NW 5? , ." NAPOLEON AN EXPLANATION OF HIS THEORIES OF GOVERNMENT; AN AVOWAL OF THE MOTIVES THAT ACTU- ATED HIS PUBLIC LIFE INTRODUCTION BY ALVA ADAMS 1907 THE FRANKLIN PRESS COMPANY PUEBLO, COLORADO INTRODUCTORY In 1816 copies of a manuscript of startling character were delivered in a mysterious manner to a publisher in Paris, and to John Murray, the noted London bookmaker. This manuscript was written in the first person and purports to be a re- view of Napoleon's career by Napoleon. It is a defense of his acts as soldier and Emperor, a con- fession of his mistakes, ah exposition of his theories of government, an avowal of the motives that actuated his public life. It is an explanation and not an apology. He desired that his words should meet the eyes of the world, as stated in the line of preface, "I have at heart to appear as I really was, both in the eyes of my son and in those of posterity." Fear of confiscation and destruc- tion, should it fall into the hands of Lord Lowe, or the English Ministry, compelled secrecy in writing and transmitting. The legend is that a trusted aide brought the manuscript from St. Helena in triplicate, one for England, one for France and one for Joseph Bonaparte at Bordentown, New Jersey. The free criticism by the author, of living actors in the great Napoleonic drama caused the arrest and im- prisonment of the French publisher. All copies proven that he suggested their form and matter and corrected them with his own hand. Though dead to the world, the dreams that came to him at Elba troubled his sleep at St. Helena. Across the wide sea he listened for the cry that might call his son or himself to the throne of France. He would remove the prejudice of English hatred. He knew the misrepresentation and calumny that falls upon the name of the defeated and he used letters, books, pamphlets and personal agents to present his career to the world in his light. Whether the reader will accept my confidence in the authenticity of this manuscript, he must ad- mit that it is too brilliant a piece of literature to pass into oblivion and he will thank me for re- publishing it. How rare it may be I am not ad- vised. I have never seen but the copy I own. There are, no doubt, many others but it is not common and I reprint it for the friends who are in- terested in Napoleon, and every reader of books or of men does take an interest in this most spec- tacular and dominant figure. History records no man with such diversified talents. In energy and intellect almost superhuman, his egotism was superb. With sublime audacity he declared that "the spot where I stand is the most important on the globe. ' ' He believed himself the greatest man and that faith went far to make him so. In an able man self-confidence is better than a diploma. Consistency was not in the vocabulary of Na- poleon ; he ruled others, not himself. He cherished the sophistry that law was for the mass, not for genius, and being a genius he was exempt from the ordinances of God or man. So Olympian, so magnificent were his schemes, that the allies called him crazy, his friends inspired. He was action in- carnate ; in his battles, plan and execution were al- most simultaneous ; his blows fell before the enemy could fathom his intentions. His campaign meth- ods were not classic ; he drew new plans upon the trestle-board of war. He knew the golden value of an hour. Time and system were his weapons. With them he won his battles. When he forgot or neglected these disaster came. The tireless, sleepless activity of his earlier victories would have made Waterloo the type of victory, not as now of defeat. His few years were crowded with glory and crime, achievement and catastrophe. Nations became his pawns; he scattered crowns with profligate hand; he put new kings upon old thrones. No king slept while Napoleon was free. He swept through two decades of history, his pathway a political, moral and intellectual con- flagration. He shattered the "divine right of kings" superstition, made a jest of royal legit- imacy and founded a dynasty upon the sword. Brief as was his reign it was long enough to break up the kingly stagnation and tyranny of centuries. With cyclonic intensity he swept away the petrified barriers to progress and achieved more for the race than the 800 years of the Haps- burgs or the 600 years of Bourbon rule. The re- sult of his career gives color to the title, "The greatest democrat," bestowed by Emerson upon Napoleon. Self dominated his life, yet though imperialist and king that he was, his blows were against the enemies of the people. With the ham- mer of a despot he broke up the feudalism of a thousand years and gave liberty a chance to breathe and to live. After the peace of Amiens certainly after the compact at Tilsit was the hour for patriotic reflection. It was the hour to turn from war to peace. Instead unrest, selfish ambition carried him to Moscow and to Elba. In- flated with his own omnipotence there was no haz- ard he would not risk. He must have no equals. He would divide the world with no one. Had he possessed the strain of unselfish devotion to coun- try that characterized Washington, the genera- tions would have paid homage to his greatness. The world's judgment concedes to Napoleon genius, but not character. To him truth was a means, not an end, diplomacy a battle of deceit. Virtue was for his neighbors. Without morals he preached morality, public and private. Lacking personal integrity he exacted the strictest honesty from others. His own home polluted, he legis- lated and plead for the sanctity of the home. Re- ligion was to him a policy, not a conviction. Neither intolerant nor superstitious, he had no reverence for priests, no fear of God. In his pan- theon there was but one deity himself. The para- dox of the centuries, yet no character in profane history grasps the imagination like Napoleon. ALVA ADAMS. Pueblo, Colo., Oct. 1, 1907. MANUSCRIPT TRANSMITTED FROM ST. HELENA, BY AN UNKNOWN CHANNEL TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH. ADVERTISEMENT. THIS Work, which is equally distinguished by its spirit and its ingenuity, was given to the Pub- lisher, with an assurance of its being brought from St. Helena, though an air of mystery was affected- ly thrown round the mode of its conveyance. Whether it be really written by Buonaparte, or by some confidential friend, is a matter that must be left entirely to conjecture. It bears some resem- blance to his style, more to his manner, and is al- together just what the ostensible Author, or an able apologist under his name, might be expected to say of his opinions, motives, and actions. MANUSCRIPT, &c. I do not write commentaries : the events of my reign are sufficiently known, and I am not obliged to feed the curiosity of the public. I give a sketch of those events, because my character and my in- tentions may be strangely disfigured, and I have at heart to appear such as I really was, both in the eyes of my son and in those of posterity. This is the object of this tract. I am forced to make use of an indirect channel in publishing it. For if it were to fall into the hands of the English ministry, I know by experience, that it would re- main buried in an office. My life has been so extraordinary, that the ad- mirers of my power imagined that even my child- hood must have been uncommon. But they are mistaken. There was nothing singular in my early life. I was only an obstinate and inquisitive child. My first education was contemptible, like every thing in Corsica. I learned French easily enough from the soldiers of the garrison, with whom I passed my time. I succeeded in what I undertook, because I chose it : my desires were strong, and my character decided. I never hestitated : this gave me the ad- vantage over every body. The will depends indeed on the temper of the individual ; it is not the priv- ilege of every man to be master at home. My understanding led me to detest impositions. I always discerned truth at once, and, for that rea- son, I always saw better than others to the bottom of things. The world was to me always in fact, never in right. I scarcely resembled any man. My very nature was always isolated. I never discovered that study could be of any use to me ; in fact it did nothing for me but teach me means. Mathematics alone ever availed me. The rest was lost time. I studied, however, from vanity. My intellectual faculties, nevertheless, took their bent without my assistance. They proceed from a great degree of mobility in the fibres of my brain. I thought faster than others, so that I had always time to reflect. And my depth of thought consisted in this. My mind was too active to allow me to be amused with the ordinary pursuits of youth. I was not indeed quite ignorant of them; but I sought interest elsewhere. This disposition placed me in a kind of solitude, where I met nothing but my own thoughts. And this kind of existence be- came habitual in every situation. I loved to solve problems : I sought them in the mathematics, but I was soon satisfied, for the order of matter is extremely bounded. I then sought them in moral order, and it is the pursuit in which I have best succeeded. This species of search ha-3 become habitual : to it I owe the great steps I took in politics and war. My birth destined me to the service, and I was therefore sent to the military college. I obtained a lieutenant's commission at the beginning of the revolution. I never received any rank with so much delight as that. The height of my ambition was then confined to wearing one day a bullion epaulette on each shoulder: a colonel of artillery seemed to me the ne plus ultra of human grandeur. I was then too young to take any interest in politics. I was no judge of man in general, neither was I surprised or alarmed at the disorder that then reigned, because I could not compare it with any other period. I accommodated myself to cir- cumstances. I was not yet difficult. I was employed in the army of the Alps. It did nothing that an army should do. It was ignor- ant both of war and discipline. I was at a bad school. It is true we had no enemies to fight ; our only duty was to prevent the Piedmontese from passing the Alps, and nothing was so easy. Anarchy reigned in our cantonments; the soldiers had no respect for the officers, the officers scarcely obeyed the generals, and these were every day changed or checked by the representatives of the people: the army only acknowledged in these last the idea of power, the strongest hold over the human mind. I then perceived the danger of civil influence in military affairs, and I have always guarded against it. It was not talent, but loquacity, which gained credit in the army; all depended on that popular favour which is obtained by vociferation. I never had that community of sentiment with the vulgar which produces field eloquence. I never had the talent of moving the people ; so that I played no part at that time in the army; but I had the more time for reflection. I studied war; not on paper, but in the field. I saw fire for the first time in a slight affair of rifle corps near Mont Genevre. The balls were not thick ; they wounded but few of our people. I felt no kind of emotion ; it was not worth while ; I at- tended to the action. It appeared evident to me that neither side had the least intention of effect- ing any thing by their fire; they merely shot at each other for conscience sake, and because it is customary to do so in war. This want of object vexed me ; resistance put me out of humour ; I ob- served our ground; I took a musket from a wounded man, and prevailed on a good-natured captain, who commanded, to keep up his fire while I should go, with ten or twelve men, to cut off the Piedmontese. It appeared to me to be very easy to gain a height which commanded their position, by cross- ing a grove of fir trees, on which our left was sus- tained. Our captain rallied; the company gained ground; they drove the enemy towards us; and, as soon as he began to break up, I brought for- ward my men. Our fire hampered his retreat ; we killed a few, and took twenty prisoners; the rest made their escape. I give an account of my first trial of arms, not because it gave me the rank of captain, but because it initiated me into the secrets of war. I perceived that it was easier than is commonly believed to beat an enemy, and that the great art lies in not wavering during action, and above all in not mak- ing any but decisive movements, because it is thus that the soldier is carried along. I had gained my spurs ; I fancied I had exper- ience and from that time I felt a decided taste for a profession in which I succeeded so well. I thought of nothing else, and I set about solving all the problems which a field of battle can offer. I would fain have studied war in books, but I pos- sessed none. I endeavoured to recollect the small portion of history that I had read, and I com- pared these accounts with the facts before my eyes. I thus formed a theory concerning war which time has developed, but never disproved. I led this insignificant life till the siege of Tou- lon. I then had the command of a battalion, and in that command might have some influence on the success of the siege. Never was army so ill conducted as ours. No one knew who commanded. The generals dared not, for fear of the Representatives of the People, and these were still more frightened at the Com- mittee of Public Safety. The commissaries plun- dered, the officers drank, the soldiers were starv- ing but they were careless and brave. This very disorder inspired more courage than discipline; and I became satisfied that mechanical armies are good for nothing. They have proved so. All was done in our camp by motions and ac- clamations. This way of going on was insupport- able to me, but I could not prevent it, so I pursued my own plans without taking notice of it. I was perhaps the only man in the army who had a plan ; but it was my humour to have an end in every thing. I employed myself in examining the enemy's position and our own; I compared his moral means with ours; I saw that here we had every thing, and he nothing. His expedition was a miserable scheme, the catastrophe of which he must have foreseen : and he must be weak indeed, who foresees his own discomfiture. I sought the best points of attack ; I calculated the range of our batteries, and I pointed out the proper positions. The experienced officers thought them too dangerous, but battles are not won by experience. I persisted; I shewed my plan to Barras ; he had been a sailor : these brave men un- derstand nothing of war, but they are intrepid. Barras approved, because he wished to finish the business. Besides, the Convention was not to call him to account for arms and legs, but for his suc- cess. My artillerymen were brave and inexperienced the best of all possible men for soldiers. Our at- 8 tacks succeeded; the enemy were frightened, they dared not attempt any thing against us. They stupidly sent balls which fell as chance directed, and did no execution. I was zealous, because I ex- pected promotion; but I also liked success for its own sake. I passed my time in the batteries I slept in the trenches. Nothing is well done that one does not do one's self. We learnt from the prisoners that all was going to ruin in the place. At length it was evacuated in a shameful manner. We had merited well of our country. I was made brigadier-general. I was employed, de- nounced, cashiered, balloted for, by faction and intrigue. I conceived a decided horror for the anarchy that was then at its height, and I never became reconciled to it. This murderous govern- ment was the more detestable to me as it was ab- surd and self-destructive. It was a perpetual revolution, the very leaders of which never seemed to think of any permanent establishment. A general, but without employment, I went to Paris because it was the only place where I could get any thing. I attached myself to Barras, be- cause he was the only man I knew. Robespierre was dead: Barras played an active part: I was forced to attach myself to some one, and to some thing. The affair of the sections was coming on: I took little interest in it, because I cared less for politics than war. I did not think of being an actor in the scene; but Barras proposed to me to take the command of the force armed against the insurgents, under him. As a general, I rather pre- ferred being at the head of the troops to fighting in the ranks for the sections, where I had no business. We had only a handful of men and two four- pounders to defend the riding-house. A column from the sections came to attack us, to its cost. I fired my field pieces ; the sectionaries fled ; I pur- sued ; they threw themselves upon the steps of St. Koque. The street was so narrow that we could only bring forward one of our pieces, with which we fired upon the mob ; a few were killed ; the rest dispersed : and the whole was over in ten minutes. This event, trifling in itself, produced import- ant consequences ; it prevented the revolution from a retrograde movement. I naturally attached my- self to the party for which I had fought, and I thus found myself bound to the revolutionary cause. I began to fathom it, and was convinced that it would be victorious : it was in possession of opinion, numbers, and boldness. The affair of the sections made me a general of division, and gave me a kind of celebrity. As the victorious party trembled for their triumph, they kept me at Paris against my wishes ; for my 10 only ambition was to engage in war in my new rank. I remained then idle in Paris. I had no con- nections there; I had no habitual society; that of Barras was the only one I frequented, and there I was well received. It was there I first saw my wife, who has had a great influence on my life, and whose memory will be for ever dear to me. I was not insensible to the charms of women, but to that period I had not been spoiled by them ; and my character made me shy of them. Mad. de Beauharnais was the first who encouraged me. She said some flattering things on my military talents one day when I was sitting by her. Her praises intoxicated me : I talked to her continually ; I fol- lowed her every where ; I was passionately in love with her ; and all our society had perceived it long before I dared to tell her so. My sentiments were talked of; Barras taxed me with them. I could have no reasons for deny- ing them. "In that case," said he, "you must "marry Mad. de Beauharnais. You have your "rank and talents to make the most of; but you "are insulated, without fortune and without con- "nections: you must marry; it gives consequence. "Mad. de Beauharnais is agreeable and intelli- gent, but she is a widow. Her situation has now "no advantages : women no longer act a part ; they 11 ' ' must marry to have any influence : you have reso- ' ' lution ; you will make your way ; you suit her. "Will you entrust me to negociate for you?" I awaited her answer with anxiety: it was fa- vourable: Mad. de Beauharnais granted me her hand; and if I have experienced any moments of happiness in my life, it is to her I owe them. My station in the world changed after my mar- riage. Under the directory a sort of social order, in which I had gained a tolerably elevated rank, had been re-established. Ambition in me had be- come rational ; I might aspire to any thing. As to ambition, I had none but to be made a commander in chief; for a man is nothing unless he has a military reputation before him. I thought myself certain of acquiring one, for I felt an instinctive talent for war; but I had no pre- tences on which to found such a claim. I was ob- liged to make some: in those times there was no difficulty. The army of Italy was a mere skeleton, for it had not been employed. I suggested to send it to attack Austria in the point where she was most se- cure ; that is to say, in Italy. The Directory was at peace with Russia and Spain. But Austria in the pay of England had strengthened her army, and kept us in check on the Rhine. It was clear that we ought to make 12 a diversion in Italy; to alarm Austria; to give a lesson to the petty princes of Italy who were leagued against us; in short, to give a decided colour to the war, which it had hitherto wanted. This plan was so simple, it suited the Directory so well because it wanted success to keep up its credit, that I made haste to present it, lest it should be forestalled. It met with no opposition, and I was named commander in chief of the army of Italy. I set out to join it. It had been reinforced from the army of Spain, and I found it fifty thou- sand strong, destitute of every thing but good will. I was to try it. A very few days after my arrival, I ordered a general movement throughout the line. It extended from Nice to Savona. It was at the beginning of April, 1796. In three days we carried all the Austro-Sar- dinian posts which defended the heights of Liguria. The enemy being briskly attacked, concentrated his forces. We met him on the 10th at Montenolle ; he was beaten. On the 14th we attacked him at Millesimo, he was beaten again, and we separated the Austrians from the Piedmontese. These last took up a position at Mondovi, whilst the Austrians retired on the Po, to cover Lombardy. I beat the Piedmontese; in three days I seized every position in Piedmont, and we were within 13 nine leagues of Turin, when I received an aide-de- camp, who came to sue for peace. I then, for the first time, looked on myself not merely as a general, but as a man called upon to influence the fate of nations. I saw that I had a place in history. This peace changed my plans. I no longer con- fined my views to making war in Italy, but re- solved to conquer it. I felt that by enlarging the ground of the revolution, I gave a more solid base to its superstructure. It was the best means of securing its success. The court of Piedmont had given up all its strong places to us. It had put the country into our hands: we were masters beyond the Alps and Appenine. We were sure of our points of strength, and tranquil concerning a retreat From this fine position I attacked the Aus- trians. I crossed the Po at Plaisance, and the Adda at Lodi: it was not without difficulty; but Beaulieu retired, and I entered Milan. The Austrians made incredible efforts to re- cover Italy. I was obliged to beat their armies five times before I succeeded. Once master of Italy, it was necessary to estab- lish the revolutionary system in order to unite the country to France by common principles and com- mon interests; that is to say, that it was neces- 14 sary to destroy the ancient system of ranks and establish equality ; because it is the main spring of the revolution. I foresaw that I should have the clergy, the nobility, and their dependants against me; that they would resist stoutly, but I resolved to overcome them by arms, and not to stir the peo- ple. I had done great things, but it was necessary to assume a corresponding tone and attitude. The revolution had destroyed every species of dignity ; I could not give back to France the pomp of roy- alty: I gave her the lustre of victory, and the language of a victor. I resolved to become the protector of Italy, and not her conquerer. I succeeded by maintaining the discipline of the army, by punishing revolt se- verely ; but above all, by the establishment of the Cisalpine republic. By that institution I satisfied the avowed wish of the Italians to be indepen- dent. I held out great hopes to them : it depended on themselves to realise them by embracing our cause. They were allies I was procuring for France. This alliance will last long between the two peo- ples, because it is founded on common interests and common services : they had the same opinions and the same springs of action. Without me they would have kept up their old enmity. Sure of 15 Italy, I scrupled not to venture into the very heart of Austria. I arrived in sight of Vienna, and I signed the treaty of Campo Fonnio. It was a glorious act for France. The party I had countenanced on the 18 Fructidor had remained master of the republic. I had favoured it because it was mine, and be- cause it was the only one calculated to push on the revolution. Now, the more I had taken part in public affairs the more I was convinced of the ne- cessity of accomplishing the revolution, because it was the fruit of public opinion and of the age: every thing that retarded its progress prolonged the crisis. Peace was made on the continent ; we were only at war with England, and for want of a field of battle we were inactive. I was conscious of my powers : they were of a nature to distinguish me, but they were unemployed. I knew, however, that in order to remain in sight I must fix attention, and the only means of doing so was by extraor- dinary undertakings ; because men are grateful for excitation. In consequence of this opinion I un- dertook the expedition to Egypt. It was attributed to profound speculations on my part : but I had no other motive than not to remain idle after the peace I had just concluded. This expedition would give a high idea of the 16 power of France; it would fix attention on its commander ; it would surprise Europe by its bold- ness. These were more than sufficient motives for the undertaking ; but I had not then the slightest wish to dethrone the Grand Turk, or even to make myself a Pasha. I prepared for my departure in profound sil- ence : it was necessary to our success, and added to the singular character of the expedition. The fleet set sail. I was obliged to destroy that nest of nobility at Malta*, as I passed, be- cause it served nobody but the English. I was afraid lest some old leaven of honour might have tempted these knights to defend themselves and retard me; fortunately they surrendered even more ignominiously than I had hoped for. The battle of Aboukir destroyed the fleet, and delivered up the sea to the English. From that moment I anticipated the catastrophe of the expe- dition : for every army which cannot be recruited must sooner or later capitulate. Meantime we were forced to remain in Egypt, for we had no means of leaving it. I resolved to put a good face upon a losing game. I succeeded tolerably. I had a fine army : it required occupation, and *It is not possible to do justice to the original expression Cette gentilhomiere de Malte. T 17 I finished the conquest of Egypt to fill up the time. By that means I opened to science the fairest field she ever explored. Our soldiers indeed were a little surprised at finding themselves in the freehold of Sesostris; but they took it very well, and it was so singular to see a Frenchman among such ruins, that they themselves were diverted at it. Having nothing more to do in Egypt, I thought it would be interesting to go to Palestine, and attempt to conquer it. This expedition had a romantic air ; I allowed myself to be seduced by it ; but I was ill informed with regard to the obstacles I was to meet, and I did not take troops enough with me. Having passed the desert, I learned that forces had been assembled at St. Jean d'Acre; I could not despise them; I was forced to march thither. The place was defended by a French engineer. I perceived it by the resistance it made. I was ob- liged to raise the siege : the retreat was disastrous. For the first time I had to encounter the opposing elements ; but we were not overcome. On my return to Egypt, I received the public journals by way of Tunis. From them I learned the deplorable state of France, the disgrace of the directory, and the success of the coalition. I thought I might serve my country a second time. 18 No motive now detained me in Egypt: the enter- prise was at an end. Any general was competent to sign a capitulation which time would render in- evitable, and I set out without any farther design than that of re-appearing at the head of the armies to lead them back to victory. On landing at Frejus, my presence excited en- thusiasm in the people. My military glory reani- mated those who had been beaten. The roads were crowded as I passed: my journey had the air of a triumph, and on my arrival at Paris I found that I was all-powerful in France. I found the government in a state of anarchy; its imbecility had brought it within an ace of its ruin. Every one was for saving his country, and every one proposed his plan. All these various schemes were confided to me ; I was the pivot upon which every coalition turned ; but there was not a single head capable of conducting any fixed plan. They all relied on me, because they all required the sword. I relied on nobody, and I was free to choose the plan which best suited my own. Fortune semed ready to place me at the head of the state. I prepared to be master of the revo- lution, for I did not choose to be only its chief: that part would not have suited me. I was then called upon to prepare the future fate of France, perhaps that of the world. 19 But it was necessary first to make war ; to make peace ; to put down faction ; to found my authority. It was necessary to put the huge machine, called government, in motion. I knew the weight of the resistance, and should then have preferred the single trade of war; for I loved the authority of head quarters and the emotion of the field of bat- tle. In short, at that moment I felt more disposed to restore the military superiority of France than to govern it. But I had no choice in my destiny. I easily per- ceived that the reign of the Directory was near its end ; that some imposing authority must be put in its place, in order to save the state; that there is nothing truly imposing but military glory. The Directory could then only be succeeded by me, or by a state of anarchy. The choice of France was not doubtful. On this head public opinion en- lightened my own. I proposed to supply the place of the Directory by a consulship ; so far was I from conceiving the idea of assuming the sovereign power. The re- publicans proposed to elect two consuls; I de- manded a third, because I did not choose an equal. The first place in this triumvirate was justly my due ; it was all I aimed at. My proposal was received by the republicans with distrust. They already perceived a dictator 20 among the triumviri; they combined against me. Even the presence of Sieyes could not pacify them. He had taken upon him to draw up a con- stitution ; but the Jacobins felt more terror at my sword than confidence in the pen of their old Abbe. All parties were now ranged under two ban- ners: on one side were the republicans who op- posed my elevation, and on the other all France demanding it. It was therefore inevitable at that period, because the majority always ends by suc- ceeding. The first had established their head- quarters in the council of Five Hundred; they made a resolute defence; we were obliged to win the battle of St. Cloud to bring about this revo- lution. At one time I thought it would have been carried by acclamation. The wishes of the public had given me the first place in the state: the resistance they had met with did not alarm me, because it proceeded from persons blasted in the opinion of that public. The royalists had not appeared; they had been taken by surprise. The body of the people had con- fidence in me, because they knew that the revolu- tion could not have better security than mine. I derived my strength solely from being at the head of the interests created by that revolution, since, 21 had I forced it backwards, I should have come upon the ground of the Bourbons. It was important that all should be new in the nature of my power, in order that all kinds of am- bition might find their aliment. But there was nothing defined in it, and that was its defect. By the constitution I was only the first magis- trate of the republic; but my staff of office was a sword. My constitutional rights, and the as- cendency given me by my character and actions, were incompatible. The public felt as well as I did that this could not last, and every one took measures accordingly. I found more courtiers than I wanted; they formed a train : and I was not at all in pain about the progress of my authority, but very much so as to the material situation of France. We had allowed ourselves to be beaten: the Austrians had recovered Italy, and overturned my labours. We had no army to employ offen- sively ; there was not a sous in the exchequer, and no means of supplying it. The conscription only went on as it pleased the country mayors. Sieyes had drawn up an inefficient and wordy constitu- tion. All that constitutes the strength of a state was annihilated ; the weak parts only remained. Forced by circumstances, I thought it right to demand peace. I could then do it in good earnest, 22 because it would have made my fortune: later, it would have been disgraceful. Mr. Pitt refused it, and never did statesman commit so great a blunder; for that was the only opening for the allies to make it with safety: France, by demanding peace, acknowledged that she was conquered; and nations may rise from every reverse if they do not consent to their own disgrace. Mr. Pitt refused it. He saved me from com- mitting a great error, and he extended the empire of the Revolution over all Europe an empire that even my fall has not been able to destroy. Had he then left it to itself, it would have been confined to France. Thus I was forced to go to war. Massena de- fended himself in Genoa; but the armies of the Republic no longer dared to cross either the Rhine or the Alps. We must return to Italy, we must return to Germany, before we could a second time dictate the terms of peace to Austria. Such was my plan ; but I had neither soldiers, ordnance, nor small arms. I called out the conscripts; I set armourers to work; I roused the sentiments of that na- tional honour, which is never more than lulled in the breast of a Frenchman. I assembled an army : half of it still wore the clothing of the peasantry. 23 Europe laughed at my soldiers ; but she paid dear- ly for her momentary mirth. However, it was impossible openly to take the field with such an army. But at least it was feasi- ble to surprise the enemy, and take advantage of that surprise. General Suchet drew him on to- wards the defiles of Nice ; Massena protracted the defence of Genoa from day to day. I set out; I advanced towards the Alps; my presence, the grandeur of the enterprize, animated the soldiers. They had no shoes, but they marched as if each belonged to the van-guard. At no time in my life did I ever feel such a sentiment as that, with which I entered the defiles of the Alps. The mountain echoes resounded with the shouts of the army. They announced an un- certain but probable victory. I was re-entering Italy the theatre of my first campaign. My can- non slowly climbed the rocks. My first grenadiers reached the summit of St. Bernard. They threw up their hats, decorated with red feathers, into the air, and shouted for joy. The Alps were crossed, and we poured down like a torrent. General L'Asne commanded the advanced guard. He seized Ivree, Verceil, Pavia, and se- cured the passage of the Po. The whole army crossed it without interruption. Soldiers and generals were young alike at that 24 time. We had our fortune to make. We made light of fatigue, still lighter of danger. We were careless of every thing, but of that glory which is only to be obtained on the field of battle. At the news of my arrival, the Austrians manoeuvred upon Alexandria. Crowded up in that town, at the moment I appeared before its walls, their columns spread themselves in front of the Bormida. I attacked them. Their artillery was superior to mine; it disordered our young battalions; they gave ground. The line was kept only by two battalions of the guards and the forty-fifth. But I expected some corps that were marching in file. Dessaix's division arrived; the line rallied. Dessaix formed his column of at- tack, he carried the village of Marengo, upon which the centre of the enemy was posted. But that great general was killed at the very moment in which he had decided an immortal victory. The enemy sought shelter under the walls of Alexandria. The bridges were too narrow for them to pass; a dreadful confusion ensued; we took bodies of artillery, the whole batallions. Crowded up beyond the Tanaro, without com- munication, without retreat, threatened on the rear by Massena and Suchet, with a victorious army in front, the Austrians submitted. Melas begged to capitulate it was unheard of in the 25 annals of war. The whole of Italy was restored to me, and the conquered army laid down their arms at the feet of our conscripts. This day was the brightest of my life, for it was one of the brightest for France. All was changed for her; she was soon to enjoy a peace which she had conquered. She lay down to rest like a lion. She must be happy, for she was great. Faction was at rest ; it was dazzled into silence. La Vendee was calmer; the Jacobins were forced to thank me for the victory, for it turned to their account. I had no rivals. Common danger and public enthusiasm had forced every party to join for the moment. Se- curity divided them. Wherever there is not an in- contestable centre of power men will be found who will hope to incline it towards themselves. It is what happened to mine. My authority was only that of a temporary magistracy ; it was therefore not unalterable. Whoever had vanity, and be- lieved himself possessed of talent, began a cam- paign against me. The tribune became the citadel whence they began their attack, under the name of the executive power. If I had yielded to their declamations, it had been all over with the state. It had too many enemies to venture to divide its forces, or to lose time in words. The recent trial was a tolerably 26 rude proof, but it had not sufficed to silence those, who will always prefer the interest of their private vanity to that of their country. They amused themselves, in order to gain popularity, with re- sisting taxes, abusing the government, and hamp- ering its proceedings, as well as keeping back the recruits for the army. Had this continued, we should have fallen a prey to the enemy in ten days. We were not yet strong enough to hazard it. My power was too new to be invulnerable. The consulate would have faded like the directory, if I had not destroyed the opposition by a stroke of policy. I deposed the factious tribunes. The world of Paris called this to eliminate them; the word made its fortune*. This trifling event, which is now assuredly for- gotten, changed the constitution of France, both internally and with regard to Europe. The enemies of the revolution, both within and with- out, were too violent not to force her to adopt the form of a dictatorship, as every other republic has done in moments of danger. Balanced powers can only answer in peaceful times. They were obliged to increase mine on the contrary every *This is an awkward and periphrastic translation, but the real English expel, or in the other sense worn-out, would never do: the word had till then, even in Prance, been rarely used and the run that it had was but for a time. 27 time it appeared in danger, in order to prevent a relapse. I should, perhaps, have done better, had I frankly insisted on the dictatorship at once, since I was accused of aspiring to it. Every one would have been a judge of what they called my am- bition: I believe it would have been better; for monsters appear greater at a distance than close by. The dictatorship would have had the advan- tage of leaving nothing to guess of for the fu- ture; of leaving opinion undivided, and of in- timidating the enemy by shewing the resolution of France. But I perceived that this high authority was placed, as of itself, in my hands. I had no oc- casion to receive it officially. I exercised it in fact, if not by right, and it was sufficient to sur- vive the crisis, and to save France and the revolu- tion. My task then was to terminate the revolution, by giving it a lawful character, that it might be acknowledged and legitimated by the common- wealth of Europe. All revolutions have undergone the same con- flicts. Ours could not expect to be exempt from them ; but she might claim in her turn her right of citizenship in that commonwealth. I knew that before we proposed it, our prin- 28 ciples must be fixed; our legislation agreed upon, and our excesses repressed. I believed myself strong enough to succeed, and I was not mistaken. The principle of the revolution was the aboli- tion of castes, or in other words equality. I respected it. The office of Legislation is to regu- late principles. In this spirit I made laws. Ex- cesses had shewn themselves in the existence of factions. I did not notice them, and they disap- peared. They had shewn themselves in the de- struction of religious worship; I re-established it. In the existence of emigrants; I recalled them. In the general disorder of administration; I reformed it. In the ruin of the finance; I re- stored it. In the want of an authority competent to govern France; I gave her that authority by taking into my own hands the reins of govern- ment. Few men have done so much as I did then in so short a time. History will one day record what France was at my accession, and what she was when she gave laws to Europe. I had no occasion to employ arbitrary power to accomplish these stupendous works. Probably it would not have been refused me : but I would not have accepted it, because I have always detested whatever is arbitrary. I loved good order and laws. I made many, and I made them severe and 29 precise, but just; because a law which permits no exceptions is always just. I caused them to be rigorously observed, for such is the duty of the throne, but I respected them. They will survive me : and that will reward my labours. All seemed to prosper. The state revived ; good order began to re-appear. I devoted myself ar- dently to the work, but I felt that there was some- thing wanting in the system that is to say, a definitive. However strong my desire might be to give the revolution a permanent establishment, I clear- ly saw that I should have to overcome great ob- stacles before I succeeded: for there was a nec- essary antipathy between the old and new sys- tems. They formed two masses whose interests were precisely in an inverse ratio. All the gov- ernments which still subsisted by virtue of the ancient law of nations saw themselves exposed by the principles of the revolution, which itself had no security but in treating with the enemy, or destroying him if he refused to acknowledge it. This struggle was to decide, as by a last ap- peal, on the renewal of the social order of Europe. I was at the head of the great faction which would fain have destroyed the system on which the world had gone on since the time of the Romans. As such I was set up as a mark for the hatred of 30 all who were interested in preserving their Gothic rust. A less decided character than mine might have temporised, and left a part at least of this question to be disposed of by time. But as soon as I had sounded the two factions to the very bottom as soon as I had perceived that they really divided the world as at the time of the reformation, I understood that there could be no compact between them, because their inter- ests clashed too much. I understood that the more the crisis was shortened the better for the people. It was therefore absolutely necessary that we should have the half plus one of Europe in order to incline the balance in our favour. I could only command this preponderance by the right of the strongest, because it is the only one acknowledged between nations. It was therefore also necessary to become the strongest ; for I was not only called to govern France, but to subdue the world before her; otherwise she would have been crushed by the world. I never had a choice in the course I pursued, for it was always commanded by events ; because our danger was imminent; and the 31st March proved how far it was to be dreaded, and how im- possible it was to teach the old and new systems to abide together in peace. It was then easy to foresee that as long as there 31 should be a parity of force between the two, there would be war, open, or disguised. Any peace that might be signed would be but to gain a breathing- time. France then, as the head-quarters of the re- volution, was bound to hold herself in readiness to resist the tempest. For this purpose it was requisite that there should be unity in the govern- ment, to ensure strength; union in the nation, to produce a common aim ; and confidence in the peo- ple, that they might consent to the sacrifices neces- sary to ensure victory. But every thing was precarious in the consular system, because nothing was in its proper sphere. There was a nominal republic, a real sovereignty ; a feeble representation of the people, a strong ex- ecutive power; obedient authority, and a prepon- derating army. Nothing can go on well in a political system where words and things are at variance. Gov- ernment debases itself by the continual fictions it must use : it falls into that kind of contempt which is felt for falsehood, because whatever is false is weak. The time is past for finessing in politics: the people are too well informed ; the gazettes dis- close too much. There is but one secret for gov- erning the world; it is, Be strong: in strength there can be neither error nor deception: it is truth naked. 32 I felt the weakness of my situation the ab- surdity of my consulate. Something solid was re- quired as rallying point for the revolution. I was named consul for life. It was a life-rent of superiority; insufficient in itself, because it fixed some future date, and nothing ruins confidence like the certainty of a change. But it answered for the time for which it was adopted. Meantime, what had I gained by the truce of Amiens? I had hazarded an imprudent expedi- tion, for which I was reproached, and justly, for it was worthless of itself. I tried to recover San Domingo; I had good reasons for the attempt. France was too much hated by the allies to dare to remain inactive dur- ing the peace: she was forced to maintain her strength ; and it was necessary to give some scope to idle curiosity. The army required to be kept constantly in motion to prevent it from falling off : besides I was glad to try our sea forces. For the rest, the expedition was ill conducted : wherever I was not present things went wrong. But it was much the same ; it was easy to perceive that the English ministry was about to break the truce, and if we had subdued San Domingo, it would have been for them. Every day augmented my security; when the event of the 3d Nivose shewed me that I was upon 33 a volcano. That conspiracy was unforeseen; it was the only one with which the police had not been beforehand. There were no confidents in the business, and for that reason it succeeded. I escaped by miracle: the interest shewn for me made up amply for the danger. The time of the conspiracy was ill chosen: nothing was ready for the Bourbons in France. The guilty were sought for. I can say with truth that I accused only the mob-patriots*; for whenever a crime was committed, every one was disposed to give them the honour of it. I was very much astonished when the result of the en- quiries proved, that the good people of Kue St. Nicaise were obliged to the royalists for blowing them up. I fancied the royalists had been good people, because they accused us of not being so ; and I be- lieved them incapable of the boldness and the vil- lany that such a scheme required. In fact, the pro- ject was that of a few who robbed stage coaches ; a set that was talked of and nattered, but little respected by the party. . Thus the royalists, who had been quite for- gotten since the pacification of La Vendee, re- * Brutur du Coin, literally, Brutuges of the Minories. The closest parallel would have been the patriots of Spafields. T. 34 appeared on the political horizon: it was a nat- ural consequence of the increase of my authority. I was building up royalty; it was poaching upon their grounds. They never perceived that my monarchy had nothing to do with theirs; mine was all in fact; theirs in right: theirs was founded on custom; mine did without : it went along with the genius of the age ; theirs struggled to fetter it. The republicans were alarmed at the height to which circumstances had raised me. They dreaded the use I was to make of my power ; they trembled lest I should re-establish an old-fash- ioned royalty by the assistance of my army. The royalists kept up these reports, and delighted to represent me as apeing their ancient monarchs: other royalists more adroitly spread abroad that I had fallen in love with the character of Monk, and that I had taken the pains to restore power, only to make a present of it to the Bourbons, when it should be worthy of their acceptance. Weak minds, who could not fathom my strength, believed these reports. They supported the royalists, and abused me to the people, and in the army, for they began to doubt my attachment to their cause. I could not allow such an opinion to gain ground, because it tended to disunite us. 35 It was necessary to undeceive France, the royalists, and Europe, at any price, that they might know what to trust to. A persecution in detail against words can produce no other than bad effects, because it does not strike at the root of evil. Besides, it is become impossible in this age of public appeal, when the exile of a woman disturbed all France. Unfortunately for me, there happened at this very decisive moment one of those chances which destroy the best resolutions. The police discov- ered some litle royalist plots, the source of which was beyond the Rhine; an august personage was implicated in them. All the circumstances squared in an incredible way with those which led me to strike a decided political blow. The death of the Due d'Enghien would put the question that agi- tated France at rest. It would decide irrevocably as to me. I gave orders for it. A man of great judgment, and who ought to know something of these matters, said of this mur- der, that it was more than a crime, that it was a fault. Begging pardon of that personage, it was a crime, and it was not a fault. I know well the value of words. The crime of the unfortunate prince was confined to a few miserable intrigues in concert with some dowage baronesses at Strasbourg. He was playing his game. His in- 36 trigues were watched, and could neither affect my safety nor that of France. He perished, the vic- tim of policy, and an unheard-of concatenation of circumstances. His death was not a fault, because all the con- sequences I foresaw came to pass. The war with England was renewed, because it is impossible for that country to remain long at peace. The territory of England is become too small for its population. She requires a monopoly of the four quarters of the globe to en- able her to exist. War procures this monopoly, because it gives England the right of destruction at sea. It is her safeguard. The war was languid for want of ground to fight on. England was obliged to hire some on the continent, but the harvest required time to grow. Austria had received such severe lessons, that the ministers dared not propose war so soon, however willing they might be to earn their money. Prussia was thriving in her neutrality. Russia had made a fatal trial of war in Switzer- land. Italy and Spain had entered with but little reservation into my system. The continent was at a stand. For want of better I set about a project for in- vading England. I never thought of realising it, for it would have failed : not that the actual land- 37 ing would have been impossible, but a retreat would have been so. There is not a single English- man who would not have taken up arms to save the honour of his country; and the French army, left without help to their mercy, would have perished or surrendered. I made such a trial in Egypt in- deed, but in London the stake was too deep. As threats cost nothing, since I had nothing to do with my troops, it was as well to keep them in garrison on the coast as elsewhere. This demon- stration obliged England to adopt a ruinous sys- tem of defence. It was so much gained. In revenge, however, there was a conspiracy formed against me. I may give the honour of this to the emigrant princes, for it was truly royal. They had set on foot an army of conspirators, and accordingly we had notice of it within twenty- four hours ; so safe were the confidants. However, as I resolved to punish men who sought to overturn the state (which is contrary to all laws divine and human) I was obliged to wait till undeniable proofs were collected before I ar- rested them. Pichegru was at the head of these machina- tions. This man, who had more bravery than tal- ent, wanted to act the part of Monk; he was cut out for it. 38 These schemes gave me little uneasiness, be- cause I knew their aim, and that public opinion did not favour them. Though the royalists had assassinated me, they would not have been a whit nearer the mark. There is a time for all things. I soon learnt that Moreau was implicated in the plot, and this was a delicate affair to handle, because his popularity was tremendous. It was clear that he must be gained. His reputation was too high for us to remain good neighbours. I could not be all while he was nothing. It was convenient to find a decent pretext for separating. He furnished it. It was currently said that I was jealous of him: there was but little truth in this; but he was very jealous of me, and with reason. I es- teemed him, because he was a good soldier. His friends were all those who hated me; that is to say, a great many. They would have made a hero of him, had he been put to death. I resolved to shew him as he was a man of no character. I succeeded; absence was fatal to him; his friends forgot him, and nobody else ever cared more about him. Less delicacy was required with regard to the other criminals. They were old hackneyed con- spirators, of whom it was important to purge 39 France for ever. We succeeded, for from that time they never re-appeared. I was overwhelmed with petitions. All the women and children in Paris were in commotion. Every body's pardon was sued for. I had the weakness to send a few of the criminals to the state prisons, instead of allowing justice to take its course. I even now regret this kind of indulgence, be- cause in a sovereign it is nothing more than a cul- pable weakness. He has but one duty to fulfil to- wards the state, that of enforcing the laws. Every compromise with crime becomes a crime in the crown. The prerogative of mercy ought never to be exerted in favour of the guilty; it should be reserved for those unfortunate persons who are absolved by conscience, though condemned by law. Pichegru was found strangled in his bed. Of course it was said to be by my orders. I was totally ignorant concerning the matter. I cannot perceive what interest I could have had in antici- pating his public execution. He was not better than the others; and I had a tribunal to judge him, and soldiers to shoot him. I never did a use- less act in my life. My authority increased because it had been threatened. Nothing in France was prepared for a counter-revolution. The public regarded the in- 40 trigues of the royalists as only calculated to bring on the horror of civil war and anarchy. The peo- ple wished at any price to avert these evils, and rallied round me, because I promised to defend them. France sought repose under the shelter of my sword. The public voice (history will not contradict me), the public voice called me to the throne of France. The republican form of government could no longer exist, because ancient monarchies will not be converted into republics. The desire of France was national greatness. To raise and sustain the edifice of national greatness, it was requisite to destroy faction, to consolidate the labours of the revolution, and to fix irrevocably the limits of the state. I alone promised France to fulfil these con- ditions. France called me to reign over her. I could not become a king; the title was worn out; it excited definite and preconceived ideas; but it was important that my title, like the nature of my power, should be new. I was not the heir of the Bourbons. No common man could venture to sit on their throne. I took the name of Em- peror because it was greater, and less defined. Never was revolution so peaceable as that which overturned the republic for which so much blood had been shed. It was because the thing was still the same; the name alone was changed. 41 On these grounds the republicans did not dread the empire. Besides, such revolutions as do not interfere with the interests of individuals are always peace- able. The revolution was at length accomplished. It became inexpugnable under a permanent dynasty. The republic had only satisfied opinion; the em- pire guaranteed private interest as well as public opinion. These interests were those of an immense ma- jority, because the empire confirmed equality. Democracy, both in fact and in right, existed. Liberty alone had been restricted, because it is worse than useless in moments of danger. But liberty is of no use to any but the enlightened part of a nation ; equality is valuable to all. Hence my power remained popular even amidst the reverses that overwhelmed France. My authority did not rest, like that of the old monarchies, upon a scaffolding of castes and sub- ordinate ranks ; it was immediate and self -de- pendant; for the empire consisted only of the na- tion and me. But in that nation all were equally called to the exercise of public functions. The point of departure was no obstacle. A disposition upwards was universal in the state, and in this disposition consisted my strength. 42 I did not invent this system ; it arose out of the ruins of the Bastile. It is the result of the moral civilization which time has wrought in Europe; all attempts to destroy it will be vain: it will be maintained by the nature of things, because prac- tice will always ultimately be found to conform to power. Now power was taken out of the hands of the nobility from the moment they had permitted the third estate to carry arms, from the moment they had declined serving as the sole militia of the state. Power had abandoned the clergy from the time when, by beginning to reason, the people had be- come virtually protestants. Power had abandoned government precisely because the nobility and clergy were disabled from fulfilling their offices, that is to say, because they could no longer sup- port the throne. Routine and prejudice had also lost their power, because routine and prejudice had been unmasked before the people. The social compact was dissolved long before the revolution, because things and words had ceased to coincide. The downfall of prejudice had laid bare the sources of power; its weakness was discovered; it fell on the first assault. Authority was therefore to be built up again upon a new plan. The whole train of habits and 43 prejudices were to be passed over: that mental blindness, called faith, was to be of no avail. There were no inherited rights, but every thing was to rest upon fact that is, power. Thus I did not mount the throne like the heir of an ancient dynasty, to sit there luxuriously un- der the shadow of habit and illusion : but I placed myself there to execute the institutions willed by the people ; to wield the law under the sanction of moral right; and to render France formidable, in order to maintain her independence. The opportunity was soon afforded. England was tired of seeing my troops upon the coast. She resolved to get rid of them, and, purse in hand, she sought allies on the continent. She could not fail to find them. The ancient dynasties were appalled at seeing me on the throne. Whatever civilities might pass between us, it was too clear that I was not one of them; for I reigned by virtue of a system which must break down the altar time had consecrated to them. I was of myself a revolution. The em- pire was not less dreadful to them than the re- public: in fact they feared it more for it was more healthy. It was policy to attack me as soon as possible, before I attained to my full strength. 44 The chances of the struggle 'about to take place were of the last importance to me. I was to learn the very measure of the hatred I inspired. I was to learn which were the sovereigns whom fear would force to fall in with the system of the empire, and which of them would perish rather than tamper with it. This struggle could not but lead to new po- litical combinations in Europe. I was to fall, or to become its master. I had just annexed Piedmont to France, be- cause it was necessary that Lombardy should be dependant on the empire. The cry was raised against ambition; the lists were prepared for the fight; the act of annexation was the signal for it. The battle could not fail of being obstinate. The Austrians assembled all their forces, and the Russians were determined to join with all theirs. The young Alexander had just ascended the throne : as children like to do the contrary of what their fathers have done, he declared war against me, because his father had made peace. For we had as yet no quarrel with the Russians ; but the women and the courtiers had settled the matter. They thought they were only acting in good taste, because I was not the fashion in the great world ; while, unconsciously, they were laying the 45 foundations of the system to which Russia will one day owe her greatness. The coalition never opened a campaign more awkwardly. The Austrians fancied they could take me by surprise, but their scheme was unsuc- cessful. They overran Bavaria without waiting for the Russians; by forced marches they reached the Rhine. My columns had quitted the camp of Boulogne; they were marching through France; we crossed the Rhine at Strasbourg. My ad- vanced guard met the Austrians at Ulm, and routed them. I marched upon Vienna by the high road; I entered it without an obstacle. An Aus- trian general had forgotten to destroy the bridges over the Danube. I crossed the river; I should have done so at all events, but I was the sooner in Moravia. The Russians were but just coming up: the wreck of the Austrians sought safety under their banners. The enemy attempted to make a stand at Austerlitz, he was beaten. The Russians re- tired in good order, and left me the empire of Austria. The Emperor Francis demanded an inter- view ; I granted him one in a ditch. He sued for peace I gave it him ; for what could I have made of his dominions? they were not moulded for the 46 revolution. But, to weaken him, I demanded Venice for Lombardy, and the Tyrol for Bavaria, that I might reward my friends at the expense of my enemies, it was the least I could do. It was, however, not a time to dispute; peace was signed. I proposed the same terms to the Russians : Alexander refused them. This was noble: for by accepting peace he would have accepted the humiliation of Austria. By refusing he shewed firmness under calam- ity, and confidence in fortune. The refusal itself taught me that the fate of the world would de- pend on us two. The campaign was renewed: I followed the Russians in their retreat. A new theatre opened itself to our arms. I was going to see the old ground of anarchy and of liberty bent under the yoke of a stranger: the Poles only waited my ar- rival in order to throw it off. The greatest error I committed during my reign was neglecting the advantages I might have derived from the Poles. Nevertheless I perceived the importance of restoring Poland, that it might be a barrier against Russia, and counter-balance Austria; but circumstances were not at that time favourable for realising such a plan. Besides, the Poles did not appear to me fit for my designs. They are an enthusiastic but frivol- 47 ous people. They do every thing from fancy nothing from design: their enthusiasm is strong, but they can neither regulate nor prolong it. The nation bears about its ruin in its character. Perhaps by giving the Poles a plan, a system, a fixed object, they might have formed themselves in time. Although my disposition was not to do things by halves, I did no more in Poland, and I re- pented it. I advanced in the midst of winter to- wards the north ; the climate did not at all alarm the soldiers; their moral state was excellent. I had to fight an army, master of its own ground, and in its own climate. It awaited me on the frontiers of Russia; I pursued it there, that my troops might not languish and waste in wretched cantonments. I met the enemy at Eylau : the af- fair was bloody and indecisive. If the Russians had attacked us the next day, we should have been beaten; but happily their generals are seldom inspired. They gave me time to attack them at Friedland, victory was less doubtful. Alexander had defended himself val- iantly, he proposed peace. It was honourable to both nations, for they had struggled with equal bravery. Peace was signed at Tilsit; it was in the spirit of good faith : I attest the Czar himself. Such was the issue of the first efforts of the 48 coalition against the empire I had just founded. It raised the glory of our arms, but it left the question undecided between Europe and me, for our enemies had only been humbled; they were neither destroyed nor changed. We were at the point whence we set out; and when I signed the articles of peace, I foresaw a new war. War was inevitable as long as the chances brought about no new combinations, and as long as England should have a personal interest in prolonging it. But it was important to make use of the tem- porary tranquillity I had restored on the con- tinent, to enlarge the basis of my empire, that it might be possessed of sufficient solidity to resist a future attack. The throne was hereditary in my family, which thus began a new dynasty, that time, which has legitimated so many others, might consecrate. From the days of Charlemagne no crown had been bestowed with equal solemnity. I had received it with the consent of the people and the sanction of the church: my family, called to the throne, could not remain mingled among the ordinary classes of society it would have been an incongruity. I was rich in conquests. It was requisite to unite these states intimately with the system of the empire, in order to increase its preponderance. 49 There are no bonds between nations but those of common interest. Therefore a community of in- terests between us and the conquered countries was absolutely necessary. To accomplish this end, I had only to assimilate their ancient social constitution to ours, and to place at the head of these new institutions rulers interested in keep- ing them up. I answered these purposes by placing my fam- ily on the vacant thrones. Lombardy was the most important of these states, because the house of Austria must for ever regret it, and it was too near to be forgotten. I did not choose to do it the favour of placing one of my brothers on its throne. I alone was able to bear the iron crown, and I put it upon my head. By this measure I gave confidence to the Lom- bards, for by it I took their affairs into my own hands. The new state received the name of the king- dom of Italy, because the title was greater, and spoke more directly to the imagination of the Italians. The throne of Naples was vacant. Queen Car- oline, after having deluged the streets of Naples with blood, and given up the kingdom to the Eng- lish, had been driven out a second time. That un- happy country needed a master to save it from 50 anarchy and from the effects of revenge. One of my brothers ascended the throne. Holland had long lost the energy which con- stitutes a republic. She had no longer sufficient strength to play the part. There had been proofs of this, at the time of the invasion in 99. I had no reason to suspect that the Prince of Orange was regretted, from the manner in which he had been treated. Holland, then, seemed to need a sover- eign. I gave her another of my brothers. The youngest was young enough to wait. The fourth had no desire for a crown; he had fled to avoid one. No republic remained but Switzerland. It was not worth while to change the form to which its people were accustomed The only use I made of my authority in that country was to prevent their cutting each other's throats. They were not par- ticularly grateful. But while thus forming states in alliance with France, and dependant on the empire, it became necessary to incorporate with the mother coun- try other portions of territory, in order to pre- serve its preponderance in the system. For this reason I joined Piedmont to France, and not to Italy. I also added to it Genoa and Parma. These additions were worthless in themselves, for I might have made good Italians 51 of these people; they became but sorry French- men. But the empire did not consist of France alone, but of the family estates, and of foreign allies. It was essential to keep a certain propor- tion between these elements. Every new alliance required a new annexation. At every step the people raised the cry of ambition. But my am- bition did not consist in wishing for a few square leagues, more or less, of land, but in the triumph of my cause. Now this cause consisted not solely in opinion, but in the weight that either party could place in the balance, and these square leagues were of consequence in the scale, because the world is made up of such. Thus I augmented the mass of power that I set in motion. It required neither talent nor address to bring about these changes. An act of my will sufficed; for these nations were too petty to have one of their own when I appeared. They de- pended on the momentum given to the aggregate of the imperial system. The radiating point of that system was France. My work required consolidation by giving France new institutions conformable to the new social order she had adopted. The age was to be created anew for me, as I had been for it. 52 I had to become a legislator, after having been a warrior. It was not possible to make the revolution re- trace its steps; for that would have been making the strong submit anew to the weak, which is un- natural. I had, therefore, to seize the spirit of the times, and to form an analogous system of leg- islation. I think I succeeded the system will sur- vive me; and I have left Europe an inheritance which she can never now alienate. There was in fact nothing in the state but a huge democracy, swayed by a dictator. This kind of government is convenient as to the executive part; but its nature is temporary, because power is but a life rent in the hands of a dictator. I sought to make it perpetual, by lasting institu- tions and corporations for life, that I might place them between the throne and the democracy. I could do nothing with the old implements of cus- tom and delusion. I was obliged to create every thing anew by realities. Thus I was forced to found my legislature upon the immediate interests of the majority, and to create my corporations by that interest, be- cause interest is of all earthly things the most real and durable. I made laws, the activity of which was stu- pendous, but uniform. Their principle was to 53 maintain equality. This is so strongly impressed upon my code, that it of itself will suffice to pre- serve it. I instituted an intermediate caste. It was democratical, because it was open always and to all; it was monarchical, because it could not die out. This body was to perform that part in the new system which the nobility had acted in the old; that is, to support the throne. But it resembled it in nothing. The old nobility existed entirely by privilege. Mine had nothing but power. The old nobility had no merit but that of being exclusive. Every man who had distinguished himself had a right to belong to the new: it was in fact only a civic crown. The people attached no other idea to it. Every member had deserved it by his ac- tions; every man might obtain it at the same price; it was offensive to none. The spirit of empire was the main spring of action; it is the characteristic of revolutions. It agitated the whole nation. It appeared almost in a state of conspiracy, that it might rise. I held out great rewards to this extraordinary activity; they were bestowed by public gratitude. The highest honours were still conformable to the spirit of equality; for the meanest soldier might obtain them by a brilliant action. 54 After the confusion of the republic, it was of consequence to re-establish good order, because it is the sign of strength and durability. Ministers and judges were essential to the state, because on them alone the maintenance of good order, that is, in other words, the execution of the laws depend. I included them in the move- ments of the people and the army. I included them also in the same system of rewards. I erected an order which should confer distinction upon ministers ; because it had received the brevet of honour from the soldiers. I made it common to all the servants of the public, because the first of virtues is devotion to one's country. Thus I converted the spring of empire into a general bond; which united all the classes in the nation by a mutual interest ; for no class was sub- ordinate, no class was exclusive. An interme- diate body, culled from the flower of the nation, formed around me. It was attached to the im- perial system by its avocations, its interests, and its opinions. This numerous body, although in- vested with the civil and military power, was ac- knowledged by the people, because it was chosen from among themselves. They confided in it, be- cause their interests were the same with its own. This body was neither oppressive nor exclusive. It was in reality a magistracy. 55 The empire rested on a vigorous organization. The army had been formed in the school of war, where it had learned to fight and to suffer. The civil magistrates had accustomed them- selves to a strict execution of the laws, because I forbad either compromise or explanation. Thus they became possessed of practice and dispatch. I had given a regular and uniform impulse, because there was but one watch-word throughout the em- pire. Thus every spring in the machine was in motion, but the movements took place only within the bounds I had assigned. I put a stop to public dilapidation by making one central point for all exchequer business. I left nothing vague in this department; because every thing should be clear with regard to money. I left nothing in the power of the demi-responsible provincial officers, because I had found, by ex- perience, that such a plan serves only to enrich a few petty peculators at the expense of the treas- ury, the people, and the government. I redeemed public credit by taking nothing on credit. For the system of loans, which had ruined France, I substituted that of taxation, which has supported it. I organized the conscription a severe but grand law, and well worthy of a people which 56 cherishes its glory and its liberty, for it should en- trust its defence to none hut itself. I opened new channels of commerce. I joined Italy to France by cutting through the Alps in four different places. The works of that kind, which I undertook, appear almost impossible. I caused agriculture to prosper by maintain- ing the laws which protect private property, and by distributing the public burdens equally. I added great monuments to those already possessed by France. They were to be the memor- ials of its glory. I thought they would ennoble the minds of our descendants. The people become attached to these proud land-marks of their his- tory. My throne shone only with the lustre of arms. The French love grandeur even in its outward show. I caused palaces to be decorated. I as- sembled a numerous court: I gave it a character of austerity, for any other would have been in- congruous. There were no amusements at my court. Therefore women played but an insignifi- cant part, where every thing was consecrated to the state. Indeed they always detested me for that reason. Louis XV. suited them much better. My great work was hardly sketched out when a new enemy appeared unexpectedly in the lists. Prussia had remained at peace for ten years; 57 France had been grateful for it; the allies were enraged at it: they had abused her, but she had prospered. Her neutrality had been of peculiar import- ance to me during the last campaign; to secure it I had made some overtures respecting a cession of Hanover. I thought such an offer amply compen- sated for a small violation of territory which I had permitted myself, in order to accelerate the march of a division which I was in haste to get to the Danube. England had rejected the proposals for peace which we had transmitted to her according to our custom, when we signed the treaty of Tilsit. Prussia demanded the cession of Hanover. I asked no better than to bestow such a boon upon her ; but I thought it high time for her court to declare itself frankly for us, by embracing our system in good earnest. We could not do every thing by the sword; policy owed us some allies; and this appeared a fair opportunity for gaining one. But I perceived that Prussia had no such in- tentions, and that she thought I was amply repaid by her neutrality. It therefore became absurd to aggrandise a country I could not depend upon. I was out of humour; and did not calculate suffic- iently that, by giving territory to Prussia, I should 58 compromise her, that is, make sure of her. I re- fused every thing, and Hanover was otherwise dis- posed of. The Prussians complained loudly because I would not give them the property of another. They murmured at the slight violation of their territory the preceding year. They suddenly found out that they were the guardians of the glory of Frederick the Great; they grew warm. A sort of national tumult agitated the nobility; England hastened to subsidize them, and their movements acquired consistency. If the Prussians had attacked me while I was at war with Russia, they might have done me a serious injury ; but it was so absurd to come, right or wrong, and declare war against us, more in the manner of a school-boy's rebellion than any thing else, that it was some time before I could credit it. Nothing was, however, more true; and we were again obliged to take the field. I certainly expected to beat the Prussians ; but I thought it would take more time. I took meas- ures against such aggressions as I suspected might be made against me in other quarters ; but I found them unnecessary. By a singular chance, the Prussians did not hold out two hours. By another accident their generals had never thought of defending places 59 that might have held out three months. I was master of the country in a few days. The celerity of this overthrow proved to me, that the war had not been popular in Prussia. I ought to have profited by this discovery, and to have organized Prussia after our own plans; but I did not know how to set about it. The Empire had acquired an immense pre- ponderance by the battle of Jena. The public be- gan to look upon my cause as won : I perceived it by the change of measures towards me: I began to believe the same thing myself; and this opinion made me commit some errors. The system on which I had founded the empire was innately at variance with all the ancient dynasties. I knew that there must be mortal strife between them and me. Vigorous means were therefore to be taken to shorten it as much as possible, in order to gain the suffrages of kings and nations. On the one hand I should have changed the form and personal government of all the states that war placed at my disposal, because revolu- tions are not brought about by keeping the same men and the same measures. I was certain, by the very act of maintaining those governments, of having them always against me: it was recalling my enemies to life. 60 If, on the other hand, I chose to retain the old governments for want of better, I ought to have made them accomplices in my greatness, by forc- ing them to accept of titles and territory together with my alliance. By following either of these plans, according to circumstances, I should have extended the fron- tiers of the revolution rapidly. Our alliances would have been solid, because they would have been made with the people : I should have bestowed on them the advantages, together with the prin- ciples, of the revolution: I should have removed the scourge of war which had afflicted them for twenty years, and which ended by raising them all against us. It is most probable that the majority of the nations of the continent would have accepted this grand alliance, and Europe would have been re- cast on a new plan analogous to the state of her civilization. I reasoned well, but my practice was contrary to my reasoning. Instead of changing the Prus- sian dynasty, as I had threatened, I restored their estates, after having parcelled them out. Poland was not pleased, because I did not free the portion of her territory that Prussia had seized. The kingdom of Westphalia was discontented at not 61 obtaining more; and Prussia, enraged at what I had taken away, vowed eternal hatred towards me. I fancied, I know not why, that kings, dis- possessed by the right of conquest, might become grateful for any part of their dominions that might be left them. I fancied that they might, after all their reverses, become sincere allies, be- cause it was safest to do so. I fancied that I might thus extend the connexions of the empire without taking on myself the odium of revolution. I thought there was something noble in taking away and restoring crowns. I allowed myself to be seduced by it. I was mistaken, and such faults can never be repaired. I tried at least to correct what I had done in Prussia, by organising the confederation of the Rhine, because I hoped to keep one in check by the other. To form this confederation, I ag- grandised the states of some sovereigns, at the ex- pense of those of a rabble of petty princes, who answered no end but that of dissipating the money of their subjects, without doing them any good. I thus attached to my cause the sovereigns whose power I had enlarged, by the very interest of their aggrandizement. I made them conquerors in spite of themselves. But they found the trade agree with them. They were sufficiently willing to make 62 common cause with me, and they were faithful to that cause as long as it was possible. The continent was thus at peace for the fourth time. I had extended the surface and the weight of the Empire. My immediate power extended from the Adriatic to the mouths of the Weser : my power over opinion throughout all Europe. But Europe felt, as I did, that this pacification was only a provisional work; because there were too many resisting elements, and that in treating with these resistances, which I was in the wrong to do, I had only put off the evil day. England was the vital principle of resistance. I had no means of attacking it hand to hand, and I was sure that the continental war would be per- petually renewed as long as the English ministry had wherewith to pay its expenses. This might last a good while, as the profits of the war would feed the war. It was a vicious circle, the result of which must be the ruin of the Continent. A means was therefore to be devised for destroying the profits which England derived from maritime war, in order to ruin the credit of the English ministry. To this end the continental system was proposed to me. I thought it good, and adopted it. Few people understood that system; they deter- mined to see nothing in it but a scheme to raise 63 the price of coffee. Its design was widely differ- ent. It was to have ruined the trade of England. But in that it failed of its purpose, because it, like other prohibitions, produced increased prices, which are always favourable to commerce; and because it could not be so complete as to prevent a contraband trade. But the continental system was also to answer the purpose of plainly marking out our friends and foes. There could be no deception here. At- tachment to the continental system betokened at- tachment to our cause, because that system was at once our banner and palladium. This contested system was indispensable at the time I adopted it; for a great empire must not only have a general tendency to direct its policy, but its economy ought to have a parallel direction. Industry must have a vent like every thing else, in order to act and to advance. Now France had none at the time I opened one by establishing the continental system. Before the Revolution the economy of France had been turned towards the colonies, and ex- change. It was the fashion of the day. It had great success. But however much that success might be extolled, its only consequence was the ruin of the state finance, the destruction of public 64 credit, the overthrow of the military system, the loss of all respect abroad, and the ruin of agri- culture. And finally, these successes had led France to sign a treaty of commerce, which made her dependant on England for supplies. France, indeed, possessed fine seaports, and some merchants of enormous fortune. The maritime system had been completely destroyed by the war; the sea-ports were ruined: no human power could restore to them what the revolution had annihilated. It therefore required a fresh impulse to be given to the spirit of trade, in order to revive the domestic industry of France. The only means to accomplish this was to deprive England of the monopoly of manufac- tures, to create a manufacturing interest, and to include it in the general economy of the state. I was forced to create the continental system. Nothing less than this system could avail, be- cause the manufactures required an enormous premium to induce capitalists to advance the sums necessary for the establishment of the whole manufactories of a country. The event was in my favour; I removed the seat of industry, and made it cross the sea. It has made such rapid strides on the Continent, that it has now nothing to fear. If France wishes to thrive, let her keep my system, and change its 65 name ; if she chooses to fall off, let her engage in maritime pursuits, which the English will destroy the first time they go to war. I was forced to carry the continental system to extremities, be- cause I had in view not only the good of France, but the annoyance of England. We could receive colonial produce only through her, whatever flag might be borrowed for the occasion, therefore we received as little as possible. There was no bet- ter way of doing this than raising the prices to an extravagant height. The political end was ful- filled ; the exchequer gained by it, but it drove the old woman to despair, and they have had their re- venge. Daily experience proved the expediency of the continental system, for the state flourished in spite of the burden of the war. The taxes were entire; public credit was equal to the interest of money ; the spirit of improvement appeared in ag- riculture as well as manufactures; country vil- lages, not less than the streets of Paris, were re- built; roads and canals encouraged the industry of the interior; some new improvement appeared weekly: I made sugar from turnips, and soda from salt. The development of science kept pace with industry. It would have been folly to depart from a sys- tem at the very moment when it was producing its fruits. It required to be strengthened rather, 66 that it might have a greater hold on commercial emulation. This influenced the policy of Europe, inasmuch as it obliged England to carry on the war. From that moment the war assumed a serious character in England; it threatened the fortune of the pub- lic, that is, its very existence. It became popular. The English ceased to commit their defence to for- eign auxiliaries ; they took it upon themselves, and appeared on the Continent in large bodies. The struggle had never been perilous till then. I foersaw it when I signed the decree. I sus- pected that all repose was at an end for me, and that my life would be spent in wrestling with ob- stacles which the public had lost sight of, but of which I possessed the secret, because I am the only man whom appearances never deceived. In my heart I flattered myself that I should be master of the future, by means of the army I had formed, so invincible did success seem to have made it. It never doubted of victory ; it was easily moved, be- cause we had exploded the system of camps and magazines. It could be transported in any direc- tion at a moment's warning; and wherever it ar- rived it felt a conscious superiority. With such soldiers, where is the general who would not have loved glory ? I loved it, I own ; and yet, since the battle of Jena I had never felt that plentitude of 67 confidence, that contempt of consequences, to which I owed my first successes. I distrusted my- self ; that distrust made me uncertain in my decis- ions : my temper was ruffled, my character lowered. I did command myself, but what is not natural is never perfect. The continental system had determined the English to war with us even to the death. The North was subdued and overawed by my garri- sons. The English had no connection with it but in smuggling; but Portugal had been given up to them; and I knew that Spain, under the mask of neutrality, favoured her commerce. But that the continental system should be of real use, it required to be complete. I had nearly accomplished it in the north ; it was of consequence to cause it to be respected in the south. I de- manded a passage through Spain for a division of troops I wanted to send into Portugal. It was granted. At the approach of my troops the court of Lisbon embarked for the Brazils, and left me its kingdom. I required a military road through Spain to communicate with Portugal. This road connected us with Spain. Till then I had never thought of that country, on account of its inef- ficiency. The political state of Spain was at that time alarming; it was governed by the most incapable 68 of sovereigns : a brave and worthy man, whose en- ergies went no farther than to secure implicit obedience to the favourite. The favourite, with- out character and without talents, had neither pur- suit nor energy, but what were employed in inces- sant demands for titles and riches. The favourite was devoted to me, because he found it convenient to govern under the shadow of an alliance with me. But he had conducted af- fairs so ill, that his credit had sunk in Spain. He could no longer command obedience. His devo- tion became unavailing. Public opinion in Spain had been proceeding in a line contrary to that of the rest of Europe. The people, which every where else had risen to the level of the revolution, had remained here far be- neath it; enlightened notions had not even pene- trated to the second layer of the nation. They had remained on the surface; that is, they were confined to the highest classes. These felt the degradation of their country, and blushed to obey a government which was debasing their native land. They were called the Liberales. Thus the revolutionists in Spain were those who might lose by a revolution; and those who had all to gain would not hear of it. The same incongruity operated at Naples. It made me com- 69 mit many errors, because I was not then possessed of the key to the mystery. The presence of my troops in Spain was an event. Every body set about interpreting it. Peo- ple were occupied by it. Some fermentation ap- peared. I soon learned it. The liberates were sen- sible of the humiliation of their country; they thought to prevent its ruin by a conspiracy: the conspiracy succeeded. It went no further than forcing the old king to abdicate, and punishing his favourite. Spain was no gainer by the exchange, for the son they placed on the throne was no better than the father. I am well informed at least on that head. The conspiracy had scarcely succeeded, when the conspirators took fright at their own daring. They were afraid of themselves, of me, of every body. The monks disapproved of the violence committed against their old king, because it was illegitimate. I disapproved of it no less, but for a different reason. Fear took possession of the new court; the spirit of revolt seized the people, and anarchy the state. The natural course of things had thus brought about a change in Spain ; a revolution in fact was begun. It could not be of the same nature as that in France, because it was composed of different elements. But till then it had no direction, be- 70 cause it had neither chief nor partizan before- hand. It was as yet only a suspension of author- ity; a subversion of power; in short, disorder. There was nothing to be predicted concerning Spain, but that with so ignorant and fierce a peo- ple a revolution could not be accomplished with- out torrents of blood and a long series of calam- ity. But what was the end proposed by those who wished for a change in Spain? It was not a revo- lution like ours : it was an efficient government : a rational authority which might remove the rust which obscured their country, and restore it to consideration abroad, and civilization at home. I was able to give them both, by making my- self master of their revolution at the point to which they had brought it. The object was to give Spain a dynasty, which should be strong because it was new, and enlightened because it should bring with it no prejudices. Mine combined these qualities. I therefore resolved to bestow this crown also upon it. The most difficult step towards this end was taken that of getting rid of the old dynasty. Now the Spaniards had allowed their old king to be forced to abdicate the crown, and they would not acknowledge the new one. Every thing there- fore seemed to promise, that in order to avoid an- 71 archy, Spain would be glad to accept a sovereign armed with a prodigious power. By that means it would have easily stept into the imperial circle ; and however deplorable the social state of Spain might be, it was a conquest not to be neglected. As, in order to form a just idea of things, one should see them one's self, I set out for Bayonne; to which place I had invited the old Spanish court. As it had nothing better to do, it came. I had also invited the new court. I really did not expect it to arrive, because it had something much better to do. I had calculated, that to prevent Ferdinand from meeting either his father or me, they would have led him to revolt, or engaged him to go to America. But he did neither, but came to Bay- onne with his tutor and courtiers, leaving Spain to the first comer. This single step gave me the measure of the court. I had scarce spoken to the heads of the conspiracy, when I perceived their total ignorance of their real situation. They were prepared for nothing, therefore saw nothing; their policy seemed like the blind leading the blind*. I had scarcely seen the king they had set upon the * Us menaient leur politique comme les quinze vingt, i. e. the inhabitants of the asylum for the blind so named. 72 throne before I was satisfied that Spain ought not to be left in such hands. I then resolved to accept the abdication of this family, and to place one of my brothers on the throne now abandoned by its old possessors ; they had descended from it so easily, that I thought he might mount it with as little difficulty. In fact, nothing seemed to oppose it ; the Junta of Bayonne had acknowledged him ; no legal pow- er remained in Spain to refuse the change; the old king seemed grateful to me for taking the throne from his son, and had retired quietly to re- pose himself at Compiegne. His son was con- ducted to the castle of Valencay, where all neces- sary preparations had been made for his recep- tion. The Spaniards knew exactly what they had parted with in their old king; he left behind him neither regret nor remembrance; but the son was yet young ; his reign had been hoped for. He was unfortunate ; they converted him into a hero : im- agination exerted itself in his favour. The Lib- erales clamoured for national independence; the monks talked of legitimacy: the whole nation armed itself under these two pretexts. I confess I was wrong to shut up the young king at Valencay. I ought to have allowed him to 73 shew himself, in order to undeceive those who took an interest in him. I was especially in the wrong not to let him stay upon the throne. Things would have grown worse and worse in Spain. I should have ac- quired the title of protector of the old king, by giving him an asylum. The new government could not have failed to commit itself with England. I should have declared war both on my own account, and as plenipotentiary for the old king. Spain would have trusted her army to fight her battles, and as soon as I had beaten it, the nation must have submitted to the right of conquest. It would not even have dreamed of murmuring, because in disposing of a conquered country one only follows established customs. If I had been more patient I should have fol- lowed this plan, but I thought that the result being the same, the Spaniards would accept beforehand a change of dynasty which the state of affairs ren- dered inevitable. I managed this affair awkward- ly, because I passed over the regular gradations. I had displaced the ancient race of kings in a way offensive to the Spaniards. Their wounded pride would not acknowledge the race I had put in its stead. The result was, that there was no author- ity any where, or rather it was every where. The whole nation fancied itself called upon to defend 74 the state, since there was neither army nor author- ity to which that defence could be committed. Each man took the responsibility on himself ; I had created anarchy, and found all the resources it can furnish turned against me. The whole nation fell upon me. The Spanish nation, whose history records nothing but acts of avarice and ferocity, was not formidable face to face with an enemy. Its people fled at the very sight of our soldiers, but they stabbed them in the back. They were exasperated, and used reprisals. One reprisal caused a second, and the war became a tissue of atrocity. I felt that it gave a character of violence to my reign. That it was an example dangerous to the people, and fatal to the army; because it con- sumed the men and fatigued the soldiers. I felt that I had begun ill; but when once a war was fairly entered upon, it was impossible to abandon it: for the very smallest reverse gave spirit to my enemies, and all Europe instantly got under arms. I was obliged to be always victor- ious. It was not long before I was put to trial. I had gone to Spain in order to accelerate events, and to examine the ground on which I had to leave my brother. I had occupied Madrid, and destroyed the English army which was advancing 75 to its relief. My success was rapid : terror was at its height ; resistance seemed about to cease ; there was not an instant to lose; neither was any time lost. The English ministry armed Austria. They were always as active in raising enemies as I could be in beating them. This time the intrigues of Austria were skil- fully conducted ; they took me by surprise. I must give praise where it is due. My troops were scattered at Naples, at Madrid, at Hamburg. I myself was in Spain. It was probable that the Austrians might have been suc- cessful in the first instance. This success might have led to more, for in these cases the first step is usually the difficulty. They might have tempted Prussia and Kussia; re-animated the courage of the Spaniards, and restored popularity to the English ministry. The court of Vienna maintains a tenacious pol- icy, that is never disconcerted by passing events. It was long before I discovered the reason. I per- ceived, a little too late, indeed, that this policy was so deeply rooted, only because the good nature of the government had allowed the state to degener- ate into an oligarchy. The country is led by about a hundred noblemen; they possess the soil, and have seized upon the exchequer, the cabinet, and the army, by which means they are the real rulers, 76 and have left to the court no more than the hon- our of the signature. Now oligarchies never change their opinions, because their interest is always the same. They do every thing ill ; but they always continue doing, because they cannot die out. They never succeed ; but they support reverses admirably, because they support them in concert. Austria has owed her safety four times to this form of government: it decided for the war she had just declared against me. I had not a moment to lose. I left Spain abruptly, and flew to the Rhine. I got together the troops nearest at hand: Prince Eugene had allowed himself to be beaten in Italy : I sent him some reinforcements. The kings of Swabia and Bavaria lent me their troops ; with them I beat the Austrians at Ratisbon, and marched towards Vienna. I advanced by forced marches along the right bank of the Danube ; I depended on the viceroy to secure our junction. I intended to get before the Austrians to Vienna, to cross the Danube there, and to take up a position to receive the arch- duke. This plan was well conceived; but it was im- prudent, because I had to cope with a man of tal- 77 ent, and because I had not enough troops. But fortune was then on my side. In return, the archduke made a very able movement: he divined my object, and gained upon me. He threw himself rapidly upon Vienna by the left bank of the Danube, and took up his posi- tion at the same time with me. As far as I know, this is the only able movement the Austrians ever made. My plan had failed : I was in presence of a for- midable army : it commanded my movements, and forced me to remain inactive. Nothing now but a great battle could put an end to the war. It was my business to attack ; the archduke had given me that part to play : it was not easy ; for he was in a position to receive me. By an unhoped for piece of good fortune, the archduke John, who should, at all hazards, have kept back the viceroy, allowed himself to be beat- en. The army of Italy drove him from the other side of the Danube, and we gained the assistance of its right wing. But as we could not remain there for ever, we were obliged to come to action. I caused pon- toons to be thrown across the river. The army began to move. Marshal Massena's division was the first that crossed; he began his fire, when an accident carried away the pontoons. It was im- 78 possible to replace them in time to sustain him: he was attacked by the whole hostile army. The division maintained its ground with valour which might be called heroic, for it was hopeless. Their ammunition had failed : they were on the point of destruction when the Austrians ceased firing, thinking that sufficient to the day was the evil thereof. They recovered their position at a de- cisive moment, and delivered me from the most cruel anxiety. Nevertheless, we had sustained a reverse of fortune : I perceived it by the state of public opin- ion. My defeat was published ; the details were re- peated; my fall was foretold. The Tyrolese had revolted : we had been obliged to send the Bavarian army to that country. Parties had taken up arms in Prussia and Westphalia, and spread themselves over the country, in order to excite revolt. The English undertook an expedition against Antwerp, which might have succeeded, but for their own folly. My situation grew daily worse. At length I succeeded in throwing fresh bridges over the Danube. The army crossed the river dur- ing a dreadful night. I was present at the crossing, for I was uneasy about it. It answered complete- ly; our columns had time to form, and that great day arose with happy omens. 79 The battle was grand ; for it was well disputed. But the generals did not make any great efforts of genius, because they commanded large masses upon a flat plain. It was long doubtful. The in- trepidity of our troops, and the bold manoeuvre of Macdonald, decided the fortune of the day. Once broken, the Austrian army marched off in disorder, by a long plain, on which it lost a great many men. I pursued them vigorously, because I wished to decide the campaign. Beaten in Mora- via, there was no resource but to sue for peace, and I granted it to them for the fourth time. I trusted that it would be lasting, because peo- ple get tired of being beaten, as they do of every thing else; and because there was a considerable party in Vienna, who argued in favour of a final alliance with the empire. I wished for peace, because I felt the expedi- ency of giving some respite to the people : for, in- stead of feeling the advantages of the revolution, they had as yet seen only its horrors. We were no longer protectors, as at the beginning of the war; and in order to accustom the public opinion of Europe to the nature of my power, it was not po- litic to shew it always in its hostile aspect. The enemy's party assured the populace that they were only arming to deliver them from the 80 evils of war, and to lower the price of English goods. These insinuations made proselytes. The war diminished the popularity of the revolution. Therefore I desired peace ; but it was necessary to obtain the consent of the English ministry: Aus- tria undertook to ask it. They refused. This refusal gave me great anxiety. England must have felt within herself resources which I could not comprehend. I endeavoured to discover what these were, but in vain. Instead of laying down my arms, I was forced to keep up my war establishment, and to weary all Europe. I was so much the more annoyed at it, as the allies had all the honour of the war, though I had the success. For they had the innocent air of defending those things that are called legit- imate, because they are old. I, on the other hand, appeared the aggressor, because I fought to de- stroy these, and to set up what was new. The whole weight of the accusation lay on me. Yet the war of the revolution was but the result of the situation of Europe. It was the crisis which changed its manners. It was the inevitable consequence of the transit from one social system to another. If I had been the inventor of the sys- tem, I should have been guilty of the evils it brought about. But it was invented by nobody. It 81 was produced by the current of the times. This current had silently made way for the Revolution, as it had done for the Reformation, and the evils that followed upon it. War depended no more upon me than upon the allies. It depended on the nature which the Almighty has impressed upon hu- man beings. England continued the war without auxiliaries, but not without allies, for every enemy to revolu- tion was such. We had an open field to fight on in Spain. I sent back my troops there, but I did not go back myself. I was wrong: because nobody does one's business so well as one's self. But I was tired of all this commotion ; and I, from that time, began to meditate a project that might give a new character to my reign. But before I could accomplish this, the enemy embarrassed me in a quarter from which I had no apprehension. The north was occupied by my troops. The English were not strong enough to at- tack me in that point. It was in the Mediterranean that their navy ensured them superiority. They possessed Malta, and commanded Sicily, the shores of Spain, Africa, and Greece. They sought to profit by all these advantages. They endeavoured to excite a re-action in Italy, and convert it, if possible, into a second Spain. There were discontented persons every where, for 82 I had not been able to give every body their ancient rights, combined with the advantages of the new system. There were such in Italy as well as elsewhere. The clergy had no affection for me, because my reign had put an end to theirs. The devotees followed their example, and detested me. The rabble partook of the same feelings, because the clergy are still possessed of influence in Italy. The head quarters of this opposition was Rome, as it was the only town in Italy where it could hope to escape my observation. Thence it held com- munications with the English; it instigated to re- volt; it insulted me in anonymous pamphlets; it promulgated false reports. It procured recruits for England; it kept in pay the banditti of Car- dinal Ruff a, for the purpose of assassinat- ing Frenchmen; it attempted to blow up the pal- ace of the minister of police at Naples. It was clear that the English had a plot upon Italy, and that they fomented these disturbances. I could not permit this ; I could not suffer the French to be insulted and murdered. I contented myself, however, with making complaints at va- rious times to the Holy See. I received civil answers to beg I would take the thing patiently. As my temper was never very patient, I saw that there was a decided hostility against us, and that I 83 must outstrip it to prevent its exploding. I oc- cupied Borne with my troops. Instead of allaying the effervescence, this meas- ure, which was perhaps a little violent, irritated the public. It however secured the tranquillity of Italy, and quashed the schemes of Lord W. Ben- tinck. But, in secret, the whole class of devotees did every thing that hatred and the spirit of the church could inspire against me. This centre of conspiracy had ramifications in France and Switzerland. The clergy, the malcon- tents, the partizans of the old order of things (for there were still such) had united to intrigue against my authority, and to do me every possible injury. They no longer appeared as conspirators ; they had borrowed the standard of the church, and they used its thunders instead of cannon. It was their watch-word and their war-cry. It was a sort of orthodox free-masonry, which I could not lay hold on at any given point, because it pervaded all places. Besides, it was difficult to attack these people in detail, because it would have been a persecu- tion; but that is the business of the weak, not of the strong. I thought I could disperse the party by an alarming display of power. I determined to shew my resolution, and teach them that I chose to 84 maintain order and authority, and that I scrupled at nothing to accomplish my purpose. I knew that nothing could be so severe a blow upon the party as to separate it from the head of the church. I hesitated long before I adopted this resolution, because it was against my wishes ; but the longer I delayed it, the more necessary it be- came to decide. I considered that Charles V. who was more religious than me, and not so powerful, had dared to make a Pope prisoner. He was no worse for it, and I thought I might at least attempt as much. The Pope was carried off from Kome, and conveyed to Savona. Borne was annexed to France. This stroke of policy sufficed to confound the schemes of the enemy. Italy remained quiet and obedient to the last moment of the empire. But the war of the church was pursued with equal inveter- acy. The zeal of the devotees was rekindled. It became a secret but venomous spirit against me. In spite of all my precautions I could not prevent their communicating with Savona, and receiving instructions. The monks of La Trappe, of Fri- bourg, conducted this correspondence; it was printed in their house, and circulated from priest to priest throughout the empire. It became nec- essary to remove the Holy Father to Fontain- bleau, and to expel the monks of La Trappe, to 85 put a stop to these communications. After all, I believe I did not succeed. This petty war had a bad effect, because I could not prevent it from wearing the appearance of a persecution. I had been obliged to proceed with severity against unarmed persons, and, in spite of myself, to make victims of them. These unhappy disputes with the church forced upon me five hundred state prisoners; political occasions never made fifty. I was in the wrong throughout this affair; I was strong enough to have left the feeble at liberty, and I occasioned a great deal of evil by attempting to prevent it. A great project occupied the state. It ap- peared to me to be of a nature to consolidate my empire by placing me in a new situation with re- gard to Europe. I expected important results from it. My power was no longer contested; it only wanted the character of perpetuity, which it could not have as long as I had no heir. Without an heir my death would have been a moment of dan- ger to my dynasty; for authority must have no period fixed beforehand, if it is not to be con- tested. I perceived the necessity of separating myself from a wife by whom I could no longer hope for posterity. I hesitated on account of the misery of 86 quitting the person whom I best loved ; it was long before I could resolve upon it. But she proposed it herself, with that devotedness of affection which she always displayed towards me. I ac- cepted the sacrifice, because it was indispensable. The simplest policy pointed out to me an alliance with the house of Austria. The court of Vienna was tired of reverses. By uniting itself irrevoc- ably with me, it placed its safety in my custody. By this alliance it became an accomplice in my greatness, and from that moment it became as much my interest to support it as it had been here- tofore to subdue it. By this alliance we produced the most formidable mass of power that had ever existed; we surpassed the Roman empire. The alliance was formed. On the continent there was nothing without our pale, but Eussia, and the wreck of Prussia: the rest was at our disposal. So vast a prepon- derance ought to have discouraged our enemies; and without vanity I might now have considered my work as accomplished, and that I had placed my throne beyond the reach of accident. My calculations were just: but passion never calculates. Meantime appearances were in my favour. The continent was quiet, and seemed to be becoming accustomed to the sight of my crown ; it at least appeared so by the homage paid me. It 87 was so respectful, that a more discerning person than myself might have been deceived by it. The respect in which the blood of the house of Aus- tria was held, rendered my reign legitimate in the eyes of the sovereigns of Europe; and I believed that the title of the son, which the Empress had just borne, to the throne, would not be disputed. There were no disturbances any where but in Spain, where the English were in great force. But that war gave me no uneasiness, because I was resolved to be even more obstinate than the Spaniards, and with time any thing may be ac- complished. The empire was strong enough to carry on the Spanish war without inconvenience. It neither put a stop to the decorations with which I was embellishing France, nor to the useful undertak- ings which we were pursuing. The administration of justice was improving. I was organising in- stitutions which might ensure the strength of the empire, by educating a generation for the pur- poses of its support. The necessity of maintaining the continental system was the only source of dispute with such governments as had coasts adapted for smuggling. Among these Russia was in a delicate situation: its civilization was not sufficient to enable it to do without English goods. I had nevertheless in- 88 sisted on their being prohibited ; it was an absurd- ity, but it was necessary to complete the system of exclusion. A contraband trade commenced; I foresaw it, because the Eussian government