrats),
+affects admiration for the British constitution. It is
+true that Peretti threatened Mirabeau with a dagger. This is
+little to our credit. The Patriotic Society must make Mirabeau
+a present of our national costume: biretta, vest, knee-breeches
+and hose, cartridge pouch, stiletto, pistol, and musket. It will
+certainly have a good effect.”</p>
+
+<p>Everything in this letter to Napoleon’s maternal uncle, the
+abbé Joseph Fesch, bears witness to observation and calculation,
+the elements upon which the politician’s influence is based: the
+weather, the State, travelling on foot, the conciliation of a man
+in high position, men’s motives—all have been the objects of
+careful consideration. Vanity and avarice, these are the weaknesses
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span>to which an appeal can be successfully directed. We see
+deep into his soul when, in a bluntly-worded letter dating from
+those weeks, he arraigns an opponent thus: “Your study of
+human nature has taught you the price of every man’s enthusiasm;
+for you, the difference between people’s characters was
+summed up in a few gold pieces more or less!”</p>
+
+<p>Gold pieces! Where were they to be had? Louis, the
+brother of thirteen, had come back to France with him. When
+Lieutenant Buonaparte (he had the full rank now) and his
+brother got back to Valence, they had no more between them
+than eighty-five francs, to provide for food, clothing, and the
+boy’s education. They had to brush their own clothes.</p>
+
+<p>Money! Not for enjoyment (he despises trivial pleasures),
+but to help him make his way in the world! Lyons Academy
+has offered a prize for an essay. Twelve hundred francs; one
+could for that sum equip half Corsica with weapons. “What
+truths and sentiments is it most important to inculcate upon
+men for their happiness?” The lieutenant smiles. The subject
+suits him very well. First of all, so to say, he leaves his
+card on the academicians who have chosen the theme. They
+are disciples of Rousseau. Our essayist opens by extolling the
+joys of nature, friendship, ardent idleness—three things which
+he neither knew nor prized. Suddenly the argument takes a
+political turn, against kings, and on behalf of the universalisation
+of the free enjoyment of possessions and rights. Then
+comes a sinister tone, as if the writer were contemplating in a
+mirror his own image as the pallid student of a few years before:
+“The ambitious man, pale of countenance, laughing sardonically,
+plays with crime, and intrigue is his chosen instrument....
+If, at length, he gets his hand on the rudder of
+power, he soon wearies of the adulation of the crowd....
+Men of great ambition have sought happiness, and have found
+fame.”</p>
+
+<p>Sublime forebodings, worthy of any of the characters in
+Plutarch. Soon the author expresses himself more plainly.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span>His ideal is Sparta; courage and strength are the outstanding
+virtues. A Spartan moved through life as a man moves in
+the plenitude of his powers. “He was happy because he lived
+in accordance with his nature. Only the strong man is good;
+the weakling is evil.” Another presage glows in the following
+utterance: “Men who are truly great are like meteors: they
+shine and consume themselves, that they may lighten the darkness
+of the earth.”</p>
+
+<p>This was too much for the Lyons Academy, which declared
+the essay “unworthy of commendation.” A fresh disappointment!
+The effort had brought neither money nor renown.
+With indefatigable assiduity, none the less, he resumes work
+on his Corsican novel, and pens a dialogue on love.</p>
+
+<p>What? Does this word, too, shed its lustre into the youth’s
+sombre mind? Are we to have an outpouring in the Rousseauist
+vein? Hearken to the words of our lieutenant, now twenty-two
+years of age: “I, too, was in love once, and learned enough
+of it to despise definitions, which only confuse the issue. I
+deny its justification; nay, more, I regard it as injurious to
+society and destructive to the happiness of the individual. Men
+could bless heaven if they were quit of it.”</p>
+
+<p>Fanfares interrupt these political and social musings, fanfares
+from Paris! Louis XVI, attempting to escape, had been
+caught at Varennes and brought back. The people had triumphed,
+and the revolutionary movement was intensified. On
+the second anniversary of the taking of the Bastille, the Red
+lieutenant proposed a toast to the patriots. From the island
+came to him sounds of confusion, the heart-beats of anarchy—for
+during these wild years the ripples of turbulence spread
+from Paris in widening circles, to reach distant shores. In
+Corsica, too, civil war is imminent. Back there, for a second
+venture!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span></p>
+
+<h3>VIII</h3>
+
+<p>Now the lieutenant has to play the part of Coriolanus.
+Catch voices, catch men; for, since the people have come into
+power, it is necessary to cultivate popularity. Archdeacon
+Lucien Buonaparte has chosen this convenient hour for dying,
+and the family is in easier circumstances. Mother’s brother
+Fesch, another cleric, has been prevailed upon to join the
+Jacobin Club. Joseph can influence opinion in the town council.
+Is there any other man in the island competent to direct
+a battery? Of course the leader of the National Guard would
+have the real power in his hands. But suppose one should fail
+to secure election?</p>
+
+<p>This time his furlough lasts only till the new year. Better
+be careful! He writes to his commanding officer: “Urgent circumstances
+have forced me to outstay my leave. But I have
+nothing to reproach myself with: more sacred duties, tenderer
+obligations, are my excuse.” He hopes that he will not be
+cashiered. No answer! Well, he must take the risk.</p>
+
+<p>Now comes the election of the commandant of the National
+Guard. Kinsmen everywhere, but that does not suffice. His
+mother keeps open house for party friends; often sympathisers
+from the hills have to be put up for the night; this is the way
+to catch votes. “At that time,” writes a comrade, “he would
+for a season be taciturn and reflective; then he would be
+genial once more, pleasant to all comers, conversationally inclined,
+prepared to visit any one who might be of use, and doing
+his utmost to win adherents.” When the commissaries come,
+he has one of them forcibly detained in his house; and he arranges
+that the supporters of a rival shall have a thrashing.
+This is a Corsican election! But when the palpitating day
+draws to a close, Napoleon has gained his end. He is second
+in command, with the rank of lieutenant colonel.</p>
+
+<p>Shall he seize the opportunity, this Italian, of sending in
+his papers in France? Shall he leave the French service? Better
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span>be careful, still! From the memoirs of great commanders
+he has learned that it is always wise to leave a line of retreat
+open. “In this difficult posture of affairs,” he writes to Valence,
+“a good Corsican’s post of honour is in his native country. That
+is why my own folk keep me from returning to France. Since,
+however, I am not one to compromise where duty is concerned,
+I had it in mind to resign my commission.” But, far from sending
+in his papers, he asks for arrears of pay, and actually
+speaks of France as “your nation.” In answer, he is cashiered
+by the French military authorities.</p>
+
+<p>Thus he has become a soldier of fortune more speedily than
+he had wished. He is without firm standing-ground; his only
+rights are the revolutionary rights of a National Guardsman,
+the member of a force which may go to pieces directly a reverse
+is sustained. Hic Rhodus! He must take advantage of the
+latent civil war between the townsfolk of Ajaccio and the
+Guard; must fan the flames, so that, amid the general confusion,
+he may assume the role of saviour! Is not the citadel,
+now occupied by the king’s regular forces, a standing menace?
+Did not Frederick and Cæsar always begin by storming
+citadels? Seize the commander of the regulars, drive out this
+well-born booby, and thus, at one stroke, free the island!
+France, now involved in wars, will be unable to reconquer
+Corsica. The liberator will become a popular hero, and old
+Paoli will be no more than a legend.</p>
+
+<p>On Easter Sunday, 1792, an open struggle occurred. Was
+the National Guard provocative; were the townsfolk playing
+double? Who began the affray? An everlasting problem!
+This much is certain, that Buonaparte, at the head of his battalion,
+tried to seize the fortress. But the garrison was not
+to be intimidated. Guns were trained on his men, and he had
+to withdraw. A complaint against the young officer was lodged
+in Paris; he was accused of armed rebellion, and a trial for high
+treason was impending. His exculpatory phrases deceived no
+one. Paoli, who had from the outset been somewhat alarmed at
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span>the zeal of his turbulent fellow-islander, hastened to proclaim
+his own loyalty to France, and to cashier the son of his old
+friend.</p>
+
+<p>“If you turn against me, Paoli, I will turn against you,”
+thought Buonaparte. “You had better be careful what you are
+about! To Paris, post-haste. Not for nothing is there a revolution
+there!”</p>
+
+<p>Through the streets of the French capital, these hot summer
+days, strolls our adventurer, for whom everything has gone
+awry. He has neither money nor position. In France, he is a
+lieutenant, but regarded more or less as a deserter; in Corsica,
+he is a cashiered lieutenant colonel. The gravest charges are
+likely to be brought against him, and to-morrow he may be
+actually starving. The Jacobins are his last hope, and he joins
+Robespierre’s faction, for nothing can save him but the fall
+of the dynasty. To him, the complete break up of the old order
+has become essential.</p>
+
+<p>Life in Paris is costly. He pawns his watch, and, in spite
+of this, gets into debt—a thing he has hitherto been sedulous to
+avoid. Fifteen francs due to a wine-dealer! He proposes to
+his friend Bourrienne that the pair shall become house-agents.
+Does he envy those who sit in high places? No, he merely
+despises them. “Any one who sees at short range all that is
+going on, must admit that the peoples are hardly worth wooing
+for their favours. Here, human beings are perhaps even more
+base and calumniatory.—Enthusiasm is merely enthusiasm,
+and the French nation is outworn. No one seeks anything but
+his own advantage, and every one tries to push his way into the
+first rank.—Ambition undermines everything. To lead a quiet
+life, for oneself and one’s family, that is the only lot worth
+having, with a fixed income of four or five thousand francs—if
+imagination would but cease to torment one, would quiet down!”</p>
+
+<p>Woe to him who is thus plagued by a lively imagination!
+What colossal possibilities may be cooling in this Parisian cauldron,
+may arise out of the chaos of this titanic time! Being an
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span>Italian, a foreigner, he can contemplate with equanimity the
+destinies of these Frenchmen, and, as a cold-blooded adventurer,
+can seek to turn their fortunes to his own account. The
+Jacobins are already coming to the front.</p>
+
+<p>When the sansculottes storm the Tuileries, Buonaparte is
+among the onlookers. What are the thoughts of the man under
+the harrow? “Thank God, we are free once more.” But
+what does the army officer say? “I saw soldiers threatened by
+civilians, and was terribly shocked.—Had the king shown himself
+on horseback, he would have gained the victory; such was
+the mood that morning.” A few days earlier, when the king
+had been masquerading in the red cap of liberty, Napoleon had
+written: “What a fool! Why didn’t he use grape-shot? If a
+few hundred of the mob had been shot down, the others would
+have run away!”</p>
+
+<p>Still, his main feeling was one of liberation. His opponents
+had been overthrown. The day after the storming of the Tuileries,
+he wrote to his uncle: “You needn’t worry about your
+nephews. They will know how to look after themselves.” The
+new government does the handsome thing by Napoleon. Not
+merely is the deserter taken back into the service, but he is
+promptly raised to the rank of captain. He has, however, no
+inclination to hasten to his regiment. What does it matter to
+him that the king of Prussia is on the Moselle? What does he
+care about the wars of France? “I am a Corsican! Back to
+the island!”</p>
+
+<h3>IX</h3>
+
+<p>Is it possible? Has not the fresh wind from the sea, has not
+even the pure breeze from the mountains, been able to dispel
+that partisan spirit into which, everywhere, the struggle of
+ideas tends to degenerate? Calumny, corruption, anarchy:
+these are the forms which the strife has assumed in the island.
+Saliceti, the Corsican delegate to the Convention in Paris, is
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span>Paoli’s mortal enemy, and is therefore friendly to the Buonapartes
+now that they have turned against Paoli. The Jacobin
+Club in Ajaccio is divided, but revolutionary feeling is in the
+ascendant; and Paoli, the only honest man in the island, is
+stigmatised as a traitor because he is a moderate.</p>
+
+<p>Who holds the reins of power? Every one and no one.
+Mutual suspicion is ripe, for in Paris the guillotine has been
+set up, the king has passed by that red road, and no one knows
+who will be the ruler there to-morrow. In Corsica, all go armed,
+and not the mountaineers alone; but orders from the coastland
+break unavailingly against the crags of the interior. Every
+one, here, is his own king; every one, his own avenger. Can
+there be a better field for this adventurer, who has nothing more
+to lose? He makes a third attempt to become master of the
+island.</p>
+
+<p>Brother Joseph, Brother Lucien, and Uncle Fesch, all have
+adherents, but Napoleon is the first to gather the scattered
+forces. He has the confidence of the deputy, who needs a skilled
+artillerist to help him in the next faction fight. For the same
+reason, the Club is inclined to court his favour. Might it not be
+a good move to accuse Paoli of treason against France? We
+know that he has been influenced by his twenty years’ enjoyment
+of British hospitality, and is it not in his mind to sell us to
+England? If Lucien were to go to Marseilles, and whisper the
+suspicion in the commissary’s ears, Saliceti would soon be shouting
+it in the Convention. A little island like Corsica is a hot-bed
+of intrigue. Since public life is controlled by two or three
+families, family life becomes merged in public life.</p>
+
+<p>Ere long the Convention sends representatives to Corsica.
+Officers are appointed and dismissed without Paoli’s leave or
+advice. Buonaparte, now a captain in the French service, regains
+in the island his position as commander. Before this,
+his abilities and the affection of his soldiers have enabled him
+to usurp the command once more, and the official appointment
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span>is no more than an endorsement of an accomplished fact. His
+chances are improving.</p>
+
+<p>Then comes a terrible order from Paris. Paoli is to be arrested.
+But his opponents have overreached themselves. The
+hearts of the islanders warm towards the veteran hero. All
+rally to his support, and he defies the order.</p>
+
+<p>Young Buonaparte is at a loss. Always he has had his ear
+at the heart of the people, not in the spirit of a lover, but in
+the investigatory mood of a physician. He tries to gain time,
+seeks a middle course, publicly proclaims himself on the side of
+the maligned Paoli; but also explains that he is a supporter
+of the sagacious Convention. Yet the Convention mistrusts
+this supporter, and now issues a warrant for his arrest also.
+Paoli likewise suspects him of wanting to have a foot in both
+camps. In a Paolist manifesto we read: “Since the brothers
+Buonaparte have supported the slander, and have sided with
+the commission, it would be beneath the dignity of the Corsican
+nation to have anything more to do with them. Enough to
+abandon them to remorse and public execration.”</p>
+
+<p>The enemies of the family raided the Buonaparte mansion,
+looted the place, and would have made short work of the
+inmates had not these already taken refuge with the commission.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps Buonaparte had wanted events to take this course.
+He had given the authorities in Paris plain proof that he was a
+staunch revolutionist. Certainly, they were now ready to show
+their trust in him. He, who a year before had led the Corsican
+volunteers against the French governmental artillery, was now
+made commander of this same artillery against the Corsican
+volunteers. Big guns! True, the others occupy the best positions,
+but at length he has power, ample power, with orders to
+protect the coast. Now then, Paoli, for our last duel!</p>
+
+<p>But the old man, enjoying the full tide of popular favour,
+has also the best of it as a soldier. He holds the citadel.
+When Napoleon, acting this time as a Frenchman, makes his
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span>second attempt to storm that stronghold, he succeeds no better
+than before. A last endeavour is made to take the fortress from
+the islands. It is fruitless!</p>
+
+<p>There is no longer a place for him and his in Corsica. They
+are banished by popular decree, and declared outlaws. The
+mother, so proud of her descent; her two sons, her two daughters,
+and her brother—all have been rendered shelterless by
+Napoleon’s unsuccessful attack on Paoli. They must escape
+from the island at a few hours’ notice. Through the silent
+woods, in whose recesses twenty-four years earlier she had found
+safety from the French, Letizia has now to flee towards the
+coast under the protection of the French. All her possessions
+are in the hands of her enemies. Nothing is left to her beyond
+the clothes she wears.</p>
+
+<p>The artillery officer, twenty-three years of age, stands on
+the deck of the sailing ship that is bearing him to Toulon.
+Throughout the long June evening, he watches the coast recede;
+every cape, every ridge, is familiar to him. Thrice he has tried
+to conquer the island, as its liberator. Now he has been driven
+out by the Corsicans as a Frenchman. He is full of rage and
+of a thirst for revenge. The victories of France will strengthen
+him, and in days to come he will, after all, be master of Corsica!</p>
+
+<p>But as he sails westward, and as the French coast draws
+near, our adventurer enjoys the sense of freedom that comes to
+him who is everywhere at home. Such is the happy lot of the
+man who has no country.</p>
+
+<h3>X</h3>
+
+<p>“How shabby their dresses are!” thinks Letizia Buonaparte,
+when her two half-grown girls come home from the market with
+their poor purchases. The refugees are living on the fourth
+floor of a confiscated house in Marseilles (the owner, a nobleman,
+has been guillotined). The mother is in the early forties.
+The three children with her are earning bread for the family
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span>as best they can; the two youngest are still in Corsica, cared
+for by relatives. Since the Buonapartes are “persecuted
+patriots,” they receive a part of their rations from the commandant.
+Letizia, who is proud as ever, makes no complaints.</p>
+
+<p>Soon Napoleon, who is travelling, has the chance of putting
+some lucrative opportunities in his brother’s way, affairs connected
+with the supply of munitions of war. Maternal Uncle
+Fesch lays aside the priestly habit and becomes a man of business,
+in the silk trade. Then Joseph, who is of fashionable exterior,
+resembling his father in appearance, and, as the eldest,
+following the father’s example in styling himself Count Buonaparte,—wins
+the hand of one of the two heiresses of a Marseilles
+silk merchant. Napoleon entertains thoughts of marrying
+his sister-in-law Désirée, the late silk merchant’s other
+daughter.</p>
+
+<p>He is on the move throughout this summer; now at Nice, with
+his regiment; now on the Rhone; now at Toulon. All the time,
+his soldier’s eyes are on the look out; his artillerist’s brain is
+noting the actual and the potential fortifications along this
+strip of coast. Soon he will make good use of the knowledge
+now acquired. Meanwhile he writes political dialogues. One
+of them in conversational form, appears as a pamphlet, printed
+at the public expense.</p>
+
+<p>In this conversation, the manufacturer is of a familiar type.
+The well-to-do folk of Toulon, like their brethren in Marseilles,
+are, in fact, under Robespierre’s rule, afraid of losing their
+heads or even their property. Concern for their money-bags
+tends to make them ever more solicitous for the welfare of the
+sometime royal house, now in exile. At length, in the hope of
+saving their capital, they call the enemies of France to their
+aid, handing over the remnants of the navy to the English, who
+in return promise them protection.</p>
+
+<p>This is a fearful blow for the young republic. On all fronts,
+France is at grips with the forces of reaction. Belgium has
+been lost; the Spaniards are advancing over the mountains; in
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span>Vendée, the Bourbon cause is gaining ground. Then comes the
+crowning disaster of Toulon. The republic calls up its last man
+for active service, enlists women, transforms the whole of
+France into an armed camp. Experts are doubly welcome.</p>
+
+<p>Before Toulon, preparations are being made to drive out
+the English. As to how this is to be done, the Convention
+leaves that to the commander of the forces, originally a painter
+of pictures, in whom revolutionary enthusiasm is to make up
+for the lack of technical knowledge of the art of war.</p>
+
+<p>Then it came to pass that young Captain Buonaparte, returning
+from Avignon whither he had been sent for a consignment
+of gunpowder, paid a visit to his fellow-countryman
+Saliceti, who introduced the young artillerist to the painter-general.
+After dinner, the dilettantes went for a stroll, and
+happened upon a 24-pounder, several miles from the sea. They
+began to boast of all that the gun would do. The expert assured
+them that, in its present position, it would be useless.
+He fired four shots to show them that the sea was quite out of
+range. Dumbfounded, they kept Buonaparte at Toulon, and
+set him to work.</p>
+
+<p>“At last, one end of the rope is in my hands. Grip and hold
+fast!” thinks the lonely man with the strong will. With amazing
+activity, our captain has heavy guns brought from all possible
+places along the coast. In six weeks, he has more than a
+hundred pieces of ordnance at his disposal.</p>
+
+<p>Now he will give a display of his talents as military commander.
+What is his plan? He will mount batteries on the
+tongue of land which divides the bay into twin harbours, and
+will thus cut off the hostile fleet from access to the sea. The
+British commander will not stay to be shot at in a mousehole
+with no outlet. He will set light to the arsenal and withdraw
+his forces from the town.</p>
+
+<p>“Fantastical nonsense!” say the amateurs, mockingly. But
+Buonaparte, who has friends in the Convention, has a complaint
+lodged there against his chief. He also sends to Paris his
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span>scheme for the bombardment of Toulon, many pages of manuscript,
+containing, in addition, counsel of a more general nature:
+“Our fire must always be concentrated. If we can breach
+the wall, the balance will incline to our side, resistance will be
+fruitless, the place will be won. To live, we must divide; to
+strike, we must unite. Victory is impossible without unity of
+command. Time is everything!” Thus does a captain of
+twenty-four write to the central authorities.</p>
+
+<p>He has a powerful ally in Paris, the younger Robespierre,
+who has the reputation of a man of talent, and is not completely
+overshadowed by his all-powerful brother. “Should you ever
+need a man of iron for street fighting,” said Joseph Robespierre
+to Maximilien, “a young man, a new man—then it must be this
+Buonaparte.” Indeed, the Corsican adventurer had already
+been asked whether he would become military guardian of the
+terrorists, but considerations of caution had led him to decline.
+Now his plan was approved, and the painter-general was recalled.
+Who would replace him?</p>
+
+<p>Buonaparte gnashes his teeth. Another dilettante! The
+new general is a medical man. He spends his time nosing out
+conspiracies hatched by the nobility—and meanwhile the enemy
+occupies the precious tongue of land. From Paris there had
+come State carriages filled with “men of genius,” clad in brilliant
+uniforms, and resolved to end the siege of Toulon, to take
+the place out of hand. Buonaparte led them to an unprotected
+battery. When the enemy opened fire, and they looked round
+vainly for cover, their guide said gravely: “We do without
+cover, nowadays; we have patriotism instead.” This young
+man with blue-grey eyes is more interested in actions than in
+intentions. Further complaints, and a new change in command.
+This time the chief is a tried warrior, who is prompt to appoint
+Napoleon battalion commander, and to adopt the young artillerist’s
+plan for driving the enemy from the tongue of land.</p>
+
+<p>When, finally, Toulon is stormed (still in accordance with
+Buonaparte’s designs), his horse is shot under him; and he is
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span>wounded in the calf by an English lance—this being his first
+and almost his last wound. Moreover, it is his first victory, although
+he is not the official commander; and it is a victory over
+England. The enemy retreats to the ships, fires the arsenal,
+and withdraws, all in one night, just as Napoleon had foretold.</p>
+
+<p>Conflagration and death, battle and the terrors of a naval
+port in which thousands of treasonable burghers are trying to
+escape the avengers; amid all the fierce passions of this December
+night, through the reek and the cries, across heaps of
+corpses, and to the accompaniment of the agonised curses of
+drowning civilians and the exultant shouts of looting soldiers, a
+new star rises in the firmament—Napoleon’s fame.</p>
+
+<h3>XI</h3>
+
+<p>The popular festival held in Paris to celebrate the liberation
+of Toulon and fresh victories on the northern and eastern
+fronts, spreads Napoleon’s name among the masses. He is
+raised to the rank of brigadier general, and his chief, sending
+in a report in which the subordinate is given due credit as the
+originator of the plan of siege, adds (betwixt fear and admiration)
+the amazing sentence: “Even though the Convention
+were to slight him, he would still force his way to the front.”
+But five other young officers are likewise mentioned in despatches,
+and when for the first time Napoleon sees his own
+name in the “Moniteur” there can be no doubt that he is vexed
+at being merely one among so many. How hard it is to climb!</p>
+
+<p>Already, however, there are some young fellows who have
+noted the rising of the new star. Marmont and Junot, unknown
+officers, want to join their fortunes to his. He appoints them
+his adjutants; Brother Louis, too, now sixteen years of age.
+He has a group!</p>
+
+<p>Big guns! The Convention commissions him to fortify the
+whole stretch of coast from Toulon to Nice. Is not Genoa,
+Corsica’s ancient enemy, farther along the coast? He who
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span>takes Genoa, has the island in his hands. Is not Genoa full of
+diplomats and agents? This is the place for weather-breeding
+among the neutrals; here, any one with sharp eyes and keen
+ears can learn a great deal, and keep his information to himself.
+He gets himself appointed people’s commissary, which
+gives him precedence over the chiefs in Genoa. Ostensibly the
+appointment is made that he may help in the settlement of
+frontier questions.</p>
+
+<p>In reality, this is the first step of Buonaparte the diplomatist.
+He intrigues with agents of various kinds, while taking note
+whether the representatives of France in that part of the world
+are genuinely revolutionary or only making a pretence of
+revolutionary fervour. At the same time, he keeps his eyes open
+to see where the cannons are. He comes back to Nice to write
+his report, and, without warning, he is arrested.</p>
+
+<p>For, meanwhile, Robespierre had fallen, and had perished by
+the guillotine. There is a general movement of repudiation.
+Every one wishes to make out that only under compulsion did
+he hold converse with the tyrant. Those who wish to prove
+themselves guiltless, look round for victims. The best victims
+will be those who are not in Paris to make a fight for it. Quick,
+quick, lest we should be suspected of having belonged to
+Robespierre’s faction! General Buonaparte! He has just been
+on a secret mission to hostile Genoa. Lay the traitor by the
+heels! He was colloguing with Robespierre to bring about the
+destruction of our southern army. Hale him to Paris for trial!</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon is in Fort Carrée near Nice. All his papers have
+been seized. It is his birthday. “To-day I am twenty-five,” he
+thinks, as he glances seaward through the grating. If he could
+lean out of the window, he would catch a glimpse of Corsica.
+How many attempts he has made there, only to be defeated!
+Was the destiny of a young aspiring soul ever before built upon
+such a series of catastrophes? What has Plutarch to say on
+this matter? Cashiered, banished, outlawed—as far as Corsica
+is concerned. Now, after all his plans, he is a prisoner of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span>France. Next week, perhaps, he will be standing in the barrack
+yard, with his back against the wall, awaiting a score of
+bullets. What is to be done?</p>
+
+<p>His faithful followers advise him to flee. He answers in an
+impassioned tone such as we rarely encounter in the sixty
+thousand of Napoleon’s letters. He thanks them for their
+friendly counsel, but says: “Men may treat me unjustly; no
+matter, so long as I am innocent. My conscience is the tribunal
+before which I judge my own conduct, and my conscience
+is untroubled. Do nothing, for you would only compromise
+me.” The one genuine phrase in this letter wherein he poses
+as a martyr, is the last. To Junot, the enthusiastic admirer,
+he speaks of motives which Junot will understand. In reality,
+since he knows that there is not a jot of evidence of complicity
+with Robespierre, he does not wish to compromise himself.
+Flight would be an admission of guilt.</p>
+
+<p>Writing from prison to an influential diplomat, he says: “I
+am somewhat affected by the tragical death of the younger
+Robespierre, for I loved the man and believed him genuine.
+Nevertheless, had he been my own father I would have stabbed
+him had he wished to become a tyrant.” Is not that spoken like
+a true Roman? With even more circumspection, he writes to
+the Convention: “Although innocent of the charge, I shall never
+make any complaint against the committee, whatever it may decide....
+But now hear me! Strike off my chains, and restore
+to me the respect of patriots! An hour afterwards, if the
+wicked clamour for my corpse, I shall be ready. I hold my life
+at little account, for I have risked it in the trenches too often.
+Nothing but the thought that I can serve my country enables
+me to endure my burdens cheerfully.”</p>
+
+<p>A week later, he is free. Saliceti, his fellow-countryman in
+the Convention, had been his accuser. Now, when the Corsican
+deputy has got over his first fright and feels that his own neck
+is safe, he pledges his word that Buonaparte is innocent. But
+at the close of his statement, he adds a phrase which is an
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span>unconscious prediction of the young officer’s triumphs: “Besides,
+we need him in the army.”</p>
+
+<h3>XII</h3>
+
+<p>How he is shunned! Powerful friends, to whom he sends
+letter after letter, long epistles, make no answer. He writes
+beseechingly for little things, such as “a good surveying outfit
+for the army,” when he wishes to force an influential comrade to
+reply. All at once comes a signal from the island. Old Paoli
+has summoned the English to his aid. Corsica must be saved
+for France! Back to Paris, in order to fan the flames. The
+expedition is actually decided on, and he eagerly hopes to secure
+the command. In a fortnight the fleet is back at Toulon, having
+sustained a reverse. Fresh disappointment! Why did
+they not put him in charge? Had he not conquered Toulon,
+fortified the coast—all with an eye towards the campaign
+against Corsica?</p>
+
+<p>Reaction is in full swing. Napoleon is suspect. The authorities
+offer him high command in Vendée, for this will separate
+him from his adherents. At the same time he is transferred to
+the infantry, as a “supernumerary.” How mortifying to a
+highly skilled artillerist!</p>
+
+<p>The pale young man grew paler than ever, for he had made
+up his mind to refuse. He expostulated with the People’s Commissary
+for War, who, in reply, twitted him with his youth.
+Napoleon looked the commissary, who knew little of active
+service, straight in the eyes, and said: “A man matures quickly
+on the battle-field, and it is from the battle-field that I come.”
+Refusal to obey orders; expectation of dire consequences;
+just as it had been three years before.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp62" id="illus02" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus02.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>General Bonaparte in 1797. After a painting by Jean Guérin.
+    Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris.</p>
+    <p>(From the “Corpus Imaginum” of the Photographic Society, Charlottenburg.)</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>What had I better do? Report sick? Apply for leave?
+The out-of-work general turns the possibilities over in his mind.
+Better stay where I am. Paris is the world’s navel. True,
+Marmont and Junot, who have joined him without leave, are
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span>also penniless. What’s Bourrienne doing? Speculating? Well,
+I can try that too, but assignats are falling. How badly
+you staged the last affair. Did you think you could make a
+coup d’état without cannon? But to Saliceti, who in his turn
+has had serious charges brought against him, and is being
+sheltered by a fellow-countrywoman, he writes: “You see, I
+might have paid you back in your own coin.... Who has
+played the better part, you or I? I might have taken vengeance
+on you, but have not done so.... Go in peace, to seek a
+refuge where you can, and meditate upon your country to better
+advantage. My lips will always be sealed about you. Take
+counsel with yourself, appreciate my motives ... they are
+noble and magnanimous.”</p>
+
+<p>During these summer weeks, the flood of life is obscurely
+murmuring, is heavily pulsing against the shores. He is profoundly
+moved by <i>Ossian</i>, the book of melancholy passion; and
+he is stirred by the tragical end of plays he witnesses, hastening
+from the theatre that his mood may not be jarred by the subsequent
+farce. “How preposterous, in this new opera, to give a
+happy ending to <i>Paul and Virginie</i> by having the girl rescued!”—“But
+what is happiness?” asks the lady to whom he says
+this.</p>
+
+<p>“Happiness?” answers Buonaparte. “The highest possible
+development of my talents.”</p>
+
+<p>Just now they are lying fallow, that is what troubles him.
+He is a prey to increasing dejection and dumb rancour. When
+a comedy is being played (the wife of one of his friends reports
+this), every one else is laughing, but Buonaparte sits there in
+frozen silence. Sometimes he vanishes, to reappear with gloomy
+aspect at the other side of the stalls. Often enough his lips are
+twisted in an unsuccessful attempt to smile. He is an irresistible
+raconteur of campaign stories, but his laughter on these
+occasions is rough. He is often to be seen wandering through
+the streets, short in the leg, thin, sallow, sickly, irritable of
+mien, “awkward, hesitant, wearing an old round hat, from
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span>beneath which two badly powdered ‘dog’s ears’ project, scurf
+upon his collar, his ungloved hands are long and lean and dark,
+ill-fitting boots.”</p>
+
+<p>He now plans a book traffic with foreign lands; but his first
+attempt, with a consignment to Basle, miscarries.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes he visits drawing-rooms, for, as he writes to his
+brother, every one here seeks distraction.... There are
+women all over the place, at the theatre, in the Bois, at the
+Library. The prettiest of girls are to be found in the studies
+of the learned. Indeed, it is right that women should rule here,
+for the men are infatuated, living only through and for women.</p>
+
+<p>When Buonaparte is in the salon of Barras, the tribune (who
+outdoes himself in splendour and extravagance, so that all Paris
+talks; who can never have enough women round him), when he
+stands there among women famous for their beauty like Tallien
+and Récamier, he, who is small and gloomy and angular, can
+only make an impression by cleverness and caprice. Even then
+he seems a freak.</p>
+
+<p>Always the solitary, he only “lets himself go” in his long
+letters to his brothers. He is educating Louis, and writes:
+“The lad is a good soldier. What especially pleases me is that
+he combines so many excellent qualities: ardour, spirit, health,
+talent, trustworthiness, good-nature.... He will certainly be
+the best of us four. Of course, none of us have enjoyed his
+advantages in the matter of education.” He is thinking of having
+Jerome, the youngest, sent to Paris. He is at odds with
+Lucien. This talented brother is his rival. Indeed, Lucien vies
+with Napoleon in his knowledge of men, was the first to understand
+Napoleon, did so already when he was seventeen while
+his brother was twenty-three. “In Napoleon,” wrote young
+Lucien to Joseph, “I detect an ambition which is not wholly
+selfish, but is greater than his love for the public welfare. In
+a free State he would certainly be a dangerous man. He seems
+to me inclined to become a despot. I think he would become
+one, were he king. At any rate, his name would be a terror to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span>posterity and to sensitive patriots.” In Lucien’s mouth, such
+grandiose vaticination is no mere playing with words. His own
+ambition is so intense that in this age and country he regards a
+development of the kind as quite possible for his brother, and he
+is mortified at the prospect that Napoleon is likely to outshine
+him.</p>
+
+<p>For the nonce, Napoleon is in low spirits. He envies Joseph,
+whom money and happiness have made independent. He offers
+Joseph support in the way of introductions and papers; advises
+him to use the depreciated currency for the economical
+purchase of an estate. Yet we find him already writing to his
+elder brother, apropos of a letter on political questions: “Your
+letter was too dry; you must learn to write better than that.”</p>
+
+<p>A home! He wants a home of his own, like Joseph. More
+eagerly in each successive letter he urges Joseph to make sure
+for him of the wealthy sister-in-law, with whom he has been in
+affectionate correspondence for more than a year. When she is
+slow to make up her mind, he presses for a decision. His
+brother and one of his intimate friends have married well;
+comrades of his own age occupy prominent positions. Only
+he, with his surging thoughts and imaginative schemes, remains
+lonely and does nothing.</p>
+
+<p>“If you are going away for a long time,” he writes to
+Joseph, “send me your portrait. We have lived so long in close
+companionship that our hearts are intertwined. No one knows
+better than you how wholly I am yours. As I write these lines,
+I am more moved than almost ever before, feeling that it will be
+long before we meet again. I cannot write any more. Farewell,
+mon ami.”</p>
+
+<p>He is in a melting mood, and at times he seems utterly discouraged.
+“To clamber upwards from step to step, this is
+rather like an adventurer, like a man who is trying to make happiness.”
+Finally he says: “Life is a trivial dream, which fades
+away....”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span></p>
+
+<h3>XIII</h3>
+
+<p>Suddenly everything is in a flux. A new Minister for War
+has been appointed, and he is eager to effect changes on the
+Italian front. Does any one know of a new man to whom the
+command there can be entrusted? The enquiry passes from
+one to another, until some one recommends Buonaparte. He
+is summoned to the War Office. For years he has been making
+himself familiar with the Italian coast and the Italian frontier,
+and forthwith he expounds a detailed plan for a campaign in
+northern Italy, against Sardinia and Austria. It is substantiated
+by a display of intimate knowledge of the Alpine
+passes; of the weather and the snows; of seedtime and harvest;
+of the administration, the temperament, and the characteristics
+of the territories and the populations concerned. After the
+conquest of Lombardy, between February and July, the powerful
+position of Mantua must be wrested from the Austrians.
+Then the Army of Italy must move northward, and in Tyrol
+must effect a junction with the sister army, the Army of the
+Rhine. The joint forces will threaten Vienna and this will compel
+the emperor to accept a peace which will fulfil all that
+France has been expecting or imagining for years past.</p>
+
+<p>Overwhelmed by the cataract that issues from this brain, the
+minister can only say: “Your ideas, General, are equally brilliant
+and bold. We must examine them closely. Write a report
+for the committee. You can take your time.”</p>
+
+<p>“My plan is ready now. I can write it down in half an hour.”</p>
+
+<p>“A notable design,” say the members of the Committee of
+Public Safety when the report has been read to them; “notable,
+even if impracticable.” In any case, such an intelligence as
+this must be utilised in the Operations Department. A few days
+afterwards he has a seat in this department, where everything
+is decided.</p>
+
+<p>The great moment has come, the turning-point of his youth.
+At length he stands on the threshold of his career. The chance
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span>has come suddenly, for everything is sudden in this eruptive
+era. From now, when he is barely twenty-six, he will for twenty
+years, with unremitting vigour, move onwards towards his goal,
+drawing the chain of thought and action after him. Suddenly,
+twenty years hence, the chain will snap.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon’s work begins. With burning energy, attending
+carefully to little things because his aim is the greatest of
+things, he devotes himself to “affairs.” The veil is lifted, for
+here he finds the most secret reports concerning all the armies
+of the republic. At the same time, his daily association with
+the leading civilian figures in France gives him authority. The
+suggestive influence of his personality makes itself felt.</p>
+
+<p>What is the first thing he aspires to gain for himself?
+Neither the command in Vendée nor the command of the Army
+of the Rhine. These are attainable, tangible magnitudes.
+Here, at the centre of all the real fronts, nothing allures him
+so much as the thought of a command which as yet lives only in
+his imagination; in a battle-ground which does not exist, but
+which he wants to create to-day, and which he will again want
+to create seventeen years hence. Asia! Directly he gets to
+work at the centre of things, he begins to emphasise the importance
+of galvanising Turkey into activity, of introducing
+artillery and the modern art of war on the Bosphorus, for in
+due time they can from that centre be used against the Russians
+and the Austrians. In fancy, he already sees himself conversing
+with the sultan, beyond reach of the eyes of these everlasting
+republicans, in an obscure and closed country into which
+the doctrine of liberty has never made its way—a land where
+a man can still do whatever he pleases. Twelve days after his
+entry into the ministry, he asks to be transferred to Turkey.</p>
+
+<p>The application is refused. Powerful opponents are already
+beginning to be afraid of this man. They want to get him out
+of the War Office; to send him to the front. His protest takes
+a new tone. As if he were foreseeing all the successes that are
+still hidden in his own heart, he begins to dictate. “General
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span>Buonaparte, who commands the artillery under the most critical
+circumstances and has contributed to the greatest successes,
+expects from the justice of the members of the Committee that
+they shall reinstate him in his functions, and shall spare him
+the distress of seeing his position usurped by men who have
+always kept themselves in the background, ... but who now
+press forward to snatch the fruits of victories whose dangers
+they well knew how to avoid.”</p>
+
+<p>In the third person, in the iron style of the historian.
+Roman.</p>
+
+<p>It avails nothing. Once more the insubordinate officer’s
+name is struck from the lists, and for a second time he has to
+yield. But he feels that his hour draws nigh; nothing, now,
+can seriously shake his position. A fresh change of government
+is at hand. Announcing to his brother the impending transformation,
+he says that he himself is in the good graces of all the
+party leaders who will have military posts at their disposal.
+“The prospect is rosy. Even were it otherwise, a man must live
+in the present. He who has courage, despises the future.”</p>
+
+<p>Because he despises it, it serves him. Henceforward, men
+will serve him for the same reason.</p>
+
+<p>A fortnight after this letter had been written, a conflict
+broke out between the government and the moderates, who were
+backed by the royalists. Once more, there was fighting on the
+boulevards, as there had been three years earlier. The National
+Guard is four times as strong as the governmental forces.
+Either from caution or from cowardice, the general of the
+Convention parleys with the leaders of the Guard. He is
+declared a traitor, and placed under arrest. The Convention
+meets in a panic. It is defenceless, intimidated by the left-wing
+and right-wing revolutionaries, who, for various reasons,
+have joined forces.</p>
+
+<p>In the evening, Buonaparte hastens to the Convention, for a
+successor to the arrested general is needed, and he learns that
+the name of one of his rivals has been proposed. The heart of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span>the silent onlooker beats furiously. Will his name now be mentioned?
+If he is asked to take command, shall he accept a task
+which he had refused in the days when Robespierre was supreme?
+Does not every one who leads soldiers against the
+people make himself hated, precisely because of his success?
+“Appoint Buonaparte!” Yes, his name has come up. “I turned
+the matter over in my mind for nearly half an hour.” Such a
+mission will not bring renown, but it will bring power. He
+presents himself before the committee. It is past midnight;
+the tumult is expected to begin early next morning; everything
+must be ready within a few hours.</p>
+
+<p>In this situation, he demands that he shall be absolutely free
+from civilian supervision. This seems a monstrous request to
+make of the revolution, one of whose new principles it is to lay
+especial stress upon supervision of the dreaded military arm.
+“If you appoint me, I shall be responsible, and must have a free
+hand. To-day, it was the fault of the people’s commissaries
+that the general found himself in so precarious a position. Do
+you expect that the people will give us permission to open fire
+upon the people?” The only man he will share the command
+with is Barras, who is the most powerful among the leaders,
+but is in his hands. The minutes are passing. There is no
+choice.—Buonaparte was entrusted with the defence of the government,
+a fortnight after his name had been erased from the
+list of general officers.</p>
+
+<p>For seven years the Parisian populace, when roused to
+action, has had to encounter nothing more than extemporised
+opposition. That is why the revolution has always made headway.
+Buonaparte is the first to prepare for the struggle. In
+one night, he transforms the Convention into a fortress. Even
+the alarmed deputies are supplied with weapons. They are
+still more frightened when they hear talk of cannon.</p>
+
+<p>A young cavalry officer, Murat by name, undertakes to bring
+forty big guns from the suburbs. Murat thus opens a great
+career on the same day as his chief. Out in the streets he finds
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span>the masses, who are likewise on the prowl for artillery. Buonaparte
+cannot protect the Convention without ordnance. There
+are hours of tension, during which he must tranquilly devote
+himself to the disposition of his slender forces. At length, at
+five in the morning, he hears the rattling wheels of his old
+friends the big guns. Murat’s men were mounted, and they
+have won the prize. Forward! Within two hours, everything
+must be ready.</p>
+
+<p>In well-armed companies, the crowd advances threateningly.
+The lawyers in the Convention are shaking in their shoes.
+Speech after speech is made from the tribune, urging a parley,
+advocating the withdrawal of the troops. In the daylight, the
+situation is so menacing that the civilians utterly lose heart.
+They weaken; towards noon, some of the troops want to fraternise
+with the people. Night is falling. Now or never! Is
+the commander to allow the mob to triumph? In like circumstances,
+he had laughed at the weakness of King Louis. Shall
+he himself play the weakling, when he is in command of the
+guns?</p>
+
+<p>It is probable that Buonaparte ordered the firing of the first
+shot, or perhaps extorted the order from Barras, although in
+his report, and subsequently, he declared that his opponents
+had this “crime against the French people” on their consciences.
+Anyhow, the firing begins. The big guns win the day; blood
+besprinkles the pavements; the crowd scatters; in two hours the
+streets are clear. That night, Napoleon writes to his brother:
+“At length it is over; my first wish is to send you news....
+We posted our troops, the enemy attacked us in the Tuileries.
+We killed a lot of them, our own casualties being thirty killed
+and sixty wounded. We have disarmed the companies of the
+National Guard, and everything is quiet. As usual, I have
+escaped without a scratch. Brigadier General Buonaparte.
+Postscript. Luck is on my side. My compliments to Désirée
+and Julie.”</p>
+
+<p>This is Napoleon’s first bulletin of victory. The enemy are
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span>Frenchmen; the battle-field is Paris; the offenders are revolutionists;
+most of the fatalities are on the opposing side; the
+signature, which in earlier and subsequent letters consists of
+nothing but the name, includes, to-day, the writer’s military
+title. Everything is calculated for effect. But his feelings
+break through, and in the postscript he discloses to his brother
+the two things he has most at heart: Luck and Woman.</p>
+
+<p>At a later date he said: “I have two men within me, the man
+of the head and the man of the heart.”</p>
+
+<h3>XIV</h3>
+
+<p>On the tribune of the Convention stands Buonaparte with
+his officers, hailed by the acclamations of the assembly, to whom
+the youthful saviour is being presented. He scarcely notices the
+applause, for such triumphs of the moment seem of little value
+to him. Coldly surveying the hall, he thinks: “So you are the
+leaders of the nation. You trembled with fear when you heard
+the thunder of the guns! You shall not forget how to tremble!
+I have become your protector. I shall go on protecting you
+until you have become my humble servants.”</p>
+
+<p>As a matter of course, he is appointed to the command of the
+Army of the Interior. He now has a great following: cashiered
+officers, who hope to climb in the footsteps of the cashiered
+general; officials who have dreaded the reaction; all who feel
+that they have been rescued. But the crowd must be learning
+to hate him; for, in that darkling hour, hundreds of unarmed
+citizens, idle spectators, women have perished. What is that
+to him? It is not his aim to be loved.</p>
+
+<p>Now, when he suddenly has money and servants and carriages
+at his disposal, he wants nothing for himself, everything
+for his kin. His younger brothers are given good positions;
+his mother can once more live a life after her own heart, and
+gratify her taste for saving; Joseph has the offer of several
+posts; there are places for the most distant relatives. But the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span>letters become rarer, and the very first of them sounds a new
+note: “I shall do everything I can to help you, shall spare no
+effort which can contribute to your happiness.” From brother,
+he has become protector, head of the family.</p>
+
+<p>During these weeks, when he is tasting the joys of fulfilment,
+he becomes involved in the only passion of his life.</p>
+
+<p>Désirée has missed her chance. Only a few weeks before,
+writing from the office of the general staff, he had implored
+Joseph to intervene on his behalf, to demand a prompt answer.
+“I am burning with desire to have a home of my own.” At the
+same time, in several of his letters, we find more frequent references
+to charming women, allusions which betray a happy prospect
+of success. He has come to know la femme de trente ans,
+in her power and her beauty. He has made advances to two
+such women, in quick succession: one of them a Corsican of
+noble birth, a friend of his mother’s; the other, a pretty
+cocotte, Chénier’s mistress. Both of them are considerably
+older than he, and neither of them favours his suit. But the
+atmosphere surrounding these practitioners of the art of love,
+the electric atmosphere of the new salon, has exercised its influence
+on him: “A kiss for the two ladies: for the first, on the
+lips; for the second, on the cheek.” Since he has hitherto
+known almost nothing of women, his lonely heart is susceptible.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately after his appointment, the new generalissimo
+issues a decree against bearing arms. A search is made, and
+all weapons in civilian hands are confiscated. Now a boy of
+twelve, with engaging manners, turns up at the general’s office
+with a plea for the return of his dead father’s sword, which has
+been taken away from his mother. Napoleon concedes the
+point, and shortly afterwards the mother comes to thank him.
+What an elegant woman—wayward, gracious, captivating!
+Thirty or more; who can say? Not so much beautiful, as
+enthralling; slender; distinguished, but with a slightly foreign
+air; the dark skin of the Creole, for she was born in Martinique,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span>though brought up in Paris; and during the days of the Terror
+she has learned to conquer by her charms.</p>
+
+<p>When the general pays her a visit at the little house in an
+out-of-the-way suburb, his eyes, sharpened by his own experience
+of poverty, detect evidence of an endeavour to put a good
+face upon poor circumstances. This does not trouble him. An
+army officer, who now, at the age of twenty-seven, can for the
+first time dispose of means which enable him to live as he pleases,
+he prizes money, but he does not prize rich people. Just as in
+the life of affairs, men can only move him by their capacity, by
+what they can do; so women can only please him by their
+capacity—by their personal appearance, their nature, and what
+they can make of these.</p>
+
+<p>Josephine makes a great deal, as she needs to do. From
+Martinique, her tropical home, she was able to save nothing
+when she lost her husband, Vicomte de Beauharnais. For years
+she was separated from him, but was reunited with him after her
+return to Paris from a prolonged visit to her native island.
+During the Terror, he was executed as a royalist; and she spent
+three terrible months in gaol, to be liberated after Robespierre’s
+fall on the very day when Buonaparte was imprisoned. Friends
+came to her assistance in her difficulties; but her position and
+that of her two lovely young children, Hortense and Eugene,
+was precarious.</p>
+
+<p>In this genteel poverty, it is expedient for her to make the
+best use of her charms. In any case, she is a born coquette,
+and is urged towards amorous adventures by the spur of her
+own love of pleasure. At this time, she is Barras’ mistress, her
+handsome friend Tallien having taken up with a wealthy banker,
+handing over the man of might to Josephine. However, the
+two women hold Barras in joint control. The Committee of
+Public Safety supplies them with horses and carriages. But
+Beauharnais, being of gentle birth, knows how to give attractive
+dinner parties, and associates with members of both factions,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span>although the counts and marquises who frequent her
+house leave their wives at home. She has become an adventuress
+of the revolution.</p>
+
+<p>Well, what about Buonaparte himself? Any change in the
+political situation may cost him his position. What more is
+he, as yet, than an adventurer of the revolution? If Murat had
+failed to shark up those guns the other night, the general would
+have been shot. Life is insecure, both for him and for
+Josephine.</p>
+
+<p>What can be easier than to befool this misanthropic and
+misogynistic man in whose dumb soul the schoolmaster at
+Brienne had long ago discovered the hidden volcano? For the
+first time in his life he is in the toils of a woman, an expert in
+love; he is consumed by his passion for the Creole beauty. To
+Josephine, it seems a stroke of luck, and in cold blood she
+decides on marriage.</p>
+
+<p>“You have seen General Buonaparte at my house. He is to
+become a father to my orphaned children, a husband to my
+widowed self.... I admire the general’s courage, and I
+wonder how much he knows.... But, I must confess, I am
+alarmed at the energy which animates all his doings. In his
+questing glance there is something inexplicable, which intimidates
+even our Directors. What ought to please me most, the
+passionate ardour he displays, is the very thing which makes me
+hesitate. Now that I am past my first youth, can I hope that
+I shall be able to keep alive in him an affection so stormy that
+it borders on madness?”</p>
+
+<p>This lady of refinement does not fully understand what
+threatens her, and yet in the depths of her soul she shudders at
+the foreboding that she is to become the play of elemental
+forces. For, if this man who covets all or nothing and cannot
+rest until he has all, this man who has never given himself up to
+any one person or any one thing because it has been his unceasing
+wish to gain every one and everything, if Napoleon now
+gives himself for the first and only time in his life, he will stake
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span>his whole being, and will fetter it to the personality of the
+woman whom he clasps in his arms.</p>
+
+<p>“I am waiting for you; I am wholly filled with you; your
+picture and the intoxicating evening leave my senses no peace.
+Sweet, incomparable Josephine, what have you done to my
+heart? Are you angry with me? Do you look sad? Are you
+ill at ease?... But I find calm when I give myself up to my
+passion, that on your lips, at your heart, I may fan the flames
+which burn me. How plain it was to me last night that your
+picture can never replace the real you. At noon you will start;
+in three hours I shall see you; till then, mio dolce amor, a
+thousand kisses! But you must not give me kisses, for they
+burn my blood!”</p>
+
+<p>He does not tell her his plans, and yet he tells her something
+more. “These Directors fancy that I need their protection.
+They will consider themselves happy, some day, to secure mine.
+I shall make my way with the sword.”—“What do you
+think,” writes Josephine, “of this faith in success? Can such
+self-confidence be based on anything else than immeasurable
+conceit? A brigadier general is to protect the heads of the
+government! I don’t know what to make of it; and yet, often
+enough, this ludicrous self-assurance makes me believe that anything
+is possible which the strange man wants to achieve.”</p>
+
+<p>We feel as if we were standing in front of the iron door
+which guards a glowing human heart, and looking through the
+key-hole into the fiery furnace of a soul.</p>
+
+<p>But this woman, whom he possesses, why does he take her to
+wife? That he may possess her for himself alone? His egotism
+is against it, and, besides, he would be deluding himself. To
+gain advantages? In respect of money, and in respect of
+influence with the powerful, she can offer him nothing that he
+does not already enjoy. Of course she might prove useful to
+him; he is certainly flattered that she is of noble birth; and
+beyond doubt he has taken into consideration the fact that if
+she, who had a place in the days of the old regime, becomes his
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span>wife, this will put an end to the whispers that he is “only a
+Corsican.” Yet it is as a Corsican, with the family feeling of
+an Italian (a feeling that has come down to him through the
+generations, and masters even him), that he desires marriage
+with a woman of birth. Finally, is it not obvious that this man
+who is so utterly self-centred must passionately long for a
+perpetuation of his own ego?</p>
+
+<p>The one thing in the world which Napoleon cannot make
+without another’s aid is an heir, and this heir must be made
+out of good materials. He is no man of the people. He has
+come into being amid the struggles of old families, and beneath
+a coat-of-arms bearing two stars which he now wishes to fuse
+into one. If he has helped to break down the prejudices against
+the masses, he has been moved along this course by delight in
+the elemental energy of action, and never by humanist feelings.
+Why should he wish to mix his blood with that of the people?
+When he marries the woman who long ere this has granted
+him all, he does so because, in both branches of her ancestry,
+she is the offspring of a long line of noble forebears. It is her
+birth, in addition to her charms, which makes her a welcome
+figure in a drawing-room, despite her reputation and her position.
+Since the Thirteenth Vendémiaire, Barras, the most
+powerful of the Directors, has regarded Buonaparte as his
+main prop—and he wishes to bind the general to his service by
+handing over Josephine. In this realm of erotic freedoms, a
+man who should wish, of a sudden, to insist on points of honour
+would simply make himself ridiculous. There are no knights
+and ladies now, but only citizens and citizenesses, who pair and
+separate as they please.</p>
+
+<p>Barras has long since decided that Napoleon shall command
+the Army of Italy; and when Josephine, womanlike, is unable to
+make up her mind, Barras gives her a definite pledge to this
+effect. There are good reasons, too, why he should send the
+dangerous man to the most difficult front. Napoleon’s great
+plan, the one which has procured him his position on the general
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span>staff, is now sent to Nice, and comes back with annotations
+by the commander-in-chief there. The man who has drafted
+the plan, says that worthy, must have been a lunatic. He had
+better come and try his own hand at the job. That is exactly
+what the Directory has been angling for. The writer of the
+criticism is recalled, and the “lunatic” is sent to take his place.</p>
+
+<p>The position is assured; the prudent Josephine hesitates no
+longer. A legal friend has to certify that no birth certificate is
+now obtainable from the blockaded island in the West Indies,
+and that the authorities must therefore take the lady’s word
+for the statement that she is twenty-eight. Since this knocks
+five years off her age, the bridegroom is gallant enough to add
+a year to his own. Thus the marriage begins with a twofold
+falsification of dates. A marriage settlement arranging for the
+division of property is signed, although the vicomtesse owns
+nothing but debts, and the warrior declares that his only possessions
+are his clothes, his uniform.</p>
+
+<p>In the wedding ring, the words “To Destiny!” are engraved.</p>
+
+<p>Two days later, he leaves Paris. Eleven crazy love letters
+are sent to her from eleven halting places. In Nice he joins his
+army, and takes over a command which will lead him beyond
+the frontiers of Europe.</p>
+
+<p>It is the season of the equinoctial gales. From a turret he
+looks across at the enemy coast, and thinks: “This is the place
+I have always coveted as a starting-point. Behind me lies Paris;
+and her bedchamber, hung with mirrors. That is happiness.
+It is mine. Over there, across the mountains, in that hostile
+land, is fame. The goal of my desire.”</p>
+
+<p>As he turns away, he catches sight of a familiar line of
+mountains shimmering in the distant blue. No longer does this
+hold his attention.</p>
+
+<p>It is his lost homeland. The island.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_TWO">BOOK TWO<br>
+THE TORRENT</h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span></p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>So divine an illumination is always linked with youth and
+productivity; and, in very truth, Napoleon was one of the
+most productive men that ever lived.—<span class="smcap">Goethe.</span></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span></p>
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+<p>The towering peaks form a white, serrated ridge that thrusts
+upward into the blue of morning. Gleaming with perpetual
+snows, dangerous as the adventure he has undertaken, the Alps
+look down threateningly upon the bay, and mock the teeming
+crowds of men. Invincibly does nature, in symbolic fashion,
+here call a halt to the commander; here she has interposed a
+barrier between the land of his fathers and his new fatherland.</p>
+
+<p>But he, who never trusts in force alone, who always outbids
+force with prudence, has to good purpose been pondering the
+old problem. Hannibal crossed the Alps; he, Napoleon, will go
+round them. If we come to grips with the enemy at the weakest
+point, where the Apennines press close to the Alps and a slight
+depression facilitates an entry, we need not wait for the summer.
+The earlier in the year, the firmer the snows, and the less
+danger from avalanches. Forward, into the land of my fathers!</p>
+
+<p>Delay will be fatal. Not that the enemy is a danger to him.
+His foes are asleep in winter quarters: the Austrians in the
+east of Lombardy; the Sardinians in the west of the Lombard
+plain; and the numerous petty republics and duchies, the fragments
+of Italy, are not expecting an attack until the thaw has
+come. But the French soldiers are hungry. Paris, on the
+verge of ruin, through depreciation of the currency, can send
+them nothing but almost valueless assignats; and all of these
+disappear into the greedy maw of the army contractors.
+“France would tremble,” said one of the generals in his letters
+home just before Bonaparte’s arrival, “could every one know
+how many are dying here of famine and disease.” What will
+the new commander do if he brings neither money nor bread
+with him?</p>
+
+<p>“Soldiers, you are half starved and half naked. The Government
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span>owes you much, but can do nothing for you. Your
+patience, your courage, do you honour, but give you no glory,
+no advantage. I will lead you into the most fertile plains of
+the world. There you will find flourishing cities, teeming
+provinces. There you will reap honour, glory, and wealth.
+Soldiers of the Army of Italy, will you be wanting in courage
+and firmness?”</p>
+
+<p>A faint cheer from the ranks answered the new commander
+when, at the first parade, he addressed his men in the foregoing
+words. But when they were all back in camp, one said to
+another: “General doesn’t look very weatherproof, with his
+yellow hide. Fine talk, that, about the fertile plains. He’d
+better let us have some boots first, so that we can march
+there!” The people of Israel must have grumbled in much the
+same fashion when Moses spoke of the Promised Land. The
+new commander encounters nothing but opposition.</p>
+
+<p>Who knows him among the soldiers of this army, which has
+now been encamped for three years on the crests of the hills?
+Those of them who remain, that is to say: for a fourth of the
+men are in hospital; and an equal number have been killed, or
+taken prisoner, or have deserted! The officers? Will not they,
+like those captains in Auxonne seven years ago, be inclined to
+encounter this wonderful young man’s orders with passive
+resistance rather than ready obedience? Look at him as he sits
+there writing and calculating; his powdered hair is cut in a
+fringe over his forehead, but lengthens towards the back of the
+head to hang down over his shoulders; his coat is simple and
+scantily embroidered; he walks up and down and issues dictatorial
+orders, this foreigner whose French is still faulty. Not an
+officer in his staff is well-disposed towards him, except the three
+or four faithful followers whom he has brought with him. One
+of these latter tells us: “They looked upon him as a mathematician
+or a visionary.”</p>
+
+<p>What if he be both at once, and for this very reason a man
+of genius?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span></p>
+
+<p>At first, he seems to be nothing but a calculator. Consider
+one of his early letters to the Directors—for he promptly opens
+an epistolary campaign, carried on side by side with a campaign
+of cavalry and by guns, waged with the same ardour and
+the same success. “You are asking me to perform miracles,
+and I cannot do that.... Only with prudence and foresight
+can we achieve great ends. It is but a step from victory to
+defeat. In affairs of magnitude I have learned that, in the
+last resort, everything invariably turns upon a trifle.” But to
+Carnot, the great army organiser, to whom he can say much
+that is unsuitable for his official dispatches, he writes, gnashing
+his teeth: “Would you believe it, that I have not a single
+engineer officer here, not one who has ever taken part in a
+siege!... You can hardly conceive how furious I am that I
+have no artillery!” His actual resources totalled 24 mountain
+guns, 4,000 underfed horses, frs. 300,000 in silver, and enough
+food to supply his 30,000 men for a month on half rations.
+With these vestiges of an equipment, he is to conquer Italy!</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, having undertaken the venture, he makes the
+best of the materials at his disposal. Getting to work like a
+hurricane upon this crowd of pitiful men who have run to seed,
+upon corps some of which have already begun to sing the royal
+anthem again, with indefatigable energy he succeeds in transforming
+them into a republican army.</p>
+
+<p>Here are some of his doings on the third day after his
+arrival. Sending a hundred and ten workmen to make a road.
+Suppression of a mutiny in a brigade. Quartering of two
+artillery divisions. Orders to two generals in case of horse
+stealing. Answer to the requests of two others concerning their
+commands. Order to a general in Toulon to bring his men to
+Nice. Order to another general to call up the National Guard
+of Antibes. Order to a general to find the most efficient officers
+in the mutinous brigade. Address to the general staff. Review
+of troops, with orders of the day.—During the first
+twenty days, one hundred and twenty-three written orders
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span>relate solely to the provisioning of the troops; among them are
+numerous complaints concerning peculation, short weight, and
+inferior goods; and these orders are issued on the march, from
+twelve different headquarters, in the interludes between six
+skirmishes.</p>
+
+<p>For hardly has he passed through the narrow defiles than,
+in accordance with his new principle, he has massed his forces
+to attack first one and then the other of the allied foes, and in
+two battles he defeats and separates them. In truth, these were
+mere advance-guard skirmishes, as becomes the nature of the
+French, and the previous training of these troops, which as yet
+know nothing of a great movement in open lines. At this stage
+of his campaign, speed and boldness are more important than
+elaborate strategy.</p>
+
+<p>When he is on one of these breathless rides, in the deep mountain
+valleys, through the passes, amid the thunder of his own
+and the enemy cannon, suddenly the glass covering Josephine’s
+miniature (which he carries in the inner pocket of his tunic,
+and has kissed hundreds of times) shivers into fragments.
+Growing paler than ever, he reins in his charger, and says to
+Bourrienne: “The glass is broken. My wife is ill or unfaithful.
+Forward!”</p>
+
+<p>Everything depends upon the fulfilment of his first old
+pledge. He knows that if, this once, he is able to do what he
+has promised, the army will believe him; and if it believes him,
+it will soon believe in him. In actual fact, a fortnight after his
+prophecy had been uttered, the army, which had won its first
+victories on entering the downward grades, found itself on the
+last elevation. The soldiers raised a hearty cheer. After the
+weary days in the narrow valleys, they at length caught sight
+of the plains of Piedmont lying at their feet, stretching out into
+the immeasurable distance, blossoming in the spring weather,
+offering all that they had gone short of for so long. The Po
+and other rivers were flowing towards the horizon, and at length
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span>the world of snows lay behind. “As if by a magician’s spell,
+they had been enabled to cross the gigantic barrier, which had
+seemed to them like the frontier of another world.”</p>
+
+<p>“All this is yours!” Their commander has forced one of the
+two opponents, the king of Sardinia, to make truce, thus compelling
+the surrender of everything that grows on Sardinian
+territory. This first truce of his campaigns was secured by
+Bonaparte through cunning and bluff, for he threatened the
+enemy with the use of overwhelming forces, which he did not
+possess, and, indeed, could not have used, pressed as he was
+on both sides. The soldiers are amazed; their general is a man
+of his word! Literally, in a fortnight, he has fulfilled his
+promise.</p>
+
+<p>Henceforward, the men under his command put their trust
+in Bonaparte. It is as Bonaparte that he begins to sign
+himself from the outset of the campaign. Since Italy is the
+enemy, he will have nothing more to do with an Italian name.</p>
+
+<p>Ere long, he will change his name again.</p>
+
+<h3>II</h3>
+
+<p>Why was he victorious? How can we explain that during
+the next few weeks he was able to deliver blow after blow?
+What is the solution of this riddle?</p>
+
+<p>First of all, he owes his success to youth and health. A body
+that can endure interminable riding without fatigue; the power
+to sleep at any moment, and to wake whenever he pleases; a
+stomach which can digest anything, and makes no complaint at
+being put on short commons; eyes that see and arrange everything.</p>
+
+<p>But it is to the revolution that he is indebted for the fact
+that at the age of twenty-seven, when his splendid powers are
+in their first vigour, he has risen to a leading place, and can
+wield unrestricted dictatorship. Only, thanks to the new ideas
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span>of equality, in a world which prizes a man for what he does and
+not for his birth, can any one become a leader in the prime of
+youth and after so rough an apprenticeship.</p>
+
+<p>Look at the men who are in the field against him. Archduke
+Charles, with his delicately shaped and decadent Habsburg
+nose, how can he, with his education, vie with the Corsican in
+indifference to hardships, rival Bonaparte in knowledge of men?
+How can Beaulieu, the Austrian commander, cope with the
+French general? The former is seventy-two; the latter, twenty-seven.
+General Colli suffers from gout, and has to be carried
+throughout the campaign. Alvintzy is in the middle sixties.
+The king of Sardinia is an old man. What can the excellent
+General Wurmser, who is deaf, and a slow, elderly gentleman,
+cautious in his movements, do against a commander who thinks
+nothing of changing his headquarters every day, who surrounds
+himself with young men, and who takes “Time is everything,”
+for his motto?</p>
+
+<p>The oldest man in Napoleon’s circle is the faithful Berthier,
+now forty-two, whom the new commander has taken over from
+his predecessor because Berthier has a good knowledge of the
+country. For two decades he is to be Bonaparte’s slavishly
+devoted chief of general staff. Next to be mentioned comes
+Masséna, a man of ardent temperament, who had been a cabin
+boy and a vagrant, and had served fourteen years under the
+Bourbons without rising to the rank of sergeant major; now,
+within a few weeks, he was to become a general. Augereau, too,
+a deserter from three armies, boaster, adventurer, and great
+thief. Such were the men drawn from the dregs of society out
+of whom their commander, the youngest of them all, was soon
+to make heroes and generalissimos, and subsequently princes
+and dukes.</p>
+
+<p>In every dispatch, he recommends for promotion those, and
+only those, who have displayed courage. Thus, after three
+battles, a grenadier rises to the rank of colonel, and will climb
+yet higher. On the other hand, many of the generals whom he
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span>has taken over with his command are dismissed with blunt censure:
+“Good enough for office work, knows nothing of war.”
+His subordinates do not necessarily incur his displeasure because
+they are beaten: “The fortune of war, dear Masséna,
+changes from day to day. To-morrow, or later, we shall win
+back what you have just lost.” But a division which has done
+badly is paraded to hear a rating. He says that he will have
+a mocking inscription worked upon its colours. Then the
+soldiers cry to him from the ranks: “To-morrow we will lead
+the van.” Next day, he has a thousand more enthusiasts
+among the troops. When they are victorious, in the orders of
+the day he calls them comrades and friends. Thus does he
+lead the sons of the people.</p>
+
+<p>For it is a people’s army that he is leading; that is the
+second great factor of his success. This, too, he owes to the
+revolution. Indeed, the people’s army is an expression of the
+revolution. The soldiers on the Austrian side must be used
+thriftily, for they cost a great deal, and it is not easy to
+replace them. They are drawn from a larger number of
+nationalities than the German emperor himself rules. Six
+different languages are spoken in the army, and there is no
+community of thought to hold it together. But the French
+are fighting as a united nation of thirty millions, and their army
+will be capable of perpetual regeneration for twenty years to
+come.</p>
+
+<p>What is the French army fighting for? The new freedom of
+the republic, and to spread throughout the world the few and
+simple ideas which animate it! The French are fighting for the
+world revolution, and nothing short of that. But the army is
+not in pursuit of purely ideal aims. It has to defend liberty
+against the environing forces of legitimate monarchy, against
+the legitimists who are more concerned with self-defence than
+with the cause of the fallen Bourbons. The French cannot
+achieve their end by simply defending their own frontiers.
+They are surrounded by kings and emperors who wish to keep
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span>their peoples from any attempt to imitate the French revolution,
+and are therefore trying to destroy the very focus of the
+new ideas. Thus France is forced to assume the offensive as a
+means of self-defence. Those who in such a fashion become
+conquerors in spite of themselves, are surely entitled to declare
+that their conquests are achieved in the name of liberty.</p>
+
+<p>This brings us to the third factor of Napoleon’s success.
+While the commander is engaged in the attempt to conquer
+Lombardy, and then Italy, for France, he issues a series of
+manifestoes to tell the inhabitants of the territories he is invading
+that he comes to free them from the Habsburgs and the
+Sardinians, from dukes and patrician senates. Will not all who
+have been discontented with the old order be roused to action
+by the torrential force of such appeals? Have not the oppressed
+masses long had it in mind to rid themselves of their
+rulers? Have not the ideas of the revolution crossed the frontiers
+years ago, rousing, in many of the towns, students and
+burghers to revolt? Here in Italy were young people who
+longed for freedom; leaders who had been vainly clamouring for
+“Italia unità.” The revolt, though still in chains, was rattling
+its chains outside the kings’ palace doors. The malcontents
+were ready to welcome the invading army, and to believe in its
+mission.</p>
+
+<p>The commander, a man of Italian blood, bearing an Italian
+name, and speaking Italian as his mother tongue, was not for
+them a French warrior. He was the herald of liberty and
+equality, and the two great words headed all his letters. How
+terrible would be the disillusionment, should the invader prove,
+after all, a foreign oppressor! The commander is well aware
+how much turns upon this. Will he be able to keep his famished
+army within bounds? Can he make his soldiers behave as well
+as if they were fresh from a well-provisioned garrison town?</p>
+
+<p>“Looting is on the wane,” he writes home. “The thirst of an
+army which lacked everything has been quenched. There is an
+excuse for the poor devils. They have spent three years in the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span>marches of the Alps, and now I have led them into the Promised
+Land! A famished soldier perpetrates excesses which make one
+ashamed of being a man.... I intend to restore order, for
+I will not remain in command of a robber band.... To-morrow
+I am going to have several privates and a corporal shot,
+for having looted the plate from a church. Discipline will be
+re-established within a day or two. Italy has been amazed at
+the valour of our soldiers, and shall be amazed at their good
+behaviour. There have been terrible moments; things have happened
+which have made me shudder. Thank God, the retreating
+enemy behaved even worse!”</p>
+
+<p>He puts his men on their honour. “Swear to me”—thus runs
+one of his early manifestoes—“to spare the peoples you are
+liberating; otherwise you will be the scourges of the people!
+Your victories, your courage, the blood of our fallen brothers,
+will be lost; honour and glory, too! I and my generals would
+blush at leading an undisciplined army!” Hard to carry out,
+despite his adjurations. Throughout the campaign, he is
+hampered by this problem of looting. Again and again he
+issues orders to his generals telling them they are to shoot
+any one who fails to hand over his plunder within twenty-four
+hours, even if the stolen goods be horses and mules.</p>
+
+<p>There are revolts and counter-attacks. Priests and nobles,
+agents of the princes, incite a town to resist. He is pitiless in
+his shootings, ruthless in his reprisals, whenever, in the conquered
+territory, any one raises a hand against the new master.
+But this becomes increasingly rare, for in the towns he is
+skilful in enlisting the civic sense on the side of a new order
+which assumes imposing lineaments. He understands (and this
+is an additional factor of success) the Italian temperament;
+knows how to appeal to the sense of historic veneration: “Peoples
+of Italy, the army of France comes to break your chains.
+It is a friend to all the peoples. Have confidence! Your property,
+your customs, your religion, shall be respected.” He goes
+on to speak to them of Athens, Sparta, classical Rome.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span></p>
+
+<p>History inspires him. While with rapid strokes he is making
+history, history gives his spirit wings. In boyhood, he had
+studied Plutarch; as lieutenant, he had read the history of all
+times; now, from moment to moment, he turns the knowledge
+to account. Knowing who has ruled in every part of these territories,
+understanding how the governments he has overthrown
+came into being, he has appropriate measures for each area.
+Time-honoured figures are ever present to his imagination; he
+wants to resemble them, to outdo them. Thus, whatever he
+does is conceived in a historic setting; and he compels his army,
+the country with which he is dealing, and, soon, Europe as a
+whole, to breathe the same atmosphere. These first victories,
+which in reality are nothing more than big skirmishes, are by
+the magic of his words transformed into battles, and the battles
+are magnified into history. In this way, half of what he
+achieves is achieved by the power of words. To the lands he is
+freeing, to his soldiers, he invariably suggests that they have
+done the whole thing themselves. Read his proclamation to the
+army in Milan.</p>
+
+<p>“Soldiers, like a torrent you have rushed down from the
+heights of the Apennines.... Milan is yours.... We are
+the friends of all the peoples; but, above all, we are the friends
+of the offspring of Brutus and Scipio and the other great men
+who are our models. To re-establish the Capitol, to set up there
+the statues of the heroes, to awaken the Roman people which
+for centuries has been paralysed by servitude—that is the fruit
+of your victories, that will amaze posterity. It is your title to
+immortal fame that you have given a new visage to the most
+beautiful land in Europe.... Then you will return to your
+homes, and your neighbours will point you out to one another,
+saying: ‘He was with the army in Italy!’”</p>
+
+<p>Did a commander ever before make such alluring appeals to
+soldiers and peoples, to friends and foes? Who understood so
+well as Napoleon how to influence people through their imaginations
+instead of through a sense of obedience? At Arcola he
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span>shouts to his men: “Are you cowards, or are you the victors of
+Lodi?” In a month or two, he will be urging them onward by
+reminding them that they are the victors of Arcola. “We have
+crossed the Po, and have opened the second campaign,” he
+writes to the Directors. All his reports to Paris are penned
+with consummate art. What he writes is the truth, but it is so
+skilfully adorned that it develops a life of its own as soon as
+the government communicates it to the press, and when from
+France it makes its way into foreign lands.</p>
+
+<p>With the pen, Bonaparte rounds off the victories he has won
+with the sword.</p>
+
+<h3>III</h3>
+
+<p>“I have received your peace treaty with Sardinia. The army
+has approved it.”</p>
+
+<p>The Directors quake as they read the words. The arrival of
+this dispatch cancels the joy they had felt at the coming of so
+many captured colours. When, before, had a general in the field
+dared to write in such a fashion to his government? “For this
+letter, the young hero ought to be stood up before a firing
+squad,” cry his opponents. But the fame of his victories, the
+glory of his conquest of Lombardy, have already secured him
+so strong a position in the hearts of the people that no one
+dares attack him. Recently, when the governmental commissary,
+his fellow-Corsican Saliceti, came to his camp, Bonaparte
+ignored the official’s authority, and himself signed the truce
+with Sardinia. These negotiations were the first in which he
+proved his mettle as diplomatist. When the other side wanted
+to bargain, he took out his watch, named the hour at which he
+had decided to attack, and said they had better make up their
+minds quickly. “I may lose battles,” he said, “but no one will
+ever see me lose minutes either by over-confidence or by sloth.”
+With this truce, he for the first time dispossessed a king. Without
+asking for instructions, he entered into negotiations with
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span>the dukes, with Tuscany. Was he not, before long, to do the
+same thing with the pope? What was the best way of dealing
+with this dangerous conqueror?</p>
+
+<p>“We will send him a partner,” thought the Directors, with a
+smile. “Let him share the supreme command with Kellermann,
+while Saliceti decides upon political issues.” Orders to this
+effect reached him at Lodi, on the day of battle.</p>
+
+<p>That was the first real battle he had won. A colossal bluff
+and a bold movement enabled him to storm the bridge over the
+Adda and to defeat the alarmed Austrians. There were to be
+much greater victories in days to come; but, in the history of
+the man’s spiritual development, not one of them was to equal
+this in importance.</p>
+
+<p>For now, after a battle which decided the first part of his
+campaign, having taken much booty and sustained only trifling
+losses, and having made himself master of a territory opened
+to him by an hour’s struggle on the bridge,—this evening,
+Bonaparte feels for the first time how obscure plans and brilliant
+exploits of war, dream and reality, are interconnected.
+The consciousness of his own powers makes him realise that
+boundless possibilities lie before him. That was the first time
+on which a word concerning such aims crossed his lips. To his
+friend Marmont he said: “I feel that deeds await me of which
+the present generation has no inkling.” Long afterwards, in
+retrospect, he declared: “That evening, after the battle of
+Lodi, I first became aware that I was an exceptional man; from
+then I date the awakening of an ambition to do the great things
+which hitherto had existed for me only as the fantasies of a
+dream.”</p>
+
+<p>Such was his mood when the new orders came from Paris.
+What? The conquest of two or three continents was looming
+before his imagination—and he was to go halves with Kellermann?
+He strode up and down the room, pursing his lips, and
+then he issued his fiat to the government:</p>
+
+<p>“If you put hindrances in my path, if you make my actions
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span>dependent upon the commissary’s decision, ... you must not
+expect any more good results from me.... Here it is indispensable
+that you should have absolute confidence in your commander.
+If I do not enjoy that confidence, I shall without
+complaint endeavour to win your approval in some other post.
+Every one has his own way of making war. General Kellermann
+has more experience, and would doubtless do it better;
+but, together, we should do it badly. I cannot serve the country
+unless I have your complete and undivided trust. Much
+courage, I know, is needed to write you this report, for it would
+be easy to charge me with ambition and pride! But you are
+responsible for my having to express my feelings.... I cannot
+serve jointly with a man who regards himself as the best
+commander in Europe. For the rest, one bad general is better
+than two good generals. With war, as with governance, it is a
+question of tact.”</p>
+
+<p>The general does not seem inclined to yield up his place to
+any one. If the authorities in Paris insist on a divided command,
+is it not likely that he will march ahead on his own
+initiative, gain further victories with his unaided talents, then
+turn back to threaten France, and, as a condottiere, overthrow
+the government? The Directors think it will be better not to
+insist; with a smile, a wry one this time, they give way. After
+his first, noiseless victory over the government, Bonaparte feels
+he is master. Henceforward he behaves, substantially, as a king
+who is his own commander-in-chief, but who can only secure
+reinforcements and other requisites by reiterated adjurations.
+For months and years, therefore, his dispatches are still written
+in the tone of a subordinate; of one who does not threaten,
+but advises. Yet in reality he acts all the time as if he were
+already in the land of the sultan, towards which his masterful
+character draws him.</p>
+
+<p>The Paris courier has been sent off. Bonaparte’s first “No”
+is on its way. Another restless night in camp, and then to
+Milan!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span></p>
+
+<p>In everything, he imitates the Roman general celebrating a
+triumph. As of old, the prisoners lead the way, the only difference
+being that nowadays they are not in chains. They are
+followed by five hundred cavalrymen. The citizens, who are
+used to seeing brilliant uniforms, are astonished at the tattered
+tunics, the sorry screws, the jaded appearance of the riders;
+and they are still more amazed when they see the thin little
+man on the inconspicuous white nag, at the head of his weary-looking
+suite. How grey the whole procession looks in the
+light of this brilliant spring day. At the gate the venerable
+archbishop, with a train of counts and dukes, bids him welcome.
+He dismounts, but does not draw near to the reception committee;
+he merely listens with forced politeness to the words of
+greeting. The onlookers are wondering what answer he will
+make. For a few seconds he keeps his lips tightly pressed together,
+and then contents himself with a single sentence, to the
+effect that France wishes the Lombards well. Remounting, he
+salutes, and rides on.</p>
+
+<p>Leaders and crowd are deeply impressed; no enthusiasm,
+only astonishment. Not a sign of arrogance about this conqueror;
+nothing but resolution, and a force of will before which
+all must bend. Was his conduct deliberately planned to produce
+such an impression, though never before had he experienced
+anything of the kind? Was he “play-acting”? If so,
+all the more remarkable his knowledge of men; all the more
+plain that he was a master of the ruler’s art!</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, he is absent-minded to-day, for he has not all
+that he wants.</p>
+
+<p>Now, the streets echo to the shouts of the crowd, who cannot
+restrain their expressions of astonishment as they watch the
+men who follow the commander—marching in a slack and almost
+disorderly fashion, clad in scarecrow uniforms patched with
+many colours. These Frenchmen seem in almost sorrier case
+than the prisoners!</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="illus03" style="max-width: 29.6875em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus03.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>General Bonaparte in 1796. Engraving from the Kircheisen
+    Collection.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>The commander is taking his ease in the archbishop’s palace.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span>He is having a bath. Hot baths are his one luxury, a luxury
+that he will continue to indulge in down to the day of his death,
+taking them hotter and hotter, staying in them longer and
+longer, as time goes on. Nothing can break him of the habit,
+for a hot bath is the only thing which really refreshes him,
+soothes his nerves. In the evening there is a reception. “You
+will be free, and in a safer position than the French. Milan
+will be the capital of this new republic, which has a population
+of five million. You shall have five hundred pieces of ordnance,
+and the friendship of France. From among you I will choose
+fifty men, who shall rule the country in the name of France.
+Adopt our laws, modifying them to suit your own customs....
+Be sagacious and united, and all will go well. Such is my will.
+If Habsburg should again seize Lombardy, I swear to you that
+I will take up your cause, that I will never desert you. If your
+land perishes, I shall be no more. Athens and Sparta did not
+last for ever!”</p>
+
+<p>Never since the days of Plutarch’s heroes did a commander
+talk like this. It was the conqueror’s first speech from the
+throne, and was compounded of all the elements with which, in
+his speeches and letters, he was to work upon the mind of
+Europe for twenty years to come. Everything is single and
+definite; there is so much fixity of purpose that every one
+wishes to comply. You are vassals, but free. I am your master,
+but I will protect you. Five hundred pieces of ordnance
+and the friendship of France. “Such is my will.” Then it is
+all over.</p>
+
+<p>Through the May night, the wealthy town blazed with fireworks
+and resounded with music. The young commander-in-chief
+has moved on to the Palazzo Serbelloni; the banquet is
+over, and he stands at the window. The triumphal entry of
+which he dreamed in youth, towards which his virginal fancy
+strained, has now been accomplished. Does he look forward or
+back? With what is his mind busied?</p>
+
+<p>“What do you imagine the Parisians are thinking of us?”
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span>he asks his adjutant. “Do you expect they are satisfied?”
+When Marmont makes the conventional reply, Napoleon goes
+on: “But Paris has seen nothing, so far. The future hides
+much greater victories. The goddess of fortune has not smiled
+on me that I may scorn her. The more she favours me, the
+greater shall be my demands. In a few days we shall reach
+the Adige; then Italy will be at our feet. Perhaps we shall
+cross the river, and press onward. Our age has produced nothing
+great. I want to set an example.”</p>
+
+<h3>IV</h3>
+
+<p>A royal couch in the Serbelloni Palace; never has he lain
+so soft before. But it is far too wide for one! Where is
+Josephine? What are triumphal entries and victories worth,
+without her? Fireworks and flags! Why has she not come?
+Is she really ill? Has she a lover?—He lies awake for hours.</p>
+
+<p>From the very first this man, who inspired respect even in
+the veterans among the generals, imperilled that respect by
+his way of showing his wife’s picture to all and sundry, and
+when he was in the middle of a conversation about service matters.
+“You will come soon, won’t you?” So he wrote in one
+of his almost daily letters. “You must come to me. I want
+you on my heart, in my arms! Quick! Fly, fly!” He knows
+her frivolous disposition; that her senses are easily aroused;
+that she is always ready to give herself up to new impressions,
+new admirers. But now, now! What can be keeping her? He
+had expected her to come to Milan. His ambition had been to
+escape thither from the savagery of the campaign, that in one
+of the palaces of that city he might give her capricious charms
+a splendid setting worthy of her and himself.</p>
+
+<p>But there is something which our great calculator has left
+out of his calculations. By his very feats of arms, he has kept
+her away from his side. For years in Paris she has been living
+in the half-world. Now, in this city which she loves, she wishes
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span>to shine forth in an assured position, as wife of the great commander
+whose name is in every newspaper, on every one’s lips.
+Does the little general really think she married him for love?
+When the first captured colours are exhibited, she drives out
+among the people, and, while she is loudly cheered, she thinks
+to herself how much more gratifying this is than to rough it
+in foreign towns surrounded by unmannerly soldiers. She
+seldom writes to him. His own words grow ever more urgent.
+“Have you a lover, have you taken up with some stripling of
+nineteen? If so, you have reason to dread Othello’s fist!” She
+laughs, and says to Tallien: “A queer fellow, this Bonaparte!”</p>
+
+<p>Another day, in the middle of a letter to Carnot dealing with
+urgent affairs, he writes: “I am in despair. My wife won’t
+come here. I am sure she must have a lover, and that that is
+what keeps her in Paris. I loathe women, one and all!” Then
+comes a letter in which she grasps at an expedient. Since there
+is no other way of avoiding the dangers and the dirt of camp
+life, she writes to him that she has hopes....</p>
+
+<p>Thunder and lightning! Have all the spirits of good fortune
+united to shower blessings on him? Among his successes,
+that was the only thing he lacked to complete his happiness.
+For, if destiny is to carry him to the lofty altitudes he foresees,
+to the heights he has resolved to scale, then his greatest
+need is to have heirs. But this battle is only planned, not yet
+won; new dangers are impending. He shudders. Is it true?
+Is it his child?</p>
+
+<p>“I am sorry!”—the words are penned in his almost illegible
+handwriting on the commander-in-chief’s official stationery. “I
+have been pestering you with complaints, and you are ill. Love
+had robbed me of reason. Forgive me, but I think I shall never
+be reasonable again. My life is an unending dream; gloomy
+forebodings make it hard for me to breathe; I have lost all
+hope. Write me ten pages, for nothing else can console me.
+You are ill, you love me, you are with child, and I never see
+you. Who takes care of you? Hortense? I love the sweet
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span>girl more than ever when I think of her as taking care of you....
+Soon you are to have in your arms a child as fascinating as
+yourself. If I could only spend a whole day with you. You
+know, if I saw a lover with you, I should instantly tear the man
+to pieces!”</p>
+
+<p>But who is to help her through her time of trouble? There
+is no friendship in the world, only the ties of blood. “I am in
+despair,” he writes to Joseph under the same date. “My wife
+is ailing; I do not know whether I am standing on my head or
+my heels; dreadful forebodings rack my heart. Write to me,
+I implore you. Since early childhood, we have been bound
+together by kinship and affection. Do for her what I would
+so eagerly do for you.... You know how much I love her;
+know her ardent nature; know that I have never loved so passionately,
+that Josephine is the first woman whom I have
+adored. Her condition drives me crazy.... But as soon as
+she is well again, well enough to travel, she must come to me.
+I must have her in my arms; I love her to distraction, and cannot
+live without her. If she no longer loves me, there is nothing
+more for me in the world. Oh, mon ami, do not keep the courier
+more than six hours in Paris; send him back to me with an
+answer which will give me new life. Be happy! For myself,
+nature has doomed me to win none but outward victories!”</p>
+
+<p>On the same day, he dictates, inter alia: Order to Berthier
+to occupy Alessandria; dispatch to the Directors concerning
+urgently needed reinforcements; ultimatum to the Genoese
+Senate anent the murder of soldiers; letter introducing Murat
+to the same Senate; plan to sell some cannon which are still
+left on the Riviera; order to Masséna to procure ammunition
+from the arsenal in Venice; order to Lannes to advance no
+farther; order to send all suspects to Tortona; order to send a
+division to Toulon; report to Kellermann that money and
+troops are on the way.</p>
+
+<p>His letter has an effect. Joseph asks Josephine to come with
+him to Milan. What pretext can she find for refusing? She
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span>sighs, packs her trunks, sheds tears at a farewell festival in the
+Luxembourg, gets into the carriage. After all, to-morrow is
+the thirtieth of June, the season is at an end, and she has good
+company for the journey. Of course Joseph, her vis-à-vis, is
+a homely fellow, but Junot is a dapper young man; Fortuné,
+her lap-dog, is a darling, as ever. Then there is Charles,
+another young officer whose acquaintance she has recently
+made, and who has danced attendance on her ever since. Is
+he on the lookout for a career, or a conquest? What a choice
+Christian name, Hippolyte! How fine he looks in his chasseur
+uniform. He tells such amusing stories, has an expert knowledge
+of the latest shawls and wigs, and his legs are so well
+turned!</p>
+
+<p>Milan. Bonaparte is away? More battles near Verona?
+No matter, this is a lovely place! Such a splendid palace;
+they all flock to pay their respects. But Hippolyte is hors
+concours; no one can rival the grace with which, sword clanking,
+he strides up and down the Corso. What a pity one has
+to be circumspect in one’s behaviour under so many prying eyes.
+But Hippolyte knows his way about, and has found a discreet
+staircase....</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly there is a stir of excitement. The commander-in-chief
+is coming from Verona. For two days and two nights,
+the lava of this volcano overwhelms her.</p>
+
+<h3>V</h3>
+
+<p>Thrice do the soldiers of Emperor Francis try to relieve
+Mantua, which Bonaparte is besieging. Mantua is the key
+position. Old Wurmser, marching down beside Lake Garda
+with fresh troops, drives back the opposing forces. If Bonaparte
+is to make front against him, Mantua must be abandoned
+for a time. Meanwhile, however, the enemy has blocked the
+line of retreat upon Milan. A terrible reverse, and the French
+army is in the utmost danger. Bonaparte, hastening from
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span>Milan, rides under the hot July sun across the plain, busily
+inspecting one division of the army after the other, gathering
+all his strength, for the fate of the whole campaign is at stake.
+A period of the utmost activity, and of extreme tension.</p>
+
+<p>“Since I left you,” he writes on one of these evenings, “I
+have been sad. I can only be happy when I am near you. I
+spend my whole time thinking of your kisses, your tears, your
+bewitching jealousy. The charm of the incomparable Josephine
+is perpetually rekindling the flames of my heart and my senses.
+When shall I be free, at length, free from cares and duties,
+free to devote all my time to you, with nothing in the world
+but to love you.... Since I have known you, I have come to
+respect you more day by day, which shows how wrong La
+Bruyère was when he said that love comes suddenly. Everything
+in nature runs its course, and increases by degrees....
+Be less beautiful, less tender, and above all less jealous. Your
+tears inflame my blood.... Join me quickly, so that, before
+we die, we may be able to say: ‘We have had so many happy
+days!’ A million kisses, even for your horrid Fortuné!”</p>
+
+<p>Neither now nor later could the commander-in-chief rid his
+home of this lap-dog. He tells us that on his wedding night
+the dog was in bed with Josephine. “I had to choose between
+sleeping beside the beast or not sleeping with my wife. A
+terrible dilemma, but I had to take it or leave it. I resigned
+myself. The dog was less accommodating. I have the marks
+on my leg to show what he thought about the matter!”</p>
+
+<p>Amid the hurly-burly, the general’s lady arrives at Brescia.
+Almost immediately she has to be sent back to Milan. She
+has a narrow escape of being seized by the enemy, together with
+some recruits and cannon. Now she has an excuse, and, in the
+future, she will be slower to comply with his invitations.</p>
+
+<p>During these weeks, Bonaparte for the first time loses courage,
+though it is only for a few hours of one night. Instead
+of simply issuing orders, he holds a council of war, much to the
+astonishment of his generals. In this critical situation, he
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span>proposes to retreat across the Po, but the mad Augereau
+thumps the table, shouting: “For the sake of your own fame,
+I insist that we attack.” He flings from the room. The counsels
+of the others are divided.</p>
+
+<p>See him before the decision, brooding over his maps. He is
+alone. Moths are fluttering round the candles, and at last
+burn themselves to death. The midsummer night is sultry.
+As he listens to the drums and the shouting without, he thinks:
+“To-morrow will settle whether we can keep Lombardy. Perhaps
+it will be the turning point in my fame, my destiny. Shall
+I stake all on one card? What if Wurmser’s strength is greater
+than the reports say? Josephine is sleeping now, in the great
+bed. Or, who knows, she may be laughing softly in the embrace
+of some puppy who has bewitched her.”</p>
+
+<p>He decides to fight. Next day, he is victorious at Castiglione.</p>
+
+<p>Soon afterwards, he writes: “Three days without a letter
+from you; I have written daily. This separation is terrible;
+the nights are long and savourless, the days monotonous.” At
+this time, Josephine writes to Tallien in Paris: “I am bored to
+death.” He is busied in battles and victories; she is fêted and
+honoured. To both of them life seems wearisome: to him, because
+she is too far away; to her, because he is too near. Three
+days later: “The enemy has been beaten, my darling. Eighteen
+thousand prisoners, the others dead or wounded. Wurmser has
+only Mantua left. This is the biggest success yet: Italy, Friuli,
+and Tyrol are saved for the republic. In a few days we shall
+see one another again, that is the reward for labour and pains.
+A thousand glowing kisses!”</p>
+
+<p>When the commander can draw breath, the statesman must
+turn every moment to account. In Modena he assembles
+deputies from all the States as far south as Bologna, and at a
+formal sitting he gives them a constitution, that they may unite
+to form henceforward one State, the new republic. Is he happy,
+now that he is at work State-building? His wife in Milan must
+be in love with some one, or she would write to him differently!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Your letters are cold”—this is from Modena on the same
+day. “Their tone suggests that we must have been married for
+half a century at least. Friendship and winter, it is odious and
+spiteful. What more am I to expect of you? That you have
+ceased to love me? That is an old story. That you should
+hate me? Well and good. That is what I wish. Everything
+degrades, save only hatred. But indifference with a heart of
+marble, lack-lustre eyes, languid gait?... A thousand kisses,
+tender as my heart.”</p>
+
+<p>Fresh crises call him northward once more. He comes, he
+fights, he is driven back. The gloomy November weeks, in
+which his fate again trembles in the balance, are not gladdened
+by any consolation from her. Far from it, for his most intimate
+friends, alive to all that goes on in Milan, venture cautious
+hints that my lady Josephine is having a merry time there.
+This is the day after the defeat at Caldiero. He sends to Paris
+a despairing appeal for reinforcements.</p>
+
+<p>Complications thicken; courage wanes; every one turns for
+help to the chief. He seems to be thinking with thirty heads
+these days, when the battle of Arcola is impending. It is in a
+crazy mood of despair that he writes to her in the evening,
+his pen storming over the paper: “I no longer love you, I hate
+you. You are hateful, stupid, inept. You do not write to
+me, do not love your husband. What are you doing all day,
+Madame? What important business makes it impossible for
+you to write to the man who loves you?... Who is the fairy
+prince that claims all your time, so that you cannot write to
+your husband? Take care, Josephine: some fine night, the door
+will burst open, and I shall be there! Quite seriously, I am
+uneasy, my pretty one. Do write me four pages full of sweet
+words which will warm my heart with joy and happiness. In
+a few days I hope to clasp you in my arms, and to cover you
+with a million kisses, hot as the equator.”</p>
+
+<p>How his heart flutters, uncertain whether she is still to be
+trusted, miserable if she be unworthy of trust. There is a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span>crisis in his own soul as well as out there on the battle-field.
+Responsibility, uncertainty, storm in the heart of this man,
+who has perhaps already been dishonoured in his private life,
+and to-morrow may be dishonoured as a military commander—the
+man who still hopes to rule the world. During these days,
+when a suicide occurs among the troops, he issues an order:
+“The soldier must conquer the pain and the melancholy of the
+passions.”</p>
+
+<p>Two days after the date of the letter last quoted, he is standing
+near Arcola on a bridge spanning the Adige. The enemy
+is bombarding this bridge. The French troops shrink back;
+there seems no way of forcing a passage across the river. At
+length, after repeated summonses, the soldiers advance once
+more, but there are calls from the ranks to Napoleon: “Do not
+go any farther, General. You will be killed, and then we shall
+be lost!” Marmont is a little in the van. Turning round to
+see if his men are following, he notices that the commander is
+in the arms of Muiron, the adjutant, apparently wounded.
+Around them a group of motionless figures. Now that the
+movement of the vanguard is arrested, the troops seek the shelter
+of the embankment. Bonaparte, who has recovered, stumbles
+and falls into the ditch at the foot of the dyke. His brother
+Louis and Marmont drag him out. A horse! Confusion,
+shots; Muiron covers the general with his own body, is hit,
+and falls. Bonaparte saves himself on horseback.</p>
+
+<p>That evening in camp, he is greatly depressed. Second day’s
+fighting, and a vain attempt to storm the enemy’s position.
+This abominable river. Seems impossible to get across it. For
+a long time, the fortunes of the third day are no better than
+those of the first two.</p>
+
+<p>At the eleventh hour, he has recourse to cunning. While the
+fight on the river rages uncertainly, he sends all the trumpeters
+and drummers he can get together, with part of the guard, in
+a wide half-circle to reach a position in the enemy’s rear.
+There the charge is sounded. The wearied Austrians are panic-stricken,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span>and one of their divisions draws back. The French,
+encouraged by the rout of part of the foe, assume that all the
+opposing army is retreating, and act accordingly. Courage
+and ruse have snatched victory out of a morass of despair.
+The name of another village becomes famous. Arcola medals
+are struck in Paris. A picture is painted, showing the commander
+on the bridge of Arcola, waving imaginary colours.</p>
+
+<p>The danger is over for a time. The enemy supports are
+withdrawn from Mantua, and soon the town must fall. Bonaparte
+makes a fresh disposition of his troops, and hastens to
+Milan. At length he will be able to administer the province
+from the capital, and have Josephine and hold her fast.</p>
+
+<p>But Josephine is harder to catch than Wurmser. “I reach
+Milan, rush to your house, having thrown aside everything in
+order to clasp you in my arms. You are not there! You are
+gadding about somewhere, running away when I come to seek
+you. You care nothing about your Napoleon. A whim led
+you to give me your love, and now fickleness has made you indifferent.
+Inured to dangers, I know how to meet reverses of
+fortune.... Don’t put yourself about, amuse yourself, happiness
+is made for you, all the world is happy to have the chance
+of pleasing you, your husband alone is most unhappy.”</p>
+
+<p>Next morning. “You have no reason to trouble yourself
+about the happiness or unhappiness of a man whom you do
+not love. But it is my fate to love you.... Take no part in
+the unhappiness of your husband, who lives only for you. It
+would be unjust if I were to ask you to love me as I love you.
+Who can expect delicate lace to weigh as heavy as gold....
+My fault is that nature has denied me the charms which might
+bind you to me. What I do deserve is nothing more than this,
+that Josephine should show me a little consideration, a little
+respect, for I love her to the verge of madness, her and her
+alone. Farewell, adorable woman.... If I were certain
+that she could no longer love me, I would hide my pain, and
+would content myself with being useful to her whenever I
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span>could.... I open the letter once more, to send you a kiss.
+Ah, Josephine! Josephine!”</p>
+
+<p>What a confession! With ardour and ambition he pushes
+forward to the goal, but the enemy has escaped, and what is to
+be done? Resignation must be the first aim after a failure, not
+raging and cursing. A man must retain his self-respect, and
+act prudently. A little mockery, embellished with courtesy,
+will have its due effect. Next day, he has turned things over
+in his mind. I must have her. How shall I lure her back? To
+extol my exploits does not move her in the least. What does
+influence her? Flattery and service. Such is his calculation.
+A miscalculation: for he, who is masterful with kings, fails to
+see that the charming Josephine would fear a master, even
+though she would not worship him; that nothing makes her
+more secure in her own position than his confessed passion.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon’s mistake is the outcome of his pride. His pride
+will lead him to the limits of what is humanly possible, but will
+in the long run mislead him into the greatest of his blunders.
+Now, it is pride that prevents his veiling a passion which he
+does not master because he does not wish to do so. After all
+his carefully planned phrases to the effect that he wishes to be
+of use to her, the foolish human heart drives him, with the gesture
+of a love-sick youth, to tear open his letter that he may
+“send a kiss.”</p>
+
+<h3>VI</h3>
+
+<p>What is Paris saying?</p>
+
+<p>Paris is radiant, for, after long years, it once more has a
+hero to worship. Bonaparte’s picture is in all the shops;
+rhymed comparisons of him with the heroes of antiquity are
+in every one’s mouth; the actors speak of him when instructions
+are sent to announce a new victory; the colours he has
+taken from the enemy are on show at the Luxembourg; his
+reports, cut about by the Directors, appear in the “Moniteur.”
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span>Songs, medals, caricatures (a recent importation from across
+the Channel), enliven the boulevards.</p>
+
+<p>He knows all this. He knows, likewise, that the rapid growth
+of his popularity is alarming the Directors, who feel that he
+has long ceased to be their creature. “The fellow’s perpetual
+victories will be the death of us,” they think, and put their
+heads together. A people’s army is invincible, but it is dangerous
+unless its officers are genuinely devoted to the government.
+For the last seven years, it has been the rulers’ way to threaten
+with the guillotine any general who has dared to meddle in
+politics on his own account. “A commander who does not comply
+with our orders, who makes light of the commissaries we
+send to his camp, must be dismissed, even if his name be
+Napoleon Bonaparte. Saliceti is too much under his thumb,
+being a fellow-Corsican, and having an uneasy conscience because
+he betrayed Bonaparte not very long ago. Let us send another
+commissary, Clarke, who is both prudent and ambitious.”</p>
+
+<p>Elegant and high-spirited, himself a general, Clarke, while
+on the journey to Milan, looks forward to twisting Bonaparte
+round his fingers. That gawky little fellow in the threadbare
+uniform whom he had often met at Barras’ should be easy
+enough to deal with. But in the Palazzo Serbelloni, the envoy
+is abashed before the commander. Napoleon has not grown
+any taller, certainly; but the manner of his entries and exits,
+while all wait for his coming or make way for his going, suggests
+the ruler rather than the simple warrior. The commissary
+has a courteous reception, but he is far from being able
+to penetrate Bonaparte’s secret plans and report them to his
+masters. On the contrary, within a couple of days the commander-in-chief
+has full knowledge of the Directors’ private
+designs, about which Clarke ought to have kept his mouth shut.
+The commissary has bowed before the higher authority. “Here
+is the man of the future,” says he to himself; and promptly
+changes sides. Napoleon’s suspicions are now confirmed. He
+knows that the Directors are using his conquests as mere pawns
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span>in the game they are playing to secure peace with the Austrians.
+They have no intention of keeping Italy, and still
+less do they think of revolutionising it. Now that he is fore-warned,
+he will make all his preparations to thwart the government’s
+plans.</p>
+
+<p>But he still has need of the Directors. “Reinforcements!
+Reinforcements! Not in name only, not on paper merely, but
+armed men in the flesh.... My best soldiers are wounded;
+none of my staff officers and generals are fit for active service.
+The new levies are raw and unsteady. The army is reduced to
+a handful of exhausted warriors. We are forsaken in the
+middle of Italy. The few brave fellows left to me, are marked
+out for death unless you send ample reinforcements. Soon
+may strike the hour of the valiant Augereau, the indomitable
+Masséna, Berthier, myself. What will happen then to the lads
+in the ranks? This thought makes me cautious. I no longer
+dare to defy death, for if I were to fall it would demoralise
+those who are the object of all my care.”</p>
+
+<p>Could anything be more artfully phrased?</p>
+
+<p>Yes, he has another string to his bow. When he does not
+threaten imminent destruction, he cajoles with gifts. Month
+after month, to this government whose only resources have for
+some time been piles of almost worthless paper currency, he
+sends a consignment of hard cash, gold extorted from princes
+and republics by the terms of truce. He is the first commander
+to send money home, instead of continually demanding money.
+And in addition he has little presents to spare for the Directors.
+“I am sending a hundred of the finest horses I can lay my hands
+on, to replace any you may have that are not really good
+enough to draw your carriages.”</p>
+
+<p>He asks for the troops quartered in the southern provinces
+of France, and is told that they are needed for home service.
+“It is better,” he rejoins, “that there should be broils in
+Lyons, while we keep Italy, than conversely.” When told to
+leave all diplomatic negotiations to the commissaries, his answer
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span>runs: “For such matters, you do not merely need a one
+and only general; you must see to it that no one and nothing
+interfere with him in his work.... My advance is no less
+precise than my thought process.... We have to do everything
+with a weak army: thrust back the German troops; lay
+siege to fortresses; keep our lines of communication open;
+threaten Genoa, Venice, Tuscany, Rome, and Naples; show our
+strength here, there, and everywhere. For this, absolute unity
+of the military, political, and financial command is indispensable....
+Unless the general remains the great centre, you
+will be exposed to incessant danger. I hope this language will
+not be ascribed to personal ambition. For my own part, I am
+unfortunately overburdened with honours, and my health has
+been so seriously undermined that I may soon have to ask you
+to appoint my successor. I can no longer mount a horse; nothing
+is left to me but courage.... I am continuing the negotiations.
+Troops! troops!—if you want to keep Italy. Bonaparte.”</p>
+
+<p>The more popular he becomes, the more often does he tender
+his resignation, though his health is in truth excellent, and day
+after day he rides until his horse stumbles from fatigue. Woe
+to the Parisian lawyers if they run counter to his wishes!
+While he strengthens France’s power in Italy, he is consolidating
+his own influence in Paris; this is his new idea. Although
+he neither champions popular freedom nor believes Italy ripe
+for it, he insists upon the formation of the “Cisalpine Republic,”
+against the wishes of the Directors—among whom Carnot,
+at least, is a convinced democrat, though he wants to use Italy
+as a pawn in the French game.</p>
+
+<p>This is the first occasion on which Bonaparte builds up an
+organism out of centrifugal forces. In days to come, he will
+repeat the process again and again, on an ever grander scale
+of creation, his aim being to establish a United Europe. He
+now welds together the half dozen petty States of northern
+Italy, prescribes their constitution, appoints and dismisses
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span>their officials. Throughout, he is the dictator, and yet all the
+time he acts on rational principles and allows for elasticity in
+matters of detail. He issues brilliant proclamations, announcing
+that these States are to be free whether they like it or not,
+and that they are to pay him promptly in hard cash for the
+privilege.</p>
+
+<p>“The French Republic has sworn hatred of the tyrants,
+brotherhood with the peoples. This principle of the constitution
+is the principle of the army as well. The despot who has
+so long kept Lombardy enslaved, has done great injury to
+France.... The victorious army of an insolent monarch was
+compelled to spread terror among the conquered. But the republican
+army, while waging war to the death against its enemies,
+the kings, gives a pledge of friendship to the peoples it
+has set free. Respect for property, humanity, and religion—this
+is our animating principle. But the Lombards owe us,
+who are their brothers, a fair return.... Lombardy must
+support us with all her resources. We need provisions, for
+France is so far away that we cannot supply our requirements
+thence. We are entitled to them by the right of conquest;
+friendship must hasten to offer them to us. We have to requisition
+twenty million francs from the provinces. They are so
+rich that this will not be a serious burden.”</p>
+
+<p>Then he takes whatever he wants out of the taxes, the countryside,
+the camps, the arsenals, and the domains. In the
+articles of every truce, he demands money, oxen, and pictures.
+If he sends pictures and statues to Paris, this will not, of
+course, stabilise the currency; but it will tickle the vanity of
+the Parisians, and win him popular favour. In a period of intense
+financial stringency, Bonaparte, with Italy as his source
+of supply, stocks the Louvre with precious works of art, contributing
+far more than the most resplendent of kings.</p>
+
+<p>But all the time, while he is ruthlessly extorting money from
+the Italians, he is not less ruthless with Frenchmen who are
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span>trying to feather their own nests. In one of his early
+despatches, he writes: “The army consumes five times as much
+as it should, because the commissariat officers are falsifying
+their accounts.... Prodigality, venality, and peculation are
+rife. There is only one thing to do: a committee of three
+must be appointed, with power, during from three to five days,
+to shoot every dishonest administrator.” When the deliveries
+of hay are found to be short weight, he declares: “It is of the
+utmost importance that not one of these rascals shall escape.
+Too long have the army and the country been the victims of
+cupidity.” Innumerable are the documents bearing his signature
+which are directed against these plunderers. When the
+influx of women camp-followers exceeds all bounds, he issues the
+following order: “Any woman found among the troops without
+a permit twenty-four hours after the posting of this notice,
+will be blackwashed and publicly exposed for two hours.”</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand, this strict disciplinarian was humane in
+his desire to put an end to some of the barbarities which still
+characterised war in those days: “The infamous practice of
+flogging men to make them disclose secrets, must come to an
+end. The only result of torturing people in this way is that the
+poor wretches say whatever they think will please their captors.
+I forbid the use of means that are equally repugnant
+to humanity and reason.”</p>
+
+<h3>VII</h3>
+
+<p>As a diplomat, he strengthens all the instruments of diplomacy:
+flattery and threats; lying and frankness—or sometimes,
+even in diplomatic negotiations, he will play the bluff soldier.
+He is especially shrewd in his dealings with the Vatican.</p>
+
+<p>As thorough-going revolutionists, the Directors wish to put
+an end to the temporal power of the pope; for the Papal States
+are the focus of the religion which revolutionary France has rejected.
+The prospect of this moral success, to be gilded by
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span>the wealth of the Vatican, charms them more than all Bonaparte’s
+activities in the formation of border States. They insist
+upon his advancing against Rome. Now he will be able to
+see it close at hand, this city with which, from childhood onwards,
+his imagination has associated power, greatness, and
+fame. Like Cæsar, he will be able to pluck laurels from the
+Capitol, for the papal troops cannot stand against him for a
+moment.</p>
+
+<p>But he holds his hand. For him, the pope is the only ruler
+who cannot be dethroned by big guns. He sees the idea behind
+the papacy, with its millennial influence on France and Europe;
+he knows the moral repercussions of martyrdom, and he has
+determined not to wage war upon the pope, unless it be a make-believe.
+“The influence of Rome is incalculable. It was a serious
+error to break with this power, which will profit by our
+mistake.”</p>
+
+<p>He moves southward, and, literally, crosses the Rubicon, but
+there he stops. Because he is the stronger, he offers a truce;
+henceforward this will be his technique. The aged pope accepts
+the offer, for Bonaparte is wise enough to leave all ecclesiastical
+questions open. Pius VI promises to pay France several millions;
+to hand over one hundred pictures, busts, vases, or
+statues as the French commissioners shall determine. There
+are only two articles for which the commander-in-chief makes a
+specific demand: He wants the busts of Junius Brutus and Marcus
+Brutus from the Capitol. He is a Roman from Corsica;
+he crosses the Rubicon, spares Rome, and does not enter the
+city; but he requisitions the busts of the two heroes of
+antiquity.</p>
+
+<p>When the pope fails to pay up, and makes difficulties, Napoleon
+sets out towards Rome a second time, but does not go to
+the city. After a trifling skirmish, he is willing to make peace.
+He will soon want to use his soldiers in the north. A pope on
+the run would carry his treasures with him, and what would
+there be left then for the poor Directors in Paris? On his own
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span>initiative, he actually pardons the French priests who have
+refused to take the oath of allegiance to the constitution and
+have sought refuge in Rome. He makes friends everywhere
+among the clergy, compares a “citizen archbishop” to one of
+the apostles, and writes as follows in several of his letters to
+high ecclesiastics: “The teaching of the Gospels is based on
+equality, and is therefore the most suitable for any republic.”
+What will they say to that in Paris, where Christ has been
+done away with?</p>
+
+<p>Finally, he sends to the pope, who is on the point of taking
+to flight, an assurance that there is nothing to be afraid of.
+“Tell the Holy Father that I am not an Attila; and that even if
+I were, the Holy Father should not forget that he is a successor
+of Leo.” He thus dresses himself in historical trappings when
+he is dealing with the oldest of the thrones. But when the
+nuncio is slow to sign the new agreement, the polished man
+of the world is suddenly metamorphosed into a soldier, who
+tears up the draft and throws it into the fire. “We are not
+discussing terms of peace, Monsignore; there is merely a suspension
+of hostilities.” The other side is alarmed. He doubles
+his demands, and this time he gets what he wants. Thereupon
+the pope writes his “dear son” a letter, and gives the child of
+the revolution his blessing.</p>
+
+<p>He never wraps up his doings in mystery, as the diplomats
+of those days were wont to do. An hour after his first truce
+has been arranged, he discussed recent happenings with the
+freedom of a historian in the next generation. Talking to the
+conquered Piedmontese over the dinner table, he says: “My attack
+on the castle of Cossaria was needless; but your movement
+of the 17th was a sound tactical manœuvre.”</p>
+
+<p>At the end of the second campaign, he again shows himself a
+master in respect of both self-confidence and moderation. He
+has moved forward out of Lombardy in the beginning of March,
+and by the end of the month he is already in Styria, a few
+days’ march from Vienna. If the Army of the Rhine follows
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span>up his blow by similar victories, they will be able to dictate
+peace to Emperor Francis. Yet he chooses to halt, and to offer
+peace to the vanquished. True, the Army of the Rhine is still
+a good way off, whilst Austria and Hungary are arming themselves
+in frenzied haste. To stay where he is as a menace, this
+is the conqueror’s logic.</p>
+
+<p>Bonaparte, however, is a statesman. The Directors want
+peace before the elections, and he still has need of the
+Directors. How would it be if he, he alone, the soldier, were to
+bring France the peace for which she has been waiting five
+years? Is he to share the glory of this achievement with his
+rivals in the Army of the Rhine? The fortune of war is uncertain,
+and none but the foolhardy will tempt it unless they
+must. Once more he has broken the troops of the Empire, cut
+off as they are from the Rhenish armies. For a year, Europe
+has been afraid of the new commander; it will become him now
+to make a gesture of peace, so that people may learn to revere
+the new statesman. Without courtly periphrases, and as an
+equal, he writes to the defeated Austrian leader, Emperor
+Francis’ brother:</p>
+
+<p>“Commander-in-Chief, Sir! Our valiant soldiers are waging
+war and want peace. Has not the war lasted six years? Have
+we not killed enough people; have we not brought enough suffering
+upon mankind? Everywhere there is a reaction towards
+humaneness, and almost everywhere the enemies of France have
+laid down their arms. Your nation is the only exception. The
+omens of this new campaign are sinister. However it may
+end, each of us will slay a few thousands of the other’s soldiers;
+and yet, in the end, we shall make peace, for everything comes
+to an end, even the fiercest hatred.... You, who stand so
+near to the throne, uplifted above the petty emotions of statesmen
+and governments, are not you disposed to win for yourself
+the title of benefactor of mankind, saviour of Germany? I
+regard it as quite possible for you to save your country by
+force of arms. But, even then, Germany will be laid waste. If
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span>these lines could save the life of but one man, I should pride
+myself more upon my civic crown than upon the melancholy
+renown of the battle-field.”</p>
+
+<p>This letter makes a strong appeal to Archduke Charles. A
+highly cultured man, declared enemy of all wars, and only
+acting as commander-in-chief from a sense of duty, with this
+document in his hand he will be able to make headway against
+the war party in Vienna and to influence the emperor. For
+what would happen should they refuse? Bonaparte would certainly
+publish his letter and their reply. He would have another
+chance of parading before Europe the humanist ideals of
+the republic, and contrasting with them the feudal militarism
+of the empire. He would lay the country waste with fire and
+sword, while censuring us before the world for our truculence.
+He is following up his letter by advancing his troops, and he
+has already occupied Leoben.</p>
+
+<p>The emperor’s envoys arrive. The French commander meets
+them at the foot of the stairs, speaks of the emperor and the
+archduke with respect. When they beg for a ten days’ truce
+(during which Vienna will be able to continue preparations
+for war), he answers by inviting them to supper. After the
+meal, he agrees to a five days’ suspension of hostilities.</p>
+
+<p>While comparative calm now reigns in Vienna, the Directors
+in Paris are much perturbed. Is this general of ours going
+to make the Great Peace all by himself? If he can do that, he
+will only have to come to Paris afterwards, and with one hand
+he will be able to push us from our seats. Most politely, therefore,
+they instruct him to await the coming of the envoy they
+are sending. All the more does Bonaparte press the other side
+for a decision. He knows what reports concerning him are
+current in Paris, and he cracks his whip over the Directors’
+heads: “I should like to have a rest. I have justified your
+confidence in me; in all my undertakings I have hazarded my
+life; I have covered myself with more glory than the most fortunate
+man could wish; now I have advanced upon Vienna, leaving
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span>Italy’s lovely plains behind me, as I advanced once before
+in search of bread for the army which the republic could no
+longer feed. Calumny vainly attempts to discredit my intentions.
+My civic career, like my military career, will be
+unique and simple.”</p>
+
+<p>Ironies, beneath whose mask the writer is moving towards
+unnamed goals.</p>
+
+<p>Endless negotiations. But why should the matter drag on?
+Give us Belgium and Lombardy. You can compensate the dispossessed
+princes with possessions in the Holy Roman Empire!
+Habsburg accepts this principle, for neither the emperor nor
+any one of the German princes is concerned any longer about
+the Holy Roman Empire. It is very old, in poor health, and
+will soon be laid in the tomb. This plan will give France a
+finger in the pie across the Rhine. But how Habsburg is to
+be compensated for the loss of Lombardy, remains uncertain.</p>
+
+<p>Opportune is the arrival of letters from Venice reporting
+insurrections against the French and the murder of a number
+of French soldiers. At length the day of vengeance has come!
+Venice, too, is outworn, and ripe for destruction. “Since the
+discovery of the Cape route to the Indies and the rise of Triest
+and Ancona, Venice has been on the decline,” he writes to the
+Directors, to soothe their conscientious scruples—i.e., for use in
+a justificatory campaign. “It will hardly survive the blow.
+This wretched and cowardly population, unfitted for freedom,
+without land or water, must, of course, be handed over to those
+to whom the hinterland is allotted. First of all, we shall take
+the ships, empty the arsenal, carry off the big guns, and close
+the banks; we shall also keep Corfu and Ancona.” Thus weakened,
+the Lagoons were to pass to Habsburg.</p>
+
+<p>Bonaparte dealt in summary fashion with the old lords of the
+region, with the few patrician families which, as the successors
+of strong men, had ruled Venice for centuries, and had made of
+it one of the most reactionary States in the world. “You have
+stirred up the peasants against us,” he wrote to the doge while
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span>the negotiations with the Austrians were in progress. “Thanks
+to you, every one is shouting: ‘Death to the French!’ Hundreds
+of our soldiers have already perished through your machinations.
+Do not lie to me! You incited these disturbances.
+Do you imagine that because I am in the heart of Germany I
+shall be unable to enforce respect for the greatest nation in the
+world? I shall take vengeance for the blood of my companions-in-arms.
+War or peace! Unless you instantly hand over the
+ringleaders, I shall declare war.”</p>
+
+<p>This is his tone when he wishes to terrify a dozen tottering
+old patricians. When the envoys from the Senate come to his
+camp, he pretends to fly into a passion: “I shall have no more
+constitution and no more Senate. For Venice, I shall be a
+second Attila. Make me no more proposals. I will be your
+lawgiver.” When the city is being handed over, the doge, a
+man of ninety, falls dead—the last doge of Venice. Bonaparte
+never forgot this scene.</p>
+
+<p>Has he done with Italy now? Has not he got all he wants;
+has not he reached his end?</p>
+
+<p>There is no end, for every step forward opens a new vista.
+Venice is merely a springboard, whence he can start his swim
+into the open sea. The islands first; then the Adriatic; and
+now he contemplates a more distant horizon. When he was in
+Ancona a while back, forcing his terms of peace upon Rome, he
+stood on the shore, looking seaward. There were the Ionian
+Islands, and beyond them lay Turkey. He wrote: “From this
+point, we could reach Macedonia in twenty-four hours; the
+place would be invaluable for our influence upon the destinies of
+the Turkish Empire.” As brigadier on the general staff he had
+thought of engulfing himself in Turkey. From Ancona he sends
+agents to open up relationships with powerful pashas in Janina,
+Scutari, and Bosnia.</p>
+
+<p>Now, when he is in Leoben, he makes sure of the island
+possessions of Venice, arranges for the occupation of Corfu and
+Zante, “to control simultaneously the Adriatic and the East.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span>No one will be able to save the Turkish Empire. We shall
+watch its death agony. The occupation of the Ionian Islands
+leaves us the choice between supporting Turkey and making
+sure of our own share of the spoils.”</p>
+
+<p>The political reality underlying this is an attack on England.
+France has long looked forward to the acquisition of
+strongholds in the Mediterranean, and to thus imposing a
+barrier between England and India. In Bonaparte, this general
+aim acquires the impulsive energy of a personal ambition.
+He does not want the East that he may inflict a mortal wound
+on England as his arch enemy; he is in search of means to injure
+England that thereby he may win the East. Since his imagination
+always runs far ahead of his achievements, Europe, of
+which but yesterday he first seized a corner, is already beginning
+to seem too small for him. He says to Bourrienne:</p>
+
+<p>“Only in the East have there been great empires and mighty
+changes; in the East, where six hundred million people dwell.
+Europe is a mole-hill!”</p>
+
+<h3>VIII</h3>
+
+<p>A high-arched room, in the baroque style; the walls are white,
+picked out with gold. On a long couch upholstered in green
+silk, a sixteen-year-old lieutenant, a spoiled darling, with the
+fawning manners of a page, is sitting between two women of
+ripe beauty. One of them is the youth’s mother; but when her
+smiling glance roves coquettishly over the surrounding group
+of smartly dressed officers, we gather that she is thinking far
+less of maternal obligations than of hours in which such boys
+as hers are engendered. Without words, she seems to add:
+“Creole women are adepts in the art of love!” Another connoisseur
+in the same art is the handsome general who stands
+behind her, craning forward over her shoulder that he may
+see far down into her corsage—as fashion and the lady’s pride
+in her charms make it easy for him to do. This is Masséna,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span>whose talent as a soldier is to be ever prompt to attack, being
+too unrestrained and uncultured to count the cost; but his
+flaming impetuosity often saves his troops in moments of danger.
+His temperament is so ardent, that he must always have
+at least two women in his train; and his appetite for money is
+no less keen. Money and women—he steals both, whenever he
+has the chance.</p>
+
+<p>All the qualities that Masséna lacks, you will find in the
+little man with the big head who stands in front of the ladies
+making conversation. He is ugly, touchingly grotesque in his
+movements, and at the moment intoxicated by his success in
+winning—no one knows how—the love of a pretty member of
+the Visconti family. This is Berthier, chief of general staff,
+unresting in his activity; a man who will do administrative work
+one day, and take a fortress by storm the next; a great student
+of maps, for he is one of the few among these officers who is
+well grounded in the theory of his profession.</p>
+
+<p>There is Murat, theatrically decked out in green satin, twisting
+the huge plumed hat he holds in his hands. Of proletarian
+birth, like most of the men at this remarkable headquarters, he
+is fond of talking in asides. Now he laughs too loudly because
+the ribald Augereau, the avaricious and extravagant peasant’s
+son, has been telling him an after-dinner story. Murat, though
+he fears neither artillery fire nor the frowns of princes, is now
+painfully embarrassed because Josephine calls to him across
+the room. She wants to hear the joke!</p>
+
+<p>But Joseph, a man of the world, who dreads what the enfant
+terrible may blurt out, nods meaningly to Murat, implying to
+him that for God’s sake he must hold his tongue. Elise is sitting
+in the embrasure of one of the windows. Not so good-looking
+as the other women, and finding her husband a bore,
+she is apt to be censorious, and would carry tales to Mother
+Letizia, who abhors Josephine’s loose morals.</p>
+
+<p>Now comes the bright sound of laughter from the garden.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span>That is Pauline’s birdlike voice. She is making the most of
+the days of freedom left to her before her marriage to General
+Leclerc, the husband chosen for her by Napoleon. She is playing
+blind-man’s-bluff with Hippolyte, and her pleasure in the
+game is doubled by the knowledge that she is annoying
+Josephine.</p>
+
+<p>Here is the chief, coming slowly along the passage. For two
+long hours he has been walking up and down with the Parisian
+dramatist Arnault. This companion has been carefully chosen.
+The newcomer has asked many questions about the army and
+the battles. Bonaparte has answered them with a detailed
+report of his own doings, which he knows that Arnault will
+spread far and wide. Now he has steered the conversation to
+the topic of the governmental crisis, long drawn out. As the
+two come into the reception room, he says, ostensibly with indifference,
+and yet with emphasis enough to fix the words in
+Arnault’s memory: “I can hardly conceive any other way out
+of their difficulties than that they should bend before the power
+of one strong man. But where is such a man to be found?”</p>
+
+<p>As Bonaparte enters, the officers rise to their feet, break off
+all conversation, and look expectantly at this man of twenty-seven,
+though most of them are older than he and all of them
+a good deal taller. Only the page continues to loll on the
+couch, for Eugene knows that his mother is unchallenged
+mistress of the house.</p>
+
+<p>We are at Montebello, the huge castle near Milan, where
+Bonaparte is passing the summer. He is almost wholly the
+statesman now, for the war has been ended by the arrangement
+entered into at Leoben, and nothing more is needed than a
+formal ratification. He might be in Paris, receiving the adulation
+of which he dreamed in youth; but he prefers to stay in
+Italy. He will not return to Paris until the political consequences
+of his victories have assumed a concrete form, until
+the new States are consolidated and the Italian business over
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span>and done with. Meanwhile, during the many months he spends
+at Montebello, the life there is not so much that of a military
+headquarters, as that of a minor court.</p>
+
+<p>But in no respect does he behave like an upstart. There are
+no pretences. In everything he will make his influence felt as
+one who is a child of the revolution that established a regime
+of equality. He has appointed sons of the people to the leading
+positions in his army; but he has no fear of what his noble
+guests, the dukes and princes of Italy, may think of it, should
+one of his valiant generals commit a solecism. He sees no reason
+for hiding his origin like a parvenu, although his adoption
+of French nationality might well incline him to conceal his
+Corsican birth. In actual fact, he parades it. Before the
+close of the previous year, he had summoned the whole family to
+Milan. Now, with lavish oriental hospitality, he has invited
+them all to Montebello, and those who seek his favour must
+show his relatives due honour. Half Italy pays court to him,
+for his name is already acquiring the mythical power of that of
+a man of destiny. Besides the numerous persons who wish to
+harness their fortunes to his chariot, not a few come from afar
+to ask the sage’s advice concerning family matters and private
+affairs.</p>
+
+<p>He has found it hard to persuade his mother, proud and a
+woman of strict principles, to make friends with Josephine,
+whose reputation is an offence to her. Josephine reciprocates
+Madame Letizia’s dislike; but Napoleon, though he idolises his
+wife and can refuse her nothing, compels her to observe the outward
+forms of respect. Now, the friction between the two
+women has become even greater than at first. “This Creole
+says soft nothings to every man, and kisses every woman, instead
+of attending to her business of bearing children.” The
+Corsican mother has given birth to thirteen. Josephine’s barrenness
+dishonours Napoleon and his family. Letizia fancies
+that in the eyes of many of his adversaries she can read satisfaction
+and mockery because the great man cannot procreate a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span>child. But it is not his fault. Josephine has led, and still
+leads, too loose a life. That is what is amiss.</p>
+
+<p>When Letizia first met Napoleon again, after his battles and
+victories, she embraced him and said:</p>
+
+<p>“You are thinner than ever! You are wearing yourself out!”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a bit of it. I am really living, now!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, for posterity....”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, do you call that dying?”</p>
+
+<p>When he leaves her, he says to her: “Do take good care of
+yourself, Mother. If you die, there will be no one left with any
+authority over me.” His Corsican clannishness is almost as
+strong as his cosmopolitan self-confidence.</p>
+
+<p>Three sisters, three brothers, and Uncle Fesch are, in their
+various ways, enjoying themselves at Montebello. The fascinating
+Pauline, sixteen years of age, cannot forgive Josephine,
+who, in deference to Napoleon’s wishes, has interfered with her
+plans for a love marriage. She weds Leclerc in the castle chapel,
+and at the same time Elise and Bacciochi have to resolemnise
+their union in church, for the chief is eager to keep in the good
+graces of the Vatican. After the ceremony Letizia, who has
+no interest in these intrigues, returns to Corsica.</p>
+
+<p>“This island, this province,” as Bonaparte now calls it, as if
+it were an island or a province like any other, has now been
+regained from the English, who had occupied it in response to
+Paoli’s call for aid. Bonaparte managed the affair from a distance,
+while busied in his campaign on the mainland. One
+foggy night, a couple of dozen Frenchmen, taking with them
+plenty of money and an abundance of weapons, landed in
+Corsica “to encourage the patriots,” circulate pamphlets, and
+so on. Napoleon also sent Saliceti, his friend and his opponent
+of earlier days. Thus, by proxy and from afar, he was able to
+achieve what he had thrice failed to do in person.</p>
+
+<p>“Can it really be only four years?” thinks Signora Letizia,
+when those who had driven her and hers into exile receive her
+with acclamations. Is this the very citadel which was for so
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span>long the centre of Napoleon’s thoughts and feelings? Now,
+simply because he orders it, Elise’s husband is to be commandant
+there. For a long while, already, Lucien has been intendant
+of the forces. To Napoleon, in Italy, his native island
+now seems an ancient family seat, a romantic and medieval
+spot where his kindred can dwell when convenient. With a contemptuous
+smile, not long ago, he had read a letter from the
+Bourbon pretender, in which Louis offered him the title of duke,
+or even hereditary viceroy, of Corsica, if he would espouse the
+royalist cause.</p>
+
+<p>In Montebello, Bonaparte first learns how to separate his
+private life from his public life—a lesson which those born in
+the purple learn from childhood upwards.</p>
+
+<p>The guardianship of the castle, strangely enough, is entrusted,
+not to French soldiers, but to three hundred Polish
+legionaries. In several of his battles, there had been danger
+that he would be taken prisoner, so he has formed a bodyguard,
+forty strong. They are called guides, are chosen from among
+the tallest and best of his soldiers, and have a dare-devil for
+their leader.</p>
+
+<p>The castle is thronged with orderlies and couriers. Envoys
+are flocking from all quarters. The lion of St. Mark and the
+key of St. Peter gleam on foreign epaulettes; Vienna, Leghorn,
+and Genoa are also represented at Montebello. Napoleon lives
+in state. Following the custom of the country, he keeps open
+house. Interested spectators are admitted to the gallery of
+the banqueting hall; and he drops a hint, lest they should
+forget to spread the news when they return home, that like
+them he drinks the wine of the country.</p>
+
+<p>The reports of those who come to see him on service matters
+or other official business express astonishment that this young
+commander-in-chief is never embarrassed. He is dignified and
+yet perfectly natural; always the most simply dressed man in
+the company. None the less, he knows quite well how to keep
+people at a distance. Though nearly every one who comes to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span>see him towers over him in stature, he never tries to appear
+taller than he is. Instead, those conversing with him are inclined
+to stoop a little, and thus seem to be paying court to
+him. Henceforward, throughout life, he is able from his natural
+defect to derive an advantage whose ultimate psychical
+consequences are incalculable. One of the visitors to Montebello
+wrote: “Should this man have the luck to escape death
+in battle, within four years he will be in exile or seated on a
+throne.” The writer was only three years out in his reckoning.</p>
+
+<p>A student of his epoch, one who knows how fame is manufactured,
+he has in attendance an able journalist, the first
+publicity agent in history, whose business it is to blow Napoleon’s
+trumpet in Paris and subtly to discredit the Directors.
+Being a disciple of Plutarch, Bonaparte knows through whose
+agency the story of great men’s deeds is handed down to posterity;
+that is why the faces of poets, historians, artists, and
+men of science are so often seen at his Italian castle. A year
+before, a few days after the triumphal entry into Milan, and
+when overwhelmed with urgent business, he had found time to
+pen the following remarkable lines to a great astronomer:</p>
+
+<p>“The sciences which are the glory of the human mind, the
+arts which beautify the world and bequeath great deeds to our
+offspring, must be cherished with especial care in free States.
+All men of genius, all those who are famous in the world of
+learning, are Frenchmen, no matter to what country they may
+belong.” Hitherto, such men have had to lead a retired life.
+Now, freedom of thought prevails; intolerance is a thing of the
+past, there are no despots left. The talented can foregather
+under his patronage, and fearlessly tell him all their wishes.
+Any such person who wants to go to France may be sure of a
+cordial reception, “for the French people would rather win a
+great mathematician, painter, or other man of note, than win
+the wealthiest of provinces. That is why, Citizen, I ask you to
+make these sentiments widely known among the great men of
+Milan!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span></p>
+
+<p>He commissions an attaché, who, like most of his tribe, has
+little to think about and nothing to do, to make a register of
+the art treasures in the possession of the petty States of Italy.
+In subsequent treaties, he demands the best of these for Paris.</p>
+
+<p>For the Paris Conservatoire, he instructs experts to make
+copies of the best Italian music. Writing on this topic, he
+says: “Of all the arts, music has the strongest influence on the
+passions, and for that reason the legislator must make it one
+of his chief concerns. An inspired symphony composed by a
+master cannot fail to stir our feelings, and has far more influence
+than a treatise on morality, which convinces our reason
+without affecting our conduct.” When he becomes a member
+of the Institute, he flaunts this title at the head of all the letters
+he writes as commander-in-chief, and declares: “The true power
+of the French Republic must henceforward consist in this, that
+no new idea shall arise anywhere which is not the property of
+France.” In confidential talk he says: “The soldier must,
+above all, regard his commander as wiser and more cultured
+than himself; and the soldier will regard this title with respect
+for the very reason that its meaning is obscure to him.”</p>
+
+<p>Such actions disclose, not the statesman alone, but the man
+born to rule, the prince who regulates every gesture, every word
+that he says or writes, with an eye to the legend as to his personality
+which he wishes to inculcate upon his people. But
+when the door is closed, and he is among intimates, he opens his
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>Here is a description of Napoleon as he was in those days,
+penned by an exceptionally shrewd observer: “The power of the
+man impressed every one with whom he came in contact....
+His demeanour was still rather ungainly at times; but there was
+something imperious in his nature, his glance, and his speech.
+Every one obeyed his orders. In public, he deliberately tried to
+heighten this impression. In private life, on the other hand, he
+was unconstrained, genial, and even confidential; with a taste
+for witticisms, which were never ill-natured, but were merry and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span>discreet. Frequently, he shared in our amusements. He did
+not take his work too strenuously, not finding it necessary at
+that time to measure out his hours; and in leisure moments he
+was always accessible. But when he had withdrawn to his work-room,
+his door was closed to every unauthorised intruder,
+without distinction of rank.—He needed a great deal of sleep,
+like all people of nervous temperament and very active mind.
+I have often known him to stay in bed for ten or eleven hours
+at a stretch; but if it was necessary to wake him up, he was
+unperturbed, and could easily make up for the lost hours afterwards—or
+could store up reserves of sleep in expectation of a
+strenuous time. He had the precious faculty of being able
+to go to sleep wherever and as often as he pleased. Fond of
+vigorous exercise, he rode very often, and at a great pace,
+though he had an exceedingly bad seat.”</p>
+
+<p>He has a taste for talking, and chooses politics or general
+questions of life as his theme; if the conversation flags, he
+suggests the telling of stories; should this be followed by a general
+silence, he spins a yarn of his own, pregnant and humorous.</p>
+
+<p>The loveliest women set their caps at him in vain; he is
+wholly devoted to Josephine. Not, indeed, so frenzied in his
+adoration as he was a year back, when she betrayed or disillusioned
+him; it is she, and she alone, who has trifled away this
+passion for self-surrender. Now there is a moving note in his
+tone towards her; a fervent courtship, a smile, a petition: “You
+are sad,” he wrote to her while still in the field. “You do not
+write; are you longing to get back to Paris? Have you ceased
+to care for me? The thought makes me wretched. My life has
+become unbearable since I have known that you are not happy.
+Perhaps I shall soon make peace with the pope; then I shall
+join you at once.” Three days later: “The peace with Rome
+has just been signed. Bologna, Ferrara, and Romagna are
+ceded to us.—But there is not a word from you! Good God,
+how have I offended you?—I fear you know only too well how
+absolute is your power over me! For life, wholly yours.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span></p>
+
+<p>Now, at Montebello, he is for the first time tasting the joys
+of uninterrupted connubiality, while he is delighted to watch
+Josephine’s winning charm in social intercourse. Occasionally
+he steals time for a brief love festival. They drive across to
+Lake Maggiore; and when, among the rhododendron bushes
+beneath the baroque stone edifices on Isola Bella, Grassini, the
+heroine of La Scala, uplifts her thrilling voice and sings an
+appassionata by Monteverde, Napoleon sits wrapped in
+thought, his companion’s hand clasped in his own.</p>
+
+<p>“In the carriage”—so his adjutant relates—“he would take
+marital liberties which were apt to be rather embarrassing to
+Berthier and me. But it was all so simple and natural, that
+there was no ground for offence.”</p>
+
+<h3>IX</h3>
+
+<p>What is Paris saying?</p>
+
+<p>Since yesterday, there has been a watchman on duty there.
+Hitherto, the cabinet ministers had all been nothing more than
+lawyers; now, a statesman was at work in that innermost
+circle. Sprung from the old nobility of France, a bishop,
+then as a republican placed under the ban of the Church by
+the pope, Talleyrand had recently spent years of waiting in
+the United States. Now he was back in Paris, and had grasped
+a share of power. The recently elected Chambers were predominantly
+“right,” and had been railing against the Directors;
+the commander-in-chief in Italy wanted to revolutionise Europe;
+he wished to perpetuate the war; the rape of Venice was
+an infamy. Perhaps many of the accusations were only too
+true, but when the echoes of what was being said in the place of
+words made their way into the place of deeds, they could not
+fail to arouse the contempt of the man of might. He sent the
+Chambers a memorial, or, rather, a memento: “Speaking in the
+name of eighty thousand men, I warn you that the days when
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span>cowardly lawyers and pitiful chatterers could allow valiant
+soldiers to be butchered are over and done with!”</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp56" id="illus04" style="max-width: 28.125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus04.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>General Bonaparte. Unfinished portrait by Jacques Louis
+    David. From the collection of the Duke of Bassano.</p>
+    <p>(Photograph by Braun, Paris and Dornach.)</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>At this date, Bonaparte had dispatched Augereau to defend
+the Directors, as he himself had defended them a year or two
+before; for the growing power of royalists and priests were
+becoming an ever greater menace to the new constitution of the
+Republic. If either of the Bourbon brothers should venture to
+set foot on French soil, all the malcontents would flock to his
+standard, and in a hand’s turn he would win his way to the
+throne. But the Bourbons stayed in their safe retreats, and the
+Directors could risk a little coup d’état. Now, they were five
+instead of three, and felt more self-confident.</p>
+
+<p>Called to office after this coup, an expert was for the first
+time in charge of the Ministry for Foreign Affairs. From
+afar, he measured the strength of his only rival. Though he
+had never seen Bonaparte face to face, he knew him for the
+coming man. To begin with, at any rate, he was willing to play
+second fiddle, and set to work that he might win the confidence
+of one greater than himself.</p>
+
+<p>In all respects, Talleyrand was Napoleon’s counterpart.
+Not a born negotiator; passionless, except for his avarice; cold
+and crafty, never natural and frank; always adapting himself
+to the mood of those he wished to use as his tools. His cynic’s
+head, his long, pointed, prying nose, now surmounted the gold-braided
+collar of the republic; they would surmount the imperial
+and the royal uniform; and then, for a fourth time in the
+service of the ruler of the French, he would don the livery of
+the bourgeois king. For forty years he served the man who
+happened to be in power; but never unreservedly, and therefore
+he was never tied to any ruler’s fortunes. Lamed by an accident
+in childhood, he was unable to enter the army, and became
+a priest, remembering that, in this guise, the great Richelieu had
+been master of France. Talleyrand was the only man in the
+country able to measure his strength against that of Bonaparte.
+Never would the man of destiny be able to shake off
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span>Talleyrand even when he had come to hate the subtle diplomat;
+and when the final breach between the two men occurred, it was
+at the very time when Talleyrand, with a smile, could limp
+across the body of the master he had cast down and enter the
+cabinet of the enemy. Talleyrand was the man who overthrew
+Napoleon; but, if we think of elemental forces, Napoleon
+was felled by his own hand.</p>
+
+<p>Talleyrand’s breadth of view and utter lack of principle
+make their due impression on the distant Bonaparte. These
+September days, the commander has gone to Udine, to sign the
+peace whose preliminaries had been arranged in the spring.
+In this sprig of the old nobility, in this connoisseur of the
+rococo, in this cold nihilist, Napoleon sees the tool he will need.
+Hitherto, he has wanted none but soldiers. Now, when he
+has become a statesman, he wants and finds a statesman. While
+he is discussing matters with the Austrians, he sends the new
+Minister for Foreign Affairs a long letter (a letter of betrothal,
+we might call it), disclosing his whole political programme:</p>
+
+<p>“The organisation of French power has only just begun—Despite
+our good opinion of ourselves,—we Frenchmen are still
+tyros in political matters. As yet we do not even understand
+the difference between executive, legislature, and judiciary.
+In such a State as ours, where all authority issues from the
+nation, where the people is sovereign—governmental power, in
+the full comprehensiveness I ascribe to it, must be regarded as
+the true representative of the nation, who rules in accordance
+with the constitution.”</p>
+
+<p>“Does your heart express itself so openly, Bonaparte?”
+thinks the inscrutable recipient, smiling to himself as he reads.</p>
+
+<p>“It is an immeasurable misfortune that, in the eighteenth
+century, a nation of thirty million persons should still be compelled
+to take up arms in order to save the country. These
+forcible means are a burden upon the legislator, seeing that a
+constitution for human beings must take human beings into
+account.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Is your aim so high?” muses the reader, with astonishment.
+“He is already sated with martial fame, and aspires,
+under the new constitution, to become dictator!” Talleyrand
+reads on:</p>
+
+<p>“Why should we not make sure of Malta?—I had good reason
+for confiscating the estates of the Knights of Malta.—With
+Malta and Corfu in our hands, we should be masters of the
+Mediterranean. If we cannot dislodge England from the Cape,
+we must take Egypt. With twenty-five thousand men and from
+eight to ten ships of the line, the expedition could be risked.
+Egypt does not belong to the sultan. I wish you could find out
+what impression an Egyptian expedition would make upon the
+Porte.—The break-up of the huge Turkish Empire, day by day
+more imminent, must lead us to think of our trade in the East.”</p>
+
+<p>As he sits in the Foreign Office, reading this, the diplomat
+raises his eyebrows yet higher. He feels that the writer is a
+man of genius, if not the very devil. A week or two later, comes
+another letter.</p>
+
+<p>“If our doings are guided by a sound policy, which is nothing
+else than the calculation of combinations and chances, we shall
+for a long time to come be the Great Nation and the arbiter
+of Europe. The scales are in our hands, and, should fate be
+propitious, within a few years there may be great happenings.
+To-day, these may seem the vague anticipations of a visionary
+enthusiast; but a cold, pertinacious, and far-sighted man will
+be able to make them a reality.”</p>
+
+<h3>X</h3>
+
+<p>How slow these German diplomats are to make up their
+minds. For weeks we have been at it, discussing matters far on
+into the night, and still the titled negotiators hesitate to sign
+the document, though any reasonable man would come to a
+decision in an hour or two! Throughout, the Austrians are
+looking over their shoulders at the emperor in Vienna. In the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span>room where the conversations take place, there is an empty
+throne on which the shadowy Francis is supposed to be sitting
+beneath the canopy. “Better carry that chair away before we
+begin,” says the commander. “I have never been able to see a
+raised seat without wanting to sit in it.”</p>
+
+<p>His letters to the enigmatical Minister for Foreign Affairs,
+those fervid preludes, had been nothing more than the soliloquies
+of a man chafing at idleness, to whom weeks spent in thinking
+about peace seem wasted, even though the peace be one for
+which Europe has been longing for years. His patience is exhausted,
+and he assumes a menacing tone: “I have been too
+lenient with you,” he growls to the Austrians. “I might have
+made the conditions much harsher! You are frittering away
+my time. I stand before you as the equal in rank of any of your
+princes. Don’t talk to me about congresses.... With the
+means at our disposal, in a couple of years we Frenchmen can
+conquer the whole of Europe. Not that we want to do so.
+Our wish is to give our citizens peace, and quickly.... You
+tell me that this, that, and the other are your instructions. If,
+when the sun is shining, your instructions said that night had
+fallen, would you insist that it was dark?”</p>
+
+<p>At last, to give them a salutary fright, he bursts into a
+rage, dashes a vase to the ground, and thus forces them to sign
+the peace in which every one gets what Napoleon had promised
+six months before in Leoben.</p>
+
+<p>When Europe learns the news, there will be a sigh of relief.
+But what is going on in Bonaparte’s mind? The day after he
+has signed at Campo Formio the peace which ends a six years’
+war, the peace he has fought for and won, he writes to the Directors,
+in the most matter-of-fact way: “It is absolutely indispensable
+to our government that we should speedily overthrow
+the English monarchy. Unless we succeed in doing this,
+we can be sure that the corruption and the intrigues of these
+active islanders will ruin us. The moment is favourable. Let
+us concentrate our energies upon increasing our navy, so that
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span>we may crush England. Then Europe will be at our feet.” He
+issues a manifesto to the navy: “Comrades! Now that we have
+established peace on land, let us conquer the freedom of the
+seas. Without your aid, the glory of the French name could
+be carried only through a corner of the Continent. With your
+help, we shall cross the ocean, and the fame of our nation will
+reach the most distant lands!”</p>
+
+<p>His mind is full of titanic schemes. As he gallops along the
+causeway of his great deeds, fame vanishes behind him in the
+dust raised by his charger’s thundering hoofs, but fame ever
+looms in front of him, beckoning from the mirage of his fresh
+designs. In this spirit he hastens back to Milan, to Montebello,
+whence he is to give Italy her final orders; for now, carrying
+the peace treaty, he will go to Paris. In the tone of a prince
+speaking to his people, Bonaparte issues a proclamation to the
+newly formed Cisalpine Republic:</p>
+
+<p>“Yours is the first nation in history to win freedom without
+partisan struggles, without a revolution, and without a blow.
+We have given you liberty, and you will know how to keep it!...
+Let your minds be full of the sense of your own strength,
+and of the self-respect proper to the free man.... Had the
+Romans of old used their powers as the French are using their
+powers to-day, the Roman eagles would still wave above the
+Capitol, and the human race would have escaped being dishonoured
+by eighteen centuries of slavery! To consolidate your
+liberties, and with the sole end of bringing you happiness, I
+have completed a task such as hitherto has only been performed
+by ambition and the will-to-power.... In a few days I shall
+leave you.... Your happiness and the glory of your republic
+will always be matters very dear to my heart.”</p>
+
+<p>Is this a warrior blowing a trumpet? Is it a poet, into
+whose mouth the ecstasy of life puts words that are to arouse
+popular enthusiasm? During these very days, in the company
+of a diplomat belonging to this very country, he is strolling to
+and fro in the park of Montebello. His whole nature is straining
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span>towards Paris; his companion is a good listener, and a man
+of ability. Napoleon, in one of those bursts of frankness which
+genius sometimes allows itself, delivers himself as follows:</p>
+
+<p>“Do you fancy that I have won my triumphs in Italy that
+I may help the lawyers of the Directory ... to achieve greatness?
+Or can you imagine that I want to stabilise the republic?
+What a ridiculous notion, a republic with thirty million
+inhabitants! With our customs! With our failings!
+France will soon forget these whims. The French need glory
+and the gratification of their vanity, but they do not understand
+the elements of freedom. Look at the army! Our victories
+have restored the French soldier to his true self. I am
+the idol of the soldiers. If the Directors, for instance, were
+to try to withdraw my commission, they would soon see who is
+master of the army.</p>
+
+<p>“The people needs a chief, made resplendent by fame and
+victory; it does not want theories and governments, the phrases
+and the oratory of the ideologues. Give the masses a toy!
+They will play with it, and allow themselves to be led—provided
+always that the leader is adroit enough to hide his true aims!
+Here in Italy, it is not necessary for me to be so circumspect....
+Still, the time is not yet ripe. For the present, it is
+necessary to yield to the fervour of the moment, so here we shall
+have two or three republics after the French model.... Peace
+is opposed to my interests.... If peace were firmly established,
+and if I were no longer at the head of the army, I should
+have to renounce the power and position I have gained, and
+should have to pay homage to the lawyers in the Luxembourg.
+If I leave Italy, it is only that I may play the same part in
+France. But that fruit, likewise, is not yet ripe. Paris is
+divided. There is a Bourbon party, and I cannot fight on its
+side. In due time I shall weaken the republicans, but I shall
+not do so to the advantage of the old dynasty!”</p>
+
+<p>Such are Bonaparte’s real plans. What he says is true:
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span>“Everything has happened as I foresaw; and I believe that I am
+the only person in the world who is not surprised. So will it be
+in the future; I shall make my way whithersoever I will.”</p>
+
+<p>A stream of confessions is forcing a way for itself. The
+words have come down to us in the memoirs of the man who
+heard them; of course the speaker would have denied them, had
+the hearer then ventured to repeat them. But it is true that he
+is far from being satisfied with what he has hitherto achieved.
+Seated beside Bourrienne in the carriage in which he is driving
+away from Italy after a stay of nearly two years, he says:
+“A few more campaigns like this, and we shall have made a
+fairly great name for ourselves, a name that will go down to
+posterity.” When his friend interposes that Bonaparte has
+already secured a notable reputation, the commander laughs
+him to scorn:</p>
+
+<p>“You flatter me, Bourrienne! If I die to-day, ten centuries
+hence my record will not occupy more than half a page in
+universal history!”</p>
+
+<h3>XI</h3>
+
+<p>The Luxembourg palace has been transformed into an amphitheatre.
+Weapons and colours, the latest trophies, are displayed,
+side by side with the gold-blazoned slogans of the
+revolution, on the venerable walls within which, of old, the
+satellite peers used to circle round their central luminary, the
+king of France. Paris has assembled, and all are dressed in
+gala attire, as if for a May Day festival—though it is chill
+December. The front seats are filled with pretty women,
+friends of the men in power, for they want to get a close view of
+the little commander with the leathery yellow skin, the hero of
+the occasion.</p>
+
+<p>“He has already been a week in Paris, and not a soul has
+set eyes on him. Why does he modestly shun the acclamations
+of his people?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span></p>
+
+<p>“There is the signal for the entry! Look, the five Directors
+are coming on to the platform!”</p>
+
+<p>The chorus sings the anthem of liberty, the crowd joining
+in the refrain. A pause. The sound of clanking sabres and
+clinking spurs is heard upon the perron without. People crane
+from the windows, look down from the roofs. He is coming!
+He is coming!</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon wears a field uniform, for this looks less pretentious.
+His mien is grave and unassuming, as with firm step he
+strides along the gangway to the dais. He carries a roll of
+paper, and three adjutants follow in his train. But, as well as
+these, hard upon the heels of the plainly uniformed little figure
+with the martial gait, comes a man wearing silk stockings, and
+resplendent in gold lace; he walks with a limp. At this moment,
+a cannon shot is heard, the first shot of a salute; the sometime
+lieutenant of artillery is being honoured in appropriate fashion.
+Thunders of applause shake the building, and are echoed outside
+by the thousands who are waiting to greet Napoleon on his
+departure. Quiet once more. Talleyrand is speaking. Brilliantly,
+smoothly, with undercurrents of meaning which few can
+understand, he praises the classical simplicity of their great
+general, the saviour of his country, who scorns pomp, and is a
+servant of the things of the spirit. The minister closes with the
+words: “All France will be free; save only him, perhaps—that is
+his destiny.”</p>
+
+<p>Applause, as usual; but is there one among these thousands,
+even among those in the inner councils, who realises the profound
+truth of the closing phrase? Does any one of the auditors
+feel the poignancy of the satire?</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon quietly comes to the front. What is he going to
+say?</p>
+
+<p>“The French nation had to fight with its kings in order to
+win freedom.... Religion, feudalism, monarchy, have in turn
+ruled Europe for two thousand years. The era of democratic
+constitutions has only just begun. It has been your achievement
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span>to extend the domain of the Great Nation to its natural
+frontiers. You have done more. The two loveliest countries of
+Europe, renowned for science, art, and genius, see the spirit
+of freedom, buoyed up by hope, rising out of the tombs of their
+ancestors. These are the pedestals on which two mighty nations
+are uplifted. I have the honour to present you the treaty
+of Campo Formio, ratified by Emperor Francis.... As soon
+as the fortunes of the French nation are established upon the
+best organic laws, Europe, too, will be free.”</p>
+
+<p>The soldierly voice is silent. For a moment, not a sound is
+to be heard. Then come salvos of applause. Are they applauding
+the speech? It lacks the charm of the popular orations
+and the speeches from the tribune with which the walls of
+Paris are often placarded. The hearers are astonished; many
+of them are positively amazed. Alarm and veneration are the
+prevailing sentiments. The applause is not for the speech,
+but for the man. He has spoken on many fronts, has harangued
+a crowd in Corsica, but has never before addressed society
+folk, or politicians.</p>
+
+<p>His speech was that of a statesman. At first perhaps not a
+soul but Talleyrand understood it. All that he had said of
+their own epoch, seemed false. England and America had been
+democracies for many, many years. France had been fighting
+nearly a decade for her recognition as a democracy. Now, at
+last, recognition had come, in this peace with Germany. There
+was the tangible proof of it in the parchment which betokened
+peace on the Continent.</p>
+
+<p>But the story was not finished—such was the implied
+menace that sounded, with a metallic ring, from the concluding
+words of the statesman hidden in the soldier. The Directors
+understood his meaning, knew that the threat was for them.
+But Barras pulled himself together, delivered a fulsome speech,
+and then, for the first and last time embraced the little general,
+whose wife he would infinitely rather have held in his arms.</p>
+
+<p>Josephine, where was Josephine? Why was she absent on
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span>the great occasion? No one knows with certainty how or where
+she spent these weeks. She did not reach Paris until a month
+after Napoleon. When she came, she was serene, charming,
+rather tired. In Paris, she promptly resumed her old life, and
+took up the threads of some of her old amours.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, another woman had entered Napoleon’s orbit.
+She was handsome, but was too intelligent to please him. This
+was Necker’s daughter, Madame de Staël. An influential
+woman, as well as an interesting; it was at her suggestion
+that Talleyrand had been appointed Minister for Foreign
+Affairs. She besieged Bonaparte with letters; she would fain
+have harnessed him to her chariot wheels, but he jibbed at the
+prospect. Now, when she had met him in the flesh, he parried
+her advances with a few civilities; but he could not prevent this
+talented woman from seeing further into his mind than most
+men had succeeded in doing. Here is her pen picture of the
+commander, an early impression:</p>
+
+<p>“His face is thin and pale, but not unpleasing. Being short
+of stature, he looks better on horseback than on foot. In social
+life, he has rather awkward manners, though he is by no means
+shy. When he is on the alert, he is a little contemptuous in his
+bearing; whereas his natural demeanour is a trifle common.
+The contemptuous pose suits him better.... When he is
+speaking, I am enthralled by an impression of his pre-eminence,
+though he has none of the qualities of the men of the study and
+of society. If he recounts his personal experiences, he often
+discloses the lively imagination of an Italian.... But I always
+become aware of a profound irony, which nothing escapes,
+neither the sublime, nor the beautiful, nor even his own fame....
+I have known not a few men of note, some of them savage
+by disposition, but the dread with which this man fills me is a
+thing apart. He is neither good nor bad, neither gentle nor
+cruel. He is unique; he can neither inspire nor feel affection;
+he is more and less than a man. Character, mind, speech—all
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span>have a strange stamp. This very strangeness helps him to win
+over the French.</p>
+
+<p>“He neither hates nor loves; for him, no one exists but himself;
+all other people are merely ‘number so-and-so.’ A great
+chessplayer, for whom humanity-at-large is the adversary he
+hopes to checkmate. His success is quite as much due to the
+qualities he lacks as to the qualities he possesses.... Where
+his own interest is involved, he pursues it as the just man seeks
+virtue; if his aim were good, his perseverance would be exemplary....
+He despises the nation whose applause he seeks;
+there is not a spark of fervour intermingled with his craving
+to astound mankind.... I have never been able to breathe
+freely in his presence.”</p>
+
+<p>If we discount in these sentences all that may reasonably
+be regarded as due to the mortified vanity of a notable and
+much admired woman, enough will still remain to be worthy of
+careful study. Each moment she tries to pierce his armour,
+only in the next breath to acknowledge herself his prisoner. She
+moves in a Rousseauist world of abstract virtue and goodness,
+with which a dictator can have nothing to do, and she therefore
+cannot regard Bonaparte with enthusiasm; but nevertheless she
+foresees his aim, which was not publicly disclosed till near the
+end of his career, and hers is the credit of having been the
+first to recognise his genius.</p>
+
+<p>“Picture to yourself a little man,” writes a German at this
+date in one of his letters home. “No taller than Frederick the
+Great; very regularly and slenderly built; lean, but sturdy; a
+large head; high forehead; dark-grey eyes; thick, dark-brown
+hair; Grecian nose, so long that it almost hangs down over the
+mouth; his mouth is full of humaneness and grace; the firm
+chin is rather prominent. His movements are brisk, but he
+has a fine and dignified bearing. You may see him run down a
+long staircase in five or six strides, and yet, as he finishes the
+last stride, he stands before you as graceful as ever. Unless he
+is fixing his gaze upon some object he particularly wishes to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span>examine, he is generally looking upwards. It was always a delight
+to me to contemplate his beautiful, deep, sensitive eyes,
+at once severe and kindly, like those of our own Frederick.”</p>
+
+<h3>XII</h3>
+
+<p>On the way to Paris, Napoleon had had to spend a few days
+in Rastatt, to discuss with the imperial envoys certain details
+connected with the carrying out of the peace treaty and the
+evacuation of Mainz. Here, expected with mingled curiosity
+and scepticism, he had assumed royal airs. He had alternately
+scolded and made much of the envoys, as best suited his plans
+at the moment, giving one of these Austrian counts a watch and
+the other a jewelled hat-buckle. “The two poor envoys were
+amazed that I had so much money to spend, for they were as
+poor as church mice.”</p>
+
+<p>This oriental lavishness in present-giving, the outcome of
+kindliness quite as much as of arrogance, will be a persistent
+characteristic. He will become known as a caliph who loves
+to shower gifts, displaying a mingled disdain and generosity
+which throw a searching light upon his own spiritual make-up.
+But if he has to acknowledge some genuine service, then this
+same man (who from underlings exposed to danger demands
+scrupulous exactitude in the fulfilment of duty) will express his
+thanks in the most courtly fashion, as if he were one of Arthur’s
+knights, and the world a jousting-place. The warrior who has
+captured so many of the enemy colours is given one of the flags
+from Arcola, as a keepsake. He passes it on to General Lannes,
+writing:</p>
+
+<p>“At Arcola, there was a moment when the fortune of the day
+was so uncertain that nothing but the utmost bravery on the
+part of the leaders could have saved the situation. Thereupon,
+bleeding from three terrible wounds, you left the field hospital,
+resolved to conquer or die. Again and again I saw you in the
+foremost ranks of the brave. You were the first ... to cross
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span>the Adda. Yours must be the honour of owning and guarding
+this glorious flag.”</p>
+
+<p>He knows exactly how his words will affect the people of
+Paris. If he makes a public display of such expressions of approval,
+he is just as sedulous to draw near to the footlights
+when he has to censure or to condemn. That is one of the tricks
+of his trade.</p>
+
+<p>Now, he is careful to behave in such a way that all Paris,
+every one of his opponents, the whole press, shall exclaim:
+“The modesty of true greatness!” Twice more, during these
+days, he makes ceremonial appearances, one of them being at a
+festival held in his honour by Talleyrand. He had hastened to
+pay his respects to the Minister for Foreign Affairs on the day
+after his return to Paris. Neither of them had as yet disclosed
+his ultimate plans, but Bonaparte, in his dealings with
+this scion of the old nobility, had not forgotten to speak of
+his own exalted antecedents. “You are the nephew of the archbishop
+of Rheims,” he had said in the first half hour. “One
+of my uncles, who helped in my education, is an archdeacon—in
+Corsica, you know, that means much the same as being a
+bishop in France.” In this way Napoleon implied that he was
+no parvenu whom a man of ancient lineage was, in his heart,
+entitled to despise. From the first, he looked upon Talleyrand
+as a possible antagonist.</p>
+
+<p>He has bought the little house in which Josephine used to
+live. Here he leads a retired life, with his wife, who has at
+length arrived in Paris. His circle is small, consisting of his
+brothers and a few friends who come and go. He often wears
+mufti, drives out alone, avoids parties, is easy of access. When
+he is cheered at the theatre, he draws back into the recesses of
+his box. This is the man who, a little while ago at Montebello,
+was keeping up a princely state. “If I am seen three or four
+times at the theatre, people will cease to notice me,” he says to
+an intimate. “You expect me to be pleased by such public
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span>demonstrations? There would be quite as big a crowd to see me
+guillotined!”</p>
+
+<p>He invites men of learning to his house; attends most of the
+sittings of the Institute, and is willing to read a paper there
+now and again; discusses mathematics after dinner with Laplace,
+and shows the astronomer new Italian methods of calculating
+orbits; argues with Chénier about poetry, and even metaphysics
+(if he can’t help himself!).</p>
+
+<p>But he silently follows, all this time, every move made by the
+Directors, whose power is continually on the wane. Knowing
+them to be his secret enemies, he keeps out of their path, and
+has them watched by his brothers. He gathers information as
+to the relative strength of the various parties, and ponders his
+own course. “Paris has no memory. A new reputation drives
+out an old one; and if I linger here inactive, I shall be lost.
+I must not stay here.” Often he walks to and fro in the garden,
+arms locked behind, thinking.</p>
+
+<p>“Too soon. Better wait until they have made a complete
+mess of things. Become their colleague, a member of the Directory,
+just when the pillars are crackling? A good thing
+that I am not yet forty, as the law demands. Meanwhile, I
+must capture the fancy of the crowd! How? There is peace
+throughout the Continent. Hardly a rival left to dread.
+Hoche, the most dangerous of them, is dead, thanks be! One
+of Josephine’s lovers; a handsome fellow, certainly. His passing
+troubled her little; she is inconstant by nature. Carnot
+thrust aside, Moreau defeated. Augereau, in command of the
+Army of the Rhine, is jealous of me; I must put a spoke in his
+wheel. The Corsican stalwarts have little influence now; but
+that woman who came to warn me against the risk of poisoning
+was stabbed next day; there are conspiracies. Too soon. I
+must leave Paris once more.</p>
+
+<p>“Get to work against England? That would be the best
+plan, if only these idiots had not allowed the navy to get into
+so wretched a condition! I’ve been worrying them about the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span>matter ever since the siege of Toulon. During the naval war of
+the last five years, we’ve lost half a dozen sea-fights. What
+about invasion? If only that were possible! Any one who
+could defeat England would be master of the world. Sail along
+the coast, study the possibilities, and then, if there seems no
+chance of a successful landing on the other side of the Channel,
+back to the Mediterranean! Only there, in the East, can I
+throw off all restraint, and keep France a-quiver with curiosity
+and excitement. Egypt’s the place, in the footsteps of Alexander;
+and there we can strike England a shrewd blow!”</p>
+
+<p>After long preparations, the general visits Dunkirk and the
+Flemish coast. He asks questions wherever he goes, not forgetting
+to cross-examine fishermen and smugglers. Returning
+unexpectedly, he gives Josephine a fright, but it escapes his
+notice that she hastens to pen a few lines to the secretary of
+an old flame. In his campaigns, hundreds of spies have brought
+him secret missives; what would he say if he could read this
+one? “Bonaparte has come back this evening. Please tell
+Barras how sorry I am that I cannot come to supper after all.
+Say that he is not to forget me. You know better than any one
+what my position is.—La Pagerie Bonaparte.”</p>
+
+<p>Thus undermined is the marriage in which he still puts
+his trust. Thus equivocal is the position of Barras, the impotent
+Director, who hates and mistrusts the mighty commander
+of the forces. Thus nonchalant is Josephine, as with carefree
+heart she makes her way through society, passing her time in
+women’s boudoirs and men’s bedrooms—and, among the men,
+she has to put up with Bonaparte, although when she signs her
+married name she prefixes to it her maiden name, as though
+she were still mistress of her own destinies and free to choose
+her lover.</p>
+
+<p>No doubt Barras is cursing Bonaparte this evening, but next
+day the general writes to him and the other Directors a long
+report, which begins as follows: “Even with our best efforts, it
+will take us several years to get the upper hand at sea. The
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span>invasion of England would be a desperate venture; it will only
+be possible if we take the islanders by surprise.... We shall
+need long nights, so it must be in winter. Consequently we cannot
+make the attempt till next year. Before then, it is likely
+enough that hindrances will have arisen on the Continent. Perhaps
+the great moment has been lost for ever.”</p>
+
+<p>After this amazingly perspicacious renunciation of his scheme
+for the invasion of England, he goes on to formulate a yet
+more amazing plan for achieving the same end by other means.
+Substantially, he proposes eight naval campaigns, ranging from
+Spain to Holland, all the political conditions and consequences
+being carefully considered. If, however, ships and money are
+not forthcoming, the next best expedient will be to attack English
+commerce, beginning in Egypt, whence Bonaparte could
+get back to direct further operations against England.</p>
+
+<p>Enough for the Directors to hear the word Egypt, and they
+are ready to agree to this last plan. He shall have the command
+there, and all the help they can give. So dangerous a
+man as this—the farther away he is, the better! Best of all
+would be, to make an end of him!</p>
+
+<p>The Egyptian plan is not new; it has been mooted at intervals
+for years. Talleyrand had brought it forward in connection
+with Bonaparte’s letter, though his comment had been:
+“The leader of this campaign would not need to be a man of
+exceptional military talent.” Was this remark prompted by a
+wish to keep Bonaparte in France, or was it nothing more than
+a spiteful innuendo? However that may be, the talented commander,
+when he read the words at a much later date, wrote in
+the margin: “Crazy!” But we anticipate. He drafted the
+terms of his own nomination as chief of the Army in the East:
+plenipotentiary powers; a commission to take Malta and Egypt,
+to drive the English from the Red Sea, to cut a canal through
+the Isthmus of Suez in order that France may be secure in
+the possession of the Red Sea.</p>
+
+<p>With feverish energy he now devotes himself to preparations
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span>for the new undertaking. He has long been familiar with all
+the essentials of the problem. The Mediterranean is his home.
+In childhood, he was wont to contemplate the Moor’s head on
+the scutcheon of Corsica; sailing ships from Africa often visited
+the island; not long ago, he had deprived Genoa and Venice of
+their fleets; he was already in touch with Tunisians and Greeks,
+with Albanians and Bosnians. Over all these machinations
+brooded the spirit of Alexander, who had chosen Egypt as the
+centre of his world empire.</p>
+
+<p>For the first time, during these weeks of waiting, do the
+elements of Bonaparte’s nature become formally compacted
+within him. What has been no more than a scheme of the unbridled
+imagination, the plan of one who aspires to resemble
+the most splendid exemplars of the ancient world, is now dissected,
+pondered, weighed in the calculating brain; it is refashioned,
+reconsidered; by degrees it is adapted to the actual
+possibilities of the situation. When preparing his Egyptian
+campaign, Bonaparte attempts, in the grand style, to unite
+the calculator with the dreamer, while it escapes his notice that
+there is an incalculable residue. His imagination, nourished
+upon dreams of the heroic age, blinds him to the fact that we
+are no longer living in the days of classical antiquity, that
+caliph and conqueror can no longer command millions of unthinking
+slaves, that even in distant Africa the peoples are
+awakening. Bonaparte is making ready for a titanic and insoluble
+conflict; and the more deeply he becomes involved in it,
+the more defiantly will he continue his vain attempts to solve it.</p>
+
+<p>This man of genius, born two thousand years too late, is
+already spinning the threads of his own doom. With the hand
+of a demigod, he is sketching the outlines of his own fate.</p>
+
+<h3>XIII</h3>
+
+<p>“I am going to the East,” he writes to his brother, “with all
+the means to ensure success. Should France need me, ...
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span>should war break out and take an unfavourable turn, I shall
+come home, and public opinion will be more solidly on my side
+than it is now. But if the fortune of war should favour the republic,
+if another commander like myself should appear upon
+the scene, I shall, perhaps, be staying in the East, do the
+world more service than he can.” When Bourrienne asks how
+long they are to be away, Bonaparte answers: “Six months or
+six years.”</p>
+
+<p>At the last moment, fate wants to give him another warning.
+In Rastatt, Austria refuses to cede the left bank of the Rhine;
+in Vienna, Bernadotte, who is French envoy there, is so provocative
+that a new war already seems imminent. Would it not
+be better to stay in Europe? But the Directors speed the departure,
+saying that matters have now gone too far to withdraw.
+In May, exactly two years after Napoleon’s entry into
+Milan, four hundred ships set sail from Toulon. Josephine
+waves farewell to her husband, and (doubtless with more concern)
+to Eugene. Not until the whole mighty apparatus has
+been set in motion at the master’s nod, does he disclose to his
+subordinates the goal of the voyage. All are on deck, watching
+the gradual disappearance of the European coast; but Napoleon,
+on the “Orient,” standing beside the mainmast among
+the eight-pounders, is not, like the others, looking back at
+Europe. His gaze is directed towards the south-east.</p>
+
+<p>At the same hour, Nelson and three other British admirals,
+standing on the decks of their ships, are searching the seas with
+telescopes for a sign of the hated enemy, who is, it is supposed,
+about to sail for Sicily. Where is he to be found? Yesterday,
+Nelson’s fleet was scattered by a storm. Days pass before the
+ships can get together again, and the very storm which had
+detained Bonaparte for twenty-four hours in Toulon, saves the
+French. They reach Malta before the English fleet, and seize
+the important island by a coup de main. By the time the cat
+arrives, the mouse is gone. Under all sail, Nelson presses on to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span>Egypt, but finds no one there, for he has outstripped the enemy.
+He tries the Syrian coast. Nothing! Back to Sicily. No one!
+“The Devil has the devil’s own luck,” says Nelson, cursing himself
+and the foe.</p>
+
+<p>The French fleet is four weeks on the voyage, and Napoleon,
+who is a bad sailor, spends most of the time in bed. Is not this
+symbolic? Will the seasick general ever win to the command
+of the sea? He is restless lying down, and, to pass the weary
+hours, he makes Bourrienne read aloud to him.</p>
+
+<p>For on board this fleet there are not only two thousand guns.
+A whole university is sailing to the East. Astronomers, geometricians,
+mineralogists, chemists, antiquarians, bridge-builders,
+road engineers, orientalists, political economists, painters, poets—one
+hundred and seventy-five learned civilians, with hundreds
+of boxes full of apparatus and books. Everything in this land
+of ancient story is to be meticulously studied. For France,
+Bonaparte is to win a colony, and for himself an African reputation.
+The soldiers have bluntly nicknamed these learned passengers,
+collectively, “the donkeys.” But Bonaparte prizes
+them, and his wrath breaks loose on any of his officers who
+grumble at the presence of so many “idlers.” He has chosen
+his experts with the utmost care, and has thought out every
+detail of what they are to do. He has brought a font of
+Arabic type, extracted with great difficulty from the State
+printing house. He has taken especial pains in the choice of
+books for the library with which the flagship is freighted for
+the voyage to Egypt. Novels are good for officers; and when
+he finds them reading novels, he laughs good humouredly. For
+himself, he has only <i>Werther</i> and <i>Ossian</i>, works of passion, his
+inseparable companions. On this journey, however, he seldom
+reads them.</p>
+
+<p>What does Bourrienne read aloud to the chief? Travels in
+Egypt, which have been collected from various quarters, from
+Rome and elsewhere; Plutarch; Homer; Arrian’s account of
+Alexander’s campaigns; the Koran, which, logically enough, is
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span>housed among the political works, beside the Bible and Montesquieu.</p>
+
+<p>After dinner, he is fond of holding sessions of “the Institute.”
+He uses the name jestingly, and yet in the discussions he takes
+it seriously enough. He propounds a subject for debate, and
+nominates the champions. Mathematics and religion are his
+favourite topics on these occasions, for he has always been both
+calculator and dreamer. There sits the famous Monge, a man
+with a crooked nose, a receding forehead, and a massive chin;
+Napoleon has admired him for years, and thinks more of him
+than of any of the others. Beside Monge is Desaix, whom
+Bonaparte has just summoned from the Army of the Rhine;
+he has a thick nose and thick lips, a somewhat negroid but
+kindly face, and the strategist rivals the mathematician in the
+shrewdness of his eyes. Look at Kléber, a man of fearless
+countenance, full of courage and resolution; beside him, Laplace,
+who peers earnestly at the company from beneath his
+eye-shade; next is Berthollet, with a head like a ram. Kléber
+runs atilt at geometry; but when one of the professors wishes
+to take up the cudgels on behalf of the things of the spirit,
+Bonaparte signs to him not to waste breath, and points with a
+smile to Berthier, who has fallen asleep in the corner over the
+<i>Sorrows of Werther</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The weather is getting much warmer. Napoleon, wishing to
+breathe the night air, lies on deck till a late hour. His intimates
+are sitting round him in a circle, and discussion turns on the
+planets, on the question whether they are inhabited. Pros and
+cons are voiced by the disputants. This leads to the problem of
+the creation. The sons of the revolution, disciples of Voltaire,
+be they generals or be they professors, are agreed upon one
+point, that the universe and its origin are rationally explicable
+in terms of natural science, without reference to the idea of
+God. Napoleon lies there, listening in silence. Then, pointing
+to the stars, he interjects:</p>
+
+<p>“You may say what you like, but who made all those?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span></p>
+
+<h3>XIV</h3>
+
+<p>Bonaparte rides slowly across the desert sands to look upon
+the face of the Sphinx. The eyes of stone and the eyes of steel
+meet. Like the Sphinx, he knows how to be silent, but we can
+guess his thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>“Alexander stood here. Cæsar stood here. They lived two
+thousand years after this image was sculptured, as I live two
+thousand years after them. Immeasurable empires, consecrated
+to the sun, extended around the Nile. Millions obeyed the will
+of one. What the ruler dreamed, was fashioned by his slaves
+with their myriad hands. Everything was possible to him.
+The king was the son of the gods. All obeyed him as the descendant
+of the original conqueror. Because that first conqueror
+named himself king, and son of the gods, all believed
+him. Here, in the East, it is possible to say to human beings,
+‘I am your god,’ and all believe. Europe is a mole-hill.”</p>
+
+<p>Soon, not many miles away, Napoleon makes ready for battle.
+Eight thousand Mamelukes, the best cavalry in the world, are
+ready to crush the invader. He rides up and down in front
+of his troops, points to the pyramids in the distance, and exclaims:
+“Soldiers, forty centuries are looking down on you.”
+The Mamelukes charge the French, but are driven back by
+artillery fire; their camp is soon in Bonaparte’s hands; they
+flee to the Nile, crossing the river in boats and by swimming;
+since it is notorious that they always have gold with them, the
+fight continues for hours on the bank and in the water until the
+victors have secured some of the treasure.</p>
+
+<p>In Cairo, he knows how to win the support of the pashas and
+the sheiks. He gives out that he loves and venerates the Turks
+and the sultan. He is only attacking the Mamelukes, who are
+their enemies likewise. Periphrases, bowings and scrapings,
+elaborate metaphors—these come natural to him, the man of
+the Mediterranean who is half an oriental. They are devices
+for lying even more circumstantially than do the diplomats of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span>Europe with their speedier and directer methods. Here he is
+following the oriental custom. While still on board the
+“Orient,” he had dictated to his interpreter a letter to the
+pasha of Egypt. It began as follows:</p>
+
+<p>“Thou who shouldst be supreme over all the beys, but hast,
+as I know, neither power nor prestige in Cairo, thou wilt welcome
+my coming. Assuredly thou knowest that I have it not in
+mind to do anything against the Koran or against the sultan.
+Come, therefore, to my help, and join with me in cursing the
+godless race of beys!”</p>
+
+<p>To approximate his own creed to the faith of Allah, he begins,
+like a conjuror, to juggle with the Trinity. First of all he
+explains that he has conquered the pope and the Maltese, and
+that for him the Koran is the word of God just as much as the
+Bible. But, at a later date, when the forces sent to dislodge
+his own are being disembarked, he argues as follows: “Allah is
+Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet. To the divan of Cairo,
+chosen from among the ablest, most learned, and most enlightened
+of men! The blessing of the Prophet be upon you!” He
+goes on to say that he has allowed these men to be landed in
+order that he may kill them all at one blow, “which will be a
+glorious sight for Cairo.” There were Russians on board the
+invader’s ships. “The Russians hate all who, like you and
+myself, believe in one God, for, in their own legends, they speak
+of three gods. They will learn, soon enough, that there is but
+one God, the father of victory, who graciously fights on the
+side of the good.”</p>
+
+<p>Out of this potpourri of the religious, which ends on a more
+pagan note than he seems to be aware, he subsequently extracts
+unchristian France as a political instrument, saying that the
+religion of France is especially akin to Mohammedanism. He
+is continually appealing to the Koran as the basis of his
+thought. The holy book which he has included in the political
+section of his travelling library, shall be made to do him good
+service. When he dismisses a dangerous cadi in Cairo, he
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span>finds a justification for his action in the Koran: “All that is
+good comes from God; he gives us victory.... Whatever I
+undertake must succeed. All those whom I call my friends,
+thrive. But any one who helps my enemies, perishes.”</p>
+
+<p>If he had but had the luck to have been born here in Egypt
+four thousand years ago, he would have gained the victory by
+the power of suggestion alone. But nowadays even these brown
+fellows are sceptical! He despises them, while showering them
+with superlatives; but, at the same time, he threatens to punish
+with the utmost rigour any of his soldiers who injure a native.
+The first order of the day to the Army in the East runs: “The
+peoples with whom we are now in contact do not treat their
+women as we treat ours. Nevertheless, any one who harms a
+woman is looked upon as a monster here as in Europe. Looting
+enriches very few, dishonours all, destroys the sources of aid,
+and makes us hated by those with whom it is to our interest
+that we should be friends.” No one is to enter a mosque, and
+groups must not even assemble round the doors. By cajolery
+and threats, by tolerance and intrigue, by Allah and the sword,
+by all the methods of the oriental, Bonaparte secures an
+authoritative position within a few weeks.</p>
+
+<p>At length he can regard himself as master in the East. Is he
+any the happier for that?</p>
+
+<p>Junot has received a letter about Josephine. If only this
+letter, like hundreds more, had been intercepted by the English!
+Then, at least, Napoleon could still have enjoyed the bliss of
+ignorance! For Junot feels it his duty to tell his commander
+and old friend all about the matter. It concerns Hippolyte
+Charles, as well as Josephine. Napoleon had cashiered the
+young man. Josephine had found him a job with an army contractor,
+and had lost sight of him for a time. But she has met
+him again, has come across him at a fashionable dancing school.
+Her old passion has revived. He has such graceful hips! He
+makes such elegant sallies! Now he has the added charm of
+wealth. Meanwhile, Josephine has bought a fine estate near
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span>Paris (though it is not yet paid for); the young dandy is living
+with her at Malmaison as master of the house....</p>
+
+<p>Bonaparte walks up and down as he talks things over with
+Junot. He grows paler and paler; his face twitches; twice or
+thrice he strikes his forehead despairingly with his fist. Suddenly,
+turning upon Bourrienne, who is sitting in front of the
+tent, he says: “You are not a true friend! These women!
+Josephine! You ought to have told me. Junot, he is really my
+friend. Josephine—and I am more than two thousand miles
+away! How can she betray me like this? Damn these puppies
+and coxcombs! I’ll make short work of the lot of them. I
+will divorce her. Yes, a public, sensational divorce! I will
+write instantly. I know everything. If she is guilty, farewell!
+I will not be a mock for the flâneurs on the boulevards.”</p>
+
+<p>Bourrienne tries to pacify him; tells him that fame is more
+important than family happiness. “Fame! What is that
+worth? I would give everything in the world, so much do I love
+her, if only Junot’s news were false.”</p>
+
+<p>But the English may intercept and publish anything he
+writes, so in his letter to his brother Joseph he can do no more
+than hint at this private calamity. The missive has a peculiar
+charm, which is perhaps given to it by the writer’s enforced
+restraint, by the need for using veiled expressions. Tædium
+vitæ of genius at its climax. This private letter is penned the
+day after a victorious and virile despatch:</p>
+
+<p>“No other country in the world is so rich as Egypt in maize,
+rice, vegetables, and meat. Barbarism reaches its highest level
+here. There is no money, not even for paying the troops. In
+two months I can be back in France. Look after my interests,
+I beseech you; I have a great deal of trouble at home; the veil
+has been torn off once for all—I have no one left in the world
+but you. Your affection is precious to me. Only one thing
+could increase my bitterness—if I were to lose you, if you also
+were to play the traitor. How terrible that all my affections
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span>should be concentrated upon one personality. You understand
+me? Make arrangements that as soon as I return home I
+shall have at my disposal a country house near Paris or in
+Burgundy, a place where I can spend the winter in absolute
+seclusion. Mankind has become loathsome to me. I need rest
+and solitude. Greatness bores me to death. The fount of
+feeling is dried up. At twenty-nine years of age, I find that
+fame is vanity. I’ve got to the end of everything. Only one
+resource is left to me, to become an absolute egoist. I shall
+keep my house in Paris, and not hand it over to any one! I
+have nothing more than what I brought into the world with
+me. I have never been unjust to you, that you must admit,
+though I have often wanted to be. You will understand. Kiss
+your wife for me, and Jerome. Bonaparte.”</p>
+
+<p>This cynicism and misanthropy, the desire for vengeance and
+the demand for satisfaction, have at length, and for the first
+time, become merged in a symphony of melancholy. The melancholy
+note had been sounded twelve years before in his diary,
+but since then it has been silent. A heart that desired to give
+itself wholly, in which trust had been ever renewed despite many
+disillusionments, now seems to have been pierced through and
+through. Victory, glory, to be a second Alexander—all dust
+and ashes. If a man is deceived where he least deserves it, and
+where he has trusted with all the ardency of youth, what is
+greatness to him? He begins his letter with rice and vegetables,
+and ends with solitude and utter disheartenment. What is left
+for him in the world besides his brother? “I have got to the end
+of everything.”</p>
+
+<h3>XV</h3>
+
+<p>A blow quickened him back to life.</p>
+
+<p>Returning from a ride in the desert, he entered Marmont’s
+tent to find that all his associates were greatly perturbed.
+What had happened? The French fleet had been destroyed.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span>The day before, there had been a sea-fight in Aboukir Bay, and
+only four ships had escaped. All the rest had been sunk or
+captured by Nelson.</p>
+
+<p>The officers stood in gloomy silence. The grenadier on sentry
+duty in front of the tent understood, every one understood, the
+meaning of this reverse. Napoleon’s face paled, but he recovered
+his composure instantly, realising that it was his business
+to restore the morale of the others. After a brief pause, he
+was ready with encouraging words: “So we are cut off in Egypt.
+Good. We must keep our heads above the stormy waters; the
+sea will soon be smooth once more.—Perhaps we are predestined
+to change the face of the East. Here we must remain, or
+achieve a grandeur like that of the ancients!”</p>
+
+<p>A terrible reverse! What will Paris say? He is not admiral
+of the fleet, and was not present at the battle of the Nile, but
+the disaster will certainly affect his prestige. How are we to
+get home again? On Turkish ships? But will the sultan remain
+neutral any longer? He has been wavering between
+Russia and France, and will be likely, now, to turn against the
+French. England, too. The fleet annihilated; thirteen battleships
+gone. How many years will it be before we can again
+face England on the high seas? A decade, perhaps. Allah is
+Allah, but behind what cloud was my star hidden?</p>
+
+<p>No, not my star! For, when he reports the defeat, he conceals
+nothing, but is careful to explain in his official despatches
+that fortune had delayed Nelson’s return until the French had
+been able to secure their footing in Egypt.</p>
+
+<p>Weeks of uncertainty. This is a new phase in Bonaparte’s
+life. He must remain inactive, while he waits for news that will
+throw light upon the state of affairs in Europe. If England
+keeps good watch, perhaps no letter will be able to cross the
+seas. For the first time in his career, he begins to wonder how
+he can kill time. The administration of a whole army, the
+suppression of disturbances, the rehabilitation of crumbling
+fortresses—these are no more than variants of idleness. The
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span>hours hang heavily, and he becomes more nervous, more fanciful
+than of yore. Bourrienne tries to tranquillise the commander’s
+mind, saying: “Let us wait till we hear what the Directory
+proposes to do!”</p>
+
+<p>“The Directory? A dung-heap! The Directors hate me,
+and will leave me here to rot!”</p>
+
+<p>If he could only ride! But it is too hot, at any rate to ride
+in uniform, and an attempt to wear Arab clothing has been
+abandoned. Sometimes he goes for a ride, in spite of the heat.
+When, on his return, he finds that no despatches have come, he
+grows meditative:</p>
+
+<p>“Do you know what I have been thinking, Bourrienne?—If
+I ever see France again, my greatest ambition will be to conduct
+a campaign on the Bavarian lowland. There I could win a great
+battle, and take vengeance for Blenheim. Then I should retire
+to my country seat, and lead a quiet life, perfectly contented.”
+The fire still glows; the kettle goes on simmering! In the plain
+of the Po, his restless spirit was yearning for the East; having
+made his way to Egypt, he craves for Bavaria; and always he
+thinks in terms of battles.</p>
+
+<p>Now, when his future is so uncertain, when he is perhaps cut
+off from all chance of returning home, and when there is no
+longer a strong tie of personal affection to bind him to distant
+Europe, he opens negotiations with the shah of Persia and
+Tippoo Sahib, England’s enemies: asking the former for a right
+of way to India; and offering the latter an alliance, and deliverance
+from “The iron yoke of England.” The prospect of
+following in Alexander’s footsteps looms nearer. But when he
+comes to practical calculations he begins to doubt the possibility:
+“Only if fifteen thousand men can be left here, and I
+have another thirty thousand at my disposal, shall I be able to
+venture a march on India.”</p>
+
+<p>Although all remains in the realm of fancy, such imaginative
+excursions fill Bonaparte’s happiest hours; he luxuriates in
+these vast plans. Four years later, he declares: “In Egypt
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span>alone did I feel free from the trammels of civilisation; and
+there I seemed to have the means of realising all my dreams.
+I pictured myself on the road to Asia, the founder of a new
+religion, mounted on an elephant, wearing a turban, and holding
+a new Koran which contained my own message. My plan
+was to weld the experiences of two worlds, to force history into
+my service, to attack the English power in India, and, through
+my conquests there, to reopen communications with Europe.”</p>
+
+<p>Are these the visions of a poet? Or is it that the conqueror
+and the poet are close kin? In Egypt, he has a romantic
+name for himself, “Sultan El Kebir”—he is, in truth, always
+the sultan, more or less. El Kebir is his third name, as visionary
+as the whole campaign.</p>
+
+<p>His lively imagination, his spleen on account of his wife’s
+infidelity—these combine with the influences of climate and lack
+of occupation to drive him into an amourette. A pretty young
+woman, the wife of a lieutenant, had sailed with the army from
+Toulon, in male attire. She was the illegitimate daughter of a
+cook, had herself been a dressmaker before marriage, was
+piquant, blonde, violet-eyed. He takes her to himself, and sends
+her husband back to France on official service. She soon learns
+to play Cleopatra’s part boldly and charmingly; graces the
+head of his table; drives out with him. But Eugene, her rival’s
+son, is adjutant, and his duty is to follow the carriage on horseback.
+This conjuncture is disagreeable to all parties, and so
+the young man is given furlough.</p>
+
+<p>Eugene knows more than he cares to know about the scandal
+attaching to his mother’s name; Bonaparte has himself
+enlightened the youth. What a painful situation! His mother,
+not far on in the thirties, is a coquette, and makes his step-father
+(the hero of the nation!) ridiculous in all men’s eyes by
+her open and shameless intrigue with a young coxcomb who is
+but little older than her son. Eugene himself has to look on
+while Napoleon, commander-in-chief of the army and pasha of
+the new French colony, flaunts his mistress before the public
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span>gaze. The little dressmaker, who would probably find the handsome
+adjutant more to her taste than his step-father, laughs
+gaily, showing her white teeth. Anyhow, she has cut out the
+Creole countess, and she glories in the new spirit of equality.
+Napoleon Bonaparte is the central figure of the composition.
+All he asks of the young woman is that she shall give him a
+child.</p>
+
+<p>An heir, that is what he has been wanting for years! If she
+will but provide one, he will marry her, for divorces can be
+arranged. One of his ruling passions is the desire to found a
+family. The mother would be of working-class origin? So are
+most of his generals! What matter, so long as the child is
+legitimate, and of the blood of Bonaparte? He believes in the
+equality of all who play an active part in the world; but he
+believes no less strongly in legitimacy. The hereditary succession
+of kingship is over and done with. The hereditary succession
+of efficiency is the new doctrine. Such is the fallacy by
+which his mind is enslaved.</p>
+
+<p>After a while, he says savagely to one of his confidants:
+“The silly fool of a woman does not even know how to make
+children!” The gibe is retailed to her, and she exclaims mockingly:
+“It’s not my fault, you know!” Bonaparte hears of the
+rejoinder, and his face is shadowed. He has no proof to the
+contrary, nothing but the inner consciousness of a productivity
+such as no mortal has ever had before.</p>
+
+<p>His spirit embraces the whole world in its grasp. But if
+nature has denied him the capacity for reproduction, the
+foundation of all activity has been shattered. His self-confidence
+would collapse.</p>
+
+<h3>XVI</h3>
+
+<p>In the Institute, the commander-in-chief sits as an equal
+among equals. He never tries, in argument there, to gain a
+victory by rank instead of reason. Yet many of the questions
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span>that are discussed relate to army matters of immediate practical
+importance, such as the filtering of Nile water, the erection
+of windmills, the search for ingredients needed to make
+gunpowder. On one occasion, Napoleon grew heated. Berthollet
+said quietly: “You are wrong, my friend, for you have
+lost your temper.” A naval surgeon supported Berthollet.
+“You men of science are as thick as thieves,” exclaimed Bonaparte.
+“Chemistry plays the cook for medicine, and plays the
+assassin for science!” The surgeon’s answer came pat: “But
+how, Citizen-General, would you define the conqueror’s art?”
+Within the republic of learning, this equality pleased the dictator,
+whom elsewhere hardly any one now ventured to contradict.</p>
+
+<p>For weeks in succession, the orders of the day ended with the
+words: “No news from France.” Everything was at a standstill;
+widespread uncertainty prevailed. Amid the general
+inertia, the travelling university was an exception; the savants
+were hard at work, studying, advising, ever ready to help in
+the second line. As far as they were concerned, this time of
+waiting was a great opportunity for research. A thorough
+investigation of the country and its resources was in progress:
+the fishes of the Nile and the minerals of the Red Sea, the flora
+of the Delta and the constituents of the desert sand—all were
+now for the first time being elaborately scrutinised. The exploitation
+of the natron lakes and the Nile mud was under consideration.
+The physicians of the expedition were enquiring
+into the causes of oriental plague; and of trachoma, the terrible
+form of ophthalmia which is so frequent a cause of blindness
+in Egypt. A dictionary and a grammar were printed;
+some of the buried temples of Upper Egypt were disinterred;
+the Wells of Moses were discovered. One day, an engineer officer
+came back from Rosetta bringing with him a granite slab
+on which there was a polyglot inscription, chiselled in Greek
+and in two variants of the ancient Egyptian picture-writing.
+The riddle of the hieroglyphs had been unriddled.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span></p>
+
+<p>What especially interested the commander, however, was the
+possibility of cutting a canal through the Isthmus of Suez. He
+made long journeys in the desert, always exposed to the danger
+of Bedouin raids; traced the line of the ancient canal; planned
+the course of a new channel. All his speculations were confirmed
+half a century later by Lesseps. Not like an adventurer
+whose schemes have miscarried, but in the spirit of a conqueror,
+he designed to separate the continents and link the seas.</p>
+
+<p>Now at length! Some merchants on small vessels have managed
+to slip through the English lines. From them, Napoleon
+learns that the destruction of the French fleet off Aboukir has
+brought about a general transformation. The sultan has
+entered into an alliance with Russia, and the two powers have
+declared war on France. Achmed, the Turkish commander, is
+marching on Egypt through Syria. The malcontents in Cairo,
+encouraged by these tidings, rise in revolt. The insurrection
+is quelled by artillery fire, and the heads of the rebels are exposed
+on pikes as a warning. “This will have a salutary effect.
+Clemency is no good here.”</p>
+
+<p>On the whole, the commander is more relieved than alarmed.
+If the Turks are marching southwards, so much the better; at
+length he will have a chance of beating them in open fight.</p>
+
+<p>From most of his close associates he conceals his deeper cause
+for anxiety. When he left France to occupy Egypt, his aim
+was to secure a position that would help him in his scheme for
+the conquest of India. “With ships, we can cross the seas;
+with camels we can cross the desert.” He had allowed fifteen
+months for the conquest of Egypt and the consolidation of his
+power there, and for the preparation and equipment of his
+forces for the Indian campaign. That would need forty thousand
+men, as many camels, and one hundred and twenty field-guns.
+He had asked for extensive reinforcements; ships, guns,
+and men. These were to support his land army by sea.</p>
+
+<p>The battle of the Nile had frustrated his fine schemes. The
+English were blockading the coast; the sultan had become his
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span>enemy; Egyptian sentiment was now hostile. But it was
+Napoleon’s way to adapt his plans to changing circumstances,
+and it seemed to him that he could derive advantage from the
+turn of events. The Turks and the English are going to make
+a joint landing? That threatens our very existence here?
+Well, then, let us attack to escape destruction! Seize all the
+magazines and ports from the Turks, arm the Syrian Christians,
+stir up the Druses! If we were to take the fortress of
+Acre, opinion in Cairo would veer round to our side. By June,
+we shall be in Damascus; shall thrust outposts forward into the
+Taurus; march eastward with 26,000 Frenchmen, 6,000 Mamelukes,
+and 18,000 Druses. Desaix will come direct from Egypt.
+The sultan will find it expedient to keep quiet. The shah of
+Persia has already agreed to our marching by way of Bassora
+and Shiraz. By March, if Allah favours us, we shall reach the
+Indus.</p>
+
+<p>Once more, Bonaparte fashions a splendid dream out of
+pressing embarrassments. He sets out for Syria.</p>
+
+<p>There are practically no roads. Sometimes he rides as many
+as forty-five miles in fifteen hours, invariably by night, without
+water, and almost always with the vanguard. When Jaffa
+falls, three thousand Turkish soldiers surrender. What on
+earth is he to do with them? Keep them prisoner? His own
+men are on short commons; and, besides, he would then have to
+spare thousands of Frenchmen to guard the Turks. Send them
+home? He has no ships. Exchange them? The Turks have no
+prisoners. Set them free? Then they will reinforce Acre, the
+next stronghold. What on earth is he to do? Council of war!</p>
+
+<p>All are in favour of killing the prisoners. Only a few days
+before, the Turks killed one of our envoys! Our own troops
+would be infuriated if they were to go hungrier still because of
+these fellows. Bonaparte wavers, thinks matters over for
+three days, and finally agrees. The prisoners are marched
+down to the sea and slaughtered. Subsequent military critics,
+especially the Germans, have agreed that there was no choice.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span></p>
+
+<p>Acre lies before us. There we shall find stores of new
+weapons. Then onwards towards the north! The great dream
+renews itself during these weeks. Now that Turkey has declared
+war, he is completely isolated, and forced into a life-and-death
+struggle. Everything is possible, for needs must
+when the devil drives. But he is not quite easy in his mind
+about the Indian scheme, for he mentions an alternative plan
+to one of his officers: “After I have seized Acre, I shall march
+upon Damascus and Aleppo, augmenting my army as I go, for
+I shall announce to the people the overthrow of the tyrannous
+pashas. Then, with overwhelming forces, I shall take Constantinople,
+make an end of Turkey, and found a new and great
+empire. This will bring me immortal fame. Perhaps I shall
+then make my way home through Adrianople or Vienna, after
+annihilating the house of Habsburg.”</p>
+
+<p>Always the same visions, magnified now, when the situation
+grows desperate.</p>
+
+<p>He reaches Acre. Not a big fortress, but well supplied with
+modern weapons, and defended by English officers and artillerists.
+Three successive attempts to storm the place are fruitless.
+English battleships arrive to support the besieged, and threaten
+the besiegers.</p>
+
+<p>At last, after eight months, he has direct news from Paris!
+It is little to his taste. Talleyrand has not gone to Constantinople
+to treat with the sultan. Is the rogue hedging? The
+French Republic is at war with Naples and Sardinia. Moreau
+and Augereau, Bonaparte’s rivals, have high command. Why,
+in God’s name, do we squat here on the burning sands, inactive?
+Storm the place! Are our schemes to be wrecked against these
+miserable walls?</p>
+
+<p>Who is in charge of the defence! Phélippeaux is there, a
+skilled engineer, one of Napoleon’s old comrades at the Cadets’
+School in Paris, afterwards an émigré who had entered the
+English service!</p>
+
+<p>Why can they not take the place by storm? Bonaparte has
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span>no patience for a slow siege, for starving his enemy into surrender.
+The whole idea is foreign to his impetuous temperament.
+A fortress, like a woman, must be taken by storm, or
+not at all. He cannot beg, serve, or woo; and he cannot wait.
+Now time presses, and to wait is out of the question. Storm!</p>
+
+<p>The soldiers begin to murmur. Even among the officers there
+are mutterings which are the heralds of mutiny. “Let us have
+Kléber for our leader; he is humane and gentle.”</p>
+
+<p>Bonaparte sits in his tent, thinking matters over. A terrible
+hour! Is England to be ever invincible, even on land, even here
+in the East? Is the siege to drag on for months? Impossible!
+Europe is full of the clash of arms. Turn back, without having
+won a victory? An unprecedented experience, an entirely new
+feeling; but there is no choice. The enterprise must be abandoned.
+Back to Egypt! It is only half the truth to say that
+Acre barred his march upon India. Who can tell whether, if
+the fortress had been taken, he would have pressed on towards
+the Indus notwithstanding the ominous news from Paris. We
+should have to reckon with incalculable feelings here. Every
+coincidence is symbolical. Before Acre and on the Po, France
+is at war with the same monarchical coalition. None but the
+son of the revolution can save the situation. Contrary to his
+usual custom, he does not ride in the van, but for hours after
+the columns have started southward, till nightfall indeed, he
+stays behind on an elevation to contemplate the stubborn fortress,
+his mind filled with a sort of ferocious melancholy.</p>
+
+<p>A ghastly retreat. No roads, no water, the plague as rearguard.
+Is Bonaparte’s career to be ruined by the desert and
+the black death? Calm of aspect, he visits the sick in hospital,
+and encourages them wherever possible. The doctor points to
+fifty cases as hopeless. They must be put out of their misery,
+thinks Bonaparte; their path to death must be smoothed. With
+a royal assumption of responsibility, he orders a lethal dose of
+opium. The doctor demurs. It remains uncertain whether
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span>some one else carried out the order. “In such circumstances,”
+he says later, “I would have had my own son poisoned.”</p>
+
+<p>Two thousand sick men and six thousand who are still in
+health make their way slowly through the desert. Every four
+of the healthy has to carry a comrade who is too ill to walk,
+for there are not enough horses to bear the sick and the maimed.
+The staff officers are all marching with the rest. This is by
+Napoleon’s command. An equerry asks him which horse he will
+ride. “Did you not hear the order?” retorts the commander,
+striking the man with his whip. “Every one on foot!”</p>
+
+<p>At length the retreating army reaches Cairo. By entering
+with a triumphal display of captured colours, and by proclamations
+and marches, he makes a vain attempt to delude the people
+of Egypt.</p>
+
+<p>What is Paris saying? What shall he tell Paris? We did
+not occupy Acre, because the plague was raging there! That
+was why we withdrew from the siege! In the Institute, a committee
+is appointed to substantiate this tale. A doctor stands
+up, and, in the presence of a hundred savants, refuses to attach
+his name to this fiction. The commander yields with a wry
+face, but bears no grudge against the stalwart, whom he promotes
+more than once in years to come.</p>
+
+<p>The Turks now arrive by sea, intending to make an end of
+the French. Once more, the whole existence of the expeditionary
+force is at stake. The enemy is to land in Aboukir Bay,
+just a year after the battle of the Nile. He lets them land,
+and then inflicts a crushing defeat on them, though their army
+outnumbers his by two to one. After the battle, Murat meets
+him, and embracing him, says: “General, you are as great as
+the world, but the world is too small for you!” Bonaparte
+writes to Cairo: “You will have heard of the battle on the
+shores of Aboukir Bay, one of the finest I have ever seen! Of
+the army the enemy had landed, not a man escaped.”</p>
+
+<p>At this time he notices among the Mamelukes who have
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span>entered his service a tall, handsome fellow with blue eyes, a
+Georgian named Rustam, who has five times been sold as a slave.
+Fidelity is written on his countenance. Napoleon gives him a
+sword with an enchased hilt and scabbard, and makes him his
+body-servant. For fifteen years, Rustam sleeps outside his
+master’s door.</p>
+
+<p>After the victory at Aboukir, Napoleon enters into a parley
+with the admiral of the blockading fleet. Ostensibly he wishes
+to discuss an exchange of prisoners with the English. Really
+he is hungering for news; newspapers are worth more than
+king’s crowns. Some one manages to get hold of what he
+covets, and an adjutant brings them into his tent. The commander
+is asleep. “Here are newspapers, General. Bad news.”
+He sits up. “What’s happened?”</p>
+
+<p>“Scherer has been beaten. We have lost nearly the whole
+of Italy.” Napoleon jumps out of bed, seizes the papers, and
+goes on reading them all through the night, with an occasional
+pause for an outburst of wrath. At dawn, he sends for
+his admiral-in-chief, is closeted with the seaman for a couple
+of hours, and then sets out for Cairo.</p>
+
+<p>“I have made up my mind to return to France,” he says behind
+shut doors to the faithful Marmont. “You will come
+with me. Our armies in Europe have been defeated. God
+knows where the enemy will have got to by now. Italy is lost.
+What are they about, these incompetent idiots at the head of
+affairs? Stupidity and corruption! I have borne the whole
+burden single-handed, and by my victories have propped up a
+government which could never have maintained itself but for
+me. As soon as I leave, everything collapses. If I start at
+once, I shall get to Paris almost as soon as the news of my
+latest victory. My presence will restore confidence to the
+troops, and will reanimate the citizens with hopes for a happier
+future.”</p>
+
+<p>“My future,” he thinks, as soon as Marmont has gone.
+“People will say I have abandoned the army in Egypt. It will
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span>get along all right under Kléber. I came here to found a
+colony. It is founded, and the Turks have been beaten. Help
+can only come from France, and no one but myself can send it.
+I have nothing more to gain here, but everything to win on the
+battle-fields of Europe. Thirty years! How many days before
+I can get away? The admiral says it is a bad wind for Toulon,
+and that English warships swarm in the Mediterranean. I’m
+afraid I can’t get to Paris in an air-balloon! But Paris is the
+heart of the world. I must risk the sea passage.”</p>
+
+<h3>XVII</h3>
+
+<p>They show no lights, the two small frigates which had once
+flown Venetian colours. The vessel freighted with the commander
+is the “Muiron,” thus rechristened in memory of the
+lieutenant who had died to save him at Arcola. Fifteen years
+later he is to do still more honour to this name. Here, off Cape
+Bon, is the most dangerous point. Literally, they sail through
+the English fleet, for they know the ships by their lights. An
+August night, but cold, for the mistral is blowing. They sit on
+deck in the starlight, feeling dull and rather depressed. Let’s
+liven things up with a game of cards; there’s just light enough
+to play! Bonaparte cheats, and is delighted that no one
+notices. Next morning, with mischievous glee, he owns up, and
+restores his ill-gotten gains.</p>
+
+<p>What a different voyage from that of fifteen months ago!
+Only two ships now, and then there were four hundred. Half
+of the army is dead bones. True, France still holds the land
+of ancient story—but for how long? The hopes of striking an
+effective blow against England have been dashed. What has
+become of the plan for a landing at Dover? Gone to join the
+scheme for the invasion of India! He has had to steal away
+furtively from Egypt, for there might have been a mutiny had
+his impending departure become generally known among the
+soldiers of the army of occupation. Kléber was not appointed
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span>commander-in-chief until Napoleon had gone. The last order
+of the day had been dry and brief. The civilians had been sent
+to Upper Egypt, for Monge and Berthollet, who were in the
+know, and were now on board, might have blabbed the news to
+their colleagues. But poets were a nuisance! One of the fellows,
+keen-witted, had guessed what was in the wind, and had
+stolen aboard the frigate, whose destination was still undisclosed.
+Oh, well, let the beggar come along. He and his tribe
+are the brokers of fame, so we can’t do without them. After
+the last victory, Paris will be on our side.</p>
+
+<p>For weeks, the two frigates are in continual danger. “What
+would you do, if the English fleet were to heave in sight?
+Fight? Impossible! Surrender? You would none of you like
+that any better than I should. The only other alternative is to
+blow up the ship.” A general silence. Monge, who is sitting
+beside the commander, grows pale. “That shall be your
+charge,” adds Napoleon, turning to him with a mischievous
+smile. A few days later, a ship is sighted, and is wrongly supposed
+to be an English man-of-war. The mathematician vanishes,
+and is found afterwards at the door of the powder magazine.</p>
+
+<p>This incident gives us the measure of Bonaparte’s authority.</p>
+
+<p>After a six weeks’ cruise in the Mediterranean, an island is
+sighted on a fine October morning, a familiar ridge of mountains
+is seen or the horizon. The captain of the frigate consults
+his chart. “That is Corsica,” says Bonaparte unhesitatingly.
+Does he order the seamen to clap on all sail and
+make for the island? No, they must find out, first, whether the
+place is still French. But a strong wind is blowing shoreward,
+and, even under light canvas, progress is rapid. His thoughts
+run swiftly, too.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Still French?’ My question used to be, ‘French yet?’
+Only six years ago. I was twenty-four then, and to be master
+of this island seemed to me the greatest thing in the world.
+Since then, I have had Italy at my feet; Egypt has been conquered;
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span>Paris smiles. All has happened as if by natural
+sequence. The wind is freshening. What will be the answer
+from the shore?” The signals show that the harbour is open to
+a French ship. The native island of the man without a country
+is home to him once more.</p>
+
+<p>They land, and all Ajaccio crowds to the harbour; thousands
+who once cursed the name of Bonaparte are now eager to
+welcome him. He regards the throng cynically. Many address
+him with the familiar “thou”; and hundreds wish to shake
+hands with him. He accepts these demonstrations unmoved.
+But suddenly he hears a voice: “Figlio! Caro figlio!” Camilla
+is speaking, his old nurse, a vigorous peasantwoman, hardly
+fifty years of age. The sight of her is the only thing that stirs
+his emotions.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon makes for his ancestral home, which his mother
+has had set in order once more, though she is away just now.
+He summons those best fitted to give him the news he craves.
+There, beside the family hearth, he learns what has, during the
+last three months, happened to his creations. Mantua and
+Milan have gone, and with them most of Italy, won by his feats
+of arms three short years ago. Genoa is still French, though
+hard to keep. Masséna has been forced back through Switzerland!
+The English have landed in Holland! What is the first
+thing to do? Make for Nice! Instantly take the lead! Win
+back all in a storm of victories. “What’s that you say?” Two
+of the Directors forcibly removed! Only by such tricks can
+the shaky government still keep in power? General Moulin is
+one of the Directors? Moulin, who the devil is he? The other
+substitute? Sieyès, you say? Another coup must be impending—perhaps
+a forcible change of government. We must make
+all speed for Paris. On board! On board! Take a big rowing
+boat in tow!</p>
+
+<p>Two days’ sail towards Toulon. Twilight when the coast is
+sighted. The lookout man reports English ships. “Put
+about!” orders the admiral. “Forward!” thunders Bonaparte.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span>In case of need, we can make the shore in the big rowing boat!
+Once more his star blinds the enemy; once more he escapes
+capture by the English. Night falls. Impossible to land at
+Toulon? Let us make for Fréjus, then. Uncharted rocks
+there? Rocks everywhere! In sight of the French coast after
+a seven weeks’ voyage, we must run all risks to land!</p>
+
+<p>Does this Italian love the country on which he now sets his
+foot? To him it is nothing more than the fiddle on which he
+can play a better tune than on any other instrument.</p>
+
+<p>Next day, in the little town of Fréjus, Bonaparte’s name is
+on every one’s lips. Why is the harbour full of rowing boats,
+laden with sightseers? Why this popular rejoicing? What
+has the man done in Africa, that the inhabitants of the provincial
+town should greet him as if he were a Roman imperator
+celebrating a triumph? An official says something about
+quarantine. “We prefer the plague to the Austrians, and the
+Austrians are almost at our gates!” shouts the crowd, escorting
+him through the streets as a deliverer.</p>
+
+<p>“France seems to be in a bad way,” thinks the man in the
+carriage, as he acknowledges the vociferations. “It looks as if
+every one had been waiting for me. A while back would have
+been too soon. To-morrow would have been too late. I have
+come at the right moment.”</p>
+
+<p>He drives westward from Fréjus, and stays for a time in
+Aix, questioning every one he meets. At Aix, a copy of a letter
+comes into his hands, an old letter that had miscarried: “The
+Directory is waiting for you, General; for you and your brave
+companions!” This was written in the panic of rulers who
+are at their wits’ end for a saviour! What had he better do?
+Stay where he is for a time, and write before going to Paris.
+“Egypt is wholly ours, and safe from invasion.—I was cut
+off from newspapers till the end of July, but when I heard of
+your troubles I instantly set out for home. I had to take all
+risks, for my place was the spot where I could be of most use.
+Had there been no frigate, I should have wrapped myself in my
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span>cloak and should have sailed in the first cockle-shell I could find.
+With Kléber in command, Egypt is in good hands. When I
+left, the whole country was under water—the best Nile for fifty
+years.”</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp75" id="illus05" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus05.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>General Bonaparte in 1797. Drawing by Wocher in Basle.
+    Town Library, Basle.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>This carefully worded epistle goes as a herald to Paris. The
+people there must be told who is on the way. His northward
+journey is a via triumphalis; salutes are fired everywhere.
+Passing through Valence, he recognises among the onlookers
+the good woman who keeps the café where he used to lodge, the
+place with the billiard room; he gives her a keepsake from the
+East. In Lyons, he waits two or three hours to see the performance
+of a hastily extemporised drama, “The Hero’s Return.”
+Everything shows the powerful spell already exercised
+by his name. Perhaps the most signal instance is the sensational
+end of Baudin, one of the best of the deputies, who utters
+a shout of joy on hearing the news of Napoleon’s return, and
+drops dead from surcharge of emotion. The light that radiates
+from the commander is so strong that it kills.</p>
+
+<p>Paris draws near. He is still gathering news. But about
+private affairs, about Josephine, he can ask no questions. Is
+he already a divorcé? Where are his brothers? The news of
+his coming has been noised abroad; why has no one come to
+meet him? She, where is she? Will she, after all, be waiting
+for him in the mirrored room, ready to welcome him with a
+smile? In the grey dawn he passes the octroi, drives along the
+outer boulevards, turns into his own little street. There is the
+house. A woman stands alone at the door. Who is it?</p>
+
+<p>His mother.</p>
+
+<h3>XVIII</h3>
+
+<p>“Bonaparte’s landing is one of those events which at first
+we hesitate to believe. The news spread over night at theatres
+and in social gatherings. In the most obscure pot-houses,
+people were drinking to celebrate his return....” “Every
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span>one hails him with delight, for he brings us new hope....”
+“Glory, peace, and happiness follow in his train.”</p>
+
+<p>These and similar items catch Bonaparte’s eye as he flutters
+the newspapers. Day by day he can read an abundance of details,
+mingled truth and falsehood, concerning his aspect, demeanour,
+and dress. Even the opposition press pins its hopes
+on him: “His Egyptian campaign has miscarried; but what
+matter? He is satisfied with having undertaken it, and it is
+difficult to say whither his rashness may lead. All the same,
+his bold ventures restore our courage.”—He is received with
+acclamation, and his plans are consolidated.</p>
+
+<p>But his wife is away. When the news that he had landed
+reached Paris, she was dining with Gohier, the first of the five
+Directors. She and her host were equally alarmed. Both had
+uneasy consciences, and now the volcano was rumbling beneath
+them. Some time ago, Barras (who during this period seems
+still to have been an occasional recipient of her favours) had
+advised her to procure a divorce from the absent and almost
+vanished adventurer, and to marry handsome Hippolyte. She
+had received no letters from Napoleon. If he had written any,
+they must have miscarried. But her brother-in-law’s hostile
+attitude showed her what was in the wind. Barras was right.
+She would do well to act first.—Then Paris was electrified by
+the news of Napoleon’s great victory over the Turks. Perhaps
+it would be wiser, after all, to stay in her present safe harbourage.
+Unstable and frivolous, she had of late been coquetting
+with the thought of reconciliation. A glance at her own image
+in the mirror, a knowledge of the way she could turn men’s
+heads, sufficed to convince her of the possibility.</p>
+
+<p>Now, at Gohier’s table, she pulls herself together, and her
+host tries to outdo her in self-command. They drink to the
+general’s return. She hurries home, packs up all that can set
+off her beauty to the best advantage, and in a trice is driving
+southward. As her carriage rattles past the barrier, she
+thinks: “Act promptly, and take the enemy by surprise—is not
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span>that the secret of his military success? On the return journey,
+I shall be with him day and night, and shall win him over
+before the tale-bearers can get at him!”</p>
+
+<p>But she misses him, learns that he has passed her, and
+hastens back to Paris. She has lost three precious days, during
+which his relatives have told him all the scandal. True, some
+of his intimates warn him against applying for a divorce. In
+Paris, a cuckold is always a figure of fun. He is resolute, however:
+“I have done with her. What do I care about the chatter?
+It will only last for a day or two.” He has her trunks packed,
+and carried down to the porter’s lodge, so that she shall not
+enter the house. Could he give plainer proof that he dreads
+his own weakness?</p>
+
+<p>She comes, breaks through the first line of defence, enters the
+fortress. He has locked himself in. She calls to him and pleads
+with him through the door. During her journey, the more she
+has come to realise that his name is in every one’s mouth, the
+more fervent have been her hopes for a reconciliation, and the
+more has her pride been humbled. But the citadel holds out.
+At length she decides to call up reinforcements for a final
+assault. Hortense and Eugene must come to her aid. They
+clamour, beseech, shed tears. Thus a night passes.</p>
+
+<p>No dispassionate observer can fail to understand Josephine’s
+motives in making this ridiculous scene. What of Bonaparte
+himself, the man with so profound a knowledge of the human
+soul? Was he duped by a woman?</p>
+
+<p>There he lies, returned after a long absence, with his head
+full of schemes for the conquest of a nation. Let us try to
+follow his thoughts. “They have deceived me one and all. The
+government, the political parties, my own companions-in-arms,
+were all endeavouring, during my absence, to exclude me from
+power, for they regarded me as a danger to themselves. As
+long as I was out of range, no one wanted me back; my brothers
+no more than the rest. This capricious woman, whose pretty
+whims I have never tried to restrain—would it be reasonable for
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span>me to expect that she should have spent a year and more thinking
+of no one but her absent husband, whose return seemed ever
+more unlikely as the days went by? When I am there, she is
+fascinating. If I make truce with her now, when the game is
+in my hands, she will agree to all my conditions, and I can
+exact guarantees for the future. What a lovely voice she has.
+There cannot have been any falling off in her charms, or she
+would not have so many admirers. What a fool, compared
+with her, was that little woman in Egypt, and even she could
+not give me an heir. Where shall I find a woman who will make
+a more perfect lover and a better wife than Josephine? Besides,
+she has had two children, and may yet have more.”</p>
+
+<p>He opens the door and, heroic in his silence, suppresses, once
+and for all, the accusations with which his heart is filled. In
+this matter, as in others, he holds fast to his resolves. Next
+day she confesses that she is in debt to the tune of two million
+francs. He pays without a word.</p>
+
+<p>It is hard for his brothers, and still harder for his sisters, to
+accept the situation; but they do not venture a remonstrance.</p>
+
+<p>Nor is there time for the further discussion of family matters.
+Events are on the wing. His brothers have not been
+idle while he has been away. Joseph, after being envoy in
+Rome, is now on guard as one of the Parisian deputies. Lucien
+is leader of the opposition, although, being only twenty-four,
+he is under the legal age. A brilliant orator, dreaded in debate,
+a Hotspur with a taste for theatrical displays, burning with
+ambition, too headstrong for constructive work. He and Sieyès
+have been working at plans for a coup d’état on their own, but
+they lack the support of a great soldier whom the troops would
+follow. Now the soldier has come, and Lucien will keep his
+private wishes to himself. He, too, is a Bonaparte.</p>
+
+<p>Dangerous, inscrutable, and cunning is Joseph’s new brother-in-law,
+Bernadotte. He is slow in coming to greet Bonaparte.
+When he does come, and Bonaparte speaks of the desperate
+situation of the republic, Bernadotte rejoins: “It will be able
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span>to make headway against its enemies both abroad and at home!”
+He looked searchingly at his interlocutor, and for a moment
+the masterful eyes of the two men clash. But Bonaparte, controlling
+his emotions as usual, attempts a diversion to political
+issues, speaks again of the dangers, and then passes severe
+strictures on the Jacobin Club. Thereupon Bernadotte breaks
+in: “Your brothers founded it!”</p>
+
+<p>Bonaparte is still loathe to take offence, and replies: “Well,
+well, General, I would rather live in the woods than in a State
+where there is no security!”</p>
+
+<p>Bernadotte, mockingly: “Good God! What security is lacking
+to you?”</p>
+
+<p>Now, Bonaparte is about to make an angry rejoinder, but
+Josephine intervenes to keep the peace. And yet the hidden
+fact is that Josephine is, in a sense, the cause of the dissension.
+For Bernadotte has married Désirée Clary, to whom Napoleon
+had once paid court, with whom he had not found favour when
+he was still obscure, and to whom he had preferred Josephine
+when his fortunes were on the mend. Now he can forgive
+neither himself nor Bernadotte. Throughout his career, Bonaparte
+will try, by showering benefits on her, to atone to
+Désirée for what she has lost by not marrying him, though it
+was mainly her doing that they did not become man and wife.
+For her sake, he continually advances Bernadotte, who no less
+persistently betrays him.</p>
+
+<p>All that his brothers and other intimates have told him about
+affairs in Paris during his absence, their picture of anarchical
+corruption and violent impotence, fills him with forebodings and
+urges him to speedy action. The number of the holders of
+power must be reduced, and their term of office must be
+lengthened. The government is a plateau; it must become a
+towering peak. A ten years’ triumvirate—that will be the best
+plan.</p>
+
+<p>At the Luxembourg they are all uneasy, now that he is back.
+Every one of the Directors mistrusts him, and each of them is
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span>suspicious of his four co-Directors likewise. Which of them is
+intriguing with Bonaparte? Sieyès is on friendly terms with
+Lucien, Barras with Josephine, Gohier with both. What about
+Ducos? Is General Moulin to be relied on?—Immediately after
+reaching Paris Bonaparte had sent Moulin a Damascus blade
+with a diamond-studded hilt, and Moulin could not in decency
+refuse the gift.</p>
+
+<p>Such are the secret thoughts of the Directors. Look at
+Bonaparte’s get-up when he first came to pay us his respects!
+Did any one ever see a general in such a rig? Much more like
+an adventurer! Mufti; green coat; round hat; Mameluke
+sword. The man wants to dazzle Paris into believing him a
+pasha. Did you notice that he has had his hair cut short?
+Wants to win people by an affectation of simplicity! Yet to-day
+he comes to call in great style. General on horseback, with
+all his aides. Brilliant uniforms. Paris agog. Very sinister,
+this change of aspect. Look at the way he sits and questions
+the five of us, as if he were a monarch holding audience.</p>
+
+<p>“Why do you let the man impose on you?” say his enemies
+angrily to the Directors. “He made a frightful mess of the
+Egyptian campaign. Your proper course is plain enough.
+Have him arrested for deserting the army under his command!
+He’s got something up his sleeve, you may be sure!”</p>
+
+<p>Bonaparte, meanwhile, receives visits from Jacobin leaders
+and Bourbon agents; gives advice to all and sundry, but tells
+no one what he really thinks; behaves like a man of family who
+has just returned from a long journey, and, with an air of
+good-natured boredom, allows his relatives to tell him all about
+their squabbles while he has been away. He has been home for
+two weeks now. The tension is increasing. Affairs of State
+are at a standstill, or nearly so; for the Five, who should be
+carrying on the work of government, are busied in intrigue.
+Amid the general confusion, the Councils have utterly lost
+prestige. The new constitution is rocking in the blast, but no
+one seems to know from which quarter the wind is blowing.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span>Who is the real holder of power in the State? Who controls
+the army? General Moulin? General Bonaparte?</p>
+
+<p>While no one can tell from day to day how the relationships
+between Napoleon and the government are likely to shape
+themselves, he goes to the Institute to deliver a lecture on the
+vestiges of the ancient Suez canal, and describes the Rosetta
+stone. On November 1st, there is a State banquet in honour of
+a victory won by Masséna. Where is Bonaparte? No doubt
+it is not to his taste to celebrate the triumphs of a brother-in-arms!</p>
+
+<p>That evening he is closeted with Lucien and Abbé Sieyès.
+Talleyrand has at length brought him in touch with the ablest
+of the Directors. Sieyès and Bonaparte, the man who has
+rediscovered the constitution and the man who has rediscovered
+the secret of power, sit face to face; they vie with one another
+in ambition and in intellectual ability. “I have made the Great
+Nation,” says the general. “You could not have done so, had
+we not first made the Nation,” counters the abbé.</p>
+
+<p>They discuss the details of the proposed coup d’état. On the
+critical day, they will spread the report that a Jacobin conspiracy
+is afoot. The Councils, in alarm, will transfer their
+sessions from Central Paris to Saint-Cloud. “As a measure of
+precaution,” Bonaparte will be entrusted with the command of
+the Paris garrison. Sieyès has come to an understanding with
+Ducos. Persuasion, threats, or money, will induce the other
+three Directors to resign. Barras will take money. But what
+about Gohier? “Make short work of it,” says Lucien. “Dissolve
+the Councils by force.” But at night Napoleon, when he
+is alone, turns matters over in his mind:</p>
+
+<p>“Force! How silly it was to use force four years ago! We
+see where it has led! The supreme art is to maintain the appearance
+of legality. Without cannon or bloodshed, without
+arrests and parties, that is the secret of the ideal coup d’état.
+Otherwise you set up something that may last a year before
+it wears out. After ten years of revolution, the republic is
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span>heartily sick of it all. She is an amazon who has borne arms till
+she is tired, and now asks nothing better than to be led by a
+strong man. She is ready for me.</p>
+
+<p>“Can I depend upon Sieyès? Behind that receding forehead
+of his, he thinks too much. For ten years he has been building
+constitutions, but he is nothing more than the ideologue whom
+a vigorous general can use before casting aside. Had I not
+arrived in the nick of time, he would have joined forces with
+Moreau. I shall turn the pair of them to account. I know I
+can trust Berthier, Bourrienne, Murat, Marmont, and Leclerc.
+Is Lucien faithful? For the time being. Bernadotte? His
+spiteful look betrayed his true feelings. Still, he will not come
+into the field against me. What about Talleyrand? A dangerous
+man, and for that very reason I must have him on my side.
+Moulin? No time to waste; there are too many generals in
+Paris. Watch out!”</p>
+
+<p>Next evening he went to Talleyrand’s, for a private talk
+with that intriguer. They sat late, discussing plans. Suddenly
+there was a noise in the street. Trotting horses, which stop in
+front of the door. The patrol? “Bonaparte turned pale, and
+I fancy I must have done the same,” wrote Talleyrand in his
+Memoirs. Both men believe that they are about to be arrested.
+Lights out, and on tiptoe to the balcony. False alarm! An
+ordinary street scene, nocturnal revellers and police, nothing
+more. The conspirators breathe again. But why do not the
+Directors have them arrested on suspicion? The answer is
+simple. Bonaparte is already too commanding a figure to be
+touched!</p>
+
+<p>On the 6th, there is a banquet at the Luxembourg. Bonaparte
+and Moreau are the guests, but the latter has the place
+of honour, and the hosts eye Bonaparte askance. He reciprocates
+his entertainers’ suspicions, and eats nothing but bread
+and eggs, handed him by a trusty servant. After half an hour,
+he makes his excuses, and goes back to his confederates, to talk
+over the plan for bringing about the downfall of the men with
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span>whom he has just been dining. Next evening, Talleyrand,
+Roederer, and Sieyès, dine with Bonaparte; Jourdan and
+Bernadotte, who are to be won over, have also been invited.
+After dinner, he asks Jourdan what is to happen. This simple
+question is evidence enough of the prevailing crisis. Two generals
+who have never before exchanged a word except about
+commonplaces, meet, and look one another in the face. “What
+is going to happen?” enquires one. The other significantly
+grips his sword-hilt. The plotters agree to take action in
+forty-eight hours. The parts to be played by members of the
+inner ring are assigned. Murat, Lannes, and Marmont are to
+inform the officers of the three branches of the service; Berthier
+will acquaint the general staff.</p>
+
+<p>Lucien undertakes to manage affairs in the Council of Five
+Hundred. He is president for the month, having been elected
+in honour of his brother’s return. The president of the Council
+of Ancients is also a party to the conspiracy. The bedells will
+be told to overlook certain names when notices of the sitting are
+sent out. As soon as Bonaparte has been appointed commander
+of the Paris garrison, he will hand over the Tuileries to
+Lannes and the Palais Bourbon to Murat. Gohier and his
+wife will be invited to breakfast by Josephine—eight o’clock.
+Bonaparte will offer himself to Barras for luncheon, in order
+to put Barras off his guard. Joseph will persuade his brother-in-law
+Bernadotte to keep quiet, if Bernadotte will not actively
+participate. Roederer writes the proclamation. His son
+knows a friendly printer who will set it up and machine it—on
+the quiet.</p>
+
+<p>“Was Brutus’ mood so paltry?” thinks Bonaparte. “But, in
+truth, we too wish to slay some one—Anarchy! A new era, a
+new century, to be ushered in by such petty and distasteful
+means! Camp life is cleaner!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span></p>
+
+<h3>XIX</h3>
+
+<p>November 9th, a foggy autumn morning; the Eighteenth
+Brumaire is dawning. A bustle in the street opposite Bonaparte’s
+house; officers arriving on horseback and in carriages.
+Is the blow to be struck at last? Most of those present were
+with him in Italy. The house is too small for such a concourse.
+They stroll up and down in the garden, discussing their
+chances; lively and cheerful as if they were on the Rhine. Appearances
+must be kept up. No one must be able to say that
+uniformed officers were about so early. All goes well. Messengers
+come to confirm the carrying out of the programme;
+both Councils were summoned at seven o’clock, but undesirable
+members have not received notice. The initiates were the first
+comers, and, as soon as there was a quorum, Lucien in the
+Council of Five Hundred and his colleague in the Council of
+Ancients had proposed Bonaparte’s appointment to the command
+of the Paris garrison.</p>
+
+<p>Here is the messenger with the commission, duly sealed! The
+formalities are being strictly observed. The general joins his
+faithful followers. Everything goes on as if they were in camp.
+With a great suite, he rides through the town, to the amazement
+of a huge crowd, which does not, however, show any
+political interest. A dragoon regiment which had been through
+the Italian campaign with Napoleon turns up on the Boulevard
+Madeleine without awaiting the orders of its colonel. Other
+officers follow with Ducos and Marmont. The latter summoned
+them at an early hour. When they said they could not come
+for lack of horses, he borrowed some from a riding-school.</p>
+
+<p>The Tuileries garden is crowded. Many remain on horseback;
+but Bonaparte dismounts and enters the Council of
+Ancients. Is he going to make a speech to people whom he
+despises, in this dark and unfamiliar hall? Why does he not
+take the oath to the constitution, the constitution he is about
+to destroy? The law directs that a general appointed to a new
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span>command should take this oath. Evading the formality, he
+speaks from the rostrum:</p>
+
+<p>“The republic is in danger.... Recognising this, you have
+passed a law that will save it. Do not search history for examples
+that may give reason for restraining your activities.
+No epoch in history is like the end of the eighteenth century,
+and in that end there is nothing like this moment.... We
+want a republic based on liberty and equality. We shall have
+it. With the aid of all the friends of liberty, I shall save the
+republic. In my own name and in that of my companions-in-arms,
+I swear it to you!”</p>
+
+<p>“We swear it!” comes like an echo through the open doors
+of the hall. The Ancients move uneasily in their seats. “Companions-in-arms?”
+But Bonaparte has left the hall, drawing
+a breath of relief. These lawyers’-eyes; bespectacled eyes!
+Effete pygmies! Has he noticed that he spoke to them as if
+he were on the parade ground, and that they did not like his
+tone?</p>
+
+<p>His words and his voice have a very different ring outside,
+when, having remounted his charger, he summons his troops to
+save the republic. Then comes a report from Lucien, who
+has meanwhile adjourned to the following day the sitting of the
+Council of Five Hundred. What is that you say? The Directors’
+guard is on the way hither? Do they come as friends or
+foes? “Is Sieyès sending them?” Their colonel says no. The
+two men laugh.</p>
+
+<p>In fact, Sieyès, pale of countenance, is still at the gate of the
+Luxembourg. For the last fortnight, our clever abbé has been
+taking riding lessons. It had been his design to ride at the
+head of his guard to join his new comrades. Before all the
+world, he would show his equality with these comrades by leaning
+from his saddle and embracing them. But the guard has
+started without his orders; their colonel has brought them to
+the Tuileries, riding hell-for-leather, too hot a pace for the
+abbé. Almost unnoticed, and much crestfallen, Sieyès drives
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span>after them in a carriage, with Ducos, who is pliable, by his side.
+Every one in the know is aware by this time what will happen
+to the other three Directors.</p>
+
+<p>Moulin looks at the matter from a soldier’s standpoint. He
+estimates the opposing force at the Tuileries to be eight thousand
+strong, and his adjutants report to him that all the important
+points of the town are in Bonaparte’s hands. He
+writes, therefore, saying: “At your service.”</p>
+
+<p>Honest Gohier is at home, blustering ineffectually. He had
+not thought it advisable to accept the strange invitation to an
+eight o’clock breakfast, and had been content to send his wife.
+Now, a sort of hostage, she is drinking tea with Josephine, while
+Bonaparte is betraying her husband—not, indeed, stealing his
+mistress, but stealing France. When the first news comes,
+Gohier sends to his colleagues, summoning them to a meeting
+of the Directory. No one turns up. Moulin has joined Sieyès
+and Ducos. Barras says he is in his bath.</p>
+
+<p>When Talleyrand, the messenger of fate, visits Barras, the
+Director is shaving; he seems to be devoting the day to the arts
+of the toilet! But, at a glance or two from the other augur, he
+throws up the game, being content to ask for a safe-conduct.
+When his secretary brings this demand to Bonaparte, the general
+harangues the man publicly in the Tuileries garden:
+“What have you done with France, that I should let you off so
+easily? I gave you peace, and I find war.... What have
+you done with the hundred thousand Frenchmen who were the
+companions of my glory? They are dead! We can go no
+farther along that road, for in three years it leads to despotism!
+We want a republic based on equality and liberty, toleration
+and morality!”</p>
+
+<p>Thus berated, the little secretary shakes in his shoes. In
+reality, Bonaparte is perfectly calm, but it suits him to simulate
+wrath in the presence of so many witnesses. In a couple of
+hours, all Paris will hear of it.</p>
+
+<p>Here comes Gohier. He does not lack courage, anyhow.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span>Bearding the man of power surrounded by his troops, Gohier
+reminds him of his duty to the Directory.</p>
+
+<p>“The Directory no longer exists!” storms Bonaparte. “The
+republic is in danger, and I intend to save it. Sieyès, Ducos,
+and Barras have resigned.” As he speaks, a letter from Moulin
+is brought to him. “Are not you in league with Moulin? No?
+Well, here is his resignation too. You are the last. Do you
+intend to hold out all by yourself?”</p>
+
+<p>Gohier is a stickler for the law, and refuses to give way. He
+goes back to the Luxembourg, and there he and his friends
+are kept under guard by five hundred men until all is over.
+Barras is waiting at home, uneasy till he has the answer to his
+message. What if Bonaparte were now to take vengeance?
+Who can depend on Josephine’s moods? Here is Talleyrand
+back again, with the safe-conduct and a bag of gold. As to
+this last, no one knows whether Barras had the fingering of the
+money, or whether Talleyrand kept it as messenger’s fee.</p>
+
+<p>Thus the five heads of the republic were rendered powerless
+by General Bonaparte. But this was only the first day. To-morrow,
+at Saint-Cloud, greater difficulties may have to be
+faced. Lucien, who has been all over the place, and is fully
+informed, exclaims with well-grounded anger: “The whole job
+ought to have been finished in one day! You have left them
+too much time! The Five Hundred are already crying out that
+they have been tricked! To-morrow all will be in the melting-pot
+once more! The only thing to do is to send soldiers to
+clear out the Chambers, and to put the most dangerous members
+of the Councils under arrest.”</p>
+
+<p>Certainly there may be complications to-morrow. Bernadotte
+had wanted the Jacobin Club to appoint him general of the opposing
+forces. “But the fellows were in too great a funk!”
+The generals unsympathetic to the coup d’état must be put
+under lock and key. Bonaparte’s associates urge this again
+and again, but in vain. He is resolute to maintain the
+semblance of legality.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span></p>
+
+<p>“People would say I was afraid of the generals. No one
+shall have a right to accuse us of illegality. No parties; no
+force! The whole people must be associated with the decision
+through the votes of its deputies! No civil war! What begins
+with the shedding of civilian blood, will come to a shameful
+end!”</p>
+
+<p>But at night, prepared for all eventualities, he has loaded
+pistols handy to his bedside.</p>
+
+<h3>XX</h3>
+
+<p>Next morning, an endless string of carriages and carts, an
+endless succession of riders and pedestrians, makes its way to
+Saint-Cloud, as if to see a great military review. Bonaparte,
+too, drives instead of going on horseback attended by a bevy
+of mounted officers. That might be provocative. He has made
+up his mind to observe constitutional formalities to the very
+last moment. Could any one say that there had been a breach
+of law the day before? Are not the Councils entitled to remove
+their sittings to a spot beyond the precincts of the town, if
+they think that this would be safer? Is it not within their competence
+to appoint a new commander for the Paris garrison?
+Had not the Directors the right to resign? Will any one pretend
+that the Jacobin peril, which is the occasion for these
+happenings, is imaginary? To-day, at public sittings, the
+Councils will alter the constitution. Three rulers will be provisionally
+appointed. Borrowing a title from ancient Rome,
+they can be called Triumvirs, or, perhaps better, Consuls.
+Then the Councils will be prorogued, everything being done in
+due form of law.</p>
+
+<p>But the deputies hold other views. Like cloud-drifts hanging
+low, they flit through the valleys of this forsaken palace,
+discussing the situation, and giving vent to their protests.
+Since the hall that is being furbished up for the sitting will
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span>not be ready before one o’clock, they have plenty of time to
+foment their wrath.</p>
+
+<p>In a small room fronting on the park, sit the three men who
+will be Consuls to-morrow. At least Sieyès and Ducos remain
+seated most of the time, but the third walks up and down impatiently,
+as his adherents come and go to report. He thinks:
+“How infernally slow civilians are! They have needed a
+whole morning to arrange a few benches. Then they must
+take an oath one by one, a thing which our recruits do in
+chorus, and get through it all in a couple of minutes! Why
+should I have to wait in a back room while these lawyers are
+deliberating in the council chamber?”</p>
+
+<p>The Ancients meet upstairs in the Salle Apollo; the Five
+Hundred, downstairs in the Orangerie. Spectators, safe people,
+throng the hall of the Five Hundred. When, after the
+swearing-in, the discussions at length begin (Lucien is in the
+chair), the protests of the opposition gain weight from the
+circumstances. Speakers point to the threatening force of
+soldiery outside. When some of the orators exclaim: “No
+dictatorship! This Cromwell wants to bind us in chains!”
+almost all the delegates applaud. The reports that come to
+the back room are more and more unfavourable. The officers
+grow restive: “Chase the beggars out! What else have we got
+our men here for?”</p>
+
+<p>Bonaparte’s only answer is a cold glance. Buckling on his
+sword, he silently mounts the stairs to the hall of the Ancients.
+Two or three of the stalwarts follow him, shaking their heads.
+Is he going to talk once more, as he did yesterday, instead of
+shooting? Amazed but curious, the president allows him to
+speak. Will he put up a better case than yesterday, speaking
+to the point, and not simply haranguing them about himself?</p>
+
+<p>“Yesterday, I was sitting quietly at home when you summoned
+me.... To-day, I am overwhelmed with calumnies....
+Since my return, all parties have been busied with
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span>my name.... The Council of Ancients must decide quickly.
+I am no intriguer. You know me. Have I not given proof
+and to spare of my devotion to the country?... Am I, a
+man whom even the great coalition could not conquer, to
+tremble before a few rioters? If I am a crafty schemer, you
+may well be all Brutuses!”</p>
+
+<p>Uneasy stirrings; smiles. Why does he speak, instead of
+acting? He is not sure of his ground, for he goes on to say:
+“All France shall know what we have lived through.—Every
+one of the parties wishes to turn this crisis to its own account,
+and every one of them would like me to side with it. But I
+have come to the Councils. If you hesitate, and if liberty is
+overthrown, you will be answerable to the world and to posterity!”
+His periods grow ever more confused. The Ancients
+surround the rostrum, interrupting him, demanding names.
+Suddenly he turns, and waves his hand towards the doors, as if
+pointing to the soldiers, who are out of sight. He seems to be
+looking for an exit. He apostrophises the invisible soldiers:</p>
+
+<p>“You, comrades, whom I see united in this circle, raise your
+bayonets with which we fought our way to victory together,
+raise them against my breast! But if an orator in foreign
+pay dares to call your general an outlaw, smite the wretch
+with the thunderbolts of battle! The god of battles and the
+goddess of good fortune are on my side....”</p>
+
+<p>Will not a burst of laughter sweep the speaker away, and
+his coup d’état along with him? At length Bourrienne comes
+up to him from behind, takes him by the arm, and whispers in
+his ear: “Do stop, General. You really don’t know what you’re
+saying!” He turns, and follows Bourrienne from the hall. A
+deputy devoted to his interest takes the floor promptly, and
+does his best to put a good face upon the matter.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp56" id="illus06" style="max-width: 28.125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus06.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>General Bonaparte in 1798, during the voyage to Egypt.
+    Sketch by André Dutertre.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>Outside, he draws a breath of relief. What could have been
+the matter with him? Why had his brain been clouded? Amid
+all the turmoil of battle, he is calm, fully master of himself; his
+decisions are well-rounded, brilliant, and cool, like polished
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span>marble spheres. Why is he unequal to the occasion on this
+day of days, when his whole future is at stake?</p>
+
+<p>Because he is a man who knows how to command, but does
+not know how to beg. He can cajole, threaten, feign hesitation,
+lie; outdoing in these arts all the diplomatists with whom
+he negotiates treaties. He meets them as equals, but is always
+sustained by the feeling that, if he does not get his way by
+diplomacy, he can enforce his wishes by artillery fire. He can
+endure everything, except having to ask favours, and except
+having to submit to a law which is not of his own making. He
+wants order and legality, but not such as existed before he
+established them!</p>
+
+<p>With titanic energy, as he already foresees, he will lead this
+country towards order, will found an orderly State after a
+decade of chaos. No one will be the worse for humble birth or
+for poverty, since all will have equal opportunities. But in
+these halls to-day sit lawyers, ridden by the spirit of faction,
+corrupt, outworn, besoiled by the grime of party politics. He
+is to implore them to be good enough to give him (and others)
+a power which has long been his, and which stands outside
+there, impatient to get to work!</p>
+
+<p>He, who in the Institute could sit quietly among the savants,
+learning and questioning, is so little able to understand the
+mood of these legislative assemblies that he actually fancies
+the day already won. He sends a message to Josephine to tell
+her that all is going well; says a few encouraging words to his
+followers, and goes quickly downstairs to play a similar part
+before the Council of Five Hundred. It is just as well that his
+friends take the precaution to send into the hall with him four
+stalwart grenadiers, whose strength and loyalty can be thoroughly
+depended on.</p>
+
+<p>No matter that this escort is quite out of keeping with his
+determination to be strict in the observance of parliamentary
+forms! Followed by his grenadiers, carrying hat and riding
+whip in his hand, he enters the hall of the Five Hundred.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span>“Bonaparte!” All turn towards the door. The Jacobins
+shout: “Down with the tyrant! Down with the dictator! Outlaw
+him!” A few of the more hefty among the Five Hundred
+hurl themselves upon him; the grenadiers rally to his protection,
+encircling him, and sheltering him with their big bodies
+from the angry Jacobins’ blows. The combat sways to and
+fro for a while, a knot of struggling and shouting people.
+Then, step by step, the five force their way backwards towards
+the door. Outside, surrounded by his own supporters, he is
+for a moment too much discomposed to speak; but, rallying
+quickly, he makes for the back room.</p>
+
+<p>During the Italian campaign, Bonaparte was under fire in
+the front ranks on several occasions. At Lodi, and again at
+Arcola, he had been in imminent peril. But here, he was for
+the first time involved in a rough-and-tumble affray where fire-arms
+and cold steel are against the rules. Towards the close
+of his career, he was to have a similar experience. In such a
+chance medley, he could not draw his sword. He must assume
+his antagonists to be unarmed, though some of them were in
+truth armed. To use his sword seemed to be in hopeless conflict
+with the fundamental principles of the coup d’état—as he
+envisaged it.</p>
+
+<p>But at length he has to abandon these principles of his. In
+person, he has been rescued from the blows of his adversaries,
+but their fists have shattered his doctrine. Force has been used
+against him. He strides furiously up and down the room;
+his pride is touched to the quick; in his anger, he scratches his
+cheek till his finger-nails are bloody. Blood? In an instant
+he has recovered his composure. This blood will be most useful!
+Attempted assassination in the council chamber! He will show
+his soldiers how these villains have manhandled the commander
+of Paris! The pretence that the other side had been the first
+to break the law, frees him from the tyranny of his principles.</p>
+
+<p>In the assembly hall, meanwhile, Lucien is fighting for him.
+“Hors la loi! Outlaw him!” cry most of the deputies. Lucien
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span>tries to still the clamour with voice and bell. The attempt is
+vain. A formal demand is made for a vote on Bonaparte’s outlawry,
+and every one knows what that means in revolutionary
+Paris. Since there is no other way out of the difficulty,
+Lucien, whose pose to-day is that of the defender of law and
+order, with an imposing gesture throws off his toga and storms
+out of the hall. None too soon!</p>
+
+<p>He finds his brother with the troops. Napoleon had turned
+pale when the news had been brought of the vote of outlawry.
+Then, running to the window, he called to the troops: “To
+arms!” Going out, he mounted, and was quick to notice that
+the soldiers were not sufficiently moved, were not yet ripe for
+action. Night was falling, and all were waiting on events.
+Lucien came out, leapt into the saddle, and the two brothers
+rode up and down the front. Outside the railings were Sieyès
+and Ducos in a carriage, ready for flight to-day, or to become
+rulers to-morrow, as events might decide. The movement
+seemed to be without a head.</p>
+
+<p>Then Lucien grasped the opportunity. He could make a
+better job of speaking to the soldiers than Napoleon had made
+of speaking to the deputies:</p>
+
+<p>“Soldiers, as president of the Five Hundred I tell you that
+in the hall there the majority is being terrorised by a handful
+of armed Jacobins. These rascals are in English pay. They
+have dared to outlaw your general, who was appointed by the
+Councils. They actually tried to assassinate him. Look at
+the wounds! Use your bayonets to guard him against their
+daggers, so that the deliberations concerning the welfare of
+the country can be conducted in peace! Recognise as deputies
+none but those who come with me into the midst of your ranks.
+Drive out the rest, all who would stay in the hall!”</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon listens with pinched lips. When Lucien has finished,
+he speaks in his turn, shouting: “Kill any one who resists.
+Follow me! I am the god of battles!” Lucien, who is
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span>afraid of another speech, hisses: “For God’s sake, hold your
+tongue!”</p>
+
+<p>“Long live Bonaparte!” shout the soldiers, who regard
+the brothers as military and civil authority conjoined. But
+not a man moves. All is lost, if they will not march now.
+Lucien grasps at the last expedient. With a theatrical flourish,
+he snatches an officer’s sword and points it at Napoleon’s
+breast: “I swear that I will run my brother through, should he
+ever dare to threaten the liberties of France!”</p>
+
+<p>The phrase has the desired effect. Murat orders the sounding
+of a general advance, summons a troop of soldiers to follow
+him, and shouts: “Lads, chuck the whole rabble of them out of
+the hall!” At length he has raised a laugh. With bayonets
+at the charge, but good-humouredly and without hurting any
+one, they thrust from the hall any of the deputies that are
+valiant enough to offer resistance. In the failing light, there
+is a confused scene in which red togas, birettas, and the caps
+of the guardsmen are intermingled. The last of the fleeing
+deputies escape through the windows.</p>
+
+<p>The priceless Lucien now hastened upstairs to the Council
+of Ancients. Grossly exaggerating the injuries sustained by
+his brother at the hands of the Jacobin deputies, he induced the
+Ancients, in a panic, to appoint the three Consuls, and to adjourn
+their sitting until a late hour that night. Then the
+leaders foregathered in a small café for a meal, being all much
+in need of food.</p>
+
+<p>That night, the most trustworthy among the deputies reassembled
+in the deserted hall at Saint-Cloud. By the light of a
+pair of candles, the thirty who were left to represent the people
+of France voted whatever they were told. While a hundred or
+so people of fashion, pretty women and their gallants, mockingly
+watched the midnight ceremony—while all went smoothly,
+society-at-large being quite undisturbed and the proletariat unruffled—the
+indefatigable Lucien insisted that the political
+mass should be worthily celebrated. At two in the morning,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span>to the sound of drums, the three Consuls took the oath. “Long
+live the republic!” called a few weary voices.</p>
+
+<p>At three o’clock, Consul Bonaparte drives back to Paris with
+Bourrienne. He looks straight in front of them, saying never
+a word. Not until he is at home, and Josephine is present,
+does he open his mouth:</p>
+
+<p>“I say, Bourrienne, did I talk a frightful lot of nonsense
+to-day?”</p>
+
+<p>“A fair amount, General.”</p>
+
+<p>“Those idiots drove me crazy. I’m no good at speaking in
+public assemblies.”</p>
+
+<p>Then, instead of going on to talk about the coup d’état, or
+to congratulate himself upon its amazing success (for from to-morrow
+onwards he will rule France) he alludes to personal
+enmities. Bernadotte’s conduct is what rankles!</p>
+
+<p>“That fellow Bernadotte! He wanted to betray me! His
+wife—his wife has a great deal of influence over him. I should
+have thought I had done enough to placate him! You were
+there, and you know. I regret having gone so far to please him.
+He will have to clear out of Paris. There is no other way in
+which I can pay my score.... Good-night, Bourrienne. To-morrow
+night we shall sleep in the Luxembourg.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_THREE">BOOK THREE<br>
+THE RIVER</h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">One who thoughtfully ponders the centuries,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Surveys the whole in the clear light of the spirit;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">All that is petty has vanished from sight;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Oceans and continents alone are of account.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse right">—<span class="smcap">Goethe.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span></p>
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+<p>About twenty men are seated round a large oval table.
+Some are quite young, some middle-aged, some elderly. They
+are plainly dressed, in accordance with the fashion of 1800,
+when wigs were no longer worn, and lace was out of date; those
+of them that are in uniform are not resplendent with gold braid,
+and they wear no orders. Some have the bold, self-confident
+look of the man of action; others, the thoughtful mien of the
+savant. From town and from countryside, from office and
+from laboratory, they come, but are unified by a common
+experience and a common aim. For ten years, they have been
+living through a revolutionary epoch; they meet to bring that
+epoch to a close. Around them is the chill splendour of the
+Tuileries, the palace of the last Bourbon kings. The golds
+and the reds of the rich carpets and the silken hangings are
+out of keeping with their bourgeois circumstantiality; the
+silvery sheen of the candles, reflected in rainbow tints from the
+myriad facets of the candelabras, recalls an era that scintillated
+with light and glowed with colour.</p>
+
+<p>The Directors before them had been wont to entertain their
+lady friends in royal halls, but that was in the Luxembourg,
+the former meeting-place of the peers of France. The Tuileries
+seemed full of Ghosts. Did not a curse lie upon the place?
+The dictator had broken the spell. Two months after the coup
+d’état, he had come with his fellow Consuls to take possession
+of the palace, which exerted a magical lure upon his imagination.
+Yet when, seven years after the arrest of the last scion
+of the royal line, the first of the bourgeois rulers made his
+formal entry, the affair had a strong flavour of burlesque. The
+Parisians could not but laugh to see the numbers of the hackney
+carriages peeping out from beneath the slips of paper which
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span>had been carelessly pasted over them. This seemed to symbolise
+the ludicrous aspect of time’s revenges.</p>
+
+<p>The Consul’s own mood was no less haphazard as he looked
+round with childlike curiosity. “Well, here we are in the
+Tuileries,” he said to one of his friends; “let’s see to it that
+we stay here!”</p>
+
+<p>Several of those now seated at the oval table, had waited
+here of old—wearing powdered wigs, lace jabots, and pumps—tremulous
+with eagerness to learn whether His Majesty would
+receive them, and when. Some of them had sat at a similar
+table in the Luxembourg. There had been no stability about
+those deliberations. Laws had come and gone, urgency orders
+and exceptional provisions; transitional decrees had pushed
+foregoing decrees out of the way; three constitutions had risen
+and set, had shot up into the air swiftly and brilliantly like
+rockets, to vanish like these and to fall like rocket-sticks. The
+whole decade during which the new ideas had been trying to
+realise themselves in the concrete, had passed swiftly over Paris
+like a single night, amid a confusion of flashing lights and
+rumbling drums. The city had been like an armed camp with
+no fighting fronts and no battles, but perturbed by the to-and-fro
+march of armed political parties, deafened by the noisy
+wrangling between the old order and the new wishes, dazzled by
+the glare of venturesome ideas, confused by the clamour of disappointed
+hopes and the clash of warring ambitions—a titanic
+bacchanal of liberty, equality, and cozenage. Surveying the
+medley, looking down from the skies, were the shades of the
+two men whose books had set the whole in motion: Rousseau,
+with eyes of disgust; Voltaire, with a mocking smile.</p>
+
+<p>But suddenly the tumult had been stilled. That little man at
+the head of the table had stilled it, the little general in the
+well-worn green uniform. Not that he, presiding over the
+Council of State, is in fact presiding over the State; the parties
+have withdrawn into their caves, satisfied or rancorous, but
+at any rate silenced. France, weakened by clubs and corruption,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span>by the Terror and the demagogues, is turning back (like
+an adventuress weary of errant amours) to the arms of a
+strong man who can master her.</p>
+
+<p>Enough, now, for Bonaparte that he should aspire to fulfil
+this masterful lover’s role. No longer did he need to fight
+for the position. The man for whom France was longing,
+must be a man of order; must be one who had never before
+held power, who belonged to no party, and who none the less
+enjoyed popular favour. He must, therefore, be a soldier and
+a conqueror. Moreau lacked the self-confidence and adroitness
+needed to make him a successful rival; the other great generals
+were dead or overshadowed; there were no civilian competitors.
+After Bonaparte’s outstanding military successes, it was easy
+for him to win supreme power in the State. He would have
+won it without a struggle had he not been so stubborn in his
+desire to observe constitutional formalities.</p>
+
+<p>The attempt to be strictly constitutional had been a ludicrous
+failure, and had imposed artificial obstacles in his path.
+Yet this very fact was a token and a guarantee of his political
+talents. He was a man with a firm grip on the sword-hilt, but
+he was also a man who clearly understood the limits of the
+power of the sword. “Do you know,” he said in those days,
+“what amazes me more than all else? The impotence of force
+to organise anything. There are only two powers in the world:
+the spirit and the sword. In the long run, the sword will always
+be conquered by the spirit.” Napoleon was the greatest military
+commander of his day, but neither now nor later was it
+his habit to strike the table with mailed fist, neither in Paris
+at this juncture nor elsewhere when negotiating a truce or a
+peace or an alliance. He was a political genius, who prized
+the sword, indeed, but prized it only as one of the two powers.
+His ear was never deafened by the clash of arms. As now, so
+for fifteen years to come, he is ever on the watch for indications
+of public opinion; always listening to the voice of the people, a
+voice which defies calculation; a voice which Napoleon, a man
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span>of figures, vainly tries to calculate. Precisely because of his
+failure to do this, the attempt to reckon with public opinion
+is always alluring to the imaginative side of his nature.</p>
+
+<p>Because Bonaparte believes in the power of the spirit more
+than in the power of the sword, he strives for order and peace
+more resolutely than for war and conquest. The history of
+the next ten years will prove it.</p>
+
+<p>For him, order denotes equality, but not liberty. He adopts
+into his dictatorship the former of these two gods of the revolution.
+Except for a few vacillations, he will cherish equality
+to the end, despite appearances to the contrary. But liberty?
+What is liberty? “Both the savage and the civilised man need
+a lord and master, a magician, who will hold the imagination in
+check, impose strict discipline, bind man in chains, so that he
+may not bite out of season; one who will thrash him, and lead
+him to the chase. Obedience is man’s destiny; he deserves nothing
+better, and he has no rights!” These threatening words of
+the misanthropist disclose no more than half of his secret
+thoughts. Through all the phases of his rule, he is ever in
+search of the efficient man, and to such a man he grants power
+over thousands; just as he himself, through energy and diligence,
+through natural and acquired superiority, has won to
+power over millions. In spite of all, he is the son of the revolution;
+and in this sense he will remain the son of the revolution,
+whatever forms his power may assume.</p>
+
+<p>In part, that is the explanation of the mysterious influence
+he wields. The wider his domain extends, the more plainly do
+all realise that they are living in a system which promises to
+every efficient man the gratification of his wishes, and guarantees
+to every efficient man place and power and wealth; which
+does these things because the Master has himself risen out of
+the crowd. He shows this, now, in his very first step. Sieyès
+has drafted a constitution. There is to be a grand elector, a
+president who can only represent and sign his name. With
+soldierly curtness, Bonaparte puts his pen through the item.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span>“Away with this fat hog!” Instead, there is to be a First
+Consul, with plenary powers, and plenty of work. He is to be
+war lord and also director of foreign policy; he is to appoint
+all ministers and envoys, councillors of State and prefects,
+officers and judges. Thirty nominated senators are to elect
+their colleagues; but neither the Senate nor the Legislative
+Assembly nor the Tribunate is to have any power to initiate
+legislation. These bodies are merely brought into existence to
+give politicians a platform for their orations, and to provide
+senators with high salaries and opportunities for a resplendent
+life.</p>
+
+<p>Although everything was dependent upon the will of one man,
+that one man insisted that those dependent on him should themselves
+be men, and not mere names. Neither birth nor pretentiousness
+nor prominence in a political party could lead to
+the front in the army or in civil life. Nothing but energy and
+capacity could ensure promotion. Such was the principle upon
+which Napoleon chose the members of the Council of State.</p>
+
+<p>This last was a round table of experts, selected by the dictator
+on his own initiative. Among them was Laplace, whom,
+to honour the Institute, Napoleon had also appointed Minister
+for Home Affairs—an appointment the great mathematician
+held for a time, until he turned back from the mechanics of
+the State to the mechanics of the heavens. There, too, was
+Roederer, official and journalist, the most independent man to
+be encountered by Napoleon during twenty years, and the most
+valuable recorder of conversations. Tronchet, also, one of the
+finest jurists of the age, was there. In the council chamber,
+all alike were citizens, and addressed one another by that plain
+title. Royalists and Jacobins sat there side by side, under a
+regime of equality, since reason was enthroned.</p>
+
+<p>When the minutes of the sittings are shown to the citizen-consul,
+he says: “It is essential to give a full and accurate
+report of the opinions expressed by legal luminaries, for their
+words are weighty; but what we soldiers and moneyed men
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span>think is of little account. In the heat of the moment I have
+often said things which an instant afterwards I saw to have
+been unjust. I do not wish to seem better than I am.” When
+he noticed that the councillors were simply echoing whatever he
+said, he was quick to call them to order: “You are not here,
+gentlemen, to agree with me, but to express your own views.
+If you do that, I can compare them with mine, and decide which
+is better.”</p>
+
+<p>The sittings, often enough, do not begin before nine in the
+evening, for up till then the Consul has been dealing with the
+urgent affairs of the day. They may last till five o’clock in
+the morning. The councillors get very tired during the small
+hours. Perhaps the Minister for War goes to sleep. Napoleon
+shakes them up, exclaiming: “Do let’s keep awake, citizens.
+It’s only two o’clock. We must earn our salaries.” He, who
+presides, is indeed one of the youngest of the company, being
+now thirty. But in three campaigns he has learned how to
+watch over the interests of hundreds of thousands. Was not
+the management of an army which set out from the Alps,
+crossed the sea, and marched far into the desert—was not this
+the best school for the study of State administration? There,
+too, he had to think of money and bread, of rights and laws,
+of rewards and punishments, of rest and obedience and order.</p>
+
+<p>During the very first night after the coup d’état, he had
+appointed two committees to draft a legal code; this was the
+first act of his dictatorship! The prevailing chaos had been
+the outcome of a lack of law. Down to the outbreak of the
+revolution, there had been no unified legal system in France.
+The revolution brought the promise of such a system; but even
+now, after eleven years, the promise was unfulfilled. That
+first summer, three great lawyers were set to work; four months
+later a draft of the Civil Code, subsequently rechristened the
+Code Napoléon, was ready; then the draft was discussed in
+the Council of State. In eighteen months the laws were voted.
+They passed into effect in 1804.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span></p>
+
+<p>After more than a century, this Code is still the law of
+France; it was adopted in many of the lands conquered by
+Napoleon, having great influence on the legislation of Central
+and Southern Germany, Prussia, Switzerland, and Spain; and
+its influence spread still farther afield, to Central America
+and South America. All that is new and morally decisive in
+the Code Napoléon is revolutionary law. The law-book which
+the Dictator discussed in all its details for many months, the
+law-book, many of whose most contentious points were the
+direct outcome of his decisions, borrowed the fixed principles of
+reason that had been sketched in the first days of the revolution.
+Experienced and dispassionate minds, under Napoleon’s
+guidance, worked them up, purified them, and made them into
+a new system of the rights of man. In this system, there was
+no longer a hereditary nobility; all children had an equal share
+in inheritance; all parents became legally responsible for the
+maintenance of their children; Jews became equal with
+Christians before the law; civil marriage was open to all, and
+was dissoluble.</p>
+
+<p>Concerning this matter, as concerning all matters of family
+law, his Corsican family feeling persistently influenced his
+judgments: “We know that adultery is not a rare occurrence,
+but an ordinary one; that it can happen on any convenient
+sofa.... Some sort of restraint must be imposed upon these
+women who commit adultery for trinkets or verses, for Apollo
+and the nine Muses.”</p>
+
+<p>His sense of order leads him to be a thorough-going supporter
+of marriage. He even sees to it that women shall follow
+their husbands into transportation, “for how can we forbid a
+woman to do so when she is convinced of her husband’s innocence?
+Or is this conviction of hers to deprive her of her rights
+as married woman; is she to lose the title of wife, and to become
+the man’s concubine? Many men have only become criminals
+owing to their wives. Are we to forbid those who have been
+the cause of the misfortune from sharing that misfortune?”
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span>He also thinks highly of the custom of old Roman days, when,
+at marriage, the woman was formally described as passing from
+her father’s guardianship into that of her husband. “That
+would be excellent in Paris, where women do as they please. It
+would influence some of them, though not all.”</p>
+
+<p>Therefore, though he favours divorce, it must not be too
+easy: “What would happen to the most intimate of natural ties
+if people were suddenly to become estranged? Unless we make
+divorce difficult, a young woman will be ready to marry a quite
+unsuitable man, for fashion, convenience, simply to get a roof
+over her head. The law must warn her against this.... In
+truth, there are only three valid grounds for divorce: attempted
+murder, adultery, and impotence.”</p>
+
+<p>Such are the plastic thoughts of this expert in human nature,
+whose mathematical talents still leave him free to subsume facts
+under ideas; one who has an intelligence well fitted for the
+consideration of laws, seeing that it is equally swayed by theory
+and practice, by energetic activity and sceptical suspense.
+The conflict of trends within the legislator’s mind is obvious,
+and it was intensified by his thoughts concerning Josephine’s
+former infidelity and present faithfulness. (We know that she
+manifested a lively interest in the drafting of those sections of
+the Code that related to divorce! Napoleon at this time was
+already wondering whether, if his wife remained childless, he
+would not have to divorce her for reasons of State. Her own
+dread of this possibility led her to use her influence in favour
+of strengthening the marriage tie, whereas he was driven by
+self-interest to insist that marriage must not be indissoluble.)</p>
+
+<p>It is a personal feeling, too, which drives him to avoid
+scandal, to save the honour of marriage. He opposes the interference
+of the law-courts in conjugal questions; prefers that
+such matters should be settled by mutual understanding, so
+that the veil shall not be stripped off. “The desire of both
+parties for divorce is an indication that divorce is necessary.
+It is not the business of the court to establish the fact that
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span>this mutual desire exists; the court has simply to pronounce
+the divorce when the desire exists.” His strong family feeling
+leads him to add that maltreatment, perversion, and adultery
+should be concealed beneath the formula of mutual desire; the
+need for divorce is to be settled at a family council, and the
+judge has merely to confirm this decision.</p>
+
+<p>For the same reason, he introduces a semi-divorce, a judicial
+separation from bed and board. This is always to be arranged
+after a mutual private understanding, for it will be a barrier
+to the possibility of reconciliation if the grounds for the separation
+have been made public. His aim in all these matters
+is to maintain family life; he is a champion of order, an anti-revolutionist.
+His social sense is so strong that he maintains
+it would be necessary to punish an adulterous woman by criminal
+procedure unless she were punished by being divorced.
+Similar considerations regarding the sanctity of marriage lead
+him to raise the age at which marriage becomes permissible.
+At the revolution it had been lowered to thirteen for women
+and fifteen for men; he insists upon fifteen and twenty-one
+respectively.</p>
+
+<p>For children, the Code promises all the things which the
+ensuing century is slowly to build up. Under the fatherhood
+of the man to whom they are born in lawful marriage, they have
+a secure position even before they enter the world. True,
+“the father cannot recognise the child as his own if he
+has been absent for fifteen months”—the figure is specified by
+Napoleon—“and has fought at Marengo.” But, a man of
+position as well as a man of the world, he concludes by saying:
+“I will sacrifice honour to truth, but why should I sacrifice the
+wife’s honour when no one will gain thereby? If the husband
+is not sure of his dates, he had better hold his tongue; the
+child’s interest is paramount.”</p>
+
+<p>When some one proposes to restrict the elder children’s
+right to maintenance, he rejoins: “Is a father to have the right
+to drive his fifteen-year-old daughter out of the house? Let
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span>us suppose him to have an income of sixty thousand francs,
+can we allow him to say to his son: ‘You are old enough to
+tend for yourself; be off with you to work!’ If we limit this
+duty, we shall tend to make children entertain thoughts of
+putting their father out of the way.” The suggestion is made
+that adoption shall be feasible by simple declaration before a
+notary, with revolutionary speed. He opposes the plan:</p>
+
+<p>“We are not concerned here with a trivial formality. Human
+beings are controlled through their imaginations; that is what
+distinguishes them from animals. The main defect of the newer
+legislation is that it makes no appeal to men’s imaginations.
+A soldier does not face death in order to earn a few pence a
+day, or to win some paltry order of merit. None but the man
+who touches his heart, can stir his enthusiasm! A notary
+cannot touch our hearts merely because we pay him a fee of
+twelve francs; that is why we need a legislative act. What is
+adoption? An imitation of nature, a sort of sacrament. By
+the will of society, the offspring of one human being’s flesh and
+blood is supposed to become the offspring of another’s flesh and
+blood. Could any action be more sublime? Thanks to it, two
+creatures between whom there is no tie of blood, become inspired
+by a natural mutual affection. Whence must this action
+come? Like the lightning, from on high!”</p>
+
+<p>“In these sittings,” says Roederer, “the First Consul manifested
+those remarkable powers of attention and precise
+analysis which enabled him for ten hours at a stretch to devote
+himself to one object, or to several, without ever allowing himself
+to be distracted by memory or by errant thoughts.”</p>
+
+<p>Bonaparte is filled with respect for the logicality and mental
+energy of the octogenarian Tronchet; and the old lawyer responds
+with admiration for the analytical faculty and the
+sense of justice of the young Consul, who, in the case of every
+ordinance, asks: “Is it just?” and “Is it useful?” He is never
+tired of enquiring how predecessors have solved the problems
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span>under consideration, paying special attention to Roman law
+and to the legal institutions of Frederick the Great.</p>
+
+<p>Not only are thirty-seven laws discussed at this table;
+furthermore, the Consul propounds question after question
+concerning other matters. How is bread made? How shall
+we make new money? How shall we establish security? He
+makes all his ministers send detailed reports, and this
+is a great tax upon their energies. But he affects not to
+notice that they are overworked, and when they get home
+they often find letters from him requiring an immediate
+answer. One of his collaborators writes: “Ruling, administering,
+negotiating—with that orderly intelligence of his, he gets
+through eighteen hours’ work every day. In three years he
+has ruled more than the kings ruled in a century.” He spoke
+to every expert in the phraseology of the craft, so that none
+of them could ever plead in excuse that his questions had not
+been understood. Even the most hidebound royalists were
+amazed at the technical accuracy of his enquiries.</p>
+
+<p>His unfailing memory was the artillery wherewith he defended
+the fortress of his brain. Ségur, returning from an
+official inspection of the fortifications on the north coast, sends
+in a report. “I have read your report,” says the First Consul.
+“It is accurate, but you have forgotten two of the four guns
+in Ostend. They are on the high road behind the town.”
+Ségur is astonished to find that Napoleon is right. His report
+deals with thousands of guns, scattered all over the place, but
+the chief pounces on the omission of two.</p>
+
+<p>By slow degrees, the huge machine (which for ten years has
+been standing still or moving backwards) is set in regular
+motion once more. Throughout the last decade, all the reports
+from the provinces have been full of complaints regarding the
+lack of public safety, sanitation, and order; the louis-d’or used
+to exchange for twenty-four francs, but now the ratio is one
+to eight thousand; the Directory’s attempt to stabilise the
+franc has been an utter failure; the newly enriched have bought
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span>up the State domains, the Church lands, and the seignorial
+estates. No one is paying taxes. What is the new dictator
+going to do about it all?</p>
+
+<p>Within a fortnight after the coup d’état, he had arranged
+for the establishment of tax-collecting offices in all the departments,
+for, as he put it: “Security and property are only to
+be found in a country which is not subject to yearly changes in
+the rate of taxation.” Two months later, the Bank of France
+came into being; next year, there were new boards to supervise
+taxation, the registration of landed property, and forestry.
+Whereas his predecessors had simply squandered the State domains,
+he used what was left of them to defray repayment of
+national debt. The funds rose from 7 to 17; he continued the
+process of debt cancellation, renovated the Chambers of Commerce,
+regulated the Stock Exchange, put an end to speculation
+in the depreciated currency, stopped the frauds of the army
+contractors and other war profiteers, and by these and similar
+measures restored manufacturing industry whose productivity
+had sunk to a quarter or half of its former level.</p>
+
+<p>What was his magical spell?</p>
+
+<p>At the head of affairs was himself, a man of indomitable
+energy, and incorruptible. Men of the same stamp, energetic,
+diligent, and bold, were put in charge of the ministries, the departments,
+and the prefectures. Favouritism was done away
+with; sinecures were abolished. Preferment was obtainable
+only by the efficient, and to them it came regardless of birth or
+party. All officials, down to the mayors, were appointed from
+above, and paid from above—“a hierarchy, all First Consuls in
+miniature,” to quote his own words.</p>
+
+<p>There was no political opposition. “No reaction is possible,”
+he prophesied. “I have not relied upon the credit or
+upon the strength of a party, and am therefore indebted to no
+one.—The men of intelligence who, a little while ago, were
+perpetrating crimes, are now being used by me to upbuild a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span>new social edifice. There are excellent workmen among them
+but the trouble is that they would all like to be master builders.
+Typically French, that trait; every one thinks himself competent
+to rule the country!” Being careful to satisfy all
+parties, he gives the two most coveted portfolios to two rogues,
+mutually hostile, but both men of remarkable ability. Having
+done this, he is able to say: “What revolutionist can fail to
+have confidence in the social system when Fouché, the Jacobin,
+is Minister of Police. What nobleman would be unwilling to
+live under Talleyrand as Minister for Foreign Affairs? I have
+one of them on my right, and the other on my left. I open a
+wide road, in which all can find room.”</p>
+
+<p>To all the prefects and all the generals the order went forth:
+“No more clubs; no more parties. Tell the National Guardsmen
+and the citizens whenever you can, if a few ambitious
+fellows still feel the need to hate, that the rudder of State is
+now in strong hands, accustomed to overcome obstacles.” A
+few weeks after the coup d’état, he issued a great proclamation,
+commending the new constitution to the people. It closed
+with the simple and lofty words: “Citizens, the revolution has
+returned to the principles with which it began. It is at an
+end.”</p>
+
+<h3>II</h3>
+
+<p>It is not war.</p>
+
+<p>“Returning to Europe after eighteen months’ absence, I find
+that war has broken out once more between the French Republic
+and Your Majesty. The French people summons me to the first
+position in the State.” In these terms, shortly after the coup
+d’état, he addresses the German emperor, just before marching
+against him. Napoleon writes as proudly as any monarch, as
+if before the journey he had already been the first man in the
+State; and he writes with the natural dignity to which, in large
+measure, he owes his success. That is his way. In this manner
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span>he puts his adversary in the wrong. But the emperor is unmoved.
+Well, Bonaparte’s plans were made long since; he has
+only to carry them out.</p>
+
+<p>First of all he surrounds himself with a guard, every member
+of which must have been through four campaigns—as many as
+the commander, but no more. Then, while he sends Moreau
+to fight on the Rhine, he makes his own preparations for an
+adventure in Italy. If he were to come along the coast, as he
+did four years ago, they would be ready for him. He must
+find a new plan! At Dijon, in full view of the Austrian spies,
+he collects from the rawest levies a pitiful reserve corps, and
+smiles as he reads the mocking comments in the Viennese papers.
+Meanwhile, he prepares a force of 32,000 men, no more, but
+the finest soldiers under his command. They are for a bold
+venture of which no one dreams, any more than they dreamed
+of his Egyptian campaign. Did not Hannibal cross the Alps,
+bidding the mountains make way for him? But nowadays a
+general must get cannon through the passes! Cut down trees,
+then, and make huge sleighs on which to drag the ordnance
+over the snows!</p>
+
+<p>Thus in the spring after the coup d’état an army climbs the
+Great St. Bernard, for the first time in two thousand years.
+The old monks in the hospice can hardly believe their eyes.
+The herdsman who guides the commander’s mule, prattling the
+while about his wishes and his troubles, will soon afterwards
+learn that he has been talking to a fairy godmother, will be
+enriched by the gift of a house and a farm. Even the common
+soldiers seem to realise the epic character of this campaign,
+and vie with one another in their zeal to drag the guns. They
+are following their tried and trusted leader; they are returning
+to that Lombardy whither, four years ago, he had led them as
+to the Promised Land; these reflections, and the urgency of the
+occasion, increase the mysterious suggestiveness of the expedition.
+So little do the Austrians realise what is impending, that
+their chief, writing to a lady friend in Pavia, tells her she is
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span>quite safe there; no need to leave. Twelve hours later, Bonaparte
+enters the town.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, the great blow seems to him a questionable
+success. When, in the middle of June, he attacks the Austrians
+in the plain, the enemy, whose forces greatly outnumber his,
+drives him back. Where is Desaix with the promised reserves?
+The affair begins to have the look of a general rout. The
+commander, by the roadside, flicks the dust nervously with his
+riding-whip, as he watches the beaten army pass by. “Stand
+firm! Wait a little! Reinforcements are coming! Only an
+hour!” But the flight continues. Has fortune, too, been
+routed? At length Desaix arrives, and hurls himself on the
+dismayed Austrians; the dragoons charge; the enemy’s lines
+are broken. The battle of Marengo, which Bonaparte had lost
+at five o’clock, was won by Desaix at seven—but Desaix fell in
+the hour of triumph.</p>
+
+<p>Sad at heart, Napoleon remained on the field of battle. The
+best of his generals was dead; but an even more painful thought
+was that Desaix, not himself, had won the victory. He himself
+had been defeated. Maybe he was consoled by the knowledge
+that he alone had designed the whole campaign, and that
+he alone was responsible for the plan of battle in accordance
+with which Desaix had arrived in time to snatch success out of
+the jaws of failure. Perhaps he realised that this great battle,
+which opened and closed the campaign, had been won by him
+no otherwise than the Eighteenth Brumaire. Then, also, he
+had lost the day, and the crown of victory had been gained
+for him by another!</p>
+
+<p>Yet in neither case can this judgment be maintained when
+all the circumstances are reviewed. Only three or four miles
+from the spot where this evening he dictates to Bourrienne the
+report of the battle, is the point on the map into which, four
+months earlier, he had thrust a pin, saying (to this same Bourrienne):
+“Crossing the Alps at the Great St. Bernard, I shall
+fall upon Melas, cut off his communications with Austria, and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span>meet him here in the plains of the River Scrivia at San
+Giuliano.”</p>
+
+<p>This was no time for reminiscences! Statesman as well as
+commander, he was already parleying with Vienna, acting on
+the principle: “We must fight and negotiate at the same time.”
+Now, on the battle-field, he writes again to Emperor Francis:</p>
+
+<p>“The cunning of the English has neutralised the effect which
+my simple and frank advances must otherwise have had on
+Your Majesty’s heart. War has become actual. Thousands
+of Frenchmen and Austrians are no more.—The prospect
+of the continuance of such horrors is so great a distress to
+me, that I have decided to make another personal appeal to
+you.—On the battle-field of Marengo, amid grief and pain,
+surrounded by fifteen thousand corpses, I implore Your
+Majesty, it behooves me to give you an urgent warning. You
+are far from the scene, and your heart cannot be so deeply
+moved as mine is on the spot. You rule over many States.—Let
+us give our generation peace and tranquillity. If the men
+of later days are such fools as to come to blows, they will learn
+wisdom after a few years’ fighting, and will then live at peace
+one with another.”</p>
+
+<p>This long letter, of which only a few of the most weighty
+sentences have been quoted here, is as brilliant as had been his
+plan for the battle of Marengo, and it was as fruitful as his
+victory. For the first time it gave plain expression to his longing
+for peace. In days to come, he will write half a dozen such
+letters after as many decisive victories. Is Bonaparte, the
+great military commander, a pacifist after all?</p>
+
+<p>By no means, but he is not a swashbuckler either. His
+nerves always remain sensitive to the impressions of the battle-field;
+and he has an unfailing reserve of scepticism as regards
+successes won merely by the sword. He is fond of camp life,
+and he has a chessplayer’s love for the great game of war; but,
+before all, he is a statesman. It was in this very plain of Lombardy
+that the sense of statecraft first awakened in him. It
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span>was there that, with kings and countries as pieces, he began to
+play that other great game of chess, the diplomatic game. Delight
+in the use of spiritual force has taken possession of his
+soul. He will never renounce the sword, will never allow its
+edge to become blunted. It is as the wielder of the sword that
+he is acclaimed as the hero of Europe. But he also has the
+Golden Goblet, and does not wish to risk it anew every year.</p>
+
+<p>He knows, too, that, while France is always eager for glory,
+an even greater need at the moment is tranquillity. Above all,
+the country has need of him, personally; but he has enemies
+in his rear. Before, it mattered little that he should be away
+for a year or two at a time; but now, when he is dictator, so
+long an absence would be fatal. These multiple considerations
+explain his letter to Emperor Francis—surely an unparalleled
+despatch from a conqueror on the battle-field. As soon as he
+has written it, he hastens to Milan.</p>
+
+<p>What is Paris saying?</p>
+
+<p>Is the capital satisfied at length? Is it not like Josephine,
+before whom one can pour out all the treasures of the world—to
+find only that she takes them as a matter of course, and
+holds out her hand for more? Paris is by no means enthusiastic
+about the new master. “For eleven years,” writes Roederer
+in his diary, “the Parisian’s first thought on waking in the
+morning had been: ‘When shall we be able to rid ourselves of
+tyrants?’ Now, the Parisians were saying: ‘Everything seems
+to be going on well. But these enterprises that are being
+started, this capital that is being invested, these houses that
+they are building, these trees that they are planting—what will
+happen to the lot of them, if the Man should perish?’—His
+supreme calling was not the general’s, but the statesman’s. His
+victories, indeed, had made him the cynosure of all eyes; but it
+was his talent for statecraft that had raised men’s hopes.”
+Thus the Parisians are uneasy, but wellwishing. One among
+them, however, foresees the future, and writes to Napoleon at
+the theatre of war:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span></p>
+
+<p>“General, I have just returned from the Tuileries, and shall
+not attempt to describe either the enthusiasm of the French or
+the amazement of foreigners.... Will posterity believe the
+miracle of this campaign? Favourable, indeed, are the auspices
+that preside over your homecoming! Never has there been an
+empire that was not founded upon miracle. In this instance,
+miracle has become reality.”</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon smiles, thinking: “In truth, Talleyrand is more
+than a flatterer; he is a soothsayer! But why does he give a
+name to my secret thoughts? Would he play the part of the
+Roman of old, who tempted Cæsar with a crown?”</p>
+
+<p>Here is another missive from Paris. A police report from
+Fouché, who tells how Talleyrand had recently summoned a
+few intimates to discuss what had better be done should the
+Consul have a misadventure, or perchance be defeated. The
+news of Marengo had come while they were at supper! “So he
+was alarmed!” thinks Bonaparte. “There were stirrings of
+what remained of a conscience. Good friends! Fine confidants!
+Their alleged concern for my safety, is but the mask
+for their secret longing to rid themselves of their master!”</p>
+
+<p>Is it a mocking smile or is it an expression of pensive anxiety
+that purses Napoleon’s lips? Certainly, he must be back in
+Paris as soon as possible! But this evening he goes to the
+Scala, where the heroine is the lovely Grassini—whose advances
+he had scorned a year or two back. Now she sings for his
+ear, has eyes for him alone; and though she may be piqued that
+his beckoning nod comes so late, the handsome Italian prima
+donna gives herself to the conqueror of Italy for the asking.
+She shall go to the Paris opera. As star, or as his mistress?
+Time will show!</p>
+
+<p>Since in Germany, too, the enemy has been defeated, the
+subsequent peace of Lunéville is extremely favourable to France,
+the Rhine frontier being conceded, and the re-establishment of
+the Cisalpine Republic agreed to. Could more have possibly
+been achieved by a few weeks’ campaign? His colleagues and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span>other false friends make ready to receive him as hero of the
+hour; they write to him about plans for a triumph. “I shall
+make an unlooked-for entry into Paris,” he rejoins, with malicious
+double meaning; “and I have no desire for triumphal
+arches or any kind of ceremonial. I have a sufficiently good
+conceit of myself to scorn such plummery. The only genuine
+triumph is public content.”</p>
+
+<p>A little later, he writes in a vein that is equally modest, or
+equally proud: “I accept the offer to erect a monument in my
+honour and should like a site to be chosen. But I would rather
+leave the actual building of the monument to future centuries,
+should these confirm your good opinion of me.” It is as if
+he could sense the coming storm of iconoclasm, could foresee
+that in less than twenty years his idolaters of to-day will be
+rolling his eagles in the dust!</p>
+
+<p>After his return, the dictator devotes all his energies to the
+consolidation of peace. He outsoars himself: for whereas
+formerly, by forced marches and crashing blows, he has imposed
+his will on one country after another, now, by shrewd negotiation,
+he cements peace with his sometime foes. Within two
+years of his seizure of power, France is at peace with Austria,
+Prussia, Bavaria, Russia, Naples, Spain, Portugal and even
+with England.</p>
+
+<p>Nine legitimate and therefore ardently legitimist rulers now
+recognise the republic which they had been fighting for a
+decade. France, which two years before had been threatened
+by disruption from within and by dangerous impacts from
+without, had become the leading power on the Continent.</p>
+
+<p>It is as First Consul, not as general and not as emperor,
+that Bonaparte leads the revolution to victory. In a Europe
+all the rest of which (except for Switzerland) is ruled by kings
+and princes, he not only establishes peace between the new ideas
+and the old forces, but also, unchallenged, compels his border
+States, Holland and northern Italy, to adopt the consular constitution.
+Neither Austria nor England attempts to interfere
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span>when, with a turn of the hand, he extends his grip over Piedmont,
+Genoa, Lucca and Elba. At the same time, when the
+compensation of the princes on the left bank of the Rhine is in
+question, the members of the oldest reigning houses of Germany
+throng around the great huckster, the man who has
+robbed them of their lands—thus teaching him to despise birth
+and heritage, nobles and crowns.</p>
+
+<p>Only one chasm gapes in the structure he is building, but he
+will be able to close it.</p>
+
+<p>At the opening of the revolution, Reason took the place of
+Christ. Indeed, this anti-Christian notion became extremely
+popular. Bonaparte stood almost alone in his rejection of it.
+Four years earlier, in Italy, he had granted the pope all kinds
+of things which Paris wished to refuse; and, for reasons of his
+own, he had always been chivalrous in his attitude towards the
+clergy. Now he wished to heal the breach that had existed for
+ten years between France and the Church. He did not do this
+because he was a believer. “Among the Turks, I was a Mohammedan;
+now I shall become a Catholic.” He knew that this
+oldest of the powers could not be conquered either by the sword
+or by the spirit. He must come to terms with it in order to
+make use of it. “Catholicism kept the pope in being for me,”
+he said later: “and, in view of my grip upon Italy, I continued
+to hope that sooner or later I should be able to bend him to my
+will. What immense influence I should then wield! What a
+means to have at my disposal in my dealings with Europe!”</p>
+
+<p>It will be difficult to make Paris accept the rehabilitation
+of the Church! As a preliminary step, he is actually willing to
+present himself before the bishops in the guise of a philosopher:
+“I am aware that in no State can a man be truly virtuous
+and upright unless he knows whence he comes and whither he
+is going. Unaided reason cannot tell us these things. Without
+religion, we grope in the dark. But the Catholic faith
+throws a clear light upon the origin and the destiny of human
+beings.” Rome is dumbfounded for a time, when this and similar
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span>speeches are reported; but the shrewdest of worldly sages
+can find his master in the Vatican. When Cardinal Consalvi
+comes to Paris in order to discuss matters with Napoleon, and,
+at the first official audience, the consul wishes to browbeat him,
+the prince of the Church smilingly stands his ground. What
+a spectacle for Talleyrand, who looks on in silence! Still,
+agreement is reached on various important points, such as the
+celibacy of priests, the choice of bishops by Rome, and the
+re-establishment of the old canon law. But though these concessions
+are made to the Church, the payment of stipends by
+the State, which gives the latter decisive influence, is to remain.</p>
+
+<p>A great ceremony in Notre Dame seals the agreement. The
+Consul, with the other State dignitaries, had wanted only to
+come for the Te Deum; but he found it expedient, after all,
+to attend Mass, stipulating that he was not to be expected to
+take the sacrament, “or to participate in all the rest of the
+hocus-pocus that makes a man ridiculous.” To his brother, he
+said on this occasion: “We’re going to Mass to-day. What will
+Paris say about it?”</p>
+
+<p>“The audience will look on at the play, and will hiss if it
+does not please.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I shall have the church cleared by the guards!”</p>
+
+<p>“But what if the grenadiers join in the hissing?”</p>
+
+<p>“They won’t. My old war-dogs will be just as respectful in
+Notre Dame as they were in the Cairo mosques. They will
+keep their eyes on me, and when they see that their general is
+serious and well behaved, they will follow his example, saying
+to themselves, ‘Those are the orders of the day!’”</p>
+
+<h3>III</h3>
+
+<p>The ground is still unsteady beneath his feet. His consulship
+is for ten years only, and there are but eight years more
+to run. Then a rival may take his place. He is dependent on
+popular favour, which he must court, and which he despises.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span>What sort of a position is that for the head of a State in his
+dealings with foreign potentates? They will not take him seriously,
+any more than if he were an American president. Turning
+these thoughts over in his mind, he makes a sign to the
+Senate.</p>
+
+<p>Always compliant (being dependent on his good graces), the
+Senate now proposes to ensure that the First Consul shall hold
+office for an additional term of ten years after the expiry
+of the present term. Put out of humour by this suggestion, he
+jogs the senators’ thoughts and induces them to propose a lifelong
+tenure of the consulship. But, prudent as Cæsar, he says
+that the matter must be referred to the “people,” the source
+of all power. A plebiscite is taken, and there are nearly four
+million ayes against a handful of courageous noes. His powers
+are enlarged. He now has sole authority to sign treaties with
+foreign States; he alone appoints the senators, who are themselves
+entitled to dissolve the Chambers; and he is granted the
+right to appoint his successor. When he compares his position
+with that of other European rulers, and notices that they all
+wear crowns, he consoles himself with the naïve sophism:
+“Henceforward, I am as good as the other sovereigns, for they,
+likewise, rule for life only!”</p>
+
+<p>By no means all among the millions who have voted for him
+are his whole-hearted adherents. Even in Paris, when he makes
+a triumphal entry into the Luxembourg, there is so little public
+applause that he says afterwards to his Minister of Police:
+“Why did you not work up opinion beforehand?”</p>
+
+<p>Said Fouché: “We are still the children of the ancient Gauls,
+of whom it was said that they could neither endure liberty nor
+tolerate oppression.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“I mean, Citizen Consul, that, in your last steps, the
+Parisians fancy they see the loss of liberty, and a tendency
+towards absolutism.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I should not care to rule for six weeks, if I had but the
+shadow of power, and could not be master!”</p>
+
+<p>“You have only to be humane, strong, and just, at one and
+the same time,” rejoins the fox (who never showed any of these
+qualities himself), “and soon you will win all hearts once
+again.”</p>
+
+<p>“Public opinion is capricious. I shall know how to mend it,”
+said Bonaparte, turning his back on his interlocutor.</p>
+
+<p>A two-minutes’ talk like this, and Napoleon has made up his
+mind. He dismisses Fouché, but not because he is afraid of the
+ex-cleric (whom he despises, rather). He abolishes the Ministry
+of Police, and transfers its functions to the Ministry of
+Justice, “for I wish to show Europe that my policy is peaceful,
+and that the French love me sincerely.” We must get used
+to such phrase-mongering, in which he cloaks his policy. To
+keep Fouché quiet, he makes the ex-minister a senator. When,
+on leaving office, Fouché discloses to the Consul a reserve fund
+of two and a half million francs, Bonaparte is amazed, and tells
+him to keep half the sum “as a token of personal regard.” In
+the anteroom, the departing Fouché grins over his mental arithmetic,
+adding the undisclosed residue of the reserve to the
+amount of the First Consul’s gift.</p>
+
+<p>Such are Bonaparte’s methods with a dangerous man who
+knows too much. As for public opinion, he can take his measures
+to get that on his side. It is because he is determined
+not to be indebted to any party or any individual, that he
+demands a popular ratification of his appointment as Consul
+for life, just as he had asked for popular approval after the
+coup d’état. The result gives him assurance that the revolution
+is over. “This consultation of the people has a twofold
+advantage. Besides confirming the prolongation of the consular
+term, it throws light on the sources of my power, which
+otherwise might have seemed ambiguous.” The phrasing shows
+that he is aware of his dangerous position betwixt revolution
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span>and legitimacy. To the very last, he will be worried by this
+problem.</p>
+
+<p>Like a Roman imperator, Bonaparte wishes to concentrate
+all the powers of State in his own hands; but whereas the
+Roman’s title to power was the commandership of the armies,
+Napoleon is supreme because of his supreme efficiency. That
+is why he bases his power, not upon the army, which loves him,
+but upon the people, to which he is hostile. He wants to be
+“tyrant,” in the classical sense of the term; but he wishes to be
+tyrant on a democratic footing, as the outcome of a free popular
+decision. The people, the source of power, is to transfer
+power to Napoleon. None knows better than he the weakness
+of any such fiction, but it is imposed on him by the spirit of
+the age. After all, Bonaparte can fearlessly quote in his own
+favour the revolutionary principle that power must go to talent
+instead of to birth, for where can a more talented man than
+himself be found? But instead of contenting himself with talent
+as the source of his power (the talent that has brought him victory
+in war and in peace, the talent that has enabled him to
+grasp the reins), he muddies this splendid source by a popular
+vote, feels morally compelled to do so, and even fancies that he
+is clarifying the waters by his action. If Bonaparte saves the
+revolution, he certainly kills the republic.</p>
+
+<p>These ideas are not the outcome of calculating policy, but of
+the mood which seeks its stimulus in classical life. It is the
+same mood as that which draws him towards the East; the same
+mood as that which, on the day of the coup d’état, led him to
+make a fool of himself before the Councils. “Your place is
+among the men of Plutarch,” said the first who really understood
+Bonaparte in early youth. The Consul was not a democrat
+in the sense that he believed in popular sovereignty. What
+he lacked was such days as those of classical antiquity, when
+genius did not need to entrench itself behind representative
+assemblies, but held sway on its own initiative; or Asia, where,
+even in modern times, there are monarchs in the literal sense.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span>In his work-room at Saint-Cloud there are two busts, Scipio’s
+and that of Hannibal’s. No other position than that of Roman
+emperor or that of caliph was suited to his temperament.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately after the coup d’état, the Bourbons, with a
+childlike frankness, had made advances to him. The brother
+of the executed king, now Count of Provence, and in future days
+to reign as Louis XVIII, asked the son of the revolution to help
+him to the throne. The demand was thrice repeated, and a
+handsome reward was offered. The Consul made no answer to
+the first two applications. To the third he replied as follows:</p>
+
+<p>“Sir, I have received your letter, and thank you for what
+you are so kind as to say about myself. You cannot seriously
+wish to come back, for your return would cost a hundred
+thousand lives. You must sacrifice your personal interests
+to the peace and happiness of France, and history will thank
+you for the sacrifice. I am not insensitive to the misfortunes
+of your family.... I shall be happy to do all in my power to
+contribute to the welfare and tranquillity of your retirement.
+Bonaparte.”</p>
+
+<p>Very different is Napoleon’s reception of the Vendée royalists,
+for he hopes to win them over to his side. At first they
+fail to understand him when, after a long time of waiting, the
+man of destiny, wearing his old green coat, and with untidy
+hair, makes advances to them.</p>
+
+<p>“Come over to my side. Mine will be the government of
+youth and enthusiasm!... You struck shrewd blows for your
+princes.... But your princes have by no means covered
+themselves with glory. Why were they not in Vendée to lead
+the fight? Was not that their place?”</p>
+
+<p>“They were kept in London by political considerations,”
+answered the nobles.</p>
+
+<p>“They should have crossed the Channel in the first fishing
+smack they could get hold of,” he answered passionately, and,
+so the report runs, “in a voice that seemed to come from the
+depths of his stomach.” Yes, my fine noblemen, from the depths
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span>of his stomach! The phrase carries with it the implications of
+an incident in universal history which was still recent, still vivid
+in Napoleon’s memory. That was the tone proper to the bold
+adventurer who, in a tiny frigate, had made his way across
+the storm-tost Mediterranean, through the enemy fleet, to reach
+the coast where power was his for the seizing. Hear how he
+mingles flattery and threats, the young wizard who has turned
+the whole continent upside down!</p>
+
+<p>“What would you like to be? General or prefect? You
+and yours can have whatever you please, if you will come over
+to my side. Nothing? Would you think it a disgrace to wear
+the coat that Bonaparte wears?... Unless you will make
+peace, I will march against you with a hundred thousand men,
+and burn your towns to ashes!”</p>
+
+<p>“If you do,” answers the count firmly, “we shall annihilate
+your columns.”</p>
+
+<p>“You dare to threaten me?” he exclaims—this time “with a
+terrible voice.” But upon receiving a matter-of-fact answer,
+he is calm once more. The noble emissaries retire in disgust,
+having achieved nothing, having been perplexed by his foreign
+accent, and by the impetuous imagination, which leads him to
+complicate the issues to such an extent that it is often hard to
+follow his meaning.</p>
+
+<p>None the less, the Consul induces a great many of the émigrés
+to return, disarming their hostility by making suitable provision
+for them. Forty thousand families promptly come back.
+At the same time, he negotiates with the Jacobins, although
+these, “with their metaphysics, are enough to ruin twenty governments.”
+He feels sure of the support of those who follow
+the middle courses of democracy, for the democratic masses
+feel safe under his rule, now that Paris is no longer a sort of
+civilian camp, and now that (a benevolent despot) he is doing
+all in his power to bring better times.</p>
+
+<p>Consider these instructions issued to various authorities:</p>
+
+<p>“If the cold should be sharp, as it was in 1789, you must
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span>have fires kept alight in the churches and market-places, so
+that as many people as possible can warm themselves.”—“The
+winter is very severe, meat is dear, we must provide work in
+Paris. Get on with the cutting of the Ourcq canal, with the
+construction of the Quai Desaix, with the paving of the back
+streets.”—“The law directs that all beggars shall be laid by
+the heels. Were we to do nothing more than this, our conduct
+would be barbarous and absurd. Arrest them, certainly, that
+you may give them work and food. We must have several
+homes of refuge in every department.”—“There are a great
+many out-of-work shoemakers, hatters, tailors, and saddlers.
+See to it that five hundred pairs of shoes are made every day.”
+He writes to the Minister for War saying that special orders
+for supplies for the artillery are to be issued. To the Minister
+for Home Affairs: “We must provide work, especially this
+month before the holidays. Issue an order that in May and
+June two thousand of the Saint Antoine workmen are to supply
+chairs, chests of drawers, armchairs, etc.... Send me your
+proposals to-morrow, so that a beginning may be made
+promptly.”</p>
+
+<p>He reads a by-law that no one wearing a workman’s blouse
+is to walk through the Tuileries garden. Instantly he has the
+regulation cancelled, and gives express permission for such
+people to go through. He learns of a proposal to close the
+public reading-rooms: “I won’t allow anything of the kind. I
+have not forgotten my own experience, how useful it was to
+know of a well-warmed room where I could read the newspapers
+and recent pamphlets. I will not allow others who are as poor
+as I was then to be robbed of these comforts.” In the Théâtre
+Français, the stalls are to be very cheap on Sundays, “so that
+the people may enjoy the performance.” There are to be no
+gambling hells in France: “They bring families to ruin, and I
+should set a bad example were I to tolerate them.”</p>
+
+<p>By his new education law, he establishes public elementary
+schools, middle schools, lycées, and technical colleges, throughout
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span>the country. There are to be six thousand free scholarships,
+and a third of these are to be reserved for the sons of
+specially deserving persons. Within three years, there are
+4,500 elementary schools, 750 middle schools, and 45 lycées.
+He honours the Institute by choosing a third of his first senators
+from among its members. The Ministry for Home Affairs is
+instructed to draw up lists “of the ten best painters, sculptors,
+composers, musicians, architects, and other artists whose
+talents make them worthy of support.” He orders great
+frescoes to be painted, which shall depict striking incidents in
+his battles. He gives his reasons for this State regulation of
+art, saying: “People complain that we have no literature.
+That is the fault of the Minister for Home Affairs!”</p>
+
+<p>But if he tranquillises persons of all occupations by bringing
+them prosperity, what opening will be left, in this nation of
+the ambitious, for the pursuit of fame? If there is to be no war
+and no court life, where will the French find an outlet for their
+vanity? He answers this question by founding the Legion of
+Honour.</p>
+
+<p>The Legion will form a group of stalwart supporters, for
+those who have taken a solemn oath to resist any attempt at
+the restoration of the feudalist regime will not be so likely to
+side against Bonaparte. Besides, it is not to be merely an
+officers’ club, inasmuch as the aim is to provide distinctions for
+all who do good service. He therefore appoints a natural
+philosopher to the office of arch-chancellor; and when, in the
+Council of State, a warning reference is made to the kinship
+between these orders of distinction and the abuses which have
+been swept away, he answers with perfect seriousness:</p>
+
+<p>“I doubt if there has ever been a republic without such distinctions.
+You declare that they are toys for children. Well,
+grown men are led by toys. I would not say that from a
+rostrum, but in a council of sages and statesmen I can speak
+my mind. I do not think that the French love liberty and
+equality; they have not been changed by ten years of revolution;
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span>they are what the Gauls were, fierce and fickle. They are
+accessible to only one sentiment, the love of honour. That is
+why we must have distinctions.... Soldiers must be allured
+by fame and pay.... Here is a new kind of money assessed
+at a different valuation from current coin. Its source is inexhaustible.
+With no other kind of money, is it possible to
+reward actions which are so sublime that they cannot be valued
+in current coin.” In these notable words, we hear the rippling
+of the three fountains of his soul: contempt for mankind,
+understanding of the masses, and the critical aloofness of the
+foreigner who has chosen a new fatherland.</p>
+
+<h3>IV</h3>
+
+<p>On Christmas Eve, 1800, the Consul was driving to the opera.
+Josephine and her daughter were following in another carriage.
+In a narrow street an empty cart partially blocked the way,
+and caused a halt. The cart was pushed aside, and the coachman
+whipped up his horses. The instant after the carriage had
+passed, an infernal machine hidden in the cart exploded. About
+twenty persons were killed, but no one in either Napoleon’s or
+Josephine’s carriage was hurt. On reaching the opera,
+Napoleon went straight to his box. When his wife arrived,
+he said calmly: “Josephine, those rascals wanted to blow me
+up; send for a copy of the music.” Outwardly unmoved, he
+listened to the performance of Haydn’s recent work, <i>Creation</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Ordinarily, good music made him forget all his schemes; but
+this evening his brain was busily at work, pondering the causes
+and foreseeing the consequences of the attempt on his life. It
+mattered little who “the rascals” were, revolutionaries of the
+left or revolutionaries of the right. He knew well enough that
+he had plenty of enemies on both sides. The question was,
+whether it would suit him best to assume that his would-be
+assassins belonged to the right or to the left. His mind was
+soon made up on this point. Had the attempt been successful,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span>the consequences for France would have been immeasurably
+great. Well, the consequences of the unsuccessful attempt
+should be no less momentous. It was a lucky chance, and he
+would make it solve the problem of personal power.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning, when people came to offer congratulations
+on his escape, and when all were agreed in the opinion that the
+outrage must have been planned by the royalists, with assumed
+heat Napoleon declared they were absolutely mistaken. “This
+was the work of Septembrists, intellectuals, the non-commissioned
+officers of the revolution—persons with a bolder imagination
+and more culture than the masses, but in close touch
+with them, and always ready to spur on the workers!” When,
+in the Council of State, a proposal was made to institute special
+proceedings, Bonaparte objected on the ground that the
+method would be too slow. His speech was impassioned:</p>
+
+<p>“Either we must do nothing at all, and, like Augustus, forgive
+the sinners; or else we must act promptly, take far-reaching
+steps which will guarantee social order once for all.... No
+ordinary criminal procedure will suffice; this is a matter for
+statesmanship.... Blood must flow. As many of the guilty
+must be shot as there perished innocent persons in the streets.
+Two hundred of these raging wolves must be seized and transported.
+They are always watching and waiting for their prey.
+All our troubles are due to these metaphysicians!”</p>
+
+<p>Old Tronchet shakes his head. The attempt had been the
+work of émigrés and Englishmen.</p>
+
+<p>“Are you proposing that I should transport noblemen or
+priests?” asked Napoleon angrily. “Vendée is quiet, and I
+do not want to banish the servants of the most widely spread
+religion in the world. I shall have to dismiss all the members
+of the Council of State, for, with two or three exceptions, every
+one of you believes in this fable of a royalist plot.... Do you
+think me a child? Am I to say that the country is in danger?
+Has France ever been in better case since the revolution, the
+army more victorious, the country more peaceful? A pretty
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span>thing that men who have never been among the true friends of
+liberty, should now display so much concern for liberty! Do
+not think to excuse yourselves by saying: ‘I defended the
+patriots in the Council of State.’ That might go down in a
+drawing-room, but it will not go down here, among the most
+enlightened men in France!” He abruptly closes the sitting.
+Do the councillors understand his drift?</p>
+
+<p>These alarums and excursions are not the outcome of any
+sense of personal danger, for if that were his motive, if his
+own alarmed will-to-live were at work, he would seek out the
+real offenders as object for vengeance. The whole scene was
+statecraft. Whom can we frighten here at home? Whom can
+we pacify across the frontier? That is what the Consul is
+asking himself. Those are the considerations that guide his
+actions. Of course, there is a personal motive as well. He
+thinks that his own safety can best be guarded by draconian
+measures. “I did not sleep well o’ nights,” he said at a later
+date, “until I had had these leaders of the great towns sent
+across the seas. I was not afraid of the sort of conspirator
+who gets up at nine o’clock in the morning and puts on a
+clean shirt!”</p>
+
+<p>At the same time, he is infuriated by an anonymous pamphlet,
+“Cæsar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte,” in which the writer advocates
+the establishment of a hereditary monarchy. Who is
+daring to disclose his own secret thoughts, even though the
+indiscreet pamphleteer is a sympathiser? When one of his
+confidants says that the only thing wrong with the pamphlet
+is that the disclosure is premature, Bonaparte lets the observation
+pass. But these two attempts, the attack on his body and
+the attack on his mind, have terrible consequences as far as
+freedom is concerned. The Tribunate and the Chambers are
+purged of a fifth of their numbers, Constant, Chénier, and
+other noted democrats being excluded; sixty-one out of seventy-three
+newspapers are suppressed; pamphlets and plays
+are subjected to a censorship. When the Council of State
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span>reminds him of the freedom of the press, he answers: “Do you
+think that, in such a situation, we can allow public meetings?...
+And is not every journalist an orator? Do not
+the subscribers to his newspaper really form a club? Calumny
+is like an oil spot, which always leaves traces.... In England
+it is different; there the Government is old-established; here it
+is new. People would write worse things about me day by day;
+saying, for instance, that I am so afraid of being poisoned that
+I dare not eat!... The only way of keeping the political
+parties in check is to deprive them of their battle-ground.”</p>
+
+<p>Sound reasoning, appropriate measures. But the spirit of
+free thought stands weeping at the door; her fascinated gaze
+is fixed upon power enthroned.</p>
+
+<h3>V</h3>
+
+<p>The man who was certainly in part responsible for the before-mentioned
+pamphlet, perhaps its author, the man who had
+thus inflicted a grave injury upon the First Consul, was the
+very man who had been his main buttress on the Eighteenth
+Brumaire, and who had saved the situation that day—Brother
+Lucien. The most gifted of Napoleon’s four brothers, six
+years younger than the Consul, scaling the heights of ambition
+at an even earlier age than his great brother, though helped
+in his upward progress by that brother’s prestige, Lucien
+coveted the highest for himself. To stand in the shadow of
+Napoleon’s great name, to be under his protection, and even
+to be the object of his love—these were more galling to Lucien
+than Napoleon’s disfavour in later days. He never forgot the
+incidents of the coup d’état. He had been the king-maker.
+How, then, could he obey the man whom he had raised to the
+throne?</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp56" id="illus07" style="max-width: 28.125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus07.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>Bonaparte as First Consul. Painting by Girodet. Musée
+    Nationale, Versailles.</p>
+    <p>(Photograph in the Kircheisen Collection.)</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>Needs must, however. Shortly after Brumaire, he becomes
+Minister for Home Affairs, a mere instrument of the master
+brain. Is it not natural that he should critically examine all
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span>that comes to him from the chief, wondering whether he can
+make a better job? Hostile to Josephine, he is hostile to her
+confidants. This brings him into conflict with Fouché, who is
+always ready to blame the Minister for Home Affairs for anything
+untoward, like the publication of the pamphlet.</p>
+
+<p>By temperament, Lucien was as unscrupulous and amoral
+as his brother. Though very like his brother, he lacked the
+boldly calculating brain, and may even be said to have had
+semi-criminal traits beneath his smiling exterior. A Napoleon,
+like the other, but one degree more adventurer and several degrees
+less statesman. At twenty-five years of age, Lucien was
+powerful and yet embittered, his audacious spirit urging him
+to more and yet more hazardous adventures. His first wife was
+an innkeeper’s daughter; he sold monopolies; speculated in
+grain; lived beyond his means, instead of setting to work;
+bought the finest house in Paris, furnished it sumptuously, rebuilt
+it, and refurnished it; gave splendid banquets, indulged
+in amateur theatricals, wrote verses. All these extravagances
+were undertaken in the half-conscious desire to eclipse his
+brother.</p>
+
+<p>Between two such men, in such a relationship, how can a
+breach be avoided! Lucien taunts the Consul, saying that he,
+Lucien, had won the victory on the Nineteenth Brumaire. In
+the first flush of his wrath, Napoleon has it in mind to banish
+Lucien; but, in the end, he is content to deprive the young man
+of ministerial office. This will put a term to the monetary
+scandals attaching to Lucien’s abuse of his position. Lucien
+goes to Madrid as envoy. His ability in this new post enables
+him to work successfully against England, and also to divert
+the flow of a good many millions into his own pockets. Being
+now a widower, he soon returns, and marries his lady love, a
+beauty whose reputation is of the same sort as Josephine’s in
+earlier days. The First Consul is furious, for he has been
+working to promote a marriage that would have brought political
+advantages.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span></p>
+
+<p>Joseph, too, man of the world and good fellow, is inclining
+to join the ranks of the sceptics, now that, with his brother’s
+aid, he has risen to wealth and power; he frequents Madame
+de Staël’s circle, and speaks critically of the Consul. He is no
+longer content with the position of envoy in Rome, refuses the
+presidency of the Italian Republic and the chancellorship of
+the Senate; cannot forget that he is the eldest; looks upon
+himself as head of the family.</p>
+
+<p>Louis still vacillates, the poet in his temperament taking
+charge from time to time. For years he is in love with one of
+Josephine’s relatives, and has no affection for Hortense, whom
+he is forced to marry. Years afterwards he will sing the love
+of his heart.</p>
+
+<p>Jerome, the youngest, good-natured and frivolous, is brought
+up by his brother with paternal strictness. “I send you Citizen
+Jerome Bonaparte, who is to serve as a midshipman. As you
+know, he must be kept under strict discipline. See to it that
+he fulfils all his duties.”</p>
+
+<p>His sisters, again; he has loaded them with money and
+honours, but they give him little thanks, and are incessant in
+their demands for more. There is Elise! She and Lucien, her
+favourite brother, vie with one another in escapades that are
+the talk of Paris. At amateur theatricals, they disport themselves
+in pink tights, and the Consul thunders: “Disgraceful
+behaviour! While I am wearing myself out trying to make
+people moral and respectable once more, my brother and my
+sister appear before the footlights almost naked!” But as
+soon as his back is turned, they laugh merrily, and follow their
+own bent.</p>
+
+<p>Caroline, who has married General Murat, is already involving
+her husband and Bernadotte in intrigues against the Consul.
+The public learns nothing of these matters, but they come to
+Napoleon’s ears, and he says angrily that Murat deserves to be
+shot.</p>
+
+<p>Pauline loses her husband in a colonial campaign. She does
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span>not regret the loss. By her second marriage, she becomes
+Princess Borghese in Rome. Her innocence is no more than a
+cynical pose, but her brother remains fonder of her than of
+any of the others. Even when the looseness of her life imperils
+his reputation, and he thinks it necessary to remonstrate,
+he words his remonstrances cautiously.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Fesch, at first a priest, and then an army contractor,
+now enters political life and resumes the clerical habit. Napoleon
+secures his appointment as archbishop and then as
+cardinal. All the Bonapartes exploit the man of power, that
+they may win money and position, lead a splendid life, and
+enjoy themselves, whereas in his life of superhuman toil there is
+little scope for pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>Only his mother continues to hold aloof. Although she is not
+better pleased with Josephine now than formerly, although she
+is still the woman of Corsica and continues to talk an island
+dialect, he invites her, immediately after the coup d’état, to
+come and live with him in the Tuileries. She refuses, prefers to
+stay with Joseph. At the first great parade he holds in the
+courtyard of the palace, when she appears on the balcony
+among the highest State officials, she is very simply dressed, all
+in black, and yet looks prouder than Josephine, hard by, decked
+out in peacock array. Letizia mistrusts all this splendour,
+being now inured to the vicissitudes of life. When any one
+tries to flatter her by speaking of her son’s greatness and
+power, she sagely answers, in her Italian French: “Pourvou
+que cela doure.”</p>
+
+<p>What is the source of these family dramas, some of which will
+end in farce, others in tragedy?</p>
+
+<p>In Napoleon’s heart, had he been nothing more than a
+parvenu of the familiar type, he would, when pressed by his
+nearest and dearest for a share in his good fortune, graciously
+or ungraciously, but infallibly, have kept this dozen or so of
+men and women far from his circle of influence, for he would
+have been fain to conceal an origin which conflicted with his
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span>affectation of French nationalism. He is dictator of France, and
+yet every time his mother opens her mouth she reminds all the
+nationalists of his foreign birth. Here is the sister of a man
+who ranks with kings, and she plays the maddest pranks before
+the eyes of the monarchs of Europe, who naturally delight in
+pointing the finger of scorn at the ill-breeding of the upstart’s
+relatives. His brothers wallow in the practice of corrupt
+methods which it was a primary aim of the revolution to abolish.
+All this occurs in Paris, where irony has ever been the fundamental
+tone of criticism!</p>
+
+<p>Yet he does not merely tolerate these embarrassing kinsfolk;
+he is continually showering honours on them, promoting them
+to high office, making them his representatives abroad.</p>
+
+<p>Herein we see the working of his Italian blood, and, above
+all, of his island upbringing. Every Corsican family,
+patriarchal by tradition, is clannish to the core, while filled with
+sentiments of hatred and vengefulness towards the rival
+houses of the puny isle. Such traditions are older than those
+of many of the royal families, and as a result of them the urge
+towards the gratification of pride and towards the vindication
+of honour is more powerful than the desire for wealth. With this
+inborn clannishness is associated and intertwined the intense
+longing of a conqueror to preserve for the heirs of his body
+all that he has snatched for himself by the strength of his
+genius and through the favour of fortune. Nevertheless, destiny
+(tragical in its working, being conditioned by his innermost
+sentiments, and therefore inexorable) has made this man
+childless. The wife, into whose arms he has been driven by all
+the passion of love, the wife who has borne two healthy children
+in previous marriage, remains barren in her second union; and
+the infirmity of barrenness, but for which the history of Europe
+would have taken a different turn, is obviously a consequence of
+her devotion to the art of love, of the facile amorousness with
+which she won Bonaparte’s affection and held him for a time
+in thrall. For, when she first met him, she was little over
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span>thirty; and, as for him, in subsequent relationships with other
+women, he was able to procreate three sons. He urgently
+needs a legitimate heir. Even an heiress would serve his turn.
+There can be no doubt that Josephine’s failure to satisfy him in
+this crucial instance had a decisive effect on his plans.</p>
+
+<p>In view of the plenitude of his powers, how could it be otherwise?
+During the first years of his rise, Roederer propounds
+the great theme: “The royalists are saying: ‘Who will be Bonaparte’s
+successor!’ If you die to-morrow, what will happen to
+us? You must nominate your successor.”</p>
+
+<p>“What you suggest would not be a strong policy.”</p>
+
+<p>“France would be more at ease if she knew who was to succeed
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have no children.”</p>
+
+<p>“You could adopt one.”</p>
+
+<p>“That would not meet the difficulties of the moment. I can
+see no other way out than that the Senate should appoint my
+successor. Only three of the senators and myself should know
+his name. But who is it to be?”</p>
+
+<p>“They had better choose a lad of twelve.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why do you want him to be a child?”</p>
+
+<p>“A boy who can grow up in your school; one whom you can
+train and love.”</p>
+
+<p>At length the Consul, driven into a corner, exclaims: “My
+natural heir is the French people.”</p>
+
+<p>The man who speaks is not old. He is little more than thirty.
+Though he is appointed dictator for ten years only, he plainly
+foresees that he will be monarch. But he is already alarmed
+by the dangers of the position. When he looks round in search
+of an heir, his only hope is in his brothers. The best return
+they can make for the gifts he showers on them is that they
+should raise up heirs to his name, heirs who will at least have
+the advantage of Bonapartist blood. That is why Napoleon is
+so furious with Lucien, not because he has taken a wife with a
+bad name, but because he has taken a wife with no name.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span>Lucien must get a divorce, and thus win freedom to marry
+a woman of royal blood.</p>
+
+<p>Lucien refuses, quite as much owing to spite for his all-powerful
+brother as owing to affection for his wife. He is,
+indeed, fond of her; but he is so ambitious that he would
+sacrifice anything in the world for the sake of supreme power.
+After a stormy scene between the pair, Bonaparte comes into
+Josephine’s room, and his voice is shaken with emotion as he
+says: “It is all over! I have given Lucien his dismissal.”</p>
+
+<p>Similar considerations explain the long-lasting quarrel with
+Louis, to whom Josephine looks for the salvation of her own
+line. He cannot endure Josephine’s daughter Hortense, who
+reciprocates the dislike and loves another man. Josephine, however,
+forces her to marry Louis, and the son of this ill-assorted
+union becomes Napoleon’s darling, and is looked upon as likely
+to be the heir. Thereupon, his sisters begin to intrigue, spreading
+abroad the report that Napoleon is really the father.
+Through these disputes, the unity of the family is shattered,
+at the very time when Europe envies it for its good fortune.
+Letizia sides with the young people who have been forced into
+a marriage; and also espouses the cause of the ostracised
+Lucien, whom she follows to Rome. There she can live happily,
+far from the glowing star that has sprung from her womb.
+There she can live as an Italian, a wealthy and respected associate
+of Rome’s leading families, and treated by the pope
+with all the honours due to a woman of royal blood.</p>
+
+<p>What if Bonaparte were to divorce Josephine? His sisters,
+who hate “the old woman,” do what they can, and trot attractive
+beauties up and down in full view. As Josephine grows
+older, Napoleon’s relations with her become more tranquil, but
+he needs her friendship. He has ceased to be fastidious and
+has transient love affairs with one pretty actress after another,
+or makes this or that companion of his sisters the
+mistress of a few evenings or a night or two.</p>
+
+<p>Georges, who, like all the rest, is afraid of him, describes
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span>him as “an amiable and considerate man,” who plays
+hide and seek with her, helps her to undress, and bends to her
+“childish caprices.” Since her Christian name is Josephine, he
+refuses to call her by it, and invents for her an Italian name.
+She is Giorgina. He asks her to tell him her own story, listens
+attentively, and nods approvingly—for he has taken care to
+learn all about her, and is pleased that she tells him the truth.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes the Consul’s servants catch sight of him in the
+evening, as, in his stockinged feet, he steals up a secret winding
+staircase to visit the lovely Duchatel. She is gentle, slender,
+and blonde—the type he prefers. Duchatel is one of Josephine’s
+ladies-in-waiting. He likes to play cards with her sometimes,
+talking to her in an undertone about matters of love, while the
+uneasy Josephine, at another card table, strains her ears to
+catch what he is saying. The lady-in-waiting retires. Napoleon
+follows, to find her in the place of assignation. His
+wife, beside herself, pursues them, rattles the door-handle. Napoleon
+comes to the door in a rage. Next day he threatens her
+with divorce, but he is softened by her tears.</p>
+
+<p>These amours are but occasional. He is always up to the
+eyes in work. Besides, he has made up his mind to avoid what
+has proved disastrous to so many kings. He will not squander
+his resources on inamoratas, and he will not allow them to interfere
+in matters of State. As regards affairs of love, he is prematurely
+old. It is with a sense of shock that we find this
+man of thirty writing in a letter to a friend: “My old heart,
+which now knows human beings for what they are....”</p>
+
+<p>Josephine is racked with anxiety about his conduct, just as
+formerly he was racked with anxiety about hers. She relies on
+dresses, hats, the arts of the toilet; spends more than the late
+queen of France; and has still so little reticence that, though
+she is the first lady in the land, she cannot refrain from telling
+her maid when the Consul has spent the night with her. He
+forgives her much. Sometimes she sits at the weary man’s
+bedside, reading to him in her lovely alto voice. He thanks
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span>her with his eyes. He is conservatively inclined, this man of the
+revolution. Rarely does he part with a general, dismiss an
+official. How, then, shall he divorce this woman whom he
+loves, despite her faults?</p>
+
+<p>In the pleasant gardens at Malmaison, where during his
+year’s absence in Egypt she lived with her light-of-love, Hippolyte,
+he runs races with Bourrienne, Rapp, and a few men of
+letters, while Eugene and Hortense look on. When he trips
+and falls, he joins merrily in the others’ laughter. Then he
+gets into his carriage for the drive to Paris, saying:</p>
+
+<p>“Now I can put my head in the collar once more.”</p>
+
+<h3>VI</h3>
+
+<p>“Bonaparte very seldom writes with his own hand. He dictates
+everything, while walking up and down his study; dictates
+to a young man of twenty named Méneval, the only one who
+has the entry to this study and the three other rooms of the
+private suite. No use approaching Méneval; nothing to hope
+in that quarter; indeed, no one would dare to try. But the
+First Consul himself jots down the memoranda that relate to
+his most important plans. This ... very special map, he
+locks up with his own hand, and always carries the key about
+with him. If he leaves his study, Méneval has to put the map
+away in a cupboard screwed to the floor. Of course the map
+might be stolen, but it would instantly be missed. Suspicion
+would at once fall upon Méneval and the underling, who cleans
+the study and lights the fire, so the underling would have
+to make a bolt for it.... All the secret memoranda concerning
+his military operations must be in it, and since the only way
+of overthrowing his power would be to destroy his plans, the
+theft of this map would bring everything to naught.”</p>
+
+<p>Who writes the foregoing? A Bourbon spy? Or is it a
+traitor among the Consul’s intimates?</p>
+
+<p>Neither the one nor the other. The young man of twenty
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span>named Méneval writes it; and it is dictated to him by his chief,
+the First Consul, who is walking up and down the study. Acting
+on Bonaparte’s orders, the Minister for Justice is sending a
+provocative agent to Munich, where the man is to get in touch
+with English agents of the Bourbons. The letter is to be part
+of the outfit. Many other details are given. We are told more
+about the royalist menial who cleans the study and lights
+the fire; what this fellow will get if he brings off the coup successfully;
+where he will spend the night during his escape. The
+commander is drafting the plan of a little campaign directed
+against himself.</p>
+
+<p>He has good reason to be on his guard. Uneasy winter weeks
+are these, during which he collates the data sent in by a hundred
+spies in London, Vendée, and Paris itself. “Has the time
+come to strike?” his agents are continually asking. “Wait,”
+he replies, and quietly goes on gathering information. At
+length he has all the proofs in his hands. His deadly enemies
+of the extreme right and the extreme left, the royalists and the
+Jacobins, have joined forces for the destruction of their great
+enemy. Pichegru, the friend of the Bourbons, and Moreau,
+the champion of the republicans who are opposed to the dictatorship,
+are working together. Both the generals are his
+rivals. Now is the time to strike.</p>
+
+<p>When the plot became public property, alarm spread across
+Europe. The legitimate rulers were amazed at Napoleon’s perspicacity,
+but put their trust in his enemies, whose number must
+be greater than the “Moniteur” was willing to admit. The
+English ambassador compromised! The great Moreau in jail!—Bonaparte
+hesitates a long time before arresting Moreau,
+having high esteem for the man who had shared his laurels. On
+the day of the arrest, the Consul sends repeatedly for news. Is
+his memory at work? Less than four years ago, he himself had
+a scare that night in Talleyrand’s house when he believed his
+own arrest to be imminent! The trial is distressing; Moreau’s
+complicity is clearly proved; but Napoleon thinks it better to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span>pardon the victor of Hohenlinden on condition of withdrawal
+to the United States. Pichegru is found strangled in prison.
+Thirteen of the conspirators are executed. A man named
+Querelle, personally involved in the conspiracy, reveals that one
+of the Bourbon princes has been privy to the plot.</p>
+
+<p>The Consul lends an eager ear. A Bourbon prince! Talleyrand
+draws attention to the fact that for a long time the duke
+of Enghien has been living close to the Rhine frontier—presumably
+in order to watch through a telescope what is going
+on in France. Would a man spend his time thus inertly in
+Baden, simply in order to make love to a cardinal’s niece? The
+duke of Enghien is a scion of the house of Condé; he is a
+Bourbon, and is in English pay. Most likely he is the Bourbon
+prince incriminated in the affair. At any rate, he is in touch
+with the agents who swarm in South Germany. An example
+must be made of this suspect of the blood royal. That will put
+an end to the reiterated attempts on the part of the exiled
+Bourbons to disturb the peace of France and to trouble the
+sleep of its master!</p>
+
+<p>In a lengthy despatch, the Consul orders an attack on the
+little Badenese town of Ettenheim, just across the Rhine. The
+number of boats and the soldiers’ rations are prescribed with
+as much care as if the expedition were the siege of Mantua.
+Three hundred dragoons make a raid into Baden and carry
+off the duke. Four days later, he is brought in secret to the
+fortress of Vincennes.</p>
+
+<p>Two of Napoleon’s confidants warn the dictator that no
+compromising documents have been found among the duke of
+Enghien’s belongings. But Talleyrand, who has ever an eye
+to his own future, advises court martial and the severest measures,
+knowing that the moral reprobation thus aroused will, in
+the end, prove disastrous to Napoleon. Brother Joseph is
+alarmed at the same thought. He reminds Napoleon of the
+veneration they had shared for the great Condé during their
+cadet days; of the verses they had recited about the hero of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span>the seventeenth century. Was the only remaining descendant
+of that famous man to be slaughtered?</p>
+
+<p>“I have made up my mind to pardon him,” answers the Consul.
+“But that is not sufficient. I feel that I am strong enough
+to have him fighting on my side.”</p>
+
+<p>Joseph returns home, able to reassure Madame de Staël and
+his other quests.</p>
+
+<p>The duke, who was two years younger than Napoleon, and
+who would probably have won renown but for the peculiar political
+circumstances which had brought Napoleon fame and power,
+was tried by court martial the same evening. With a brave and
+knightly bearing, he faced the twelve staff officers who formed
+the court, while a member of the Council of State, acting as
+prosecutor, asked the questions that had been drafted by
+Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you never have any dealings with English agents?”—“No.”—“Was
+it not your intention, if Pichegru’s conspiracy
+had been successful, to cross the Rhine and invade Alsace?”—“No.”—“Have
+you been in receipt of an English pension?”—“Yes.”—“Did
+you wish to enter the English service?”—“Yes,
+in order to free my country.”—“This means that you placed
+yourself at England’s disposal in order to take up arms against
+France?”—“How can a Condé return to his homeland except
+under arms?”</p>
+
+<p>A death sentence follows, and next day at dawn the duke of
+Enghien is shot.</p>
+
+<p>In one respect the treatment of the duke of Enghien was
+definitely illegal. The French had no right to kidnap him in
+foreign territory and to bring him across the frontier. Once
+he was on French soil, there was legal warrant for condemning
+him to death as a person who (according to his own admission)
+desired by force of arms to overthrow the extant form of
+State. With the primary reservation regarding the French
+raid into Baden, of course absolutely indefensible, the condemnation
+was technically just.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span></p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, as Talleyrand subsequently said of the affair,
+it was worse than a crime—it was a blunder. In time of revolution,
+hundreds are put to death who are more innocent than
+was this prince. Even though he may not have been privy to
+the plot, he would have hailed with delight the assassination of
+the usurper, and would, sword in hand (to quote his own
+words), have joined in the march on Paris to take vengeance on
+any of the regicides who remained alive. There would have
+been very little said about the court martialling and shooting
+of this young officer, had he not been a Bourbon, had he not
+been a symbol of that prince-ridden Europe whose system had
+been ended on French soil by the revolution. The shooting of
+the duke of Enghien was a challenge to a dozen thrones, and to
+the many millions of Europeans who believed in rule by divine
+right. It gave the signal for a rallying of forces against the
+dictator who had had neither part nor lot in the reign of terror,
+and who during his seven years as military commander and as
+statesman had never committed an outrage.</p>
+
+<p>The day after the execution, a few tongue-tied and crestfallen
+guests were seated at his board. Josephine was doing her
+best to hide her fears, and Napoleon had been taciturn despite
+his tumultuous thoughts. Then, suddenly, he broke out: “At
+any rate, they will know now what we can do. Henceforward,
+I hope, they will leave us in peace.” After dinner, he walked
+up and down the room, explaining to the silent listeners his
+reasons and what he thought of it all. Continuing to pace the
+room, he went on to speak movingly of genius, of statesmanship,
+and above all of Frederick the Great, for whom he had so profound
+an admiration:</p>
+
+<p>“Ought a statesman to indulge in feelings? Is he not an
+isolated individual, always alone though always in company?
+Policy is his telescope, which must neither reduce things in size
+nor magnify them. Even while he is attentively watching the
+course of events, he must be pulling the strings which move
+them. Often enough, ill-matched horses are harnessed to his
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span>chariot. Do you think he can allow himself to heed some of
+those feelings which may in other respects be of great importance
+to the welfare of society?... How often he will have to
+do things which seem quite out of keeping with the whole!...
+Try to get outside the limitations of your own epoch, enlarge
+your imagination instead of being content merely to blame, and
+you will see that those great personalities you had regarded
+as violent and cruel, are nothing but statesmen! They know
+themselves better than others know them; they are the best
+judges of their own conduct; if they have true ability, they
+will even know how to control their passions, for they will be
+competent to calculate the precise effect of these.”</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly breaking off this monologue, which discloses some
+of the deepest recesses of his soul, he sends for the documents
+bearing on the conspiracy and has them read over to him.</p>
+
+<p>“You see,” he says, “we have incontrovertible proof that the
+conspirators wanted to spread disorder in France, and hoped,
+through killing me, to slay the revolution! It was my business
+to defend the revolution, to avenge it! The duke was a conspirator
+just like another, and had to be treated in the same
+way as the others.... The madmen seek to kill me, though
+they would gain nothing by it, for a gang of fanatical Jacobins
+would take my place.... These Bourbons! If they ever do
+regain power, I will wager that their first concern will be with
+etiquette. If they were prepared to share in the rough and
+tumble of the battle-field, with its blood and its grime!...
+But how can they expect to win back a kingdom with a letter
+dated from London and signed Louis? All the same, letters like
+that will incriminate incautious recipients.... I have shed
+blood; I had to. Perhaps I shall shed more in the future. But
+always without passion, quite simply, because blood-letting is
+indicated. I am a statesman: I am the French revolution, and
+shall know how to protect it!” Abruptly he dismisses his
+guests.</p>
+
+<p>Such is his mood; such are his motives, his views, the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span>undercurrents of his feelings. But his notable inferences are
+not yet disclosed.</p>
+
+<h3>VII</h3>
+
+<p>A week after the court-martialling of the duke of Enghien
+a committee of the Senate comes to see the Consul, with a very
+remarkable twofold request: for the establishment of a State
+tribunal and the foundation of a monarchy. This is a cautious
+improvisation, to test the current of popular opinion. Can
+anything be more logical, or simpler? To scare the terrorists,
+to safeguard the head of the State, two things are requisite, a
+State tribunal and an heir!</p>
+
+<p>As with all the decisions of his life, so also this premature
+resolve to become an emperor is an outgrowth of circumstances.
+In none of the decisive moments of his career, do we find evidence
+that he had a definite scheme of life, which he systematically
+endeavoured to realise. When he first invaded Italy, it
+was not in search of the crown of Milan, and still less in search
+of the crown of France. But, as he winged his soaring flight,
+the natural sequence was that wider and ever wider vistas of
+land and sea should unfold themselves before his eyes. What
+happened, was a fulfilment of his own guiding principle:
+“He will not go far who knows from the first whither he is
+going.” Improvisation, which, in amazing fashion, characterises
+so much of his activity, merely deprives him of the nebular
+glory of the mystical hero. As far as details are concerned, it
+leaves him free to make exact preparations, while restoring to
+him, as a whole, a liberty and a guilelessness which strengthen
+his genius.</p>
+
+<p>Was the desire to become emperor a mistake? What urged
+him towards the adoption of such a role?</p>
+
+<p>First of all, the imaginative side of his nature, which for
+the second time is blinding the cold reason of the calculator.
+Thus was it in Egypt, and thus was it to be for a third time in
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span>Russia. His ideal drives him to take this step. He had grown
+to manhood amid dreams of the antique world; classical imagery
+had filled his mind; his dictatorial nature necessarily craved for
+the forms of Roman imperialism. A poetical temperament
+which makes him look upon the successive occurrences in his
+life as phases in the unrolling of a saga, and makes him feel,
+on the very evening after a battle has been won, that the battle
+has already passed into the realm of history; this engine, driven
+by the power of fantasy; this eye that looks upward and beyond
+to see how posterity will crown his deeds with fame—they need
+a symbol which no one has to-day, but which shone over Europe
+two thousand years ago.</p>
+
+<p>Yet the mathematician in him also needs this symbol; the
+statesman needs it, that he may safeguard his country without
+perpetual wars. Lastly, and perhaps most passionately of
+all, the man with strong family attachments needs it; the man
+who feels he has won nothing, if what he has won be no more
+than an adventurer’s prize that will perish with the winner.</p>
+
+<p>“The name of king is outworn. It carries with it a trail of
+obsolete ideas, and would make me nothing more than the heir
+of dead men’s glories. I do not wish to be dependent upon any
+predecessor. The title of emperor is greater than that of
+king. Its significance is not wholly explicable, and therefore it
+stimulates the imagination.” Here, in two or three sentences,
+are compendiously disclosed the impetuous and the hot, the
+cunning and the cold, motives of his soul.</p>
+
+<p>Does he see the dangers, or does he overlook them? What
+are his antitoxins? “What is a throne? A piece of wood covered
+with satin!” When he has become emperor he will ask
+the question and answer it thus, more than once. But with
+this satin-covered piece of wood, as he knows, he can influence
+grown men, just as he could influence them with the toys of the
+Legion of Honour. Indeed, the glamour of the throne is
+stronger, and therefore he will take the establishment of his
+throne more seriously than he took the foundation of the Legion
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span>of Honour. It is an instrument of policy, a means for the management
+of men. In the real world, where no one can call
+familiar spirits to his aid, the private person, the poet or the
+philosopher, can raise his head heavenward without bearing
+the burden of a crown; but the statesman needs the insignia of
+power, for the dull populace cannot believe in the reality of
+power unless he who wields power wears the insignia.</p>
+
+<p>Are we to suppose that he, who can calculate all eventualities,
+does not see the danger that lurks in the symbol of the crown?
+Does he not know that for thousands of years people have
+regarded the monarch as akin to God? If he is aware of this,
+how without disaster will he be able to harmonise the illusion
+with his political cynicism? If the crown is the gift of his
+genius, how can he bequeath it without bequeathing the genius?</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, all his endeavours, like those of the emperors of
+ancient Rome, are now concentrated upon the bequest of power.
+He, whose own genius has taught him that genius is always
+aboriginal and primary; he who with his own eyes has seen
+hereditary power perish amid blood and grime, and whose inmost
+heart said aye to the act of regicide; he, who to-day reproaches
+the Bourbons, not with their origin, but with the
+cowardice that keeps them trembling in their mouseholes; he,
+Napoleon Bonaparte, who feels himself to be the one man of a
+millennium; he, a principle of whose rule it is to grant honour
+and wealth only to merit and courage and talent; he, who is the
+symbol of revolt incorporated in human flesh—believes that in
+the place he has fought and won for himself through the storms
+of eight years, he will be able to perpetuate his blood for the
+sole reason that it is his own!</p>
+
+<p>He knows Plutarch and the story of the Cæsars. He has
+studied the history of the great kings of France and England
+and Prussia, and has learned to look with contempt upon their
+decadence. And yet he is ready and eager to restore the
+hereditary principle for the succession to this, the highest
+office in the State! Here, and here only, he wishes to combine
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span>the newest of the new with the old, so that, as he says later in a
+phrase both profound and tragical: “I might achieve that
+harmony which I regarded as essential for the tranquillity of
+the world, a solitary man, driven forward by the impetus of
+my own personality. That is why I dropped sheet-anchors
+everywhere.”</p>
+
+<p>But side by side with these heroic words, which sufficed to
+class him with the heroes of Plutarch, were housed the simplest
+feelings of domestic life. For, when his confidant Roederer
+urged him to seek a new wife, who would bear him a son, Napoleon
+answered in great excitement:</p>
+
+<p>“Hitherto I have always ruled justly. It might be to my
+interest to seek a divorce. But what right have I to put away a
+good wife merely because I have become a greater man than
+I was when we married? She would have followed me into exile
+or imprisonment. Now I am to divorce her? I am not strong
+enough to do that. A human heart beats in my bosom; my
+mother was not a tigress.” After Josephine’s death, he would
+be free to choose a new partner. But, as things are, what
+will be the best way of solving this problem of the succession?
+“My brothers, like myself, were born in petty circumstances,
+but they did not force themselves upwards unaided as I did.
+The man who is to rule France must either be born to greatness,
+or he must be one of those whose inborn strength enables
+them to distinguish themselves from the herd.”</p>
+
+<p>In this last idea is implicit the disastrous error which in
+due time is to lead him to inevitable destruction.</p>
+
+<p>For the nonce, however, all is done quietly and soberly, just
+as on two previous occasions. Wishing to be independent of
+the parties and to stand above them, he again demands a popular
+vote; and the very Frenchmen who twelve years earlier had
+destroyed, not only the king, but kingship, now re-establish
+both, doing this with even more enthusiasm than when, two
+years before, they had made Napoleon Consul for life. In a few
+days, everything is settled. First of all there are votes in the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span>Chambers. In the Senate, only three adverse votes, those of
+personal enemies. In the Tribunate, Carnot is alone in recording
+his dissent, Carnot who admires Napoleon, but is a far-sighted
+devotee of the principle of freedom. The result of a
+plebiscite is overwhelmingly in favour of the adoption of the
+imperial title with hereditary succession. In May 1804, the
+new constitution is promulgated. It is short and businesslike,
+as if it were a mere paragraph modifying an old constitution.</p>
+
+<p>He never affects to believe that his power has a mystical
+origin, or even that it really springs from the people. See him,
+a few days after he has been proclaimed Emperor, seated in a
+bow window one evening after dinner. He is astraddle on a
+chair, with his chin resting on the back. For a long time he is
+silent while Josephine and Madame de Rémusat are talking
+(the latter records the incident). Then he stands up, turns to
+Madame de Rémusat, and, after posing for a while as an easy-going
+and cheerful man of the world, of a sudden, with that
+free gesture which always amazed his associates and still amazes
+posterity, he tore off the veil, disclosed his motives, expounded
+his thoughts as if he had been writing a predecessor’s history:</p>
+
+<p>“You were all very angry with me about the execution of the
+duke of Enghien. You seem still to be fond of traditional
+memories. My own memory goes back only to the time when
+I began to be something. What is a duke of Enghien to me?
+An émigré, more important than the others, and therefore one
+whom it is all the better to destroy.... Two years ago, power
+dropped into my hands in the most natural way in the world....
+It is true that the duke compelled me to cut the crisis
+short. I had expected to carry on the Consulate for another
+two years, although its forms conflicted with the reality of
+things. France and I could have walked along arm-in-arm
+for a while longer, for France had confidence in me, and wanted
+everything that I wanted. But after this conspiracy, which
+was to set the Continent in motion, it was necessary to show
+Europe the error of her ways....</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span></p>
+
+<p>“The political parties I wished to conciliate, the royalists
+and the Jacobins, will not lose heart as long as they have somebody
+to dread. I realised, therefore, that no pact between
+them could be concluded, but that it would be possible to conclude
+one with them to my own advantage.... Now, they
+have been reduced to silence. Still opposed to me are the republicans,
+the cranks who believe that Europe will look on
+quietly while a republic is being established upon the ruins of a
+monarchy.... That is why I preferred the imperial dignity
+to a dictatorship, for in an empire people no longer feel that
+they are travelling in unmapped country....</p>
+
+<p>“You will soon see what a lure court etiquette will exercise
+on the émigrés. The old familiar forms of address will win
+over the nobility.... You French love monarchy. It is the
+only form of government which really suits you. I will wager,
+Monsieur de Rémusat, that you feel a hundred times more at
+ease now that you call me ‘Sire’ and I address you as ‘Monsieur’....
+Your vanity was always being bridled; the strictness
+of the republic would have bored you to death.... Liberty
+is no more than a pretext; equality is your hobby horse;
+the people are content to be ruled by a prince who comes from
+the army.... To-day, soldiers and people are on my side. A
+man who could not rule under such conditions would be an
+idiot.”</p>
+
+<p>He broke off, resumed a formal demeanour, and gave Monsieur
+de Rémusat an order of no importance whatever in the
+dry tone of the absolute master.</p>
+
+<p>These moments of confession; these quarters of an hour in
+which we stand opposite him, silently listening and watching,
+while he lounges on his chair, this newly made emperor of
+thirty-four in his well-worn green coat, looking askance up and
+down the room, rising to walk restlessly to and fro, pouring out
+his most intimate thoughts and then with a brusque transition
+cutting off all the springs of familiarity; when we see him in
+such movingly close proximity, in scenes full of nature and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span>purpose, full of surrender to destiny and animus against the
+present—we can see and hear for ourselves even more than he
+frankly discloses in simulated self-forgetfulness. We become
+aware of his easy contempt for persons of noble birth, which is
+none the less conjoined with a secret wish to make a good impression
+on them; we discern programmes which he is always
+willing to adapt to changing circumstances; we observe the
+robust cynicism aroused in him by the folly of mankind, and
+see that it exists side by side with the foreign character traits
+of this Corsican, the very traits which enable him to rule the
+lovely Marianne with such gallant rigour.</p>
+
+<p>Of course he discloses no more than half his motives, for he is
+here confining himself to political issues. Still, at the outset
+of the imperial epoch these political issues exert a predominant
+influence. It seems as if, to begin with, he regards the
+change of title with the utmost sobriety: “My brother will not
+hear a word of his new title,” writes Napoleon to Madame de
+Staël. “He says he is just the same man he was before, and at
+the same time he puts on great airs. The truly great man is
+the one who fully realises that such empty names, which only
+the system of society compels us to assume, make no difference
+to friendship, to family life, or to social relationships. I am
+certain that since I have been ‘Your Majesty,’ not one of those
+who live with me will have been able to detect any difference in
+me.”</p>
+
+<p>Yet it is an event that now for the third time he takes
+leave of his name. It may be nothing that the leading persons
+in the country who appear at the first court reception address
+him and Josephine as “Sire” and “Madame,” and that the
+members of the noblesse, who on this same polished floor fifteen
+or twenty years earlier had said “Sire” and “Madame,” should
+feel their hearts revive as they bandy courtiers’ compliments.
+That may be nothing. Certainly, as regards essential nature,
+clothing, and deportment, the Emperor of to-day is no different
+from the Consul of yesterday.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span></p>
+
+<p>But the proclamation, the thousand and one letters, memoranda,
+and decrees, will henceforward be signed with a new
+name. For eight years they have been signed with the rudiments
+of a “Bonaparte.” Now he signs with a name which he
+himself has never written since he was a child, and which his
+nervous hand will speedily compress into an initial N. and a
+flourish. Josephine has always addressed him as “General.”
+His brothers and his sisters have for a long time past spoken to
+him with the ceremonial “you” instead of the familiar “thou”
+(the change was initiated, not by the Consul himself, but by
+Joseph). Only his mother in rare moments of expansion has
+occasionally used her son’s Christian name; and she utters it in
+her own dialect as “Napolione.”</p>
+
+<p>There is a profound significance in the newness of this
+name when, adding to it a brand-new title, he writes for the
+first time in his life:</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon I., Emperor of the French.</p>
+
+<h3>VIII</h3>
+
+<p>With the first steps, the dilemma begins. The new coins he
+issues bear the legend: “Emperor according to the Constitution
+of the Republic”—this paradox will dog him for another four
+years. When the anniversary of the taking of the Bastille and
+the outbreak of the revolution comes round once more, he celebrates
+it with imperial pomp. The gesture may look sublime,
+but it is nothing more than a measure of political expediency.
+Even on this very first occasion, the anniversary of the day of
+liberation is postponed to a Sunday. A year or two later, the
+commemoration is completely ignored. With it vanishes the
+revolutionary calendar, for the old one is restored by degrees.</p>
+
+<p>All flock to his standard. Ere long, one hundred and thirty
+of those who twelve years earlier had voted for the king’s
+execution, hold office under the Emperor. This is the revolutionary
+picture caricatured in France, while Europe looks on,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span>watching how first the forms, and then by slow stages the
+content, for whose sake so much blood has been shed, are laid
+aside in the museum of history. What can Europe do but
+smile?</p>
+
+<p>Still more broadly smiles the old noblesse. In the Faubourg
+Saint-Germain, which the emperor watches as closely as he
+watched the working-class quarter of Saint Antoine, anecdotes
+are rife concerning the new master in the old Tuileries. Now
+that he is called “Sire,” just like the last of the Bourbons, all
+the lorgnettes are turned on him, and he has become the focus
+of criticism. As far as his own personality is concerned, so
+great is his native dignity that he is practically above criticism;
+in Milan, already, when no more than a general of the French
+Republic, he ruled simply because he was there. But his relatives,
+with their childish curiosity and jealousy, and with their
+gossip about everything that goes on in the palace, soon become
+the targets of mockery. Magnified by rumour, and carried
+across the frontiers, this ridicule besmirches the master.</p>
+
+<p>Henceforward England keeps in Paris, in addition to ordinary
+spies, a horde of quilldrivers, whose tales find credence
+whenever they are enlivened with wit. Caricatures pass from
+hand to hand, showing the little lieutenant being taught by the
+great Talma how to walk like an emperor—Napoleon, who has
+often taught Talma the best way of playing the royal roles in
+Corneille! How otherwise could old Europe defend herself
+against this saga which had become reality? The only resource
+was to degrade to farce what was being staged with all
+the crude seriousness of tragi-comedy.</p>
+
+<p>For the Emperor needs a court! It is his way to do everything
+with due attention to detail; but the details of court life
+are beyond the range of his studies, and he has to call in the
+experts of the old regime. The sometime chamberlain at the
+court of the late king must lay aside his pen (literature had
+been the resource of his retirement), to resume his staff of
+office. Josephine, who at first is attended by no more than a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span>few of the ladies of the former court, is at a loss as to the management
+of an empress’ train. What has become of Marie
+Antoinette’s lady-in-waiting? She is still alive, and keeps a
+school in Paris. Bring her forth from her obscurity! She
+comes, and in the same rooms, before the same mirrors, arranges
+the folds of the train round these Creole feet which know very
+different dances from those of the poor dead queen.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor organises his court with the same seriousness
+and the same precision as if he were organising the general staff
+of a new army. No one knows better than Napoleon the vanity
+of these things: “I am well aware that plenty of people are
+writing unfavourably about them. Even you, Monsieur Roederer,
+are not complaisant enough to suppose that I have a little
+common sense! You ought to understand without my telling
+you why I have given my new marshals, plain republicans
+though they be, the title of ‘Monseigneur’; it is only to safeguard
+my own imperial title of ‘Majesty’? The marshals, having
+grand titles of their own, cannot make fun of mine.” His
+very first undertakings as Emperor involve him in the toils of
+such contradictions.</p>
+
+<p>The two ex-consuls (these are the only offices suppressed by
+the Emperor) become respectively arch-chancellor and arch-treasurer
+of the Empire. Talleyrand, as grand chamberlain,
+brings back the old arts and graces into the old house. How
+easy it would be for the Emperor to appoint none but gentlemen
+and ladies of the old regime to the leading offices at court!
+Instead, he chooses the scions of the proletariat and the bourgeoisie,
+the men who have risen with him: Berthier, Murat,
+Lannes, Ney, and Davoust. Fourteen generals, who in youth
+had been bakehouse lads, stable boys, waiters, cabin boys, or
+vagrants, must now exchange their campaigners’ uniforms for
+the gold-braided coats of the marshals of France, must double
+their military duties with offices at court, must wear lace ruffs
+and buckled shoes; their wives must learn how to curtsey in
+the grand manner, how to stand and sit properly, how to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span>scratch at the door instead of knocking—all that Europe may
+see how the Emperor, who was himself a lieutenant, promotes
+his lieutenants according to merit. Marmont is there, still
+wearing his arm in a sling; he is decked out in silk and satin and
+gold; but the slit sleeve, with its reminiscence of martial glory,
+seems to mock the splendour of his breeches. The Emperor
+tactfully drops out of the ceremonial two details that were
+degrading to the dignity of the courtiers: the presentation of
+the shirt at the king’s levee, and the kissing of the ruler’s hand.</p>
+
+<p>But how is the charm of the rococo court to be revived,
+now that a soldier sits upon the throne? True, that, after
+hours of deliberation, it is possible to decide what colours the
+empress and the highnesses (Napoleon’s relatives) must wear
+when they go out hunting. When, however, the time has come
+to bring down the stag, and the Emperor’s thoughts are wandering
+in other fields, no one else ventures to shoot, with the
+result that the stag escapes because the chief sportsman has so
+much else on his mind. The ceremonial “was conducted as if
+to the sound of drums; everything seemed to happen at the
+storming pace; and the dread which he inspired in all, drove
+away grace and ease.... Court life was cold and dull, was
+gloomy rather than dignified. Since we were following a prescribed
+ritual, our inner feeling was that we were only machines
+which some one had placed upon the new gilded couches.”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor is bored by ladies’ society. With blunt circumstantiality,
+he asks how many children they have had, and
+whether they suckle their own babies. He tries to make himself
+agreeable, but often fails, when his thoughts range to other
+matters. At Saint-Cloud, in a room full of ladies, he can find
+nothing to say but, again and again: “How hot it is here!”</p>
+
+<p>All the same, every one attached to the court grows rich.
+He gives princely salaries to the court officials, and only shows
+thrift in his payments to some of the members of the old
+noblesse, maliciously implying that such work is nothing more
+than their duty. In general, he pays munificently, for “ambition
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span>is the mainspring of action. People work so long as they
+are aspiring upwards.... I have made senators and princes
+in order to promote ambition, and to make them dependent on
+me.” He thus uses both honours and money to attach people
+to his cause, making, not friends, but dependents.</p>
+
+<p>He knows the value of money; and though at all the critical
+moments of his career he surprises us by improvisation, we are,
+in general, just as much astonished by the way in which he
+continually displays a bourgeois rationality and foresight. His
+own demands are moderate. The Emperor’s personal salary is
+fixed at twenty-five millions, the amount paid to the late king;
+but where as Louis had spent forty-five millions, Napoleon
+saves twelve. The whole court, resplendent though it is, does
+not cost a fourth as much as the Bourbon court. France, which
+has to foot the bill, owes this economy to the care and knowledge
+of the master, who once had to live on ninety francs a month,
+and even now declares that he could get along well enough with
+twelve hundred francs a year and a horse.</p>
+
+<p>There was no change in his routine of life. The Emperor
+was called at seven, and held his first reception at nine. Most
+of the day, his secretaries were engaged in taking down from
+dictation. This dictation was at the speed of ordinary conversation,
+and must be transcribed with perfect accuracy. At
+night, when he had some difficulty in sleeping, Méneval must
+come to record his master’s night thoughts. His dinner took
+twenty minutes, and he hardly noticed what he was eating. He
+was much more plainly clad than his gaily bedecked courtiers;
+and when, on State occasions, he had to dress ceremoniously, he
+was always in a bad temper while being arrayed, and greatly
+relieved when he could doff his finery. When he entered Saint-Cloud
+after the place had been done up, he regarded it with
+disfavour, saying: “Rooms like this are suitable for a kept
+woman; they lack seriousness.”</p>
+
+<p>He does not allow himself to be enslaved by anything, and
+never insists that his bed or his meals or the lighting shall be
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span>just so and no otherwise. Even the snuff-box that he always
+carries is no more than a toy. The only things which the Emperor
+finds indispensable are open fires, hot baths, eau-de-cologne,
+Chambertin, and clean linen twice a day.</p>
+
+<p>Josephine is extravagant. Her seven hundred dresses and
+two hundred and fifty hats, her jewels, her shawls, and her hair-dressing,
+cost millions; and although the Emperor wants her
+to shine in all the splendours which he scorns for himself, he
+often grumbles at the preposterous totals of the bills.</p>
+
+<p>His brothers and sisters squander money too. He gives them
+everything, and they are never satisfied. There is an absurd
+rivalry between the five couples (Lucien is still banished) and
+Josephine, whom all the others detest. Of the six grand dignitaries
+who draw fabulous salaries, four are his near relatives,
+by blood or by marriage. Joseph is grand elector; Louis, constable;
+Eugene, arch-chancellor of State; and Murat, high admiral.
+Since the brothers are to be styled Imperial Highnesses,
+the sisters have their noses put out of joint, and make a
+collective demand, complaining that Hortense, as the wife of
+Louis, has become Imperial Highness, while they are “nothing.”
+He eyes them for a moment, and replies with a witticism which
+deserves a place in universal history: “When I listen to you, I
+can almost believe that His Majesty our father of blessed memory
+must have bequeathed us crown and realm!”</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, one could almost believe it. For when he complies
+with their demand, with a good nature he is not apt to show
+towards others, and when for ten years to come he showers
+honours and wealth, crowns and territories, upon these brothers
+and sisters who show no gratitude, who never obey him, and
+never cease to trouble him—we cannot but ask ourselves once
+more what can be the prejudice which blinds his eyes where they
+are concerned. His pride is great; he is lonely in his self-confidence;
+his path is that of a pioneer; in this instance as in
+others, his motives must be mixed; in part obscurely felt, in
+part coldly calculated.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span></p>
+
+<p>He is half an oriental, and it tickles his fancy to bestow
+diadems as he used to bestow swords and snuff-boxes; but all
+the same, he warily contrives that power shall be given to
+those only on whom he can rely. Well, what is thicker than
+blood? Even his companions-in-arms seem to him less trustworthy
+than his relatives; but for his trust in them, his relatives
+will repay him with ingratitude, and in the end his sister
+will betray him. Because in this one respect he infringes his
+own principle of equality and departs from his determination to
+choose only the efficient, because he appoints brothers and
+nephews to high office and looks upon them as his heirs, he
+cannot give them the free hand which it is his way to give all
+his generals within the limits of their commissions. By treating
+his relatives as an all-powerful minister treats princes who
+are still under tutelage, he enrages them, and lays up a store
+of bitterness for himself.</p>
+
+<p>Joseph is already animated by a mocking spirit. He tells his
+daughter to address His Majesty as “Consul”; holds disputations
+in democratic circles; refuses to become a minister of
+State; but accepts an allowance of two millions as an imperial
+prince, and lives at the Luxembourg, which his brother hands
+over to him. At length Napoleon loses patience. The ostensible
+cause of his anger is a trifle, but all the rage of his heart is now
+vented in this complaint:</p>
+
+<p>“What on earth is Joseph thinking about? Does he imagine
+that he has been made prince in order to hobnob with my
+enemies and walk up and down the streets of Paris in brown
+surtout and round hat? I have sacrificed my own personal
+pleasures in order to become what I am. I am as well fitted
+as another to shine in society!... But things of that sort do
+not help a man to rule. Does he dream of disputing with me
+for the supreme power? My strength is builded on a rock!...</p>
+
+<p>“Do you know what he ventured to say to me recently in the
+presence of two others? I ought not to have my wife crowned;
+the step would be opposed to his interest; it would give Louis’
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span>children a better position than his, because they would be the
+grandsons of an empress! He had the impudence to talk to me
+about his rights and his interests! He wanted to touch me on
+the raw! He might almost as well have boasted he had slept
+with my mistress, or hoped to do so soon. My mistress! Power
+is my mistress! The conquest of that mistress has cost me so
+much that I will allow no one to rob me of her, or to share her
+with me!”</p>
+
+<p>Thus does the volcano suddenly spout forth great rocks, in
+the midst of a conversation about trifles. But the rest of the
+conversation does not turn wholly on trifles. He speaks bitterly
+of his brothers and sisters, comparing them with Eugene
+and Hortense. “My stepchildren always side with me. If their
+mother is put out because I take a fancy for a pretty girl, they
+say to her: ‘Oh, well, he’s still quite young, you know. You
+mustn’t make a fuss. No doubt he has faults, but you must
+not forget how much he has done for us all.’”</p>
+
+<p>But nothing will keep him from pushing his brothers’ advancement.
+When Joseph refuses all other occupations, Napoleon
+forces him into the army. “He must have military rank,
+get a nice wound, and win a good reputation for himself. I
+shall only give him easy jobs. Then he can win a battle, and I
+shall be able to promote him to a higher rank than all the other
+commanders.” It sounds like the education of a degenerate
+son by a great father.</p>
+
+<p>Louis has an enthusiasm for poetry; he becomes chief of the
+imperial guard, so that he may have a dignified position; but
+he can stay at home when the guns begin to shoot.</p>
+
+<p>Murat and Caroline are frightfully extravagant; their table
+service is of gold. “As for Caroline, my own sister, if I have
+to discuss anything with her, I must make longer speeches than
+at the Council of State....</p>
+
+<p>“The whole lot of them are always thinking about my death.
+It’s rather nasty of them to be continually bringing that into
+my mind.... Were it not that I find some happiness in my
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span>home life, I should be miserable! Why are they always so suspicious
+of my wife? What has she more than they? Diamonds
+and debts!... She’s a good wife to me, and does them no
+harm! She’s rather fond of playing the empress, with her
+jewels, her dresses, and the whimsies natural to her age. I
+have never been blinded by love. But I am just. She shall be
+crowned, even if it costs me two hundred thousand men!”</p>
+
+<p>Thus he is continually bickering with a family which he could
+reduce to nonentity in a moment, but from which he is unable to
+cut adrift.</p>
+
+<p>Only one of them is incorruptible, asks for nothing, and holds
+aloof. Lucien writes from Rome:</p>
+
+<p>“Mother thinks that the First Consul is wrong to take the
+Bourbons’ crown. She has uneasy presentiments which she will
+not confide to me. Her dread is that a gang of fanatics will
+assassinate the Emperor.”—While this dignified mother of the
+family, still a beautiful woman though well over fifty, is led by
+her knowledge of the world and her gloomy forebodings to keep
+herself to herself, while she holds her tongue and only mentions
+her anxieties to a few intimates, in the Tuileries her children
+are quarrelling about titles and precedence, disputing who is to
+sit at the Emperor’s right, debating whether they are entitled
+to walk out of the room in front of a sovereign prince!</p>
+
+<p>Then Napoleon summons Madame Mère to Paris. But here
+is one who will not obey him. At first she makes excuses. When
+more urgent commands are sent, she sets out on the journey,
+but takes her time, and does not reach Paris for the most
+splendid festival that a mortal mother can ever have witnessed.
+She hears and reads all that a gaping world says and writes
+about the affair. Her only comment is: “Pourvou que cela
+doure!”</p>
+
+<h3>IX</h3>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Letizia’s protector the pope has become more
+compliant, and is already on the way to Paris. What else could
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span>the Holy Father do? The man of might had summoned him,
+and the Emperor must be kept in a good humour. Besides, he
+who is to be crowned is an Italian. As one of the cardinals had
+put it, in the decisive conclave: “After all, we have this satisfaction,
+that we are taking vengeance on the Gauls by setting
+an Italian family to rule over these barbarians.” Napoleon is
+still regarded as a foreigner in France! But why does he not
+go to Rome for his coronation? Why is he not content to
+be anointed in Rome, as Charlemagne had been, and all the
+emperors of the west since Charlemagne’s day? What does he
+want a pope for at all?</p>
+
+<p>In this matter, once more, he is trying to harmonise the new
+with the old. At first he is silent about details, and merely asks
+the pope “to give the highest religious consecration to the
+anointing and crowning of the first Emperor of the French.”
+For weeks, letters have been exchanged between Rome and
+Paris, but the exact nature of the ceremony still remains obscure.
+Pius VII. is in an uneasy frame of mind as he draws near
+to Paris, and his spirit is by no means one of benediction.
+Never before has a pope been summoned in this way, much as a
+great physician is summoned. When the Emperor meets the
+pope at the gate of the city, the Holy Father does not fail to
+note that Napoleon neither kneels to receive a blessing nor kisses
+hands in token of fealty. Paris is a town where people’s faith
+is unstable and where popes are held in little honour. The
+visitor is chilled.</p>
+
+<p>But Josephine is different. All devotion, she confides to him
+that she and her husband were not married in church, and that
+therefore from the pope’s point of view they are not married
+at all. She is eager to grasp the opportunity of consolidating
+her union, which seems to her frail in view of her barrenness.
+Taking the hint, Pius insists upon a religious celebration of
+the marriage before he will crown her as empress. In the palace
+chapel, two days before the festival, Uncle Fesch, clad in purple,
+solemnises the union of the pair who eight years before had
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span>needed the intervention neither of priests nor civilian officials
+before coming together. There are no witnesses, not one who
+could laugh over this comedy in which cheating is still the order
+of the day—for even the Corsican uncle is not aware what is
+about to happen.</p>
+
+<p>On December 2, 1804, in Notre Dame, an abundance of
+precious stones reflects the light of a myriad candles, so that
+the place looks more like a banqueting hall than a church.
+Everything has been prepared for weeks beforehand. A skilful
+museum director has even produced a colourable imitation of
+Charlemagne’s sceptre. Ancient parchments from the days of
+the Roi Soleil had been consulted, to ensure that the crowning
+of this revolutionist should vie in every respect with that of the
+legitimate monarchs of France. Ségur had studied the etiquette
+of the occasion with the utmost care; Isabey had rehearsed
+the whole affair with an array of dolls; the old palace,
+Paris, France, were in a fever.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor is in a pleasant humour. Early in the morning
+he makes sure that Josephine’s crown is a good fit. The
+great procession drives to the cathedral. Napoleon, robed in
+an antique imperial mantle, strides to the high altar leading the
+empress by the hand. Josephine’s charm helps to divest the
+great moment of a certain sense of embarrassment. Surrounded
+by attendant cardinals, the pope is seated, waiting. The organ
+peals forth.</p>
+
+<p>Then, when the appointed instant has come, and all are expecting
+this man who has never bowed the knee to any one, to
+kneel before the Holy Father, Napoleon, to the amazement of
+the congregation, seizes the crown, turns his back on the pope
+and the altar, and, standing upright as always, crowns himself
+in the sight of France. Then he crowns his kneeling wife.</p>
+
+<p>None but the pope had known his intentions. Informed at
+the eleventh hour, Pius had lacked courage to threaten
+immediate departure. Now, all he could do was to anoint and
+bless the two sinners. Moreover, the crown on the Emperor’s
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span>head is not a Christian crown at all, but a small pagan circlet
+of golden laurel leaves. All who describe the occasion agree
+in saying that the Emperor was pale but handsome. He resembled
+Emperor Augustus; and from now onwards, as if by
+some mystical power, his features grew more and more like those
+of the first emperor of Rome.</p>
+
+<p>Thus, in this symbolical hour, Napoleon reduces to mockery
+the legitimate formalities he is affecting to copy. Furthermore,
+he makes a laughing-stock of the pope, who will not forget the
+slight. In an instant the cloud of Bourbon reminiscence has
+been scattered; the flavour of imitation and parody has vanished;
+and on the steps of a temple there stands a soldier,
+a Roman imperator, whom a dozen years before this day no one
+had ever heard of, who since then has performed no miracles
+but only done deeds, and has now crowned himself with the
+golden laurels of these deeds. But his mantle is broidered with
+golden bees, the emblem of activity.</p>
+
+<p>Several incidents show that he has not, throughout this day
+of his coronation, wholly surrendered to the mood of a man
+who has made his own destiny.</p>
+
+<p>When he was seated on the throne, crown on head, with the
+pope in front of him, he said in a low aside to his brother:
+“Joseph, if only Father could see this!” The remark, poignant
+at such an hour in the mouth of a man who was never wont to
+speak of his father, is fundamentally natural. The perfect simplicity,
+the unsophisticated innocence, of his course of action,
+lead his mind back to his origin. Memories of family feuds on
+the island, of the pride and ambition of the Corsican clans,
+direct his thoughts towards the stock from which he has sprung.</p>
+
+<p>Semblance never holds his attention, which always reaches
+out to the core of reality. Thus he is not bewildered even in
+this amazing hour. When he wants to whisper something to
+his uncle, who stands just in front of him during Mass, he gives
+the cardinal a gentle dig in the back with his sceptre. As soon
+as all is over, and, alone with Josephine, he goes in to dinner, he
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span>says with a sigh of relief: “Thank God we’re through with it!
+A day on the battle-field would have pleased me better!” At
+their little dinner he tells her to keep on her crown, as if he
+and she were poet and actress, for, he says, she is charming, his
+little Creole woman as empress. Thus, in the most natural way
+in the world, he unmasks the whole masquerade, and we are at
+ease once more as we see the son of the revolution laughing his
+own empire to scorn.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp62" id="illus08" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus08.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>Bonaparte as First Consul. Pencil sketch by J. D. A. Ingres.
+    Germain Bapst Collection.</p>
+    <p>(Photograph in the Kircheisen Collection.)</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>The freedom of spirit shown by the foregoing petty details
+is splendidly illuminated by an admission he made the same
+evening, when, to a confidant, he summed up the whole matter
+with sceptical emotion: “No, Decrès, I have come into the world
+too late. There is nothing great left for me to do. I do not
+deny that I have had a fine career, but what a difference between
+me and the heroes of antiquity. Look at Alexander, for
+instance. After he has conquered Asia, he declares himself to
+be the son of Jupiter, and the whole East believes him, save only
+his mother and Aristotle and a handful of Athenian pedants.
+But if I, nowadays, were to declare myself the son of the Father
+Eternal, every fishwife would laugh in my face. There is nothing
+great left for me to do.”</p>
+
+<p>This was said a few hours after he had crowned himself
+emperor; said quite simply and quite truthfully. Is it not plain
+why the East has always allured him, and will continue to allure
+him? By nature he is endowed with immense powers, and is
+overburdened by their incredible weight. Nothing can be
+adequate to his aspirations, now that he has learned how readily
+people obey the man who can command obedience by his skill
+and by his deeds. He is strong in his own strength; what does
+Voltaire’s enlightenment, what does Rousseau, matter to him?
+How can he wish to establish democracy, to install popular
+government, when he knows the weakness of the popular instincts,
+and all the corruptness of the leaders of the people?
+To expand his sway, to spread his name widely and ever more
+widely, to leave more record of himself in the book of universal
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span>history than that half page of which he spoke a few years
+ago, to sacrifice life itself to the little golden circlet on his
+head, to do these things without enjoyment and without leisure
+and without pause—this is all that life now offers.</p>
+
+<p>When, during these days, the sketch for an imperial seal is
+laid before him, and he sees a lion couchant, he draws his pen
+across the picture, and writes in the margin: “An eagle volant.”</p>
+
+<h3>X</h3>
+
+<p>But with a sinister energy the dangerous fluid of divine right
+radiates from the golden circlet, and slowly spreads its waves
+through the brain of the wearer, the chosen man. Vainly he
+endeavours to master and transform the millennial force that
+has been stored up in this crown, or to make light of it; it masters
+him, and from time to time forces him to quit the realm of
+his self-control. When, a year after his coronation as emperor,
+he crowns himself in Milan with the iron crown of the Lombards
+(for the border States, like France itself, are to become monarchies),
+his voice reverberates through the cathedral as he
+thunders the traditional formula of the Carlovingian kings:
+“God gave it to me, woe to him who touches it!” Of course, it
+is only the statesman who speaks, for sound political reasons
+saying something he does not believe. But, though he is well
+aware of the contradiction, he will not always be able to solve
+it with the same vigour as in Notre Dame.</p>
+
+<p>In the first place, the new position makes it necessary to
+impose new fetters on the mind. The Ministry of Police is revived;
+and France is parcelled out into four great sectors, in
+which the most trusty members of the Council of State, each
+with an army of spies, keep watch upon the mood of the country,
+for he wants to collect “moral statistics.” Fouché is reappointed
+Minister of Police, and, since Napoleon’s ties with
+Talleyrand become increasingly close, the Emperor is by degrees
+enmeshed in the nets of the two great intriguers—though
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span>he is aware that they are playing a double game between himself
+and the Bourbons, and, by a second relay of spies, fruitlessly
+endeavours to keep watch and ward over his watchers.</p>
+
+<p>Sinister figures, these two ex-clerics, whom he hates, who
+hate him, but whom he will never be able to shake off.</p>
+
+<p>Fouché is a man of humble origin, pale, with a cold manner,
+taciturn, parchmenty. Though orders flash on his breast and a
+lace ruffle waves there, were it not for his piercing eyes he would
+look like a mummy in court dress.</p>
+
+<p>Talleyrand is in all respects the man of noble birth. Lame
+though he be, the prettiest women pay court to him. His
+charm is that of a rolling sphere, whose living summit is everywhere
+and nowhere. The assertion that he betrayed his master
+only for the sake of France, is belied by his immeasurable
+avarice and venality. For the nonce, he continues to serve the
+Emperor; but, from the first, the two men have mistrusted
+one another. Once, indeed, Talleyrand made a sacrifice for
+Napoleon. Late in the evening, when the two were on a journey
+together, the Emperor summoned the minister to his bedside for
+a talk about public affairs. Suddenly Napoleon fell asleep,
+and Talleyrand sat on guard till morning, not stirring, lest he
+should wake his master. That is his version of the affair. But
+the man’s whole nature is so remote from any idea of sacrifice or
+sympathy, that we may suppose rather that his motive was the
+hope that Napoleon might reveal some important secret by
+talking in his sleep.</p>
+
+<p>A dozen times every year, the name of Madame de Staël
+crops up. Afraid of her and her works, he keeps her away from
+Paris with an obstinacy which arouses wonder. Yet she says
+of him: “His look grows infinitely tender when he speaks to
+women.” Throughout Europe, the champions of the freedom
+of the spirit fall away from him; Byron, who had greatly admired
+him; Beethoven, who cancels the original dedication of the
+<i>Eroica</i> to Napoleon. With painfully mixed feelings the Emperor
+must have read the tribute of the mad tsar Paul, who had
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span>already acclaimed the First Consul as the suppressor of the
+revolution.</p>
+
+<p>Since Marengo, he has been doing his utmost to maintain
+peace on the Continent, and for four years he has been successful.
+His hope is that the re-establishment of monarchy will
+appease the united princes, will assuage the anger they still cherish
+against France. The death of two men comes to thwart
+his plans. Tsar Paul is murdered, and this enemy of England
+is succeeded by a youthful son, an idealist, trained by French
+apostles of the enlightenment, a man with democratic leanings,
+gentle, muddle-headed, animated by the wish to be a better
+sovereign. Alexander, therefore, quickly comes to an understanding
+with England, where, after Fox’s brief predominance
+and death, a transient attempt at peace with France has been
+followed by a revival of the old jealous enmity. England fails
+to evacuate Malta as had been arranged, imposes new conditions,
+and is the first to break the peace. Once more there arises
+the menace of a European coalition under English leadership, a
+coalition that will aim at a Bourbon restoration, for talent
+enthroned in France sets so dangerous an example to all other
+countries.</p>
+
+<p>Thus, a year after the coronation, the war with England is
+resumed, and will not end until Napoleon’s star sets. There is
+no campaigning, at first; simply a state of war, in which this
+great military commander cannot force a decision, and which,
+therefore, he cannot bring to a close. England has two notable
+advantages over her continental rivals, and over France in
+particular. It is an island realm; and it spreads athwart the
+world. Napoleon’s historical sense, growing ever more alert,
+shows England to him as a new empire of Alexander, extending
+like Alexander’s from homeland isles and peninsulas to Asia
+and to Africa, invincible so long as it remains a united whole.
+The dream of our new oriental splits upon this rock.</p>
+
+<p>On this rock, too, are wrecked the mathematician’s calculations.
+The day after Aboukir, he had said that a decade would
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span>be needed for the rebuilding of France’s fleet. Half that time
+has elapsed, and England’s naval predominance has steadily
+grown. During the brief peace, the soldiers of the unsuccessful
+Egyptian campaign are brought back to France in English
+bottoms; England is confirmed in the possession of the Cape
+and other overseas colonies; and France has more urgent claims
+on her energies than the building of the new fleet.</p>
+
+<p>Fundamentally, what was a ship to the Emperor? He was
+competent to design a big gun, to cast it, to place every screw;
+and to repair every wheel and every shaft of an ammunition
+wagon. He knew when every horse in a cavalry squadron
+would have to be re-shod, and how much it would cost; and he
+knew exactly how many loaves a field bakery could turn out a
+day. This far-reaching knowledge was one of the secrets of his
+predominance; made his subordinates zealous in their terror of
+his incessant control, whether in peace time or in war time;
+aroused respect for the all-embracing intelligence of the chief;
+and ensured the exact carrying-out of his military ideas.</p>
+
+<p>But one who would know a ship, must grow up in a ship,
+just as one who would know ordnance must have passed his
+youth among big guns. Even though his admirals were
+astonished to find how quickly he made himself at home in naval
+matters, how shrewd were his questions, and how sensible were
+his orders, still their commendation of Napoleon was no more
+than the praise of a kindly expert who, tacitly, is criticising a
+talented amateur. Napoleon knew this well enough. Since he
+lacked a great admiral quite as much as a great fleet, and had
+never been willing to entrust the conduct of a campaign to any
+subordinate, he invented a new kind of war which was to enable
+him, after all, to get the better of England. The European
+ports from Hamburg to Taranto were to be closed to English
+ships, and thus the nation of traders was to be vanquished in a
+trade war. At the same time, he revived his plans of invasion;
+for, could he but set foot on the island, he would be the military
+commander, and in his own element.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span></p>
+
+<p>Just as he had done before the Egyptian campaign, so now
+in Boulogne, he studies the possibilities of embarkation and disembarkation.
+On land, his fantasy has found satisfaction and
+his mathematical powers have gained conquests in ardent
+imaginings; and yet, all the time, his battles have been realities,
+have realised these imaginings. But here, at sea, he is
+an amateur, not an expert; is, for the first time, the onlooker
+instead of the man of action. In none other of his private letters
+do we find sentences akin to those which he writes from the
+coast to Josephine after a stormy night in which a gunboat has
+broken away from her moorings: “A wonderful sight! The
+minute-guns were firing; watch-fires were lighted along the
+coast. A raging, foaming sea; uncertainty and anxiety
+throughout the night. But a kindly spirit brooded over the
+ocean and the night. No lives were lost, and I lay down to
+sleep with the feeling that I had been witnessing a romantic and
+epic vision—so that I could almost believe that I had been
+looking on quite alone.”</p>
+
+<p>A wonderful sight; but, alas, only a sight! The Ossianic
+note is sounded again, for the first time after fifteen years.
+Napoleon waxes romantic. How moving and how significant
+are the closing words of this artist, who suddenly feels that he
+has been robbed of the human material with which he works,
+and who is even a little alarmed (we cannot help but read this
+through the lines) at the unwonted sensation of being quite
+alone.</p>
+
+<p>The unfamiliar element leads him astray. When a storm is
+threatening, he orders a naval review. Admiral Bruix does not
+carry out the order. The Emperor finds that no preparations
+are being made, and sends for the admiral. A terrible scene.</p>
+
+<p>“Why did you not obey my orders?”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Majesty can see that for yourself. You would not
+needlessly risk brave men’s lives in such weather!”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor, surrounded by his rigid officers, turns pale
+with wrath, and says: “Sir, I have given you an order. The
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span>consequences are no concern of yours. Do what you are told!”</p>
+
+<p>“Sire, I cannot obey.”</p>
+
+<p>An ominous pause. Napoleon strides towards Bruix, riding-switch
+in hand, threateningly, though the switch is not raised.
+The admiral draws back a step, and lays his hand on his sword-hilt.
+A petrified group.</p>
+
+<p>“You will leave Boulogne within twenty-four hours, and
+betake yourself to Holland. Rear-Admiral Magon, carry out
+my orders.”</p>
+
+<p>A naval review is held in a raging storm. A number of
+chaloupes are capsized, and their crews struggle in the water.
+The Emperor, to save himself, jumps into the first boat; all
+who can, follow his example. Two hundred bodies are washed
+ashore next day.</p>
+
+<p>This incident, unique in Napoleon’s career, a blunder, an act
+of cruelty, a direct disobedience on the part of a subordinate,
+is a warning symptom. But there is a third indication.</p>
+
+<p>A year before, an American inventor had come to Paris, and
+had offered the French admiralty two new inventions: one of
+them a ship to be propelled by steam power instead of by the
+wind; the other, a submarine boat which was to sink ships by
+the discharge of a kind of torpedo. “The man is a charlatan,”
+was Napoleon’s comment on Fulton, after an experiment in
+which the inventor’s “plunging boat” had secured a partial
+success; and he brushed the whole matter aside. If the American
+had brought him models of a machine gun and a field telegraph,
+he would have opened his purse.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon failed to conquer England because this was the one
+matter in which he was not confident of victory. Failure was
+inevitable because here, and here only, his self-confidence was
+at fault; because his belief in his own powers was weakened by
+his want of expert knowledge and by the inaccessibility of the
+foe. By land! Yes, if he could only get at this island by land!
+The thought brings back to his mind the scheme of five years
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span>ago, when he had planned an attack on India by way of Herat.
+But for such a scheme, quiet and time are needed.</p>
+
+<p>His first aim is to keep the peace, to bring about which he
+has worked with his best powers for years. Immediately after
+the coronation, he writes in this sense to six monarchs, addressing
+each in a style appropriate to his correspondent’s character,
+thinking out the effect of every detail, and considering
+even the exact working of his signature. Note, for instance,
+how he writes to the shah:</p>
+
+<p>“My reputation reaches so far, that you cannot fail to
+know who I am and what I have done; how I have made France
+supreme among the nations of the West; and how great an
+interest I take in the rulers of the East.... Orientals
+are full of courage and spirit, but their ignorance of certain
+arts and their neglect of military discipline put them at a disadvantage
+in war when they are faced by soldiers from the
+North.... Write me your wishes, and we will renew friendly
+and commercial relationships.... Written in my Imperial
+Palace of the Tuileries ... in the first year of my reign.
+Napoleon.” But, in the heading, the document sets forth a title
+which never existed, a title which Napoleon obviously uses to
+show the ruler of Persia that the writer is the general who made
+himself famous in the Egyptian campaign. The document purports
+to come from “Bonaparte, Emperor of the French.”</p>
+
+<p>On his table, as he signs the letter to the shah, lies a letter
+to George III., though England and France are at war. It is
+penned with wonderful art, and is both moving and politic:
+“Does not all the blood that is being shed without apparent
+advantage to any one, touch the consciences of the governments?
+I am not ashamed to take the first step. It seems to
+me I have shown the world that I have no dread of war and
+its caprices. My heart, indeed, longs for peace; but war has
+never dimmed my fame. I implore Your Majesty not to deprive
+yourself of the good fortune of restoring peace to the
+world! Do not leave this precious task to your children.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span>Never was there a more favourable opportunity of stilling
+angry passions. If this chance be missed, what will be the outcome
+of the war? During the last ten years, Your Majesty
+has won more territory and more treasure than all Europe
+possesses. What further could you expect from the war?”</p>
+
+<p>How could the writer fail to smile at the realisation that the
+last argument could with equal force be turned against himself?
+The appeal is fruitless, for neither England nor the rulers on
+the mainland will tolerate the new power of France or its upstart
+emperor. A fourth coalition of the princes against the
+republic is imminent.</p>
+
+<p>During the years of peace, he has been tolerably well content.
+His intimates at Malmaison have often described him as cheerful.
+Now he must take up arms once more, and resign himself
+to the knowledge that “it lies in the nature of things to continue
+this struggle between the past and the future, for the
+enduring coalition of our enemies makes it essential to attack
+them if we are to escape annihilation.” There is the simple
+truth, spoken without exaggeration and without bitterness. If
+he did not create this nature of things, at any rate he stabilised
+it. Even though the first wars of France in the revolutionary
+epoch were purely defensive, the subsequent campaigns became
+offensive, and were transformed into wars of conquest by the
+impetus of the people’s army and the outstanding genius of its
+commander.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, when he is thus challenged by opponents whom
+he has twice defeated, can we wonder that concrete plans which
+have hitherto followed his soaring imagination at a respectful
+distance, should now, likewise, begin to outsoar the boundaries
+of reason? In the opening years of the nineteenth century and
+here in the West, the Emperor might have kept the peace for
+another decade, that in the end he might measure his strength
+against England’s in Asia. But when Europe’s persistent
+desire for revenge upon revolutionary France spurs him into
+action, he conceives the great plan of a unified European realm.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span>Now for the second time (and for the last time down to our
+own days) a great and saving work will be attempted, and the
+attempt will fail.</p>
+
+<p>Thus it is that Napoleon’s crowning political thought issues
+out of a personal defensive. Now, when a new coalition is
+being formed, and formed against him, his ideal takes a fresh
+shape. For years his inward gaze has been concentrated on
+Alexander; now, instead, he sees the figure of Charlemagne.
+He goes to Aix-la-Chapelle, for a ceremonial visit to the tomb
+of the great Frankish emperor. “There will be no peace in
+Europe,” he says at this time to his trusted companions, “until
+the whole continent is under one suzerain, an emperor whose
+chief officers are kings, whose generals have become monarchs....
+Would you tell me that this plan is but an imitation of the
+old imperial constitution? Well, there is nothing new under
+the sun!”</p>
+
+<p>This gradual transformation of his ideal, and the sustenance
+of the new ideal by the historical imagination, has immeasurable
+consequences. Precisely because the adoption of the
+Carlovingian scheme involves for him a renunciation, he storms
+forward in pursuit of it as if he were fighting for a province.
+The haste with which he tries to reconstruct the empire of
+Charlemagne is new, is symptomatic of a fever which will drive
+him towards new goals before he has reached the old ones.</p>
+
+<h3>XI</h3>
+
+<p>Since the spring, his army has been assembled in Boulogne
+in readiness for the repeatedly postponed landing in England.
+But in the autumn, when the menace of a fresh Austrian attack
+becomes a certainty, with a change of plans which is decided on
+in a couple of days and is carried out in a fortnight, he directs
+all his forces eastward, and is across the Rhine in advance of
+the news of his first movement. Just before leaving the coast,
+he dictates to Daru the whole scheme of the attack on Austria,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span>“the order and length of the marches, the meeting places of
+the columns, the attacks by storm, the movements and the
+blunders of the enemy—all this two months before the events,
+and at a distance of six or seven hundred miles from the scene
+of action.”</p>
+
+<p>Austria had good reason for taking up arms once more. On
+the knob of the new king of Italy’s sceptre, the lion of Venice
+was graven. This, and the seizure of Genoa, were urgent warnings
+to the Habsburg ruler not to venture across the Alps a
+third time. Francis must be content to fight the matter out
+on German soil. England was liberal with proffers of money;
+and the inexhaustible forces of Russia were again available
+for the coalition, as they had been when it was victorious during
+Bonaparte’s absence in Egypt. The new tsar was determined
+to overcome Europe’s old prejudice against Russia, and, with
+an exchange of roles, to draw his sword against the tyrant of
+the West. The secret of Napoleon’s fighting technique had
+been learned, and this time the engineer should be hoist with
+his own petard.</p>
+
+<p>But the soldier of genius can evolve new methods of victory.
+By forced marches he encircles the Austrians before they realise
+what is afoot, encloses them in an iron ring at Ulm, and compels
+the capitulation of an army which has not even a chance to
+fire a shot. “I have attained my end, and have annihilated the
+Austrian army by simple marches. Now I shall turn against
+the Russians. They are lost.”</p>
+
+<p>The habit of success is making him thrifty of his words. “I
+had a rough time of it, rougher than necessary,” he writes to
+Josephine; “wet through day after day for a week, and my feet
+very cold.” Among the gold-bedizened marshals, who are for
+the first time parading their splendours on foreign soil, stands
+Napoleon to receive the capitulation of Ulm. He wears the
+uniform of a private soldier, a mantle weather-worn at elbows
+and skirt, a hat without a cockade. His arms are locked behind.
+Of the imperial purple there is no sign.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span></p>
+
+<p>Once more, as on the evening after Marengo, he offers peace,
+sends an admonitory letter to the defeated Austrian emperor,
+writing as usual with the frankness which is so annoying to the
+diplomats of Europe: “You will understand that it is only right
+and proper if I take advantage of my good luck to impose, as
+condition of peace, that you should give me guarantees against
+a fourth coalition with England.... Nothing would make
+me happier than to combine the tranquillity of my people with
+your friendship, upon which I venture to make a claim, despite
+the number and strength of my enemies in your entourage.” At
+the same time, he marches on Vienna.</p>
+
+<p>Then, while he is advancing at topmost speed, comes a blow.
+He learns that two days after his victory on land had come
+the sea-fight of Trafalgar, when England had almost annihilated
+the French fleet. Eighteen ships have been lost; Nelson
+is dead; the French admiral is a prisoner. Is this another disastrous
+hour, like the one when the news of Aboukir reached
+him in the desert? Courage! Then the situation was a hundredfold
+more difficult. We are not now cut off from Paris by
+the sea; we need no ships. With redoubled speed he marches
+on Vienna, which the enemy surrenders without a blow.</p>
+
+<p>But the tidings of Trafalgar have renewed Francis’ fixity
+of purpose, and have made Alexander firmer than ever. Both
+try to win over Prussia, which hesitates, and protracts negotiations.
+Napoleon vainly tempts the tsar with the promise of
+Turkey. In Brünn there is a great game of hide-and-seek, in
+which each power tries to keep the others in suspense and is
+disavowed by its own plenipotentiaries. The Emperor is the
+only ruler who improvises a political idea. Two days before
+the decisive battle, for which preparations are already being
+made, he writes to Talleyrand, who is negotiating in Brünn:</p>
+
+<p>“I should have no serious objection to handing over Venice
+to the elector of Salzburg, and Salzburg to the house of Austria.
+I shall take Verona ... for the kingdom of Italy....
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span>The elector can call himself king of Venice if he has a fancy
+that way.</p>
+
+<p>“The electorate of Bavaria would become a monarchy....
+I will give back the artillery, the magazines, and the fortresses,
+and they must pay me five millions.... To-morrow, I think,
+we shall have a pretty big battle with the Russians. I have
+done my utmost to avoid it, for it is only useless bloodshed. I
+have exchanged a few letters with the tsar, and learn from what
+he writes that he is a good fellow, with bad counsellors....
+Write to Paris, but don’t say anything about the battle, for
+that would make my wife anxious. You don’t need to worry. I
+am in a very strong position here, and my only regret is for the
+almost needless bloodshed which the battle will cost.... You
+write home for me; I have been in camp among my grenadiers
+for the last four days, and have to write on my knees, so I
+can’t manage many letters.”</p>
+
+<p>Such is the Emperor’s mood just before the most famous
+of his victories. While he is studying his maps, noting the
+name of every Moravian village, the width of every stream, and
+the condition of every road, and while he does his best to keep
+himself warm by the camp-fire, he is thinking of the ministers
+in Paris who are awaiting his commands, and of his wife who
+may be anxious. In the same half hour, he drafts a new programme
+for the partition of four or five States, talks of new
+crowns, of war indemnities, and of handing over fortresses.
+Twice his laments for the useless bloodshed light up the written
+page like the rising sun of one of these December days. Need
+we be surprised that such a man conquers the legitimate
+princes, who at this moment are dining in their palaces?</p>
+
+<p>In the evening, when he learned the enemy’s movements, he
+clapped his hands, and, “trembling with joy” (the words are
+his adjutant’s), said: “They are walking into the trap! They
+are delivering themselves into my hands! By to-morrow evening,
+their army will be annihilated!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span></p>
+
+<p>Then he sits down with his staff to supper in a peasant’s
+hut, and, an unusual thing with him, remains at table for some
+time after his meal, emotioned and musing. He goes on to
+speak at considerable length concerning the nature of tragedy.
+From this, he passes to Egypt: “If I had taken Acre, I should
+have donned a turban, have clad my soldiers in wide Turkish
+trousers. But only in the utmost need should I have exposed
+my Frenchmen to serious danger; I should have made of them
+a corps of immortals, the Holy Battalion. I should have
+fought the war with the Turks to a finish by the use of Arab,
+Greek, and Armenian levies. I should have won a great battle
+at Issus, instead of in Moravia, should have become Emperor
+of the East, and should have made my way back to Paris
+through Constantinople.” The concluding words, so one who
+heard the soliloquy tells us, were accompanied with a smile,
+as if to show his awareness that he was being carried away by
+a rapturous dream.</p>
+
+<p>But is not the scene we are describing a dream? Must we
+really and truly believe that, little more than a century ago, a
+mortal man, the understudy of a demigod, stormed across
+modern Europe and remoulded it in accordance with his will?
+Did it not all happen in the Homeric age, when two princes in
+single combat would settle the fate of generations? Or, perhaps,
+he is a character in a fairy-tale, this man in the middle
+thirties, a little fellow, seated in a wattle-and-dab hut, on an
+unknown plain. He wears a greasy coat, a clammy shirt;
+stuffs potatoes and onions into his hungry mouth. Next day,
+by this one battle, he will renew the glories of Charlemagne,
+dead a thousand years since. Now, over night, his unbridled
+imagination wanders across Asiatic deserts, where a stone-heap
+successfully resisted him; dwells on that old frustrated plan;
+while his errant thoughts follow the wraith of the Macedonian
+to the Ganges.</p>
+
+<p>Day dawns. A year ago, on the altar steps in Notre Dame,
+he had crowned himself with the circlet of golden laurels. In
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span>a fervent proclamation, he reminds his soldiers of that day, and
+concludes with the promise that for this once he will keep out
+of the firing line.</p>
+
+<p>Never before has history recorded such words uttered by
+a commander. They have always been eager to declare their
+determination to defy death in the forefront of the battle.
+Napoleon, whose grenadiers have seen him in twenty fights and
+regard him as a heavenborn leader, can venture to tell his men
+that he will reward their valour by being careful of his own
+safety.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Emperor defeats both his enemies, and makes
+famous for a thousand years an out-of-the-way spot of which
+no one had ever heard before—the plain of Austerlitz.</p>
+
+<p>“Soldiers,” he says next day to the victors, “I am pleased
+with you.... Name your children after me, and if one of
+them should prove worthy of us, I will make him my own son
+and appoint him my successor!” That is the emotional note
+he keeps for the army. To his wife, he writes as simply as
+possible: “I have beaten the Russian and Austrian armies.
+Rather tired, after a week in the open, when the nights have
+been chilly. To-night I shall sleep in a bed, in Prince Kaunitz’
+fine castle. I’m wearing a clean shirt, the first time for a week....
+I hope to get two or three hours’ sleep.”</p>
+
+<p>Quite a simple matter, these momentous happenings! It is
+but a new song in the rhapsody when, a day later, Emperor
+Francis comes to Count Kaunitz’ castle, to beg for an interview
+with the little Corsican lieutenant. But the bird has
+flown. When the two men meet at length, it is in a windmill.
+Napoleon greets his brother emperor courteously, saying: “I
+regret, Sire, that I must receive you here, in the only palace I
+have entered for two months.” What self-confidence in the
+soldier interviewing the man born in the purple; what subtle
+mockery in the mouth of one who knows that in his distant
+capital, at news of his splendid victory, flags will soon wave
+and songs resound.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span></p>
+
+<p>But the distinguished guest, a man of sound sense and good
+breeding, knows how to parry the thrust: “Your present
+quarters are so profitable to you, Sire, that I think they cannot
+fail to please you.” Both smile; and unobtrusively they eye
+one another up and down, for, though they have fought for a
+decade, they have never met. Of the same age, they had both
+reached power at twenty-six or thereabouts, though in such different
+ways; and neither of them can foresee how close Napoleon’s
+will-to-peace is one day to bring them, or how widely
+Francis’ will-to-revenge will ultimately sever them.</p>
+
+<p>“Yesterday I had the German emperor in camp with me
+and we had two hours’ talk.... He threw himself on my
+generosity. But I took good care of myself, as I am used to
+doing.... We have agreed to make peace promptly....
+The battle of Austerlitz is the finest of all I have fought. We
+have taken forty-five regimental colours, more than one hundred
+and fifty guns, the flag of the Russian guard, twenty generals,
+and thirty thousand prisoners in all. More than twenty
+thousand killed—a ghastly sight!” Did the jubilant outburst
+of a conqueror ever come to a stranger close? He luxuriates
+in the figures of his gains, and then, suddenly, the corpses of
+the dead rise before his eyes! Henceforward, such references
+become frequent; he writes in simple and heartfelt words about
+bloodshed.</p>
+
+<p>In the peace negotiations, the minister has a contest with his
+master. The day after Austerlitz, Talleyrand writes to the
+Emperor: “How easy would it be, now, to destroy the Habsburgs
+once for all. But it would suit our book better to
+strengthen them, to give them a fixed place in France’s system!”
+Napoleon, however, enforces the peace of Pressburg, in
+which the old German empire is shattered into fragments, while
+Austria vanishes from Germany and Italy. What is in the
+conqueror’s mind?</p>
+
+<p>Europe! A league of States under French hegemony. Russia
+is Asia; England is detached, an island. The Continent
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span>must be unified, must consist of middle-sized and small powers
+overshadowed by the eagles of France, and democratically
+ranged side by side. Now, after Austerlitz, the new thought
+takes shape. The victory has put it within his power to realise
+the greatest aim of a European, the unification of Europe.</p>
+
+<p>He did not set out towards this goal. It was a gradual
+growth, the fruit of circumstances. He did not deliberately
+provoke the wars that were fought when the new idea was in its
+inception. Since Marengo, his chief wish has been for peace.
+At that time, Austria had been loath to make peace. The
+Austrian renewal of the attack was a logical outcome of
+legitimist theory, for Habsburg and the revolution could not
+jointly rule Europe. Austerlitz had settled the dispute once
+more. Now it had become possible to reunite Charlemagne’s
+resurrected Europe. But neither the kings and emperors
+(who were only beaten, not convinced), nor he himself (who
+had gained all by the sword and not by persuasion), could
+march along the way of the spirit towards the unification of
+Europe. The determinisms of his own past left Napoleon no
+option but to create his United States of Europe by force.
+Not till ten years later did he come to see that he had been
+seeking to achieve a great end by false means.</p>
+
+<p>When he came to understand this, it was too late; he was
+impotent, in the great epilogue of his exile.</p>
+
+<h3>XII</h3>
+
+<p>“Tell the pope that I am keeping my eyes open; tell him
+that I am Charlemagne, the Sword of the Church, his Emperor,
+and as such I expect to be treated.”</p>
+
+<p>Thus threateningly he writes to Rome. If he must bow
+before this mole-hill, at least he will enforce obedience. His
+demeanour is infused with a new tone since Austerlitz and
+Pressburg. From conquered Austria, he writes in a dictatorial
+style which neither he nor Europe has hitherto known.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span>The queen of Naples, despite his yearlong warnings, has permitted
+English ships to anchor in the bay. An army order is
+issued: “The Bourbon dynasty has ceased to reign in Naples.”
+Simultaneously, he writes to Brother Joseph: “I think I have
+already told you that I intend the kingdom of Naples to accrue
+to my family, so that, like Switzerland, Holland, Italy, and
+the three German kingdoms, it may belong to my federated
+States or, rather, to the French Empire.”</p>
+
+<p>Henceforward he endeavours to make the plan a reality, the
+plan whereby Europe shall be governed by one emperor with
+kings as vassals. Paris, which now acclaims the conqueror,
+shall be the capital city of the Continent. The Emperor has,
+in the best sense of the term, “come home again.” He exclaims:
+“This campaign has made me fat! I believe that if all the
+princes of Europe were to ally themselves against me, I should
+develop an absurdly wide paunch!” In such a mood does he
+hurl himself from recent events into new adventures and allow
+them to run their course.</p>
+
+<p>During the next few months he organises, from Paris, the
+following realms: Joseph becomes king of Naples; the princes
+of Bavaria and Württemberg are turned into kings; Baden is
+changed into a grand duchy; Eugene weds a daughter of the
+House of Wittelsbach; a Badenese hereditary prince marries
+a niece of Josephine’s; a Württemberg princess is reserved for
+his youngest brother; sixteen States of southern and western
+Germany are joined together to form the Confederation of the
+Rhine, vassals of the Emperor, liable for the payment of tribute
+and the provision of troops, and the sixteen German princes
+hasten to Paris to vow allegiance, hoping to get a share for
+themselves in the great mart; a dozen small principalities are
+wiped out; imperial fiefs are established for Talleyrand,
+Berthier, and Bernadotte.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Napoleon announces, curtly and conclusively:
+“Holland has no executive. She must have one. I will give her
+Prince Louis. We will frame a treaty.... For me the whole
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span>matter is settled: either thus, or annexation to France....
+Not a minute must be lost.” Why “not a minute”? Holland
+has been dependent for years; she only needs a crowned vassal;
+her dependence is to be made clearer by the phrasing, “Napoleon
+bestows his brother on Holland.” The Dutch object? Then
+they shall be gobbled up; the choice is quickly made. Louis
+does not care for the honour; climate bad; health weak? “It
+is better to die sitting on a throne, than to live a mere prince
+in France.” Hortense must become a queen, Josephine is aglow
+for the consummation; the Dutch must present a solemn petition,
+and must be graciously received by the Emperor in the
+Tuileries. But Napoleon is so overcome by the irony of the situation,
+he is so contemptuous, that after the audience he cannot
+resist telling his little nephew (son of the new king of Holland),
+in front of the ladies of the court, the fable of the frogs who
+wanted a king.</p>
+
+<p>What next? His sisters are complaining and intriguing.
+Are there no more kingdoms available? The pity of it. Oh
+well, a few grand duchies must be vacated! Through Murat’s
+promotion, Caroline becomes grand duchess of Cleves; Elise is
+made grand duchess of Tuscany; and the lovely Pauline
+Borghese weeps because she is nothing more than princess of
+Guastalla. “Why, it’s no more than a village! And I’m to be
+princess of that?” Still, she soon finds consolation in an ocean
+of diamonds and lovers.</p>
+
+<p>None of the clan are equal to the occasion. King Joseph, in
+his first proclamation, compares the love of his subjects (who
+have never clapped eyes on him till yesterday) towards himself
+with the love of the French towards their emperor. He covers
+himself with ridicule, and makes the Emperor furious. King
+Louis utters piteous sighs because the war with England
+forces him to interfere with “his country’s” trade; and he sends,
+instead of troops, long letters to the Emperor filled with complaints.
+“Really, you are throwing unnecessary burdens upon
+me,” replies Napoleon, in a hectoring tone. “It is all due to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span>your narrow-mindedness and your lack of interest.... I
+wish you were not always whining!... Leave wailing and
+complaining to women; a man must be determined.... You
+are governing far too gently. You allow me to bear the full
+brunt of the war expenses.... See to it that you raise an
+army of thirty thousand men. You only think of yourself;
+that is neither good nor magnanimous.... More energy!”</p>
+
+<p>Elise, who dominates her husband, gives a constitution to
+Tuscany, holds reviews of the troops, changes her favourites
+every quarter, and amuses Napoleon by an assumption of the
+imperial style: “My people is content; the opposition is
+crushed; your commands, Sire, have been carried out. I am
+much pleased with the Senate; it is showing deference to my
+authority.”</p>
+
+<p>Murat, for excess of zeal, draws upon himself a reprimand
+phrased with Napoleon’s customary bluntness: “I have seen
+decrees issued by yourself which are quite senseless. You seem
+to have lost your reason!... All you appear to have in mind
+is to reign and nothing more!”</p>
+
+<p>Pauline, however, is immortalised by Canova, in a work which
+outlasts all the realms Napoleon has set up.</p>
+
+<p>Young Jerome, who has gone to America in his capacity of
+midshipman, has meanwhile married a lady of the middle class
+without consulting his family. The Emperor, who has more
+crowns to dispose of than siblings to give them to, and cannot
+spare any of his brothers, is outraged by this marriage. He
+pursuades his mother to utter a prohibition. When the young
+man’s ship puts in to Lisbon, the vessel is surrounded; Jerome
+alone is permitted to land. Bidding the lady farewell, the
+youthful husband swears everlasting troth; he travels alone to
+Paris; is received by the Emperor with threats and lures; at
+length he gives up his spouse for the sake of princely honours
+and a post as admiral; maybe, even, he will become a king.
+The wife fruitlessly endeavours to land on the Continent; she
+journeys to England, where she brings a child into the world.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span>There she meets Lucien, her companion in misfortune. He has
+been well received by the English, and settles in the island
+realm with his wife and children. He writes poetry. An epic.
+What is it called?</p>
+
+<p><i>Charlemagne.</i></p>
+
+<p>The only member of the family who is active, loyal, and, for
+the most part, judicious in his undertakings is Napoleon’s step-son
+Eugene. The Emperor loves him, publicly praises his work
+whenever possible, and now, when Eugene becomes viceroy of
+Italy and spouse of the Bavarian Princess, Napoleon writes:
+“You are working too hard, dear son. That is all very well
+for yourself, but you have a young wife who has hopes....
+Why do you not go once a week to the theatre and occupy the
+royal box?... One can accomplish much business in a short
+time. I am leading the same kind of life as yourself, but my
+wife is getting on in years—also I have more business to deal
+with!” To his step-daughter-in-law, from whom he categorically
+demands a male heir (seeing that Hortense’s son has but
+one life, and the dynasty needs additional safeguards!),
+he writes: “Do not give us a daughter, please! Here is a
+recipe for you: drink some undiluted wine, daily—only you’ll
+never believe me!” When, in his despite, she gives birth to a
+daughter, he says: “If one begins with a daughter, one is
+destined to have a dozen children!”</p>
+
+<p>How marvellously Napoleon, the great stylist, can accommodate
+his tone to every circumstance—to inspire dread or to flatter,
+to praise, to spur on, to punish, or to persuade. He pours
+this out upon a family which is ever acting in opposition to him,
+and expends himself thus in the interludes of all his other
+business.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor’s mother lives in Paris, as retired a life as her
+son will allow. She is watchful and conciliatory. He has installed
+her in the Trianon; gives her one million a year. No
+one understands why she is so thrifty. Some use the word
+“miserly.” But she maintains that “we Corsicans have experienced
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span>many revolutions; all this may come to an end; what will
+then happen to my children? It is better that they should
+come to their mother, than go to strangers who might leave them
+in the lurch.” From time to time she holds a reception, where
+she carries herself with natural dignity, and far more regally
+than many of her children who wear the royal crown. If any
+one haggles as to the price of the beads with which she works,
+she smiles and says: “No, you can’t impose upon me. I do not
+play the princess as my daughters do.” Though she is the
+mother of the Emperor, and of kings and princes, she laments
+that not a single trustworthy person is in her immediate entourage.
+She only unbends over a game of reversi with old
+friends of hers; or when she chats of an evening with her faithful
+servant, discussing “the happy days gone by.... They
+all say that I am the happiest of mothers. In truth I am
+always full of worry. Every news item makes me tremble lest
+the Emperor lie dead upon the battle-field.”</p>
+
+<p>On Sundays, following the tradition of her patrician ancestors,
+she dines with her children at the Tuileries. She does not
+invariably obey the Emperor; and when he constrains her, she
+is resentful. No doubt he is aware that she is too proud to
+accept the relationship which circumstances have established
+between them; and whenever he looks in the mirror, he cannot
+fail to see his increasing personal resemblance to his mother,
+in forehead, mouth, eyes, and hands. Sometimes he teases her:</p>
+
+<p>“Do you find life at court tedious? Look at your daughters!
+Why do you hoard your money? You ought to spend freely!”</p>
+
+<p>“You’d better allow me two millions instead of one, if that
+is what you want. But it’s my nature to be thrifty.”</p>
+
+<p>She has as keen an eye for the detection of flatterers as
+Napoleon himself, and gently warns him against them from
+time to time. Though she never asks anything for herself,
+she will often enough beg him to help the numerous Corsicans
+who come to visit her, and thus does her best for whilom family
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span>friends. Once, indeed, and late in the day, she puts in a plea
+for something she has much at heart. She would like Ajaccio
+to become the capital of Corsica, instead of Corte. A stirring
+of family pride! The Emperor issues a decree to this effect,
+understanding perfectly well what moves her, and says: “My
+mother was born to reign over a kingdom.”</p>
+
+<p>But she cannot get him to do anything for Lucien. “I love
+him more than all the others,” she says, “because he’s not been
+so lucky.” The Emperor is adamant: “No feelings of affection
+can weigh against reasons of State. I will only accept as relatives,
+those who serve me. He who does not soar with me, ceases
+to belong to my family.”</p>
+
+<h3>XIII</h3>
+
+<p>At Paris, in his study, Napoleon has a silent witness of his
+activities; a bronze bust of Frederick the Great.</p>
+
+<p>He had grown up in the days when the renown of the last
+of the famous commanders was still fresh; and, indeed, he had
+become lieutenant before the king died. Like all the generals
+of the day, in the art of war he was a disciple of Frederick.
+He had not yet come into personal contact with the Prussian
+army, but he still had considerable respect for it, although
+Frederick’s immediate successor had won no laurels against
+the soldiers of France. He knew Frederick William III. to be
+foolish and weak; and if, none the less, he tried to induce the
+Prussian ruler to enter into an alliance, and hoped to turn
+Prussia’s antagonism towards Austria and Russia to his own
+uses, it was because he continued to entertain an unavowed
+respect for the only foreign army in Europe which had covered
+itself with glory during the eighteenth century. But when
+Prussia showed him, not her strongest side, the military, but
+her weakest, the political, his respect waned.</p>
+
+<p>In the previous year, before Austerlitz, he had offered
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span>Frederick William an alliance. After Trafalgar, when Francis
+and Alexander were courting Prussia, and after Austerlitz,
+when the indications were in favour of France, the weakling
+monarch continued to vacillate, always hoping to better his position
+by neutrality. Then, when the Emperor was stronger
+than ever before, the Prussian ruler seized the first pretext for
+making warlike preparations against France. Had not Napoleon
+violated Prussian neutrality last year by marching
+through Ansbach?</p>
+
+<p>What has really decided the king’s attitude is the mood of
+the democrats, in conjunction with his dread of mortified national
+pride, and, in especial, with his uncertainty as to the
+loyalty of some of his bellicose generals. In Nuremberg, a
+bookseller had been tried by court martial and shot for publishing
+a lampoon against the French army and circulating it
+in places which, in accordance with the terms of the treaty,
+were legitimately occupied by French troops. The decision of
+the court was formally just; but the indignation it aroused,
+being moral, was juster. The Emperor realised this, and
+wanted to avoid war. He proposed a mutual withdrawal of
+troops. Through the mouth of his envoy, he explained that
+Frederick William had only to say whether the presence of
+French soldiers in Westphalia annoyed him. Then he wrote
+personally to the king: “I hold unalterably to our alliance....
+But if your answer shows me that on your side you repudiate
+this alliance, and put your trust solely in the power of arms,
+then indeed I shall be compelled to make war. Nevertheless,
+battles and victories notwithstanding, my feelings will remain
+unchanged. Since I regard this war as a wicked one, I shall,
+even then, propose peace.”</p>
+
+<p>In private, however, with mingled feelings of anger and contempt,
+he says hard things about Prussia. He cannot believe
+that country to be so mad as it seems. “Its cabinet is
+despicable; its sovereign a weakling; its court ruled by young
+officers who will risk anything.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span></p>
+
+<p>A fortnight before the outbreak of war, he still finds it impossible
+to believe in its coming.</p>
+
+<p>He is mistaken. The men of noble birth who officer the
+Prussian army, the men who, under Frederick the Great, defeated
+France, and were subsequently defeated by France,
+want to rehabilitate themselves. The middle classes are inspired
+with ardent nationalist sentiments. The Prussians are
+ready to “risk anything”; their eyes are fixed on a protectress
+in whom they trust. The queen of Prussia is a passionate
+advocate of war, for the tsar is now allied with Prussia, and
+during his stay in Berlin she has recognised in him the manliness
+that is lacking in her husband. After Austerlitz, Alexander
+had promptly withdrawn into his own realm, to await a
+more favourable opportunity. Now the opportunity had come.</p>
+
+<p>We learn from Talleyrand that Napoleon was full of secret
+disquietude at having to draw the sword once more. He had
+been dazzled by the feats of the great Frederick’s soldiers.
+Never before had he fought against an army famous in story.
+“I fancy we shall find them tougher metal than the Austrians.”
+All the more reason for getting quickly across the Rhine! A
+week after the beginning of the advance, he gains his first
+victory. At Saalfeld, the best of the Prussians fell, Prince
+Louis Ferdinand, the first and finest blossom shattered in the
+first storm.</p>
+
+<p>Confusion prevails among the Prussians, and the king contributes
+to its spread. General Scharnhorst had advised him
+to attack two weeks earlier, but the irresolute ruler had waited
+for the French offensive. The duke of Brunswick is commander-in-chief;
+but instead of leaving the management of the
+campaign to this officer, at the last moment the king comes to
+the fighting front. “We don’t know whether the headquarters
+should be called royal or ducal.” The duke obeys the king
+when he ought to command. Questions of precedence necessitate
+the division of the forces into three army corps, for Prince
+Hohenlohe, who is a reigning prince, cannot possibly fight
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span>under a duke. Once more the enemy holds out the hand of
+friendship. Two days before the main battle, and while confident
+of victory, Napoleon writes:</p>
+
+<p>“I do not wish to derive any advantage from the folly of
+your advisers, whose blunders in statesmanship amaze Europe....
+Well, we are at war.... But why should we lead our
+subjects to slaughter one another? I care nothing for a victory
+that is bought with the lives of many of my children. If
+I were at the beginning of my career, and had reason to dread
+misadventure in battle, I should have no right to use such language.
+But, Sire, you will be defeated. You will sacrifice the
+quiet of your days and the lives of your subjects without the
+smallest justification.... I have nothing to gain from Your
+Majesty; I do not want and never have wanted anything from
+you. This war is unwise! I know that my letter may wound
+your royal sensibilities, but the circumstances make bluntness
+essential. I am telling you what I really think.... Restore
+peace to yourself and your territories. Even if I could never
+be your ally, you will always find in me a man, ... whose
+greatest wish it is never to shed blood by making war with
+princes who are not the adversaries of his industry, his commerce,
+and his policy.”</p>
+
+<p>Louise, who has followed her husband to the front, is a
+woman with more peaceful instincts than is pleasing to the
+ambition of the generals on the headquarters staff. When the
+letter is read, however, she agrees with their scornful view that
+Napoleon writes as he does because he is afraid of a catastrophe
+to himself. Is she, then, unable to realise that destiny
+has placed her among these men to-day, that she may influence
+her weak-willed husband in the direction of a humane settlement
+of the dispute? She cannot see it! Napoleon is nothing
+but “an infernal monster risen out of the mire,” and to-morrow
+he must fall!</p>
+
+<p>“My affairs march very well,” writes this monster, meanwhile,
+to his wife. “Everything is going just as I should like.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span>The king and the queen are in Erfurt. If they want to see a
+battle, they will have this gruesome delight. I feel splendid.
+Although I am travelling from eighty to a hundred miles a
+day, I have put on weight. I go to bed at eight in the evening,
+get up at midnight, and remember when I do so that you have
+not yet retired to rest.” The last night before the battle he
+refuses to go to bed. At three in the morning, one of his officers
+urges him to take a nap, but he exclaims: “Impossible! I
+have my plans here” (he touches his forehead), “but nothing
+yet in my maps!” Then he quickly explains the whole plan.
+“Do you understand?... To horse with you and find me a
+place from which I can get a commanding view of the battle-field.
+I shall be there at six.” Then he throws himself on the
+camp-bed, and instantly falls asleep.</p>
+
+<p>In the course of that night, the Prussian headquarters staff
+is informed by its scouts that remarkable movements are going
+on among the French troops. Oh, well, to-morrow will be time
+enough to discuss the matter! But before the day dawns, the
+Emperor has ridden along the front, has fired his guard with
+enthusiasm, has recalled the day of Austerlitz.</p>
+
+<p>He defeats the Prussians near Jena, while simultaneously
+Davoust is routing a superior force of the enemy at Auerstädt.</p>
+
+<p>When the valiant duke of Brunswick is fatally wounded, no
+one ventures to take over the command. They all lose their
+heads, and what is left of the army of the great Frederick flees
+in disorder through Saxony eastward.</p>
+
+<p>“Chère amie, I did some fine manœuvring against the Prussians,
+and won a great victory yesterday. Twenty thousand
+prisoners, and we took about a hundred cannon and colours....
+Have been camping here for a couple of days. I’m feeling
+splendid. Farewell. Take good care of yourself, and
+love me.”</p>
+
+<p>In Weimar, he meets the reigning duchess. Charles Augustus,
+the duke, has been in a warlike frame of mind for the last
+twenty years. He is Prussophil, and, in defiance of advice, has
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span>joined issue with the Emperor. Now, as Prussian general, he is
+in full flight after the disaster at Jena. No one knows his
+whereabouts. The court has also fled from Weimar. Only the
+duchess and her minister, Goethe, remain behind. When the
+Emperor sees the lady for the first time, he says: “I am sorry
+for you! How could the duke ...!” But to his amazement
+(for he is always against women’s rule—in especial, when the
+woman happens to be a German) the duchess answers him with
+so much clarity, simplicity, and dignity, explains the duke’s
+friendship with Prussia in so steadfast a manner, that he is
+shaken, behaves courteously, returns in the evening in order to
+have a long talk with her, and, after having vowed the annihilation
+of her dynasty, promises her that nothing shall be done to
+injure the duchy. Why?</p>
+
+<p>Because this woman has never interfered in politics, has
+not now affected a knowledge she does not possess, but in simple
+camaraderie has spoken on behalf of her absent husband, and
+with princely demeanour has pleaded for her country. She has
+made use neither of cajolery nor anger, but has kept the golden
+mean between pride and deference becoming to a conquered
+monarch. Years afterwards, the Emperor remembered this
+woman who by her noble bearing had saved her country and her
+dynasty.</p>
+
+<p>In Berlin, he meets another woman. Count Hatzfeld, who
+has been negotiating with the conqueror on behalf of Berlin,
+writes indiscreetly to one of the discredited generals, and gives
+him details concerning the strength of the French troops. His
+letter is intercepted. The Emperor, in a rage, declares he is
+to be shot as a spy. Berthier is depressed by the command;
+Rapp endeavours to soften Napoleon. Countess Hatzfeld is
+brought to see him; she falls at his feet. He invites her to
+Potsdam: “When I showed her the count’s letter she answered
+me guilelessly, with a sob, and with deep emotion: ‘Yes, that is
+certainly his handwriting.’ As she read the document the tone
+of her voice moved me to my innermost being. I pitied her.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span>You see,” he concludes his report to Josephine, “I love good,
+simple, and gentle women.”</p>
+
+<p>Love? There stands the man of might; the countess is
+naught to him as far as her womanhood goes; hardly has he
+noticed her figure or her dress. But these natural passions,
+womanly pleadings, tears, and silences, move him deeply. He
+throws the letter into the fire: “The proof I had has been
+burned. Your husband is safe.”</p>
+
+<p>Thus does Napoleon the Conqueror deal with two German
+women whose husbands have fought against him. He deals
+leniently with them because their conduct appeals to his heart.</p>
+
+<p>He dislikes Queen Louise. A politician, that woman, who
+has driven her country and her consort into a disastrous enterprise,
+who has egged this quiet-loving man into war when he
+could have had peace with honour. Napoleon execrates such
+a woman. Since she seizes every opportunity to spit fire at
+him, he determines to strip her of all her womanly dignity. He
+jeers at her in official bulletins: “She is a woman with beautiful
+features but little brain.... She must be terribly tortured
+by pangs of conscience for all the suffering she has brought
+upon her country. Her husband is a man of honour who desired
+happiness and peace for his people.”</p>
+
+<p>He has made a triumphal entry into Berlin. His suite is
+brilliantly dressed, but he is as simply clad as ever, and his
+hat is adorned with a cockade worth about a penny. Nothing
+interests him so keenly as Sans Souci. He holds the sword of
+the great Frederick in his hands, and takes it away as a trophy
+more priceless than any other he could ever find in his whole
+life. He would not exchange it for the throne of Prussia. But
+he heartily despises Frederick’s descendants, and publicly attacks
+the queen:</p>
+
+<p>“In the queen’s rooms was found the tsar’s picture, which
+he himself had given her. Also there was her correspondence
+with the king.... These documents go to prove how unhappy
+those princes can be who permit their wives to interfere
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span>in affairs of State. Notes and State papers reeked of musk,
+and lay beneath ribbons and laces and other fal-lals of the
+toilet.”</p>
+
+<p>An unworthy tone! He seems to have forgotten the patriotic
+impulse of the queen. If, however, we compare these taunts
+with what the best and greatest of contemporary Prussian
+statesmen, the non-Prussian Baron vom Stein, wrote about
+Queen Louise, we can understand the Emperor’s humour,
+though hardly excuse it.</p>
+
+<p>Serious considerations restrain him from destroying the
+house of Hohenzollern, though he had already drafted a decree
+to dethrone the king. Napoleon has to bear the tsar in mind.
+In Berlin he thinks in terms of Europe as a whole: “On the
+Elbe and on the Oder we have won our India, our Spanish colonies,
+and our Cape of Good Hope.” The grandiose words
+as yet only announce the start of the voyage; but with mighty
+strokes of the oar he is now to round the cape of his hopes. In
+the castle at Charlottenburg he dictates the greatest, most un-bloody,
+and most dangerous of all his declarations of war:
+Charlemagne closes all the harbours of Europe against English
+ships. If the island cannot be reached by his sword? Well,
+henceforward, Europe shall be placed out of her reach! All
+merchandise, parcels, postal communications, etc., from and to
+England and her colonies are to be held up; every Englishman
+at large on the Continent is now a prisoner of war.</p>
+
+<p>How is the carrying-out of the scheme to be supervised?
+Hitherto, action has always followed close upon the heels of
+thought. Now, he has to make treaties with various States,
+and, first of all, with Russia and Austria. Austria has fragments
+of the sometime realm of Poland within her frontiers;
+but Russia wants them for herself; Poland, tossed between the
+two, pays allegiance to neither. As to a god, the Poles turn
+to the Emperor. He, the champion of the freedom of the peoples,
+must come to their aid and free them. What is to be
+done? How does Napoleon solve the Polish problem?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Shall I set up the throne of Poland anew, and thus restore
+a great nation to life? God alone, who has the fashioning of
+all things in his hands, can solve this riddle.” Words of
+Delphic cunning, which he sends forth throughout Poland. God
+alone sees the smile with which he signs the proclamation! In
+addition he takes three measures. He demands that the Poles
+shall provide troops, for “not until you have an army of forty
+thousand men will you be worthy of the name of Nation.”
+Next he proposes to the Austrians an exchange of Galicia for
+Prussian Silesia. But the real key to the Polish problem he
+fishes out of the Bosphorus, for he tells the sultan to drive the
+Russians out of Moldavia, and to meet him, the Emperor, on
+the Dniester; thereby he hopes to bind, not only Russia, but
+also the trembling Austria, to the lower Danube.</p>
+
+<p>There he sits in Sans Souci, the ancient candelabra in Frederick’s
+study scintillate over his head, Voltaire’s picture smiles
+sideways, through the wraith, at his great fellow-countryman.
+He sits alone at his game of chess, calculates the moves of his
+unseen opponent, his glance takes in wider and wider circles;
+suddenly the traits of his new ancestor suffer a change, the big
+blond beard vanishes, the nose is flatter, the eyes lose some of
+their confident glance, then become bolder again: instead of the
+great Charles, he is facing the great Alexander. Yes, now, indeed,
+he will conquer England in India! World dominion hovers
+before his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>A new opponent leaps on to the board. Couriers bring the
+news of a revolt in Spain. He pales. The whole game is imperilled.
+Once more Napoleon sees clearly that he who would
+vanquish England must gain Russia’s friendship. But in order
+to conquer Russia or to win her over to his side, he needs a
+fulcrum. He has one ready to hand: Poland in revolt.
+Napoleon journeys to Warsaw.</p>
+
+<p>While in imagination he had, during these weeks, been weighing
+the fate of continents, his heart had felt lonely. Yet he did
+not trouble himself about women. Only to his wife did he write
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span>gallant things: “I love you, and long for you.... These
+Polish women [in Posen] are all Frenchwomen in their hearts.
+But for me there is only one woman. Do you know who she is?
+I would tell you what she is like, only I should have to flatter
+her too much, so that you could recognise yourself in the description.
+Seriously, my heart can say naught but good of
+her. Oh, these long nights, all alone!”</p>
+
+<p>Josephine, with the keenness of a foxhound, senses a rival
+under these cajoleries. But she has no reason, as yet, to be
+jealous, or to make so long a journey. He answers her that
+“the agitation of your letter tells me that you beautiful women
+know of no limits to your powers. What you wish must come
+to pass. I, on the other hand, recognise that I am the most
+enslaved of men. My master has no mercy on me, for my master
+is the nature of things.”</p>
+
+<p>Hardly has he finished touching upon these airy trifles in
+weighty words, when a courier brings him tidings of the great
+consequences of a trifling affair: the beauty to whom Caroline
+had introduced him in the previous winter, and who was expecting
+a child before he went away, has been confined. At
+last! It is then proved that he does not lack the power which
+Dame Nature grants to other men! A great gift from above.
+A boy. He turns to his intimate and exclaims with the ingenuous
+delight of a youth: “Duroc! I’ve got a son!”</p>
+
+<h3>XIV</h3>
+
+<p>The brilliantly lighted ball-room forms a background where
+Poland displays her greatest beauty and her most precious
+jewels. This is the evening of evenings. In the old palace of
+Poland’s kings at Warsaw, the Emperor of the French is to be
+shown the calibre of the nation that has been suffering so long.
+Will he admire the national dance, its music and its figures?
+Will the eyes of the ladies ravish him, those eyes which are
+pools of Slavic melancholy? Will the flattery of the speeches
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span>or the idolising comparisons appearing in the newspapers make
+his heart as wax? Such, according to the sanguine, are the
+questions upon which hang the fate of the nation. The procession
+has passed by; he has spoken to many in cheerful vein;
+now he is standing in a recess, dividing his attention between
+his interlocutor and the dancers. He is thinking of Paris,
+where, for seven years, he has never failed to be in January.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp56" id="illus09" style="max-width: 28.125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus09.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>Bonaparte in 1802, as First Consul. Engraving by Alexandre
+    Tardieu. After a drawing by Jean Baptiste Isabey.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>Suddenly his gaze is focused on a special point, and he forgets
+to carry on the conversation. A hundred watchful eyes
+follow the glance of the huntsman. Who is the quarry? A
+little later he approaches a group, asks for the names of those
+composing it, and smilingly, with a courtliness of manner rarely
+shown by him on public occasions, he draws the lady of his
+choice out of the circle of her companions. She is a gentle,
+fair-haired beauty, dainty and small, has blue eyes, appears to
+be of a yielding disposition, and is eighteen years of age. She
+is simpler in her dress than any of the others, and her behaviour
+is correspondingly quiet and without display or the lures of
+coquetry. The Emperor chooses her as partner in a contra-dance,
+delights in her grace and her lovely voice, finds her
+broken French bewitching. While she smiles and is covered
+with confusion, her name is whispered from room to room
+throughout the palace: Countess Walewska.</p>
+
+<p>“Who is she?” asks Napoleon later of his friend Duroc. She
+is the daughter of an ancient line, the family so impoverished
+that the lady has been married off to a wealthy old count whose
+youngest grandchild is ten years older than the new wife.</p>
+
+<p>“I had eyes only for you,” he writes to the countess next
+day. “I admired only you, and longed to be with you alone.
+Send me an answer quickly, in order that the fire which is consuming
+me may be appeased. N.” But the messenger, Duroc,
+returns with neither answer nor tidings of any sort. The Emperor
+is nonplussed. Something quite new. Twelve years ago
+the brigadier general had had such a rebuff. But Napoleon,
+never. Have not all women, whether princesses or actresses,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span>have not all the beauties, invariably come to him at his slightest
+nod of invitation? The more enchanting, therefore, is this lady
+who shrinks back so virginally from the unveiled desire of a
+man.</p>
+
+<p>“Have I displeased you? I hoped the opposite. Or has
+your first feeling vanished? My passion grows. You rob me
+of my rest. Vouchsafe a little joy, a little happiness, to the
+poor heart that would fain worship you! Is it so hard to give
+me an answer? You now owe me two.” This second letter is
+unsigned. Suppose an amateur of such matters to come across
+it in a collection of love letters, would he dream of ascribing
+its authorship to Napoleon? Neither heavy nor dictatorial,
+neither emotional nor stilted, but romantic rather is the tone.
+Nevertheless, since worldly convention demands that she should
+pay no heed to his suit, again his missive remains unanswered.
+Terrible the position of the adjutant who for the second time
+has failed in the carrying out a movement ordered by his chief.
+The Emperor, controlling his passion, thinks:</p>
+
+<p>“If neither my pleading nor my rank has any effect on this
+tender creature, I must try to gain my end by a half-promise,
+which I need not regard as binding.” He writes: “There are
+moments in life when high position is a heavy burden. That is
+borne in on me at this moment.... If only you would!
+None but you can overcome the obstacles which separate us.
+My friend Duroc will do what he can to make it easy for you.
+Oh, come, come! All your wishes shall be fulfilled! Your country
+will be even dearer to me, if you have compassion on my
+heart. N.”</p>
+
+<p>Now we should recognise his wonted style, even without the
+capital N. Nevertheless, how amazingly the loneliness of the
+man of might breathes from these lines. The third love-letter
+is intelligently composed, and therefore achieves its purpose—but
+it discloses to us the tragical mask of destiny, the destiny
+of one who wishes to walk along the course he has planned for
+himself, and who is sacrificing his human happiness to this
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span>heroical monomania. He roams through the splendid palace,
+arms locked behind. For weeks his mood has been one of
+yearning, but always he has been alone. For months he has
+hardly been near a woman. Now, having fallen passionately
+in love, storm-tost, he dismisses his secretaries, will not discuss
+matters with his generals, refuses to admit deputations, will
+not go out riding. The whole mechanism he has constructed is
+stationary. The palace, the army, Paris, Europe—let them
+wait. He, more a slave than any other, refuses to-day to obey
+the nature of things; a man of thirty-seven whose wife, well
+past forty, no longer stirs his passion. Profoundly moved
+by a girl, twice rebuffed, he must devise lures from his other
+realms, must tempt her with the freedom of her country,
+in order that, after nearly a decade of quiescent feeling, he may
+spread upon the shoulders of a young woman the mantle of his
+yearning for tranquillity.</p>
+
+<p>She, alarmed at the assault of this virile will, sits the same
+afternoon among her friends and relatives who are urging the
+sacrifice upon her, for Poland’s sake. In this mood, she at
+length goes to see him. The three evening hours she spends
+with him are spent in tears. By gentle arts he restores her to
+calm, and to her astonishment she finds that this dreaded man
+of iron is a tender wooer.</p>
+
+<p>“Marie, sweet Marie, my first thought is yours!” she reads
+next morning. “I shall see you at dinner. I pledge you my
+word. Please wear the nosegay that I send; it will be a secret
+messenger of our feelings amid the crowd; thus we shall understand
+one another. If I lay my hand on my heart, you will
+know that it is wholly yours; for answer, press your flowers to
+your bosom. Love me, my charming Marie; do not take your
+hand away from the flowers.”</p>
+
+<p>Not until three days later does she become his. Then she
+comes to see him every evening. But, as well as this, she must
+be present at every reception, for otherwise he stays away.
+What is she to him? The second creature in the world who
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span>asks nothing from him; his mother was the first. Never has he
+known another woman who did not expect his magician’s hand
+to shower on her the treasures of the universe: jewels, palaces,
+crowns, money. This woman wants nothing from him, and
+gives him everything. Countess Walewska is the quiet and loving
+companion whom Napoleon’s stormy soul has sought. It
+will be long before he will be willing to part from her. “She is
+an angel. It may justly be said that her spirit is as lovely as
+her features.”</p>
+
+<p>Josephine wants to come? Now? He smiles. Since the
+Cairo days, Bonaparte has never had a mistress while campaigning,
+whereas his generals have had plenty of love-affairs.
+There can be no doubt that the story of this intrigue, distorted
+of course, will quickly be carried to Paris, and in a veiled form
+will find a way to Josephine’s ears. She is waiting there, waiting
+to be summoned to his side. Now, in the most graceful way
+in the world, he deceived the wife who had deceived him for
+years. The weather, the roads, the public insecurity, made it
+impossible. “How gladly should I be spending the long winter
+nights at your side.... If you are always weeping, then you
+lack courage and character. I cannot endure cowardly people.
+An empress must have courage!”</p>
+
+<p>Now he betrays her. “I laughed when you wrote to me that
+you had taken a husband in order to be with him. In my
+simplicity, I had believed that woman was made for man; man
+for country, family, fame. Forgive my ignorance. One can
+always learn something from lovely women.... Besides, I
+could not think of any lady with whom I was exchanging letters.
+If there really were one, I can assure you she would have
+to be as beautiful as a newly opened rose. Does that apply to
+the lady of whom you speak?”</p>
+
+<p>See how this ambiguous trifling amuses him. His heart is so
+light sometimes. He can play the gallant as if there had never
+been a revolution in the world. When, after a few weeks, he
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span>resumes a campaigner’s life, his farewell to his Polish inamorata
+is an au revoir.</p>
+
+<p>Now Russia is open to him for the first time, a land like the
+desert. Endless steppes, covered with snow or mud; no bread,
+and hardly any roads. After a few skirmishes, the tsar slowly
+retreats. Can we follow him? Whither is he enticing us? Who
+will feed the army? There is nothing in this land to be seized,
+nothing such as there is in prosperous Germany, no storehouses.
+Had not a few hundred Polish Jews, shrewd speculators,
+seen the chance of striking good bargains, the regiments
+would have perished, at this early date, in the year 1807. When
+the Emperor, whose carriage has perforce been left behind, is
+riding towards Pultusk, he hears murmurs from the ranks.
+This is a sound he has almost forgotten; he heard it for the
+first and last time eight years ago at Acre. His generals report
+suicides among the men. Thousands of starving soldiers
+desert, to become marauders. The Emperor is dumbfounded
+at the news, but what can he do? “I know my Frenchmen,”
+he says. “It is difficult to march them on distant expeditions.
+France is too beautiful.”</p>
+
+<p>It is not surprising, therefore, that when he compels the Russians
+to fight, for the first time he should fail to conquer in the
+open field. He is not actually beaten at Eylau, but both the
+contending armies sustain terrible losses, and the issue is indecisive.
+A first warning not to campaign against Russia!
+Report after the battle: the soldiers are rifling the potato
+clamps for food, and the horses are tearing straw from the
+roofs. The whole countryside is filled with invalided soldiers,
+and none of the colonels know how many men are left in their
+commands. The Emperor speaks:</p>
+
+<p>“We shall stay here a couple of days more, and then withdraw
+a few miles. Post guards on all the bridges over the
+Vistula; no one must be allowed to cross, except the amputated.
+Don’t bother about stragglers; no punishments.” But these
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[266]</span>signs of the disintegration of his army trouble him more than
+in former days. A cramp of the stomach, from which he has
+already suffered at times, becomes more frequent, and he says:
+“I bear within me the germs of an early death, and shall die of
+the same trouble as my father.” Cancer is the family heritage:
+his grandfather, his father, his uncle, Lucien, and Caroline, all
+perished of this disease.</p>
+
+<p>He writes to his brother: “We are living here amid snow
+and mud, without wine, bread, or brandy.” But this is a
+private missive. From Osterode, where he is housed in a barn
+among the soldiers, and eats whatever they can shark up for
+him (a comrade among his men, as he had been years before in
+Italy), his bulletins to Paris speak of a great victory, and of a
+Russian rout. The casualties are stated at a third of the true
+figures. The French army is in fine case, and can stay where
+it is for a year if thought best.</p>
+
+<p>For the second time he must learn that his nerves are not
+made for waiting. Here, as in Egypt, this commander finds
+that there is something uncanny about standing still. Only
+once more in the whole course of his fifteen years as a conqueror
+will there be another such pause of two or three months
+in a place far from Paris. Both these epochs of tedious consideration,
+cautious negotiation, are filled out in the interludes
+of work by giving free rein to his pent-up emotions. They are
+filled out with idylls.</p>
+
+<p>Finckenstein, a fortified Prussian castle, is now the scene
+of his activities, while he is awaiting the thaw on the roads and
+in the hearts of his adversaries. There are huge fireplaces,
+which are a delight to him, “for I love to look into the fire at
+night when I can’t sleep.” The place is roomy enough to house
+the envoys and couriers. For ten weeks, the world is ruled
+from here. In the great bedroom upstairs, he has had his iron
+camp-bed set up beside the huge four-poster.</p>
+
+<p>No one knows that the Polish countess occupies the next
+room—or hardly any one except Constant, his valet, and Rustam,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[267]</span>the Mameluke. She rarely goes out, and then only after
+dark. The time is passed in embroidery, reading, and waiting,
+until the door opens, and he enters, to devote himself to her for
+a time. He has his meals with her alone. In these two rooms
+are the commander’s headquarters, and here the Emperor has
+enshrined his idyll. There are no dynastic wishes to trouble
+him as in Paris, no jealousies, and no bargainings for jewels;
+there is no wish to shine; nothing but the desire to remain
+hidden from the world, a wordless wish in the eyes of this sweet
+girl of eighteen who has learned to love him.</p>
+
+<p>“I know,” he says to her, “you would rather live without me.
+Yes, yes, don’t protest; I know it! But you are good and
+gentle; your heart is pure. You don’t want to rob me of the
+few hours of happiness which you can give me every day? To
+think that people regard me as the happiest of men!”</p>
+
+<p>A dispatch comes to tell him that his nephew and heir, the
+son of King Louis, is dead. How the news affects him is shown
+by his moving words to Josephine; but he cannot tell his wife
+all the thoughts that now enter his mind at Finckenstein. That
+little cocotte in Cairo, what he had really hoped from her was
+a son. How if this beautiful woman, this noblewoman whom he
+loves, were to give him an heir? Would he then make her his
+empress? Why not? He looks at Walewska, but keeps his
+own counsel.</p>
+
+<p>What is Paris saying?</p>
+
+<p>With ear attent, he listens to the rumours that reach him
+across the Polish steppe. The funds are falling. Malicious
+jests are current on the boulevards. “Where are our brave
+lads?” ask the Parisians. Caution is needed! What begins
+as a gentle shower, may turn into a raging storm; and the man
+who knows how to control the thunder is far away. He offers
+the beaten Prussians a separate peace, and even proposes a conference,
+but Queen Louise holds firmly to the alliance with the
+tsar. Austria, too, is deaf to his voice.</p>
+
+<p>Despite all, here and now, with enemies to right and to left
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[268]</span>of him, and without any firm standing-ground, he begins to
+dream once more of the conquests of Alexander. Messengers
+bearing heavily sealed letters ride forth from the courtyard
+of Finckenstein; strangers bringing dispatches arrive from remote
+lands and make their way to him across distant mountains.
+To this northern headquarters comes a Persian envoy, and the
+messenger of the King of Kings reverently bows his head to
+greet the sublime Emperor of the West. Next day, Napoleon
+and the Persian emissary come to an understanding. The
+Emperor will force the tsar to give back Georgia to the shah.
+In return, the shah will spur on the Afghans and the tribes of
+Kandahar to attack the English in India; he will equip an army
+for the invasion of Hindustan. If the Emperor wishes to send
+an army against India, his men shall have free passage across
+Persia.</p>
+
+<p>Hardly has the Persian departed, when a gorgeously attired
+Turk rides in past the astonished sentries, bringing golden
+gifts and a dispatch. A bespectacled oriental expert translates
+it. Standing in front of the fire, the Emperor, having reduced
+the eastern bombast to sober proportions, dictates a letter to
+the sultan: “I regret very much that you ask for no more than
+five hundred men instead of several thousand.... State your
+demands clearly, and whatever you want shall be instantly
+done. Get into communication with the shah of Persia, for
+he, too, is an enemy of the Russians.... I offered your envoy
+the artillerymen and other soldiers you need, but he would not
+accept them, being afraid of hurting Mohammedan susceptibilities.
+I am so powerful, and I am so desirous for your victory
+(I wish this because of my friendship for you, and not on political
+grounds alone), that I can deny you nothing.”</p>
+
+<p>The same day, he writes to Brother Louis, who has been
+sending urgent appeals from his new kingdom, a letter which
+may be regarded as a sort of general instruction for kings,
+and which occupies five pages of print. He also sends orders to
+Joseph, as to the latter’s conduct in Naples. To Jerome, who
+in Breslau is commanding a corps of pretty actresses instead
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[269]</span>of his soldiers, Napoleon writes to ask why his brother never
+sends complete reports, and why he has left six hundred men
+in Schweidnitz, four hundred in Brieg. “Let me know your
+exact plans, down to the smallest details, so that I can form an
+accurate picture of your situation.” He likewise sends a missive
+to all the bishops in France. They are to institute a public
+thanksgiving for the Emperor’s victories; but he aims, also, at
+exercising personal influence on each of his episcopal correspondents,
+for he has learned that the dispute between himself
+and the pope is making the ecclesiastics more and more
+uneasy in their consciences. Meanwhile he sends a dozen orders
+to Fouché: concerning Madame de Staël, and the extent of her
+influence; concerning the salons of the aristocratic quarter;
+and so on. He enquires about the two leading Parisian theatres;
+their condition, their finances, and their repertoire.
+“What has become of my librarian?” he asks in another letter.
+“Is he dead, or enjoying himself in the country? That would
+be a fine way of fulfilling his duties! I ordered him to send me
+all newly published books, and to let me have the publishers’
+announcement lists, but I have not had a word from him.”
+Draft for a new historical university, where young people may
+learn about modern happenings as well as the story of ancient
+days. To the Minister for Home Affairs: “Literature needs
+encouragement. Let me hear your proposals for livening up
+the various forms of belles lettres.” Enquiries as to the building
+of a new Stock Exchange and of the Madeleine. How can
+six millions be best applied for the encouragement of manufactures,
+and what will be the best way of raising the money?
+Two millions are to be spent in renovating his palaces. Arrangements
+must be made for the Paris newspapers to publish
+articles ostensibly based on information from Bucharest and
+Tiflis, and describing Russia’s desperate situation.</p>
+
+<p>He smiles, glancing at his demure little friend. “You marvel
+at my manifold activities? I have to keep watch on all my
+posts. Before, I was only an acorn. Now I am an oak, the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[270]</span>ruler of nations. All eyes are fixed on me because I am in so
+outstanding a position. A man must play his part, and cannot
+always be natural. But, for you, I will become the acorn
+once more.” Simple words, tranquilly uttered. One more evening
+with her, and then he must take the field again, for May has
+come, and the idyll ends with the leaving of winter quarters and
+the extinction of the fires at Finckenstein. He will see her
+again. They are both sure of this. But were he to forget
+her, he could read the posy in the ring she gives him:</p>
+
+<p>“If you cease to love me, forget not that I love you.”</p>
+
+<h3>XV</h3>
+
+<p>On the Memel, where it flows past Tilsit, a huge raft is
+anchored in mid-stream. The tree trunks and the planks are
+covered with carpets, and in the centre a tent gleams in the
+June sunlight, with the colours of France and of Russia flying
+above it. On the western and the eastern banks are ranged the
+guards of the two emperors. Boats set out from either shore.
+Napoleon and the tsar enter the peace-tent simultaneously.
+The soldiers, who were shooting one another only ten days
+back, cheer lustily, and those in front, who can see, pass the
+word to the thousands in the rear. The foes of yesterday have
+embraced, their masters have made friends.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately after the great victory of Friedland, Napoleon,
+as was his way, had offered his hand to the vanquished. At the
+opening parleys, since the appropriate response had not been
+made by the sultan, he had given a hint that the tsar might
+well hope, some day, to establish the cross once more on the
+dome of St. Sophia. The words were carefully chosen, for he
+knew that the man to whom they would be reported next day,
+a romanticist and a mystic, would be amenable to their influence.
+Alexander had been prompt to take the proffered hand
+of friendship. Now the enemies of Austerlitz and Friedland
+stood face to face in amicable converse. Napoleon coldly
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[271]</span>scrutinised his only serious rival on the Continent, a young man
+with feminine lineaments, compact, delicately moulded, rosy;
+hearing and eyesight rather weak. In an instant he felt assured
+that the tsar was a man whom he could win over.</p>
+
+<p>By the end of a fortnight, the sometime adversaries have not
+merely entered into an alliance, but have made friends. How
+has this come about?</p>
+
+<p>“He is an amiable and pleasant fellow, a hero of romance,”
+says Napoleon of him at this time. Inasmuch as the Emperor
+is bored by novels, and has no use for heroes of romance in the
+practical world of his calculations, there is an undercurrent of
+criticism in these pretty phrases. But he adds: “A handsome
+young man, more intelligent than is usually supposed.” At a
+later date, Napoleon utters profound truths regarding Alexander:
+“The tsar is an attractive figure, well formed to exercise
+a victorious charm on those with whom he comes in contact.
+Had I been inclined to surrender to superficial impressions, I
+should have become devoted to him instantly. But there is
+something peculiar about him, which I can best express by saying
+that in all he is and does there seems to be something lacking.
+The strangest point about the matter is that it is
+impossible to foresee precisely what will be lacking in any given
+instance, for the defect is infinitely variable.” Thus, the man
+whose friendship is all-important to him seems to him utterly
+feminine. His final judgment takes the form of an overwhelming
+compliment: “Were Alexander a woman, I think I should
+fall passionately in love with him.”</p>
+
+<p>It is not surprising that such a man should in a trice be
+mastered by the seductions of the man of power; nor is it
+remarkable that subsequently the tsar should forsake the Emperor,
+for the surrender and the abandonment are both feminine.
+No one has ever given a better description of Alexander than
+Metternich: “A mingling of masculine merits with feminine defects;
+favourite ideas, imperfectly thought out, initiate sudden
+impulses. As a result, sudden embarrassments. He gives his
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[272]</span>word too quickly, and then finds it very difficult to keep; not
+strong enough for ambition in the grand style, and not weak
+enough for mere vanity; the man of the world rather than
+ruler. There is a sort of periodicity in his enthusiasms and disenchantments,
+a periodicity of five-year terms during which an
+idea waxes and wanes. At the close of each cycle, a new one
+opens. To begin with, he is a liberal. Then he is filled with
+hatred for the Frenchman; then he passes under the Frenchman’s
+influence.”</p>
+
+<p>Five years hence, the new period will come to an end, and the
+friends of to-day will be at war again.</p>
+
+<p>Maybe Napoleon already foresees this in the splendid tent,
+where for two hours the emperors discuss the affairs of the
+world; certainly he foresees it during the long dinners and during
+the rides and drives together. Napoleon’s handling of
+Alexander is masterly. At first, the Emperor assumes the role
+of the cavalier, who cannot sufficiently extol the heroism of the
+Russians; then he conveys the implication that ere long he must
+surround himself with a bodyguard of his ministers, lest he
+should be carried away by the tsar’s charm. At table, in order
+to dazzle Alexander, he talks of his good luck—a thing to which
+the man of destiny rarely alludes. He tells an anecdote, for
+which this is the only warrant, of an incident that had happened
+in Egypt. He had fallen asleep beneath an ancient wall, which
+had suddenly crumbled to pieces without injuring him. Awaking,
+he found in his hand something which at first he believed to
+be a stone, but which, on examination, he saw to be a wonderfully
+beautiful cameo of Augustus. Could any playwright invent
+a more marvellous scene than this one invented by the
+Emperor, in an after-dinner hour, to stir the imagination of the
+mystical idealist, his companion?</p>
+
+<p>Enthralled, the tsar listens to the man of wonders. If he
+could only know all that Napoleon knows! “I feel that I am
+not really emperor as you are, for I am dependent on my generals.”
+He asks a hundred questions about the art of war.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[273]</span>Naïvely, when the two men are out walking together, the tsar
+asks: “What sort of position is this? How would you defend
+it, and how would you attack it?”—“I explained matters to
+him; and I told him that, if I were ever again at war with
+Austria, he should lead an army corps of thirty thousand men
+under my orders, so that he could learn the art of war.”</p>
+
+<p>Was ever woman in such humour wooed? Soon an offensive
+and defensive alliance is concluded.</p>
+
+<p>“The lands between the Elbe and the Memel” (this is a
+secret note to the treaty), “are to form the barrier between
+the two great empires, a barrier to render harmless all the pin-pricks
+which, in disputes between nations, are apt to precede
+the firing of the guns.” In this treaty, each party to the alliance
+gives only in order to take; and in a couple of words the
+tsar sacrifices Prussia, the Emperor Poland, although each of
+the two rulers has pledged a woman to maintain the integrity
+of her country. Almost grotesque is the calm with which,
+seated in a small room in an out-of-the-way and little known
+town hard by the shores of the Baltic, the two men pore over
+the map and cut pieces out of countries like Hotspur and Owen
+Glendower in the play. The Emperor gives Coburg, Mecklenburg,
+and Oldenburg, whose rulers have ties with the tsar, receiving
+the Ionian islands and Cattaro in return. Only when
+the tsar asks for the Bosphorus, does the Emperor demur.
+“Constantinople? That carries world dominion with it!” In
+the thorny thicket of these negotiations, we have stumbled upon
+the decisive word that slumbers beneath the treaties and notes.
+It is plain that when two men are dividing the world between
+them, they will in the long run come to blows.</p>
+
+<p>The king of Prussia joins their company; and, since he lacks
+dignity and intelligence, he is ignored by both the emperors.
+Napoleon privately considers him a dullard, possessing neither
+talent nor character, and adversely criticises everything connected
+with him; even his dress, which is the uniform of a hussar,
+headgear and all complete. Since the king is anxious about
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[274]</span>the very existence of Prussia, he leaves no stone unturned to secure
+the safety of his State, and summons the queen to Tilsit.
+The Emperor, curious to see his beautiful foe, intimates that he
+would be pleased to receive the lady there. He uses the neutral
+zone as a pretext for not setting out to meet her; but he has a
+charming residence prepared for her reception. Then, with a
+brilliant suite, though himself dressed in the simplest attire, he
+rides forth to visit her, and is received by the queen, who stands
+at the head of the flight of steps to welcome him.</p>
+
+<p>She is clad in white silk, adorned with ancient jewels, beautiful
+and bitter. With seemingly innocent words, Louise breaks
+down the unbearable constraint:</p>
+
+<p>“Sire, I hope you will excuse these narrow steps.”</p>
+
+<p>“What would one not excuse to reach such a goal,” he answers.
+But when he continues to speak in this complimentary
+tone, she says with dignity:</p>
+
+<p>“Sire, have we come here to speak of trifles?”</p>
+
+<p>Then she pleads as spouse and mother, and appeals to his
+“magnanimous heart.”</p>
+
+<p>“You will be glad to be back in Berlin?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not in all circumstances. It depends upon you whether
+we return home without sorrow in our hearts.”</p>
+
+<p>“Madame, I should be only too pleased....”</p>
+
+<p>When she moved to speak, he interjected:</p>
+
+<p>“Madame, how came Prussia to venture upon this war?”</p>
+
+<p>“The fame of Frederick the Great deceived us as to our
+strength.”</p>
+
+<p>“How many times have I offered peace? Austria showed
+more wisdom after Austerlitz.”</p>
+
+<p>“To-day, I beg you to establish a claim upon our gratitude.”</p>
+
+<p>“Have you not, yourself, destroyed my friendship for Prussia?”</p>
+
+<p>“Your heart is noble; it unites with other fine qualities, the
+possession of a great character.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[275]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Unfortunately, general considerations often stand in the
+way of special wishes.”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not understand questions of high politics; yet I do not
+feel that I am foregoing any of my dignity as a woman if I
+assure you....”</p>
+
+<p>He listens to her with growing interest. She notices “a
+kindly smile trembling at the corners of his mouth, which seemed
+to guarantee success,—when, at that moment, the king entered
+the room.”</p>
+
+<p>The conversation has no political consequences, but the human
+appeal has been very great. “It was just as well that the
+king put in an appearance when he did,” the Emperor says to
+the tsar with a spice of coquetry. “I might have made her
+promises.... An exquisite woman. Instead of depriving her
+of a crown, one is tempted to lay one at her feet.” After
+another talk with Queen Louise, Napoleon writes to Josephine:
+“She is a bewitching woman, and is most amiable in her behaviour
+towards me. But you have no cause for jealousy....
+I should have to pay dearly for it were I to play the gallant
+here.... She has been punished for her love of domination;
+but she has displayed much character in the midst of her misfortunes....
+One has to concede that she said many sensible
+things.”</p>
+
+<p>Even more amazing is his effect upon her, who had once
+called him an infernal monster. She writes: “His head is
+shapely, his lineaments are those of a thinker, his whole appearance
+reminds one of a Roman emperor. When he smiles,
+his mouth assumes a kindly expression....”</p>
+
+<p>This is Napoleon’s greatest victory. What other woman has,
+after a few weeks’ acquaintance, been able to portray him more
+charmingly? And yet she has reasons enough to detest him,
+for, in spite of the humility of her attitude, he is as unyielding
+as iron. Soon, however, she arouses his irritability. When,
+at last, everything has been signed, and the Emperor, “in consideration
+of his friendship for the tsar,” has secured the kingdom
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[276]</span>of Prussia against dissolution (though monstrous cantles
+have been sliced off!), she cannot refrain from making renewed
+attempts to soften him. Finally, he sees her into her carriage,
+and she seizes this opportunity to ask him, for the last time,
+why so mighty a man should have foregone the chance of earning
+her eternal gratitude. He throws courtesy to the winds,
+and answers with ironical bitterness:</p>
+
+<p>“What will you, Madame? I am to be pitied, for this is
+obviously the work of my evil star!”</p>
+
+<h3>XVI</h3>
+
+<p>What is Paris saying?</p>
+
+<p>“Even were I ten thousand miles away from my homeland, I
+could not leave the field free for bad citizens to stir up my
+capital to strife!” He has now been ten months absent—longer
+away than ever before or afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>He tightens up the home government all the more rigorously
+since he fears that his censorious Parisians are slipping out of
+his hands. This city, renowned for its biting wit, is not only
+venting its feelings in songs and jokes that are the delight of
+the boulevards; it is now assuming a sceptical tone, and is more
+amused than impressed by his expeditions. Yes, he is right,
+these Parisians need to be ruled by “an iron hand in a velvet
+glove.” Now they are to experience both again, only the velvet
+seems to have worn rather thin. Indeed, the whole tone of the
+capital has become lax and disorderly. Do they want to return
+to Directory days, when every one said and printed exactly
+what he pleased?</p>
+
+<p>A new and more rigid censorship of newspapers and plays is
+introduced. Historical drama must deal only with matters of
+the remote past; and even Corneille, his ideal, is pruned of certain
+passages. Before every opera he must be consulted, not
+merely as to the general question of acceptance after it is written,
+but earlier, as to the choice of topic; religious subjects
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[277]</span>are forbidden, and mythology is recommended. With lavish
+means, on the imperial scale, a university is founded, modelled
+after the Jesuit schools he detests; the professors are exempt
+from military service, but to some extent celibacy is insisted on.
+Chateaubriand is attacked, and his “Mercure de France” is
+suppressed, because in opposition salons he has criticised the
+Emperor, and has quoted Tacitus the historian as having taken
+vengeance on Nero the tyrant.</p>
+
+<p>Madame de Staël’s new requests for permission to return to
+Paris are rejected, “for she is able to make people think, people
+who had never learned or had forgotten how to think.” To the
+arch-chancellor he writes: “Summon Count R., and let him
+know that his wife’s boudoir is the talk of Paris.” To Fouché:
+“You are not policing Paris properly. Malicious gossip is
+ripe. Keep watch on the speeches that are being made at
+Citerni’s restaurant and in the Café Foy.” That young people
+may learn who pleases God, every child in France patters the
+following catechism: “We owe our Emperor Napoleon I. love,
+respect, obedience, loyalty, military service, ... ardent prayers
+for his welfare, ... because God has showered gifts on
+him in peace and war, and has made him God’s image on earth.”</p>
+
+<p>He has moved a long way. When the heir of countless generations
+believes such things of himself, others (or some of
+them) can believe them of him. But it is only three years
+since the Emperor, on the day of his coronation, had said that
+every fishwife would laugh in his face were he to declare himself
+the son of God....</p>
+
+<p>Is he no longer the same man? As of old, in personal matters
+he renounces display. He will not have money lavished
+on his study. Here, apart from the great writing table, there
+are only a small settee (on which he lounges when he is dictating,
+unless he wanders about the room), two tall bookcases, a
+couple of chandeliers, and the bust of Frederick the Great; in
+another simply furnished study, he has a bust of Cæsar. Looking
+through some bills, he says: “I was charged much less when
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[278]</span>I was lieutenant. Why should I pay more than any one else?”
+When the private theatre of the palace is to be done up, he remarks:
+“There must still be a lot of upholstered benches and
+candelabras that were supplied at great expense for my coronation.
+No doubt they are stored away somewhere.”</p>
+
+<p>When Rémusat exceeds the Emperor’s wardrobe allowance
+of twenty thousand francs, he is dismissed, and his successor is
+handed a long inventory of requirements, a list personally
+drafted by the Emperor: “I think we can make a few more
+savings even than this. See to it that the tailor does his work
+properly. Lay the new clothes out for my inspection and approval
+on the day of delivery, and then put them away at once
+in my drawers.” In the case of uniform coats which are to be
+delivered every quarter, he remarks: “This coat must last three
+years.... In addition, forty-eight pairs of white breeches
+and waistcoats, at eighty francs a suit = frs. 3840. One pair of
+breeches and one waistcoat must be delivered every week, and
+they must last three years.... Also twenty-four pairs of
+shoes, to be delivered a pair every fortnight, must last two
+years = frs. 312.” Shirts are the only things he orders in large
+quantities, to be delivered a dozen every week, must last six
+years.</p>
+
+<p>Here, in his intimate life, he is the same man as before; just
+as, when he is campaigning, he is the old Bonaparte—a man of
+few enjoyments. But upon the formalities of majesty, upon
+court ceremonial, upon all the outworn display of the world
+whose power he has broken, he will squander, not money alone,
+but, more precious, time, and, more precious still, human
+dignity and his own freedom.</p>
+
+<p>He no longer laughs sarcastically when those who dwell in
+the aristocratic quarter frequent his court; he is genuinely
+pleased. His mood is difficult to understand. The men of birth
+who had mortified him in his cadet days by making fun of his
+poverty, now throng the court of this same Corsican, and their
+shadows on the shining parquet floor seem to mock the humility
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[279]</span>of their gestures. They are all back in the Tuileries now, the
+Montmorencys, the Montesquieus, the Radziwills, the Noailles,
+the Narbonnes, the Turennes, who for years had sworn the
+death of the upstart. The princes of the Confederation of the
+Rhine clank through the halls in their German uniforms; the
+Mecklenburger pays his court to the empress; the heirs apparent
+of Baden and Bavaria are privileged to hear the discussions
+at the Council of State. To the old nobility this was a
+pastime; to the Emperor it was policy, for he wished to make
+sure of the allegiance of their class.</p>
+
+<p>But now there happens something which should never have
+happened. Napoleon, the man who counts his coats as he
+counts his soldiers; the man who in the army gives promotion
+only for good service, and will never make an inefficient soldier a
+lieutenant merely because he is some one’s son or nephew; the
+man who sits contentedly in a barn among his officers, or by the
+camp-fire among his grenadiers; the man who has expunged the
+privileges of birth from his legal code; the man who has contraposed
+the new idea of individual ability to the old idea of
+hereditary dignity, and has thus turned a whole continent upside
+down—this same Bonaparte, in the autumn of the year
+1807, founds a new nobility, “because it is a part of human
+nature that a man should wish to hand down to his children,
+not property alone, but also tokens of esteem.” Counts and
+princes, dukes and majorats, were created, not, as before, in
+order to bestow a supreme dignity upon the bravest marshals,
+the ablest senators and ministers, but that the sons and grandsons
+of these new nobles, ne’er-do-wells, wealthy Parisian idlers,
+and degenerates, might enjoy the privileges which the men of a
+whole decade had fought and bled to abolish!</p>
+
+<p>Even the Legion of Honour was now desecrated by its own
+creator, for these appointed knights, every one of whom had
+done good service to his country, were to be entitled to bequeath
+the semblance of this service as well as their property; and the
+great dignitaries were to bequeath their princely rank and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[280]</span>appellation. Certainly, the bequest did not carry with it any
+special civic privileges, but none the less the new institution
+conflicted with the spirit of the Code Napoléon. “Liberty,” he
+wrote with too much truth in a private letter at the time of
+the issue of this decree, “liberty is only the need of the few whom
+nature has endowed with exceptional talent; and there is no
+danger in restricting it. The crowd loves equality. I do not
+injure the many when I distribute titles without raising the old
+question of birth; they are bourgeois crowns, which any one
+can win. Clever men impart their own movement to those
+whom they rule. My movement is an upward one, and therefore
+the nation must move upwards.... I know that these
+dukes whom I am endowing so richly that I make them independent
+of me, will endeavour to elude me, and that they are
+relying on what they call the caste spirit. But I can run
+quicker than they, and shall soon overtake them.”</p>
+
+<p>Rarely has a great error had so grand a foundation. Not
+many months before, in his letters, he had positively cudgelled
+his brother for having founded a nobility in Holland; and,
+speaking of his own intention to do the same thing, had excused
+himself by saying that the Dutch were a trading people, and
+that in the militarist French Empire matters were on an altogether
+different footing. But in the very fact that he himself
+had transformed France into a militarist State, lay the first
+danger; and the second danger was the imperial crown, which,
+with inexorable logic, was now diffusing its ancient symbolical
+power athwart his realm.</p>
+
+<p>Before, when he had been Consul, he could with impunity
+bestow civic crowns, gather honour and glory into a Legion,
+and transmit the stupendous momentum of his flywheel to the
+strongest of the lesser wheels in his country. But when he
+granted estates to the best among his followers, he had to supply
+titles to go with their estates, titles which were necessarily
+inheritable; and when to the second and third best he now gave
+titles without lands, the recipients naturally begged that the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[281]</span>titles, too, should be hereditary. Thus in a generation, several
+thousand, and in three generations, as many as twenty thousand,
+would bear these new titles, not for services rendered, not
+for deeds splendidly performed, but with the semblance of superiority,
+and, if not with the political privileges attaching of
+old to birth and title, still with the social privileges which in
+former days had aroused revolt in the masses.</p>
+
+<p>The treason and ingratitude which he is here laying up in
+store will in due time open his eyes to his mistake. In truth,
+the death sentence he passes on equality will prove to have
+been a more grievous blunder than the execution of the duke of
+Enghien. Then he was destroying a scion of the past; now he
+is creating forebears who will resuscitate that past.</p>
+
+<p>The resolve issues from a moody mind; for this is a dark
+year in Napoleon’s soul, although nothing seems to be going
+awry. “You do not understand the nature of human motives,”
+he said at this period to an honest democrat. “You
+democrats are unable to draw distinctions between one another,
+whereas personal interest plays its part in what every one does.
+Look at Masséna. He has won an abundance of fame; but what
+he wants now is to become a prince, like Murat and Bernadotte.
+Soon he will get himself killed in the forefront of the battle,
+thanks to his eagerness to win this distinction. Ambition is
+what spurs the French!”</p>
+
+<p>He grows colder in his manner, forbids his brothers to speak
+to him uninvited, is less regular in the arrangement of his work,
+needlessly extends sittings far into the night. Even at Fontainebleau,
+in the interludes between hunting and festivities, he
+will have nothing but tragedies staged; rises from his bed at
+midnight, and dictates to his secretaries till morning; can only
+soothe the increasing irritability of his nerves by spending
+hours in a hot bath. The cramps in his stomach trouble him
+more frequently and grow more severe.</p>
+
+<p>He has periods of gloom like those from which he suffered in
+youth, speaks of the roaring of the sea and the moaning of the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[282]</span>wind, has the candles shaded when he is listening to the mournful
+songs of Italian singers. None of his associates understand
+these moods; they can only wonder, and they guess at
+political motives. They do not realise that now, when the
+dream of his fancy is being fulfilled, he cannot but be disillusioned
+by the fulfilment, which comes otherwise than he had
+dreamed, and far too slowly. “You are just like all the rest
+of them,” he says roughly to one of his ministers who congratulates
+him on the treaty of Tilsit. “I shall not be master
+until I have signed the peace of Constantinople!”</p>
+
+<p>Worldwide power! Asia! These are the thoughts that continue
+to pulse in his brain. If he, who is always studying the
+tragical figures of the heroes of antiquity in search of his own
+image, could find the true reflexion of his own soul, it would
+be in the verses at this time being written by a German poet to
+describe the inner aspect of the Faustian unrest which he, the
+Emperor, with ever more violent blows, is now producing in the
+countries of Europe.</p>
+
+<p>But these dark hours are followed by others in which his mind
+recovers the wonted clarity of its calculations. Thus, to the
+tsar, the other ruler of vast territories, he writes this imaginative
+programme:</p>
+
+<p>“An army of fifty thousand Frenchmen and Russians, with
+perhaps a few Austrians, could march to Constantinople, and
+thence hurl itself upon Asia. Once it had reached the Euphrates,
+England would lie at the feet of the Continent.... Within a
+month of our coming to an understanding, our armies can be at
+the Bosphorus: the influence will make itself felt as far as India....
+Of course the arrangements could only be concluded
+in a personal interview with Your Majesty. Everything can be
+signed and sealed before the middle of March. By May 1st, our
+troops will be in Asia, yours in Stockholm. England will collapse
+beneath the weight of the events with which the atmosphere
+will be charged. It is true that Your Majesty and I
+have proposed to enjoy peace within our far-flung empires....
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[283]</span>But it is always wise and politic to do what destiny commands....
+That will make this crowd of pygmies bow their
+heads, the pygmies who cannot see that the prototype of the
+present age must be sought in the remote periods of history,
+and not in the newspaper articles of the century that has just
+closed.... In these few lines I am pouring out all my soul
+before Your Majesty.”</p>
+
+<p>All his soul? Part of it, since the jewels are cut for the
+delectation of a muddle-headed idealist whose own dreams will
+be reflected with rainbow tints from their sparkling facets. But
+the undertaking has its elements of well-considered realism. At
+about this time he has an interview with a general who has been
+in India. This expert declares the scheme practicable, and the
+Emperor’s hesitations superfluous. Thereupon, the latter repeatedly
+strokes his visitor’s face with both hands, and “bubbles
+over with an almost childlike joy.”</p>
+
+<p>Thus imaginative was Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>The present leads him once more to the shade of Charlemagne.
+The previous year he had thought of visiting Rome to
+have himself crowned Emperor of the West. The pope was to
+lose all temporal authority, and to content himself with a few
+millions as revenue; but the cardinals had vetoed the scheme.
+Thereupon he had rancorously exclaimed: “The whole of Italy
+will be subject to my laws. I will not disturb the independence
+of the Holy See, if Your Holiness will pay me the like consideration
+in temporal matters. No doubt Your Holiness is
+sovereign in Rome, but I am Emperor of Rome!” This threatening
+demeanour, this Carlovingian defiance, is in sharp conflict
+with the constitutional law on which his power is assumedly
+based. In Rome, as in India, he aims at the forcible realisation
+of things which only the vision of his great forerunners created.</p>
+
+<p>More and more frequent become the signs which show that
+Napoleon’s historical fantasies are tending to outsoar the limits
+which, were he still an accurate calculator, he would regard as
+attainable—and terrible will be the ultimate result.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[284]</span></p>
+
+<p>In Rome, for the time being, he is still the stronger; but so
+much has the habit of command grown upon him, so overweening
+has his belief in his unconquerable sword become, that he
+has lost sight of the moral canons which, ten years earlier, he
+(then a mere military commander with no experience in political
+matters) had with clear insight defended against the hectoring
+Directors, and had subsequently, though at considerable
+risk to his popularity, incorporated in the Concordat. Now he
+writes to Eugene that one of the cardinals has died leaving a
+history of the popes. “If it represents an attempt to set forth
+all the harm the popes have done to the Church and to Christendom,
+let it be published forthwith.”</p>
+
+<p>Because the pope refused to exclude English ships from his
+ports, the Emperor occupied Ancona, relying “upon the protection
+of God, who crowns all my enterprises with his glory—If
+Your Holiness would like to give my envoy his papers, you
+are at liberty to do so. I should even prefer that you should
+receive the English, or the caliph of Constantinople.—In conclusion
+I pray to God that he may keep you for many years
+more at the head of our Holy Mother the Church. Your pious
+son, the Emperor of the French and the king of Italy, Napoleon.”</p>
+
+<p>The year before, simultaneously with these burlesque menaces,
+he had sent warnings through Uncle Fesch that his own role
+resembled that of Constantine, and had touched upon the old
+struggle of the Middle Ages about investiture: “For the pope,
+I am Charlemagne, seeing that I have joined the crowns of
+France and Lombardy, and that my dominions border on the
+East.... On condition of good behaviour, I shall make no
+change in the outward semblance of things, but if the pope
+thwarts me I shall degrade him to the status of a Roman bishop,
+... and shall introduce the Concordat into Italy: for whatever
+can make people happy in France, can make them happy in
+Italy as well; and what does not contribute to the happiness of
+life in one land, cannot do so in the other.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[285]</span></p>
+
+<p>This is truly Lutheran terminology! The man who lets his
+imagination riot when his temporal affairs are merged in historical
+mysticism, becomes circumstantially clear when religious
+mysticism is a cloak for worldly concerns. Napoleon’s
+reasoning inclined him towards Protestantism throughout life,
+and it was only on grounds of policy that he resisted the inclination
+to impose Lutheranism on France. Having determined
+to make short work of it with the Head Shepherd (since
+the pope hesitated to give England the go-by), he proposes to
+sweep away the hindrance that severs the North Italian and the
+South Italian kingdoms, that he may at length have all Italy
+for his own—the Italy of which he wrongfully calls himself
+king.</p>
+
+<p>Now he writes to Eugene, the viceroy, in the style of his military
+decrees: “The present pope has too much power. Priests
+are not made to rule. Why will he not render unto Cæsar the
+things that are Cæsar’s, and refrain from troubling my States?
+Perhaps the time is not far distant when I ... shall summon
+the Churches of France, Germany, Italy, and Poland to a council,
+and settle matters without the pope.” He wants to secure a
+majority among the cardinals by the appointment of French
+cardinals, but the pope will not allow their number to be increased,
+and proposes to make up for this refusal by agreeing
+to crown Napoleon Emperor of the West. Now, however, what
+he had vainly asked for a year earlier has ceased to charm his
+imagination. Since it has become possible, he regards it as
+already achieved; and when the pope shows himself pliable in
+money matters, Napoleon makes this an occasion for further
+exactions. He threatens “to reunite this group of my crown
+lands with the Empire at once, and to revoke the gift of
+Charlemagne.”</p>
+
+<p>In a word, having a large appetite, he will make one mouthful
+of all the Papal States. Thereupon the enraged pope breaks
+off the negotiations, the Emperor has Rome occupied, and in
+April the Papal States become a province.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[286]</span></p>
+
+<p>Napoleon, who has ranged from Cairo to Vienna, and will
+range from Madrid to Moscow, Napoleon, who has often been
+in Italy, hesitates to set foot in Rome; caution or circumstance
+always keeps him away. He never confirms by actual
+inspection the image he has carried in his mind from boyhood
+upwards. Now for the second time his generals take possession
+of what he had been wont to regard as the Eternal City. No
+member of his entourage protests against the occupation. But
+his mother feels it to be a mistake, and her distress affects her
+health. Whereas formerly she had been content to say sceptically
+of her son’s great fortune: “if only it lasts!” now, with a
+presage of destruction, she confides her misgivings to her
+intimates:</p>
+
+<p>“I foresee that he will bring disaster on himself and all his
+family. He should be content with what he has. He tries to
+grasp too much, and will lose all!”</p>
+
+<h3>XVII</h3>
+
+<p>“What the German peoples ardently desire is that persons
+who are not of noble birth but are talented shall have equal
+rights to your consideration and to office, so that there may
+be an end, once and for all, to any kind of subordination, and
+to all intermediaries between the ruler and the lowest classes of
+the population. The advantages brought by the Code Napoléon,
+publicity of legal procedure, and trial by jury, will be
+characteristics of your monarchy. To lay my whole thought
+before you: for the consolidation of this monarchy, I look more
+to the effects just named than to the results of the greatest victories.
+Your people must have a liberty, an equality, and a
+prosperity hitherto unknown in Germany. This way of ruling
+will be a stronger barrier between you and Prussia than the
+Elbe, than fortresses, than the protection of France. What
+nation would ever wish to go back to Prussian rule when it had
+once experienced the advantages of a liberal government?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[287]</span></p>
+
+<p>In these sentences (which are written as a private lesson, and
+are not penned with an eye to public effect), the Emperor expounds
+to his youngest brother the great mission that is being
+entrusted to the latter when he takes charge of the new kingdom
+of Westphalia. Jerome’s task was to plant the fundamental
+ideas of the revolution on German soil, a pioneer work,
+this introduction of the first glimmer of self-government in a
+part of western Europe where hitherto the inhabitants had
+known only how to obey. In Holland and Italy, ideas of self-government
+were by no means new. But as far as concerned
+the princes of the Confederation of the Rhine, although, acting
+under orders, they could introduce the new legal codes, they
+lacked the traditions and the talents that might have made it
+possible to initiate such changes from within. We can now
+understand the historic mission of the youngest of the Bonapartes.
+He was to make a great experiment in democracy; he
+was to transform four million Germans from subjects into citizens.
+Had this impetus been successful, the whole nation might
+have been spared resubjugation to princely arrogance after the
+War of Liberation.</p>
+
+<p>But the young man of twenty-three who, coming at the end
+of this long family, had been reared as a prince, regarded his
+kingship as a gallant adventure, in which money and vital energy
+could be squandered. Youth was like champagne, which
+bubbles when the cork is drawn. He forsook the arms of his
+Württemberg consort for those of innumerable mistresses; ran
+into debt, became involved in manifold scandals, and procreated
+children all over the place; amused himself more than his subjects;
+and, by this traditional deportment of one born in the
+purple, succeeded for decades to come in discrediting the fine
+notion of the choice of the fittest. There was something to be
+said for the German view that, if they must have a prince to
+ride across fields and men, they would like him to be one who had
+inherited the position. Jerome, however, laughed at the world’s
+mockery, and even laughed at his great brother’s exhortations.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[288]</span></p>
+
+<p>Napoleon had a predilection for his youngest brother, the
+sort of weakness that fathers are apt to have for the latest
+born of their sons. The brio of the young man’s life was in
+keeping with his own tempo. Besides, Jerome was always
+amiable, took nothing amiss. For instance, on one occasion
+he asked Napoleon to make him commander-in-chief, and showed
+no offence at a refusal couched in the following terms: “Are
+you serious? After you have been through six campaigns, and
+after you have had a half a dozen horses shot under you, you
+can ask me again!”</p>
+
+<p>When Jerome went to war, he took his whole court with him—not
+the queen, indeed, but all the prettiest of her ladies. He
+issued proclamations in the style of the Roi Soleil. But he was
+not mortified to receive the following imperial admonition:</p>
+
+<p>“I have read an order of the day issued by you, in which
+you make yourself ridiculous. You are king, and the Emperor’s
+brother! Fine qualities in war! In war, a man must be
+a soldier before everything. When I am in camp, I need neither
+ministers nor luxury. You must camp with the advance guard,
+be in the saddle day and night, march with the advance guard,
+so that you may get all the news without delay. If you don’t
+like that, you had better stay at home in your palace! You
+make war like a satrap! God in heaven, you never learned
+that from me! I ride in front of the skirmishers, and do
+not allow even my minister for foreign affairs to follow me....
+You make vast claims; you have a certain amount of
+talent and a few good qualities, but these are put quite in the
+shade by your follies. Furthermore, you are insufferably conceited,
+and know absolutely nothing of public affairs.”</p>
+
+<p>The king sticks the letter into his jabot with a laugh. But
+the Emperor? Cannot he realise, while he talks to his brother
+like a father, that every one to whom he gives unmerited power
+endangers the very essence of power? That these golden crowns
+and the extemporised coats-of-arms he provides for them
+create very unstable kings and princes? That homunculus
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[289]</span>escapes from the phial and makes fun of his master? This
+perennial weakness where his relatives are concerned leads him,
+at times, to assume what is a very unusual role for him, that
+of the good-natured man; for, though he begins by issuing orders
+to his brothers, he very often gives way to them in the end.
+“My brother, inclosed you will find the constitution of your
+kingdom”—thus he begins a missive of instruction in matters of
+high politics, with a sentence that might have been taken out
+of a comic opera. When he is in a friendly humour, he will end
+a letter full of reproaches with a paternal smile: “Mon ami, I
+love you, but you are so frightfully young!”</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon is no longer young. Inevitably, as his plans grow,
+there must be an increase in that harshness which, in him, is
+mainly the outcome of overwork. When, twelve years earlier,
+he had come down from the Alps as a conqueror and his fame
+had spread before him across the plain of Lombardy, his youth
+had endowed the novelty of this campaign with a sort of romantic
+innocence which carried his contemporaries off their
+feet. Now, when the mountain torrent has long since widened
+into a river, bearing on its broad bosom ships freighted with
+the treasures of the world, and when the river is drawing near
+to the ocean in which its waters will soon mingle with all the
+waters of the earth; now, the gravity of this labour of Atlas
+has stamped its imprint upon his features, has written its
+message in his heart. Rare have become the hours of tranquillity,
+few the moments of merriment and sportive humour;
+and the heroical cynicism of his mission moulds him before the
+eyes of the world into a statue of bronze.</p>
+
+<p>True, he had sent for his Polish countess. She was installed
+in the very street where Josephine had first charmed him, and
+where, again and again, a quaint superstition led him to house
+his lady friends. Walewska is munificently provided for, and
+Napoleon’s physician visits her every day. But, though there
+is no secret about the matter, she leads a retired life, does not
+use the box at the opera he has reserved for her, and seldom
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[290]</span>sees him now that she has come to Paris. This is an interlude
+between one idyll and the next. He has made up his mind that
+the child she is to bear him will be a son; and the event may
+have still greater consequences to-day than it would have had
+yesterday.</p>
+
+<p>For the first of his illegitimate children, the one of whose
+birth he had received tidings in Berlin (when he had been reassured
+to learn that there was no justification for the common
+belief that he was sterile), has been put out of court by the
+mother’s unwise importunity. Shortly after his return to
+Paris, she had called. He would not see her, sending a message
+to say that he received no one whom he had not summoned. He
+provided her with a house and an income, and would have nothing
+more to do with her. But he had the boy brought to him,
+and playfully teased the little chap. For a moment, he even
+thought of adopting him. All had to be done secretly. The
+invisible master, whom he called the “nature of things” and on
+rare occasions “fate,” forbade him the unconcealed enjoyment
+of this most natural of scenes in our human life, one in which
+Napoleon could not play his part until he was nearly forty.
+At length he had a son of his body, who might become his heir.
+Yet he, Emperor of the West, could not step forward and say:
+“This is my son!” Wishing to give the boy at least half his
+own name, he called him Léon.</p>
+
+<p>But the mother had become completely estranged from him,
+and Napoleon soon ceased to have any serious thought of making
+the child his successor. Perhaps he thought that the boy
+came of a bad stock; maybe he had a foreboding that this half
+Napoleon would become a half criminal and an outright ne’er-do-well.</p>
+
+<p>All the more vigorously does his advance in years urge him
+towards a new marriage. There are long conversations between
+Napoleon and Josephine, between reason and sorrow; and
+after them it is not Josephine alone in whom the servants note
+the traces of tears. “How terrible to die childless!” he says on
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[291]</span>one occasion. Nevertheless his fondness for his helpmate increases.
+We know how difficult he found it to break with any
+of his collaborators; and his temperamental conservatism makes
+him cling to this first companion of his rise. “If I were to
+divorce her,” he says to Talleyrand who advises him to take
+this step, “the witchery of my home would be gone. I should
+have to go to school again in order to understand the ways
+and fancies of a young wife. The empress adapts herself to
+me perfectly, and understands me so well. Besides, it would
+be very ungrateful to divorce a woman who has done so much
+for me.” Such are the motives, tender and reasonable, respectable
+and convenient—in a word, thoroughly middle class—which
+make the man cleave to his wife.</p>
+
+<p>But the difficulties grow in number, and the need for a decisive
+step becomes more urgent. While he ponders the moral
+impression which his divorcing Josephine will make in France
+(where she inspires far more personal affection than he does),
+he, as his manner is, lays his plans deliberately, that, at last, he
+may make an advance which no one anticipates, and will enable
+him to fulfil two wishes at once. He arranges for an interview
+with a man whom he has long needed, and whom he may now
+need more than ever. His mother is always interceding with
+him on Lucien’s behalf; now, Napoleon, who is travelling in
+Italy, sends for Lucien.</p>
+
+<p>The conversation between the brothers is the most interesting
+of all Napoleon’s recorded conversations, and has been reported
+by Lucien with fidelity and picturesqueness. Napoleon is
+there portrayed to the life.</p>
+
+<h3>XVIII</h3>
+
+<p>Lucien was now just thirty-two. It was on a December
+evening when he had reached the castle of Mantua, after a
+journey during which the dread of imprisonment, aroused by
+his brother’s summons, had been continually present to his
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[292]</span>mind. On entering a room extravagantly lighted by numerous
+candelabra, he was blinded for a moment by the glare. Then
+he heard Rustam’s voice announcing him: “Sire, your brother
+Lucien!”</p>
+
+<p>The man to whom the announcement is made does not stir.
+He is seated at a large round table, which is covered by a huge
+map of Europe, the biggest Lucien has ever seen. Supporting
+his head on his left hand, with the other hand he is thrusting
+coloured pins into the map, pins which presumably represent
+army corps or whole armies. It is so many years since Lucien
+has seen his brother, and Napoleon has changed so much, that
+the visitor is not quite sure whether he is looking at the Emperor,
+and he remains motionless for several minutes. At length
+the man sits up, yawns, rubs his back against the chair, takes
+up a small bell from the table, and rings it with one strong
+movement. The visitor advances a step or two:</p>
+
+<p>“Sire, I am Lucien.”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor jumps up from his chair, dismisses the servant,
+and takes his brother by the hand affectionately, though with
+a certain amount of reserve. Lucien feels called upon to embrace
+Napoleon, who does not repel the advance, but accepts it
+with a passive coldness, as if no longer used to such intimacies.
+Then, taking the visitor by the hand once more, he pushes
+Lucien gently away to scrutinise him the better:</p>
+
+<p>“So it’s you, is it? How are you? How is your family?
+When did you leave Rome? Have you had a pleasant journey?
+What about the pope? How is he? Does he like you?”</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="illus10" style="max-width: 29.6875em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus10.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>Bonaparte as First Consul. Painting by J. D. A. Ingres.
+    Musée de Liége.</p>
+    <p>(Photograph by Braun, Paris and Dornach.)</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>Lucien notes the nervousness masked by this flood of questions,
+turns them off lightly, and says he is glad to find his
+brother in good health.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I’m very well.” He pats his waistcoat, and adds:
+“I’m getting fat, and I’m afraid I shall get fatter still.” He
+looks keenly at Lucien, takes a pinch of snuff, and says: “As
+for you! Do you know that you are looking uncommonly well?
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[293]</span>You used to be rather too thin. Now, you are almost handsome.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Majesty is good enough to make fun of me.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no, it’s quite true. But let’s sit down and have a talk.”
+They seat themselves opposite the huge map, the Emperor
+fidgets with the pins, and Lucien waits for him to begin. But,
+since Napoleon does not open the ball, the younger man says,
+hesitatingly: “Sire....” At this moment, the Emperor
+sweeps all the pins flat, and says abruptly: “Well, what have
+you to say to me?”</p>
+
+<p>Lucien replies that he hopes his brother has forgiven him.</p>
+
+<p>“You can have my pardon soon enough. It depends entirely
+on yourself.”</p>
+
+<p>Lucien expresses his willingness to do anything compatible
+with his honour.</p>
+
+<p>“Well and good, but what sort of things will square with
+your honour?”</p>
+
+<p>Lucien speaks of nature and religion.</p>
+
+<p>“But politics, Sire; do politics mean nothing to you?”</p>
+
+<p>Lucien demurs, saying that he has retired into private life.</p>
+
+<p>“It rested entirely with yourself. You could have been a
+king just as well as your brothers.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sire, my wife’s honour, my children’s position....”</p>
+
+<p>“You keep on speaking of your wife, when you know perfectly
+well that she has never been your wife. Is not, and
+never will be, for I shall never recognise her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah, Sire!”</p>
+
+<p>“No, never, though the heavens should fall! Since you are
+my brother, I can forgive the wrong you have done me. But
+upon her my curse will rest!” There is a long tirade, until at
+length Lucien intervenes, laughing nervously, and saying:</p>
+
+<p>“Moderate your words, Sire. There is a proverb: ‘La processione
+torna, dove esce,’” and Lucien thinks it expedient to
+add a French translation. When Napoleon continues to talk
+of his brother’s wife as a woman of bad reputation, and Lucien
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[294]</span>shows signs of taking offence, the Emperor tries to mollify him
+by admitting that these reports may be calumnious, but adds
+that nothing will induce him to recognise her. Besides, it is now
+a fundamental law, as firmly fixed as the Salic law, that no
+marriage in the Emperor’s family is valid without the Emperor’s
+consent. Lucien reminds him of the date of the marriage,
+and Napoleon answers: “Yes, but the law was passed
+because of what you had done!” This Napoleonic logic makes
+Lucien smile.</p>
+
+<p>“What are you laughing at? I don’t see anything laughable
+in it! I know what you and your wife and my enemies say about
+the matter. You choose your friends from among my enemies.
+But no good Frenchman approves of what you have done. The
+only way in which you can regain popular esteem is by espousing
+my cause, like Jerome.”</p>
+
+<p>Lucien, who is in the Emperor’s hands, has absolutely determined
+to let nothing affront him. But he is spurred into
+opposition, springs to his feet, and does not sit down again:</p>
+
+<p>“Your Majesty is mistaken! When your courtiers approve
+your attitude towards me as thanks for the services I was so
+happy to render you, they are only acting after their kind.
+On my side, too, my servants tell me that I am right!”—At
+these words, Napoleon’s brow is furrowed, his eyes flash, and his
+nostrils work, “an unmistakable sign of rage in members of
+our family.” But Lucien has taken the bit between his teeth,
+and goes on: “What ought the nation to do for me? What
+gratitude does it owe me? It ought to look upon me as the
+saviour of the man who has saved it.... I am proud to think
+that it will rather be inclined to compare me with you than
+with Jerome. No, Sire, public opinion, which is mightier by
+far than all the kings in the world, assigns every one to his true
+place, whatever courtiers may say.”</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon grows calmer. Instead of flying into a passion,
+as Lucien dreaded for a moment, he controls himself, and says
+quietly:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[295]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Talleyrand is right. You speak of the affair with an ardour
+worthy of a political club. Such eloquence, Citoyen, is, believe
+me, long since out of fashion. I am well aware that you did
+me good service on the Nineteenth Brumaire; but as for having
+been my ‘saviour,’ of that proof is lacking. This much I remember
+clearly, that you disputed with me the unity of power
+which I needed for the saving of France, and that I and Joseph
+spent half a night before we could get you to pledge yourself
+to silence when these questions should be touched upon....
+Finally, after the victory, you were inclined to oppose my personal
+elevation, and this conduct on your part releases me from
+all obligation to show gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>“But you, do you owe me no gratitude? When you ‘saved’
+me at Saint-Cloud, were not you yourself in mortal peril? I
+sent my grenadiers to save you from the hands of assassins.
+And if you, a bad brother, an unnatural brother, had really
+allowed that vote of my outlawry to be taken, do you imagine
+that I should have been such a fool as to accept the decree
+unresistingly? Had I not adherents enough, with God’s aid,
+to defend this head that was destined to wear so many crowns?”
+He goes on to speak for a whole hour of those days, and of
+Corsican compatriots who had helped him; suddenly gives the
+conversation an intimate turn; speaks of his generals and the
+extent of their devotion; refers to political conflicts in which
+the brothers had held divergent views, and shows how his view
+had been right. Then he changes the subject, saying abruptly:</p>
+
+<p>“Enough. That is all ancient history, like your great day
+of the Nineteenth Brumaire. I did not summon you that we
+might deliver lectures to one another.” A long pause.</p>
+
+<p>“Listen to me, Lucien, and weigh my words carefully, for,
+above all, let us avoid getting heated.... I am too powerful
+to have any desire to lose my temper. You have come to me
+trustfully. Corsican hospitality shall never be violated by the
+Emperor of the French. This virtue of our forefathers and
+fellow-countrymen is a guarantee for your absolute safety.”
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[296]</span>The Emperor strides up and down the hall for a long time,
+pulling himself together, and then turns to Lucien, whose hand
+he takes and presses:</p>
+
+<p>“We are alone here. You see? We are alone. No one can
+overhear us. I am wrong about your marriage.... Knowing
+your wilfulness as I did, knowing your self-love—for everything,
+you know, depends on self-love, which regards itself as a
+virtue, just as we princes dignify by the name of policy everything
+which turns on our passions—I ought not to have interfered
+with your union. People slandered your wife to me,
+though some ventured to speak well of her, especially Mamma,
+who loves her, saying she makes you happy and is a good
+mother.... Lebrun, indeed, has sung her praises so often
+that Josephine once told the good fellow he must be in love with
+her himself. I was very much amused at my wife, who has more
+of a temper than people fancy. Still, I must say that Josephine
+never shows her claws to me! Well, I have no disrespect for
+your wife, but I detest her because this passion of yours for
+her has robbed me of the most capable of my brothers. However,
+her beauty will pass; you will be disillusioned; then, returning
+to political life, you will oppose my policy, and I shall
+have to take measures against you whether I like it or not; for—let
+me say this to you—unless you are on my side, Europe is
+too small for the pair of us!”</p>
+
+<p>“You are making fun of me.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I’m in earnest; friend or foe! It is easier for you to-day
+than ever before. You need not be surprised: there has
+been a change in my family policy. You will see soon enough.
+Your children, which hitherto I have wanted to exclude, can
+now be of great use to me, but they must be dynastically recognised.
+The offspring of a marriage I do not recognise can have
+no right to the throne. Tell me, then, what would you do in
+my place?”</p>
+
+<p>Lucien advises him to make the Senate pass a simple resolution
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[297]</span>to the effect that the children come within the right of
+succession.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course I know that I can do that, but I must not. As
+you said just now, public opinion has to be conciliated. What
+would the family, the court, France, which all watch my slightest
+movements, say about such a step? A recantation of that
+kind would do me more harm than the loss of a battle.”</p>
+
+<p>Lucien points out that he cannot possibly ask pardon for a
+marriage which had been entered into long before Napoleon’s
+accession to the throne. “Grant my request, Sire. You will
+have no more faithful servant than I. All the rest of my life
+will be an expression of my gratitude.”</p>
+
+<p>The younger man goes on talking for a long time, and
+throughout his speech Napoleon is incessantly taking snuff, but
+spilling most of the tobacco, so nervous is he, growing more and
+more anxious; in his perplexity exclaiming at length: “Good
+God, you press me hard, and I am weak. But I shall not be so
+weak as to move the Senate to pass the resolution you ask for.
+I cannot recognise your wife!”</p>
+
+<p>Thereupon Lucien, who is now almost beside himself, says:
+“Well, then, Sire, what do you really want of me?”</p>
+
+<p>“What do I want? Simply that you should divorce your
+wife.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you have always maintained that we are not married,
+so how can we get a divorce?”</p>
+
+<p>“I expected you to say that. What do you think I can
+mean by asking you to procure a divorce? Obviously, thereby
+I recognise your marriage, but not your wife. The divorce will
+be the best thing for your children, just like all that you have
+hitherto refused to do, all that I have so much wanted you to
+do: to annul the marriage and divorce her.”</p>
+
+<p>“That would be a dishonour for me and my children, and I
+will never do it!”</p>
+
+<p>“Why is it, that with all your mother wit, you cannot see
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[298]</span>the difference between my earlier proposals and my present
+ones. In the former case, if your marriage had been declared
+null, your children would have become bastards!”</p>
+
+<p>Lucien points out the difference between his children’s
+dynastic rights and their civic rights. “You can bestow your
+thrones upon whom you will, Sire, for you won them at the
+point of the sword. But no one shall cheat my children out of
+their share in the modest heritage of Carlo Bonaparte, for
+they are as legitimate as any one else’s both by canon law and
+by State law. The pope has even given one of my daughters
+the name of his mother!”</p>
+
+<p>“Calm yourself!... Of course the divorce I ask for implies
+the recognition of your marriage. Nor do I wish to force an
+actual separation from your wife. She shall be honoured in
+accordance with her merits if she will make this sacrifice to my
+policy and to the future interests of France. I would even pay
+her a visit. But if she refuses, you and she will both be blamed
+for having sacrificed the true greatness of your children to your
+own egoism, and your children will curse your memory!”</p>
+
+<p>Lucien answers mournfully.</p>
+
+<p>“You are really incorrigible,” rejoins Napoleon. “You take
+everything so tragically. I am not asking for any tragedies!
+Think it over.”</p>
+
+<p>After Lucien has again and again insisted upon his point of
+honour, and has several times wished to take leave, the Emperor
+once more brings up the distribution of the thrones. Eugene’s
+position in Italy is merely provisional, and he would much rather
+see Lucien installed there. Napoleon complains about Hortense,
+too. None of them are satisfied. “Pauline is naturally
+the most reasonable in the matter of ambition, for she is the
+queen of fashion. Besides, she grows more lovely day by
+day. Josephine is ageing, and is greatly distressed about a
+divorce.”</p>
+
+<p>Lucien pricks up his ears. Napoleon goes on as if he were
+talking at random:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[299]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Can you believe it? She always bursts into tears when her
+digestion is a little upset, for she fancies she is being poisoned
+by those who would like me to marry some one else. That is
+despicable. Still, in the end, I shall have to get a divorce. I
+ought to have taken the step long ago, and I should have had
+quite big children by now; for, I may as well tell you”—he
+speaks earnestly—“people are wrong in thinking it is my fault
+we have no children. I have several. Two I know of for certain.”
+He mentions, without naming her, Léon’s mother; and
+then, wonder of wonders, the Polish countess. “She is an exquisite
+woman, an angel.... You laugh to see that I am in
+love. Yes, I really am; but I never forget considerations of
+policy. She wants me to marry a princess. Of course, as far
+as feelings go, I would much rather raise my beloved to the
+throne. You, in your dealings with your wife, ought in like
+manner to be guided by considerations of policy!”</p>
+
+<p>“Sire, I should act as you are doing if my wife were only my
+mistress.”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor grows more and more animated; speaks of a
+fixed intention to get a divorce; deplores having given the
+Bavarian princess to Eugene, who does not care for her and
+did not choose her for himself; remarks that he might long
+since have had Lucien’s daughter betrothed to the prince of
+Asturia “or some other great prince, perhaps even a great
+emperor.... Your divorce would have to precede mine, or be
+simultaneous. Then there would be less chatter about my
+divorce; for yours, in view of your obstinate refusal for so long
+previously, will certainly arouse more interest. Will you do me
+this service? I think you really ought to.”</p>
+
+<p>Lucien looks at him so quizzically that the Emperor is
+amazed, eyes his brother up and down, and says: “Why not?”</p>
+
+<p>Lucien smiles at the unreasonableness of the demand. Napoleon
+is embarrassed, but returns to the charge. Suddenly
+he addresses his brother as “my dear President” (Lucien having
+long ago been president of the Council of Five Hundred),
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[300]</span>and adds with emphasis: “Service for service, of course—and
+this time you will not find me ungrateful!”</p>
+
+<p>Lucien sank “into a sort of reverie, which was by no means
+unpleasant,” so that for a few moments he hardly noticed what
+Napoleon was talking about. Before long he realised that the
+Emperor was saying, confidentially, that his only reason for
+wanting Lucien’s divorce was that this would probably minimise
+the effect of his own on public opinion. Lucien, as tactfully as
+he could, alluded to his own advantages, pointing out that his
+wife was a young woman and was not barren. Napoleon took
+no offence. “Your wife, oh, yes, your wife, didn’t I tell you?
+She will become the duchess of Parma, your eldest boy will be
+her heir, without having any claim of succession to your rights
+as a French prince. For this is only the first stage to which I
+shall raise you, until something better can be found: an independent
+crown.”</p>
+
+<p>At the word “independent,” Lucien cannot restrain a smile,
+for he is thinking of the part his brothers have to play. Napoleon
+notices the expression on his face.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, independent. You will know how to reign.... You
+need only take your choice!” His eyes flash fire, and he bangs
+the enormous map with the flat of his hand. “I’m not talking
+at random. All this belongs to me or soon will. Even to-day, I
+can do what I please. Would you like to have Naples? I will
+take it away from Joseph.... Italy, the loveliest jewel in my
+imperial crown? Eugene is no more than viceroy. He hopes
+to become king, expects to outlive me, but he will be disappointed
+in this matter. I shall live to be ninety, for I cannot
+do with less than that for the complete consolidation of my empire.
+Besides, Eugene will not suit me in Italy, after I have
+divorced his mother. Would you care for Spain? Do you not
+see that it is ripe to fall into my hands, thanks to the blunders
+of the Bourbons you are so fond of? Would you not like to be
+king in the country to which you went as envoy? What would
+you prefer to have? It is for you to say. Anything and everything
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[301]</span>is at your disposal, if only you will divorce your wife before
+I divorce mine!”</p>
+
+<p>Lucien is spell-bound for a time by the feverish haste with
+which Napoleon speaks. At last he says: “Not even your lovely
+France, Sire, would bribe me to this divorce; and besides....”
+He hesitates; but the Emperor guesses his thoughts, and says
+dryly, with an imperious air such as Lucien has never before
+seen him assume:</p>
+
+<p>“Do you think that you, as a private individual, are in a
+more secure position than I upon my throne?... Do you
+believe that your friend the pope is strong enough to protect
+you against me if I should seriously propose to take measures
+against you?” After reiterating arguments and enticements,
+he says in a formal tone: “You may be quite sure of this: everything
+for the divorced Lucien; nothing for the undivorced!”</p>
+
+<p>Lucien glances at the door, as a hint to the Emperor that
+he would be glad to be given his dismissal; but Napoleon takes
+him by the hand, and says “in a vague tone, and with a demeanour
+which might mean anything”:</p>
+
+<p>“If I get a divorce, you will not be the only other one.
+Joseph is merely waiting for my divorce to arrange for his own.
+Madame Julie has been good for nothing but to bring girls
+into the world, whereas I urgently need boys. The only use
+of girls is to marry them off in advantageous alliances. Besides,
+your eldest girl is nearly fourteen, so you tell me; just
+the right age. Won’t you send her to Mamma? If you do what
+I want, I will get Mamma to arrange something good for her....
+You are not afraid that we shall do any harm to your
+spoiled darling? Tell her we shall be good friends, and that I
+will not pull her ears as if she were a child.... I need more
+nephews and nieces! The divorced Josephine, the grandmother
+of Hortense’s children, will always be the enemy of my legitimate
+and my adopted sons.” Then, murmuring as if to himself,
+“It must be done. I have no other way of undermining the
+power of Louis’ and Hortense’s children.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[302]</span></p>
+
+<p>He comes back to the subject of his own illegitimate children,
+says he intends to adopt them, enters into details, and suddenly
+exclaims: “You cannot suppose that I have not the power to
+legitimise my natural children, just as Louis XIV. declared his
+bastards, the fruit of a twofold adultery, to be within the right
+of succession to the throne.” Again he speaks of Joseph’s intention
+to procure a divorce, and, when Lucien is sceptical, he
+rubs his hands delightedly, saying:</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, yes! Joseph and you will both divorce your wives!
+We will all three get divorces, and then marry again, all of us,
+on the very same day!” He adds a number of quips in the like
+merry vein. Then, suddenly: “But why have you become so
+serious? One might think you a sage of classical antiquity!
+You must stay with me for three days. I’ll have a bed made
+ready for you in the next room to mine!”</p>
+
+<p>He presses this invitation. Lucien, who dreads his brother’s
+blandishments, has to invent an excuse, and says that one of
+his children is ill.</p>
+
+<p>His wife, he goes on to say, has suffered because of the
+Emperor’s dislike; so much so, that he had been afraid at one
+time her anxiety and distress about the matter would be too
+much for her.</p>
+
+<p>“Is that really so? I’m sorry. You must take care of her!
+Whatever happens, she must not die before you get your divorce,
+for if she did I should not be able to legitimise her children!”</p>
+
+<p>Lucien pretends that he will think the matter over.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s all right. Well, well, go if you must! But be sure
+to keep your word!” Napoleon takes Lucien by the hand, and
+at the same time presents his cheek for a kiss, which is not as
+brotherly as it might be. Lucien departs, and when he is in
+the anteroom he hears the Emperor calling: “Méneval!”</p>
+
+<p>Lucien quickens his steps, for again the dread of imprisonment
+has seized him.</p>
+
+<p>No one, no historian and no imaginative writer, has ever
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[303]</span>given a more brilliant description of Napoleon than the foregoing,
+penned by his brother with obvious fidelity. This evening,
+the Emperor is in a quandary. He wants the help of a
+man whom he cannot coerce, and one who in certain respects is
+his equal. In the light thrown by Lucien, Napoleon’s character
+becomes positively transparent. He develops himself under our
+very eyes, showing us all the interplay of his motives.</p>
+
+<p>He lavishes temptations in the endeavour to overpersuade
+his adversary. Every move is carefully thought out, that it
+may exercise its appropriate influence upon the ambition of his
+interlocutor, whom he tries to win by the studied gradations of
+the dialogue. The visitor finds him brooding over the map of
+Europe, and is greeted in a way which is to alarm and to
+inspire confidence by turns. The wife, the bone of contention,
+is first vilified and then extolled. Napoleon goes back to the
+phraseology of the Jacobin Club, calls his brother “citizen,”
+pulls out one emotional stop after another. He reminds Lucien
+that they are both Corsicans; says with a challenging irony
+that Europe is too small for the pair of them; talks of Mamma
+and Pauline, of Joseph and Louis, using names that carry with
+them reminiscences of the nursery in which the Bonaparte children
+had played together. Thus he spins his web round Lucien.</p>
+
+<p>And yet—this is the marvel—we are shown the bubbling up
+of his nature, the beating of his heart, the quivering of his
+brain. Again and ever again, imagination and passion seem
+to carry him beyond the limits of self-restraint. Though his
+brother is a declared opponent, he makes all kinds of confessions:
+about Josephine and the countess; about his stepchildren
+and his generals; about his own blunders and his new,
+far-reaching plans. There is a flood of confidential admissions.
+Why?</p>
+
+<p>Because this Lucien, though an adversary, though no less
+gifted than Talleyrand, is a brother, and therefore, to the clannish
+Napoleon, is, in spite of everything, worthy of confidence.
+It moves us to see the way in which Napoleon detains him in
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[304]</span>private talk for hours, till midnight is long past; how he presses
+Lucien to stay for a few days, that they may thrash matters
+out; and how Lucien insists on going, not because he really
+needs to, but because he does not wish to bow before the force
+of his brother’s genius. For there is a secret contest between
+the pair, not about love or divorce, not about honour or crowns.
+To-day, just as seven years before, when the younger man could
+not bring himself to obey the elder, the contest is between the
+innermost self-esteem of one rival and of the other. After all
+these years, in the privacy of his own thoughts Lucien is still
+convinced that he could have managed everything much better
+than Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>And yet, all the time, he loves him after his own fashion.
+Every word of his report betrays the obscure enmity between
+the brothers, the enmity that lives side by side with love. That
+is why he concedes nothing. The memory of the Nineteenth
+Brumaire has to be revived, and once more each of them is
+confident he was right. While these expert realists are talking,
+with the old phrases on their lips, the old verbiage about the
+greatness and the safety of France, they are really moved by
+nothing but their own passions. We seem to see them posturing
+before the crowd (a doubt seizes them—“We are alone here.
+You see. We are alone. No one can overhear us”); but in
+truth they are alone, in a strange and foreign castle, beneath
+huge candelabra, on which the candles are burning low.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, despite Napoleon’s wealth and all his crowns,
+despite his stupendous powers of intellect and imagination, how
+poor a man he is, entangled in the threads of destiny, the
+threads which he has spun, but which are now spinning themselves
+in defiance of his wishes! For all his omnipotence, he is
+the slave of an incalculable, much-courted power, public opinion,
+which will not allow him to effect a reconciliation with his
+brother, to recognise his own children, or to marry the woman
+he loves. The impotence of the man of might is displayed in his
+own exclamations. He asseverates his power to do anything
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[305]</span>and everything—and yet he dare not do what he wants. How
+pleased he is with his brother, whose affairs he could manage so
+beautifully now that they have met after many years of separation.
+If Lucien would only stay with him, were it but for three
+days, they would certainly be able to come to an understanding.
+“Good God, you press me hard, and I am weak.”</p>
+
+<p>During this night when an emperor was offering his brother
+a choice among the thrones of Europe, was there not talk of
+the heritage of Carlo Bonaparte, a poor nobleman, on a small,
+out-of-the-way island? Did the Emperor of the French, who
+will never hear a word of his being a foreigner in France, conjure
+up the shade of the Corsican; was it he who evoked the
+penates of his birthplace for the protection of Brother Lucien,
+a negotiator in a hostile camp? Surely what we are recounting
+is a saga, told at midnight beside the fireplace in Mantua?
+Yes, it is the saga which the little Corsican lieutenant has woven
+out of the threads of his life: first a narrow band; but as he
+trails it after him, twists it and loops it, mixes colours and
+patterns, by degrees a carpet is formed; greater and more
+varied become the pictures produced out of the one thread,
+pictures of lands and thrones, of seas and men.</p>
+
+<p>The whole has been woven in the most natural way in the
+world. Not by a miracle, but only through the working of his
+talents, has the man become master of men. To-night he wants
+to add yet another to the long list of his subjects. He has not
+enough time, even though he hopes to live till he is ninety. He
+cannot allow his brothers to have girl children, or to live with
+the women of their choice. But if these undesired nieces throng
+his stage, he must set up new nephews against them. If a wife
+is in danger of dying of grief, she must at least be good enough
+to wait until she is divorced. When the men of the family have
+at length forsaken the wives who are barren or can only bear
+daughters, then, on the same day, they will take new wives unto
+themselves—and all will go happily ever after. Look at him,
+when the conversation is drawing to a close, rubbing his hands
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[306]</span>in his satisfaction, the little magician who stands in front of
+his immense map. By the time he has impaled all the countries
+with his coloured pins, impaled them like butterflies to put away
+in his collection—well, by that time the candles have burned
+out and a large slice of to-morrow has already been devoured.</p>
+
+<h3>XIX</h3>
+
+<p>The Spanish dynasty seemed about to fall. Immediately
+after the conversation recorded above, war was declared. Had
+not the Emperor already predicted it? A king who had degenerated
+into being his wife’s souteneur; a queen who only
+lacked courage to be a Messalina; a faithless minister; hatred
+between father and son; rascality, bribery, and corruption—to
+such a pass had sunk the house of Bourbon! He who wished
+to dethrone those who represented it, must use the same means
+as were used by the Spanish royal house itself. Never before
+had Napoleon’s actions been more fiercely unscrupulous; never
+before had the degeneracy of his opponent been a more useful
+weapon to his hand. He had always adapted his methods to his
+adversary; and, in the case of this decayed dynasty, he had
+recourse to the wiles and trickery similar to those which the
+Spanish house availed itself of in a last effort to preserve its
+integrity. Absorbed in his schemes, he forgot the Spanish
+people, which was in no way responsible for such princes, and
+which in no way resembled the royal rulers: in days to come the
+Emperor was bitterly to rue his forgetfulness.</p>
+
+<p>He who is for England, is against me! In support of this
+principle, Napoleon had already chased the Portuguese royal
+family from the throne. Now, since Spain, too, is on the side
+of England, in a prolonged intrigue he turns to his own advantage
+the struggle between the king and the crown prince; brings
+the latter to the front; then orders him to withdraw in favour
+of the father; and, finally, at a meeting of all parties in
+Bayonne, is able, by threats and cunning, to ensure that the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[307]</span>Spanish crown shall be his own. The Mediterranean must belong
+to him; the coasts at any rate, from Gibraltar to Cattaro.
+This is an essential part of the war on England.</p>
+
+<p>At first his generals have an easy task in their work of conquest.
+“Do you know why I am invading Spain?” says
+Napoleon to Metternich. “I must feel safe at my back.” Alas
+for him when he is no longer safe in that quarter!</p>
+
+<p>On the critical day when he has settled matters with the
+Spanish princes, and has arranged that they shall be kept in a
+mild imprisonment, he is in a condition of moderate intoxication.
+The new crown gives him fresh impetus. He no longer
+sees Spain; his eyes are turned to contemplate the worldwide
+empire of Spain in the days of her vanished glory. On this
+occasion, a witness tells us, “the Emperor spoke, or rather
+dictated, at great length, in the Ossianic vein, ... like one
+whose heart was uplifted.... In his picturesque, metaphorical
+style, he referred to the powerful kingdoms of Mexico and
+Peru, describing the might of their rule and their influence.
+Never have I heard him display such a wealth of imagery as
+on this day. He was sublime.”</p>
+
+<p>The one thing he lacks is an occupant for the vacant throne,
+since Lucien has not accepted the bribe. The only way out of
+the difficulty will be a general post, like that which occurs when
+a vacancy is filled in the upper ranks of the officialdom and
+every one is promoted a step. Let us do away with the kingdom
+of Holland, make it into a province, and discrown Louis.
+The victim protests: “It does not suit me to be governor of
+a province. A king must rule by divine right.... How could
+I demand loyalty from my people if I myself were false to the
+oath I swore when I ascended the throne?” Napoleon is
+troubled once more by the consequences of having founded a
+dynasty. This modern Roman should have put his provinces
+in charge of generals and regents, whom he could recall whenever
+he pleased. But the ermine in which he dresses his
+puppets, all the apparatus of coronation and Mass and anointing,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[308]</span>awaken ideas which were being laid to rest, and fully
+justify little King Louis in his refusal. Joseph is more accommodating.
+Till yesterday, he was king in Naples: why should
+he not be king in Madrid to-morrow? Shortly after the
+Bayonne intrigue, King Joseph I. enters his new capital, acclaimed,
+not indeed by the hearts of the people, but by the
+proper number of salute guns and all the ceremonial suitable
+to the occasion. Murat, whose wife has long been pestering
+her brother for a crown, Murat the son of the proletariat, becomes
+king of Naples, and thus the imposing couple gain a
+statelier field for their intrigues, and in due time for their
+treason.</p>
+
+<p>But this Spanish affair is a great adventure, and has serious
+consequences. There is muttering “at the Emperor’s back,”
+for the Spaniards are proud, and will not endure the
+conquest without a struggle. In front, across the Rhine, all
+the Prussians and all the Austrians who hate the Emperor have
+now reason to dread that Prussia and Austria may share the
+fate of Spain, and have good grounds for yet another renewal
+of their offensive. In Berlin, Napoleon had declared that on
+the Elbe he had conquered the Ganges. Now he fails to see
+that in his dealings on the Tagus he is raising up new enemies
+on the Danube. But he knows that he cannot do as he pleases
+in Spain unless the tsar holds Austria in check for him. The
+tsar is a man of unstable character. The only way to win over
+Alexander is by suggestion, as two years before, in Tilsit, and
+for this a personal interview will be necessary. The Emperor
+thereupon proposes to meet the tsar in central Germany, half
+way between their respective empires, thus initiating a form of
+policy new to him, a conference. Always before, when he has
+left France, it has been sword in hand, and he has invariably
+paved the way for negotiations by fighting. Now, to avoid a
+fight, a conference table is established in Erfurt.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon prepares for this new sort of campaign with as
+much care as if he had been preparing for a military expedition.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[309]</span>Day after day he summons court officials and other
+dignitaries. “My journey must be extremely imposing. I
+want great names for the headquarters, ... and I wish to
+amaze Germany by the splendour of the occasion.” For others
+are coming besides the tsar. The great double stars are attracting
+all the lesser stars. How can he best influence this
+assembly? The play’s the thing wherein he’ll catch the conscience
+of the kings! He stage-manages his theatre elaborately,
+devotes much thought to the cast, amends passages, and gives
+Talma (for whom he feels something akin to friendship) hints
+as to what requires to be emphasised—all with an eye to the
+royal audience. “You are going to play your parts in a
+theatre where the stalls will be filled with kings.”</p>
+
+<p>In actual fact, the evenings at the theatre form the climax
+of the Erfurt weeks. Among the audience are four kings and
+thirty-four princes, rivalling one another in the splendour of
+their retinues. The Emperor of the West and the Emperor
+of the East occupy the royal box. Almost every evening, this
+distinguished audience sees and hears what the kings of saga
+or the kings of history proclaim, what they struggle for, what
+they suffer. Talma, as Orestes, thunders forth:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">The gods are the rulers of our times,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">And yet fame is created by our own deeds.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Why should the heart allow the heavens to threaten?</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Resolve to become immortal</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">And you will be as gods upon the earth!</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The next evening they see Voltaire’s <i>Mahomet</i>, of which the
+Emperor is especially fond, were it only because the hero so
+seldom quits the stage. The prophet’s disciple exclaims:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">All men are equal; it is not birth,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">But virtue alone which makes them different.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">There are certain mortals favoured by the gods,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Who achieve everything by their own merits,</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[310]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">Who owe nothing to their forefathers.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Such a one is he whom I have chosen as master;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">He alone, in all the world, has deserved his position.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">Is there any one among the audience whose heart does not
+beat faster as he glances at the man up there in the royal box—though
+the passion may be a passionate antagonism? The
+princes by right of birth may dread to look at the Emperor,
+but at least their eyes will seek one another as if to secure a
+common understanding. They do not dare to smile. They
+tremble before the man who sits there in a plain green coat,
+the man who is revolt incorporated in human form. He knows
+what the German princes in the stalls do not yet know, that a
+new and stronger utterance will soon be made by Mahomet:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">See, the Roman Empire falling into ruins,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">That great torn body, whose scattered limbs</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Lie spread about the earth dishonoured and lifeless:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">On these fragments of a world we shall upbuild the far-flung East,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">A new god reveals himself to the blind world!</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">Finally, the Emperor’s policy of to-day and to-morrow is
+voiced in the words:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Who was it made the master a king?</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Victory alone has crowned him! But now</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">To the name of Conqueror he will add</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">The name of Peacemaker.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">At this instant, when all glance at him questioningly, Napoleon
+makes a slight movement as a sign that such is actually his
+intention, and for a political instant the illusion of the theatre
+is dispelled. But when, next evening, Œdipus proclaims: “A
+strong man’s friendship is a gift of the gods!” the two emperors
+rise and clasp hands.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[311]</span></p>
+
+<p>Napoleon knows well enough that Alexander is not a strong
+man, that his friendship is not a gift of the gods. He tries,
+therefore, by suggestion, to win over this vacillating personality.
+If the tsar is to be influenced to move along the lines
+laid down in the letter previously quoted, if he is to agree to
+divide with Napoleon the empire of the world, he will require
+a course of psychomagnetism, renewed from day to day.
+Napoleon rarely leaves the tsar to his own thoughts, but treats
+him like a woman who is to be wooed and won. The only person
+who is allowed to help the Emperor in this matter is Talleyrand.</p>
+
+<p>The diplomat still limps after Napoleon as the Emperor
+strides forward, though recently the differences between the
+two men had found vent.</p>
+
+<p>Talleyrand’s shrewdness had led him—sooner than Napoleon,
+sooner than any one—to detect the first cracks in his master’s
+system. A year before, after the drawn game of Eylau, he
+had foreseen the possibility of his master’s failure in Russia.
+This had come to him as the vision of a great statesman, and
+he had promptly deduced therefrom the mission of a great and
+statesmanlike traitor. Matters had been privately arranged
+between Napoleon and Alexander; the Emperor was relying on
+the tsar (to the exclusion of Talleyrand); Napoleon was cherishing
+a Carlovingian dream, interpenetrated with thoughts of
+Cæsarism: the fantastical elements in Napoleon’s schemes for
+world conquest had estranged Talleyrand from his master’s
+policy. But instead of cutting adrift from Napoleon, he had
+been content, on specious pretexts, to resign his ministerial
+post, receiving instead a lucrative position among the dignitaries
+of the empire. Both men hoped to gain by the change;
+Napoleon thinking that he would be able to keep better watch
+on Talleyrand, and Talleyrand fancying that he would be able
+to keep better watch on the Emperor’s secret thoughts. He
+was still grand chamberlain; and Champagny, his successor as
+minister, was a butt for Napoleon’s shafts of ridicule. Thus,
+even after the divorce from his master, Talleyrand remained
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[312]</span>the sultan’s favourite, and his power was redoubled by his shifts
+as a trickster no longer hampered by official responsibility.</p>
+
+<p>His doubts as to the stability of Napoleon’s position were
+confirmed by the progress of events in Spain. Directly he saw
+that the Emperor’s mind was set on this act of plunder, he
+realised that its upshot would be disastrous, and for that very
+reason encouraged his master to the venture. Since the days
+of Louis XIV., said Talleyrand, the Spanish crown had always
+been an apanage of the rulers of France. Napoleon, when his
+mind had been rendered effervescent by this and similar pseudo-arguments,
+decided upon the occupation of Catalonia “for the
+duration of the war with England.” Now the intriguer
+promptly returned to a critical attitude, and laughed to himself
+when the Emperor gave him the ignominious task of entertaining
+the infantes of Spain in their durance at his mansion
+near Valençay.</p>
+
+<p>He wants privacy, that he may keep watch on the kidnapped
+princes, and, through their instrumentality, not only spy upon
+England, but also keep England informed. Thence it is but
+a step to open betrayal, and that step Talleyrand now takes.
+This is in keeping with his whole career as a statesman. Henceforward
+he sends Tolstoy and Metternich (the envoys of Tsar
+Alexander and Emperor Francis in Paris) private information.
+How can he make his duplicity square with his duties to the
+master, to whose service he is pledged as imperial official, court
+official, and confidential adviser?</p>
+
+<p>There is a scene about the matter.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you see,” says the Emperor on his return from Spain,
+“they all walked into the net I spread for them!”</p>
+
+<p>“I think, Sire, you have lost more than you have won by
+what has happened at Bayonne.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“Something quite simple. Let me explain my meaning by an
+example. If a man of standing commits follies, keeps mistresses,
+treats his wife and his friends badly, he will be blamed;
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[313]</span>but his wealth and his power will enable him to regain the good
+opinion of society. But if the same man cheats at cards, he is
+expelled from good society, which will never forgive him.”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor turns pale—so Talleyrand reports and will
+not speak to him for the rest of the day. Why does he not
+drive the plain speaker out of his circle? Why does he not
+banish Talleyrand to the West Indies? Napoleon receives a
+moral castigation from a scion of the old nobility, and still
+keeps the man in his entourage! Or was Talleyrand lying?
+We may have all the more confidence in the diplomat’s memoirs,
+seeing that they were written twenty years later, after the
+Restoration; were written to show how he had always played
+double, and (of course, owing to his respect for the claims of
+the legitimate rulers!) had served his imperial master only by
+halves. We can assume that the words were actually spoken,
+and to a man to whom hardly any one now spoke the truth, to a
+man whom even fewer now ventured to affront. Why does
+Napoleon keep Talleyrand in his service?</p>
+
+<p>“He is the only one who understands me,” said the Emperor
+of Talleyrand again and again. That accounts for much.
+Talleyrand’s unscrupulous way of thinking, his freedom from
+all qualms of conscience, furnished a tilting-ground on which
+the Emperor could joust freely when running a political course.
+The others had principles or considerations which must first be
+leapt over. Because Talleyrand was exempt from all prejudices
+of class and time, and also lacked the ordering ideas with which
+Napoleon fashioned his realm out of the chaos of chances, the
+wily opportunist, whose only passion was for money, was the
+best adviser of the other realist, who could only assuage his
+stormy imagination in a perpetual succession of new plans.</p>
+
+<p>That is why they understood one another, though only in the
+superficial regions of their respective characters. Napoleon
+never plumbed the depths of the treason that Talleyrand was
+preparing.</p>
+
+<p>Here, in Erfurt, the great day for the double-dealer has at
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[314]</span>last dawned. When the German princes gather round him and
+listen as he talks of the Emperor, he gives little heed to these
+pygmies, for there is some one else who will pay a far higher
+price for information, will pay both in political advantages and
+in ready cash.</p>
+
+<p>Alexander is prompt to seize the opportunity! The Russian
+has been well informed by his representative in Paris, and
+is almost as inquisitive concerning this Frenchman as he is
+concerning the Emperor. Talleyrand soon meets the tsar in
+the reception room of the Princess of Thurn and Taxis, who
+keeps open house every evening after the play. Talleyrand’s
+report of the encounter, written several decades later, reads like
+the utterance of a Mephistopheles: “The arts which I had prepared
+for the capture of the tsar were quite unneeded. At my
+first word he understood me, just as I had wished him to understand.”</p>
+
+<p>The play of their eyes conveyed a meaning which was not
+manifest in the words, for on the first day Talleyrand had said
+to the tsar: “Sire, what are you thinking of doing here? It
+lies with you to save Europe. But you will not succeed in
+your task unless you become a match for the Emperor. The
+French people is civilised: their ruler is not. The ruler of
+Russia is civilised: his people is not. Thus, the ruler of Russia
+should be the ally of the French people.... Your Majesty
+should not allow yourself to be inveigled into any disciplinary
+measures against Austria, but should consent to undertake the
+same duties towards that country as those my master has
+undertaken.”</p>
+
+<p>During the long evenings, over a glass of punch or a dish of
+tea, Talleyrand (who, like Napoleon, knows the manifold arts
+of the seducer) instils into the tsar’s brain all the truths and
+the hopes he wishes to bring to life within this suggestible
+spirit. The tsar shows his appreciation of the diplomat’s indiscretions
+at France’s expense by bestowing his favour upon
+the Emperor’s confidential adviser. He promises the hand of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[315]</span>a Russian princess to one of Talleyrand’s nephews; she is the
+richest heiress in the eastern realm.</p>
+
+<p>Alexander, who in any case had come to Erfurt in a cautious
+frame of mind (for his relatives had succeeded in arousing
+suspicions before he started), is now for the first time able to
+resist Napoleon. In their private interviews, each is always
+trying to humbug the other; the honeymoon atmosphere of
+Tilsit has vanished, and the tsar’s enthusiasm for the Emperor
+is a thing of the past.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon is taken aback. He makes Talleyrand draft the
+new treaty of alliance. Then, with great labour, he transcribes
+it, inserting his own emendations, and takes it to Alexander,
+who has to promise that no one shall hear a word of what is
+written in this secret document. The tsar gives the required
+pledge; but the very same evening he hands Talleyrand the
+amended treaty, so that the author of the draft learns what
+alterations his master has made. In the end, this treaty is not
+signed.</p>
+
+<p>At night, the Emperor summons Talleyrand, who plays the
+part of Iago admirably. The Emperor says: “I can make no
+headway with him; he takes such short views.”</p>
+
+<p>“But he is completely under your spell, Sire.”</p>
+
+<p>“He makes you think so, and you are taken in by him. If he
+is really fond of me, why won’t he sign?”</p>
+
+<p>“He is a man of knightly faith,” answers Talleyrand. “His
+simple word and his inclinations will bind him more strongly
+than a treaty.”</p>
+
+<p>“I shall not talk to him about this matter any more; for if
+I do, he will think I have it very much at heart. Our private
+interviews will be enough to make Austria believe that there is
+a secret treaty.... I cannot understand your fondness for
+Austria, a country whose whole policy recalls that of our old
+regime!”</p>
+
+<p>When fundamental principles are under discussion, Talleyrand
+is apt to become more communicative: “It seems to me
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[316]</span>that Austrian policy is also that of the new regime, and I venture
+to say it ought to be your own policy. People count on
+you, Sire, to safeguard civilisation.”</p>
+
+<p>“Civilisation!...” Napoleon halts in front of the fireplace,
+and, with a sudden change of tone, says softly: “Do you
+know why no one will negotiate with me plainly and straightforwardly?
+Because I have no children.... That is the
+secret. People are afraid of me, and every one wants to
+snatch what advantages he can. This is an unfortunate state
+of affairs for the world, and it must be altered.”</p>
+
+<p>A few days pass. Intercourse between the two rulers seems
+more cordial; etiquette has been forgotten; they come and go
+freely, like ordinary friends in private life. Napoleon spreads
+his nets cunningly. He says to the tsar: “Yes, I need rest; I
+need a home. How can one get these when one has no children?
+My wife is ten years older than I,” he goes on, falsely adding
+four years to Josephine’s tale. “Please excuse me. What I
+have just said may sound rather absurd, but I do not wish,
+where you are concerned, to hide the stirrings of my heart.”
+A pause. “Hullo, I see it’s almost dinner time, and Baron
+Vincent is still waiting my leave to depart.”</p>
+
+<p>The kings of the drawing-room are fond of describing
+Napoleon as a man of camps; but how prettily he can introduce
+a delicate topic just before dinner, so that he can slip
+away without having it discussed at this state. Late that
+evening he summons Talleyrand to his bedside; orates, questions,
+suggests combinations, and issues orders by turns. At
+length he speaks of divorce. “Fate constrains me to it, and
+it is essential to the tranquillity of France. I have no successor.
+Joseph is a man of no account, and his children are
+all girls. I must found a dynasty, and my consort must be the
+daughter of a great line. Alexander has sisters, and one of
+them is of suitable age. Have a talk with Romanzoff. When
+the Spanish affair is settled, I shall discuss the partition of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[317]</span>Turkey. Tell him this, and use other arguments as well. I
+know you have long been in favour of the divorce.”</p>
+
+<p>Next day, Talleyrand broaches the topic with the tsar, who
+has been influenced by the suggestion the Emperor has instilled
+with his assumption of melancholy overnight. “No one fully
+understands the man’s character,” says Alexander, much
+moved. “All the commotion he spreads abroad is an inevitable
+outcome of his position. No one realises how good he is. You
+know him so well. What is your opinion?”</p>
+
+<p>Talleyrand has no intention of saying what he really thinks,
+but deems it expedient, at this juncture, to let Alexander know
+what Napoleon had let fall about the Russian princess. “I
+should have no objection,” rejoins the tsar promptly, “but I
+cannot dispose of my sister’s hand without my mother’s consent.”</p>
+
+<p>Thereafter, a long conversation between the emperors, and a
+renewal of intimacy; Alexander spends some more evenings
+with Talleyrand, talking over the teacups—but no conclusion is
+reached. The expanded treaty of alliance between the emperors
+is not signed at Erfurt, nor is the marriage to Alexander’s
+sister arranged. Although Napoleon receives more adulation
+than ever before, he is disappointed at having to leave
+without his treaty and without his Russian bride. The only
+one who brings home substantial advantages is Talleyrand, for
+he has secured the new niece’s millions.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the thirty-eight princes have been cajoled or
+threatened, rewarded or ignored, by the Emperor and his train.
+“In Erfurt,” writes Talleyrand, “not a man among them was
+bold enough to face the lion.... On the last day he was surrounded
+by princes whose armies he had seized or destroyed,
+whose States and existence he had curtailed, but not one of
+them ventured even to proffer a request. The only wish of
+them all was to be seen; and to be seen last if possible, in order
+to remain in his memory.”</p>
+
+<p>In any case, Napoleon thinks Vienna will believe that to have
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">[318]</span>been settled which unfortunately has not been settled. Fear
+will achieve what he has failed to secure through a treaty. He
+does not know that Talleyrand has betrayed him to Metternich,
+saying: “It rests with you to restore your relationships with
+Russia to the intimate footing that existed before Austerlitz.
+Nothing but an alliance between Austria and Russia can save
+the vestiges of Europe’s independence.” The Austrian
+diplomat writes exultantly in his report: “At length we have
+entered a new epoch, in which allies offer themselves to us from
+within the French Empire.”</p>
+
+<p>Farewells are taken. The Emperor, watched by the princes,
+exchanges a brotherly kiss with Alexander. All the onlookers
+are profoundly impressed by this token of friendship in the
+pair who rule the world. But Talleyrand, hat in hand, smiles
+inwardly, for over the teacups at the German princess’ he has
+been able to undermine the foundations of this friendship.</p>
+
+<p>In four years his labours will bear fruit, and the fruit will
+poison Napoleon.</p>
+
+<h3>XX</h3>
+
+<p>Brightly, against this dull background of German princelets,
+shines the torch of the German spirit. “I have gained only
+one thing here to take back with me to Paris: that you will
+have a pleasant memory of me.” To the Weimar circle, the
+Emperor says these words on the evening of his departure, for
+here and in Erfurt he has spent several evenings among those
+who are the true princes of Germany—princes who have no
+ancestors, but only genius. Himself a genius without ancestors,
+it is solely among them that he feels at home; though, during
+this fortnight, he experiences so much that increases his misanthropic
+contempt for his fellow-men, a contempt which has
+its counterpart in the respect he feels for the German spirit.
+The works of the masters of German literature are, indeed,
+unknown to him; but he knows their reputation, he knows the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">[319]</span>position they occupy in the invisible German and the imperial
+French Republic. That is why he seeks them out.</p>
+
+<p>Two years before, in Potsdam, he had summoned Johannes
+von Müller to his presence, and nothing throws a stronger light
+upon the significance of their conversation than the reserve with
+which the Prussianised Swiss historian treats the incident.
+With all the precision of a mind that knew so well how to
+classify its materials, the Emperor was able, without periphrases,
+to come direct to the topics which must interest every
+historian, and were especially interesting to this one. Within
+three minutes, the pair were deep in the profoundest problems
+of history.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor spoke of Tacitus. Then he sketched the main
+epochs of intellectual life, and waxed enthusiastic concerning
+the wonderful manner in which Greek culture was renovated
+by Christianity when Roman culture was decaying. How
+adroit had been the Greek tactic, when Greece, conquered by
+the Roman sword, had found a way to reassert her dominance
+over the things of the spirit. These words, addressed by
+Napoleon so soon after the battle of Jena to a man of learning
+in Prussian service, convey both recognition and a challenge.
+The Emperor showed himself even more affable by going on to
+advise Müller to write a history of the Napoleonic exploits—advice
+he had never given to any Frenchman. Then he spoke
+of the basis of all religions, and of the need for religion. “The
+conversation was a long one,” writes Müller. “It embraced
+nearly all lands and nations in its scope.... The more interesting
+he became, the more did he drop his voice, so that at
+length I had to come very close to him, and no one else in the
+room can have heard what he was saying. Much of it, indeed,
+I shall never disclose.”</p>
+
+<p>From this remarkable conclusion to a bald report, we may
+infer, not only the discretion of the grave historian, but also
+the splendid frankness which the Emperor could show when
+holding forth in monologue to a man of mark.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">[320]</span></p>
+
+<p>Now, in Weimar, he pays especial attention to old Wieland,
+compares him to Voltaire, but asks him rather critically when
+he mixes up romance and history. “A man of outstanding intelligence,
+like you, should know how to keep them apart. Running
+them together is apt to lead to confusion.”</p>
+
+<p>Something more serious than literary criticism is involved,
+for when Wieland ably defends his misuse of history, and goes
+on to speak of virtue as an example, the Emperor pulls him up
+with customary bluntness, saying: “But don’t you know what
+happens to people who are always expounding virtue in the
+realm of fable and nowhere else? In the end they come to
+believe that virtue itself is nothing more than a fable.”</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon turns back to Tacitus, for he always keeps a sharp
+eye on this Roman historian, as if the man, like Madame de
+Staël to-day, might still work mischief in Parisian drawing-rooms.
+As a development of this criticism, speaking in a
+modern ball-room, Napoleon utters great things concerning
+the activities of men: “Tacitus has not sufficiently studied the
+causes and the inner motives of events. His enquiries into the
+mystery of actions and states of mind have not been sufficiently
+profound to enable him to hand down an unprejudiced judgment
+to posterity. A historian should take men and nations
+as they are, should appraise them as their time and their circumstances
+have made them.... I have heard him extolled
+because he would fain make tyrants dread the people, but that
+would be very unfortunate for the people! Perhaps I am
+boring you? We did not come here to talk about Tacitus.
+Look how beautifully Emperor Alexander dances!”</p>
+
+<p>Wieland has been waiting for this moment. In a carefully
+prepared speech, he defends the old Roman against the new,
+so that, at the end, the Weimarian dignitaries and any others
+who are listening cannot restrain their jubilation.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor has listened attentively. All now look at him,
+wondering what he will say. Will he politely withdraw from
+the discussion? Napoleon, as if on the battle-field, has been
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">[321]</span>wondering upon what private information his adversary’s unexpected
+attack can have been based, and how the onslaught can
+best be parried. Unquestionably, the speech was not improvised.
+But how on earth had it entered Wieland’s mind to get
+up that particular topic? Suddenly the Emperor, who in the
+interim has talked to hundreds upon hundreds of persons, recalls
+his conversation with Johannes von Müller two years back.</p>
+
+<p>“I certainly have a strong opponent,” he says, when the old
+gentleman has finished the harangue. “You make full use of
+your advantages. Do you happen to be in correspondence
+with Herr Müller, whom I met in Potsdam?”</p>
+
+<p>Every one in the audience smiles, including Wieland, who is
+fonder of wit than of himself, and frankly rejoins:</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, Sire, it was he who told me that you do not like
+Tacitus.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I do not admit defeat,” says the Emperor. He returns
+to his Greek and Christian ideas, develops them further
+and more boldly, for he sees that the clever old Wieland is a
+sceptic: “Furthermore,” he says in low tones, shading his
+mouth with his hand, and coming close to his interlocutor, “it
+remains an open question whether Christ ever lived.”</p>
+
+<p>Conqueror and poet. One of them is still in his prime, a
+ruler who has re-established the Christian faith upon the ruins
+of the revolutionary cult of reason, but is now more or less at
+odds with the Church. The other is a venerable poet, a pagan
+whom Napoleon has just coupled with Voltaire, a man who
+has maintained the cause of reason against the cause of Christ,
+a member of a conquered nation, and physically so frail that
+again and again he has to lean on the back of a chair. The
+former whispers to the latter that it is probable Christ never
+lived. But the old man has for half a century been justly regarded
+as the wittiest among the Germans. He will show the
+Emperor that, in the intellectual world at any rate, a German
+can courteously exchange thrusts with a Frenchman, and he
+hastens to reply: “I know that there are foolish people who
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">[322]</span>doubt that Christ lived. But it would be just as absurd to
+doubt that Julius Cæsar lived; or that you, Sire, are alive
+to-day!”</p>
+
+<p>Thus with a sally in the French manner Wieland upholds
+both German courtesy and wit, and the historicity of Christ.
+The Emperor, without committing himself, is content to drop
+the subject, and to clap the poet on the shoulder, saying: “Excellent,
+excellent, Herr Wieland!” Then raising his voice, he
+talks to his ball-room audience about the value of Christianity
+as one of the buttresses of the State. But although he was
+obviously eager to continue his talk with Wieland, the latter
+showed plainly that he was too tired to stand any longer, and
+thus the old man’s fatigue put a premature end to a scene
+which the aid of a couple of chairs might have made even more
+valuable.</p>
+
+<p>One of the silent witnesses of this conversation was Goethe.</p>
+
+<p>A few days earlier, in Erfurt, the Emperor had had an hour’s
+talk with Goethe. They were together in a room where, as was
+Napoleon’s custom when on a journey, he breakfasted, received,
+commanded, philosophised, and signed documents. Their conversation
+was a union of two minds, the balancing of counter-poised
+electrical forces. It was a process of mutual accommodation
+in which the two greatest men of their day contemplated
+the world together; a duologue in which most of their
+thoughts were never uttered, and in which the best elements
+were an expression of the homage the two paid one another.
+Goethe, who learned everything from nature, though in the
+reality of the world of men he could only find the confirmation
+of his previous imaginings, felt that this conversation was
+one of the greatest events in his life, and he described it as
+such. To the Emperor it was less significant.</p>
+
+<p>For Goethe had followed the Emperor’s course for a decade,
+marvelling all the while; and in his old age he said such profound
+things about Napoleon that a century after their utterance
+they have not been excelled. Napoleon, on the other hand,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">[323]</span>knew almost nothing about Goethe; in especial, he never surmised
+the poet’s personal admiration for himself, since the German
+had hitherto confided his feelings only to his intimates, and
+even now kept his own counsel. Though the Emperor had read
+<i>Werther</i> several times, the mood that work had aroused was as
+completely a thing of the past as those youthful feelings which
+are merely compensatory derivatives for an unoccupied imagination.
+What this grey-headed poet now signified, was at that
+time not realised by more than a hundred Germans, and hardly
+one Frenchman; and, since his name in his own country was
+little known (and, where known, was unpopular and evoked
+no enthusiasm), it was natural that the Emperor should know
+nothing of him save that he had written some wonderful things
+which were unknown to any except the poet’s immediate circle,
+and that Goethe, at the time of the battle of Jena, was minister
+to that Saxon prince who had incurred the Emperor’s displeasure.
+When Napoleon summoned Goethe to an audience, he
+had less to expect from the poet than he had expected from
+Müller and from Wieland.</p>
+
+<p>But such as Napoleon and Goethe need but look in a man’s
+eyes to know all about him. Napoleon sits breakfasting at a
+large, round table; on his right is Talleyrand; on his left,
+Daru. Now he looks up, and, seeing the poet framed in the
+doorway, invites Goethe to approach. The Emperor is silent,
+amazed. There stands the sexagenarian, the most beautiful, the
+halest of old men, Goethe in the calm of his age, at the pinnacle
+of a strenuously wrought harmony of spirit, a harmony he had
+never possessed before and was so soon to lose. Napoleon
+is too full of admiration to speak. Then, more to himself
+than to his companions, he says:</p>
+
+<p>“Voilà un homme!”</p>
+
+<p>That is the golden shaft which pierces the heart and illuminates
+the scene: the word of a seer, deeply felt, an impression
+rather than a judgment—and it is meet that such it should be.
+For, precisely because the world ruler does not know that a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">[324]</span>world ruler is now before him, this utterance, the like of which
+he had never made to or of any one in the past and which
+he is never to make in the future, shows the godlike kinship of
+a genius with his brother genius. It is as if two elemental
+forces hovering on high had recognised each other through a
+rift in the clouds, and had, despite themselves, stretched out
+arms to one another until the tips of their forefingers had met;
+then the mists of time once more rose between them. A fleeting
+moment in the course of a thousand years; there has been nothing
+to compare with it since the meeting between Diogenes and
+Alexander.</p>
+
+<p>Goethe’s discretion prevented him from recording the conversation
+for many a year, and even then the record was incomplete.
+Other memoirs provide us with fragments only.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon praises <i>Werther</i>, and adds: “I do not like the end
+of your romance.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can well believe that, Sire. You would rather that a romance
+had no end.”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor calmly accepts this wellnigh threatening epigram.
+He then continues to criticise the story, saying that
+Werther’s love was not the only factor of the catastrophe, for
+ambition was likewise at work. The poet laughs (in two letters
+Goethe mentions this—a freedom rarely indulged in when the
+Emperor was present), and admits that the criticism is sound;
+but he adds that surely an artist may be forgiven for using
+an artifice which few readers will detect.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="illus11" style="max-width: 29.6875em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus11.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>The Coronation. Detail from the picture by Jacques Louis
+    David. Louvre, Paris.</p>
+    <p>(Photograph in the Kircheisen Collection.)</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>The Emperor is well content with his little victory in the
+other man’s domain. Turning now to drama, he makes “very
+remarkable observations, like one who had studied tragedy with
+the closest attention, in the spirit of a judge presiding over a
+criminal trial, and of one who keenly regretted the departure
+of the French theatre from nature and truth.” He spoke unfavourably
+of the drama of destiny, saying that it was a relic
+of less enlightened days:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">[325]</span></p>
+
+<p>“What have we to do with destiny now! Politics are
+destiny!”</p>
+
+<p>As he utters these words, he gives an object lesson in his
+own fashion, turning to Daru to discuss requisitions, and then
+speaking to Soult who has just entered. Turning back to
+Goethe, he manœuvres to get the poet to himself, and asks
+personal questions. Then he assumes the offensive:</p>
+
+<p>“Does it please you here, Herr Goethe?”</p>
+
+<p>But Goethe, too, knows how to seize political opportunities,
+and rejoins: “Very much; and I hope these days will also prove
+advantageous to our little country.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is your people happy?” asks the Emperor, not noticing that
+he has phrased the question as if he were talking to a sovereign
+prince—for he must often have used such words in conversation
+with rulers. Really, he has no interest now in Saxony, and is
+thinking: “How can this man of genius be useful to me? What
+a pity he does not write history. But as a novelist he might
+describe this congress, or he might write a play.—He would
+certainly do either much better than our folk; and, besides,
+this would have redoubled value coming from a foreigner.”
+He therefore says:</p>
+
+<p>“You would do well to stay here for the whole period of the
+conference, that you may write your impressions of this great
+drama. What does Herr Goethe think of the suggestion?”</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon ends with this question (so unconsonant with his
+customary dictatorial manner) almost all his advances to
+the poet who is so hard to lure out of his reticence. Goethe
+says cautiously:</p>
+
+<p>“I have not the pen of a classical author.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s in the political vein,” thinks the Emperor. But
+what he says is:</p>
+
+<p>“Your duke has invited me to Weimar. For a time he was
+sulky, but now he is in a better humour.”</p>
+
+<p>“If he was sulky, Sire, the punishment was certainly rather
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">[326]</span>sharp; but perhaps I ought not to express an opinion on these
+matters. At any rate, we all owe him reverence.”</p>
+
+<p>“Splendid!” thinks Napoleon. “He stands in front of his
+master, but lets me see he knows that the duke is a donkey.
+I must get this man to write my ‘Cæsar’ for me! The effect in
+France would be bigger than that of winning a battle!” His
+spoken words are:</p>
+
+<p>“Tragedy should be the school of kings and peoples; there
+is no other field in which the poet can win such laurels. Why
+do you not write ‘Cæsar’s Death,’ more worthily, more splendidly
+than in Voltaire’s attempt? This might be the greatest
+work of your life. The aim of the tragedy would be to show
+how much happiness Cæsar would have conferred on the human
+race had he been given time to carry out his far-reaching plans.
+Come to Paris! I urge you to do so! Thence you will get a
+wider prospect of the world, and there you will find the most
+abundant materials for new imaginative creations.”</p>
+
+<p>The poet expresses his thanks for the proposal, and says he
+would deem himself happy were it possible to accept.</p>
+
+<p>“That is as far as I had better go,” thinks the Emperor, as
+he had thought recently in his dealings with the tsar; “if I am
+too insistent, he will fancy I have a strong interest in the matter.
+It is very strange! He wants nothing from me, not
+even to shine in my presence. What can charm him out of
+himself, this incorruptible man? He must come and see the
+plays we are presenting here; that will stimulate his ambition
+to write better ones.”</p>
+
+<p>Out loud: “I hope you will come to the theatre this evening.
+You will find a lot of princes there. Do you know the prince-primate?
+You’ll see him in his box, fast asleep, with his head
+pillowed on the king of Württemberg’s shoulder. Do you
+know the tsar? You ought to dedicate something to him in
+honour of Erfurt!”</p>
+
+<p>Thus the Emperor gives a third hint. Will Goethe take it?
+But the poet only smiles civilly, and candidly declares:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">[327]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I have never done anything of that sort, Sire, and therefore
+I have never had occasion to repent it.”</p>
+
+<p>A touch! A touch! The Emperor of the French cannot but
+feel it! Marvellous to relate, the son of the revolution tries to
+strengthen his position by referring to the Roi Soleil:</p>
+
+<p>“In the reign of Louis XIV., our great authors held other
+views!”</p>
+
+<p>“No doubt they did, Sire; but we do not know whether they
+may not have repented.”</p>
+
+<p>“How true!” is the Emperor’s thought when he hears this
+sceptical answer, which is really a skirmisher’s attack on the
+part of the German. Consequently, he makes no attempt to detain
+the poet when the latter, with a deprecatory gesture, himself
+closes the interview and bids the Emperor farewell—another
+breach of court traditions, with which Goethe is perfectly
+familiar.</p>
+
+<p>Thus the amazing upshot of this uncanny conversation between
+the two men of genius is that the Emperor, to whom the
+duologue was merely interesting, had vainly solicited a favour
+of the poet to whom it was the greatest encounter in his life.
+The explanation is simple: The Emperor wanted to make use
+of the poet, whereas the poet did not need the Emperor. Napoleon
+wanted Goethe to write for him. But to Goethe, Napoleon’s
+actions were merely the precious material which enabled
+him to penetrate to the heart of the other’s genius; and
+he could do this without a journey to Paris.</p>
+
+<p>Although the poet did not respond to the Emperor’s invitation
+by so much as a poetically worded compliment, years
+afterwards, in a tragical moment, Napoleon remembered the
+man whom, by three great words, he had set apart from all
+contemporaries.</p>
+
+<h3>XXI</h3>
+
+<p>Two months after this conversation, Napoleon is in Madrid,
+standing in front of the picture of Philip II. He has been over
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">[328]</span>the palace, and has made a quick transit through the galleries;
+but here, in front of this conqueror’s image, he stands so long
+that the members of his suite watch in dumb amazement while
+the Emperor seems to be holding converse with the king. The
+man contemplating the picture is unable to say: “Upon my
+realm the sun never sets.” Perhaps this worldwide empire cannot
+be achieved without the aid of the Inquisition—which Napoleon
+has just suppressed, when invading Spain. Has he
+always been too lenient? Too democratic? Still, he has, in a
+dozen countries, put liberty in harness, that she may be broken
+in to dragging the dictator’s chariot. Perhaps the trouble is
+that he talks and writes too much? Philip, with the unfathomable
+eyes, was always silent. He does not look happy. But
+who is happy?</p>
+
+<p>A gloomy and joyless war had led the Emperor to this
+southern capital, for the intrigues with which the Spanish
+affair had been begun had wrought their own revenges. The
+kings and princes with whom he had dealt so high-handedly in
+the previous spring, had deserved no better fate; but the Emperor
+had failed to understand the temper of the Spanish
+people. When these had taken up arms in defence of their
+injured pride, the Emperor had regarded the insurgents as mere
+windbags. “They were worthy countrymen of Don Quixote.
+Ignorance, arrogance, cruelty, cowardice—these made up the
+spectacle before our eyes. Monks and inquisitors had stolen
+away Spanish brains.... Their soldiers were like the Arabs,
+and would only fight from behind the protection of walls; their
+peasants were no better than fellaheen; their monks were
+ignorant and dissolute; their grandees were degenerate, and
+had neither energy nor influence.”</p>
+
+<p>Entangled in this error, he failed to realise that, though he
+might conquer them to-day, his conquest would be for the day
+only. To-morrow the Spaniards, supported by England (which
+here finds its greatest rallying point), will begin to shoot once
+more from the houses, and who shall hinder them? The Emperor
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">[329]</span>was already willing to admit it to his confidants. To
+Vincent, who had been a comrade in his earliest campaigns, he
+said:</p>
+
+<p>“This is the stupidest thing I have ever done in my life!
+Can you think of any possible way in which I can free myself
+from the embarrassment?”</p>
+
+<p>“You have simply to withdraw, Sire, and leave the country
+to itself.”</p>
+
+<p>“Fine words! Remember my position. I am a usurper. To
+gain this position, I needed to have the best head and the best
+sword in Europe. If I am to keep what I have won, all must
+be convinced of this. There must be no falling off in the prestige
+of my head and my sword. In face of a watchful universe,
+it is impossible for me to say that I have made a serious mistake,
+and to withdraw with a defeated army. You must see
+for yourself that the thing can’t be done. I am still asking
+for your advice!”</p>
+
+<p>Conviction that he has made a blunder, and that it is impossible
+for him to retrieve it; crude admissions made to an old
+companion-in-arms, whose advice he asks; is this young Bonaparte,
+or Napoleon growing old? In a week, he had beaten
+Frederick’s famous army. But in Spain, he effects very little
+in eight months. When he has to deal with armies in a country
+which can feed his soldiers, a country with roads and
+towns, he is always victorious; but when he must campaign in
+trackless regions, such as the desert, the plains of Poland, or the
+mountains of Andalusia, the tempo is too tedious for his impetuous
+nature, and the circumstances are too incalculable for
+his mathematics.</p>
+
+<p>His royal brother, instead of supporting him in this perplexing
+situation, makes difficulties. King Joseph wants to be
+a Spaniard, and to win his subjects by kindness. There are
+scenes between the brothers. With good reason the new king
+feels that he has made himself ridiculous by having to run away,
+and because he can only return under shield of the advancing
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">[330]</span>Emperor. But with even better reason does the man of iron
+complain to Roederer about the king:</p>
+
+<p>“Joseph wants to be loved by the Spaniards, and to make
+them believe in his affection. Kings cannot inspire affection
+through tenderness. They must make themselves feared....
+He writes that he wants to retire to Morfontaine; at this busiest
+of moments, he proposes to leave me in the lurch.... He says
+that he would rather pass the time at his country-seat than
+in a land bought with blood unjustly shed.... The blood is
+that of the foes of France! If he is king of Spain to-day,
+it is because he wanted to be; he could have stayed in Naples
+had he wished. Support me? I need no family.... My
+brothers are not Frenchmen, as I am.... The king of Holland,
+too, talks about going into private life. It seems to me
+that I, if any one of us three, have the best right to retire to
+Morfontaine!”</p>
+
+<p>Why does he not break with Joseph? Here is Marshal Soult,
+commander in Spain, and perhaps the most highly prized among
+all his generals. Why does he not give Soult a crown, just as
+he has given one to Murat? “Joseph writes to say that if I
+value any one more highly than himself, that is the man I had
+better make king. I certainly did not make Joseph a king
+because I thought such a lot of him! If I distributed thrones
+according to merit, I should have made a very different choice!
+I need my family to stabilise my dynasty, for that is the system
+on which I am working.”</p>
+
+<p>Now, in Madrid, he issues decrees to establish the new order
+of things; which is welcomed by few, loved by no one, threatened
+by England, and detested by the Spanish people. Nothing
+can restrain him. Only last October he had written to his
+wife from Weimar, saying that the tsar had been dancing,
+but he himself would not dance, for “forty years are forty
+years.” Moreover, he often makes fun of the way in which he
+is putting on fat. Yet on Christmas Eve, afoot, he crosses the
+Sierra de Guadarrama in a snowstorm, as if he had still been
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">[331]</span>the general at Lodi. He defeats the English; but on these miry
+roads, deep in snow, he is no more able to follow them in retreat
+than he could follow the Russians after Friedland; and he
+gnashes his teeth when the enemy escapes to the ships. Shall
+he follow up the other portion of the English forces, away
+there in the mountains? That would be to withdraw the nucleus
+of his power still farther from France. Here he is, waiting in
+the centre of Castille; but what is Paris saying?</p>
+
+<p>He is in camp at Astorga when the courier arrives. Now he
+will learn what is going on at home. As he is reading one of
+the letters, he begins to tremble with a dumb wrath. Silently
+he paces up and down for an hour, without saying a word even
+to those who are deepest in his confidence. Then he suddenly
+issues order that the headquarters staff is to return. For
+his own part, leaving army and generals, he hastens to Valladolid,
+and thence to the frontier.</p>
+
+<p>“King Philip was right with his unfathomable gaze!” thinks
+the Emperor as he drives northward in his travelling carriage.
+“Instead of abolishing the Inquisition in Spain, I should have
+set it up in France. A conspiracy in Paris, and not one organised
+by the enemy! Fouché and Talleyrand, whom I could
+only use because they hated one another, and because each
+watched the other and told tales, have become reconciled and
+have entered into an alliance. Murat in it, too!”</p>
+
+<p>The warning letters, which had decided him to return, were
+from Eugene and from his mother. Letizia is active in spite
+of her years; active in playing her part when danger threatens,
+though she withdraws when festivals are the order of the day.
+She is the Corsican mother, and safeguards her children. The
+scope of Talleyrand’s treason, and how long he has been playing
+a double game, can at present only be guessed. That he
+has advised the Austrian envoy to take the offensive against
+France immediately, now when the Emperor is busy elsewhere,
+is not known, for there are no incriminatory documents. Even
+if such documents were in the Emperor’s possession, how could
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">[332]</span>so great a master have such great servitors arrested? Slowly
+and invisibly has the power proceeding from himself grown in
+their hands, ultimately to be turned against him whom they
+hate. During the fortnight’s journey to Paris the waters of
+his wrath are rising against these creatures of his making.</p>
+
+<p>Arrived in the capital, the Emperor calls a Council of State
+composed of many senators and all his ministers, that they
+may be witnesses to his vengeance. The two delinquents are
+present. Napoleon loses no time before he begins his attack on
+Talleyrand: “You are a thief and a scoundrel, for whom nothing
+is sacred. You would sell your own father! I have showered
+benefactions upon you, and yet there is nothing that you
+would refuse to do against me. You it was who advised me to
+undertake the mad venture in Spain, and now you criticise it to
+all and sundry. It was you who informed me of the duke of
+Enghien’s whereabouts and incited me to take ruthless measures
+against him.... You have intrigued with the dethroned Spaniards
+who were placed in your charge. To-day, because you
+consider the Spanish affair a mistake, you have the effrontery
+to declare that you had always warned me against it.... You
+shall restore to me the keys of your office as grand chamberlain....
+I could break you like glass if I chose; I have the
+power! But I despise you too much to give myself the
+trouble!...”</p>
+
+<p>For half an hour, Napoleon holds forth in this fashion. His
+hearers sit petrified. Silently, Talleyrand bows, and withdraws:
+“What a pity,” he says smilingly to a friend he meets
+outside, “that so great a man should be so ill-mannered!”
+Within the council chamber, the Emperor now proceeds to his
+attack on Fouché, whom he charges with having failed to work
+up public opinion, with having supported the enemies of the
+Emperor....</p>
+
+<p>His hearers sit petrified. Silently, Fouché bows—and remains!
+The Emperor commands that the higher officials shall
+renounce all right of criticism; they are to become mere tools of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">[333]</span>his thoughts. He declares menacingly that doubt is the first
+step on the road to betrayal, which, in its turn, becomes actual
+as soon as it takes the form of opposition.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, all Paris is convinced that both the unfaithful
+servants are to be banished or placed in confinement. But
+neither is dismissed! Fouché remains, for who could replace
+the man with a hundred eyes? Talleyrand, smiling as ever, continues
+to come to court; he has retained his official position;
+at the Sunday receptions, he always places himself so that his
+master cannot fail to see him; answers in the stead of his
+neighbour when the Emperor has put a question to the latter;
+and, in general, demonstrates the truth of Lannes’ soldierly
+judgment: when Talleyrand is kicked from behind and one is
+conversing with him at the moment, not a sign of his feelings
+can be detected in his face! Ere long he is to be seen once more,
+limping away from the chill festivities in the brightly lit Tuileries,
+following in his master’s wake to resume his labours in the
+Emperor’s study, for “he is the only man with whom I can
+really talk!”</p>
+
+<p>Weighty matters have to be talked over. Germany has
+awakened; slowly she is beginning to stir; all eyes are fixed on
+Austria. The Prussian king hesitates as usual; and an order,
+dated from Madrid, has banished Baron vom Stein from Prussia.
+Tyrol is seething with mutiny, like Spain; Austria, now
+allied not only with England but also with Turkey, is arming
+for the fifth time. What matters it, then, that Saragossa,
+after a heroic struggle, should have fallen? Troops cannot be
+withdrawn from Spain so long as insurrection is rife. How can
+a war be undertaken, seeing that a vast army of a quarter million
+men is tied up in Spain? It is precisely on account of this
+situation that Austria has found courage to take up arms
+against the Emperor.</p>
+
+<p>The Russian menace is Napoleon’s last hope. When the
+Russian envoy, Romanzoff, is leaving for St. Petersburg, the
+Emperor overwhelms him with gifts and with promises. Thinking
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">[334]</span>to make himself agreeable to the tsar, he pledges himself to
+the evacuation of Prussia; and urges Alexander, for his part,
+to proclaim the alliance of the two emperors to a trembling
+central Europe.</p>
+
+<p>But Alexander vacillates; he allows himself to be reassured
+by Vienna, Berlin, and London; timid and hesitant as he is, he
+yields to the threats of his grand dukes (who to a man detest
+Napoleon), and yet cannot make up his mind to go whole-heartedly
+over to their side; Vienna’s hopes of securing one of
+the tsar’s sisters as bride for an Austrian archduke are frustrated:
+the tsar elects to remain neutral!</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor is cut to the quick by his friend’s breach of
+faith; indeed, it is the unkindest cut of all. He has given too
+much personal confidence, his pride is wounded, his labour lost.
+Literally, there remains nothing for him to do but to raise an
+army out of the very earth: the levies for the following year are
+now being called up, a year in advance; money must be procured
+by every possible and impossible means; the funds have
+fallen to 78, in consequence of the Spanish affair. Still, Austria
+is ready far earlier than he had expected. When, in April,
+the semaphore announces that the enemy is on the march, and
+Napoleon is informed of the news in his bed at ten o’clock that
+night, he orders the mobilisation of his troops for midnight,
+and is furious when the unwieldy machine is not ready until
+four hours later.</p>
+
+<p>When he arrives in Bavaria, he sees the mistakes committed
+by the Austrians in their advance. He can hardly believe his
+good luck; it was as if “he grew; his eyes gleamed, and with a
+delight which his glance, his mood, and his movements all betrayed,
+he exclaimed: ‘I’ve got them! Their army is lost! A
+month hence, and I’ll be in Vienna!’” He underestimates the
+time: he will be there in three weeks! He incites his soldiers to
+marches of over sixty-five miles in forty hours, and beats his foe
+in a series of five battles. Later he was to call these five days
+his finest achievement from the point of view of manœuvring.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">[335]</span>The last day he is wounded on the foot; and, since fate wills
+that the legend of his invulnerability (in which the army
+whole-heartedly believes and to which even he is inclined to lend
+an ear) shall be exploded, the bullet hits his Achilles’ tendon.</p>
+
+<p>But he speeds away again, and crosses Germany. Napoleon’s
+carriage is outwardly plain, but within it is comfortably
+built. The Emperor can sleep in it; by day he can govern
+from it, just as well as from the Tuileries or from a tent. He
+is the first to overcome the friction which brings movement to a
+standstill; and, though he does not travel as fast as we do nowadays,
+he travels faster than any man ever travelled before.
+Five days take him from Dresden to Paris. In a number of
+lock-up drawers within the carriage, he collects reports, dispatches,
+memoranda; a lantern hanging from the roof lights up
+the interior; in front of him hangs a list of the different places
+he must pass through, including where relays of horses are
+awaiting him. Should a courier reach him, Berthier, or another
+official who happens to be at hand, must take down the more
+pressing orders, while the carriage goes jolting on its way.
+Before long, orderlies are to be seen flying off in every direction.</p>
+
+<p>On the box seat, the Mameluke is enthroned in solitary
+grandeur. Two postilions whip up the six horses. The carriage
+is surrounded by a crowd of equerries, pages, and light
+cavalrymen; when the procession sets forward, the road is all
+too narrow to accommodate it, eddies of dust and heat envelop
+it, night and fog encompass it. The peasants stand aside
+to let the tornado pass; they are agape with wonderment and
+firmly believe that the devil is hiding inside the great Napoleon.
+He leaves behind him a trail like that of a paper-chase: for
+he throws out of the windows of the carriage, not only all the
+envelopes and other useless paper, but all the reports he does
+not wish to file (torn into tiny fragments); all the newspapers
+he has read; and, finally, books, which he glances at when he
+has a moment to spare, and then consigns to their fate in the
+mud of the highway.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">[336]</span></p>
+
+<p>Wherever he gets out of his carriage, a hot bath is ready
+for him. Then, at two in the morning, he will dictate till four,
+snatch three hours’ sleep, and start off again at seven. At his
+halts, four light cavalrymen surround him in a square, and
+follow him in all his movements, if, for instance, in the daytime
+he studies the country through his small telescope. Should he
+need the large telescope, he uses the shoulder of the page in
+waiting as a rest. Whether his halt be short or long, in
+wartime the map is always ready to his hand, in carriage or
+tent, in camp and by the watch-fire. Any member of his escort
+who fails to show him in the map the precise point where the
+halt has been made, the area he now wishes to study, receives a
+volley of abuse—be it Berthier himself, Prince of Neuchâtel.
+Through all countries, for the whole duration of his life, the
+map follows him, pierced with coloured pins, illuminated at
+night by twenty or thirty candles, and with a pair of compasses
+lying on it. This is his altar, before which he offers up his
+prayers. It is the real home of the man who has no home.</p>
+
+<p>Now, without a blow, he takes Vienna for the second time,
+and occupies the same room as of old in the palace of Schönbrunn;
+but the war is not over.</p>
+
+<p>For what has meanwhile been happening in his wide realms
+is unfavourable to him, and encourages the enemy. There is
+bad news from Spain; in northern Italy, Eugene has been fighting
+unsuccessfully; and since, at this instant, Murat has to
+advance from Naples, the Roman Emperor makes as short work
+of it with Rome as the Hohenstaufen had done many centuries
+before. Four years ago, at the same writing table, he had
+penned a decree annihilating the royal house of Naples. Now
+he repeats the manœuvre with the pope. Since Napoleon, at
+this juncture, has to strike with his sword in all directions,
+he no longer troubles himself about moral and political consequences,
+and ventures this dangerous edict for little better
+reason than that a junction must be effected between his armies
+in Italy.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">[337]</span></p>
+
+<p>But anger is a contributory cause. When he had been in
+Spain at the beginning of the year, he had let fall expressions
+showing how out of humour he was with Rome: “Last year, the
+pope was impudent enough to neglect sending us the consecrated
+candles he sent the heads of other States. Write to Rome saying
+that we don’t want any, not even for the three kings of our
+house. Say that at Candlemas I always get consecrated candles
+from my own clerics, and that the value of these things does not
+depend upon purple or the other insignia of power. In the
+realm of the shades, there will be priests just as good as the
+popes! Thus a candle blest by one of my own clergy will be
+just as holy as one sent by the pope. I won’t have his candles,
+and none of the princes of my house may accept them.”</p>
+
+<p>In this way he trumped the pope’s trick, like a Protestant,
+like a revolutionary. Such was Napoleon’s mood, in the slough
+of the Spanish roads and battles. Now, in Schönbrunn, he
+bluntly deprives the Holy Father of power as sovereign prince.
+The pope is relegated to the Vatican, and assigned a revenue
+of two millions.</p>
+
+<p>Many members of the Emperor’s retinue are shocked, for
+some of them are good Catholics, and it is only five days from
+the feast of Pentecost. Is he not challenging God? Those in
+whom faith becomes intensified into superstition are likely
+enough, ere long, to find confirmation of their presentiments.
+In five days, at Pentecost, Napoleon will be defeated for the
+first time in his life.</p>
+
+<p>Some regard the battle of Aspern-Essling as indecisive; at
+any rate, no one can consider it a success for Napoleon. When
+the bridge across the Danube was swept away, this was just as
+much and just as little due to chance as were all the great
+happenings whereby at Lodi, Rivoli, Marengo, and on many
+other occasions, he had, by precisely such improvisations,
+wrested victory from God. A friend of his youth, Marshal
+Lannes, is mortally wounded. Napoleon hastens to the dying
+man’s side, and, so the story runs, his old comrade shows hostility
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">[338]</span>both in word and glance. That evening Napoleon sits
+long before his untasted supper, silent, and refusing to see any
+one.</p>
+
+<p>“Conquered? Conquerable?” he muses, staring forth gloomily
+into the future. “Has Achilles’ heel indeed been hit? That
+marksman aimed better than Talleyrand. No, it was my own
+fault. Too hazardous to cross the river in full view of the
+enemy! Lannes was right; he was already half way over.
+What is Paris saying? What will be the best way of reporting
+this in Paris?” In uneasy mood, he goes back to Schönbrunn,
+a huge, lonely palace in the midst of a hostile land. His Polish
+mistress! If only he had had the lovely Walewska with him.
+She is sitting now in a Polish castle, far away, but her thoughts
+fly towards him. His hopes of a child by her last year had been
+dashed.</p>
+
+<p>He sends for her.</p>
+
+<p>Strange news from Rome! To Napoleon’s edict of deposition,
+the pope has promptly replied by a bull of excommunication.
+Does this alarm the Emperor? He laughs. He laughs
+at Catholic mediævalism, and the soldier, the self-made man,
+thinks:</p>
+
+<p>“Is this vengeance for my having, in Notre Dame, snatched
+from him the crown which the holy man wanted to place on my
+head with his own hands? And what is holy? It is doubtful if
+Christ ever lived; the only certain thing is that we can make
+use of him. But in these enlightened days, none but children
+and nursemaids are afraid of curses. I have been outlawed
+twice ere this, on the Nineteenth Brumaire, and in Corsica.
+Such farces bring good luck!” Much refreshed by these
+thoughts, he prepares for the counterstroke on the Marchfeld,
+and at Wagram is again victorious, as in thirty battles, his
+excommunicated weapons being too much for the pious archduke
+Charles. Towards the end of his two days’ battle, when
+all was going well, and the commander was overpowered by
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">[339]</span>fatigue, he made Rustam spread a bearskin for him on the battle-field,
+told the Mameluke to call him in twenty minutes, lay
+down, and fell fast asleep for the prescribed period, to awaken
+fully reinvigorated. The war was finished, and a truce was
+agreed on. Next day, reporting the new victory to his wife, he
+adds: “I’ve been burned as brown as a berry.” He has been
+thoroughly toned up, and his mood is rejuvenated.</p>
+
+<p>Returning to Schönbrunn, he finds Walewska awaiting him.
+How many lovely women have glided through the secret portals
+and discreet chambers of this vast palace, to revivify the Habsburgs?
+Now the adventurer from the Mediterranean sends
+evening after evening to fetch the countess, who is housed near
+by; and again and again he warns the groom of the chambers
+to be careful lest the carriage should be overturned on the
+rough road. For the second time, the pair live three months
+together. He had looked forward to this in Finckenstein, and
+had promised her that it should happen; but the where and
+the when depended on the course of universal history, and not
+wholly on himself.</p>
+
+<p>In a few weeks, she knows that she is with child. Will she
+this time give him the gift that he has been asking from women
+for twelve years, and has only once received? Thus, the idyll
+gains a new content; and when, at midnight on August 15th,
+lying in her arms, waiting for his fortieth birthday to dawn,
+and thinking how early next morning salutes and bell peals will
+hail the coming of this day, throughout France, and indeed in
+all the countries over which he rules,—the day to which the
+pope had complacently transferred the feast of St. Napoleon—may
+it not seem strange to him that the first to congratulate
+him should be this beauty of twenty summers, who can speak
+but haltingly the two languages in which he is at home, and
+whose glances convey more meaning than her words? His
+thoughts may well fly back to that time ten years ago when he
+sailed homeward from Egypt, hazarding all to the luck of the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">[340]</span>seas, out of which the great English net could so readily have
+fished him. Now he is a different man, but not a happier one,
+for he is the slave of “the nature of things.”</p>
+
+<p>He is different, also, from the man he was two years ago in
+Finckenstein. Then he was the builder of a world empire, the
+potentate to whom the kings of the East and the kings of the
+West paid homage; now, that empire is on the defensive, and
+even a great victory like that he has just won, can only be
+turned cautiously to account.</p>
+
+<p>On the day of Wagram, his people in Rome had committed a
+blunder of which he has only just heard:</p>
+
+<p>“I am very much annoyed at the arrest of the pope. That
+was an idiotic thing to do! You should have arrested Cardinal
+——, while leaving the pope at his ease in Rome.” He had
+laughed at the symbolic power of the bull of excommunication.
+“Excommunication” is an empty word, an airy nothing, which
+the French bishops can blow away; but as statesman he realises
+instantly that the imprisonment and deportation of the Holy
+Father are very serious matters. This rash action has put him
+in the wrong, for a banished pope is morally stronger than a
+pope fulminating bulls.</p>
+
+<p>Other letters are coming to hand, from Spain this time,
+telling how England has made good her losses there; and how,
+in the forest wilds, the visible-invisible Spanish people, allied
+with England, is standing more stoutly to arms. The news from
+Paris is that Fouché has overstepped his orders, and has called
+up the National Guard everywhere; his obvious intention has
+been to intensify the dread of England throughout the country,
+and to fan the flames of discontent among the newly levied conscripts.</p>
+
+<p>A difficult and dangerous situation, and one whose difficulties
+and dangers thicken as the radius widens. The despatches from
+Rome and Paris are a week old, and those from Spain date
+from more than a fortnight back. By the time fresh orders
+from Schönbrunn can reach Valladolid, the whole position will
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_341">[341]</span>have changed. If only he had the power to issue his commands
+with the velocity of light, then he would be able to rule
+the world from this office on the Danube. As things are, he must
+cut short the negotiations, which Austria, encouraged by England
+and Hungary, has been protracting for weeks. When,
+recently, the victor demanded a third of the monarchy, with
+nine million souls, he was met with a refusal. Now he pursues
+a different plan. With the splendid frankness which is so
+baffling to diplomats of the old school, in one of his endless
+conversations (this particular talk with Count Bubna lasted
+seven hours), he explains his own difficulties to his opponent:</p>
+
+<p>“I was to blame for Aspern-Essling, and suffered for my
+mistake: but the confidence of my soldiers remain unshaken.”
+In broad outline, he sketches his own tactics on the battle-field.
+“But I will tell you the mistake you are always making....
+You draw up your plans the day before the battle, when you do
+not yet know your adversary’s movements, or what positions
+you will have to occupy. But for my part, I never issue orders
+long in advance, and am especially cautious overnight. At
+peep of day, I send out my scouts, survey the field for myself,
+and keep my troops in mass formation as long as I am still in
+doubt.... Then I hurl myself on the enemy, attacking him
+wherever the ground makes attack most favourable.... You
+are right when you remind me that my free use of artillery
+fire causes much bloodshed. But what am I to do? My troops
+are weary; my men want peace. That is why I have to be sparing
+with the bayonet, and to use cannon more than formerly.”</p>
+
+<p>Later he comes to the condition of the alliances: “To-day
+I am sure of the tsar, but what guarantee have I that he will
+stand by me? As regards Prussia, I have known for a long
+time that that country is oscillating between you and me.”
+Suddenly he demands only half of what he had asked before,
+disavows his minister, and offers an alliance. Needs must, for
+he has to get back to Paris. A new basis for negotiation!
+Austria is to lose a fragment to the Confederation of the Rhine,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_342">[342]</span>and another to Russia; a pathway to the Balkans has to be left
+open for Napoleon. Several more weeks pass in negotiation.
+His impatience is soothed by the bright glances of Walewska.</p>
+
+<p>In October, Napoleon is holding a great review in Schönbrunn.
+A young man forces his way into the palace. He is
+arrested. When searched, he is found to be carrying a long
+knife and the picture of a girl. Examined in the guard room,
+he refuses to give any information, and says he will only explain
+himself to the Emperor in person. Soon the lad of eighteen,
+a fair-haired youth, serious of aspect, frank and courageous
+but courteous, is confronted with Napoleon. His name is
+Friedrich Staps, and he is the son of a Tyrolese pastor. Napoleon
+questions him in French, Rapp acting as interpreter.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I intended to kill you.”</p>
+
+<p>“You must be mad, young man, or ill.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am neither mad nor ill, but in the full possession of my
+faculties.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then why do you want to kill me?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because you are ruining my country.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your country?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is mine, as it is that of all good Germans.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who was the instigator?”</p>
+
+<p>“No one. My heart told me that by killing you, I should
+do good service to Germany and to Europe.”</p>
+
+<p>“Have you ever seen me before?”</p>
+
+<p>“In Erfurt. Then I believed you would make no more wars,
+and I was your greatest admirer.”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor sends for his physician, in the hope that the
+young fellow will be declared a lunatic; but the doctor, having
+made his examination, says that Staps is of sound mind.</p>
+
+<p>“I told you so,” says Friedrich.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor is uneasy. He is loath to make an end of so
+frank and bold a youth. He has not to do here with a partisan,
+with a conspiracy, with one who is out to destroy a principle;
+he has not to do with an ideologue, but with an idealist. Germany
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_343">[343]</span>has sent forth against him a Brutus with a long knife.</p>
+
+<p>“You are distraught. You are bringing affliction on your
+family. Ask my forgiveness, and say you are sorry. Then I
+will grant you your life!”</p>
+
+<p>Never before has Napoleon spoken thus, at any rate to an
+assassin. The young man remains steadfast. Has Napoleon
+lost the power of suggestion? “Well?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not want your forgiveness, and I am not sorry. My
+only regret is that I have failed.”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor grows angry.</p>
+
+<p>“The devil! A crime means nothing to you, then?”</p>
+
+<p>“To kill you would not be a crime, but a public service,”
+says Staps, still perfectly respectful, indeed, thoroughly well
+bred.</p>
+
+<p>“Hm. Whose portrait is this?”</p>
+
+<p>“The girl I love.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will she approve this attempt of yours?”</p>
+
+<p>“She will be sorry it has miscarried, for she hates you as
+much as I do.”</p>
+
+<p>“What a pretty girl,” thinks the Emperor looking at the
+miniature in his hand. “Am I really to be baffled by this
+young fellow? No, I will save him, will pardon him. What
+does it matter to me if he hates me?” Still holding the
+miniature, he looks Staps squarely in the face: “If I pardon
+you, I suppose it will gladden the heart of this girl?”</p>
+
+<p>Friedrich’s blue eyes flashed, and he says firmly:</p>
+
+<p>“Then I shall be able to kill you after all!”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor turns away, and leaves the prisoner to his
+doom. To Champagny, who is present, he talks for a long time
+about the Illuminates. Then, with a sudden transition he says:</p>
+
+<p>“We must make peace. Drive back into the town. Summon
+the Austrians. We are practically agreed on the main points,
+and the only trouble relates to the war indemnity. The difference
+amounts to fifty millions. Reduce the demand by half.
+Get the matter settled. I was satisfied with the last draft.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_344">[344]</span>Add whatever clauses you think necessary. I leave everything
+in your hands. Make peace.”</p>
+
+<p>So great is the impression wrought by the youth. We cannot
+call it alarm. Caution is too mild a word. The trouble is that
+a shadow has fallen across his soul. After negotiating for three
+months, the Emperor, simply that he may save one day, leaves
+the conclusion of the peace to his minister. He has Staps
+examined once more, but the enthusiast prefers death to recantation.
+Next morning at six, the minister brings the treaty
+which has been arranged during the night. The Emperor,
+well content, praises his minister:</p>
+
+<p>The same morning, the assassin is shot, and the Emperor returns
+to the topic: “The thing is unprecedented! So young a
+man, a German, a Protestant, well brought up; and such a
+crime! How did he meet his end?” The answer is that Staps,
+in face of the firing squad, had cried in loud tones: “Liberty for
+ever! Death to the tyrant!” The Emperor holds his peace.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon commands that the long German knife shall be
+brought back with him to Paris.</p>
+
+<h3>XXII</h3>
+
+<p>The Empress Josephine is lying in a swoon on the floor.
+Napoleon summons the palace prefect, and orders him to bear
+her to her chamber. The Emperor goes in front, carrying a
+lighted candle. Since the staircase is narrow, he passes the
+candlestick to a servant, and helps Bausset to carry Josephine.
+He carefully lays her on her bed, and, in a state of great excitement,
+leaves the room. Hardly is he out of sight, when the
+empress opens her eyes: cries and fainting fit were all a pretence!
+Bausset betrayed her secret later, stating that, as he
+carried her up the stairs, she had whispered that he was holding
+her too tightly, and was hurting her.</p>
+
+<p>All the same, fear and sorrow are in very truth her portion;
+for she has been informed that she must leave the Tuileries,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_345">[345]</span>where, for more than a decade, she has ruled as queen. The
+Emperor himself has broken the news to her. Matters cannot
+continue as in the past: every one is counting on his death:
+across the frontier are the Germans with their long knives;
+here at home is Fouché, colloguing with the English. Napoleon
+needs a son; and his son must be the child of a princess of royal
+blood. The scene with Josephine took place shortly after his
+return from Schönbrunn. Probably he was feeling sore because
+he could not place his Polish love, who bore his child in
+her womb, straightway upon the throne. For a certainty, he
+did not as yet know the name of his future bride.</p>
+
+<p>Mother, sisters, brothers, are sitting in silence, with stony
+faces, round the table, in family conclave: Josephine is likewise
+present. She can detect the smothered joy in the minds of these
+witnesses who at last have gained their end. The “old woman”
+must go! With uncontrolled emotion in his voice, the Emperor
+declares that all hope of an heir from the empress is quenched,
+and that it is solely on this account that he must part from her.
+“God alone knows how hard a step this is for me to take....
+But no sacrifice is too great for the sake of France.... For
+fifteen years, the empress has made my life beautiful by her
+presence. She was crowned by my own hands.... I have
+determined that she shall preserve the rank and the title of
+empress; and, above all, that she shall look upon me as her lifelong
+friend.” Josephine exercises admirable self-control, but
+asks the arch-chancellor to read her words of acquiescence.</p>
+
+<p>The memorandum concerning the divorce is then signed by
+all. Napoleon’s signature is more legible than usual. It is
+vigorous, and a long, firm flourish underlines his full name: he
+thus brings a very serious matter to a close, in manly fashion.
+Nervously, Josephine adds her signature to the right of his,
+quite near, as though pleading for his support. Madame Mère
+writes her M. as her son has written his N., and follows him,
+likewise, in the concluding flourish.</p>
+
+<p>That night, Josephine makes an amazing entry into his room,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_346">[346]</span>and approaches his bed, tears streaming down her face, and her
+hair falling round her shoulders. Next day, supported by Napoleon,
+a veritable Niobe, she quits the palace and drives to
+Malmaison. Before leaving, however, she has (foolishly perhaps)
+besought Méneval to speak of her as often as possible to
+the Emperor.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon went alone to Trianon, which was at this time unoccupied.
+There he held a death watch such as no lover had
+ever held before over the love from whom he was to be eternally
+severed: he remained there for three days, absolutely inactive—this
+being as great an achievement as if a Buddhist holy man
+had for three days done Napoleon’s work! He received no one,
+he dictated never a word, read nothing, noted down nothing;
+for three days the mighty wheel stood still, the wheel which for
+fifteen years had rotated by the strength of its own impetus.
+Soon afterwards he visited his divorced lady at her house in
+Malmaison. Then he wrote to her:</p>
+
+<p>“I found you to-day in a worse condition of mind than I
+had hoped, mon amie.... You should not give yourself up to
+so profound a melancholy. Take good care of your health,
+which is so dear to me. If you love me, then show me how
+strong and happy you can be. You cannot doubt my fondness,
+or all the tenderness I feel for you. You cannot believe
+that I shall ever be happy if you are unhappy.... I was very
+sad when I got back to the Tuileries; the great palace seemed
+so empty; I felt so lonely.... Farewell, chère amie; sleep
+soundly, and remember that I wish it thus....” After fifteen
+years of intimate association, the man of forty writes in so
+natural and so grateful a fashion—though at the same time we
+may detect a gentle hint of a determined will that commands.</p>
+
+<p>Then come endless calculations: he will allow her three
+millions per annum; the set of rubies he will pay extra for:
+“this will cost me quite four hundred thousand francs and I will
+have it valued, for I do not wish to be cheated by the jeweller....
+In the wardrobe at Malmaison you should find five to six
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_347">[347]</span>hundred thousand francs. You can take this money in order to
+increase your silver plate and your underclothing. I have ordered
+a beautiful china service for you, but I have told the
+makers to await your commands, for I wish it to be really
+lovely.... The page who saw you this morning, tells me you
+were weeping.... I shall take my meals all by myself....
+Have you really lost courage since going to Malmaison? And
+yet that house has been the witness of our happiness, and our
+feelings for one another. These feelings must never change;
+nor can they, at least as far as I am concerned.... I should
+so much like to pay you a visit; but first I must know if you
+are a valiant woman or a weakling. I am rather weak myself,
+and am suffering greatly. Farewell, Josephine. Good-night.”</p>
+
+<p>A melting mood has once more taken possession of him. The
+tone resembles that of the passionate letters sent from Milan by
+the young general to his faithless wife in Paris. It is set in a
+minor key; and the same melody that surged up and soared
+above the whole orchestra of his senses in those days, is now
+played by the ’cello as a solo echoing through the desolate halls
+of the Tuileries.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly after this, a masked ball was given by the arch-chancellor.
+Among the guests was Princess Metternich, whose
+husband had formerly been envoy at the court of Paris. A
+man clad in a green domino took her by the arm and led her
+aside. Every one knew who he was, for although no one fully
+knew Napoleon unmasked, the masked Napoleon was impossible
+to mistake: the tragi-comedy of genius in this world. After a
+few quips, he asked her whether she thought that an archduchess
+would accept the offer of his hand.</p>
+
+<p>“I do not know, Sire.”</p>
+
+<p>“Were you in the archduchess’ place, would you accept the
+offer?”</p>
+
+<p>“I should certainly refuse it,” says the Viennese lady with a
+smile.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_348">[348]</span></p>
+
+<p>“How unkind! Will you write to your husband, to ask his
+views on the matter?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think you had better say that to Prince Schwarzenberg,
+Sire; he is the envoy now.”</p>
+
+<p>Thus with one of his improvisations does Napoleon begin his
+new wooing after the divorce. It is a splendid return to the
+straightforwardness of the revolution. The same evening, he
+instructs Eugene, who next morning approaches the Austrian
+ambassador. None of the Habsburg clan understand promptness
+and simplicity in such campaigns; but to the Emperor
+these qualities come naturally. The tsar makes no sign. Vienna,
+beaten in four wars, must at length be pacified. What could
+be more obvious than this solution? Why get a divorce if you
+do not forthwith do your utmost to attain the unattainable?</p>
+
+<p>The Corsican family feeling is at work once more. He, who
+so rarely holds a council of war, summons a family council
+before the divorce and before the marriage. There they sit,
+just as six weeks earlier, round the oval table; all the great
+dignitaries are there; according to the report of one of those
+present, general embarrassment prevails. The Emperor announces
+his desire for an heir, and then speaks with an assumption
+of dubiety:</p>
+
+<p>“Were it possible for me to be guided by personal feelings
+alone, I should choose my bride out of the circle of the Legion
+of Honour, from among the daughters of the heroes of France,
+and should make the worthiest of Frenchwomen empress of the
+French. But a man must adapt his actions to the customs of
+his own century, to the usage of other States, to political considerations.
+Many sovereigns have sought my alliance, and I
+do not think there is any reigning house to which I cannot propose
+this personal tie. Three of them have now to be considered:
+the Austrian, the Russian, and the Saxon. I should
+like to hear your views.”</p>
+
+<p>Thus does the curse of legitimacy break once more into the
+mighty dictator’s private preserve. Legitimacy is the rock
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_349">[349]</span>on which he will be shipwrecked. Why should he not choose
+Countess Walewska whom he loves? Or, if the empress is to be
+a Frenchwoman, why not a daughter of one of those heroes to
+whom he has given kingdoms? He has shaken the old world to
+its foundations; has with his own hands placed two crowns on
+his head; has kept kings of ancient lineage waiting in his ante-rooms;
+has dethroned one such, and placed an innkeeper’s son
+upon the vacant throne. Has he done all these things that to-day,
+debarred from the choice of the woman of his heart, on
+the prowl for an heir, he must “adapt his actions to the customs
+of his own century”—customs which hitherto he has
+defied like a demigod?</p>
+
+<p>But no such unconventional possibilities are discussed in these
+cold, imperial halls, for one and all are against a Frenchwoman.
+Eugene and Talleyrand are for Austria. Murat demurs, saying
+that Marie Antoinette had brought bad luck to France.
+Some voice the advantages of a Russian alliance. Others
+favour Saxony. The Emperor listens to their views, closes the
+sitting, and does what he has already made up his mind to do.
+That same evening he sends a message to Vienna. The only one
+present at the council who saw clearly was the minister who had
+strongly urged the claims of Russia, but who did not venture to
+utter his real reasons except in private; “Within two years, we
+shall certainly be at war with both the monarchies with whose
+ruling house the Emperor does not ally himself by marriage—and
+Austria is the only one of the three a war with which would
+not be dangerous!”</p>
+
+<p>By the Emperor’s instructions, the court of St. Petersburg
+is informed that he has been kept waiting too long. Furthermore,
+it would be inconvenient to have a priest of the Russian
+Orthodox Church in the Tuileries. Finally, he has been informed
+“that Grand Duchess Anna, who is fifteen years old, is
+not yet ripened to womanhood. Inasmuch as, in young girls,
+two years elapse between the appearance of the first signs of
+womanhood and complete maturity, this will not suit the aims
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_350">[350]</span>of the Emperor, who does not wish to be married for three years
+before he can have a child.” This gynecological excursus is the
+last we hear of the Russian wooing which had begun so inauspiciously
+in Erfurt.</p>
+
+<p>But the Habsburgs are a prolific family, so that he may
+regard an Austrian princess as practically guaranteed against
+barrenness. When he learns that the mother of his chosen
+bride has given birth to thirteen children, that one of her ancestresses
+has had seventeen, and another actually twenty-six,
+the Emperor exclaims: “That’s the kind of womb I want to
+marry!” There could be no doubt about the answer to his
+proposal; Francis would accept it, and his eighteen-year-old
+daughter would comply.... Acceptance is taken for granted
+in the first letter of his courtship, which the Emperor writes
+with his own hand, legibly in places, for it is penned with
+Méneval’s aid, and with more pains than might be gathered
+from an inspection of the schoolboy script:</p>
+
+<p>“Chère Cousine, The brilliant qualities which distinguish your
+person have aroused in us the desire to serve you and to honour
+you. Inasmuch as we are approaching the emperor, your
+father, with the request that he will entrust us with Your Imperial
+Highness’ happiness, may we venture to hope that you
+will graciously accept the sentiments which move us to this
+step. Dare we flatter ourselves that you are not deciding on
+this step solely from a sense of duty and filial obedience?...
+If Your Imperial Highness has no more than a trace of inclination
+towards us, we shall carefully cherish this sentiment,
+and make it our supreme task to be agreeable to you always
+and in all things, so that we may look forward to the happiness
+of winning your whole heart....”</p>
+
+<p>Did ever a great genius write a more preposterous letter?
+He knows perfectly well that her acceptance will be dictated by
+filial obedience and nothing more; that she cannot possibly
+have a trace of liking for the devil who, during the years of
+her childhood, has been despoiling her father of one province
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_351">[351]</span>after another, so that she has learned to cross herself at the
+sound of his name. He knows that he has better things to do,
+that he has other supreme tasks, than to make himself agreeable
+to a little goose, who is not distinguished by any other
+quality than by the luck of being born a Habsburg; who is
+neither beautiful nor wise, neither brave nor passionate. Yet
+the equivocal nature of his position constrains Napoleon, who
+has never asked a favour, to write such a letter as the foregoing!</p>
+
+<p>With the gesture of a sultan, he gives to his friend Berthier
+(who is to woo for him by proxy in Vienna) tokens of affection
+for his bride: his miniature set in diamonds, and jewellery
+worth one-and-a-half-millions. But at the proxy wedding in
+the Hofburg, Napoleon is represented by the bride’s uncle,
+Archduke Charles, whom he has worsted in a dozen battles.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor, meanwhile, gives more attention to clothing
+and furniture than to affairs of State; orders for Marie Louise
+a trousseau to the tune of five millions, for what she is bringing
+with her has cost only half a million; studies all the details of
+Marie Antoinette’s journey, lest the Habsburgs should be able
+to plume themselves on breaches of etiquette; orders fashionable
+coats from his tailor, and buckled shoes from his shoemaker;
+goes out hunting, rides vigorously, in the hope of sweating off
+his fat; even finds that his dancing days are not yet over.</p>
+
+<p>While on her way to Paris, Marie Louise receives a love letter,
+quite illegible, for all she can make out is the capital N.
+of the signature; flowers greet her wherever she halts for the
+night; in Compiègne she is expecting to be received by the
+terrible man whom she is to wed; he is waiting there for her
+with all his family.</p>
+
+<p>But suddenly, with a surge of vigorous youth, the firm will
+and the fierce impatience of the revolutionist break through this
+hedge of antiquated formalities. Laying aside his new embroidered
+coat, and donning his old uniform, he jumps into a
+calash undecorated with armorial bearings, and drives to meet
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_352">[352]</span>the bridal procession. There it is; the horses are being changed
+in a downpour of rain. He wants to take Marie Louise by
+surprise, but her master-of-the-horse, recognising him, exclaims,
+“His Majesty”; so the little coup fails to come off. In
+a moment he is in the carriage beside her, dismisses the lady-in-waiting,
+kisses his bride, laughing the while, for he is wet
+through. In her embarrassment, she finds a pretty phrase:
+“Your portrait does not flatter you, Sire!”</p>
+
+<p>“She is by no means beautiful,” he meditates, as he takes
+stock of her. “Marked with smallpox, though not badly, thick
+lips; watery blue eyes; full-bosomed for her years; but fresh
+and young.”</p>
+
+<p>With disgust, that evening, the masters of the ceremonies
+see their whole programme, which has been rehearsed for weeks
+in advance, torn to tatters. The meeting with the imperial
+family has been effected with scant formality; all come and go
+as they please; the girls who present bouquets must cut their
+compliments short, for every one is wet and cold; supper is improvised,
+with Caroline as third at table. At one in the morning
+the whole company retires to rest. But the Emperor has
+taken his uncle the cardinal aside, and has asked Fesch, as an
+authority upon these matters, whether Marie Louise is not
+already his wife, thanks to the proxy marriage in Vienna.
+“Yes, Sire, according to civil law,” answers the priest, foreseeing
+what is about to happen.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning the Emperor has breakfast for two brought to
+the empress’ bedside. Within an hour all Compiègne knows.</p>
+
+<p>By this night attack, made on the spur of the moment,
+Napoleon conquers the world of legitimacy after the same fashion
+as he has conquered it in the field, taking the Habsburg
+fortress by storm, as beseems his reputation.</p>
+
+<p>With a mischievous double meaning, he writes next day to
+his unsuspecting father-in-law: “She fulfils all my hopes, and
+we do not cease to give one another proofs of the tender
+feelings that unite us. We suit one another exceedingly well....
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_353">[353]</span>Allow me, therefore, to thank you for this lovely gift.”
+Uncle Fesch does not give their union the blessing of the Church
+until after they have made their imposing entry into Paris. In
+Josephine’s case, he was eight years too late; this time the
+sanctification has been delayed no more than a fortnight.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor finds his bride charming. “You should all
+marry Germans,” he tells his intimates; “they are gentle, good,
+unspoiled, and as fresh as roses.” He is delighted that she
+gets on well with his family. Domestic peace is new to him.
+He graces the intimacies of the toilet with his presence; pinches
+her cheeks caressingly; calls her his “bonne petite animale.”</p>
+
+<p>Two or three weeks later, there is news from Poland. The
+child conceived during the weeks at Schönbrunn has been born—a
+boy. There is a strange medley of feelings in Napoleon’s
+soul. From that same Austrian palace, where he has stayed
+only in the absence of its rightful owner, has come the new wife,
+who as yet gives no signs of capacity for doing her duty. He
+vacillates; sends for the Polish countess. But, soon after
+this, Marie Louise finds that she is with child. “The Emperor’s
+jubilation almost passes description,” writes Metternich to
+Vienna. At this early stage, the empress’ condition is solemnly
+announced to the Senate and the nation; prayers for the successor
+to the throne are to be said; there is to be a festival of
+rejoicing as sumptuous as those of pagan times.</p>
+
+<p>When the lovely Walewska arrives, he gives her everything
+she can ask for; sees the baby and fondles it; makes it a count
+of the Empire, with the chancellor for guardian. But nothing
+beyond this unites the sometime lovers. Napoleon has become
+a respectable married man.</p>
+
+<p>In all respects, now, this man’s career seems to be transcending
+familiar limitations, outstepping traditional horizons.
+Thus among the women who have crossed his path new relationships
+begin. The Polish countess, whose eyes Josephine would
+at one time have been glad to scratch out, is invited to Malmaison.
+Walewska brings Josephine Napoleon’s son, that son
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_354">[354]</span>whose absence from her own womb decided Josephine’s fate.
+See the group on the terrace. One of them is a grey-headed
+woman, who was born in the West Indies, had a taste of prison,
+and then became empress of the French. The other, young and
+blooming, was brought up in an impoverished Polish noble
+family, was married off to a wealthy old man, and was then
+switched into a new career through Napoleon’s chance glimpse
+of her at a ball. Between them is the child of the man who
+had loved both and forsaken both, that he might compel a
+stupid little Habsburg girl to immortalise a name which had
+long ere this immortalised itself.</p>
+
+<p>When the empress’ hour comes, he has to make a choice great
+as destiny itself. Paris knows, France knows, that the young
+wife is in labour. All are waiting for the heir; enemies are
+dreading him before he is born; the common people, who at such
+moments are always dynastically inclined, are praying for
+mother and child. Throughout the night Napoleon has been
+watching by his wife’s bedside, but has withdrawn for a time.
+The accoucheur brings him dread tidings: “The child is in a
+bad position; there is danger to the life of both mother and
+infant!”</p>
+
+<p>The whole structure of his dynastic schemes is tottering.
+What will he say, this man of iron, when the doctor asks
+whether the first thought is to be for the mother or for the
+child? Will he not answer that, before all, it is necessary to
+save the child, for whose first cry millions besides Napoleon are
+waiting? What does Marie Louise matter? When she has
+borne him a healthy boy, she will have fulfilled her earthly
+mission. Surely the Emperor can have no choice?</p>
+
+<p>“Do exactly what you would do if an ordinary citizen’s wife
+were in labour. The mother’s life comes first!”</p>
+
+<p>Two hours later, however, the baby has been born, and the
+mother is in good case. With rapt attention, Paris counts the
+cannon shots. Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one—so far, it may
+only be a girl. But when the twenty-second gun booms out, the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_355">[355]</span>whole city is in a frenzy of delight. The crowd surrounding the
+old Bourbon palace cheers madly. The salute is still thundering.
+The little lieutenant of artillery stands by the window,
+mechanically noting the calibre of the guns from the pitch
+of the gun-fire, glancing down upon the mutable many without—while
+his thoughts reach far back into the past, and roam
+yet farther forward into the future.</p>
+
+<p>The groom-of-the-chambers sees that there are tears in the
+cold, grey-blue eyes.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_356">[356]</span></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp56" id="illus12" style="max-width: 28.125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus12.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>Napoleon as Emperor. Painting by Vigneux. Count Primoli
+    Collection.</p>
+    <p>(From the “Corpus Imaginum” of the Photographic
+    Society, Charlottenburg.)</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_357">[357]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_FOUR">BOOK FOUR<br>
+THE SEA</h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_358">[358]</span></p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>It is essential that this man shall be ruined!... But
+since, here below everything takes place by natural causes,
+the daimons trip him: thus, in the end, even Napoleon is
+overthrown.—<span class="smcap">Goethe.</span></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_359">[359]</span></p>
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+<p>The old struggle in Napoleon’s mind between mathematics
+and fantasy had ripened. The issue of the struggle was now
+to decide the history of his world dominion.</p>
+
+<p>For now, at the climax of his career; fortified by his ties
+with the Habsburgs, ties for whose sake he had broken the
+familiar associations of years of married life; fortified by having
+a legitimate heir, whose birth gave firm anchorage to his
+adventurer’s dynasty; having gained the mastery over conspiracies,
+and having learned to dominate all the political parties—he
+was once more free as he had been eleven years earlier,
+when the victory of Marengo had safeguarded the tranquillity
+he needed for the internal development of France. True, England
+was unconquered; but Russia seemed still friendly. True,
+Spain was uncoerced; but Europe from Reggio to Hammerfest
+was allied to France, this being a euphemism for dependence
+on France. For the last time in his life, he was free to
+make a great decision.</p>
+
+<p>Had he been nothing more than a mathematician, he would
+have been content with his calculations within the resuscitated
+realm of Charlemagne, and dreams of world dominion would
+have yielded place before the reality of the United States of
+Europe under France’s leadership. Had he been nothing but a
+visionary, he would have aimed, like a new Alexander, to march
+towards the Ganges; and England would have been merely a
+pretext for his onslaught on India. But he was both mathematician
+and visionary, and was therefore in danger of disavowing
+himself. For, as calculator, he failed to grasp an
+eminently real factor which could not be expressed in figures.
+The moods of un-uniformed men in Spain and in Germany
+could play no part in the cipherings of a military commander
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_360">[360]</span>who thought in terms of army corps and big guns. Nevertheless
+such moods should have come within the scope of his visions
+as a seer!</p>
+
+<p>Thus during these decisive years, after the birth of his heir,
+and before his next warlike designs have become active, his mind
+is alternately dominated by his two fundamental impulses, and
+the whole future depends upon which of the two will be supreme
+when the moment for action comes. Will his awakened fantasy
+warn him that it is dangerous to brave the anger of exasperated
+peoples, or will his calculating faculty disclose to him the danger
+that will await him on the distant road to the East?
+What will happen should he err in both respects? Then, indeed,
+his whole world will go up in flames.</p>
+
+<p>He feels that his powers are ripening. In addition to the
+two energies we have been considering, a third is growing to
+maturity, the sense of destiny. Words unheard before, or
+rarely expressed, now find voice: “I feel that I am being driven
+towards an unknown goal. But as soon as I have reached it,
+as soon as I no longer have an inexorable mission, an atom
+will suffice to overthrow me. Till then, no human powers can
+effect anything against me. The days are numbered.”</p>
+
+<p>Truly they are numbered; and through these prophetic
+words there already breathes the foreboding of an exit, although
+he does not know the way thither. Now, on the path
+towards the tragical catastrophe, the clarity of his inner vision
+is dimmed. Yet he himself speaks of the campaign against
+Russia as the “fifth act,” though the full significance of the
+term is not apparent to him. Tones like those of his youthful
+days resound in the new harmony. “I have got to the
+end of everything,” he had said when he was thirty, on the Nile.
+Now, at forty-three, he declares in the Council of State: “All
+this will last as long as I do, and no longer. Perhaps when
+I am dead, my son will think himself well off if he can be sure of
+an income of forty thousand francs a year.”</p>
+
+<p>But at the same time his ardour increases. Since those days
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_361">[361]</span>when it seemed to him that (thanks to the acceleration of
+genius) he had got to the end of everything, since the days of
+the Egyptian campaign, he had been guided by a religious faith
+that it was his destiny to become a second Alexander. Now,
+when for the first time he is equipped with means for the carrying
+out of his design, is he to annihilate his dream by figures,
+which are not more potent in the world than dreams? When
+the arch-chancellor wishes him a happy new year, he answers,
+as if suddenly rejuvenated: “I must grow wise if you are to
+be able to repeat this greeting thirty years hence.”</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon never grew wise, but he was always clever. When
+he finds that his commercial warfare is reacting to the detriment
+of his own country, he disregards his own prohibitions,
+and grants licenses for the import of certain raw materials and
+dyes from England, in part because they are urgently needed
+for French industry, and in part because the articles in question
+are among the requirements of Parisian luxury. Soon,
+in all continental countries, huge sums are made by smugglers
+who import the very colonial produce which the Emperor wishes
+to prevent his chief enemy from marketing. These goods are
+then retailed at a great profit. Is the smartest dealer in
+Europe to be robbed of his gains by smugglers? He would
+rather have the business under his own control, so he imposes
+a fifty per cent. duty on all the colonial produce his agents can
+find on the Continent, and pouches these receipts for France.
+Since at the same time he has all English woollen textiles that
+he can lay hands on burned, he opens opportunities for illicit
+gains which are so large that for their sake people will ignore
+the risks of draconian punishments. He has to carry on a
+guerilla warfare, just as in Spain, though this time he is
+fighting the nation of shopkeepers with trade weapons.</p>
+
+<p>It is likewise a war of decrees. Since Paris has prohibited
+all trading in English wares, London reciprocates by demanding
+from all neutral countries enhanced dues for permission to
+call at the blockaded ports. Paris counters this move by declaring
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_362">[362]</span>that the vessels of neutrals which shall call at the ports
+of London or of Malta, run the risk of capture as prizes.
+London responds by sending her ships out under false colours,
+and Paris thereupon has all merchantmen trading in Mediterranean
+waters overhauled and searched. The American government
+forbids its citizens to have business dealings with
+Europe, or even to have any private intercourse with the Continent;
+but the Emperor promises all kinds of privileges to the
+Americans if they will cease to call at English ports. So paradoxical
+is the situation resulting from the endeavour to strangle
+overseas trade, by which Napoleon had hoped to extort the
+freedom of the seas!</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor’s hopes are rising. The English pound sterling
+is still quoted at seventeen francs, the English banks are failing,
+and in parliament the opposition is against the continuance of
+the war. In spite of this, his peace proposals are rejected.
+The disturbances in Spain are at once the cause and the consequence
+of England’s defiant attitude.</p>
+
+<p>There is still an army numbering a quarter million men
+stationed in Spain; and, despite all endeavours, Wellington’s
+thirty thousand are not driven out, for the bands of native
+insurrectionaries led by officers and monks carry on unceasing
+guerilla warfare against the French invaders. The Emperor’s
+quarrel with the pope stiffens the antagonism of the monks.
+While French children on the northern slopes of the Pyrenees
+are being taught that Napoleon is God’s vicegerent, Spanish
+children on the southern slopes are learning that the Emperor
+is the devil incarnate and that the murder of a Frenchman
+is a deed pleasing to the Almighty.</p>
+
+<p>In so fanatical a land, where hardly any regular troops
+are left for the French to fight against, Napoleon’s generals
+feel out of their element. Disunion prevails. Masséna is sent
+against Portugal. At the same time, Napoleon deprives
+Joseph of four provinces. When the king journeys to Paris to
+demand the cancelling of the decree, the Emperor declares that
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_363">[363]</span>his brother has ceded these lands. Napoleon places a general
+to administer each province, and appoints a marshal in
+supreme command. He carries out this Roman system of ruling
+through military governors thus ruthlessly and persistently
+because of his intense disappointment in the rule of the members
+of his family to whom he has allotted crowns, and, above
+all, in the behaviour of his brothers. Terrible battles, made
+more ghastly by famine and disease, are meanwhile forcing
+Masséna to retreat. The Emperor, in a fury, recalls him.</p>
+
+<p>Will Napoleon at length realise that his presence is essential?
+Marshals, officers, and, above all, the rank and file of the army,
+eagerly await his coming. Full well does he know this; and yet
+he does not go. Does he fear assassination at the hands of
+some fanatical Spaniard? Or is it treachery at home that
+deters him; such conspiracies as those which called him back to
+Paris so suddenly when he was encamped near Astorga? Is
+he to get enmeshed in this southern corner of his empire at the
+moment when the whole is at stake? What is Spain to him?
+He chooses the oldest of his companions-in-arms: Marmont is
+sent to clear up the mess and bring the campaign to an end.</p>
+
+<p>The second kingly brother had, with good reason, thrown
+up his job. Napoleon had deprived him of all the Dutch territory
+on the left bank of the Rhine; had insisted upon the removal
+of the rest of the protective duties against France; and
+(this was the worst of all) had angered the Dutch, who are
+traders and seamen, by the measures he had compelled them to
+take against England. The Emperor had expected both his
+brothers to run counter to the currents of national feeling in
+their respective kingdoms, underestimating alike the strength
+of popular sentiment and the sense of honour of the two men he
+had forced to become monarchs. It would have been easier for
+military governors to cope with the rising tide of nationalism
+and to dispense with a feeling obligation towards the people
+they ruled, than it was for kings burdened with historic crowns.</p>
+
+<p>When Louis found it impossible to put up any longer with
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_364">[364]</span>the Emperor’s tutelage, he abdicated in favour of his younger
+son, and fled by night from his kingdom for an unrevealed
+destination. Napoleon’s catchpolls sought him far and wide
+in Europe, to discover him at length in Austria. The Emperor
+was greatly enraged, yet he could not but see that he was
+himself more to blame than Louis. He therefore made no attempt
+to punish, but sent his own body physician to care for
+the fugitive, who had excused the flight on the ground of illness.
+To his mother, the Emperor wrote saying that there were tidings
+of Louis’ whereabouts. “You need not be anxious; but
+his conduct has been of a kind which can only be explained by
+his illness. Your very affectionate son, Napoleon.”</p>
+
+<p>The wording of this subscription stands out among the
+numberless letters in which the dictator of Europe was accustomed
+to express his will to those who usually received these
+missives with trembling. The fugitive king, meanwhile, drawing
+a breath of relief, settled down to a literary life in Graz,
+writing in three volumes under the title <i>Marie, ou les peines
+d’amour</i> (1808), the story of the love affair which the Emperor
+had so ruthlessly frustrated. But when Joseph wished to follow
+Louis’ example, feeling that he would rather retire into private
+life than continue to play the part of king in a pack of
+cards, he was restrained from abdication by the iron hand of
+the Emperor. Napoleon considered that his democratically
+inclined brother would do more mischief as an intriguer in
+Paris than in his position as nominal chief and military commander;
+so Joseph had once more to put his hand to the task
+of war, for which, to the Emperor’s great annoyance, he was
+utterly unfitted.</p>
+
+<p>The most frivolous members of the family, Jerome and
+Pauline, were amusing themselves with love affairs. Murat
+and Caroline were immersed over head and ears in old and new
+intrigues. As for Elise, she had so much printed in the Tuscan
+newspapers anent her reviews and hunting parties that the Emperor
+was even more annoyed by her craze for notoriety than
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_365">[365]</span>by the things she actually did, and wrote to her, saying:
+“Europe pays very little heed to what the grand duchess of
+Tuscany is doing.”</p>
+
+<p>The most dangerous man in his family circle has not yet
+become an object of his menaces. Since the old king of Sweden
+was on friendly terms with England, the Emperor had made
+him abdicate in favour of an uncle; and the new ruler, who is
+devoted to the cause of Napoleon, has declared war against
+England. Being old and childless, he thinks he cannot please
+the Emperor better than by appointing as successor one who is
+closely connected with Napoleon by marriage. Thus it is that
+Bernadotte, Joseph’s brother-in-law, who during the wars has
+made friends in Swedish Pomerania, is unexpectedly nominated
+crown prince of Sweden—as a result of a complicated intrigue,
+in which Fouché has played a considerable part. The Emperor
+would have found it difficult, in any case, to object to this
+selection of a French general as heir to a foreign throne; and
+it was practically impossible for him to interfere with the promotion
+of his sometime rival, the man who had nearly prevented
+the coup d’état of the Eighteenth Brumaire, and had subsequently
+become the husband of the woman whom Napoleon had
+once thought of marrying. “A good soldier,” growled the Emperor;
+“but with no talent for ruling; one of the old Jacobins,
+with a bee in his bonnet like the rest of them, and therefore he
+will never be able to keep his position on a throne.... Still, I
+could not interfere, were it only because it would be impossible
+to do anything more effective against the English than to set a
+French marshal upon the throne of Gustavus Adolphus....
+I am glad to be quit of him.”</p>
+
+<p>Is he really so carefree? Hitherto these folk whom he cannot
+trust have always been kept under his own eyes in Paris.</p>
+
+<p>Bernadotte triumphans! Soon, at last, he too will wear
+a crown, and will not even have to thank this detested Bonaparte
+for the gift. To Napoleon, therefore, who till yesterday
+was Bernadotte’s supreme war lord, the crown prince of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_366">[366]</span>Sweden now writes a bitter-sweet letter, offering soldiers and
+iron, but asking for money. The Emperor smiles. He knows
+what is written between the lines, and makes no direct answer.
+He has Bernadotte informed that he does not correspond with
+royal princes. His old opponent will not forget the gibe. In
+less than two years, Bernadotte will take vengeance for it, and
+for all that has gone before!</p>
+
+<p>Ruefully, the Emperor watches the flames that are springing
+up everywhere, the flames his family mania has lighted.
+He does not conceal from his intimates that he is disappointed
+with his kin and his nobles. Writing to one of them at this
+time, Napoleon says: “I ought never to have had Murat
+and my brothers crowned. Live and learn!... It was a mistake,
+too, to give back the confiscated estates to the émigrés. I
+should have kept the lands as State domains, and have been
+content to allow the former owners a modest income. I can’t
+stomach them, these people of the old regime; their light and
+airy graces are out of keeping with my serious temperament.
+I myself did not succeed to a heritage, but was content to take
+what belonged to no one. I ought to have been satisfied with
+the appointment of governors and viceroys. Some of my marshals,
+even, are beginning to dream of greatness and independence.”</p>
+
+<p>At length he has realised that it is dangerous to play the
+emperor! His troubles are the fruit of his wish to safeguard
+a dynasty (this meaning that the spirits of revolt and of
+genius, from whose union Napoleon has sprung, are to be
+taught to walk in the paths of legitimate mediocrity). They
+are the outcome of the weak moments of a man who in his hours
+of strength believed in the immortality of deed and of fame,
+of a man who in these hours of strength felt no need of the
+perpetuation that is achieved by means of a family line. The
+brothers, and brothers-in-law, and marshals, who all shine by
+reflected light, will take vengeance ere long. When his star
+pales, and the skies of Europe are overcast, they will still
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_367">[367]</span>try to shine across the Continent in the afterglow of his
+splendour!</p>
+
+<p>Deeply ingrained in him was the illusion that his good fortune
+would be transmitted to his son. When, after the boy’s
+birth, a great reception was held, and all the notables came to
+offer congratulations, the Schwarzenbergs were among the
+guests. Schwarzenberg, as Austrian envoy in Paris, had done
+much to promote the marriage. The Emperor, full of gratitude,
+went up to Princess Schwarzenberg and, taking from his
+coat a scarab pin, presented it to her, saying:</p>
+
+<p>“I found this scarab in the tomb of an Egyptian king, and
+have worn it ever since as a talisman. Please accept it; I no
+longer need such a mascot.”</p>
+
+<p>He feels that the birth of his son has placed him above all
+possibility of danger, and that everything will go well with him
+in future. He can have no further need for an amulet!</p>
+
+<p>These kings, these brothers, have been but a substitute for
+the sons that were lacking. Now, when he can feast his eyes
+on a son of his body, he recognises his mistake, and the disastrous
+consequences of Josephine’s barrenness are plainer than
+ever. Too many battles have been fought, too many years
+have passed, there has been too much self-restraint and self-denial,
+for it to be possible now to give this heir a great place
+in his system. The boy has been born too late. The tempo of
+Napoleon’s life has been so rapid. The man who at two-and-twenty
+was still a lieutenant, had become an emperor at thirty-four.
+Such a man should have had his first-born son long
+before the age of forty-one. He has recklessly expended his
+vital energies, and cannot look forward confidently to many
+years of power. How can he reasonably expect to establish
+the child securely as his successor?</p>
+
+<p>It is, indeed, a poignant sight. Watch this man who is now
+growing old with fearful speed, as he dandles the long-desired
+infant on his knees, tries his own hat on the baby’s head,
+watches the child crawling on the floor while he sits at breakfast,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_368">[368]</span>and even (when the youngster grows a little older) allows
+him to run about the study. Napoleon is playing the war
+game, with little wooden rods representing soldiers dispersed
+over the floor, and is planning how to make an end of Wellington
+in Spain. The boy is brought to the door. According to
+the rule of the house, the governess may not cross this threshold,
+so Napoleon himself goes to the door for the child, sets
+him down among the mimic armies, and, with the tolerance of
+a grandfather, lets the child play riot with the battle. Laughing,
+he pulls faces at his infant son in front of the looking-glass;
+buckles round the body of the two-year-old the sword
+with which he has conquered Europe; and, with his actor’s
+instincts, feels that the boundaries between jest and earnest
+are being broken down. Imaginings are ripening into reality,
+while all that has seemed to him real is not more than an
+image and a parable.</p>
+
+<p>He says that the child is “spirited and sensitive. Just what
+I want him to be.... My son is sturdy, and in splendid
+health. He has my lungs, my mouth, and my eyes.... I do
+hope he will turn out well.” In such simple fashion he writes to
+Josephine, and to her only. He insists upon her keeping up
+the old tone of comradeship, and scolds her when, after the divorce,
+she writes to him as “Your Majesty.” “You have written
+me an unkind letter. I am always the same; my feelings
+do not change.... I shall say no more until you have compared
+this letter with yours. Then you can judge for yourself
+which of us two is more friendly, you or I.” To no one else
+can he speak so simply, unless it be to Berthier, whom he often
+calls his “wife.” The only thing that annoys him with
+Josephine is that she is always running into debt. He thinks
+that she ought to be able to save half of her allowance of three
+millions. “Then in ten years you would have put by fifteen
+millions for your grandsons.... Let me know that you are
+quite well again. I am told that you are getting as stout as one
+of our good Norman peasant women.” But when Josephine
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_369">[369]</span>continues to be spendthrift, he tells the steward of her property
+not to make her any further payments till evidence is
+forthcoming that she is no longer squandering money.</p>
+
+<p>He sees very little more of her, however; and he will have
+nothing to do with the lady friends of earlier years. His attitude
+towards marriage is that of a respectable citizen, and
+that of an Italian. Besides, as a sovereign prince he wishes to
+set a good example to his subjects. Since Marie Louise makes
+no nationalist pretensions (for, being of a dull, easy-going, and
+fickle temperament, she has promptly come to regard herself as
+a Frenchwoman), the two get on very well together. He has
+always time to spare for her. When she is learning to ride, he
+walks patiently at her bridle. He, who has never waited before,
+will even wait when she is late for dinner. She is not afraid of
+him, and is saucy enough to tell the Austrian envoy that she
+thinks her husband is a little afraid of her. It is important
+to the Emperor that he should make a good impression upon
+the Hofburg. Regarding it as politically expedient that a
+report of his wife’s happiness shall be sent to Vienna, he brings
+Metternich to see the empress, and tells the envoy to stay until
+some one fetches him. Napoleon goes away, locking the door
+of the room after him. He does not release the prisoners for
+an hour, and then, with a sly laugh, asks Metternich whether
+he is satisfied, now, that the empress is happy.</p>
+
+<p>These are nothing more than jests, but that he can find it
+possible to make them in a period of grave decisions indicates
+that there is a certain release of tension in his heavily laden
+heart. In truth, Marie Louise’s only service to him was that,
+during the years with which we are now dealing, her freshness
+did actually bring him such a solace.</p>
+
+<p>But the marriage did not effect the desired release of political
+tension. Felix Austria, accustomed to gain advantages by
+these royal marriages, had hoped for a couple of provinces as
+dower, but had received nothing. All the more, therefore, must
+Emperor Francis feel rancorous on account of the humiliation
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_370">[370]</span>inflicted upon him by the little Corsican; for, as soon as the
+gates of the Hofburg had closed behind Marie Louise, he could
+not but regard the marriage as detrimental to his dignity. To
+appease his legitimist misgivings, the Habsburg ruler had a
+search for Buonaparte ancestors made in musty old Tuscan
+documents, and when next he met his son-in-law was able to assure
+the latter that the Buonaparte lineage had been traced as
+far back as the eleventh century. At that time, said Francis,
+there had been members of the family in Treviso. Thereupon
+the first and last of the Buonaparti made the delicious answer:</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Sire. I prefer to be the Rudolf of my race!”</p>
+
+<p>Witty, but unwise, for such words from an upstart sovereign
+could not but rankle in the mind of this descendant of an ancient
+line! When, as would soon come to pass, the question
+whether the emperor of Austria was to take sides for or against
+his son-in-law was to be decided by Francis’ mood, the memory
+of this and similar slights may have played a considerable part.
+Napoleon recognised this when it was too late. “Had I but
+made myself agreeable to that simpleton, who knows but that
+in the plains of Leipzig there might have been a hundred thousand
+fewer men in the opposing army!”</p>
+
+<p>All the same, the revolutionist admired many of the ways of
+the legitimate ruler. One day he caught sight of a letter his
+wife had addressed to her father as follows: “His Sacred Majesty,
+the Apostolical Emperor.” Napoleon considered this an
+excellent idea; and in private, no doubt, his thoughts turned
+to Alexander of Macedon who had declared himself to be the
+son of Jupiter.</p>
+
+<p>The apostolical emperor was especially out of humour with
+his son-in-law on the pope’s account. Napoleon was continually
+tightening the bonds round the Holy Father. Pius VII.
+was kept at Savona. A man by no means learned in canon law,
+he was cut off from his advisers, and subsequently deprived of
+his papers, in order to make him pliable. A schism was threatening.
+Thirteen of the cardinals had failed to put in an appearance
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_371">[371]</span>at the Emperor’s wedding, for the pope would not
+recognise the divorce which Fesch had pronounced. Now Napoleon
+has cases filled with the Vatican State papers brought to
+Paris, thus arousing the belief that he really intends to make
+this city the capital of Christendom; he summons a council at
+which the prelates of his European realm appear; he extorts a
+decree depriving the pope of the investiture in case of dissent,
+and ultimately compels Pius to agree to this—at any rate for
+France.</p>
+
+<p>Europe is troubled by these matters, and split into factions.
+On the whole, the Russians and the Poles are glad that things
+are going ill with the Roman pontiff; the Prussians and the
+English are, of course, delighted; but what arouses general surprise
+is that the inhabitants of the Papal States are also on
+the side of the Emperor. This little country, now doubly
+robbed of its master, is glad to accept the Code Napoléon,
+modern education, a rational system of administration, vigorous
+road construction, and the draining of the Pontine marshes.
+Whereas the son of the revolution has long since brought back
+the old spirit of Rome to Paris, he now transplants young
+revolutionary practice from Paris to Rome. Thus does Napoleon
+build bridges.</p>
+
+<p>The excommunicated Emperor cunningly tries to turn the
+curse against the pope. When, in newly annexed Holland, he
+receives the clergy in the presence of the Protestants, he rebukes
+the bishops as follows: “Are you of the religion of Gregory
+VII.? I am not. My religion is that of Jesus Christ, who
+said: ‘Render unto Cæsar the things which are Cæsar’s.’ In
+accordance with the same text, I render unto God the things
+which are God’s. I have received my sceptre from God. But
+I wear a worldly sword, and know how to use it! God erects
+thrones. I did not raise myself to my throne: God set me upon
+it! You poor mortals wish to resist? You will not pray for
+your monarch, because the priest of Rome has excommunicated
+him? Do you think I am the sort of man to kiss the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_372">[372]</span>pope’s toe?... Prove to me, imbeciles, that Jesus has appointed
+the pope his vicegerent, and that the pope has power to
+excommunicate a monarch!... Be good citizens, and sign the
+Concordat. You, Mr. Prefect, must take such measures as
+will prevent my hearing any more of these matters.”</p>
+
+<p>To so preposterous a travesty of his own innermost
+thoughts has Napoleon come. He does not believe a word of
+what he is here thundering out; and in private mocks at this
+official doctrine, as he has always done. Nonetheless, to the
+circlet of golden laurels with which he had crowned himself
+before the eyes of the priest of Rome, there now attaches a
+vestige of divine right which makes the crown a heavy one to
+wear.</p>
+
+<h3>II</h3>
+
+<p>“Kindly inform me why the price of salt in the neighbourhood
+of Strasburg has risen one sou.”</p>
+
+<p>Closely following upon the heels of this enquiry to the Ministry
+for War, comes a command to the Admiralty: two entire
+fleets are to be constructed in the course of the next three
+years, one Atlantic fleet and one Mediterranean fleet; the latter
+against Sicily and Egypt, the former against Ireland. As
+soon as the Spanish affair is in better case, preparations are to
+be made for an expedition to the Cape in 1812. An army of
+from sixty to eighty thousand men is to be got ready for an
+attack on Surinam and Martinique. “Having eluded the enemy
+cruisers,” the expeditionary forces are to share out the two
+hemispheres.</p>
+
+<p>We see how closely at this date, when imaginative fantasies
+threaten to develop into adventures, the exact observations of
+the father of his country are allied to the rhapsodical plans of
+the world conqueror. For that is what Napoleon now attempts:
+he is actually trying to realise his old dream of world conquest.</p>
+
+<p>“You want to know whither we are going? We shall have
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_373">[373]</span>done with Europe; then, as robbers of robbers less bold than
+ourselves, we shall march to the attack, seize India, over which
+they have made themselves masters.... I must take India ...
+in the rear, if I am to strike successfully at England....
+Just imagine Moscow occupied, the tsar conciliated or killed
+by his people, perhaps a new, dependent throne,—and tell me
+whether an army of Frenchmen, reinforced by auxiliary troops
+from Tiflis, cannot press forward to the Ganges, and thence,
+at a touch, destroy the whole structure of English commerce!...
+At one blow, France would have established the independence
+of the West and the freedom of the seas!” A witness
+reports that while he was voicing these ideas “his eyes shone
+with a wonderful light, and he went on to point out the reasons
+for the adventure, all the difficulties it entailed, the means of
+achievement, and the prospects of success.”</p>
+
+<p>Shall the tsar be conciliated or killed? That is the question
+which troubles the Emperor the whole year round. Calculations
+and presentiments make him desire to have Alexander as
+his friend rather than his enemy. Napoleon has nothing to
+gain by a defeat of Russia. On the contrary! He dreads
+being forced into this war, and endeavours, as on former occasions,
+to avoid it; though only if the tsar, as previously
+agreed, shall participate in the great final struggle as an ally.
+Napoleon keeps the tsar under observation, and perceives that
+suggestions are having less and less effect upon Alexander.
+He therefore writes to a prince of the Confederation of the
+Rhine in these amazing terms: “This war will break out in
+spite of the tsar, in spite of me, and in spite of the interests of
+the two empires.”</p>
+
+<p>Never before had the Emperor or the Consul declared, in such
+words, that war was unavoidable. Precisely because all rational
+need for the campaign was lacking this time, he found it necessary
+to proclaim the war with the tsar to be the work of fate.
+At the very first hand-clasp, in the peace tent on the Memel,
+the seed of this war was sown. During the days of intimacy
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_374">[374]</span>which followed, when the encounter blossomed into friendship,
+that seed invisibly took root and grew. In later days, Talleyrand’s
+treacherous diplomacy cherished its growth; and when,
+at Erfurt, the emperors embraced, they could already feel between
+them the coils of the snake. That they did not become
+related by marriage was neither an accident nor the outcome
+of a conscious desire: it was consequent upon the mistrust which
+had invaded the tsar’s mind, a mistrust of which he could not
+rid himself and which was to prove well founded. Two men
+wishing to divide Europe between them, could not see with complacency
+the half in a rival’s hands. Their intentions were
+honourable at the outset; but they were impossible of fulfilment.
+The day of contest must inevitably come at last. “He alone
+is still weighing upon the pinnacle of my edifice. My rival is
+young; daily his strength is waxing; daily mine is waning.”
+This gloomy recognition spurs him ever onward.</p>
+
+<p>It is useless to try to interpret such decrees of destiny as the
+outcome of political causes.</p>
+
+<p>Somewhat earlier, the Emperor has asked the tsar to lay an
+embargo on all neutral ships, as he himself has done, and thus
+give England the death-blow. The tsar cannot agree to this,
+for it would fatally injure his own sea-borne trade; he will
+only continue, as before, to confiscate all the prohibited goods
+he discovers, but he needs colonial wares from the neutrals.
+Being unable to stop this leak in the East, the Emperor has
+to exercise redoubled care on the German coast, and he therefore
+annexes the mouths of the Weser and the Elbe with the
+Hansa towns and part of Hanover. “Circumstances demand
+these new guarantees against England.” Oldenburg is swallowed
+up with the rest, though the heir to this duchy has married
+Alexander’s sister.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor’s high-handed proceedings were a logical outcome
+of his policy, but they were necessarily an offence to the
+tsar. Alexander regarded them as a breach of the treaty of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_375">[375]</span>Tilsit, in which the integrity of Oldenburg had been guaranteed.
+He issued a circular to the powers protesting against this
+insult to his house, a remonstrance almost equivalent to a
+declaration of war. In this document he enquired what could
+be the use of alliances unless the treaties in which they were
+incorporated were strictly observed, so that the cabinets of
+Europe could not but smile at the concluding words of the
+circular, in which he described the alliance between Russia and
+France as permanent. His next step was a ukase in which he
+threw Russia open to colonial goods, while imposing prohibitive
+import duties on wine and silk, the products of French industry.</p>
+
+<p>The maps lie spread on the tables in St. Petersburg and
+Paris. Where can either power best harass the other? The
+tsar proposes to make peace with Turkey. The Emperor incites
+Austria to seize Serbia, to advance towards Moldavia and
+Wallachia, promising not to interfere; this will keep Alexander
+busy. Metternich nods assent, but does not move. “What
+about Poland?” thinks Alexander. “Has not Napoleon already
+enlarged the duchy of Warsaw by the addition of Galicia? Is
+there any guarantee that he will not re-establish the kingdom
+of Poland?” Caulaincourt, French ambassador in Russia, who
+admires the tsar and wants peace, gives the desired guarantees.
+But the Emperor would only agree to a secret ratification. If
+the differences between France and Russia should culminate in
+war, he will need Poland for his operations against the tsar;
+Polish hopes must, therefore, be fostered. Penetrating this
+design, Alexander demands an open treaty, which shall put an
+end to Polish expectations.</p>
+
+<p>When Masséna is defeated in Spain, the Emperor entertains
+fresh doubts. Caulaincourt, who is back in Paris, does his
+utmost to intensify these misgivings, dilates on the tsar’s will-to-peace,
+and ventures far in his defence of Alexander. The
+Emperor leads him on; hears all he has to say; asks a thousand
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_376">[376]</span>questions concerning the tsar and the court, Alexander’s piety,
+the nobles, and the peasants; takes Caulaincourt by the ear, a
+sign of affability.</p>
+
+<p>“You must be in love with him!”</p>
+
+<p>“I am in love with peace.”</p>
+
+<p>“So am I. But I will not allow any one to dictate to me.
+Evacuate Danzig, forsooth! Next I shall have to ask Alexander’s
+permission before I can hold a review in Mainz. You are
+a fool. I am an old fox, and know the people with whom I am
+dealing.... We must deprive this Russian colossus and his
+hordes of the power to inundate the south once more.... I
+shall advance northwards, and re-establish there the old boundaries
+of Europe.”</p>
+
+<p>Quite unsubstantial reasons, masks, mere pretexts. Warningly
+Caulaincourt quotes Alexander’s words: “I shall learn
+from his own teachings, which are those of a master. Our climate
+will make war for us. The French are not inured to it
+as we are. Miracles only happen when the Emperor is present,
+and he cannot be everywhere.” Napoleon is greatly moved by
+these words; he tramps restlessly up and down the room; the
+conversation lasts for hours. Since he cannot refute Caulaincourt’s
+arguments, he makes vague answers behind which his
+titanic wishes loom.</p>
+
+<p>“A well-fought battle will put an end to the fine resolves of
+your friend Alexander.... He is false, ambitious, and weak;
+he has the character of a Greek. Believe me, it is he, not I, who
+wants this war, for he cherishes a hidden design.... He is out
+of humour because I did not take his sister.” When Caulaincourt
+gives proofs to the contrary, Napoleon says: “I have
+forgotten the details.”—Forgotten! This is a new word in the
+Emperor’s mouth. He knows his position to be weak; himself
+a man of facts, he now brushes away those which he finds inconvenient.</p>
+
+<p>He sends a more resolute envoy to the tsar. When a proposal
+comes from St. Petersburg that Warsaw shall be exchanged
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_377">[377]</span>for Oldenburg, the Emperor says threateningly to the
+Russian ambassador, raising his voice so that every one in the
+room may hear: “Not one Polish village!”</p>
+
+<p>But these political incidents and discussions are merely the
+forms of destiny. Schemes flash like lightning through his
+brain; his soul is devoured by wishes: and he will rather reveal
+these things to a dangerous enemy like Fouché than to a shrewd
+adherent like Caulaincourt. He cannot rid himself of the
+ex-Jacobin and ex-cleric. Last year, he had cashiered the Minister
+of Police, for Fouché was obviously intriguing with England.
+But Napoleon was as lenient as he had been at the time
+of the conspiracy which had brought him back hot foot from
+Astorga. Instead of banishing the man, the Emperor had appointed
+him senator—at the same time writing to him
+words which give a glimpse into the inferno of these struggles
+between the monarch and the spy: “Although I do not doubt
+your devotion, I find it necessary to have you watched all the
+time. This is a fatiguing necessity, and I should not be called
+upon to do anything of the kind.”</p>
+
+<p>But though he dismisses Fouché from his ministerial post,
+and has the watcher watched, Napoleon cannot get on without
+him, and talks to him about the most private matters.</p>
+
+<p>“Since my marriage, people fancy that the lion is asleep.
+They will soon learn whether I am asleep. I need eight hundred
+thousand men, and have them; I shall tow all Europe in
+my wake. Europe is nothing more than an old woman, and
+with my eight hundred thousand men I can make her do whatever
+I please.... Did not you yourself say to me: ‘You let
+your genius have its way, because it does not know the word
+impossible.’ How can I help it if a great power drives me on to
+become dictator of the world? You and the others, who criticise
+me to-day and would like me to become a good-natured
+ruler—have not you all been accessories? I have not yet fulfilled
+my mission, and I mean to end what I have begun. <i>We
+need a European legal code, a European court of appeal, a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_378">[378]</span>unified coinage, a common system of weights and measures.
+The same law must run throughout Europe. I shall fuse all
+the nations into one.</i>... This, my lord duke, is the only
+solution that pleases me....” Having said this, he suddenly
+sends Fouché from the room.</p>
+
+<p>Here we have it plainly disclosed, Napoleon’s vision of the
+United States of Europe. The plan is recorded by one who,
+in his memoirs, would fain have discredited the Emperor—this
+plan with its extremely rational deductions and its daimonic
+inspiration. Europe is no longer a “mole-hill” as it was in the
+days of Milan and Rivoli, when he was nothing more than General
+Bonaparte, and when to the young man of genius all possible
+adversaries seemed too petty. Fifteen years later, Europe
+has become a plastic material; and Bonaparte is the emperor,
+the legislator, the great orderer, the enemy of the anarchy out
+of which he sprang, the modeller who would mould the clay into
+a splendid whole. Throughout the intervening years he has
+been marching along a predestined path; now he displays
+before us, in this statement of his aims, the productive consequences
+towards which he has been moving along that road of
+force through ever new hecatombs of slaughter. Behind him
+lie Charlemagne’s visions of a united Europe; in front of him
+glide new forms; and Cæsar, half way towards the realisation of
+his dream, is well aware that the spirit will ultimately overpower
+the sword. He has himself said this; and what he is now
+striving to establish by force with the aid of eight hundred
+thousand men, will some day come into existence as a voluntary
+amalgamation based upon reason and necessity. All the
+nations will fuse into one.</p>
+
+<p>This, my lord duke, is the only solution that pleases me.</p>
+
+<h3>III</h3>
+
+<p>While Napoleon is pouring his thoughts into Fouché’s ears,
+Alexander is pouring gold into Talleyrand’s pockets, and no
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_379">[379]</span>doubt Talleyrand is going shares with Fouché. The bank could
+have informed Napoleon to whom Count Nesselrode, the new
+secretary to the Russian embassy, was paying out such large
+sums of money. From month to month Talleyrand lets Russia
+know how the French preparations for war are advancing, and
+when they will be completed. The limping Mephistopheles must
+have smiled to himself, sometimes, when Russia paid him for
+his information with licenses for the import of English goods
+into Russian harbours—documents which he could sell for hard
+cash in Paris!</p>
+
+<p>Is the tsar richer than the Emperor? Russia is still allied
+to France, but the Russian market has been closed to French
+goods, and the famous 1811 vintage has one purchaser the
+less. Since England and Spain have long ceased to be customers,
+French industry is in a bad way. But when the Minister
+for Finance urges peace because tranquillity is essential
+to the restoration of French finances, the Emperor cuts him
+short by saying: “Not at all! It is true that our finances are
+disordered, but that is why we need war!”</p>
+
+<p>This argument was valid in the past, when the general had
+sent from Italy the money which the indebted Directory needed,
+and when, as Consul and Emperor he had made money by his
+wars. The French State, suffering more than any other from
+the effects of the blockade it had itself established, showed a
+deficit for the first time, though the deficit amounted to hardly
+more than fifty millions. Yet, even now, the Emperor refused
+to sanction any kind of State loan; “that would be immoral,
+for it would lay a burden upon later generations.” Nevertheless,
+he introduced indirect taxes and monopolies; nor did he act
+unwisely in doing so, since he expected to acquire fresh markets,
+and thereby more stable finances, from the Russian war.
+But victory was essential!</p>
+
+<p>He enthusiastically lays his plans before the Chambers of
+Commerce. “England has harmed herself far more by her
+blockade than she has harmed any other country; she has
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_380">[380]</span>taught us how to dispense with her products. In a couple of
+years’ time, Europe will have adapted herself to the new ways
+of feeding her populations. Soon, we shall have more than
+enough beet sugar and shall be able to do without cane sugar....
+Every year I draw only nine hundred millions revenue
+from my own country; three hundred millions I put away, and
+store in the cellars of the Tuileries. The Bank of France is
+full of silver; the Bank of England has none. Since the peace
+of Tilsit, I have received more than a milliard francs in indemnities.
+Austria is bankrupt. England and Russia will soon
+follow suit. I alone have money!”</p>
+
+<p>All the same, no one has much faith in his fine words. The
+more the Emperor’s plans for world conquest force the pace
+of recruiting, the more keenly does he keep watch upon the
+internal tranquillity of France. As the ruthlessness of his dictatorship
+increases, the mood of the citizens of France becomes
+gloomier and gloomier. Any criticism, even in the remotest
+corner of the realm, is immediately pounced upon and prosecuted.
+There are more than three thousand persons locked
+up in gaol without trial, because this one “hates the Emperor,”
+or this other has certain “religious outlooks,” or another has
+written, “in private letters, unfriendly expressions in regard
+to the government.” A new press bureau, with the absurd
+name of “Bureau of Public Opinion,” is established to manufacture
+political trends. When a Dutch newspaper publishes
+the statement that it is within the competence of the pope to excommunicate
+kings, not only is the journal suppressed, but the
+author of the offending article is arrested. In a certain book,
+an appreciation of the English constitution has to be deleted;
+another work has to be rechristened “Campaigns of Napoleon
+the Great,” whereas the author’s original title had been “History
+of Bonaparte.”</p>
+
+<p>While oppression of thought is rampant, it is not inconsonant
+with the imperialistic spirit to find that such men as Monge
+and Laplace, Guérin and Gérard, are willing to accept baronial
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_381">[381]</span>honours. And when the French version of <i>The Robbers</i> is prohibited
+in Hamburg, the last of the republicans recall with
+ironical bitterness the day twenty years earlier when the revolution
+had conferred the right of French citizenship upon its
+German author.</p>
+
+<p>What cares the Emperor for the mood of these ideologues?
+Under the spell of the evolution of his own powers, his eyes
+fixed upon the goal of his life’s aspiration, he misjudges now,
+as earlier in his struggle with the pope, the moral impression he
+is making upon his contemporaries. Yet in the past he had
+never failed to take this into account; at each step, he had questioned
+public opinion. Now, he allows the newfangled Bureau
+to manipulate public opinion: “What do I care for the opinion
+of the drawing-rooms and the babblers! I recognise only one
+opinion, that of the peasants!” Certain it is that the peasants
+are his most faithful supporters, mainly because he rescued
+their lands from the dangers threatened by the revolution.
+Now that the Spanish war has swallowed up larger and larger
+armies, the peasants have to pay eight thousand francs for a
+substitute, simply to save the few remaining sons to carry on
+the work of agriculture on the lands of their fathers. Many
+thousands of these young men are trying to evade service; and
+those who in the early days of the war would have joyfully
+rallied to the colours, have now to be rounded up by mobile
+columns or forced into the ranks by threats against their families
+and the communes to which they belong.</p>
+
+<p>Why should the Emperor be surprised at such a change
+of mood? Had not General Bonaparte set out to carry the
+ideas of the revolution to the peoples groaning under the yoke
+of emperors and kings? Did not the First Consul go forth
+to repel in his one campaign, did not the Emperor likewise go
+forth to repel in his three wars, the ever-renewed onslaughts
+of the allied monarchs? That by wars thus forced upon him
+he won more than freedom for the land of his adoption, that
+by the battles of Austerlitz, Jena, and Wagram he obtained
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_382">[382]</span>new provinces from the enemy, was the outcome of his genius,
+and encouraged the people’s army to fresh deeds of valour.
+Even the rivalry with England was comprehensible to the
+French people; had it not been ever thus in the days of their
+fathers and grandfathers before them? But what could the
+peasant of Provence make of these purely political struggles in
+Spain and in Russia? The Emperor could not explain to him
+the plan for setting up a United States of Europe. Men had
+disappeared in the rivers of Andalusia, the names of which fell
+haltingly from a Frenchman’s lips. The peasant needed the
+support of his son’s young arm, now that the years were
+creeping onward. So it was that he purchased his son’s freedom
+from military service, and growled as he paid.</p>
+
+<p>What had the German peasants to say when, addressed as
+“contingents,” they answered the call of their kings and accompanied
+the foreign Emperor into distant lands? Thousands
+of peasants from the valley of the Main were dispatched to
+Spain; Jerome sent thirty thousand Westphalians to the
+Oder; Saxons guarded the Vistula; Württembergers and Bavarians
+flowed in a steady stream eastward, for “if the princes of
+the Confederation of the Rhine” (thus writes the Emperor to
+one of these same princes) “give me the least cause to doubt
+their willingness to undertake a joint defence, then, I tell them
+frankly, they are lost. I prefer open enemies to untrustworthy
+friends.” Such is the crack of the master’s whip. He deals
+more politely with the Habsburg. All being well, Austria may
+even be rewarded for her aid by receiving Silesia.</p>
+
+<p>Germany, composed as she is of many small and disintegrated
+fragments, serves Napoleon admirably in his jig-saw
+game with the nations. The three southern States have had
+their inhabitants and their lands bartered and exchanged at
+will; and, since Eugene has lost his throne to the Emperor’s
+son (the baby was made “King of Rome”) he is immediately installed
+as ruler in the hastily concocted “grand duchy of Frankfort.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_383">[383]</span></p>
+
+<p>What of Prussia? Why should Prussia continue to exist?
+Had he not, in Tilsit days, merely preserved this kingdom to
+please the tsar? But he is about to destroy the tsar! By
+notices and decrees, the Emperor announces that now, just
+before the war with Russia begins, Prussia is to be parcelled
+up. Does he not know that for the last year Prussia has been
+the ally of Russia, and that in a secret treaty the tsar has
+promised Frederick William his assistance? The Emperor
+hears much of defiant songs, of volunteer corps, of discontent
+in the universities, of the Tugendbund. Beware! Remember
+Spain! Do not trust to the proverbial “tolerance and coldness
+of these north Germans”! Surely it would be wiser to utilise
+the Prussian army before destroying it....</p>
+
+<p>The great-hearted Scharnhorst assures Frederick William
+that now is the time to strike. But Metternich, in Vienna,
+tricks the Prussian general when he proposes an alliance, and
+advises him to seek alliance with Russia rather than with the
+Habsburg emperor. For only if the man with whom he exchanges
+these words of false friendship, becomes an opponent,
+only if Prussia enters the war as Austria’s enemy, can Austria
+hope to enclose Silesia once more within her borders. At the
+same time Hardenberg bends before the Vienna wind, to-day as
+always. The king, who will take no risks, and who considers
+Napoleon absolutely unconquerable, at last makes up his mind
+to enter into alliance with the Emperor; his resolution comes
+too late to secure favourable terms. Silesia and Poland are
+already alive with troops, and Prussia is surrounded. In such
+circumstances it is natural that she should be treated as a
+vassal, should have to tolerate the passage of armies, should
+have to put up with requisitionings, should have to look on
+patiently while her eastern fortresses are manned by French
+soldiers and her auxiliary corps commanded by foreign marshals.
+Metternich writes to his master in gleeful mood: “Prussia
+need no longer be reckoned among the powers.”</p>
+
+<p>And yet! And yet! Although Europe, from Capua to Tilsit,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_384">[384]</span>at the outset of 1812, is rallying to Napoleon’s standard,
+although his arm reaches from Finisterre to Bukovina, he feels
+how uncertain is the outcome of his campaign, and, as Count
+Ségur tells us, starts up from the conning of his interminable
+lists and calculations to exclaim in terror: “I am not ready to
+undertake a war in such far-off lands! I need three years
+more!”</p>
+
+<p>But the machine rolls on; no master hand can stay it.
+An inner impulse urges him forward; the whole history of his
+rise to power impels him; all the shades of vanished years drive
+him on. He, who has built so many harbours wherein to seek
+refuge in times of storm and stress, is in the end tossed out
+upon the open sea, more roughly, more speedily than he had
+wished, and, with the wild determination of the adventurer, he
+now recklessly seizes the steering-wheel which for so long he
+has manipulated with statesmanlike care. “Do you not see,”
+he exclaims to his brother, “that I can only keep my seat upon
+this throne by means of the fame which brought me to it?
+That a private individual such as I, who has merely risen to
+become a ruler, dare not call a halt? That such a one is constrained
+to mount higher and ever higher, and is doomed
+to perish the moment he stops climbing?”</p>
+
+<p>His soul is a-flicker with excitement, so that at one moment
+he is eager for the final struggle, and at the next dreads it.
+His letter to the tsar, with which, as heretofore, he begins the
+campaign, still preserves a friendly tone. At the same time he
+says to a Russian colonel who is on spy duty in Paris: “Since
+the tsar is young and I have yet many years to live, I had
+thought to preserve the peace of Europe by means of our
+good feelings towards one another. My feelings have not
+changed. Tell him this; and say, in addition, that if the fates
+decree that the two greatest powers of the world are to come to
+blows over girlish peccadilloes, I shall enter the lists as a gallant
+knight, without hatred and without enmity. I suggest to
+him the possibility of our meeting for breakfast together between
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_385">[385]</span>our respective outposts.... I still hope that we shall
+not spill the blood of hundreds of thousands of brave men,
+simply because we cannot agree as to the colour of a ribbon!”</p>
+
+<p>How his own unrest vibrates through these brilliant subterfuges,
+which he specially adapts to cajole Alexander’s feminine
+disposition! A grey gauntlet of steel is hurled from one
+world power to the other; the great fight between birth and
+genius is now to take place in all its grandeur. And he who,
+after two decades of dreaming, sees his dream descending out
+of the clouds earthwards, talks as if nothing more were at
+stake than a girl’s quarrel or the colour of a piece of ribbon—when
+in reality the fate of the world hangs in the balance!</p>
+
+<h3>IV</h3>
+
+<p>What is passing in Alexander’s mind? Estranged from the
+Russian nobility, railed at by his mother, cheated out of his
+hopes of setting up the cross once more on St. Sophia, deeply
+concerned about Poland (which his adversary threatens to liberate)—there
+are reasons enough, both in political and court
+life, why he should no longer regard Napoleon as his friend.
+After Tilsit, Metternich had said that it would take five years
+for the tsar’s feelings to swing to the opposite pole. That
+period had now elapsed, and although the tsar’s was one of
+those nervous temperaments in which moods decide actions, on
+his side, too, the struggle could assume allegorical greatness.
+But he lacked a grand aim and a lofty thought. He was not
+even fighting to win warlike renown against the master craftsman
+in the art of war. The impulses that drove him to the
+fight were merely the outcome of a confused mysticism, in
+whose waters he had drowned his old veneration for the magician
+of Tilsit.</p>
+
+<p>Politically, he makes two successful moves in the game, one
+of these being intimately adapted to the peculiarities of human
+character, and therefore weighty with consequence. To cope
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_386">[386]</span>with Napoleon, he needs tranquillity on his southern and his
+northern borders. He finds means to keep the sultan neutral;
+but in the case of Sweden he manages even better, for he is
+able to secure an alliance. He and Bernadotte meet on the
+frontier; and here, for the second time, the tsar of all the
+Russias succumbs to the charm of a French revolutionary.
+Sweden is in danger of English vengeance. Norway belongs to
+the Francophil Danes. The community of interests between
+Sweden and Russia secures expression when Russia, in return
+for a promise of help in the coming war, guarantees that
+Sweden shall have Norway.</p>
+
+<p>But this prospect of territorial enlargement is not the
+thing that spurs Bernadotte to action. He, who is king in
+Napoleon’s despite, cares no more about his new subjects than
+those who had become kings by Napoleon’s favour cared about
+theirs. But the tsar, too, has an imagination. Looking forward
+to the winning of this game, he sees in broad outline what
+lies beyond. He sees, not only the Emperor’s defeat, but the
+Emperor’s destruction; and while Napoleon, at the head of the
+greatest army known to history, is slowly advancing to swallow
+up the tsar, Alexander is promising Bernadotte, the friend of
+Bonaparte’s youth, no less a prize than the throne of France.</p>
+
+<p>To such heights, this summer, do the opposing eagles soar.</p>
+
+<p>In Dresden, the Emperor treats all the princes to the spectacle
+of a review, just as he had done four years earlier in
+Erfurt. The only sovereign from among that company who is
+absent, is the one he is now to fight. But Alexander’s place
+has been taken by the Habsburg ruler. Only once before have
+Napoleon and Francis met, on the day after Austerlitz. Twice,
+since then, has the victorious Emperor of the French occupied
+the Austrian’s abandoned capital. When peace had been made
+between them, and the victor had wedded the daughter of the
+vanquished, the girl had been sent alone from Vienna to distant
+Paris.</p>
+
+<p>Now Marie Louise sits between husband and father at the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_387">[387]</span>sparkling board, and to outward seeming all is well. The
+father-in-law is pledged in alliance, and the Emperor has appointed
+his wife regent of France. But vainly has he forbidden
+her to be so foolish as to attempt the outshining of her step-mother
+on these festal occasions. The empress from Paris
+sheds tears at the prohibition, while the empress from Vienna
+weeps because her pearls are smaller than those worn by Marie
+Louise. The old jealousies between the principalities and
+powers now find vent in family quarrels which the courtiers try
+to gloss over. When a health is drunk to the boy who should
+be a tie between all four of them, both the men and both the
+women drown their thoughts in their champagne, though each
+knows perfectly well what the others are thinking.</p>
+
+<p>The December meeting in the windmill near Austerlitz, and
+the May meeting in the palace of the Saxon kings! Son-in-law
+and father-in-law will never set eyes on one another again.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, half a million men are being ranged between
+Königsberg and Lemberg. The master of these legions journeys
+to Posen, and announces the “Second Polish War,” for his
+ostensible aim is merely to wrest Poland from the tsar—most
+of the old kingdom, at any rate, as far as Smolensk. “There
+or in Minsk,” he tells a confidant, “the campaign will end. I
+shall winter in Vilna, organise Lithuania, and live at Russia’s
+expense. If, then, peace cannot be secured, I shall, next year,
+advance into the centre of the enemy’s land, and stay there
+until the tsar becomes pliable.” The whole disposition of
+Napoleon’s troops is made in accordance with this scheme. At
+Russia’s expense? What supplies can he get from Russia?
+Has he accurate information regarding the resources of this
+foreign land?</p>
+
+<p>In Gumbinnen, he sends for a Prussian president. Speaking
+of the stores of grain he has collected in the German ports,
+and proposes to have sent to Kovno, he says:</p>
+
+<p>“I presume there are plenty of mills in Kovno?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Sire; very few mills are to be found there.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_388">[388]</span></p>
+
+<p>The Emperor looks at Berthier “dubiously.” This glance
+of the supreme war lord at his chief of general staff is a fore-shadowing
+of the disillusionments he is to experience in the unknown
+land beyond the Memel. It is not the mere lack of mills
+which disturbs him, but the fact that he is taken by surprise.
+For a whole year, the Emperor has been preparing the great
+campaign. Troops, parks of ammunition, reserve corps, fourteen
+hundred pieces of ordnance, siege trains, bridge-building
+materials, pontoons, have been assembled from seven realms,
+counting the Confederation of the Rhine as one. Eight Baltic
+fortresses are used as storehouses, to which hundreds of ships
+and thousands of wagons bring wheat and rice. Some of the
+wagons are drawn by oxen which are destined for the slaughter
+house at the end of their journey—a symbol of compulsory military
+service, in which a man serves only that he may die. Now
+Napoleon learns that he is about to enter a country without
+mills. He can build them, no doubt; but at what cost in time
+and men! Are other surprises awaiting him across the Russian
+border? It will be impossible to carry fodder for one hundred
+and fifty thousand horses. That is why he has waited till June,
+when the grass will be green. But what if the steppe should
+disappoint him here?</p>
+
+<p>And what if his men’s spirit should disappoint him?</p>
+
+<p>On the frontier, warning voices make themselves heard. He
+is told that these young recruits are hardly able to endure the
+long marches, and that the heat will be too much for them. In
+Dresden, Murat had vainly asked for furlough. Now, in Danzig,
+he and Berthier and Rapp are dining with the Emperor
+in gloomy silence. Napoleon, emerging from his thoughts of
+world conquest, suddenly asks Rapp: “How far is it from
+Danzig to Cadiz?” Rapp is bold enough to answer: “Too far,
+Sire!” Thereupon the master rejoins:</p>
+
+<p>“I can see, gentlemen, that you no longer have any taste
+for fighting. The king of Naples would rather be back in his
+pretty kingdom; Berthier would like to be playing the sportsman
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_389">[389]</span>in Grosbois; Rapp would fain be enjoying the sweets of
+Parisian life!”</p>
+
+<p>The marshals answer never a word, for they will not deny
+that it is so. But that it should be so, is a new experience for
+Emperor Napoleon.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp56" id="illus13" style="max-width: 28.125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus13.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>Napoleon as Emperor. Bust by Houdon, Musée de Dijon.</p>
+    <p>(Photograph by J. E. Bulloz, Paris.)</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>When he reaches the Memel, the symbolic significance of the
+Russian frontier captivates his imagination to such an extent
+that he is the first to cross the river, and he gallops several
+miles eastward before returning slowly to the bridge. Well, he
+is over now, and this time, in very truth, he has crossed the
+Rubicon. At his nod, three armies advance into the interior of
+Poland. The main army is under his immediate command, the
+second being commanded by Eugene, and the third by Jerome.
+Why does he venture to entrust a whole army to the leadership
+of this amateur (who made such a fool of himself in the last
+war), even with the safeguard of veteran generals as advisers?
+Napoleon thinks he can risk it. The enemy has at most three
+hundred thousand men.</p>
+
+<p>Where is the enemy? In two armies, led by Barclay de
+Tolly and Bagration. They are somewhere in Lithuania, far
+away, and the total force is only one hundred and seventy
+thousand. Napoleon’s overestimate of the strength of his
+opponents was a disastrous error, for if he had himself had
+fewer mouths to feed, he would have had a much better chance
+of getting adequate supplies for his soldiers. Why is he so
+keen on superiority of numbers? General Bonaparte was used,
+with forty thousand men, to defeat an enemy that greatly outnumbered
+him, his method being to crush one wing of the foe
+after another. The cumbrous multitude he has collected for
+the present campaign is symptomatic of his own increasing age,
+and of the lust for power which makes him pile up weight, instead
+of equipping the spirit with wings. Is he no longer the
+commander of the days of Rivoli?</p>
+
+<p>In a sense, he is still that commander, for, even with this
+gigantic array of troops, he will be a victorious invader. His
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_390">[390]</span>first army will march from Tilsit upon Vilna, to take up a
+position between the Russian detachments, so that his second
+and third armies can separately defeat the enemy. But the
+Russian distances weaken his influence. Upon a front of such
+vast extent, he cannot show himself everywhere. Those who
+command under him are too independent of one another
+(Davoust and Murat nearly fight a duel), and yet they are
+too dependent upon him. Never did he suffer more than in
+this campaign from the lack of speedy means of communication.
+His was the central brain in all his undertakings, so that
+a telegraph would have been far more useful to him than to
+his opponents.</p>
+
+<p>The Russians are aware of their own weakness. Neither of
+the two commanders ventures to stand firm. Both of them
+withdraw before the invaders, at first without any mutual
+understanding, to get into touch later, far in the rear. These
+are not the tactics of inspired leaders. Though the Russians do
+the right thing, it is merely because they are afraid of the
+forces that outnumber theirs, and because they dread the great
+name of Napoleon. They are but instruments in the hands of
+fate.</p>
+
+<p>For a time, the Emperor pauses in his advance. In Vilna, he
+says: “If Monsieur Barclay imagines that I am going to run
+after him to the Volga, he is making a great mistake. We will
+follow him to Smolensk and the Dvina, where a good battle will
+provide us with quarters.... It would certainly be destruction
+were we to cross the Dvina this year. I shall go back to
+Vilna, spend the winter there, send for a troupe from the Théâtre
+Français, and another to play opera. We shall finish off
+the affair next May, unless peace is made during the winter.”</p>
+
+<p>News from the outer world is satisfactory. At length the
+United States has declared war on England, and has gained
+some victories at sea. In England the opposition, which wants
+peace, is gathering strength. Even in Spain things are not
+going so badly. Forward! A good battle!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_391">[391]</span></p>
+
+<p>But where is the enemy? The Emperor goes scouting,
+accompanied by only one officer; there is no trace of the Russians.
+Uneasiness grows. Since the invaders are marching
+light, and therefore too quickly, part of the army, on bad roads
+and amid heat and rainstorms, gets separated from its commissariat,
+upon which everything depends. In Vilna he fails to
+find the tsar, though Alexander has been there just before. At
+this moment, news is brought that the supplies are delayed, for
+the commissariat wagons have stuck fast in a morass, and the
+vessels that are bringing other supplies have run aground in
+the river; moreover, ten thousand horses have perished, through
+gorging themselves upon rank grass. The shortage cannot be
+hidden from the troops, who scatter through the town, and
+plunder so recklessly that there will be no supplies left for the
+next comers.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor can get nothing from the inhabitants of this
+land either by threats or cajoleries; and yet he detests rapine,
+which leads to chaos. The Lithuanians note that even now he
+has not granted the Poles the promised kingdom. They do not
+hail him as a liberator, as the people of Lombardy had done
+long years before. They give no help; they give nothing; they
+are hardly willing to accept in payment the forged rouble notes,
+millions of which he has had printed in Paris. They pray.</p>
+
+<p>What is to be done? Now is the time to win over the tsar.
+He writes: “All that has taken place is out of keeping with
+Your Majesty’s character, and with the personal consideration
+you have sometimes shown me in the past.... When I crossed
+the Memel, I had it in mind to send you an adjutant, as I have
+always done in previous campaigns.” But, since the tsar had
+refused to receive his last envoy, “I realised that the invisible
+providence whose power and dominion I recognise would decide
+this matter, as he had decided so many others.... Nothing,
+therefore, is left but to conclude with the request that you will
+remain convinced of the steadfastness of my kindly feelings
+towards you.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_392">[392]</span></p>
+
+<p>Before writing this long and unctuous letter, in which nothing
+is genuine except the perplexity and the faith in destiny,
+he has had a conversation with a captured general who is to
+convey the missive. The way in which the Emperor hectors the
+prisoner, smacks of comic opera: “What does the tsar expect
+from this war? I have seized one of his best provinces without
+firing a shot, and neither of us knows what we are quarrelling
+about!” Then, as his way was, he spent an hour or more
+pointing out the Russians’ mistakes, asking why they had not
+defended Vilna, and talking to this captive just as if he had
+been berating one of his own generals in Spain. “Are you not
+ashamed of yourselves?” is the burden of his song. He waxes
+enthusiastic about the Poles, whom as a rule he frankly
+despises; but now it suits him to make much of their contempt
+for death. He says that he has thrice as many soldiers as the
+tsar, and much more money, so that he will be able to carry
+on the war for three years. These falsehoods are uttered in
+simulated anger, which he allows to flash out by fits and starts.
+The Russian meets bluff with bluff, saying that in Muscovy they
+have made preparations for a five years’ campaign. But now
+the turn has come for one of the Emperor’s bursts of frankness,
+in words suited to the ears of this officer blown him by a
+chance wind, but of course designed to impress the tsar, to
+whom they will be reported.</p>
+
+<p>“I am the man of calculations. When I was in Erfurt, my
+reckonings convinced me that it would suit my book better to
+walk hand in hand with you Russians, instead of quarrelling
+with you. We might still have been good friends.... Then
+the tsar made peace with me, when his country wanted war;
+now he makes war on me, when his country wants peace. It
+puzzles me that so distinguished a man can have anything to
+do with such persons as some of his present advisers.... How
+can any one make war through a council of war? If at two
+in the morning a good idea enters my mind, in a quarter of an
+hour I have issued my orders, and half an hour later my outposts
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_393">[393]</span>are executing it. But what happens among you?” Napoleon
+shows the prisoner a letter from the Russian general
+staff which his men have intercepted. “You can take it with
+you, for it will while away the tedium of your journey....
+Tell the tsar I pledge him my word that five hundred and fifty
+thousand men have already crossed the Vistula. But I am a
+man of calculations, not a man of passion. I am still willing to
+enter into negotiations. What a glorious reign he might have
+had, if he had not broken with me!”</p>
+
+<p>The general is alarmed by this flood of confessions. But in
+the evening, when he dines with the Emperor and three of the
+marshals, he is placed on an entirely different footing, for the
+Emperor proceeds to cross-question him like an explorer eager
+for information.</p>
+
+<p>“Have you any Kirghiz regiments?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, but we are making experiments with Bashkirs and Tartars,
+who are very like the Kirghiz.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is it true that when the tsar was in Vilna, he went to tea
+every day with a pretty lady there? Let me see, what was her
+name?”</p>
+
+<p>“The tsar is courtly to every lady.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is it true that Baron vom Stein dined with the tsar?”</p>
+
+<p>“All persons of note were invited to dinner.”</p>
+
+<p>“How can the tsar tolerate such a man as Stein at his table!
+Does he think the fellow can be fond of him? Angels and devils
+cannot be good companions.... What is the population of
+Moscow? How many houses? How many churches?...
+Why are there such a lot of churches?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because our people are very pious.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nobody is pious nowadays. Which is the shortest way to
+Moscow?”</p>
+
+<p>“All roads lead to Rome, Sire. You can choose your own
+route to Moscow. Charles XII. marched by way of Pultava.”</p>
+
+<p>At this mischievous answer, the Emperor thought fit to turn
+the conversation. As for the general, he had wit enough to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_394">[394]</span>report in St. Petersburg that Napoleon was extremely nervous.</p>
+
+<p>This nervousness increases mile after mile. The Emperor
+tries to join battle, but the Russians evade the issue. Barclay,
+who is waiting for a junction with Bagration, retreats aimlessly;
+Bagration does not come, for he believes that he is
+facing, not Jerome, but the main body of the invaders. Still,
+Bagration retreats. Jerome, who ought to follow him up, is
+too slow in his movements, so that Davoust, who is waiting for
+a junction with Jerome, has to let the enemy slip. The Emperor,
+in a rage, cashiers Jerome (who retires in dudgeon to
+Cassel), and gives the command to Davoust. Too late! His
+fondness for Jerome, the braggart, has cost him the chance of
+a decisive battle. As difficulties increase, the Emperor redoubles
+the pace of his advance; but as the tempo is quickened,
+the difficulties are redoubled. There is no means, now, of providing
+for the army. The retreating Russians burn their storehouses.
+No bread, no vegetables, nothing but meat. Dysentery
+breaks out. The horses eat the thatch from the roofs, and
+collapse in great numbers, so that their corpses line the road.
+During this advance in which there are no battles, the Bavarian
+leader estimates the losses of his corps at nine hundred men a
+day.</p>
+
+<p>What is Paris saying?</p>
+
+<p>Very little news comes to hand; hardly a word even from
+the empress. It seems as if the couriers were already being
+cut off. But here is a report from the Tuileries, written by the
+governess, to let him know how the child is getting on. He
+rejoins: “I hope to hear from you soon that the last four teeth
+have been cut. I have seen to it that the nurse shall get everything
+she needs. You can assure her of this.”</p>
+
+<p>See the Emperor in the sun-parched steppe; before him rises
+the smoke of the burning villages he has yet to reach, behind
+him the stench of decomposing bodies. The strange food and
+the unaccustomed heat lead to a recurrence of his attacks of
+gastric spasm; he can no longer bear to ride, and, since
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_395">[395]</span>wheeled traffic is constantly coming to grief, he covers great
+distances on foot, accompanied by the whole of his staff, pursued
+by the thought: Where is the fight to take place? Couriers
+arrive less frequently, and, when they do come, bring no news
+calculated to interest him in his present state of nervous tension.
+Yet here he is, pacing up and down within his tent; and
+the pen of his secretary, instead of, as usual, ordering masses of
+men to move from one place to another, hastens over the paper
+to record the master’s concern about the four teeth which are
+still lacking to an infant in a forlorn palace twelve hundred
+miles away. Soon the Emperor will be in Vitebsk. How far is
+it thence to Paris?</p>
+
+<p>“Too far, Sire,” is re-echoed from unseen lips.</p>
+
+<p>At last! We’ve got him! There stands Barclay, held in
+check for the moment by Murat! He thinks to escape to
+Smolensk on the morrow; such are the tidings! The hour has
+struck. But the Emperor is ill, irresolute. With unwonted consideration,
+he does not wish his exhausted army to go straight
+from the heat of the march into the heat of battle; with unwonted
+caution, he wishes to collect more troops than he really
+needs before beginning the attack, in order that the battle may
+be “another Austerlitz.” He waits till morning.</p>
+
+<p>The Russian laughs. Under cover of the morning mists, he
+makes good his retreat; and when the air clears not a trace
+of the foe is to be seen, nor can a guess be made as to the direction
+he has taken. At midday the Emperor returns from the
+search, flings his sword on the table, and exclaims:</p>
+
+<p>“Here I remain. Let us rally our forces. The campaign of
+the year ’12 is at an end.” When Murat urges him to continue
+the forward march, Napoleon answers: “In ’13 I shall
+be at Moscow; in ’14 at St. Petersburg. This war will last
+three years!”</p>
+
+<p>It is time that the scattered army should be reorganised.
+Nearly a third of the forces has been struck off the lists,
+although no battle has taken place; the country has devoured
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_396">[396]</span>them. Where are the auxiliaries—the Prussians under Macdonald,
+the Austrians under Schwarzenberg? Trustworthy
+news is lacking. Too far! What a country! How is one to
+pass the weary hours when there is no fighting? Wait? In
+Cairo there were a hundred men of science in his train, and the
+country was full of unsolved riddles.—The following letter
+bears witness to a sense of boredom the Emperor has not known
+since the days of his lieutenancy:</p>
+
+<p>“Send us some entertaining books,” the secretary writes to
+the librarian in Paris. “If there are some good novels, new
+or old, which the Emperor has not read, or memoirs
+pleasantly written, we should be most grateful; for time hangs
+so heavily on our hands in this place.”</p>
+
+<p>Can we not see him standing in front of his tent in his old
+green coat? He takes one pinch of snuff after another, and
+from time to time looks through his telescope across the plain.
+Then a grenadier approaches with a paper in his hand; the
+Emperor reads it, puts it away; the two secretaries gaze dumbly
+from the gloom of the tent, like two tamed animals awaiting the
+nod of their tamer. Rustam sits apart Turk fashion; for him
+alone is the weather never too hot. All movement is paralysed,
+activity is stopped, one can go neither forward nor backward.
+Napoleon calls towards the tent: “Méneval! Order some
+novels!”</p>
+
+<p>News comes at last: England has secured a treaty with the
+tsar and with the Spanish regent. This arouses the Emperor:
+he sees in it the birth of a fresh coalition; perhaps, even, encirclement.
+Must he really lie up here till Europe rises against
+him or goes to sleep? Over there is Smolensk. The two Russian
+armies have doubtless by now met in the town. That is
+where the real Russia begins: surely they will not evacuate and
+burn the old town of the Blessed Virgin, as they have been
+doing in the Polish and Lithuanian wilderness! Should victory
+be achieved at Smolensk, then the march on Moscow or St.
+Petersburg can be undertaken at will.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_397">[397]</span></p>
+
+<p>He questions his generals. Many of them utter words of
+warning. But the Emperor replies: “Russia cannot continue
+this sacrifice of her towns. Alexander can only begin negotiations
+after there has been a big battle. No blood has yet been
+spilled. Even if I have to march as far as the holy city of
+Moscow, I am determined to force a fight and win!”</p>
+
+<p>At last the two Russian armies have effected a junction; they
+plan a systematic retreat, preceded by a stubborn resistance;
+wave after wave of the weary French army breaks against the
+walls of Smolensk. The veterans think of Acre, thirteen years
+gone by.... In the end, the town falls, but it falls amid the
+flames; a heap of ruins is all that is left in the victor’s hands.
+Is the Emperor beginning to understand the moral strength of
+this people? Can he not see that day by day its mood becomes
+more fanatical, that it would rather burn its ancient holy
+things than leave them to the enemy? There remains nothing
+for a starving army to plunder.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor, indeed, is in sorry plight. King Lear upon
+the heath. Power crumbles in fragments from his body; every
+gesture melts in the air; from afar the laughter of the rational
+world comes echoing, to be lost in the void. An end must be
+made. A second message is sent to the tsar. No use writing,
+for that last letter from Vilna has remained unanswered. Once
+more a captured general is ushered into his presence, and once
+more the Emperor’s secret meditations are unveiled. In conclusion
+he says:</p>
+
+<p>“Can you write to the tsar? No? Still, you can write to
+your brother at headquarters and tell him what I am saying to
+you. You will greatly oblige me if you tell him that you have
+seen me and that I have charged you to write to him. He
+would do me a real service if he himself would let the tsar know,
+or get the grand duke to do it for him, that my greatest wish
+is to conclude peace.... What are we fighting for? Of
+course, if you were the English, that would be a different matter!
+But the Russians have done nothing to me. You want
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_398">[398]</span>to buy coffee and sugar cheaply? Very well. That can be
+arranged. But do you fancy it will be easy to beat me? Then
+get your council of war to consider the situation; if it thinks
+the Russians can achieve a victory, choose your battle-ground....
+Otherwise I shall be compelled to take Moscow, and, in
+spite of every precaution, I shall perhaps not be able to save
+it from destruction. A capital which has been in the possession
+of the enemy, is like a woman who has lost her honour....
+What do you think? If the tsar wishes to conclude peace,
+surely none will oppose him?”</p>
+
+<p>As a young lieutenant, as a young general, he had never
+asked a favour; he could not; he knew only how to command.
+Even to kings he wrote in the tone of a commander, and the
+word “please” had only twice passed his lips during the course
+of this last decade: the first time, when he asked the pope to
+anoint him emperor; the second time, when he besought Francis
+of Habsburg for his daughter’s hand. Yet to-day, what a
+tone! What thoughts must be passing through the captive’s
+mind at the moment when his sword is given back to him!—Can
+this be the master of the world? Has he not begged me, a poor
+man, begged me and my brother, to do him a service? How
+came these things to be? Has he no other messenger? Coffee
+and sugar are to blame, it seems, for the fact that an army
+of hundreds of thousands of men is perishing in my land! And,
+as though the whole thing were some brilliant game of chess,
+the master player sends his challenge, while Little Mother Russia
+is suffering and weeping, and sees one of her cities after
+the other go up in flames, and the images of her saints reduced
+to ashes!</p>
+
+<p>The letter to the captive general’s brother is duly written,
+passes Berthier’s censorship, is delivered—but is never answered.
+The Emperor is beside himself with rage: he passes
+through a period in which he makes impulsive and vacillating
+decisions. When Rapp asks whether the army is to go forward
+or to retreat, Napoleon answers: “The wine is poured out; it
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_399">[399]</span>must be drunk to the last drop. I am for Moscow.... Too
+long have I played the emperor; it is time I became the general
+once more.” The eyes of the officer light up as he recognises
+the old ring in the voice!—We are at the beginning of
+September.</p>
+
+<p>On the sacred soil of the heath near Borodino, Kutusoff,
+Barclay’s successor, must at length put up a fight. The armies
+now are of equal strength: this is the game the Emperor proposed.
+No one sleeps, for to-morrow, to-morrow at last, the
+battle will be joined! Then will golden Moscow lie at our feet,
+and all our troubles will be at an end. In the middle of the
+night, a courier arrives from Paris. The Emperor, bending
+over his maps, asks if there is anything urgent to attend to.
+Silently his secretary hands him a dispatch from Spain: Wellington
+has gained a decisive victory over Marmont in the fight
+near Salamanca. The Emperor reads the report, makes no
+comment, and resumes his interrupted work. At the eastern
+extremity of Europe, at the point where it loses itself in the
+Asiatic wastes, in a few hours he is to vanquish the Russians.
+This is no time to trouble his mind as to the significance of the
+victory of the detested Briton at the southern extremity of
+Europe. Day has dawned. To-day, as every day, the guards
+call the salute: “Vive l’Empereur!”</p>
+
+<p>He shows them his son’s picture, which the courier that night
+had brought him from Paris. There they stand, the old war-dogs,
+never dreaming that France has been beaten in Spain, but
+admiring the portrait of the beautiful boy who is their leader’s
+very own son. When the picture is brought back to the tent,
+the Emperor says, speaking like a poet: “Hide it away. He is
+too young to look upon a battle-field.”</p>
+
+<p>In fierce fighting, on this day of Borodino, salient points are
+taken, lost, and retaken. The guards shout. They want to
+decide the issue, here, on the Moskva, as they have so often
+done before. His generals beseech him to order the advance,
+and his intimates urge him to action, but he will not give the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_400">[400]</span>word. For the first time, when the fight is on, he will not
+stir from his place. He is feverish, panting for breath, racked
+with a cough, and his legs are swelled. He sits motionless on
+his horse, and cannot make up his mind to order the advance of
+the guards, although the fate of the day seems to hang on it.
+“Suppose there should be another battle to-morrow? What
+men shall I have left to fight it with?” At night the Russians
+withdraw. Next day, when the fallen are counted on the
+field, they number seventy thousand dead or half-dead—more
+than in any of his previous battles. The Emperor exclaims:</p>
+
+<p>“Fortune is a strumpet. I have often said so. Now the
+truth is coming home to me.”</p>
+
+<p>But the way to Moscow is open. Half a million men had
+been chosen for the invasion. One hundred thousand of them
+are still following him, when, from an elevation, with his back
+towards the setting sun, he first sees the city of a thousand
+cupolas, and upon the hill in its centre that fragment of the
+East, the Kremlin. Napoleon, as he gazes at the sight, is filled
+with weariness rather than with exultation, and he says in a
+low tone:</p>
+
+<p>“Moscow! It is time!”</p>
+
+<h3>V</h3>
+
+<p>“Where are the keys of the city? Why are not the mayor
+and corporation here to hand them over?”</p>
+
+<p>For the greater part of the afternoon he waits while the
+army marches past him, waits for the keys of the town. At
+Vienna and Milan, at Madrid and Berlin, he had ridden
+through the gates as a conqueror. Are these Tartars ignorant
+of the fine old Roman custom? From afar can be heard the
+noise made by Kutusoff’s soldiers, as the half-beaten army
+evacuates the Eastern side of the town, while Napoleon’s men
+are streaming in from the west. The advance guard of the
+French and the rear guard of the Russians are almost in touch.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_401">[401]</span>It is a silent entry, for the town is like a city of the dead; the
+houses are empty. “Still, there are plenty of houses,” think
+the weary campaigners; “we shall find food, and be able to sleep
+at our ease.”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor and his staff ride slowly through the streets
+whose silence is so ominous. The Kremlin is their destination.
+Here is the ancient fortress. The newcomers look with astonishment
+at its walls. All the gates are open, but there is no one
+there to act as guide. The golden and red halls are forsaken,
+as in the vision of a dream. The invaders make their
+way into a huge room where the windows are boarded up. The
+grenadiers knock the boards away with the butt ends of their
+muskets, and the Emperor recognises by the canopy that he is
+in the coronation room of the tsars of Muscovy; but the throne
+is veiled.</p>
+
+<p>Peace is the only thing lacking to him in this moment of
+fulfilment. Where is the peace? He has nothing but a victory.
+Who has cheated him of its fruits? Only the vast, strange
+land; the steppe has cheated him to-day, as the desert cheated
+him thirteen years ago. Why did he not free the serfs in
+Lithuania, and thus win guides and new soldiers, as he had
+planned to do aforetime with the liberated Arabs? What if he
+were to adopt this policy now? The town is deserted, but there
+are peasants in the surrounding countryside. Why not summon
+them, make terms with them? We are masters here; this
+enigmatic realm can still offer much of what we desire!</p>
+
+<p>Night comes, but sleep is coy. “Let us do some work, then,
+to distract our minds,” he says to Caulaincourt. He opens the
+map of Poland; satisfies himself that it was impossible to stay
+there; in six weeks he can be in St. Petersburg. The muster
+rolls (they are his Bible, which he always takes with him on a
+journey, and perpetually cons even in peace time) show
+him what forces are still at his disposal. His spirits rise as he
+looks at the columns of figures. “In a few weeks I could get
+together a quarter of a million men here. There are plenty of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_402">[402]</span>roofs to cover them, but what about food? The city seems to
+be in the middle of a desert!”</p>
+
+<p>A red glare shows through the windows. Fire! Oh, well,
+we’re used to that. There were several fires here and there
+yesterday evening. But orderlies rush in, and generals arrive.
+A hundred messengers have reported the outbreak of fires all
+over the city. Not accidental fires, but prearranged, for the
+fire-engines have been broken or removed. Do these lunatics
+mean that Holy Moscow should go up in flames? What will
+the Emperor do? Ségur, who was with him in these dark hours,
+tells us what happened:</p>
+
+<p>“It seems as if the encircling flames have spread to the Emperor’s
+mind. By turns, he leaps to his feet, sits down again,
+or tramps hastily through the rooms of the palace. His abrupt
+movements betray his terrible agitation. He abandons an
+urgent task, resumes it, abandons it once more, that he may
+fling the window wide. He exclaims:</p>
+
+<p>“‘What a dreadful sight! Their own work! So many
+palaces! How stupendous a decision! Who could have expected
+anything of the kind? What men they are! They are
+Scythians!’</p>
+
+<p>“Suddenly we are informed that the Kremlin has been mined.
+Some of the servants are panic-stricken; the guard quietly
+awaits orders. The Emperor smiles incredulously, but he continues
+to pace convulsively to and fro, halting at every window
+to watch the raging element as it seizes the bridges and the
+gates, simultaneously imprisoning him and besieging him. The
+air is full of smoke and flying sparks; the equinoctial gale increases
+the fury of the conflagration.</p>
+
+<p>“Murat and Eugene arrive hotfoot, force their way to the
+Emperor, and urge him to flee. In vain! Napoleon, master
+in the palace of the tsars, is steadfast. He will not yield even
+to devouring flame. But suddenly comes the cry: ‘Fire in the
+Kremlin!’ The Emperor is to see the danger close at hand.</p>
+
+<p>“A Russian military policeman has been seized in a turret
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_403">[403]</span>of the arsenal. Brought before the Emperor, the man admits
+that he has fired the Kremlin, acting under orders. The Emperor
+makes a sign of rage and contempt. The prisoner is led
+out into the courtyard and is cut down by the grenadiers.
+This incident decides the Emperor’s action.</p>
+
+<p>“We hasten down the northern staircase, and the Emperor
+orders us to guide him out of the town. But all the gates of
+the citadel are blocked by the flames. At length an alley-way
+leading to the Moskva is discovered between two rocks.
+Through this narrow passage we are able to escape from the
+Kremlin. But what has been gained? How can we cross the
+river? The soldiers, blinded by the sparks and deafened by the
+storm, do not know where they are, and the streets are hidden
+amid the smoke. The only way out of the inferno is through
+a winding street where the houses are on fire.</p>
+
+<p>“Heedlessly the Emperor strides along this dreadful exit,
+undismayed by the crackle of the flaming beams and by the
+crash of the falling roofs.... We can hardly breathe, so intense
+is the heat. Our guide loses his way, and we should all
+have ended our lives in the flames had not some marauders belonging
+to the first army corps recognised the Emperor and
+found a way for him and the rest of us out of the smoking
+ruins.</p>
+
+<p>“We meet Davoust. He has been injured on the Moskva, but
+has had himself carried back among the blazing houses, hoping
+to find the Emperor or perish with him. The general embraces
+Napoleon in a fever of delight. The Emperor responds in
+friendly fashion, but with that calm which never leaves him in
+the hour of danger.”</p>
+
+<p>He awaits the end of the conflagration in the Petroffsky
+palace, a suburban retreat. On the fourth day, he returns to
+the Kremlin, where very little damage has been done. On the
+fifth day, his patience gives out. For the third time, he writes
+to the tsar. Even now, when he is in possession of the capital,
+he feels he is grasping at the air. He is so cut off from the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_404">[404]</span>enemy that once more he has to make use of a Russian prisoner
+(this time only a captain), in order to find a contact with the
+tsar. Napoleon receives the man in the throne room. Does he
+sense the heroic grotesqueness of the scene? An officer of no
+account, powerless, unknown, is the representative of Holy
+Russia; before him, in the storied hall of the tsars, stands the
+mighty Emperor of the French, the conqueror at whose
+slightest nod all Europe trembles. The Emperor speaks,
+chaffers, poses conditions with this man, as though the occasion
+were another Tilsit and the captain the tsar.</p>
+
+<p>“I am conducting a purely political war,” Napoleon reiterates.
+“All I need is the fulfilment of our treaties. Had I
+taken London, I would not have offered to leave it so speedily.
+From here, however, I intend very soon to withdraw. If the
+tsar wants peace, he must let me know of his desire.... I am
+setting you free, but on condition that you make your way to
+St. Petersburg. The tsar will be glad to see an eyewitness of
+recent happenings in Moscow. You must tell him everything.”</p>
+
+<p>“I shall not be permitted to enter his presence, Sire.”</p>
+
+<p>“Appeal to Court Chamberlain Tolstoy. He is an upright
+man. If he fails you, get the tsar’s body servant to introduce
+you to his presence, or you must approach His Majesty during
+one of his daily walks....” The captain gets cold all over;
+it seems to him that he is being urged to commit a crime, an
+attempt on the tsar’s life. He can promise nothing; stammers.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor says: “Very well. I shall write a letter to
+your emperor and you must see that he gets it.” This last
+missive, which finds its way from one emperor’s hands into those
+of the other, is the strangest of the trio.</p>
+
+<p>“My Lord Brother.... Beautiful, magical Moscow exists
+no more.... This deed is loathsome, and to no purpose. Did
+you wish to rob me of my means of support? They were in the
+cellars, to which the flames never penetrated. How could you
+consign to destruction the loveliest city in the world, a city it
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_405">[405]</span>has taken hundreds of years to build; how could you lay it
+waste for so little gain!... Out of kindness, and in the interests
+of Your Majesty, I have now taken charge of the town
+which the Russian army had sacrificed. At least the municipal
+authorities and the militia should have been left in the city, as
+was the case in Vienna, on two occasions, and in Berlin and
+Madrid; Milan, likewise, acted thus when Suvaroff entered at
+the head of his army.... It is surely impossible that you,
+with your high principles and your good heart, can have consented
+to such abominations, for they are unworthy of a great
+ruler and a great nation. Your people were so busy getting
+the fire-engines away, that they abandoned one hundred and
+fifty pieces of ordnance.... I have warred against Your
+Majesty without bitterness. A sign from you, before or after
+the last battle, would have stayed my forward march; nay, for
+Your Majesty’s sake, I should have wished to forego my entry
+into Moscow.... If you have preserved any of your former
+friendship towards me, you will receive this letter favourably.
+In any case, you will be grateful to me for informing you of
+the recent occurrences.”</p>
+
+<p>The letter of a tutor to his pupil, angry and threatening,
+written from the depths of his isolation, with intent to rouse the
+recipient. Thus might an impeccable moralist write to a ne’er-do-well!
+The whole epistle turns upon the two words “receive
+favourably”; this is the aim; on these words are built up the
+writer’s hopes. Will the letter fulfil its mission?</p>
+
+<p>The advance of the invader, the threatening proximity of the
+foe, the burning of Moscow, have filled all hearts in St. Petersburg
+with despair. The court is for peace. Can a more
+favourable opportunity present itself? The enemy is becoming
+more embarrassed day by day. Emperor Napoleon is eager
+for negotiations. The madcap grand duke Constantine is in
+favour of a parley; the tsarina-mother, she who hates the upstart,
+who refused her daughter to him as bride, who railed at
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_406">[406]</span>Alexander for weeks after the Tilsit meeting, even she advises
+the tsar to clasp hands once more in friendship with the Emperor.
+Now is the time!</p>
+
+<p>But Alexander held firm. Two men were responsible for his
+unwonted steadfastness. One was a Frenchman, Bernadotte.
+He and the tsar had recently met in Finland, and Bernadotte
+had strengthened Alexander in his determination to persevere,
+had even handed back the Russian auxiliary corps which the
+tsar had lent for the conquest of Norway. Bernadotte’s hatred
+was so fierce, he had so inflexibly made up his mind to destroy
+Napoleon, and he so greedily coveted the crown of France
+which the tsar had promised him, that he would stick at nothing.</p>
+
+<p>The other was a German, the best the nation had nurtured
+in its downfall and in its fight for freedom. Four years had
+passed since Napoleon pronounced a verdict of outlawry on
+Baron vom Stein. The baron spent them far from his homeland;
+and had become the tsar’s trusted adviser. In every
+respect he was Napoleon’s exact contrary. He was now to
+fight the Emperor to a decisive issue.</p>
+
+<p>This time Stein would conquer.</p>
+
+<h3>VI</h3>
+
+<p>In many lands, among the many wise and energetic men, who
+for seventeen years had pitted themselves against the General,
+the Consul, and the Emperor, none proved equal to the task
+except Talleyrand and Stein: The former did so, because he
+succeeded in paralysing Napoleon’s productive will by the
+genius of his malicious cunning; the latter, because, to Napoleon’s
+amoral energy, he contraposed a moral energy which
+was wedded to fervour. Just as Stein embodied the virtues of
+the Germans, so Napoleon gathered into himself the talents of
+the Italian character; and yet, since neither Teutonic virtues
+nor Italian talents are mutually exclusive, but, rather, cut
+athwart one another, each man could understand the opponent
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_407">[407]</span>so far, that Stein, had he been a Frenchman (Carnot’s blood
+brother), might have proved the mainstay of the Emperor.
+Pride and practical good sense would have brought the two
+men together.</p>
+
+<p>But this mutual respect could never have bridged the abyss
+of alienation which must have continued, in spite of everything
+to hold them asunder. For, just as Napoleon lived entirely
+without feeling for a fatherland; just as he would gladly have
+made his career anywhere, and merely placed the French before
+other peoples because he chanced to be their emperor, so, on the
+other hand, Stein lived and wrought entirely for the sake of
+his fatherland; and his Teutonic solidity (firmly rooted in the
+native soil), the whole weight of his rich soul, remained
+estranged from the agility, the swiftness, which was so essential
+a part of Napoleon’s make-up, and which the Emperor utilised
+so adroitly. Here was a statesman whose one thought was
+Germany and the Germans, who wanted unity among the stocks
+speaking the same speech, even if such unity had to be achieved
+against the wishes of the weakling princes. Over the way stood
+the man who could only think in terms of Europe and Europeans,
+people whom he wished to weld together for a fight
+against the self-same princes.</p>
+
+<p>A baron of the empire, and therefore an independent though
+petty prince, Stein was a worthy son of ancestors who for
+seven centuries had tilled and ruled the same fragment of
+German soil. Having left the home of his fathers for one reason
+only, that he might serve the nation, he regarded with mistrust,
+and soon with growing contempt, the other German
+princes, who were so eager to barter lands and liberties—their
+own and their subjects—for the favour of the world conqueror.
+Napoleon, sprung from an impoverished noble stock, a man
+who had in early youth been driven forth from the ancestral
+vineyard, despised these lickspittle princes as heartily as did
+Stein, and in secret he honoured none but the few irreconcilables.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_408">[408]</span></p>
+
+<p>But whereas the contempt with which he regarded the decadence
+of the European princes was mingled with amusement,
+Stein’s attitude towards them was purely one of rancour.
+Their innate impotence, which encouraged the self-confidence of
+the brilliant upstart, was a challenge to the self-respect of
+Stein, the man who would fain believe in the knightly order to
+which he belonged; and just as the Corsican used his own career
+as an argument to strengthen his conviction that a new and
+splendid epoch was in the making, the German could not fail
+to consider the behaviour of his fellow-princes as melancholy
+evidence of the collapse of the old order, and must perforce
+regard the king of Prussia with a contempt no less hearty than
+the hatred he cherished for the Emperor of the French.</p>
+
+<p>Thus Napoleon’s pronouncement of outlawry against Stein
+was symbolic of the differences between the two men in respect
+of nationality, class, and epoch. Had the imperial baron been
+a king, he would, far more worthily than any Habsburg, or
+Hohenzollern, or other among the defeated monarchs, have
+embodied, in opposition to the son of the revolution, that idea
+of legitimacy for which the German nation was willing to battle
+with no less ardour than it would display in the fight against
+the foreigner. Apart from the duke of Brunswick and one or
+two of the younger princes, Stein stood alone in those days as
+saviour of the pride and dignity of the German rulers.</p>
+
+<p>Now his great moment has come. From Madrid, the Emperor
+had sent forth his decree of banishment against the Prussian
+minister. Twice, for this, time was to exact vengeance.
+Now was the first occasion. Nothing but the sentence of outlawry
+had brought Stein into contact with the tsar, for whose
+soul he was wrestling with his old enemy. In all Alexander’s
+vacillations, no influence did more to strengthen him than the
+indomitable spirit of the German exile. When the Emperor,
+not long before, holding forth to the Russian general, had
+spoken with so much acerbity about Stein, it was because, from
+afar, he had sensed this influence, and because he was afraid
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_409">[409]</span>of the imperial baron. He knew Stein to be a vigorous idealist,
+an undismayed monarchist; and he knew that in the decisive
+hour such a man was likely to exercise a potent suggestive
+influence upon the tsar, also an idealist, though irresolute and
+timid. Stein, knowing human character as he did, and knowing
+that the tsar, in a hazy fashion, was eager to live in accordance
+with the moral law, would dilate upon Napoleon’s contempt
+for morality and itch for dictatorship. Stein would not
+tempt Alexander with countries to be annexed, but with principles
+to be obeyed; and would rouse to action a modern
+monarch who would know better than the German princes how
+to defend rule by right divine.</p>
+
+<p>This German was the only person at the tsarist court who
+had no axe to grind. Driven from his own home by the homeless
+Napoleon, he was ready betwixt night and morning to
+change his present hospitable asylum for any other. The tsar
+knew that Stein was not a place-hunter, but an independent
+foreigner whose counsel was not tainted by any thought of personal
+advantage; for this reason, he had more trust in the
+German baron than in his own Francophil minister. Perhaps
+he had heard of the splendid words uttered by the German
+when the news of the burning of Moscow had arrived. Stein,
+sitting at table, had raised his glass, and had exclaimed: “Three
+or four times, ere this, I have lost my baggage. We must get
+used to throwing away such things. Since we must die, let us
+be valiant.”</p>
+
+<p>His enemy in Moscow will soon make up his mind to the same
+thing. He throws away the baggage of the past, and marches
+on; he makes up his mind to retreat. Not a word has come
+from St. Petersburg. Five weeks have been wasted, and the
+winter draws near! He has been waiting on events, waiting and
+listening; this is ill suited to his temperament, out of keeping
+with his energetic nature. The novels he has ordered from
+Paris have not yet come to hand, so he hunts up whatever can
+be found in the Kremlin. But he reads very little. After meals,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_410">[410]</span>which, contrary to his usual custom he protracts to the uttermost,
+he sometimes lies for hours, book in hand, but meditating
+with fixed gaze.</p>
+
+<p>What is there to do in a burned city where nothing is left to
+organise! On one or two evenings, the Emperor has some
+French plays performed by a troupe of actors which had remained
+behind at the time of the evacuation. This reminds the
+holiday-making ruler of the charter of the Comédie Française,
+and he sends instructions for its amendment. Half the day is
+whiled away in issuing army orders which by no means appear
+to emanate from a wearied brain, and are far from being commonplace;
+on the contrary, they are as crystal clear as in
+earlier days. But since nothing remains to be hoped for, since
+provisions are dwindling and the cold season is imminent, he
+calls a council of war in mid-October, although he knows that
+only one way lies open to him.</p>
+
+<p>Daru counsels: make the winter quarters here; await reinforcements
+from liberated Lithuania; in the spring, march
+upon St. Petersburg. The Emperor remains for long in a
+brown study. Then he says:</p>
+
+<p>“That is the advice of a lion. But what will Paris say?
+Who can calculate the effect of six months’ separation? France
+may grow accustomed to my absence; Germany and Austria
+might turn it to account.” The only possible order is for the
+whole army to turn back. What trophies shall we bring back
+with us to Paris? The giant cross of gold from the church of
+St. John within the Kremlin walls is taken down from the
+cupola that it may be set up on the dome of the Invalides. But
+can we not devise some better revenge against the false friend?
+The Emperor orders the Kremlin to be blown up.</p>
+
+<p>Eight miles away from Moscow he reins in, and waits for
+news of the explosion. The unending stream of the grand army
+flows steadily by the Emperor; it is flanked by the sick and the
+wounded; it is laden with booty, rested but undisciplined. At
+last come tidings: the explosion has missed fire. He is silent.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_411">[411]</span>But when Rapp expresses anxiety about the approach of winter,
+Napoleon rebukes him, saying: “Can’t you see how lovely the
+weather is, even to-day, on October 19th? Do you not recognise
+my star?”</p>
+
+<p>Such words hardly ever fall from his lips, and this day he is
+full of cares. He realises that the baggage train is going to
+cause delay, and yet he has not the heart to order his men to
+leave their booty behind; they must have something to take
+home. Russian troops have encircled the French army, and
+recently they pressed so hard on Murat’s squadrons as to drive
+these back upon the town. On the eastward march, the Emperor
+had longed for nothing so much as a good action to take
+place; but now, on the westward march, there is nothing he
+dreads more than to have to put up a fight. Get to Smolensk
+as quickly as possible; we will find winter quarters there!</p>
+
+<p>Is the beginning of his career falling into step with the end?
+Again, as in Egypt, the army marches with the baggage in the
+middle; again the troops have to defend themselves from the
+swarming enemy. Once the Emperor is saved from being made
+prisoner only by the presence of mind of one of his men.
+“Cossacks! Turn about!” cries Rapp, pointing to a thicket.
+The Emperor will not follow this advice. The adjutant, thereupon,
+seizes the bridle-rein and turns Napoleon’s horse round.
+“You must!” Never, in his whole life has he heard such an
+order addressed to him. What is he to do? Reason tells him
+to flee.</p>
+
+<p>But the Emperor remains where he is, and draws his sword.
+Rapp, Berthier, Caulaincourt, do the same. They place themselves
+to the left of the road and await the riders, who are
+barely forty paces away. Then the officers of the suite cover
+Napoleon until the guard cavalry comes to the rescue and puts
+the Cossacks to flight.</p>
+
+<p>New thoughts flit through his brain after this adventure.
+Shall Alexander harness him to a triumphal car? He procures
+a dose of poison from his physician, and wears it always
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_412">[412]</span>in a black silk bag around his neck, in case he should be made a
+prisoner. Since the day when he was so nearly captured, the
+ambition of every Russian flying column is to procure the head
+of the “wicked infidel.” Russian headquarters issues a warrant
+against the Emperor; it is embellished with his picture,
+and orders the corps leaders to have “every man of small
+stature” among the prisoners brought before them for examination:
+any one of them may be Emperor Napoleon!</p>
+
+<p>As in Egypt the heat of the march had killed hundreds of
+men, so now does the Russian cold devour them by thousands.
+Snow and ice bring down the horses, guns get stuck, munition
+wagons are blown up, cavalry soldiers must pad the hoof,
+frozen men line the roads.</p>
+
+<p>Not more than fifty thousand reach Smolensk, one-tenth of
+all the invading host. They have no more supplies, and cannot
+winter here. The freezing army pushes forward. Thousands
+have thrown their weapons away; now, even the guard weakens.
+The Emperor comes among his grenadiers:</p>
+
+<p>“You see the disorder of my army. These poor deluded men
+are throwing their muskets away. Are you going to follow
+this shameful example? If so, then there is no hope left to us!
+On you the whole future of the army depends!” He marches
+among them. A silent procession (thus described by one who
+met it): first come the generals, few of whom are mounted.
+Ghosts in rags, in scorched cloaks, lean, grey, with matted
+beards, bent and silent: prisoners of fate. These are followed
+by the Holy Legion, a legion composed of officers, most of them
+leaning upon sticks, their feet swathed in remnants of sheepskin.
+Then come the survivors of the cavalry guard.</p>
+
+<p>Last of all three men on foot: to the right, the king of
+Naples, no longer concerned about his peacock splendours; to
+the left, the viceroy of Italy. In the middle walks a little man,
+wearing a Polish fur coat and a cap of red fox, and helping
+himself along with a birchen staff. Thus in silence he wends
+his way through Russia.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_413">[413]</span></p>
+
+<h3>VII</h3>
+
+<p>What is Paris saying?</p>
+
+<p>He does not know. For the first time since he was in Egypt,
+his calculations concerning Paris have no solid foundation in
+fact. Not to know what is going on in his capital: a dreadful
+position this, like that of a traveller who fancies that during
+his absence his wife may be betraying him! Writing to Maret
+in Vilna, he says: “For more than a fortnight I have had no
+courier, so that I am in the dark as to all that is going on ...
+in France and Spain.... The army is terribly disorganised.
+It would take at least a fortnight to set things straight, but we
+cannot possibly spare the time. Shall we be able to maintain
+our position in Vilna? Only if we are not attacked during the
+first week. Food! Food!... Make sure that there shall be
+no foreign envoys in Vilna, for the army is not in a fit condition
+to be seen. Send them all away.”</p>
+
+<p>Here is the courier at last. Why does the Emperor turn
+pale? What terrible news can have come from Paris? Can
+anything have happened there worse than what he has just
+been living through? The fact is that, through English newspapers,
+through letters, and through rumour, France has long
+since learned the whole truth, which had been glossed over in
+the Emperor’s bulletins. Many of the Parisians are fickle, and
+many of them are easily reduced to despair. A good part of
+Paris has already given up the Emperor for lost. Alarmist
+reports and spiteful quips are rife on the boulevards. But
+what is this item?</p>
+
+<p>A coup d’état had been planned, and had been frustrated.
+But what a background of discontent is revealed! Malet, who
+had been a general in the days of the republic, had years before
+been concerned in a conspiracy, imprisoned, and then committed
+to a lunatic asylum. Having received distorted news
+about the Emperor’s disasters and the burning of Moscow, he
+had escaped. With a number of accomplices, he had published
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_414">[414]</span>a forged dispatch announcing Napoleon’s death. The conspirators
+had seized the Minister of Police; had declared a
+provisional government; had bamboozled the National Guard,
+the militia, the prefects, and even veteran generals. At length,
+however, two undismayed officers had seen through the cheat,
+had seized the conspirators, and from the balcony of the
+governor’s residence had shouted, “Vive l’Empereur.” Therewith
+the spectre had been laid.</p>
+
+<p>In his tent, on which the snow is falling, the Emperor contemplates
+this document with dismay. More serious news even
+than that which recently arrived from Salamanca! The
+offenders had been shot; the whole affair had fizzled out. But
+for a time the conspirators had been masters of the Paris
+police, and one who controls the Paris police is master of
+France! No carriages would venture into the streets! When
+an elderly nobleman had asked what was afoot, a workman had
+laughed, saying: “Citizen, the Emperor is dead. At noon the
+republic will be proclaimed!” Greatly shaken by the tidings,
+the Emperor drops the newspaper containing these details, and
+says to his intimates:</p>
+
+<p>“What about the dynasty? Did no one think of my wife,
+my son, all the institutions of the Empire? I must get back to
+Paris instantly!”</p>
+
+<p>The dangerous possibilities revealed by this interlude, flash
+like lightning through his mind. “The workman who laughs—he
+is the people! I toil day and night for years at my great
+building; I break with the woman I love, and take an emperor’s
+daughter to wife, that our heir, the pledge of earthly immortality,
+may grow up in our palace. Then some foolhardy
+officer, a man no one has ever heard of, has merely to call out
+that the Emperor is dead, and instantly a clamour about
+‘citizens’ and ‘republic’ rises once more from the people! The
+regent, the heir, the Council of State—all these count for
+nothing? The bottomless cask of the Danaids! But I will
+make a bottom for it. Like the Capets, I will have my son
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_415">[415]</span>crowned in my own lifetime, and muster my faithful supporters
+in Paris!”</p>
+
+<p>Fortified by the approach of danger, the Emperor grips the
+reins firmly once more. “He is pale, but his face is calm; nothing
+in his features gives any sign of trouble.” His health is
+better, too. Now the army nears the Beresina. Having received
+false intelligence to the effect that the auxiliary armies
+are close at hand, he draws his own forces more compactly
+together, and has the rest of the baggage train burned, that
+the horses may be freed to draw the remaining guns. If only
+the bridge is still standing! He writes: “Should the enemy
+have seized the bridge-head and burned the bridge in order to
+prevent our crossing, it would be very serious.”</p>
+
+<p>Next day they come to the river. No bridge, no boats; two
+armies outnumbering the French are waiting on the other
+shore; between runs the broad river with marshy banks. Is
+there any way out of the difficulty?</p>
+
+<p>He makes a shrewd plan, like those of his early days as general.
+He will decoy the Russians away. Out of eighteen hundred
+horseless cavalrymen of the guard, of whom only eleven
+hundred still have their weapons, he forms two battalions.
+Then he has all the regimental eagles burned, for even in this
+dread hour Napoleon thinks of honour and glory, and he will
+not risk the loss of colours to the enemy. After midnight, he
+at length lies down in his tent, where he overhears Duroc and
+Daru, who believed him to be asleep, discussing in an undertone
+the possibility of a catastrophe. The phrase “State prisoner”
+has caught his ear. He fingers the black bag he is wearing
+round his neck, and sits up in bed:</p>
+
+<p>“You think they would dare?”</p>
+
+<p>“I would not trust the enemy’s magnanimity,” says Daru,
+composedly.</p>
+
+<p>“But France! What would France do?”</p>
+
+<p>Daru’s answer is evasive; but when pressed, he says: “I
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_416">[416]</span>think, Sire, the sooner you are in Paris, the better. When you
+are there, you will have a better chance of saving us all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you feel I am a burden on you here?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, Sire.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you don’t want to be State prisoners?”</p>
+
+<p>There is a long silence. Then the Emperor resumes:</p>
+
+<p>“Have my ministers’ reports been destroyed?”</p>
+
+<p>“Hitherto you have always refrained from giving us the
+order.”</p>
+
+<p>“It must be done. Destroy the lot of them. We are in a
+very difficult position.”</p>
+
+<p>This is the only admission of the kind made by the Emperor
+during all the weeks of the Russian campaign. It is the voice
+of a man who regards himself as a moriturus. But nature is
+more sensible than fate, and in a few moments he is fast asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning, while the enemy has been lured down stream
+and is being kept at a distance by artillery fire, the sappers,
+neck-deep in the freezing water and amid the drifting ice,
+hastily build two bridges. The crossing of the river takes two
+days more. With the cavalry, which swims the stream, the
+army still numbers about twenty-five thousand men. The Emperor,
+though the risk of his being taken prisoner is imminent,
+remains until all have crossed; and then, on the third day, surrounded
+by the old guard, he too makes his way over the river.
+But there are still stragglers to come, and these perish during
+the next few days betwixt ice and fire.</p>
+
+<p>In the ensuing week the Emperor’s life is twice in danger.
+The first peril is from a Cossack attack. On the next occasion
+the trouble is an assassination plot in which one of his
+own Frenchmen is engaged. It is early on the morning of
+December 5th when Major Lapie meets the officers of the
+Prussian guard of honour in front of the Emperor’s tent.
+“Now then, gentlemen, the hour has come!” The senior captain
+is to cut down the Mameluke, and then to make an end
+of Napoleon. Presumably the conspirators have seen Schiller’s
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_417">[417]</span><i>Wallenstein</i> on the German stage! The Prussian wants the
+Frenchman to do the deed, but Lapie says he is not sure of his
+men. Then Caulaincourt, to whom the conspirators’ behaviour
+seems suspicious, comes forward, claps his hands, and says:
+“Now, gentlemen, it is time to start!”</p>
+
+<p>That evening the Emperor, who has not heard a word of the
+affair, summons his marshals. “I shall be stronger when I can
+speak from my throne in the Tuileries than I am at the head
+of an army which has been destroyed by the cold.... Had I
+been a Bourbon, born to rule, it would have been easy for me
+to avoid making mistakes.” He takes the marshals aside by
+turns, asking each for his advice; he flatters, praises, and encourages;
+he smiles and charms. Obviously his design is to
+counteract the possibility of revolt.</p>
+
+<p>Next, he tells Eugene to read them his latest bulletin, the
+first in which he admits disaster. “Men who had not been
+sufficiently steeled by nature to rise superior to all vicissitudes
+of fate and fortune, lost courage and equanimity, and could
+dream of nothing but misfortune and defeat. But those who
+were equal to the occasion were able to keep up their spirits,
+and regarded every fresh difficulty as a fresh opportunity for
+glory.”</p>
+
+<p>The only reason why the army had wasted away was the
+rigour of the climate. “His Majesty has never been in better
+health.”</p>
+
+<p>The unfeeling, metallic tone! Again we are listening to
+General Bonaparte who, having recovered confidence in his
+destiny, and having regained health, is able to use the old language.
+The incisive sentence at the close is, of course, added
+for the special benefit of Paris, which for several weeks has had
+no news as to his state of health. But, on the whole, the mood
+in which he ends the Russian campaign, exactly six months
+after it had begun, is one of heroic cynicism. The command of
+the army is handed over to Murat, who is to lead the survivors
+home. There are still nine thousand men under arms.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_418">[418]</span></p>
+
+<p>Now there is something new. The Emperor embraces every
+one of the generals present. Is this the last coup of a trickster
+who wants to strengthen their waning loyalty? Is he really
+overcome by his feelings? Every one of these soldiers, that
+evening, could feel the beating of the Emperor’s heart.</p>
+
+<p>He gets into the sleigh with Daru and Caulaincourt, and
+the three drive away. To be on the safe side, he travels under
+an assumed name, that of his secretary, Rayneval. This is his
+fifth name. The fourth had been Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>When they are driving through the snows across the Polish
+plain, he suddenly has the sleigh stopped at a cross road. This
+must be near Countess Walewska’s mansion; he wants to go
+there. Napoleon is on the flight from Russia, his head full of
+world-shaking plans; he is forsaking his army because Paris
+needs him and he needs Paris—and now comes this lyrical
+thought, the painful recollection of a frustrated idyl. But the
+urgent warnings of his companions, who remind him that they
+are alone in a couple of sledges and that Cossacks are scouring
+the countryside, induce him to abandon his plan. He wraps
+his furs around him once more and goes to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>Five days afterwards he leaves the sleighs waiting on the
+bridge near Warsaw, and at noon goes on foot with Caulaincourt
+into the town. Should any one recognise him, they will
+face it out, and declare that the interlocutor is seeing ghosts,
+or must be mad. Napoleon sends Caulaincourt to the embassy;
+but, in order to keep his own identity secret, he himself goes
+to an inn, which, of all names in the world, still calls itself the
+Hôtel de l’Angleterre. The low-ceilinged white-washed room
+is cold; there is only green wood, and the maidservant cannot
+get the stove to light; he must keep on his furs, his cap, and
+his big boots, while he tramps up and down the room, thrashing
+his arms like a coachman to keep himself warm. It is thus he
+is found by two Polish noblemen for whom he has sent through
+the embassy. They can hardly believe their eyes, but the
+ghost laughs at their astonishment.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_419">[419]</span></p>
+
+<p>“How long have I been in Warsaw? A week? No, only a
+couple of hours. It is but one step from the sublime to the
+ridiculous. How are you, Monsieur Stanislas?... Dangers?
+Not a bit of it. I thrive on excitement. The more I am tossed
+to and fro, the better I feel. The shadow kings grow fat in
+their palaces, but I put on flesh when riding my nag in the field....
+So you’ve been anxious here? The army is in splendid
+condition. I have still one hundred and twenty thousand men!
+Gave the Russians a good hiding everywhere. They never ventured
+to stand up against me. The army will winter in Vilna.
+I am returning to Paris, and there I shall raise three hundred
+thousand soldiers! In six months I shall be back on the Memel.</p>
+
+<p>“I have been through other fights! At Marengo I was beaten
+until six in the evening, but next day I was lord of Italy. At
+Aspern-Essling I made myself master of Austria, though the
+archduke believed he had held me in check there. It was not
+my fault that the Danube rose sixteen feet in one night. But
+for that, I should have finished off with the Habsburgs once for
+all. However, it was written in the stars that I was to marry
+an archduchess....</p>
+
+<p>“The same thing in Russia. I can’t prevent its freezing
+there. Morning after morning, the report was that ten thousand
+horses had perished during the night. Bon voyage! Our
+Normandy horses cannot endure the cold like the Russians;
+the same with our soldiers.... Perhaps people will say that
+I stayed too long in Moscow; but the weather was beautiful,
+and I was waiting for peace. A great political drama! Nothing
+venture, nothing have. One step from the sublime to the
+ridiculous!... Who could have foreseen the burning of Moscow?...
+I never felt better in my life!”...</p>
+
+<p>Such is the spate of words that for two hours flows from the
+mouth of a man who, after unspeakable losses, wishes to give
+the impression of desperate courage.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon becomes an adventurer. To impress these Poles,
+who will pass on what he says, he invents an army which has
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_420">[420]</span>vanished long since; cold which really did nothing more than
+complete the destruction that other forces had begun; battles
+he never fought. He intersperses these figments with historical
+parallels of worldwide significance; treats what has just been
+happening as if it were ancient history; appeals to providence;
+and repeats no less than four times the cynically imposing
+aphorism about the sublime and the ridiculous, which blunts
+the edge of criticism. Great realist though he is, the world and
+what he is doing with it are becoming drama to him; and thus
+Napoleon, when his own fortunes are declining, is slowly mounting
+the ascent towards supreme irony.</p>
+
+<p>The two Poles see nothing of all this. Their thoughts are
+concentrated upon their country’s debts, and they would fain
+get money from this man who is still numbered among the great
+ones of the earth. They seize their opportunity when at length
+there is a pause in the torrent of speech. He gives them an
+order on the treasury for six millions, which he thinks will buy
+support for him in Poland. Then his visitors wish him a happy
+journey, and, with secret scorn, watch the incognito drive away
+hastily in his sleigh.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp59" id="illus14" style="max-width: 29.6875em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus14.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>The Emperor’s profile. Sketched during Mass in the Tuileries.
+    Germain Bapst Collection.</p>
+    <p>(Photograph in the Kircheisen Collection.)</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>Day and night, night and day, they glide swiftly westward;
+for Germany, too, is under snow. Day and night, night and
+day, questions, commands, and plans are churning in his brain.
+“Is England really invincible? Now, the English can trade
+freely in the Baltic; English goods can enter Cadiz, and can
+make their way into the Levant.” He must put off his scheme
+for the conquest of India, but will abate no jot of his other
+designs! Will the Confederation of the Rhine still answer to
+his nod? How will it be possible to explain this crash in Russia?
+The disaster cannot be hushed up indefinitely. Is there
+any chance of raising another hundred and twenty thousand
+men in France? Next year’s levies must be called up in advance.
+Make peace with the pope at once, and with Spain likewise,
+for he must feel safe at his back. A National Guard, that
+was the best thought of the revolution; in that way he will be
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_421">[421]</span>able to raise a million armed citizens within three months.</p>
+
+<p>Night. Change of horses. He thrusts out his head.
+“Where are we?”</p>
+
+<p>“In Weimar, Sire.”</p>
+
+<p>“Weimar? How is the duchess? And how is Herr Goethe?”</p>
+
+<h3>VIII</h3>
+
+<p>Forty bowed backs receive the beaten war lord on his return
+home. The sight of the court dresses which he has embroidered
+with his contempt revives his belief in the folly and the weakness
+of these men whose only wish is to be ruled. But his glance
+strays to the bars of the golden cage in which the son of liberty
+has locked himself up. He does not realise that the people of
+his capital are weary and disaffected; and instead of following
+the example of his own youth, instead of with disarming frankness
+acknowledging the faults he hopes to better, he postures
+as Cæsar before his servile officials, and rails at the weather
+god, though but yesterday he had boasted his power to make
+what weather he pleased throughout Europe.</p>
+
+<p>During the nine days’ drive from Warsaw to Paris, the uncertain
+mood of the adventurer had given place once more to
+the steadily aspiring flame of the imperator. Although the
+Russian winter had set in later than usual, he carries off the
+reverse by saying: “The army sustained heavy losses, but that
+was because the winter began so early.... The king of Naples
+is not fitted for high command, and he lost his head after my
+departure.... All the same, I have three hundred battalions
+left, without bringing a single man back from Spain.”</p>
+
+<p>Has his contempt for his fellows risen to such a pitch that
+he can serve up these fables to experienced men who have known
+the truth for months? But their consciences are uneasy. They
+feel responsible for the October putsch, or at any rate guilty
+for not having made an end of the whole business within the
+first quarter of an hour. On the other hand the Emperor,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_422">[422]</span>whose own heart accuses him, is glad to play the accuser, for
+it galls him that in the decisive hour they should have forgotten
+the empress and the heir to the throne. In memorable words,
+at the first reception in the Tuileries, he tries to hammer his
+point into the heads of his councillors.</p>
+
+<p>“The apostles of the rights of man are really to blame for
+all that has happened. They declared rebellion to be a duty.
+They flattered the people, imputing to it a sovereignty it is incapable
+of exercising. They destroyed respect for law by
+establishing the supremacy of an assembly which knew nothing
+of administration and law, instead of holding fast to the nature
+of things! Any one who wishes to build up a State once more,
+must be guided by the very opposite principles. History
+depicts the human heart, and we must study history if we would
+learn the merits and defects of legislation.... When I undertook
+the reconstruction of France, my prayer was that I might
+be spared for a considerable number of years, seeing that what
+has been destroyed in a moment will take a long time to
+refashion. The State needs courageous officials. ‘The king is
+dead; long live the king!’ That was the watchword of our
+fathers. The phrase makes us realise the advantages of monarchy.”</p>
+
+<p>Were it not for the prettily turned expression about history
+and the human heart, Emperor Francis might have subscribed
+to this speech, and it might have been an ornament to the pages
+of any of the familiar expositions of monarchical doctrine.
+Why should people go on quarrelling about such matters?
+The ancient dispute between tradition and revolution has been
+settled, now that the son of the revolution has acknowledged
+the supremacy of tradition. No matter whether an heir be
+named Bourbon or Bonaparte! When we compare the two
+fathers we see that they are very much alike! His marriage
+with the daughter of one who rules by right divine has complicated
+the problem, and has sophisticated his own genius.</p>
+
+<p>Or does he believe no more than half of what he is saying?
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_423">[423]</span>Before setting out on the Russian campaign, he had frankly
+explained his plans to Metternich: “The legislature belongs
+to me; all I need is to put the key of the deliberative chamber
+in my pocket. France is less suited for democracy than a
+good many countries.... When I get back, therefore, I shall
+transform the Senate and the Council of State into an Upper
+House and a Lower House, most of whose members I shall myself
+nominate. These will constitute a real popular representation,
+consisting only of experienced business men, without an
+ideologue among them. Then France will be satisfactorily
+ruled, even under a prince who is a mere figure head (and such
+will come), for whom the ordinary education of hereditary
+princes will suffice.”</p>
+
+<p>These Cæsarist ideas betray the monarchist, but also the
+sceptic. Although, when he shows people his son’s portrait,
+they tell him that the little boy is the loveliest child in France,
+the flattered father knows perfectly well that dynasties last a
+long time whereas genius is fleeting. Foreseeing the decadence
+of his own blood, having studied that decadence in the annals
+of all princely houses, he wants to rid himself of waverers that
+he may fortify the position of his heir. For the very reason
+that he understands the contradiction inherent in monarchy, he
+wishes to build his own monarchy on a rock.</p>
+
+<p>For the time being, his business is to buttress it anew with
+the power of the sword. What has been the fruit of the war
+games in which he moved his myriads over Europe? Those
+leather-bound muster rolls of his contained the death sentences
+of numberless youths, even though there were marshals’ batons
+to be won by a few among the best of them! Of the old guard,
+four hundred men, and of the cavalry guard, eight hundred
+men, made their way back to Königsberg; a few thousand
+officers and sergeants, broken men most of them, have survived
+the storms of war. Except for the auxiliaries, who are
+not under France’s orders, that is all that remains of the Emperor’s
+hosts. Marshal Ney, on his flight from Russia, seems
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_424">[424]</span>like a hero out of a Greek tragedy when he reaches Prussia,
+and makes his way into the first Prussian government office on
+his route. When old acquaintances look at him incredulously,
+as if questioning who this man can be, he rejoins with a superb
+gesture: “I am the rear guard of the Grand Army.”</p>
+
+<p>A new army must be made, and it must be made in a few
+weeks. The year 1813 will supply one hundred and forty
+thousand recruits, but where are the rest to come from? The
+Emperor has a magic wand, and can conjure up men whenever
+he needs them. The passing of a new law is all that is requisite
+for the levying of the National Guard and for the drafting of
+eighty thousand soldiers from the dependencies of France.
+Add one hundred thousand belonging to the oldest conscript
+levies; and call up the youngsters who should not, properly
+speaking, be enrolled until 1814. Soon he will have half a
+million under arms once more. “The French people,” he says
+to the Prussian envoy, “will follow me whatever I do, and, if
+needs must, I shall arm the women!”</p>
+
+<p>With unbroken will, he charms into existence the innumerable
+machines without which he cannot ply his trade. But how
+shall he explain these unexpected measures to the people? The
+enemy is far from the frontier.</p>
+
+<p>A stroke of luck! At the close of the year, Yorck, a Prussian
+general, acting on his own initiative, enters into an agreement
+with his Russian neighbours, declares the force under his
+command neutral, and thus opens the door to a change in the
+military situation for which the German nation has long been
+eager. The Emperor can use the incident in order to whip up
+the enthusiasm of the French. For the moment, the treason
+of his ally costs him no more than twenty thousand men; but
+it serves as the text for a manifesto in Paris, and for hectoring
+letters to the princes of the Confederation of the Rhine.
+He would not, says Napoleon, need their help at all, had not
+Yorck’s secession compelled his army to withdraw.</p>
+
+<p>The summons of France is actually obeyed. The German
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_425">[425]</span>princes, including the Habsburg ruler, once more collect money
+and levy troops. One of them is servile enough to send an assurance
+that he is “delighted to be able to give the Emperor
+opportunity for winning fresh laurels.” The king of Prussia
+cashiers Yorck, and assures the Emperor of his fidelity to the
+alliance. But Frederick William conveys a hint to the tsar,
+goes to Breslau, wobbles between the parties, what time a wave
+of enthusiasm is spreading far beyond Prussia’s borders, and
+threatening to sweep away the debile monarch. Youths, politicians,
+and poets are voicing the call of national sentiment.
+Stein is the man to treat with the tsar on behalf of his country,
+and in Königsberg the baron takes matters into his own hands.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor is ever on the watch. In a circular, he warns
+the princes against the intrigues of those “who by rebellion and
+revolution are trying to give Germany a new form. Should
+they succeed in infecting the Confederation of the Rhine with
+their doctrines, intolerable sufferings may await these territories.”</p>
+
+<p>He feels the stirring of the new spirit. Now, for the first
+time, does the Emperor seem to become aware of the growth
+of a national sentiment among the Germans, as among the
+Spaniards. Shortly before the Russian campaign, he had said
+that hardly so much as a night watchman was needed to keep
+the Germans quiet. “Since Germany has no America, nor yet
+a sea, nor yet a great number of strongholds, nor even Englishmen
+as there are in Spain, there is nothing to be afraid of,
+and would not be though the Germans were as lazy, dirty,
+superstitious, and monk-ridden as the Spaniards. How could
+there be anything to fear from such honest, reasonable, cool-headed,
+and patient people, who have so little inclination to
+violence that throughout the war not one of our soldiers has
+been murdered in Germany?”</p>
+
+<p>A wonderfully true picture of the Germans, and yet there is a
+slight miscalculation. He has overlooked the romanticism by
+which these people can be stirred, and without a knowledge of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_426">[426]</span>which they cannot be understood. Of course the Italian, with
+his fiery imagination, cannot grasp the nature of an imagination
+that works slowly and lacks ardour. Napoleon, who
+knows how monarchical the Germans are in their sentiments,
+believes that when he holds the princes in his hands he must be
+master of the German people.</p>
+
+<p>Besides, were the Germans a people? Was this realm, which
+ten years earlier had been formally liquidated by the abdication
+of the last of its emperors, really anything more than a “metaphysical
+concept”? Only for a moment, only for two years,
+will the German peoples be united. Then, as soon as the enemy’s
+power has been broken, they will fall asunder once more. Not
+for half a century, and not until another Napoleon threatens
+them, will they at length become a nation—though even then,
+only a fragment. So atrophied was Napoleon’s own sense of
+nationality, that the quarrels and jealousies of the German
+princes made him believe that the Germans were disintegrated
+for all time; whereas, had he been able to understand the forces
+that were at work, he would have realised that the jealousies
+of the rival sovereign houses were the only obstacle to the reunion
+of these kindred stocks.</p>
+
+<p>But the sublime breathing of history sometimes determines
+the rhythm of an epoch even in despite of the will of the genius
+that animates it. In sweeping curves, during these years, the
+spirit of liberty returns to her primal home in the hearts of
+the people. For, just as Bonaparte, in the name of liberty, had
+defeated the princes and stirred the peoples to revolt; so now,
+in the name of liberty, the peoples arose to defeat him, the
+prince of princes. Doubtless this great movement of destiny
+was complicated by numerous petty wishes, and blurred by
+minor circles. It is not the force of legitimism which now, after
+twenty years, is at last gathering strength to slay the spirit of
+revolt. Pallid, disunited, decadent, and with never a great
+figure among them, are the princes in the league they form
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_427">[427]</span>against the one man who rules in virtue of his self-made
+power.</p>
+
+<p>But the fact that the peoples of Spain and Germany are
+eager to force their princes into the fight, gives to the tragical
+collapse of the usurper a semblance of poetical justice, and
+that is why we who look on find it easier to bear the sight of
+the slaying of the lion by the spears cast by such a legion of
+hunters.</p>
+
+<h3>IX</h3>
+
+<p>Letizia looks anxiously at her son. His face is clouded,
+though he keeps his thoughts to himself. What can she do to
+help him? Intimates? Many of them, she sees plainly enough,
+are betraying him. He needs his brothers, that he may have
+the support of steadfast hearts, even though he thinks them
+lacking in intelligence. She therefore puts her trust in her
+other sons, writes to London and to Graz, smooths the path
+for reconciliation. One day, after a decade of estrangement,
+comes a letter from the ambitious Lucien, who says he is
+always at Napoleon’s service.</p>
+
+<p>But the Emperor cannot believe that he, the mightiest of
+his family, needs any assistance from the others. Though he
+has always regarded Lucien as the most capable of his brothers,
+he proposes merely a formal promotion. In imperial fashion,
+he answers through his mother: “Please write to let him know
+in my name that his letter has awakened an echo in my heart.
+I think of raising him to the throne of Tuscany. He loves the
+fine arts. It will suit him to reign in Florence, and to revive
+the glories of the Medicis.” There is no place for Lucien at
+the centre of things! As for Louis, who also offers to devote
+his powers to the cause of France (in so far as he can honourably
+do this), and who sends a copy of his last volume of verse—the
+ex-king of Holland is met with a rebuff: “The idea you
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_428">[428]</span>seem to have formed about my position is quite erroneous. I
+have more than a million men under arms, and two hundred
+million francs in my war chest. Holland remains French....
+Still, I am ready to greet you in the spirit of one who brought
+you up as if he had been your father.”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor reads this answer to his mother before sending
+it. She tries to mitigate its harshness in a long covering letter;
+tells Louis how pretty his children have grown; urges him to
+come to Paris in any case. “The Emperor has forgotten to
+give me your poems. I will ask him for them, and will let you
+know what I think of them when next I write.”</p>
+
+<p>Next day, the old lady finds a savage article in the “Moniteur,”
+in which she learns that the king of Naples will have to
+recall his envoys from Vienna. When she asks what this signifies,
+her friends reluctantly explain that Murat has been persuaded
+by Caroline to intrigue with the Habsburgs, so that the
+pair are now playing double. Letizia writes to upbraid her
+daughter. Joseph is out of humour, for he thinks that Napoleon
+is not supporting him properly in the Spanish war.
+She does her best to appease him through the instrumentality
+of his wife. Furthermore, she tries to mollify Jerome, whom
+the Emperor had sent home in disgrace. Finally, she gets to
+work on Hortense, who is doing all she can to hinder Louis’
+coming to Paris.</p>
+
+<p>Now a woman well over sixty, she does her utmost to keep
+the peace between her sons, daughters, sons-in-law, and daughters-in-law.
+But it seems to her that the greatness for which
+the world envies her family has brought in its train nothing
+but discord, jealousy, arrogance, ostracism, and betrayal. Her
+thoughts fly back to her native island, where her kindred always
+formed a united front against other clans. Moreover, her eyes,
+though old, are clear-sighted; and she sees that the star of the
+Buonaparti is paling.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor has little personal feeling about these matters.
+In his present situation, he regards them from a purely political
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_429">[429]</span>outlook. No doubt he says to himself that Murat and Caroline
+are traitors; but his main concern is, how he can make sure of
+the support of Murat’s soldiers. He therefore writes in a conciliatory
+strain to Caroline; keeps her husband informed about
+the impending campaign; and asks for troops, which Murat
+ultimately agrees to send, for both he and Caroline think that
+Napoleon may prove victorious after all, and are afraid of
+being dethroned unless they keep in his good graces. At the
+same time, they wish to have a secure footing in the other camp,
+and therefore conclude secret treaties with England and with
+the ex-king of Sicily (whose dominions they themselves have
+filched).</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon even seeks to conciliate Bernadotte, though he cannot
+but regard the crown prince of Sweden as a treacherous
+kinsman and an enemy of his house. He offers Pomerania as
+the reward of alliance and the prize of victory. But for
+Bernadotte, the bid is not high enough; this Frenchman prefers
+to join the coalition against France. His ambition is to reign
+there; France is worth more than Pomerania. Bernadotte enters
+into especially close relationships with Prussia. In Berlin
+he meets Madame de Staël, and these fellow-countrymen of the
+Emperor, united in their detestation of him, foregather among
+the oppressed Prussians.</p>
+
+<p>A third enemy, whom the Emperor approaches with blandishments
+during these feverish weeks, is the captive pope.
+Pius VII. has been brought to Fontainebleau, and Napoleon
+gets to work on him through the instrumentality of prelates
+devoted to the imperial cause, adding personal suggestion until
+the old man gives way. How great will be the power of the
+Church (this is the Emperor’s theme) when Catholicism has
+been re-established throughout Germany! By trifling concessions
+upon matters of form, and by cunning devices, Napoleon
+is able to secure a new Concordat. Thanks to this reconciliation
+with the Church, he is able to recruit new Catholic soldiers
+in all the lands under his sway. When the pope, a week after
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_430">[430]</span>signing the Concordat, wants to revoke it, the Emperor says
+with a smile: “Your Holiness, being infallible, cannot have
+made a mistake in entering into this arrangement!”</p>
+
+<p>During these weeks, a desire for peace suddenly spreads
+throughout Europe. The pope wants peace on the Vistula, and
+Metternich wants it in London. Count Bubna, with whom Napoleon
+had negotiated years before in Schönbrunn, comes to
+Paris to advise peace, for Vienna can neither send nor refuse
+the troops which the Emperor has demanded. In February,
+peace can be had for the asking. Why does the man who needs
+peace most of all, make impossible stipulations?</p>
+
+<p>For ten years, one war after another has been practically
+forced upon the Emperor as a consequence of his first victories.
+Now, when he is in grievous peril, and when his isolation is
+increasing, the will-to-war grows in him as in the early days
+of his career. When unconquered, he would gladly have laid
+aside the sword; now, after his defeat, he craves for new victories.
+But though his shield has been tarnished in Russia,
+though he would fain win fresh glories for himself and for
+France, these are but the pretexts of destiny. In very truth,
+he is stiff-necked, and will prove himself to be so at three
+congresses during this year 1813. The reason is that all the
+elements of his character are now rolling inexorably forwards;
+the reason is that, “in accordance with the nature of things,”
+he is advancing along a road on which he must march to the
+bitter end.</p>
+
+<p>Forward! Since the war must be, the allies are arming
+everywhere. England makes treaties with Sweden and Prussia;
+to conciliate the latter, the tsar renounces his claims to
+East Prussia; Prussia calls Germany to arms; Austria makes
+a truce with Russia, tries to enter into an agreement with Saxony
+and Bavaria and even King Jerome. Emperor Francis
+withdraws his troops to Cracow, ostensibly to save them for the
+coming campaign.</p>
+
+<p>“The first step towards desertion!” exclaims Napoleon, when
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_431">[431]</span>this news comes to hand. He must now withdraw his own forces
+from the Vistula to the Oder. In Vienna, he once more offers
+Silesia. The offer is declined with thanks, for the Austrian
+role is to be one of armed mediation. While the whole world is
+thus preparing for the struggle, and when in the middle of
+March the first signal is given in Paris by the Prussian declaration
+of war, Talleyrand, in his open ambush, says with a smile:
+“The hour has struck; the Emperor Napoleon must become
+king of France.”</p>
+
+<p>A remarkable flash of insight, on the part of one who cannot
+but hope that no step so sensible as this shall be taken—and
+who must, none the less, at bottom, wish for it. Nevertheless
+matters have gone too far; not the levying of troops alone, but
+the preparations in the minds of men. Every one knows that
+the last great combat is imminent, that nothing can avert it.
+The only one who could have called a halt, and will not do so,
+is driven onward in his own despite, and he is weary. There are
+new signs of this growing weariness.</p>
+
+<p>First of all, there is the simplicity upon which he insists
+in his environment. “I want my journeys to be very differently
+arranged. I shall not take so many people with me; fewer
+cooks and less table furniture; no meal to consist of more than
+three courses.... I shall not take any pages with me; they
+are of no use whatever; only two bedmakers instead of four;
+two tents instead of four; and so on.” At the same time, he
+orders plans for a small palace, “a comfortable place rather
+than an imposing one (the two things are incompatible); ...
+my room must open on the garden; ... or, preferably, I must
+have a north room and a south room, according to the season;
+all arranged as in a well-to-do country gentleman’s mansion....
+It is to be a holiday seat, or a dwelling for a man in his
+declining years.”</p>
+
+<p>In 1805, when he was in the plenitude of his powers, he had
+said: “The war need not take long. I am still good for six
+years, but then it will be time to call a halt.” Now, when he
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_432">[432]</span>takes the field once more, four months after his return from
+Russia, his mien is quiet and careworn as he steps into his
+travelling carriage in the courtyard at Saint-Cloud. He leans
+back among the cushions, with his hand pressed to his forehead.
+To Caulaincourt, his travelling companion, he acknowledges
+his distress “at having so soon to leave my good Louise and
+my lovely boy. I envy the poorest peasant in my dominions.
+By the time he grows old, he has already paid his debt to his
+country, and can stay at home with his wife and children.
+I am the only person whom an inexplicable fate leads back ever
+and again into the field.”</p>
+
+<p>No more pages, he is in his declining years, wants to stay
+at home with wife and child—and this is only seven years after
+the programme just quoted! Are these fourth-act moods, these
+shadows that fall across his soul, merely the consequences of
+the Russian catastrophe? Are they not, rather, the essential
+causes of new defeats? The moods of a man growing prematurely
+old, one whose work is often interfered with by illness,
+one who is being increasingly mastered by the natural inclinations
+of a family man well on in the forties. He wants to spend
+at the domestic fireside the evening of a life which is not
+equipped for seven or eight decades like that of his mother or his
+brothers.</p>
+
+<p>He is himself in the frame of mind with which he had reproached
+his marshals at Danzig less than a year ago, when
+he had declared they would rather have an easy life of it in
+their country seats than go campaigning with him. Is not such
+a longing natural in a man who has been working himself to
+death for twenty years, and who has chosen the bee for his
+escutcheon?</p>
+
+<p>But those on whom the Parcæ bestow the ecstasies of youth,
+must pay for it by the oncoming of age. He has had such
+wonderful successes that he must not expect to garner also the
+joys of content in achievement. He has conjured up the gods;
+now they have come!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_433">[433]</span></p>
+
+<h3>X</h3>
+
+<p>At the first review in Mainz, there are only one hundred and
+eighty thousand men instead of the three hundred thousand
+he had hoped to assemble there. The army is very short of
+cavalry; the equipment is inadequate, for it has been far too
+hastily got together; the best guns have been lost in Russia,
+or are tied up in Spain; the general staff has been decimated;
+the ambulance service is defective. He sees all that is amiss,
+but even this imperfect army reminds him of old times and old
+happiness. He recalls the April days in Cannes and Nice,
+seventeen years before, when he had taken over the command of
+half-starved and ragged soldiers, that he might lead them
+through the mountains to victory. With these memories surging
+up in his mind, he gathers his energies, and utters the
+darkly challenging words: “I shall conduct this war as General
+Bonaparte.”</p>
+
+<p>Such is the signal, a mingling of impetus and self-restraint,
+with which he launches himself into the first battle. At Lützen,
+he exposes himself more than he has done for years. During
+the first day’s fighting, he does not sleep at all; on the second
+day, when everything is going well, he has his bearskin spread
+on the ground in the middle of Marmont’s corps; and when,
+an hour later, they wake him to let him know that all is going
+on well, he leaps to his feet with the ironical remark:
+“You see, the best things come to one while one is asleep.”</p>
+
+<p>But hardly has the general won this victory than the
+emperor-politician resumes the ascendant. He sends letters in
+all directions; forces the vacillating king of Saxony to a decision,
+talks to the princes of the Confederation of the Rhine
+about providence and the fortune of war, that he may keep
+them up to the scratch; sends his ministers to the Russian
+outposts; abruptly and informally offers the tsar Poland in
+exchange for Prussia, and suggests other territorial rearrangements,
+until Alexander weakens; and he writes to Emperor
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_434">[434]</span>Francis in terms of unusual self-commendation: “Although I
+personally led all the movements of my army, and was several
+times within range of grape-shot, I have not had even a graze.”
+The words and the actions are those of one who feels weak,
+and would fain appear strong. Henceforth the warnings of
+fate thicken.</p>
+
+<p>True, he gains another victory at Bautzen, but does not take
+any prisoners. On the second day of the battle, he is riding
+under fire, accompanied by Caulaincourt and his friend Duroc—the
+latter having for a decade been his inseparable companion
+in the field. Men are being shot down in his immediate
+neighbourhood. He gallops to an adjoining elevation; adjutants
+follow him. Dust and smoke; a tree close at hand is
+smashed to splinters. He thunders past. On the hillock, a
+young officer comes up to him and stammers: “Marshal Duroc
+has been killed.”</p>
+
+<p>“Impossible! He was at my side a moment ago!”</p>
+
+<p>“The cannon ball which struck the tree, brought down the
+marshal as well.”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor slowly rides back into camp. He says:</p>
+
+<p>“When will fate have a little discrimination? What will be
+the end of it all? Caulaincourt, my eagles are again victorious,
+but my star is setting.”</p>
+
+<p>Duroc has not been killed outright, but he is dying. Terrible
+is the aspect of this shattered comrade. Greeting and farewell,
+both men in tears. Duroc murmurs: “I told thee at Dresden
+what would happen; the inner voice.... Give me some
+opium.”</p>
+
+<p>This tone, the sudden use of “thee,” the last request of a
+man who has no fear of death. The Emperor walks unsteadily
+as he leaves the cottage.</p>
+
+<p>From a farmyard, he contemplates for a while the spot
+where his friend had fallen, and then makes his way to the
+place where the guard is encamped, with his own tent in the
+middle. That evening, wearing his grey field-coat, he sits
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_435">[435]</span>gloomily on a campstool, apart from his suite; he listens to
+the sounds of the camp, where the guardsmen are cooking supper
+and calling to one another; in the distance, the men of
+a yager corps are singing a song. Bivouac fires are glowing in
+the half-darkness of the May night; two burning villages flame
+like torches in the sky. An officer draws near, and hesitates to
+give his report. Before the words are spoken, the Emperor
+understands that Duroc is dead.</p>
+
+<p>Next day, he orders the purchase of land where a memorial
+is to be erected, and he pens the inscription: “Here died, gloriously,
+in the arms of his friend the Emperor, struck down on
+the field of battle by a cannon ball, General Duroc, Grand
+Marshal of the Emperor Napoleon.”</p>
+
+<p>General Bonaparte used to have no time for such feelings.
+He concealed his heart-ache, and stormed onward, even when he
+lost his wife’s love. Now it behoved him to push forward into
+Silesia, to follow up the Russians into Poland, to take advantage
+of the misgivings of the allies; and, by delivering blows
+in rapid succession, to fetter the vacillating Austrian to his
+side. In later years, he said frankly that his failure to do these
+things had been the greatest mistake in his life. Once more,
+the deliberations of the emperor are impeding the activities of
+the general. His private letters from France are full of reports
+concerning the clamour for peace. “What especially determined
+my course of action was Austria’s preparation for war,
+and the desire to gain time. This led me to interrupt the course
+of my victories.” In Silesia, at the beginning of June, he
+agrees to a six weeks’ truce, thus giving his adversaries time to
+attain complete unity at the congresses of Reichenbach and
+Prague.</p>
+
+<p>Is he deceived as to the frame of mind of the wavering
+German princes? He knows them all. “The Saxons are just
+as German as the others, and would gladly follow Prussia’s
+example. The king is faithful to me, but I do not trust his
+troops.... Austria’s impudence is indescribable. While
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_436">[436]</span>uttering honeyed words, she tries to snatch from me Dalmatia
+and Istria.... There never was anything so false as the
+court of Vienna. If, to-day, I were to grant Austria’s demands,
+she would ask to-morrow for Italy and Germany.”
+Now, when he sees that the Habsburg ruler is about to go over
+to the enemy, he realises too late that his marriage has been a
+mistake, for he has gained nothing by it, and has lost much.
+His own patrician family feeling had made him believe that
+there must be an imperial family feeling. The old tone of contempt
+for hereditary monarchs is at length heard once more.
+To his intimates, he again and again says frankly what he
+thinks of the kings who are kings by birth:</p>
+
+<p>“Among those who are born to sit on the throne, the ties
+of nature count for nothing. The interests of his daughter and
+his grandson will not move Emperor Francis an inch from the
+calculations of his cabinet. These men have no blood in their
+veins, nothing but frozen politics! What pygmies they are,
+the kings by the grace of God—and the grace of Napoleon!
+My leniency has been my blunder. In Tilsit I could have
+crushed them, but I was too generous. History should have
+taught me that houses so degenerate deserve neither loyalty nor
+faith! Now, England is filling their coffers with gold. But I
+shall prove myself a better statesman than these born kings
+who never leave their golden cages!”</p>
+
+<p>In this atmosphere of intrigue, when he has to rub shoulders
+with princes who dare not fight either for him or against him,
+traitors are his best confidants.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor therefore summons Fouché, to whom he says:
+“Your friends Bernadotte and Metternich are my worst
+enemies. Your Bernadotte can do us an immense amount of
+harm, for he is able to give my enemies the key to our policy,
+and he can explain to them the tactics of our armies.... His
+head has been turned because legitimate princes flatter him!”
+There we have it once more, the word whose mystical power
+explains half of Napoleon’s perpetual unrest. He can never
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_437">[437]</span>refrain from a tremor when he speaks of the legitimate rulers,
+whom he regards with mingled contempt and envy. Whether
+he is mimicking them, or whether he is railing at them, he, who
+is an upstart, is always pondering this problem of birth.</p>
+
+<p>Instead of listening to the call of the nations, which soon
+rises clear above the babble of the princes, he can only look
+on with malicious delight at the manœuvres of the chessplayers
+in the cabinets. He watches how England doles out subsidies to
+Prussia; how Alexander and Francis hold converse about the
+weakness of their ally, the king of Prussia; how Frederick William,
+in his dread of revolution, disbands the enthusiastic
+Landsturm, refuses to give high office to Scharnhorst the boldest
+and to Stein the ablest of his advisers, dismisses and banishes
+Schleiermacher for a speech voicing the popular sentiment.
+The Emperor sends Fouché on a secret mission (in plain
+words, as a spy) to the congress of Prague.</p>
+
+<p>In Spain, meanwhile, though Napoleon in the north has been
+strengthening his position by two victories, Joseph has been
+utterly crushed by Wellington at Vittoria. The king of Spain
+has run away. When the princes learn in Prague that the
+south of France now lies open to an English invasion, their
+inclination to defiance is promptly strengthened. The Emperor,
+who had left the best of his generals to fight for Joseph
+in Spain, is beside himself with wrath. “He alone is to blame!”
+writes Napoleon to Paris. “The English reports show how
+utterly stupid was his command. Never was anything so absurd!
+Of course he is no soldier, but he is responsible....
+Make the king understand that he is not to see any one till
+I come back.... Otherwise his house in Paris will become a
+centre of intrigue, and I shall have to put him under arrest, for
+my patience is at an end. I will no longer have my affairs
+imperilled out of consideration for idiots who are neither soldiers
+nor statesmen!”</p>
+
+<p>His eldest brother is his closest intimate in the family,—and
+now the Emperor thinks that Joseph in a private house in
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_438">[438]</span>Paris is more to be dreaded even than as king in Madrid! Will
+Napoleon at length learn his lesson, and, after this outburst,
+leave Joseph at peace? Hardly! For even little Jerome has
+an army once more, and is again making a mess of things; he
+gives one of the generals new marching orders, with the remark
+that he is acting on instructions from the Emperor. The
+latter hears of it too late. “I will not tell you in plain terms
+what I think of your conduct; enough that I will not tolerate it
+any longer! If you again make false representations of the
+kind, I shall publish an order of the day to the effect that in
+future no attention is to be paid to anything you say.... By
+such behaviour you may disturb the march of my whole army.
+It is sheer cheating!”</p>
+
+<p>Soon afterwards Junot, one of the oldest of his comrades,
+becomes affected with megalomania; he loses a battle in Illyria,
+and then, in a fit of frenzy, throws himself out of a window.
+Bourrienne, who had for a time been cashiered on account of
+peculation, and had then been appointed chargé d’affaires in
+Hamburg, had, after all, to be dismissed once more for the old
+offence. “If he dares to interfere in public business, I will have
+him arrested, and make him disgorge his ill-gotten gains!”
+Bernadotte, the most faithless, has actually landed in Pomerania
+with his Swedes, has advised the allies to stand firm, and
+will deceive them as he has deceived others. To crown all, a
+sworn enemy of the Emperor is now to join the opposing combination.
+General Moreau, who had been exiled to America for
+his share in Cadoudal’s conspiracy, is on his way to join the
+foes of France, and will share with Bernadotte the distinction
+of fighting against his native land.</p>
+
+<p>In this situation, on the horns of a dilemma, too cautious to
+turn his victories to account, and too powerful to accept the
+terms on which alone he would be able to make peace, the Emperor
+has recourse to his whilom methods. He invites Metternich
+to Dresden, and tries to win over the Austrian diplomat by
+suggestion. The interview is typically Napoleonic, lasting nine
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_439">[439]</span>hours without a break. The Emperor gains nothing by it, but
+posterity gains a great deal.</p>
+
+<p>Standing in the middle of the room, his sword buckled on
+and his hat under his arm, the Emperor receives the minister.
+After making formal enquiries about his father-in-law’s health,
+he forthwith assumes the offensive: “So you, too, want war.
+Well, you shall have it. I have crushed the Prussians at Lützen,
+and have beaten the Russians at Bautzen. You are waiting
+for your turn? Be it so, we shall meet again in Vienna.
+Men are incorrigible! Three times I have replaced Emperor
+Francis on his throne; I have promised always to live at peace
+with him; I have married his daughter. Even at that time I
+thought: ‘You are making a fool of yourself.’ Still, I did it;
+and now I regret it!”</p>
+
+<p>We see that he is not disposed to be civil; that to his father-in-law’s
+envoy, on whom he wishes to make a good impression,
+he is blunter than he had been to Francis on the day after
+Austerlitz. Metternich speaks of world peace, which will only
+be possible if the Emperor is willing to accept a reasonable
+curtailment of his dominions. It will be necessary to give back
+Warsaw to the tsar and Illyria to the emperor of Austria, to
+set the Hansa towns free, to enlarge Prussia.</p>
+
+<p>“What you are asking is that I shall dishonour myself. I
+will die rather than cede a hand’s breadth of soil. Your born
+kings can accept defeat twenty times over, and still go back to
+their palaces. I am the child of fortune, and I cannot do
+this! My power will not outlast the day on which I cease to
+be strong, on which I cease to be feared.... Through the
+cold of Russia I lost everything except honour.... Now I
+have a new army; you shall see it; I will hold a review for your
+benefit!” Here we have once more the pride of the born soldier
+facing those who are born kings; here we have General
+Bonaparte. When the minister ventures to declare that this
+army of which Napoleon speaks would be glad if peace were
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_440">[440]</span>made, the Emperor cuts Metternich short with one of his
+amazing outbursts of frankness:</p>
+
+<p>“It is not the army that wants peace! My generals want
+it! Really, I have no generals left. The cold of Moscow has
+demoralised them all. There, the bravest among them cried
+like children. A fortnight ago, I could still make peace; now,
+after two victories, I can no longer do so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Europe and you, Sire, will never come to terms. When
+you have made peace, it has been nothing more than a truce.
+To you, success and failure are equally strong motives for
+war. This time the whole of Europe will fight against you.”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor laughs savagely:</p>
+
+<p>“Do you think to destroy me by a coalition? How many of
+you are there, then, Messieurs les Alliés? Four, five, six,
+twenty? The more, the merrier!” He goes on to warn Metternich
+against counting on Germany, whose peoples he is holding
+together by the presence of his soldiers and whose princes are
+held together by their dread of Austria. He advises armed
+neutrality, so long as the negotiations are going on in Prague,
+whereas Metternich talks of armed mediation. These finesses
+of the old diplomacy are to mask the gulf between them. Then,
+for a whole hour, they dispute about the relative strength of
+the opposing armies, each claiming the possession of exact information
+about the other side.</p>
+
+<p>“I have detailed and accurate lists of your forces,” says the
+Emperor. “I have had so many spies at work, that I know to a
+unit even how many drummers you have. But no one knows
+better than myself how much or how little value to attach to
+these secret service reports. My calculations are based on
+more exact data, upon mathematical inferences. In the last
+resort, no one has more than he can have.” The Emperor shows
+the Austrian envoy the muster rolls of the Austrian army,
+which till yesterday had been part of the French alliance.
+Metternich can see for himself whether the figures are accurate.
+The Emperor then spends hours upon a description of the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_441">[441]</span>Russian campaign. When the minister remarks that the imperial
+troops are composed of striplings, and asks what Napoleon
+will do when these children, like those who have gone before
+them, have been swallowed up by the war, the Emperor is
+overcome with wrath. He turns pale, his features are distorted,
+and he shouts at Metternich:</p>
+
+<p>“You are not a soldier. You do not know what passes in a
+soldier’s mind. I grew to manhood on the battle-field. Such
+a man as I does not care a snap of the fingers for the lives of a
+million men!” He flings his hat into a corner of the room.
+Now, there is nothing assumed about his anger, and what he has
+just said is the revelation of an innermost truth. The man who
+turns pale at the sight of a dying horse, who cannot bear to see
+a human being pass away, remains and must remain impassive
+when, in his army lists, he adds up the figures, shifts the hundreds
+of thousands from column to column, and erases the
+myriads of slain. Is not war made with human lives, and does
+it not end with corpses? What is the use of reproaching a
+craftsman for using the tools of his trade? But as far as
+morals are concerned, the minister has the best of the argument,
+and he would have been glad if all France could have
+heard Napoleon’s words.</p>
+
+<p>“France has no reason to complain,” says the Emperor more
+calmly. “To spare France, I have sacrificed Germans and
+Poles. In Russia I lost three hundred thousand men, but only
+a tenth of them were Frenchmen!” Meanwhile, he has picked
+up his hat for himself, a thing he has certainly not done for
+the last ten years; he has acted sensibly, as if he had still been
+General Bonaparte. Then he plants himself in front of the
+Austrian and says:</p>
+
+<p>“It was exceedingly stupid of me to marry an archduchess.
+I was trying to weld the new with the old, to make Gothic prejudices
+square with the institutions of my own century. Now
+I can see the whole extent of my error! The blunder may cost
+me my throne, but I will bury the world beneath its ruins!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_442">[442]</span></p>
+
+<p>This tragical admission is the climax of the interview, and
+the turning-point of the problem of war or peace. The rancour
+engendered in him by his own mistake spurs him on, regardless
+of prudential considerations, into the fight with a coalition
+whose forces outnumber his by three to one. Like a great
+gambler who realises that he has made an irretrievable blunder,
+he is impelled by the stubbornness characteristic of such natures
+as his to stake all upon a single throw. He will show that,
+blunder notwithstanding, he can still win.</p>
+
+<p>By the time he dismisses Metternich, he has fully recovered
+composure. His hand on the door-handle, he says: “We shall
+see one another again before you leave?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am at Your Majesty’s service. But I have no longer any
+hope of succeeding in my mission.”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor looks at him quizzically, and taps him gently
+on the shoulder: “Do you know what will happen? You will
+not make war on me!”</p>
+
+<p>After three days’ negotiation, Metternich wishes to depart,
+but the Emperor is afraid of the final rupture. Napoleon summons
+the Austrian envoy several times, and then invites him to
+an early interview in the garden. The two men walk up and
+down.</p>
+
+<p>“Now then, you must not assume this injured air!” In ten
+minutes they arrange for a prolongation of the truce, and talk
+about further conversations in Prague. Everything is left
+hanging in the wind; and in the memorandum he signs with
+Metternich, the Emperor recognises his father-in-law’s position
+of armed neutrality, which can only be a stage on the way
+to war. Then he drives off to Mainz, that he may see once more
+the wife who is daughter of that same Austrian ruler. He has
+appointed her regent in Paris again, but has expressly forbidden
+his ministers to submit certain kinds of documents for
+her consideration. “There are details with which a young
+woman’s mind must not be besmirched.”</p>
+
+<p>Had the Habsburg archduchess been a staunch wife and an
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_443">[443]</span>affectionate daughter, she would have journeyed on to Vienna,
+and would have brought about a reconciliation which there was
+really nothing to prevent except the two men’s wounded pride.
+She had a passably good understanding. Only a few weeks
+before, the Emperor, writing to Francis, had said: “She fills the
+post of prime minister to my great satisfaction.” We cannot
+for a moment suppose that now, at the height of the crisis, he
+can have failed to let her know all the hazards of the hour,
+were it only to ensure that in the event of a breach her feelings
+would be on his side. But the little goose made no move. Her
+only concern was to send costly gifts which would make an impression
+on her relatives.</p>
+
+<p>In Prague, each party keeps the other in suspense; Fouché
+does his master harm by gossiping with all and sundry; Bernadotte
+cements his alliance with his new friends. When, at
+the last moment, it seems possible that the Emperor may give
+way, Alexander and Frederick William are so much alarmed at
+the prospect that they compel Metternich to make the terms
+more exacting, for they realise that so favourable an opportunity
+is not likely to recur. The Emperor now angrily draws
+back, and on the day after the expiry of the truce he receives
+his father-in-law’s declaration of war. No doubt, in the interval,
+he has secured reinforcements; but he can no longer
+trust the Confederation of the Rhine, and has to keep watch
+upon his German auxiliaries. He stands to arms in Saxony and
+Silesia, faced by Schwarzenberg in command of three armies,
+two of them, respectively led by Blücher and Bernadotte, holding
+Silesia and the north. With Schwarzenberg is Moreau, who
+has just arrived, and who, on his last visit to Germany, had
+been the conqueror of that country.</p>
+
+<p>Thus paradoxical is the marshalling forces in the game of
+chess. Under the Emperor of the French, are fighting three
+German kings against a German general, who a little while
+back had been the Emperor’s subordinate in the war against
+Russia. Against Napoleon, are fighting two French generals.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_444">[444]</span>One of them is leading Prussian troops against the man who
+had for years pushed him to the front; nor is this general really
+a royalist, for he, too, is a son of the revolution. Blücher is
+the only true-hearted foe, for Blücher, whom Napoleon defeated
+seven years earlier, has never fought on the Emperor’s side,
+and has never espoused his cause. The one element in Napoleon’s
+favour is that three monarchs have their fingers in
+Schwarzenberg’s pie, three commanders who know as little about
+the trade of war as Brother Joseph did in Spain.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of August, the Emperor opens the second Saxon
+campaign with a great victory near Dresden. But on the third
+day, when he might have followed up the allies and scattered
+them, he is seized by a violent attack of gastric spasm. For a
+whole hour he fancies he has been poisoned; his will is paralysed,
+and he withdraws instead of pursuing. Thereby he loses
+an army corps, and thus (according to the report of Daru,
+his daily companion) “causes the disaster of 1813.” In this
+first battle against the hated Bonaparte, Moreau falls. Is it an
+omen? When the Emperor hears the news, the rivalry of his
+youth flames up anew, and from his very soul he cries: “Moreau
+is dead! My star!”</p>
+
+<p>His other army has been defeated by Blücher on the Katzbach.
+Once more, considerations of statesmanship outweigh
+those of generalship. How can I divide my adversaries? It
+will be better to spare Bohemia for the sake of Austria, for the
+defeat has aroused alarm there. He will make a surprise march
+on Berlin, and will thus lure the Prussians out of Silesia.</p>
+
+<p>But what the tsar had said years ago is still true....
+Miracles only happen when the Emperor is present, and he
+cannot be everywhere. He is thus hampered in his great enterprise.
+Lack of fighting spirit, difficulties of food-supply, and
+the frequency of desertion, are continually making it necessary
+for him to visit his flanking armies: so that in popular parlance,
+in consequence of his rushings to and fro, he is nicknamed the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_445">[445]</span>“Bautzen Messenger.” His armies suffer more and more from
+lack of food. They are so thickly set upon the ground that
+they have long since eaten the country bare.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, he has not nearly enough soldiers. Since the
+1814 levies are already with the colours, he orders the Senate to
+call up also those of 1815, and even the men whose liability to
+service has nearly expired on account of advancing years—the
+very peasants whom, when setting forth on this campaign in a
+mood of self-pity, he had envied for their fortunate position.
+But when will the reinforcements arrive? Who will train them,
+and how long will it take? Vainly now, at the end of September,
+he sends an envoy to his father-in-law, to talk of peace; he is
+prepared to make great sacrifices, “if only you will listen.”
+But Francis remains firm, and is at length able to detach an
+important member of the Confederation of the Rhine: the king
+of Bavaria falls away. Thereupon the anxious chessplayer,
+round whom the clouds are gathering, says to his old comrade
+something which he has never before been willing to admit:</p>
+
+<p>“Marmont, my game is going awry.”</p>
+
+<p>With this admission, the Emperor’s genius spreads its wings
+and flies away.</p>
+
+<h3>XI</h3>
+
+<p>On Düben Heath is a Saxon fortress, Düben Castle. There,
+one morning, the Emperor is at work, planning the march on
+Berlin, the defeat of Bernadotte and Blücher, smashing blows
+which will finish off the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>Then a number of generals are announced. He comes out
+of his study to meet them, knowing what they want, for his
+intimates have kept him informed of the growing discontent
+among the leaders, who wish to winter quietly on the Rhine.
+Marshal Ney has recently reported: “I am no longer master
+of my army.” One of the visitors begins to speak hesitatingly;
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_446">[446]</span>a second puts forward dubious reasons; then, nodding to encourage
+one another, they all obsequiously beg him not to march
+on Berlin. Leipzig will be a better point of attack.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor listens to them in silence as he wonders: “Is
+my power vanishing?” At length he replies: “The secession of
+Bavaria is imminent. A movement on Leipzig, a backward
+movement, will arouse despair among the soldiers. But I will
+think over what you have said.” He spends the rest of the day
+alone, refusing himself to all visitors, brooding over his maps.
+Caulaincourt, on duty outside, listens for sounds from within,
+but can only hear the windows rattling in the October gale
+which is howling round the castle. At length he is allowed to
+enter. The Emperor walks up and down, and, speaking rather
+to himself than to Caulaincourt, he says: “The French cannot
+endure reverses.” Then he sinks into a reverie.</p>
+
+<p>Next day he announces that they will go to Leipzig. It is
+October 15th: general animation; orders are issued; every one
+is delighted. Discussing with Marmont the latest steps of the
+Habsburg ruler, Napoleon says in conclusion: “I prefer a man
+of honour who simply keeps his word, to a conscientious man
+who does what he thinks right.... Emperor Francis has done
+what he believes to be the best for his subjects; he is conscientious,
+but he is not a man of honour.”</p>
+
+<p>Next day begins the great “Battle of the Nations.” The
+Emperor has only one hundred and eighty thousand men against
+three hundred thousand of the allies; by the evening he has
+won only part of the battle-field. On the second morning
+Bernadotte arrives with reinforcements. The Emperor sees
+that things are going badly, and would like to withdraw, but
+he cannot make up his mind to a step that would give the
+impression of defeat. Once more he tries negotiation. General
+Merveldt has been taken prisoner; his sword is restored on
+parole; he is to go to Emperor Francis with proposals for an
+armistice.</p>
+
+<p>“I will retire behind the Saale, while the Russians and the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_447">[447]</span>Prussians withdraw beyond the Elbe, and you Austrians go
+back into Bohemia; Saxony must remain neutral.” Then, livening
+up, he develops to this enemy general nothing less than a
+new plan for Europe. Hanover is to be returned to England;
+the Baltic coast is to be freed; any of the princes of the Confederation
+of the Rhine who wish to do so can leave the Confederation;
+Poland, Spain, and Holland are to be independent;
+the only reservation is as regards Italy, which must not become
+Austrian. “Be off with you! You have a splendid peace mission.
+Should fortune favour it, you will earn the love of a
+great nation. But if your side refuse peace, we shall know
+how to defend ourselves.”</p>
+
+<p>General Merveldt departs in amazement, and his report seems
+incredible to his master. What! The Emperor Napoleon, in
+the course of war, between battles, is willing to renounce half
+Europe and chooses a prisoner to bring this offer? We did
+not know he was so weak.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor is anxiously awaiting his emissary’s return.
+Till far on into the night, therefore, he refrains from issuing
+orders for the morrow; he speaks of the ties of kinship, and
+of his wife and child. Suddenly he is attacked by his gastric
+trouble, and staggers against the wall of the tent, his face pale.
+They wish to send for his physician. “No! my tent is transparent.
+If I am up and about, every one is at his post.”</p>
+
+<p>“At least lie down, Sire!”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I will die standing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do let me fetch the doctor, Sire.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I tell you! I can send a sick soldier to hospital. But
+who can send me?” Terrible moments pass. “I’m getting
+better now. See to it that no one comes into the tent!”</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later, he issues orders, but not for a retreat.
+Instead, the army moves a little nearer to Leipzig. The enemy
+now outnumbers him by two to one.</p>
+
+<p>When day comes, he takes up his headquarters in a windmill.
+The attack upon the French starts from three sides. It
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_448">[448]</span>appears that, at the last moment, Bernadotte has persuaded
+the Saxons to turn their guns against France. “Infamous!” exclaims
+the Emperor, and all around echo the word. Saxon
+officers who remain faithful to him, break their swords. A
+dragoon belonging to the escort wheels his horse, and shouts:
+“We’ll do for them yet, the scoundrels! We Frenchmen, too,
+are here! Vive l’Empereur!” The whole escort follows him
+at the charge. Soon a young officer, who has seized one of the
+Saxon eagles, gallops back with it to the Emperor, and collapses
+from his wounds as he arrives. “These sons of France!”
+says Napoleon softly.</p>
+
+<p>On the second day of battle, he loses sixty thousand men.
+He is beaten, but even the German critics say of the affair:
+“The allies did not secure an overwhelming victory, such as
+might have been expected from the enormous preponderance of
+their forces.”</p>
+
+<p>During the hasty retreat of the defeated army through the
+town of Leipzig, the Emperor dictates orders for the withdrawal.
+“They had brought him a wooden stool,” writes an
+eyewitness. “On this, he now fell into a slumber of exhaustion,
+his hands loosely folded in his lap. In gloomy silence the generals
+were standing round the fire, while the soldiers were
+marching past a little way off.”</p>
+
+<p>Next morning the pursuing enemy spread disorder in the
+streets; a bridge was blown up prematurely, so that the rear
+guard was forced to surrender; one of the marshals escaped by
+swimming across the river, another was drowned, several were
+wounded and taken prisoner. When, subsequently Macdonald
+came across Augereau, for whose corps he had been waiting,
+Augereau laughed him to scorn: “Do you think me such a
+fool as to let myself be slaughtered in a Leipzig suburb? I
+won’t do that for a madman’s sake!”</p>
+
+<p>Here we have it for the first time, a sign that one of Napoleon’s
+oldest companions-in-arms has become completely indifferent
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_449">[449]</span>to the Emperor’s fame; is animated by the mere will-to-live,
+reasonable enough in a private soldier, but unworthy
+of a marshal of France. On the very same day, another friend
+of Bonaparte’s youth writes to the Emperor, complaining that
+in the report of the previous day’s fighting his services have
+been overlooked, although for ten hours he had held a part of
+the plain for whose defence another man is now given the credit.
+“Never in my life have I served you more faithfully than I did
+on this occasion.... Sire, I could not suffer anything worse
+than to be forgotten at such a time.” The letter is signed,
+“Marmont.”</p>
+
+<p>These two utterances on the day after Leipzig are the
+shadows of coming events. Marmont and Augereau will both
+desert the Emperor in the decisive hour.</p>
+
+<p>Fifty miles away, Goethe is sitting in his room at Weimar.
+Napoleon’s picture has fallen from its nail. The poet has
+heard the sound of the Leipzig guns. The first news of the
+French defeat has arrived. Though none of the allied generals
+can say, yet, whether the Emperor may not be able to collect
+his forces once more, and to resume his career of victory,
+Goethe, who only a few months earlier had declared Napoleon
+to be invincible, already realises the full extent of the disaster.
+On the day of the retreat, as if everything had happened a
+hundred years before, and the whole matter had become legendary,
+he writes the following verses:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">He who feels courage in his royal breast</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">knows no shudderings, treads gladly</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">the undermined road leading to the steps of the throne,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">knows the danger and nevertheless mounts confidently.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">The golden circlet’s tremendous burden,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">he does not try its weight; resolute and calm,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">he presses it gladly on his bold brow,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and bears it lightly, as if it were a laurel crown.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Thus didst thou. What seemed so far away,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">thou hast tranquilly learned to make thine own;</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_450">[450]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">and whatever fierce obstacles might block the path,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">thou sawest them, contemplated them, and understood them.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">A joyful day dawned, it summoned thee,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">thou wast summoned, and thus it came to pass....</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">And thou still standest despite all that has happened to thee,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">despite the foe, who, with war and death</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">threatens thee from without and from within....</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">The peoples are agape, they chatter, they are full of vain imaginings—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">What do they care for, but games?...</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">The false world, it wooes us for our treasure,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">for our favour, for our position,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and, even if one makes one’s lover one’s equal,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">love does not suffice him, he wants the whole kingdom.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">So was it with this man!—And now, declare it abroad,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">even if it cost you your life:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">To every man, be he whom he may,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">there comes a last happiness and a last day.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>At the same date, Schelling writes: “I do not believe that
+Napoleon’s end is yet very near. If I am right, he will still be
+spared; and, even if all his helpers fall away from him, he will
+still live to drink the cup of humiliation to the dregs.” When,
+almost immediately afterwards, the Bavarians definitively
+changed sides, Hegel wrote: “In Nuremberg, the mob has welcomed
+the incoming Austrians with the most hateful jubilation....
+Nothing more contemptible can be imagined than
+the mood and the conduct of the burghers.”</p>
+
+<p>Three outstanding Germans, immediately after Leipzig!</p>
+
+<p>Certainly, it is far from being a final defeat. Fighting, and
+fighting victoriously, the Emperor withdraws. In Erfurt,
+Murat presents himself, wishing to go back to his kingdom.
+The master allows him to do so, saying: “By next May, I shall
+have an army of a quarter of a million on the Rhine!” Thus
+does his intelligence work; such is the quality of his imagination;
+he can still think only in hundreds of thousands. In
+Mainz, his troops are attacked by typhus, and he hastens to
+move what is left of them across the Rhine. During the retreat,
+he works from three in the morning till eleven at night.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the advancing allied headquarters are thronged
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_451">[451]</span>by the princes who are deserting the cause of Napoleon. All is
+promptly forgotten and forgiven. But there is one honest man
+left who finds strong words to describe what is happening:
+“What do you think of these wretches’ behaviour?... They
+have had better treatment than they deserve.... All these
+princelets are weaklings, to whom a far more honourable existence
+has been conceded than their pitiful conduct would seem
+to justify.... The retention of their sovereignty, which consists
+in pretentiousness, pleasure seeking, and the lust for dominion,
+has cost them nothing more than the blood of their
+subjects.”</p>
+
+<p>Such is Baron vom Stein’s judgment concerning his peers,
+the German princes.</p>
+
+<h3>XII</h3>
+
+<p>Letizia is sitting by the fire. In her hand is a letter from
+Mainz, in which her son answers her intercession for Louis by
+imposing certain conditions. But this is not what troubles her;
+she is thinking of the Emperor’s parenthetical allusion to the
+turn in his fortunes. He writes: “In this situation, when all
+Europe is rising against me, and my heart is so full of
+care....” She has never warned him of the impending dangers;
+they are both of them too proud for that. But she has
+often uttered her foreboding to intimates, with her phrase
+“Pourvou que cela doure!” She has never been disturbed by
+the thought of any disaster to herself. She thinks only of her
+dear ones. Who will help them when everything falls to pieces?
+To whom, she is now asking herself, can the Emperor look for
+support?</p>
+
+<p>When he returns, she has to endure the recognition that the
+treachery begins among her own children. Murat, who is always
+led by a keener intelligence than his own (that of Caroline),
+signs a truce with England and enters into an alliance
+with Austria. Elise has an adviser, Fouché, who keeps away
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_452">[452]</span>from Paris until the Emperor’s fall. “The only thing that
+could save us all would be the Emperor’s death.” Such are the
+ex-minister’s words to the Emperor’s sister. But Elise writes
+to her mother asking what dances are to be given that winter
+in Paris. Louis defies orders, and, being unable to stay in
+Austria any longer, comes to Paris without leave. Napoleon
+proposes to banish him to a distance of two hundred miles from
+Paris. The mother intercedes between the pair; there is a further
+interview, as a result of which Napoleon and Louis are
+once more estranged. Jerome has left his subjects in the lurch,
+and has fled incognito from Cassel. Joseph, despite the Emperor’s
+reiterated requests, persists in his refusal to undertake
+the defence of Paris. Lucien keeps his distance, still in a bad
+humour.</p>
+
+<p>Such is the gallery of brothers and sisters, the relatives upon
+whom for a decade the Emperor has been trying to build up his
+dynasty. What can be the feelings of a mother who has always
+cherished the most tender affection for that one of her children
+who happened to be suffering most keenly?</p>
+
+<p>But in Morfontaine a cheerful mood prevails. The company
+there consists of Joseph, the Spanish king without a country;
+Jerome’s wife, a queen in like situation, whose father has gone
+over to the allies; the sometime grand inquisitor of Spain says
+Mass in the chapel; there are two colonial bishops; German,
+Spanish, and Italian courtiers without a court—a brilliant
+company, like the audience at private theatricals, watching
+actors who will soon come down from the stage to take their
+place on the floor of the drawing-room. Only one of them hopes
+to draw a big fish out of the troubled waters, Bernadotte’s wife,
+Joseph’s sister-in-law, the woman to whom twenty years before
+the Emperor had given the go-by. She knows that her husband,
+commander of one of the allied armies, is already on the Rhine;
+she hopes that ere long, in Notre Dame, he will place Josephine’s
+crown on her pretty brown head.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp75" id="illus15" style="max-width: 25.0em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus15.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>Napoleon as Emperor in 1809. Woodcut from a medal by
+    J. P. Droz.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_453">[453]</span></p>
+
+<p>At this country-seat, more intrigues are carried on against
+Napoleon than Joseph is aware of; for Joseph is not himself
+an intriguer; he is merely easy-going and vain. The Emperor
+recognises this, now that it is too late, and says to Roederer:</p>
+
+<p>“That has been one of my mistakes. I fancied I needed my
+brothers for the dynasty, but it is safe without them. It has
+been brought into being in the heart of the storm by the nature
+of things. The empress suffices.... Everything has been
+quiet for a year past. There is only disquiet when Joseph lives
+in Paris.... He cannot forget that he is the first-born. Was
+there ever anything more absurd? If he were talking of our
+father’s vineyard, that would be another story!... His interests
+are in women, houses, furniture. He likes to go out
+rabbit shooting, and to play blind man’s buff with the girls.
+I am tied to nothing; care not a jot for houses or for women;
+though I do feel a little concern about my son.”</p>
+
+<p>Thus does his monomania make headway in these weeks of
+increasing peril. We see that all the rest, court included, has
+been nothing more than a game. He cares not a jot for anything
+outside the one passion of his soul—except that he is a
+little concerned about his son.</p>
+
+<p>He now quickly makes up his mind to restore the Spanish
+crown to King Ferdinand, who is set at liberty; but the Cortes
+must approve the treaty. This is Talleyrand’s advice, for
+Talleyrand has now been recalled to the Tuileries. Insistence
+on ratification by the Cortes will delay matters. The traitor’s
+aim is to keep a French army in the south, so that France may
+be weakened for the benefit of the allies, for whose cause Talleyrand
+is now working. Joseph protests.</p>
+
+<p>“My present situation makes it impossible for me to think of
+any sort of foreign dominion,” writes the Emperor to his
+brother. “I shall deem myself lucky if the peace treaty will
+allow me to keep the old boundaries of France. Everything is
+crashing round me. My armies have been destroyed, and it
+will hardly be possible to make the losses good. Holland is
+gone, and Italy is uncertain.... Belgium and the Rhine
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_454">[454]</span>province are discontented; the Spanish frontier is held by the
+enemy.... How is it possible, at this crisis, to think of a
+foreign throne?” When the prefect of police advises him to
+leave a larger body of National Guards in Paris, during the
+campaign that is now imminent, he rejoins: “Who can guarantee
+that they will be faithful to me? Am I to leave so large a
+force in my rear?”</p>
+
+<p>He is in despair. Surely there is no other word for the description
+of these thoughts? His family, his allies, his own
+capital, all seem untrustworthy to him. Thus completely has
+his mood changed since the battle of Leipzig. Count Lavalette,
+Postmaster General, one of the most honest men in Paris, who
+often came to see him at this time, found him one evening in a
+condition of great depression. Napoleon received Lavalette in
+his bedroom, standing in front of the fire, his hands stretched
+out towards the blaze. The visitor, though a stout-hearted
+fellow, advises peace, saying that the French are mutable. But
+when he ventures to mention the name of the Bourbons, on whom
+perhaps the Emperor’s mantle may fall, Napoleon turns away
+from the fire and silently throws himself on the bed. When, a
+few minutes later, the count draws near, he finds that Napoleon
+is sleeping.</p>
+
+<p>These healthy reactions are a sign of returning courage.
+Napoleon’s overthrow is close at hand; he foresees the catastrophe;
+but when people talk to him about the Bourbons, to
+whose throne he has mounted and who may dispossess him in
+turn, he cannot be bothered with the topic. It bores him, and
+he goes to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>Awakening reinvigorated, he recognises that the Bourbon
+sympathies of the northern provinces are a danger; he notes
+that the funds have fallen to fifty, and that the shares of the
+Bank of France have declined to half their former value; and
+he finds that the new National Guard, which after all he is
+obliged to call up, fails to materialise. He therefore gladly accedes
+to a proposal that issues from the allies in Frankfort.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_455">[455]</span>They are as disunited as he can possibly wish. Metternich, being
+a statesman, thinks it will be better not to occupy Paris.
+The tsar, being a romanticist, wants to take vengeance for
+Moscow by blowing up the Tuileries. In the end, Austria gets
+her way. The offer to France is that the country is to retain
+her natural frontiers; the Rhine, the Alps, the Pyrenees. The
+Emperor feels that he is saved. Without a moment’s delay he
+will accept the Frankfort proposal. Maret has actually
+drafted the dispatch.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he changes his mind. Why? Perhaps he has been
+put out of temper by the opposition voiced in the Chambers.
+There, at length, the members are showing themselves refractory.
+“We will not vote further armaments unless the government
+agrees that they are to be used only for defence. The
+Emperor must pledge himself to carry out all the laws that
+protect liberty.” Thunders of applause greet these words.
+For the first time in fifteen years, an assembly has ventured to
+criticise Napoleon. In his hatred for all Chambers, the Emperor
+flies into a passion, forbids the printing of the speech,
+closes the House, receives a few of the deputies, scolds them:</p>
+
+<p>“The throne is nothing more than a piece of wood covered
+with satin. I, and I alone, represent the people. I am the
+State. If France wants a different constitution, let her find
+another monarch for herself. Do you think my words proud?
+I utter them because I have the courage, and because France
+owes her greatness to me.” After this language in the vein of
+the Roi Soleil, on New Year’s Day he openly threatens the
+deputies, and says he will have them closely watched.</p>
+
+<p>That very day, Blücher crosses the Rhine.</p>
+
+<p>Thus, after twenty years of effort, and after six great wars,
+the more or less united powers of Europe and the old monarchical
+idea, incorporated in a Prussian field marshal, have
+made their way back across the boundary river of the revolution—and
+in the same hour, the heir of these modern ideas
+scatters their representatives and threatens imprisonment.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_456">[456]</span>With a similar logic, the manifestoes of the conflicting worlds
+have changed places. In Notre Dame, where for twenty years
+nothing has been heard but thanksgiving services, prayers are
+now offered up on behalf of the success of French arms. From
+the allies, on the other hand, who have so long heard talk of
+success of the French arms as heralding the liberation of conquered
+peoples, come assurances to conquered France that the
+invaders are “liberators.”</p>
+
+<p>The legitimists have at length learned from their great foe
+the technique of his battles and his proclamations. But if they
+are able to turn the lesson to good account, it is only because
+of their preponderance of power, and because of the weariness
+of a nation, which, after twenty years of glory, now seeks
+nothing but repose.</p>
+
+<p>To begin with, they weaken their position by asking too
+much; for when they offer nothing better than the old frontiers
+of 1792, the Emperor breaks off negotiations, and makes ready
+to repel their onslaught. In spite of all difficulties, he is able
+to strengthen his fighting front. His spirits are now steadily
+rising. When a pious count advises him to send the empress
+and her ladies to kiss the relics of Ste. Geneviève, Napoleon
+bursts out laughing, and says: “You’re a pretty bigot! I am
+going to fight it out!”</p>
+
+<p>But to whom, in this stern moment, does he entrust the
+capital? Who merits all his confidence?</p>
+
+<p>Joseph! Joseph, who understands nothing about war and
+has been keeping open house for the Emperor’s enemies, becomes
+lieutenant general of France and governor of Paris!
+This domestic peace treaty throws a glaring light upon the
+Emperor’s isolation, upon his lack of confidence in his supporters,
+and upon his family feeling. Shortly before leaving
+for the front, Napoleon has coldly ordered his brother to choose
+between openly declaring himself to be the friend of the empress-regent
+or continuing to be banished from Paris. “You
+can live in retirement at your country-seat, so long as I am
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_457">[457]</span>alive. If I die, you will be killed or imprisoned. At Morfontaine,
+you will certainly be of no use either to your own
+people or to France, but at any rate you will not do me any
+harm. Make your choice. Feelings, whether friendly or hostile,
+are useless and out of place.”</p>
+
+<p>The tone is that of a man fighting to save his crown. He
+reckons with the likelihood of death; burns a great many State
+papers; and provides for his natural sons. Little Léon is to
+receive a fixed income, Walewska’s boy is to have a big majorat.
+As for his legitimate heir, who is now nearly three years old,
+Napoleon has the child in his arms when he takes leave of the
+officers of the National Guard. “I entrust to you the dearest
+of my possessions. You are answerable!” Once more he urges
+tenacity on his brother; once more he leaves his wife regent of
+their son’s realm. Next morning he quits Paris.</p>
+
+<p>He will not re-enter the city for more than a year, after
+devious wanderings.</p>
+
+<h3>XIII</h3>
+
+<p>In a few weeks he is beaten.</p>
+
+<p>His first strokes are successful. Near Brienne, where he
+forces Blücher to retreat, and where he himself takes so active
+a part in the fight that he is obliged to draw his sword in self-defence,
+he recognises the tree under which “as a twelve-year-old
+youngster I used to sit and read Tasso.” A romantic encounter
+which links his later life with those early days when his
+dreams were first dreamed! His historical feeling concerning
+himself grows in such circumstances to legendary proportions.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately thereafter, Blücher gains a victory over him
+near La Rothière. Paris is threatened. The Emperor’s
+strength seems broken. Caulaincourt, in a letter, begs him to
+yield; Maret does the same by word of mouth. Napoleon pays
+little heed to what Maret is saying; absently, he flutters the
+pages of a book by Montesquieu. Then, pointing to a passage,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_458">[458]</span>he bids Maret read aloud. “I know of nothing nobler than the
+determination of a monarch of our day to prefer to bury himself
+beneath the ruins of a throne rather than accept proposals
+to which no king should ever hearken.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know of something nobler still!” exclaims Maret. “That
+you should sacrifice your glory and thereby fill the abyss
+wherein, otherwise, France will find her grave!”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well,” answers the Emperor. “Make peace. Caulaincourt
+can conclude it, and sign the documents. I shall bear
+the shame. But do not claim from me that I myself should
+dictate my own abasement!” Maret writes to Caulaincourt in
+Châtillon, where he is negotiating anew with the enemy.
+Caulaincourt demands confirmation. Meanwhile the Emperor
+has veered about. He writes to Joseph: “Hold the gates bravely.
+Have two guns mounted and see that the National Guard takes
+up its position there.... Place fifty men at each gate armed
+with service muskets, one hundred with fowling pieces, and one
+hundred with pikes. Thus, each gate will be guarded by two
+hundred and fifty men.”</p>
+
+<p>Crœsus has become a beggar! Only six months ago, nay,
+even three months back, Napoleon would have added three
+noughts to the figures! But now, encircled by the conglomerated
+forces of so many princes, two cannon and a hundred
+fowling pieces must suffice to save Paris! He sees the absurdity,
+for the same evening Maret finds him depressed. The
+minister, however, tries to persuade the Emperor to dictate the
+conditions of peace: Belgium and the left bank of the Rhine are
+to be free, Italy must be yielded up, everything which Bonaparte
+and Napoleon conquered must be given back in order
+that he may keep Paris and the piece of wood covered with
+satin. He will sign to-morrow, he says. Those who love him,
+tremble at thought of the moment when with one stroke of
+the pen he will lose all that his warlike deeds have won.</p>
+
+<p>But fate guards him from this. News comes during the
+night. The enemy’s position is worse than it seemed the previous
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_459">[459]</span>day. Once more the war lord’s imagination gets to work.
+When, next morning, Maret arrives with the papers for the
+Emperor’s signature, he finds his master brooding over the
+map. Napoleon hardly notices his entrance. All the minister
+can catch is a few hurried words:</p>
+
+<p>“Other matters are to the fore! I am determined to smash
+Blücher!” When, at the self-same hour, Joseph’s letter arrives
+wherein he states that Paris is in peril, Napoleon, in the interludes
+of issuing army orders, dictates, from the depths of his
+heart, this rock-like answer:</p>
+
+<p>“Should Paris be taken, I shall no longer continue to live....
+I have commanded you to do all that is needful to safeguard
+the empress, the king of Rome, and our family.... I
+have the right to claim the assistance of my kin, for I have
+helped them so often in the past....</p>
+
+<p>“If Talleyrand considers that the empress should in any case
+remain in Paris, this advice is secret treachery. Do not trust
+him! For sixteen years I have associated with him, and have
+often given him favours. But nothing is more certain than
+that he is the greatest enemy of our house, now that luck has
+forsaken us. Take my advice to heart. I understand events
+better than the young folk. If I lose the fight and die, you
+will be the first to hear of it.... I fancy that Madame Mère
+could find asylum with the queen of Westphalia. For God’s
+sake, do not allow the empress and the king to fall into the hands
+of the enemy! Austria would then lose interest in the war, and
+would take the empress to Vienna. England and Russia would
+make the French see things from their outlook, and our cause
+would be lost....</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps I shall conclude peace in a day or two.... Never
+since the world began has a sovereign allowed himself to be
+taken alive in an open city.... So long as I live, I must be
+obeyed. If I die, my reigning son and the regent his mother
+must not allow themselves to be taken, were it only for France’s
+honour. On the contrary, they must withdraw with the last of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_460">[460]</span>their soldiers and entrench themselves in the remotest village.
+Otherwise it might be said that I had sacrificed my son’s
+throne....</p>
+
+<p>“I would rather know that my son had been killed than that
+he was being brought up in Vienna as an Austrian prince. I
+have never seen <i>Andromache</i> played without lamenting the fate
+of Astyanax, and I have always regarded it as a stroke of
+good fortune that his father did not live to see it. You do not
+know the French people. The consequences of these vast events
+are incalculable!”</p>
+
+<p>This hunted man is panting for breath. For the first time
+since his youth, death or collapse seems close at hand; perhaps
+both. When he writes commanding Joseph to prepare for
+either eventuality, the two main elements of his soul are
+mingling, and both are scattering sparks. His calculating
+temperament is reckoning up the disastrous consequences that
+would ensue, should Austria’s ambition cease to be operative;
+but at the same time his idea of the destiny of his nearest and
+dearest takes a soaring flight. Were he to fall next day, this
+letter would remain to show that honour and glory had been
+the last flames of his heroic imagination. But to-day, as always,
+everything discloses a meditation upon the historical
+parallels which have throughout life been his spur to greatness.</p>
+
+<p>Thus the letter is the burning-cold document of a statesman
+and poet, and only in this frame of mind is it becoming for a
+Napoleon to perish.</p>
+
+<p>At the same time, he is a great military commander to the
+last. When he divides the remnants of his army into two halves,
+and begins by defeating Blücher with one of them in a brilliant
+advance, the six battles he fights in nine days, from Champaubert
+to Montereau, are still in the avalanche tempo of General
+Bonaparte. But that the names of these battle-fields are
+French, tells us the whole story; hitherto his victories have always
+borne foreign names. At Montereau he is an artillerist
+once more, training the guns with his own hand as at Toulon.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_461">[461]</span>He cries: “Forward, comrades! The cannon ball that will hit
+me has not been cast!”</p>
+
+<p>He has settled accounts with Blücher. Now to deal with
+Schwarzenberg! But the Austrian is afraid of having his
+renown as commander dimmed, and is sedulous to avoid a decisive
+conflict; he actually writes direct to Berthier, suggesting
+that a truce be arranged in Châtillon. Enough for the Emperor
+to read this, and his lust for battle is redoubled. Another
+letter to Joseph, written with his own hand this time, breathing
+defiance, shrewd, bold:</p>
+
+<p>“You have been talking to my wife about the Bourbons, but
+you should avoid such topics. I have no wish to take shelter
+behind my wife.... That would only sow dissension between
+us.... I have never tried to win the applause of the Parisians,
+for I am no stage puppet.... Besides, the real Paris is something
+very different from the passions of the three thousand
+persons who are raising all the clamour. Of course it would
+be easier to explain that one cannot levy any soldiers, than it
+is to make the attempt.... Je vous embrasse!”</p>
+
+<p>It is many, many years since he has penned these words at
+the close of a letter. Not since the Marengo days has he written
+thus to any of his brothers or to any of his commanders—and
+Joseph is both. His heart is beating more vigorously.
+Next day, writing to Savary, who has informed him about a
+petition to the monarchs, and about the regency and fears and
+intrigues, his phrasing is more incisive, and bears witness to the
+excitement of a campaign:</p>
+
+<p>“They shall learn that I am still the man of Wagram and
+Austerlitz! I will have no intrigues in the State.... Let me
+tell you that if a petition against the public authority is being
+circulated, I will arrest King Joseph and all the others who
+sign it!... I want no tribunes of the people! I myself am
+the great tribune!”</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the allies are quarrelling. The tsar wants Paris
+to be placed under a Russian governor until the nation chooses
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_462">[462]</span>Bernadotte or another; Austria will hear of nothing but a
+Bourbon restoration; Schwarzenberg wants peace to be made
+at once, and instead of joining battle is content to assume “a
+military attitude.” But Blücher, who has remarshalled his
+forces, simply cries “Forward!” and is on the march. When
+the allies once more send a proposal for the re-establishment
+of the old frontiers of France, the Emperor is enraged, saying:
+“I am so angry, that I feel dishonoured by the mere suggestion.”
+Being reminded that the enemy outnumbers him by three
+to one, he answers heroically: “I have fifty thousand men. Add
+myself, and you get a hundred and fifty thousand!”</p>
+
+<p>Now, at the beginning of March, when he is to attack Blücher
+once more, for the command of his other army he puts his trust
+in Marmont, his earliest companion-in-arms.</p>
+
+<p>But the spirit of revolt is rising. It had shown itself to
+Napoleon at Düben Castle in the previous autumn; during the
+winter it had been fomented in his brother’s circle; now it was
+to eventuate in treason under fire. Marmont, the first among
+men still above ground who had served under Napoleon, is
+also the first to betray him. Oudinot and Macdonald have lost
+the battle of Bar-sur-Aube. Now, at Laon, Marmont makes no
+more than a pretence of fighting, leaves his artillery in the town
+square, thus snatches victory from his master, and even allows
+himself to be surprised in his camp. “The Emperor would
+have been justified in cutting him down,” says Berthier, “but is
+so fond of him that, after making a scene, he has left him in
+command of his corps.”</p>
+
+<p>What is more natural than that, during these days, his
+heart should go out to the friends of his youth? But Marmont
+is not the only traitor to whom he is lenient! Augereau, who
+had fought beside him at Rivoli, begins to make signals to the
+Austrians, fails to be at his post. The reprimand he receives is
+an affectionate one. Napoleon writes to him almost as if they
+were still brothers in the field, as of old.</p>
+
+<p>“Six hours’ rest were not enough for you?... What pitiful
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_463">[463]</span>excuses you are making, Augereau! No money! No horses!
+I command you to take the field within twelve hours of receiving
+this. If you are still the old Augereau of Castiglione, you can
+keep your command. But if you find the burden of your sixty
+years so heavy, hand over the command to the oldest of your
+generals. The country is in danger!... You should be the
+first in the firing line. We must all put on our seven-leagued
+boots, and must find the reckless courage of ’93. If the French
+soldiers see your plumes at the outposts, you will be able to
+lead your men whithersoever you please.”</p>
+
+<p>Here we have General Bonaparte once more. The red of
+sunset reminds us of the glories of sunrise.</p>
+
+<p>Owing to Marmont’s retreat, the Emperor is left unsupported
+at Arcis-sur-Aube, and has no more than a few thousand
+men with which to face a great army. Defeat is inevitable.
+During the height of the battle, a dust eddy sweeps across the
+field. A thousand dragoons are panic-stricken, and take to
+flight, shouting: “The Cossacks!” The Emperor gallops forward
+into the press. “Dragoons! Turn and fight! You are
+running away, but I stand firm!” He draws his sword and
+charges the enemy, followed only by his staff and the bodyguard.
+Six thousand Cossacks take to flight. It is years upon
+years since he has led a cavalry attack. His horse is shot under
+him, and he mounts another. Berthier reports that the Emperor
+was obviously hoping to find death on the field.</p>
+
+<p>But death does not come for the asking. No more than
+Cæsar, Cromwell, or Frederick, is Napoleon destined for this
+swift, heroic end. Such men are something more than military
+commanders, and must live out their lives as leaders of nations,—even
+though they have to fight against their own nation.
+Henceforward the blows thicken, and each blow is symbolical.</p>
+
+<p>But who can wonder if, at last, men forsake the despiser of
+men? He has made princes of his soldiers; should it surprise
+us that they prefer their princedoms to a soldier’s death?
+Need we wonder that a wife sprung from an ancient ruling
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_464">[464]</span>house, married off to an upstart, should be quick to repudiate
+him and to become a Habsburg once more? That his brothers,
+in whom he has shown too much trust, should, when disaster
+comes, think of themselves rather than of the man to whom
+they owe everything?</p>
+
+<p>When, in his last letters to Marie Louise, he asks her to
+write to her father, she complies with a bad grace, and, instead
+of following the example of Maria Theresa, she pens cold letters
+which can serve as hints to her father and his ministers.
+News reaches the allied headquarters that the English have
+landed in Bordeaux, and that the Bourbon flag has been hoisted
+there; a letter from the Emperor to his wife is intercepted, a
+letter in which he announces his intention to withdraw behind
+the Marne. It is enough; at length all are agreed for the march
+on Paris.</p>
+
+<p>In this utmost danger, Napoleon has still a last bold shift.
+He will arm the peasants as a national reserve; they will be
+ready to his hand, for they hate the invading foreigners. But
+now tidings come that Marmont has allowed himself to be
+beaten once more, and is withdrawing to Paris with Mortier.
+Like one who hears that his house is on fire, the Emperor storms
+back towards Paris, entrusts the command of his troops to
+Berthier, and rides citywards with his bodyguard. Then, leaving
+everything behind, he jumps with Caulaincourt into a post-chaise,
+hoping it will not be too late to seize the reins of power.
+After how many victories has he not driven in such a carriage
+through the gates of his capital? Always his thoughts have
+circled round the problem, “What is Paris saying? How shall
+I find things there?” But now there is only one idea pulsing
+in his brain: Will three persons stand firm till I come; three to
+whom I can entrust the safety of the realm? The empress as
+regent, Joseph as governor of Paris, Marmont as leader of the
+strongest corps!</p>
+
+<p>Night. Change of horses. A squad of soldiers led by an
+officer. The officer reports: “I am under Marshal Mortier’s
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_465">[465]</span>orders, and am seeking quarters for the troops that are being
+withdrawn.”</p>
+
+<p>“Troops being withdrawn? Where is the empress? Where
+is King Joseph?”</p>
+
+<p>“Her Majesty, with the king of Rome, fled yesterday to
+Blois. King Joseph left Paris to-day.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where is Marmont?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know, Sire.”</p>
+
+<p>Beads of sweat form on the Emperor’s forehead; his lips
+twitch nervously; he is horrified at the news. He breaks out:
+“Forward! To-morrow the guards will be here. The National
+Guard is on my side. Once within the walls of Paris,
+I shall only leave the town as a conqueror or as a dead man!”</p>
+
+<p>With difficulty, Caulaincourt persuades him to renounce this
+foolhardy design. The Emperor orders that Marmont’s corps
+is to take up its position behind the Essonne. Then he says
+to his minister: “Hasten to Paris! Go on negotiating for a
+treaty. I have been betrayed and sold. You have full powers.
+I will wait for you here. It is not far. Forward!”</p>
+
+<p>He drives a hundred paces nearer, and can see the waters of
+the Seine. But what is mirrored therein? The enemy’s watch-fires!
+At the outposts, the invaders are cooking supper and
+singing songs; while the Emperor, on the left bank with two
+post-chaises and a few servants, watches them under cover of
+the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>Then he has the carriage turned, and drives to Fontainebleau.</p>
+
+<h3>XIV</h3>
+
+<p>Next morning, Talleyrand is sitting in his bedchamber, submitting
+to the ministrations of his valet. This statesman of
+the revolution still has his wig dressed in the rococo style. The
+door is thrown open, and almost before the servant has time to
+announce him, Count Nesselrode hurries in to greet the friend
+of many years’ standing. He gets covered with powder from
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_466">[466]</span>head to foot, Talleyrand informs us. Two hours later, the
+tsar himself comes to stay with his intimate friend as guest;
+he will not put up at the Elysée for fear of bombs. The moment
+for which Napoleon’s minister has worked indefatigably
+for six years has come at last, and the smiling victors shake
+hands with a sense of moral righteousness: virtue has triumphed!
+After knocking at the gates of Paris for two and
+twenty years, the legitimist monarchs have at length been admitted.
+This is their great moment. They have ridden into
+the city. A small party of Bourbon supporters has hailed
+them as liberators; the Faubourg Saint-Germain has rallied.
+Elsewhere in Paris, silence reigns. Every one is calmly waiting
+to see whether, on the morrow, Napoleon or Louis is to be
+called master.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor’s fate is sealed, for Joseph, in his cowardly
+flight and in spite of Napoleon’s warnings, has not taken Talleyrand
+along with him, but has left that cleverest and most
+dangerous of enemies in Paris. It is not fixity of purpose on
+the part of the nation that brings the Emperor to his doom;
+nor are the four allied foes unanimous as to his fate. He is
+ruined by the co-operation of faithless servants and treacherous
+friends, under the guidance of a man who is both—for Talleyrand,
+with the good graces of the tsar, takes upon himself the
+spiritual leadership of the next ten days. Now the intriguer is
+in his true element.</p>
+
+<p>Yesterday he received another guest. Talleyrand by no
+means hates the Emperor, but has from the first sign of Napoleon’s
+decline, forsaken his master in order that he himself
+may climb. He has no wish to wreak vengeance on a prisoner,
+and, indeed, has no reason for revenge. Still, it would be convenient
+were the disturber of the peace quietly to disappear;
+and therefore he promises a goodly reward to a certain
+Maubreuil (a monarchist officer with an adventurous past) if
+this man “will carry out an important commission on the road
+to Fontainebleau.” But the adventurer’s heart fails him at the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_467">[467]</span>last moment, and he is content to attack Jerome’s brave young
+wife and carry off her jewels, instead of making an attempt on
+Napoleon’s life. Blücher, too, on his own initiative, has sent a
+detachment with definite orders to make an end of the Emperor.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what does France want?” asks the tsar of the abbé,
+as a man of wide experience. Talleyrand has long had in mind
+the restoration of the former king, but he thinks it best to ask
+whom Alexander would recommend. Somewhat diffidently, the
+tsar mentions the name of Bernadotte. Talleyrand smiles:
+“France does not want any more soldiers. If we wanted one
+we should keep the one we have already, the finest soldier in the
+world. No other, in his place, would find a hundred men to
+follow him.” Talleyrand says this to the conqueror, says it in
+plain words to the tsar; the defeated Emperor at Fontainebleau
+could have wished no greater tribute of admiration than such
+words from such lips in such a situation.</p>
+
+<p>A day later, Talleyrand summons the Senate, and the legislature
+confirms the decision that the Emperor must abdicate.
+There is a general swing of opinion in this direction. Caulaincourt
+is the only one who puts up a fight for Napoleon, and
+tries to win over the tsar. For a moment, Alexander’s impressionable
+heart is touched; the image of his whilom friend rises
+before his mind; he wavers, and says that he will do his best
+with his allies to save the crown for the king of Rome.</p>
+
+<p>But while the impotent Caulaincourt is trying to persuade
+the vacillating tsar, and is doing what he can to save the house
+of Bonaparte, at this same hour on the third of April, Talleyrand
+has summoned Marshal Marmont who, with his twelve
+thousand men across the Seine, is still a power, since the main
+body of the allies has not yet reached Paris.</p>
+
+<p>See them sitting there, Napoleon’s companion-in-arms and
+senior officer, hobnobbing with the doyen of the Emperor’s
+ministers. The diplomat reasons coldly with the soldier, who
+hardly needs to listen to the arguments. He is hopelessly disillusioned,
+tired out. His faith had been shaken three years
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_468">[468]</span>ago in Spain. His thoughts run this wise: “What is the use
+of trying to march with a dead man? The king is dead; long
+live the king! At the military academy, we were all monarchists.
+His defeat is a proof that the Bourbons have the right
+of it. The only choice is between being stood up in front of an
+old wall or taking one’s stand behind an old throne. The oath
+of allegiance? That has been abrogated. The ties of friendship?
+Only the other day, he was scolding me after the Laon
+affair.” Acting on the suggestion of his old acquaintance,
+Marmont writes to Schwarzenberg, the allies’ commander-in-chief:</p>
+
+<p>“By the decree of the Senate, the army and the people have
+been released from their obligation of fealty to Napoleon. I
+am ready to promote an understanding between people and
+army, in order to avoid civil war.” Upon this pretext, which
+he subsequently endeavoured to fortify with the excuse of
+patriotism (the paltry argument of every turncoat), the Emperor’s
+senior marshal destroys the Emperor. Augereau, in a
+shameful proclamation, is quick to follow Marmont’s lead.</p>
+
+<p>At the time when Talleyrand is winning over the marshals,
+the Emperor in Fontainebleau is reviewing his guards. To
+them he exclaims: “Never shall we allow any one to wear in
+Paris the white cockade of the émigrés.... In a few days
+we will attack the enemy in Paris!” The officers brandish their
+swords enthusiastically, shouting: “À Paris! Vive l’Empereur!”
+He waves his hand to them, and, smiling joyfully,
+he briskly mounts the steps, surrounded by his last ministers
+in their embroidered coats.</p>
+
+<p>Soon afterwards, a carriage draws up in the courtyard.
+Caulaincourt steps out; he is pale, having passed the night
+in a vigil. He approaches the Emperor. Berthier enquires:
+“Well, my lad, how goes it?” The minister hesitates to answer,
+for he does not like Berthier’s tone. Are the very nearest
+going to fall away too? He finds the Emperor at work.</p>
+
+<p>“What do they want of me?” asks Napoleon eagerly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_469">[469]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Great sacrifices, that you may retain the crown for your
+son.”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean that they refuse to treat with me! They want
+to make a helot of me, to hold me up as a warning to all those
+whose genius enables them to rule men and to make the born
+kings tremble on their ancient thrones!”</p>
+
+<p>Bonaparte’s metallic tone! Such is the mood produced in
+the Emperor by the sight of his guards, by the perusal of his
+latest muster rolls, by the study of his maps. Now the minister
+mentions the most moderate of the tsar’s demands. Napoleon
+is to abdicate in favour of the king of Rome, and then the
+terms of a regency will be discussed. But there is talk of a
+Bourbon restoration. The Emperor leaps to his feet:</p>
+
+<p>“They are mad! The Bourbons in France; they would not
+be able to hold their position for a year! Nine-tenths of the
+nation cannot endure them; my soldiers will never serve under
+them. They have lived for twenty years upon the alms of a
+foreigner, at war all the time with the fundamental principles
+of their homeland! The Senate consists entirely of regicides,
+or the sons of regicides. I was a newcomer, with nothing to
+take vengeance for; a man whose only business it was to upbuild....
+No doubt they can draw profit out of the crash,
+can exile me and my family; but the Bourbons—never!”</p>
+
+<p>Thus does his work roll before his mind as in a rhapsody,
+lighted up by his contempt for those whom he succeeded and
+who are now to succeed him. He becomes the soldier once more.
+“They demand my abdication. Will the crown then be secure
+for my son? I have still fifty thousand men. They will march
+with me to Paris. After the victory, the people shall decide.
+If, then, the French want to chase me away, I will go.” See
+the conflict in his soul. As statesman, he is willing to abdicate,
+that his son may reign; as soldier, he is still eager to fight,
+that he may retain all.</p>
+
+<p>But while enthusiasm grows in the rank and file of his army,
+while the common soldiers are willing to give their lives for the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_470">[470]</span>Emperor, the marshals are malcontent. Although they have
+not yet heard of Marmont’s defection, they cherish like wishes,
+and would gladly shake off their allegiance to Napoleon if they
+could do so decently. This marked difference between the mood
+of the men and that of their leaders is once more a vengeance
+for the system of titles and monetary rewards with whose aid
+the military commander, when he had become an emperor, had
+transformed generals into marshals. Next day, the seniors
+among them are of one mind. Ney, Macdonald, Oudinot, and
+Lefèvre, in the most subservient way possible, speak to him of
+the advantages of abdication.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor shows them his maps, which are again beset
+with coloured pins; he points out to them that the enemy is in
+an unfavourable position, and enumerates his own resources.
+All is vain! The frame of mind they had shown in Düben
+Castle, intensified a hundredfold, blocks his way. Silently he
+dismisses them, for he wants to think over a plan. Mentally, he
+has mustered his forces, and the total of his additions does not
+seem to him a bad one. A conditional renunciation, therefore,
+will not betoken anything more than an armistice, a postponement.</p>
+
+<p>A few hours after the audience of the marshals, he sends for
+Caulaincourt, and points to a holograph document on the table:</p>
+
+<p>“There is my abdication. You can take it to Paris.”</p>
+
+<p>The minister reads:</p>
+
+<p>“Since the allied powers have declared that Emperor Napoleon
+is the only obstacle to the peace of Europe, Emperor
+Napoleon, faithful to his oath, declares himself ready, for the
+welfare of his country, which is inseparable from the rights of
+his son, from those of the regency of the empress, and from the
+maintenance of the laws of the Empire, to descend from the
+throne, to give up France and even life itself.”</p>
+
+<p>What a style! A diplomatic document, involved in its
+phraseology, cautiously worded, ambiguous, penned for the
+inspection of diplomats of the old school. Nothing of Napoleon
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_471">[471]</span>in it. The minister begs for the companionship of two
+of the marshals for so important a mission.</p>
+
+<p>“Take Marmont and Ney,” says the Emperor, adding,
+“Marmont is my oldest comrade.”</p>
+
+<p>“Marmont is not here.”</p>
+
+<p>“Macdonald, then.”</p>
+
+<p>Late that evening, three hours after the interview with
+Napoleon, the plenipotentiaries are at the Elysée confronting
+the allied princes and ministers. Most of the negotiations are
+carried on between the tsar and Caulaincourt. The latter’s
+contention that the French are heartily against the Bourbons
+has its effect; the parleys continue far into the night. Suddenly
+an announcement is made in Russian; the Frenchmen do
+not understand. Thereupon the tsar speaks: “You are relying,
+gentlemen, upon the unshakable loyalty of the troops
+towards the imperial regime. Well, I have just been informed
+that the advance guard, the sixth army corps, has deserted
+the Emperor. It has come over to our lines.”</p>
+
+<p>The allies’ task has become easier; they now demand instant
+and unconditional abdication. Meanwhile the Emperor sends
+one courier after another from Fontainebleau to his minister.
+He writes:</p>
+
+<p>“If they refuse to negotiate with me, what kind of a treaty
+will it be?... Bring back my act of abdication, I command
+you.... I will sign no treaty!”</p>
+
+<p>Next day at six o’clock in the morning the Emperor is at
+work with Berthier. A captain is introduced, an adjutant of
+Mortier’s.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what news?”</p>
+
+<p>“The sixth army corps has gone over to the enemy. It is
+marching to Paris.”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor seizes him by the arm and shakes it.</p>
+
+<p>“Marmont? Are you sure? Did the troops know where
+they were being led?”</p>
+
+<p>“During the night they were led into the Austrian camp.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_472">[472]</span>They were told that they were marching against the enemy.”</p>
+
+<p>“My men have to be duped before they can be torn away
+from me! Did you see Marmont at the time he set out?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Sire.”</p>
+
+<p>“The cavalry, too?”</p>
+
+<p>“In close columns.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where is Mortier?”</p>
+
+<p>“He sent me to tell you that his corps will be loyal to you
+in life and in death. He awaits Your Majesty’s orders. The
+young guard is ready to die for you. All young France is
+ready!”</p>
+
+<p>The emperor steps close up to the young officer, looks him
+straight in the eyes, and with a friendly gesture allows his
+hand to slip under the fringe of the epaulette so that it may
+rest on the captain’s shoulder. Thus does the ageing Napoleon
+find support once more in the young men of France.</p>
+
+<p>When Caulaincourt brings the demands, he is accompanied
+only by Macdonald.</p>
+
+<p>“Where is Ney?”</p>
+
+<p>Silence. A pause. Then he is told the conditions. They
+probe him to the quick. To disavow the dynasty! For a decade
+the dynasty has been his goal.</p>
+
+<p>“My personal withdrawal did not suffice? Must I, with my
+signature, disinherit my wife and my son? I cannot do this!
+I won their throne for them by my deeds!” The paradox has
+taken such deep root in his thoughts that he has ceased to be
+aware of his existence. Then he counts his troops again.</p>
+
+<p>“I have twenty-five thousand men here; I can speedily bring
+up another eighteen thousand from Italy; Souchet has eighteen
+thousand, Soult forty. I shall fight!...”</p>
+
+<p>The remaining troops are loyal, but the leaders are weary
+of the struggle. Why does he not place himself at the head
+of his guards? Because he can only think in terms of marshals,
+because the feudalist atmosphere is cutting him off from his
+stalwarts.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_473">[473]</span></p>
+
+<p>Here they all come again! They warn him, even Berthier
+joins with the others now, that Fontainebleau can easily be surrounded.
+He listens to them with dignified composure. Then
+he abruptly asks them whether they are prepared to march
+with him to the Loire; or to Italy, where they can join
+Eugene’s forces. Behind the proposal, we sense new plans of
+our adventurer. But the men who stand before him are marshals
+and Frenchmen; they breathe the words “civil war”; they
+advise him to abdicate. The island of Elba has been chosen
+for his dwelling place; he had better take what he can get!
+He dismisses them.</p>
+
+<p>“None of them has either heart or reins! I am not so much
+beaten by fortune, as by the ingratitude of my brothers-in-arms.
+It is infamous. All is over!”</p>
+
+<p>Without, in the drawing-room, groups of courtiers and dignitaries
+have assembled. Voices are hushed as though a king
+lay dead. All are awaiting the signature. The Emperor is
+well aware of this, he allows no one to enter his room, he will
+keep them waiting till morning. After a feverish, sleepless
+night, his negotiators find him sitting in his dressing-gown before
+the fire, a broken man and pitiable.</p>
+
+<p>They bring him the deed which they have signed in Paris
+that night. He is to receive Elba, and two million francs as
+annual subsidy; he is to retain the title of Emperor; he is to
+have a guard of four hundred men. Talleyrand had warned
+the allies that this proximity of the lion to France was a
+menace; he suggested Corfu, and even mentioned St. Helena.
+Fouché endeavours to shield the Emperor from a slow descent
+from the heights; in elegantly phrased letters he suggests that
+Napoleon should go straight to America, where, as a free citizen,
+life could be started anew.—The farther away from the
+coasts of Europe, the better!</p>
+
+<p>All this leaves the Emperor cold. He is visioning something
+different. He sees how Macdonald is standing the test; in his
+secret heart he is comparing this marshal with those others
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_474">[474]</span>who have shown so much ingratitude; he feels now that he has
+not honoured the man enough. In this hour when he has to
+sign his abdication, Napoleon says:</p>
+
+<p>“I have not sufficiently rewarded you. Now I can do no
+more. Take the sword which Sultan Selim gave me and keep it
+in remembrance.” While all are waiting for the signature, the
+Emperor sends for the gilded scimitar, and embraces the general
+as he presents it. Then Napoleon signs the act of abdication.</p>
+
+<p>“The allied powers having declared that Emperor Napoleon
+is the sole obstacle to the re-establishment of peace in Europe,
+the Emperor, faithful to his oath, declares that he renounces,
+for himself and his heirs, the thrones of France and Italy, and
+that there is no sacrifice, not even that of life, which he is not
+ready to make for the interests of France.”</p>
+
+<p>The deed is done! All breathe freely again. The generals
+and the courtiers leave Fontainebleau; Maret alone remains.
+They hasten to Paris; even Berthier throws himself into the
+arms of the provisional government. Talleyrand and Fouché
+are at the head of things.</p>
+
+<p>But the Emperor remains another nine days in his palace,
+and he is not alone. Around him, unshaken, his guards are encamped;
+they still muster twenty-five thousand men. Who else
+is with him? His brothers have taken to their heels. What is
+Josephine doing, at Malmaison? After she has wept, and
+sworn that she will follow the forsaken Emperor, she receives
+Napoleon’s conqueror with sparkling eyes and adorned with all
+the pitiful appeal of a Niobe. The tsar wishes to play the part
+of a knightly cavalier, and succumbs to the renowned charms
+of the first empress. But Hortense, her daughter, receives the
+tsar’s visit coldly and off-handedly. As soon as he is gone, she
+hastens to Fontainebleau and remains with the Emperor till
+his departure.</p>
+
+<p>At first, his mother is with him. But, wishing to see her in
+safety, he persuades her to go away with Jerome. They will
+meet again later. When the empress says good-bye to Letizia,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_475">[475]</span>she utters polite commonplaces and wishes her mother-in-law
+well. The old lady, who sees through Marie Louise, and knows
+that all she cares for is security and enjoyment, answers this
+daughter of the Habsburgs: “That will depend upon you, and
+upon your future conduct.”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor has no word from wife or son in reply to his
+numerous letters and messengers. While for himself he asks
+neither land nor money, for her he demands that, in addition
+to Parma, she should have Tuscany, or at least a strip of it
+which would bring her lands nearer to Elba and thus set up a
+link between man and wife. He writes to her advising as to the
+best halting-places on the route; Corvisart is to decide which
+waters will do her health most good; she is to take her personal
+treasure with her. Then he writes to the palace prefect that
+all the diamonds which are not her or his personal property
+must be given back to the treasury, for they belong to France.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the government has sent a confidential agent to
+the Tuileries with orders to seize the imperial treasure. All
+the gold and securities, valued at one hundred and fifty millions,
+were taken away; in plain words, stolen. These sums had been
+saved by Napoleon from his civil list during the fourteen years
+of his rule. His silver plate, all personal articles of value, his
+golden snuff-boxes, and even his handkerchiefs embroidered
+with the initial N., were taken at the same time. The order for
+this bears, among others, Talleyrand’s signature. The Emperor,
+who until yesterday was the wealthiest man in Europe,
+journeys to Elba with three million francs as his fortune!</p>
+
+<p>He is profoundly disheartened. Can anything disillusion
+him further? Lucien writes to the pope the day after the
+abdication, and becomes a Roman prince. Murat, acting on
+the advice of Fouché (who holds the net of intrigues during
+these last weeks), has entered Rome, has advanced his troops
+towards Tuscany, invading Elise’s realm—always spurred on
+by Caroline, and always in alliance with England, which has
+occupied Tuscany. Elise, who at the last moment has staked on
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_476">[476]</span>the wrong hazard, and has through a false calculation remained
+faithful to her brother, flees before her sister’s troops, brings
+a child into the world while lying up at a mountain tavern, and
+in Bologna is taken prisoner by the Austrians. The only two
+of the pack who have behaved decently are Jerome and his
+wife.</p>
+
+<p>The last days pass in sinister silence. “If a carriage drives
+into the palace yard, all prick up their ears. Is any one coming
+to bid Napoleon farewell? No one comes while affairs are
+being wound up. But a day or two before the departure, a
+veiled lady arrives, late in the evening. No one knows her,
+and she is not admitted. Countess Walewska waits a whole
+night, and when she goes away in the morning she leaves a
+letter for him. He sends after her, but she has gone. He
+writes:</p>
+
+<p>“Marie!... The feelings which animate you touch me
+profoundly. They are worthy of your lovely soul and the
+goodness of your heart.... Think affectionately of me!
+Never doubt me! N.”</p>
+
+<p>As soon as he has recovered his old tranquillity of mind, the
+Emperor is promptly animated with new energy. Has he not
+an island as base of operations? Who knows what may come
+of it? Corsica, too, is an island in the Mediterranean! He
+orders a monograph and studies the geography and statistics
+of Elba. “The air is wholesome, the inhabitants are honest
+folk, and I hope that my good Louise will like the place well
+enough.” He chooses his four hundred men; but the whole
+guard wants to go with him, though this will involve leaving
+wife and children. Among them are men whose hearts he had
+won two-and-twenty years earlier when he had been captain in
+Toulon, men who had followed his fortunes from Cairo to Moscow,
+through sixty battles.</p>
+
+<p>He cheers up. Discussing predetermination with the palace
+prefect, and how death has passed him by during the last
+battles, he adds:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_477">[477]</span></p>
+
+<p>“A violent death is cowardice. I can see no greatness in
+shirking responsibility in that manner, like one who has
+gambled away his fortune.... Suicide is incompatible with
+my principles and with the position I have occupied in the
+world.” They walk up and down the terrace in silence for a
+time, and then he says with a smile: “Between ourselves, a
+living drummer is better than a dead emperor!”</p>
+
+<p>All the formalities have been accomplished; the allied commissioners
+who are to accompany him to Elba, four in number,
+have arrived; the start is fixed for noon. He writes in simple
+terms to tell his wife, and concludes: “Farewell, my good
+Louise. You can rest assured of the courage, the tranquillity,
+and the affection of your husband. N.” He adds as a postscript:
+“A kiss for the little king!”</p>
+
+<p>The start will be an easy matter, for no one has come to take
+leave.</p>
+
+<p>But there are to be leave-takings after all. The old guard
+is waiting for him in the palace yard, drawn up in a square.
+As he comes down the steps, thousands of eyes are fixed on
+him. He must say something. What can he say? For twenty
+years he has only spoken to these men just before a battle and
+just after a victory, to inspire them or to thank them. Well,
+he will thank them now, though there has been no victory; he
+will thank them for the hundred victories of the past. He steps
+forward. “Vive l’Empereur!” He enters the square, and says:</p>
+
+<p>“Soldiers of my old guard, I take leave of you. For twenty
+years I have seen you always upon the path of honour and
+glory. During the last few weeks, you have been models of
+bravery and fidelity, just as in the years of good fortune....
+But there would have been civil war. That is why I sacrificed
+all other interests to those of the country. I am going away....
+You, friends, continue to serve France. Her happiness
+has been my only thought. My good wishes go with you. Do
+not mourn my fate. If I have determined to go on living, it is
+that I may increase your fame. I shall write the story of the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_478">[478]</span>great deeds we wrought together. Farewell, my children. I
+would gladly press you all to my heart. At least let me kiss
+your colours!”</p>
+
+<p>The general holds out the colours. Napoleon embraces him,
+and kisses the flag. “Good-bye, comrades!” He gets into the
+carriage. “Vive l’Empereur!” He drives away.</p>
+
+<p>The war-hardened veterans stand there, blubbering like
+children. Their father has gone away. Never had he spoken
+to them more movingly. The dignified pathos of ancient Rome,
+the ardent imagery of his manifestoes, the similes and the exaltations,
+have vanished with the fever of battle. This Emperor
+spoke like a commander, this commander spoke like a
+company leader. His words were manly, blunt, and restrained.
+When he kissed the colours, it was an unparalleled gesture;
+never before had he done anything of the kind. They will tell
+their grandchildren what the great Emperor, their “petit
+caporal,” has said to them this day. The grandchildren will
+tell their grandchildren in turn, and so the story will go down
+the generations.</p>
+
+<p>But hardly has he left this soldierly atmosphere, in which he
+grew to manhood and then to greatness, when he has to face
+the mob. After the sobs of his old soldiers, come clamour,
+cries, and curses! As the train of carriages drives swiftly
+through Provence, the threatening shouts of the people deafen
+him: “Down with the tyrant! Kill the wretch!” In the villages
+where the horses are changed, women rage round his carriage,
+screaming at him, flinging stones, trying to force the
+coachman to shout “Vive le Roi!” At one of these villages, the
+crowd has prepared an effigy, a uniform coat stuffed with straw
+and smeared with mire and blood. Here they hail him with the
+cry: “Kill the murderer!” The carriages press on at top speed
+and the journey becomes a flight. Napoleon’s first flight.</p>
+
+<p>With rigid face, the Emperor looks at the mob and listens to
+the cries of execration. Are these the same people who ran
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_479">[479]</span>beside his carriage, eager to catch a glance from his eyes?
+They are indeed the same! What he is now experiencing, he
+had foreseen, with the seer’s vision of the misanthrope, at his
+first entry into Paris when the crowd had jubilantly welcomed
+him as conqueror. He sits huddled in a corner of the carriage,
+pale and silent; at each halt, the foreign commissioners jump
+out to guard the windows of his coach. Will he bear all this
+without making a sign? Will he draw his sword? He does not
+wear one now. In mufti, he can get away from his country,
+but not in his green uniform. Only once before has he had
+such an experience. It was on the Nineteenth Brumaire, when
+the radicals were shaking their fists at him. Then he did not
+draw his sword. Then, as now, he was powerless against the
+mob, for it was not his trade to beat the mutable many, nor
+was it his talent to persuade them. He is not a tribune; he is
+an emperor. One who can command as well as he, can do nothing
+but command. If he fights, it must be in a battle.</p>
+
+<p>Movement! Air! In a lonely road, he has the carriage
+stopped, and one of the post-horses taken out of the traces.
+He fixes a white cockade on his plain round hat, and rides in
+front of the carriages, outstripping them, his servant following.
+Thus he makes his way to Aix, but halts short of the
+town, enters a wayside inn, and gives his name there as Campbell,
+a British colonel. This is his sixth name.</p>
+
+<p>The little Provençal maid who waits at table prattles:
+“They’ll finish him off before he reaches the sea!” “Colonel
+Campbell” nods, saying “Of course, of course!” to all her
+utterances. Then, when he is left alone with his servant, his
+head droops on the man’s shoulder, he has a nap to make up
+for two sleepless nights. Kindly nature, this is your gift to
+the greatest of your warriors! When he wakes, the recent
+sounds and sights recur to his mind. With a shudder, he says
+in low tones:</p>
+
+<p>“Never again! I shall be happier in Elba than ever before.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_480">[480]</span>The sciences now, nothing more. I do not want to wear another
+European crown. You have seen what the people really is.
+Was I not right to despise man?”</p>
+
+<p>When the carriages reach the inn, he thinks it wise, warned
+by his previous experiences, to change his clothes once more.
+Since time presses, he puts on the uniform of an Austrian general
+which belongs to Commissioner Koller; surmounts it with
+the cap of Truchsess, the Prussian colonel; and has a Russian
+cloak hung round his shoulders by Shuvaloff. Thus bedecked
+in a carnival costume, pieced together from garments belonging
+to the three allied powers, a fool on the heath, does Emperor
+Napoleon escape from his country.</p>
+
+<p>Fréjus at last! This is the port where he landed on his
+return from Egypt, a beaten commander, who had lost all the
+battleships of France, and ought to have been tried by court-martial!
+But how enthusiastic, then, had been his reception
+by this leaderless people, for the memory of his successful
+Italian campaign was still fresh. Then, he had driven through
+triumphal arches on the journey to Paris; the journey he had
+now been making in the reverse direction, in danger of being
+stoned, and escaping murder only by a mummer’s disguise!
+Fifteen years lie between, the rebirth of a State, the glory of a
+nation. Europe lies between, the clash of arms, dead soldiers
+rotting in their graves, the returning hero received with
+frenzied acclamations, a marshal rising from pothouse to
+palace, men of genius taking sides for and against the conquering
+nation—and a circlet of little golden leaves which the
+foreigner from the Mediterranean island had, with the simplicity
+of the self-made man, placed on his own brow.</p>
+
+<h3>XV</h3>
+
+<p>How big Corsica is! How high her mountains! Bastia is an
+admirable harbour; its fortifications can be seen through a
+spyglass. If taken from the eastern side....</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_481">[481]</span></p>
+
+<p>When the ruler of Elba rides among the hills of his new
+home, the silhouette of his old home lies spread before him;
+everything looms larger across the water. Forty times bigger,
+ten times as many inhabitants; he has all the figures, to a unit,
+in his head. Elba is nothing more than a mole-hill.</p>
+
+<p>On the clear May morning when he landed, he was welcomed
+by a deputation of peasants and petty burghers in Porto
+Ferrajo. Timidly they had paid their compliments to the
+man who was to reign over them. But their astonishment was
+great when, instead of inviting them to a banquet, he leapt
+into the saddle and rode off to inspect the fortifications. On
+the morrow, orders began to fly about the sleepy little isle:
+Pianosa was to have two more batteries; the mole must be
+lengthened; the roads improved. When first the four hundred
+grenadiers appeared in the land, the natives looked at them
+askance as men of a foreign race. Soon, however, the forces
+were increased by the creation of a foreign battalion, and a
+National Guard. Napoleon once more has an army of over a
+thousand men; soon he has a small flotilla likewise. What for?
+Just for him to see after and take care of. He has a Council
+of State; Bertrand and Drouot (the generals who have accompanied
+him into exile) and a dozen inhabitants of the island,
+are members; and, together with Napoleon who presides over
+the assembly, they discuss improvements in the iron mines and
+the salt pits. Have you no mulberry culture here? The silkworms
+bring in good money over there, in Lyons; and if the
+French government imposes a tariff upon our produce, we can
+easily sell to Italy.</p>
+
+<p>Save! We are so poor, and France makes no move to pay
+the promised allowance. The white house is smaller than the
+one in Ajaccio, and very much simpler; but there is no money
+for building additional accommodation; and when the “grand
+marshal” Bertrand draws up a list of mattresses and other
+bedgear, his master underlines the mistakes,—for he has every
+detail of his establishment by heart.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_482">[482]</span></p>
+
+<p>Is this indefatigable man never to realise what a parody is
+his administration over the tiny island, the diminutive army,
+the small household? Never! Here in Elba, where in the best
+of spirits and health he throws himself whole-heartedly into his
+undertakings, he comes to realise that it was not the masses
+that had allured him. To order, to build, to press his finger
+into the wax of humanity, these things he must do, urged onward
+by the impulse of his artist’s soul. But, since humanity
+is not as wax, and since his constructions can never be finished
+and are always vibrant with life; since the opposition of material
+forces also takes a hand in the game, even when matter
+seems to have been conquered—he can only fulfil his mission by
+coercing and conquering the human spirit, by issuing orders
+and bringing suggestions to bear, by constant vigilance and
+constant upbuilding; in a word, by ruling. He has never been
+a dilettante or a parvenu; and, this being so, he drives the little
+wheel to-day with just as much precision and earnestness as he
+had driven the earth’s sphere in former days.</p>
+
+<p>But soon, when most of his enterprises are in good going
+order, he feels he is becoming lazy, even when he is studying
+mathematics. This causes him to reconsider his position.</p>
+
+<p>“It is by no means difficult to accustom oneself to a life of
+meditation,” he writes, “if one possesses within oneself the
+necessary reserves. I work hard in my study; when I emerge I
+have the delightful spectacle of my old grenadiers in front of
+me.... Born kings must suffer terribly when they are dethroned,
+for pomp and etiquette are the very marrow of their
+lives. For my part, I have always been a soldier, and became
+a king only by chance, so that these things have been nothing
+but a burden to me, whereas wars and camps come naturally.
+Out of my great past, I regret naught but my soldiers. After
+all my treasures and my crowns, my most cherished possessions
+are the couple of French uniforms they have allowed me to
+keep.”</p>
+
+<p>These are the words of an unpretentious king. Do people
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_483">[483]</span>not believe him? And does Europe laugh when, in his kingdom
+of Lilliput, he preserves the forms of kingship? Does Europe
+begin to suspect a secret in the island? The innate dignity,
+whereby long ago the young general had wrung respect from
+the bearers of inherited rank, to-day is still able to hold
+satirical visitors in check. Every one admires the natural
+simplicity of the lonely man who, despite the exiguity of his
+dwelling, still holds to the title of “Majesty.” He lives in his
+island sans palace or fittings, sans court or ministers, only surrounded
+with the aureole of his deeds.</p>
+
+<p>This return home brings solace to his heart—for Elba is
+Italy. The peasant speaks to him in the language Napolione
+had learned at Letizia’s knee. The Mediterranean amid whose
+waters he was born and reared, the islands with their quiet
+shores, do they not all of them bring back memories of youthful
+days? Stone-pines, fig trees, and crags; the white houses
+among the vineyards; the sails, and the fishermen’s nets; pride
+of clan, and the headkerchief worn at church; all these things
+seem to take him gently by the hand and lead him back to the
+dreams of childhood. Now the storm-racked nerves relax, and
+at length know a spell of repose. In these wholesome months,
+the Emperor comes to look upon his career as a visionary flight
+into the land of childish imagination; and it is only when he
+contemplates the men of his old guard that he realises something
+did happen during the years that separate Corsica from
+Elba.</p>
+
+<p>“The Emperor lives very contentedly on his island,” writes
+one who accompanied him there. “He seems to have forgotten
+the past. The management of his small household gives him
+occupation; he is now looking out for a suitable site to build
+his country-seat; we ride, and drive, and sail round the coasts
+as much as we please.”</p>
+
+<p>Since he has plenty of time on his hands, and since thrift is
+essential, he examines everything, to the minutest details. Just
+as, in the Tuileries, he himself drew up the list of his clothing,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_484">[484]</span>so now, in Elba, he says to Bertrand: “My underlinen is in a
+lamentable state. Part of it has never been unpacked, and it
+has not been marked. Give orders that everything must be laid
+out in drawers and presses, and that no one is to be given
+anything belonging to our court without furnishing a receipt....
+There are not enough ordinary chairs. Have a sample
+sent from Pisa; they must not cost more than five francs
+apiece.”</p>
+
+<p>Europe laughs when it hears of this. Posterity stands bewildered
+before such energetic renunciation.</p>
+
+<p>Once only do we hear a gentle sigh. He has climbed to the
+top of a hill whence he can look over the whole of his realm.
+Surveying the prospect, he says: “One must acknowledge that
+the island is very small.” Like distant thunder, the fate of a
+man seems to rumble in these words; for an all too great
+imagination, confined within the narrow limits of Europe and
+cribbed within the circle of the folk intelligence of the nineteenth
+century, is doomed at the outset to be crushed.</p>
+
+<p>With the summer, comes his mother. She, alone, is happy.
+Her son is no longer threatened with assassination or with
+battles. Here, all is peaceful and warm; Elba is almost as
+lovely as Corsica. Daily intercourse with him renews for her
+the good old times. It is as well that she has come; for, from
+the millions which she alone has put by, she now brings her son
+what he needs; and when he receives her banknotes, may we not
+picture mother and son smiling at one another? On his name-day,
+she invites him to a little rustic feast.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp59" id="illus16" style="max-width: 29.6875em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus16.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>Napoleon as Emperor. Engraving by Bourgeois, after a
+    painting by Jacques Louis David.</p>
+    <p>(From the “Corpus Imaginum” of the Photographic
+    Society, Charlottenburg.)</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>A dozen and more St. Napoleon days she has spent in Paris:
+the guns would fire the salute from the Invalides, Masses would
+be said; Senate and ministers, the court and foreign diplomats,
+would throng the halls of the Tuileries. When, in the evening,
+the rooms were filled with guests, and, amid the strains of
+music, there came and went all that France possessed of great
+names, of beauty, and of precious jewels; when the fireworks
+filled the August night-sky with brightness, and thousands of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_485">[485]</span>tiny lamps formed the initial N.—Letizia, surrounded by the
+kings who were the fruit of her womb, would stand silent and
+proud, thinking the old words so full of ominous warning. But
+to-day she is blithe; to-day she compares this jocund festivity
+with the little town of Ajaccio; to-day, for the first time, she
+thinks: “All the same, we achieved something fine!”</p>
+
+<p>Letizia had been able, while in Rome, to heal many wounds
+dealt in the heat of the fray. The pope, on his return, had
+pardoned the mother of his sometime foe. She was not surprised
+when the whole court, when even her secretary (a Corsican),
+speedily went over to the Bourbon king. Has she not
+always foretold it? Caroline, alone, is not permitted to appear
+before her.</p>
+
+<p>Pauline, Princess Borghese, merry and brilliant, does not
+hang long in the wind. She has always been the most affectionate,
+and has been clever enough to prefer real diamonds
+and nights of love to uncertain thrones and crowns. She comes
+to the island, so that, with her mother, she may bring cheer to
+the Emperor. She shakes out a basketful of gossip and news
+for his delectation.</p>
+
+<p>Hardly a word from his brothers. One letter comes from
+Lucien. What propositions can he be laying before his banished
+brother? Will he, who lives in princely fashion in Rome,
+with magnanimous generosity offer Napoleon money or bring
+his influence to bear in his imperial brother’s behalf? What
+does the “Prince of Canino” by the pope’s grace write in his
+letter? He owns smelting furnaces, and Elba has iron ore
+wherewith to feed them: he asks his brother to provide him
+with the minerals. Crowns and gold, he has refused; but iron,
+which his brother still possesses, he can make good use of.
+Maybe he, who is a poet, is enjoying the farce of these blast-furnaces!
+Is it not a kindness that one still thinks of the
+exile? Who else writes?</p>
+
+<p>Josephine is dead. A few weeks after Napoleon’s departure,
+she died at Malmaison. No one knows if she ever wrote to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_486">[486]</span>him; what is certain is that she left debts amounting to three
+millions, which he had to pay. Hortense has been separated
+from her husband. She has become a duchess, and has made
+her most graceful curtsey before the Bourbon king, in the very
+room where she and her mother had held sway for so long.
+Little Léon, whom Letizia had for a time with her in Rome,
+resembles his father; he is reported to be courageous and full
+of pranks. These are all the members of Napoleon’s family
+about whom he has news.</p>
+
+<p>An English vessel brings the unknown lady who visited
+Fontainebleau to the island. In a marquee, beneath the chestnut
+trees, the Emperor receives Countess Walewska. For two
+days and two nights they are inseparable. The Emperor only
+issues forth to give the necessary orders, and the four-year-old
+boy, dressed in the Polish national costume, plays in the
+meadow with the tall grenadiers. The Emperor would like to
+keep Walewska by his side, but he does not wish to provide the
+empress with an excuse for not coming to live with him. Thus,
+for the second time, he sacrifices on the altar of the Habsburg
+princess the phantom of his happiness. Walewska sails away.
+Her ship encounters bad weather, and the Emperor is filled with
+restless anxiety until he receives tidings that she has arrived
+safely at Leghorn.</p>
+
+<p>How marvellously are the threads weaving themselves into
+the tissue of a legend! With wizard spells this man of forty-five
+links up epochs and customs. Here he is, a petty prince on
+a Mediterranean isle: he receives his beloved, the lady with
+whom he had lived in the imperial palace at Schönbrunn when
+he himself was an enemy and unknown to the proprietor;
+to-day he is once again this man’s foe, and another woman
+whom he had invited to his arms from the self-same palace has
+long since forsaken him; yet his natural son, born in a lonely
+castle in Poland, is playing beneath the trees of the southern
+land and wears the dress of a foreign folk which the Emperor
+had once promised to free. Who could believe that all this had
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_487">[487]</span>come to pass within five years? A hundred years seemed likelier
+for the accomplishment of so many events. With such nets,
+what other fish could one expect to catch but the golden ones
+of the fairy tale? A thousand years ago a great emperor was
+banished and left forsaken on an island; but from a distant
+realm a beautiful, tragical woman found the way to him across
+the sea, and brought him his son.</p>
+
+<p>In truth Napoleon is forsaken by wife and child. This loss
+cuts him no less, maybe even more cruelly, than the loss of
+power, for his conception of marriage is conservative and
+bourgeois. Constantly, even during the via dolorosa of his last
+journey through France, he has written to Marie Louise; he
+has planned a new house for her. But his letters remain unanswered.
+Believing that his correspondence has been intercepted,
+he at last writes to the grand duke of Tuscany, her uncle,
+begging for news; for “I trust that Your Royal Highness has
+preserved a little friendliness towards me, in spite of the events
+which have changed the sentiments of so many men.... If so,
+I beg that you will look favourably upon the tiny commune
+which feels the same towards you as does Tuscany....” Ay,
+thus writes the prince of this diminutive isle, a prince with no
+more than twenty thousand subjects, to the mighty grand
+duke! But the grand duke keeps silence.</p>
+
+<p>When Napoleon realises the sluggishness of the human heart,
+his old defiance regains the ascendant. It is with a sense of
+relief that we hear his well-known voice ring out again, after
+the anguish of this grovelling letter—a letter that would never
+have been written but for his wife’s sake. He exclaims: “These
+sovereigns, who were wont to send me, in all solemnity, their
+delegations of ambassadors, who gave a daughter of their blood
+to share my bed, and who called me ‘Brother,’ are now cursing
+me as a usurper, and spit upon my picture since they cannot
+spit upon the original. They have bespattered the majesty
+of kings with mud! What is the title of emperor? Had I no
+other name to bequeath, posterity would laugh.... In classical
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_488">[488]</span>days, the vanquished were robbed of their children, that
+these might be paraded before the people when the conqueror
+was celebrating his triumph....”</p>
+
+<p>What must be the tenor of Napoleon’s thoughts when he
+learns how, on that shameful day of cowardice and confusion,
+the lad of four had refused to leave the palace of his father;
+of how, when the little king of Rome had met his grandfather
+for the first time, he had uttered the innocent words: “I have
+seen the emperor of Austria. He is not handsome.” This was
+precisely what Napoleon had wished to avoid. The fate of
+Astyanax has been prepared for the boy; and even though he
+is made much of, the child is well aware that he must no longer
+mention his father’s name. Though he has received the symbolical
+names of Napoleon Francis and thus embodies the unhappy
+union of two antagonistic worlds, the name of Napoleon
+is soon destined to be heard no more. For, when the young
+cuckoo is introduced into the Habsburg nest, he is called
+Francis, and nothing else. Later, when the empress’ secretary
+is leaving Vienna and presents himself to take farewell, the boy
+draws him into a window recess and says in a hurried whisper:
+“Tell my father I love him tremendously!”</p>
+
+<p>What must be the tenor of Napoleon’s thoughts when he
+hears gossip about a certain Neipperg, an Austrian officer, a
+man of no account, and one whose only way into history is
+through the bedroom of a Habsburg princess—who would herself
+never have been heard of had it not been for her marriage
+to Napoleon. Thus terrible are the blows of fate, and his intimates
+think it natural enough when they see their master
+weeping over his boy’s portrait.</p>
+
+<p>But now Pauline arrives, fascinating as ever, in the best of
+spirits. To amuse him, she mimics the grimaces that are made
+by the worthies of the island and their wives when, at the
+weekly receptions, the Emperor asks them how many children
+they have, and whether they think he ought to build a hospital.
+As the year draws on, Italians from the mainland come
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_489">[489]</span>in increasing numbers. Persons with satisfactory recommendations—historians,
+poets, men of birth, and even Englishmen—secure
+a good reception; and he will talk to them for hours,
+though only of the past, with never a word about the future.
+He is delighted to hear such visitors rail at the Austrian regime
+which has now been set up once more, but he will pay no heed
+to conspirators who wish him to come to Italy as leader of a
+revolt. His thoughts range towards the other coast, and by
+slow degrees mature into plans.</p>
+
+<p>What is Paris saying?</p>
+
+<p>To him this is still the question of questions. The news
+brought to him in the journals twice a week, and the information
+he gleans from his visitors, lead him to turn new possibilities
+over in his mind. But it must not be supposed that Napoleon
+began the new epoch with a definite plan. When he
+landed in Elba, it was an open question in his mind whether he
+would ever quit the island. Still, the thought of future possibilities
+was intensified in him by the usual forebodings of an
+adventurer—the adventurer he had become since the failure at
+Moscow. “A living drummer is better than a dead emperor.”
+Slowly, as the conditions change, he makes plans and rejects
+them, renews and modifies his designs. They turn upon what
+is happening in Paris and in Vienna.</p>
+
+<p>What is Paris saying about the Bourbons? Hardly is Napoleon
+away, when they make their “entry” after the usual
+manner of exiled kings who return; and though the newspapers,
+under duress of the censorship the Emperor had established, lie
+like troopers, in his remote island he can learn the ridiculous
+truth. Four persons are sitting in a small carriage. The
+Parisians, whose risibilities are easily touched, certainly have
+something to laugh at. The king is there, in an amazing rig-out,
+in plain clothes, but decked with gigantic epaulettes; a
+man so fat that he has three chins; and he smiles at the gaping
+crowd. Beside him is the duchess of Angoulème, her face tearful
+with reminiscence. On the opposite seat are the prince of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_490">[490]</span>Condé, a very old man, and the duke of Bourbon; they wear
+the uniforms of the good old days, which none of the younger
+onlookers have ever seen before. This carriage, freighted with
+the resurrected ghosts of those who had been laid to rest
+twenty-two years ago, was attended by Emperor Napoleon’s
+sulky-looking guard, men whose uniforms, shot and slashed,
+bore witness to the titanic struggles that had been waged in
+the interim.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor makes eager enquiries concerning the habits
+of his successor on the throne, and is gratified to learn that
+Louis has taken over his room without making any changes.
+The king’s demeanour is said to be far from regal. According
+to a German description of this date, Louis was “extremely
+obese, so fat that he can hardly walk. Wearing black satin
+boots, he is supported on each side, and would stumble over a
+straw. He is clad in a sort of blue soutane with a turn-over
+red collar and hanging golden epaulettes of an antique pattern.”
+This sort of thing keeps the Emperor amused for a
+whole hour. For a dozen years, England has been publishing
+caricatures depicting Napoleon’s camp manners in the palace
+of the Bourbons, and now this legitimate ruler, set up by England,
+is a veritable caricature of a monarch. What is Louis
+doing to show his good will towards the people?</p>
+
+<p>He has granted a constitution? But soon comes news that
+this gracious gift exists only on paper. The old inequalities,
+the privileges of caste, which had cost the present king’s
+brother his head, are quietly stealing in through the back door.
+The nobles are not liable to military service, and men of
+humble birth have no chance of rising to high office. The new
+nobility is made a mock of. King Louis, a good old man,
+reasonable enough, is led by his brother, the gloomy count of
+Artois. Around the latter are concentrated the vengeful
+émigrés, who are demanding the return of their property; but
+the law guarantees the rights of the actual holders. The king,
+therefore, gives peerages and large pensions to the émigrés.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_491">[491]</span></p>
+
+<p>What is this? So the clergy is rising to power once more!
+The priests are on the side of the old nobility, and by threats
+of hell-fire induce the dying to execute wills in favour of the
+sometime owners of confiscated property. On Sundays, though
+the new constitution guarantees religious freedom, all business
+is suspended under threat of punishment. Religious processions
+again make their way through the streets. But there is a
+reaction against ecclesiasticism. When Christian burial is
+refused to an actress who has lived a gay life and is the darling
+of the Parisians, there is a riot, the first under the restored
+regime.</p>
+
+<p>People are beginning to see how much they owed to their
+foreign liberator. With intense delight, the exile contemplates
+a caricature showing Louis riding pillion behind a Cossack,
+making his way into France over French corpses. When Wellington,
+the conqueror of Spain, comes to Paris as British ambassador,
+he meets angry glances when he walks the streets.
+What is the new regime doing for the thousands who may no
+longer remain soldiers? The officers are put on half-pay, and
+those who are not practising Catholics are cashiered. A new
+royal guard, consisting of gentlemen of noble birth, is richly
+endowed; the nobles’ military academy is reopened; but the
+schools for the orphans of members of the Legion of Honour
+are done away with. Disillusionment spreads through France
+more quickly than the Emperor had expected.</p>
+
+<p>But the tone in Elba is not Jacobin. Napoleon does not
+abandon his system, although he recognises his mistakes:
+“France needs an aristocracy. For its foundation, however,
+time and memories are requisite. I made princes and dukes,
+and gave them land and wealth; but they were men of low birth,
+so it was impossible to make noblemen of them. I tried, therefore,
+to unite them by marriage with old families. Had I been
+granted the twenty years I wanted for the establishment of
+France’s greatness, I could have done much. Fate willed
+otherwise.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_492">[492]</span></p>
+
+<p>On the whole, like a chessplayer when the game is finished,
+he frankly acknowledges the wrong moves that have led to his
+defeat. Nor is he cautious in the choice of persons to whom
+he pours out such confessions. He tells English visitors that
+he ought to have made peace after Dresden. But when they
+ask why he did not make peace in Châtillon, he answers
+proudly:</p>
+
+<p>“I could not make a peace dishonourable to France. Belgium
+was part of France when I rose to power. Could I cede
+the lands I had conquered, and go back to the Bourbon frontiers?
+Never!... I am a born soldier. Suddenly, I found
+myself in the midst of the revolution. The throne was vacant.
+I took it, and kept it as long as I could. Now I am once more
+what I was to begin with, a soldier....”</p>
+
+<p>Those who know the man will recognise from such thoughts
+that he is still unbroken. But what amazes us is the freedom
+with which he speaks of the past. Never, in Elba, does he show
+any desire to falsify his history. And yet, during the first
+months, he believes his career finished, and has no thought of
+trying a new coup de main. He even fancies that he would like
+to become a justice of the peace in England. “What would
+happen to me if I went to England? Would people throw
+stones at me? The London mob is a dangerous factor.” The
+Englishmen to whom he thus talks assure him that their country
+is hospitable. He makes a mental note of this assurance.</p>
+
+<p>The Vienna congress is the first thing to set him in motion.
+Four monarchs, allied against one republic, were at length
+able, after a decade, to annihilate it; five monarchs, now all
+united, had assembled to reorganise Europe, and there was no
+longer an enemy worth considering to hold them in check; but
+four and a half conquerors (if the Bourbon ruler can be accounted
+as half) were soon to be disunited, thanks to the inborn
+jealousy with which each one of them regarded his fellows.
+Does the tsar want to take the whole of Poland as his share of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_493">[493]</span>the spoil; and does Prussia want Saxony? What will happen,
+then, to Galicia; and what about the worthy king of Saxony,
+Bourbon’s ally? A split is inevitable. By New Year, three
+months after the opening of the congress, the coalition has
+been broken up. Ministers and potentates who had so recently
+been celebrating their victory in a series of festivities, have
+begun to cheat one another. The Habsburg ruler is now
+allied with England and France against the Russians and the
+Prussians, by whose side the Austrians had a few months earlier
+been fighting against Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>Metternich’s levity, laziness, vanity, intriguing disposition
+(this is Stein’s description), dominated the situation: “he twists
+our excellent and victorious monarchs round his fingers.” A
+Saxon nobleman writes from Vienna: “The king of Prussia is
+the embodiment of wrath.... The king of Denmark is ...
+well-meaning and sometimes intelligent. The king of Bavaria
+looks like an uncouth and morose wagoner. The grand duke of
+Baden is huge, gloomy, vain, and robust.... The old duke
+of Weimar lives as jovially as ever he did.” The hopes of the
+man of Elba rise as he reads and hears all this. “My time will
+come,” he thinks, “when the congress goes up in the air!”
+Henceforward, he is in receipt of secret information concerning
+the currents of opinion in Vienna. The faithful Maret is able
+to arrange an intelligence service. But while the congress, a
+brightly lit pleasure ship, rolling for lack of ballast, is intriguing
+and enjoying itself, in the crow’s nest sits Napoleon’s old
+enemy, keeping anxious watch. He has his spies in Leghorn,
+who report every ship that sails to Elba, and tell him the names
+of the passengers.</p>
+
+<p>Thus do the old adversaries eye one another across mountains
+and seas and across the documents of the diplomats, until
+it seems as if all these people of importance had come together
+in Vienna to furnish a lively setting for the game of chess the
+two experts are playing. Does either of them recall that night
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_494">[494]</span>just before the Eighteenth Brumaire, when they had been
+scared by the clatter of hoofs from the mounted patrol, and had
+turned pale in their dread of arrest?</p>
+
+<p>This much is certain, that at Vienna Talleyrand remains a
+shrewd judge of men. Regarding Murat as a dangerous personality,
+he would like to have the king of Naples shipped off
+to the Azores, nearly a thousand miles from the nearest continent.
+But his ruling passion, avarice, comes in the way. At
+the congress, Murat, driven into a corner in the defence of his
+kingdom, promises Talleyrand a large sum of money in return
+for the minister’s princedom of Benevento. Talleyrand therefore
+drops the plan against Murat, and concocts a new scheme.
+The Emperor is to be kidnapped. But the spies in Leghorn
+report that this will only be possible if one of the four captains
+who command his ships can be suborned.</p>
+
+<p>When Napoleon gets wind of these intrigues, the adventurer’s
+blood of his Corsican home runs swiftly through his veins.
+He has the defences of Elba strengthened, and his artillerymen
+are trained in the use of hand-grenades. “I am a soldier, and
+am ready to face a firing squad. But I will not be deported!
+Before they can do that they will have to take my citadel by
+storm.” No attempt is made. In Vienna there is now a better
+understanding, and the likelihood of the rupture of negotiations
+diminishes. In France, however, disaffection to the Bourbons
+is growing. The general upshot is to stimulate the Emperor’s
+determination. His thoughts run as follows:</p>
+
+<p>“If the congress closes with a peace festival after all the
+documents have been signed, the phalanx will have been reconstituted.
+But now, when it is still imperfectly consolidated, a
+touch will break it to pieces. France is murmuring against the
+Bourbons; Paris makes fun of them; every one detests the allies.
+There are a hundred signs to show that the old army is devoted
+to me—the Emperor. The Bourbons are fainthearts, and will
+run away. As soon as I regain my position, my son and heir
+will be sent back to me.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_495">[495]</span></p>
+
+<p>Calculations, only calculations; and never has he reckoned
+more soberly. None the less, though he considers his figures
+with the utmost care, in the last resort he relies upon psychological
+reactions. “I count upon taking them by surprise. A
+bold deed upsets people’s equanimity, and they are dumbfounded
+by a great novelty.” He adds: “I am the cause of
+France’s unhappiness. I must effect a cure.” In the end of
+February, he sends for his treasurer. “Have you plenty of
+money? How much does a million in gold weigh? What is
+the weight of a hundred francs? How much does a box filled
+with books weigh?... Take a couple of packing cases, put
+all the gold coin you have at the bottom, and fill up the case
+with my books; my valet will give them to you. Discharge the
+present staff of servants; pack their trunks and pay them off.
+Everything must be kept strictly secret.”</p>
+
+<p>In alarm, the man hastens to General Drouot. They exchange
+glances, but keep their own counsel. Next day, Napoleon
+orders that no ships are to leave the harbour. Everything
+has been quietly prepared; an expedition like that to
+Egypt, but on a small scale.</p>
+
+<p>On the eve of his departure, he plays a game of écarté with
+the ladies; but he soon leaves the table and goes into the garden,
+whence he does not return. His mother, according to her own
+story, finds him sitting under a fig tree. After brief hesitation,
+he lays his hand on her forehead, and says, much moved:</p>
+
+<p>“I will tell you all about it. No one else must know, not
+even Pauline.”</p>
+
+<p>Then he goes back to his old tone, as if he were talking to
+Berthier:</p>
+
+<p>“I must tell you that I am leaving next evening.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where are you going?”</p>
+
+<p>“To Paris.” A pause. “I should like your advice.”</p>
+
+<p>The mother’s heart stops beating for a moment. How she
+has enjoyed the last six months; the period of quiet intercourse
+with her son. An end to the tranquillity and the security!
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_496">[496]</span>But Letizia is a proud woman and a clever one. She knows
+that nobody can hold him back when he has made up his mind,
+and that the only effect of anxious dissuasion will be to disturb
+his composure. She says:</p>
+
+<p>“Follow your destiny. It cannot be God’s will that you are
+to die from poison, or after an inactive old age; though it may
+well be his will that you are to die sword in hand. Let us put
+our trust in Mother Mary.”</p>
+
+<p>On the last evening, the authorities are summoned by their
+sovereign. He announces his imminent departure. “I have
+been extraordinarily well pleased here. As a sign of confidence,
+I am leaving my mother and my sister. To your care, too, I
+entrust this country, to which I attach great importance.”
+The governor and the mayor express their lively regret. The
+tone befits the departure of a distinguished guest, who has been
+spending a few months in a lovely island for the benefit of his
+health, and is sorry that the time has come for his return home.</p>
+
+<p>He goes on board, and at dawn seven little frigates, carrying
+a thousand men and a few guns, set sail for the French
+coast. He stands on the deck. The outlines of Elba, where he
+has lived so peacefully, and of Corsica, where many years before
+he had made stormy attempts to force his way upwards,
+fade into the distance. Slowly the coast of the French Riviera
+begins to show clearly through the mists of the first day of
+March. Let us look into the Emperor’s mind:</p>
+
+<p>“What is the minimum? Defeat and death. What is the
+maximum? Europe? No use thinking any more about Europe!
+The dream of the United States of Europe is finished. I cannot
+get another million Frenchmen, and the foreign nations are
+not ready for my scheme. I must give France a constitution,
+and must accommodate myself to governing through Chambers.
+The time for dictatorships is over. Besides, we are not in Paris
+yet. What will the army do?”</p>
+
+<p>His thoughts are coloured with the spirit of the time. He is
+a man of forty-five, with more past than future; no longer
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_497">[497]</span>young enough to take the world by storm, but not too old for
+a desperate venture. Thus does Napoleon again draw near to
+French shores, in a mood betwixt courage and renunciation.</p>
+
+<h3>XVI</h3>
+
+<p>The mountains are calling, the valleys are echoing, as the
+procession of a thousand men who landed at Cannes wends its
+way through one Alpine village after another. An enthusiastic
+crowd encircles the old guard which has pursued its way along
+the road of history without jubilation and without sorrow, imperturbable
+as a rock. The peasants, these sons of the hills, in
+the self-same hamlets, had once before seen him, a lean, small,
+unknown general; in those days he had relieved them from the
+burden of maintaining an undisciplined soldiery, and had led
+the troops over the Alps to victory. These mountain folk were
+the first to see the miracle he wrought; they plumed themselves
+on the thought that from their villages the Emperor had
+gone forth. And now, of a sudden, he is among them again!
+Surely the procession of the thousand will work a spell, and
+seem to be the march of prophets and saviours?</p>
+
+<p>They come from their mountain fastnesses; women and children
+bring up the rear; songs against the king are composed
+and sung; in the lesser towns, the bolder spirits force the city
+fathers to go forth to meet the new comer; for more than a
+hundred miles he encounters none but peasants.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon had reckoned upon this. He would not face a
+march through Aix and Avignon, through the monarchical
+provinces. He preferred to leave his few cannon behind in the
+snow-covered mountain paths, in order the quicker to reach
+Dauphiné. Here the peasants had received the most generous
+distribution of the nobles’ lands. They are full of anger now
+against king, priest, and émigré, who, after the lapse of twenty-five
+years, are contesting the peasants’ right to hold these
+lands. Was not the great revolution made to protect the poor?
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_498">[498]</span>Was it not made by peasants in the country and workmen in
+the town? The Consul had not taken back anything from
+them; even the Emperor had only called up their sons; they
+have never ceased to look upon him as one of themselves, for
+their minds moved slowly and their hearts were constant.
+Now, the king had come back again, and forthwith the nobles
+had begun to squabble over the fields the peasant had tilled.</p>
+
+<p>The souls of the countryfolk were heavy at the change of
+fortune. Fifteen years ago the mood had been similar when
+Napoleon, returning from Egypt in his little ship, had landed,
+and the whole of southern France had hailed him as saviour.
+What can have happened in the last ten months, to make these
+people receive with every token of joy the man whom they had
+so recently execrated? True, he had passed through another
+part of the country at that time; and the national misfortune
+had needed a scapegoat. His disfavour among the folk had
+been as brief as his defeat. But belief in him lasted as long as
+the years of his glory.</p>
+
+<p>What will the first troops we meet do? He himself, when
+he took leave, had urged them to serve the fatherland. And
+the fatherland was the king! They wear the Bourbon’s white
+cockade, they eat the king’s bread, from the lips of patrician
+officers they have received a new and ugly picture of the erstwhile
+leader. Everything will depend on his power of suggestion.
+Uncertain feelings govern his heart as he strides inland
+from Cannes. To his left, lies the fort of Antibes. Does he
+recognise the tower wherein he was thrown when Robespierre
+fell? In just such a tower, the Bourbon will fling him, against
+just such a wall Europe will stand him, if he should fail on the
+morrow to accomplish what his glance and his word have so
+often succeeded in doing before.</p>
+
+<p>Outside Grenoble, near La Mure, he has his first encounter
+with the royal troops. They have orders to exterminate him
+and his “band of brigands”; the officers have taken the oath to
+the king just as in former days they had taken the oath to the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_499">[499]</span>Emperor. The order to attack is given. Is the blood of
+brethren to be shed? That is what Napoleon has spent a lifetime
+in avoiding. Is this highway to be turned into a battle-field?
+He alights from his horse, takes ten strides towards
+them, and shouts:</p>
+
+<p>“Soldiers of the fifth army corps! Don’t you know me?
+If there is one among you who wishes to kill his Emperor, let
+him come forward and do so. Here I am!” Saying which, he
+throws open his grey cloak.</p>
+
+<p>A terrible pause. What will happen?</p>
+
+<p>Those are our brethren! This is our general! We have seen
+him in so many battles, standing on a hillock, or sitting over
+the bivouac fire, or facing the musket shots and cannon balls!
+Must not nature and remembrance overpower the influence of
+recent vows? The soldiers cry: “Vive l’Empereur!” A general
+running to and fro ensues, guards and soldiers mingling; caps
+are stuck upon bayonet points—what does one more hole in the
+blue cloth matter? An hour later, two thousand instead of
+one thousand fall in behind their leader.</p>
+
+<p>This encounter on the high road to Grenoble, this moment
+of time, his call, his aspect, were decisive. The man of action
+had won back to leadership through his own deed; the middle-aged
+warrior had regained life, power, and realm, by a look and
+a word. Thus he reaches Grenoble. By a manifesto he communicates
+his thoughts to the people:</p>
+
+<p>“Frenchmen!... After the fall of Paris my heart was torn,
+but my spirit remained unshaken.... My life belongs to you,
+and must once more be made useful to you. In my exile, I heard
+your plaints and your cries.... You accused me of too long
+a slumber, saying I was sacrificing the interests of the country
+to my own repose. Encompassed by dangers, I have sailed over
+the sea. Now I am in your midst, to demand my rights, which
+are also your rights.</p>
+
+<p>“Soldiers! We are not conquered!... Marmont’s treachery
+delivered the capital into the hands of the enemy, and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_500">[500]</span>disorganised our army.... Now I have come! Your general,
+who was elected to the throne by the suffrage of the
+people, and raised aloft on your shields, has returned to you.
+Rally to him!... Wear the tricolour cockade again, the
+cockade of our days of victory! Let the eagles which you bore
+at Ulm and Austerlitz, at Jena, Eylau, and Friedland, at
+Eckmühl and Wagram, at Smolensk and on the Moskva, at
+Lützen and Montmirail, once more wave on high!... Possessions,
+rank, and glory, for yourselves and for your children,
+have no worse foes than those princes who have been forced
+upon you by foreign powers.... Victory will guide us forward
+through the storms, and the eagles shall fly from one
+church steeple to the other until at last they alight on Notre
+Dame!”</p>
+
+<p>Vive l’Empereur! The troops in Grenoble, together with the
+imperial nobles, come over. Seven thousand men follow him
+to Lyons. Lyons comes over. Masséna, who had been serving
+the king, journeys from Marseilles and pays homage to the
+Emperor.</p>
+
+<p>“Where is Ney?” Embarrassed silence. “With the king?”</p>
+
+<p>They tell him about the council of war in Paris. Since the
+terrible news was brought, the fat king and his lean court have
+sat there trembling. The “Moniteur,” which had lied in Napoleon’s
+favour for fifteen years, now lies on behalf of the king:
+the Emperor, it announces, is dead. Just as they are deliberating
+what to do, old Count Condé enters the room and asks his
+royal cousin whether on Maundy Thursday the king himself
+should not officiate at the washing of feet. The king is writing
+a manifesto to the army. But who is sitting by him, his mainstay,
+the true leader of the Bourbon army? What is the man’s
+name?</p>
+
+<p>It is Marshal Ney. When, on the retreat from Moscow he
+had been cut off from the main body and appeared to be lost,
+his master had cried: “Ney is lost! I would give the two hundred
+millions from my cellars in the Tuileries, if I had him
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_501">[501]</span>again!” Now he rises from among the royal plenipotentiaries
+gathered round the conference table; he swears to annihilate
+his sometime master. But when the breeze of general
+enthusiasm sweeps by him, he veers; his corps dons the tricolour
+cockade, and in Besançon he sends word to the Emperor that
+he would like to write a vindication of his conduct. But the
+Emperor waves the proposal aside, saying: “Tell him I love
+him the same as ever, and that to-morrow I shall embrace him.”</p>
+
+<p>What a master-stroke! True, he forgives; but he leaves Ney
+on tenterhooks till the morrow. Next day, the marshal stammers:
+“I love you, Sire; but as a son of the fatherland ... I
+was forced to kneel down before that fat hog to receive the
+cross of St. Louis! Had you not come, we should have chased
+him away ourselves.”</p>
+
+<p>“Marvellous! How vacillating he is, how pale!” These
+thoughts flit through the Emperor’s mind as he asks his questions.</p>
+
+<p>The count of Artois has fled. The very morning of the
+flight, the guards had sworn to die with him; by midday, they
+had rallied to the Emperor. Such behaviour does not please
+Napoleon, and he keeps this portion of the guard at arm’s
+length. But there is one man who had remained loyal to Louis
+until the Bourbon was in safety; not till then does he change
+sides. This recruit, Napoleon welcomes, and with his own
+hand decorates him with the emblem of the Legion of Honour!</p>
+
+<p>But what a change! The more this avalanche of soldiers
+grows as he marches forward towards Paris, the more peaceful
+do his speeches become. In one town after another, he addresses
+the municipal councillors and the citizens in the following
+words: “War is at an end. Peace and liberty! The
+principles of the revolution must be protected from the onslaughts
+of the émigrés. The treaties with Europe must be
+adhered to. France will win back her glory without war. We
+must be content to be the most esteemed nation, without trying
+to dominate other countries.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_502">[502]</span></p>
+
+<p>Does the people grasp the significance of the new tone? If
+the nation understands, is there belief in its genuineness? Must
+one be content? Glory without war? To a high official, an
+old acquaintance whom he meets on the march and in whom at
+length he finds an intelligent listener after addressing dull-witted
+citizens and partisan officers, he gives this political explanation:</p>
+
+<p>“The spirit of the people is changed. In earlier days, the
+nation thought only of glory; now it thinks only of liberty.
+In the past, I brought the nation glory; I will not withhold
+liberty now. Freedom can be enjoyed in full, when power rests
+upon a good constitution.... Only—no anarchy! That
+would bring us back to the days of the despotic republicans,
+when every one had a finger in the pie. I shall retain only so
+much power as is essential for governing properly.”</p>
+
+<p>In the naïve closing sentence lies the new problem. He has
+broached the question; he is determined to stabilise the basic
+ideas of democracy. One thing is the same as on the Eighteenth
+Brumaire: no party politics! “I don’t want to write to them,”
+he says, when advised to forgive the turncoats. “They would
+believe that I was pledged to them. How are things in the
+Tuileries?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing has been changed; not even the eagles have been
+removed.” He is gay, bubbling over with good humour. He
+laughs.</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose King Louis found the eagles decorative! What
+are they playing at the theatre? How is Talma? Were you
+at court? I’ve been told that the Bourbons looked like parvenus,
+did not know what to talk about, nor how to behave.”</p>
+
+<p>How inquisitive he is! How full of malicious joy! How
+he yearns for the air of Paris! He seeks his revenge in mockery,
+he whom the others had so long held up to ridicule. He is
+told of the parsimony of the court. He is shown the king’s
+effigy on a twenty-franc piece.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you see? They’ve got it again: ‘God protect the king’!
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_503">[503]</span>My device is: ‘God protect France’! They’ve left out those
+words. They were always like that: everything for themselves;
+nothing for France!” In the course of three minutes
+he enquires after twenty persons. When he is told that Hortense
+has been made a duchess, he answers simply:</p>
+
+<p>“She should have called herself Madame Bonaparte. That
+name is worth more than all the rest.”</p>
+
+<p>His words are symbolic of the new epoch. If he calls himself
+Bonaparte once more, grants a constitution, allows liberty,
+and does not grasp at more power than he actually needs, he
+can make himself king of France. Then, after the failure of
+his attempt at the unification of Europe, he will still be able to
+become the happy exemplar of a modern prince by God’s grace.
+He has always ruled as circumstances might dictate. Now,
+called to power for the second time, and after his imaginative
+flight towards far horizons, he will still prove himself a master.
+The road lies open.</p>
+
+<p>The road to Paris is likewise open. The Bourbon king has
+run away, and the majority of the inhabitants are on the Emperor’s
+side. Any one who might still have dreaded a fight with
+the last royal troops, must have overestimated them. When
+the Emperor is yet a hundred miles from the capital, the
+remnants of the royal guard flee from the city. The Emperor’s
+army overtakes the king, but allows him to escape to a seaport,
+being content to take the silver he is carrying off with him in
+sixty carts, and to seize his cannon. France has a hearty
+laugh at this fat old gentleman, who had been escorted from
+England to Paris by enemy soldiers, and now makes all speed
+back to England with the soldiers of France chasing him.</p>
+
+<p>Paris is calm. The town has long since forgotten how to
+take the initiative. During the twenty days between the Emperor’s
+landing in the south and his arrival at the capital, the
+thermometer of the press registers the following degrees: “The
+monster has escaped from his place of exile.”—“The Corsican
+werewolf has landed at Cannes.”—“The tiger appeared at Gap,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_504">[504]</span>troops were sent against him, the wretched adventurer ended
+his career in the mountains.”—“The fiend has actually, thanks
+to treachery, been able to get as far as Grenoble.”—“The
+tyrant has reached Lyons, where horror paralysed all attempts
+at resistance.”—“The usurper has dared to advance within a
+hundred and fifty miles of the capital.”—“Bonaparte moves
+northward with rapid strides, but he will never reach Paris.”—“To-morrow
+Napoleon will be at our gates.”—“His Majesty
+is at Fontainebleau.”</p>
+
+<p>When, at length, without having had to fire a shot, the Emperor
+mounts the steps of the palace he had been compelled to
+leave thirteen months before, Paris is overawed by his soldiers,
+and the émigrés have fled with the king. All is quiet. He notes
+the fact, listens attentively, and says: “They have let me come,
+just as they let the others go.”</p>
+
+<p>Now he has his first disappointment! The march on Paris
+had been glorious, and in after days he spoke of it as the most
+splendid experience in his life. But here, in the city which will
+ultimately decide his fate, the city whose favour he has wooed
+more assiduously than he ever fought for any realm, the city he
+has never wholly conquered, he encounters moral resistance.
+Those whose favour he courts are no longer in the arms of their
+new friend; but they are listless, as if, after excess of passion,
+their vital energy had run down. Still, here he is, and he must
+bestir himself.</p>
+
+<p>He looks to Vienna for a sign.</p>
+
+<p>A week after Napoleon’s landing in France, Metternich goes
+to bed at three o’clock, and is awakened at six by a messenger
+who hands him a despatch. He reads the inscription on the
+envelope, “General Consulate, Genoa,” angrily turns over and
+goes to sleep again. He does not open the missive till several
+hours later, to read: “Campbell, the English commissioner, has
+just called to enquire whether Napoleon has been seen in Genoa.
+He has vanished from the island of Elba.”</p>
+
+<p>The bomb! Those who were yesterday still intriguing
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_505">[505]</span>against one another, now become thick as thieves once more.
+The vows which have so often been broken are renewed. The
+first to think of declaring the man an outlaw is Baron vom
+Stein, whom Napoleon had outlawed five years earlier. The
+possibility is discussed, but father-in-law Francis of Habsburg
+cannot make up his mind to the step; he would like to ask
+Marie Louise first. Four years ago she was devoted to her
+husband. She has never breathed a word of complaint to her
+father or to any of her women friends. Why should she?
+Napoleon had done whatever she wanted; she had been courted
+and wealthy; he had been the most equable of husbands; the
+parents had shared in the games of the little boy. Will she
+now become the Emperor’s advocate?</p>
+
+<p>The wife of Napoleon and the mistress of the Austrian officer
+prefers to take up her pen and write a formal declaration
+to the congress. She will have nothing to do with the Emperor,
+and she will put herself under the protection of the allies. Such
+is her answer to that hour when Napoleon had had to choose
+between the mother’s life and the child’s, and had decided in
+favour of the mother. Not until his wife has cast her vote
+against him, is the Emperor made an outlaw: “The powers
+declare that Napoleon Bonaparte has placed himself outside the
+bounds of civil and social relationships, and that as an enemy
+and disturber of the peace of the world he is consigned to
+public prosecution.”</p>
+
+<p>The tidings leave him unmoved. He is used to being outlawed.
+When he left Corsica, he and all his relatives were under
+sentence of outlawry. The word “outlaw” had been shouted
+at him in the Orangerie at Saint-Cloud. The pope had pronounced
+the major excommunication against him. All three
+anathemas had glanced harmless from his coat of mail, so that
+he deemed himself impregnable. But this fourth ban will lay
+him low.</p>
+
+<p>He still continues to hope in the Habsburg. Announcing his
+intention to summon the Electoral Colleges of the Empire to a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_506">[506]</span>great assembly, he speaks of the gathering, in Carlovingian
+terminology, as a Champ de Mai, for he intends to have the
+empress and his son crowned there. He thinks that this will
+ensure Austrian support, and writes to his wife:</p>
+
+<p>“I am master of France. The people and the army are wild
+with enthusiasm! No one but the so-called king has run away
+to England.... I expect you here in April with my son.”
+The thought of his dynasty is ineradicable.</p>
+
+<p>But even this most natural of feelings assumes a distorted
+form, for his feelings are in pawn to the old world. Writing
+to the man who has just outlawed him, he says: “At the
+moment when providence has recalled me to the capital of my
+States, it is my chief desire, the object of my tenderest inclination,
+to see my wife and son once more.” He goes on to
+speak of his wife, who must certainly reciprocate his longing.
+Then: “All my endeavours are directed towards the firm establishment
+of this throne which the love of my people guarantees
+and restores to me; and towards handing it down to my son in
+due time, based upon an imperishable foundation.... Since a
+lasting peace is essential to the attainment of this important
+and sacred aim, there is nothing nearer to my heart than to
+remain at peace with all the powers.”</p>
+
+<p>Is this sublime, or is it ridiculous? Napoleon renounces war,
+and abandons his designs on Europe. He speaks truth when
+he says that he needs nothing more than France. The monarchs
+who had conquered him last year have formed a new
+alliance against him, and have declared him an outlaw. The
+sentence of outlawry has been signed by Emperor Francis, in
+the Austrian capital, with Marie Louise’s express authorisation.
+She had left him after the last defeat; had thrown up the
+regency which she had sworn to carry on faithfully; had taken
+the boy with her; had thrown herself into another man’s arms,
+and is still living with him: the Emperor knows these things.
+But now, instead of beginning the new era with a clear-cut
+severance from all that has overthrown and disappointed him,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_507">[507]</span>he begins by suing for the friendship of this old throne which
+had triumphed over his new one.</p>
+
+<p>This is the ban, this is the outlawry, which will for the second
+time bring him to his doom.</p>
+
+<h3>XVII</h3>
+
+<p>The adventurer now becomes a rat-catcher, like the Pied
+Piper of Hamelin. Bourbon had been clever enough to invite
+the best talents to serve him; and as a result of this, when once
+the royalist national anthem had been sung, all went smoothly
+for him. Some of these men know not whether to go or
+to stay: they wait upon events. But Napoleon, who has always
+commanded, who has never canvassed for any one’s services,
+places the flute of the tempter to his lips: he knows that
+now is the time for suggestion and smiles. The loyal few, he
+restores to their posts, with a shake of the hand. Maret,
+Davoust, and Caulaincourt, form part of his ministry.</p>
+
+<p>He knows all that those who have proved ungrateful have
+been doing, and he judges them by their record. Officials, officers,
+and court dignitaries, again flock to his levees. A count
+of the old aristocracy comes likewise. Napoleon had called this
+man back from exile and had made him senator; but at the
+Bourbon restoration the count had gone over to the king. Now,
+as the Emperor draws near, the count casts his eyes heavenward
+and seems to imply that his actions were dictated by
+God’s inscrutable will. The Emperor smiles. Not a word is
+exchanged. But the count comes no more to court. When, on
+the other hand, one of Marmont’s generals, a man who had delivered
+a decisive speech in the war council before the marshal’s
+defection, approaches Napoleon and begins to stammer out an
+explanation, the Emperor does not smile. He says, in an overbearing
+tone: “What do you want of me? Can you not see
+that I do not know you?”</p>
+
+<p>Here is Oudinot: for twenty years he was Bonaparte’s
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_508">[508]</span>companion-in-arms; now he comes back to the Emperor. “You
+see, Oudinot? You were worshipped as a god by the Lorrainers;
+two hundred thousand peasants were ready, even last
+year, to go through fire and water for your sake. To-day I
+have to protect you against these same peasants!”</p>
+
+<p>Here is Rapp. He has wavered longer than the rest, and
+even now comes hesitatingly to his master. “You’ve kept us
+waiting a long time! Did you really want to take up arms
+against me?”</p>
+
+<p>Rapp is an Alsatian, half a German, and as such he is more a
+man of duty than a man of feeling: “My duty, Sire, constrained
+me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Diable! The soldiers would not have obeyed you; your
+Alsatians would have stoned you!”</p>
+
+<p>But Rapp is nothing if not thorough: “You must admit,
+Sire, the position was a difficult one. You abdicate, you leave
+France, you advise us to serve the king, you come again....”</p>
+
+<p>“Were you often here? How did they treat you? At first,
+I suppose, they flattered you. Soon they’d have chucked you
+out of doors. That is what your fate would have been....
+Have you read Chateaubriand’s pamphlet? Is it true that I am
+a coward on the battle-field? They are always accusing me of
+ambition because they have nothing better to say. Does one
+get as fat as I, if one is constantly being spurred on by ambition?...
+Once again, General, we must serve France. Then
+we can be gathered to our fathers.”</p>
+
+<p>In such a debonair and lively manner does he play with this
+doughty and decorous old comrade. But Rapp holds his own:
+“You must admit, Sire, that you made a mistake in not concluding
+peace after Dresden. You treated as nonsensical my
+reports concerning German sentiment....” The Emperor is
+quick with his repartee:</p>
+
+<p>“You do not understand what such a peace would have
+meant!” Suddenly his tone changes into one more suitable to
+the camp than to this palace and to this hour; it is intimate
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_509">[509]</span>and familiar, and goes home to Rapp’s heart: “Or were you
+perhaps afraid of beginning a fresh war, you who for fifteen
+long years had acted as my adjutant? When you returned
+from Egypt you were nothing more than a soldier. I have
+made a man of you. To-day you can have whatever you like
+to ask for.... I shall never forget your conduct before
+Moscow. At Danzig you achieved the greatest that any man
+could achieve. Ney and you, you belong to the tiny legion of
+those who have strength of character!” The Emperor embraces
+him, kisses him again and again. Then, pulling Rapp’s
+moustache, he says:</p>
+
+<p>“Eh? One of the braves of Egypt and Austerlitz—and you
+wanted to forsake me! You shall take command of the army
+on the Rhine, while I am dealing with the Prussians and the
+Russians. In two months, I hope you will be receiving my wife
+and my son in Strasburg. From to-day, you are my adjutant!”</p>
+
+<p>“At your orders, Sire!”</p>
+
+<p>Had the Emperor ever seen <i>Wallenstein’s Death</i> performed
+on the German stage, as had, perhaps, that would-be murderer
+in Poland? He must have this fellow, Rapp, about him. The
+man is fundamentally honest, and is as brave as he is honourable;
+of all the Grand Army, he is the officer who was most
+frequently wounded. He only went over to the king from a
+sense of duty; he is not to be bought by the lure of promises.
+And yet, in a quarter of an hour, he is not only the Emperor’s
+man once more, but has accepted the posts of army commander
+and adjutant, as of old. Fidelity, Napoleon realised it well,
+is what the Emperor most urgently needs.</p>
+
+<p>Ney’s case is a more difficult one. Remorse keeps Ney sleepless.
+With distraught countenance and extravagant words he
+addresses his master: “Perhaps you have heard, Sire, before I
+marched to Besançon, I said at the council of war—here, in the
+Tuileries, I promised the king—”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what did you promise?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_510">[510]</span></p>
+
+<p>“To bring you in an iron cage, and place you before his
+throne—”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor stiffens. Then: “Foolishness! Such thoughts
+are unworthy of a soldier!”</p>
+
+<p>“You are mistaken, Sire,” exclaims the Marshal yet more
+excitedly; “allow me to finish. I said it, yes—but—I wanted
+to hide my real feelings—”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor is incensed. Ney quickly withdraws, and only
+after the lapse of two months takes command in the campaign.
+Thus near to madness had these iron warriors been brought
+through their struggle between duty and inclination, when the
+one great will which mastered them had been withdrawn.
+Berthier, who also rallied to Napoleon, had gone through the
+same experience.</p>
+
+<p>“The donkey,” exclaims the Emperor leniently, when talking
+of his old favourite. “He’s a good fellow. I ask nothing of
+him than that he should present himself before me in the uniform
+of the royal guard!” But Berthier, since the Emperor’s
+return, rushes all night through the rooms of his mansion,
+and at last throws himself headlong from a balcony, like Junot,
+to perish on the cobbles instead of dying in the battle-field.</p>
+
+<p>Forwards! We have no time for loitering! Who else is
+there? Ah, Madame de Staël pops up again. This old opponent
+writes to him, admires his conduct, and promises that
+if he will restore the two million francs which France still owes
+her father, she will in future devote her literary gifts to the
+cause of France. The pity of it! Through making this stipulation,
+so splendid a woman must come down to history as
+beaten in the game! The Emperor mischievously replies that,
+to his great regret, he is not wealthy enough to fulfil her
+condition.</p>
+
+<p>Who else is there? Marmont? Augereau? They are declared
+outlaws by the Emperor, because they sold the fatherland
+to the foreigner. And then, at long last, Talleyrand
+likewise! The lightning flashes that travel from Vienna to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_511">[511]</span>Paris and from Paris to Vienna strike a deadly blow at this
+hostile friendship which has lasted for eighteen years. Each
+man thinks in his secret heart: “A pity that so fine a brain
+should be working for the other side!”</p>
+
+<p>What about the second of the Dioscuri? Fouché is back
+again! He takes up his service as Minister of Police in the
+twofold capacity of working for and against his master. He
+says of the Emperor: “Well, he’s here. We none of us exactly
+wished him back again; now we shall have to keep close watch
+on him.... The man has returned even madder than when
+he left. I give him three months!” Meanwhile, he corresponds
+with Metternich; but spies soon tell the Emperor, who
+angrily apostrophises him: “You are a traitor!” Lavalette,
+who is in waiting, hears the words through the half-open door.
+“Why do you consent to be my minister if you mean to betray
+me? I know that you are exchanging letters with Metternich
+through the intermediation of a bank official in Basle. I
+could have you hanged, and all the world would applaud my
+action.” Fouché’s answer has not been recorded!</p>
+
+<p>The minister owed his present position to his radical outlook,
+for he had been a revolutionary in theory ever since
+Robespierre’s time. The Emperor needed him in the cabinet as
+a decoy for the democrats. But Fouché not only betrayed his
+master to Metternich, he likewise betrayed Metternich to the
+radicals; he wanted to set up a republic—with Fouché at the
+head. Carnot, who was a more violent antagonist of the king
+than even the Emperor himself had been, now, for the first time
+since the days of the Directory, entered the ministry.</p>
+
+<p>But, as spiritual leader, the Emperor wins over his whilom
+enemy, Benjamin Constant, a friend of Madame de Staël. This
+old-time democrat, who had recently been thundering in the press
+against the brigand of Elba and comparing him to Attila and
+to Genghis Khan, is needed now that the Emperor proposes to
+govern through Chambers. Napoleon, therefore, invites Constant
+to an audience. The Emperor has not seen him for
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_512">[512]</span>fifteen years. The interview, recorded by Constant, occupies
+four pages of print. We are shown, without periphrases, the
+last transformation of Napoleon, the statesman who was ever
+ready to adapt his course to the demands of practical politics.</p>
+
+<p>“The nation again wishes for tribunes and assemblies. It
+has always wanted them, for it threw itself at my feet when I
+climbed to power.... I assumed less power than was actually
+conceded me. To-day, all is otherwise. The preference for
+constitutions, for elections, for speeches, is again to the fore.
+This is, however, the desire of a minority. The majority desires
+myself, alone.... I am not only the soldiers’ Emperor;
+I am also the Emperor of the workers and peasants....
+Thus, in spite of all, the people comes back to me. I treat
+the people severely, I never flatter the people; and yet the
+people cries: ‘Long live the Emperor!’ This is because there
+are common bonds between us....</p>
+
+<p>“It is otherwise with nobility. The nobles thronged my ante-rooms
+begging and receiving the posts they coveted.... But
+no common bond has ever existed between us. The horse submitted
+to the rider, it had been well trained; all the same, I
+felt it tremble beneath me.... Yes, I endeavoured to set up
+a world monarchy, and for this I needed unfettered power.
+Who, in my place, would not have wished to do likewise? Did
+not the world itself encourage me? Princes and subjects hastened
+to come beneath my sceptre’s sway.... But if France is
+to be the whole of my dominions, then a constitution is better....</p>
+
+<p>“Tell me your ideas. Freedom of speech, free elections, responsible
+ministers, freedom of the press?... I am agreeable
+to all this. Especially the freedom of the press. To try and
+crush this any longer would be absurd.... I am the man of
+the people. If the people really wants freedom, I must give
+it.... I am no longer a conqueror; I can no longer be a conqueror.
+I know what is possible and what is impossible. My
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_513">[513]</span>sole mission now is to set France on her feet once more and
+to give her a constitution adapted to the temperament of her
+people....</p>
+
+<p>“I do not hate freedom, although I gave it a wide berth
+when I met it on my way. I understand liberty; I was nourished
+on this idea. The labours of fifteen years have been
+destroyed; if I wished to begin all over again, I should need
+twenty years and should have to sacrifice two million men....
+I want peace; I can get it only through victory. I will not
+fill you with false hopes; I foresee a terrible war. In order
+to win through, I must have the support of the people. The
+people will ask for freedom in exchange for its support. Very
+well, the people shall have freedom.... My situation is a new
+one for me. I am getting older. At forty-five one is no longer
+the man one was at thirty. The repose of a constitutional king
+would suit me excellently. And I am sure that this state of
+things would meet with the approval of my son.”</p>
+
+<p>Such were the basic ideas of Emperor Napoleon on his return
+from Elba; he was to become king of France. That his
+ideas are genuine and his intentions pure, is proved by the
+realism of his motives. We have not to do with a man who
+pretends to a change of heart; this is no hero who, in commune
+with his maker upon an island, has become a saint. Here we
+have the man himself, wishful to rule as circumstances permit;
+a man who has ever been mindful of public opinion. He recognises
+that he has to do with a new epoch. If he himself did not
+inaugurate such an epoch, at least, through his fall, he made
+its realisation possible. Napoleon feels that a land which has
+experienced the dictatorship of genius, can no longer revert to
+the dictatorship of inheritance. If the spirit of the revolution
+has become petrified into a single huge figure, a new structure
+must arise from its ruins, and the stone blocks that are used in
+the building must be so placed as to secure wider levels and a
+less tapering pinnacle. In very truth, the son of the revolution,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_514">[514]</span>even when he becomes a tyrant, cannot be succeeded by a king
+who reigns by God’s grace. He can only be succeeded by
+democracy.</p>
+
+<p>For this reason, the Emperor deals more severely with the
+émigrés than he was wont; he confiscates estates; he disbands
+the royal guard; and does at the end of his career what he
+should have done at the start, namely, he abolishes feudal titles,
+thus ridding himself of the old nobility whose false compliments
+had cost him so dear. By these decrees he recreates the revolutionary
+spirit, and makes it stronger than it has been since his
+coronation, eleven years earlier. He issues the following declaration
+to the civil authorities:</p>
+
+<p>“I have returned to-day for the same reason which brought
+me back from Egypt: because things are not going well with
+the fatherland.... I do not want to carry on any more wars.
+We have to forget that we were masters of the world.... In
+those days, I pursued the aim of creating a great United States
+of Europe, and I was compelled to neglect many points of
+home policy which would have secured the freedom of the
+citizens of France. Now I shall work for no other object than
+for France’s consolidation and tranquillity, for the protection
+of property, for the free interchange of ideas: the prince must
+be the first servitor of the State.” Among the hearers are many
+who, but a year ago, amid the thunder crashes of the catastrophe,
+had listened to other words uttered by these self-same
+lips: “I am the State.” Nevertheless they pin their faith to
+his new constitution, whose elaboration is entrusted to Constant.</p>
+
+<p>When the constitution is placed before them, they are
+alarmed. “Additional Act?” Are we once more to be cheated?
+The democrats pour forth a hail of criticism. Simultaneously,
+news comes from Vienna: the powers declare war on Napoleon;
+no harm shall come to France. A signal! For twenty years,
+so the saying runs through the land, we have desired peace.
+At last we have got it. Is it once more to come to an end?
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_515">[515]</span>“I cannot hide the fact from you any longer,” says a councillor
+of State to the Emperor; “the women are your declared enemies,
+and these opponents are always dangerous in France.” No one
+wants any more levies to be made. Instead of two hundred
+and fifty thousand men, only sixty thousand answer his call.</p>
+
+<p>This decision of the powers is an expression of the mood of
+the princes, and not of the peoples they govern, for these, just
+like the French people, are eager for repose. The sentence of
+outlawry is not so much a political move as an insistence on a
+point of honour, and the expression of Emperor Francis’ desire
+to exact moral vengeance. But it gnaws at the foundation of
+Napoleon’s power. When he had first come back, France had
+been in his favour. Since, however, all the other States of
+Europe are against him, France will make no more sacrifices on
+his behalf. The funds, which had risen when he reached Paris,
+fall.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor is alarmed. An intimate, from whom he has
+asked news of the recruiting campaign, says to him: “Your
+Majesty will not be left unsupported.” To which the Emperor
+replies in low tones: “I was almost afraid I should be!”</p>
+
+<p>His friends find him less active than of yore; he is fatter, his
+features are lax, he needs many hot baths, and lies in them
+a long time; he takes a great deal of sleep. “He seemed full
+of cares,” writes one of his circle. “The self-confidence of his
+speeches, his authoritative tone, had vanished.”</p>
+
+<p>Only four weeks ago, at his first advent, he appeared rejuvenated
+and lively. Why this relapse?</p>
+
+<p>First and foremost, his wife’s behaviour has shaken him. A
+semi-anonymous letter from Vienna, addressed to Lavalette,
+has fallen into his hands. Herein are described Marie Louise’s
+scorn for the Emperor, her love for Neipperg; and a number of
+shameful details are added. The Emperor is surprised holding
+this letter, in his dimly lighted study, crouched over the
+fire, silent.</p>
+
+<p>When Méneval, who was to have accompanied Marie Louise
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_516">[516]</span>on her return journey to Paris, comes back from Vienna, he
+finds the Emperor, in the very midst of these eventful weeks,
+lying on a sofa, sunk deep in reverie. For many hours that
+day, and for half the next, the secretary has to give his master
+a precise account of everything that is happening over there,
+of all he has observed. The Emperor spoke as though “overwhelmed
+by a calm sorrowfulness, and seemed so resigned that
+I was deeply moved. He was no longer confident of victory,
+and I felt that his belief in his good luck, which had sustained
+him during the march to Paris, had forsaken him.” Méneval
+has to describe every trait and gesture of the little son. The
+Emperor, an ageing man, paces to and fro in the garden on
+this day in May, alone; he has to rely on a stranger’s word to
+know what his boy is like, whether the child is growing up to
+resemble his father or his grandfather.</p>
+
+<p>These things weigh him down. Tragically, the conflicts within
+him are renewed. Now that he wishes to be a democrat in response
+to the spirit of the time, now that his will-to-peace is
+great, the menace from without frustrates his attempts to
+establish democracy or maintain peace. If no one in Europe
+were to lift a finger in order to replace Louis on the throne,
+Napoleon might content himself with ruling within the boundaries
+of France, might introduce the freedoms he had promised.
+But the powers, which have no more lands to reclaim (since they
+have received back all that was ever taken from them, and now
+possess what they had had before the revolution), come forward
+as they had in ’92, because the wind blowing from this stormy
+corner of Europe threatens their inherited calm, and because
+none of the monarchs can sleep sound o’ nights so long as their
+Bourbon cousin is standing on the English shore of the Channel
+looking plaintively across the waters towards France, the land
+of his fathers.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp62" id="illus17" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus17.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>Napoleon as Emperor in 1814. Painting by Horace Vernet.
+    Tate Gallery, London.</p>
+    <p>(From the “Corpus Imaginum” of the Photographic
+    Society, Charlottenburg.)</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>Never had Napoleon taken up arms more reluctantly than he
+did when this war was forced upon him by the Vienna decree.
+Never had the rapidity and clear-sightedness of a dictator or
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_517">[517]</span>the sympathy of public opinion been more necessary to him
+than in this terrible crisis. Just now, when every one wants
+peace, he is obliged to arm for war; just now, when he is to
+bestow liberties on the people, his actions are hampered at
+every turn. The struggle of the legitimists with this interloper
+(the upshot of which had been his own legitimisation), the
+struggle which had placed him on the throne, is resumed when,
+too late, he is cured of his longing to pose as legitimate monarch.
+Though he is reaching out towards liberty once more,
+he is now to sustain his final defeat.</p>
+
+<p>Thus the great renewal gets no further than the Additional
+Act to the Constitutions of the Empire, which, as earlier with
+his great decrees, he leaves to the approval of the “sovereign
+people.”</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, the sixty-seven articles evolved out of Constant’s
+head contain all the newer democratic elements; they are
+a great advance upon English constitutional law, and remain
+as a model for the whole of the subsequent century. No one
+henceforward can be imprisoned or banished without due form
+of law; religious belief and the press are to be free. The legislative
+body is changed into a Lower House, the Senate becomes
+an Upper House without the former privileges, all deliberations
+are open to the public, both Houses may initiate legislation and
+reject the budget, the ministers are to be responsible to parliament,
+the interpretation of the law devolves upon the Chambers.</p>
+
+<p>A number of new laws, each a dagger in the dictator’s heart!
+Yet he yields in everything save two points which he carries,
+after a lively debate against Constant: the hereditariness of the
+peerage, into which “after one or two successful battles,” the
+nobility would again pour; and his right to confiscation, for
+“without this right I should be defenceless against the party
+factions. I am not an angel, but a man who cannot allow himself
+to be attacked without meting out punishment.”</p>
+
+<p>These two concessions to him create as bad an impression as
+the words “Additional Act” had done. Since he will allow no
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_518">[518]</span>discussion on the matter, but only consents to the empty form
+of a plebiscite, as he had done in the days when he wished to
+become consul for life and subsequently emperor, the democrats
+begin to grumble, and no one is aware how greatly the
+nation is to be congratulated on this latest work of its leader.
+Instead of the four million votes he had received of yore, his
+constitution receives only just over one and a half million
+votes, for most of the citizens abstain.</p>
+
+<p>A few venture to protest. Honest Carnot says: “Your Additional
+Act has not pleased the people; it will not meet with
+acceptance. Promise me that you will amend it. I must tell
+you the truth, for your and our salvation hangs upon your
+tolerance.” His tone is upright, but wholly unprecedented.
+Since the days when Bonaparte was a lieutenant no one had
+ever spoken thus to him. He makes a gesture of annoyance,
+and Carnot continues: “This word alarms you, Sire? Yes, you
+must show tolerance in the face of the national will.”</p>
+
+<p>“The foe is at our gates,” answers the veteran soldier.
+“First of all, help to chase him away. Then I shall have
+time to occupy myself with your liberal panaceas.” Even
+though he profoundly recognises the demands of the new age,
+he finds it impossible to deliberate with representatives of the
+people.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon knows only how to command!</p>
+
+<h3>XVIII</h3>
+
+<p>On a bright spring morning, the plain is lively as on days of
+high festival. The Parisians are flocking in crowds to the
+Champ de Mai. The whole town has come forth to this revival
+of the Carlovingian folk assembly. The old troops are there,
+and the new. The platforms are gaily decorated with tricolours.
+Six hundred deputies and several hundred peers are
+waiting for the Emperor, who is to take the oath to the new
+constitution before starting on his campaign. It is the first
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_519">[519]</span>time for two or three years that the people of the gay city have
+had a chance of glutting their lust for merrymaking. Under
+the king, all had been sober and staid.</p>
+
+<p>Now the procession is coming forth from the town; from afar
+can be heard the fanfare of the trumpets, and every one is expecting
+the hero of the occasion, the warrior Napoleon, to be
+dressed as beseems the posture of affairs, seeing that within a
+few days he will be fighting for throne and country at the head
+of his troops. Rumour has run through Paris saying that he
+still wears his old green coat, in which people love best to see
+him.</p>
+
+<p>But what is the pageant which unfolds itself?</p>
+
+<p>First comes the guard of honour, followed by the eagles and
+the colours; then heralds and pages, clad in many-coloured costumes,
+as if in an allegorical picture; then the Emperor’s coronation
+coach, drawn by eight horses. In it is seated a man
+picturesquely attired in white silk, almost overshadowed by a
+hat decked with huge ostrich plumes, and burdened by his vast
+coronation mantle; a solitary man, glittering with gold. Is
+this the Emperor?</p>
+
+<p>The masses are dumbfounded, for they wanted to fraternise
+with their ruler returned from exile; they are stupefied by
+the spectacle of a Cæsar whose chill splendours seem to repel
+the cordiality they would fain exhibit. Painful indeed is the
+forlorn aspect of this middle-aged man, whose wife has not
+returned to him and whose son is far away, as he drives among
+the gaping crowds in his stately chariot.</p>
+
+<p>When, after High Mass, the spokesman of the new Chambers
+confronts the Emperor, this citizen speaks in tones which ring
+athwart the plain: “Trusting your pledges, the deputies will
+sagaciously revise our laws, and harmonise them with the constitution”—the
+implication being that the representatives of
+the people are not yet satisfied, but want more than this Additional
+Act. Then the spokesman of the Chambers and the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_520">[520]</span>citizens expresses his hopes of victory, and wishes success to
+the eagles.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor has to hide his vexation. He announces the
+new constitution, and swears to observe it faithfully. Then the
+soldiers must acclaim the oath. But they can hardly recognise
+their master in this pompously attired ruler. They want the
+old green coat; their hero should be wearing the tricolour cockade,
+not gold and plumes. Their cheers lack enthusiasm. An
+eyewitness writes: “These were not the cheers of Austerlitz and
+Wagram. The Emperor could not fail to notice it.”</p>
+
+<p>A week later, when he opened both Houses with a speech
+from the throne, he was careful to avoid everything which had
+put people out of humour at the Champ de Mai. The Lower
+House promises to devote its energies to the defence of the nation;
+but goes on to say: “Even the will of the victorious ruler
+would not induce the nation to transcend the bounds of defence.”
+The peers in the Upper House utter a like warning
+in their address, saying: “The French government will never
+be led away by the seductions of victory.” Napoleon stands
+there constrained to silence, but trembling with wrath. He
+would like to sweep them all away, but dares not even give
+them the lie.</p>
+
+<p>Among the new peers is Lucien. He has come to join his
+brother after all. A glance and a hand-clasp have reconciled
+the brothers. For the first time in his life he is styled prince
+and imperial highness. He is the Emperor’s companion, delivers
+speeches, even gives lectures in the Institute, and receives
+large sums of money. Louis is ill, and does not come. Jerome
+is ready and willing. Hortense must replace the missing lady
+of the house, and her sons have once more become important to
+the man without a son. Napoleon appears on the balcony with
+his nephews, to show the crowd, to show France, that the Emperor
+still has heirs. Unseen, the spirit of irony contemplates
+this tragical conclusion to the history of his dynastic delusion.</p>
+
+<p>Once he drives with Hortense to Malmaison, but goes alone
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_521">[521]</span>into the room where Josephine died, to come forth from it in
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>Next day he sets out for the war, hoping it will be his last
+war. It is.</p>
+
+<p>Carnot, to whom at this late hour he divulges his plan,
+strongly advises him to wait until the army has been reinforced.
+Neither the Russians nor the Austrians can arrive before the
+end of July. The English and the Prussians will not venture
+to attack until their allies have joined them. During these six
+weeks, Napoleon could double his forces, transform France into
+an armed camp, fortify Paris on the side whence the onslaught
+will come. The Emperor shakes his head:</p>
+
+<p>“I know all that. But it is essential that I should win a
+brilliant victory without waiting so long!”</p>
+
+<p>He knows what is at stake. It is his way to assume the
+offensive. But the master of figures would have done well to
+wait awhile, and collect his forces. “I must win a brilliant victory
+soon!” Is not that the thought of a beaten champion?
+Perhaps it is; but the gloomy vaticinations of the ruined Cæsar
+are fortified by the memories of General Bonaparte. Not since
+his youth has he ventured to do what he now proposes, to
+advance with a small army, without reserves, mobile, swift.
+Such, then, is his plan. He will not give his four opponents
+time to get together. The two that appear to be ready must
+be separately attacked and defeated. That is the picture which
+hovers before his mind. What Napoleon, the Emperor, now
+begins at Charleroi, when his prospective opponents are the
+Prussians and the English, Bonaparte, the unknown general,
+had begun at Millesimo, when his prospective opponents were
+the Austrians and the Piedmontese. His last battle is the
+parallel of his first.</p>
+
+<p>But during these twenty years, all the commanders of Europe
+have learned the tactics of the new master of the art of war;
+and he, during these twenty years, has worn out his machinery.
+Moreover, swift though his movements are in the days before
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_522">[522]</span>Waterloo, he no longer possesses the old tempo. As in his
+recent campaigns, so now, anxious considerations hamper the
+boldness of his attack. Having taken Charleroi, he fails next
+day to make a mass onslaught on Blücher, sends Ney with half
+the army along the Brussels road against the English, only to
+learn with alarm in the afternoon that he is faced by the whole
+of the Prussian army. He sends to recall the marshal, writing:
+“The fate of France is in your hands.” Ney, instead of
+continuing his advance, must envelop the Prussian enemy. Too
+late! Ney has become involved in the fight with Wellington
+at Quatre Bras, can spare only one army corps, and sends it to
+a place where it can be of no use. This makes it impossible
+for him to gain a victory over the English, and he is driven
+back.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon, this same day, fighting with only half his army at
+Ligny, secures a victory.</p>
+
+<p>The last victory! Blücher falls from his wounded horse, and
+is reported killed. Gneisenau retains composure, prevents the
+retreat from degenerating into a rout, and sends to let his ally
+know that they can form a junction at Wavre the next day.
+With an inertia which we should wonder at did we not know
+that Napoleon is ailing and prematurely old, the Emperor
+makes no move on the day after his victory. Too late he sends
+Grouchy with thirty thousand men to follow up the Prussians,
+not believing that they can reorganise their forces speedily,
+or that after the heavy losses they have sustained they will be
+able to effect a junction with the English. Yesterday, he had
+dealt with the Prussians singly; to-morrow he will be able to
+defeat the English, now cut off from their allies. His seventy
+thousand men will suffice. He fails to allow for Gneisenau’s
+imperturbability and for Blücher’s impetuosity.</p>
+
+<p>For the first time, he underrates an opponent. At Friedland,
+Aspern-Essling, and Laon, he was not beaten. Nor was
+he beaten in Russia. At Leipzig, and at Arcis-sur-Aube, he
+was defeated; but it was because he had only a small army with
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_523">[523]</span>which to meet the onslaughts of vastly superior forces; those
+of three great powers in one case, and those of four in the
+other. Never, yet, had any isolated commander been able to
+say: “I have defeated Napoleon.”</p>
+
+<p>Now he thinks too much of his victory, and too little of his
+opponent. For the first time he fails to focus his lens accurately,
+with the result that one point escapes his reckoning.
+But it is not that he makes a wanton and ill-considered onslaught.
+Nor is the trouble on this occasion that family feeling
+makes him entrust leadership to inefficient hands. If he had
+kept Grouchy’s force with him, his enemy would have scarcely
+outnumbered him. But the course of the decisive battle shows
+that this error in calculation was not the main cause of the
+French defeat.</p>
+
+<p>The final cause, as any one can recognise who studies all
+the elements in Napoleon’s fate, was the man’s advancing years.</p>
+
+<p>His activity was undermined by his ailments, and that is
+why, on the morning of the battle of Waterloo, he failed to
+attack promptly. In the middle of June, the sun is above the
+horizon by four. If the Prussians were able to march upon
+the roads that had been softened by the recent heavy rains, the
+French veterans could have done the same—for the Emperor’s
+soldiers on this occasion were almost all of them tried men.
+But he waits till noon, that he may place his guns better when
+the ground becomes less sodden! At Jena, in October, in a
+Scotch mist, he had headed his troops, shouted to encourage
+them, attacking so early in the morning as to arouse many of
+his foes from their slumbers. To-day he waits till noon.</p>
+
+<p>The loss of this half-day is to destroy him. He rides to an
+elevation bearing the fatal name of La Belle Alliance; he arranges
+his troops in three lines, rides along the front, shouts to
+his men in metallic phrases; he is going to break through the
+enemy and enter Brussels; he already has the proclamation to
+the Belgians in his pocket. He has only wasted half a day!</p>
+
+<p>In the afternoon, when battle is already joined, news comes
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_524">[524]</span>that Bülow’s corps is advancing. The Emperor turns pale,
+and sends Grouchy orders to come back. Will the orders reach
+him? If they do, will he be able to disengage himself from the
+enemy? Everything turns upon the fortune of the next hour.
+The English must be beaten before the Prussians can come to
+their aid. Napoleon delivers a great cavalry attack on the
+centre, but the English stand firm. Shall he use the old guard?
+Not yet! Not yet! Bülow is already beginning to fire. At all
+costs he must keep the line of retreat open, for otherwise there
+may be a catastrophe. But, in fact, the English forces are
+already half defeated. It is five o’clock, and the guard might
+have finished their defeat, for at this hour Wellington sent a
+message to his Prussian ally: “Unless your corps keeps marching,
+and attacks without respite, the battle will be lost.” This
+would have been the moment for an attack by the old guard,
+but once more caution makes the Emperor hold his hand at
+the critical moment. He sees that a second Prussian corps is
+about to attack.</p>
+
+<p>A dread decision! A brilliant gamester staking his last
+coins, but to-day he must not be beaten. At length, towards
+seven, he sends the last five thousand guardsmen, the veterans,
+to the attack. Now, it is only a forlorn hope. “Vive l’Empereur!”</p>
+
+<p>This cry has shaken half Europe. Is it not a century old?
+In a decade it has gained a legendary force throughout the
+Continent. But what is imperishable? Even the eagles of
+Marengo are not imperishable. Is the mythical energy of this
+cry, Vive l’Empereur, to subside with the setting of to-day’s
+sun? Yes, to-morrow it will be heard no more!</p>
+
+<p>The second Prussian corps pours a deadly fire on the guard,
+which yields ground. The opposing force continues to grow;
+at eight, the third army corps appears on the scene, and a
+hundred and twenty thousand of the allies are now attacking
+half that number of Frenchmen. The battered French army
+takes to flight, and Bonaparte, in his last hour as a commander,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_525">[525]</span>is for the first time in his life commander of a routed army.
+After an hour on horseback in the open, exposed to the British
+fire, the Emperor rides into the centre of one of the two remaining
+French squares. When these, likewise, break up, he gallops
+across country protected only by mounted grenadiers. Though
+in bodily pain, he has to stay in the saddle until five in the
+morning, when he is able at length to secure a few hours rest
+in an old cart.</p>
+
+<p>Is he discouraged?</p>
+
+<p>By no means! What is Paris saying? This is the thought
+which continually drives him onward. He does not venture, as
+he had done last year, to assemble the guards in Laon or Soissons,
+or to betake himself to one of the fortresses. He thinks
+only of Paris, as the place from which more soldiers can be
+gathered. Calculations, as of old: “I can still mobilise a hundred
+and fifty thousand men; with the National Guard, there
+will be three hundred thousand in all. That will be enough to
+stop the advance of the enemy.” The last orders he sends to
+Paris end with the words: “Courage! Firmness!”</p>
+
+<p>Two days later, he is once more in the Elysée, which he had
+left so recently. Has the whole campaign been a dream? In
+nine days he has lost the empire which he had fought nine years
+to win.</p>
+
+<h3>XIX</h3>
+
+<p>Not lost yet!</p>
+
+<p>In the cabinet and in the Chambers, opinions are divided. He
+sits in council with his brothers and his ministers; he is worn
+out, but there is no sign of collapse. What does he propose?
+To work hand in hand with the Chambers? Far from it; he
+proposes dictatorship. In this national crisis, he needs, for a
+short time, full freedom of movement. Some of the ministers
+point out to him that the Chambers no longer trust him. Then
+Lucien takes the floor, and with all the fire of a youth urges
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_526">[526]</span>the Emperor to dissolve the Chambers, declare Paris in a state
+of siege, take all power into his hands, get together the remaining
+troops—thus alone, now, can France be saved!</p>
+
+<p>He listens. Sixteen years have passed since that November
+day at Saint-Cloud when this very Lucien had made the same
+proposal, and, with a single speech, had snatched his brother
+from the abyss. Then Lucien had raised Napoleon higher than
+he had wished. The Emperor approves the plan, but does not
+instantly act on it. Instead, he listens while Davoust, the Minister
+for War, refuses to place the remnants of the armed forces
+at his disposal. While they are disputing, news comes from the
+Chamber of Deputies. It has declared itself in permanent session,
+will regard any attempt to dissolve it as high treason,
+and will impeach any one who may dare to try. “I can see
+only one man between us and peace,” said old Lafayette from
+the rostrum. “If we rid ourselves of him, peace will be ours
+for the asking!”</p>
+
+<p>Is this the cry of the people? Paris is perfectly calm, so it
+is nothing more than the cry of a liberated democracy. But
+it is also the cry of a society which loves change and bears
+adversity badly, for the House of Peers now passes a vote
+identical with that of the Chamber of Deputies. The Chambers
+demand that the Emperor shall appear before them. Why
+does he not go? Who would venture to oppose him openly?
+“I ought to have gone,” he said subsequently, “but I was tired
+out. I could have dissolved them, but I lacked courage; I am
+only a man, after all. My memories of the Nineteenth Brumaire
+terrified me.”</p>
+
+<p>Now the Chambers send for the ministers. The Emperor
+replies that he has forbidden them to go. The Chambers
+rejoin that they will depose him unless the ministers come.
+He gives way. He sends Lucien and the ministers to the
+Chamber of Deputies, and they report that he has formed a
+commission to negotiate with the enemy. “The powers will
+not treat with him!” cry the Chambers. “They have outlawed
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_527">[527]</span>him. He must abdicate. If he refuses, we shall depose him!”</p>
+
+<p>While this is going on in the Chambers, the Emperor, much
+agitated, is walking to and fro in the garden with Constant.
+At length he is roused, and flames out:</p>
+
+<p>“Not my own future, but that of France is at stake! Have
+they considered the consequences of my abdication? The army
+is grouped round me. Do they think they can fight the general
+dissolution with ideology? I could have understood it if I had
+been repelled when I landed three months ago. But to-day,
+when the foe is only a hundred miles from Paris, they cannot
+overthrow a government without suffering for it. A fortnight
+back, to repudiate me would have been a bold action. Now, I
+am part of what the enemy is attacking, a part of France which
+it is their business to defend. France will sacrifice itself if it
+sacrifices me! It is not liberty which would fain depose me,
+it is Waterloo—fear!... All I want now is to be the commander;
+but even if part of the troops were to fall away, I
+should promptly replace them by workmen, who can readily be
+moved to revolt.”</p>
+
+<p>At this moment, the two men in the garden hear shouts from
+the avenue, “Vive l’Empereur!” Whose are these last voices
+raised for Napoleon? The workers from Saint-Antoine; men
+whose troubles he had remembered in days of need, men who
+cared little about the suppression of liberty, for equality had
+made them free. There they were, peering through the railings
+which separated the son of the revolution from them just as it
+had separated the kings, but shouting through the bars of the
+cage into which he had shut himself: “Dictatorship! National
+Guard! Vive l’Empereur!”</p>
+
+<p>“You see?” said Napoleon to Constant. “I never loaded
+those fellows with honours. What have they got to thank me
+for? I left them poor men, just as I had found them. Nothing
+but instinct leads them to me. If I liked, these rebellious
+Chambers would be dissolved within the hour.... I need
+merely say the word, and all the deputies who oppose me would
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_528">[528]</span>be butchered! But for one man, the price is too high. Blood
+must not flow in Paris!”</p>
+
+<p>This mood of renunciation, which is akin to justice, this refusal
+to employ brute force in his extremity, just as he had
+refused (to begin with) sixteen years earlier, resembles the
+mood of Brumaire. But what was then the prudence of a
+statesman who did not wish to tarnish the origins of his long
+career of power, is now a prudence which does not beseem the
+adventurer he is to-day. Nevertheless, his unwillingness to use
+the bayonets with which, to-day, he could again have cleared
+the Chambers, is one more sign of his recognition of the new
+epoch, which wants more freedom and less force.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the Chamber of Deputies is in secret session.
+Lucien has presented the imperial message. The deputies are
+willing to discuss matters. Some of them speak, in civil terms,
+of the abdication as a sacrifice necessary for France. Honest
+Carnot mounts the rostrum, and, in this moment of disaster, is
+almost alone in espousing the cause of the Emperor whom almost
+alone he had openly attacked in the days when all others
+had been subservient to the man of the hour. But now
+Sieyès, too, speaks in favour of the Emperor, speaks like a
+Roman of old: “Napoleon has lost a battle.... Let us help
+him to drive the barbarians from our country, for no one else
+is equal to the task. If, when he has done it, he wants to play
+the despot, we can hang him. But to-day we must march with
+him shoulder to shoulder!”</p>
+
+<p>Lafayette springs to the rostrum once more: “Have you
+forgotten where the bones of our sons and our brothers whiten?
+In Africa, on the Tagus, on the Vistula, amid the snows of
+Russia. Two million have been the victims of this one man
+who wanted to fight all Europe! Enough!” In the small hours,
+the Chamber demands Napoleon’s abdication.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor hesitates. In the morning there is another
+cabinet council. Much agitated, he paces the room, uttering
+gibes about these Jacobins, foreseeing a new Directory. Then
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_529">[529]</span>the commandant of the Palais Bourbon arrives with a message
+from the Chambers. He stammers when he attempts to discharge
+his commission, but at length manages to get the words
+out. If the Emperor does not abdicate, the Chambers will
+outlaw him. Savary and Caulaincourt come in. All present
+urge him to the step, for even Lucien has given up the game.
+The Emperor says:</p>
+
+<p>“I have accustomed them to great victories, and now they do
+not know how to endure a single day of adversity. What will
+happen to France?” He adds in low tones: “I have done what
+I could.”</p>
+
+<p>After this epilogue of six words, which tells the whole story,
+at noon he dictates his declaration to the people. He is making
+the sacrifice, his political life is at an end, he proclaims his
+son emperor as Napoleon II., the Chambers must establish a
+regency. To whom does he dictate these words? Who among
+his intimates can hold the pen firmly enough to write them
+down?</p>
+
+<p>Lucien! The brother who for years from the enemy coast
+had gazed enviously at this city and this throne; who, if he had
+been a little less of a poet, might long since have collected the
+malcontents around him; and who might even now come to the
+front, not indeed as a second Napoleon, but at least as a second
+Bonaparte—and that would be something. Lucien sits there, a
+man of forty now. He had been no less ambitious than the
+Emperor, but had had to content himself with the modest career
+of a virtuoso and a Mæcenas. For four whole weeks, now, he
+has been an imperial prince! Smiling inwardly, he pens his
+great brother’s abdication; writes from dictation, still a mere
+hodman, but this time animated with a humorous sympathy
+which atones for the old discords.</p>
+
+<p>For, in truth, it is the eternal recurrence of the similar. As
+before, come cries from the Chambers, “Outlaw him!” As
+before, five Directors, like those Bonaparte had once deposed,
+are appointed. They call themselves a provisional government.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_530">[530]</span>But when they proceed to elect from among their own number
+one to function as president of the Directory, who is chosen
+to take over the authority from Napoleon’s hands? Who, by
+his own vote, has decided his own choice as president?</p>
+
+<p>Fouché.</p>
+
+<p>But the Chamber has become less turbulent. Those who,
+yesterday, were thirsting for Napoleon’s blood, to-day send a
+deputation to thank him for his abdication. To these polite
+gentlemen the Emperor says: “I fear things will turn out badly,
+now that there is no head. I trust France will never forget
+that my sole object in abdicating was to promote the welfare
+of the nation, and that I have abdicated in favour of my son.
+Only under my dynasty, will France remain free and happy.”</p>
+
+<p>At the very time when he is saying this, Fouché and the
+others are considering the possibility of having one of the
+Orleanist Bourbons, a member of the Brunswick family, or even
+the king of Saxony, as Napoleon’s successor. Moreover, the
+five Directors are appointed to form a government, not a
+regency; and, in his decrees, Fouché often speaks of the nation,
+but never of Napoleon II. The Emperor notes all this, but
+holds his peace. Slowly his dream of a dynasty vanishes, the
+dream for whose realisation he has fought half a lifetime. It
+has become for ever unattainable. When Lavalette comes to
+see him in the evening, he is in a hot bath, has been there for
+several hours.</p>
+
+<p>“Where am I going? Why not to America?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because Moreau went there.”</p>
+
+<p>To the Emperor this answer seems surcharged with emotion,
+for he has serious thoughts of seeking an asylum in the United
+States, and he asks the government for a frigate. But the only
+answer is a request that he should leave Paris, for crowds are
+flocking round the Elysée, clamouring for a dictatorship. He
+burns a number of documents, and then betakes himself to
+Malmaison.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_531">[531]</span></p>
+
+<p>In the garden there, the garden that is full of memories of
+Josephine, he passes two whole days in a state of reverie. The
+few who remain faithful to him are there: his mother, Hortense,
+Caulaincourt, Lavalette, Lucien, even Joseph. But when the
+Emperor asks who will go with him, the answers are evasive.
+Letizia, indeed, will go gladly, but he thinks that at her
+age it would be dangerous. Lavalette has a daughter growing
+up, and his wife is expecting another child; perhaps he will
+follow later. Drouot, who shared the Elba exile, is wanted in
+France. The secretary had promised the day before to accompany
+Napoleon into exile, but now his mother, who is blind,
+has implored him not to leave her. “You are right; you must
+stay with your mother,” says the Emperor, turning away.</p>
+
+<p>Pauline, before the last campaign, had pressed her jewels
+on him; now Hortense offers him a diamond necklace; a quixotic
+return of imperial gifts, a gesture suitable to the strange turn
+in his fortunes. He tells Hortense she will have a million, but
+no one knows if it will ever be paid. Lucien and Eugene get
+money, and he gives little Léon something for his mother—still
+dealing in hundreds of thousands.</p>
+
+<p>But he does all these things like a man in a dream. He does
+not say a word about the last few weeks, but talks only of old
+times, and chiefly of Josephine. “I have promised the minister
+to go away. I shall start to-night. I am weary of myself,
+of France, and of Paris. Make your preparations.”</p>
+
+<p>Whither away? Conjectures, deliberations. Spectral is the
+tone of the manifesto he now addresses to the army:</p>
+
+<p>“Soldiers!... I am with you even though I am away. I
+know every corps. If any one wins a victory, I shall approve
+his courage.... Show, in days to come, that, before all, you
+serve your country, show it by obeying me; and show that I
+have earned your affection (if indeed I have earned it) by my
+ardent love for our common mother. One more storm, and the
+coalition will be shattered! Napoleon will know you by the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_532">[532]</span>blows that you deal out. Save the honour and the liberty of
+the French. Be what you have been for twenty years, and you
+will be unconquerable!”</p>
+
+<p>The government suppresses the document, but could have
+published it without risk. No one could be more aloof, no living
+man could have become more completely a part of history, than
+this man who speaks of himself as if he were speaking of a
+stranger. He seems to be no longer present in the flesh.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he is startled! The old sounds assail his ears.
+The noise of cannon shots reaches him from the plain of Saint-Denis;
+the foe is at the gates. Officers and soldiers, scarred
+and tattered, but hastily patched up, bring him the news, vague
+and dispersed like the sound of the firing. Instantly he returns
+to life. “In two detachments? You must attack and
+defeat them separately; first one and then the other.” At night
+he elaborates a plan for the defence of Paris. Next morning it
+seems as if the familiar sounds had rejuvenated him, and he
+writes to the five Directors as General Bonaparte had written
+of old:</p>
+
+<p>“I offer to place myself at the head of the army. At sight
+of me, the soldiers will recover their courage, hurl themselves
+on the foe, and punish him. I pledge you my word as general,
+soldier, and citizen that I will not retain the command an hour
+after the victory has been won. I vow to conquer, not for
+myself but for France.”</p>
+
+<p>It is impossible that after such words he should fail to
+conquer, unless he is slain in the first onslaught. In this mood
+of impending death, he writes his magnificent letter. Napoleon,
+in the garden, surrounded by his remaining officers,
+restlessly awaits the answer.</p>
+
+<p>Fouché’s great moment has come. To this ex-master of his,
+to the man whom he so cordially detests, he does not even vouchsafe
+a written answer. The Emperor, who is trembling with
+eagerness to take up arms, and who has never since he grew to
+full manhood had to wait for another man’s permission, tears
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_533">[533]</span>the response out of the returning messenger. It is curt: The
+Emperor is mistaken if he thinks the members of the government
+are such fools as to entertain his proposal; all they ask
+is that he should go away as soon as possible. Napoleon says
+bitterly: “I ought to have hanged him long ago. Now I must
+leave the job to the Bourbons.”</p>
+
+<p>Mufti; a rapid gathering together of necessaries; Hortense
+sews her necklace for him into a black silk belt. For a few
+minutes he entertains the thought of Corsica, with Lucien as
+governor of the island. His mother’s eyes sparkle. But he
+knows that the scheme is impracticable. America is his last
+resource. The only thing lacking is the frigate for which he
+has been asking. All are aware that every hour increases the
+risk to his liberty. It is said that Wellington has demanded
+his surrender, and the number of the deputies in favour of his
+being handed over is steadily increasing. Lavalette urges him
+to start, but the Emperor is stubborn.</p>
+
+<p>“I cannot leave without an order from the government to the
+captain.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why not, Sire? Have the anchor weighed, promise the
+crew money, send the captain ashore if he won’t set sail. You
+may be sure that Fouché has already promised to hand you
+over to the allies.”</p>
+
+<p>“Drive to the Minister for the Navy!”</p>
+
+<p>The councillor drives to Decrès’, and finds him in bed.
+Decrès refers the messenger to Fouché, saying: “I can do
+nothing.”</p>
+
+<p>Fouché cannot be found. The councillor gets back to
+Malmaison at one in the morning. The Emperor is awakened,
+gets up, still thinks the United States will be best, but hesitates.
+“Over there, they will grant me land, or I will buy an estate
+and till it. I shall end where mankind began. I shall live upon
+the produce of my fields and my herds.”</p>
+
+<p>“But what if they propose to hand you over?” enquires the
+secretary.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_534">[534]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Then I shall go to Mexico. There I shall find patriots at
+whose head I can place myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“The leaders there might turn against you.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right; I shall leave them and go to Caracas. If I don’t
+like it, I shall go on to Buenos Ayres or to California. I shall
+sail across the seas until I find a city of refuge where I can
+be safe from the persecutions of my fellows.”</p>
+
+<p>“But what if the English catch you, Sire?”</p>
+
+<p>“I must risk that. A bad government, but a great nation,
+noble and generous. England will treat me properly. Besides,
+there is no choice. Am I to allow myself, like a ninny, to be
+taken prisoner here by Wellington, to be led in triumph through
+the streets of London like King John the Good of old? Since
+they have no use for my services here, I must go elsewhere.
+Ability will do the rest.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Majesty was not made for flight.”</p>
+
+<p>“Flight! What are you talking about?” He looks at the
+secretary “questioningly and proudly.”</p>
+
+<p>“The English must certainly be on the watch for you already.
+Your end ought to be the worthiest possible.”</p>
+
+<p>“Suicide, like Hannibal? Leave that to weaklings and persons
+of disordered mind! Whatever fate may hold in store for
+me, I would never deliberately shorten my life by a single
+day.”</p>
+
+<p>“I did not mean that, Sire. But what if you were to hand
+over liberty and life to the enemies of France in order to save
+France? That is how Napoleon the Great should act.”</p>
+
+<p>“All very fine, but to whom am I to hand myself over? To
+Blücher? To Wellington? They have no plenipotentiary
+powers. They would simply take me prisoner, and do what
+they pleased with France and with me.”</p>
+
+<p>“The tsar, perhaps?”</p>
+
+<p>“You do not know the Russians! Still, I will think the
+matter over. To sacrifice my own person would be easy
+enough. The question is, whether it would help France?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_535">[535]</span></p>
+
+<p>Almost every element that goes to make the statesman seems
+to have been eliminated from this all-too-human dialogue.
+Here is an adventurer hankering after fresh voyages in every
+corner of the world. Here is the man without a country, the
+ocean traveller without any earth under his feet, always on
+board, always driven hither and thither, a bold pirate fearless
+of death. Ay, fearless of death! The dry manner in which,
+once again, he waves aside the idea of suicide, the sober realism
+of his outlook, this grasp at the flying moment, the old-time
+dauntlessness of the islesman—what unconquerable vital
+energy!</p>
+
+<p>Now he is to start. The last person with whom the Emperor
+has a quiet talk is his mother. But a soldier rushes in; he will
+not let any hold him back: the soldier is Talma. The call of
+his heart and his love of the tragical have urged him to come
+for a great farewell; he feels he must be there. Later he is to
+represent this leave-taking between mother and son, in all its
+dignified simplicity, in a pathetic scene on the stage. Then
+the Emperor invites young General Gourgaud, the scatter-brained
+idealist, into his dilapidated carriage. Bertrand and
+his wife, who had lived with him in Elba, and two others, accompany
+him. They drive to Rochefort, to the port where they
+hope to find a frigate. The pace is too slow for a fugitive.
+He still looks over his shoulder, listening for the call which shall
+summon him back at the eleventh hour. They meet two regiments
+marching northward. The men raise a cheer, and the
+Emperor discusses with the generals the possibility of overthrowing
+the government if he places himself at their head and
+marches on Paris.... Away again, at length the long drive
+is over, and he stands gazing at the Atlantic Ocean. Joseph is
+there, and urges Napoleon to charter a brig which is taking a
+cargo of spirits to America. The Emperor assumes the name
+of Muiron, his seventh name. This name calls up the vision of
+another coast, the Mediterranean with its many isles, and
+Corsica, and then Italy; and again he sees the young, small,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_536">[536]</span>lean general, with long hair falling on his shoulders and cold
+grey-blue eyes, and the bridge of Arcola where the fate of a
+man and a country hung in the balance; and he sees Lieutenant
+Muiron fling himself before the young general in the mêlée, he
+sees Muiron fall, and he knows that by this love-death the lieutenant’s
+name will be immortalised. It would seem that once
+again a new epoch is opening before the genius of energy, and
+that across the seas, in new zones, on uninhabited prairies, the
+adventurer will swing himself into the saddle, will watch the
+increase of his herds; maybe, even, will travel to Mexico and
+become the leader of a band of rebels!</p>
+
+<p>But God is wiser.</p>
+
+<p>He sees to it that this great life shall have an epilogue such
+as no man has ever lived through before, an epilogue which
+shall fitly round off its tragical poesy. Once more the Almighty
+stifles the adventurous impulse in the soul of Napoleon;
+once more there are days of questioning, negotiation, vacillation—ten
+days before the final decision.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor crosses to a small island. They think of
+chartering two fishing smacks which the English will never
+dream of searching for Napoleon; but in the end he rejects
+the plan. There are two American ships available. Negotiations
+are entered into with a Danish sloop. Enthusiastic youths
+from the naval training school propose to carry him off in an
+advice-boat. Sixteen midshipmen will spirit him out of the
+harbour at dead of night. They sit packed together in the
+little room, feverishly discussing the plan with Las Cases, the
+Emperor’s new confidant. The man to whom this madcap venture
+is proposed, talks over the situation coolly with his companions,
+asking each in turn for an opinion as to the best
+course. Most of them advise a return to the army, for there
+are still good prospects that the soldiers in the south will support
+him. He emphatically refuses:</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing will induce me to light up a civil war. I will have
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_537">[537]</span>no more to do with politics; I need repose; I shall go to
+America!”</p>
+
+<p>But his self-respect makes him shrink from the thought of
+escaping in disguise.</p>
+
+<p>News comes that the Bourbon has re-entered the land of his
+fathers, once more under the protection of allied troops. The
+path of escape seaward is now blocked by an English cruiser
+which bears the ominous name of “Bellerophon.” The Emperor
+has missed his chance. Here are his thoughts: “A return
+to Paris is impossible. The port is blockaded. Shall I allow
+myself to be seized like a pirate, and taken in chains to London?
+England has been my foe for twenty years. Next to
+the French, the English nation is the greatest and the most
+distinguished in the world. Have I not been an Emperor?
+Has not, from of old, chivalry toward a fallen enemy aroused
+universal admiration? In Corsica, they knife any one who
+violates the rights of hospitality.”</p>
+
+<p>Making up his mind, he dictates the following letter to the
+prince regent:</p>
+
+<p>“Your Royal Highness, Exposed to the factions which distract
+my country and to the enmity of the greatest powers of
+Europe, I have closed my political career, and I come, like
+Themistocles, to throw myself upon the hospitality of the
+British people. I put myself under the protection of their
+laws, and beg Your Royal Highness, as the most powerful, the
+most persistent, and the most generous of my enemies, to grant
+me this protection. Napoleon.”</p>
+
+<p>Eight lines, three words of respect, neither arrogance nor
+humility, almost courtly. There is, however, one word which
+embodies the pathos of the step he is taking, and assumes that
+his adversary will give moral guarantees; that in this century,
+after such a life, Napoleon will be as welcome a guest in the
+enemy land, as of old in Persia had been—Themistocles. It is
+overwhelming self-confidence, based upon historical parallels,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_538">[538]</span>which determines the last great step of his career, as, in youth,
+it had determined his first advances to Paoli. Now, this self-confidence
+will be his ruin.</p>
+
+<p>Next day, Las Cases hands the letter to the captain of the
+“Bellerophon,” and negotiates with Maitland for Napoleon’s
+reception on board. Admiral Hotham, Maitland’s immediate
+superior, was not a party to the negotiations, but had long
+since received orders to seize the fugitive if possible. In accordance
+with international law, this was quite in order, for
+England, with the other powers in Vienna, had decreed Napoleon’s
+outlawry. But it is an undisputed fact that Captain
+Maitland, supreme on his own ship, guaranteed his guest’s
+liberty, saying: “Napoleon will receive all proper attention in
+England. Our people are generous and democratic.”</p>
+
+<p>No record was taken at the time of the terms of the understanding
+in accordance with which the man who had been the
+master of Europe went on board one of his enemy’s ships.
+Nevertheless, it was not an affair of hours, but, rather, of days;
+not the outcome of haste and desperation, but the logical conclusion
+of a long chain of reasoning. Napoleon’s own experience
+of the last twenty years had shown him that verbal agreements
+are untrustworthy, whereas written agreements are comparatively
+reliable. Yet he takes this last step, one of profound
+historical significance, without any written document
+having been signed, sealed, and delivered. In truth, he cannot
+await an answer from London. He trusts, however, not in the
+mere word of a captain in the navy, but in the moral effect of
+what he is doing. That is why, just before going on board
+the “Bellerophon,” he writes the above-quoted heroic lines, addressed
+to the ruler of the land in which he seeks hospitality,
+and the supreme commander of all its navies.</p>
+
+<p>Then, in uniform, Napoleon boards the British vessel.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_539">[539]</span></p>
+
+<h3>XX</h3>
+
+<p>Maitland stands on the quarter-deck. Napoleon raises his
+hat, a thing he has not always done to greet princes, and addresses
+the captain as follows: “I come to place myself under
+the protection of your king and your laws.” The British naval
+officers are introduced to him, and he asks about the sea-fights
+in which they have been engaged. Then, with the detachment
+of a man discussing ancient history, he talks about the English
+navy and the French, says that the English sailors are
+cleaner and more efficient, and argues with his host about certain
+punishments customary in the navy after a fight. Then
+he passes to generalities:</p>
+
+<p>“I really cannot understand why your ships have defeated
+our French vessels so easily. The best of them were ours to
+begin with. A French ship is stronger in every respect than
+an English vessel of the same type. It has more and heavier
+guns, a larger complement.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have already explained that to you, Sir. Our seamen
+have had more experience than yours.”</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon does not move an eyelash. The conversation remains
+strictly academic; they talk of the nautical science of
+their respective countries.</p>
+
+<p>“If you had tried to escape in a French frigate,” says Maitland,
+“you would have seen for yourself how well we can shoot.”</p>
+
+<p>No repining! Here stands a gamester who has lost the
+game. All that the Emperor troubles to dispute is Maitland’s
+contention that two frigates with a few twenty-four pounders
+could not possibly have got the better of the “Bellerophon,”
+which carried seventy-four heavy guns. The captain proves
+that it would have been impossible. Napoleon examines the
+ship’s guns, praises what he sees, but has some criticisms to
+make here and there. Maitland declares afterwards, when
+alone with his own people, that he has been amazed by the
+extent of the Emperor’s technical knowledge.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_540">[540]</span></p>
+
+<p>The ship puts out to sea.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the legitimate ministers and kings are discussing
+their course. Not a single member of this circle proves great
+enough to advise a great gesture, before Europe and before
+history. Ten days after leaving the roads of Rochefort, the
+“Bellerophon” anchors in Plymouth harbour. It is a fine morning
+in the end of July, and the water is thronged with rowing
+boats full of people anxious to catch a glimpse of the caged
+lion. Since no decision has yet arrived from London, civilian
+visitors are not allowed on board. But it is a great time for
+the crew. They can see Napoleon every day, and he converses
+with any of them that are able to speak French. The gaping
+crowds in the boats are the thousands who for twenty years
+past have heard nothing but abuse and mockery of “Boney”;
+have seen numberless caricatures of him, depicted as a hideous
+monster. Now, they are all animated with the same curiosity;
+they all want to feast their eyes upon this dread spectre.</p>
+
+<p>For the most part, Napoleon stays in his cabin. He does
+not want to become a raree-show. A few days’ patience, and
+he will be able to go ashore, and live where he pleases. At
+length, however, feeling the need for fresh air, he comes up the
+gangway and mounts the poop. There he stands, the great
+defeated foe, in his old world-famous green coat; defenceless.
+Thousands of eyes instantly converge on him, so that it seems
+as if he must be consumed in their fire.</p>
+
+<p>But the man with the simple, impenetrable countenance, who
+is thus pilloried, must radiate an aura of dignity and suffering,
+for an extraordinary thing happens. Thousands of heads are
+bared. As far as Napoleon’s gaze can reach, on the boats, the
+ships, throughout the harbour, not a man remains covered.
+The greeting is universal, but for one exception. Only one man
+among all those onlookers keeps his three-cornered hat on his
+head. It seems as if the whole nation were willing to pay the
+Emperor the homage which a pettifogging captain withheld.</p>
+
+<p>Such was the judgment of the British nation, which in this
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_541">[541]</span>tense moment cleared itself from all the contumely so soon to
+be heaped upon its name. The waiting lasted three days. On
+the fourth, British officers entered the Emperor’s cabin, and
+laid before him a paper containing the government’s decision.
+No direct answer had come from the prince regent.</p>
+
+<p>The document was to the effect that it would not be consistent
+with the government’s duties towards England and her
+allies to allow General Bonaparte any further opportunity of
+disturbing the peace of Europe, and it would therefore be
+necessary to restrain his liberty to “whatever extent may be
+necessary for securing that first and paramount object.” St.
+Helena would be his place of residence, as it was healthy, and
+would admit of a smaller degree of restraint than might be
+necessary elsewhere. He could take with him three officers, a
+physician, and twelve servants.</p>
+
+<p>Such was the reply of the modern Xerxes.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon, we are told, “laid the paper on the table, and,
+after a pause, began to protest in vigorous terms.” He said:</p>
+
+<p>“I am not a prisoner of war!... I came on board the
+‘Bellerophon’ of my own free will, after previous negotiation
+with the commander. I threw myself on your protection, and
+claimed the rights of hospitality. The tricolour was still waving
+over Rochefort and Bordeaux. I might have gone back to
+the army; or might for years have lived secretly among the
+people, who were devoted to me.</p>
+
+<p>“Instead, I came to this country as a private person. I
+asked the commander of one of your warships whether he was
+disposed to take me and my train to England. He told me he
+had orders to this effect from his government. If I have fallen
+into a trap, your government has acted dishonourably and has
+dishonoured your flag.... St. Helena will kill me in three
+months. I am used to riding twenty leagues a day. What can
+I do on a little rock at the world’s end? I will not go!... If
+your government wishes to kill me, that can be done here....
+I gave the prince regent an opportunity of performing the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_542">[542]</span>finest action of his life. I have been the greatest of his country’s
+foes, and I paid you the highest compliment in the world
+by voluntarily entrusting myself to your protection....
+What you are proposing will be an everlasting disgrace to the
+whole British nation!”</p>
+
+<p>The most characteristic point in this protest, which he renews
+in writing, is the moral indignation with which it thrills.
+International law is but lightly touched upon, for what he
+claims is a hero’s right. Such were the words spoken in the
+heat of the moment, in that small cabin, to the officers who had
+brought him notice of his doom, and who subsequently recorded
+them for posterity. Though spoken in haste, they have a historical
+ring and some of the sentences are modelled for imperishability.
+A soul has been wounded, a soul that is mourning,
+not so much on account of its own loss of freedom, as
+because the world fails to recognise greatness.</p>
+
+<p>Thus, in the first moment of his doom, he recognises that
+which, a century later, cannot be more profoundly expressed
+by the great grandchildren of the men of those days, who have
+been brought up on contemplation of the legend of Napoleon’s
+career. Themistocles feels that he has been betrayed. Once
+again, one of these legitimate princes has failed to seize the
+opportunity of performing the finest action of his life. A man
+void of imagination, a weakling in possession of brute force, he
+crushed the great and splendid thing which has fallen into his
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>But from under the brutal pressure of this fist, the spirit of
+what he is crushing rises in a tenuous column. He upon whom
+the doom is enforced has acquired a power over himself, a
+power which sustains him in his powerlessness—stoicism. After
+the first outbreak, he bears the injustice with indomitable firmness,
+enduring for ten days the indignity of his position at Plymouth,
+and unruffled while England seizes his baggage and his
+money.</p>
+
+<p>In due course, the Emperor and his companions were transferred
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_543">[543]</span>to the “Northumberland,” which set sail for St. Helena.
+It was on an August morning that, for the last time, Napoleon
+set eyes on the coast of France, looming through the mist. But
+what did he care about the coast? The centre of his interest
+lay many miles to the eastward—Paris, which he had wooed
+more hotly than all the rest of the world, Paris, which had rejected
+his suit.</p>
+
+<p>By evening, he loses sight of Europe, which he has ruled.
+Darkling is the sea, which he has never been able to rule. He
+stands in the bows, not looking backwards, nor forwards either.
+As on the voyage to Egypt, he looks upwards towards the
+stars. He is seeking his own star.</p>
+
+<p>A great saga is drawing to its close.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_544">[544]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_545">[545]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_FIVE">BOOK FIVE<br>
+THE ROCK</h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_546">[546]</span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">On Judgment Day, before God’s throne,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">There stood at last, Napoleon.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">The Devil had his list begun</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Of crimes the Bonapartes had done,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">When God the Father, or God the Son,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Cut Satan short before God’s throne:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">“Don’t bore us all to death with reading</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">A German professorial pleading!</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">If you’re bold enough to face him,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">In your kingdom you may place him.”</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse right">—<span class="smcap">Goethe.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_547">[547]</span></p>
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+<p>The sea spreads out into the vast distance. It is like a
+mirror of steel. The man on the rock, hands clasped behind,
+stares across the watery plain. He is lonely, so lonely.</p>
+
+<p>One looking at him from a distance would see a fat
+man with short legs, a man of uncertain age. He is wearing
+a green coat, decorated with the star of the Legion of Honour;
+silk stockings; three-cornered hat in his hands. The head is
+large; the brownish hair makes a bush at the back; there is no
+sign of whitening. The short neck springs from powerful
+shoulders. The features are as if hewn out of stone, with a
+yellowish tint, like the marble of an ancient statue that has
+been darkened in the course of the ages; no wrinkles, but the
+classical profile is somewhat marred by the heaviness of the
+chin. The only beautiful features are the nose and the teeth.
+These last are perfect, and he has never lost a tooth. His
+hands, too, are beautiful. All through his campaigns he was
+scrupulous in his care for them; and, when correcting the letters
+and despatches he dictated, he generally used a pencil in
+order that he might avoid staining his fingers with ink.</p>
+
+<p>The doctors have told us a good deal about his physical
+condition. “Pulse never more frequent than 62; bosom well
+padded, almost like a woman’s, and with very little hair; partes
+viriles exiguitates insignis sicut pueri.” He himself knows
+much about his body, he has studied his battle-field of his life
+in order that here, likewise, he may utilise his forces to the
+best advantage.</p>
+
+<p>“I have never yet heard my own heart beating; it is almost
+as if I had none,” he says, half seriously. Moderation, he
+assures us, is the secret of his amazing faculty for work. “Nature
+has bestowed on me two valuable gifts: the capacity for
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_548">[548]</span>sleeping whenever I want to; and the incapacity for committing
+excesses in drinking and eating.... However little a man may
+eat, he always eats too much. One can get ill from over-eating,
+but never from under-eating.” The alternation between
+campaigning and sedentary life enables him again and again to
+escape from the air of the study, and to fortify his constitution
+by long rides and drives. “Water, air, and cleanliness are my
+favourite medicines.”</p>
+
+<p>With a body thus steeled, he can drive without stopping from
+Tilsit to Dresden, nearly five hundred miles, and be quite fresh
+at the journey’s end: can ride fifty miles from Vienna to
+Semmering, breakfast there, and be back at work in Schönbrunn
+the same evening; can gallop in five hours from Valladolid to
+Burgos, a distance of about eighty miles. After long rides and
+marches through Poland, he reaches Warsaw at midnight and
+receives the new authorities at seven next morning. These are
+the excesses he practises to restore the balance of his natural
+forces. After a long spell of sedentary life, he will start off on
+a ride of seven days, or will go out shooting for the whole day;
+after great exertions, he will keep his room for twenty-four
+hours. He believes that his energy has saved his life. He says
+to Metternich: “Sometimes death only comes from lack of
+energy. Yesterday, when I was thrown out of my carriage, I
+thought I was done for. But I had just time to say to myself
+that I would not die. Any one else in my place would have
+been killed.”</p>
+
+<p>His muscles are powerful, but his nerves are sensitive. Accustomed
+to command, he cannot endure anything in the nature
+of compulsion. If his coat is at all tight, he tears it off; the
+same with shoes that pinch him in the slightest. On these
+occasions, he will box his servants’ ears. If he has to wear
+court dress, they watch out while they help him on with his
+coat. When his mind is busy (when is it not?) he will push
+away his breakfast, jump up from his chair, and stride about,
+talking, issuing orders. His handwriting is nothing more than
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_549">[549]</span>a series of violent contractions of the hand which cannot keep
+up with the furious pace of his thoughts; a sort of involuntary
+shorthand, which in places has not been deciphered after a
+hundred years of study. He cannot endure the smell of paint
+or size; he always masks unpleasant odours by using eau-de-Cologne.
+If his nerves are utterly exhausted, he soothes them
+in a hot bath. When the war with England broke out, he
+worked continuously, with four secretaries, for three days and
+three nights, and then spent six hours in his bath dictating
+dispatches. This nervous irritability is the antithesis of his
+slow circulation. He thinks that, the constitution of his nerves
+being what it is, he would be in danger of going mad, “if it
+were not that my blood works so slowly.”</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp59" id="illus18" style="max-width: 29.6875em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus18.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>Napoleon as Emperor in 1815. Engraving by Robert Lefèvre,
+    after a painting by Muneret.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>But there is no evidence at all that his nervousness ever rose
+to the pitch of convulsions, that he suffered from epilepsy.
+This illness usually begins in childhood, and none of his schoolmates
+have reported that he had fits. Never was any one’s
+life more closely watched than Napoleon’s; and the documents
+upon which the assertion that he was an epileptic is based are
+scanty, confused, and untrustworthy.</p>
+
+<p>As long as his body remained healthy, he was able to endure
+all the tensions and shocks to which he was exposed. It was
+when he was approaching forty that he began to show the first
+symptoms of a stomach trouble which was in those days summarily
+diagnosed as cancerous. Beyond questions, the tendency
+to it was inherited. During the last three years of warfare, he
+was put out of action in decisive hours by paroxysms of gastric
+spasm. His courage and resolution were practically unimpaired;
+had it not been for these attacks, the history of his
+decline would have been different.</p>
+
+<h3>II</h3>
+
+<p>The soul which governed this body was driven forward by
+three fundamental powers:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_550">[550]</span></p>
+
+<p>Self-confidence, energy, imagination.</p>
+
+<p>“I am not as other men; the laws of morality and convention
+cannot be applied to me.” In these cold words, he emphasises
+the “I” with which he began his first political writing in the
+days of his youth. They are a plain acknowledgment of a
+fact, by a man of thirty to whom nothing is more alien than
+vanity. “I alone, because of my position, know what government
+is,” he said when he was Consul. “I am persuaded that
+no one save myself could govern France at this moment. Were
+I to die, it would be a great misfortune for the nation.” He
+utters such words seldom, and only when he is with an intimate;
+but these sayings show with what scientific aloofness he could
+contemplate the phenomenon, Napoleon. When, during the
+Russian disaster, he was asked who in spite of all would defend
+him in France, he replied: “My name.”</p>
+
+<p>His contemporaries and posterity have held this fundamental
+feeling to be ambition. That view is mistaken. Common ambition
+distinguishes itself from Napoleon’s self-confidence as a
+restless, climbing animal does from a bird of prey whose free
+flight, by a law of nature, assumes wider and wider circles as it
+swings heavenwards. Napoleon’s aspiration is neither restless
+nor envious: it is nothing but his natural disposition which, as
+Consul, he once charmingly explained to his friend Roederer:</p>
+
+<p>“I have no ambition whatever; or if I have, then it is so inborn,
+so intimately knit up with my very life, that it is as the
+blood in my veins. It does not incite me to outstrip my associates....
+I have never had to fight for or against it; it
+does not urge me to greater speed than is natural to me, it
+comes out only when circumstances and my ideas demand.”</p>
+
+<p>Already in the days when he was a general, ideas and circumstances
+forced upon him the conviction that he was the
+man predestined to rebuild France. It is nothing other than
+the conviction of his mission which makes him say to Roederer:
+“Circumstances have changed. I am now one of those who
+found States, not one of those who ruin States.” Another time,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_551">[551]</span>he speaks of Corneille, but he means himself when he says:
+“Whence did this man acquire his antique greatness? From
+himself, from his soul? Very well. Do you know what that is
+called, My Lord Cardinal? It is called genius. Genius is a
+flame, which comes from heaven, but seldom finds a head ready
+to receive it. Corneille is a man whom the world has recognised.”
+When his interlocutor observed that the poet had not
+seen the flame, so how could he recognise it, the Emperor answered
+scornfully: “Precisely for that reason I consider he is a
+great man!”</p>
+
+<p>He thus, indirectly by anticipation, announces his own genius
+to the world, just as Goethe had announced his own.</p>
+
+<p>The will-to-power, not as an endeavour or even as a question,
+but, rather, as simplicity, dwells within him close at hand. He
+calls interest the key to ordinary deeds; the will to govern the
+intellect, he describes as the strongest of all the passions: and
+the artistic urge of genius, he depicts in the following words:
+“I love power, yes, I love it, but after the manner of an artist:
+as a fiddler loves his fiddle in order to conjure from it tone,
+chords, harmonies.”</p>
+
+<p>That is why it is his nature to command. “Wherever I may
+be, I command, or else I keep silence.” He might have added:
+“I negotiate,” for he had spent a quarter of his time in negotiating.
+Even as a young general of twenty-seven, he aroused
+the respect of all who came in contact with him. He never
+learned to obey; but to command came to him naturally at the
+very outset, just as a calf stands and walks in the first hour
+of its life. Because this power of commanding comes so naturally,
+he never acquires the art of asking; because he can command
+as no other, he is denied the gift of being able to ask
+favours.</p>
+
+<p>His self-confidence confers on him a natural dignity that
+amazes and angers the legitimist world, which believes dignity
+to be consonant only with heredity and culture. The friends
+of his youth stand embarrassed when they recognise him as
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_552">[552]</span>their commander in the field and yet realise the solitude which
+his position as leader entails. All his companions-in-arms speak
+of him with spontaneous homage. One of his intimates writes:
+“When he speaks, every one listens, for he speaks as an expert;
+if he is silent, his silence is respected; and no one would venture
+to say that he was silent because of ill humour. We all felt
+that between him and us there lived a great thought which was
+wholly occupying his mind and forbade familiar accost.” This
+statement is all the more surprising since it was made during a
+campaign, when tent life usually breaks down barriers. With
+absolute ingenuousness he once said, while playing and chatting
+with friends at Malmaison: “I have no sense of the ridiculous.
+Power is never ridiculous.”</p>
+
+<p>An adept at analysis, the greatest psychologist of his epoch,
+he knows all about his own qualities, and is therefore able, by
+degrees, to elaborate these instincts into principles. “The
+goodness of a king,” he informs his brother Louis, King of
+Holland, “must always bear a regal stamp and must never be
+monkish.... The love which a king inspires should invariably
+be a manly love, wedded to reverence, fear, and esteem. If
+people speak of him as ‘a good man,’ his rule is a failure.”
+This love and fear which he himself inspires has the greatest
+practical results.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, the dignity which holds people at a distance is
+not assumed, for a leading element in it is a bewildering naturalness,
+which grows with the years and with his successes. His
+unsophisticated and frank realism, the sterling simplicity of
+his character, shows itself in a hundred gestures and words,
+and in the freshness with which he repeatedly makes fun of his
+own ardency. He expresses this in a profound saying: “A
+truly great man will rise superior to the events which he himself
+has brought about.” The greatest successes, whose fateful
+origin and consequences he fully grasps, he sums up to his
+intimates in a schoolboy’s laugh. Many have reported this,
+for between the boisterous gaiety of a soldier and the most
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_553">[553]</span>delicate curl of the lip are many shades of good humour; he
+possesses all.</p>
+
+<p>On the eve of his coronation he exclaims: “Is the result not
+truly delightful, to be named brother by the kings?” Or he
+sends his ambassador to St. Petersburg with the words: “Our
+brother in Russia is fond of luxury and festivity. Very well,
+then, give him his fill of them!” Sometimes his simplicity of
+manner infringes etiquette, and the legitimists blanch: “When
+I was an insignificant lieutenant,” he begins once at table with
+the kings in Dresden. General consternation! Every one
+gazes into his plate. Napoleon clears his throat: “When I had
+the honour of serving as lieutenant in the second artillery regiment
+at Valence....” Or he is sitting with the tsar in
+Tilsit, and, since he is ever eager to learn, he asks off-handedly
+across the table: “How much does your tax on sugar bring in
+yearly?” We are told that this question places all present in
+a state of grave embarrassment. Why? Because, as a big
+man of business, he calls money by its name; whereas the kings
+never mention it by name, though they are glad enough to reap
+the harvest!</p>
+
+<p>Since he was not vain, he knew when he had made mistakes.
+His whole life long he was in the habit of saying that next day
+he might lose a battle; he frequently consulted his friends and his
+experts, and was inspired with the feeling of God-given necessity.
+How well Napoleon could bear to be told the truth, we
+can learn from Marmont—who, when he praises, is one of the
+most trustworthy of witnesses, for he wrote his memoirs long
+after the Emperor had publicly stigmatised him as a traitor.
+“Napoleon had a strong sense of justice, and would readily forgive
+an improper word or other sign of anger in one who had
+good grounds for complaint, provided of course he was alone
+with the offender.... He made kindly allowance for others’
+weaknesses and could never resist the appeal of well-grounded
+sorrow. One who chose time and place, could say anything to
+him. He was always willing to listen to the truth. Though it
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_554">[554]</span>did not invariably influence him, there was no danger in uttering
+it.”</p>
+
+<p>He saw through the wiles of flatterers, and they gained
+nothing from him. Byzantine bombast, devoid of political
+value, infuriated him. “How could you depict the French eagle
+tearing the English leopard to pieces, at a time when I cannot
+safely send even a fishing-smack out to sea? Break up your
+moulds instantly, and never show me anything of the kind
+again!”</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand, those who fearlessly speak the truth to
+him, impress him. He praises Chateaubriand, who has attacked
+him. In the days when he was Consul he was wont, after a
+sitting of the Council of State, to invite to dinner the man
+who had most vigorously opposed his wishes. In the Russian
+campaign, a captive general tells him some home truths about
+the burning of Moscow. Napoleon dismisses the prisoner in a
+rage; but presently has him recalled, and shakes the Russian’s
+hand, saying: “You are a brave man!” Méhul plays a trick
+on the Emperor, producing his new opera as the work of
+an Italian composer, and thus earning approbation. Paisiello
+also plays a trick by introducing into one of his own compositions
+an aria by Cimarosa, a composer whose work Bonaparte
+cannot endure. The Consul applauds; and when afterwards
+told of the deception, he only laughs.</p>
+
+<p>Madame de Staël has been a worry to him for fifteen years,
+voicing Europe’s call for freedom. He suppresses her books,
+banishes her from Paris, continues to take measures against
+her even when he is in Russia, speaks of her as the dangerous
+driving-wheel which sets the salons in motion; but he pays this
+enemy the high compliment of dreading her, and acknowledges
+as much in many of his private letters.</p>
+
+<p>In the Bavarian muster rolls, he comes across the name of a
+former regimental comrade, a declared royalist. He makes this
+man his military attaché. They have not met for fourteen
+years. Now, during the campaign, they meet, and the old companion
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_555">[555]</span>introduces himself. The Emperor rides with him out of
+the press, dismounts, and sits down on a convenient stone; the
+other wishes to hold his horse. “Let be,” says Napoleon;
+“that’s not your business,” and beckons a chasseur to take the
+bridle-rein. The Emperor promptly becomes reminiscent: “Do
+you remember how, at the lieutenants’ mess in Besançon, you
+flung your table napkin down and shouted: ‘I will not sit beside
+an officer who belongs to the Jacobin Club!’ That is ancient
+history, and is of no consequence now.” He beckons his
+attendant staff and points to his interlocutor, saying: “Look
+at this fellow. Ability of the old school. He and I worked at
+equations together.” Then, coming down to practical matters:
+“Have you plenty of ammunition? What is your artillery like?
+How soon will you be ready?”</p>
+
+<p>Unique, perhaps, in Napoleon’s life, is the scene at Erfurt in
+the year of 1813, when von Müller, the Weimar chancellor,
+braves his anger. Two privy councillors have written letters
+in cipher. These have been seized at the outposts. The writers
+have been arrested. Müller has been sent for. The Emperor
+has stormed at him, threatening to burn Jena, to shoot the
+culprits. Müller breaks in impetuously: “No, Sire, you will
+not commit this abomination! You will not tarnish your record
+for all time by shedding innocent blood!” In his excitement,
+the German presses so close that the Emperor anticipates a
+personal attack, and lays his hand on his sword-hilt. Müller
+is dragged back by a companion. A pause. “You are a bold
+man, but I see that you are a good friend. Berthier shall look
+into the matter once more.” The privy councillors are
+pardoned.</p>
+
+<p>This scene, creditable to both participants, is another proof
+of Napoleon’s invulnerable dignity. It is invulnerable, unless
+the arrow is poisoned. A sense of honour is the vulnerable
+point of self-confidence. “If the French people expects certain
+advantages from me,” said Bonaparte when First Consul, “it
+must put up with my weaknesses, and the chief of these is that
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_556">[556]</span>I cannot endure an affront.” It was he who said: “I am a man
+whom people may kill, but will not affront.” Bourrienne tells
+us that from Bonaparte’s earliest days he had no faith in law
+or morality, but always believed in honour. This compensated
+for his fundamental amoralism. The power exercised over him
+by his conception of honour distinguishes him absolutely from
+the condottieri of the Renaissance, with whom he ought never
+to have been compared. When he is Consul, betwixt night and
+morning he breaks off his intimacy with this very Bourrienne,
+who has been his private secretary for so long, because
+Bourrienne is involved in an unsavoury financial scandal. Years
+afterwards, he refuses to admit Bourrienne to the Legion of
+Honour, saying: “One who worships the golden calf may have
+money, but not honour.” When a bill signed by King Jerome
+goes to protest, Napoleon writes: “Sell your diamonds, your
+silver plate, your furniture, your horses—anything to pay
+your debts. Honour comes first!”</p>
+
+<p>He was so sensitive on this point that after his coronation
+he summoned to his presence a notary who had long before
+advised Josephine against marrying a person of doubtful character;
+Napoleon wished to rehabilitate himself in this man’s
+mind. In exile at St. Helena, he remembered how his German
+teacher in Brienne had always treated him with contempt: “I
+should very much like to know whether Herr Bauer ever learned
+how I made good!”</p>
+
+<p>He is a stickler for morality, just as he is for honour.
+“Nothing can be worse in a ruler than immorality. He makes
+it fashionable, and it poisons society.” Napoleon does not say
+this merely because he has been warned by the example of the
+Bourbons and the Directors. He has an inborn sense of
+decency, which is part of his dignity. No one has ever recorded
+having heard Napoleon, the soldier, tell an obscene story. Nor
+did he ever listen to one complacently. When he becomes First
+Consul, he forbids Josephine to have anything more to do with
+friends of hers who are leading gay lives. Years afterwards,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_557">[557]</span>when the empress allows Tallien to visit her, Napoleon writes
+to reprimand his wife, saying: “I can see no excuses for Tallien.
+I know that some poor devil has married her with her eight
+bastards, and I despise her even more than I did before. She
+was an amiable cocotte; now she is nothing more than a common
+woman.”</p>
+
+<p>Talleyrand, who has had a liaison for many years, is told
+that he must marry his inamorata or quit Napoleon’s service
+within twenty-four hours. Berthier is made a prince, but the
+same condition is imposed on him, Napoleon saying: “This passion
+of yours has lasted too long, and is becoming ridiculous.
+You are a man of fifty, but may live to be eighty, and these
+thirty years are left you for marriage.” The revolution had
+encouraged nudity in mythological representations, but Napoleon
+wants nakedness to be draped. When, in one of the
+squares there is set up a fountain where there is a group of
+naiads with water spouting from their breasts, he has “these
+wet-nurses” removed as improper, and decrees that “the naiads
+were virgins.” His own women friends must not make themselves
+conspicuous. He lavishes money on them; but if they are
+actresses, he does not allow his liaison to be used as a reason for
+promotion. On the other hand, like any bourgeois he boasts of
+sharing his wife’s bedroom, saying: “It has a remarkable influence
+upon conjugal life, strengthens the man’s influence,
+guarantees his faithfulness, promotes intimacy and good
+morals; a couple will never become estranged if they spend the
+whole night together. As long as Josephine and I kept this
+custom, she was familiar with all my thoughts.”</p>
+
+<p>One of the most sublime forms of his egotism is gratitude.
+This is not ordinary kindness, but the pride of a man who feels
+he is unique, and overwhelms with benefits any one who has ventured
+to be useful to him, lest he should possibly remain in the
+other’s debt. That was the consideration which really underlay
+his frequently declared policy, that he would never make
+use of any party, lest he should incur obligations. We must
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_558">[558]</span>not look upon these things in a romantic light. But it is an
+actual fact that he was not content to promote only the friends
+of his youth, his fellow-students at the military academy. As
+soon as he rose to power, he found for the priest who had been
+headmaster at Brienne a sinecure at Malmaison as librarian—without
+any books! The sometime school porter became lodge
+keeper at his country house. A young lady of noble birth to
+whom, in his lieutenant days, he had once paid court for a
+whole evening, and who sixteen years later applied for help to
+the Emperor, received what she wanted, together with a post
+for her brother, and a friendly letter. He remembered many of
+his former associates in his will. Years after his brief intimacy
+with “Giorgina,” when he hears that she is in difficulties
+(though she has made no application to him), he provides her
+with a competency.</p>
+
+<p>Hitherto we have been talking about money, or money’s
+worth. But the nature of his gratitude is different when he
+loves, as in the case of Josephine. When we consider his relationships
+with her, we realise the truth of Marmont’s tribute,
+which is all the more remarkable as coming from an enemy: “He
+had a grateful, kind, indeed affectionate, heart.” At the time
+of the coronation, he says to Roederer: “What right have I to
+put away a good wife merely because I have become a greater
+man than I was when we married?... Before all, I am a just
+man.” A little later, he writes to Josephine: “As far as I am
+concerned, I deem ingratitude the greatest weakness any one
+can have.”</p>
+
+<h3>III</h3>
+
+<p>Napoleon’s self-confidence, his self-esteem, his egotism, lies
+at the root of his wavering between revolution and legitimacy.
+Relying entirely upon himself, scorning all whose pride rests
+upon the accident of birth, he has nevertheless to take the
+egotism of others into account in so far as this egotism becomes
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_559">[559]</span>embodied in achievement. And yet he is constitutionally incapable
+of suffering others to be on an equal footing with himself.
+For his own sake he has to choose the most capable to
+fill administrative and other positions, and yet he has to please
+the masses: he must stand for equality of all, and at the same
+time bear the individual in mind. These contradictions give
+rise to a tragical conflict.</p>
+
+<p>Both the weapons he has chosen for his battle of life, namely,
+the spirit and the sword, he conceives of in a revolutionary
+sense. “Why is the French army the most dreaded in the
+world? Because the officers became émigrés; non-commissioned
+officers replaced them, and became generals. One can lead a
+people’s army with non-commissioned officers, for they have
+risen from the people.” For years, Napoleon refused to confer
+the grand cross of the Legion of Honour upon Metternich and
+Schwarzenberg. It was only after their gallant behaviour during
+the fire at Schwarzenberg’s mansion, that the Emperor relented,
+and conferred the decoration. The orders which his
+brother, the king of Holland, distributed with so lavish a hand,
+Napoleon would not allow to be worn in Paris. He sends his
+brother the following memorandum for kings:</p>
+
+<p>“How can one give this indelible mark of appreciation to a
+man one does not know, to a person who may before long prove
+to be a rogue? Learn to know those who gather round your
+throne! The wish to distribute decorations should not be
+gratified suddenly, as one can gratify a desire to go out for a
+day’s shooting. Noteworthy achievements must come first....
+You have as yet done nothing to deserve the honour of
+decorating others with your effigy....”</p>
+
+<p>His egotism makes him emphasise the advantage of the lack
+of any ancestry to an original or unusual person. When
+flatterers suggest that one of his Italian forebears should be
+canonised, he calls the suggestion an idiocy. Metternich lays
+before Napoleon an ancestral tree manufactured in Vienna
+from records of the Buonaparte family in Tuscany. The Emperor
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_560">[560]</span>says: “Take these papers away!” In the official gazette,
+Napoleon has the following notice inserted: “To all questions
+as to when the house of Bonaparte began, the answer is simple:
+on the Eighteenth Brumaire. How can one show so little tact
+and good breeding for all one owes the Emperor as to stress
+the question of his ancestry?” Once he is so angry because
+some one has contradicted him in this matter of his genealogy
+that he exclaims: “I shall not suffer any one to insult me by
+treating me as if I were a king!”</p>
+
+<p>Then come transitions in which the cleavage begins to show
+itself. “I shall be the Brutus of the kings and the Cæsar of
+the republic:” which saying is certainly ambiguous. “I know
+of no aristocracy but the rabble which I have allowed to escape;
+and of no rabble but the aristocracy which I have created:”
+here there is hardly any ambiguity. “Tacitus is praised because
+he made the tyrants fear the people—and that was a
+very bad thing for the people:” which is open to but one
+interpretation.</p>
+
+<p>No one, in the presence of such a man, can be satisfied with
+the facile assertion that Napoleon only pretended to believe in
+the principles of freedom until he attained to power, and then
+promptly betrayed them. On the contrary, we have here to do
+with a spiritual struggle. This is the one problem with which
+the self-confident man had to wrestle; a problem he never solved.</p>
+
+<p>“I am the man of the people: its pulse beats in unison with
+my own.... The aristocracy remains always aloof, and never
+forgives.” Such utterances show us the original trend of his
+character. Inasmuch as he overcomes this trend, never becomes
+an ideologue, but gets the better of his inborn sympathies,
+he is a statesman of genius. Of course it is ridiculous when he,
+who only rewards merit, decorates his baby son’s cradle with
+the grand cordon of the Legion of Honour; or again, when he
+has the deposed king of Spain, who addressed him as “cousin,”
+informed through the intermediation of Talleyrand that the
+Emperor must be addressed as “Sire.” These weaknesses are
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_561">[561]</span>grotesque, and yet they are superficial; he himself recognises
+them and spurns them if the mood is upon him. When he is
+hesitating whether he shall send Eugene, or perhaps better
+still Talleyrand (a man sprung from the old noblesse), to
+prepare the ground for the “imperial diet” at Erfurt, he suddenly,
+in virile fashion, ceases to bother about the question:
+“After all, what does it matter to me whether I am criticised?
+I will show them that I do not care.”</p>
+
+<p>A more serious problem, both for him and for us, is when the
+origin and the laws of the right of succession to the throne
+come up for discussion. “It is false to call me a usurper; I
+have simply taken the unoccupied place which Louis could not
+keep for himself. Had I been Louis I should have hindered
+the revolution in spite of the amazing progress which has accrued
+to thought because of the change.... My strength is
+in my good luck; I am as new as the Empire.” Yet, in spite
+of this somewhat confused reasoning, he ventures a step farther,
+and writes to Brother Louis: “I hold myself responsible for
+everything that has happened since Clovis’ days down to the
+days of the Committee of Public Safety; and I shall consider
+everything that is deliberately said against the governments
+as an attack on myself.”</p>
+
+<p>Thus we see that his egotism reaches so paradoxical an intensity
+in the championship of legitimacy, and that he sails so
+near the serious acceptance of rule by divine right (which is
+otherwise only used by him as a political formula), that he
+makes himself responsible for the actions of those very kings
+whose dethronement has opened the way to his rise!</p>
+
+<p>All his life he restlessly hovered round this question of status.
+At Kaunitz Castle, during the night after Austerlitz, while at
+every minute Austrian and Russian colours, captive generals,
+and dispatches from the beaten commanders, are being brought
+to him, he thrusts everything aside because the courier from
+Paris has entered the room. Then he does the same with all the
+tidings from the capital, in order to read a letter full of gossip
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_562">[562]</span>from a lady, who tells how the Fronde of the Faubourg has
+sworn never to put in an appearance at court. He is furious:
+“Ah! so these people fancy that they are stronger than I? Very
+well, gentlemen of the old aristocracy, we shall see! We shall
+see!” This is on the evening after the battle of Austerlitz!</p>
+
+<p>Here we see such hatred as that which a man gradually comes
+to feel for a woman who stubbornly resists his wooing. He
+must win over the spirit of tradition, cost what it may. One
+evening, not very long before the scene just described, he takes
+Roederer from the drawing-room into the billiard-room, begins
+knocking the balls about, and then says, apropos of nothing in
+particular:</p>
+
+<p>“Your Senate has no feelings for the aristocratic, no esprit
+de corps in favour of the imperial system.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sire, it is devoted to your person.”</p>
+
+<p>“That is not what I want. It must be devoted to my mantle,
+no matter who wears it. The mantle ought to be enough to
+guarantee the safety of the wearer. This is the aristocratic
+spirit, which is lacking to you ideologues!”</p>
+
+<p>The whole problem of hereditary succession is implicit
+in these considerations; it logically develops therefrom, leading
+to the second marriage, and thus to the tragical issue. There
+are only two things which Napoleon cannot create unaided:
+children and ancestors. He therefore asks the world of
+legitimate rulers to enter into an alliance with him, which will
+settle his difficulty as far as offspring is concerned, and will also
+provide his children with an ancestry. He is not really a man
+of the people, but a nobleman; and who can complain because
+he regards himself as such?</p>
+
+<p>“I am in a peculiar position. The genealogists want to trace
+my pedigree back to the deluge, while there are some who describe
+me as sprung from the lower middle class. Truth lies
+between. The Bonapartes are a good Corsican family, not
+celebrated, but certainly better than these coxcombs who believe
+themselves entitled to humiliate us.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_563">[563]</span></p>
+
+<p>This is the tone of the sixteen-year-old lad, scion of the lesser
+territorial nobility, whom a handful of counts made fun of at
+the military academy and slighted at the boarding school in
+Paris. They are the very words which the young man had
+used in his letters and literary sketches when the noblesse of
+monarchical France had mortified him. Nothing can expunge
+the memory of his early mortifications. It may well be that,
+but for these never-to-be-forgotten affronts suffered at the
+hands of a few silly young marquises, his whole outlook upon
+the question of legitimacy would have been different; his court
+life, his marriage, his destiny, would have been different; and
+therewith the course of European history would have been
+other than it was.</p>
+
+<p>His egotism finds expression in the struggle with France,
+just as it does in the struggle with the noblesse. He does not
+wholly belong to the high nobility, and therefore throughout
+life he remains critical of the pretensions of birth. In the
+same way, though formally he was a Frenchman, he was not
+French by blood, and he was therefore irritably critical of the
+French, just as he was irritably critical of the noblesse. He
+conquered both, but never felt perfectly secure in either of his
+conquests.</p>
+
+<p>But he had more success with France than with the
+legitimists. Because he is not really a Frenchman, France
+never becomes his legitimate spouse; she remains his beloved
+mistress. He knows this; he wooes, gives himself, renounces;
+and from the perpetual uncertainty of his relationship to
+France, he derives the keenest joys of his life. “I have only one
+passion, only one mistress: France. I lie by her side. She has
+never been untrue to me; she pours out her blood for me, and
+lavishes her treasures upon me. If I need half a million men,
+she gives them!” When he chides his mistress, he does it as a
+jealous lover; he rules her “with an iron hand in a velvet
+glove”; he gratifies all her caprices; and he knows better than
+any one else how to allure her by the glamour of fame and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_564">[564]</span>fantasy. That is why she beams on him when he comes home
+victorious; that is why she gives him her children.</p>
+
+<p>Yet lover and mistress remain critical of one another.
+Mutual jealousy persists. Neither of them ever forgets the
+wish to master the other. Hear his exclamation in the tone of
+a despotic lover: “I swear that I do everything for the sake
+of France alone! If I do not give her more liberty, it is because
+she does not need more!” He is standing in the middle of his
+drawing-room, scrutinising his guests sharply as he speaks to
+them with raised voice. Among intimates, he will often use
+harsher words: “Always the same old Gauls! The same
+frivolity, the same vanity! When, if ever, will these be replaced
+by a proper pride?”</p>
+
+<p>The French, likewise, remain sceptical. Must they not, in
+confidential talks, say of this Italian the very thing that he
+once wrote to his brother Louis? “Since you ascended the
+throne, you have forgotten that you are a Frenchman, and
+have strained every nerve to persuade yourself that you are a
+Dutchman. The foreign environment tickles your fancy, but
+it is still foreign.” Roederer writes of Napoleon: “He is making
+a mistake. They are by no means so enthusiastic about
+him as they were about Lafayette (who did nothing practical
+for them). At bottom, they merely admire and respect him
+because he is useful to them.”</p>
+
+<p>Such a liaison cannot fail to end tragically. The mistress
+discards her lover when he is no longer useful to her.</p>
+
+<p>Tragical, too, is the ending of another embodiment of his
+egotism, its noblest incorporation. “I wish I could be my own
+posterity, and read what such a poet as Corneille would make
+me feel, do, and say.” From boyhood’s days down to the time
+of his exile, in the island where he was born and in the island
+where he died, his self-esteem is nourished on historical parallels.
+History, he said, was the only true philosophy. Had he not
+had his peculiar feeling for history, Napoleon’s career would
+have been very different; nay, it would have been impossible.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_565">[565]</span>His political calculations are fed from two sources, history and
+imagination; the first of these streams being intellectual, and
+the second passionate. It is history alone which gives him
+alighting places on his flight. In his own age he is unique; he
+travels alone; nowhere but in history can he find prototypes
+by whose example he can guide his impetuous progress. With
+Cæsar, the lieutenant begins to soar. At Rochefort, the Emperor
+ends the active phase of his existence by trusting too
+implicitly in the heroic example of Themistocles.</p>
+
+<p>Between the opening and the close, we find numberless indications
+of the way in which his imagination remains at work,
+mirroring the great incidents of classical and modern history.
+Why is he opposed to Tacitus and Chateaubriand? Because
+they warn the people against tyrants. Why does he blame
+the assassins of Cæsar? Because he wishes to defend his own
+sentence upon the duke of Enghien. When he is First Consul,
+he actually thinks of writing a few chapters of Roman history,
+to prove “that Cæsar never wanted to become king, and that
+he was murdered because he wished to re-establish order by
+uniting all parties.” He goes on to add that Cæsar had been
+killed in the Senate House, and that in the Senate were forty
+Pompeians, personal enemies of the dictator. Napoleon’s unexpressed
+inference is that he must clean up the Senate, and
+he does so.</p>
+
+<p>In the Roman style, he sketches the ideas for eight splendid
+bas-reliefs which, on triumphal arches, are to illustrate the doings
+of his reign; they are to be representations of fact, devoid
+of self-commendation, and only in a formal sense illustrations
+of historical egotism. He summons historiographers and
+imaginative writers from all civilised lands, and converses with
+them for hours, in order that, through their intermediation,
+he may win the approval of posterity. When his portrait
+seems to him too crudely lifelike, he says that Alexander never
+sat to Apelles; David must paint him “in a tranquil attitude,
+mounted upon a fiery steed.” It pleases him to write army
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_566">[566]</span>orders when he is sitting in Frederick the Great’s study; at
+Sans Souci, to invite the biographer of the former master of
+the house to dine with him; in Lombardy, to visit the arch of
+Augustus, in Egypt, the pillar of Pompey, and on these monuments
+to inscribe the names of those who have recently fallen;
+in Madrid and Moscow, to study the environment and the
+habits of Philip and of Catherine. But his pleasure in these
+things is not purely æsthetic. The hours he devotes to them are
+heroical; they are Napoleon’s true recompense; they are
+realisations of his earliest dreams.</p>
+
+<p>With his own hand, he is continually writing his own history.
+The young general records his first victories in orders of the
+day; with each new campaign, and after every battle, he adds
+to the long series; and the work is done with the hand of an
+artist, is wrought with an eye to immortal fame. When he is
+offered the crown of Italy, he surveys his own deeds of little
+more than five years ago as if they had come down in legend:
+“When, a few years later, we learned on the banks of the Nile
+that our aims had come to naught, we were bitterly distressed
+at this evil turn of fortune; but, thanks to the courage of our
+armies, we were able to appear in Milan at a time when Italy
+believed us to be still on the shores of the Red Sea.” Actually,
+in the interim, he had, before the eyes of all the world, trampled
+on the constitution of France, and even the meanest herd in
+the Apennines knew of his return from Egypt.</p>
+
+<p>When he is carrying on a struggle with the pope he pens a
+long letter, and sends it to Eugene for the latter to copy, since
+ostensibly it is to be a letter from Eugene to the pope; therein
+Eugene is made to say that Napoleon can only be compared to
+Cyrus and Charlemagne.</p>
+
+<p>At the height of his career, he says to his Austrian ambassador:
+“Don’t you make any mistake, I am a Roman
+emperor, in the best line of the Cæsars. Chateaubriand has
+compared me with Tiberius, who could only travel from Rome
+to Capri. A pretty idea! Trajan. Aurelian—that would be
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_567">[567]</span>another story. They were self-made men, who shook the world
+out of old ruts. Do you not see the resemblances between my
+regime and that of Diocletian? The net so widely spread; the
+Emperor’s eyes everywhere; the civil authority omnipotent
+throughout an empire that is fundamentally warlike.... A
+man is born to be a Cæsar.”</p>
+
+<p>This is not a proclamation, not a political letter, not an
+attempt to seduce any one. The words are spoken lightly, in a
+drawing-room, without emotion and without ulterior aim, with
+all the simplicity of a man aware of his own strength.</p>
+
+<p>After victories and successes, this historical feeling for his
+own personality becomes as objective as the attitude of the
+chessplayer towards the pieces on his board. We seem to be
+contemplating a man whose fondness for the game is the only
+thing which makes him want to win; and who, as soon as he has
+won, can converse dispassionately with his defeated opponent
+about the mistakes they have made and the artifices to which
+they have had recourse. When he is talking to enemy generals
+whom he has taken prisoner or with whom he is negotiating,
+he will say: “You ought to have done this, that, or the other.
+There, you were in an advantageous position. That would
+have been an excellent move.”</p>
+
+<p>Immediately after his victory at Wagram, he says to Count
+Bubna: “I am certain that you are damnably strong, for you
+can deliver shrewd blows. At what figure do you estimate my
+forces?... You appear to be uncommonly well informed!
+Would you care to have a look at my army?... No? Well,
+at least you had better study my position on this map. It was
+my own fault when I failed to win a victory at Aspern-Essling.
+I got the punishment I deserved.”</p>
+
+<p>Only with regard to one matter does this detachment fail
+him—Waterloo. In St. Helena, an English surgeon ventured
+to say that people in England would be glad to hear his opinion
+of Wellington. The remark was followed by an embarrassing
+silence.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_568">[568]</span></p>
+
+<p>Fame is the supreme goal of his egotism; substantially, it is
+the only goal. All his energies are directed towards this end:
+his consciousness of his uniqueness; his historic sense; his sense
+of honour; his dignity; the boy’s dreams, the youth’s plans,
+the man’s deeds, the prisoner’s unrest. Posterity is the great
+confused picture which fills his imagination; and the desire of
+his heart would seem to be rather the Latin “gloria” which
+thinks of future generations, than the French “gloire” which
+suns itself in the smile of contemporaries. He is animated by
+a daimonic being’s eager wish for immortality, although he
+knows that he must share the fate of all mortal men. “Better
+never to have lived; than to exist, and pass without leaving a
+trace.”</p>
+
+<p>He modifies the coronation oath by swearing, not only to
+protect the realm and the happiness of France, but also to rule
+for the glory of his people. On one of the battle-fields of
+Henry IV in Normandy he has a column erected with the inscription:
+“Great men love the fame of those who resemble
+themselves.” Frederick’s sword is “more precious than all the
+treasures of the king of Prussia”; but it is not only when he
+is campaigning that his thoughts turn towards the future.
+When he is having houses built for the unemployed, his order
+to the minister to whom the task is entrusted ends with the
+phrase: “We must not pass out of the world without leaving
+traces that will commend us to the thoughts of posterity.” At
+the close of his career as Emperor, he refuses to make peace
+on terms that will involve the renunciation of territories upon
+whose conquest part of his fame depends; and towards the end
+of his life he utters a melancholy parable, darkly significant,
+lonely as his own destiny:</p>
+
+<p>“The love for glory is like the bridge which Satan tried to
+build across chaos in order to make his way into paradise.
+Glory is a connecting link between past and future, from which
+an abyss separates him. I leave to my son nothing but my
+name.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_569">[569]</span></p>
+
+<h3>IV</h3>
+
+<p>Energy is the second element in Napoleon’s make-up. How
+does this quality show itself?</p>
+
+<p>First of all in calculation. Never a trace of the flash of
+genius; but, rather, continuous weighing, over-elaborating, discarding:</p>
+
+<p>“I have known myself to argue with myself over the thoughts
+concerning a battle, and have contradicted myself.... When
+I have drawn-up a plan of battle I am the most pusillanimous
+of men. I magnify the dangers and the incidents, am in a
+terrible state of excitement even when I seem cheerful; I am
+then like a girl who is going to have a baby.” This is the mood
+of an artist during the conception of his work. He once described
+these feelings to Roederer in even franker terms:</p>
+
+<p>“I am always at work; I think a great deal. If I appeared
+to be ever ready and equal to any occasion, it is because I have
+thought over matters for long before I undertake to do the
+slightest thing; I have foreseen all eventualities. There exists
+no guardian angel who suddenly and mysteriously whispers in
+my ear what I have to do or to say. Everything is turned over
+in my mind, again and again, always, whether I am at table or
+at the theatre. At night, I wake up in order to work.”</p>
+
+<p>This constant deliberation builds up something within him
+which he names “the spirit of things:” the precision, which
+penetrates he touches; the thinking in numbers, to which he
+ascribes part of his success and for which he has to thank his
+mathematical training. There is nothing too small for this
+brain; for the sum total of millions of details is a plan whose
+scope is world embracing. If one of his officers writes to say
+that the Emperor’s instructions have been carried out, Napoleon
+waives this general statement aside and demands details.
+Nothing is so small but he wants to know all about it and judge
+its importance for himself. He writes to Eugene, who is in
+Italy:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_570">[570]</span></p>
+
+<p>“How is it possible that you are distributing three million
+seven hundred and forty-seven thousand rations of meat?...
+I can calculate a similar gross total for dried vegetables, wine,
+salt, and spirits. But I want calculations according to corps.
+I am robbed of fifty per cent., even as much as seventy per
+cent.... How can you allow them to calculate for one million
+three hundred and seventy-one thousand rations of hay?
+I should have to provide twelve thousand horses to eat it, not
+counting the Istrians and Dalmatians! You know I have only
+seven thousand.... The office charges are insane! Frs.
+118,000 for four months! That equals frs. 400,000 a year!
+Such a sum should suffice for the whole of Italy!”</p>
+
+<p>This is but one example among many. Thousands of such
+letters, hailing from every corner of the military and civil
+administration, personally dictated, are to be found in the
+volumes of correspondence, and must sadly disappoint those
+who expect to find only ideas and temperament in the letters.
+He is the man who, in the midst of his wars in Italy, writes
+home that they must concoct a letter, nominally written by a
+German patriot and dealing with Austrian politics, and have it
+circulated throughout Germany; again, in the throes of a campaign,
+he has to write to Murat, King of Naples, detailing how
+the latter is to behave at balls or when he visits the theatre,
+whom he is to invite and whom to exclude from his invitations.
+While the preparations are being made for the Erfurt gathering,
+he suddenly remembers that some one must be there to
+introduce the actresses to the gallant grand dukes. He never
+demonstrates more forcibly the way he formulates destinies in
+figures than by the following incursion into social life: “Each
+household should have six children, seeing that, on the average,
+three are sure to die. Of the three who survive, two should
+replace the father and mother; the third will serve for an unforeseen
+emergency.”</p>
+
+<p>His precision of thought goes to such grotesque lengths!</p>
+
+<p>A third means for expressing this energetic faculty is his
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_571">[571]</span>tempo. “Activity! Speed!” he writes with his own hand at
+the foot of an order. The king of Prussia has depicted this
+peculiarity with especial felicity: “We need but see him ride:
+he always gives his horse rein, and never troubles about what
+may be happening in his rear!” But Napoleon negotiated better
+than he rode, for he never negotiated until after long reflection.
+“Not a moment must be lost,” is the slogan even when
+nothing presses for decision. The instinctive impetus of an
+overburdened but short life drives him forward; it seems as if
+he could not arrive quickly enough at the end of his career.
+He writes to Bernadotte, in the course of a campaign: “I have
+lost a whole day through you, and the fate of the world hangs
+upon one single day.”</p>
+
+<p>The drive he imposes upon himself has its reaction upon
+those who serve him. He drives them, not only in the field, but
+also in circumstances which ordinary governments would take
+months to decide. He demands a treaty with Russia from
+Talleyrand, saying it is to be drawn up and ready in a couple
+of hours. To explain the reasons for his second marriage, he
+wants a circular letter sent to all his ambassadors and consuls;
+this is to be drafted “in the course of the day.” One night
+he is immersed in thoughts concerning the embellishment of
+Paris. Next morning he says to his Minister for Home
+Affairs: “I require that Paris shall have two million inhabitants
+by the end of ten years. I want to do something useful
+and great for the city. What do you suggest?”</p>
+
+<p>“Provide the town with a good water-supply, Sire,” and the
+minister expounds a plan whereby the Ourcq water can be conveyed
+to Paris.</p>
+
+<p>“Your proposal is good. Summon G.; he must send five
+hundred men to La Vilette to-morrow, in order to start work
+on the canal.”</p>
+
+<p>Another of his weapons is memory. “I always know my
+position. I cannot remember a single Alexandrine, but I never
+forget a figure relating to my military situation.” This is the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_572">[572]</span>productive memory. Although he pronounces them abominably,
+he retains the names of all the important places—important
+from his point of view—in all the countries where he has fought.
+The Postmaster General reports that the Emperor is able to
+mention, offhand, distances which he himself has to hunt up in
+works of reference. On his way back to Paris from the camp
+at Boulogne, Napoleon encounters a troop of soldiers who have
+lost their way, asks the number of their regiment, whence they
+set out, and when. He tells them their line of march! “Your
+battalion will be at H. this evening.” At this time, two hundred
+thousand men were on the march close at hand!</p>
+
+<p>His technique is to arrange things in his head “as in a wardrobe.”
+He says: “When I wish to put any matter out of my
+mind, I close its drawer and open the drawer belonging to
+another. The contents of the drawers never get mixed, and
+they never worry me or weary me. Do I want to sleep? I
+close all the drawers, and then I am asleep.”</p>
+
+<p>Among the numerous heraldic emblems which might have
+tickled the fancy of an upstart—stars, tutelary deities, saints,
+beasts of prey—he finds none to please him. He chooses the
+bee, thus emphasising once more his opinion that a man of
+talent who aspires and works unceasingly, can achieve everything
+that can otherwise be achieved through what is vaguely
+spoken of as genius. He declares that genius is industry;
+meaning, of course, that genius is industry among other
+things. He says that work is his element, that for which he
+has been created. Had he left nothing behind him, had all his
+works perished, still his industry and his glory would have been
+an emblematic stimulus to the youth of countless generations
+after he had passed away.</p>
+
+<p>Many witnesses testify to his amazing powers of continued
+work. Roederer, who was his close companion during the
+Consulate, writes as follows: “That which especially characterises
+him is the power and persistence of his attention. He
+can work for eighteen hours at a stretch, it may be at one piece
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_573">[573]</span>of work, it may be at several in turn. I have never seen his
+mind flag. I have never seen his mind without a spring in it,
+not when he was physically tired, not when he was taking
+violent exercise, not even when he was angry. I have never
+seen him distracted from one affair by another, neglecting the
+matter in hand for one which he is about to work. Good or bad
+news from Egypt never interfered with his attention to the civil
+code, and the civil code never interfered with the steps it was
+necessary to take for the safety of Egypt. No one was ever
+more wholly immersed in what he was doing, nor did any one
+ever make a better distribution of his time among all the things
+he had to do. Never was any one more stubborn in rejecting
+the occupation or the thought which was not appropriate to
+the hour or the day; nor was any one ever more adroit in seizing
+an occupation or a thought when the right moment had
+come.”</p>
+
+<p>He robbed hundreds of his fellow workers of health and
+youth, because he demanded too much of them when he demanded
+from them what he exacted from himself. His private
+secretary would be sent for at a late hour, and would get to
+bed at four in the morning; at seven, the poor man would find
+new tasks ready for him, and would be told that they must be
+finished within two hours. When Napoleon and his secretary
+were together all day, one dictating and the other writing from
+dictation, at meal times the chief would order food for two,
+and would share with his subordinate at a corner of the work-table,
+just as he would have shared with his adjutant on a
+boundary stone. During the Consulate he would sometimes begin
+a sitting with his ministers at six in the evening and keep it
+up till five next morning. In the three months at Schönbrunn,
+his official correspondence comprised four hundred and thirty-five
+letters occupying four hundred folio pages of print. This
+was only his political and administrative correspondence; in
+addition he wrote a great many private letters, and delivered
+innumerable orders by word of mouth.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_574">[574]</span></p>
+
+<p>These are the main forms of his energy. It is with their aid
+that he enters upon his duel with the world, availing himself
+of their interplay, and speaking of his genius as a talent for
+combination. In his plans and orders, he is fond of the phrase
+“at the given moment.” He is not hampered by any principle;
+is always willing to modify his scheme to suit the weather of
+destiny, to adapt his combinations to the slightest modifications
+of the situation. This man of iron will had a most supple
+intelligence. While forcing all those with whom he came in
+contact to bend before his resolves, he himself showed a wonderful
+elasticity in compliance with the will of circumstances.</p>
+
+<p>“The weakness of a captain who, instead of forcing his way
+into port, preferred to let himself be chased on the open sea—this,
+and some of the trifling defects of our frigates, were the
+reasons why I failed to change the face of the world. Had
+Acre fallen, we should have made our way to Aleppo by forced
+marches, have enlisted Christians, Druses, and Armenians; have
+speedily reached the Euphrates: thence I should have gone to
+India, and should have stablished new institutions everywhere.”</p>
+
+<p>Whether these vaticinations were historically tenable, may
+remain an open question; but his belief that he could have done
+what he describes, bears witness to his realism. In this world
+of figures and magnitudes, for Napoleon everything depends
+upon the individual behaviour of the individual man at his post.
+Since the failure of any one individual may give the totality
+of circumstances a new trend, he is always ready to adapt the
+trend of his own intelligence to changing circumstances. But
+he does not himself attribute his successes to this, saying that
+they were due to his having been born at the right moment,
+and that under Louis XIV. he would only have become a marshal
+like Turenne.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon’s energy is very little disturbed by the passions.
+His self-confidence and his sense of dignity made self-command
+easy to him, and, being habituated to surprise, he was
+always fully master of himself. “Since I am used to great
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_575">[575]</span>events, they make no impression on me at the moment when
+they are reported; I feel the pain an hour later.” This sometimes
+makes him appear more stoical than he might wish people
+to believe him. When Hortense’s boy dies, he tells her to
+be composed, saying: “To live means to suffer; but the brave
+man is continually striving for self-mastery, and achieves it in
+the end.”</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, he sometimes loses his temper. The fierceness
+of his passion is then proportional to his pride, the irritability
+of his nerves, and the impatience of his creative will—the will
+of one who needed a thousand hands to complete his work.
+The stories about his threatening an ambassador with his fist,
+and similar outbursts of violence, are fabulous; but there is
+trustworthy evidence as to the terrible moment when Berthier
+had infuriated the First Consul by his tactlessness. Led on by
+Talleyrand as Mephistopheles, Berthier, in the Tuileries, had
+urged upon the Consul the need of assuming the title of king.
+Bonaparte’s anger flashed from his eyes, his lips twitched, he
+seized the offender by the throat, and pushed him back against
+the wall, shouting: “Who put you up to raising my bile in this
+way? You will pay for it, if you dare to do anything of the
+kind again!”</p>
+
+<p>Even amid his anger, his faculty for combination is at work,
+and he realises that the notion cannot have originated in the
+good Berthier’s mind. In its psychical significance the scene
+is unique.</p>
+
+<p>Often he is a rough, irritable soldier, who furiously lifts a
+badly closing window off its hinges and hurls it into the street;
+lashes a groom with his whip; when dictating a letter, utters
+curses against the addressee, which his secretary suppresses;
+even before the vicars-general speaks in an unseemly way,
+asking, “Which of you leads this blockhead of a bishop by the
+nose?”</p>
+
+<p>One of these vicars-general, who has been absent from duty
+for a long time, returns, and comes to report.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_576">[576]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Where have you been, misérable?”</p>
+
+<p>“At home, with my people.”</p>
+
+<p>“How dare you stay away so long when you know that your
+bishop is such a damned fool?”</p>
+
+<p>More important are the occasions when he simulates anger
+to gain some political end. Occasionally he gives the show
+away afterwards. “You think I was in a rage?” he says in
+Warsaw. “You are making a mistake. While I have been
+here, my wrath has never exceeded bounds.” One day he is
+playing with his little nephew and gossiping with the court
+ladies, in the best of humours. The English ambassador is
+announced. Instantly his face changes like an actor’s, his
+features are convulsed, he turns pale, strides towards the Englishman
+and storms at him for a whole hour in the presence of
+numerous witnesses. He is genuinely angry with England and
+he is genuinely annoyed at being disturbed by this visit; but
+the wrathful mask, the scene he makes, the angry expressions
+he uses, are political expedients.</p>
+
+<p>The frequency of such incidents made many people believe
+that Napoleon was a passionate man. Talleyrand has more
+insight: “He’s a perfect devil. He humbugs us all, even about
+his passions, for he knows how to act them, though they are
+really there!”</p>
+
+<p>Self-command and coldness are so dominant in him that he
+never takes the vengeance that might seem appropriate to his
+irritable sense of honour and to the extent of his power. He
+never punished rivals or traitors unjustly. He only banished
+those whom he had good reason for wishing out of the way;
+and it was a point of chivalry with him to leave beaten enemies,
+great or small, unmolested.</p>
+
+<p>Here is a scene with the Badenese envoy. The envoy asks
+compensation for the duke of Brunswick. The Emperor
+angrily refuses: not because the duke is supposed to have incited
+Prussia to make war against France; but because, long
+before this, during the first campaign against France in 1792,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_577">[577]</span>he had issued the famous manifesto of Coblenz, in which he had
+said that in Paris he would not leave one stone standing on
+another. “What harm had this city done to him?” fiercely enquires
+the Emperor two decades later, the man who in those
+days had been Lieutenant Bonaparte. “This affront must be
+avenged!”</p>
+
+<h3>V</h3>
+
+<p>Napoleon’s energy is most conspicuous in his role of conqueror.
+But in this case it finds a more spiritual expression
+than one would be led to anticipate from a soldier. “I have
+seldom drawn my sword; I won my battles with my eyes, not
+with my weapons.” To gain a knowledge of his soul, it is not
+important to understand the new forms of his art of war; of
+importance is to understand the way in which his whole being
+vibrated before, during, and after a fight. In this, too, he is
+wholly original.</p>
+
+<p>Even courage, that fundamental virtue of the soldier, assumes
+in Napoleon a form peculiar to himself. During his
+youthful days, and again during the last campaigns he displayed
+so much personal courage that he can venture to say,
+“no soldier is proof against cowardice”; but such moments
+of panic fear must be utilised against the foe. What he believes
+himself almost alone to possess is “two-o’clock-in-the-morning
+courage”: courage in face of the unforeseen, the sudden;
+courage which demands presence of mind and power of
+determination. But he despises the “chivalrous” courage of the
+duel, which he crushingly describes as “cannibal courage.”—“Since
+you have both fought at Marengo and Austerlitz you do
+not need to give any further proofs of your courage. Women
+are fickle, and so is good luck. Go back to your regiments and
+become comrades again.”</p>
+
+<p>The commander of armies clearly recognises the line of
+demarcation between humaneness and coldness. The same man
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_578">[578]</span>who, in his study, could exclaim to Metternich: “Such a man as
+I does not care a snap of the fingers for the lives of a million
+men”; will say on the field of battle: “If the kings of the world
+could contemplate such a sight as this, they would hanker less
+after wars and conquests.” Another time he writes to
+Josephine: “The earth is strewn with dead and bleeding men;
+this is the obverse of war; the heart is tortured at the sight of
+so many victims.” Calculation and feeling are at cross purposes
+in this case, and he excuses himself for the duties imposed
+by his own craft: “He who cannot look upon a battle-ground
+dry-eyed, allows many men to be killed purposelessly.” This is
+what he wants above all to avoid. For the great aim, Europe
+entrusts him with a million men: his lesser aim, the taking of
+this trench or that bridge, must be thriftily achieved, for “he
+who heedlessly allows ten men to be killed where at most two
+need have died, is answerable for the lives of eight men.”</p>
+
+<p>Since most of his wars are fought from political necessity,
+and are always conducted without hate, as soon as the fight is
+finished the foe ceases to exist. He writes from Schönbrunn:
+“I am appalled to learn that the eighteen thousand prisoners on
+the island of Lobau are suffering from hunger; this is inhuman
+and unpardonable. Have twenty thousand rations of bread
+sent there immediately; a similar amount of flour for the bake-houses.”
+But when, after the truce, soldiers are still being
+killed by the embittered Tyrolese, he is furious, and orders that
+“at least six of the larger villages are to be plundered and
+burned, so that the mountain folk may not soon forget the
+vengeance that has been exacted.”</p>
+
+<p>War is for him an art, “the most noteworthy art, one which
+contains within itself all the other arts.” Like a true artist, he
+declares that, in the long run, this art cannot be taught: “You
+fancy that because you have read Jomini you are fitted to be a
+leader in war?... I have fought in sixty fights, and I can
+assure you that I have learned nothing from any of them.
+Cæsar used the same tactics in his last battle as he had used in
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_579">[579]</span>his first.” In typical artist fashion, he contradicts himself in
+the definitions of those things in which he is a master. After
+the Spanish campaigns, he delivers the following lecture to one
+of his generals: “War is decided far more by the power of
+strategical calculation than by material forces.” At another
+time he will maintain that it is the superior numbers or the
+moral courage of the troops which constitutes the deciding
+factor. Sometimes he even goes so far as to say that inspiration
+decides an issue: “The result of a battle hangs on a thread
+and is mostly the outcome of a sudden thought. One approaches
+the enemy according to a prearranged plan, one
+comes to blows, one fights for a while, the critical moment
+draws near, a spark of inspiration flames up—and a small reserve
+division does the rest!”</p>
+
+<p>More logically, but not less as the artist, he speaks of the
+decisive moment which, after a couple of engagements, one can
+find out for oneself without any difficulty. “Such moments are
+not more than quarter hours.... In every battle a moment
+comes when the bravest of soldiers would like to turn tail: it
+needs but a trifle, but a plea, to put heart into him again.”
+This power of suggestion has won him many a victory, for
+soldiers constitute the only mass to which he can speak with
+effect. The soldier understands him, because Napoleon is
+simple. The Emperor even describes war as “a simple art like
+everything that is beautiful.” By this contention he seems to
+uphold the idea that war is the highest of all arts. “The military
+profession is a freemasonry ... and I am the grand
+master of its lodge.”</p>
+
+<p>He draws this personal influence from the history of his own
+rise, which is known to every soldier. As a young general, he
+had learned to put up with his dependence on the civil
+authority; and as emperor he still commiserates his royal adversaries
+because their generals’ activities are frustrated by
+civilian control. On the other hand, he knows the dangers of
+amateurishness, and writes to Joseph: “When the king himself
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_580">[580]</span>commands, the soldier does not feel commanded. The army
+applauds him as when a queen is riding by. If one is not oneself
+a general, one must give the generals full power of command.”</p>
+
+<p>Because he is the only ruler in Europe who has risen from
+the ranks, from youth upwards he remains familiar with details,
+and always understands how things look to an officer on the
+fighting front. “There is nothing connected with the art of
+war which I cannot do with my own hand: power, siege engines,
+artillery.” But he does not concern himself with these details
+unless it is necessary, and laughs at the romantic anecdote in
+a book where he is said, one night, to have taken over the
+duties of a sentry who had gone to sleep at his post: “That is
+a civilian’s idea, the sort of thing a lawyer would think of,
+and was certainly not written by a soldier.”</p>
+
+<p>But he is a stickler for equality in the army, and in this
+matter remains true to the revolution until the very end of his
+career. No one is promoted unless his record in the service
+justifies the advancement. If Napoleon makes an exception in
+the case of his brothers, we must remember that after he has
+made them kings he continues to scold them as if they were
+subalterns. He writes to Jerome, commenting on a report from
+Silesia: “Besides, your letter is too clever for my taste....
+What a man needs in war is precision, firmness, simplicity.”
+When Joseph plays the prince in Boulogne, and vies with
+Marshal Soult in the splendour of his receptions, Napoleon
+scolds him. “In the army, no one must put the commander
+in the shade. On review days, it is the general and not the
+prince who must give a dinner. At a review, a royal colonel is
+a colonel and nothing more. Discipline can tolerate no exceptions.
+The army is a whole. Its commander is everything.
+Keep to your own regiment.”</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp75" id="illus19" style="max-width: 25.0em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus19.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>Napoleon as Emperor in 1815. Woodcut, after a medal.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, a wounded commander-in-chief has become a
+private soldier. At Eylau, where there have been heavy losses,
+the Emperor forbids a famous surgeon to go out of his way in
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_581">[581]</span>order to care for a wounded general: “Your business is to
+attend to all the wounded, and not to any one in particular.”
+A German officer reports that after a fight Napoleon would
+often stand by the wounded and see that they were carefully
+lifted into the stretchers: “If this good fellow pulls through,
+there will be one victim the less.”</p>
+
+<p>In all the memoirs, we read how in camp the Emperor would
+foregather with his men at the bivouac fire, ask whether their
+food was being properly cooked, and laugh at their replies.
+When they confided all their troubles to him, and often said
+“thou” to him, this was not the assumed good fellowship of a
+condescending monarch, but a genuinely paternal relationship.
+If he calls them “my children,” to them he is their “little corporal,”
+meaning the comrade who takes the responsibility. “I
+have received your letter, dear comrade,” he writes to a veteran
+grenadier who wishes to re-enter the service. “You need not
+speak to me of your deeds, for I know you to be the bravest
+grenadier in the army. It will be a pleasure to see you once
+more. The Minister for War will send you your orders.”</p>
+
+<p>He never confides his plans to any one; but when it is a
+question of rewarding merit, he calls in Everyman as adviser.
+After a fight, he often forms a circle, speaks to the officers, the
+non-commissioned officers, and the rankers individually, asking
+who were the most valiant, rewarding then and there, allotting
+eagles with his own hand. “The officers pointed out, the
+soldiers confirmed, the Emperor approved,” relates Ségur as
+eyewitness.</p>
+
+<p>It is true that Napoleon loves war, but as a fine art, just as
+he loves power. It is true that he laughs incredulously at a
+traveller who tells him a tale of a Chinese island where there are
+no weapons.</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean? But they must have weapons!”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Sire.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pikes, anyhow; or bows and arrows?”</p>
+
+<p>“Neither the one nor the other.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_582">[582]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Daggers!”</p>
+
+<p>“Not even daggers.”</p>
+
+<p>“But how the devil do they fight there?”</p>
+
+<p>“There has never been a war on the island.”</p>
+
+<p>“What, no war?”</p>
+
+<p>It sounds to the traveller as if the very existence of such
+people under the sun outrages the Emperor. The thought stirs
+a soldier’s bile!</p>
+
+<p>All the same, he looked forward to the coming of peaceful
+days, not with an ardent desire for them perhaps, but with the
+seer’s vision. He showed his superiority to all the modern commanders
+against whom he fought, in that he, the greatest
+soldier of the new times, declared the primacy of the spirit over
+the sword. When Canova made a statue of him in which he
+was shown with a threatening mien, he said contemptuously:
+“Does the man think I achieved my conquests with blows of
+my fist?” But, more than this, he himself defined a commander
+as something above and beyond a soldier. When First
+Consul, he said in the Council of State:</p>
+
+<p>“In what does the commander’s superiority consist? ‘In his
+mental qualities: insight, calculation, decision, eloquence,
+knowledge of men.’ But all these qualities are what make a
+man shine in civil life.... If bodily vigour and courage
+sufficed the commander, any brave private could be a leader of
+armies. Everywhere, crude force now yields ground to moral
+qualities. The man with the bayonet bows before the man who
+possesses exceptional knowledge and understanding.... I
+knew perfectly well what I was about when, as the head of the
+army, I bore the title of Member of the Institute; and the
+youngest drummer understood what I meant.”</p>
+
+<p>At a later date, he spoke more decisively.</p>
+
+<p>“<i>War is an anachronism. Some day, victories will be won
+without cannon and without bayonets.... Whoever troubles
+the peace of Europe, wants civil war.</i>”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_583">[583]</span></p>
+
+<p>Remember that these are the words of Napoleon, the military
+commander.</p>
+
+<h3>VI</h3>
+
+<p>His energy is concentrated on human beings. Very rarely
+does he come into conflict with natural forces; and whenever
+he does so, he is beaten. But, in general, all he has to do is to
+compel men to conquer, for him, the mountains and the miles.
+Human beings are the material in working with which the
+energy and the imagination of this artist are destined to become
+weary; them he must overcome if he is to do his work
+at all. No mortal ever conquered more men than did Napoleon.
+He subjugated, not only armies and peoples, but something
+more: individuals, and the best of these.</p>
+
+<p>To achieve his goal, he followed the road of contempt; and
+used as his means, glory and money. Self-confidence and experience
+had convinced him that every one acts only from self-interest;
+that some are driven to grasp at money through love
+of pleasure, or avarice, or clannishness; that others seek public
+recognition in order to gratify their vanity, their jealousy,
+or their ambition. Denying the force of ideal motives, Napoleon
+relied exclusively upon material means; and if the spur
+of ambition occasionally assumed the aspect of a desire for
+eternal glory, this occurred against his will, but the magic of
+his personality sometimes exercised a more puissant lure than
+the well-calculated material attractions offered by others. To
+quote Goethe: “Napoleon, who lived wholly for ideas, was
+nevertheless unable to grasp the nature of ideal motives; he
+repudiated the ideal, denied that there was any such thing, at
+the very time when he himself was eagerly trying to realise the
+ideal.”</p>
+
+<p>Yet to Napoleon the Mephistophelian conception of men was
+as alien as it was to Goethe. He said: “Most people bear within
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_584">[584]</span>themselves the seeds of good and of evil, of courage and of
+cowardice. Thus is human nature created: upbringing and circumstance
+do the rest.” Since, for twenty years, he needed
+this human nature, daily and in quantities of a hundred at a
+time, the subtlest knowledge of it was a primary condition of his
+success. Among all the materials which Napoleon bent to his
+uses, the human heart was the most familiar.</p>
+
+<p>“I am a great friend of analysis.... ‘Why’ and ‘How,’ are
+such useful questions, that they cannot be uttered too often.”
+Coldly and clearly as a nerve specialist, he controls all psychical
+symptoms, utilises every method for the attainment of
+such control, and trusts especially to physiognomy—for he
+knows his Lavater. He is fond of reproving people. “According
+as they react, I discover the pitch of their souls. If I strike
+brass with a glove, it gives back no tone: but if I strike with a
+hammer, it rings out.” A person meeting Napoleon for the first
+time, is gripped by the magnetism of his glance.</p>
+
+<p>By talking and questioning, he makes himself acquainted
+with the atlas of human types, an atlas he is ever enlarging.
+He questions so long that a stranger grows embarrassed, confused,
+and alarmed; he questions until his questions become
+ridiculous; but he must at all costs get the information he
+needs, even if he is not negotiating. In what way can the
+twenty minutes that a doctor sits at Napoleon’s table in St.
+Helena be put to the best use by the ex-Emperor?</p>
+
+<p>“How many patients suffering from ailments affecting the
+liver had you on board? How many cases of dysentery?
+What is the fee for a consultation in England? What is the
+pension awarded to an army surgeon?... What is death, or
+how would you define it? When does the soul quit the body?
+When does a body first receive a soul?”</p>
+
+<p>Another means is monologue. One of his intimates declares
+that the right of the Emperor to hold forth in monologue was
+the only real pleasure his high estate awarded him! We have
+testimonies concerning other men of action: but who ever
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_585">[585]</span>talked so much as Napoleon! Since he always faces the world
+alone, he must continually hold forth that he may convey his
+suggestions to the world. His conversations often lasted from
+five to eight hours, some of them ten or eleven hours; and
+during the greater part of them Napoleon took the floor. We
+must admit that this was more in accordance with the Italian
+manner than the Roman; Italian, too, were the rapidity of his
+utterance, and his foreign accent: but he gesticulated little;
+and only when much moved did he unclasp his hands—generally
+they were clasped behind his back, as if he wished to
+throw out his chest against the world.</p>
+
+<p>Upon all who serve him, he lavishes money with oriental
+profusion. But as far as his personal expenditure is concerned,
+he is thrifty. During the Consulate he says: “A man
+who has been through so many wars will have acquired a little
+property whether he will or no. I have a private income of
+from frs. 80,000 to frs. 100,000, with a house in town and a
+country mansion. What more do I need? If I should get out
+of humour with France, or France with me, I should retire
+from public life without a qualm.... But every one round
+me is stealing; the ministers are weak. Some people must be
+laying by vast sums.... What is to be done about it?
+France is corrupt through and through. It has always been
+like that; as soon as a man becomes a minister, he builds himself
+a palace.... Do you know what they are trying to make
+me pay for my installation in the Tuileries? Two millions!...
+It must be cut down to eight hundred thousand. I am
+surrounded by a pack of scoundrels.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your great operations,” answers Roederer, “must cost you
+much more than these domestic defalcations.”</p>
+
+<p>“All the more reason why I should watch over my personal
+expenditure.”</p>
+
+<p>This conversation tells us how the head of the State, a man
+of thirty, regards money. He needs nothing for himself, and
+complains of the venality and profusion of those by whom he is
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_586">[586]</span>surrounded; acknowledges that he has himself made money out
+of the wars; rails at the tradesmen who want to charge two
+millions for the equipment of a palace, when, as far as his own
+taste is concerned, he sees no reason for spending anything at
+all. Amid the frightful corruption which is a heritage of the
+revolution, he fights with the army contractors and war
+profiteers; but as soon as, by drastic punishments, he has succeeded
+in putting an end to this scandal, he assigns preposterous
+incomes to his marshals, some of whom receive more than a
+million francs a year. As Consul, he rids the State of the
+thieves who are making away with the national property; and
+then, as Emperor, he burdens this same State with extortionate
+salaries.</p>
+
+<p>Still, there are a few persons who make money thanks to
+their relationship with him, though without his aid. “When I
+have nothing left,” he says to Talleyrand, “I shall turn to you.
+Tell me honestly, how much have you made out of me?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am not a rich man, Sire, but all that I have is at your
+service.”</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon’s way of dealing with men is modified by a hundred
+and one considerations. If we wish to study the variations
+of his technique, we must class his instruments in groups.</p>
+
+<p>Generals and marshals are the easiest to keep dependent, for
+they have unceasing opportunities of winning military renown;
+and, since he pays them so liberally for their services, they
+grow more and more wealthy. By loading them with money,
+he gains two ends, spreading effulgence around himself, and
+keeping his most powerful officers in a state of dependence. It
+delights him to see these soldiers unused to money spending
+extravagantly, running into debt, and then turning to him for
+help in their difficulties. He leads them from profusion to
+want, and then back to profusion again. At the same time, he
+gives them little scope for originality, reserving important decisions
+for himself, so that even the commanders of armies
+rarely have a chance of proving themselves men of genius. He
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_587">[587]</span>shrewdly regulates his public mention of them in his bulletins,
+both in respect of time and form, so that, through their vanity
+and jealousy, he can get his way with his generals.</p>
+
+<p>The result is that their sentiments towards him are a mingling
+of hatred and love, whereby they are chained to his service
+more firmly than if the feeling had been one of pure
+affection. Perhaps only two of them are wholly devoted to
+him, Berthier and Duroc, whose love for him he compares with
+that of a child and a dog. Ney speaks of himself as a loaded
+musket which is fired when and where the Emperor orders.
+Napoleon, for his part, has a personal affection for those only
+who have risen with him, and in his memoirs he pays his tribute
+to them. He extols Desaix’s mental balance. Moreau has
+“more instinct than genius”; whereas Lannes has “more courage
+than sense,” though as time goes on he makes good in the
+latter respect. Kléber seeks glory only as a means of enjoyment.
+Masséna is not really courageous until he is under fire.
+Murat “has not a spark of intelligence, but what dash! He is
+a duffer and a hero.” Napoleon cannot break away from these
+witnesses of his rise, although almost all of them have learned
+the weight of his anger. In his tent, after Wagram, Napoleon
+thunders at Marmont for having made a mess of things, and a
+quarter of an hour later appoints him marshal.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes the Emperor’s misanthropy got the better of him.
+“In those moods, I begin to distrust even my companions-in-arms;
+that causes me intense suffering, and I do everything I
+can to rid myself of such horrible suspicions.” Yet he really
+knew. Lannes’ death touched him to the quick, but he never
+really uttered the moving farewell words which he publishes.
+Indeed, he confided to Metternich: “Lannes hated me. When
+I heard that, on being wounded, he had called out my name,
+I knew it was all up with him. He called on me as a dying
+atheist calls on God.”</p>
+
+<p>The remembrance of friendships formed in youth does not
+prevent him from scolding the most exalted of his marshals
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_588">[588]</span>like schoolboys when he considers they have behaved foolishly
+or have been wanting in courage. He says to Junot: “Your
+conduct was unprecedented, extraordinarily indiscreet....
+You have a strange notion of your military duties. I don’t
+recognise you!” To a general in Lombardy: “Under your command,
+there has been very little honesty and a great deal of
+avarice; but I never knew until to-day that you were a coward.
+Leave the army, and never let me see your face again!” In
+Spain, one of his generals capitulated in the open field. Six
+months later, this man ventured to appear before Napoleon at
+a review. The Emperor stormed at him in full hearing of the
+troops; would not be appeased. The witnesses say that the
+scene lasted a whole hour. “A man may have to surrender a
+fortress. The fortune of war is uncertain, and defeat is always
+possible. Any one can be taken prisoner. The thing may
+happen to me to-morrow. But honour, before all! On the
+battle-field, a commander’s business is to fight: and if he capitulates
+instead, he deserves to be shot.... A soldier must know
+how to die. Have we not all to face death?... As a subject,
+you committed a crime in capitulating; as a general, a stupid
+blunder; as a soldier, your action was cowardly; but as a
+Frenchman, your surrender was dishonourable!”</p>
+
+<p>He alarmed the diplomats of his day by a frankness which
+none of them trusted. “Tact, and putting all the cards on the
+table, will do better service in diplomacy than cunning. The
+tricks of the diplomats of the old school are out of date; all
+their rogueries have been exposed long since.... Nothing betrays
+weakness more than the attempt to deceive.”</p>
+
+<p>Just before the renewal of the war with England, he tells
+the British envoy how many years it will take before France
+can face England at sea, but he explains how quickly he can
+increase his army to four hundred thousand. In Schönbrunn,
+he says to the Austrian negotiator: “That is my last word. If
+you defeat me, I shall propose more favourable terms; but if I
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_589">[589]</span>gain the victory, I shall make them harder. What I want is
+peace.”</p>
+
+<p>He studies every shade of expression when he wishes to influence
+the envoys of foreign powers. We see this especially when
+he is adapting his demeanour towards the Austrians with an
+eye to the Habsburg traditions. He waits for the formal reception
+on his birthday, and then, faced by the semicircle of
+the diplomats, he stops in front of Metternich to say: “Well,
+Monsieur l’Ambassadeur, what does your emperor want?
+Would he like me to come to Vienna?” This is calculated to
+intimidate the Austrian envoy, and at the same time to advertise
+Napoleon’s threatening attitude throughout Europe. But
+two days later, when Metternich comes to a private interview,
+the Emperor says: “To-day, we won’t play at being Emperor
+of the French and Austrian envoy. There is no audience now,
+so we need not make any fine speeches.”</p>
+
+<p>Shortly before the conclusion of the first peace with Austria,
+he wishes to avoid meeting the defeated archduke in Schönbrunn,
+lest he should commit himself prematurely to peace
+terms. He therefore arranges that the meeting shall take place
+in a hunting lodge. “I shall spend only two hours there: one
+of them will be occupied in having dinner, and the other will
+be devoted to talk about the war and to mutual protestations
+of respect.” When the First Consul receives Count Cobenzl,
+he has personally arranged the stage in the Tuileries; writing-table
+in the corner; no chairs, so that they will have to sit on
+the sofa; only one lamp, no lights in the chandelier, although
+it is late in the evening. When Talleyrand ushers in the Austrian,
+the room seems almost dark, and the Consul, on the
+farther side of it, is scarcely visible; the stranger is perplexed,
+and has to sit exactly where his host chooses.</p>
+
+<p>He is even more subtle in his dealings with the princes. During
+the years of his supreme power, he ceases to pay them
+visits. In Tilsit, he becomes the host within two days; in Dresden,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_590">[590]</span>though he is the king of Saxony’s guest, he plays the
+master. He avoids having anything to do with queens. When
+Queen Louise pathetically implores justice, he begs her to sit
+down. “Nothing interrupts a tragical scene more effectually
+than this. When people sit down, tragedy becomes comedy.”</p>
+
+<p>In his dealings with the peoples he was less happy, and his
+only tolerable successes were secured with the French and the
+Italians. During the Consulate, he said in the Council of
+State: “My policy is to rule in accordance with the will of the
+majority. This, I think, implies the recognition of the
+sovereignty of the people. I became a good Catholic when I
+wanted to finish the war in Vendée; in Egypt, I was a Turk;
+when I wished to win over the Italians, I was an ultramontane.
+If I reigned over the Jews, I should rebuild Solomon’s temple.
+That is why I propose to talk about freedom in that part of
+San Domingo where the slaves have been liberated, while maintaining
+slavery in the other part of the island.”</p>
+
+<p>His policy was not very successful in the negro republic;
+he did better in Poland, which he tried to win over by festivities
+and phrases; and better still with the Jews. These had been
+granted equal rights by the revolution, and on the Rhine many
+of them were doing harm by the practice of usury. Napoleon,
+who knew their value as traders, did not have recourse to crude
+prohibitions. He bethought himself of Jewish laws and customs;
+summoned to Paris their highest council, the Sanhedrin,
+which had not met for centuries; left the decision to this body,
+and was able to arrange that the supreme Jewish authority
+should forbid usury as sinful. But in Spain he made a complete
+mess of things, overlooking the risks he was running, and
+advising Joseph to make himself agreeable to the whole nation
+“by instilling fear into the rabble.”</p>
+
+<p>The Germans puzzled Napoleon most of all. They had
+everything he lacked, and none of the things he had. He therefore,
+even in the midst of his successes, regarded them with a
+mixture of fear and admiration; they seemed to him uncanny.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_591">[591]</span>When he went to Erfurt and wished to influence the German
+princes by the drama, he told the managing director not to
+stage any comedies. “No one understands comedies on this
+bank of the Rhine. Corneille’s <i>Cinna</i> might be played, for
+therein great interests are portrayed; then a scene depicting
+royal clemency, which would certainly have a good effect.” He
+went on to misquote <i>Cinna</i>. Rémusat, having put him right,
+said: “In this sacred office, to which God’s grace has appointed
+the king, the past is justified, and the future is free. He who
+is advanced to this office, cannot be held culpable; whatever he
+does, he remains invulnerable.”</p>
+
+<p>“Splendid!” exclaims the Emperor, “especially for the
+Germans, who always cling to the same ideas, and are still
+talking about the death of the duke of Enghien! We must
+broaden their moral outlook. That will be good for people
+with melancholy ideas, the sort of persons with whom Germany
+is filled.” It is as if he were talking about German music, of
+which he knows practically nothing; but really he is thinking
+of German philosophy. The one is as uncongenial to him as
+the other, for he is fond of Italian arias and the wisdom of Voltaire,
+but says that “Kant is an obscure writer.” This misconception
+of his prevents him from foreseeing the possibility
+that so slow-moving a people may one day become inspired with
+a passionate enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the reason for the misinterpretation lies in the
+impracticability of understanding the masses of a foreign
+nation. In northern Italy, he did indeed make headway, for he
+was a young man, his ideas were naïve, the yearning of the
+oppressed was still fresh in him; and he was the herald of the
+revolution. But the dictator could no longer bring a torch
+to foreign peoples. Nevertheless, he continued to watch the
+sentiments of the masses. “A ruler should reign for the masses,
+without asking whether he is pleasing Mr. So-and-So....
+Men of mark look from above, and have no party ties; one
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_592">[592]</span>who belongs to a party, is a slave.” Such were his principles,
+but his actions told another story.</p>
+
+<p>The masses, even in France, saw a man who made himself
+dreaded. They feared him for a decade, but became sceptical
+at his first failure. “A ruler should be dignified in his demeanour
+towards the people,” says Napoleon. “But he must
+not flatter the crowd, which will then think itself cheated if he
+does not give it everything. You ask me why I make threatening
+speeches? I make them in order to avoid having to do the
+things I threaten!”</p>
+
+<p>But this severity is, in the long run, out of keeping both
+with his own simplicity of nature and with the instincts of the
+crowd. He could not seduce the masses by the offer of fame
+and money, so he showed them symbols: crowns and coronation
+ceremonies; courts and splendour and princes: but the
+people felt the growing distance between them and their ruler,
+and were not deceived.</p>
+
+<p>When the people of Paris learned that the Emperor, in his
+theatre, would no longer allow King Henry to say, “I tremble,”
+but only, “I shudder,” because, though a king (being only a
+man) may tremble, he may not admit it—the crowd must either
+feel angry or become derisive. But the crowd did not hear the
+words in which the Emperor instructed Talma how to play
+Cæsar:</p>
+
+<p>“When Cæsar utters his long tirade against kingship, saying,
+‘for me, in whom the throne inspires nothing but contempt,’
+he does not mean a word of what he says. He only talks like
+that because he knows that his Romans are standing behind
+him, and wishes to persuade them that the throne is an
+abomination to him. In reality, it is already the goal of his
+desire. Consequently those words ought not to be spoken with
+conviction.”</p>
+
+<p>He wants to use religion, just as he uses the drama, that he
+may lull the masses to sleep. Here is what the newmade Consul
+says to the Council of State: “What I see in religion is, not
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_593">[593]</span>the mystery of the incarnation, but social order. It associates
+with heaven an idea of equality, which prevents the poor from
+massacring the rich. Religion has the same sort of value as
+vaccination. It gratifies our taste for the miraculous, and protects
+us from quacks; for the priests are worth more than the
+Cagliostros, the Kants, and all the German dreamers....
+Society cannot exist without inequality of property; but this
+latter cannot exist without religion. One who is dying of
+hunger when the man next him is feasting on dainties, can only
+be sustained by a belief in a higher power, and by the conviction
+that in another world there will be a different distribution
+of goods.”</p>
+
+<p>Though he knows all this, and though he takes kindly measures
+for the relief of the poor, he can never free his mind from
+thoughts of the rabble and the mob. When he turns from contemplating
+the princes to contemplating the masses, his contempt
+for his fellows diminishes, but not enough. The masses,
+like the princes, are to be used for his own ends. He says:
+“The men of intelligence who have changed the world, have
+never done so by influencing the leaders, but have always set
+the masses in motion. He who influences princes is only an intriguer,
+and his results are second rate; but he who moves the
+masses, changes the face of the earth.” Democracy came between
+him and the people; and what he has to say about parliamentarism
+is not creative but critical:</p>
+
+<p>“The republic is the political form which elevates the soul
+and contains the germ of great things: but, precisely because
+of its greatness, it will sooner or later perish; for it needs a
+unified authority to maintain its power, and this must lead
+either to despotism or to a patriciate. The latter is the worst
+of despotisms; Rome, Venice, England, and even France are
+instances. If the republic wishes to attain greatness, the central
+authority must be established upon a permanent parliamentary
+majority; ... but this can be secured only by
+corruption, which is the cancer of the peoples, and a terrible
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_594">[594]</span>weapon in the hands of the central authority. The liberals
+have discovered the expedient of constitutional monarchy.
+That is a mezzo termine, which has its advantages, but only
+when the popular assembly, whose business it is to bridle the
+monarchical authority, is elected by universal suffrage.”</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon recognised the existence of all the problems that
+confronted the nineteenth century; but he never understood the
+social problem, with which his own story began.</p>
+
+<h3>VII</h3>
+
+<p>Imagination, the third element of his personality, is the real
+driving force of his self-confidence and his energy. Continually
+at war with the calculating part of his nature, fantasy, in the
+end, brings this harbourer of opposites to destruction. The
+imaginative power, which links the poet to the statesman (enabling
+both unceasingly to dwell in the affective world of
+strangers as well as in their own), is also the source of his
+knowledge of men and his guide to the management of men.
+But always his energy interacts with other qualities. One who,
+for analytical purposes, would force the living whole of his
+character into the framework of a system, cannot avoid, from
+time to time, breaking threads that he may bind other threads
+together.</p>
+
+<p>“I know not what I do, for everything depends on events.
+I have not a will of my own, but expect everything from their
+outcome.... The greater one is, the less can one have a will.
+One is always dependent upon events and circumstances.”
+Such words, casually introduced into a letter from husband to
+wife, express the distantly visible forms of his fantasy; for
+only the imaginative man, not tied to systems and principles,
+trusts himself to the movements of the moments, allows his
+spirit to roam freely, and discovers his course as he goes. In
+this sense, his whole career is improvisation, though in the converse
+way from that in which most people improvise. He calculated
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_595">[595]</span>little things in advance with great precision; whereas
+his worldwide designs were originated, transformed, improvised,
+in accordance with circumstances and developments. “One
+who has become familiar with affairs, despises all theories, and
+makes use of them only like the geometricians, not in order to
+move forward in a straight line, but merely to keep heading in
+the same direction.”</p>
+
+<p>This direction, this fundamental idea of the statesman, was,
+moreover, only possible in a man whose mind was simultaneously
+imaginative and mathematical. It is his most ardent
+vision and his coolest calculation; it is his political aim, his
+hope, his ambition: Europe. If this vision could be realised
+only by force of arms, that was because of the fierceness with
+which the first republic of Europe was again and again attacked
+by the European princes. We have seen how earnestly
+he strove for peace. No doubt he chose his means badly, his
+error being due to the time, the circumstances, and his own
+domineering character. But his mistakes as to method still
+leave undiminished the genius of the seer who looked forward
+towards an aim which was again to become an object of statesmanship
+a hundred years after his fall.</p>
+
+<p>“There are in Europe more than thirty million Frenchmen,
+fifteen million Italians, thirty million Germans.... Out of
+each of these peoples, I wanted to make a united national whole....
+That would have supplied the best chance of establishing
+a general unity of laws; a unity of principles and thoughts
+and feelings, of outlooks and interests.... Then it would
+have been possible to think of founding the United States of
+Europe after the model of the United States of America or of
+the Greek Amphictyonic League.... What perspectives of
+strength, greatness, and prosperity this opens up!... For
+France, unity has been wrought; in Spain, it has proved unattainable;
+to establish the Italian nation, I should have needed
+twenty years; to make the Germans a nation, would have required
+still more patience, and all I could do was to simplify
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_596">[596]</span>their monstrous constitution. At the same time, I wanted to
+pave the way for the unification of the great interests of Europe,
+just as I had unified the parties in France.... The
+transient mutterings of the peoples troubled me little; they
+would have been reconciled to me by the result.... <i>Europe
+would soon have become one nation, and any who travelled in
+it would always have been in a common fatherland.... Sooner
+or later, this union will be brought about by the force of events.
+The first impetus has been given; and, after the fall and the
+disappearance of my system, it seems to me that the only way
+in which an equilibrium can be achieved in Europe is through a
+league of nations.</i>”</p>
+
+<p>Here there is no talk of a dictatorial welding together of
+different stocks, or of an enthusiastic fraternisation. He
+speaks only of interests, and of a preliminary unification of
+these on a national and racial basis. The work of the nineteenth
+century was to inaugurate the preliminaries by the
+establishment of the nations. The twentieth century opens with
+the realisation of the Napoleonic idea.</p>
+
+<h3>VIII</h3>
+
+<p>The effects underlying his energy and his imagination are
+dominated by the clarity of his thought. Napoleon hated less,
+and loved more, than he would have been willing to admit. In
+this domain, we find the converse of what happens in the matter
+of his sympathies in war time, when a million men are coldly
+sacrificed, while one man wounded and bleeding touches him
+to the heart. Since his fantasy needs enormous masses, he is
+enraged when Joseph says: “I am the only person who cares
+for you.” Napoleon rejoins: “Nothing of the sort. I need
+five hundred million men to love me.” In these icy words glows
+the volcano which one of his school masters heard rumbling
+long ago.</p>
+
+<p>Emotionally convinced of his mission to order the affairs of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_597">[597]</span>the nations, he deliberately rejects anything that may distract
+him from this aim, and nothing sustains him but his monomania.
+Even in the drama, he objects to the interweaving of love
+stories, saying: “Love is a passion which should only be the
+main theme of a tragedy, and never a subsidiary motif....
+In the days of Racine, it was the whole content of a human life.
+That happens in a society where no great deeds are being
+done.”</p>
+
+<p>If love becomes intrusive, he annuls it. “I have no time to
+be bothered with feelings and to repent them like other men....
+There are two motives to action: self-interest and fear. Believe
+me, love is a foolish blindness!... I love no one, not
+even my brothers—Joseph a little, from force of habit, and
+because he is the elder. I am fond of Duroc, too; he is serious
+and resolute; I believe the man has never shed tears in his
+life!... Let us leave sensibilities to women. Men should be
+firm of heart and strong of will, or else they should have
+nothing to do with war or governance.” Another time: “The
+only friend I have is Daru; he is unfeeling and cold; that suits
+me.” Last of all, in St. Helena: “A man of fifty has done with
+love.... I have an iron heart. I never really loved; perhaps
+Josephine, a little; but then I was only seven-and-twenty.
+I incline to the view of Gassion, who once said to me that he did
+not love life well enough to give it to another being.”</p>
+
+<p>Always half ashamed of his feelings; ever ready to make
+excuses for them; “perhaps,” “a little.” Yet this is the same
+man who said: “I am the slave of my way of feeling and acting,
+for I value the heart much more than the head.” This very
+feeling is his fantasy.</p>
+
+<p>One in whom egotism is supreme, will be more inclined to
+jealousy than to love. His first letters to Josephine show him
+devoured by jealousy. Years later, as Consul, when he is inspecting
+his new bridge in course of construction across the
+Seine, he has to step aside with his companions for a moment
+to let a carriage pass. In the carriage sits Hippolyte, his
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_598">[598]</span>sometime rival. That was long ago; everything has been condoned;
+the man’s name is never mentioned in his presence. But
+now, at a chance encounter in the street, Bonaparte grows pale
+and confused, and takes a little while to recover composure.</p>
+
+<p>From time to time, he shows an involuntary kindliness. On
+one of the Italian battle-fields, he sees a dog howling over the
+dead body of its master. “The poor beast seemed to be asking
+for an avenger, or begging help. I was profoundly moved by
+the dog’s suffering, and at that moment I should have been
+very much in the mood to grant quarter to an enemy. I understood
+why Achilles surrendered Hector’s body to the weeping
+Priam. Such is man; so little can he count upon his moods.
+Impassively I had sent my soldiers into the battle; dry-eyed I
+had watched them marching past in an advance where thousands
+of them would meet their fate; then I was shaken to the
+depths by the howling of a dog.”</p>
+
+<p>Affectionate tones are to be heard in many of his letters.
+To Cambacérès: “I am so sorry to hear that you are not well.
+I hope it is only a passing trouble. If you did not take so
+much medicine, you would be better already.... But anyhow,
+you must do your utmost to get well, if only because of
+my friendship for you.” To Corvisart: “Dear Doctor, I wish
+you would see to the arch-chancellor and to Lacépède: the
+former has been ailing for a week, and I am afraid he is in the
+hands of a quack; Lacépède’s wife has been ill for some time.
+Give them the benefit of your advice, and cure them as soon as
+you can. You will save the life of a man of note, and one who
+is very dear to me.”</p>
+
+<p>Chénier, who has written against him for years, is assisted
+by him in poverty and given a secure position. Carnot, for
+ten years an enemy of the Emperor, is heavily in debt; Napoleon
+learns this, settles the debts, and refuses to hear of being
+given a note of hand; reckons up the pay which Carnot would
+have received as general in active service, makes this calculation
+the basis of a large pension; and when Carnot says he would
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_599">[599]</span>like to do some work for his money, Napoleon commissions him
+to write a military treatise, lest his pensioner should have to
+undertake duties that might go against the grain.</p>
+
+<p>During the Hundred Days, learning that some of the Bourbon
+princes are greatly distressed for lack of money, he sends
+them large sums anonymously. On one occasion his secretary
+is asleep, and he himself has nothing particular to do; he
+looks through a pile of begging letters, and writes in the margin
+of each the amount of an allowance which is to be given
+to the sender. Hundreds of officers whom, in fits of anger, he
+has sworn to have shot, remain at their posts—to forsake him
+in the end. When he orders Jerome to get a divorce, he is
+alarmed at his own harshness. After he has written to enforce
+his command with threats he sends a letter to his mother saying
+that she had better write to Jerome at once and get his sisters
+to write as well, “for if I have passed judgment on him, nothing
+can alter it, and his life will be spoiled.”</p>
+
+<p>From his few friends, he demands blind devotion. Never is
+the self-centred nature of Napoleon more plainly shown than in
+the words the exile speaks to Montholon, from whom he has
+been temporarily estranged: “I love you like a son, for I believe
+that you love me only; otherwise you could not love me
+at all. According to my way of feeling, it is not in our nature
+to love several persons at once. People deceive themselves in
+these matters; they cannot even love all their children with
+the same intensity. For my part, at any rate, I want to be the
+supreme object of affection in the case of those whom I love
+and honour with my confidence. I cannot bear partings. They
+stab me to the heart, for my disposition is too sensitive; spiritual
+poison affects the body more powerfully than arsenic.”</p>
+
+<p>Logically enough, he dislikes western views concerning the
+enlightenment of women. He always hankers after the East,
+and in this matter he is an oriental. “Nature intended women
+to be our slaves; and it is only because of our distorted outlooks
+that they venture to describe themselves as our rulers....
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_600">[600]</span>For one who can influence us in a good direction, there
+are a hundred who will only lead us into follies.... What a
+mad idea to demand equality for women! They are our property,
+we are not theirs; for they give us children, but we do
+not give them any. They belong to us, just as a tree which
+bears fruit belongs to the gardener.... In this difference,
+there is nothing degrading; every one has his privileges, and
+every one his duties. You, ladies, have beauty, attractiveness;
+but also dependence.”</p>
+
+<h3>IX</h3>
+
+<p>Throughout life, the imagination of this creator was troubled
+by the thought of the Creator. This ruler of men was greatly
+disturbed that there should be no one who ruled all men. It
+was not that he ever regarded himself as divine; he laughed at
+all mystical interpretations of his own power: but there was
+one great power which remained uncoercible—no matter
+whether it were called God, destiny, or death. How do self-confidence
+and fantasy escape from this snare?</p>
+
+<p>First of all by the rejection of dogma. “My firm conviction
+is that Jesus ... was put to death like any other fanatic who
+professed to be a prophet or a Messiah; there have been such
+persons at all times. For my part, I turn from the New Testament
+to the Old, and there I find one man of mark, Moses....
+Besides, how could I accept a religion which would damn
+Socrates and Plato?... I cannot believe that there is a god
+who punishes and rewards, for I see honest folk unlucky, and
+rogues lucky. Look at Talleyrand; he is sure to die in his
+bed!... How could I have remained independent if I had
+been subject to the influence of a confessor to threaten me with
+the pains of hell? Think what powers a confessor who is a
+rascal can exercise!...”</p>
+
+<p>In this matter he is consistent; from childhood, when he
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_601">[601]</span>would not go to Mass, until the end of his life, he rejected (for
+himself) all the religions. The man who, in his own life, would
+not recognise the existence of miracle, and ascribed everything
+that he was able to achieve to the working of the healthy human
+understanding, boldness, power of combination, knowledge of
+men, and imagination, could not possibly believe in the miracles
+recorded in the Bible. He was perfectly logical when he told
+one of his subordinates it was impossible that two million men
+could have quenched their thirst at the Wells of Moses.</p>
+
+<p>Even more uncongenial to him is any dread of a great assize.
+He does not talk about morality; or at most, he does so with
+some political end in view. Only towards the last, on the island,
+he says once in an evening conversation with his intimates:
+“How happy should we be here if I could confide my troubles to
+God, and could expect from him happiness and salvation!
+Have I not a just claim to it? I, who have had so unusual a
+career, have never committed a crime, and need not fear to step
+before God’s judgment seat and await his sentence. Never has
+the thought of committing a murder entered my mind.”</p>
+
+<p>For these reasons, he does not falter in the days of misfortune.
+Five years before the end, he expresses the hope that
+he will die without a confessor, but adds that no one can be
+certain what he will do in his last hours. In fact, this heart
+of steel was steadfast to the end.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, his ideas as to the nature of the creation
+developed, and just as the revolutionist became a legitimist, so
+the materialist became a theist. But these developments were
+not transformations; there was simply a broadening of the
+basis of his thought. Throughout life, he had a sense that
+things had come into existence by a natural process: “When
+out hunting, I had the deer cut open, and saw how like the
+beast’s internal organs were to those of a human being. Man
+is merely a more perfect creature than a dog or a tree. The
+plan is the first link in a chain whose last link is mankind.”
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_602">[602]</span>It should be remembered that the Emperor had not read
+Goethe’s <i>Zur Morphologie</i>, or Lamarck’s <i>Philosophie zoologique</i>.
+He had actually refused to receive Lamarck.</p>
+
+<p>Still more remarkable are his deductions concerning psycho-physical
+processes. In a Christmas discourse at St. Helena,
+he expresses his doubts as follows: “How can any one understand
+that God should sanction the caprices of a ruler who
+sends thousands of men into battle that they may die for him?...
+Where is the soul of a child; or that of a madman?...
+What are electricity, galvanism, magnetism? In these lies the
+great secret of nature. I am inclined to believe that man is a
+product of these fluids and of the atmosphere; the brain sucks
+them in and imparts life, and the soul is composed of them.
+After death, they return into the atmosphere, whence they are
+sucked up again by other brains.” After giving utterance to
+these Goethean motifs, he is alarmed at his own temerity.
+Breaking off suddenly, he says, as a soldier among soldiers:
+“Oh, well, my dear Gourgaud, when we are dead, we are simply
+dead.”</p>
+
+<p>Side by side with this scepticism, there exists and expands a
+theism. To Laplace, who denies the existence of God, he says:
+“You should be more ready than any one else to admit that God
+exists, for you, more than most, have seen the wonders of creation.
+If we cannot actually see God with our own eyes, this
+is because he did not wish our understanding to reach so far.”
+On another occasion: “We believe in God because everything
+around us testifies to his existence.” In St. Helena: “I have
+never doubted the existence of God, for, even if my reason were
+incompetent to grasp him, still my inner feelings would convince
+me of his reality. My temperament has always been in
+harmony with this feeling.”</p>
+
+<p>How shall such a spirit come to terms with destiny? Since
+his self-esteem makes it impossible for him to believe that any
+man can have beaten him, he is forced to ascribe his defeat
+to fate. But this sense of the workings of destiny is present
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_603">[603]</span>in his mind before the final overthrow; it accompanies him
+throughout life, and appears to be an equivalent for the reverence,
+devotion, and faith by which other men live. With the
+aid of his belief in destiny, Napoleon wages a heroic struggle.
+In his strongest moments, he feels that he wears armour of
+proof: “I have a soul of marble. The lightnings were unable to
+destroy it, but broke on it in vain.” Once he expresses his
+defiance even more poetically: “Should the heavens fall down
+on us, we shall hold them off with the points of our lances!”</p>
+
+<p>But these defiant moods are rare. In general, he is resigned
+to fate. There are hundreds of his sayings to bear witness
+to this. Here are three: “All that happens, is written; our
+hour is fixed, and no one can postpone it.... No one can
+escape his fate.” To the duchess of Weimar: “Believe me, there
+is a providence which guides all. I am merely its instrument.”
+To Johannes von Müller: “Fundamentally, all things are linked
+together, and are subject to the unsearchable guidance of an
+unseen hand. I have only become great through the influence
+of my star.” In such tropes we see awareness of God and a
+sense of dependence welded into pride in his own mission. At
+these times, a prophetical effulgence seems to radiate from him,
+but is obscured again and again by the self-confidence of his
+iron energy.</p>
+
+<p>Yet Napoleon was far from believing in his star as another
+man may believe in a god or a talisman. He could not bear to
+have the greatness of his deeds minimised by insistence on his
+good fortune. He was, therefore, far less superstitious than
+other men of his type. Louis brings him a valuable knife, but
+hesitates to give it to him; Napoleon snatches it from his
+brother’s hand, saying: “Don’t bother, it won’t cut anything
+but bread!” He scolds Josephine because she consults fortune-tellers;
+but then, being curious, asks her to tell him all about
+the hocus-pocus. He wants to have the signing of the peace
+of Pressburg postponed for a few days, that it may take place
+after the reintroduction of the prerevolutionary calendar; but
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_604">[604]</span>he does not order this, being content to use the unwonted
+phrase, “that would please me very much.” Schwarzenberg’s
+death, in 1820, is a great relief to him; for when a fire broke
+out in the Schwarzenberg mansion at the ball given in honour
+of Napoleon’s second marriage, the Emperor had interpreted
+this as a bad omen for himself; now Schwarzenberg’s death is a
+derivative for his own uneasy forebodings!</p>
+
+<p>Apart from these trifles, in a life so packed with important
+happenings, we do not hear of a single day during twenty years
+on which he forms, postpones, or modifies a resolution on superstitious
+grounds. But he makes an adroit use of his “star”
+and his “destiny” for political or rhetorical purposes. Since
+he wishes to pose before Europe as the Man of Destiny, he
+tries to work upon suggestible minds like Alexander’s by such
+turns of phrase as the following: “It is wise and politic to do
+what fate commands, and to march on the road along which
+we are led by the irresistible course of events.” His mind is
+fond of playing with the kindred notions of destiny, circumstance,
+and chance; and while he regards destiny as involved
+in more or less obscurity, he believes himself able to calculate
+the chances of a coming battle with almost mathematical certainty.
+“In these matters one must be careful not to make a
+slip, for an overlooked fraction can modify the whole result....
+To people of mediocre intelligence, chance will always remain
+a mystery; but to the clear-sighted, it becomes a reality.”</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes he lumps them all together—talents, destiny, and
+power,—and shows himself an energetic fatalist when he says:
+“Against attempts on my life, I trust in my luck, my good
+genius, and my guards.”</p>
+
+<p>In this virile spirit, he strides resolutely along betwixt life and
+death.</p>
+
+<p>A modern tragedy depicts a man who wishes to die. Napoleon
+says that the portrait is well limned, but unnatural:
+“A man must wish to live, and must know how to die.” That is
+why, from youth upwards, he opposes suicide; first, in an essay;
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_605">[605]</span>then, in an order of the day; then, with the reiterated argument
+that suicide is cowardice, especially in hours of misfortune. A
+careful study of the documents shows that the story of his
+having attempted suicide just before the first abdication is
+apocryphal. The leading memoirs make no reference to the
+matter, and such accounts as we have are at second hand and
+untrustworthy. There is no doubt that during his last battles
+Napoleon deliberately sought a soldier’s death; but he never
+tried to poison himself.</p>
+
+<p>Yet it was not only in those last days at Fontainebleau, and
+after Waterloo, that he suffered from tedium vitæ. The weariness
+recorded in the diary of the lad of sixteen, and in the letter
+which the man of thirty wrote from Cairo to his brother, were
+little in evidence during the most energetic years of febrile
+activity. Those who trouble to ask whether persons of genius
+are happy, will have to agree that this man of genius, who was
+not fitted by nature for happiness, enjoyed during the climax
+of his career, hours of content, and even sublime moments. But
+there were periods of doubt:</p>
+
+<p>“For the tranquillity of France,” says Bonaparte at Rousseau’s
+tomb, “it would have been better if this man had never
+lived.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Citizen Consul?”</p>
+
+<p>“He paved the way for the revolution.”</p>
+
+<p>“Surely you are not the man to deplore the revolution?”</p>
+
+<p>“Time will show whether it would not have been better for the
+peace of the world if neither Rousseau nor I had lived.”</p>
+
+<p>Gradually these doubts fade. But what he never loses is
+the sense of daimonic loneliness, which increases as his soaring
+flight leads him to chillier altitudes. “There are times when
+life is hard to bear.” Since the sea has always been unfriendly
+to him, there is only one place where he really feels at home—the
+desert, which to him is the image of the infinite. The desert
+is the sublime vacancy which expands before him when the
+myriad-faceted pictures of ordinary life sink from sight.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_606">[606]</span></p>
+
+<p>But never was Napoleon more perfectly freed from the
+tyranny of his thoughts, never was he happier, than when
+seated alone in his box at the theatre, watching a tragedy being
+enacted.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing else could restore his inner peace of mind; for, since
+he loved less than most, he was doomed to a tragical loneliness,
+the price he had to pay for his egotism. “There is neither
+happiness nor unhappiness,” he said. “The life of a happy
+man is a picture showing black stars on a silver background.
+The life of an unhappy man is a picture showing silver stars
+on a black background.” But it is not these heroic images
+which best characterise the loneliness of a soul. Even more
+poignant voices reach us from the familiar arena of the daily
+struggle:</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you understand, Caulaincourt, what is going on
+here? The folk I have got together want to enjoy themselves;
+the poor devils don’t realise that a man has to fight before he
+can get the repose he longs for. What about myself? Have
+not I a palace, a wife, a child? Do I not weary myself to the
+utmost with every possible kind of tension? Do I not day by
+day give my life to my country?”</p>
+
+<p>He gives his life to his work, for that is what he means
+when he talks of his country. A human note, gently plaintive,
+and fraught with the lofty irony of the finale, sounds when he
+says on the island:</p>
+
+<p>“The whole time I was bearing the world on my shoulders.
+’Tis rather a tiring job!”</p>
+
+<h3>X</h3>
+
+<p>A volcano made the island, which was flung up from beneath
+the waters thousands upon thousands of years ago.
+Forth from the midst of the sea, projects the gloomy mass of
+rock. Steep, black, and deeply furrowed are the walls of lava
+that run down from the heights into the waves. The chasm
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_607">[607]</span>above the harbour looks like the gate of hell to one who first
+sees it from a ship; and the traveller fancies that these dark
+ramparts must have been built by the hands of demons. Nothing
+betrays the work of man but the cannon placed among the
+rocks. When the voyager lands, the ground crunches softly
+beneath his feet, for the soil is made of disintegrated lava. He
+is treading the road of death.</p>
+
+<p>An extinct volcano in the Atlantic Ocean, two thousand miles
+from Europe and nearly a thousand from Africa, guarded by
+British guns—such is the rock of St. Helena, on which this
+limitless life might have ended like a tragedy of Æschylus.
+But, owing to the mendacity of a moralising century, the malice
+of English oligarchs, and the dry spitefulness of a colonial governor,
+the island becomes the stage for a tragi-comedy.</p>
+
+<p>The diligence of a few farmers and the energy of the East
+India Company had made the place pleasant enough. Hundreds
+of frigates had, by degrees, brought garden mould,
+building stone, and timber. But since no one would stay long
+on the rock unless under compulsion, there were twelve hundred
+negro slaves and Chinese to serve the five hundred whites
+who dwelt there for a few years at a time.</p>
+
+<p>No one can stay there. On this island, no one reaches the
+age of sixty, and very few live to be fifty; the climate is deadly.
+We are in sunless tropics, where the fierce heat of the equator
+is variegated with cloud bursts, and where within an hour a
+damp sultriness may give place to a cold downpour. The skin
+of those who, just before, were dripping with sweat, is suddenly
+chilled by the storming south-east trade wind, whose vapours
+are arrested by the rock. One who, after a burning day, ventures
+abroad in the evening, will pant for breath as he walks.
+Those who stay for a year, suffer from dysentery, giddiness
+and fever, vomiting and palpitation. Above all, they suffer
+from liver disease. Whenever England tried to station a
+squadron at St. Helena, the sailors died by hundreds; the
+ships had to put out to sea, and to keep under sail. The officials
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_608">[608]</span>and the planters fall sick. Unless they have the luck
+to live in one of the four or five sites protected from the wind,
+they and their families are soon compelled to seek some healthier
+place of residence.</p>
+
+<p>The inhabitants will tell you that one of the most unwholesome
+regions is a chilly tableland seventeen hundred feet above
+sea level; a lonely place, on the windy side of the island, made
+specially insalubrious by the persistence of fogs. There grow
+sparse gum trees, blighted by the trade wind, gnarled and
+twisted, leaning away from the prevailing blast. The St.
+Helenians call the region Deadwood. Here is Longwood. That
+is the place selected by England as the one in which the sick
+foe can most certainly be killed. It was not a temporary
+asylum, chosen hastily and in an emergency; it was not originally
+intended for the Emperor; it was made ready for him
+while he was living elsewhere on the island, in poor case, but
+still in fairly good health.</p>
+
+<p>Till yesterday, Longwood had been a stable, built fifty years
+before, and only at the last moment transformed into a dwelling-house.
+Negroes, and the carpenters of the “Northumberland,”
+fixed a wooden floor over the mud of the interior, neglecting
+to clear away the cattle dung. Soon after the Emperor’s
+entry, the planks rotted and broke, the stinking damp soaked
+through the flooring, and he had to move into another room.
+For himself and his followers, a home has been made out of a
+cow-shed, a wash-house, and a stable. In his bedroom, a dark
+and narrow corner, the brown nankeen which covers the walls
+is stained with saltpetre; smells from the kitchen invade it.
+In this last point it resembles the lodging he had in a café
+thirty years ago when he was lieutenant in Valence. But in
+that earlier abode his books kept dry; here they are attacked
+by mould. The dining-room is lighted through a glass door;
+the drawing-room is furnished with a worm-eaten mahogany
+suite; the servants’ quarters are flooded by the rain, for the
+roof here is made of roofing-felt.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_609">[609]</span></p>
+
+<p>The Emperor lives in two small rooms, each about fourteen
+feet by twelve, and ten feet high. The bedroom boasts a
+threadbare carpet, muslin curtains, a fireplace, painted wooden
+chairs, two small tables, a wash-hand-stand, and a sofa. The
+work-room has a bare table, under which two chairs are tucked;
+rough shelves closely packed with books, and an extra bed
+where he would rest sometimes in the daytime or which he
+would use on the nights when he was restless and sleepless. The
+bedroom contains some trophies rescued from his ruin; the
+little camp-bed he had used at Austerlitz, hung with green silk
+curtains; a silver lamp; and, on the wash-hand-stand, magnificent
+silver ewers and basins.</p>
+
+<p>These rooms, and indeed the whole premises, swarm with
+rats, which kill the fowls, gnaw the leg of a sick horse, bite
+General Bertrand in the hand, and spring out of Napoleon’s
+three-cornered hat as he takes it from the sideboard.</p>
+
+<p>Who lives in the house besides the rats? Three counts and
+one baron with their families (all of them officers, and accustomed
+to court life), two valets, and the rest of the Emperor’s
+staff with their dependents; nearly forty persons in all, when
+they first land. After six years, at the end of Napoleon’s life,
+the number has been reduced by half.</p>
+
+<p>Las Cases and his young son hold out for a year. Marquis
+and émigré, older than the Emperor, a sprig of the Faubourg,
+count of the empire, it was not until the Hundred Days that
+Las Cases became one of Napoleon’s close associates. He was
+a man of the world, author of some works on geography; later
+he was to write his <i>Memorial of St. Helena</i>, which is said to
+have brought him thousands of pounds. He was shorter than
+the Emperor, and as lean as General Bonaparte had been. He
+was cultured, pleasant of temper, always ready to serve: certainly
+the most agreeable companion and secretary the prisoner
+had. He entertained the Emperor with witticisms the Parisians
+had made at Napoleon’s expense, thereby unfolding the comic
+obverse of a tragic career. Las Cases taught the Emperor
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_610">[610]</span>English, thus widening the scope of the exile’s reading. When
+the two men exchanged notes in English, the count would underscore
+the Emperor’s mistakes. Las Cases, under various
+pretexts, finally abandoned the island, and left a vacant place
+which during the last years of the Emperor’s life was never to
+be filled.</p>
+
+<p>For Bertrand, sometime governor of Illyria, and devoted to
+the Emperor, is touchy, and is too proud to write from dictation;
+in other respects, he observes a faultless passivity, except
+when he shows fear of offending his wife. This lady, a
+beautiful creole, half-English with the head of a young lord,
+had been loath to share Napoleon’s exile. At Plymouth, she
+had tried to throw herself overboard; she is miserable, thinks of
+Paris, and weeps over her youth; consorts much with the enemy.
+One day her place is empty at the Emperor’s board. Napoleon
+says that his house is not an inn; Bertrand is aggrieved
+at the reproach, and does not put in an appearance next day.
+Then the Emperor is so unhappy that he cannot eat, and
+pushes his plate away, saying softly and with deep melancholy:
+“If, in Longwood, they are going to fail in their respect for
+me, my lot is bitterer than if it had happened in Paris.”</p>
+
+<p>Gourgaud is unbearable. The young general had been
+through the last campaigns as Napoleon’s adjutant. His affection
+for his chief has made him accompany the Emperor to
+St. Helena; but he is quite unable to overcome his feelings of
+wonder at his self-sacrifice. After a few weeks’ sojourn on
+the island he meets a charming lady, and writes in his diary:
+“O liberty, why am I a prisoner?” He is useful to the Emperor
+because of his erstwhile position on the general staff; he is
+conversant with the science of strategy, understands maps and
+mathematics. Not a day goes by, however, but Gourgaud is
+offended. Innate vanity and jealousy are increased a thousandfold
+by the narrowness of the circle; he becomes the incarnation
+of the grotesque, which, from the first day on the
+island, begins to encompass the Emperor about. Gourgaud
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_611">[611]</span>has the temperament of a snarling dog; he cannot allow Las
+Cases to take precedence; Napoleon vainly tries to smooth the
+young man’s ruffled plumes, and only by resorting to command
+is he able to prevent a duel. “You followed me here in order to
+comfort my life, so you are brothers. Am I no longer here
+to care for you? And are you not aware that the eyes of
+strangers are upon you?”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor learns patience upon the rock. He also learns
+considerateness, especially where Gourgaud is concerned. A
+dozen times and more, he speaks to the young man in fatherly
+fashion; tries to persuade him to bear with his companions;
+cajoles him with the promise of a wealthy and beautiful Corsican
+bride. Another time he sends the general to a little
+festivity in the town: “You will meet the Baroness Stürmer
+there, and see Lady Lowe. At your age, it is always agreeable
+to consort with pretty women. You will go to sleep filled
+with pleasant thoughts, and by to-morrow morning you’ll feel
+fit for work once more. We’ll talk over the Russian campaign....”
+A voice from Tartarus! But next day Gourgaud
+again takes offence because in a picture of the group
+which has been painted by one of the valets, he appears in
+civilian dress. A few days later he reminds his master of an
+episode near Brienne: Gourgaud saved Napoleon’s life by cutting
+down a Cossack who was about to attack the Emperor.
+The Emperor pretends to have forgotten; Gourgaud is outraged,
+saying that all Paris was buzzing with talk of the incident.
+Napoleon smiles: “You are a brave man, but amazingly
+childish.”</p>
+
+<p>Las Cases’ servant steals a diamond cross belonging to
+Gourgaud; in order to secure peace, the Emperor has to put
+the cross in his own pocket, and, later, present it to Gourgaud
+with the assurance that he had taken it himself. Again, Gourgaud
+complains that he is short of money and has not enough
+to keep his mother in comfort. The Emperor writes: “General!
+We are here on a battle-field. He who runs away because
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_612">[612]</span>he does not receive enough money, is a coward!... I do not
+owe you any thanks. If you had remained in France you
+would have been executed, for you had a command in the ’15
+campaign!” In rare moments only, does the rage in his heart
+find such vent. Napoleon does, indeed, tell Gourgaud that he
+is free to leave any day he pleases. But immediately afterwards
+the Emperor turns the conversation on to cannons, gun-carriages,
+and cartridges. Next day he says:</p>
+
+<p>“My dear Gourgaud, how glum you look! Have a cold rub
+down; that’ll do you good. One must curb one’s imagination,
+otherwise one is liable to go mad; it is like the Danube: at the
+source of the river one can cross it in a bound.... When I
+die, I shall leave no family behind me but you. I am no longer
+wealthy, but I have a few million still. In addition you will
+inherit my writings. I know what I owe you. But, while we
+are here, I want my friends to cheer me, and not to make me
+sadder by pulling long faces.... Do you fancy that I have
+no terrible moments? At night I wake up and think of what I
+was and to what I have come.”</p>
+
+<p>When such poignant words are uttered at the table of this
+tiny court, all sit silent and tremble. Each one feels that
+from this room, this house, this island, an echo like a belated
+rock-fall from the volcano must surely find its way to Europe’s
+shore. For a few days thereafter, intrigues are discontinued
+and enmities subside. But next week, over a trifle, the quarrels
+break out anew. Gourgaud can stand life on the island no
+more. He leaves at the end of two years. He makes friends
+with the English, and, when he bids farewell to Emperor and
+island, he sails away with letters of introduction from the governor
+who is the deadly foe of his master.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp59" id="illus20" style="max-width: 29.6875em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus20.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>Napoleon at St. Helena. Watercolour painting, probably by
+    a Japanese, with a marginal inscription in Chinese ideographs
+    concerning the owner. Broadley collection.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>Count Montholon is the most loyal of the exile’s companions.
+As a youngster of ten he had been instructed by Captain
+Buonaparte in mathematics. Later, he had served in two score
+battles under his master, and was much at the Emperor’s court.
+Many decades after Napoleon’s death, he proved his fidelity to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_613">[613]</span>the House of Bonaparte; for, just as now he offers up six years
+of his life to live with his exiled master on this rocky site, so,
+too, he devotes six further years to Napoleon’s nephew, sharing
+the third Napoleon’s captivity in a fortress. The only drawback
+in St. Helena is that the count’s wife does not get on with
+Madame Bertrand. One day the countess declares in the hearing
+of all that the Bertrands’ latest born is puny because the
+mother’s milk is good for nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Madame Bertrand is reckoning that her eldest is
+sure to be made grand marshal as soon as Napoleon II ascends
+the throne. How much jealousy rages in these breasts because,
+meanwhile, under Napoleon I, Bertrand remains “grand marshal,”
+while Montholon superintends culinary affairs and Gourgaud
+attends to the Emperor’s stable. Besides, none of them
+have enough to do. Their duties cannot occupy more than two
+hours of the endless day. At last things come to such a pass
+in this ramshackle palace that the members of the little court
+can only communicate with one another in writing. Even
+Countess Montholon and her children have in the end to forsake
+the Emperor and the island.</p>
+
+<p>Who is really loyal, loyal in his heart of hearts?</p>
+
+<p>Three servants. Marchand, the valet, who has attended the
+Emperor for the last four years; and two Corsicans who, in the
+hurry of departure, Napoleon had pressed into his service,
+thereby linking up the island of his birth with the island of his
+latter days. These servants never have any dealings with the
+English foe, who would gladly draw their secrets from them.
+Cipriani has a special reason for his reticence: as sergeant he
+had seized Capri from the governor of Capri who to-day is
+governor of St. Helena. Santini occasionally asks for a day
+off in order to go shooting. But his sport is soon stopped when
+the fact gets known that he intends to shoot “that monster, the
+governor,” and then to put a bullet through his own head.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor sternly forbids his man to contemplate any
+such deed, for who in Europe would not immediately cast suspicion
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_614">[614]</span>on himself? But when the servant has withdrawn, the
+master thinks indulgently: “We Corsicans are all like that!”</p>
+
+<h3>XI</h3>
+
+<p>A lean, middle-aged man with restless movements, red-haired,
+freckled, with a large brown patch on the cheek; his throat
+is stringy; he has pale golden eyebrows shading eyes which can
+look no one in the face; he is clad in a British uniform—such is
+the governor of the prison.</p>
+
+<p>He lives in a fine country house, in the most sheltered part
+of the island, with a garden which is the oldest and most
+luxuriant in St. Helena. When he pays his first visit to Longwood,
+the Emperor says: “Execrable! A real hang-dog face,
+like that of a Venetian sbirro. He glared at me with the eye
+of a hyena caught in a trap. Perhaps he is my executioner.”</p>
+
+<p>It was not Sir Hudson Lowe’s position which made him seem
+so obnoxious to the prisoner, who was on excellent terms with
+two or three army officers and with the admiral. But Lowe
+had been an English Fouché on the small scale, had been chief
+of the spy service in Italy, and had taken over his present
+delicate task in Fouché’s spirit. It was true that the peace of
+Europe depended on his watchfulness; and since, in Europe,
+people loved sleep more than greatness, one section of the
+public was hounding Lowe on to be brutal.</p>
+
+<p>The English press was describing the prisoner in atrocious
+terms. One of the most noted of English journals pilloried
+him as the murderer of the Jaffa prisoners, described his sisters
+as whores, and spoke of Murat as a waiter; a special law was
+passed to make any attempt at freeing him a capital offence,
+with the proviso that the offender would be denied spiritual
+consolation on the way to execution; the prince regent was said
+to have “besmirched his name” by presenting some fowling-pieces
+to Napoleon. The honour of England is saved only by
+the Whigs; and by the formal protest of two members of the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_615">[615]</span>House of Peers, the duke of Sussex and Lord Holland. Lady
+Holland ventures to send the Emperor books and fruit; another
+noblewoman, who in earlier days had wanted to raise a corps of
+amazons against him, now boldly espouses his cause in London;
+a great English lawyer writes twenty-one theses to prove that
+Napoleon’s detention after peace has been signed is illegal;
+Thomas Moore and Lord Byron save England’s credit before
+the tribunal of history. Germany’s good fame is rescued by
+the fierce attacks upon Lowe in the German press, attacks
+that go on for years.</p>
+
+<p>The governor is attacked because he has turned the whole
+island into a prison. He has issued regulations arranged in
+twenty-four paragraphs, informing the captains and crews of
+vessels that touch at St. Helena about all the things that are
+forbidden, under penalty; posters in the streets of Jamestown
+prohibit contact with the French; no one may approach Longwood
+without a written permit. Every movement of the
+prisoners is watched through a telescope; for six long years
+British officers keep their eyes riveted on the place of detention,
+but can rarely see anything more noteworthy than the lizards
+on the roof. Semaphores keep the governor informed as to all
+that is going on. They report: “General Bonaparte is out of
+bounds.”—“He is accompanied.”—“He is alone.”—One flag was
+kept in reserve for a terrible emergency, to announce the news
+that General Bonaparte had vanished. This blue signal was
+never hoisted.</p>
+
+<p>The “bounds” are a twelve-mile ring round Longwood, subsequently
+restricted to an eight-mile ring; at 9 p.m. (or,
+when the restrictions are increased, at sunset), a cordon of sentries
+at fifty paces’ interval is posted. If Bertrand, who lives at
+Hutt’s Gate (a small villa about a mile away), is summoned
+by the Emperor after nightfall, he is escorted to Longwood by
+two soldiers with fixed bayonets—these bayonets, so runs the
+order, “must point at the Frenchman’s heart.”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor, who has for thirty years been accustomed to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_616">[616]</span>horseback exercise, may not go out of bounds unless accompanied
+by a British officer. He protests, “Not because I object to
+the red uniform more than another; after their baptism of fire,
+all soldiers are alike. But I refuse to do anything which involves
+the acknowledgement that I am a prisoner.” When in
+high spirits, as he was sometimes in the early days of his captivity,
+he would defy the regulations. Once he gave the English
+officer the slip, rode across country with Gourgaud, burst
+into a private plantation, saying to the owner: “Don’t let any
+one know that we have been here!” But during the latter part
+of his stay at St. Helena he kept within bounds, and, indeed,
+rarely left the grounds of Longwood. Sometimes he would order
+his horse for a ride; and then, when all was ready for the
+start, overwhelmed with bitterness at sight of the officer who
+was to accompany him, he would countermand the order and
+re-enter the house.</p>
+
+<p>The result of this lack of outdoor exercise is that his health
+suffers more and more. The climate alone would have brought
+premature death, but confinement to the house quickens the
+pace of his maladies. For lack of movement, his legs swell.
+Furthermore, while Sir Hudson Lowe is giving dinner parties,
+for weeks at a time Napoleon cannot get even fresh water or
+milk. His stomach trouble grows much worse. The sick man
+would like a wider bed, but there is no room for one; he must
+content himself with rigging up a sofa beside his camp bed.</p>
+
+<p>He and his companions have been deprived of their money.
+The letters he writes to France asking for funds are intercepted.
+Being positively in want, he has some of his silver
+plate put up to auction. When this is reported to the governor
+by semaphore, the inhabitants are forbidden to buy; Lowe
+himself purchases the articles at knock-down prices through an
+agent. Six months later, when the governor reads in the newspapers
+what Europe thinks of his conduct, he is greatly incensed,
+makes the regulations stricter than ever, supplies Longwood
+with uneatable meat and sour wine.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_617">[617]</span></p>
+
+<p>Like the villain in the folk-tale, Lowe is continually on the
+lookout for new ways of mortifying his prisoner. On the anniversary
+of Waterloo, he holds a great review close to Longwood.
+He invites “General Bonaparte” to Plantation House on
+the prince regent’s birthday. Another invitation is “to meet
+the countess” (Lady Loudoun, wife of the governor general of
+India). When the mail brings him a new lampoon against
+Napoleon, the governor sends it to one of the Emperor’s companions;
+but when a bust of the king of Rome, modelled by an
+admirer, arrives, he proposes to impound it, for documents may
+be hidden in its interior. He intercepts a letter from Napoleon
+to the prince regent, in which the prisoner begs for news of his
+wife and child; refuses to allow a Viennese traveller who has
+seen the little boy to visit Longwood; and when, through the
+kindly thought of a nurse and the loyalty of a valet, a lock
+of the boy’s hair at length reaches the Emperor by devious
+channels, Lowe sends home a detailed report concerning the
+obvious dangers of a conspiracy to liberate the caged eagle.</p>
+
+<p>To begin with, the gaoler sees the prisoner a few times.
+“Throw away that cup of coffee,” says the Emperor after one
+of these interviews; “the man was near it.” From the first,
+Lowe does his utmost to shorten Napoleon’s life. When the
+Emperor’s vital energies begin to flag, the governor deprives
+him of the services of the English surgeon in whom Napoleon
+has confidence because this man, O’Meara, has refused any
+information beyond medical bulletins. O’Meara is one of those
+on whom Lowe has to keep a wary eye. It is not enough to
+surround Longwood with spies; the whole island is beset with
+them; they watch all the officers; and when they have nothing
+better to do, they watch one another. Soon a network of
+intrigue envelops the little house, whose interior is hung with
+yet another network—that of the jealousies which of old had
+been so rife in the Tuileries.</p>
+
+<p>In the third year of the captivity, O’Meara reports to London
+that the Emperor’s liver trouble has been greatly aggravated
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_618">[618]</span>by the climate, the dampness of his dwelling, the lack of
+exercise, and the vexations to which the prisoner is subjected.
+It is amazing that the illness does not advance with more rapid
+strides. This would happen, were it not for the energy with
+which the patient bears up, and were it not that his body has
+not been weakened by any excesses.—Since this report is shown
+to the British Minister for Foreign Affairs, and presumably to
+the prince regent as well, and since in spite of it the Emperor is
+kept for three years more at St. Helena instead of being
+sent to the Azores or some other suitable place, the bad faith
+of Napoleon’s custodians may be taken as proved—and Lowe
+was a worthy interpreter of his instructions.</p>
+
+<p>The man’s animus, and the craftiness of his designs, are well
+shown by a passage in one of his reports. Lowe says he will
+arrange matters so that Napoleon will be able to resume horse
+exercise. Otherwise the prisoner might die of apoplexy, and
+that would be extremely inconvenient. Death from some lingering
+disorder would be better, for then the British doctors would
+have no difficulty in certifying that death was due to natural
+causes.</p>
+
+<p>In the early days at St. Helena, the Emperor compiles a long
+official protest (it occupies twelve pages of print); it contains
+all his grounds of objection, and he has a private copy made
+upon silk, hoping that he will be able to smuggle it away to
+Europe. In this document he reiterates his refusal to allow
+himself to be addressed as “General Bonaparte,” for that implies
+a disavowal of his position as popularly elected Consul
+and Emperor. He remarks that he had proposed, as a reasonable
+compromise, to name himself Duroc or Muiron, after one
+of his two dead adjutants; but that England had refused to
+concede to him this “privilege accorded to persons of sovereign
+rank.” The governor had even attempted to address him as
+General “Buonaparte.”</p>
+
+<p>In this tragi-comical fashion, after bearing seven names,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_619">[619]</span>he returns with the eighth, to the first name by which he had
+been known.</p>
+
+<p>Soon there are actual hostilities. The lust of battle glows
+once more in the prisoner. He displays a vigour of hatred
+which in former days he had hardly ever shown in words, for
+then he had simply annihilated the objects of his wrath. Longwood,
+too, inaugurates a system of signals, though a less conspicuous
+one than that of the British, who use flags and semaphores.
+When the governor approaches, the Emperor, warned
+by his vedettes, hastens indoors, and tells his servants to say
+he is “not at home.” Once, however, he is taken by surprise in
+the garden; Lowe bluntly tells him that his establishment is
+too costly, and asks him to cut down expenses. The soldier
+flames in the Emperor.</p>
+
+<p>“How dare you talk to me of such matters? You are nothing
+but a gaoler. You have only commanded brigands and deserters.
+I know the name of every English general who has
+won distinction. All I have ever heard of you is that you were
+one of Blücher’s quilldrivers, and a robber captain who never
+had the honour of commanding real soldiers.—Don’t send me
+any more food! I will take meals with those brave fellows of
+your 35th, over there; not one of them will refuse to share his
+rations with an old fellow-soldier. You can dispose of my life
+as you please, but not of my heart. That is still as proud on
+this rock as it was when all Europe was awaiting my orders.—You
+would stick at nothing. You would poison me if you had
+the courage, or were sent orders to do so!”</p>
+
+<p>Without a word, the governor turns on his heel, mounts
+his horse, and gallops away. The Emperor compares past and
+present. “In the Tuileries, I should have blushed at such a
+scene.”</p>
+
+<p>For ever, the governor remains on the watch, negotiates
+about details with the Emperor’s companions, but does not see
+the living Napoleon again. One day, however, Lowe makes another
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_620">[620]</span>attempt, persists in spite of a refusal to admit him,
+wants to see with his own eyes that “General Bonaparte” is
+still there. The servant announces this importunacy. Then
+the governor hears the Emperor shout through the door:</p>
+
+<p>“Tell him he can bring his executioner’s axe if he likes.
+But if he wants to enter my room, he must do so over my dead
+body. Give me my pistols!”</p>
+
+<p>Lowe was able to satisfy himself as to the general’s presence
+when Napoleon lay dead.</p>
+
+<h3>XII</h3>
+
+<p>The Emperor rises as late as possible, so that the day may
+seem shorter. He rings; Marchand enters; Napoleon asks
+about the weather, slips on his white morning gown, and retains
+his headgear—a red chequered Madras kerchief he has been
+wearing all night. The red kerchief seems to be a whimsical
+parody of the turban he once dreamed of donning! Cold douche
+and rub—but of eau-de-Cologne, alas, there is none! Then Dr.
+O’Meara pays a visit. He speaks Italian with the Emperor,
+and gossips over the ludicrous happenings on the island.
+Sometimes there is no sugar to sweeten the coffee. Has the
+mailship come to port with fresh newspapers? Nothing as
+yet. Gourgaud arrives and writes from dictation. Where were
+we? The pyramids? The Emperor paces to and fro in the
+narrow room; a map of Egypt lies spread on the table.</p>
+
+<p>He breakfasts with Gourgaud since the young man chances
+to be there. The talk is of artillery fire, and means of defence
+against it. In the afternoon, lounging on the sofa in the bedroom,
+he reads. The old home on the other island was certainly
+more comfortable. A couple of bound volumes of the “Moniteur”
+pass the hours. If he wearies of reading, his book will
+sink on to his knees, and his gaze will wander to Isabey’s portrait
+of wife and child. Nearby, on the white lacquered shelf,
+are two eagles, candlesticks, from Saint-Cloud. Between them
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_621">[621]</span>is the marble bust of his son; and, hanging to the faded gilt
+frame of the mirror, four miniatures of the boy. There is also
+a picture of Josephine; and the gold watch of Rivoli, suspended
+by a chain made from the fair plaited hair of Marie Louise,
+hangs to the wall. There hangs also the silver alarum clock of
+Frederick the Great. Jetsam from the past, adorning his last,
+tiny bedroom!</p>
+
+<p>He dressed for dinner in the old green coat; sported the
+decoration of the Legion of Honour; wore white silk stockings,
+and shoes with golden buckles. He was waited on at table
+by his Parisian servants in their rich liveries of green and gold.
+The table in his fusty dining-room was set with a dinner
+service of Sèvres depicting Napoleon’s battles, branched candlesticks,
+glass globes crowned with eagles. Cipriani carved for
+His Majesty and served his master with great ceremony. Conversation
+was usually carried on in monosyllables; it concerned
+the cost of various things in Paris; the price of the throne and
+the sceptre. After dinner, the company would pass into the
+drawing-room for a reading of Corneille; the same plays over
+and over again; the Emperor read with too much feeling to
+read well. Sometimes his hearers would nod: “Madame, you
+are asleep!” or, “Gourgaud, wake up!”</p>
+
+<p>“At your orders, Sire.”</p>
+
+<p>Occasionally he plays chess with Bertrand or reversi with
+Montholon. Then it is time to withdraw.</p>
+
+<p>“What o’clock is it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Eleven, Sire.”</p>
+
+<p>“Another victory over time. One day the less!”</p>
+
+<p>Thus passed more than two thousand days and nights. His
+campaigns in Italy and Egypt and his coup d’état had taken
+half the time!</p>
+
+<p>The best way of getting through the weary hours is by reading
+and dictating. For five-and-twenty years he had had no
+time for reading; in earlier days he had devoured and annotated
+a whole library of books. What is he reading to-day?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_622">[622]</span></p>
+
+<p>The things which the young man had not had an opportunity
+of reading. In those days, standing outside the closed portals
+of the world, he gathered materials from all sides, went to first-hand
+sources: a practically minded student. Now, standing on
+the further side of the portals of the world, which have now
+closed behind him, he surveys the material: a sceptical philosopher.
+In those days, he searched history; now, he searches
+the poets, and especially relishes those passages from the poets
+which apply to his own case. An epic lies behind him; in the
+epics of others, he tries to find his prototype.</p>
+
+<p>First of all, the <i>Iliad</i>. He sometimes browses over this till
+midnight. “Now, at length, I understand Homer. He is, like
+Moses, a child of his epoch: poet, orator, historian, lawgiver,
+geographer, theologian.... I am specially struck by the
+rough manners of the heroes as compared with their lofty
+thoughts.” Napoleon finds ease of heart in Homer. He cares
+less for the <i>Odyssey</i>. This seems to him no more than the story
+of an adventurer: he himself is more than that. Next in order
+of preference come Sophocles’ <i>Œdipus</i>, a tragedy of banishment;
+Æschylus’ <i>Agamemnon</i>; Milton’s <i>Paradise Lost</i>; the
+Bible. Corneille and Racine depict, in the French style, the
+heroes of antiquity, who for thirty years have been his models:
+unending are his readings of <i>Cinna</i> and <i>Philoctète</i>. Ossian rises
+out of the roar of the Atlantic: this he reads in an Italian
+translation. In addition, the satirists of the social life of
+Europe: Molière, whom in the ardent years of conquest and success
+the Emperor had scorned; and Beaumarchais’ <i>Figaro</i> and
+the <i>Barbier de Séville</i>. Finally, all the latest publications,
+whether memoirs or pamphlets, and, preferably, anything
+against himself.</p>
+
+<p>The golden day for him was when the ship arrived with
+cases of books. In the course of his stay, he collected three
+thousand volumes; they were ranged on the bare damp shelves.
+Unfortunately, he reads so fast that a book hardly lasts him an
+hour, and the servant is kept busy carrying away armfuls of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_623">[623]</span>finished books which only a day before had been brought from
+the shelves. As soon as a book is read (or rejected) the Emperor
+flings it on to the floor.</p>
+
+<p>In the early days on St. Helena, Napoleon’s actions were
+performed at his erstwhile speed, a speed which was many
+times faster than that of any of his associates. He forgot that
+now it was expedient to go slower. The consequence was that
+the few duties the prisoner imposed upon himself came to an
+end too quickly.</p>
+
+<p>When, on taking leave of the imperial guard, he had promised
+that, during his reign in Elba, he would record their deeds, this
+had only been thought of as a way out of the threatened idleness.
+In the days of his first exile, he had begun no such record.
+Now, during the first year of his second exile, he dictates the
+whole of his memoirs. This work too, like all else in his life, is
+begun on the inspiration of the moment. Some pamphlets have
+arrived. In one of them, his landing at Cannes in the year ’15
+is falsely described. He tells his doctor the true sequence of
+affairs; paces up and down, declaiming; motions to Montholon
+while continuing his tirade, and dictates, without a pause, the
+whole chapter dealing with his return from Elba. Separated
+from his archives by five thousand miles and more, lacking
+documents, from his unerring memory, and with an inspiration
+unsurpassed in the days of his greatest activity, he dictates the
+story of the Hundred Days. Then, suddenly, he breaks off.
+What’s the use of it all?</p>
+
+<p>Another day, the report of an incident in the Lower House
+excites him: he thereupon dictates for fourteen hours without
+a rest. Those who take down his words, collapse, and replace
+one another at the task. Napoleon laughs them to scorn, and
+continues his dictation. Or, again, he sends for Montholon in
+the middle of the night to pen his recollections of more recent
+times.</p>
+
+<p>Since he loves above all to dwell on his early victories, his
+friends at first advise him: “Perhaps Your Majesty might set
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_624">[624]</span>about describing the Italian and Egyptian campaigns, and the
+days of the Consulate?” Set about describing! No one seems
+to notice, and least of all the Emperor, that these events are
+being spoken of as one might speak of the Thirty Years’ War.
+And just as, in those days, the man in whose heart and brain
+these things first took birth had projected his thoughts to the
+ends of the earth and had commanded his legions, so now, to the
+last instruments in his service, he communicates the details of
+his early campaigns, and in a few weeks describes how he conducted
+the wars from 1796 to 1799. Up and down, up and
+down, the Emperor paces, noticing nothing, wholly absorbed.
+Without, doors bang, people talk; the amanuensis is disturbed
+by these noises; not so Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>Las Cases, after taking down the description of the battle
+of Arcola, exclaims: “That’s finer than the <i>Iliad</i>!” The Emperor
+makes a wry face, and laughingly rejoins: “Bah! You
+still fancy yourself at court! I shall rewrite that chapter
+twenty times ere I shall be satisfied.” This expostulation is
+only a defence against flattery, for he has no intention of
+writing the chapter again; all he does is to make certain
+emendations when it is read over to him.</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand, he dictates the events of Waterloo over
+and over again. Since, in spite of his historical objectivity, he
+cannot understand the result of this battle which undid him, he
+is always searching for new formulations. When, through the
+good offices of some sympathetic Englishmen, an opportunity
+occurs for smuggling documents to Europe, he works laboriously
+at the battle of Waterloo in order to dim England’s
+glory in the eyes of the European continent. But, he avers:
+“this task always makes me sad.”</p>
+
+<p>In these memoirs, there are errors here and there. They
+are not due to lapses of memory, but to the author’s desire to
+emphasise his own place in history. Such errors are not more
+serious than those to be found in Cæsar’s works, are not serious
+errors at all. When he erroneously records that in his lieutenant
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_625">[625]</span>days he received the gold medal from the academy of Lyons
+for his solution of a problem, and states that the money prize
+was of great use to his mother; when telling the story of his
+battles he ascribes to himself certain deeds which, in reality,
+had been performed by his generals (at Marengo, for instance);
+when he invents a treaty in which the tsar, before the Russian
+campaign, is made to propose the division of Europe we have
+inaccurate statements regarding the individuals concerned,
+but the broad facts are correct. It is true that, in accordance
+with his conception of the hero, he formally idealises the hero’s
+deeds; but he seems to us to lose more than he gains thereby.
+Since he is describing the period of his rise to power, he cannot
+materially falsify the facts: the immeasurable consequences of
+his first victory were bound to give rise, on the one hand, to a
+certain boastfulness, and, on the other, to detraction. But
+these volumes, which deal for the most part with the exploits
+of the commander, furnish but little real knowledge of Napoleon.
+Where we have to seek for the true Napoleon is in the
+memoirs of those who had the privilege of recording his conversations
+in exile.</p>
+
+<p>Soon, indeed, his pleasure in dictation evaporates. Though
+he had intended to dictate in a few weeks the campaign of 1800
+which had lasted but that amount of time, he postpones this
+labour, and tells Gourgaud to collect material bearing upon the
+Russian campaign. Then the young general, who had himself
+participated in the campaign of 1812, sets to work to read—not
+a Russian work dealing with the campaign, but an English
+work dealing with the life of the Emperor who is there, three
+rooms away, and could probably furnish full particulars!</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon, the movement of whose mind was from events to
+ideas, and very rarely from thought to deed, is still true to
+type. When he reads news from Paris, he dictates rejoinders
+which demonstrate his expertise, and he compiles financial
+schemes. From his rock, from his little room, he answers the
+sounds coming from the outer world, although the sounds are
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_626">[626]</span>no summons and his answer dies away into the void. He
+often proposes to write a treatise on the art of war, but he
+gives the notion up, “for the generals who in days to come get
+beaten will blame me, and say they were following my principles....
+I could instruct them, for I am a good teacher;
+but I cannot have my principles of warfare set down in print.”
+He mistrusts every systematisation, for he is essentially a man
+who has learned by experience, by the unexpected. But if an
+isolated problem crops up in the course of a book he is dictating,
+then he deals with it in the precisest of terms. Thus, he
+makes Gourgaud calculate how much water a fire hose can deliver,
+for he wants to introduce the fire hose to combat the
+consequences of artillery fire.</p>
+
+<p>Congenial society occasionally shortens the day. Or visitors
+come to see the Emperor. English travellers, men of learning,
+colonial magnates, are admitted to audience. On their return
+to Europe, they bear witness to his mental alertness. Napoleon
+himself desires such reports to be spread abroad, for they can
+do nothing but good to his cause now that Las Cases’ diary has
+aroused fresh sympathy for his plight.</p>
+
+<p>“Scatter your complaints throughout Europe! I myself do
+not complain.” And he adds the orphic saying:</p>
+
+<p>“I command, or else I hold my peace.”</p>
+
+<p>His visitors tell him interesting things. An English admiral,
+whose vessel had been lying off the coast during the battle of
+Waterloo, assures the Emperor that Wellington had already
+given orders to ship the English army because Blücher did
+not arrive. When his companions inform him of the enthusiasm
+with which the enemy officers were filled after their interview
+with the Emperor, he says, assuming the role of the revolutionary:
+“Of course, these people belong to us. They all come
+from England’s third estate, and are the natural foes of their
+haughty aristocracy.”</p>
+
+<p>All the men in the services are on his side. English sailors,
+on shore leave for a day or two, will prowl round the place all
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_627">[627]</span>night. At the first opportunity, they pounce upon him, stuttering
+incoherent words, presenting him with flowers. The Emperor
+claps them pleasantly on the shoulder. When the garrison
+is changed, he receives the members of the officers’ corps,
+exactly as though they had been Frenchmen and he their army
+chief. They form a semicircle; he asks, “How many years’ service;
+how many wounds? I was greatly pleased with the 53rd
+regiment. I shall always be delighted to hear of good strokes
+of luck coming in its way. You are sad, Admiral Bingham,
+that these brave soldiers are leaving you. To comfort your
+heart, My Lady must bear you a little Bingham!” The army
+men laugh. The admiral blushes. When, next day, the transport
+hoists sail, the men give the prisoner three hearty cheers.
+A few months later, all Europe is agog with the anecdote.</p>
+
+<p>On another occasion, he sees a medal displayed on the chest
+of a captain, half raises it, and reads: Victory at Vittoria.
+The Emperor allows the decoration to slip from his fingers, and
+passes without a word to the next visitor.</p>
+
+<p>Each of England’s allies sends a commissioner to the island.
+They are there merely to gratify the curiosity of their sovereigns.
+The prisoner refuses them access to his presence, and,
+though they are here on this desolate rock with the sole purpose
+of seeing that he is in safe custody, during all the years of their
+sojourn they never clap eyes on him once. Here is a fresh focus
+of intrigue and boredom. The only one of the commissioners
+whom the Emperor allows his suite to make friends with is
+Monsieur le Marquis. This is the representative chosen by
+His Very Christian Majesty King Louis XVIII to keep watch
+on his formidable predecessor. The marquis sees that Napoleon
+gets all the most recent periodicals; the Emperor reciprocates
+by the loan of books. When tidings are brought announcing
+the assassination in France of a Bourbon duke, General
+Bonaparte sends his condolences to the marquis of the
+old nobility by the intermediation of Count Bertrand, who is
+also a sprig of the noblesse. A scene out of comic opera!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_628">[628]</span></p>
+
+<p>When the prisoner is in happy vein he seeks other pastimes.
+One evening he spends fluttering the pages of the official year-books
+of his reign, and says, like the bewitched tinker in the old
+folk-tale: “It was a fine empire. I ruled eighty-three million
+human beings; more than half the population of Europe!” He
+spends the whole of another evening with Las Cases chatting
+over old times. They laugh, the Emperor’s spirits rise, he orders
+champagne to be brought, and before they realise it the
+hands of the clock point to eleven. Napoleon says delightedly:
+“How quickly the time has gone! What agreeable hours! My
+dear fellow, you are sending a happy man to bed.”</p>
+
+<p>Words which grip one perhaps more poignantly than any
+complaint could do.</p>
+
+<p>He takes Montholon’s seven-year-old child on his knee and
+recites La Fontaine’s fable of the wolf and the lamb. The child
+has not fully understood, and makes a delicious muddle of
+lamb, wolf, and His Majesty. Another happy half hour in
+the Emperor’s life! Again, he strolls up and down the room
+in the evening after dinner, humming an Italian aria, and
+laughing gleefully, for he has just read that King Louis always
+speaks of him as “Monsieur de Buonaparte.” If he has a sleepless
+night, he makes Las Cases tell him anecdotes from the Faubourg;
+or he says to Gourgaud: “Let us exchange stories about
+love affairs. I never had enough time to spare for women.
+Otherwise they would have ruled my life for me.” If he gets
+bored in his bath, he takes the opportunity of demonstrating
+to Gourgaud why the pressure of the water upon a floating
+body is equal to the weight of the body. On one occasion, in
+the drawing-room, he has his own height and that of his companions
+measured against the door.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes he will not dress or go out in the morning, putting
+off both until the afternoon. On one of these occasions, after
+an exceptionally torrid evening, he does not re-enter the house
+till midnight, and says that he has won a real victory by staying
+out so long. Another day he goes up the stair-ladder into
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_629">[629]</span>his valet’s garret, having been told that it is so nicely furnished.
+He is shown his own wardrobe, which is stowed away there, and
+is amazed to find what a lot of clothing he still possesses. He
+fingers the uniform he had worn as Consul (a gift from the
+city of Lyons), the spurs he had worn at Wagram, the cloak of
+the Marengo days. He makes no comment; goes down the
+stair-ladder in silence.</p>
+
+<p>Amid these desperate attempts to kill time, does the prisoner
+come across no one whose situation moves him?</p>
+
+<p>Yes, there is one. Of all the dwellers on this rock, the one
+whose lot touches the Emperor’s heart most profoundly is a
+slave, a Malay who passes by the name Tobias, has been kidnapped,
+sold into slavery, and cast up on this remote island.
+Napoleon comes across him working in the garden, or meets
+him in the road, is never weary of studying him, and gives him
+a gold coin whenever he sees him. The Malay thanks him in
+broken English: “Good gentleman.”</p>
+
+<p>“Poor devil!” says the Emperor to his companion, obviously
+picturing himself in the position of this dusky piece of flotsam.
+“Snatched from his family, torn from his home, robbed of himself,
+sold into slavery! Was there ever a greater piece of
+wickedness? If a captain did it, he was a villain; but if the
+crew combined to seize poor Tobias, they were hardly
+responsible. Wickedness is always individual, never collective.
+Joseph’s brethren could not make up their minds to kill him,
+but Judas betrayed his master.”</p>
+
+<p>After the next encounter with the Malay: “What a pitiful
+machine man is, after all! Not one bodily wrapping like
+another; not one soul that does differ from all the rest. Those
+who fail to recognise this, make a great many mistakes. Had
+Tobias been a Brutus, he would have hurled himself on death;
+an Æsop, and he would have been governor by now; a good
+Christian, and he would have blessed his chains. But he is
+only poor Tobias, so he is none of these things, merely bows
+his head in his simplicity and goes on with his daily task.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_630">[630]</span></p>
+
+<p>The two continue their walk: “Certainly it is a long way
+from poor Tobias to King Richard. But the deed which brought
+the fellow here is no less shameful, for this man had his family,
+his friends, his own life. What a crime to have condemned him
+to slave on this island until the day of his death!” Suddenly,
+Napoleon stops short, and eyes Las Cases quizzically:</p>
+
+<p>“I read from your face that you are thinking he is not the
+only sufferer of the kind on this island.” Las Cases nods
+assent, and the Emperor bursts out with a youth’s ardour:
+“There is no warrant for such a comparison! True, the violence
+done to us is more refined in its cruelty, but, in compensation,
+we are more distinguished victims.... The world has its
+eyes fixed on us. We are the martyrs of an immortal cause!
+Millions weep for us, the fatherland sighs, the spirit of glory
+mourns.... Adversity, too, has its heroism and its fame.
+Had I died on the throne, surrounded by all the emblems of
+power, I should have remained a riddle to many. To-day the
+wrappings have been stripped from me; thanks to my misfortunes,
+every one can judge me in my nakedness.”</p>
+
+<p>Subsequently, the Emperor buys the slave, wishing to send
+him back to his own land and his own folk, but the governor
+forbids the repatriation: “It is plain to me that General Bonaparte
+is trying to win the hearts of the coloured population, in
+the hope of setting up a second negro empire, as in San
+Domingo.”</p>
+
+<p>Tobias, therefore, remains a captive; a slave in a far country,
+like the Emperor.</p>
+
+<h3>XIII</h3>
+
+<p>“I am very old to make a journey of two thousand leagues.
+Perhaps I should die on the way; but, never mind, I should
+die nearer you.”</p>
+
+<p>Thus writes his mother. The Emperor reads the letter again
+and again, when it is delivered to him a year after it was
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_631">[631]</span>penned. The powers forbade the journey: who could tell, the
+old lady might concoct a plan for his escape! Letizia had been
+banished from France when the other members of her family
+were expelled. For the second time in her life, she is unable
+to go to her island home: the first time had been long ago
+when Corsica was in revolt; now, Europe stands in the way.
+She, therefore, goes to Rome, where the moral power of the
+pope upholds her; always making fresh attempts to secure her
+son’s removal to a more healthy abiding place. Although the
+tsar is favourable to such a transfer, Habsburg and England
+are determined Napoleon shall die; so there is nothing more
+to be done. Neither mother nor any of the brothers and sisters
+is allowed to send money to the exile.</p>
+
+<p>When the monarchs assemble in Aix-la-Chapelle for the congress,
+Letizia writes to the princes: “A mother, more bowed
+with grief than words can tell, has long been hoping that the
+meeting of your imperial and royal highnesses would give her
+back her life. It is impossible that the captivity of Emperor
+Napoleon should not come up for discussion. Your magnanimity,
+your power, and your memory of earlier events, will surely
+incline Your Imperial and Royal Majesties to work for the
+liberation of a prince for whom you once professed friendship.
+I pray to God and to you, for you are God’s representatives
+on earth. Interests of State have their limits. Posterity,
+which confers immortality, admires a generous conqueror.”</p>
+
+<p>No answer.</p>
+
+<p>Later the captive learns that his mother has been accused
+of fostering a conspiracy in Corsica. She is said to have provided
+money amounting to millions. The pope is ordered to
+send his secretary of State to see the old lady and to make enquiries.
+Letizia gives the emissary the following message: “Tell
+the pope, and may the monarchs mark my words: If I were so
+fortunate as to possess all these millions they have credited
+me with, I should certainly not spend them in buying champions
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_632">[632]</span>for my son’s cause. He has enough of them already. I would,
+rather, equip a fleet capable of rescuing him from the island
+where he is unjustly detained.”</p>
+
+<p>What a feeling of pride and elation fills the son’s heart as he
+reads his mother’s words! But he never hears of Letizia’s
+bitter remark to an Austrian noble: “Why is my daughter-in-law
+amusing herself in Italy instead of joining her husband in
+St. Helena?”</p>
+
+<p>Round what sun are the other planets turning? What an
+anticlimax!</p>
+
+<p>Lucien and Joseph have gone to America, and are later
+joined by Jerome. They assume exotic titles. The Spanish
+revolutionaries have offered their ex-king the crown of Mexico.
+This piece of news excites the prisoner:</p>
+
+<p>“Joseph will refuse. He is too fond of the pleasures of life
+to bother himself again with the burden of a crown—and yet, it
+would be a stroke of luck for England that the whole problem
+of Spanish America should be solved in this way. For if
+Joseph were to become king of Mexico a breach with France
+and Spain would be inevitable. For myself, his acquiescence
+would be weighty with consequences. He loves me and would
+use his position as a weapon to coerce England into treating
+me differently. Unfortunately, he is sure to refuse.” Thus
+quickly and hopefully does Napoleon, in the first year of his
+captivity, toy with every fresh opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>The other brothers and sisters retire into obscurity. Jerome
+alone lives to be an old man, and, in the days of the third
+Napoleon, appears once more at court. The Emperor receives
+few letters from his brothers and sisters. Caroline begs her
+mother to send some money. Letizia refuses: “All I have belongs
+to the Emperor, from whom I have received all I possess.”
+To Lucien she writes: “When one is no longer king, one makes
+oneself a laughing-stock if one tries to live ostentatiously.
+Rings may adorn the fingers; but, if they fall off, the fingers
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_633">[633]</span>still remain.” Hortense and Pauline once more play comedy
+as they had done at Malmaison.</p>
+
+<p>Other tidings give Napoleon food for thought. Bernadotte
+becomes king. And Désirée? At last Napoleon’s early love
+wears a crown; she also lives to see the Second Empire.
+Countess Walewska, now a widow, marries a French nobleman.
+He approves the step, passes her situation in review, considers
+all he has done for her son, and then says complacently: “She
+is rich, and must have saved.” The tactless Gourgaud makes
+answer: “Your Majesty paid Madame Walewska ten thousand
+francs a month.” The Emperor blushes, and asks with embarrassment:
+“How do you know that?”</p>
+
+<p>King Murat and Marshal Ney are both shot after court
+martial. Their master accepts their fate with soldierly fortitude.
+His only annoyance is that Murat should have been
+such a fool as to land in Calabria. He bears his brother-in-law
+no grudge. Even Marmont, who lives happily under the Bourbons,
+comes in for no more reproach than: “I am sorry for
+Marmont; I was really fond of him. He’s not a bad fellow.
+They appealed to him through his feelings. He fancied he was
+to be saviour of his country, and behaved like a madman. He
+would have done better to shoot himself.... Human nature
+is weak.”</p>
+
+<p>And yet it is precisely Marmont who stifles every movement
+which might be of advantage to the exile. Murmurings against
+the Bourbon ruler spread throughout the land. But when,
+once more, the émigrés and the members of the new nobility are
+placed in great positions, notwithstanding their lack of qualifications
+for such posts, and a Richelieu is given high office in
+spite of his long absence from France and his ignorance of
+French affairs; when Lafayette, the veteran fighter for liberty,
+becomes leader of the proletariat and makes ready for a new
+revolution, gathering his forces in the clubs and even in the
+schools, and preparing among the troops “the men of the coming
+day,” to clear out the Bourbons, who can only maintain
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_634">[634]</span>their position by the aid of foreign armies; when the radical
+provinces, eager to flaunt the tricolour cockade, rally in support
+of Napoleon II—it is Marmont, Bonaparte’s eldest comrade,
+who crushes the movement, and thereafter becomes
+minister.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor composedly reads that Louis XVIII. has dissolved
+the Chambers because many of the members favour Orleans
+or Napoleon. Executions for treason are the order of
+the day. But who is the most trusted associate of the Bourbon?
+A little nobody of a Corsican, whom Letizia once upon a time
+had made her private secretary—a sinecure job created to provide
+the man with a livelihood. Since all these events take
+place during the first year, the Emperor is filled with hope,
+and meditates upon the chances of a fresh revolution.</p>
+
+<p>“What a cruel decree of fate that just at this moment I
+should be held prisoner! Who is there to set himself at the
+head of things? Who will be there to save thousands of the
+bravest from the scaffold?” He stays alone in his room until
+the morrow, when he speaks absently of Elba. Soon stranger
+ships heave in sight, the prisoner counts the shots. What is
+happening? The Emperor sends his friends to gather tidings;
+they hear nothing; but hope is strong. “What children we are,
+to be sure,” he exclaims next day. “And I, instead of giving a
+good example, am no better than the rest of you. Were I in
+America, I should think of nothing but my garden.”</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, he would not have gone to America. He owns
+as much when he says: “If I were in America with Joseph, instead
+of suffering here, nobody would ever think of me, and
+my cause would be lost. I may have another fifteen years of
+life, but I am doomed to die here—unless France should summon
+me.”</p>
+
+<p>These hopes are not unfounded. England considers it wise
+to increase the garrison from two hundred men to three thousand,
+in order to keep guard on one individual, although the
+cost of the troops in St. Helena is £320,000 a year. Still,
+there are possibilities, for the soldiers are whole-heartedly
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_635">[635]</span>on his side. On one occasion six officers were arrested. They
+had come from Rio de Janeiro, and had planned to get the
+Emperor away in a kind of submarine. Again, two captains,
+travellers to India on a ship which has touched at the island,
+make him proposals for an escape: Napoleon listens attentively,
+but decides not to accept. On a third occasion, Montholon
+breaks in on the Emperor while he is at work with Gourgaud to
+remind his master that the passport of a certain individual
+expires in an hour’s time and a decision must be made. Montholon
+writes: “It had been proposed to take the Emperor to
+America for the sum of one million francs payable on landing.
+The Emperor’s word would suffice. Unfortunately I may not
+divulge any more of the scheme, lest I expose the originator,
+for whose loyalty to the Emperor we must be eternally grateful.
+The Emperor listened to me, and considered all I had to
+say: he paced to and fro several times in silence, asked Gourgaud
+and myself for our opinions. He took no part in the
+discussion. In the end, he said: ‘You must decline the offer.’”</p>
+
+<p>There he stands, he has not been captive a year as yet,
+passably well in health, athirst for action, goaded by the pin-pricks
+of a mighty government and a puny governor. Before
+him opens out the possibility of escape, escape with the aid of
+English officers. The fact that risk is attached does not alarm
+one who is used to bold enterprises. There he is, dictating the
+story of his youth, when suddenly, at the end of his career, a
+friend makes proposals that are certainly not cobwebs of the
+brain. Napoleon is silent, he questions, he is silent again.
+Then: “You must decline the offer.” Why?</p>
+
+<p>Because France is once more in a state of unrest, and so he
+decides to stay where he is. He is so sure of a change of feeling
+among the people that, later, when a ship is sighted and
+signals to the station, the Emperor says: “Perhaps the vessel
+brings news of my recall. If the prince regent dies, the young
+queen will summon me to England. She was always against
+my being sent to St. Helena.” When, on the outbreak of fresh
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_636">[636]</span>revolts in Paris, his companions mention the possibility of
+France demanding his return, he concedes the point, adding:</p>
+
+<p>“But what can they hope from my return? That I should
+again conduct wars? I am too old. That I should seek for
+fresh glories? I am sated with them.... It will be much
+better for my son that I should stay here. If Christ had not
+died upon the cross, he would not have become the Son of God.
+My martyrdom will give the crown back to my son, if he lives.”</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon’s feeling for the dynasty is as deep as ever. His
+preoccupation with the thought of founding a line overpowers,
+in his maturer years, his impulse to action, to adventure, and
+even to win fame.</p>
+
+<p>Though he is inspired with these lofty moods of hope and
+heroical renunciation, nevertheless despondency overwhelms
+him at times; then he becomes greatly depressed, and the most
+trifling upset in the household will seem an intolerable burden.
+When Bertrand stays away from dinner in a pet, the Emperor
+is out of sorts for days: “I know that I have fallen from
+my high estate, but that one of my nearest companions should
+rub it in is dreadful....” He groans. Las Cases offers to
+intervene. “No, I forbid it. I had to say that much. But
+now all is forgotten and I shall behave as though I had noticed
+nothing.” If travellers should wish to see him on such days,
+he refuses, saying: “Tell them, dead men do not receive visitors.”
+Occasionally Napoleon broods alone for the whole evening,
+sends at last for one of his companions, says a word or
+two, and dismisses him.</p>
+
+<p>A quarrel arises between Montholon and Gourgaud as to
+whose room shall be furnished first, the Emperor has to mediate,
+the countess weeps, the Emperor proposes a game of chess.
+Dinner. A reading from the Book of Esther. Sometimes these
+scenes verge on the grotesque: a cow has escaped, the Emperor
+shows his vexation, Gourgaud sits glum throughout dinner because
+he is responsible for the cow, and is feeling aggrieved by
+his master’s anger. After dinner, the Emperor speaks of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_637">[637]</span>Islam and his preferences for the Mohammedan faith, then
+passes to a discussion of the trinity; finally he withdraws, making
+painful attempts to conceal his angry mood and muttering
+between his teeth: “Moscow! Five hundred thousand men!”</p>
+
+<p>Gourgaud, who has left him overnight in an agreeable state
+of excitement, finds him next day in a gloomy temper: “What
+sort of an education will they give my son? Will they teach
+him to loathe his father? Hateful thought!” When Las
+Cases, who has copied out the chapter on Waterloo, deplores
+that victory should have been snatched from the Emperor’s
+grasp, Napoleon makes no reply, but says to Las Cases’ son
+in a voice which seems to come from a great distance: “My lad,
+go and fetch <i>Iphigenia in Aulis</i>; that will do us good.” Or he
+has Racine’s <i>Andromache</i> read to him.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">I am come to the place where my son</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">lies captive: for one moment only,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">allow my tears to flow with his!</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">This is all that is left to me</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">of Hector and of Troy. Permit me, Lord,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">to visit him once on every day....</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">But the Emperor breaks in on the reading with the cry:</p>
+
+<p>“Enough! Leave me; I would be alone!”</p>
+
+<h3>XIV</h3>
+
+<p>With the growing inactivity and boredom, the moods of this
+tortured heart become more and more agonising; this many-toned
+instrument can no longer be controlled; discords arise.</p>
+
+<p>He has been an emperor! How can he cease to play the part
+to which the society of a handful of courtiers and the degrading
+mockery of the enemy constrain him? In order to protest
+against the use of the title of general and against the illegality
+of his captivity, he drives out, at first, in full imperial grandeur,
+his carriage drawn by six horses, and an equerry in uniform
+riding at each door. His companions appear before him in
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_638">[638]</span>general’s uniform or in court dress; no one opens conversation
+uninvited; when he takes his walks in the garden his suite does
+not approach till he gives a sign; visits are announced by an
+adjutant general, booted, and wearing a sword. When Gourgaud
+rises as Countess Montholon enters the room, he is reproved
+for this breach of etiquette.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile he makes fun of the whole thing, mockingly calls
+Gourgaud “my grand master of the horse,” or announces at
+table: “I have been anointed by the pope; thereby I have become
+a bishop, and have the power to consecrate you as
+priests.” When he teases his friends about their all being in
+the “Dictionary of Weathercocks,” whose pages he is at the
+moment fluttering, Gourgaud ventures to say that the Emperor
+himself deserves a place in it. “Oh; and pray why?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because you first of all recognised the republic, Sire, and
+yet, later, you were the crown.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are right. Oh, well, the Empire was certainly the best
+of the republics!”</p>
+
+<p>At the feast of Epiphany, he has a cake made for the children.
+Then he crowns little Napoléon Bertrand as king.
+When he is informed that there has been a complaint from the
+governor about the expenses of his household, and that, now
+that the price of meat has risen to forty sous, they must be
+more moderate in their consumption, he turns the matter off
+with a laugh, saying: “Parbleu! You might have answered
+that it costs us more than a crown.”</p>
+
+<p>Never before has so much self-control been forced on him.
+Impassively he reads Lowe’s answer to a statement of grievances
+from Bertrand, who had said something about “the Emperor.”
+The governor writes that he is not aware of the
+presence of any emperor on the island.—The prisoner asks
+Gourgaud to order his horse to be saddled. Gourgaud replies
+that he has not seen the animal for three days, since the blacksmith
+insists on being paid three napoleons before he will send
+it back. The Emperor masters his anger, and says nothing
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_639">[639]</span>more at the time; but next day he bursts out at Gourgaud:
+“Why did you insult me by talking to me about the blacksmith’s
+bill?” The day before, by a superhuman effort, he had
+managed to restrain his wrath, but by the torturing thoughts
+of the intervening hours his pride had been broken. The adjutant’s
+sullen reply had disturbed the Emperor’s equanimity
+quite as much as Austria’s desertion had done in earlier years.</p>
+
+<p>A soldier and a southron, he is choked sometimes by the passion
+for vengeance. On one occasion, when uneatable meat is
+served at dinner, he contents himself with the remark: “I
+should trouble little about myself, if I could only feel sure that
+some day our humiliations would be proclaimed to the world,
+so that those who are responsible for them would be covered
+with shame!”</p>
+
+<p>With a sublimity of spirit which grows in him now, he tries
+to moderate the natural rebelliousness of his disposition: “I
+am living here under a weight, so to speak; a weight which
+compresses the spring, but does not break it. Resignation—that
+is the dominion of reason, the real triumph of the soul.”
+This masterful man does his utmost to regulate his own conduct
+in accordance with the foregoing axiom. Subsequently
+he says: “Misfortune has its good side; it teaches us truths....
+For the first time, I am able to contemplate history as a
+philosopher.”</p>
+
+<p>For the first time, too, he is able to contemplate the present
+with a tranquil mind. During the early weeks of his stay on
+the island, when he was out walking with a pretty young Englishwoman,
+he conversed with her agreeably about various
+topics: how the climate was bad for the complexion; Ossian;
+the plantations. At this moment some negro slaves carrying
+heavy boxes crossed the path, and the lady called to them imperiously:
+“Get out of the way!”</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor interposed: “But, Madame, please remember
+that the men are carrying burdens!”</p>
+
+<p>Collapse of lady! Yet Napoleon Bonaparte himself would
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_640">[640]</span>not have been so considerate in the days before he came to St.
+Helena.</p>
+
+<p>In all matters now, except when he is playing the shadow
+emperor in pursuance of his feud with Lowe, Napoleon adopts
+a simplicity of life which outdoes that even of his poorest days
+as a lieutenant. When for some time there has been very little
+to eat, and the cook has had to eke things out with French
+beans, he eats them enthusiastically, praises the dish and the
+cooking.</p>
+
+<p>“In Paris, I could get along with twelve francs a day. Dinner
+frs. 1.50; reading room; theatre in the evening, pit; I should
+hire a room for frs. 20 a month. I should only want one
+servant; and I should associate exclusively with people of like
+fortune. One can be happy in any station in life. When my
+mother sang lullabies over my cradle, there was not a word
+about what I was destined to become. I believe ‘Monsieur
+Bonaparte’ would have been quite as happy as ‘Emperor Napoleon.’
+Everything in life is relative.”</p>
+
+<p>His doctor has a fainting fit. Coming to himself, he finds
+that he is being attended to, not by a servant, but by the
+Emperor in person. Napoleon has lifted him on to the bed,
+has unfastened the collar of his shirt, and is kneeling beside
+him, administering vinegar.—When Cipriani, the Corsican
+servant, is dying, the Emperor asks the doctor whether a visit
+from the master would stimulate the man’s flagging forces.</p>
+
+<p>“The excitement would kill him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, well, I suppose I had better not go.”</p>
+
+<p>When playing reversi, he establishes a bank. For whose
+benefit? The money is to be used to buy the freedom of the
+most beautiful female slave on the island. One evening, his
+companions find him at work beside the lamp, slowly and carefully
+stitching the pages of a manuscript.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, however, his dreams reawaken, and flutter against
+the bars of the cage. “I wish they would transfer me to a
+desert island, where I could have two thousand people of my
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_641">[641]</span>own choice, with muskets and cannon. I should found a glorious
+colony, and should end my days happily in that model land.
+There I should not find it necessary to be at grips all the time
+with antiquated ideas.” Having said this apropos of nothing
+in particular, he passes on to the details of the scheme, dictating
+specifications—how much money and stores would be needed
+for the founding of his colony.</p>
+
+<p>A chained sculptor, his plastic impulses must be content with
+such outlets in the world of imagination; but, side by side with
+these capriccios, he displays a heroic simplicity. One day, during
+the early weeks at St. Helena, he is out riding with Las
+Cases. “We came to a field that was being ploughed. The
+Emperor dismounted, and took the handles of the plough.
+With incredible speed, he drove a long and perfectly straight
+furrow. All this without saying a word until he had finished,
+when he told me to give the ploughman a napoleon. We remounted,
+and rode on our way.”</p>
+
+<h3>XV</h3>
+
+<p>“No one but myself can be blamed for my fall. I have been
+my own greatest enemy, the cause of my own disastrous fate.”</p>
+
+<p>This admission, the profoundest of all those made by the
+exile shows that Napoleon has completely outgrown the cloudy
+Cæsarist fancies of his middle period. Had he been a believing
+Christian, the confession would have rounded off his atonement
+upon the rock. His sense of responsibility, however, is not
+directed towards God but only towards himself, and therefore
+the utterance represents a great man’s final settlement of accounts
+with destiny. But, at the same time, it is a last outburst
+of defiance, for his self-overweening esteem made it
+impossible for him to admit that there were any greater forces
+in the world than his own. Napoleon alone could overthrow
+Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>The remark was not the outcome of transient depression.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_642">[642]</span>During the closing years of his power, he had again and again
+spoken to his intimates about his faults and errors; now, upon
+the island, such admissions are frequent. Some of them are
+ardent, and some of them are cold; for even in these self-examinations
+there is an alternation between fantasy and
+realism. From time to time, we have the heartfelt cry of a
+penitent: “When I close my eyes, all my mistakes parade themselves
+before me, like figures in a nightmare.” Or, again: “I
+wanted too much.... I strung the bow too tightly, and
+trusted too much in my good fortune.”</p>
+
+<p>But he will coldly reckon up the cases in which he has failed
+to understand men, coming at this late hour to views which the
+ablest observers had held while he was still on the throne. The
+reader who knows his story will require no comment on the
+remarks that follow.</p>
+
+<p>“I considered Emperor Francis a good man; but he was only
+a blockhead, and in Metternich’s hands he became an instrument
+for my destruction.”—“I ought to have left Talleyrand at
+his post. What concern was it of mine that he was plundering
+the foreign chancelleries. I should have been content with having
+him closely watched. He served me well, as long as he
+could hope to make anything out of me. If I had kept him
+in office, I should still have been on the throne.”—“If only that
+man Fulton, with his steamboat, had been right, I should have
+been master of the world. But those idiots of savants made
+fun of his invention, just as they make fun of electricity. All
+the same, gigantic powers are hidden in steam and electricity!”</p>
+
+<p>He regrets that at Tilsit he had decided to maintain the
+Hohenzollern dynasty. He regrets having crossed the Memel
+too early; having crossed it in 1812, before he had settled
+matters in Spain. He regrets that, in defiance of Carnot’s
+advice, he began the last campaign too early, and he regrets
+that at Waterloo he did not send the guard forward soon
+enough. Most of all, he regrets having, when his power was
+finally broken, entrusted himself to England, instead of to the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_643">[643]</span>tsar, or, better still, to the United States. Always, when he
+hears of crises in France, he regrets that he did not go to
+America.</p>
+
+<p>“From that vantage ground I should have been able to
+guard France against humiliation from abroad, reaction from
+within; the dread of my return would have sufficed. In America
+I should have established the centre of a new French fatherland.
+Within a year, I should have had sixty thousand men
+grouped round me.... It would have been the most natural
+place of refuge—a land of vast expanses where a man can live
+in freedom. If I had had a fit of the blues, I should have
+mounted a horse, ridden hundreds of miles, enjoyed travel with
+the ease of a private individual, lost amid the crowd. In
+Europe I was too popular; bound up, in one way or another,
+with every nation.... As a fugitive, and disguised, I could
+certainly have escaped to the United States; but both expedients
+would have been undignified. I put my trust in the approach
+of danger, thinking that the nation would be forced
+to turn to me as its saviour; that is why I stayed as long as
+possible at Malmaison and in Rochefort. The destiny that
+brought me to St. Helena was the outcome of those feelings.”</p>
+
+<p>This is the most productive of his meditations. The other
+mistakes of his career had entailed such complicated consequences
+that it was impossible for him to trace what might
+have been had he acted otherwise. But the final resolve at
+Rochefort had, as its inevitable upshot, brought him to this
+rock. In that respect, therefore, his mind was continually
+busied with alternative possibilities. Although, when in fancy
+he roams across the American prairies, he sometimes pictures
+himself as founding new States there, and sometimes as galloping
+through the wilds, we may ascribe it to the infinite variety
+of human passions that he should at the same time justify his
+final blunder on patriotic grounds.</p>
+
+<p>His critical faculty is most keenly at work when he is pondering
+his dynastic aspirations. In the last days of the Empire,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_644">[644]</span>he had confided his doubts to a few choice spirits; now, when
+it is too late, he freely acknowledges his error. “I was a
+softy where my family was concerned; by sticking to their
+point they could get anything out of me. What terrible mistakes
+I made there! If my brothers had communicated a
+common impulse to the masses I placed under their rule, we
+should have been able to make our way to the ends of the earth!...
+I was not so lucky as Genghis Khan, whose four sons
+vied with one another in their father’s service. If I made any
+one king, he instantly regarded himself as king by divine right;
+the mere word was as infective as the plague. The new king
+was no longer my representative, but became a fresh enemy;
+instead of serving me, he wanted to make himself independent.
+I was the only stumbling block in his path. In the twinkling
+of an eye, they all became kings warranted genuine; under my
+protection, they all tasted the sweets of dominion. I alone
+bore the burden. Poor devils! Once I had been defeated, the
+enemy did not even bother to declare their formal deposition.”</p>
+
+<p>That was as far as his penitence reached. However self-critical
+he might be, Napoleon never uttered a word of regret
+for having assumed a crown, or for having wished to found a
+dynasty. On the contrary, again and again he returned to his
+basic social idea: “I was the natural mediator in this struggle
+between the revolution and the past; my empire was in the
+interests of the rulers as well as in that of the peoples. My
+aim was the social rebirth of Europe; fate interfered before I
+had completed my task.” In line with his general conception of
+kingship, he deplores that the kings should have made an end
+of Murat. They would have done better to show the peoples
+that kings are above the law. Though the guillotining of King
+Louis had opened the road along which he himself had advanced
+to a throne, he condemned the act of regicide; not because he
+regarded the Bourbons as competent rulers, but because continuity
+seemed to him essential.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp56" id="illus21" style="max-width: 28.125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus21.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>Death mask of Napoleon. By Dr. Antommarchi.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>For he will never misunderstand Europe’s historical conditions;
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_645">[645]</span>he will never try to establish offhand in Europe that
+which he dreams of establishing in the promised land of
+America or in the utopian island of his fancy. He always
+sees what is, as an outgrowth of what has been; always transforms
+the extant, instead of destroying it; he never wants to
+build entirely anew. Consequently, he does not discard the
+old forms, but uses them as a foundation for his new buildings.
+With a passion for ordering and arranging, and with a hatred
+for destruction, he feels how much can be done when the basis
+is secure. “When I rose to power, people thought I was going
+to be a Washington. Words cost nothing! In America, the
+role would have suited me well enough; there would have been
+no merit in adopting it on the western side of the Atlantic. In
+France, I could only become a Washington as a king among
+kings.”</p>
+
+<p>That is the truth as he sees it. Since, at bottom, he despises
+the purple he has hung round his own shoulders, he would have
+been careful to avoid taking it to America, just as Washington
+had resisted the solicitations of his officers. By birth, he had
+been neither proletarian nor prince, but a member of a petty
+noble family which had fallen on evil days. Thus his position
+was an intermediate one, sandwiched between the classes. In
+his conversations with Englishmen about England, he displayed
+the naïveté of his class feeling, and his faith in the right of
+succession, for he closed an attack upon the British nobility
+in the following remarkable way:</p>
+
+<p>“It is not a handful of nobles or rich men that makes a
+nation, but the mass of the people. True, as soon as the mob
+gains the upper hand it adopts an alias, and speaks of itself
+as the People; whereas, if it is conquered, a few poor wretches
+are hanged, and spoken of as robbers and rebels. ’Tis the way
+of the world: mob, robbers, rebels—or heroes. As the fortune
+of war may decide!”</p>
+
+<p>After a reading of Voltaire’s <i>La mort de César</i>, he remarks
+that in youth he had himself wanted to write a “Cæsar.” One
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_646">[646]</span>of his auditors, with a courtly double meaning, says that the
+Emperor has done so. Napoleon laughs the flatterer to scorn.
+“I? You poor babe! Yes, if I had been completely successful!
+But, in fact, Cæsar had no better luck than I have had—for
+he was assassinated!”</p>
+
+<p>Closely associated with his self-criticism is his own estimate
+of his deeds. His historical sense, which is an integral part of
+his composition, leads him to an objective clarity in his contemplation
+of himself; perhaps an attitude of mind we may
+vainly seek for elsewhere in history before his day. Las Cases
+tells us that Napoleon talks of his career as if three hundred
+years lay behind him; and Countess Montholon movingly observes:
+“It seemed to me as if we found ourselves in another
+world, and I was listening to a Dialogue of the Dead.”</p>
+
+<p>He stubbornly defends his alleged crimes, the poisoning of
+the plague-stricken in Jaffa, the execution of the duke of
+Enghien. One day he is seized with the impulse to confide to
+an English physician the whole story of the Enghien episode;
+since, as Consul, he ran the risk of being murdered, a counterstroke
+was necessary. Another time he deliberately sets himself
+to the task of finding out what O’Meara really thinks
+of him. The Emperor knows the doctor to be whole-heartedly
+devoted to his person, but of independent character. They
+are sitting over a jug of porter, drinking together. Napoleon
+suddenly puts his question:</p>
+
+<p>“What sort of a man did you think I was before you came
+to know me? Speak your mind frankly!”</p>
+
+<p>O’Meara gives the description of an amoral chimera, a man
+capable of any crime to achieve his end.</p>
+
+<p>“I expected as much!” exclaims the Emperor. “Probably
+many Frenchmen think the same. They’ll be saying: Yes, he
+climbed to the top of the ladder of fame, by his own efforts;
+but in his climb he had to commit many atrocities.’” Thereupon
+he launches forth into vehement self-defence.</p>
+
+<p>One night he summons Montholon in order to dictate the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_647">[647]</span>thoughts which throng his sleepless brain. He sets down how
+he was ever inclined to peace, how before a battle and after a
+victory he always entered negotiations. Or he compares the
+two revolutions, adding: “Cromwell achieved his aim when he
+was in the full maturity of his age, and attained to the highest
+rung of the ladder through cunning and hypocrisy. But
+Napoleon came to the fore as a stripling, and his first steps
+are illuminated with deeds of glory.... Whose blood have I
+shed? Who can boast that in my place he would have acted
+differently? What epoch confronted with similar difficulties
+has ever come through with such blameless results?... I believe
+it to be without parallel in history that a plain man should
+have attained to such amazing power without committing a
+single crime. In face of death itself, I could make no other
+declaration.”</p>
+
+<p>Something now occurs which takes us wholly by surprise.
+Instead of, in the midst of this harangue, laying the blame for
+ill success on others, instead of allowing his inborn misanthropy
+to storm the heavens in resentment, he shows us that his days
+of exile have fostered his sense of justice. He who, for a lifetime,
+had declared that cupidity lay at the root of all men’s
+endeavours, and had dealt with his fellows on that presupposition,
+now becomes a cautious analyst; the man of power becomes
+a philosopher; Napoleon becomes tolerant.</p>
+
+<p>Now, he declares that mankind is prone to gratitude rather
+than to ingratitude; the only trouble is, people always expect
+more thanks than the deed is worth. Las Cases informs us
+that his greatest censure nowadays is expressed by silence. He
+defends even those who were faithless: Augereau, Berthier, were
+not equal to the magnitude of their positions; he excuses his
+brothers. From the altitude of these judgments, he surveys the
+wide perspective with a tolerant eye. We seem to be listening
+to the imprisoned Socrates when we read:</p>
+
+<p>“It is difficult to give people their due.... Do they even
+know themselves? Those who forsook me would never have believed,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_648">[648]</span>in the days of their good fortune, that a time would
+come when they would deny me.... Our last trials were more
+than human nature could endure. As a matter of fact, I was
+left in the lurch rather than actually betrayed, just as Peter
+denied his master.... Perhaps they have already shed tears
+of repentance. Who ever had more friends and more adherents
+than I? Who has ever been more beloved?... My fate might
+have been far worse!”</p>
+
+<h3>XVI</h3>
+
+<p>The Emperor’s companions keep diaries. He is well aware
+of this; he even has a look into one of them, but he reserves
+his thoughts. As a realist he calculates the monetary worth
+of these records, and he foretells what the writers will earn
+when they publish their books after his death; his only mistake
+is that he underestimates the amount. He bequeaths to each
+of his secretaries those portions of his writings which he has
+dictated to them severally. But he is correct in his estimate
+of the incalculable value the diaries will have for posterity in
+the study of himself.</p>
+
+<p>Accustomed as he is to dictate, he shapes his sentences carefully
+even when conversing, so that his hearers may record his
+sayings with advantage. The value to future generations is
+thus enhanced, and these summaries of his thoughts raise him
+above his present wearisome existence. His passionate feeling
+for historical events drives him to this self-expression, no less
+than regard for those who shall come after.</p>
+
+<p>Five days pass, sometimes, without his seeing anybody; he
+reads and he writes nothing. The future gives him no more
+food for thought. But during these periods of seclusion he
+surveys his life as a whole. Then his soul is shaken, and his
+lightning glance searches through and through his personality
+for a hundred hours at a stretch. Never has any man before
+him had to submit to such a scrutiny. The tension of his being
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_649">[649]</span>is at these moments greater than at Austerlitz, more elemental
+than in the Council of State: he is a bound Prometheus, one
+who wishes to promote human happiness; and, shackled to the
+rock, he groans. Yet he is but a little man in an old green
+coat! The visions, the dreams, which for twenty years he was
+able and willing to conjure into reality, he now dissects into
+ideas. Thus, in the end, he becomes the severest commentator
+upon his own life story.</p>
+
+<p>A book arrives. It is a collection of his manifestoes and
+decrees. He reads. Then he throws the volume aside, strides
+to and fro, and says to Las Cases:</p>
+
+<p>“Every future historian will have to allow me my share....
+Facts speak for themselves. I closed up the chasm of anarchy,
+and put an end to chaos. I cleansed the revolution from the
+filth it had accumulated, I ennobled the peoples, I stabilised
+the thrones. I encouraged all those who had talents, rewarded
+every merit, and widened the boundaries of fame and glory....
+Could not historians protect me against many grave
+charges?... If I am accused of despotism, they can claim
+that dictatorship was necessary in the circumstances. Is it
+freedom I attacked? They can answer that anarchy was still
+threatening on our very threshold. Love of war? I was never
+the aggressor. Striving for world dominion? This arose accidentally,
+because of the conditions of the time. Too ambitious?
+Yes, true indeed. But my ambition was of the sublimest: to
+found the kingdom of reason, with full development and unrestricted
+enjoyment of all the human faculties. The historian
+may deplore that such ambition could not wholly attain its
+goal.” After a momentary silence, he concludes: “There, my
+dear fellow, in a few words, you have my entire story.”</p>
+
+<p>Here he is on the defensive. But neither in such moods nor
+in any other do we ever hear him rave enthusiastically over his
+battles. In all the six years of his captivity, he does not seem,
+even once, to have sung the praises of General Bonaparte. If
+he is summing up what he achieved, he says:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_650">[650]</span></p>
+
+<p>“My fame does not rest upon my forty victorious battles,
+nor does it lie in the fact that I bent the monarchs to my will.
+Waterloo will wipe out the memory of so many victories; the
+last act makes one forget the first. What will never pass away,
+is my book of laws, the minutes of my Council of State, my
+correspondence with my ministers.... Through its simplicity
+my code of laws has had more effect than any civil codes before
+it; the schools I have set up, my methods of instruction, are
+creating a new generation; crime has decreased during my
+rule, whereas in England crime has become more prevalent....
+<i>I wanted to found a European system, a European code
+of laws, a European court of appeal; there would have been
+but one people throughout Europe.</i>”</p>
+
+<p>He reads in an English newspaper that Napoleon has hidden
+away vast treasures. He leaps to his feet, and dictates, to the
+man who happens to be his companion at the moment, these
+splendid sentences:</p>
+
+<p>“Would you like to know about Napoleon’s treasures? Yes,
+they are vast, but they are not hidden away. The harbours of
+Antwerp and Flushing, where there is room for the largest
+fleets in the world, harbours which are open all through the
+winter; the waterworks at Dunkirk, Havre, and Nice; the huge
+docks at Cherbourg; the port of Venice; the high roads from
+Antwerp to Amsterdam, from Mainz to Metz, and from
+Bordeaux to Bayonne; the passes over the Simplon, Mont
+Cenis, La Corniche, and Mont Genèvre, which open up the Alps
+in four directions, and excel all the constructions of the
+Romans. Then there are the roads from the Pyrenees to the
+Alps, from Parma to Spezia, and from Savona into Piedmont;
+the bridges across the Seine, and the bridges of Tours and
+of Lyons; ... the Rhine-Rhone canal and the draining of
+the Pontine marshes; ... the re-establishment of the Church
+destroyed by the revolution; the setting up of new industries;
+the new Louvre; warehouses, streets, the water supply of Paris,
+the quays along the Seine; ... the revival of the weaving
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_651">[651]</span>mills in Lyons; more than four hundred sugar factories; the
+repair and embellishment of the royal palaces at a cost of frs.
+50,000,000, and the refurnishing of them out of Napoleon’s
+private fortune at a cost of frs. 60,000,000; the redemption of
+the only remaining crown diamond, the Regent, which had been
+pawned to Jews in Berlin for frs. 3,000,000; the Napoleon
+Museum, where all the works of art had been obtained by purchase
+or by the peace treaties; many millions for the support
+of agriculture and horse breeding.... These are the treasures
+of Napoleon, which represent an expenditure of milliards,
+and will outlast the centuries! These are the monuments which
+defy calumny.... Moreover, history will record that they
+were all erected while long wars were being waged, and without
+loans being raised to pay for them!”</p>
+
+<p>There he is in his little room, in the narrow house, on the
+rock in the midst of the sea, defending his work, and, with a
+regal gesture, shaking things together pell-mell—main roads,
+sugar factories, crown diamonds, and the Catholic Church!
+Foreseeing the criticisms of history, he is fully aware of the
+truth about himself; though a century will elapse before
+posterity will begin to see in him something more than the
+military commander whose fame (as he says) was dimmed by
+the failure at Waterloo.</p>
+
+<p>One evening, after dinner, the question assumes a personal
+aspect. An inquisitive member of his circle has asked when he
+was happiest, and all present give their ideas. Napoleon tells
+them that he was made content by his marriage and when his
+son was born, “I cannot say happy, but content.”</p>
+
+<p>“When you were First Consul?”</p>
+
+<p>“I was not yet sure enough of myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“At the coronation?”</p>
+
+<p>“In Tilsit, I think. By that time I had learned the vicissitudes
+of fortune; Preussisch-Eylau had been a warning to me,
+and nevertheless I had won a victory there; I had dictated the
+terms of peace; the tsar and the king of Prussia were paying
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_652">[652]</span>court to me. But no, I am wrong, that was not the best. The
+happiest days I ever knew were after my first victories in Italy,
+when the masses surrounded me, shouting: ‘Evviva il liberatore!’
+I was only twenty-six, but I foresaw what I might
+become. It was as if I were being lifted up into the air, and
+the world were disappearing beneath my feet!”</p>
+
+<p>With a sudden transition, he hums an Italian song, and then
+stands up, saying: “Ten o’clock. Time for bed.”</p>
+
+<p>How pale do these comparisons of happy moments seem in
+contrast with the fiery rhapsody of his deeds! It was in the
+work he did that was concentrated the life happiness of the
+man who enjoyed nothing but the completed action. He surveys
+his past; doubts this suggestion and that, saying that he
+was no more than “content,” and finally hears again the first
+chorus of evvivas. In imagination he is again the youth soaring
+upwards; and in the evening of his life, spent in this
+tropical exile, the vision of fame floats once more before his
+eyes. That was what the disciple of the classical heroes had
+set out to win—fame!</p>
+
+<p>Fame, whose lure he had felt for the first time on the island
+of his birth, still allures him on the island to which he had been
+banished. Moreover, he knows that it is the glamour of warlike
+fame which has made him most widely known among men.
+He asks whether there can be any one in Paris who has never
+heard of Napoleon; he does not really mean Paris, but the
+world. When Las Cases tells him how, in the remotest valleys
+of Wales, shepherds had asked for news of the First Consul,
+or how yellow men in China had spoken of him in the same
+breath with Tamerlane, then the Emperor Napoleon forgets
+the shame and the weariness of his life on the rock, and knows
+his happiest moments. If he is in such a mood, some trifling
+item in the newspaper may arouse a flight of fancy:</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, the reaction is doomed! Nothing can destroy great
+principles; they will endure for ever in the light of the wonderful
+deeds we have done! The first stains have been washed out
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_653">[653]</span>in the waters of glory, and now the principles are immortal....
+Adorned with our laurels, acclaimed by the peoples, sanctified
+by treaties with the powers, they are breathed from all
+lips and hearkened to by all ears.... They will rule the
+world; will become the faith and the morality of all the peoples;
+and, say what you will, this new epoch is associated with my
+name. I lighted the torch; friends and foes alike will acclaim
+me the leading champion, the greatest representative of the
+new principles. After my death, for the nations I shall still be
+the sun of their rights; my name will be the war cry of their
+struggle, the slogan of their hopes!”</p>
+
+<p>Still, these heroics about himself lack the right conclusion.
+Politically he overestimates the value of his martyrdom; it has
+not been able to save the dynasty: but he does not foresee the
+effect which this last act of the drama will have upon the hearts
+of men. A soldier’s death looms before his eyes; he had sought
+it under fire on the last battle-fields; again and again he turns
+his own story over in his mind, in search of the romantic moment
+which would have been the most appropriate close; he
+often recurs to the subject in conversation. Like a playwright
+he looks for the fitting climax: “I ought to have died in Moscow.
+Till then my fame was undiminished.... If only
+heaven had sent me a bullet in the Kremlin! My dynasty would
+have been established; history would have compared me with
+Alexander and Cæsar. Whereas, as things have turned out, I
+am practically nothing.” On another occasion he thinks that
+death shortly before attaining the goal, would have had even
+more effect on posterity: “Had I fallen at Borodino, my death
+would have been like Alexander’s. A death at Waterloo would
+have been a good one. But perhaps Dresden would have been
+better. No, no, at Waterloo would have been best. The love
+of the people, their mourning!”</p>
+
+<p>Once he summarises the whole as follows:</p>
+
+<p>“Taking it all in all, what a ballad my life has been!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_654">[654]</span></p>
+
+<h3>XVII</h3>
+
+<p>Sunrise. A man stands at the door of a house where all the
+inmates are still asleep. He wears a white coat, red slippers,
+a broad-brimmed straw hat; he holds a spade in one hand, and
+rings a huge bell with the other, rousing the sleepers to work.
+A wall is to be raised, a ditch lengthened; land is to be reclaimed
+from the inroads of the sea; this is the scheme. Doors
+open, tent-flaps are flung back, and from all directions men
+flock to the master’s side. They are armed with shovels, rakes,
+axes; and are eager to carry out the Emperor’s commands.</p>
+
+<p>He resembles the centenarian Faust.</p>
+
+<p>The last year of his life has opened. He has made up his
+mind, come what may, to stay on this rock; and, since no one
+offers to make a verdant bower for him, he has decided, after
+yearlong feuds and resistance to his plans, to make a garden
+for himself. A half-circle of wall is to protect the growths
+from too much sun, from the trade wind, and from the watchful
+eye of the sentry. Cisterns are to store rain water; within the
+ramparts, earth is distributed for the flowers and the bushes;
+four-and-twenty large trees are planted; peaches, oranges, and,
+in front of his window, an oak. The trees have been imported
+from the Cape, and are brought to Longwood with the aid of
+the English artillery regiment—an old acquaintance of the
+Peninsular War. Chinese gardeners, Indian coolies, French
+servants, English stablemen, all help in the work; the doctor
+must take a hand too, with Montholon and Bertrand; and when
+the English officer on duty draws near, he sees the Emperor
+take a turf from his grand marshal’s hands, fit it into its place
+on the bank, and pat it down carefully. But since Napoleon
+knows that transplanted soldiers must be especially well treated
+in foreign parts, he waters the square of grass assiduously.</p>
+
+<p>The work goes on for seven months; and, when it is finished,
+the garden, so swiftly brought into being on the rock, is regarded
+as a wonder. The governor’s daughter comes secretly
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_655">[655]</span>to look at it. This is the last miracle wrought by Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>It is because he has become aware of the decline in his
+energies, that he has decided to beautify the place in which he
+is to pass the remainder of his days. He is overheard murmuring
+to himself Voltaire’s line: “See Paris once more? I
+cannot hope for that.” When his birthday comes round, he
+says it will be the last, gives the children presents; “at dinner,
+where we were all assembled, he beamed on us like a father in
+the family circle.”</p>
+
+<p>That autumn, he takes his last ride, a long one, going out
+of bounds for the first time after four years.</p>
+
+<p>He seldom dictates now, but has a fancy to do so sometimes
+at night when sleep will not come; dictates comments on the
+battles of Turenne, Frederick, and Cæsar; literary criticism
+upon Voltaire’s <i>Mahomet</i> and Virgil’s <i>Æneid</i>; remarks on suicide,
+which he had condemned long ago when he had been a
+lieutenant. His best secretaries, Gourgaud and Las Cases,
+have left the island long since. For a quarter of an hour at a
+time, he will stand drumming with his fingers on the door of
+the veranda, watching the gulls, or gazing at the clouds; he no
+longer scrutinises the ships through the telescope; he is only
+waiting for death.</p>
+
+<p>The news of a fresh conspiracy against the Bourbons, originating
+in the army and widely supported by civilians, no longer
+excites him. During the last six months of his life, he rejects
+two schemes of rescue. “It is written in the stars that I am
+to die here. In America I should be assassinated, or forgotten.
+Nothing but my martyrdom can save my dynasty. That is
+why I prefer to stay in St. Helena.”</p>
+
+<p>His mortal illness gains on him. The climate of the island is
+dangerous to persons whose livers are healthy when they first
+come; Napoleon, at thirty-five, had foretold that he would die
+of liver trouble like his father, and his liver complaint is greatly
+aggravated. He says that his stomach burns like fire; in some
+of the paroxysms, he rolls on the floor in agony. He complains
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_656">[656]</span>of a pain in the gastric region, “like the stab of a penknife.”
+He shivers with cold, though he is burning within; when hot
+compresses are applied, they can never be hot enough for him.</p>
+
+<p>He watches his symptoms, and studies their meaning; will
+not take any medicine until its action has been explained to him.
+He says ruefully: “I have got so fond of my bed that I would
+not exchange it now for a throne. What a pitiful creature I
+have become! I, who hardly ever needed sleep, pass my days in
+lethargy. It seems a desperate resolve merely to open my
+eyes. Often enough, I used to dictate on different topics to
+four secretaries at once. In those days, I was Napoleon.”
+His mood vacillates between heroic pathos and irony. When
+his valet reports that a comet is visible, the Emperor rejoins:
+“That was the sign before the death of Cæsar.” But when his
+doctor declares that there is no comet to be seen, the sick man
+says: “Well, people die without comets!”</p>
+
+<p>His medical attendant is a Corsican named Antommarchi.
+Owing to the quarrel with the governor, the prisoner had no
+doctor for a year after O’Meara’s departure. At length
+Madame Letizia, after much effort, was able to arrange for the
+sending of this compatriot as his physician, together with two
+priests, a body servant, and a cook. Thus it is that, after years
+of silence, the Emperor hears trustworthy details about his
+mother. Once, during these last days, he says in simple words
+what she means to him: “All that I am and was, I owe to my
+mother; she taught me her own principles, and encouraged in
+me the habit of work.”</p>
+
+<p>Now there are five Corsicans round the lonely man. Only
+two of them are any good: the body servant and the cook. Of
+the two priests, one is a deaf old man, partially paralysed, and
+unable to articulate clearly; the other, fresh from the seminary,
+is ignorant and uncouth. Antommarchi, too, is a young man,
+inexperienced but pretentious. Still, the sight of these
+islanders, men of his own race, revives memories of his Corsican
+home. Hence, towards the close, feelings reawaken which in
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_657">[657]</span>early life he had stifled because of his determination to be a
+Frenchman. Napoleon dies as he was born, an Italian.</p>
+
+<p>He often talks Italian, now, or intersperses his French with
+strange locutions literally translated from his mother tongue.
+When he reads an attack made on him by a senator who declares
+that in the day of the Empire France had chosen her
+master from among a people whom the Romans did not consider
+good enough, to use as slaves, Napoleon’s comment is that it is
+a great compliment to the Corsicans, “for the Romans knew
+that this people could not be forced to serve.... Besides,
+Corsica, lying between France and Italy, was an appropriate
+birthplace for a man who was to rule both.”</p>
+
+<p>Then, suddenly, it is again his fatherland. “Ah, Doctor,
+where are the lovely skies of Corsica? If only I could have
+fled thither, the people would have received me with open arms,
+and would have become my family. Do you think that the
+allies could have mastered me in Corsica? You know our mountaineers,
+their courage and their pride! I am familiar with
+every ravine in the island, every stream!” He declares that he
+would fain have made much of this island (about which he never
+troubled after leaving it), would have signalised his love for it
+before all France. Only his misfortunes had prevented his
+carrying out these plans. He speaks of the spiritual greatness
+of the islanders, of their veneration for honour, of the blood
+feuds they hand down from generation to generation; he speaks
+of Paoli. “Everything is better there, the very smell of the
+ground. If my eyes were shut, I should recognise it; I have
+never come across it anywhere else.... No longer to own the
+house where one was born, to be homeless—this is to be without
+a fatherland!” Thus late, thus painfully, and thus indirectly,
+does this man without a fatherland make his great
+discovery; or thus late does he acknowledge his true feelings.</p>
+
+<p>The Corsican doctor has no great sympathy with the Emperor;
+he does not credit Napoleon’s sufferings; he believes
+them to be simulated for political ends, in the hope of a removal
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_658">[658]</span>to Europe; and is absent during the worst paroxysms.
+Thus the political use the Emperor has made of his ailments
+works out its own revenge; for now, when he is really dying,
+his own compatriot regards his sufferings as spurious. There is
+ample record of these differences between doctor and patient.
+Napoleon wishes to get rid of Antommarchi, and asks Lowe
+to have him sent back to Europe. This is a new triumph for
+the governor, to whom the quarrel between the great Corsican
+and the little is useful ammunition. Only four weeks before
+the Emperor’s death, his gaoler once more tries to force a way
+into his presence, and the consequent excitement is very bad
+for Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>The number of the faithful diminishes, as if to justify the
+misanthropist at the close of his life. Now, in the very last
+weeks, four of the servants and the old priest set sail for
+Europe; two others fall sick, and the last remaining members
+of his suite are meditating flight: Montholon is corresponding
+with the countess about the possibility of a substitute; Bertrand
+is about to yield to the continued solicitations of his family,
+and return to France. Montholon, to induce him to remain,
+has to assure him that when the Emperor talks of being seriously
+ill, this is not done merely to play upon Bertrand’s sympathies.
+When Bertrand finally decides to remain, the invalid
+is greatly encouraged. The only one who never thought of
+leaving, was Marchand, the valet. The Emperor says to him:
+“If this goes on much longer, no one will be left here but you
+and me. But you will look after me till the end, and will then
+close my eyes for me.”</p>
+
+<p>What really cuts him to the heart is that the man who has
+been his close companion for so many years should now let
+long-hidden truths peep out. He has had an argument with
+Bertrand, who says: “It would have been the happiest day in
+my life if, after the deposition of the king, the Convention had
+raised the duke of Orleans to the throne.” The Emperor
+makes no immediate rejoinder, but afterwards says bitterly:
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_659">[659]</span>“Bertrand, who owes everything to me, whom I made one of the
+grand officers of my empire!”</p>
+
+<p>As his strength wanes, he looks round for something to lean
+on, and, for the first time in his life, he appeals to his relatives
+for help. Pauline is the dearest of them. Dictating a letter
+to her in the third person, he gives a bulletin of his condition,
+and ends as follows: “The Emperor earnestly hopes that Your
+Highness will acquaint influential Englishmen with his situation.
+He is dying on this dreadful rock, forsaken by all. His
+death struggle is terrible.”</p>
+
+<p>In the middle of April, three weeks before the end, behind
+locked doors, he dictates his will to Montholon. Then the
+amanuensis has to redictate the document to the Emperor, for
+it must be in his own handwriting, that it may be above suspicion.
+The Emperor sits writing for five hours, in a cold
+sweat. The testament is characterised alike by statesmanlike
+greatness and by human feelings; it represents, as it were, a
+survey of his whole life.</p>
+
+<h3>XVIII</h3>
+
+<p>He begins his testament by declaring that he dies in the
+apostolical and Roman religion, in the bosom of which he was
+born,—the faith which he re-established in France, which he
+always protected, although, in his innermost soul, he never
+accepted its teachings. Then his thoughts turn to the glory of
+a hero’s grave, and, with a turn of phrase which shows that he
+regards himself as a Frenchman by choice rather than by birth,
+he writes: “It is my wish that my ashes shall be laid to rest
+on the bank of the Seine, in the midst of the French people,
+which I have loved so well.”</p>
+
+<p>Next come thoughts of his son, upon whom are lavished all
+the hopes a man can entertain concerning what will happen
+after his own death, and for whom he wishes to concentrate
+such rights as he may possess, such treasures as he may own,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_660">[660]</span>and such teachings as he may utter. He tells his “beloved
+wife” that he retains for her the most tender sentiments, and
+beseeches her to watch over their son, since the lad is being
+brought up as an Austrian prince. She is never to forget that
+the young Napoleon was born a Frenchman. She must never
+allow the boy to become a tool in the hands of the triumvirs
+who oppress the peoples of Europe—among whom the greatest
+oppressor is the child’s own grandfather.</p>
+
+<p>Then comes a last thrust at the enemy: “I am dying before
+my time, murdered by the English oligarchy and its hired assassins.”
+But, in the challenging tone of a tribune, he adds:
+“The English people will not be slow to avenge me.” He closes
+this part of his will by declaring that he had been defeated
+“through the treachery of Marmont, Augereau, Talleyrand,
+and Lafayette.” Though he adds, “I forgive them,” behind
+this mask of Christian charity the warrior’s steel glitters in the
+words: “May the France that is yet unborn forgive them as I
+do.”</p>
+
+<p>Now, quite in the patrician style, he thanks his beloved
+mother and his brothers and sisters for the interest they have
+continued to feel in him. “I pardon Louis for the libel he published
+in 1820: it is full of false assertions and falsified documents.”
+Then come the actual bequests.</p>
+
+<p>The main substance of what he has to leave consists of his
+savings out of the civil list during fourteen years, together
+with all the furniture, plate, etc., he had himself bought for
+his palaces; and also his Italian property. He estimates it as
+amounting to more than frs. 200,000,000, and points out that,
+as far as he is aware, no law has deprived him of it. Half of
+it is bequeathed to the surviving officers and men who had
+fought in the glorious campaigns from 1792 to 1815, in sums
+proportional to their rates of pay on active service; the other
+half is to go to the provincial towns and communes that had
+suffered in the two invasions. His aim, in these provisions, is
+to put the Bourbon government in the wrong for laying an
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_661">[661]</span>embargo, at the time of his abdication, upon all his money and
+securities. These clauses in his will are to promote a Napoleonic
+sentiment among soldiers and civilians alike; his secret
+hope being that his testament will exercise an influence in favour
+of his dynasty, like Cæsar’s will when disclosed to the Roman
+populace by Mark Antony.</p>
+
+<p>Now comes legacies to ninety-seven specified individuals.
+The list was drawn up in the course of ten days. “His mind is
+continually at work discovering new objects for his liberality;
+day after day he recalls the names of additional old servants
+whom he wants to remember in his will.” The bequests are to
+come from a special property of frs. 20,000,000, of whose ownership
+he feels more secure than of the great imperial treasure.
+Frs. 6,000,000 had been deposited in hard cash on leaving
+Paris in 1815.</p>
+
+<p>Who are the legatees?</p>
+
+<p>Montholon is to have frs. 2,000,000; Bertrand and the valet
+Marchand, about half a million each. The valet is the only one
+whom Napoleon honours with the name of friend, and he adds:
+“It is my wish that he should marry the widow, sister, or daughter
+of an officer of my old guard.” Marchand, Bertrand, and
+Montholon are to be the executors, and all three of them have
+to affix their seals to each page of the will. Thus the last document
+penned by Napoleon’s hand bears four seals: the Emperor’s
+eagle volant, the arms of the two counts of the old
+noblesse, and the plain monogram of the man of the people in
+whom the Emperor showed supreme confidence by appointing
+him one of his executors. “The services he has rendered me
+are those of a friend.”</p>
+
+<p>Every one of the servants on St. Helena receives a competence;
+so do the three surgeons Larrey, Percy, and Emmery.
+Of Larrey, Napoleon adds: “He is the most virtuous man I
+have ever known.” Similar large sums, frs. 100,000 in most
+instances, are left to various generals who had been closely
+associated with him, to his secretaries, to two authors, the Elba
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_662">[662]</span>guards, and the children of generals killed in battle. The
+stablemen, the valets, the orderly officers, the huntsmen, a
+house-porter, a librarian, the children or grandchildren of old
+family friends in Corsica; the children or grandchildren of
+his nurse (if in need, despite previous benefactions); the children
+or grandchildren of his sometime tutor in Auxonne; those
+of the general in command at Toulon under whom he had had
+his first experience of active service; those of the deputy who
+had helped him to get his plans put in force against Toulon;
+those of Muiron, “our aide-de-camp, killed at our side at
+Arcola, covering us with his body”—all are remembered. The
+next item to the Muiron bequest is a legacy “to the subaltern
+officer Cantillon,” who had been acquitted of the charge of attempting
+to assassinate Wellington. “Cantillon had as much
+right to assassinate that oligarch, as the latter had to send me
+to perish upon the rock of St. Helena. Wellington, who proposed
+this outrage, attempted to justify himself by pleading
+the interest of Great Britain. Cantillon, if he had really assassinated
+that lord, would have excused himself, and have been
+justified, by the same motives, the interest of France.”</p>
+
+<p>This revolutionary outcry about Cantillon concludes the list
+of legatees. In the instructions to the executors, the following
+items are enumerated: the malachite furniture from Russia; the
+golden table service (which was presented to him by the town of
+Paris); a small farm on the island of Elba which had been purchased
+with Pauline’s money; a store of quicksilver at Venice,
+reckoned to be worth frs. 5,000,000; gold and jewels in a hiding-place
+at Malmaison; and so on, the fantastic inventory of
+a monarch and an adventurer.</p>
+
+<p>To his mother, he leaves his silver night-lamp which has
+lighted many a sleepless night during his sojourn on St.
+Helena; each brother and sister receives a special bequest;
+Joseph and Lucien, as if no cloud had ever shadowed his relations
+with them, are mentioned calmly one after the other, each
+receiving “an embroidered mantle, vest, and small-clothes,”
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_663">[663]</span>though the living Napoleon had given a crown to one and
+offered a crown to the other.</p>
+
+<p>But the principal legatee of Napoleon is his son. First of
+all, the boy is to have all his “arms, field-beds, saddles, spurs,
+snuff-boxes, orders, books, body linen, which I have been accustomed
+to wear and use.... It is my wish that this slight
+bequest may be dear to him, as recalling to him the memory of
+a father of whom the universe will discourse to him.” Amid
+the inventories, which mention such items as two pairs of night-drawers
+and two pillow-cases, there flash out such entries as the
+following: “My sword, the one I wore at Austerlitz; ... my
+gold travelling box, the one I made use of on the morning of
+Ulm, of Austerlitz, of Jena, of Eylau, of Friedland, of the
+island of Lobau, of Borodino, and of Montmirail; ... four
+boxes found on the table of Louis XVIII. in the Tuileries on
+March 20, 1815; ... my alarm-clock, it is the alarm-clock of
+Frederick II. which I took at Potsdam (in box No. III); ...
+a blue cloak (that which I had at Marengo); ... a consular
+sword; ... a grand collar of the Legion of Honour.” Each
+list of items finishes with a charge to one or other of his confidants
+to take care of the articles named, “and to convey
+them to my son when he shall attain the age of sixteen years.”</p>
+
+<p>Here is another entry: “Marchand shall preserve my hair,
+and cause a bracelet to be made of it, with a gold clasp, to be
+sent to the empress Marie Louise, to my mother, and to each of
+my brothers, sisters, nephews, nieces, the cardinal, and one of
+larger size to my son.”</p>
+
+<p>Various persons and places are named in which his son is
+likely to be interested. “I wish my executors to make a collection
+of engravings, pictures, books, and medals which may
+give my son sound ideas, and destroy the erroneous ideas which
+the policy of a foreign land may have tried to impress on him.
+I want him to be able to see things as they really were....
+My memory will be the glory of his life.... I do not expect
+my son to benefit by my mother’s will, for he is likely to be
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_664">[664]</span>wealthier than her other children, but I hope that she will leave
+him some such precious legacy as her own portrait and my
+father’s, or some trinkets which he will know have come down
+to him from his grandparents.”</p>
+
+<p>It may seem as if his life were ending with very simple
+thoughts, since he makes this touching reference to his parents;
+but in the next clause the abyss yawns. Those who are about
+his son, Bertrand’s children perhaps, or Montholon’s, are “to
+see to it that he resumes the name of Napoleon as soon as he
+comes of age, and is able to do so without inconvenience.”</p>
+
+<p>After this sedulous care for the legitimate heir, there follows,
+at the very last, a clause of a few lines, §37, in which Napoleon
+writes: “I should not complain if little Léon were to
+enter the civil service, should he be so disposed. I should like
+Alexandre Walewski to serve France in the army.” The writer
+could not foresee that, some decades after the death of his
+legitimate son, Léon was to end his ne’er-do-well life in America
+as the husband of a cook; but that Count Walewski was to attain
+high distinction, as a diplomat under Louis Philippe, and
+as minister of State and senator during the second empire. By
+his talent and good looks, Marie’s son was to show that he had,
+in very truth, been a love child.</p>
+
+<p>But there is a second testament for the legitimate heir. Two
+weeks before his death, towards three in the morning, the Emperor
+sends for Montholon, who has been tending him faithfully
+for the last few weeks: “When I entered the room, I
+found him sitting up, and the fire glancing in his eyes made me
+fear a fresh attack of fever. He perceived my uneasiness, and
+said kindly: ‘I am not worse, but my mind has been roused by
+discussing with Bertrand what my executors ought to say to
+my son when they see him ... it is better, therefore, that I
+should, in a few words, give you a summary of the counsels
+which I bequeath to my son. Write:’”</p>
+
+<p>There follow twelve printed pages, containing the Emperor’s
+political testament. Not a word about war, but a great many
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_665">[665]</span>words about peace; and, as regards Europe, we find almost all
+the leading thoughts of the century which opened with his rise
+to power. We are given a glimpse of a fancied second reign.
+He tells us how he would govern, loftily criticising his own
+previous work. He looks forward to new political forms, and,
+with a seer’s vision, contemplates the twentieth century. From
+the rock, he issues an appeal for the union of Europe, a manifesto
+on behalf of an understanding among the peoples to promote
+liberty, equality, civilisation, talent, and commerce. All
+these thoughts form themselves in the mind of the dying Napoleon
+during one of the last restless nights of his illness:</p>
+
+<p>“My son should not think of avenging my death; he should
+profit by it.... The aim of all his efforts should be, to reign
+by peace: if he should recommence my wars out of pure love of
+imitation and without any absolute necessity, he would be a
+mere ape. To do my work over again would be to suppose
+that I had done nothing; ... the same thing is not done twice
+in a century. <i>I was obliged to daunt Europe by arms; in the
+present day, the way is to convince her reason.</i>... I have
+implanted new ideas in France and in Europe; they cannot
+retrograde: let my son bring into blossom all that I have
+sown....</p>
+
+<p>“It is possible that the English, in order to efface the remembrance
+of their persecutions, will favour my son’s return to
+France; but in order to live in a good understanding with England
+it is necessary, at any cost, to favour her commercial
+interests: this necessity leads to one of these two consequences—war
+with England, or a sharing of the commerce of the world
+with her. This second condition is the only one possible in the
+present day; questions of foreign policy will, in France, for a
+long time, take precedence of questions of home policy. I bequeath
+to my son sufficient strength and sympathy to enable
+him to continue my work with the sole aid of a lofty and conciliatory
+diplomacy....</p>
+
+<p>“Let not my son ever mount the throne by the aid of foreign
+influence; his aim should not be to fulfil a desire to reign, but
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_666">[666]</span>to deserve the approbation of posterity. Let him cherish an
+intimacy with my family, whenever it shall be in his power.
+My mother resembles the great women of classical antiquity....
+The French nation, when it is not taken the wrong way,
+is more easily governed than any other; its prompt and easy
+comprehension is unequalled; it immediately discerns who labours
+for, and who against it; but then it is necessary always
+to speak to its senses, otherwise its uneasy spite gnaws, it
+ferments and explodes....</p>
+
+<p>“Let him despise all parties; let him only see the mass. Excepting
+those who have betrayed their country, he should
+forget the previous conduct of all men, and reward talent,
+merit, and services, wherever he finds them....</p>
+
+<p>“France is the country where the chiefs of parties have the
+least influence: to rest for support on them, is to build on sand.
+Great things can only be done in France by having the support
+of the masses....</p>
+
+<p>“I relied on the whole mass of the people without exception;
+I set the example of a government which favoured the interests
+of all.... To divide the interests of a nation is ... to engender
+civil war. A thing indivisible by nature cannot be
+divided; it can only be mutilated. I attach no importance to
+the constitution; but its fundamental principle should be universal
+suffrage.</p>
+
+<p>“The nobility I created will not be a buttress to my son....</p>
+
+<p>“My dictatorship was indispensable, and the proof of this is
+that I was always offered more power than I wanted.... It
+will not be the same with my son: his power will be disputed;
+he must anticipate every desire for liberty.... The aim of a
+sovereign is not only to reign, but to diffuse instruction,
+morality, and wellbeing. Anything false is an untrustworthy
+prop....</p>
+
+<p>“The French people is animated by two equally powerful
+passions, which seem opposed, but which, nevertheless, are derived
+from one and the same feeling, namely, love of liberty
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_667">[667]</span>and love of distinction. A government can only satisfy these
+two wants by the most exact justice.... In order to govern,
+it is not necessary to pursue a more or less perfect theory, but
+to build with the materials which are under one’s hand; to
+submit to necessities, and profit by them....</p>
+
+<p>“The liberty of the press ought to become, in the hands of
+the government, a powerful auxiliary in diffusing, through all
+the most distant corners of the Empire, sound doctrines and
+good principles. To leave it to itself would be to fall asleep
+beside a danger.... Under pain of death, nowadays, one
+must either direct or hinder everything.</p>
+
+<p>“My son ought to be a man of new ideas, and of the cause
+which I have made triumphant everywhere: ... to reunite
+Europe in the bonds of an indissoluble federation....</p>
+
+<p>“Europe is moving towards an inevitable transformation:
+to endeavour to retard this progress, would be to waste strength
+in a useless struggle; to favour it, is to strengthen the hopes
+and wishes of all....</p>
+
+<p>“My son’s position will not be free from immense difficulties.
+<i>Let him do by general consent what circumstances forced me to
+work for by force of arms.</i> If I had remained victorious over
+Russia in 1812, the problem of peace would have been solved
+for a hundred years to come. I cut the Gordian knot of nations;
+at the present day it must be untied.... It is no longer
+in the north that great questions will be decided, but in the
+Mediterranean; on the shores of the Mediterranean, there is
+enough to content all the ambitions of the different powers, and
+the happiness of civilised nations may be purchased with fragments
+of barbarous lands. <i>Let the kings listen to reason;
+Europe will no longer provide matter for maintaining international
+hatreds.</i> Prejudices are dispersing; interests are widening
+and becoming fused; trading routes are being multiplied.
+No longer can any one nation monopolise commerce....</p>
+
+<p>“All that you say to my son, or all that he learns, will be
+of little use to him, unless he has in the depths of his heart
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_668">[668]</span>that sacred fire and love of good which alone can achieve great
+things.</p>
+
+<p>“I hope, however, that he will be worthy of his destiny.</p>
+
+<p>“If they refuse you permission to go to Vienna....”</p>
+
+<p>The document suddenly breaks off; Napoleon’s powers have
+flagged; like the utterance of an oracle, the soothsaying ends
+in the middle of a sentence. But what this man on his deathbed
+designed for the instruction of his poor little son, can serve
+to instruct Europe a century after it was written. The political
+problems of our own day, however we may attempt to solve
+them, are in truth solved here by the sovereignty of genius.</p>
+
+<h3>XIX</h3>
+
+<p>After this brilliant outpouring, the productive spring dries
+up. Agreeable visions float before his mind. It seems as if
+fate intends him to enjoy the euthanasia. The day after writing
+his political testament, he lies free from pain and care,
+surrounded by the mist-wreaths of hope:</p>
+
+<p>“When I am dead, each of you will have the sweet consolation
+of returning to Europe. You will see again, the one his
+relatives, the other his friends; but for my part, I shall meet
+my brave warriors in the Elysian Fields. Yes,” he continued,
+raising his voice, “Kléber, Desaix, Bessières, Duroc, Ney,
+Murat, Masséna, Berthier; all will come to meet me: they will
+talk to me of the deeds we did together. I shall recount to
+them the later events of my life. When they see me, they will
+be inspired with their old enthusiasm, their old passion for
+glory. We shall talk of our battles to the Scipios, to Hannibal,
+Cæsar, and Frederick. What a delight that will be. If
+only people here on earth are not terrified at seeing so many
+soldiers put their heads together!”</p>
+
+<p>Such is the dying man’s flight of fancy. In all the thousands
+of his recorded utterances, there is none that shows the naïveté
+of his mind more plainly than this reverie. He looks into a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_669">[669]</span>world peopled by the shades of the heroes, sees his generals
+there in familiar converse with those of ancient Rome, enters an
+idyllic paradise in which they talk of big guns. While Napoleon
+is speaking, the English doctor (whose ministrations the
+Emperor has at length consented to accept) enters the room.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment, the music of flutes, to which he has, in fancy,
+been listening, breaks off; once more he hears the rattle of the
+drums. The statesman recurs to the present. Without transition,
+he passes into a new register, after his manner, and makes
+a formal oration which embodies what he wishes to be the official
+view of his death:</p>
+
+<p>“Come nearer, Bertrand, and translate what I say word for
+word to this gentleman. My death is the results of injuries
+worthy of the hands that have inflicted them. I surrendered to
+the British people, that I might settle down at a British fireside.
+In defiance of international law, I was loaded with chains....
+England overpersuaded the princes, and the world saw
+an unprecedented sight. Four great powers hurled themselves
+upon one solitary man. How shamefully you have treated me
+on this rock! There is no possible mortification to which you
+have not subjected me!... With cold calculation, you have
+slowly done me to death! The vile governor has been the
+executioner appointed by your ministers! I end like the proud
+republic of Venice! I bequeath the shame of my death to the
+royal family of England!”</p>
+
+<p>After this outburst, he sinks back upon his pillows. The
+doctor stands there dumbfounded, and Napoleon’s companions
+are in little better case. What was it? An epilogue; a protest;
+a commination? Pure politics! In the evening, he has an
+account of Hannibal’s campaigns read aloud to him.</p>
+
+<p>Next day, April 21st, a fortnight before the end, he sends
+for the Corsican abbate. Since this man’s coming, Napoleon
+has had Mass read every Sunday, but otherwise has had nothing
+to do with the priest. Now he says:</p>
+
+<p>“Do you know what a ‘chapelle ardente’ is? Have you ever
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_670">[670]</span>officiated at one before? Never? Well, now you will officiate
+at mine.” Details follow. “After my death, you will set up
+your altar at my bedside, and will say Mass with the usual
+ceremonies until I am under ground.”</p>
+
+<p>In the evening, the priest spends nearly an hour with him.
+Since, we are told, Vignali was not dressed for the occasion,
+he can only have conversed with Napoleon, and cannot have
+confessed him. Napoleon has not communicated for forty
+years, and does not do so now.</p>
+
+<p>The sick man is much wasted; for several weeks he has not
+been shaved; his face is sunken and dusky. Now he has his bed
+carried into the drawing-room, for he finds the bedroom too
+confined. He is racked by terrible attacks of gastric spasm.
+In the intervals of calm, he continues to speak of persons to
+whom he wishes to leave legacies. Sometimes he dozes and
+dreams. In these dreams, women appear to him; Marie Louise
+is not one of them: “I saw my good Josephine, but she would
+not put her arms round me.... She was unchanged, loving
+as always. She said we should soon meet to part no more.
+She assured me—— Did you see her too?” Just like the dream
+about his generals; from the paradise of children, from the
+land of faëry.</p>
+
+<p>When he feels better, he has the latest newspapers read
+aloud. An attack on him in one of them excites him, and he
+has his will brought to him. Breaking the seals he has laboriously
+affixed, without saying a word he writes with tremulous
+hand:</p>
+
+<p>“I had the duke of Enghien arrested and brought to trial
+because this trial was necessary for the safety, the interest, and
+the honour of the French people, at a time when the count of
+Artois, according to his own admission, was maintaining sixty
+assassins in Paris.”</p>
+
+<p>Like two ghosts, they face one another; the dead Bourbon
+and the dying Bonaparte.</p>
+
+<p>On the 27th., he asks for the will once more, and laboriously
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_671">[671]</span>reseals it. He has inventories made of the contents of his boxes
+and cupboards; valuable documents are put into envelopes, on
+which he writes the inscriptions. All this is done in the intervals
+between attacks of vomiting. His companions have to affix
+their seals, and every one of them must verify a written record
+of the packets. So great is his mistrust of England.</p>
+
+<p>Is there anything still to do? Various articles which have
+not yet been dealt with are lying on the counterpane. “I am
+very weak; there is not much time left; we must finish things
+off.” What is that? Hortense’s diamond necklace, which used
+to gleam from her neck on festal occasions in the Tuileries, and
+was sewn into his waistband the day he left Malmaison. This
+he gives to Marchand. There is a plain golden snuff-box.
+Toilsomely, with the point of a penknife, he scratches his
+initial N on the lid, and gives the box to the doctor, saying:</p>
+
+<p>“I expressly demand that a post-mortem shall be made, and,
+in especial, that the stomach shall be examined. I believe that
+I am dying of the same illness as my father. Ask Louis to
+send you the report about that, and compare it with what you
+find at the autopsy. Then you may at least be able to spare
+my son this horrible illness. Tell him how he can guard
+against it, and how he can be saved from the dread of it which
+has so afflicted me.”</p>
+
+<p>For six years he has been blaming the climate of the rock
+for his liver trouble; only a few days ago he had charged
+England with killing him in the unwholesome prison-house. By
+ordering a post-mortem examination, he is risking the collapse
+of this theory; indeed, that is what he expects. All is done for
+his son’s safety. He hopes that the lad can be saved from the
+family disorder.</p>
+
+<p>Is everything ready? Can we start? Wait a moment!
+There is still lacking an official address to the authorities. He
+dictates the following letter:</p>
+
+<p>“Monsieur le Gouverneur! Emperor Napoleon died on the
+——, after a long and painful illness. I have the honour to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_672">[672]</span>inform you of the fact.... Please let me know what arrangements
+your government has made for the conveyance of his
+body to Europe, and also in respect of the members of his
+suite.”</p>
+
+<p>“Count Montholon, you will sign that.”</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon had dictated sixty thousand political letters. Perhaps
+this one, the formal report of his own death with the date
+left open, is the most remarkable of them all; for who would
+have expected that destiny would leave so much time and so
+much tranquillity of mind in face of approaching death to a
+man who had faced sudden death on sixty battle-fields? The
+lines above quoted seem rather a grotesque close to his
+domineering career, and we feel a hope that this gruesome
+epistle will not be his last.</p>
+
+<p>It is not the last. On the 29th., after a feverish night, he
+dictates the drafts of two communications. One deals with the
+utilisation of Versailles; the other with a reorganisation of the
+National Guard. But these are not addressed, as they would
+have been before his abdication, to the Minister for Public
+Works and to the Minister for War. He dictates the superscriptions:
+“First Dream”; and “Second Dream.” Then he
+says: “I feel so wonderfully well now; I could go for a thirty-mile
+ride.” Next day, he becomes icy cold and sinks into a
+delirium, which lasts five days till the end.</p>
+
+<p>But Napoleon Bonaparte’s vital energies do not subside so
+easily. During these five days, there is a lucid interval, and he
+seizes the opportunity for issuing orders and making declarations:</p>
+
+<p>“When I lose consciousness, you must on no account admit
+an English doctor.... You will remain true to my memory,
+and will not do anything that might harm it. All my laws and
+all my actions were based upon the strictest principles. Unfortunately,
+the circumstances were so grave that I could not
+be lenient, and had to postpone many good things. Then came
+the disasters. I could not string the bow more tightly; ...
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_673">[673]</span>that was why France never secured the liberal institutions I
+had intended to introduce. But the country credits me with
+my good intentions; it loves my name and my victories. You
+will do the same! Be true to our principles and to our fame!”</p>
+
+<p>His thoughts are still circling round his work. With the
+mournful glance of a dying sculptor, he sees before him nothing
+but a fragment; and with his last breath he tells those
+around him what he had designed to fashion.</p>
+
+<p>Next day, his mind is wandering once more amid memories
+of youth and of Corsica. But still, from time to time, there
+revives the wish to be useful to his son. His fantasy creates
+possessions on the island, and the faithful Marchand takes
+down from dictation these mind-wanderings that are so precise
+in their details:</p>
+
+<p>“I leave to my son my house in Ajaccio with its outbuildings;
+two houses adjacent to the saltpits with their gardens;
+and all my estates in the Ajaccio district. These will bring
+him an income of frs. 50,000. I bequeath....”</p>
+
+<p>This is Napoleon’s last command. He has won and lost half
+the world; but in his dying visions he sees the Corsican home
+of his ancestors, together with the son to whom he had intended
+to leave half the world as heirloom. The strains mingle;
+to keep his son from want, he bequeaths the lad a house which
+he does not own. Then his mind turns back from his kin. He
+is once more the soldier, on his first campaign, in Italy.
+Around him flit the wraiths of his earliest comrades. He
+shouts:</p>
+
+<p>“Desaix! Masséna! Victory is ours! Quick! Forward!
+We have them....”</p>
+
+<p>Next day the abbate goes to him unsummoned. Beneath a
+layman’s dress, the priest carries something he seeks to hide.
+He demands to be left alone with the dying man. After a
+while he comes out, saying: “I have given him extreme unction.
+Owing to the condition of the stomach, no other sacrament was
+possible.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_674">[674]</span></p>
+
+<p>A terrible last night. Towards morning, when he is murmuring
+in delirium, Montholon hears the words:</p>
+
+<p>“France!... Armée!... Tête d’armée.... Josephine!”</p>
+
+<p>This is Napoleon’s last utterance.</p>
+
+<p>Next moment, with amazing energy, he springs out of bed,
+overpowering Montholon, who is alone with him. The two fall
+to the floor, and he grips Montholon so fiercely that the count
+cannot even cry for help. Archambaud, who is in the next
+room, hears the noise, comes in, and releases Montholon. No
+one knows what enemy the Emperor was trying to strangle in
+this last fight.</p>
+
+<p>The rest of the day he lies breathing quietly. By signs he
+seems to ask for water, but since he can no longer swallow they
+must be content with holding a sponge moistened with vinegar
+to his lips. Mist and rain drive fiercely round the house. A
+count of the old noblesse and a man of the people watch by the
+camp-bed of Austerlitz.</p>
+
+<p>At five o’clock, the rage of the south-east trade wind is redoubled,
+and two trees of the latest planting are uprooted.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment, the man on the bed is in the throes of a
+prolonged rigor. There is no sign of pain; his eyes are
+widely opened, staring into vacancy; the death-rattle is in his
+throat. As the tropical sun sinks into the sea the Emperor’s
+heart stops beating.</p>
+
+<h3>XX</h3>
+
+<p>On the study table, in the garish light of noon, lies the naked
+corpse of Napoleon. Five English surgeons, three English
+army officers, and the three Frenchmen, surround the extemporized
+post-mortem table, where Antommarchi is performing
+the autopsy. The Corsican doctor has removed the liver and
+incised it. He holds up the organ for the others’ inspection,
+and demonstrates, as if to a class of students. “You see,
+gentlemen, how this ulcerated part of the stomach has become
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_675">[675]</span>adherent to the liver. What are we to infer? That the climate
+of St. Helena has intensified the gastric disorder, and has
+thus brought about the Emperor’s premature death.”</p>
+
+<p>A vote is taken: England against France. The majority declare
+the viscera to be healthy, while the Corsican is ostentatiously
+thrusting his finger through the perforated wall of the
+stomach. Medical report.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor’s body was embalmed, and at the lying-in-state
+was covered with the gold-embroidered cloak of Marengo.
+The whole garrison, by its own wish, marched past. All who
+saw the body testify to the calm and serenity of the features.
+In mysterious fashion, his face, which, since the days of the
+coronation, had tended to assume the robust maturity of the
+Roman emperors, had now returned to the delicacy of youth.</p>
+
+<p>The British authorities refused to allow the shipment to
+Europe. The grave was dug in a secluded valley, beside a
+spring shaded by two weeping willows. He was accorded the
+honours of a British general; salvos of artillery and musketry
+were fired over the grave, what time there fluttered in the breeze
+the colours on which were emblazoned the names of the English
+victories in Spain. The governor was present, and declared
+that he had forgiven the Emperor.</p>
+
+<p>Six stone slabs from gun emplacements cover the tomb. A
+seventh was needed for the artillery officer’s grave; but, since
+it was not available at the moment, three glazed tiles were taken
+from the cooking-stove of a new house. The governor would
+not allow the inscription “Napoleon” to be placed on the tomb,
+but insisted upon “Napoleon Bonaparte.” There was, therefore,
+no inscription. The furniture of Longwood was sold by
+auction; the house was bought by a farmer, who turned the
+place into a mill; the two rooms in which the Emperor had
+lived for six years were restored to their former uses, becoming
+a byre and a pig-sty.</p>
+
+<p>One thing only did England do in honour of the dead: a
+sentry was posted at the grave. For nineteen years, the guard
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_676">[676]</span>was relieved at the proper intervals; then the dead Emperor
+was brought home to Paris.</p>
+
+<p>Without waiting for this, all the others return to Europe.
+The governor was publicly horsewhipped in London by Las
+Cases’ son; he died in obscurity. Bathurst, who, as Minister
+for War and Plantations, had been responsible for the treatment
+of Napoleon, ultimately killed himself in an access of
+melancholia. All England was writing and talking about the
+barbarous treatment of the great exile.</p>
+
+<p>The Corsican doctor goes to Italy. Lucien refuses to see
+him. In Parma, Marie Louise also shuts her door against him,
+but he sees her in her box at the theatre. In Rome, Antommarchi
+visits Letizia Bonaparte, and for three days she makes
+him tell her all his news. He leaves the silver lamp with her,
+and sails back to Corsica. Letizia sits by the fireside, weeping
+over the fate of her second son, Napolione.</p>
+
+<p>She has still fifteen years to live. She outlives Elise; outlives
+Pauline, who dies with a mirror in her hands; outlives
+several of her grandchildren, and three popes. She is half
+paralysed, and has become blind. But she sits there facing
+her son’s bust, her spirit unbroken, mourning her dead.</p>
+
+<p>Like a princess, she welcomes to her palace all those who
+have remained faithful to the Emperor. Her servants are the
+last persons in Europe to wear his colours; her carriage is the
+last to bear his escutcheon. She has news at times from Vienna
+and her grandson, but the young man is not allowed to visit
+her. When he is one-and-twenty, he dies. Now, Marie Louise
+writes to her. She does not answer the letter. At last she is
+told that she may return home, but she refuses to go, since
+the same right is not accorded to her children.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp48" id="illus22" style="max-width: 28.125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus22.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>Letter to Countess Walewska</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>Nine years after the Emperor’s death, the Bourbon dynasty
+is overthrown, and the Orleans monarchy is established. The
+new king knows how strong the Bonapartists are, and he orders
+that the statue of Napoleon, which fifteen years before had
+been removed, shall be replaced on the Vendôme column. When
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_677">[677]</span>Jerome brings his bed-ridden mother these tidings, she has a
+renewal of health and is able to leave her bed. For the first
+time after a long interval she makes her way into the drawing-room,
+and her blind eyes turn towards the bust. She says in a
+toneless voice:</p>
+
+<p>“Once again the Emperor is in Paris.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_678">[678]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_679">[679]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="ENVOY">ENVOY</h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>To write the history of a man, or the history of an epoch, these
+are two distinct undertakings, differing both in name and technique.
+Vain has been the attempt to combine them. Plutarch renounced
+the one, and Carlyle renounced the other; that is why both these
+masters were able to achieve their respective tasks. It would be
+fair to say that Plutarch’s example has found no imitators; no one,
+after Plutarch, has made it his specific task to write the history
+of great minds upon a strictly historical foundation.</p>
+
+<p>Such a work does not come within the domain of the historian,
+seeing that the search for truth demands other talents than
+those requisite for the art of portrayal. Artists have sometimes
+dramatised historical figures with a free hand; sometimes they
+have produced one of those horrible mishmashes which pass by the
+name of “historical novel”—of which Goethe, like Napoleon, said
+that they confuse everything.</p>
+
+<p>The attempt is especially difficult when, not works, but deeds,
+are the milestones along the road of life. Cæsar, Frederick, and
+Napoleon, only became great powers through their victories in the
+battle-field; and yet their battles tend, more and more, to become
+unmeaning for posterity. Nowadays, it is only in military academies
+that Pharsalia, Rossbach, and Austerlitz, have a historical significance.
+Not one of the three great generals I have named would
+mean any more to us than Crassus, Seydlitz, or Masséna, had they,
+too, been nothing more than military commanders; it is the political
+genius of Cæsar, Frederick, and Napoleon, that makes these men
+supreme. In his highest embodiment, the statesman shapes all our
+destinies. Where genius and character intersect, is the focus for
+the searcher of the soul.</p>
+
+<p>In this book, I have tried to write the inner history of Napoleon.
+Since his personality finds expression in every step of his political
+career, his ideas as founder of States and as legislator, his attitudes
+towards revolution and legitimacy, towards the social order and the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_680">[680]</span>problem of Europe—are valuable means of portrayal. Irrelevant
+was the course of the battles; irrelevant the contemporary position
+of the European States, in so far as this was manifested only in
+coalitions or antagonisms as mutable as the weather.</p>
+
+<p>Every difference of opinion with his brothers or his wife, every
+hour of gloom or elation, his outbursts of wrath and his accesses
+of pallor, tricks or acts of kindness towards friend or foe, every
+word to his generals or to women (as reported in letters or authentic
+conversations), seemed more important than the order of battle at
+Marengo, the items of the peace of Lunéville, or the details of the
+Continental System. What we have all learned about him at school
+and the university has here been restricted to a minimum; but there
+has been a broad demonstration of the things that are lacking amid
+such everyday knowledge. Yet we have not been concerned only
+with that Napoleon intime who is so favourite a topic with French
+writers; but, rather, with the Napoleonic figure as a whole, in
+public career and in private life, as representative of all mankind.
+Affairs of State and love affairs that happened on the same day,
+have been referred to on the same page: they derive from the same
+source; they determine one another; and a study of the imbroglio
+of the human heart will often give us more information concerning
+great plans than all the calculations of the tactician.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon’s personality, which has no more to do with the nation
+for which or against which he was fighting than it has to do with
+morality, has not been treated here as miraculous, nor yet as split
+up into abstract concepts. In the episodes of his life I have tried
+to grasp the innermost moods (of which his rise was a natural and
+logical outcome), and to trace his movement towards the climax of
+St. Helena. To examine this man’s inner life; to explain his resolves
+and his refrainings, his deeds and his sufferings, his fancies
+and his calculations, as issuing from the moods of his heart—the
+disclosure of this <i>great chain of affects</i>, was at once the means and
+the end of the portrayal.</p>
+
+<p>That is why there was no place in my record for portraits of the
+generals. Nothing could be admitted to this one volume which did
+not throw light upon the history of the one interior.</p>
+
+<p>If we wish to give a picture of a life so full as this man’s, we must
+perforce follow his tempo; the writer, therefore, is bound to the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_681">[681]</span>words of the person being described, and can never let that person
+speak too much. For, in truth, a man always explains himself
+better than any one else can do it for him; even when he is mistaken,
+or when he is lying, he reveals himself to those who come
+afterwards, to those who know the truth. But the author must
+forget that he, too, knows the end. Only if, from moment to moment,
+he describes the feelings as they must have been experienced
+by one without foresight into the completed destiny, will he be able
+to generate that tension which, in actual life, made the sequence of
+events vibrant with passion.</p>
+
+<p>Thus with his own sympathy, he forces the heart of the man to
+reveal its sympathy. In the present work, the spirit of dispassionate
+analysis is shown once only, towards the end. We cannot study
+the motor engine till it stops running.</p>
+
+<p>Such a portrayal, which brings us into close proximity with its
+object, may give the impression of being a work of pure fancy.
+If, by its method of treatment, it is to be sharply differentiated from
+an imaginative creation, it must throughout cling to the framework
+of historical truth. One who believes that there is a logical succession
+of happenings in which there is no room for chance, will
+guard against retouching any detail; he will never bend a date or
+an incident to fit a preconceived purpose, even though, for stylistic
+purposes, he may think fit at times to leave one or the other unmentioned.</p>
+
+<p>In this book, all the data are recorded facts, except the soliloquies.
+To it there might well be applied Goethe’s judgment upon Bourrienne’s
+<i>Memoirs</i>: “All the nimbus, all the illusion, with which
+journalists and historians and poets have surrounded Napoleon,
+vanishes before the awe-inspiring realism of this book: but the hero
+is by no means diminished thereby; he grows. We learn from this
+what a splendid thing truth is, when any one has the courage to
+speak it.” Napoleon’s life is a great epic, written by the hand of
+fate; its full meaning will not reveal itself to one who gives rein to
+imagination, but only to him who gives himself up to the amor fati.</p>
+
+<p>Thus, likewise, for the reader of these pages should be reconstructed
+the tragedy which once only in a millennium a mortal man
+has created out of his life. What a man can attain through self-confidence
+and courage, through passion and imagination, through
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_682">[682]</span>industry and will, he attained. To-day, in the age of the revolutions
+which once again are opening every path to the man of
+supreme ability, the ardent youth of Europe can find as an example
+and a warning no greater man than the one who, of all men of
+the West, made and suffered the most violent commotions.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_683">[683]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="AUTHORS_ACKNOWLEDGMENTS">AUTHOR’S ACKNOWLEDGMENTS</h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>The author wishes to thank Monsieur Edouard Driault, editor
+of the “Revue des Etudes Napoléoniennes,” Versailles, and Herr
+F. M. Kircheisen, for kindly help in supplying material for the
+illustrations; and to make due acknowledgments to Professor Pariset
+of Strasburg and Herr Kurt Wildhagen of Heidelberg, for advice
+during the preparation of the book.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_684">[684]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_685">[685]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="INDEX">INDEX</h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<nav>
+<ul>
+
+<li class="ifrst">Abdication. <i>See</i> <a href="#Demand">Demand</a>, <a href="#He_drafts">He drafts</a> and <a href="#He_signs">He signs</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Aboukir, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Bay, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Academy, <a href="#Page_6">6</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">on Board, <a href="#Page_119">119</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Achilles, <a href="#Page_598">598</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Achmed</span>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Acknowledgement of Democracy, <a href="#Page_513">513</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Acre, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_397">397</a>, <a href="#Page_574">574</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Adaptation to Circumstances, <a href="#Page_574">574</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Adda, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Additional Act, <a href="#Page_514">514</a>, <a href="#Page_517">517</a>, <a href="#Page_518">518</a>, <a href="#Page_519">519</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Adige, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Admiral. <i>See</i> <a href="#Emperor_and_Admiral">Emperor and Admiral</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Admiralty, <a href="#Page_372">372</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Adolphus.</span> <i>See</i> <a href="#Gustavus_Adolphus"><span class="smcap">Gustavus Adolphus</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Adrianople, <a href="#Page_133">133</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Adriatic, <a href="#Page_90">90</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Advancement_of_Relatives">Advancement of Relatives, <a href="#Page_224">224</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Adventurer once more, <a href="#Page_419">419</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Æneid</span>, <a href="#Page_655">655</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Æschylus</span>, <a href="#Page_607">607</a>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Æsop</span>, <a href="#Page_629">629</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">A-flicker with Excitement, <a href="#Page_384">384</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Africa, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_528">528</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Again">Again attacked, <a href="#Page_237">237</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Against the Grain, <a href="#Page_157">157</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Again Unity of Command, <a href="#Page_82">82</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Agamemnon</i>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Aix, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>, <a href="#Page_497">497</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Aix-la-Chapelle, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_631">631</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Aim. <i>See</i> <a href="#True">True</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ajaccio, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_485">485</a>, <a href="#Page_673">673</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Alarm. <i>See</i> <a href="#Emperors_Alarm">Emperor’s</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Aleppo, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_574">574</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Alessandria, <a href="#Page_72">72</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Alexander the Great</span> (of Macedon), <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>, <a href="#Page_370">370</a>, <a href="#Page_565">565</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_653">653</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Alexander"><span class="smcap">Alexander I</span>, Tsar of Russia, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>, <a href="#Page_311">311</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_314">314</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>, <a href="#Page_320">320</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_334">334</a>, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>, <a href="#Page_374">374</a>, <a href="#Page_375">375</a>, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>, <a href="#Page_378">378</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_385">385</a>, <a href="#Page_386">386</a>, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>, <a href="#Page_409">409</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_411">411</a>, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_467">467</a>, <a href="#Page_604">604</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub2"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Tsar_Alexander"><span class="smcap">Tsar Alexander</span></a>,
+ <i>also</i> <a href="#What_is_Alexander_Thinking">What is <span class="smcap">Alexander</span> Thinking?</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">as Prototype, <a href="#Page_11">11</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Alexandrine</span>, <a href="#Page_571">571</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Allah is Allah, <a href="#Page_122">122</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Alliance, La Belle, <a href="#Page_523">523</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="All_young">All young France is ready, <a href="#Page_472">472</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Alps, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_497">497</a>, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Alsace, <a href="#Page_207">207</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Alvintzy</span>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">America, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_473">473</a>, <a href="#Page_530">530</a>, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>, <a href="#Page_537">537</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_632">632</a>, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>, <a href="#Page_635">635</a>, <a href="#Page_643">643</a>, <a href="#Page_645">645</a>, <a href="#Page_655">655</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See</i> <a href="#He_should">He should</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#United_States">United States</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ambitions. <i>See</i> <a href="#Bernadottes_Great_Ambitions"><span class="smcap">Bernadotte’s</span> Great</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">America, Spanish, <a href="#Page_632">632</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">American Marriage. <i>See</i> <a href="#Jeromes_Marriage"><span class="smcap">Jerome’s</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Amours, <a href="#Page_202">202</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Amphictyonic League, <a href="#Page_595">595</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Amsterdam, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Anachronism. <i>See</i> <a href="#War">War</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ancients. <i>See</i> <a href="#Council_of_Ancients">Council of Ancients</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ancona, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Andalusia, <a href="#Page_329">329</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Andromache</i>, <a href="#Page_460">460</a>, <a href="#Page_637">637</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">and Astyanax, <a href="#Page_460">460</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">An everlasting Disgrace, <a href="#Page_542">542</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Anger. <i>See</i> <a href="#Genuine">Genuine</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Angleterre, Hôtel de l’, in Warsaw, <a href="#Page_418">418</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Angoulème</span>, Duchess of, <a href="#Page_489">489</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">An Idyll renewed, <a href="#Page_486">486</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Anna</span>, Grand Duchess, <a href="#Page_349">349</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Annexations, <a href="#Page_89">89</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Another_Family_Council">Another Family Council, <a href="#Page_348">348</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ansbach, <a href="#Page_252">252</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Antibes, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Antiquity. <i>See</i> <a href="#Heroes_of">Heroes of</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Antoinette, Marie</span>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Antommarchi</span>, <a href="#Page_656">656</a>, <a href="#Page_658">658</a>, <a href="#Page_674">674</a>, <a href="#Page_676">676</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Antony.</span> <i>See</i> <a href="#Mark_Antony"><span class="smcap">Mark Antony</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Antwerp, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Anxieties. <i>See</i> <a href="#Josephines_Anxieties"><span class="smcap">Josephine’s</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Any_Crown">Any Crown You like, <a href="#Page_300">300</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Apelles</span>, <a href="#Page_565">565</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_686">[686]</span>Apennines, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Apollo, Salle, <a href="#Page_155">155</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Apostolical">Apostolical Emperor, <a href="#Page_370">370</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Archambaud</span>, <a href="#Page_674">674</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Archduke Charles.</span> <i>See</i> <a href="#Charles"><span class="smcap">Charles</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Arcis-sur-Aube, <a href="#Page_463">463</a>, <a href="#Page_522">522</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Arcola, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_536">536</a>, <a href="#Page_624">624</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Aristotle</span>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Arm_the_Peasants">Arm the Peasants, <a href="#Page_464">464</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Army">Army. <i>See</i> <a href="#Tatterdemalion">Tatterdemalion</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Grand. <i>See</i> <a href="#Grand_Army">Grand Army</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">in the East, <a href="#Page_116">116</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">of Italy, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">of Liberators, <a href="#Page_61">61</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">of the Interior, <a href="#Page_45">45</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">of the Rhine, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_120">120</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Arnault</span>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Arrian</span>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Artillery Fire, <a href="#Page_532">532</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Artois</span>, Count of (afterwards Charles X), <a href="#Page_490">490</a>, <a href="#Page_501">501</a>, <a href="#Page_670">670</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="As_General_Bonaparte">“As General Bonaparte,” <a href="#Page_433">433</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Asia, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_237">237</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Asia Minor, <a href="#Page_11">11</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Asiatic Conquests. <i>See</i> <a href="#Dreams">Dreams of</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Aside. <i>See</i> <a href="#Naive">Naïve</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Aspern-Essling">Aspern-Essling, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>, <a href="#Page_341">341</a>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_522">522</a>, <a href="#Page_567">567</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="A_Son">A Son!, <a href="#Page_260">260</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Assassination. <i>See</i> <a href="#Attempted_Assassination">Attempted</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Astorga, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>, <a href="#Page_377">377</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Asturia, <a href="#Page_299">299</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Astyanax, <a href="#Page_460">460</a>, <a href="#Page_488">488</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">At Headquarters, <a href="#Page_92">92</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Athens, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Atlantic Fleet, <a href="#Page_372">372</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Attacked. <i>See</i> <a href="#Again">Again</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Attempted_Assassination">Attempted Assassination, <a href="#Page_159">159</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Attempted_Rising">Attempted Rising, <a href="#Page_24">24</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Attempt on His Life, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#I_intended">I intended</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="At_the_masked_Ball">At the masked Ball, <a href="#Page_347">347</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Attila</span>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_511">511</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Audience_of_Kings">Audience of Kings, <a href="#Page_309">309</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Auerstädt, <a href="#Page_255">255</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Augereau</span>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_448">448</a>, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>, <a href="#Page_463">463</a>, <a href="#Page_468">468</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_510">510</a>, <a href="#Page_647">647</a>, <a href="#Page_660">660</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Augustus</span>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Aurelian</span>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Austerlitz, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_255">255</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>, <a href="#Page_334">334</a>, <a href="#Page_381">381</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_386">386</a>, <a href="#Page_387">387</a>, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>, <a href="#Page_461">461</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_509">509</a>, <a href="#Page_520">520</a>, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>, <a href="#Page_562">562</a>, <a href="#Page_577">577</a>, <a href="#Page_609">609</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_649">649</a>, <a href="#Page_663">663</a>, <a href="#Page_674">674</a>, <a href="#Page_679">679</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Eve_of_Austerlitz">Eve of Austerlitz</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Austria, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_314">314</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>, <a href="#Page_333">333</a>, <a href="#Page_369">369</a>, <a href="#Page_370">370</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_375">375</a>, <a href="#Page_380">380</a>, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_383">383</a>, <a href="#Page_410">410</a>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_430">430</a>, <a href="#Page_435">435</a>, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_459">459</a>, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>, <a href="#Page_639">639</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Felix, <a href="#Page_369">369</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Auxonne, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_662">662</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Avignon, <a href="#Page_497">497</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Awaiting">Awaiting the Signature, <a href="#Page_473">473</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Azores, <a href="#Page_494">494</a>, <a href="#Page_618">618</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Aztecs">Aztecs and Incas, <a href="#Page_307">307</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst" id="Back_Room">Back Room at Saint-Cloud, <a href="#Page_155">155</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Back_to_Europe">Back to Europe, <a href="#Page_308">308</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Back_to_Paris">Back to Paris, <a href="#Page_525">525</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Baden, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>, <a href="#Page_493">493</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Bad_News">Bad News from Spain, <a href="#Page_399">399</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bag of Gold, <a href="#Page_153">153</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Bagration</span>, <a href="#Page_389">389</a>, <a href="#Page_394">394</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ball. <i>See</i> <a href="#At_the_masked_Ball">At the Ball</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ballad. <i>See</i> <a href="#What_a_Ballad">What a Ballad</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Baltic, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>, <a href="#Page_420">420</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Banishment, <a href="#Page_29">29</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bank of England, <a href="#Page_380">380</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bank of France, <a href="#Page_454">454</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Barbier de Séville, <a href="#Page_622">622</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Barclay_de_Tolly"><span class="smcap">Barclay de Tolly</span>, <a href="#Page_389">389</a>, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_399">399</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Baron Vom Stein</span>, <a href="#Page_406">406</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Barras</span>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_153">153</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bar-sur-Aube, <a href="#Page_462">462</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Basle, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_511">511</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bassora, <a href="#Page_132">132</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bastia, <a href="#Page_480">480</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bastille, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Bathurst</span>, <a href="#Page_676">676</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Battalion, Holy, <a href="#Page_242">242</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Battle, Death in. <i>See</i> <a href="#He_seeks">He seeks</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Battle_of_Jena">of Jena, <a href="#Page_255">255</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">of the Nations, <a href="#Page_446">446</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Baudin</span>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Bauer</span>, <a href="#Page_556">556</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Bausset</span>, <a href="#Page_344">344</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bautzen, <a href="#Page_434">434</a>, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>, <a href="#Page_445">445</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">“Messenger,” <a href="#Page_445">445</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bavaria, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>, <a href="#Page_334">334</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_430">430</a>, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>, <a href="#Page_493">493</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bayonne, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Beauharnais.</span> <i>See</i> <a href="#Eugene"><span class="smcap">Eugene</span></a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Hortense"><span class="smcap">Hortense</span></a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Josephine"><span class="smcap">Josephine</span></a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Vicomte de, <a href="#Page_47">47</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Beaulieu</span>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Beaumarchais</span>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Beethoven</span>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Belated">Belated Blessing, <a href="#Page_226">226</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Belgium, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_453">453</a>, <a href="#Page_458">458</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Belle Alliance, <a href="#Page_523">523</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_687">[687]</span>“Bellerophon,” <a href="#Page_537">537</a>, <a href="#Page_538">538</a>, <a href="#Page_539">539</a>, <a href="#Page_540">540</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_541">541</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Benevento, <a href="#Page_494">494</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Benjamin Constant</span>, <a href="#Page_512">512</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Constant"><span class="smcap">Constant</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Beresina, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>, <a href="#Page_416">416</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Berlin, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_334">334</a>, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>, <a href="#Page_651">651</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Bernadotte</span> (afterwards <span class="smcap">Crown Prince</span>, then King, of Sweden), <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_145">145</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>, <a href="#Page_365">365</a>, <a href="#Page_366">366</a>, <a href="#Page_386">386</a>, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_429">429</a>, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_448">448</a>, <a href="#Page_452">452</a>, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>, <a href="#Page_467">467</a>, <a href="#Page_571">571</a>, <a href="#Page_633">633</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Désirée. <i>See</i> <a href="#Desiree"><span class="smcap">Désirée</span></a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">triumphans, <a href="#Page_365">365</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Bernadottes_Great_Ambitions">Bernadotte’s Ambitions, <a href="#Page_386">386</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bernard. <i>See</i> <a href="#Great_St_Bernard">Great St. Bernard</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Berthier</span> (afterwards Prince of Neuchâtel), <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, <a href="#Page_335">335</a>, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>, <a href="#Page_368">368</a>, <a href="#Page_388">388</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_398">398</a>, <a href="#Page_411">411</a>, <a href="#Page_461">461</a>, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>, <a href="#Page_464">464</a>, <a href="#Page_468">468</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_471">471</a>, <a href="#Page_473">473</a>, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>, <a href="#Page_495">495</a>, <a href="#Page_510">510</a>, <a href="#Page_555">555</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_557">557</a>, <a href="#Page_575">575</a>, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>, <a href="#Page_647">647</a>, <a href="#Page_668">668</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Berthollet</span>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Bertrand</span>, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>, <a href="#Page_484">484</a>, <a href="#Page_535">535</a>, <a href="#Page_609">609</a>, <a href="#Page_610">610</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_613">613</a>, <a href="#Page_615">615</a>, <a href="#Page_621">621</a>, <a href="#Page_636">636</a>, <a href="#Page_638">638</a>, <a href="#Page_654">654</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_658">658</a>, <a href="#Page_659">659</a>, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>, <a href="#Page_664">664</a>, <a href="#Page_669">669</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Madame, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>, <a href="#Page_627">627</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Napoléon, <a href="#Page_638">638</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Besançon, <a href="#Page_501">501</a>, <a href="#Page_509">509</a>, <a href="#Page_555">555</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Bessières</span>, <a href="#Page_668">668</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Betray. <i>See</i> <a href="#Old">Old Friends</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bible, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_601">601</a>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Big_Guns">Big Guns, <a href="#Page_13">13</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Bingham</span>, <a href="#Page_627">627</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Birchen Staff. <i>See</i> <a href="#Leaning">Leaning</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Blenheim, <a href="#Page_127">127</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Blessing. <i>See</i> <a href="#Belated">Belated</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Blindness. <i>See</i> <a href="#Brotherly_Blindness">Brotherly Blindness</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Blindness_to">Blindness to its Dangers, <a href="#Page_212">212</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bloodhound, A, <a href="#Page_187">187</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Blücher</span>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_444">444</a>, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_459">459</a>, <a href="#Page_460">460</a>, <a href="#Page_461">461</a>, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>, <a href="#Page_467">467</a>, <a href="#Page_522">522</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_534">534</a>, <a href="#Page_619">619</a>, <a href="#Page_626">626</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Blunder. <i>See</i> <a href="#Consequences_of_a_Blunder">Consequences of a</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Body of Steel, <a href="#Page_548">548</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bohemia, <a href="#Page_447">447</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Bois">Bois (de Boulogne), <a href="#Page_38">38</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bologna, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_476">476</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Bonaparte"><span class="smcap">Bonaparte.</span> <i>See</i> <a href="#As_General_Bonaparte">As General Monsieur</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Bonaparte_and_Europe">and Europe, <a href="#Page_184">184</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">and the Sphinx, <a href="#Page_121">121</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Caroline. <i>See</i> <a href="#Caroline"><span class="smcap">Caroline</span></a></li>
+  <li class="isub1"><span class="smcap">Carlo</span>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Elise. <i>See</i> <a href="#Elise"><span class="smcap">Elise</span></a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Jerome. <i>See</i> <a href="#Jerome"><span class="smcap">Jerome</span></a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Joseph. <i>See</i> <a href="#Joseph"><span class="smcap">Joseph</span></a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">La Pagerie. <i>See</i> <a href="#Josephine"><span class="smcap">Josephine</span></a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Letizia. <i>See</i> <a href="#Letizia"><span class="smcap">Letizia</span></a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Louis. <i>See</i> <a href="#Louis"><span class="smcap">Louis</span></a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Lucien. <i>See</i> <a href="#Lucien"><span class="smcap">Lucien</span></a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Napoleon Francis. <i>See</i> <a href="#Napoleon_Francis"><span class="smcap">Napoleon Francis</span></a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Pauline. <i>See</i> <a href="#Pauline"><span class="smcap">Pauline</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bon, Cape, <a href="#Page_137">137</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“Boney,” <a href="#Page_540">540</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bordeaux, <a href="#Page_464">464</a>, <a href="#Page_541">541</a>, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Borghese</span>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>, <a href="#Page_485">485</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Pauline"><span class="smcap">Pauline</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Born to rule. <i>See</i> <a href="#Man_born_to_rule">Man born to rule</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Borodino, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>, <a href="#Page_653">653</a>, <a href="#Page_663">663</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bosnia, <a href="#Page_90">90</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bosphorus, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Boulogne, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_572">572</a>, <a href="#Page_580">580</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Boulogne, Bois de. <i>See</i> <a href="#Bois">Bois</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Bourbon</span>, Duke of, <a href="#Page_490">490</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Palais, <a href="#Page_529">529</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bourbons—never!, <a href="#Page_469">469</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bourbons’ Return, <a href="#Page_489">489</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Bourrienne</span>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_161">161</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>, <a href="#Page_556">556</a>, <a href="#Page_681">681</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Breach_between">Breach between the Brothers, <a href="#Page_197">197</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Brescia, <a href="#Page_74">74</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Breslau, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>, <a href="#Page_425">425</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Brienne, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>, <a href="#Page_556">556</a>, <a href="#Page_558">558</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_611">611</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Brieg, <a href="#Page_269">269</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Broil_with_Prussia">Broil with Prussia, <a href="#Page_252">252</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Broils. <i>See</i> <a href="#Family">Family</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Brooding Lad, <a href="#Page_8">8</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Brother Lucien. <i>See</i> <a href="#Sire">Sire</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Brotherly_Blindness">Brotherly Blindness, <a href="#Page_456">456</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Brotherly_Hate">Brotherly Hate, <a href="#Page_304">304</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Brothers. <i>See</i> <a href="#Dangerous">Dangerous</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Brothers_and_Sisters">Brothers and Sisters, <a href="#Page_198">198</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Brothers, The. <i>See</i> <a href="#Breach_between">Breach between</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Bruix</span>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_235">235</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Brumaire">Brumaire, <a href="#Page_528">528</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Eighteenth">Eighteenth</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Nineteenth">Nineteenth</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Brunswick</span>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>, <a href="#Page_408">408</a>, <a href="#Page_576">576</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Brussels, <a href="#Page_523">523</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Brutus</span>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_343">343</a>, <a href="#Page_560">560</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_629">629</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Bruyère.</span> <i>See</i> <a href="#La_Bruyere">La Bruyère</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Bubna</span>, <a href="#Page_341">341</a>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>, <a href="#Page_567">567</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bucharest, <a href="#Page_269">269</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Buenos Ayres, <a href="#Page_534">534</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Buffon</span>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bulletin from Russia. <i>See</i> <a href="#Last">Last</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Bülow</span>, <a href="#Page_524">524</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bukovina, <a href="#Page_384">384</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Bureau of Public Opinion, <a href="#Page_380">380</a>, <a href="#Page_381">381</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Burgos, <a href="#Page_548">548</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Burgundy, <a href="#Page_125">125</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_688">[688]</span><span class="smcap">Buonaparte.</span> <i>See</i> <a href="#Bonaparte"><span class="smcap">Bonaparte</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Burning">Burning Street, <a href="#Page_403">403</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">But Talleyrand is indispensable, <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Byron</span>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>, <a href="#Page_615">615</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst">Cadets School, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Cadiz, <a href="#Page_388">388</a>, <a href="#Page_420">420</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Cadoudal</span>, <a href="#Page_438">438</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Cæsar</span>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>, <a href="#Page_326">326</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_371">371</a>, <a href="#Page_378">378</a>, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>, <a href="#Page_463">463</a>, <a href="#Page_519">519</a>, <a href="#Page_521">521</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_560">560</a>, <a href="#Page_565">565</a>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a>, <a href="#Page_567">567</a>, <a href="#Page_578">578</a>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_624">624</a>, <a href="#Page_645">645</a>, <a href="#Page_646">646</a>, <a href="#Page_653">653</a>, <a href="#Page_655">655</a>, <a href="#Page_656">656</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_661">661</a>, <a href="#Page_668">668</a>, <a href="#Page_679">679</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Christ">Christ</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>Cromwell, and Bonaparte</i>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Caesars_Chariot">Cæsar’s Chariot, <a href="#Page_519">519</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>Death</i>, <a href="#Page_326">326</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Cæsars, <a href="#Page_566">566</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Cagliostro</span>, <a href="#Page_593">593</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Cairo, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_605">605</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Cajoleries, <a href="#Page_272">272</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Calabria, <a href="#Page_633">633</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Calculation">Calculation, <a href="#Page_569">569</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">and Imagination, <a href="#Page_117">117</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Calculations. <i>See</i> <a href="#I_am_the_Man">I am the Man</a> and <a href="#Yearnings">Yearnings</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Caldiero, <a href="#Page_76">76</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">California, <a href="#Page_534">534</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Cambacérès</span>, <a href="#Page_598">598</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Camilla</span>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Campaign. <i>See</i> <a href="#Excitement_of">Excitement of</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Campaigns of Napoleon the Great</i>, <a href="#Page_380">380</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Campbell</span>, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>, <a href="#Page_504">504</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Campo Formio, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Candour_to_Opponents">Candour to Opponents, <a href="#Page_341">341</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Canino, <a href="#Page_485">485</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Cannes, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>, <a href="#Page_497">497</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>, <a href="#Page_503">503</a>, <a href="#Page_623">623</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Canova</span>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_582">582</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Cantillon</span>, <a href="#Page_662">662</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Cape Bon, <a href="#Page_137">137</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Cape (of Good Hope), <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_372">372</a>, <a href="#Page_654">654</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Capets, <a href="#Page_414">414</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Capitol, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Capri, <a href="#Page_566">566</a>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Capua, <a href="#Page_383">383</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Caracas, <a href="#Page_534">534</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Care">Care for the Children, <a href="#Page_173">173</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Carlo Bonaparte</span>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Carlyle</span>, <a href="#Page_679">679</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Carnot</span>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_407">407</a>, <a href="#Page_511">511</a>, <a href="#Page_518">518</a>, <a href="#Page_521">521</a>, <a href="#Page_528">528</a>, <a href="#Page_598">598</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_642">642</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Carnot’s</span> Advice, <a href="#Page_521">521</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Caroline"><span class="smcap">Caroline Bonaparte</span> (afterwards wife of <span class="smcap">Murat</span>), <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>, <a href="#Page_352">352</a>, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_429">429</a>, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>, <a href="#Page_485">485</a>, <a href="#Page_632">632</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Carpet, The, <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Carrée, Fort, <a href="#Page_34">34</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Carthage, <a href="#Page_10">10</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Cases.</span> <i>See</i> <a href="#Las_Cases"><span class="smcap">Las Cases</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Cassel, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>, <a href="#Page_452">452</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Castiglione, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_463">463</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Castille, <a href="#Page_331">331</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Catalonia, <a href="#Page_312">312</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Catherine the Great</span>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Cattaro, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>, <a href="#Page_307">307</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Coulaincourt</span>, <a href="#Page_375">375</a>, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>, <a href="#Page_377">377</a>, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>, <a href="#Page_411">411</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_417">417</a>, <a href="#Page_418">418</a>, <a href="#Page_432">432</a>, <a href="#Page_434">434</a>, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_458">458</a>, <a href="#Page_464">464</a>, <a href="#Page_465">465</a>, <a href="#Page_467">467</a>, <a href="#Page_468">468</a>, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_472">472</a>, <a href="#Page_507">507</a>, <a href="#Page_529">529</a>, <a href="#Page_531">531</a>, <a href="#Page_606">606</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Cause. <i>See</i> <a href="#Espouse_my_Cause">Espouse my</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Cave. <i>See</i> <a href="#Imagination">Imagination</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Chains. <i>See</i> <a href="#In_Chains">In Chains</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Strike">Strike</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Chamber_of_Deputies">Chamber of Deputies, <a href="#Page_526">526</a>, <a href="#Page_528">528</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Lower_House">Lower House</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Chambers, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>, <a href="#Page_511">511</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_517">517</a>, <a href="#Page_519">519</a>, <a href="#Page_525">525</a>, <a href="#Page_526">526</a>, <a href="#Page_527">527</a>, <a href="#Page_528">528</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_529">529</a>, <a href="#Page_530">530</a>, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#General">General</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Chambers of Commerce, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_379">379</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Chambers take the Initiative, <a href="#Page_526">526</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Champaubert, <a href="#Page_460">460</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Champagny</span>, <a href="#Page_311">311</a>, <a href="#Page_343">343</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Champ">Champ de Mai, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>, <a href="#Page_518">518</a>, <a href="#Page_520">520</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Champion">Champion of the Family, <a href="#Page_172">172</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Chance. <i>See</i> <a href="#Circumstances">Circumstances</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Chance missed, <a href="#Page_235">235</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Channel, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_516">516</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Chapelle ardente, <a href="#Page_669">669</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Characterisation. <i>See</i> <a href="#German">German</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Chariot. <i>See</i> <a href="#Caesars_Chariot">Cæsar’s</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Charlemagne</span>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_566">566</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Charlemagne</i>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Charleroi, <a href="#Page_521">521</a>, <a href="#Page_522">522</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Charles XII, <a href="#Page_393">393</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Charles Augustus</span>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Charles"><span class="smcap">Charles</span>, Austrian Archduke, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>, <a href="#Page_351">351</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Charles</span>, Hippolyte, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Hippolyte"><span class="smcap">Hippolyte</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Charlottenburg, <a href="#Page_258">258</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Chateaubriand</span>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>, <a href="#Page_554">554</a>, <a href="#Page_565">565</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_566">566</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Châtillon, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>, <a href="#Page_461">461</a>, <a href="#Page_492">492</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Chénier</span>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_598">598</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Cherbourg, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Chess. <i>See</i> <a href="#Game">Game</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Chessplayer, <a href="#Page_567">567</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Childlessness. <i>See</i> <a href="#Tragedy_of">Tragedy of</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Children. <i>See</i> <a href="#Care">Care</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Name_your_children">Name your</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">China, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_652">652</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Chinese Island where there are no Weapons, <a href="#Page_581">581</a>, <a href="#Page_582">582</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Christ"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_689">[689]</span>Christ, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_338">338</a>, <a href="#Page_636">636</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Jesus">Jesus</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">and Cæsar, <a href="#Page_322">322</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Christianity, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, <a href="#Page_322">322</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Cimarosa</span>, <a href="#Page_554">554</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Cinna</i>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Cipriani</span>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>, <a href="#Page_621">621</a>, <a href="#Page_640">640</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Circumstances">Circumstances and Chance, <a href="#Page_604">604</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Cisalpine Republic, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Citerni</span>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">City. <i>See</i> <a href="#Rome">Rome</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#The_Eternal">The Eternal</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Civil Code, <a href="#Page_170">170</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Clarke</span>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Clary.</span> <i>See</i> <a href="#Desiree"><span class="smcap">Désirée</span></a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Julie"><span class="smcap">Julie</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Cleaning up the Mess, <a href="#Page_176">176</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Clear the Hall, <a href="#Page_160">160</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Cleopatra</span>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Cleves, <a href="#Page_247">247</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Climax">Climax of the Scene, <a href="#Page_302">302</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Clovis</span>, <a href="#Page_561">561</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Coblenz, <a href="#Page_577">577</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Coburg, <a href="#Page_273">273</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Cockade. <i>See</i> <a href="#Red">Red</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Code, Civil, <a href="#Page_170">170</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Code Napoléon, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_371">371</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Coffee">Coffee and Sugar, <a href="#Page_398">398</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Colli</span>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Colours. <i>See</i> <a href="#Kissing">Kissing</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Command. <i>See</i> <a href="#Again">Again</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Last">Last</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Unity">Unity</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Commander. <i>See</i> <a href="#Statesman">Statesman</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Commander">Commander of the Forces, <a href="#Page_45">45</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Comédie Française, <a href="#Page_410">410</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Commercial">Commercial Warfare, <a href="#Page_361">361</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Committee of Public Safety, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_561">561</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Companions, <a href="#Page_610">610</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Fate_of">Fate</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Company at Morfontaine, <a href="#Page_452">452</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Comparison">Comparison with Napoleon, <a href="#Page_407">407</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Compiègne, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>, <a href="#Page_352">352</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Concerning">Concerning the Germans, <a href="#Page_591">591</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Concordat, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_372">372</a>, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Condé</span>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>, <a href="#Page_490">490</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Confederation">Confederation of the Rhine, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>, <a href="#Page_341">341</a>, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_388">388</a>, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>, <a href="#Page_424">424</a>, <a href="#Page_425">425</a>, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>, <a href="#Page_447">447</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Confessions, <a href="#Page_214">214</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Confidants conspire, <a href="#Page_331">331</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Congress. <i>See</i> <a href="#Tidings">Tidings</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Conquests. <i>See</i> <a href="#Dreams">Dreams</a> and <a href="#Plans">Plans</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Consalvi</span>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Consequences. <i>See</i> <a href="#Political">Political</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Consequences_of_a_Blunder">Consequences of a Blunder, <a href="#Page_208">208</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Consequences of Marmont’s Desertion, <a href="#Page_471">471</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Conservatoire, <a href="#Page_98">98</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Considerations, <a href="#Page_639">639</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Conspiracy, <a href="#Page_148">148</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Constant"><span class="smcap">Constant</span>, Benjamin, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_511">511</a>, <a href="#Page_512">512</a>, <a href="#Page_514">514</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_517">517</a>, <a href="#Page_527">527</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Constant (Napoleon’s Valet), <a href="#Page_267">267</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Constantine</span> (Roman Emperor), <a href="#Page_284">284</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">(Russian Grand Duke), <a href="#Page_405">405</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Constantinople, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Consul">Consul, First, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_280">280</a>, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>, <a href="#Page_379">379</a>, <a href="#Page_381">381</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>, <a href="#Page_550">550</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_554">554</a>, <a href="#Page_555">555</a>, <a href="#Page_556">556</a>, <a href="#Page_565">565</a>, <a href="#Page_575">575</a>, <a href="#Page_582">582</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_586">586</a>, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>, <a href="#Page_629">629</a>, <a href="#Page_646">646</a>, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_652">652</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">for Life, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Consuls, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Contempt for his Fellows, <a href="#Page_583">583</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Content. <i>See</i> <a href="#Form_without_Content">Form without</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Continent, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>, <a href="#Page_367">367</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_524">524</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Continental_European">Continental System, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_680">680</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Contradictions">Contradictions of Monarchy, <a href="#Page_423">423</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Convention, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_658">658</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Conversation. <i>See</i> <a href="#Memorable">Memorable</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Conversation">Conversation with Rapp, <a href="#Page_508">508</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Conversation with Wieland, <a href="#Page_320">320</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Corfu, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_473">473</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Coriolanus</span>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Corneille</span>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>, <a href="#Page_551">551</a>, <a href="#Page_564">564</a>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_621">621</a>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Corniche, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Corsica">Corsica, <a href="#Page_1">1-49</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_138">138</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_483">483</a>, <a href="#Page_484">484</a>, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>, <a href="#Page_505">505</a>, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>, <a href="#Page_535">535</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_537">537</a>, <a href="#Page_631">631</a>, <a href="#Page_657">657</a>, <a href="#Page_662">662</a>, <a href="#Page_673">673</a>, <a href="#Page_676">676</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">again, <a href="#Page_138">138</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Corsica_comes">Corsica comes to St. Helena, <a href="#Page_656">656</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Corsica’s Struggle, <a href="#Page_4">4</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Corsican Election, <a href="#Page_23">23</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Corsicans, <a href="#Page_294">294</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Corso, <a href="#Page_73">73</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Corte, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Cortes, <a href="#Page_453">453</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Corvisart</span>, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>, <a href="#Page_598">598</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Cossaria, <a href="#Page_86">86</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Council. <i>See</i> <a href="#Another_Family_Council">Another Family</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Council_of_Ancients">Council of Ancients, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Council_of_Five_Hundred">of Five Hundred, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">of State, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_207">207</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>, <a href="#Page_332">332</a>, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_414">414</a>, <a href="#Page_423">423</a>, <a href="#Page_554">554</a>, <a href="#Page_582">582</a>, <a href="#Page_590">590</a>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_649">649</a>, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Councils, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_188">188</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_690">[690]</span>Counterplot. <i>See</i> <a href="#Plot">Plot</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Counterstroke. <i>See</i> <a href="#Stroke">Stroke</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Countess. <i>See</i> <a href="#Polish">Polish</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Walewska">Walewska</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Cracow, <a href="#Page_430">430</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Crassus</span>, <a href="#Page_679">679</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Creation</i>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Crete, <a href="#Page_11">11</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Crœsus</span>, <a href="#Page_458">458</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Cromwell</span>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_463">463</a>, <a href="#Page_647">647</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Coup d’État. <i>See</i> <a href="#Plans">Plans</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Courage, <a href="#Page_577">577</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Returning_Courage">Returning</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Court. <i>See</i> <a href="#Little_Court">Little Court</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Plebeians_at_Court">Plebeians at Court</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Court Dress. <i>See</i> <a href="#Mummy">Mummy in</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Courtship">Courtship, <a href="#Page_351">351</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Crises, <a href="#Page_75">75</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Criticism_of_French">Criticism of the French, <a href="#Page_215">215</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Crowd. <i>See</i> <a href="#Tuckets">Tuckets</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Crown. <i>See</i> <a href="#Any_Crown">Any</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Curse">Curse of Legitimacy, <a href="#Page_422">422</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Cyrus</span>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst" id="Dagger">Dagger in the Dictator’s Heart, <a href="#Page_517">517</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Daily Life, <a href="#Page_621">621</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Daimonic_Loneliness">Daimonic Loneliness, <a href="#Page_605">605</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dalmatia, <a href="#Page_436">436</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Damascus, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Danaids, <a href="#Page_414">414</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Danger and Discouragement, <a href="#Page_77">77</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Dangerous">Dangerous Brothers, <a href="#Page_438">438</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dangers. <i>See</i> <a href="#Blindness_to">Blindness to</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Dangers_of_Distance">Dangers of Distance, <a href="#Page_340">340</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Danube, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>, <a href="#Page_341">341</a>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_612">612</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Danzig, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>, <a href="#Page_388">388</a>, <a href="#Page_432">432</a>, <a href="#Page_509">509</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Daru</span>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>, <a href="#Page_325">325</a>, <a href="#Page_410">410</a>, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_418">418</a>, <a href="#Page_444">444</a>, <a href="#Page_597">597</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dauphiné, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_497">497</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">David</span>, <a href="#Page_565">565</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Davoust</span>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>, <a href="#Page_403">403</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_507">507</a>, <a href="#Page_526">526</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Days, Hundred, <a href="#Page_599">599</a>, <a href="#Page_609">609</a>, <a href="#Page_623">623</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Deadly Climate, <a href="#Page_608">608</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Deadwood, <a href="#Page_608">608</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Death, <a href="#Page_674">674</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Waiting">Waiting</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Deathbed. <i>See</i> <a href="#Justifies">Justifies</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Death in Battle. <i>See</i> <a href="#He_seeks">He seeks</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Decrès</span>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>, <a href="#Page_533">533</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Defeat">Defeat, <a href="#Page_448">448</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#First_Defeat">First at Waterloo</a>, <a href="#Page_524">524</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Defence. <i>See</i> <a href="#Napoleons_Defence">Napoleon’s</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Defenceless, <a href="#Page_540">540</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Delta, <a href="#Page_130">130</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Demand">Demand for Abdication, <a href="#Page_527">527</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Democracy. <i>See</i> <a href="#Fiction_of_Democracy">Acknowledgment Fiction of</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Denmark, <a href="#Page_493">493</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Deputies">Deputies in secret Session, <a href="#Page_528">528</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Desaix</span>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>, <a href="#Page_668">668</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_673">673</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Quai">Quai</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Deserter, <a href="#Page_25">25</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Desiree"><span class="smcap">Désirée Clary</span> (afterwards Wife of Bernadotte), <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_452">452</a>, <a href="#Page_633">633</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Destiny, <a href="#Page_603">603</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Follow">Follow</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Sense">Sense</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#To_Destiny">To Destiny</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Man of, <a href="#Page_604">604</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Destruction">Destruction of the Fleet, <a href="#Page_126">126</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Devotion">Devotion to Josephine, <a href="#Page_99">99</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dialogue of the Dead, <a href="#Page_646">646</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Diarists, <a href="#Page_648">648</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dictator. <i>See</i> <a href="#Dagger">Dagger</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dictatorship, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dictionary of Weathercocks, <a href="#Page_638">638</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Die Standing. <i>See</i> <a href="#I_will_die_standing">I will</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“Diet, Imperial” at Erfurt, <a href="#Page_561">561</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dignity, <a href="#Page_552">552</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Imperial_Dignity">Imperial</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dijon, <a href="#Page_178">178</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Diogenes</span>, <a href="#Page_324">324</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dilemma. <i>See</i> <a href="#Tragical">Tragical</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Diocletian</span>, <a href="#Page_567">567</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dioscuri, <a href="#Page_511">511</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Diplomat, <a href="#Page_88">88</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Diplomats. <i>See</i> <a href="#Hectoring">Hectoring</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Directors, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_529">529</a>, <a href="#Page_532">532</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_556">556</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Directory, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>, <a href="#Page_379">379</a>, <a href="#Page_511">511</a>, <a href="#Page_528">528</a>, <a href="#Page_530">530</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Disastrous_Inertia">Disastrous Inertia, <a href="#Page_435">435</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Discours sur l’origine et les fondements de l’inégalité parmi les hommes</i>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Discoveries. <i>See</i> <a href="#Explorations">Explorations</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Disgruntled">Disgruntled Kings, <a href="#Page_363">363</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Disillusionment. <i>See</i> <a href="#Victory">Victory</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Disquiet. <i>See</i> <a href="#Growing">Growing</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Distance. <i>See</i> <a href="#Dangers_of_Distance">Dangers of</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Divine Right. <i>See</i> <a href="#Rulers">Rulers</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Divorce, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Marriage_and">Marriage and</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dniester, <a href="#Page_259">259</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Domingo, <a href="#Page_590">590</a>, <a href="#Page_630">630</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Don Quixote. <i>See</i> <a href="#Quixote">Quixote</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Don’t you know me?, <a href="#Page_499">499</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dover, <a href="#Page_137">137</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dramas, Family. <i>See</i> <a href="#Opening">Opening</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dream, first, <a href="#Page_672">672</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dream, second, <a href="#Page_672">672</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dream, trivial. <i>See</i> <a href="#Life">Life</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Dreams">Dreams and Mathematics, <a href="#Page_131">131</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">of Asiatic Conquests, <a href="#Page_41">41</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dresden, <a href="#Page_335">335</a>, <a href="#Page_386">386</a>, <a href="#Page_388">388</a>, <a href="#Page_434">434</a>, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>, <a href="#Page_444">444</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_492">492</a>, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>, <a href="#Page_548">548</a>, <a href="#Page_553">553</a>, <a href="#Page_589">589</a>, <a href="#Page_590">590</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_653">653</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_691">[691]</span><span class="smcap">Driault</span>, <a href="#Page_683">683</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Driven out, <a href="#Page_533">533</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Drouot</span>, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>, <a href="#Page_495">495</a>, <a href="#Page_531">531</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Drums">Drums of the Revolution, <a href="#Page_15">15</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Drum-Taps, <a href="#Page_166">166</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Düben Castle, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>, <a href="#Page_470">470</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Düben Heath, <a href="#Page_445">445</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Duchatel, <a href="#Page_203">203</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Ducos</span>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dunkirk, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Duroc</span>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>, <a href="#Page_434">434</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_435">435</a>, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>, <a href="#Page_618">618</a>, <a href="#Page_668">668</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dvina, <a href="#Page_390">390</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Dynastic">Dynastic Snare, <a href="#Page_301">301</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Dynasty. <i>See</i> <a href="#Spanish_Dynasty">Spanish</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst" id="Eagle">Eagle Volant, <a href="#Page_230">230</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">East, the, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Army">Army in the East</a>, <i>also</i>
+<a href="#Lure_of_the_East">Lure of the East</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Messengers_from_the_East">Messengers from the East</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">East India Company, <a href="#Page_607">607</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Eckmühl, <a href="#Page_500">500</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Egypt, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_272">272</a>, <a href="#Page_372">372</a>, <a href="#Page_411">411</a>, <a href="#Page_413">413</a>, <a href="#Page_495">495</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_514">514</a>, <a href="#Page_543">543</a>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a>, <a href="#Page_573">573</a>, <a href="#Page_620">620</a>, <a href="#Page_621">621</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Egyptian">Egyptian Plan, <a href="#Page_116">116</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Eighteen-hour Day, <a href="#Page_174">174</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Eighteenth">Eighteenth Brumaire, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_365">365</a>, <a href="#Page_494">494</a>, <a href="#Page_502">502</a>, <a href="#Page_560">560</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Nineteenth">Nineteenth Brumaire</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Brumaire">Brumaire</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Eighty-five Francs, <a href="#Page_21">21</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Elba, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_473">473</a>, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>, <a href="#Page_477">477</a>, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_481">481</a>, <a href="#Page_482">482</a>, <a href="#Page_483">483</a>, <a href="#Page_484">484</a>, <a href="#Page_485">485</a>, <a href="#Page_489">489</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_491">491</a>, <a href="#Page_492">492</a>, <a href="#Page_493">493</a>, <a href="#Page_494">494</a>, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>, <a href="#Page_504">504</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_511">511</a>, <a href="#Page_513">513</a>, <a href="#Page_531">531</a>, <a href="#Page_535">535</a>, <a href="#Page_623">623</a>, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_661">661</a>, <a href="#Page_662">662</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Elbe, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>, <a href="#Page_374">374</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_447">447</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Electoral Colleges of the Empire, <a href="#Page_505">505</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Elise"><span class="smcap">Elise</span>, Bonaparte (afterwards Grand Duchess of Tuscany), <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>, <a href="#Page_452">452</a>, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_676">676</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">El Kebir</span>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Elysée, <a href="#Page_466">466</a>, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>, <a href="#Page_525">525</a>, <a href="#Page_530">530</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Elysian Fields, <a href="#Page_668">668</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Emmery</span>, <a href="#Page_661">661</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Emperor. <i>See also</i> <a href="#Apostolical">Apostolical</a>, <a href="#I_am_the_State">I am</a>, <a href="#Return">Return</a>, <a href="#Self-crowned">Self-crowned</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Emperor_and_Admiral">and Admiral, <a href="#Page_234">234</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Emperor_and_his_Mother">and his Mother, <a href="#Page_495">495</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">and the Slave, <a href="#Page_630">630</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Emperor_drives">drives a Plough, <a href="#Page_641">641</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">of the East, <a href="#Page_242">242</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">of Rome, <a href="#Page_283">283</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">of the West, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Emperors. <i>See</i> <a href="#Two_Emperors">Two Emperors</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Emperors_Alarm">Emperor’s Alarm, <a href="#Page_414">414</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Emperor_scores">Emperor scores over the Poet, <a href="#Page_321">321</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Emperors_Onslaught">Emperor’s Onslaught, <a href="#Page_324">324</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Empire. <i>See also</i> <a href="#Holy_Roman_Empire">Holy Roman Empire</a>, <a href="#Turkish_Empire">Turkish Empire</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">End of Everything, <a href="#Page_125">125</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Energy in narrow Bounds, <a href="#Page_481">481</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Enghien</span>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_281">281</a>, <a href="#Page_332">332</a>, <a href="#Page_565">565</a>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>, <a href="#Page_646">646</a>, <a href="#Page_670">670</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Kidnapping">Kidnapping</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="England">England, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_235">235</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_306">306</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_307">307</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>, <a href="#Page_328">328</a>, <a href="#Page_333">333</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_362">362</a>, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>, <a href="#Page_365">365</a>, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>, <a href="#Page_374">374</a>, <a href="#Page_377">377</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_379">379</a>, <a href="#Page_380">380</a>, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_430">430</a>, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>, <a href="#Page_490">490</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_492">492</a>, <a href="#Page_503">503</a>, <a href="#Page_538">538</a>, <a href="#Page_541">541</a>, <a href="#Page_542">542</a>, <a href="#Page_584">584</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_588">588</a>, <a href="#Page_593">593</a>, <a href="#Page_607">607</a>, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>, <a href="#Page_624">624</a>, <a href="#Page_626">626</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_631">631</a>, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>, <a href="#Page_635">635</a>, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>, <a href="#Page_669">669</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_671">671</a>, <a href="#Page_675">675</a>, <a href="#Page_676">676</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Englands_Enmity">England’s Enmity, <a href="#Page_232">232</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Enmities. <i>See</i> <a href="#Intrigues">Intrigues</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Enmity. <i>See</i> <a href="#Englands_Enmity">England’s</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Epilogue, <a href="#Page_675">675</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Equality at the Front, <a href="#Page_581">581</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Equality">Equality, not Liberty, <a href="#Page_168">168</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Erfurt, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>, <a href="#Page_309">309</a>, <a href="#Page_313">313</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_318">318</a>, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>, <a href="#Page_326">326</a>, <a href="#Page_342">342</a>, <a href="#Page_350">350</a>, <a href="#Page_374">374</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_392">392</a>, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>, <a href="#Page_555">555</a>, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">“Imperial Diet,” <a href="#Page_561">561</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Eroica</i>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Espouse_my_Cause">“Espouse my Cause,” <a href="#Page_294">294</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Essling. <i>See</i> <a href="#Aspern-Essling">Aspern-Essling</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Essonne, <a href="#Page_465">465</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Eternal City. <i>See also</i> <a href="#Rome">Rome</a>, <a href="#The_Eternal">The Eternal</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ettenheim, <a href="#Page_206">206</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Etiquette">Etiquette and Parody, <a href="#Page_638">638</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Eugene"><span class="smcap">Eugene de Beauharnais</span> (afterwards Viceroy of Italy), <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_300">300</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>, <a href="#Page_348">348</a>, <a href="#Page_349">349</a>, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_389">389</a>, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>, <a href="#Page_412">412</a>, <a href="#Page_417">417</a>, <a href="#Page_531">531</a>, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_566">566</a>, <a href="#Page_569">569</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Euphrates, <a href="#Page_574">574</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Europe">Europe, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_240">240</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_282">282</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a>, <a href="#Page_334">334</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_359">359</a>, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>, <a href="#Page_365">365</a>, <a href="#Page_366">366</a>, <a href="#Page_368">368</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_374">374</a>, <a href="#Page_375">375</a>, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>, <a href="#Page_377">377</a>, <a href="#Page_378">378</a>, <a href="#Page_383">383</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_384">384</a>, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>, <a href="#Page_447">447</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_455">455</a>, <a href="#Page_473">473</a>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>, <a href="#Page_483">483</a>, <a href="#Page_484">484</a>, <a href="#Page_492">492</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_496">496</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>, <a href="#Page_521">521</a>, <a href="#Page_524">524</a>, <a href="#Page_528">528</a>, <a href="#Page_538">538</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_543">543</a>, <a href="#Page_554">554</a>, <a href="#Page_580">580</a>, <a href="#Page_582">582</a>, <a href="#Page_589">589</a>, <a href="#Page_595">595</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_596">596</a>, <a href="#Page_612">612</a>, <a href="#Page_624">624</a>, <a href="#Page_625">625</a>, <a href="#Page_626">626</a>, <a href="#Page_631">631</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_643">643</a>, <a href="#Page_644">644</a>, <a href="#Page_645">645</a>, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>, <a href="#Page_658">658</a>, <a href="#Page_665">665</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_667">667</a>, <a href="#Page_668">668</a>, <a href="#Page_676">676</a>, <a href="#Page_680">680</a>, <a href="#Page_682">682</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Back_to_Europe">Back to</a>, <a href="#Bonaparte_and_Europe">Bonaparte and</a>, <a href="#Farewell">Farewell</a>,
+<a href="#Partition">Partition</a>, <a href="#United_Europe">United</a>, and <a href="#United_States_of_Europe">United States of</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_692">[692]</span>Europe is a Mole-hill, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_378">378</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Europe too small, <a href="#Page_296">296</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">European System, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Eve_of_Austerlitz">Eve of Austerlitz, <a href="#Page_241">241</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Everyman, <a href="#Page_581">581</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Everything is crashing round me, <a href="#Page_453">453</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Evil. <i>See</i> <a href="#Prophet_of_Evil">Prophet of</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Examination">Examination of a Prisoner, <a href="#Page_393">393</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Excommunication">Excommunication and Victory, <a href="#Page_338">338</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Execrated">Execrated by the Mob, <a href="#Page_479">479</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Execration. <i>See</i> <a href="#Public">Public</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Excitement_of">Excitement of the Campaign, <a href="#Page_461">461</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Explorations">Explorations and Discoveries, <a href="#Page_130">130</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Extinct">Extinct Volcano, <a href="#Page_607">607</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Eylau">Eylau, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>, <a href="#Page_311">311</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>, <a href="#Page_580">580</a>, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_663">663</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst">Faithful grow weary, <a href="#Page_658">658</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Faithful">Faithful Servants, <a href="#Page_613">613</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="False_to">False to his own Principles, <a href="#Page_279">279</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Falsifications, <a href="#Page_625">625</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Fame, <a href="#Page_568">568</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">still lures him, <a href="#Page_652">652</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Family">Family. <i>See</i> <a href="#Champion">Champion</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Bequests, <a href="#Page_662">662</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Broils, <a href="#Page_428">428</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Council. <i>See</i> <a href="#Another_Family_Council">Another</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Dramas. <i>See</i> <a href="#Opening">Opening</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Man. <i>See</i> <a href="#Genius">Genius and</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Troubles. <i>See</i> <a href="#More_Family_Troubles">More</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Fantastic_Schemes">Fantastic Schemes, <a href="#Page_283">283</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Fantasy">Fantasy and Number again, <a href="#Page_359">359</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Farewell Europe, <a href="#Page_543">543</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Farewell">Farewell to the Guard, <a href="#Page_477">477</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Fatal">Fatal War, <a href="#Page_373">373</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Fate_of">Fate of old Companions, <a href="#Page_633">633</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Father. <i>See</i> <a href="#Our_Father">Our</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Fatherland. <i>See</i> <a href="#Without_a_Fatherland">Without</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Faubourg. <i>See</i> <a href="#Saint-Germain">Faubourg Saint-Germain</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Saint-Antoine, <a href="#Page_527">527</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Saint-Germain">Saint-Germain, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_466">466</a>, <a href="#Page_562">562</a>, <a href="#Page_609">609</a>, <a href="#Page_628">628</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Faust, <a href="#Page_654">654</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Felix Austria, <a href="#Page_369">369</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Ferdinand</span>, <a href="#Page_453">453</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ferrajo, <a href="#Page_481">481</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ferrara, <a href="#Page_99">99</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Fertility. <i>See</i> <a href="#Habsburg_Fertility">Habsburg Fertility</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Fesch</span>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_352">352</a>, <a href="#Page_353">353</a>, <a href="#Page_371">371</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Fiction_of_Democracy">Fiction of Democracy, <a href="#Page_188">188</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Figaro</i>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Fighting. <i>See</i> <a href="#Street">Street</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Finckenstein, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_339">339</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Finisterre, <a href="#Page_384">384</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Fire!, <a href="#Page_402">402</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="First">First Consul. <i>See</i> <a href="#Consul">Consul, First</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="First_Defeat">Defeat, <a href="#Page_337">337</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Dream, <a href="#Page_672">672</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">“I,” <a href="#Page_16">16</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="First_Overtures">Overtures for Peace, <a href="#Page_87">87</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="First_Place">Place is occupied, <a href="#Page_20">20</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Sword, <a href="#Page_9">9</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">triumphal Entry, <a href="#Page_68">68</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="First_Victory">Victory, <a href="#Page_33">33</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Five Hundred. <i>See</i> <a href="#Council_of_Five_Hundred">Council</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Fleet. <i>See also</i> <a href="#Destruction">Destruction Through</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Fleet sets sail, <a href="#Page_118">118</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Flight homewards, <a href="#Page_136">136</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Florence, <a href="#Page_427">427</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Flushing, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Foe. <i>See</i> <a href="#Overestimating">Overestimating</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Follow">“Follow your Destiny,” <a href="#Page_496">496</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Fontaine, La</span>, <a href="#Page_628">628</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Fontainebleau, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>, <a href="#Page_465">465</a>, <a href="#Page_466">466</a>, <a href="#Page_467">467</a>, <a href="#Page_468">468</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_471">471</a>, <a href="#Page_473">473</a>, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>, <a href="#Page_486">486</a>, <a href="#Page_504">504</a>, <a href="#Page_605">605</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Foolish Speech, <a href="#Page_156">156</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Fop">Fop and the Husband, <a href="#Page_73">73</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Forces. <i>See</i> <a href="#Commander">Commander</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Forebodings. <i>See</i> <a href="#Gloomy">Gloomy</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Foreign_Office">Foreign Office, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Ministry_for_Foreign_Affairs">Ministry for Foreign Affairs</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Forgotten!, <a href="#Page_376">376</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Former Fellow-student, <a href="#Page_555">555</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Form_without_Content">Form without Content, <a href="#Page_216">216</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Fort Carrée, <a href="#Page_34">34</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Fortress. <i>See</i> <a href="#Invincible">Invincible</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Fortuné, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Fortune">“Fortune is a Strumpet,” <a href="#Page_400">400</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Fortune_of_War">Fortune of War, <a href="#Page_457">457</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Fortune’s Wheel. <i>See</i> <a href="#Turn_of">Turn of</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Fouché</span>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>, <a href="#Page_332">332</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_333">333</a>, <a href="#Page_340">340</a>, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>, <a href="#Page_365">365</a>, <a href="#Page_377">377</a>, <a href="#Page_378">378</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_379">379</a>, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>, <a href="#Page_473">473</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_474">474</a>, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>, <a href="#Page_511">511</a>, <a href="#Page_530">530</a>, <a href="#Page_532">532</a>, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_614">614</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Fouché’s</span> Rise, <a href="#Page_530">530</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Fouché</span>, <span class="smcap">Talleyrand</span> and, <a href="#Page_182">182</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Four_Teeth">Four Teeth, <a href="#Page_394">394</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Fourth-act">Fourth-act Moods, <a href="#Page_432">432</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Fourth Name, <a href="#Page_217">217</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Fowler, <a href="#Page_81">81</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Fox</span>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Foy</span>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">France, passim. <i>See also</i> <a href="#All_young">All young</a>, <a href="#History">History</a>, <a href="#In_southern_France">In southern</a>, and <a href="#King_of_France">King of</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_693">[693]</span>greets him, <a href="#Page_141">141</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">is his Mistress, <a href="#Page_563">563</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Francis</span>, Emperor of Holy Roman Empire and of Austria, etc., <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>, <a href="#Page_350">350</a>, <a href="#Page_369">369</a>, <a href="#Page_370">370</a>, <a href="#Page_386">386</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_398">398</a>, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>, <a href="#Page_434">434</a>, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_439">439</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>, <a href="#Page_505">505</a>, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_515">515</a>, <a href="#Page_642">642</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">King of Rome, <a href="#Page_488">488</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub2"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Napoleon_Francis"><span class="smcap">Napoleon Francis</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Frankfort, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>, <a href="#Page_456">456</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Frederick the Great</span>, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a>, <a href="#Page_463">463</a>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_568">568</a>, <a href="#Page_621">621</a>, <a href="#Page_655">655</a>, <a href="#Page_663">663</a>, <a href="#Page_668">668</a>, <a href="#Page_679">679</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Frederick’s Sword, <a href="#Page_257">257</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Frederick William III</span>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_383">383</a>, <a href="#Page_425">425</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_437">437</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Fréjus, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Landing">Landing</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">French. <i>See</i> <a href="#Criticism_of_French">Criticism of</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">are easy to rule, <a href="#Page_666">666</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">remain sceptical, <a href="#Page_564">564</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Frenzied Energy, <a href="#Page_72">72</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Friedland, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>, <a href="#Page_522">522</a>, <a href="#Page_663">663</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Friends betray him. <i>See</i> <a href="#Old">Old</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Friendship. <i>See</i> <a href="#Last">Last</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Fridericus">Fridericus Rex, <a href="#Page_251">251</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Friuli, <a href="#Page_75">75</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Fronde, <a href="#Page_562">562</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Fruitless">Fruitless Wooing, <a href="#Page_316">316</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Fulfilment. <i>See</i> <a href="#Tragedy_of">Tragedy of</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Fulton</span>, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>, <a href="#Page_642">642</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Further_Proposals">Further Peace Proposals, <a href="#Page_180">180</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst">Galicia, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_375">375</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Gambler. <i>See</i> <a href="#Great_Gambler">Great</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Game">Game of Chess, <a href="#Page_443">443</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ganges, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>, <a href="#Page_373">373</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Gaoler, <a href="#Page_617">617</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Lowe">Lowe</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Garda, <a href="#Page_73">73</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Garden. <i>See</i> <a href="#Kingdom">Kingdom</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Gardener, <a href="#Page_654">654</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Gassion, <a href="#Page_597">597</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="General">General against People, <a href="#Page_43">43</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">and King, <a href="#Page_580">580</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">and the Chambers, <a href="#Page_151">151</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Bonaparte. <i>See</i> <a href="#As_General_Bonaparte">As General Bonaparte</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">grows dangerous, <a href="#Page_65">65</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Generals. <i>See</i> <a href="#Sons_of_the_People">Sons of the People</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Genghis Khan</span>, <a href="#Page_511">511</a>, <a href="#Page_644">644</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Genius">Genius and Family Man, <a href="#Page_213">213</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">German. <i>See</i> <a href="#Homage">Homage</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Genoa, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_504">504</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Genoese">Genoese Senate, <a href="#Page_72">72</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Genuine">Genuine Anger, <a href="#Page_575">575</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">George III</span>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">George, Mademoiselle (Giorgina), <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_558">558</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="German">German. <i>See also</i> <a href="#Homage">Homage</a>, <a href="#Two_German_Women">Two Germans</a>, and <a href="#Unconquerable">Unconquerable</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Characterisation, <a href="#Page_111">111</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Genius. <i>See</i> <a href="#Homage">Homage</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Opinions. <i>See</i> <a href="#Other_Opinions">Other</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Germans. <i>See</i> <a href="#Concerning">Concerning</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">German Spirit, <a href="#Page_425">425</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">German Women. <i>See</i> <a href="#Two_German_Women">Two German Women</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Germany, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>, <a href="#Page_309">309</a>, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_333">333</a>, <a href="#Page_335">335</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_407">407</a>, <a href="#Page_410">410</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_420">420</a>, <a href="#Page_425">425</a>, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_440">440</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_570">570</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Gibraltar, <a href="#Page_307">307</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Giorgina, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Giuliano, San, <a href="#Page_180">180</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Glendower</span>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Gloom, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Hours">Hours</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Gloomy">Gloomy Forebodings, <a href="#Page_459">459</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Gneisenau</span>, <a href="#Page_522">522</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Goblet, golden, <a href="#Page_181">181</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">God protect France, <a href="#Page_503">503</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">protect the King, <a href="#Page_502">502</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“God’s Image on Earth,” <a href="#Page_277">277</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Goethe</span>, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_323">323</a>, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>, <a href="#Page_325">325</a>, <a href="#Page_326">326</a>, <a href="#Page_327">327</a>, <a href="#Page_357">357</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_421">421</a>, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>, <a href="#Page_545">545</a>, <a href="#Page_551">551</a>, <a href="#Page_583">583</a>, <a href="#Page_602">602</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_679">679</a>, <a href="#Page_681">681</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#How_is_Herr_Goethe">How is</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Goethean Motifs, <a href="#Page_602">602</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Goethe_is_Imperturbable">Goethe is imperturbable, <a href="#Page_327">327</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Goethe’s Epilogue, <a href="#Page_449">449</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Gohier</span>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_153">153</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Golden Goblet, <a href="#Page_181">181</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Good-night, Bourrienne, <a href="#Page_161">161</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Gospel and Republic, <a href="#Page_86">86</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Gospels, <a href="#Page_86">86</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Gourgaud</span>, <a href="#Page_535">535</a>, <a href="#Page_602">602</a>, <a href="#Page_610">610</a>, <a href="#Page_611">611</a>, <a href="#Page_612">612</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_613">613</a>, <a href="#Page_616">616</a>, <a href="#Page_620">620</a>, <a href="#Page_621">621</a>, <a href="#Page_625">625</a>, <a href="#Page_626">626</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_628">628</a>, <a href="#Page_633">633</a>, <a href="#Page_635">635</a>, <a href="#Page_636">636</a>, <a href="#Page_637">637</a>, <a href="#Page_638">638</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_639">639</a>, <a href="#Page_655">655</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Gourgaud’s Petulance, <a href="#Page_611">611</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Government. <i>See</i> <a href="#Tottering">Tottering</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">grows uneasy, <a href="#Page_80">80</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Grand_Army">Grand Army, <a href="#Page_424">424</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Grape-shot. <i>See</i> <a href="#Why_not_use_Grape-shot">Why not use</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Gratitude, <a href="#Page_558">558</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Grassini</span>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Graz, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>, <a href="#Page_427">427</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Great Ambitions, <a href="#Page_66">66</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Great Britain, <a href="#Page_662">662</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#England">England</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Great_Gambler">Great Gambler, <a href="#Page_442">442</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Great_Nation">Great Nation, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Great Pyramid, <a href="#Page_11">11</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Great_St_Bernard">Great St. Bernard, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_694">[694]</span>Greece, <a href="#Page_319">319</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Gregory_VII"><span class="smcap">Gregory VII</span>, <a href="#Page_371">371</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Grenoble, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>, <a href="#Page_499">499</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>, <a href="#Page_504">504</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Grosbois, <a href="#Page_389">389</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Grouchy, <a href="#Page_522">522</a>, <a href="#Page_523">523</a>, <a href="#Page_524">524</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Growing">Growing Disquiet, <a href="#Page_297">297</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Grumble. <i>See</i> <a href="#Peasants">Peasants</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Guadarrama, <a href="#Page_330">330</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Guard, National. <i>See</i> <a href="#National_Guard">National Guard</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Guard. <i>See</i> <a href="#Farewell">Farewell</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Gumbinnen, <a href="#Page_387">387</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Guns. <i>See</i> <a href="#Big_Guns">Big</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Gustavus_Adolphus"><span class="smcap">Gustavus Adolphus</span>, <a href="#Page_365">365</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst" id="Habsburg_Fertility">Habsburg Fertility (missing index entry added by transcriber), <a href="#Page_350">350</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hamburg, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>, <a href="#Page_381">381</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hamelin, <a href="#Page_507">507</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hammerfest, <a href="#Page_359">359</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hampered Energies, <a href="#Page_523">523</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Hannibal</span>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_534">534</a>, <a href="#Page_668">668</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_669">669</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">modern, <a href="#Page_178">178</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hanover, <a href="#Page_374">374</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hansa Towns, <a href="#Page_374">374</a>, <a href="#Page_439">439</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Harassing Restrictions, <a href="#Page_616">616</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Hardenberg</span>, <a href="#Page_383">383</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hat, <a href="#Page_441">441</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hate. <i>See</i> <a href="#Brotherly_Hate">Brotherly</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Hatzfeld</span>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Havre, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Haydn</span>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Headquarters, <a href="#Page_92">92</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Head Shepherd, <a href="#Page_285">285</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Heart. <i>See</i> <a href="#Sluggishness">Sluggishness</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">He cheers up, <a href="#Page_476">476</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hector, <a href="#Page_598">598</a>, <a href="#Page_637">637</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Hectoring">Hectoring the Diplomats, <a href="#Page_104">104</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="He_drafts">He drafts an Abdication, <a href="#Page_470">470</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">He dreams of India, <a href="#Page_127">127</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Hegel</span>, <a href="#Page_450">450</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Heir. <i>See</i> <a href="#Hunt_for">Hunt for</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Search_for">Search for at last</a>, <a href="#Page_353">353</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Helena. <i>See</i> <a href="#St_Helena">St. Helena</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Henry IV</span>, <a href="#Page_568">568</a>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Herald’s College, <a href="#Page_6">6</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Herat, <a href="#Page_236">236</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Hereditary">Hereditary Titles, <a href="#Page_280">280</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Heroes_of">Heroes. <i>See</i> <a href="#Rebels">Rebels of Antiquity</a>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Hero’s Return</i>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Herr Goethe. <i>See</i> <a href="#How_is_Herr_Goethe">How</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="He_seeks">He seeks Death in Battle, <a href="#Page_463">463</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="He_should">should have gone to America, <a href="#Page_643">643</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="He_signs">signs the Abdication, <a href="#Page_474">474</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="He_threatens_Paris">threatens Paris, <a href="#Page_100">100</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="He_threatens_Rome">threatens Rome, <a href="#Page_284">284</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hesitations, <a href="#Page_444">444</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hindustan, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#India">India</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Hippolyte"><span class="smcap">Hippolyte</span>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_597">597</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">His Dealings with the Masses, <a href="#Page_592">592</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Feeling for History, <a href="#Page_565">565</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">first Sword, <a href="#Page_9">9</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Generals love and hate him, <a href="#Page_587">587</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="His_little_Son">little Son, <a href="#Page_368">368</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">social Philosophy, <a href="#Page_593">593</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Son’s Heritage, <a href="#Page_663">663</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="His_Sons_Portrait">Son’s Portrait, <a href="#Page_488">488</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="His_Successors">Successors steal his Property, <a href="#Page_475">475</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">unfailing Memory, <a href="#Page_175">175</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="History">History and France, <a href="#Page_64">64</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>History of Bonaparte</i>, <a href="#Page_380">380</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Hoche</span>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hofburg, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>, <a href="#Page_369">369</a>, <a href="#Page_370">370</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hohenlinden, <a href="#Page_206">206</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Hohenlohe</span>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hohenstaufen, <a href="#Page_336">336</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hohenzollern, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_408">408</a>, <a href="#Page_642">642</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Holland, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_287">287</a>, <a href="#Page_307">307</a>, <a href="#Page_371">371</a>, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>, <a href="#Page_447">447</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_453">453</a>, <a href="#Page_552">552</a>, <a href="#Page_559">559</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Holland</span>, <a href="#Page_615">615</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Holy">Holy Battalion, <a href="#Page_242">242</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Father, <a href="#Page_340">340</a>, <a href="#Page_370">370</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Legion, <a href="#Page_412">412</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Moscow, <a href="#Page_402">402</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Holy_Roman_Empire">Roman Empire, <a href="#Page_89">89</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Russia, <a href="#Page_404">404</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Homage">Homage to German Genius, <a href="#Page_318">318</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Homely">Homely Monarch, <a href="#Page_483">483</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Homer</span>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Honour, <a href="#Page_556">556</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Legion_of_Honour">Legion of</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Policy_and_Honour">Policy and</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hope. <i>See</i> <a href="#Stirrings">Stirrings</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hopeless, <a href="#Page_14">14</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Hortense"><span class="smcap">Hortense de Beauharnais</span> (afterwards Wife of Louis Bonaparte), <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>, <a href="#Page_486">486</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_503">503</a>, <a href="#Page_520">520</a>, <a href="#Page_531">531</a>, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>, <a href="#Page_575">575</a>, <a href="#Page_633">633</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_671">671</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hostilities, <a href="#Page_619">619</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hôtel de l’Angleterre in Warsaw, <a href="#Page_418">418</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Hotham</span>, <a href="#Page_538">538</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Hotspur</span>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Hours">Hours of Gloom, <a href="#Page_637">637</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">House of Peers, <a href="#Page_526">526</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Upper_House">Upper House</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="How_is_Herr_Goethe">“How is Herr Goethe?”, <a href="#Page_421">421</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">How many of you are there?, <a href="#Page_440">440</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Human Heart. <i>See</i> <a href="#Sluggishness">Sluggishness</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Humaneness, <a href="#Page_578">578</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hundred Days, <a href="#Page_599">599</a>, <a href="#Page_609">609</a>, <a href="#Page_623">623</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hungary, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_341">341</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Hunt_for">Hunt for an Heir, <a href="#Page_129">129</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Husband. <i>See</i> <a href="#Fop">Fop</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Hutt’s Gate, <a href="#Page_615">615</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_695">[695]</span>“I.” <i>See</i> <a href="#First">First</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Iago, <a href="#Page_315">315</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="I_alone">“I alone have Money,” <a href="#Page_380">380</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">I am a Roman Emperor, <a href="#Page_566">566</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="I_am_the_Man">“I am the Man of Calculations,” <a href="#Page_392">392</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="I_am_the_State">“I am the State,” <a href="#Page_455">455</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Ideals">Ideals and Looting, <a href="#Page_62">62</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Idyll. <i>See</i> <a href="#Secret_Idyll">An Idyll Secret</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">I have lost all Hope, <a href="#Page_71">71</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="I_intended">“I intended to kill you,” <a href="#Page_342">342</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Iliad</i>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a>, <a href="#Page_624">624</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Illuminates, <a href="#Page_343">343</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Illyria, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>, <a href="#Page_610">610</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Imagination, <a href="#Page_594">594</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Calculation">Calculation</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Imagination">Imagination in its Cave, <a href="#Page_12">12</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“Imperial Diet” at Erfurt, <a href="#Page_561">561</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Imperial_Dignity">Imperial Dignity, <a href="#Page_211">211</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Imperialists. <i>See</i> <a href="#Rival">Rival</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Imperturbable. <i>See</i> <a href="#Goethe_is_Imperturbable">Goethe is</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Improvisation, <a href="#Page_210">210</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">I must not stay here, <a href="#Page_114">114</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Inca State, <a href="#Page_11">11</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Incas. <i>See</i> <a href="#Aztecs">Aztecs</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Indies, <a href="#Page_89">89</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="In_Chains">In Chains, <a href="#Page_615">615</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Incorruptible. <i>See</i> <a href="#Letizia">Letizia is</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Increasing Tension, <a href="#Page_146">146</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="India">India, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_373">373</a>, <a href="#Page_617">617</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Indus, <a href="#Page_132">132</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="In_Favour_of">In Favour of the Working Classes, <a href="#Page_191">191</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Inertia. <i>See</i> <a href="#Disastrous_Inertia">Disastrous Inertia</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Influence. <i>See</i> <a href="#Steins_Influence">Stein’s</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">In Motley, <a href="#Page_480">480</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Inner">Inner Man, <a href="#Page_303">303</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Inquisition, <a href="#Page_328">328</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">In Pawn to the Old World, <a href="#Page_506">506</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="In_southern_France">In southern France, <a href="#Page_30">30</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Institute, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_520">520</a>, <a href="#Page_582">582</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Interior. <i>See</i> <a href="#Army">Army</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">In the Elysian Fields, <a href="#Page_668">668</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">In the travelling Carriage, <a href="#Page_335">335</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Intrigues">Intrigues. <i>See</i> <a href="#Island">Island of</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">and Enmities, <a href="#Page_612">612</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Invalides, <a href="#Page_484">484</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Invincible">Invincible Fortress, <a href="#Page_133">133</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Invitation_to_Paris">Invitation to Paris, <a href="#Page_326">326</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Inward">Inward Reserves, <a href="#Page_482">482</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ionian Islands, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Iphigenia in Aulis</i>, <a href="#Page_637">637</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ireland, <a href="#Page_372">372</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Iron Age, <a href="#Page_510">510</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Isabey</span>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_620">620</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Islam, <a href="#Page_637">637</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Island">Island, The. <i>See</i> <a href="#Corsica">Corsica</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">This. <i>See</i> <a href="#This_Island">This Island</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">of Intrigues, <a href="#Page_27">27</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Isola Bella, <a href="#Page_100">100</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Israel, <a href="#Page_56">56</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Issus, <a href="#Page_242">242</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Isthmus of Suez, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Istria, <a href="#Page_436">436</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Italia unità, <a href="#Page_62">62</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Italian Temperament. <i>See</i> <a href="#Understands">Understands</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Italy, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_283">283</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>, <a href="#Page_291">291</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_300">300</a>, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>, <a href="#Page_379">379</a>, <a href="#Page_412">412</a>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_447">447</a>, <a href="#Page_453">453</a>, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>, <a href="#Page_472">472</a>, <a href="#Page_473">473</a>, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_489">489</a>, <a href="#Page_535">535</a>, <a href="#Page_569">569</a>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>, <a href="#Page_621">621</a>, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_652">652</a>, <a href="#Page_676">676</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub2"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Army">Army</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Eugene">Eugene</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Viceroy of. <i>See</i> <a href="#Eugene">Eugene</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="I_will_die_standing">I will die standing, <a href="#Page_447">447</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst">Jacobin Club, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_555">555</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Jacobins, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Jaffa, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>, <a href="#Page_646">646</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Prisoners, <a href="#Page_132">132</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Jamestown, <a href="#Page_615">615</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Janina, <a href="#Page_90">90</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Jealousy, <a href="#Page_76">76</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Jena, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>, <a href="#Page_381">381</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_523">523</a>, <a href="#Page_555">555</a>, <a href="#Page_663">663</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Battle_of_Jena">Battle of</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Jerome"><span class="smcap">Jerome Bonaparte</span> (afterwards King of Westphalia), <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_389">389</a>, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_452">452</a>, <a href="#Page_467">467</a>, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>, <a href="#Page_520">520</a>, <a href="#Page_556">556</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_580">580</a>, <a href="#Page_599">599</a>, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>, <a href="#Page_677">677</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Jerome_makes">Jerome makes himself ridiculous, <a href="#Page_288">288</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Jeromes_Marriage">Jerome’s American Marriage, <a href="#Page_248">248</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Jesus">Jesus Christ, <a href="#Page_371">371</a>, <a href="#Page_372">372</a>, <a href="#Page_600">600</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Christ">Christ</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Johannes von Müller</span>, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>, <a href="#Page_603">603</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">John (author of Revelation). <i>See</i> <a href="#St_John">St. John</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">John the Good</span>, <a href="#Page_534">534</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Jomini</span>, <a href="#Page_578">578</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Joseph I</span>, King of Spain, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>, <a href="#Page_330">330</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Joseph">Joseph Bonaparte</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Joseph</span> (son of Jacob), <a href="#Page_629">629</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Joseph"><span class="smcap">Joseph Bonaparte</span> (afterwards King of Naples, then King of Spain), <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_207">207</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>, <a href="#Page_295">295</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>, <a href="#Page_330">330</a>, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_364">364</a>, <a href="#Page_365">365</a>, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>, <a href="#Page_444">444</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_452">452</a>, <a href="#Page_453">453</a>, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>, <a href="#Page_460">460</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_461">461</a>, <a href="#Page_464">464</a>, <a href="#Page_465">465</a>, <a href="#Page_466">466</a>, <a href="#Page_531">531</a>, <a href="#Page_535">535</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_579">579</a>, <a href="#Page_580">580</a>, <a href="#Page_590">590</a>, <a href="#Page_596">596</a>, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_634">634</a>, <a href="#Page_662">662</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_696">[696]</span>Joseph makes Difficulties, <a href="#Page_330">330</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Josephine"><span class="smcap">Josephine de Beauharnais</span> (afterwards Empress), <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_123">123</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_214">214</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_260">260</a>, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_291">291</a>, <a href="#Page_296">296</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_344">344</a>, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>, <a href="#Page_353">353</a>, <a href="#Page_354">354</a>, <a href="#Page_367">367</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_368">368</a>, <a href="#Page_452">452</a>, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>, <a href="#Page_485">485</a>, <a href="#Page_521">521</a>, <a href="#Page_531">531</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_556">556</a>, <a href="#Page_557">557</a>, <a href="#Page_558">558</a>, <a href="#Page_578">578</a>, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>, <a href="#Page_603">603</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_621">621</a>, <a href="#Page_670">670</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Devotion">Devotion</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Josephine cometh not, <a href="#Page_70">70</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Josephines_Anxieties">Josephine’s Anxieties, <a href="#Page_203">203</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Infidelity, <a href="#Page_124">124</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Plan of Campaign, <a href="#Page_142">142</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Swoon, <a href="#Page_344">344</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Josephine</span> (Giorgina), <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_558">558</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Jourdan</span>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Joyful_Days">Joyful Days for Letizia, <a href="#Page_484">484</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Judas</span>, <a href="#Page_629">629</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Julie"><span class="smcap">Julie Clary</span> (afterwards Wife of Joseph Bonaparte), <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Junot</span>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>, <a href="#Page_588">588</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Jupiter, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>, <a href="#Page_370">370</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Justifies">Justifies himself on his Deathbed, <a href="#Page_670">670</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst">Kandahar, <a href="#Page_268">268</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Kant</span>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>, <a href="#Page_593">593</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Katzbach, <a href="#Page_444">444</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Kaunitz</span>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_561">561</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Kaunitz Castle, <a href="#Page_561">561</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Kebir, El</span>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Kellermann</span>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Key of St. Peter, <a href="#Page_96">96</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Kidnapping">Kidnapping of Enghien, <a href="#Page_206">206</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Kill you. <i>See</i> <a href="#I_intended">I Intended</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">King of Rome, <a href="#Page_382">382</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Kingdom">Kingdom in a Garden, <a href="#Page_6">6</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Kingdom_of_Westphalia">of Westphalia, <a href="#Page_287">287</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Kingdoms. <i>See</i> <a href="#New_Kingdoms">New</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="King_Lear">King Lear upon the Heath, <a href="#Page_397">397</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="King_Log">King Log and King Stork, <a href="#Page_247">247</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="King_of_France">King of France, <a href="#Page_431">431</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Kings. <i>See</i> <a href="#Audience_of_Kings">Audience of</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Disgruntled">Disgruntled</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Kircheisen</span>, <a href="#Page_683">683</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Kissing">Kissing the Colours, <a href="#Page_478">478</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Kléber, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_668">668</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Königsberg, <a href="#Page_387">387</a>, <a href="#Page_423">423</a>, <a href="#Page_425">425</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Koller</span>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Koran, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Kovno, <a href="#Page_387">387</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Knights of Malta, <a href="#Page_103">103</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Kremlin, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>, <a href="#Page_403">403</a>, <a href="#Page_409">409</a>, <a href="#Page_410">410</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_653">653</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Kutusoff</span>, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>, <a href="#Page_400">400</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst">La Belle Alliance, <a href="#Page_523">523</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="La_Bruyere"><span class="smcap">La Bruyère</span>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lacépède, <a href="#Page_598">598</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">La Corniche, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lady hesitates, <a href="#Page_48">48</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lagoons, <a href="#Page_89">89</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Lafayette</span>, <a href="#Page_526">526</a>, <a href="#Page_528">528</a>, <a href="#Page_564">564</a>, <a href="#Page_633">633</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_660">660</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">La Fontaine</span>, <a href="#Page_628">628</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Lamarck</span>, <a href="#Page_602">602</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">La Mure, <a href="#Page_498">498</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Landing">Landing at Fréjus, <a href="#Page_140">140</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Lannes</span>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_333">333</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_337">337</a>, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>, <a href="#Page_587">587</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Laon, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>, <a href="#Page_468">468</a>, <a href="#Page_522">522</a>, <a href="#Page_525">525</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">La Pagerie</span>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Josephine"><span class="smcap">Josephine</span></a>.</li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Lapie</span>, <a href="#Page_416">416</a>, <a href="#Page_417">417</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Laplace</span>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_602">602</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="La_Rothiere">La Rothière, <a href="#Page_457">457</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Larrey</span>, <a href="#Page_661">661</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">La Scala, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Las_Cases"><span class="smcap">Las Cases</span>, <a href="#Page_536">536</a>, <a href="#Page_538">538</a>, <a href="#Page_609">609</a>, <a href="#Page_610">610</a>, <a href="#Page_611">611</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_624">624</a>, <a href="#Page_626">626</a>, <a href="#Page_628">628</a>, <a href="#Page_630">630</a>, <a href="#Page_636">636</a>, <a href="#Page_637">637</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_641">641</a>, <a href="#Page_646">646</a>, <a href="#Page_647">647</a>, <a href="#Page_652">652</a>, <a href="#Page_655">655</a>, <a href="#Page_676">676</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Last">Last Bulletin from Russia, <a href="#Page_417">417</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Command, <a href="#Page_673">673</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Gifts, <a href="#Page_671">671</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Letter, <a href="#Page_405">405</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Offers of Friendship, <a href="#Page_254">254</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Touches, <a href="#Page_149">149</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Will and Testament, <a href="#Page_659">659</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Lavalette</span>, <a href="#Page_454">454</a>, <a href="#Page_511">511</a>, <a href="#Page_515">515</a>, <a href="#Page_530">530</a>, <a href="#Page_531">531</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_533">533</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Lavater</span>, <a href="#Page_584">584</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">La Vendée. <i>See</i> <a href="#Vendee">Vendée</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">La Vilette, <a href="#Page_571">571</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lavishness. <i>See</i> <a href="#Oriental_Lavishness">Oriental</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Leads">Leads a retired Life, <a href="#Page_113">113</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Leaning">Leaning on a birchen Staff, <a href="#Page_412">412</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lear. <i>See</i> <a href="#King_Lear">King Lear</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Lebrun</span>, <a href="#Page_296">296</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Leclerc</span>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Lefèvre</span>, <a href="#Page_470">470</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Legality. <i>See</i> <a href="#Semblances">Semblances</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Legatees. <i>See</i> <a href="#Ninety-seven">Ninety-seven</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Leghorn, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_486">486</a>, <a href="#Page_493">493</a>, <a href="#Page_494">494</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Legion_of_Honour"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_697">[697]</span>Legion of Honour, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_348">348</a>, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>, <a href="#Page_501">501</a>, <a href="#Page_547">547</a>, <a href="#Page_556">556</a>, <a href="#Page_559">559</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_560">560</a>, <a href="#Page_621">621</a>, <a href="#Page_663">663</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Legions. <i>See</i> <a href="#Many">Many</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Legitimacy. <i>See</i> <a href="#Curse">Curse</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Legitimist Weaknesses, <a href="#Page_561">561</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Leipzig, <a href="#Page_370">370</a>, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>, <a href="#Page_448">448</a>, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>, <a href="#Page_454">454</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_522">522</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lemberg, <a href="#Page_387">387</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Leo"><span class="smcap">Leo</span>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Leoben, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Léon</span>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>, <a href="#Page_486">486</a>, <a href="#Page_531">531</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_664">664</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Lesseps</span>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Letizia"><span class="smcap">Letizia Bonaparte</span> (“Madame Mère”), <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_250">250</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_474">474</a>, <a href="#Page_483">483</a>, <a href="#Page_485">485</a>, <a href="#Page_486">486</a>, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>, <a href="#Page_631">631</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_632">632</a>, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>, <a href="#Page_656">656</a>, <a href="#Page_676">676</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Joyful_Days">Joyful Days</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">at the Fireside, <a href="#Page_451">451</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">implores, <a href="#Page_631">631</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">is full of Trouble, <a href="#Page_427">427</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">is incorruptible, <a href="#Page_250">250</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Letter_to_Louis">Letter to Louis of Bourbon, <a href="#Page_189">189</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">with an open Date, <a href="#Page_672">672</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Letters on Corsica</i>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Levant, <a href="#Page_420">420</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Liberation. <i>See</i> <a href="#Price_of_Liberation">Price of</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#War_of_Liberation">War of</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Liberators. <i>See</i> <a href="#Army">Army</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Liberty. <i>See</i> <a href="#Equality">Equality</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lieutenant Reads, <a href="#Page_10">10</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Life_at_Montebello">Life at Montebello, <a href="#Page_96">96</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Life">“Life is a trivial Dream,” <a href="#Page_39">39</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Life, retired. <i>See</i> <a href="#Leads">Leads</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ligny, <a href="#Page_522">522</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lilliput, <a href="#Page_483">483</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Limping Mephistopheles, <a href="#Page_379">379</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Talleyrand"><span class="smcap">Talleyrand</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lion, Advice of. <i>See</i> <a href="#That_is">That is</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lion of St. Mark, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lisbon, <a href="#Page_248">248</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lithuania, <a href="#Page_387">387</a>, <a href="#Page_410">410</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Little_Court">Little Court, <a href="#Page_93">93</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Little Mother Russia, <a href="#Page_398">398</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lobau, <a href="#Page_578">578</a>, <a href="#Page_663">663</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lodi, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>, <a href="#Page_337">337</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Log. <i>See</i> <a href="#King_Log">King Log</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Loire, <a href="#Page_473">473</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lombardy, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_566">566</a>, <a href="#Page_588">588</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">London, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_334">334</a>, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>, <a href="#Page_492">492</a>, <a href="#Page_538">538</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_615">615</a>, <a href="#Page_617">617</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Loneliness, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Daimonic_Loneliness">Daimonic</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Lonely">Lonely Man, <a href="#Page_263">263</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Longwood, <a href="#Page_608">608</a>, <a href="#Page_610">610</a>, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>, <a href="#Page_615">615</a>, <a href="#Page_616">616</a>, <a href="#Page_617">617</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_619">619</a>, <a href="#Page_675">675</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Looting. <i>See</i> <a href="#Ideals">Ideals</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Loudoun, <a href="#Page_617">617</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Louis_XIV"><span class="smcap">Louis XIV</span>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>, <a href="#Page_327">327</a>, <a href="#Page_574">574</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Roi_Soleil">Roi Soleil</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Louis XVI</span>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_644">644</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Louis_XVIII"><span class="smcap">Louis XVIII.</span> <i>See</i> <a href="#Louis_of_Bourbon">Louis of Bourbon</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Louis_of_Bourbon">Louis of Bourbon, Count of Provence (afterwards Louis XVIII), <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_466">466</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_490">490</a>, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>, <a href="#Page_501">501</a>, <a href="#Page_502">502</a>, <a href="#Page_516">516</a>, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_627">627</a>, <a href="#Page_628">628</a>, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>, <a href="#Page_660">660</a>, <a href="#Page_663">663</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Letter_to_Louis">Letter to</a>, and <a href="#Louis_XVIII">Louis XVIII</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Louis"><span class="smcap">Louis Bonaparte</span> (afterwards King of Holland), <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_307">307</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_363">363</a>, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>, <a href="#Page_452">452</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_520">520</a>, <a href="#Page_552">552</a>, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>, <a href="#Page_564">564</a>, <a href="#Page_603">603</a>, <a href="#Page_671">671</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Louis Ferdinand</span>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Louis_Philippe"><span class="smcap">Louis Philippe</span>, <a href="#Page_664">664</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Louise, Marie</span>. <i>See</i> <a href="#Marie_Louise"><span class="smcap">Marie Louise</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Louise">Louise, Queen of Prussia, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_275">275</a>, <a href="#Page_590">590</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Louvre, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Love Letter from the Battle-field, <a href="#Page_74">74</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Love of Frankness, <a href="#Page_554">554</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Lowe"><span class="smcap">Lowe, Sir Hudson</span>, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>, <a href="#Page_615">615</a>, <a href="#Page_616">616</a>, <a href="#Page_617">617</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_618">618</a>, <a href="#Page_619">619</a>, <a href="#Page_620">620</a>, <a href="#Page_638">638</a>, <a href="#Page_640">640</a>, <a href="#Page_658">658</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Lady, <a href="#Page_611">611</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lowe’s Animus, <a href="#Page_618">618</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Lower_House">Lower House, <a href="#Page_517">517</a>, <a href="#Page_520">520</a>, <a href="#Page_623">623</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Chamber_of_Deputies">Chamber of Deputies</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lucca, <a href="#Page_184">184</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Lucien Bonaparte</span> (Archdeacon), <a href="#Page_23">23</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Lucien"><span class="smcap">Lucien Bonaparte</span> (Napoleon’s Brother, afterwards Prince of Canino), <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>, <a href="#Page_291">291-306</a>, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>, <a href="#Page_452">452</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_475">475</a>, <a href="#Page_485">485</a>, <a href="#Page_520">520</a>, <a href="#Page_525">525</a>, <a href="#Page_526">526</a>, <a href="#Page_529">529</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_531">531</a>, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>, <a href="#Page_662">662</a>, <a href="#Page_676">676</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Lucien_as_Rival">Lucien as Rival, <a href="#Page_196">196</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Luciens_Portrait">Lucien’s Portrait of Napoleon, <a href="#Page_291">291</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Luck. <i>See</i> <a href="#Stroke_of_Luck">Stroke of</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lunéville, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_680">680</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Lure_of_the_East">Lure of the East, <a href="#Page_90">90</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lutheranism, <a href="#Page_285">285</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Lutheran_Terminology">Lutheran Terminology, <a href="#Page_285">285</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lützen, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Lyons, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_504">504</a>, <a href="#Page_625">625</a>, <a href="#Page_629">629</a>, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>, <a href="#Page_651">651</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Academy, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst"><span class="smcap">Macdonald</span>, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>, <a href="#Page_448">448</a>, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>, <a href="#Page_470">470</a>, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_472">472</a>, <a href="#Page_473">473</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_698">[698]</span>Macedonia, <a href="#Page_90">90</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Machiavelli, <a href="#Page_10">10</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Madame Mère, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Letizia">Letizia</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Madeleine, <a href="#Page_269">269</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Madras, <a href="#Page_620">620</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Madrid, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>, <a href="#Page_327">327</a>, <a href="#Page_330">330</a>, <a href="#Page_333">333</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_400">400</a>, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_408">408</a>, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Mæcenas</span>, <a href="#Page_529">529</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Maggiore, <a href="#Page_100">100</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Magon, <a href="#Page_235">235</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Mahomet"><span class="smcap">Mahomet</span>, <a href="#Page_310">310</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Mohammed"><span class="smcap">Mohammed</span>.</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Mahomet</i>, <a href="#Page_309">309</a>, <a href="#Page_655">655</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mai. <i>See</i> <a href="#Champ">Champ</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Main, <a href="#Page_382">382</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Maitland</span>, <a href="#Page_538">538</a>, <a href="#Page_539">539</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mainz, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>, <a href="#Page_442">442</a>, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Malay. <i>See</i> <a href="#Tobias">Tobias</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Malet, <a href="#Page_413">413</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Malmaison, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>, <a href="#Page_353">353</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_474">474</a>, <a href="#Page_485">485</a>, <a href="#Page_520">520</a>, <a href="#Page_530">530</a>, <a href="#Page_531">531</a>, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_552">552</a>, <a href="#Page_558">558</a>, <a href="#Page_633">633</a>, <a href="#Page_643">643</a>, <a href="#Page_662">662</a>, <a href="#Page_671">671</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Reveries">Reveries</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Malta, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_362">362</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Maltese, <a href="#Page_122">122</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mamelukes, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Mameluke">Mameluke, The, <a href="#Page_335">335</a>, <a href="#Page_416">416</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Rustam"><span class="smcap">Rustam</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Man. <i>See</i> <a href="#Inner">Inner</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Lonely">Lonely</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Only_the_strong">Only the strong</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Man_born_to_rule">born to rule, <a href="#Page_98">98</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">of Destiny, <a href="#Page_604">604</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">of Figures, <a href="#Page_570">570</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Manœuvres. <i>See</i> <a href="#Poets_Manoeuvres">Poet’s</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mantua, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_292">292</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Many">Many Legions, <a href="#Page_387">387</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Marchand</span>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>, <a href="#Page_620">620</a>, <a href="#Page_658">658</a>, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>, <a href="#Page_663">663</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_671">671</a>, <a href="#Page_673">673</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Marchfeld, <a href="#Page_338">338</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Marching_to_Victory">Marching to Victory, <a href="#Page_239">239</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="March">March of the Thousand, <a href="#Page_498">498</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Marengo, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_461">461</a>, <a href="#Page_524">524</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_577">577</a>, <a href="#Page_625">625</a>, <a href="#Page_629">629</a>, <a href="#Page_663">663</a>, <a href="#Page_675">675</a>, <a href="#Page_680">680</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Maret, <a href="#Page_413">413</a>, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_493">493</a>, <a href="#Page_507">507</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Marianne (the French Republic), <a href="#Page_216">216</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Maria Theresa</span>, <a href="#Page_464">464</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Marie</span>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>, <a href="#Page_664">664</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Walewska"><span class="smcap">Walewska</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Marie Antoinette</span>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_349">349</a>, <a href="#Page_351">351</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Marie_Louise"><span class="smcap">Marie Louise</span>, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>, <a href="#Page_352">352</a>, <a href="#Page_354">354</a>, <a href="#Page_369">369</a>, <a href="#Page_370">370</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_386">386</a>, <a href="#Page_387">387</a>, <a href="#Page_432">432</a>, <a href="#Page_464">464</a>, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_477">477</a>, <a href="#Page_487">487</a>, <a href="#Page_505">505</a>, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>, <a href="#Page_515">515</a>, <a href="#Page_621">621</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_663">663</a>, <a href="#Page_670">670</a>, <a href="#Page_676">676</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Marie_Louises_Treason">Marie Louise’s Treason, <a href="#Page_505">505</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Marie, ou les peines d’amour</i>, <a href="#Page_364">364</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Maries_Posy_Ring">Marie’s Posy Ring, <a href="#Page_270">270</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Mark.</span> <i>See</i> <a href="#St_Mark"><span class="smcap">St. Mark</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Mark_Antony"><span class="smcap">Mark Antony</span>, <a href="#Page_661">661</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Marmont</span>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_363">363</a>, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_462">462</a>, <a href="#Page_463">463</a>, <a href="#Page_464">464</a>, <a href="#Page_465">465</a>, <a href="#Page_467">467</a>, <a href="#Page_468">468</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_470">470</a>, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>, <a href="#Page_472">472</a>, <a href="#Page_499">499</a>, <a href="#Page_507">507</a>, <a href="#Page_510">510</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_553">553</a>, <a href="#Page_558">558</a>, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>, <a href="#Page_633">633</a>, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>, <a href="#Page_660">660</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Marmont’s Desertion, Consequences of, <a href="#Page_471">471</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Marmonts_Treason">Treason, <a href="#Page_468">468</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Marne, <a href="#Page_464">464</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Marriage. <i>See</i> <a href="#Jeromes_Marriage">Jerome’s</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Reasons_for">Reasons for</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Undermined">Undermined</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Marriage_and">and Divorce, <a href="#Page_171">171</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Marseilles, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Martinique, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_372">372</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Martyrdom. <i>See</i> <a href="#Price_of_Liberation">Price</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Masked Ball. <i>See</i> <a href="#At_the_masked_Ball">At the</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Masséna, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>, <a href="#Page_375">375</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_587">587</a>, <a href="#Page_668">668</a>, <a href="#Page_673">673</a>, <a href="#Page_679">679</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Mathematician">Mathematician and Seer, <a href="#Page_56">56</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mathematics. <i>See</i> <a href="#Dreams">Dreams and</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Maubreuil</span>, <a href="#Page_466">466</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Maundy Thursday, <a href="#Page_500">500</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mecklenburg, <a href="#Page_273">273</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mediterranean, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>, <a href="#Page_483">483</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_486">486</a>, <a href="#Page_535">535</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Fleet, <a href="#Page_372">372</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Medicis, <a href="#Page_427">427</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Méhul</span>, <a href="#Page_554">554</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Melas, <a href="#Page_179">179</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Member of the Institute, <a href="#Page_582">582</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Memel">Memel, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>, <a href="#Page_388">388</a>, <a href="#Page_389">389</a>, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_642">642</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Memoirs, <a href="#Page_623">623</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Memoirs</i> (Bourrienne’s), <a href="#Page_681">681</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Memorable">Memorable Conversation, <a href="#Page_439">439</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Memorial of St. Helena</i>, <a href="#Page_609">609</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Memory, <a href="#Page_572">572</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">unfailing, <a href="#Page_175">175</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Méneval, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>, <a href="#Page_350">350</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_396">396</a>, <a href="#Page_515">515</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mephistopheles, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>, <a href="#Page_575">575</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">the limping, <a href="#Page_379">379</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Talleyrand"><span class="smcap">Talleyrand</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“Mercure de France,” <a href="#Page_277">277</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Merveldt</span>, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>, <a href="#Page_447">447</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Messalina</span>, <a href="#Page_306">306</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mess, Cleaning up the, <a href="#Page_176">176</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Messenger. <i>See</i> <a href="#Third">Third</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Messengers_from_the_East">Messengers from the East, <a href="#Page_268">268</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Messiah, <a href="#Page_600">600</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_699">[699]</span>Metternich, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>, <a href="#Page_307">307</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_347">347</a>, <a href="#Page_353">353</a>, <a href="#Page_369">369</a>, <a href="#Page_375">375</a>, <a href="#Page_383">383</a>, <a href="#Page_385">385</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_423">423</a>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_441">441</a>, <a href="#Page_442">442</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>, <a href="#Page_493">493</a>, <a href="#Page_504">504</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_511">511</a>, <a href="#Page_548">548</a>, <a href="#Page_559">559</a>, <a href="#Page_578">578</a>, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>, <a href="#Page_589">589</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_642">642</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#News_for_Metternich">News for</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Metz, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mexico, <a href="#Page_307">307</a>, <a href="#Page_534">534</a>, <a href="#Page_536">536</a>, <a href="#Page_632">632</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Midilli, <a href="#Page_20">20</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Milan, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>, <a href="#Page_378">378</a>, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Millesimo, <a href="#Page_521">521</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Milton</span>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Ministry_for_Foreign_Affairs">Ministry for Foreign Affairs, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub2"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Foreign_Office">Foreign Office</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Ministry_for_War">for War, <a href="#Page_372">372</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub2"><i>See also</i> <a href="#War_Office">War Office</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Minsk, <a href="#Page_387">387</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mio dolce Amor, <a href="#Page_49">49</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Mirabeau</span>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Miscalculation, <a href="#Page_79">79</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mob. <i>See</i> <a href="#Execrated">Execrated</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Modena, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Modern Hannibal, <a href="#Page_178">178</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Mohammed">Mohammed, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Mahomet">Mahomet</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mohammedanism, <a href="#Page_122">122</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Moldavia, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_375">375</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mole-hill. <i>See</i> <a href="#Europe">Europe</a>.</li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Molière</span>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Monarch. <i>See</i> <a href="#Homely">Homely</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Monarchy. <i>See</i> <a href="#Contradictions">Contradictions</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Money, <a href="#Page_586">586</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#I_alone">I alone</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Monge</span>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“Moniteur,” <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_620">620</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mont Cenis, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Monsieur Bonaparte, <a href="#Page_640">640</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Montebello, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Life_at_Montebello">Life at</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Montereau, <a href="#Page_460">460</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Montesquieu</span>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>, <a href="#Page_457">457</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Monteverde, <a href="#Page_100">100</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mont Genèvre, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Montholon</span>, <a href="#Page_599">599</a>, <a href="#Page_612">612</a>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>, <a href="#Page_621">621</a>, <a href="#Page_623">623</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_628">628</a>, <a href="#Page_635">635</a>, <a href="#Page_636">636</a>, <a href="#Page_646">646</a>, <a href="#Page_654">654</a>, <a href="#Page_658">658</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_659">659</a>, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>, <a href="#Page_664">664</a>, <a href="#Page_672">672</a>, <a href="#Page_674">674</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Madame, <a href="#Page_638">638</a>, <a href="#Page_646">646</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Montmirail, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>, <a href="#Page_663">663</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Montmorency</span>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Moodiness, <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Moods. <i>See</i> <a href="#Fourth-act">Fourth-act</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Moore</span>, <a href="#Page_615">615</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Moravia, <a href="#Page_242">242</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Moreau</span>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_444">444</a>, <a href="#Page_530">530</a>, <a href="#Page_587">587</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="More_Family_Troubles">More Family Troubles, <a href="#Page_364">364</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="More_Proposals">More Peace Proposals, <a href="#Page_236">236</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Morfontaine, <a href="#Page_330">330</a>, <a href="#Page_452">452</a>, <a href="#Page_457">457</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Mort de César</i>, <a href="#Page_645">645</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Mortier</span>, <a href="#Page_464">464</a>, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>, <a href="#Page_472">472</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Moscow, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_398">398</a>, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>, <a href="#Page_404">404</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_409">409</a>, <a href="#Page_410">410</a>, <a href="#Page_413">413</a>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_455">455</a>, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>, <a href="#Page_489">489</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>, <a href="#Page_509">509</a>, <a href="#Page_554">554</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_566">566</a>, <a href="#Page_637">637</a>, <a href="#Page_653">653</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Moskva, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>, <a href="#Page_403">403</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Moselle, <a href="#Page_26">26</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Moses</span>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_600">600</a>, <a href="#Page_601">601</a>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Wells of, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_601">601</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mother. <i>See</i> <a href="#Emperor_and_his_Mother">Emperor and his</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mother Letizia, <a href="#Page_94">94</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mother Russia, <a href="#Page_398">398</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mother’s Life comes first, <a href="#Page_354">354</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Motley, <a href="#Page_480">480</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Moulin</span>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_153">153</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Muiron</span>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_535">535</a>, <a href="#Page_536">536</a>, <a href="#Page_618">618</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_662">662</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“Muiron,” <a href="#Page_137">137</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Müller, Johannes</span>, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>, <a href="#Page_603">603</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">(Chancellor, Weimar), <a href="#Page_555">555</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Mummy">Mummy in Court Dress, <a href="#Page_231">231</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Munich, <a href="#Page_205">205</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Murat"><span class="smcap">Murat</span> (afterwards King of Naples), <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_330">330</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>, <a href="#Page_349">349</a>, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>, <a href="#Page_366">366</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_388">388</a>, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>, <a href="#Page_411">411</a>, <a href="#Page_412">412</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_417">417</a>, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_475">475</a>, <a href="#Page_494">494</a>, <a href="#Page_570">570</a>, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>, <a href="#Page_633">633</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_644">644</a>, <a href="#Page_668">668</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">and Bernadotte, <a href="#Page_429">429</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Murder. <i>See</i> <a href="#Slow">Slow</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mure, <a href="#Page_498">498</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Muscovy">Muscovy, <a href="#Page_392">392</a>, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Russia">Russia</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mutable Many, <a href="#Page_355">355</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">My Cause. <i>See</i> <a href="#Espouse_my_Cause">Espouse</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“My Game is going awry,” <a href="#Page_445">445</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="My_Sceptre">“My Sceptre is from God,” <a href="#Page_371">371</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“My Star is setting,” <a href="#Page_434">434</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Mystifications, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">My Strength is builded on a Rock, <a href="#Page_223">223</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst" id="Naive">Naïve Aside, <a href="#Page_228">228</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Name_your_children">Name your Children after me, <a href="#Page_243">243</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Naples, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_412">412</a>, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>, <a href="#Page_494">494</a>, <a href="#Page_570">570</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">King of. <i>See</i> <a href="#Joseph">Joseph</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Murat">Murat</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Napoleon I</span>, passim. <i>See also</i>, <a href="#Comparison">Comparison</a>,
+<a href="#Luciens_Portrait">Lucien’s Portrait</a>, <a href="#Resume_the_Name">Resume the Name</a>, <a href="#St_Napoleon">St. Napoleon</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">II, <a href="#Page_529">529</a>, <a href="#Page_530">530</a>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub2"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Napoleon_Francis"><span class="smcap">Napoleon Francis</span></a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">III, <a href="#Page_613">613</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">and Maitland, <a href="#Page_538">538</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Napoleon_and_Royalists"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_700">[700]</span>and the Royalists, <a href="#Page_190">190</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Napoleon_Francis"><span class="smcap">Francis</span>, King of Rome (“Napoleon II”), <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_488">488</a>, <a href="#Page_660">660</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub2"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Napoleon_II">Napoleon II</a>, <a href="#Rome">Rome, King of</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Napoleonic Idea, <a href="#Page_596">596</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Napoleon Museum, <a href="#Page_651">651</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Napoleons_Defence">Napoleon’s Defence, <a href="#Page_209">209</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Napoleon the Conqueror, <a href="#Page_257">257</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Napoleon’s Treasure, <a href="#Page_651">651</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Napoleon_II">Napoleon II, <a href="#Page_529">529</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Napolione</span>, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_676">676</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Narbonnes</span>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Nation, Great. <i>See</i> <a href="#Great_Nation">Great Nation</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">National Assembly, <a href="#Page_18">18</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="National_Guard">Guard, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_414">414</a>, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>, <a href="#Page_424">424</a>, <a href="#Page_454">454</a>, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_458">458</a>, <a href="#Page_465">465</a>, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>, <a href="#Page_525">525</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Natural Philosophy, <a href="#Page_601">601</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Necker</span>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Neipperg</span>, <a href="#Page_488">488</a>, <a href="#Page_515">515</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Nelson</span>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Nero</span>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Nesselrode</span>, <a href="#Page_379">379</a>, <a href="#Page_465">465</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Ney</span>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_423">423</a>, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>, <a href="#Page_470">470</a>, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_472">472</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>, <a href="#Page_501">501</a>, <a href="#Page_509">509</a>, <a href="#Page_510">510</a>, <a href="#Page_522">522</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_587">587</a>, <a href="#Page_633">633</a>, <a href="#Page_668">668</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ney’s Remorse, <a href="#Page_509">509</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">New Testament, <a href="#Page_600">600</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="New_Kingdoms">New Kingdoms, <a href="#Page_246">246</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="New_Programme">Programme, <a href="#Page_502">502</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="News_for_Metternich">News for Metternich, <a href="#Page_504">504</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Nice, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_433">433</a>, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Niemer. <i>See</i> <a href="#Memel">Memel</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Nile, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_360">360</a>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Nineteenth">Nineteenth Brumaire, <a href="#Page_295">295</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a>, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Eighteenth">Eighteenth Brumaire</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Brumaire">Brumaire</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Ninety-seven">Ninety-seven Legatees, <a href="#Page_661">661</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Niobe, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>, <a href="#Page_474">474</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Noailles</span>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Nobles’ School, <a href="#Page_6">6</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Normandy, <a href="#Page_568">568</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“Northumberland,” <a href="#Page_543">543</a>, <a href="#Page_608">608</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="No_Sea_Legs">No Sea Legs, <a href="#Page_233">233</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Not_one_Polish_Village">“Not one Polish Village,” <a href="#Page_377">377</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Notre Dame, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>, <a href="#Page_452">452</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_456">456</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Not so lucky as Genghis Khan, <a href="#Page_644">644</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="No_Tragedies">No Tragedies!, <a href="#Page_298">298</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Norway, <a href="#Page_386">386</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Novels, <a href="#Page_396">396</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Number again. <i>See</i> <a href="#Fantasy">Fantasy</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Nuremberg, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_450">450</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst">Oder, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_431">431</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Odyssey</i>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Œdipus, <a href="#Page_310">310</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Œdipus</i>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Offers of Friendship. <i>See</i> <a href="#Last">Last</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Old">Old Companions. <i>See</i> <a href="#Fate_of">Fate of</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Friends betray him, <a href="#Page_462">462</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Home, <a href="#Page_139">139</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Regime, <a href="#Page_218">218</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Tempo and the New, <a href="#Page_522">522</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Testament, <a href="#Page_600">600</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Oldenburg, <a href="#Page_374">374</a>, <a href="#Page_375">375</a>, <a href="#Page_377">377</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">O’Meara</span>, <a href="#Page_617">617</a>, <a href="#Page_620">620</a>, <a href="#Page_646">646</a>, <a href="#Page_656">656</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Omens. <i>See</i> <a href="#Russian_Omens">Russian</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="On_Foot">On Foot into Warsaw, <a href="#Page_418">418</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Only_the_strong">“Only the strong Man is good,” <a href="#Page_22">22</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Onslaught. <i>See</i> <a href="#Emperors_Onslaught">Emperor’s</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">On the Alert, <a href="#Page_494">494</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">the Banks of the Seine, <a href="#Page_465">465</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">the “Bellerophon,” <a href="#Page_539">539</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Opening">Opening of the Family Dramas, <a href="#Page_199">199</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Operations Department, <a href="#Page_40">40</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Opinion, Bureau of Public, <a href="#Page_380">380</a>, <a href="#Page_381">381</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Opinions. <i>See</i> <a href="#Other_Opinions">Other</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Two_Opinions">Two</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Opponents. <i>See</i> <a href="#Candour_to_Opponents">Candour to</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Orangerie, <a href="#Page_155">155</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Orbits">Orbits of the Satellites, <a href="#Page_632">632</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Orestes, <a href="#Page_309">309</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“Orient,” <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Oriental Devices, <a href="#Page_128">128</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Oriental_Lavishness">Oriental Lavishness, <a href="#Page_112">112</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Orleans</span>, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>, <a href="#Page_658">658</a>, <a href="#Page_676">676</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Ossian</i>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a>, <a href="#Page_639">639</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ostend, <a href="#Page_175">175</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Osterode, <a href="#Page_266">266</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Othello, <a href="#Page_71">71</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Other_Opinions">Other German Opinions, <a href="#Page_450">450</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Oudinot</span>, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>, <a href="#Page_470">470</a>, <a href="#Page_507">507</a>, <a href="#Page_508">508</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Our_Father">Our Father of Blessed Memory, <a href="#Page_222">222</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ourcq, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_571">571</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Outbreak">Outbreak of War, <a href="#Page_253">253</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Outlaw him, <a href="#Page_158">158</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Overestimating">Overestimating the Foe, <a href="#Page_389">389</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Over my dead Body, <a href="#Page_620">620</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Overtures. <i>See</i> <a href="#First">First</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Owen Glendower</span>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst"><span class="smcap">Pagerie</span>. <i>See</i> <a href="#Josephine"><span class="smcap">Josephine</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Paisiello</span>, <a href="#Page_554">554</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Palais Bourbon, <a href="#Page_529">529</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Palazzo Serbelloni, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Paoli</span>, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_538">538</a>, <a href="#Page_657">657</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Papal States, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_371">371</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Paradise Lost</i>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Parcæ, <a href="#Page_432">432</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Paris, passim. <i>See also</i> <a href="#Back_to_Paris">Back to</a>, <a href="#He_threatens_Paris">He
+threatens</a>, <a href="#Invitation_to_Paris">Invitation to</a>, <a href="#Putsch_in_Paris">Putsch in</a>,
+<a href="#Rising_in_Paris">Rising in</a>, <a href="#Road_to_Paris">Road to</a>, <a href="#Tsar_in_Paris">Tsar
+in</a>, <a href="#What_is_Paris_Saying">What is</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_701">[701]</span><span class="smcap">Pariset</span>, <a href="#Page_683">683</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Parma, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>, <a href="#Page_676">676</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Parody. <i>See</i> <a href="#Etiquette">Etiquette</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Partition">Partition of Europe, <a href="#Page_273">273</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Patriotic Society, <a href="#Page_20">20</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Paul et Virginie</i>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Tsar of Russia, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Pauline"><span class="smcap">Pauline Bonaparte</span> (afterwards Princess Borghese), <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>, <a href="#Page_485">485</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_488">488</a>, <a href="#Page_495">495</a>, <a href="#Page_531">531</a>, <a href="#Page_633">633</a>, <a href="#Page_659">659</a>, <a href="#Page_662">662</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_676">676</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Pause in the Advance, <a href="#Page_390">390</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Pavia, <a href="#Page_178">178</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Peace. <i>See</i> <a href="#First_Overtures">First Overtures</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Policy, <a href="#Page_183">183</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Proposals. <i>See</i> <a href="#Further_Proposals">Further</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#More_Proposals">More</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Peace_with_Rome">with Rome, <a href="#Page_185">185</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Peasants">Peasants. <i>See</i> <a href="#Arm_the_Peasants">Arm</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">begin to grumble, <a href="#Page_382">382</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Peninsular_War">Peninsular War, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>, <a href="#Page_654">654</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">People. <i>See</i> <a href="#General">General</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">needs a Chief, <a href="#Page_106">106</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">People’s Commissary for War, <a href="#Page_36">36</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Percy</span>, <a href="#Page_661">661</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Peretti</span>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Persia, <a href="#Page_268">268</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Peter</span>. <i>See</i> <a href="#St_Peter"><span class="smcap">St. Peter</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Petersburg. <i>See</i> <a href="#St_Petersburg">St. Petersburg</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Petroffsky Palace, <a href="#Page_403">403</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Pharsalia, <a href="#Page_679">679</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Phélippeaux</span>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Philip II, <a href="#Page_327">327</a>, <a href="#Page_328">328</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Philippe</span>. <i>See</i> <a href="#Louis_Philippe"><span class="smcap">Louis Philippe</span></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Philoctète</i>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Philosophie Zoologique</i>, <a href="#Page_602">602</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Pianosa, <a href="#Page_481">481</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Pichegru</span>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Picture of Philip II, <a href="#Page_328">328</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Piedmont, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Pied Piper, <a href="#Page_507">507</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Pin. <i>See</i> <a href="#Scarab">Scarab</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Pisa, <a href="#Page_484">484</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Pius_VI"><span class="smcap">Pius VI</span>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Pius_VII">VII, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_370">370</a>, <a href="#Page_371">371</a>, <a href="#Page_429">429</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Place occupied. <i>See</i> <a href="#First_Place">First Place</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Plan. <i>See</i> <a href="#Egyptian">Egyptian</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Plans">Plans for a Coup d’État, <a href="#Page_147">147</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">for a Rescue, <a href="#Page_635">635</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">for World Conquest, <a href="#Page_372">372</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Plantation House, <a href="#Page_617">617</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Plato</span>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Plebeians_at_Court">Plebeians at Court, <a href="#Page_219">219</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Plot">Plot and Counterplot, <a href="#Page_205">205</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Plough. <i>See</i> <a href="#Emperor_drives">Emperor drives</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Plutarch</span>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_679">679</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Plymouth, <a href="#Page_540">540</a>, <a href="#Page_542">542</a>, <a href="#Page_610">610</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Po, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Poet. <i>See</i> <a href="#Emperor_scores">Emperor scores</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Poets_Manoeuvres">Poet’s Manœuvres, <a href="#Page_325">325</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Poland, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a>, <a href="#Page_375">375</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_383">383</a>, <a href="#Page_385">385</a>, <a href="#Page_387">387</a>, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_435">435</a>, <a href="#Page_447">447</a>, <a href="#Page_486">486</a>, <a href="#Page_492">492</a>, <a href="#Page_548">548</a>, <a href="#Page_590">590</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Polish War, Second, <a href="#Page_387">387</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Poisoning the Plague-stricken, <a href="#Page_134">134</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Policy_and_Honour">Policy and Honour, <a href="#Page_293">293</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">towards the Peoples, <a href="#Page_590">590</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Polish">Polish Countess, <a href="#Page_261">261</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Village. <i>See</i> <a href="#Not_one_Polish_Village">Not one</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Political">Political Consequences, <a href="#Page_194">194</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Political_Programme">Programme, <a href="#Page_102">102</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Testament, <a href="#Page_665">665</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Politics_on_the_Stage">Politics on the Stage, <a href="#Page_310">310</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Pomerania, <a href="#Page_365">365</a>, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>, <a href="#Page_438">438</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Pompey</span>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Pontine Marshes, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Pope. <i>See</i> <a href="#Gregory_VII">Gregory VII</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Leo">Leo</a>,
+<a href="#Pius_VI">Pius VI</a>, <a href="#Pius_VII">Pius VII</a>, <a href="#Short_Way">Short Way with</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Porte, <a href="#Page_103">103</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Porto Ferrajo, <a href="#Page_481">481</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Portrait. <i>See</i> <a href="#His_Sons_Portrait">His Son’s</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">of Napoleon. <i>See</i> <a href="#Luciens_Portrait">Lucien’s</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Portugal, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_362">362</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Posen, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>, <a href="#Page_387">387</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Posy Ring. <i>See</i> <a href="#Maries_Posy_Ring">Marie’s</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Potsdam, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>, <a href="#Page_663">663</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“Pourvou que cela doure,” <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_451">451</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Poverty, <a href="#Page_7">7</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Prague, <a href="#Page_435">435</a>, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>, <a href="#Page_442">442</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Preamble, <a href="#Page_660">660</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Pressburg, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_603">603</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Preussisch-Eylau. <i>See</i> <a href="#Eylau">Eylau</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Priam, <a href="#Page_598">598</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Price_of_Liberation">Price of Liberation, <a href="#Page_83">83</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">of Martyrdom, <a href="#Page_636">636</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Princes. <i>See</i> <a href="#Servile">Servile</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Princess. <i>See</i> <a href="#Which_Princess">Which</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Principles. <i>See</i> <a href="#False_to">False to</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Prison, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Socrates">Socrates</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Prisoner. <i>See</i> <a href="#Examination">Examination</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Programme. <i>See</i> <a href="#New_Programme">New</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Political_Programme">Political</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Prometheus, <a href="#Page_649">649</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">bound, <a href="#Page_649">649</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Promised Land, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Property. <i>See</i> <a href="#His_Successors">His Successors</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Prophet, <a href="#Page_122">122</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Prophet_of_Evil">of Evil, <a href="#Page_311">311</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Protestantism, <a href="#Page_285">285</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Provence, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_478">478</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Count of, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub2"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Louis_of_Bourbon">Louis of Bourbon</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Province. <i>See</i> <a href="#This_Island">This Island</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_702">[702]</span>Prussia, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_274">274</a>, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>, <a href="#Page_333">333</a>, <a href="#Page_334">334</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_383">383</a>, <a href="#Page_408">408</a>, <a href="#Page_424">424</a>, <a href="#Page_425">425</a>, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_433">433</a>, <a href="#Page_435">435</a>, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>, <a href="#Page_493">493</a>, <a href="#Page_568">568</a>, <a href="#Page_571">571</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_576">576</a>, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Broil_with_Prussia">Broil with</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Louise">Louise, Queen of Prussia</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">vacillates, <a href="#Page_383">383</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Psychologist, <a href="#Page_584">584</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Public">Public Execration, <a href="#Page_28">28</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Opinion, Bureau of, <a href="#Page_380">380</a>, <a href="#Page_381">381</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Pultava, <a href="#Page_393">393</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Pultusk, <a href="#Page_265">265</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Putsch_in_Paris">Putsch in Paris, <a href="#Page_413">413</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Pygmies, <a href="#Page_436">436</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Pyramid, <a href="#Page_11">11</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Pyrenees, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst" id="Quai">Quai Desaix, <a href="#Page_191">191</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Quatre Bras, <a href="#Page_522">522</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Queen of Prussia. <i>See</i> <a href="#Louise">Louise</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Querelle</span>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Quixote"><span class="smcap">Quixote</span>, <a href="#Page_328">328</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst">Racine, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a>, <a href="#Page_637">637</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Radziwill</span>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Rapp</span>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, <a href="#Page_342">342</a>, <a href="#Page_388">388</a>, <a href="#Page_389">389</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_398">398</a>, <a href="#Page_411">411</a>, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>, <a href="#Page_509">509</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Conversation">Conversation</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Rastatt, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Raynal</span>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Rayneval</span>, <a href="#Page_418">418</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Reading, <a href="#Page_622">622</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Reasons_for">Reasons for the Marriage, <a href="#Page_50">50</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Rebels">Rebels or Heroes, <a href="#Page_645">645</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Rebuffs. <i>See</i> <a href="#Two_Rebuffs">Two Rebuffs</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Récamier</span>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Red">Red Cockade, <a href="#Page_17">17</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Sea, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Regent Diamond, <a href="#Page_651">651</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Reggio, <a href="#Page_359">359</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Regime. <i>See</i> <a href="#Old">Old</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Reichenbach, <a href="#Page_435">435</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Relatives. <i>See</i> <a href="#Advancement_of_Relatives">Advancement of</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Untrustworthy">Untrustworthy</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Rémusat</span>, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Republic</i>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Rescue. <i>See</i> <a href="#Plans">Plans</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Reserves. <i>See</i> <a href="#Inward">Inward</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Restoration, <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Resume_the_Name">Resume the Name of Napoleon, <a href="#Page_664">664</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Resurrexit, <a href="#Page_677">677</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Retired Life. <i>See</i> <a href="#Leads">Leads</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Retrospect, <a href="#Page_646">646</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Return">Return of the Emperor, <a href="#Page_497">497</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Returning_Courage">Returning Courage, <a href="#Page_454">454</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Revanche!, <a href="#Page_264">264</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Revelation of St. John the Divine, <a href="#Page_1">1</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Revenges. <i>See</i> <a href="#Times_Revenges">Time’s</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Reveries">Reveries at Malmaison, <a href="#Page_531">531</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Reverse, <a href="#Page_18">18</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Revolution. <i>See</i> <a href="#Drums">Drums</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Revolutionary Traits, <a href="#Page_559">559</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Revolution is at an End, <a href="#Page_177">177</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“Revue des Etudes Napoléoniennes,” <a href="#Page_683">683</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Rex. <i>See</i> <a href="#Fridericus">Fridericus</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Rheims, <a href="#Page_113">113</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Rhine, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_388">388</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_420">420</a>, <a href="#Page_424">424</a>, <a href="#Page_425">425</a>, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_447">447</a>, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>, <a href="#Page_452">452</a>, <a href="#Page_453">453</a>, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_591">591</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Army">Army of</a>, <a href="#Confederation">Confederation</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">-Rhone Canal, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Rhodes, <a href="#Page_24">24</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Rhone, <a href="#Page_30">30</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Rhythm of the Epoch, <a href="#Page_426">426</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Richard</span>, <a href="#Page_630">630</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Richelieu</span>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_633">633</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ridiculous. <i>See</i> <a href="#Jerome_makes">Jerome makes</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ring, Posy. <i>See</i> <a href="#Maries_Posy_Ring">Marie’s</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Rio de Janeiro, <a href="#Page_635">635</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Rising. <i>See</i> <a href="#Attempted_Rising">Attempted</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Rising_in_Paris">in Paris, <a href="#Page_42">42</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Rival">Rival. <i>See</i> <a href="#Lucien_as_Rival">Lucien as</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Imperialists, <a href="#Page_374">374</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Riviera, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_496">496</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Rivoli, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>, <a href="#Page_378">378</a>, <a href="#Page_389">389</a>, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>, <a href="#Page_621">621</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Road_to_Paris">Road to Paris, <a href="#Page_503">503</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Robbers</i>, <a href="#Page_381">381</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Robespierre</span>, Joseph, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Maximilien, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_511">511</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Rochefort, <a href="#Page_535">535</a>, <a href="#Page_540">540</a>, <a href="#Page_541">541</a>, <a href="#Page_565">565</a>, <a href="#Page_643">643</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Rock, The. <i>See</i> <a href="#St_Helena">St. Helena</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Roederer</span>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_213">213</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_453">453</a>, <a href="#Page_550">550</a>, <a href="#Page_558">558</a>, <a href="#Page_562">562</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_564">564</a>, <a href="#Page_569">569</a>, <a href="#Page_572">572</a>, <a href="#Page_585">585</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Roi_Soleil">Roi Soleil, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>, <a href="#Page_327">327</a>, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Louis_XIV">Louis XIV</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Romagna, <a href="#Page_99">99</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Roman, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Holy">Holy</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Romanzoff</span>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>, <a href="#Page_333">333</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Rome">Rome, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_292">292</a>, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>, <a href="#Page_340">340</a>, <a href="#Page_371">371</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_372">372</a>, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>, <a href="#Page_465">465</a>, <a href="#Page_467">467</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_469">469</a>, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>, <a href="#Page_478">478</a>, <a href="#Page_485">485</a>, <a href="#Page_486">486</a>, <a href="#Page_488">488</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_566">566</a>, <a href="#Page_593">593</a>, <a href="#Page_631">631</a>, <a href="#Page_676">676</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#He_threatens_Rome">He threatens</a>, <a href="#Peace_with_Rome">Peace with</a>, <a href="#The_Eternal">The Eternal</a>, <a href="#Understanding">Understanding</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Rome, King of, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>, <a href="#Page_465">465</a>, <a href="#Page_467">467</a>, <a href="#Page_469">469</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_488">488</a>, <a href="#Page_617">617</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Napoleon_II">Napoleon II</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Napoleon_Francis">Napoleon Francis</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Rossbach, <a href="#Page_679">679</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Rosetta, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_703">[703]</span>Rothière. <i>See</i> <a href="#La_Rothiere">La Rothière</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Rousseau</span>, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_229">229</a>, <a href="#Page_605">605</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Royalists. <i>See</i> <a href="#Napoleon_and_Royalists">Napoleon and</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Rubicon, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_389">389</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Rudolf</span> (of Habsburg), <a href="#Page_370">370</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Rulers">Rulers by divine Right, <a href="#Page_437">437</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ruling from afar, <a href="#Page_269">269</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Russia">Russia, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_311">311</a>, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_375">375</a>, <a href="#Page_379">379</a>, <a href="#Page_380">380</a>, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_383">383</a>, <a href="#Page_386">386</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_387">387</a>, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>, <a href="#Page_398">398</a>, <a href="#Page_404">404</a>, <a href="#Page_412">412</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_418">418</a>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>, <a href="#Page_423">423</a>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>, <a href="#Page_432">432</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_433">433</a>, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>, <a href="#Page_522">522</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_528">528</a>, <a href="#Page_553">553</a>, <a href="#Page_554">554</a>, <a href="#Page_571">571</a>, <a href="#Page_662">662</a>, <a href="#Page_667">667</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Muscovy">Muscovy</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Last">Last Bulletin</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Russian_Omens">Russian Omens, <a href="#Page_265">265</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Rustam"><span class="smcap">Rustam</span>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_396">396</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Mameluke">Mameluke</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst">Saale, <a href="#Page_446">446</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Saalfeld, <a href="#Page_253">253</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Saint-Antoine, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_527">527</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">St. Bernard, Great, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Saint-Cloud, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_295">295</a>, <a href="#Page_432">432</a>, <a href="#Page_526">526</a>, <a href="#Page_620">620</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Back_Room">Back Room</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Saint-Denis, <a href="#Page_532">532</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Ste. Geneviève</span>, <a href="#Page_456">456</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Saint-Germain, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_466">466</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="St_Helena">St. Helena, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_473">473</a>, <a href="#Page_541">541</a>, <a href="#Page_543">543</a>, <a href="#Page_545">545-677</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Corsica_comes">Corsica comes</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">St. John, Church of, in Moscow, <a href="#Page_410">410</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="St_John"><span class="smcap">St. John the Divine</span>, <a href="#Page_1">1</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">St. Louis</span>, <a href="#Page_501">501</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="St_Mark"><span class="smcap">St. Mark</span>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="St_Napoleon"><span class="smcap">St. Napoleon</span>, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>, <a href="#Page_484">484</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="St_Peter"><span class="smcap">St. Peter</span>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_648">648</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="St_Petersburg">St. Petersburg, <a href="#Page_333">333</a>, <a href="#Page_349">349</a>, <a href="#Page_375">375</a>, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_396">396</a>, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>, <a href="#Page_404">404</a>, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_409">409</a>, <a href="#Page_410">410</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_553">553</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">St. Sophia, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_385">385</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Salamanca, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>, <a href="#Page_414">414</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Saliceti</span>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Salle Apollo, <a href="#Page_155">155</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Salzburg, <a href="#Page_240">240</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">San Domingo, <a href="#Page_590">590</a>, <a href="#Page_630">630</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">San Giuliano, <a href="#Page_180">180</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Sanhedrin, <a href="#Page_590">590</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Sans Souci, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Visions_in">Visions in</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Santini</span>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Saragossa, <a href="#Page_333">333</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Sardinia, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">King of, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Satan, <a href="#Page_568">568</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Satellites. <i>See</i> <a href="#Orbits">Orbits</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Savants. <i>See</i> <a href="#To_the_Savants">To the</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Savary</span>, <a href="#Page_461">461</a>, <a href="#Page_529">529</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Savona, <a href="#Page_370">370</a>, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Saxony, <a href="#Page_325">325</a>, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_447">447</a>, <a href="#Page_493">493</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Scala, La, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Scarab">Scarab Pin, <a href="#Page_367">367</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Scene with Lucien. <i>See</i> <a href="#Climax">Climax</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Scepticism, <a href="#Page_600">600</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Sceptre. <i>See</i> <a href="#My_Sceptre">My Sceptre</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Scharnhorst</span>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>, <a href="#Page_383">383</a>, <a href="#Page_437">437</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Schelling</span>, <a href="#Page_450">450</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Schemes. <i>See</i> <a href="#Fantastic_Schemes">Fantastic Schemes</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#Worldwide_Schemes">Worldwide Schemes</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Scherer</span>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Schiller</span>, <a href="#Page_416">416</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Schleiermacher</span>, <a href="#Page_437">437</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Schönbrunn, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>, <a href="#Page_340">340</a>, <a href="#Page_342">342</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_345">345</a>, <a href="#Page_353">353</a>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>, <a href="#Page_486">486</a>, <a href="#Page_548">548</a>, <a href="#Page_573">573</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_578">578</a>, <a href="#Page_588">588</a>, <a href="#Page_589">589</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Schwarzenberg</span>, <a href="#Page_348">348</a>, <a href="#Page_559">559</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Schweidnitz, <a href="#Page_269">269</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Schwarzenberg</span>, <a href="#Page_367">367</a>, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_444">444</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_461">461</a>, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>, <a href="#Page_468">468</a>, <a href="#Page_604">604</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Scipio</span>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_668">668</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Scion of the lesser Nobility, <a href="#Page_562">562</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Scrivia, <a href="#Page_180">180</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Scutari, <a href="#Page_90">90</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Sea Legs. <i>See</i> <a href="#No_Sea_Legs">No</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Search_for">Search for an Heir, <a href="#Page_201">201</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Second Dream, <a href="#Page_672">672</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Polish War, <a href="#Page_387">387</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Wife, <a href="#Page_369">369</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Secret_Idyll">Secret Idyll, <a href="#Page_267">267</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Session. <i>See</i> <a href="#Deputies">Deputies</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Seeks Death. <i>See</i> <a href="#He_seeks">He seeks Death</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Seer. <i>See</i> <a href="#Mathematician">Mathematician</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Ségur</span>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_402">402</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Seine, <a href="#Page_465">465</a>, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>, <a href="#Page_659">659</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Self-confidence, <a href="#Page_551">551</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Criticism, <a href="#Page_642">642</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Self-crowned">Crowned Emperor, <a href="#Page_227">227</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Selim</span>, <a href="#Page_474">474</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Semblances">Semblances of Legality, <a href="#Page_154">154</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Semmering, <a href="#Page_548">548</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Senate, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_296">296</a>, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>, <a href="#Page_353">353</a>, <a href="#Page_423">423</a>, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>, <a href="#Page_467">467</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_468">468</a>, <a href="#Page_469">469</a>, <a href="#Page_484">484</a>, <a href="#Page_518">518</a>, <a href="#Page_562">562</a>, <a href="#Page_565">565</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Genoese">Genoese</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">House (Roman), <a href="#Page_565">565</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Sense">Sense of Destiny, <a href="#Page_360">360</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Sensitive Nerves, <a href="#Page_549">549</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Serbelloni, Palace, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Serbia, <a href="#Page_375">375</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Servants. <i>See</i> <a href="#Faithful">Faithful</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Servile">Servile Princes, <a href="#Page_317">317</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Sèvres, <a href="#Page_621">621</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Seydlitz, <a href="#Page_679">679</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">She lays Siege, <a href="#Page_143">143</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_704">[704]</span>Shepherd, Head, <a href="#Page_285">285</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Shiraz, <a href="#Page_132">132</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Short_Way">Short Way with the Pope, <a href="#Page_336">336</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Shot at Dawn, <a href="#Page_207">207</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Shuvaloff</span>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Sicily, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_372">372</a>, <a href="#Page_429">429</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Siege_of_Toulon">Siege of Toulon, <a href="#Page_31">31</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Sierra de Guadarrama, <a href="#Page_330">330</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Sieyès</span>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_528">528</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Signature. <i>See</i> <a href="#Awaiting">Awaiting</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Silesia, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_383">383</a>, <a href="#Page_435">435</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_444">444</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Simple">Simple Tastes, <a href="#Page_221">221</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Simplicity, <a href="#Page_553">553</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Simplon, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“Simply Dead,” <a href="#Page_602">602</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Simulated">Simulated Wrath, <a href="#Page_576">576</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Sire">“Sire, your Brother Lucien,” <a href="#Page_292">292</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Sisters. <i>See</i> <a href="#Brothers_and_Sisters">Brothers and</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Slow">Slow Murder, <a href="#Page_669">669</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Sluggishness">Sluggishness of the human Heart, <a href="#Page_487">487</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Smelting Works, <a href="#Page_485">485</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Smolensk, <a href="#Page_387">387</a>, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>, <a href="#Page_411">411</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_412">412</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Snare. <i>See</i> <a href="#Dynastic">Dynastic</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Socrates"><span class="smcap">Socrates</span>, <a href="#Page_647">647</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Soissons, <a href="#Page_525">525</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Sombre">Sombre Thoughts, <a href="#Page_366">366</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Son! <i>See</i> <a href="#A_Son">A Son!</a>, <i>also</i> <a href="#His_little_Son">His little</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Sons_of_the_People">Sons of the People as Generals, <a href="#Page_60">60</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Son’s Portrait. <i>See</i> <a href="#His_Sons_Portrait">His</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Sophocles</span>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Sorrows"><i>Sorrows of Werther</i>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Werther"><i>Werther</i></a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Souchet</span>, <a href="#Page_472">472</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Soult</span>, <a href="#Page_325">325</a>, <a href="#Page_330">330</a>, <a href="#Page_472">472</a>, <a href="#Page_580">580</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Southern France. <i>See</i> <a href="#In_southern_France">In southern</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Spain, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>, <a href="#Page_306">306</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_307">307</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>, <a href="#Page_328">328</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a>, <a href="#Page_330">330</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_333">333</a>, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>, <a href="#Page_368">368</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_375">375</a>, <a href="#Page_379">379</a>, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_383">383</a>, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_420">420</a>, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>, <a href="#Page_444">444</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_447">447</a>, <a href="#Page_468">468</a>, <a href="#Page_560">560</a>, <a href="#Page_590">590</a>, <a href="#Page_595">595</a>, <a href="#Page_642">642</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_675">675</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Bad_News">Bad News</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Spanish America, <a href="#Page_632">632</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Spanish_Dynasty">Spanish Dynasty, <a href="#Page_306">306</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Sparta, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Spezia, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Sphinx, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Bonaparte">Bonaparte</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="First_Fredericks_Spirit">Spirit and Sword, <a href="#Page_167">167</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Staël</span>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_320">320</a>, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>, <a href="#Page_510">510</a>, <a href="#Page_511">511</a>, <a href="#Page_554">554</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Stage. <i>See</i> <a href="#Politics_on_the_Stage">Politics on the</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Management, <a href="#Page_589">589</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Stanislas</span>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Staps</span>, <a href="#Page_342">342</a>, <a href="#Page_343">343</a>, <a href="#Page_344">344</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">State. <i>See</i> <a href="#I_am_the_State">I am</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">State, Prisoner, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>, <a href="#Page_416">416</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Statesman">Statesman and Commander, <a href="#Page_181">181</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Stein, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_333">333</a>, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>, <a href="#Page_407">407</a>, <a href="#Page_408">408</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_409">409</a>, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>, <a href="#Page_493">493</a>, <a href="#Page_505">505</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Steins_Influence">Stein’s decisive Influence, <a href="#Page_604">604</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Stickler for Morality, <a href="#Page_557">557</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Stirrings">Stirrings of Hope, <a href="#Page_634">634</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Stock Exchange, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Stockholm, <a href="#Page_282">282</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Stork. <i>See</i> <a href="#King_Log">King Log</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Storming Pace, <a href="#Page_220">220</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Storming the Habsburg Fortress, <a href="#Page_352">352</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Story">Story of Waterloo, <a href="#Page_624">624</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Strasburg, <a href="#Page_372">372</a>, <a href="#Page_509">509</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Street">Street. <i>See</i> <a href="#Burning">Burning</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Fighting, <a href="#Page_44">44</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Strike">“Strike off my Chains!”, <a href="#Page_35">35</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Stroke">Stroke and Counterstroke, <a href="#Page_375">375</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Stroke_of_Luck">Stroke of Luck, <a href="#Page_424">424</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Strong Man. <i>See</i> <a href="#Only_the_strong">Only the</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Struggle against Venality, <a href="#Page_84">84</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Struggle">Struggles in Vienna, <a href="#Page_492">492</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Strumpet. <i>See</i> <a href="#Fortune">Fortune</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“Stupidest Thing in my Life!,” <a href="#Page_329">329</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Stürmer, <a href="#Page_611">611</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Styria, <a href="#Page_86">86</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Subordinates. <i>See</i> <a href="#Treatment">Treatment</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Successors steal his Property, <a href="#Page_475">475</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Such is my Will, <a href="#Page_69">69</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Suez, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Sugar. <i>See</i> <a href="#Coffee">Coffee</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Surinam, <a href="#Page_372">372</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Sussex</span>, <a href="#Page_615">615</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Suvaroff</span>, <a href="#Page_405">405</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Sweden, <a href="#Page_365">365</a>, <a href="#Page_386">386</a>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Swiftly">Swiftly westward, <a href="#Page_420">420</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Switzerland, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Sword. <i>See</i> <a href="#First_Fredericks_Spirit">First Frederick’s Spirit</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Sympathetic, <a href="#Page_598">598</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Syria, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">System. <i>See</i> <a href="#Continental_European">Continental European</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst"><span class="smcap">Tacitus</span>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, <a href="#Page_320">320</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>, <a href="#Page_560">560</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_565">565</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Tagus, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>, <a href="#Page_528">528</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Tamerlane</span>, <a href="#Page_652">652</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Talk. <i>See</i> <a href="#Tea">Tea</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Talking and Questioning, <a href="#Page_585">585</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Talleyrand"><span class="smcap">Talleyrand</span> (afterwards Prince of Benevento), <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_291">291</a>, <a href="#Page_295">295</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_311">311</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>, <a href="#Page_313">313</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_314">314</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_331">331</a>, <a href="#Page_332">332</a>, <a href="#Page_333">333</a>, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>, <a href="#Page_349">349</a>, <a href="#Page_374">374</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_378">378</a>, <a href="#Page_379">379</a>, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>, <a href="#Page_453">453</a>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_465">465</a>, <a href="#Page_466">466</a>, <a href="#Page_467">467</a>, <a href="#Page_468">468</a>, <a href="#Page_473">473</a>, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_475">475</a>, <a href="#Page_494">494</a>, <a href="#Page_510">510</a>, <a href="#Page_557">557</a>, <a href="#Page_560">560</a>, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_571">571</a>, <a href="#Page_575">575</a>, <a href="#Page_576">576</a>, <a href="#Page_586">586</a>, <a href="#Page_589">589</a>, <a href="#Page_600">600</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_642">642</a>, <a href="#Page_660">660</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_705">[705]</span>and Fouché, <a href="#Page_182">182</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">as Internationalist, <a href="#Page_315">315</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">indispensable, <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">is a Traitor, <a href="#Page_312">312</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">rules, <a href="#Page_467">467</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">smiles, <a href="#Page_333">333</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Tallien</span>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_557">557</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Talma</span>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_309">309</a>, <a href="#Page_502">502</a>, <a href="#Page_535">535</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_592">592</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Taranto, <a href="#Page_233">233</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Tasso</span>, <a href="#Page_457">457</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Tastes. <i>See</i> <a href="#Simple">Simple</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Tatterdemalion">Tatterdemalion Army, <a href="#Page_57">57</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Taxis. <i>See</i> <a href="#Thurn">Thurn</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Tea">Tea and Talk, <a href="#Page_314">314</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Teeth. <i>See</i> <a href="#Four_Teeth">Four</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Tempo, <a href="#Page_571">571</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Old">Old</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Terminology. <i>See</i> <a href="#Lutheran_Terminology">Lutheran</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Terror, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Testament, Napoleon’s, New, <a href="#Page_600">600</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Old, <a href="#Page_600">600</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="That_is">“That is the Advice of a Lion,” <a href="#Page_410">410</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Théâtre Français, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_390">390</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="The_Eternal">The Eternal City, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Rome">Rome</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“The Mother’s Life comes first!”, <a href="#Page_354">354</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">The People need a Chief, <a href="#Page_106">106</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Themistocles, <a href="#Page_537">537</a>, <a href="#Page_542">542</a>, <a href="#Page_565">565</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Thinking. <i>See</i> <a href="#What_is_Alexander_Thinking">What is Alexander</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Thinking Things over, <a href="#Page_491">491</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Third">Third Messenger, <a href="#Page_404">404</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Thirteenth Vendémiaire, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Thirty Years’ War, <a href="#Page_624">624</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="This_Island">This Island, this Province, <a href="#Page_95">95</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="This_War">“This War will last three Years,” <a href="#Page_395">395</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Thoughts. <i>See</i> <a href="#Sombre">Sombre</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Thousand. <i>See</i> <a href="#March">March</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Three Years. <i>See</i> <a href="#This_War">This War</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Thrift, <a href="#Page_278">278</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Through the Enemy’s Fleet, <a href="#Page_137">137</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Thurn">Thurn and Taxis, <a href="#Page_314">314</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Tiberius</span>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Tidings">Tidings from the Congress, <a href="#Page_493">493</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Tiflis, <a href="#Page_269">269</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Tilsit, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>, <a href="#Page_375">375</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_380">380</a>, <a href="#Page_383">383</a>, <a href="#Page_384">384</a>, <a href="#Page_385">385</a>, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>, <a href="#Page_404">404</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_406">406</a>, <a href="#Page_548">548</a>, <a href="#Page_553">553</a>, <a href="#Page_589">589</a>, <a href="#Page_642">642</a>, <a href="#Page_651">651</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Threatens Rome. <i>See</i> <a href="#He_threatens_Rome">He threatens</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Three Cheers, <a href="#Page_627">627</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Fundamental Powers, <a href="#Page_550">550</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“Time is Everything,” <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Times_Revenges">Time’s Revenges, <a href="#Page_408">408</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Tippoo Sahib, <a href="#Page_127">127</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Tiring Job, <a href="#Page_606">606</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Tirol. <i>See</i> <a href="#Tyrol">Tyrol</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Titles. <i>See</i> <a href="#Hereditary">Hereditary</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Tobias">Tobias, the Malay, <a href="#Page_629">629</a>, <a href="#Page_630">630</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="To_Destiny">“To Destiny!”, <a href="#Page_51">51</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Tolly.</span> <i>See</i> <a href="#Barclay_de_Tolly">Barclay de Tolly</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Tolstoy</span>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>, <a href="#Page_404">404</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“Too far, Sire,” <a href="#Page_388">388</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Too small. <i>See</i> <a href="#Europe">Europe</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">To Rochefort, <a href="#Page_535">535</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Tortona, <a href="#Page_72">72</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="To_the_Savants">To the Savants, <a href="#Page_97">97</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Tottering">Tottering Government, <a href="#Page_145">145</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Toulon, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_460">460</a>, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>, <a href="#Page_662">662</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Siege_of_Toulon">Siege of</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Tours, <a href="#Page_650">650</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Trafalgar, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Tragedies. <i>See</i> <a href="#No_Tragedies">No Tragedies</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Tragedy_of">Tragedy of Childlessness, <a href="#Page_200">200</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">of Fulfilment, <a href="#Page_282">282</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Tragical">Tragical Dilemma, <a href="#Page_516">516</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Trajan</span>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Transitional Characteristics, <a href="#Page_560">560</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Travelling Carriage, <a href="#Page_335">335</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Treason. <i>See</i> <a href="#Marie_Louises_Treason">Marie Louise’s Treason</a>,
+<i>also</i> <a href="#Marmonts_Treason">Marmont’s Treason</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Treatment">Treatment of Subordinates, <a href="#Page_588">588</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Treviso, <a href="#Page_370">370</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Trianon, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_346">346</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Tribunate, <a href="#Page_214">214</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Triest, <a href="#Page_89">89</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Trinity, <a href="#Page_122">122</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Triumphal Entry. <i>See</i> <a href="#First">First</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Triumvirs, <a href="#Page_154">154</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Tronchet</span>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Troubles thicken, <a href="#Page_515">515</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Troy, <a href="#Page_637">637</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Truchsess</span>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="True">True Aim, <a href="#Page_299">299</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Tsar_Alexander">Tsar Alexander, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Alexander">Alexander</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">breaks away, <a href="#Page_334">334</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Tsar_in_Paris">in Paris, <a href="#Page_466">466</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Tuckets">Tuckets for the Crowd, <a href="#Page_105">105</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Tugendbund, <a href="#Page_383">383</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Turks. <i>See</i> <a href="#Victory">Victory</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Turenne</span>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>, <a href="#Page_574">574</a>, <a href="#Page_655">655</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Turn_of">Turn of Fortune’s Wheel, <a href="#Page_40">40</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Turkey, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_333">333</a>, <a href="#Page_375">375</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Turkish_Empire">Turkish Empire, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Tuscany, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>, <a href="#Page_487">487</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_559">559</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Two_Emperors">Two Emperors, <a href="#Page_244">244</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Two_German_Women">German Women, <a href="#Page_256">256</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">Hundred and Fifty Men, <a href="#Page_458">458</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Two_Opinions">Opinions, <a href="#Page_275">275</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="Two_Rebuffs">Rebuffs, <a href="#Page_46">46</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Tyrol">Tyrol, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_333">333</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_706">[706]</span>Udine, <a href="#Page_102">102</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Ulm, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>, <a href="#Page_663">663</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Unconquerable">Unconquerable German, <a href="#Page_343">343</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Undermined">Undermined Marriage, <a href="#Page_115">115</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Understanding">Understanding with Rome, <a href="#Page_85">85</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Understands">Understands the Italian Temperament, <a href="#Page_63">63</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Under the Stars, <a href="#Page_120">120</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Unfailing Memory, <a href="#Page_175">175</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Unfeeling, <a href="#Page_597">597</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Unflagging Industry, <a href="#Page_573">573</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="United_Europe">United Europe, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_378">378</a>, <a href="#Page_667">667</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="United_States">United States of America, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>, <a href="#Page_530">530</a>, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>, <a href="#Page_595">595</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_643">643</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="United_States_of_Europe">of Europe, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>, <a href="#Page_378">378</a>, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>, <a href="#Page_514">514</a>, <a href="#Page_595">595</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_596">596</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Unity">Unity of Command, <a href="#Page_67">67</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Untrustworthy">Untrustworthy Relatives, <a href="#Page_144">144</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Upper_House">Upper House, <a href="#Page_517">517</a>, <a href="#Page_520">520</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst">Vacillations, <a href="#Page_536">536</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Valençay, <a href="#Page_312">312</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Valence, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_553">553</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_608">608</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Valladolid, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>, <a href="#Page_340">340</a>, <a href="#Page_548">548</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Varennes, <a href="#Page_22">22</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Vatican, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_337">337</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">State Papers, <a href="#Page_371">371</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Venality. <i>See</i> <a href="#Struggle">Struggle</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Vendee">Vendée, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_590">590</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Vendémiaire, Thirteenth, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Vendôme Column, <a href="#Page_676">676</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Venice, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>, <a href="#Page_593">593</a>, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>, <a href="#Page_662">662</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_669">669</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Venetian Sbirro, <a href="#Page_614">614</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Verona, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Versailles, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_672">672</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Viceroy of Italy. <i>See</i> <a href="#Eugene">Eugene</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Victory">Victory. <i>See</i> <a href="#Excommunication">Excommunication and</a>, <a href="#First_Victory">First Victory</a>, <a href="#Marching_to_Victory">Marching to</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">and Disillusionment, <a href="#Page_78">78</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">over the Turks, <a href="#Page_135">135</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Vienna, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>, <a href="#Page_334">334</a>, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>, <a href="#Page_348">348</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_349">349</a>, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>, <a href="#Page_369">369</a>, <a href="#Page_386">386</a>, <a href="#Page_387">387</a>, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_460">460</a>, <a href="#Page_488">488</a>, <a href="#Page_489">489</a>, <a href="#Page_492">492</a>, <a href="#Page_493">493</a>, <a href="#Page_494">494</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_504">504</a>, <a href="#Page_511">511</a>, <a href="#Page_514">514</a>, <a href="#Page_515">515</a>, <a href="#Page_516">516</a>, <a href="#Page_538">538</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_548">548</a>, <a href="#Page_559">559</a>, <a href="#Page_589">589</a>, <a href="#Page_668">668</a>, <a href="#Page_676">676</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Vilette, <a href="#Page_571">571</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Vilna, <a href="#Page_387">387</a>, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>, <a href="#Page_392">392</a>, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_413">413</a>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Vignali</span>, <a href="#Page_670">670</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Vincennes, <a href="#Page_206">206</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Vincent</span>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Virgil</span>, <a href="#Page_655">655</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Visconti</span>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Visions_in">Visions in Sans Souci, <a href="#Page_259">259</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Visitors, <a href="#Page_262">262</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Vistula, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>, <a href="#Page_528">528</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Vitebsk, <a href="#Page_395">395</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Vittoria, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>, <a href="#Page_627">627</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Vive l’Empereur, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>, <a href="#Page_414">414</a>, <a href="#Page_448">448</a>, <a href="#Page_468">468</a>, <a href="#Page_477">477</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_478">478</a>, <a href="#Page_499">499</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>, <a href="#Page_524">524</a>, <a href="#Page_527">527</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">le Roi, <a href="#Page_478">478</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“Voilà un homme!”, <a href="#Page_323">323</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Volant. <i>See</i> <a href="#Eagle">Eagle</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Volga, <a href="#Page_390">390</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Voltaire</span>, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_309">309</a>, <a href="#Page_320">320</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>, <a href="#Page_645">645</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_655">655</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Volcano. <i>See</i> <a href="#Extinct">Extinct</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst">Wagram, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>, <a href="#Page_340">340</a>, <a href="#Page_381">381</a>, <a href="#Page_461">461</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>, <a href="#Page_520">520</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_567">567</a>, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>, <a href="#Page_629">629</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Waiting">Waiting for Death, <a href="#Page_655">655</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Walewska">Walewska, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_342">342</a>, <a href="#Page_349">349</a>, <a href="#Page_353">353</a>, <a href="#Page_418">418</a>, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_486">486</a>, <a href="#Page_633">633</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">again, <a href="#Page_339">339</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Walewski</span>, <a href="#Page_664">664</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Wallachia, <a href="#Page_375">375</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Wallenstein</i>, <a href="#Page_417">417</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Wallenstein’s Death</i>, <a href="#Page_509">509</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="War">War. <i>See</i> <a href="#Fatal">Fatal</a>, <a href="#Fortune_of_War">Fortune of</a>, <a href="#Outbreak">Outbreak</a>, <a href="#Peninsular_War">Peninsular</a>, <a href="#This_War">This</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">as an Art, <a href="#Page_579">579</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="War_Office">Office, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub2"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Ministry_for_War">Ministry for War</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="War_of_Liberation">of Liberation, <a href="#Page_287">287</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Warfare. <i>See</i> <a href="#Commercial">Commercial</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">War is an Anachronism, <a href="#Page_582">582</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Warnings, <a href="#Page_520">520</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Warsaw, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>, <a href="#Page_375">375</a>, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>, <a href="#Page_418">418</a>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_421">421</a>, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>, <a href="#Page_548">548</a>, <a href="#Page_576">576</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#On_Foot">On Foot</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Washington</span>, <a href="#Page_645">645</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Waterloo, <a href="#Page_523">523</a>, <a href="#Page_524">524</a>, <a href="#Page_527">527</a>, <a href="#Page_567">567</a>, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>, <a href="#Page_617">617</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_624">624</a>, <a href="#Page_626">626</a>, <a href="#Page_637">637</a>, <a href="#Page_642">642</a>, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_653">653</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Defeat">Defeat</a>, <a href="#Story">Story</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Wavre, <a href="#Page_522">522</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">We have to forget, <a href="#Page_514">514</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">We must be content, <a href="#Page_501">501</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“We need him in the Army,” <a href="#Page_36">36</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Weathercocks, Dictionary of, <a href="#Page_638">638</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Weimar, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>, <a href="#Page_320">320</a>, <a href="#Page_325">325</a>, <a href="#Page_330">330</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_421">421</a>, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>, <a href="#Page_493">493</a>, <a href="#Page_603">603</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Wellington, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>, <a href="#Page_368">368</a>, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>, <a href="#Page_522">522</a>,
+    <a href="#Page_524">524</a>, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>, <a href="#Page_534">534</a>, <a href="#Page_567">567</a>, <a href="#Page_626">626</a>, <a href="#Page_662">662</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Wells of Moses, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_601">601</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Werther"><i>Werther</i>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Sorrows">Sorrows</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Weser, <a href="#Page_374">374</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">West Indies, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Westminster, <a href="#Page_13">13</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Westphalia, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>.</li>
+  <li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> <a href="#Kingdom_of_Westphalia">Kingdom of</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Westward. <i>See</i> <a href="#Swiftly">Swiftly</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="What_a_Ballad"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_707">[707]</span>What a Ballad my Life has been, <a href="#Page_653">653</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="What_is_Alexander_Thinking">is Alexander thinking?, <a href="#Page_385">385</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1" id="What_is_Paris_Saying">is Paris saying?, <a href="#Page_276">276</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Where is Ney?, <a href="#Page_500">500</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">is the Enemy?, <a href="#Page_391">391</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Which_Princess">Which Princess?, <a href="#Page_349">349</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Whither to go, <a href="#Page_534">534</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Why_not_use_Grape-shot">Why not use Grape-shot?, <a href="#Page_26">26</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Wieland</span>, <a href="#Page_320">320</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Wife. <i>See</i> <a href="#Josephine">Josephine</a>, <a href="#Marie_Louise">His second, Marie Louise</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Wildhagen</span>, <a href="#Page_683">683</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Will. <i>See</i> <a href="#Last">Last</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Without_a_Fatherland">Without a Fatherland, <a href="#Page_657">657</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Women. <i>See</i> <a href="#Two_German_Women">Two German</a></li>
+  <li class="isub1">are Slaves, <a href="#Page_599">599</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Wooing. <i>See also</i> <a href="#Courtship">Courtship</a>, <a href="#Fruitless">Fruitless</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Words overheard, <a href="#Page_415">415</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Working Classes. <i>See</i> <a href="#In_Favour_of">In Favour of</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">World Conquest. <i>See</i> <a href="#Plans">Plans</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx" id="Worldwide_Schemes">Worldwide Schemes, <a href="#Page_103">103</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Wrath. <i>See</i> <a href="#Simulated">Simulated</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Wurmser</span>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Württemberg, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_326">326</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst">Xerxes, <a href="#Page_541">541</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Xerxes’ Answer, <a href="#Page_541">541</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst" id="Yearnings">Yearnings and Calculations, <a href="#Page_346">346</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><span class="smcap">Yorck</span>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_424">424</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“You are frightfully young!”, <a href="#Page_289">289</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“You must!”, <a href="#Page_411">411</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Young France is ready, <a href="#Page_472">472</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Your Brother Lucien. <i>See</i> <a href="#Sire">Sire</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">“Your holiness being infallible,” <a href="#Page_430">430</a></li>
+
+<li class="ifrst">Zante, <a href="#Page_90">90</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx">Zeus thunders, <a href="#Page_332">332</a></li>
+
+<li class="indx"><i>Zur Morphologie</i>, <a href="#Page_602">602</a></li>
+</ul>
+</nav>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp75" id="monogram" style="max-width: 12.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/monogram.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+
+</main>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79253 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/79253-h/images/cover.jpg b/79253-h/images/cover.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1d9cddd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/cover.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus01.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus01.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4f47fc9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus01.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus02.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus02.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0381612
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus02.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus03.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus03.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..58e8ae6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus03.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus04.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus04.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1ba3f85
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus04.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus05.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus05.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5f5faf8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus05.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus06.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus06.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dadb626
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus06.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus07.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus07.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..296d98b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus07.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus08.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus08.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dd0c3f0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus08.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus09.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus09.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7a4fd2b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus09.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus10.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus10.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..435e302
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus10.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus11.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus11.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f2b999b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus11.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus12.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus12.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fc07533
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus12.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus13.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus13.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f28baf5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus13.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus14.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus14.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b8972d0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus14.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus15.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus15.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0f53cde
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus15.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus16.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus16.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d3f21d0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus16.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus17.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus17.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..daa31aa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus17.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus18.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus18.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6cb27cb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus18.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus19.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus19.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a7ec198
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus19.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus20.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus20.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a481969
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus20.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus21.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus21.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d4b0cb4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus21.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/illus22.jpg b/79253-h/images/illus22.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7657d4c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/illus22.jpg
diff --git a/79253-h/images/monogram.jpg b/79253-h/images/monogram.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8032b27
--- /dev/null
+++ b/79253-h/images/monogram.jpg
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6c72794
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..efa2407
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1 @@
+[Project Gutenberg](https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook [#79253](https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/79253)