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diff --git a/old/69585-0.txt b/old/69585-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3613f69..0000000 --- a/old/69585-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7291 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Napoleon and his court, by C. S. -Forester - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Napoleon and his court - -Author: C. S. Forester - -Release Date: December 20, 2022 [eBook #69585] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Al Haines, Cindy Beyer & the online Distributed - Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NAPOLEON AND HIS COURT *** - - - - - - - - [Cover Illustration] - - - - - NAPOLEON AND HIS COURT - - - - - BY THE SAME AUTHOR - - A PAWN AMONG KINGS - - - - -[Illustration: EQUESTRIAN GROUP OF NAPOLEON AND HIS STAFF AT AUSTERLITZ - (_From a print in Canon Brook-Jackson’s collection, believed to be - the only one in existence._)] - - - - - NAPOLEON AND - HIS COURT - - - - BY - C. S. FORESTER - - WITH SIXTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS - - METHUEN & CO. LTD. - 36 E S S E X S T R E E T, W.C. - L O N D O N - - - - - _First Published in 1924_ - - PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN - - - - - CONTENTS - CHAP. PAGE - I. IN GENERAL....................................... 9 - II. THE MAN HIMSELF.................................. 17 - III. SOME PALADINS.................................... 25 - IV. ONE WIFE......................................... 35 - V. THE DIVORCE...................................... 42 - VI. ANOTHER WIFE..................................... 47 - VII. SOME COURT DETAILS............................... 55 - VIII. THE GREATEST PALADIN............................. 67 - IX. MORE PALADINS.................................... 80 - X. BROTHERS......................................... 95 - XI. SISTERS.......................................... 114 - XII. STARS OF LESSER MAGNITUDE........................ 133 - XIII. WOMEN............................................ 151 - XIV. LIKES AND DISLIKES............................... 174 - XV. WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN............................. 184 - XVI. SPOTS IN THE SUN................................. 202 - XVII. ST. HELENA....................................... 223 - APPENDIX—INCIDENTS AND AUTHORITIES............... 237 - INDEX............................................ 245 - - - - - LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - _Page_ - EQUESTRIAN GROUP OF NAPOLEON AND HIS STAFF AT - AUSTERLITZ.......................................... front - GENERAL BONAPARTE..................................... 16 - PRINCE JOACHIM (MURAT, KING OF THE TWO SICILIES)...... 34 - MARIE LOUISE, EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH................... 54 - GRAF VON NEIPPERG..................................... 66 - EUGÈNE DE BEAUHARNAIS (VICEROY OF ITALY, PRINCE DE - VENISE)............................................. 79 - AUGEREAU, DUC DE CASTIGLIONE.......................... 94 - JOSEPH NAPOLEON, KING OF NAPLES....................... 113 - CAROLINE MURAT........................................ 132 - LETIZIA BONAPARTE (MADAME MÈRE)....................... 151 - ELISE BACIOCCHI....................................... 151 - THE KING OF ROME...................................... 173 - PAULINE BORGHESE...................................... 183 - DAVOUT (PRINCE D’ECKMÜHL AND DUC D’AUERSTÄDT)......... 201 - MASSENA (PRINCE D’ESSLING AND DUC DE RIVOLI).......... 222 - LOUIS NAPOLEON, KING OF HOLLAND....................... 236 - - NOTE.—_The illustrations are reproduced from prints in the - collection of Canon Brook-Jackson, by kind permission._ - - Napoleon and His Court - - - - - CHAPTER I - IN GENERAL - - -THERE was a time when France extended to the Baltic, the Ebro and the -Tiber; when the term “Frenchmen” included Frenchmen, Spaniards, -Italians, Belgians, Dutch, Germans and even a few stray Danes, Poles and -Letts; when Rome was the second city of France, and Amsterdam the third; -when the Emperor of the French was also King of Italy and Mediator of -Switzerland; when one of his brothers was King of Spain, another, King -of Westphalia, and one of his generals King of Naples; when all Germany -was ruled by his vassals; when Poland was a French province in all but -name; when Austria was the French Emperor’s subservient ally; and when -one of his less successful generals had just been appointed ruler of -Sweden. - -Never, since the days of the Roman Empire, had one man held so much -power, and never in all history has so much power been as rapidly -acquired or as rapidly lost. In ten years Napoleon rose from the -obscurity of a disgraced artillery officer to the dignity of the most -powerful ruler in the world; in ten more he was a despised fugitive -flying for his life from his enemies. - -It is difficult for us nowadays to visualize such a state of affairs. To -the people of that time life must have appeared like a wild nightmare, -as impossibly logical as a lunatic’s dream. There seems to have been no -doubt anywhere that the frantic hypertrophy could not last, and yet when -the end was clearly at hand hardly a soul perceived its approach. - -There was only one nation of Europe which escaped the mesmerism of the -man in the grey coat, and that was the British. It was only in Britain -that they did not speak of him with bated breath as “the Emperor,” and -remained undaunted by his monstrous power and ruthless energy. To the -English he was not His Imperial and Royal Majesty, Napoleon, Emperor of -the French, King of Italy, Protector of the Confederation of the Rhine, -and Mediator of the Helvetian Republic. No, the English thought of him -merely as Boney, a fantastic figment of the imagination of the other -peoples of the world, who were of course a queer lot with unaccountable -fears and superstitions. - -But this Boney, this Corsican Ogre, incredible though he was, loomed -appallingly large upon the horizon. There were beacons all round the -coast in case he landed; his privateers were the scourge of shipping; -prices were at famine point and business was parlous on account of his -activities; the militia was embodied and there was a ceaseless drain of -recruits into the army; every village mourned the loss of a son who had -enlisted and whose life had been thrown away in some harebrained -expedition into ill-defined foreign parts. And yet on the other hand -there were considerations which gave an aspect of unreality to the whole -menace. England was constantly victorious at sea, and though Nelson -might be mourned the glory of Trafalgar and the Nile cast the -possibility of invasion into insignificance. The English people were -confident that on land as well they would beat the French at every -encounter. Not for nothing were Agincourt and Minden blazoned on English -history, and Alexandria and Maida supplied whatever confirmation might -be desired. Such disasters as that at Buenos Ayres were forgotten; -confidence ran high. When Wellington gained a victory by which all -Portugal was cleared of the French at one blow the public annoyance that -even greater results had not been achieved, that the whole French army -had not been captured, was extreme. There were few English people who -did not think that, should Napoleon by some freak of fortune land in -England, the veterans of Austerlitz and the almost legendary Imperial -Guard would be routed by the militia and the hasty levies of the -countryside. There was nothing which could drive the realities of war -hard home into the public mind. If prices were high, then as -compensation colonies fell into our hands, employment was fairly good, -and the business of manufacturing arms and equipment was simply booming. -Besides, intercourse with the Continent was not entirely cut off for the -smugglers worked busily and successfully, and French lace and French -fashions and French brandy circulated freely. It was hard for the -average Englishman to realize that the Corsican Ogre was not merely an -ogre, especially as the fantastic cartoons of the period and the wild -legends which were current were more fitted to grace a child’s -fairy-tale than to depict the most formidable enemy England had yet -encountered. - -On the mainland of Europe the picture was utterly reversed. The reality -of war was only too obvious. The Emperor was no mere cartoonist’s figure -drawn with disgusting detail. They had seen him; he had ridden into -their capitals on his white horse in the midst of the army which had -shattered their proud battalions over and over again. His power was -terrible and his vengeance was swift. In half the countries of Europe a -chance word might result in the careless speaker being flung next day -into an unknown dungeon. His armies swarmed everywhere, and wherever -they went they left a trail of desolation behind them. The peasants were -starved and the landowners were ruined, to pay the enormous taxes which -the indemnities he imposed demanded. The mass of the people, who had -once hailed the great conqueror because his arrival meant their delivery -from feudalism, now found themselves crushed under a despotism ten times -more exacting. The Emperor was very real to them. Many of them now -served new rulers who had been imposed upon them by him, and him alone. -Wherever he appeared he was attended by a train of subject kings to whom -his wish was law. At his word an Italian might find himself a Frenchman, -or an Austrian a Bavarian. And this was no mere distinction without a -difference. Once upon a time the peasant classes cared little about the -politics of their rulers, or even about which ruler they served. The -fate of a professional army was a royal, not a national concern. But now -every able-bodied man found himself in the ranks. Badeners fought -Portuguese on the question as to whether a Frenchman should rule Spain, -and a hundred thousand Germans perished in the northern snows because -the Emperor of the French wished to exclude English goods from Russian -ports. The imposition was monstrous, and in consequence the question of -nationality became of supreme importance. If a country made war upon -Napoleon every citizen of that country now realized that defeat meant -the continuance of a slavery as exasperating as it was degrading. The -fact that their eventual victory left them very little freer does not -enter into this argument. It is sufficient to say that Napoleon was -regarded on the Continent with an interest agonizing in its intensity, -and that this interest was nourished in a much more substantial fashion -than prevailed in England. - -It has been maintained and has infected all nationalities alike. The -ability of the French nation to write telling memoirs is nowhere better -displayed than in the period of the Empire. A large amount of very -fascinating material was produced, by which the history of the period, -which had previously been grossly distorted, was corrected and balanced. -Details were worked out with an elaboration all too rare. The events in -themselves were so exceedingly interesting, and the books about them -were so well written, that it can hardly be considered surprising that -more and more attention was turned towards the Empire. In addition, the -fascinating personality of the Emperor concentrated and specialized the -attention. More important than all, since events of huge importance -turned merely upon his own whims and predilections, it was necessary to -analyse and to examine the nature of the man who had this vast -responsibility. It has become fashionable to inquire into every detail -of his life, and there has grown up an enormous literature about him. -Most of these books contain a fair amount of truth, but they nearly all -contain a high proportion of lies. Napoleon himself was a good liar, but -by now he is much more lied about than lying. - -That coffee legend, for instance. Nine books on Napoleon out of ten say -(with no more regard for physiology than for fact) that he was -accustomed to drinking ten, twenty, even thirty cups of coffee a day. -Napoleon drinking coffee is as familiar a figure to us as Sherlock -Holmes injecting morphine, but both figures are equally apocryphal. The -best authorities, people who really knew, are unanimous in saying that -he never drank more than three cups a day. De Bausset, who was a Prefect -of the Palace, and in charge of such arrangements, distinctly says he -took only two, and goes out of his way to deny the rumours to the -contrary which were already circulating. This is but one example out of -many; perhaps we shall meet with others later on. - -It is necessary first to sketch Napoleon’s career in brief, for the sake -of later reference. The merest outline will suffice. - -Napoleon began his military life under the old régime as an officer in -the artillery; despite an inauspicious start, he attracted attention by -his conduct at the siege of Toulon. Later he was nearly involved in the -fall of Robespierre, but, extricating himself, he served with credit in -the Riviera campaign of 1794. Next, he earned all the gratitude of which -Barras was capable by crushing the revolt of the Sections against the -Directory in 1795. By some means (it is certain that Josephine his wife -had something to do with it) he obtained the command of the army of -Italy; in 1796 and 1797 he crushed the Austrians and Piedmontese, -conquered Piedmont and Lombardy, and made himself a name as the greatest -living general. There followed the expedition to Egypt, where his -successes (extolled as only he knew how) stood out in sharp contrast to -the failures of the other French armies in Italy and Germany. Returning -at the psychological moment, he seized the supreme power, and made -himself First Consul. Masséna had already almost saved France by his -victory at Zürich and his defence of Genoa, and Napoleon continued the -work by a spectacular passage of the Alps and a perilously narrow -victory at Marengo. Moreau settled the business by the battle of -Hohenlinden. During the interval of peace which followed, Napoleon -strengthened himself in every possible way. He codified the legal -system, built up the Grand Army which later astonished the world, -disposed of Moreau and various other possible rivals, assured the French -people of his political wholeheartedness by shooting the Duc d’Enghien -and by sending republicans wholesale to Cayenne; and finally grasped as -much as possible of the shadow as well as the substance of royalty by -proclaiming himself Emperor and receiving the Papal blessing at his -coronation. But already he was at war again with England, and the -following year (1805) Russia and Austria declared against him. He hurled -the Grand Army across Europe with a sure aim. Mack surrendered at Ulm; -out of seventy thousand men only a few escaped. At Austerlitz the -Russian army was smitten into fragments. Austria submitted, and Napoleon -triumphantly tore Tyrol and Venetia from her, gave crowns to his vassal -rulers of Bavaria and Würtemberg, and proclaimed himself overlord of -Germany as Protector of the Confederation of the Rhine. His brother -Louis he made King of Holland; his brother Joseph King of Naples; his -brother-in-law Murat Grand Duke of Berg. Prussia demurred, and was -crushed almost out of existence at Jena. Russia, tardily moving to her -support, was, after a hard fight at Eylau, beaten at Friedland (1807). -At Tilsit the Emperors of the French and of Russia settled the fate of -Continental Europe, and Jerome, the youngest brother of Napoleon, was -given a new kingdom, Westphalia. - -So far, nothing but glory and progress; but from now on, nothing but -false steps and failure. First, the overrunning of Spain and the -proclamation of Joseph as King of Spain. This brought Napoleon into -contact with the enmity of a people instead of that merely of a king. It -gave England a chance of effective military intervention, and it shook -the world’s belief in the invulnerability of the Colossus by the defeats -of Vimiero and Baylen. Austria made another effort for freedom in 1809, -to submit tamely, after one victory and two defeats, when the game was -by no means entirely lost. Hence followed further annexations and -maltreatment. Then came blunder after blunder, while the Empire sagged -through its sheer dead weight. The divorce of Josephine lost him the -sympathy of the fervent Catholics and of the sentimentalists. The -marriage with Marie Louise lost him the support of the republicans and -of Russia. He quarrelled with his brother Louis, drove him from the -country and annexed Holland. He tried to direct the Spanish war from -Paris, with bad results. Annexation followed annexation in his attempt -to shut the coasts to English trade. The Empire was gorged and -surfeited, but Napoleon was inevitably forced to further action. Having -irritated each other past bearing, he and Alexander of Russia drifted -into war, and the snows of Russia swallowed up what few fragments of the -old Grand Army had been spared from the Spanish and Danube campaigns. It -was like a blow delivered by a dazed boxer—powerful, but ill-directed -and easily avoided, so that the striker overbalances by his own -momentum. Napoleon struggled once more to his feet. In 1813 he summoned -to the eagles every Frenchman capable of bearing arms. But one by one -his friends turned against him. Prussia, Austria, Saxony, Bavaria, each -in turn joined the ranks of his enemies. His victories of Lützen, -Bautzen and Dresden were of no avail. At Leipzig his army was shattered; -he fought on desperately for a few more months, but at last he had to -submit and abdicate. - -A further effort after his escape from Elba ended with the disaster of -Waterloo, and merely led to the last tragedy of St. Helena. - -So much for the general. From this we can turn with relief to the -particular; and from the particular, with perhaps even more relief, to -the merely trivial. - -[Illustration: GENERAL BONAPARTE] - - - - - CHAPTER II - THE MAN HIMSELF - - -OF course, we all know him. He was rather short and corpulent, and he -wore a cocked hat, a green coat with red facings, and white breeches. -Sometimes, when the mood took him, he would appear in trailing robes, -with a wreath of laurel round his forehead. Very appropriate, -admittedly, but—that wreath does appear a little incongruous, does it -not? Then there are times when we see him on a white horse in the midst -of the battle. One or two dead men are lying near him in graceful -attitudes; one or two others are engaged in dying still more gracefully. -His staff is round him; in the distance are long lines of infantry and -volumes of cannon-smoke. But everything is so orderly and respectable -that one cannot help thinking that even in that discreet, dim distance -the dying are as careful about their manner as was Cæsar at the foot of -Pompey’s statue. Verestchagin and others strike a different note, but -they never saw Napoleon alive. We have portraits and pictures -innumerable, but are we any nearer to the man himself—to what was -inside the green coat and the cocked hat? - -It is the same when we come to read the mountains of memoirs which have -been written around him. There are solemn memoirs, there are indiscreet -memoirs. There are abusive memoirs, there are flattering memoirs. There -are memoirs, written in all honesty, during the reading of which one -cannot help feeling that the writer would really like to begin personal -pronouns referring to Him with a capital letter. And yet, after -months—years, perhaps—of reading, one still feels that one knows -nothing of him. One realizes, naturally, that he was a marvellously -clever man, with a marvellous sense of his own cleverness. But of the -man himself, of his little intimate desires and feelings, one remains -ignorant. A century of memoir-reading will not do as much for us as -would, say, a week’s sojourn alone with him on a desert island. What -adds point to the argument is that obviously the writer of the most -intimate memoirs was just as far from him as we are. - -The fact of the matter is that Napoleon in all his life never had a -friend. From his adolescence to his death there was nobody to whom he -could speak unguardedly. It was not so much that he posed, as that he -had himself well in hand on all occasions. He could unbend; he could -pinch a grognard’s ear or crack jokes with his Guard; he could write -passionate letters to Josephine or supplicatory ones to Walewska; but we -realize that each of these displays is merely a flash from some new -facet of the gem. To the design of the whole, to the light which glowed -within secretly, we are perforce blind. - -His tastes in art, which would be a valuable indication to his -character, are variously rated by contemporaries. One thing is certain, -and that is that art did not flourish under the Empire. A heavily -censored press acts as a drag upon the wheel of progress in this, as in -all other matters, but one cannot help thinking that this cessation of -development is due as much to Napoleon’s lack of interest in the -subject. David’s hard classicism and Isabey’s futilities are the best -that the Empire can show in painting, while in sculpture (save perhaps -for Houdon), in poetry, in romance, in criticism, not one names -survives, with the slight exception of Madame de Staël. There is no -French contemporary with Körner who could bear a moment’s comparison; -there is not even any single achievement, like Rouget de l’Isle’s of the -previous decade, to which France can point with pride. Napoleon’s own -favourite works in literature make a rather curious list; tragedy was -the only kind of dramatic literature which he favoured, although tragedy -is the weakest part of the French drama, and in tragedy he ranked -Corneille far above all others; Ossian’s poems, despite translation into -French, had a great attraction for him, perhaps because the exalted -wording appealed to him in his moments of fantastic planning; Goethe, -the greatest living poet, held no fascination for him; but Rousseau did. -Indeed Rousseau’s influence is clearly visible in many of Napoleon’s own -writings. Beyond this, there is almost nothing modern which received the -seal of his approval. The classics he read in translation, and solely -for the sake of their matter. Music was not specially liked by him; he -tolerated it because it roused in him the same sensations as did -Ossian’s verse—it was a drug, a stimulant to him, but not a staple -necessary. In painting he showed no special taste; the honours he gave -David clearly indicate that he held no theories of his own on the -subject. This list of likes and dislikes is non-committal; it can tell -us little about Napoleon himself; and we are once more brought to an -abrupt halt in our endeavour to discover what manner of man he really -was. - -Yet we can approach the question indirectly. Napoleon had no friend; -there was never a time when he was taken off his guard. His soldiers -loved him—stay! It was not love, it was adoration. That is the key to -the mystery. It was not the love of one man for another; it was the -worship of a God. But just as no man can be a hero to his own valet, so -can no general be a God to his immediate subordinates. The rank and file -could think of Marengo, of Austerlitz, of Jena, but what of the -Marshals? At Marengo, France was on the verge of a frightful disaster. -The slightest touch would have turned the scale, and Napoleon, hemmed in -against the Alps, must have surrendered. What of France then, with a -triumphant army at her frontier and not another regiment at hand? In the -Austerlitz campaign it was nearly the same. Before Jena, Napoleon fell -into error after error. Not until the next day was he made aware that -only half the Prussian army had fought against him, and that he had -recklessly exposed a single corps to meet the attack of the other half -at Auerstädt. That Davout fought and won was Napoleon’s good fortune, -not the result of his skill. - -Looking back on fifteen years of unbroken success, the private soldiers -might well believe Napoleon to be a God, but the Marshals were near -enough to him to see the feet of clay. For them there was neither -adoration nor love. He was their taskmaster, and a jealous one at that, -lavish of reprimand and miserly of praise. He gave them wealth, titles, -kingdoms even, but he never risked rivalry with himself by giving any -one of them what they most desired—military power. The Peninsular War -dragged on largely because he did not dare to entrust the supreme -command of three hundred thousand men to a single general. With gold and -glory even misers like Masséna became eventually satiated, and one by -one they dropped away from his allegiance when the tide turned. It fell -to Marmont, the only one of all the Marshals who owed everything to the -Emperor, to surrender Paris to the Allies and complete his ruin. Not one -of the twenty-six paladins accompanied their master to Elba or St. -Helena; that was left to the junior officers such as Bertrand, Montholon -and Gourgaud, who had been near enough to him to adore, but too far off -to see faults. Yet even to these, life with their idol became at times -unbearable, and more than one of them deserted before the end. In men -Napoleon could not inspire the love that endures. - -As regards women, it is an unpleasant task to venture a definite -opinion. An aura of tradition has gradually developed around Josephine’s -memory, and she is frequently looked upon as a woman who sacrificed -herself for her love, and allowed herself to be divorced to aid her -husband. Yet her most indignant partisan would not deny that she had -much to lose beside her husband. The position of Queen of Queens; -unlimited jewels; an unstinted wardrobe (and she was passionately fond -of clothes); the prospect of the loss of all this might well have moved -a woman to more tears even than Josephine shed. And of her affection for -her husband one may be permitted to have suspicions. Her circumstances -before the marriage were at least doubtful, and afterwards—those nasty -rumours about Hippolyte Charles and others seem to have some foundation -in fact. - -Of Marie Louise mere mention is enough. When we come to discuss her -later life and her conduct with Neipperg we shall find clear proof that -she did not love Napoleon. The other women who came into his life are -pale shades compared even to these two. With none of them was he in -love, and none of them loved him, or came to share his exile. Madame -Walewska visited him for a few days at Elba, but that was merely to seek -further favours for herself and her son. After Waterloo she married; all -her predecessors had already done the same. Women did not love Napoleon. -We may picture Napoleon, then, going through life friendless and quite -alone. Never a moment’s relaxation from the stiffness of his mental -attitude of superiority; never the light of friendship in the eye of man -or woman; every single person in Europe was either his slave or his -enemy. To say the least, his was an isolated position. And yet, was he -unhappy? Bourrienne tells us that in the early Revolution days Napoleon -walked the streets, gaunt and passionate, with a lustful eye for rich -carriages, ornate houses, and all the outward emblems of power. The -phase ended as soon as power was his, and he passed easily into the -condition of isolation which endured for the rest of his life. He was -the Man of Destiny, the sole creature of his kind, and he was happy. His -isolation never troubled him in the least. If ever he referred to it, it -was in terms of satisfaction. He was guilty on more than one occasion of -saying that he was above all law, and it is well known that he believed -in his “star”; he believed that he was marked out by some inscrutable -higher power (the limitations of whose exact nature he never defined) to -achieve unbounded success and to wield a permanently unlimited power. It -is difficult to imagine such a condition. The most ordinary or most -modest man has usually an undying belief that his own ability transcends -all others, and that Providence regards him with a special interest, but -deeper still there is almost invariably a further feeling (often -ignored, but usually obvious at a crisis) that this simply cannot be so. -Even if this further feeling does not become apparent, a man’s sense of -humour usually comes to his rescue and saves him from the uttermost -absurdity. But Napoleon’s sense of humour was only feebly developed, and -in many directions was totally wanting. On the other hand, there were -certainly many reasons for his classification of himself as a different -being from ordinary men. He never turned his hand to anything without -achieving much greater success than his contemporaries. If a -codification of law was required, then Napoleon codified laws, without -one half of the difficulty previously experienced. He won battles over -every general whom the Continent pitted against him. If a province was -to be conquered, or, conquered, had to be reorganized, then Napoleon was -ready at a moment’s notice to dictate the methods of procedure—and he -was usually proved to be correct. For twelve years, from 1800 to 1812, -Napoleon did not know what it was to fail in any matter under his own -personal control, while during that period his successes were -unprecedented. Besides, there were more convenient standards of -comparison. He was able to work at a pace which wore out all his -subordinates, and he was able to continue working long after they had -been compelled to confess themselves beaten. In his capacity for mental -labour he stood not merely unequalled, but unapproached. Even physically -he was frequently able to display superiority; his staff over and over -again were unable to endure fatigues which he bore unmoved. Lastly, he -was usually able to bend to his will anyone with whom he came in -contact. The unruly generals of the Army of Italy in 1796 gave way to -him, when he was little more than a favoured upstart, with extraordinary -mildness. He induced conscientious men like Lefebvre to agree to the -most unscrupulous actions. Alexander of Russia, smarting under the -defeats of Austerlitz and Friedland, was won over in the course of a few -hours’ interview, and became Napoleon’s enthusiastic ally. - -There certainly was a great deal in favour of the theory that Napoleon -was a very remarkable man, but not even the greatest of men is justified -in believing that he is different from other men in kind as well as in -degree. The fact that Napoleon really did believe this is highly -significant. It hints at something being wanting in his mental -constitution, something similar to, but even more important than a sense -of humour. His shameless duplicity in both his public and his private -concerns points to the same end. His inability to gain the lasting -friendship of any of those with whom he came in contact is another link -in the chain of argument. His complete disbelief in the -disinterestedness of the motives of any single human being completes it. -Napoleon was one of the most brilliant thinkers the world has ever seen; -he was the most practical and strenuous in action; he enjoyed for twenty -years more good luck than anyone has ever deserved; but he had a -meanness of soul unsurpassed in recorded history. As a machine, he was -wellnigh perfect (until he began to wear out); as a man he was -deplorably wanting. - - - - - CHAPTER III - SOME PALADINS - - -IT was a common saying in the Napoleonic army that every man in the -ranks carried a Marshal’s bâton in his knapsack. This was correct in -theory, but in actual practice it hardly proved true. Every one of the -twenty-six Marshals of the First Empire had held important commands -before the rank was instituted. - -Grouchy, the last Marshal to be created, was second-in-command of the -Bantry Bay expedition in 1796, when Napoleon was just making his name; -Jourdan had commanded the Army of the North as far back as 1794. - -But if the title of Marshal was no more than their bare due, Napoleon -certainly gave his generals other honours in plenty. One of them, Murat, -he made a King; another, Bernadotte, after receiving the title of -Sovereign Prince of Ponte Corvo, later became King of Sweden and Norway. -Berthier was Sovereign Prince of Neufchâtel. Three other Marshals were -created Princes of the Empire; thirteen were created Dukes; six, Counts; -and the only one remaining, Poniatowski, was a Prince of Poland already. - -Besides titles, wealth without limit was showered upon them. Suchet -received half a million francs with his bâton; Davout in 1811 enjoyed an -income, all told, of two million francs a year along with the unofficial -dictatorship of Poland and the command of a hundred and fifty thousand -men. It was Napoleon’s habit to bestow upon his generals huge estates in -each country he conquered. Lefebvre received the domain of Johannisberg, -on the Rhine, which had once belonged to the Emperor of Austria and -later passed to the Metternich family, while Junot received a castle and -estate of the unlucky King of Prussia. Nearly every man of mark was -given five thousand acres or so in Poland, with the attached serfs. And -Napoleon was the Apostle of the Revolution! - -The one condition attached to the gifts was that the recipient must -spend as much as possible in the capital. So Parisian shopkeepers grew -fat and praised the Empire; the Paris mob battened on the crumbs which -fell from the tables, and a feverish gaiety impressed the onlooker. Out -in the subject countries was nothing but a grinding poverty, and in the -countries recently conquered by France the tax-collectors strove to -gather in enough to pay the indemnities, and even the rats starved -because the Grand Army had passed that way. - -It is when we come to examine the careers of the Marshals that we first -meet evidence of one of the most curious and significant facts of -Napoleon’s life. Everybody to whom Napoleon showed great favour; -everyone who received his confidence; everyone, in consequence, who had -appeared at one time to be on the direct road to unbounded prosperity, -met with a most tragic and unfortunate end. Not a few of the worst -set-backs which Napoleon experienced were due to the defects of those -whom he had trusted and aggrandized, and many of his favourites, -apparently too weak morally to endure the intoxication of success, -turned against him when fortune ceased to smile upon him. Their deaths -were tragic, and their lives were nearly all dishonourable. - -Of all the Marshals, Berthier was the foremost in seniority, in -precedence, and in favour. In every campaign which Napoleon fought, from -1796 to 1814, he held the position of Chief of Staff. The history of his -military career during this period needs no repetition—it is one with -Napoleon’s. Every conceivable honour was bestowed upon him. He was given -the sovereignty of the principality of Neufchâtel and Valangin; in 1809 -the additional title of Prince of Wagram; he was appointed a Senator, a -Minister, Vice-Constable of France and a Grand Dignitary of the Empire; -at Napoleon’s hands he received a bride of royal descent, in the person -of a Princess of Bavaria; in 1810 the supreme honour was his of -representing Napoleon at the preliminary ceremony of the marriage with -Marie Louise. It seemed that he was one with Napoleon, his faithful -shadow and devoted servant. And yet when Napoleon abdicated and was sent -to Elba, Berthier threw in his lot with the Bourbons, and swore -allegiance to them. Napoleon’s return and new accession to power during -the Hundred Days, in consequence placed him in a terrible position. He -was torn between his new allegiance and his old devotion to Napoleon. -The strain proved too severe. He died at Bamberg, just before Waterloo, -having flung himself from a high window in his despair. - -The second senior of the Marshals was Joachim Murat. Murat was fortunate -in two ways. He was able to handle large masses of cavalry with decision -on a battlefield, and he married the sister of the Emperor. There was -very little else to recommend him for distinction, but these two facts -were sufficient to raise him to a throne. Napoleon appointed him to the -command of the cavalry of the Grand Army. He made him a Prince and Grand -Admiral of France. Next came a sovereignty—the Grand Duchy of Berg and -Cleves, and two years later Murat mounted the throne which Joseph -Bonaparte had just vacated, and became King of the Two Sicilies. So far, -it was a highly satisfactory career for a man who had begun as the -assistant of his father, the inn and posting-house keeper of La Bastide. -Murat determined to keep his throne, and during the dark days of 1814 he -turned against Napoleon, and marched at the head of his Neapolitans -against the French. But retribution was swift. He lost his throne next -year in a premature attempt to unite Italy, and in the end he was shot -by the indignant Neapolitan Bourbons after the miserable failure of an -attempt on his part to recover his crown after the fashion set by -Napoleon in his descent from Elba. - -It is, perhaps, a pardonable digression to consider here what might have -happened had Murat retained his throne. It is certain that he would have -been as progressive as the Austrians and his own weak nature would have -allowed. It is possible that the United Italy party would have looked -towards his dynasty instead of to the House of Savoy. The growing -Napoleonic tradition would have aided. Perhaps to-day we might behold in -the south a King of Italy descended from a Gascon stable-boy, to balance -in the north a King of Sweden descended from a Gascon lawyer’s clerk. - -But to return to our former theme. So far we have seen two of Napoleon’s -favourites meet with violent deaths. There are many more instances. -Bessières was a nonentity distinguished by little except his devotion to -the Empire. He attracted Napoleon’s notice in 1796, and his doglike -faithfulness was a sure recommendation. Bessières became the Commander -of the Guard; later he was created Duke of Istria and was given immense -riches. Napoleon honoured him with all the friendship of which he was -capable; it seemed not unlikely that a throne would be found for him. -But Bessières died in agony after receiving a mortal wound at Lützen. - -Then there was Ney, the brave des braves. His personal courage was -almost his only title to fame. When Napoleon attained supreme power, Ney -was a divisional general of the Army of the Rhine. Under the Empire he -became Marshal, Duke of Elchingen and Prince of the Moskowa. It was Ney -who made Ulm possible by his victory at Elchingen; it was he whose -attack beat back the Russians at Friedland; to him is due much of the -credit for Borodino, while his command of the rearguard during the -retreat from Moscow is beyond praise. And yet he was many times in -error. At Jena and during the Eylau campaign his impetuosity was almost -disastrous. He made several grave mistakes during Masséna’s campaign in -Spain, 1810-1811. At Bautzen in 1813 he lost a great opportunity, and he -was beaten later at Dennewitz. It was his vigour and his dauntless -courage which recommended him to Napoleon, who made full use of these -qualities to stimulate the hero-worship of his young troops. Ney -received wealth, high command and a princely title at the Emperor’s -hands. Then he helped to force the Emperor to abdicate. However, he was -unstable; he betrayed his new king and went over to Napoleon during the -descent from Elba. Napoleon entrusted him with the task of staving off -the English during the Waterloo campaign, and he failed lamentably. He -lost a great opportunity at Quatre Bras through having allowed his -columns to lengthen out; he shilly-shallied all the morning of the 16th -of June; he ruined the campaign by his furious countermand to d’Erlon in -the afternoon; and finally at Waterloo he wasted the reserve cavalry by -his unsupported attacks on the English squares. And the Bourbons shot -him as soon as possible after the second Restoration. - -Lannes, “the Bayard of the French Army,” whom Napoleon had called “le -braves des braves” before he gave the title to Ney, met with as -miserable a fate. He had begun life as a dyer’s apprentice at Lectourne, -but enlisted at the opening of the Revolutionary wars, and was a colonel -on Napoleon’s staff during the first campaign of Italy. His fearless -acceptance of responsibility, and his magnificent dash and courage while -in action were his great assets, and Napoleon favoured him more than any -of the younger Marshals, except Murat. It was largely through him that -Napoleon found it possible to employ the strategic weapon which he -invented—the strategic advanced guard. Victories as widely divided as -Marengo and Friedland were directly due to Lannes, and he was -proportionately rewarded with a Marshalate, a Colonel-generalship, an -enormous fortune and the title of Duke of Montebello. But he was -mortally wounded at Aspern, and died of gangrene at Vienna. - -There was one Marshal whom Napoleon especially favoured who did not meet -with a violent death. Nevertheless his end was more terrible by far than -was Bessières’ or even Lannes’. This was Marmont, who in 1796 was a -young captain twenty-two years of age, but who gained Napoleon’s regard -to such good effect that he was Inspector-General of Artillery at -twenty-six, governor of Illyria and Duke of Ragusa at thirty-four, and -Marshal in 1809, one year later. But he failed in Spain, Wellington -beating him thoroughly at Salamanca. In 1814 he dealt the finishing blow -to the tottering Empire by his surrender of Paris. He seemed fated to be -unfortunate. Pampered by the Bourbons, he mishandled the army in Paris -during Charles X.’s attempt at absolute power, and ruined both the -dynasty and himself. He dragged out the remainder of his life in exile, -hated and despised alike by Bonapartists, Legitimists, Orleanists and -Republicans. - -So much for the Marshals Napoleon liked; his favour certainly appears to -have been blighting. Now for those whom he disliked. - -When Napoleon finally got rid of Moreau, the man who succeeded in -general estimation to the vacant and undesirable position of unofficial -leader of the unofficial opposition was Jean Baptiste Jules Bernadotte. -This man was one of the most despicable and successful trimmers in -history. In Moreau’s Army of the Rhine he had attained the rank of -general of division, but he was in no way a talented leader. Just before -Napoleon’s return from Egypt he had intrigued to attain the supreme -power, but over-reached himself. In Napoleon’s _coup d’état_ of the 18th -Brumaire he hunted with the hounds and ran with the hare with remarkable -success, assuring the Directory on the one hand of his unfaltering -support, and yet joining the group of generals who accompanied Napoleon, -but characteristically not wearing uniform. In addition, he had a -convenient shelter behind a woman’s petticoats, for with subtle -forethought he had married Joseph Bonaparte’s sister-in-law, Désirée -Clary. Désirée was a jilted sweetheart of Napoleon’s, and what with her -hatred of the great man, Joseph’s support, and Napoleon’s horror of a -scandal in his family (combined with a sneaking affection for her) -Bernadotte made himself fairly secure all round. But he still continued -to intrigue against Napoleon. During the Consulate an extraordinary -conspiracy was discovered centring at Rennes, Bernadotte’s headquarters. -Bernadotte himself was undoubtedly implicated, but he somehow wriggled -free from suspicion. To the Republicans he posed as a Republican; the -Bourbons were convinced that he was on their side; actually he was -working for his own hand, while, thanks to Joseph, he obtained his -Marshalate and the principality of Ponte Corvo from the Empire. - -In action, various unsavourily suspicious incidents occurred in -connection with him. In 1806 he took advantage of an ambiguous order to -absent his corps both from Jena and Auerstädt; the results of his action -might have been far-reaching. Later Benningsen and the Russian army -escaped from the trap Napoleon had set for them by capturing vital -orders which were on their way to the Prince of Ponte Corvo. At Wagram -his corps was routed and broken up. - -But when, in 1810, the Swedes were seeking a Crown Prince for their -country, he was the man they selected. Apparently their choice should -have been agreeable to Napoleon. Was Bernadotte not the brother-in-law -of the King of Spain, a connection by marriage of the Emperor, Prince of -Ponte Corvo and one of the senior Marshals? Moreover, while Governor of -Hanover, he had had dealings with the Swedes and had ingratiated himself -in their esteem. Napoleon was furious, but he could do nothing, and -Bernadotte became Crown Prince and virtual autocrat of Sweden. It only -remained for him to win the favour of Russia by turning against France, -so that, at the Treaty of Abo, Norway as well was handed over to his -tender mercies. - -Later he even angled for the throne of France, but the French could -never forgive the part he had played in defeating them at Gross Beeren, -Dennewitz and Leipzig; they did not realize that with this very object -in view he had almost betrayed his new allies, and had hung back and -procrastinated in order to retain his French popularity. - -But double-dealer, intriguer, traitor that he was, hated by Napoleon, -hated by the French people, despised by the rest of Europe, he -nevertheless held on to his throne, and transmitted it to his -descendants. Nowadays the House of Bernadotte is not considered too -ignoble to wed even with a branch of the House of Windsor. - -There were other Marshals whom Napoleon disliked, mainly because of -their former association with Moreau. Macdonald was the son of a -supporter of the Young Pretender, and was a relative of Flora Macdonald. -He failed to pass the examination for a commission under the old régime, -but with the Revolution came his chance. He distinguished himself under -Dumouriez and Pichegru (who subsequently turned Royalist), and then -under Moreau. It was an unlucky start for him. The Directory appointed -him to the command of the Army of Naples, but with this force he was -beaten by Suvaroff in the four days’ battle of the Trebbia. Subsequently -he performed the marvellous feat of leading an army across the Splugen -in midwinter, but for all that Napoleon employed him as little as -possible, keeping him on half-pay until 1809. However, Macdonald -received his bâton after Wagram; mainly, it is believed, to throw a -stronger light on Bernadotte’s failure. In 1813 Macdonald, Duke of -Tarentum, was beaten again at the Katzbach, but by now Napoleon had some -idea of his worth and retained him in command. By a delicious piece of -irony, Macdonald the distrusted was the last Marshal to leave the -Emperor in 1814; he was also one of the few to adhere to the Bourbons -during the Hundred Days. He enjoyed great honour under the Restoration -and the July Monarchy, and died comfortably in his bed at the age of -seventy-five. - -Another _bête noire_ of Napoleon’s was St. Cyr. He too was one of the -“Spartans of the Rhine.” In consequence Napoleon kept him out of active -service as much as possible. This course of action was of doubtful -utility, for St. Cyr was a man of superior talents. Not until 1812 was -he made a Marshal, but wounds then kept him out of action until August, -1813, and he was made prisoner by the Allies in the autumn. The -Bourbons, however, took kindly to him, and he held various high offices -until his death in 1830. - -Thus the five favourite Marshals of Napoleon died miserably, and the -three whom he disliked would be said to have lived happily ever after by -any self-respecting moral story-teller. It is a very curious fact, and -one which finds a parallel elsewhere in Napoleon’s career, as we shall -see in later chapters. - -[Illustration: PRINCE JOACHIM - (MURAT, KING OF THE TWO SICILIES)] - - - - - CHAPTER IV - ONE WIFE - - -WE have already alluded to the intensely needy period of Napoleon’s -life, which was mainly centred around the year 1795. He knew himself to -be a world conqueror; he despised the shifty intriguers who controlled -at that time both his own destiny and that of France; he bitterly envied -the few insolent survivors of the old noblesse whom he had met, while -his very bread was precariously earned. It was a maddening situation. - -Then circumstances suddenly took a change for the better. By a happy -accident Barras employed him to put down the revolt of the sections, and -within a few days Napoleon found himself general of the army of the -interior, and a person of some consequence. Still, there were bitter -drops even in this first draught of success, for his position depended -solely on the whim of the readily corruptible Director, who could with a -word have sent him either to a dungeon or to a command-in-chief. -Moreover, the haughty Parisian society regarded the gaunt, desperately -earnest general of twenty-six with an amusement they made no attempt to -conceal. Parisian society had had nearly two years by now in which to -concentrate, and it was already crystallizing out. There were old -sans-culottes, now Ambassadors, Ministers or Directors. There were Army -contractors in hordes. There were their wives (either by courtesy or by -Republican law) who were just recovering from the _sans chemise_ phase -and beginning to ape the old customs of the _haut noblesse_. Finally -there were a few of the old court families along with innumerable -pretenders, ex-valets masquerading as ci-devant marquises; comtesses (as -_précieuses_ as they could manage) who had once been kitchenmaids, while -every name hinted at a “de” which had been perforce dropped during the -Terror. And because trifling was for the moment the fashion, this select -band could well afford to sneer at the ridiculous little Corsican -officer who meant everything he said, and who had had great difficulty -before the Revolution in proving the three generations of noble descent -necessary to obtain nomination as a military cadet. - -Napoleon in these circumstances acted very much as he did in a military -difficulty. He selected the most advantageous objective, flung himself -upon it, and followed up his initial success without hesitation. He -broke into the charmed circle of Directory society by marrying one of -its shining lights. - -Josephine, vicomtesse de Beauharnais, was a representative of the -farthest outside fringe of Court society under the old régime. Her -marriage with Beauharnais had been arranged by her aunt, who was her -father-in-law’s mistress. This unfortunate relationship, combined with -poverty and the obscurity of the family, had barred most of the doors of -pre-Revolutionary society to her, and the Beauharnais were, in the minds -of the Montmorencys and Rohans, no more worthy of notice than the merest -bourgeois. Of this fact Bonaparte cannot have been ignorant, no matter -what has been said to the contrary, but it was of no importance to him. -He cared little even for the fact that Beauharnais had been at one time -a President of the Constituent Assembly and Commander-in-Chief of the -Army of the Rhine, before meeting the fate of most of the -Commanders-in-Chief of 1794. All that mattered to Bonaparte was that -Josephine was a member of the narrow circle of the Directory, that in -fact she and Madame Tallien were the two most important women therein, -and that marriage with her would gain him admission also. The Directory -was fast becoming a close oligarchy keeping a jealous eye watching for -intruders, and Napoleon had to act at once. His policy was soon -justified, for immediately after his marriage his position was -recognized by the offer of the longed-for command of the Army of Italy. - -There were other considerations as well. Josephine possessed a wonderful -charm of manner, and her taste was irreproachable. The beauty of her -figure was undoubted; that of her face was enhanced by dexterous art. To -Napoleon, starved of the good things of life, and incredibly lustful -after them, she must have appeared a houri of his Paradise. The violence -of his reaction from a forced self-control may be judged by the stream -of passionate letters which he sent her every few hours during the -opening of his campaign of Italy. Heaven knows he had difficulties -enough to contend with there, what with mutinous generals, starving -soldiers, and an enemy twice his strength, but we find him snatching a -few minutes two or three times a day to turn from his labours and -worries in order to contemplate the joys he had attained, and -endeavouring to express them on paper. - -Josephine’s motives were also mixed. She was thirty-two years of age, -and she was desperately poor. Her late husband’s property was almost -entirely situated in the West Indies, and it was now held by the -English. Her dreadful experiences under the Terror, when she was -imprisoned and within an ace of being guillotined, had probably aged her -and shaken her nerve. Barras and various bankers had helped her with -funds (perhaps expecting a return, perhaps not) but such resources would -soon come to an end. In this extremity, appeared Napoleon, pressing an -urgent suit. After all, he was not too bad a match. He was already -general of the army of the interior, and between them both they ought to -screw some better appointment out of Barras. He had not a sou to bless -himself with beside his pay, but Republican generals usually found means -to become rich in a short time. If he were killed, there would be a -pension; if he survived, and was unsuccessful, divorce was easy under -Republican law. She obviously stood to gain much and to lose little. - -And then it could not be denied that Napoleon had a way with him. His -fierce Southern nature would sometimes raise a response in her. After -all, she was a Creole, and her Creole blood could hardly fail to stir at -his passionate wooing. Although six years his senior, disillusioned, -experienced, hardened and shallow though she was, there were times when -his tempestuous advances carried her away. - -Yet at other times, when he was absent, and she had once more caught the -infection of cynicism and trifling from her associates, Napoleon -appeared vaguely absurd to her. “Il m’ennuie,” she would say, languidly -turning the pages of his letters. She had no desire to leave Paris, -where she was enjoying the prestige of being the wife of a successful -general, to share with him the privations of active service. Only when -Lombardy was in his hands, and a palace and an almost royal reception -were awaiting her, did she join him. - -Moreover, until she had a position to lose, she undoubtedly indulged in -flirtations. Corsican jealousy may have played a part in the furious -rages to which Napoleon gave rein, but there is no denying that -Josephine was several times indiscreet. In turn, he suspected Hippolyte -Charles, a young and handsome army contractor, Murat (at that time his -aide-de-camp) and even Junot, his blind admirer. - -By the time that Napoleon was nearing supreme power, his brief passion -for Josephine had burnt itself out. He himself had already been several -times unfaithful to her, and the only feeling that still remained was -the half-pitying affection a man bears towards a discarded mistress. On -his return from Egypt he found elaborate preparations made for him. His -family, poisonously jealous of Josephine, were waiting with -circumstantial accounts of her actions, and they pressed him to obtain a -divorce. Josephine, who had set out to meet him, in order to get in the -first word, had taken the wrong road and missed him, so that the -Bonaparte family had a clear field. They made the most of it. Josephine -returned to Paris to find her husband almost determined upon divorce. - -At one and the same time Napoleon had to endure the anxieties of the -_coup d’état_, the urging of his brothers and sisters and the appeals of -his wife and step-children. It must have been a severe trial, and in the -end he gave way to Josephine. Probably he realized that it was the -wisest thing he could do. He could ill afford a scandal at this crisis -in his career, and Josephine was a really useful helpmate to him. He -paid off her debts (to the amount of a mere hundred thousand pounds) and -settled down to make the best of things. - -The lesson was not lost on Josephine. She was now the first lady of the -Continent, and never again did she risk the loss of that position. -Thenceforward she lived a life of rigid correctness, and instead it was -Napoleon who became more and more unfaithful to her. - -It was a strange period through which Josephine now lived. On the one -hand she had reached heights of which she could never have dreamed -before; on the other was the bitter probability that all her power and -position would vanish in a moment when Napoleon made up his mind to take -the plunge. The other Bonapartes were most bitterly hostile to her, and -lost no opportunity of displaying their hostility. The only possible -method of making her position permanent was to have a child, and this -boon was denied her. And yet Napoleon found her a most invaluable ally. -Her queenly carriage and perfect taste in clothes were grateful in a -Court the awkwardness of whose manners was the jest of Europe. The -majority of Frenchmen were honestly fond of her, and her tactful -distribution of the charitable funds placed at her disposal by Napoleon -enhanced this sentiment. In her meetings with royalty she was superb; -she displayed the arrogance neither of an upstart nor of an Empress; the -Kings of Würtemberg and of Bavaria grew exceedingly fond of her. Most -important of all, perhaps, was the help which she gave Napoleon during -the Bayonne Conference. The haughty grandees of Spain, the harebrained -Prince of the Asturias and even the imbecile King himself showed her the -deepest respect, despite the fact that Napoleon was endeavouring to -coerce them into handing over the crown to his brother. - -The occasions were rare, however, when Josephine was allowed to enter -into more than the mere ceremonies of international politics. She was -neither allowed to act nor to advise. At the least hint of interference -on her part Napoleon was up in arms on the instant. Current rumour -credited her with attempting to save the life of the Duc d’Enghien, and -this has frequently been affirmed since, but from what we know of -Napoleon and from what we know of Josephine we can only conclude that -her attempt was timid and that Napoleon’s refusal was blank and brief. -For Josephine there only remained a purely decorative function. Other -activities were denied to her (one cannot help thinking that she did not -strive for them with much vigour); she was placidly content to spend her -days in inspections of her wardrobe, in changing her toilettes half a -dozen times daily and talking scandal with her ladies-in-waiting. - -These amusements were not quite as harmless as might be imagined, for -her passion for dress caused her to run heavily into debt, and every -jeweller in Paris knew that he had only to send her jewellery for -inspection for it to be instantly bought. To pay her debts she was put -to curious expedients. She was in continual terror lest her husband -should discover them, and she gladly paid enormous blackmail to her -creditors to postpone the day of claim. She even appealed for assistance -to Ministers and other high officials sooner than tell Napoleon. -Naturally the storms which occurred when the day of reckoning could no -longer be put off were terrible. Napoleon raged ferociously at every -discovery. He paid the debts, it is true, but he usually arbitrarily -reduced the totals by a quarter or even a half before doing so. Even -then the tradespeople made a large profit, for they not only made -allowance for his action, but they also took full advantage of -Josephine’s uninquiring nature. - -The unstable situation dragged along, to the surprise of many people, to -the consternation of many others, and to the delight of even more, for -several nerve-racking years. The end had to come sooner or later, and it -came surprisingly late. - - - - - CHAPTER V - THE DIVORCE - - -AT the close of 1809 Napoleon was at the height of his power. Every -country of Europe, except England, was his vassal or his ally, and he -was about to send Masséna and a sufficient force to Spain to ensure that -England also would cease from troubling. The circumstances which were to -lead to the fall of his enormous empire were already well developed, but -they were hardly obvious to the common eye, which was dazzled by his -brilliance. - -The one element of weakness apparent was the lack of an heir to the -throne. The equilibrium of Europe was poised upon the life of one man, -and although many people believed that man to be superhuman, there was -no one who thought him immortal. Napoleon had been wounded at Ratisbon; -perhaps at his next battle the bullet would be better aimed. But hit or -miss, there were many would-be assassins in Europe, and knives were -being sharpened and infernal machines prepared in scores of dingy -garrets. - -No one could imagine what would happen were Napoleon to die. The -Marshals recalled longingly the break-up of the Macedonian Empire, and -already in fancy saw themselves kings. The Republicans saw in his death -the downfall of autocracy; the Royalists hoped for the restoration of -Legitimacy. Subject nations saw themselves free; hostile nations saw -themselves enriched. The one thing which obviously could not happen was -the succession of the legal heir; Joseph in Spain, Louis in Holland and -Jerome in Westphalia were at that very moment showing how unfit they -were to govern anything. The Viceroy of Italy (Eugène de Beauharnais, -Napoleon’s stepson) was popular and capable, but Napoleon realized that -on account of his lack of Bonaparte blood he would not be tolerated. -There was one child who might perhaps have been accepted, and that was -Napoleon Charles, son of Louis Bonaparte and Hortense Beauharnais. -Vulgar gossip gave Napoleon himself the credit for being the father of -his step-daughter’s child, and on this account Napoleon Charles was -considered the likely heir, but he died of croup. It is possible that -calamities without number would have been prevented had there been in -1807 an efficient nurse at the sick-bed of a child. - -However that may be, Napoleon had no heir, and he had given up hope of -Josephine presenting him with one. At the same time, any doubts he had -on his own account were effaced by the birth of a son to him by Madame -Walewska. He dismissed as impractical a suggested scheme of simulated -pregnancy on Josephine’s part; too many people would have to be in the -secret; if they lived they would hold as much power as the Emperor -himself; and if (as he was quite capable of doing) he executed everyone -concerned, in Oriental fashion, tongues would wag harder than ever. -Besides, although the French would apparently put up indefinitely with -his losing a hundred thousand of their young men’s lives a year, they -would not tolerate for one second being made fools of in the eyes of the -whole world. - -Then Napoleon might have adopted one of his own illegitimate sons. Even -this wild project he considered carefully, but he put it aside. The only -course left open was to divorce Josephine and take some more fruitful -wife instead, and Napoleon gradually came to accept this project. - -Whether he was wise or not in this course of action cannot be decided -definitely. Certainly he was not justified in the event, and he later -alluded to the Austrian marriage as an “abyss covered with flowers.” -What he left out of full consideration when making his decision was -that, while Europe might suffer his tyranny uncomplainingly if they -believed that the system would end with his death, they would endeavour -to end it at once if there were a chance of its continuing indefinitely. -In a similar manner the birth of an heir to James II. of England had -precipitated matters a century before. But whether Napoleon forgot this -point, or whether he believed his Empire more stable than it actually -was, he nevertheless determined on divorce and a new marriage. - -On his return from the Wagram campaign of 1809, Josephine found him -fixed in his decision. The connection between their apartments was -walled up, and for weeks the Emperor and the Empress never met without a -third person being present. It seems strange that the man who did not -falter at Eylau, who sent the Guard to destruction at Waterloo, should -have been daunted by the prospect of a woman’s tears, but Napoleon -undoubtedly put off the unpleasant interview as long as possible. At -last he nerved himself to the inevitable, and the dreaded sentence was -pronounced. An official of the palace tells a story of Napoleon’s sudden -appearance among the Imperial ladies-in-waiting carrying the fainting -Empress in his arms. Ten days later, on the 15th of December, Josephine -announced her acquiescence in the decision to the Imperial council, and -the marriage was annulled by _senatus consultum_. - -Napoleon had endeavoured to procure a more satisfactory form of divorce -from the Pope, but Pius, to his credit, would not assist him. Five years -before, at the coronation, he had refused his blessing until the -Imperial pair had been married by the Church (the marriage in 1796 was -purely a legal contract), and Napoleon, exasperated but compelled to -yield, had submitted to a ceremony conducted by the Archbishop of Paris -under conditions of the utmost secrecy. Pius could not in decency give -his aid to break a marriage celebrated at his especial request only five -years before, and in consequence he found himself a prisoner in French -hands, and the last of the patrimony of St. Peter was annexed to the -French Empire. - -It would puzzle a cleverer man even than Napoleon to devise a series of -actions better calculated to annoy the Church and its more devout -followers. - -For Josephine the pill was gilded in a style more elaborate even than -was customary under the Empire. She retained her Imperial titles; she -received the Elysée at Paris, Malmaison, and the palace of Navarre. An -income of a hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling per annum was -settled upon her. No restraint in reason was set upon her actions; she -was not forced into retirement; and Napoleon continued to visit her even -after his marriage to Marie Louise. For the last four years of her life -Josephine occupied a position unique in history. - -Josephine bore her troubles well in public. However much she may have -wept to Napoleon, however much she may have knelt at his feet imploring -him to have mercy, to the world at large she showed dry eyes and an -immobile expression. Perhaps her pride came to her help; perhaps, after -all, freedom, the title of Empress, and a monstrous income, may have -reconciled her to her loss of precedence; it is even conceivable that -she preferred the sympathy of Europe, expressed in no uncertain voice, -to the burdens of royalty. - -Josephine all her life was a _poseuse_ of minor mental capacity; what -could be more gratifying to her than a situation where the possibilities -of posing were quite unlimited? - -For her, these possibilities were never cut short. She never had to -endure the anticlimax of being the divorced wife of a fallen Emperor; -she died suddenly just before Napoleon’s first abdication, soon after -receiving visits from all sorts of Emperors and Kings who were -accompanying their armies in the campaign of 1814. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - ANOTHER WIFE - - -THUS at the beginning of 1810 Napoleon found himself once more -unmarried, and free to choose himself a new bride. There never was a -choice so fraught with possibilities of disaster. It was not so much a -matter of making the most advantageous selection, as of making the least -dangerous. If he married a woman of inferior rank, all Europe would -exultantly proclaim that it was because no royal family would admit him. -If he married a princess of one of his subject kingdoms, Bavaria, -Würtemberg or Saxony, the others would become instantly jealous. A -Bourbon bride was obviously out of the question, seeing that he was -keeping all three royal branches out of their patrimonies. Should he -choose a Hohenzollern, then the countries which held territories which -had once been Prussian would become justifiably uneasy. There only -remained the Hapsburgs and the Romanoffs, and a marriage with either -would annoy the other. The best thing Napoleon could do was to ally -himself with the more powerful, which was undoubtedly the royal house of -Russia. - -But here Napoleon met with an unexpected reverse. The Czar Alexander was -at once a realist and an idealist, and he could not decide anything -without months of cogitation. Moreover, the clever advisers round him -foresaw that Napoleon’s demands of their country must increase -unbearably, and they had no intention of tying their ruler’s hands in -this fashion. Torn between his ministers’ advice and the urging of his -old admiration for Napoleon, between his pride of race and his desire -for a powerful alliance, Alexander temporized and then temporized again. -He explained that all the Grand Duchesses were members of the Greek -Church, and he had qualms about the necessary change of religion. He -tried to show that they were all already affianced. He said, literally, -that his mother would not allow him to act. - -In the end, Napoleon, fearing a rebuff, and conscious that delay would -weaken his position, abandoned the project and turned his attention to -Austria. Alexander was naturally annoyed. 1812 may be said to have begun -in 1810. - -However, if a Grand Duchess were unavailable, an Archduchess would -certainly bring Napoleon compensations. The House of Hapsburg-Lorraine -was the most celebrated in Europe; it had supplied Holy Roman Emperors -since the thirteenth century. After Napoleon and Alexander, Francis was -easily the most powerful continental ruler, despite his recent defeats; -Aspern and Wagram had just shown how delicately the balance was poised. -But more than this; the Hapsburgs and the Bourbons had repeatedly -intermarried; if there were anything that would convince the doubters -that Napoleon was a real, permanent monarch, it would be his marriage -with the niece of Louis XVI, the daughter of His Imperial, Royal and -Apostolic Majesty the Emperor of Austria, King of Hungary, King of -Bohemia, Duke of Styria, of Carinthia and of Carniola, erstwhile Emperor -of the Holy Roman Empire, and titular King of Jerusalem. - -The achievement would be deficient in some respects. Tyrol and Dalmatia -no longer figured in the Emperor’s resounding list of titles—France -ruled one and Bavaria the other, and Austria might easily demand -restitution as the price of Marie Louise’s hand. The very name of the -new Empress would remind people of Marie Antoinette, her ill-fated aunt, -and a family alliance between Napoleon and the autocrat of autocrats -might well give the _coup de grâce_ to the moribund belief in Napoleon -as the Apostle of the Revolution. - -Be that as it may, Napoleon had already gone too far to draw back, and -early in 1810 he prevailed on Francis I. to make a formal offer of his -daughter’s hand. - -They were an oddly contrasting couple. He was forty, she was eighteen. -He was an Italian-Corsican-French hybrid of unknown ancestry, she was of -the bluest blood in Christendom. He was the victorious leader of the new -idea, she was the scion of a dying autocracy. Three times had Marie -Louise fled with her family from the wrath of the French; all her life -she had heard the man who was about to become her husband alluded to as -the embodiment of evil, as the Corsican Ogre, as the Beast of the -Apocalypse. They had never met, and she had certainly not the least idea -as to what kind of a man he was. All things considered, it was as well -that she had been trained all her life to accept her parents’ decision -on her marriage without demur. - -Her training had been what might have been expected of the -etiquette-ridden, hidebound, conservative, dogmatic House of Hapsburg. -She was familiar with every language of Europe, because it could not be -foreseen whom she would eventually marry. Music, drawing, embroidery, -all those accomplishments which permitted of surveillance and which did -not encourage thought were hers. But she was proudest of the fact that -she could move her ears without moving her face. - -Every possible precaution that she would retain her valuable innocence -had been taken. She had never been to a theatrical performance. She had -never been allowed to own a male animal of any species; her principal -pets were hen canaries. Her reading matter was closely scrutinized -beforehand, and every single word which might possibly hint at -difference of sex was cut out with scissors. It seems probable that she -had spoken to no man other than her father and her uncles. One can -hardly be surprised at reading that her mental power was small, after -being stunted in its growth in this fashion for eighteen years. - -Napoleon sent as his proxy to Vienna Berthier, his trusted chief of -staff. One can find nowhere any statement that the Austrians were -pleased to see their princess standing side by side with a general whose -latest acquired title was Prince of Wagram. - -Perhaps as a sop to the national pride of Austria, Napoleon sent the -bride he had not yet seen presents which have never been equalled in -cost or magnificence. The trousseau he sent cost a hundred thousand -francs; it included a hundred and fifty chemises each costing five -pounds sterling, and enormous quantities of all other necessary linen. -In addition he sent another hundred thousand francs’ worth of lace and -twelve dozen pairs of stockings at from one to three pounds sterling a -pair. Dressing-table fittings and similar trifles cost nearly twenty -thousand pounds, but all this expenditure was a mere trifle compared to -the cost of the jewellery which Marie Louise received. The lowest -estimate of this is placed at ten million francs—four hundred thousand -pounds. Her dress allowance was to be over a thousand pounds a month. - -Poor stupid Marie Louise might well fancy she was in Heaven. The -daughter of an impoverished emperor, she had never possessed any -jewellery other than a few corals and seed-pearls, and her wardrobe had -been limited both by her niggardly stepmother and by circumstances. - -All her life she had been treated as a person of minor importance, but -suddenly she found even her pride-ridden father regarding her with -deference. Metternich and Schwartzenberg sought her favour. Her aunts -and cousins clustered eagerly round her, anxious to share in the spoils. -It certainly was a silver lining to the cloud of matrimony with an -unknown. - -Napoleon on his side was enraptured with the prospect. His meanness of -soul is well displayed by his snobbish delight. He went to inordinate -lengths in order to secure the approval of the great lady who had -condescended to share his throne. He swept his palaces clear of anything -which might remind his wife of her predecessor, and refurnished them -with meticulous care. The fittings were standardized as far as possible, -so that she might feel at once at home wherever she might choose to -live; he even arranged a suite of rooms for her exactly like those she -had lived in at Schönbrunn. Napoleon gave his passion for organization -full rein in matters of this kind, and without doubt he achieved a -splendid success. “He was a good tenant, this Napoleon,” said Louis -XVIII., inspecting the Tuileries after the Restoration. - -It was not merely her home that Napoleon adorned for Marie Louise, but -even himself. For a space the green coat was laid aside, and he arrayed -himself in a tunic stiff with embroidery. He tried to learn to waltz, -and failed miserably. In everything he acted in a manner which amazed -even those who had lived with him for years. No woman was half so -excited over her first ball as was Napoleon over the prospect of -marrying a Hapsburg. - -He grew more and more excited as Marie Louise and her train journeyed -across Germany and drew nearer and nearer. From every halting place -despatches reached him in dozens. Marie Louise wrote to him, Caroline -Murat (whom he had sent to welcome her) wrote to him, Berthier wrote to -him, the ladies-in-waiting wrote to him, even the mayors of the towns -passed through wrote to him. The officers who brought the letters were -eagerly cross-questioned. The Emperor who, when on the brink of grand -military events, would tell his attendants only to awaken him for bad -news, passed his days waiting for his unknown bride in a fever of -impatience. - -At last he could bear it no longer. Napoleon was at Soissons, where the -meeting had been arranged to take place, but, unable to wait, he rode -forward post haste through pelting rain, with only Murat at his side. At -Courcelles they met the Empress. At first the coachman was minded to -drive past the two muddy figures who hailed him, but Napoleon made -himself known, and clambered into the Imperial berline. He would brook -not another moment’s delay. The carriage pelted forward through all the -towns where addresses of welcome were ready, where droves of damsels all -in white were preparing to greet them, where banquets and fêtes were -ready. They drove past Soissons, where a wonderful pavilion had been -erected, in which the Imperial pair had expected to meet for the first -time during a ceremony more pompous even than epoch-making Tilsit; they -only stopped when they reached the palace of Compiegne, where, at nine -o’clock at night, a hurried dinner was prepared by the astonished -servants. - -Even the dinner was cut short. Half-way through Napoleon asked Marie -Louise a question; she blushed, and was unable to answer. It is to be -doubted if she even knew what he was talking about. Napoleon turned to -the Austrian envoy. “Her Majesty is doubtful,” he said. “Is it not true -that we are properly married?” The envoy hesitated. No one had expected -that Napoleon would take the ceremony by proxy seriously; elaborate -arrangements had been made for a further ceremony in Paris. But it was -useless for the envoy to demur; Napoleon carried off Marie Louise to his -own apartments, and breakfasted at her bedside next morning. Later his -meanness of soul once more obtruded itself, when he hinted at his -experiences to one of his friends. - -If Napoleon was a parvenu among monarchs, he was at least able to show -scoffers that his own royal ceremonies could put in the shade any -similar display by thousand-year-old dynasties. At Marie Louise’s -coronation four queens bore her train. - -Characteristically they tried to trip her up with it. Never before had -the world beheld four queens bearing another woman’s robes, and -certainly never before had it seen anything parallel to the other -exhibition. - -When we come to see who these queens were, we shall appreciate the -peculiar irony of the situation. First, there was the Queen of Spain, -Joseph’s wife, who was still angry about Napoleon’s jilting of her -sister Désirée, and who furthermore saw as a consequence of this -marriage the probability of the arrival of a direct heir and the -extinction of her husband’s chances of the succession. Secondly came -Caroline Murat, Queen of Naples, Napoleon’s sister, violently jealous of -Napoleon, of Marie Louise, and of everyone else. Third came the wife of -Jerome Bonaparte, Catherine, Queen of Westphalia, whom Napoleon had torn -from the arms of her betrothed to give to his loose-living young -brother. The fourth was Hortense, Queen of Holland, whose mother -Napoleon had just divorced in order to marry the woman whose train -Hortense was carrying. Had Marie Louise been capable of any unusual -thought whatever, she must have felt that she would be safer entering a -powder magazine than going up the aisle of Nôtre Dame with those four -viragoes at her heels. - -[Illustration: MARIE LOUISE - EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH] - - - - - CHAPTER VII - SOME COURT DETAILS - - -ONCE bitten, twice shy. Napoleon had had one wife of whom doubtful -stories had circulated. He would run no risk with the new one. Marie -Louise had been strictly guarded all her life. Napoleon determined that -in that respect he would substitute scorpions for her father’s whips. No -man was ever to be presented to his wife without his consent; under no -circumstances whatever was she to be alone with a man at any time. - -To achieve his object he revived all the court ceremony of the Soleil -Monarque; he added a few oriental improvements of his own, and to see -that his orders were carried out he surrounded Marie Louise with women -who were the wives and sisters of his own generals, absolutely dependent -on him and accustomed to military procedure. - -The Austrian ladies who had attended on Marie Louise before her marriage -were sent home, every single one of them, as soon as she crossed the -frontier. Marie Louise bade good-bye there to the friends of a -lifetime—Napoleon was risking nothing. As Dame d’Honneur and -consequently first lady-in-waiting, Napoleon appointed the Duchess of -Montebello, widow of the unfortunate Lannes, who had died fighting at -Aspern against Marie Louise’s father and an army commanded by Marie -Louise’s uncle. The other important positions were filled in similar -fashion. Four “red women” were appointed, whose duty was to be by the -Empress’s side night and day, two on duty and two within call. Had -enough eunuchs been available, Napoleon would probably have employed -them. A seraglio would have been quite in agreement with his estimation -of woman’s constancy. - -Considering that his court etiquette had to recover from the citizen -phase of the Revolution and from the solemn, military stiffness of the -Consulate, Napoleon certainly succeeded remarkably well. Where -aides-de-camp sufficed in 1802, equerries were necessary from 1804 -onwards; the _maîtres d’hotel_ had to be replaced by chamberlains; the -Empress’s friends had to be appointed ladies-in-waiting. Like all -reactions, this one went too far. The gaiety of the Bourbon court was -extinguished, and the devil-may-care trifling of the Directory salons -perished equally miserably. - -Napoleon himself was mainly responsible for this. He was never good -company in any sense of the word. He had a remarkable gift for saying -unpleasant things in an unpleasant manner, and in his presence the whole -company was on tenterhooks, wondering what was going to happen next. If -a lady had a snub nose, he said so; if a gentleman’s coat was shabby, he -said so with fury, because it was his pride to be the only shabby person -present. If rumours hinting at a lady’s fall from virtue were in -circulation, he told her so at the top of his voice, and demanded an -explanation. When Napoleon quitted his court he invariably left half the -women in tears and half the men in a rage. Then Talleyrand, Prince of -Benevento and Grand Chamberlain, would go limping round from group to -group, saying with his twisted smile, “The Emperor commands you to be -amused.” - -While Josephine was Empress, this state of affairs was not so -noticeable, for her dexterous tact soothed the smart caused by -Napoleon’s brusqueness, but under Marie Louise unbearable situations -occurred again and again. - -It must be admitted that the various parties at court made at least as -dangerous a mixture as the constituents of gunpowder. To begin with, the -members of the Imperial family itself were as jealous of each other as -they could possibly be. Pauline, who was a mere Serene Highness, would -grind her teeth when she had to address her sister Caroline as “Your -Majesty.” Caroline and the other Queens would rejoice openly because, -being Queens, they were given armchairs when Napoleon’s own mother had -to be content with a stool. And they were one and all scheming for the -succession in the event of Napoleon’s fall. - -Then there were still a few Republicans among the Princes and Dukes. One -of the Marshals, compelled by Napoleon to be present at the solemn Mass -which celebrated the Concordat, salved his conscience by swearing -horribly throughout the ceremony, and, when asked by the First Consul -how he had liked it, replied that it only needed to complete the picture -the presence of the half million men who had died to uproot the system. -Such men as these thought little of pushing in front of Serene -Highnesses, or of laughing loudly when Pauline Bonaparte made the -gesture which led to her banishment from court. - -Then there were a few representatives of the old noblesse, to whom -Napoleon, in his wholehearted snobbery, had offered large inducements to -come to his court. These people regarded the ennobled barrel-coopers, -smugglers and stable-boys with a mild but galling amusement. On one -occasion Lannes, finding his path to the throne-room blocked by these -ci-devants, drew his sword and swore to cut off the ears of the next -person who impeded him. It was naturally exasperating to the Marshals, -who had risen from the ranks in the course of twenty campaigns, after -receiving wounds in dozens, to find these nobles given high positions -purely on account of their names. To make matters worse, there were very -lively suspicions that many of them had actually borne arms against -France as _émigrés_, in La Vendée, on the Rhine, or in Italy. Yet even -these considerations were of small account compared to the wrath of the -new nobility when they found that the old still clung stubbornly -together, and refused, apparently, to admit even the existence of anyone -outside the Faubourg St. Germain. - -The largest group at court was that of the new nobility, but its -superiority of numbers was discounted by the violent jealousies of its -individual members. The maxim which guided Napoleon in his dealings with -his subordinates was, apparently, “Divide et impera.” He set his -generals and ministers by the ears until there was not one of them who -had not some cherished hatred for another. Davout hated Berthier, Lannes -hated Bessières, Ney hated Masséna, Fouché hated them all, Savary hated -Talleyrand; and the resultant bickerings were incessant. At court this -was merely undignified; in the field, as was proved twenty times over in -the Peninsular War, it was positively dangerous. It might be thought -that Napoleon, with inexhaustible funds and domains at his disposal, and -unlimited princely titles in his gift, could have satisfied them all. -But that was where the trouble began. Napoleon could not give them all -they desired, as otherwise (such was the condition of the Empire) they -would have nothing to fight for. There were glaring examples of this. -When Masséna had been made a prince, and had accumulated wealth and -glory past calculation, he deteriorated hopelessly. He failed badly in -the Busaco campaign of 1810-11, and sank promptly into an effete -degeneracy at the age of fifty-five. No, Napoleon could not afford to -give his Marshals all they desired, and in consequence jealousies and -friction increased unbearably. - -With the junior officers the difficulties were just as great. Brutes -like Vandamme, aristocrats like Belliard and Ségur, rakes like Lasalle -and fools like Grouchy, were all mingled together. What was worse was -that generals and diplomats of subject states necessarily came into -contact with them also. It must have been maddening for the Prussian, -Von Yorck, to hear Vandamme discoursing on the plunder he had acquired -in Silesia in 1806, or for Schwartzenburg, the Austrian, to hear Lasalle -boasting of his successes among the ladies of Vienna during the -Austerlitz campaign. - -But for a whole year, beginning in 1810, Napoleon in spite of these -difficulties was supremely happy. There was peace all over the -Continent, and the Continental system seemed at last to be on the point -of success, for England’s finances were undoubtedly shaken. So short was -gold in England that Wellington in the Peninsula rarely had enough for -his needs, and the Portuguese and Spanish subsidies were heavily in -arrears. Masséna with a hundred thousand men had plunged into the fog of -guerilla warfare on the Tagus, and everyone was confidently expecting to -hear of the fall of Lisbon and the expulsion of the English from -Portugal. - -Meanwhile, Napoleon was savouring the delights of respectable married -life. With his nineteen-year-old wife he indulged in all sorts of -innocent pleasures, riding, hunting, practical joking, theatricals. He -so far forgot himself as to _tutoyer_ his Imperial bride in the presence -of his whole Court, and the mighty nobles (who never indulged in such -behaviour even in the intimacy of their wives’ boudoirs) were astonished -to hear the Emperor and Empress exchanging “thees” and “thous.” - -Napoleon gave up hours of his precious time to his wife, waited -patiently when she was late for an appointment (Josephine was never -guilty of such an offence) and generally acted the devoted husband to -the life. For a whole year he was faithful to Marie Louise, a feat which -he never achieved before or after until St. Helena. And as the months -rolled by and hope changed to certainty his devotion grew greater still. - -For the birth of the child the most elaborate preparations were made. -Some time before he was born Mme. de Montesquieu was named Governess of -the Children of France, a healthy Normandy girl who was in the same -condition as the Empress was secured as prospective wet nurse and kept -under strict surveillance (her own child died when it was taken from -her, but that is not usually recorded), and all France waited in a hush -of expectation. - -Once again Napoleon was risking nothing. He was going to leave no -possible foundation for rumours to the effect that the child was not -his, or was not Marie Louise’s. Napoleon Francis Joseph Charles was born -in the presence of the four doctors, Dubois, Corvisart, Bourdier and -Yvan; of the Duchess of Montebello, dame d’honneur; of Mme. de Luçay, -dame d’atours; of Mme. de Montesquieu, Governess of the Children of -France; of six premières dames de chambre; of five women of inferior -rank, and of two filles de garde-robe. Cambacères, Duke of Parma and -Archchancellor of the Empire, was present in an ante-room, and should -have witnessed the birth even if he did not; Berthier, Prince of -Neufchâtel and Wagram, was in attendance on Napoleon, and also may have -witnessed it, while immediately after the birth all the other Grand -Dignitaries of the Empire and the representatives of all the friendly -countries of Europe were paraded through the room. Napoleon had ordered -Corvisart, whose nerve was giving way under the strain of the business, -to treat Marie Louise like a bourgeois wife, but he hardly practised -what he preached. The birth took three days; it certainly seemed a good -omen for this scrap of humanity to keep all these dozens of people with -high-sounding titles waiting for seventy-two consecutive hours. - -After an anxious ten minutes the young Napoleon showed signs of life; he -had at first appeared to be dead, and brandy had to be given him and he -had to be discreetly smacked before he would cry. But he did so at -length, and Napoleon announced to the waiting dignitaries, “It is a King -of Rome.” The guns fired a salute to inform the expectant crowds; -twenty-one guns were to herald the birth of a daughter; one hundred a -son. At the twenty-second gun a storm of cheers arose. More than forty -years after, a ceremony almost identical announced the birth of an -equally ill-fated son to another Emperor of the French. - -Thus the wish of Napoleon’s heart was fulfilled. For the moment he -disregarded all the counter-balancing disadvantages and revelled in the -possession of an heir. He cared nothing at the time for the fact that -the doctors forbade the Empress to have the much desired second son to -inherit the crown of Italy; it was nothing to him that Bavaria, Holland, -Würtemberg and Saxony at once became restless at seeing their period of -thraldom indefinitely prolonged; he hardly cared that Masséna had come -miserably back from Portugal, with a ruined army, baulked irretrievably -by Wellington at Torres Vedras, so that the “running sore” of the -Peninsular campaign was reopened. He flung away his last chance of going -in person to end the business, merely to remain by the side of the wife -and child of whom he was so proud. - -But despite his pride, he still left nothing to chance. Attendance on -Marie Louise was maintained as strictly as before; an unauthorized -presentation to the Empress by the Duchess of Montebello of some -relation of hers called forth a tornado of wrath from the Emperor. The -surveillance was redoubled when Napoleon left for the Russian campaign, -although he paid her a compliment which had never been paid to -Josephine—he appointed her Regent. Poor, silly Marie Louise, three -years after being an insignificant princess, found herself Empress of -the French, Queen of Italy and Regent of half Europe! - -Her august husband nevertheless saw fit to have the Empress-Queen-Regent -spied upon by a scullion, who sent him weekly reports, fantastically -spelt on blotched and smeared kitchen paper! Nothing else is necessary -to prove how utterly lacking in decent instincts was the victor of -Austerlitz. - -The action was typical of many. Perhaps Napoleon was right; everyone -knows how readily autocracy becomes bureaucracy when the autocrat ceases -to supervise his subordinates adequately; but not even the Second Empire -nor Russia at the beginning of the twentieth century could show so many -spies and counter-spies, police and counter-police and counter -counter-police as did the First Empire. Secret delation flourished, and -the prisons were full of people who had been arbitrarily cast into gaol -without even a form of trial. Napoleon wished to know everything that -was going on; not the least stray fragment of tittle-tattle came amiss -to him. Consequently his regular police developed an organization which -spread its tentacles into every avenue of life. Fouché, Minister of -Police, could boast of having an agent in every drawing-room and kitchen -in the Empire. But then Napoleon feared that Fouché would distort for -his own purposes the reports of the agents when making his own report to -Napoleon. Since Fouché was Fouché such a thing was not unlikely. So -Napoleon had a second and independent police system making similar -reports to another minister. Yet even when Fouché was at last got rid -of, and packed off as His Excellency the Governor of Rome (and later -Dalmatia); even when Savary, “the man who would kill his own father if -Napoleon ordered it,” was in charge of the police affairs the dual -police system was still adhered to. And besides these, Napoleon had -spies of his own, working quite independently, reporting direct to -himself, and he placed these not only in the two original police -systems, but everywhere where they could keep an eye on those in high -places. His royal brothers were surrounded with them; they were to be -found in the secretariats of all the ministers; and since payment was -largely by results, and they had to justify their existence somehow, it -is not surprising that they brought forward trumped-up charges, suborned -perjury, and generally acted as typical Continental agents-provocateurs. -But all this elaborate system failed to gain the least hint of the -Mallet conspiracy, which came so near to pulling down the Empire in the -autumn of 1812. - -There were opportunities enough for conspiracy, goodness knows. -Bourbonists and Republicans, Bonapartists and anarchists, all sought to -keep or to acquire power. The Murats, the Beauharnais, the various -Bonaparte brothers and even Bernadotte, were all scheming for the -succession or the regency, while intertwining among all this was the -more legitimate scheming of the various European powers, whose secret -agents were equally active throughout the Empire. There is small room -for wonder that after a dozen years of this frantic merry-go-round the -French people accepted the Bourbon restoration quietly, lest worse -befall. - -Yet all this does not excuse Napoleon for spying on his wife; for that -the only justification lies in the event. How many times has Napoleon -been rated for saying that adultery is a matter of opportunity? But his -wife apparently did her best to prove him right. In 1814 the Empire was -falling, and Napoleon’s abdication was evidently inevitable. One thing -alone raised him to an equality with hereditary monarchs, and that was -the fact that he had married the daughter of the greatest of them all. -They might exile General Bonaparte, but would they dare to exile along -with him the Emperor of Austria’s daughter? Besides, in Marie Louise’s -keeping was the young Napoleon. To allow him to accompany his mother -into exile with his father was simply to court disaster. - -At first the prospect seemed dark for the Allies. Marie Louise stood -firm, refused to be parted either from her son or from her husband, and -generally acted the devoted wife to the life. In this dilemma the Allies -appealed to the most cunning and cold-hearted of all their -agents—Metternich, who for thirty years was to hold Europe in the -hollow of his hand. Metternich was the cynic magnificent, without belief -in the constancy of any man or woman born. In that self-seeking age his -opinions were largely justified. Metternich plunged adroitly into the -affair. He must have known a great deal about the mentality of -feeble-minded women, seeing that one of his boasts was that he never had -fewer than three mistresses at a time. He selected an agent whom no one -at first sight would have believed to be of any use, but who turned out -to be extremely valuable. If Neipperg was a knave, he was at least the -knave of trumps. He was an elderly one-eyed diplomat, a count and a -general in the Austrian army, with a good record behind him. He -justified Metternich’s choice remarkably quickly, and while His -Imperial, Royal and Apostolic Majesty looked on and applauded this -prostitution of his daughter, he wormed his way into Marie Louise’s -affections, so that by the time Napoleon was deposited in Elba, Marie -Louise’s second child (whose engendering Corvisart had so strictly -forbidden) was expected in a few months’ time, while her first was under -lock and key at Schönbrunn, deprived of all his French friends and -attendants, and started on the unhappy life which was to end sixteen -years later in consumption, despair and death. - -To Napoleon’s credit be it recorded that never by word or deed did he -hint at this horrible desertion. All the rest of his life he spoke of -Marie Louise with affection and respect, and had he had his way, Marie -Louise would have been Regent of the French during the minority of -Napoleon II. - -Marie Louise lived happily for another thirty years. The Allies rewarded -her adultery by giving her the sovereignty of Parma for life, and there -she lived with Neipperg, whom she married morganatically as soon as -Napoleon was dead. For a long time she bore him one child a year, and -the Emperor of Austria, with great consideration, made all of them -illegitimate and morganatic alike, princes and princesses of the Empire. -No sooner was Neipperg dead than she contracted another morganatic -marriage with a person of even lowlier degree. When she was expelled -from her duchy by the rising of 1831, she was restored by Austrian -bayonets, and she died at length a year before the far more serious -rising of 1848. She never saw her first-born child after 1815 until he -was on his deathbed in 1832. - -The unfortunate Louise of Tuscany, who married and then deserted the -Crown Prince of Saxony, tells us that to her, as to all the other -Hapsburg princesses, Marie Louise’s career was held up as a shining -example of the fortune which attended good girls who did just what the -head of the family, the Emperor, told them. But the Emperor of Austria, -since he had nothing to gain by it, did not condone the adultery of this -particular Archduchess. - -[Illustration: GRAF VON NEIPPERG] - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - THE GREATEST PALADIN - - -IN the course of his military career Napoleon found he needed three -different kinds of subordinate officers. First, he wanted men of supreme -courage and vigour in action, whose other talents need not be more than -mediocre. These he could keep under his own hand until the decisive -moment arrived, and could then let loose, confident that they would -complete the work which his strategic achievements had begun. Of this -type, Ney, Augereau and Oudinot were examples. - -Then he needed a few generals who combined initiative and resource along -with their tactical talents. On these he could rely to execute minor -strategical movements, knowing that their tactical skill would help them -to sustain any difficulties into which they might fall until the -perfection of his strategical arrangements helped them out. The supreme -example of this type was Lannes the irreplaceable. - -Besides these, Napoleon needed one or two men who could combine all the -qualities necessary to a good general, so that he could entrust to them -the supreme command of the minor theatres of war. To be a good general, -a man must possess strategical skill, tactical skill and administrative -ability, as well as the personality to ensure that his ideas are carried -out. But to satisfy Napoleon’s jealousy, such a general in the Imperial -army had to have another quality—he had to be a man who would never -allow his thoughts to wander in the direction of obtaining the throne -for himself. If Napoleon could have found three men with all these -qualifications he could very possibly have maintained his Empire, since -they would have assured to him the safety of Italy, Spain and Poland. -But there was only one of these Admirable Crichtons available, and that -was Davout. Under Davout Poland and North Germany were held strongly for -the Empire. In Italy Eugène de Beauharnais, by the aid of powerful -common-sense, high ideals and capable subordinates, was fairly -successful, but in Spain there was nothing but shame and disaster. -Masséna failed badly; so did Marmont; Joseph Bonaparte and his -Major-General, Jourdan, were worse than useless; Soult and Suchet made a -fair show, but could not rise superior to the handicap of circumstances. -Another Davout might have saved Spain for the Empire, but there was only -one Davout. - -Davout is the ideal type of the man who combines ability with a sense of -duty. In many ways he reminds one of Wellington. He was the scion of an -old noble and military family of Burgundy, and was born a year later -than Napoleon. He passed through the military college, and received his -commission in 1789, just before the Revolution. The loss of many -officers through emigration gave him rapid promotion. He was a colonel -in 1791 (at the age of twenty-one!) and a brigadier-general two years -later. Already he had attracted attention by the stern discipline he -maintained (discipline was hardly the most noticeable feature of the -Revolutionary armies) and Napoleon, realizing his ability, included him -in his army after Campo Formo. He went to Egypt as one of Desaix’ -brigadiers, and returned with the same general in 1800. After Marengo -and the treaty of Luneville, Napoleon gave him employment suitable to -his talents, and appointed him to the command of the 3rd Corps of the -Army of the Ocean. A marshalate followed in 1804. As commander of the -3rd Corps Davout began to build up the wonderful reputation which he -later enjoyed. There was no other force in the Grand Army which could -rival the 3rd Corps for discipline, for marching capacity, for fighting -capacity, and for perfection of equipment. - -The 3rd Corps was to Napoleon what the Numidians were to Hannibal, the -Tenth Legion to Cæsar, the archers to Edward III., the Light Division to -Wellington—they were the men who could be trusted most nearly to -achieve the impossible. - -At Austerlitz Davout was called upon to sustain the attack of -practically the whole of the Austro-Russian army, and he and the 3rd -Corps clung doggedly on to the difficult country round the lakes for -hour after hour while Napoleon developed his attack on the heights of -Pratzen. Before Austerlitz Napoleon had declared that an ordinary -victory would be of no use to him; on the morning of the battle he -called upon his men for a “_coup de tonnerre_.” But for Davout -Austerlitz would have been at best an “ordinary victory.” - -The next campaign, that of Jena, was marked by the failure of Napoleon’s -intelligence arrangements and by confusion in his strategical -arrangements. But it was also marked by the most sweeping success -Napoleon ever gained. He himself with most of the Grand Army fought and -routed half the Prussian army at Jena. On the same day Davout, with a -single corps, fought and routed the other half at Auerstädt. -Single-handed Davout sustained the attack of an army of twice his -strength; he beat off Blücher and the furious Prussian squadrons; he -counter-attacked without hesitation; he called for efforts of which few -troops could have been capable, and finally he flung the enemy back in -utter disorder. - -The battle was more than a mere tactical success. Without Davout’s -victory the pursuit after Jena would never have become historic. In fact -Napoleon refrained from pursuit until he had heard from Davout. Well he -might, indeed. Had Davout been beaten, Napoleon must have swung aside to -face the victors, who would have been menacing his flank; Bernadotte’s -corps would have been isolated and in serious peril, and there would -have been no chance of close pursuit of Hohenlohe’s force. This would -have had time to rally; the stern Prussian discipline would have knitted -it once more together; it might have made a good defence of the line of -the Elbe; the Russians might have arrived in time to save Berlin; there -would perhaps have been no Friedland, and no Tilsit. - -The stout little bald-pated man who commanded the 3rd Corps changed the -face of Europe at Auerstädt. - -Davout brought his corps through blizzards and across marshes to save -the situation at Eylau; it was his opportune arrival and bold counsel -which saved Napoleon from a grave tactical reverse, with probable -serious consequences. - -After Friedland Napoleon needed, as has already been said, a man of iron -to hold down the north while he attended to the south. He made the only -possible choice in Davout. - -It would seem curious to us nowadays to hear that a general had made his -fortune while in command; what a storm of rage would be aroused if -anyone were to suggest that a modern English general had acquired three -or four hundred thousand pounds while commanding in France! But -apparently under the First Republic and First Empire it was the usual -practice for all officers of high rank to plunder for their own hands, -and to make enormous fortunes out of perquisites. Davout was the only -exception, but Napoleon saw that he did not suffer on account of his -singular disinterestedness, and heaped wealth upon him. - -Another peculiar distinction which he gave him was the title of Duke of -Auerstädt. When, about the beginning of 1808, Napoleon first began to -bestow titles of honour, as distinct from titles of sovereignty, he -acted upon a very definite plan. No one was to receive a title which did -not enhance the glory of the Emperor. The less famous Marshals received -ducal fiefs in Italy; Macdonald was made Duke of Tarentum, Mortier Duke -of Treviso, Bessières Duke of Istria. With the title the Marshals -received the fief with some show of sovereignty, but they were -allowed—encouraged, in fact—to sell their sovereignties to the Empire -as soon as received. - -The more famous Marshals took their titles from the battles in which -they had taken part; Lannes was made Duke of Montebello, Ney Duke of -Elchingen. Lefebvre, whose reputation for republicanism Napoleon -repeatedly employed to hallmark his own actions, was created Duke of -Dantzic. Soult strove to obtain for himself the title of Duke of -Austerlitz, but Napoleon put the idea impatiently aside. He wished to -reserve the glory of Austerlitz entirely for himself, and Soult had to -be content with the title of Duke of Dalmatia, which set him in the -lower class of Marshal. But Napoleon’s jealousy went further than this. -He did not want to give anyone a title derived from a battle which had -not been fought under his own direction. He forced the title of Duke of -Rivoli upon Masséna, although that Marshal had to his credit the far -greater achievements of Zürich and Genoa. When it was suggested to him -that it would be a kindly action to make the unhappy, neglected Jourdan -Duke of Fleurus, he replied “Never! I might as well make him King of -France at once.” - -To this rule Napoleon only made two exceptions. One was Kellermann, whom -he made Duke of Valmy, but by now Kellermann was too old (he was -seventy-three) to be any danger, while Valmy was a landmark in French -history. The other was Davout. - -The Duke of Auerstädt had before him in 1807 a task which would give his -sternness and devotion to duty free play. He had command of at least a -hundred thousand men. For the support of these he received not a sou -from the French Government—everything, pay, provisions and equipment, -had to be wrung from the wretched countries in which they were in -garrison. From Prussia Davout had to grind the enormous indemnity which -Napoleon had imposed. In Westphalia he had to see that Jerome Bonaparte -did not make too big a fool of himself. He had to keep a sharp eye upon -the movements of Austria. Besides all this, he had to govern the infant -Grand Duchy of Warsaw, where he had simultaneously to assure the Poles -that an independent kingdom of Poland would shortly be set up, and the -Russians and Austrians that an independent kingdom of Poland would never -be set up. - -And yet he succeeded. Throughout northern central Europe he built -himself up a reputation as the justest brute in Christendom. His army -was well fed and well equipped, but he did his best to make the burden -as light as possible. He saw that Napoleon’s outrageous demands of -Prussia were complied with, but at the same time he was not -unnecessarily harsh. He sent Polish regiments to fight in Spain (at -Poland’s expense) while he kept French troops about Warsaw (also at -Poland’s expense), but he managed to persuade the Poles that such a -proceeding was just. He carried out Napoleon’s orders both in the spirit -and to the letter, but after that he made enormous and successful -efforts to minimize the damage done. What would a second Davout have -done in Spain? - -Early in 1809 his proceedings were interrupted. Austria, undaunted by -the conference of Erfurt, and inspirited by the success of the -Spaniards, was on the move again. Davout had to concentrate his enormous -force on the upper Danube as rapidly as possible, with a weather eye -lifting in case of a further effort by Prussia, and, once there, he had -to weld his troops once more into divisions and army corps. From all -quarters other troops were being rushed to the scene of action, and in -command of them all was the hesitating Berthier. Napoleon, with his -hands full with the Spanish muddle, tried to direct operations from -Paris as long as possible. The natural result was that when the Emperor -arrived at headquarters he found his army divided and in an apparently -hopeless position, with the skilful and resolute Archduke Charles -thrusting enormous forces between the dislocated wings. Only a supreme -effort could save the situation, but the situation was saved. Napoleon -gathered together Lannes, Vandamme and Masséna, and hurled them forward. -He called upon Davout to achieve the impossible, and make a flank march -of thirty miles while in actual contact with superior forces. The -impossible was achieved. Davout brought his men safely through, to gain -along with the other forces the shattering victory of Eckmühl. - -Davout’s performance is practically unique in military history. A year -or two later the disastrous possibilities of a flank march were -thoroughly demonstrated at Salamanca, where Marmont, who prided himself -upon his tactical ability, was utterly routed in an hour’s fighting by -Wellington. Marmont had good troops, and his army was as nearly as -possible equal to Wellington’s, but this did not save him. Davout’s -force was partly composed of new troops, and of disaffected allies, -while his opponents were nearly twice his strength. Only the most -consummate daring combined with the maximum of vigilance and skill could -have saved Davout, but Davout was saved. The title of Prince of Eckmühl -which Napoleon bestowed upon him was well deserved. - -The next outstanding incident in the campaign was Napoleon’s first -defeat in the open field. He dared just a little too much in attempting -to cross a broad river in the face of a powerful opponent, with the -result that he was beaten back with frightful loss. Lannes was mortally -wounded; the bridges by which the army had crossed were broken before -Davout’s turn came to pass over. - -For a while the Empire tottered. A prompt offensive on the part of the -Archduke Charles might have overthrown it, but his army, too, had been -hard hit, and he delayed. Napoleon’s frantic exertions turned the scale -in the end. He claimed Aspern as a victory, and so skilfully did he make -his claim that for a time he was believed throughout Europe. Masséna was -created Prince of Essling, to conceal the defeat—in much the same way -as the Earl of Chatham might have been made Duke of Walcheren in the -same year. The army of Italy, under Eugène, Macdonald and Marmont -outmarched their opponents, and arrived in time to enable the Emperor to -cast the die once more. - -He passed the Danube a little lower down than at his previous attempt, -turned the Austrian position, and fought the battle of Wagram on -practically equal terms. It was evenly contested, too. Masséna on the -left was beaten back until the flank was nearly turned; Bernadotte’s -Saxon corps was repulsed in terrible disorder, and the French reserves -were drawn in at an alarming rate. A hundred French guns, massed in the -centre, battered the Austrian line, and Macdonald led his corps, formed -in a gigantic square, against the gap. But he suffered terribly from the -Austrian artillery, and his men left the ranks in thousands. In the end, -it was Davout on the right who won the battle for the French, for he -turned the Austrian left and began to roll up their line; the Austrians -fell sullenly back. It was a defeat, not a disaster, but the Austrians -sued for peace immediately afterwards. - -After Wagram Davout went back to his old post in the north. Month by -month the position grew more and more difficult, as the topsy-turvy -finances of the Grand Duchy of Warsaw verged nearer to bankruptcy, and -the spirit of nationality grew in Prussia. But there was never a hint of -open rebellion as long as the bald-headed little man was at the head of -affairs; the Tugendbund might plot in secret; English agents might stir -up trouble at every opportunity; Blücher might fume and Alexander might -plan, but Davout’s grip was never loosened. - -At last, after three years, came the Russian campaign. Half a million -Frenchmen and allies came thronging forward to the Niemen. A hundred -thousand of these men were under Davout’s command, and, with Napoleon’s -new supply arrangements breaking down at once, they had to plunder in -order to live. Prussia was left behind secretly raging, and the doomed -army pressed forward over the barren plains of Lithuania. Everything -seemed to go wrong. The half-trained levies could not perform the feats -of marching which had gained such marvellous successes at Ulm and after -Jena; the Marshals wrangled among themselves; while Napoleon, angered by -the failure of his plans, dealt out reprimands right and left until the -irritation became almost unbearable. Jerome Bonaparte, King of -Westphalia, was placed under Davout’s command in consequence of his -blundering, but he could not endure such a state of affairs, threw up -his command, and went back to the softer delights of his palace at -Cassel. - -With Moscow almost in sight, the Russians delivered battle. Napoleon’s -powers were fast waning, and he paid no heed to Davout’s urgent pleading -that he should be allowed to turn their left. At Wagram he had -exclaimed, “You will see Davout gain another battle for me,” but at -Borodino he had forgotten this. The battle resolved itself into a series -of horribly costly frontal assaults, and the victors lost as heavily as -their opponents. There followed five weeks’ useless delay in Moscow; -Napoleon waited for Alexander to plead for terms, and Alexander refused -to consider the matter as long as a Frenchman remained on Russian soil. -No course was open to the French except retreat, and retreat they did. -There is no need to describe in detail that exhausted famished army -crawling across the Russian plains; sufficient to say that of the half -million men who had advanced in 1812 hardly thirty thousand remained to -rally on the Oder in 1813. - -Napoleon left them as soon as hope was lost. He tore across Europe from -Smorgoni to Paris in the depth of winter with hardly a stop, bent on -making a last effort to save his Empire. Murat was left in command, but -Murat flinched from his task. Three weeks of command were enough for -him, and then he said he was ill. Ill or not, he travelled from Posen to -Naples in a fortnight, in January weather. - -Somehow Davout and Ney and Eugène de Beauharnais held the wretched Grand -Army together until Napoleon’s return, and then Davout was sent off to -hold down Northern Germany once more. It was a task which might have -daunted anybody. Prussia was ablaze with hatred of Napoleon, and -Prussian troops were swarming forward to the attack. The citizens of the -Hanseatic towns, ruined by the Continental system, and bankrupted by -Napoleon’s requisitions, were in a state of sullen rebellion. Davout’s -troops consisted merely of invalids, cripples and raw levies, while the -loyalty of most of them was to be doubted. Bernadotte, once a Marshal of -France, was leading his Swedes against his old countrymen. Benningsen -with a Russian army advanced to the attack. But Davout’s grip was upon -Hamburg, and it was a grip which nothing could break. He held on through -the summer of 1813, while the armistice of Pleissvitz gave hope of -relief. He held on through the autumn, while Austria joined the ranks of -Napoleon’s enemies. The victory of Dresden was followed by the defeats -of the Katzbach, of Kulm, of Gross Beeren, of Dennewitz, and finally by -the complete disaster of Leipzig, but Davout still held on to Hamburg. -Provisions began to fail, the populace broke into insurrection; it was -known that the Allies were over the Rhine, that Napoleon was carrying on -a hopeless struggle in France itself. Marmont, Mortier, Ney, in turn -deserted, but Davout still held on to Hamburg. It was not until the end -of April, when the Bourbons were once more on the throne of France, and -a Bourbon general was sent to take command, that he relaxed his grip. -Half his army had died during the horrors of the siege, enormous offers -had been made to him for his submission, the famished inhabitants had -implored him to surrender, but he had allowed nothing to interfere with -his fulfilment of his duty. - -The Bourbons tried to have him shot for this on his return, but such a -feat was beyond their power. Thus he was not asked, nor did he ask to -take the oath of allegiance. - -On Napoleon’s return from Elba Davout was the only Marshal who could -join him without staining his honour. Marmont stayed by the Bourbons, -for fear of the consequences of his surrender of Paris; Macdonald and -St. Cyr, Oudinot and Victor, held to their oaths. Ney flagrantly broke -his word to serve his old Emperor once more; Masséna, as was to be -expected, tried to keep a middle course. Davout was the one man free -from the Bourbon taint, and in consequence Napoleon had to leave him -behind as Governor of Paris and Minister of War to hold France quiet -during the Waterloo campaign. - -Could it have been otherwise, Waterloo might well have been a victory -for France. We can picture Davout in command of the left wing in the -advance over the Sambre. In place of Ney’s bungled staff work and -haphazard arrangements, there would have been a prompt and orderly -movement. The columns would have been kept closed up, instead of -straggling for miles. Davout’s accurate, lengthy reports would have kept -Napoleon clearly informed as to the situation. A prompt attack on the -morning of the 16th of June at Quatre Bras would have cleared the air -effectively, and d’Erlon, instead of wasting his strength in marching -and counter-marching, could have been employed to much better advantage -at Ligny. Ney’s position at Quatre Bras was, as a matter of fact, very -like Davout’s at Auerstädt eleven years before. Davout succeeded at -Auerstädt; Ney failed at Quatre Bras. With Davout in command of the left -wing in the Waterloo campaign, the history of the world might have been -different. - -At Waterloo, when the cavalry was dashing itself to pieces on the -English squares, Napoleon is said to have cried, “Oh, for one hour of -Murat.” Murat by that time would not have made an atom of difference. -The destiny of France had been decided two days before at Quatre Bras. -One hour of Davout would have been worth fifty hours of Murat. - -After Waterloo had been lost and won, for a few days it was the Prince -of Eckmühl who ruled France. He pulled the army together, and thereby -saved Napoleon’s life, for he managed to stave off the Prussian army -while Napoleon fled to Rochefort. But with the return of the Bourbons he -sank into oblivion, and died of pneumonia eight years afterwards almost -unnoticed. - -Such was the end of the one great officer of Napoleon’s whose honour had -never been sullied, who had always done his duty, and who had never -failed. His enemies hated him as well as feared him; his friends feared -him as well as trusted him. His one aim in life was to do his duty; in -this aim he stood almost alone in his age, and in its achievement he -stood quite alone. - -[Illustration: EUGÈNE DE BEAUHARNAIS - (VICEROY OF ITALY PRINCE DE VENISE)] - - - - - CHAPTER IX - MORE PALADINS - - -WHEN the Marshalate was inaugurated, the first list afforded many -opportunities for dissatisfaction, both among those included and those -excluded. - -Men like Macdonald and St. Cyr, of high reputation and undoubted -talents, found themselves ignored for political reasons, while giants of -the Republican armies like Masséna found that Napoleon’s family feeling -had given comparatively unknown men like Murat seniority over them. -Masséna’s curt reply to congratulations on his new appointment was “Yes, -one of fourteen,” and it must indeed have been galling to him to have -Bessières, Moncey and other nonentities raised to a rank equal to his -own. - -For in 1804 Masséna towered in achievement head and shoulders above all -other French soldiers, with the exception of Napoleon. He was of Italian -extraction (many people said Jewish-Italian, and hinted that Masséna was -a euphonized version of Manasseh), and he had served fourteen years in -Louis XVI.’s regiment of Italian mercenaries. Quitting the army, he had -plunged into the various shady employments of the Côte d’Azur. Smuggling -by land and by sea, coast trading, wine-dealing, fruit-selling, he tried -his hand at them all, mainly successfully. - -But with the revolution came his chance. In two years he was general of -division, and he actually had under his orders at Toulon a certain -Napoleon Bonaparte. For two campaigns Masséna was the life and soul of -the army of the Riviera; Dumerbion, Schérer, and even Moreau turned to -him for counsel. Then suddenly Barras sent Napoleon as -commander-in-chief in 1796. It is perhaps the greatest tribute to -Napoleon’s personality that as a young man of twenty-six he was able to -compel obedience from a crowd of generals, many years his senior both in -age and experience. Masséna yielded place to him grudgingly, but -Napoleon found a golden salve for his injured amour-propre. The campaign -of Italy laid the foundations of the enormous fortune which Masséna -later built up. Every general pillaged and peculated right and left in -those two memorable years. Napoleon himself was moderate; his fortune at -the end of 1797 only amounted to about two hundred thousand pounds -sterling; Masséna and Augereau acquired about half a million each. - -But if they could steal, these men could also fight. Masséna was the -supreme master of tactics, and it was his division which at that time -was given the most difficult tasks. Battle followed battle, Montenotte, -Mondovi, Lodi, Lonato, Castiglione, Mantua, Arcola, Rivoli, until at -last Austria succumbed; and by that time, what with gold and glory, the -generals of the army of Italy were Napoleon’s slaves. - -Napoleon had served another purpose, too, in enriching Masséna, for his -wealth kept him quiet while Napoleon was in Egypt. In 1798 the Directory -made a curious blunder. Their army of Rome, maddened by the peculations -of generals and commissaries, which left the men half starved and in -rags, broke out into mutiny. The man who was sent to quell them was -Masséna! The mutiny naturally redoubled in intensity, and Masséna was -compelled to give up his command. But at once more congenial work was -given him. Another coalition had declared war upon France, and the -Archduke Charles in Germany and Suvaroff in Italy were gaining success -after success. Masséna was sent to command in Switzerland, the last -buttress of France. Upon him depended all the hopes of the Republic, and -well he justified the Republic’s confidence. He clung on desperately, -holding back immensely superior numbers. At last the Aulic Council at -Vienna blundered more badly than usual, and Masséna grasped at the -opportunity, as if it had been a moneybag. He flung himself upon -Korsakoff at Zürich, and practically destroyed his army. Suvaroff, -marching over the St. Gotthard, only escaped the same fate by a -desperate march along the wildest paths of Switzerland. France was saved -in the same hour as Napoleon seized the reins of the Government. - -By varied cajolery Napoleon next prevailed upon Masséna to take command -of the army of Italy, and to hold back the Austrian army while he -himself organized the army of reserve. Napoleon had assured Masséna that -the army of Italy was in good condition, and that supplies and -reinforcements would be sent him in abundance, but as soon as Masséna -arrived he found how little trust could be placed in the First Consul’s -word. The men were starving and dispirited, and they were attacked by -vastly superior forces. Somehow Masséna held them together, but he was -forced back into Genoa and closely besieged. For the troops there was -some sort of food, hair-powder and cocoa mainly, but for the inhabitants -there was—_nothing_. For nine weeks Masséna held out. The troops died -in hundreds by the sword, by disease, by starvation; the inhabitants -died in thousands, and their bodies littered the streets. The Austrian -prisoners who were taken starved to death in the hulks in the harbour. -No wonder that Masséna said that after the siege he had not one hair -left which was not white on his whole body. - -At last surrender was necessary. Napoleon had promised him prompt -relief, but the relief never came. Day by day Masséna had listened for -the thunder of his guns in the near-by Apennines, but it had never -reached his ears. The capitulation was signed, and the French marched -out. But while Masséna had been clinging to Genoa, Napoleon’s army was -swinging over the Alps. Ten days after the surrender of Genoa, Marengo -gave Italy once more to the French. - -To Masséna, covered with glory, Napoleon gave the command of the army of -Italy on his own return to Paris; but the arrangement did not long -endure. Within two months Masséna’s avarice had got the better of him, -and he was removed from his command and placed upon half-pay on account -of his sharp practice. - -This retirement endured for four years, but in the Austerlitz campaign -Masséna received the command-in-chief in Italy. If he accomplished -little here, at least he prevented the enemy from achieving any success, -and after Austerlitz and the treaty of Presburg he was sent to conquer -Naples for Joseph Bonaparte. The campaign was a mere military promenade, -but it ended, as did so many of Masséna’s commands, in his compulsory -resignation on account of his illicit money-making. On this occasion -Napoleon improved on his previous practice, and confiscated over a -hundred thousand pounds which Masséna had accumulated in a Livornese -bank. - -Once again Napoleon summoned Masséna to his aid in 1807, and at Pultusk -and Friedland Masséna divided the laurels with Lannes and Ney. But it -was the Wagram campaign which brought him the greatest glory, as it did -also to Davout. At Eckmühl Masséna performed the turning movement which -gained the victory after Davout’s holding attack. At Essling it was -Masséna who held the reeling French line together until darkness brought -relief. At Wagram Masséna, crippled just before by a fall from his -horse, led his corps in a coach drawn by white horses, the mark for all -the enemy’s guns. Small wonder was it that the end of the campaign found -Masséna both Duke of Rivoli and Prince of Essling, with a pension of -twenty thousand pounds a year in addition to his pay, his perquisites -and his enormous savings. - -But this was the zenith of Masséna’s fame; it was to reach its nadir -immediately afterwards. Masséna had lived hard all his life; he had -spared himself no more than he had spared his men, and in addition he -had at intervals indulged in unbridled debauchery. By 1810 Masséna was -an old, worn-out, satiated man, although he was only fifty-five years of -age. All he wished to do was to retire and live in peace, but Napoleon -was at his wits’ end to find someone who could be trusted in Spain. -Masséna found the command thrust upon him, and he was forced to accept. -Then followed the blundering campaign of Torres Vedras. Blunders in the -choice of route, blunders in the attack at Busaco, blunders at Torres -Vedras, and finally, in 1811, the crowning blunder of Fuentes d’Onoro. - -These blunders might have been foreseen; Masséna was old and feeble; he -knew nothing of Spain; he took women with him on the campaign; his corps -commanders were Ney, Junot and Reynier, all men of hot temper and -inferior talent; while opposed to him was the inflexible Wellington with -his incomparable English infantry. - -In March, 1811, Masséna was removed from his command. He crept miserably -away, to bury his shame in the retirement of the Marseilles command. -From that time forward his one aim was to enjoy his riches in comfort; -he made submission to the Bourbons, and then reverted to Napoleon in -1815; after Waterloo he went back to the Bourbons. - -But though he retained his wealth and his rank, there was yet further -trouble awaiting him. His treason in 1815 had not been sufficiently -extensive in that age of treason for him to suffer any penalty, and -Louis XVIII., like the most humane Mikado, determined to make the -punishment fit the crime as far as possible by appointing him one of -Ney’s judges. Masséna must have had a guilty conscience, and the horror -of having to condemn his former colleague for the same crime as his own -weighed heavily on him. At the same time the atrocious murder of his -friend and fellow Marshal Brune during the White Terror at Avignon was a -further blow. Tortured by remorse, hated by all parties alike, worn out -with a life lived at high pressure, Masséna died in 1817 at the age of -fifty-nine. - -Masséna and Davout were the two foremost officers of Napoleon; the great -contrast between them is due to the fact that one of them was guided by -a strict sense of duty, the other merely by avarice. - -There was another Marshal who is frequently considered to be at least -the equal of these two, and the fact that he is so considered is -peculiarly illustrative of his whole career, for Soult was for ever -thrusting himself into the limelight and being elbowed out of it. Like -many of the other Marshals, he rose from the ranks of the old regular -army, and he first attained high rank by attracting Masséna’s attention. -He was second-in-command to that Marshal during the siege of Genoa, -until he was taken prisoner during a sortie. He received his Marshalate -in 1804, at a time when he was commanding a corps of the army at -Boulogne, and he continued in command during the historic march to the -Danube. At Austerlitz he was in command of the centre, and all his life -he considered that the battle was won mainly by himself. He ignored -Davout’s splendid defence of the lake defiles, Murat’s wonderful -handling of the cavalry reserve, Lannes’ management of the left, and -Bernadotte’s assault of the centre; he, and he alone, he said, was -responsible for Austerlitz. He was greatly disappointed when he was -created Duke of Dalmatia in 1808; he claimed that the only fitting title -for him was Duke of Austerlitz. Napoleon ignored his pleadings. - -Soult fought at Jena, Eylau and Friedland, 1806-1807, and was then sent -to Spain. To him was entrusted the pursuit of Sir John Moore to Corunna, -and it cannot be denied that he failed in his mission. Moore was never -seriously engaged throughout the retreat, and when finally Soult caught -him up at Corunna he was easily beaten back, despite his superior -numbers. But for all that Soult had the impertinence to claim a victory. - -To him next was assigned the conquest of Portugal; all he conquered was -the northern extremity; he was two months late in his arrival at Oporto, -and once there he settled down and would not budge. The reason for this -delay soon emerged. Soult was scheming for the crown of Portugal. But -the plan evaporated promptly when Wellington unexpectedly passed the -Douro, surprised Soult in his cantonments and bundled him out of -Portugal, compelling him to abandon his guns, his train, his treasure, -his sick—everything, in fact, except what was on his men’s backs. - -Had Wellington ever suffered a similar reverse he would probably have -received the same treatment as did Admiral Byng fifty years before, but -Napoleon was lenient and retained Soult in command. The new task -assigned to him was the conquest of Andalusia, and against the wretched -Spanish armies he achieved some remarkable successes. Seville and -Granada fell before him; and he quietly proceeded to establish himself -firmly and make his fortune. He looted cathedrals and treasuries, and -sent the proceeds home. He ignored the Government of Madrid, and -conducted himself like an independent and absolute monarch. Cadiz defied -him, and all the efforts of his subordinate, Victor, Duke of Belluno, -could not gain the place for him. - -Masséna, held up at Torres Vedras by Wellington, with his army starving -and disorganized, appealed to Soult for help. It was grudgingly -given—too late. By the time Soult was ready to move upon the Tagus -Masséna had already fallen back, utterly ruined. Soult was eventually -stirred to action by Beresford’s siege of Badajoz, but he met with an -unexpected reverse at Albuera (which, characteristically, he claimed as -a victory), and after that he was content to hold on to Andalusia until -at last Wellington’s victory at Salamanca and capture of Madrid -compelled him to abandon his conquests. So exasperated was Joseph -Bonaparte, King of Spain, by Soult’s independence that he demanded -Soult’s recall, threatening abdication in the event of refusal. Napoleon -complied, and during the beginning of 1813 Soult commanded the Guard in -Germany, but after Vittoria he was sent back to try and keep the English -out of France. - -It was during this campaign of the Pyrenees that Soult’s talents were -exhibited at their best, but even here he failed. His manœuvres, -concentrations and determined counter-attacks are models of technical -skill, but the fire, resolution and insight of greater generals are -sadly lacking. He certainly delayed Wellington, and achieved a fair -success considering the means at his disposal, but he was beaten back -across the Pyrenees, back from Bayonne, from Orthez, and at last from -Toulouse. Napoleon’s abdication found Soult’s army rapidly -disintegrating, and it is certain that the Duke of Dalmatia could not -have continued the struggle much longer. - -In 1814 and 1815 Soult conducted himself as might have been expected of -a self-seeker. He submitted to the Bourbons, but went over to Napoleon -as soon as the Emperor was on the throne after the descent from Elba. - -Napoleon appointed him chief of staff during the Waterloo campaign. The -choice was unfortunate in the event, but it is difficult to see what -other course the Emperor could have pursued. Of the five Marshals fit -for service of whom Napoleon could dispose, Davout had to be left to -hold down Paris, and Suchet had to guard the south. Ney was obviously -useless for staff work, and Grouchy had neither the brains nor the -prestige for a position of such vital responsibility. So Soult took -charge of the staff, and the staff work was badly done. Blunders were -committed even in the orders given for the crossing of the Sambre, and -subsequently delay followed delay and error followed error in fatal -sequence. Ney, d’Erlon and Grouchy were in turn misled by ambiguous -orders. The responsibility for the failure of Waterloo is undoubtedly -partly Soult’s. - -Naturally enough, Soult was proscribed after the second Restoration, but -after four years’ exile, he managed to ingratiate himself with the -Bourbons, and climbed steadily back to power by the aid of hypocrisy and -tuft-hunting. The July revolution brought him further power, and he was -one of the main props of Louis Philippe’s authority. In fact the citizen -king thought so much of him that he made Soult Marshal-General of -France, thus placing him on a level with Saxe and Turenne. He lived to -the venerable age of eighty-one, and died at last rich and honoured -above all the other soldiers of France. His reputation grew steadily -after the wars were over, partly on account of Napier’s liking for him, -partly on account of the natural tendency displayed by the English to -over-value a beaten antagonist, and partly on account of his own deft -powers of self-advertisement. His career is a striking example of the -success of cold, self-contained mediocrity. - -There is only one other Marshal of Napoleon for whom any claims to -greatness have been made, and that is Suchet, Duke of Albufera. One of -the most interesting points about his career is that he had no military -training whatever before the Revolution. As a young man of twenty-three -years of age he enlisted; at twenty-five he was a colonel. He made -friends with the young Bonaparte at the siege of Toulon, and later -fought in the Italian campaign of 1796, gaining command of a brigade in -1797. - -With the rank of general of division he served Masséna and Joubert, and -while Masséna held Genoa in 1800 Suchet guarded the frontiers of France -itself on the Var. - -But for eight years longer Suchet had to be content with the rank of a -mere divisional commander, leading a division of Lannes’ corps at -Austerlitz, Jena and Friedland. At last the wholesale toppling of -reputations in the Spanish war brought him his chance, and he received -command of the army of Aragon. To say the least, at first his position -was rather awkward. His army was composed of raw troops, shaken by the -horrors of the siege of Saragossa; the Spaniards were in arms against -him on all sides; he was compelled by the neglect of the Paris -Government to live on the country; while to crown it all he was expected -to obey not only the orders from Paris but also the frequently -contradictory ones from Joseph at Madrid. - -We must give Suchet credit for coming through the ordeal exceedingly -well. After an “unfortunate incident” at Alcaniz, Suchet got his men -well in hand, and, by victories at Maria and Belchite, he cleared Aragon -of the enemy and proceeded to subdue Catalonia. His way was barred in -every direction by fortresses, but, thanks partly to the folly of the -Spaniards and partly to his own resolution and determination, he -conquered the country inch by inch. Somewhat cynically, in his memoirs, -he tells us that at the storming of Lerida he took care to drive as many -women and children as possible into the citadel, and then by a vigorous -bombardment he so daunted the garrison that they surrendered. To what -total the casualties among the women and children amounted before the -surrender he does not say. - -Catalonia in his power, Suchet moved on to the reduction of Valencia. -His previous campaigns repeated themselves. Battle followed siege, and -siege followed battle, until at last Suchet ruled all Aragon, Catalonia -and Valencia. Soult had already conquered Andalusia, so that all Spain -might, by straining the truth a little, be said to be in the hands of -the French. For his achievements Suchet received a Marshal’s bâton, the -title of Duke of Albufera and half a million francs. - -However, he was not fated to retain his conquests long. Wellington’s -victory at Vittoria in 1813 brought about Suchet’s evacuation of -Valencia, just as Salamanca had caused Soult to abandon Andalusia. - -The same year an Anglo-Sicilian expedition under Murray landed in -Catalonia, and once more set aflame the embers of the guerilla warfare. -Suchet himself, in action against unwontedly disciplined enemies, met -with a serious reverse at Castalla, but Murray was too much of a -nincompoop to follow up his success. In the end Murray once more took -ship, and Suchet still held Catalonia and most of Aragon. At this time -he had a great opportunity to turn against Wellington, who had his hands -full with Soult’s offensive in the Pyrenees, but he let the chance go. -Immediately afterwards Lord William Bentinck, who had succeeded to Sir -John Murray, kept him busy until the fall of the Empire. Soult’s and -Napoleon’s demands had deprived Suchet of his best troops, and he did -all that could be expected of him with the few men left to him. - -In 1814 Suchet submitted to the Bourbons; in 1815 he betrayed them. -During the Hundred Days he was ordered to secure the south-east with a -few thousand men, and though unsuccessful, he accomplished much. After -the Restoration the Bourbons refused to re-employ him. - -Napoleon is credited with saying that Suchet was the best of his -Marshals after Masséna’s decay, and also that with two men like Suchet -he would have held Spain against all endeavours. If Napoleon really did -say this (and O’Meara’s testimony is untrustworthy) Napoleon was wrong. -The only time Suchet encountered English troops he was beaten; he was -just as selfish and self-seeking as the other Marshals in Spain; he -refused help whenever he could; and his success was due in a great part -to the blunders of his opponents. Every French general and Marshal -(Dupont excepted) succeeded against Spaniards; it was only against the -English that they failed. Napoleon might just as well have said that -Bessières was his best Marshal, because Bessières beat the Spaniards at -Rio Seco while Masséna failed at Torres Vedras. - -The one Marshal of Napoleon’s whose career is more interesting in its -pre-Revolutionary stages than under Napoleon is Augereau, Duke of -Castiglione. He was a gigantic, swaggering fellow with a nose rendered -brilliant by alcohol, devil-may-care and reckless, the ideal soldier of -fortune. For he was a soldier of fortune. As a young man in the army of -Louis XVI. he had killed one of his own officers on parade, and fled -from the country with the police at his heels. In exile, he wandered -through the East, joined the Russian army, took part in the storming of -Ismail under Suvaroff, and then deserted. Next he joined the Prussian -army, and served in the Prussian Guard, but once more he deserted. -Desertion from the Prussian army was a difficult matter, but Augereau -achieved it by banding together all the malcontents and fighting his way -to the frontier. - -On the birth of the Dauphin (later the unhappy Louis XVII.) an amnesty -was proclaimed in France, and Augereau took advantage of it to rejoin -his old regiment, but once more tired of continuous service and got -himself sent off to Naples as an instructor to the Neapolitan troops. -From Naples he eloped with a Greek heiress to Lisbon, and in Lisbon he -annoyed the Inquisition, so that he was put in prison. - -But still his luck held. He escaped from the clutches of the Holy -Office, and arrived with his wife in France just after the execution of -Louis XVI. His varied military experience naturally obtained him high -command in the Republican army; he fought in La Vendée and in the -Pyrenees, and then found himself a divisional general under Napoleon in -1796. In this campaign his reckless courage won him fame; he was one of -the heroes of the bridge of Lodi, and at Castiglione it was his dashing -leadership which gained the day. - -Augereau received the command of the army of the Rhine after Bonaparte’s -departure for Egypt, but, suspected of intriguing for the supreme power, -he was dismissed from his command, and, two years later, he saw the -prize fall into Napoleon’s hands. Napoleon bought Augereau’s support -with huge gifts of money and, in 1804, a Marshal’s bâton. - -During the Austerlitz campaign Augereau was only entrusted with the -minor operation of subduing Tyrol, but he fought well at Jena in 1806. -At Eylau came disaster. His corps, sent forward against the Russians in -the teeth of a blinding snowstorm, lost direction, and was torn to -pieces by a furious cannonade. Three-quarters of his men died; he -himself, already gravely ill, was badly wounded. - -Napoleon was furious. Augereau was sent home in disgrace, and what -remained of the 7th Corps was broken up and distributed round the rest -of the army. This was practically the end of Augereau’s military life; -he held command for a brief space during the war in Spain, but he failed -again at Gerona and was superseded. By now he was well over fifty years -of age, and dissipation had sapped his vitality. In 1814 and 1815 -Augereau received commands of minor importance, his chief duty being the -training of recruits, but his heart was not in his work. He lived long -enough to betray Napoleon twice and the Bourbons once, and then died in -1816. - -These brief biographies are sufficient to illustrate what kind of men -the Marshals and their master were. With only a few exceptions they were -all traitors, from Napoleon, plotting against the constitution he had -sworn to uphold, to Ney, deserting his King. They were greedy, they were -unscrupulous, they were selfish. Many of them were men of second-rate -talent. Two attributes they had in common—extreme personal bravery and -enormous experience in war. Soult is the only Marshal about whom we find -any hints of cowardice (and there seems to be no foundation for these -hints), while Suchet, Mortier and Brune were the only ones who had not -served in the pre-Revolutionary army. None of the Marshals was a -heaven-sent genius, and only one, Davout, combined loyalty and honesty -with both military and administrative ability. - -There is, of course, another side to the picture. If treachery can be -excused at all, then there were good excuses for the treachery of every -one of the guilty ones; if their talents appear mediocre to us now, it -cannot be denied that they were nevertheless highly successful for a -long period; if they were self-seeking, they were always ready, despite -their riches and titles, to risk their lives in action at the head of -their men. - -The extravagant praise often meted out collectively to Napoleon’s -subordinates is undeserved, but somehow one can hardly avoid coming to -the conclusion that a nation might well consider itself fortunate could -it muster a similar array of men in high places. - -[Illustration: AUGEREAU DUC DE CASTIGLIONE] - - - - - CHAPTER X - BROTHERS - - -NAPOLEON was one of a large family, children of a shiftless father and a -wonderful mother. Much the same might be said of a large number of other -successful men—Moltke and Lincoln, for instance. But it is doubtful -whether any importance from a eugenic point of view can be attached to -this circumstance, for although some of the other Bonapartes showed -undoubted talent in various directions, not one of them has ever -displayed greatness comparable to the Emperor’s. Biologically, Napoleon -might be said to be a “sport,” a “mutation,” as de Vries would say. Yet -even this theory is open to controversy, for mutations usually breed -true, and none of Napoleon’s children ever showed, as far as can be -ascertained, any really striking amount of talent. Napoleon may thus be -considered to be an isolated incident in his family history, one of the -many immovable facts which are so gingerly skirted round by eugenists -and other theorists. - -What achievements can be ascribed to the brothers of the man who -achieved so much? A few impracticable suggestions, a few novels (diluted -St. Pierre, most of them), a few lost battles, a few lost kingdoms; -beyond that—nothing. Louis was the father of Napoleon III., a clever -man with many natural disadvantages mingled with his advantages. Lucien -saved one unpleasant situation when president of the Council of Five -Hundred in 1799. Jerome’s grandson was a fairly eminent lawyer of the -United States. The other Bonapartes were like their fathers and -grandfathers before them, dilettanti, wobblers, unstable and -irresponsible. - -But useless as were Napoleon’s brothers to him, he nevertheless bore -with them patiently for years. A clannish clinging together is to be -noticed in all their dealings, both while they were obscure and while -they were powerful. An early Corsican environment may perhaps account -for this, or perhaps it is to be ascribed to the intense pride in -himself which Napoleon felt, and which perhaps was extended to all of -his own blood. - -Napoleon, the second son, and Joseph, the eldest, were separated from -the other brothers and sisters by a gap of some seven years; the -intervening children had died in infancy. When Charles Bonaparte, the -father, died, therefore, it was upon these two that the headship of the -family and the attendant responsibility fell. Joseph had already shown -signs of his general uselessness. His mathematics and education -generally had been too weak for him to have much chance of success in -the army; he flinched from the Church, and therefore returned to Corsica -to farm the few acres the Bonapartes possessed, and to carry on somehow, -Micawber-like, until something turned up. - -Napoleon, just appointed second-lieutenant of artillery, took upon -himself to keep and educate the next brother, Louis. Since he had only -thirty pounds a year pay, the struggle must have been terribly hard. -After a year or two came the temporary success of the Paolists in -Corsica, and as the Bonapartes had taken the French side the family had -to fly to France for safety, leaving all their property behind. -Difficulties increased without number. The French Government, in the -throes of the Terror, had voted monetary support for the refugees, but -in the excitement of the Toulon rebellion the decree was forgotten, and -not a sou was paid. St. Cyr, the State school for girls, was closed, and -another mouth, that of the eldest daughter, Elise, had to be fed by the -struggling family. - -But then everything suddenly changed for the better. Napoleon, after -distinguishing himself at Toulon, fought his way up to the rank of chef -de brigade. Joseph obtained a commissaryship in the army of Italy -through the aid of a fellow Corsican, Salicetti. Then also he married -Mademoiselle Clary, daughter of a Marseilles merchant. Her dowry must -have appeared enormous to the famished Bonapartes—it amounted to no -less than six thousand pounds sterling. None of the Bonapartes could as -yet foresee the day when any one of them would spend six thousand pounds -on their most trifling whim. - -A year later Napoleon saved the Directory from the revolt of the -sections, and the family was at last in comparatively smooth water. With -Napoleon in command of the Army of the Interior, influence could be -brought to bear to help his brothers. Louis became his aide-de-camp. -Lucien received a commissaryship with the Army of the North, while -immediately afterwards the horizon of possibilities was widened still -further by Napoleon’s appointment to the command in Italy and his -amazing victories there. Joseph received important diplomatic -appointments at Parma and Rome. Louis distinguished himself with the -army. Lucien at this time was the black sheep of the family. He threw up -one appointment after another; he expressed undesirable opinions with -undesirable force, and finally he married a completely illiterate girl -of the Midi. However, Napoleon forgave him, and before setting out for -Egypt he enabled him to secure election to the Council of Five Hundred. -Lucien had always been, even in Corsica, a ranting rhetorician, and in -the Council he would be able to indulge his bent to his heart’s desire. -Jerome, the youngest brother, was still at school, and he had to master -as best he could his disappointment at not accompanying Napoleon to -Egypt. Eugène Beauharnais, his schoolfellow, was going; he asked -bitterly why he could not go also, leaving out of calculation the years -of difference in their ages. - -Napoleon returned from Egypt to find his brothers had somewhat improved -their positions. Lucien was president of the Council of Five Hundred; -Joseph’s diplomatic services had enabled him to enter intimately into -the Directory circles, so that Napoleon was at once able to plunge into -the welter of politics. The _coup d’état_ of the 19th Brumaire was -planned. Joseph acted as intermediary between Napoleon, Sièyes, Ducos, -Bernadotte (now his brother-in-law), Fouché and Moreau. Lucien made -himself responsible for the Council, and arranged for the vital meeting -to be held at Versailles. Their united efforts gained for Napoleon the -command of the Army of the Interior. Everything was in readiness. On the -morning of the 19th the Upper House, the Council of Ancients, readily -bowed to the will of the great soldier, but the Council of Five Hundred -were not so willing to pronounce their own sentence of extinction. - -Murmurs arose and grew louder, and when Napoleon appeared before them he -was greeted with fierce cries. Half of the Five Hundred were old -_sans-culottes_, men who had gambled with their lives for power under -Hébert and Danton, and when Napoleon, for the only time in his career, -flinched from danger, the dreadful cry which had announced Robespierre’s -fall arose. “Hors la loi! Hors la loi!” shouted the deputies. Napoleon -staggered out of the council hall, apparently ruined. - -Lucien Bonaparte leaped into the breach. He spoke fervently on behalf of -his brother, but he was shouted down by the furious deputies. Somebody -demanded a motion of outlawry against Napoleon; Lucien refused to put it -to the vote. Neither side would give way, and the passions grew fiercer -and fiercer. Suddenly Lucien tore off the insignia of his office, and -even as he did so the door flew open and Napoleon’s troops burst in. -Leclerc, Napoleon’s brother-in-law, was at their head. “The Council is -dissolved,” said Leclerc, and the soldiers cleared the hall with fixed -bayonets. Napoleon had utilized to the full the few minutes Lucien had -gained for him. He had inflamed the soldiers with tales of treachery and -assassination. On the evening of the same day a rump of the Council met -under Lucien’s presidency and confirmed Napoleon in all the powers he -demanded. - -At first sight this action of Lucien’s appears invaluable. Nevertheless, -on further consideration one realizes that Napoleon could have succeeded -without it. When Bernadotte was King of Sweden, he told the French -Ambassador, apropos of some news regarding French parliamentary -criticism, that if he were King of France with two hundred thousand -soldiers at his back he would put his tongue out at the chamber of -deputies. Napoleon at the time of the _coup d’état_, had not merely two -hundred thousand soldiers, but the whole weight of public opinion at his -back. No decree of outlawry by a discredited Council of Five Hundred -could injure him. - -For all this, Lucien was of great use to Napoleon during the Consulate. -As Tribune, he employed his undoubted parliamentary gifts to foist on -the legislative various unpalatable measures. He skilfully defended the -proposed Legion of Honour to an acutely suspicious House, and then -finally he effected a judicious weeding of the Senate and Corps -Législatif during the retirements of 1802. For all these services he was -made Grand Officer of the Legion of Honour, and a Senator; he received a -large official income and a palace (Poppesdorf on the Moselle), while it -seemed as if it would not be long before he received royal honours. -Napoleon proposed that he should act as French agent in the Kingdom of -Etruria; the Queen was recently widowed; a marriage would follow -naturally, and Lucien would be proclaimed king. As far as Napoleon knew, -there was no legal bar to such an arrangement, for Lucien’s illiterate -wife had died some time back, but the proposal forced Lucien to make an -announcement he should have made earlier. In 1803 he had secretly -married a widow, Madame Jouberthon, who had been his mistress for a -year, and actually had borne him a child the day before the ceremony. - -This was the end of things as far as Lucien was concerned. Napoleon -quarrelled violently with him, and Lucien left the country. He lived for -a time in Rome, where Pius VII. made him Prince of Canino, but had to -move on at the French occupation. He tried to reach the United States, -but the English prevented this, as they feared he might have designs on -Spanish America. They could have known little about the dilatory, -hesitating æsthete to imagine he was capable of any action of -importance. Lucien was brought a prisoner to England, and he promptly -settled down and made himself comfortable at Ludlow, perfectly contented -to enjoy his books, his scientific dabblings, his pictures, in peace. -Once only did he rouse himself, and that was during the Hundred Days. -The old clan feeling apparently re-awoke, and he was at Napoleon’s side -during that brief period. But as soon as Napoleon had left for St. -Helena, and three months in a Piedmontese prison had cooled his own -blood, he went back to Rome and continued his placid existence until his -death in 1840. Two or three feeble novels and one frigid epic stand to -his credit—further comment appears unnecessary; if a man with Lucien’s -opportunities abandons them in favour of a mild life of artistic -enjoyment, he must be either a great man or a very small man, and Lucien -was not a great man. - -But Lucien had at any rate the hardihood to stand up to his terrible -brother about his marriage; Louis and Jerome gave way in a ridiculous -fashion. - -Louis allowed himself to be persuaded into marrying Hortense -Beauharnais, Napoleon’s step-daughter, thereby making his sister-in-law -Josephine into his mother-in-law as well. No love was lost between the -newly-married pair, and they drifted apart after a month or two of -married life. A child, Napoleon Charles, was born at the end of 1802, -and Napoleon was popularly credited with being its incestuous father. At -first he did his utmost to check these rumours, but later he tried to -use them for his own ends—a scheme nipped in the bud by the child’s -death from croup in 1807. Napoleon repeatedly tried to reconcile the -parents, and on two occasions he met with success. The product of the -first reconciliation was a child, Napoleon Louis, born in 1804, who died -during the Carbonari insurrection in Italy in 1831, and the product of -the second reconciliation was another child who later became Napoleon -III. - -On Louis, for his compliance, honours and wealth were heaped in -profusion. He became a Prince of the Empire, with a million francs a -year; as Constable of France, and consequently a Grand Imperial -Dignitary, he received one-third of a million francs a year; he was -Governor of Paris; a member of the Council of State; in precedence only -the Emperor and Joseph Bonaparte came before him. Louis found himself -the third person in the Empire with an annual income of about eighty -thousand pounds sterling. - -Yet even this was not all. Austerlitz had laid Europe at Napoleon’s -feet, and he used his power to the full. The rulers of Bavaria and -Würtemberg became kings; a terse proclamation announced that the Bourbon -house of Naples had “ceased to reign,” and Masséna with sixty thousand -men swept into the country to establish Joseph Bonaparte on the throne. -Louis was given the kingdom of Holland. Just before, Napoleon had -offered the crown of Italy to these two brothers in turn, but they had -refused it, partly on account of the utter dependence of Italy upon -France, and partly because one condition of acceptance was resignation -of all claims upon the throne of France. - -Holland, when Louis arrived, was in a bad way. Her people were ground -down by remorseless taxation; the Continental system was ruining them -rapidly; the conscription was exhausting them; and the outlook generally -was hopeless. In fact they were so sunk in despondency that on one -occasion, when Napoleon called a plebiscite among them to decide on -their Government, only one-sixth of the voters troubled to vote. With -the advent of Louis they hoped for better things, but Louis was the kind -of man from whom it is better to hope for nothing. His health was bad, -his domestic troubles upset him, his terrible brother held him -completely under his thumb, and tumbled over like card houses all his -tentative schemes of improvement. Matters in Holland went from bad to -worse. At intervals the wretched Louis roused himself, and tried to help -his subjects, but every time the thunders of Napoleon daunted him. - -At last, in 1810, he found the French demanding military occupation of -Holland as the only way to secure the thorough observance of the -Continental system. A French division was marching on Amsterdam, and -fighting was threatened between the Dutch troops and the French. Louis -dropped his kingly dignity as if it were red-hot; he abdicated in favour -of his son, Napoleon Louis, and then, leaving his wife and family -behind, he fled across the frontier and never stopped until he was safe -in Austria. Neither threats nor cajoleries on Napoleon’s part were able -to bring him back to France and the undignified dignities which were -offered him. He settled down with relief in Styria with his books and -his artistic studies. A novel or two and some peculiarly unsatisfying -memoirs were all he left behind after his death. - -Hortense, his wife, found means to console herself. The Comte de -Flahault became a frequent visitor at her house in Paris, and a son was -eventually born to her, who became, under the Second Empire, the Duc de -Morny. Flahault himself was with good reason believed to be a son of the -great Talleyrand, Prince of Benevento, so that de Morny had the proud -privilege of calling himself a doubly illegitimate grandson of -Talleyrand, an illegitimate Beauharnais, an illegitimate Flahault and a -natural brother of Napoleon III. A highly satisfactory pedigree, in -truth. - -It appeared at first as though Joseph Bonaparte would have better -fortune than Lucien or Louis. He had already held positions of great -responsibility as Ambassador and Plenipotentiary, and in 1806 he became -King of Naples. His rule at first was precarious, for although many of -the Neapolitans acquiesced in his elevation, the English, and the -Bourbons who still held Sicily did their best to make him as -uncomfortable as possible. By landing banditti, galley-slaves and -unpleasant characters generally, they kept Calabria in a blaze. A small -English force was landed, won a battle at Maida, and then had to retire. -But with fifty thousand Frenchmen at his back Joseph gradually wore down -opposition and established himself more or less firmly. - -However, this had hardly been accomplished when in 1808 he was suddenly -called back to France and proclaimed King of Spain and the Indies. As -regards the Indies, Joseph was divided from them by the British fleet, -and if the fleet could preserve Sicily for the Italian Bourbons, it -could most certainly preserve America for the Spanish ones. The Atlantic -is a good deal wider than the Straits of Messina. As regards Spain the -position was only not quite so difficult. The whole country was in -rebellion, it is true; three weeks before the streets of Madrid had run -knee-deep with the blood of Spaniards and Frenchmen. Some thirty -thousand of his subjects had to be beaten in a pitched battle before -Joseph could enter his capital, but Napoleon promised him two hundred -thousand French soldiers to support him, and Joseph, a little -bewildered, a little timorous, proceeded with the adventure. He reached -Madrid, and sent his armies forward to subdue his kingdom. In three -weeks one army, under Moncey, had been beaten back from Valencia with -ruinous losses, while twenty thousand men under Dupont were hemmed in at -Baylen and compelled to surrender. A hundred thousand Spaniards were -marching on Madrid, and the King of Spain returned with all speed to the -security of the French armies on the Ebro. Another battle had to be -fought before this sanctuary could be gained. Immediately afterwards -came the news that the pestilent English, for ever intruding themselves -uninvited, had landed in Portugal, beaten Junot and cleared Portugal of -the French by the Convention of Cintra. Napoleon at this moment was at -the Conference of Erfurt, trying to disentangle the politics of Russia, -Austria, Prussia and the Rhenish Confederation, but as soon as he could, -he ended this meeting, issued a few hasty orders to organize his army -against a probable attack by Austria in the spring, and rushed back -across Europe bent upon settling the affair out of hand. Calling up -eighty thousand more troops, he pushed suddenly over the Ebro. The -Spanish armies were shattered in three battles at Gamonal, Espinosa and -Tudela. Once more Joseph was established in Madrid, but the English -again interfered. A skilful thrust by Sir John Moore against the French -communications led to the French armies being wheeled against him -instead of pushing on to complete the overthrow of the Spaniards. In the -middle of this movement Napoleon was called back to Paris on account of -the Austrian trouble and the plottings of Talleyrand and Fouché; Joseph -was left in Madrid, King of a country ablaze with rebellion, and -commander of an army openly contemptuous. - -Joseph bore his troubles for five years. Madrid and its environs were -just able to bear the expense of his guard and his court; the rest of -the country was parcelled out among French generals who ruled their -districts despotically as far as the English and the partidas would -allow them. Joseph simply did not count; his pathetic appeals to his -protectors to combine as he wished were disregarded. Time and again he -asked Napoleon either to give him full power or to relieve him of the -burden of his mock sovereignty, but Napoleon bullied him into continuing -with the farce. In 1812 he lost Madrid for a time, and in 1813 he lost -all Spain. He gathered together all his possessions, and tried to retire -in as dignified a fashion as possible. Forced by Wellington to fight at -Vittoria, he was badly beaten and driven off his line of communications. -Everything had to be abandoned. During the flight Joseph left his -carriage by one door while the English Hussars entered it by the other, -pistol shots were fired at him, and altogether he was hardly treated -with the dignity a King deserves. All his court paraphernalia was -captured by the English. His carriage was found stuffed with -masterpieces; he lost gold to the value of a million sterling, and his -plate, his personal belongings, and his lady friends were alike left -behind. Soult at last arrived to hold the line of the Pyrenees, and -Joseph was ignominiously thrust aside. - -He pathetically re-entered the limelight in Paris during the fatal early -months of 1814, but he was no longer taken seriously. A proclamation of -his to the people of Paris, practically telling them to have no fear for -he was with them was received with howls of derision. He pottered -helplessly about until the abdication, he figured inconspicuously in the -last gathering of the Bonaparte clan during the Hundred Days, and then -went off to America. He shook from his shoulders with relief the burden -of kingship. As with his brothers, feeble novels and the study of -literature engaged his attention from 1815 until his death. - -A third brother of Napoleon’s was also a king; he also was thrust on to -an unwilling people, and he also was thrust off again in course of time. -Jerome was the hope of the family; in 1801, at the age of seventeen, he -appeared to give promise of great gifts. Napoleon sent him off to join -the navy and to acquire manhood in that hardest of all schools. The -First Consul’s plan was defeated, for the officers of the squadron -hastened to make the great man’s young brother as comfortable as -possible. - -When Gantheaume, with vastly superior numbers, fell in with and captured -the English _Swiftsure_, Jerome (seventeen years old, if you please) was -sent to receive the English captain’s sword. On the West Indian station -the French admiral bluntly told Jerome that he was bound to become an -admiral anyway, and he should work hard, not to achieve promotion but to -be ready for it. Jerome did not follow his advice. The renewal of war -with England in 1803 found Jerome still in the West Indies, and he left -his ship (which was subsequently captured) and went off to the United -States. At Washington he found the French Ambassador, Pichon, and drew -lavishly on him for funds and embarrassed the worthy man enormously. -Jerome had quite a nice little holiday in America, travelling about from -place to place, making hordes of friends, spending thousands of dollars, -and being generally lionized. - -The climax was reached when at the age of nineteen he informed the -wretched Pichon that he had just married a Miss Elizabeth Patterson, -daughter of a worthy Baltimore merchant, and asked him for further funds -to support his new condition. Pichon was horrified. The marriage was -illegal by the law of France, it is true, but Jerome apparently took it -seriously. Napoleon would be mad with rage. Pichon saw himself deprived -of his position and driven into exile. He implored Jerome to go home. -Jerome refused. Pichon cut off supplies. Jerome gaily borrowed from his -new father-in-law. Then came the news that Napoleon had proclaimed -himself Emperor of the French. Madame Jerome Bonaparte naturally wanted -to go to France as soon as possible and enjoy her rank as an Imperial -Princess. Jerome had doubts on the subject, but at last, when his funds -ran low, he set out in one of Mr. Patterson’s ships for Lisbon with his -wife. At Lisbon what Jerome had feared came about. The French consul, -acting on instructions from Paris, announced that he could give only -Jerome a passport; he could not give “Miss Patterson” one. At first -Jerome swore he would stay by his wife, but Napoleon’s emissaries made -him tempting offers. If he abandoned Miss Patterson he would be made an -Imperial Prince; he would have high command; he would receive at least -150,000 francs a year. Jerome succumbed. He told his wife to travel -round by sea to Amsterdam, whence she could more easily reach Paris to -join him. He himself went direct. Naturally by Napoleon’s orders -Elizabeth was denied permission to land at Amsterdam; she at last -realized what Jerome had done, and, as she could do nothing else, she -went to England, where she was cordially received. A child was born to -her while she was in lodgings at Camberwell, and this son’s son was in -1906 Attorney-General of the United States. But Elizabeth was never -recognized by the French Government as Jerome’s wife, and eventually she -went back to the United States. There is a story that many years after -she encountered Jerome and his next wife, Catherine of Würtemberg, in a -picture gallery at Florence. Jerome was a perfect gentleman, and passed -her by after telling Catherine who she was. - -Be that as it may, Jerome gained many solid advantages from his -desertion of his wife. His debts were paid and a large income was -allowed him. He was entrusted with the command of a small naval -expedition against Algiers, and on his return to Genoa with a few score -French prisoners whom he had released he was greeted with storms of -salutes and congratulatory addresses. From the tone of the announcements -one would gather that he had anticipated Lord Exmouth’s feat in 1816, -bombarded the city and wrung submission from the Dey by daring and -courage. As a matter of fact the prisoners had been ransomed before he -even started for a few pounds each by a French representative sent -specially over. - -It was much the same with the West Indian expedition which followed. -Jerome certainly did considerable damage to English commerce, and -somehow escaped the English cruisers, but the official description of -his exploits seemed to indicate that he had almost subverted the British -Empire. - -No sooner was Jerome back in France than he turned soldier. On his early -naval expeditions he had strutted about the deck in a Hussar uniform of -which he was very fond, but apparently he did not see fit to appear -before his troops in naval attire by way of returning the compliment. -Napoleon was already planning to give Jerome a German kingdom, and he -therefore decided that the young man should gain some military -experience along with as much military glory as possible. With Vandamme -as his adviser and a strong _corps d’armée_ at his back, Jerome plunged -into Silesia. The Prussians were stunned by the defeats of Jena and -Auerstädt, and by the relentless pursuit which had followed, and they -gave way before him with hardly a blow struck. One or two fortresses -showed signs of resistance, and were blockaded. The remainder of the -province was soon in Jerome’s hands, and he and Vandamme and the -divisional commanders promptly enriched themselves with plunder. Once -more Jerome’s achievements were blazoned abroad as feats of marvellous -skill. Napoleon was usually successful in obtaining the gold of devotion -in return for the tinsel of propaganda, and now he was exerting all his -arts in his brother’s favour. - -Napoleon’s victory of Friedland was followed by the Treaty of Tilsit, -and one of the clauses therein gave Westphalia to Jerome. At the mature -age of twenty-three the young man found himself ruler of two millions of -subjects. Moreover, he was given a royal bride. The King of Würtemberg, -it is true, had not been a king for more than two years, but the house -of Wittelsbach could trace its ancestry back to the time of Charlemagne. -Catherine of Würtemberg was already affianced, but at the Emperor’s -command the engagement was broken off and Catherine was given to Jerome. -Jerome’s American marriage was declared null and void, first by Napoleon -because at the time Jerome was a minor, and secondly by the Metropolitan -of Paris, for no particular reason. The fact that the ceremony had been -performed by a Roman Catholic archbishop with all due regard to the -forms of the Church, did not count. - -However, the splendours of the new marriage were such that the old one -might well be forgotten. It took place in the gallery of Diana at the -Tuileries, and was attended by all the shining lights of the Empire. -There was a goodly assembly of Kings, and there were Princes and Grand -Dukes in dozens. Everybody seemed to have made a special effort to wear -as much jewellery as possible, and the display of diamond-sewn dresses -and yard-long ropes of pearls was remembered for years afterwards. The -Democratic Empire had certainly made great strides. - -Once married, Jerome departed with his Queen to his kingdom of -Westphalia. The new state was a curious mixture of fragments of other -countries. Hesse, Hanover, Brunswick and Prussia had all contributed to -it (unwillingly), and Calvinists and Catholics were represented in about -equal numbers and with an equal aversion each from the other. The whole -country was ruined by prolonged military occupation; it was loaded with -debt, for Napoleon blithely began to collect money owing to the Elector -of Hesse whom he had dispossessed; nearly one-fourth of the whole area -was claimed by the Emperor to be distributed as endowments to his -officers; a huge army had to be maintained, and a French army of -occupation had to be paid and supplied; a war contribution had to be -paid to the French treasury; and to crown it all the Continental system -was slowly crushing the life out of the industries. During the first -administrative year there was a deficit of five million francs, and this -was the smallest there was during the whole lifetime of the country. -From then onwards the financial measures proceeded on the well-worn way -to ruin, the landmarks thereon being forced loans, repudiation of debt, -and taxes amounting to one-half the total national income. There is -nothing remarkable in the fact that the six years of the existence of -the kingdom were marked by two serious mutinies and three distinct -rebellions. - -Jerome himself was quite indifferent to the troubles of his people. He -spent enormous amounts on his palace at Cassel, and in addition he fell -heavily into personal debt despite a Civil List of five million francs a -year. His pleasures were, to say the least, of a dubious sort, and we -find hints everywhere that the orgies at Cassel eclipsed even those at -the Parc-aux-Cerfs in the good old days of the Bourbon régime. Catherine -apparently made no violent objection to this behaviour of her husband’s; -the graceless young scamp seems to have completely bewitched her. He -must have had the time of his life during these years, despite -occasional shocks like the one he experienced when he read in the -_Moniteur_ (the first indication he received) that one quarter of his -kingdom had been annexed to France. - -Only once did Jerome appear on active service during this period, and -that was to command thirty or forty thousand men during the Russian -campaign of 1812. He travelled with all the luxuries he could think of, -equerries, cooks, valets, barbers, mistresses, until his headquarters -appeared like a small town. But the hardships of war did not last long; -Jerome was found wanting in military ability. His failure to keep up to -the difficult time-table Napoleon set him during the advance into -Lithuania led to his being placed under Davout’s command. Neither he nor -Davout liked the arrangement, and Jerome threw up his command and went -back to Cassel. - -Here he enjoyed himself for one more year. Even he had flinched from -reviving the old _droit du seigneur_, but he did his best in that -direction without that amount of ceremony. But the sands were running -out as the French armies fell back from the Niemen to the Oder, from the -Oder to the Elbe, and at last the battle of Leipzig laid open all the -country between the Elbe and the Rhine to the triumphant Allies. The -Kingdom of Westphalia vanished in a night, like a dream; the Westphalian -army went over to the Allies _en bloc_, and Jerome returned to France -with barely two hundred men at his back. - -The Hundred Days gave Jerome one last chance of displaying his manhood, -and, curiously enough, he made the most of it. He was given command of a -division of Reille’s corps in the Waterloo campaign, and he led it with -unexpected dash and vigour. He fought heroically at Quatre Bras, -exposing himself recklessly in the dreadful fighting in the wood. At -Waterloo he headed the attack on Hougomont, leading assault after -assault with unflinching bravery. He was wounded, but remained in -action, and at the close of the day he was seen striving to rally his -men when they broke panic-stricken before the allied advance. - -Waterloo almost atones in the general estimation for Jerome’s long and -useless life. After the second Restoration he drifted idly about Europe, -accompanied by his devoted Catherine; when the Orleans monarchy fell he -hastened back to France. Along with Louis Napoleon he planned the _coup -d’état_, and for the rest of his life, until 1860, he was once more a -prominent subject of the French Empire. Napoleon III. made him a -Marshal; his son married a princess of the house of Savoy, and he died -comfortably in bed at the age of seventy-six. He never met with any -fatal retribution for his callous desertion of Elizabeth Patterson, or -for the wild debauchery of his youth. There seems to be no moral to -attach to the tale of his career. - -Of the remaining descendants in the male line of the house of Bonaparte -there is little to tell. One of them, Lucien, a grandson of Lucien, -Napoleon’s brother, rose to the eminence of Cardinal; one or two of them -have shown ability in various branches of science; the curious tendency -to literature has repeatedly cropped out; but none of them has ever -achieved anything really striking. Their novels are more feeble even -than Garibaldi’s, while their political achievements are of course -beneath comparison. Some of them have fought duels, and some of them -have committed manslaughter. Some of them have even attained the -dazzling heights of the French chamber of deputies. But there is not one -of them who would receive two lines of notice in any fair-sized book of -reference were it not for his relationship to the great Napoleon. The -present head of the house is Napoleon Victor Jerome, who married in 1910 -a Coburg princess, a member of the royal family of Belgium. He is -Napoleon VI., if the principle of legitimacy can yet be applied to the -house of Bonaparte; anyway, he shows not the least desire to become -Napoleon VI. - -Had Napoleon had no brothers, he would probably have been more -successful; had he had any brothers of equal ability they would have -pulled each other down in Europe, if they had not cut each other’s -throats years before in Corsica; as it is, he stands as unique in his -family as he does in his age. - -[Illustration: JOSEPH NAPOLEON ROI DE NAPLES et de SICILE - ET ROI D’ESPAGNE ET DES INDES - _Né le 7 janvier 1768. Sacré et couronné le - 3e Mars 1806._] - - - - - CHAPTER XI - SISTERS - - -IF Napoleon’s brothers were all a generally hopeless lot, the same can -by no means be said of his sisters. These stood out head and shoulders -above the other women of the time; they were all distinguished by their -force of character; whether they were married to nonentities or -personalities they all did their best to wear the breeches—but they did -not flinch from wearing nothing at all if the whim took them. They were -all handsome women, and one of them, Pauline, was generally considered -to be the most beautiful woman of the time. - -Napoleon’s sisters resembled him much more closely than did his -brothers. Xerxes, watching Artemisia fighting desperately at Salamis, -exclaimed, “This woman plays the man while my men play the woman,” and a -dispassionate observer of the conduct of the rulers of the countries of -Europe in the Napoleonic era might well say the same. One has only to -compare Joseph Bonaparte flying from Vittoria, or Murat flying from -Tolentino, with Caroline rallying the Neapolitans, Louise of Prussia -fighting desperately hard against fate at Tilsit, and Marie Caroline of -Bourbon directing Sicily’s struggle with the great conqueror. - -There are obvious differences, too, between Napoleon’s treatment of his -brothers and his treatment of his sisters. Joseph and Jerome and Louis -he bullied unmercifully, but it was far otherwise with Pauline, Caroline -and Elise. He himself admitted that he always “formed into line of -battle” in preparation for an interview with Caroline, and although -authorities are at variance as to when he actually said to his family -that anyone would think he was trying to rob them of the inheritance of -the late King, their father, it is certain that the remark was addressed -to his sisters and mother. They were all of them women with a very keen -sense of what they wanted, and they fought like tiger-cats to obtain it. - -The three girls all married before or during the Consulate, when -Napoleon had not yet attained the heights he reached later, so that the -marriages they made were by no means as brilliant as they might have -been, and fell far short of the marriages which Napoleon arranged for -much more distant relatives who became marriageable at a later period. -Elise was old enough to experience acutely the trials of poverty which -overtook the family before Napoleon was promoted to important commands. -She was sent as a child to school at St. Cyr, a state-supported -institution under the patronage of the Bourbons, and had to leave there -at the same time as the Bonaparte family had to fly from Corsica to -Marseilles. During the next few years she was rather a trial to her -family, for she flirted with every man she met, eligible and ineligible. -One of her admirers was Admiral Truguet, who was a thoroughly good -sailor and quite a good match at that time, but Madame Bonaparte -declined to allow the affair to develop. In the end it was a fellow -Corsican, Félix Baciocchi, who gained her hand. Baciocchi was a distant -connection of the Bonaparte family, and also, by a curious coincidence, -he was a relation of Charles Andrea Pozzo di Borgo, another Corsican, -who is believed to have been at feud with the Bonapartes, and who -certainly distinguished himself, while in the service of various -European monarchs, by his virulent hatred of Napoleon. - -But Baciocchi did not distinguish himself at all. He was a complete -nonentity, with neither the desire nor the capacity to achieve power. At -the marriage Elise only brought him thirty thousand francs as dowry (her -share of the Bonaparte property, now recovered from the Paolists), but -after 1797 Napoleon was able to make Elise presents of considerably -greater value. Baciocchi was then a major of infantry; but during the -Consulate his wife endeavoured to obtain higher military command for -him. So persistently did she scheme to this end that at last in -self-defence Napoleon made him a senator in order to cut short his -military career. - -Pauline, the next sister, married Leclerc, a capable soldier, who -rendered Napoleon valuable service during the _coup d’état_ of Brumaire. -He, at least, was worthy of promotion, and Bonaparte gave it to him -lavishly. But it was Caroline, the youngest, who looked after herself -best. Most of the generals of the Consulate sought her hand, including -Lannes, but both Napoleon and Caroline desired alliance with the -greatest of them all, Moreau. However, Moreau declined the honour -(thereby directly bringing about his own exile soon after), and Caroline -chose for herself a husband of whose military talents she was -sufficiently sure to be certain that high command would be given him, -but who also was sufficiently weak-willed to be well under her thumb. -Lannes was of too lofty a type to please her in this respect, and his -personal devotion to Napoleon was undoubted; Caroline therefore selected -a young cavalry officer, Murat. - -Pauline experienced an unfortunate beginning to the career she had -planned for herself and her husband. Leclerc was appointed to the -command of the expeditionary force which was sent to subdue Hayti, and -Pauline was ordered to accompany him. In vain she pleaded ill-health; in -vain she said that her complexion would be ruined by the West Indian -sun; Napoleon was adamant. Pauline kept up the plea of ill-health -sufficiently well to be carried on board ship at Brest in a litter, but -the expedition started. As was only to be expected, it ended in -disastrous failure. Toussaint l’Ouverture, the leader of the rebellion, -was indeed captured and sent to France to perish in a freezing mountain -prison, but yellow fever attacked the French troops, and they died in -thousands. Leclerc was one of those who perished. - -Napoleon himself was able to gain some satisfaction even from the -failure, because the men he had sent had all been drawn from the Army of -the Rhine, and they were all guilty of the crime of believing that -Moreau was a great man, and that Hohenlinden was a greater victory than -Marengo. But, as has been said, the French died in thousands; the -negroes fought stoutly, and at last after fifteen thousand Frenchmen had -perished only a miserable fragment of the expeditionary force survived -to be withdrawn under Rochambeau. Pauline returned to France to deplore -her ruined complexion. - -However, with the establishment of the Empire the sisters found plenty -to occupy their minds in acquiring as much spoil as possible. Money they -sought greedily, and Napoleon gave them millions of francs. They shed -tears of rage when they found that the Emperor expected them to remain -content with being plain Mesdames Murat, Leclerc and Baciocchi, while -the hated Josephine was Sa Majesté Impériale et Royale l’Impératrice et -Reine, and while plain Julie Clary and Hortense Beauharnais (Joseph’s -and Louis’s wives) were Imperial and Royal Highnesses. Napoleon gave way -to their bitter pleadings and at one stroke created them Princesses of -the Empire, making their husbands Princes at the same time. - -These names, Elise, Pauline and Caroline, were not the baptismal names -of the ladies concerned. At baptism they had been given Italian names, -each of them attached to the ever popular name of Maria. Their mother -was Maria Letizia; while Elise was really Maria Anna, Pauline, Maria -Paoletta and Caroline, Maria Annunziata. It is by these names that they -are described on their marriage certificates, but they dropped them soon -afterwards to assume names which appealed to them more. Changing their -names did not change their natures; they intrigued and schemed and -plotted; they flirted; they sought favours; they quarrelled with their -husbands, with their sisters-in-law, and with each other; in fact they -exhibited all the fierce self-seeking which characterized the ladies of -the old monarchy. There was this difference, however. Fifty years before -the Court ladies had intrigued for places, and for thousands of francs. -Now they intrigued for kingdoms and millions. - -Caroline early took first place in the race for power. Her husband, -Murat, distinguished himself in the Austerlitz campaign by capturing the -great bridge over the Danube by a trick which savoured rather of -treachery, and by bold heading of cavalry charges at Austerlitz itself. -He was already a Prince and second senior Marshal of the Empire; the -only possible promotion left for him was a sovereignty. Napoleon, -carving out his Confederation of the Rhine, found him one. A tiny area -on the Rhine was obtained by exchange from Prussia and Bavaria, and -Murat and Caroline became Grand Duke and Grand Duchess of Berg and -Cleves. Caroline was in no way satisfied. She egged her husband on to -demand increases of territory, privileges of toll on the Rhine, and so -on, until the little state had set both France and Prussia in a ferment. -The tension hardly relaxed until, a month or two later, war broke out -between the two countries. Murat went away with the Grand Army to Jena, -Eylau and Friedland; Caroline stayed behind in Paris to guard their -interests. She did it well. She indulged in an outrageous flirtation -with Junot, Governor of Paris, and hints have not been wanting that her -purpose was to arrange a revolution rather on the same lines as Mallet -tried to follow in 1812. At her palace of the Elysée (now the official -residence of the President of the Third Republic) she gave the most -brilliant fêtes imaginable. She worked like a slave to gain popularity, -so that she could gain the throne in the event of her brother’s death. -Then Tilsit followed Friedland, and the Emperor returned. The campaign -had brought more glory to Murat than he had as yet gained. He had headed -the marvellous pursuit after Jena, when he had captured fortresses with -a few regiments of Hussars, and it was largely through him that -practically the whole Prussian army had fallen into the hands of the -French. At Eylau, when Augereau’s corps had come reeling back through -the blizzard, shattered and almost annihilated, when it seemed as though -the Grand Army was at last going to taste defeat, Napoleon had called on -Murat to save the day. Murat replied by charging at the head of eighteen -thousand cavalry. He broke up the first Russian line, captured thousands -of prisoners, and beat back the Russians until Davout and Ney were in -position. - -Naturally, he reaped vast rewards. His Grand Duchy was doubled in size; -millions of francs were bestowed upon him and upon Caroline; but they -were hugely dissatisfied. Murat had hoped for the crown of Poland, or, -failing that, for a whole kingdom in Germany. But Poland was given to -the King of Saxony, and the creation of Jerome Bonaparte’s kingdom of -Westphalia shut out all hopes of the further expansion of Berg. Caroline -and Murat were furious. Murat showed his rage by hinting at rebellion; -Caroline used her native Corsican guile and became as friendly to -Napoleon as possible, helping him in his affairs with women, recounting -to him the tittle-tattle of the drawing-rooms of Paris, and even at -times giving him the shelter of her roof to conceal from Josephine some -of his more flagrant unfaithfulnesses. - -However, Murat was soon in employment again. He was appointed to the -command in Spain, where Napoleon’s tortuous intrigues to dispossess the -unspeakable Bourbons were beginning to take effect. Murat certainly -achieved fair success. He gained possession of the Spanish fortresses, -stamped out the little spurts of rebellion which occasionally flamed -out, and by the time the outrageous treaty of Bayonne had been signed he -was in a position to hand over to Napoleon the greater part of the -country. Another disappointment awaited him. He had hoped that all this -mysterious business would result in his being given the crown of -Spain—but Joseph Bonaparte received it instead, and Murat and Caroline -were forced to be content with Joseph’s former kingdom of Naples. -Caroline was at last a Queen. - -The royal pair began at once to treat their new kingdom much as Sancho -Panza had determined to treat his island. Taxes were increased, the army -was reorganized, and preparations were set on foot for the conquest of -Sicily. To gain popularity with the Neapolitans they abrogated some of -the more obnoxious decrees of Murat’s predecessor, and they further -employed all their arts to blacken his memory, so that they would by -contrast appear the better rulers. - -But Napoleon nipped this scheme in the bud at once. Every day brought -fresh thunders from Paris. The Emperor sent furious orders forbidding -certain measures, enjoining others, until it became very evident that he -was determined to rule Naples himself, although he was content to allow -Murat to bear the title and honours of King. Poor Murat could do nothing -right. Any well-advised action on his part was looked upon as potential -treason, while any failure called forth tornadoes of wrath from Paris. -When, by a well-planned raid, he captured Capri from Sir Hudson Lowe, he -was actually censured for informing the Emperor through the Ministry of -Foreign Affairs instead of through the Ministry for War! Murat and -Caroline chafed against their bonds, but while the Empire stood firm -they were powerless. - -Meanwhile, Pauline and Elise, although not as successful as Caroline, -had nevertheless attained to some measure of sovereignty. Elise -contrived for the greater part of the time to have her dullard husband -sent away on various duties, while she herself flirted gaily with every -man she could. As a matter of fact, her flirting was never so serious as -was her sisters’; she had another outlet for her ingenuity in that she -was passionately devoted to the stage and to all connected with it. She -visited the theatre as often as she could; she read plays in hundreds, -and she indulged in amateur theatricals whenever possible. When Italy -was being parcelled out into fiefs by Napoleon, she prevailed on her -brother to allot to her the principality of Piombino in full -sovereignty, and later she contrived to have Lucca added to her little -state. Here she settled down for a time, with all the paraphernalia of -sovereignty, equerries, chamberlains, ladies-in-waiting, and especially -a Court troupe of actors. Baciocchi, her husband, had indeed been given -the title of Prince of Piombino, but Elise alone had been given the -principality. Baciocchi was merely his wife’s subject, and Elise made -the most of it. He could never worry her again, for Elise allotted him -apartments far distant from her own, and never saw him without a third -person being present. Scandal said that other men were allowed greater -privileges, but there is nothing very definite from which one may draw -reliable conclusions. - -Soon Elise received further promotion. Napoleon cast a covetous eye upon -the kingdom of Etruria which had set up in 1802, and by treaty with -Spain he arranged to give the widowed Queen of Etruria (a Spanish -princess) a new kingdom of Northern Lusitania in exchange. That this new -kingdom was to be carved out of Portugal troubled him not at all; he -even promised to make Godoy (First Minister of Spain) Prince of the -Algarve, another Portuguese district. He had very little intention of -fulfilling either promise, but they enabled him to send Junot marching -hotfoot on Lisbon, and to annex Tuscany to the Empire. Elise seized her -opportunity. By cajolery and blandishment she persuaded Napoleon to -erect Tuscany into a government-general, and to confer upon her the -ruling power with the title of Grand Duchess of Tuscany. Poor Baciocchi -was appointed general of division in command of the French garrison. -Elise settled down in the Pitti palace at Florence, and proceeded to -rule the cradle of the Renaissance, the erstwhile domain of the Medicis, -as thoroughly as her brother would allow her. - -Pauline’s widowhood ended in a much more splendid match than was made by -any of the other Bonapartes. She took as her second husband Prince -Camillo Borghese, the head of one of the most renowned houses of Italy. -The marriage was not a success (no Bonaparte marriage was, at that -time), but Borghese’s wealth and the presents Napoleon heaped upon her -enabled Pauline to indulge every whim of which she was capable. Proud of -her reputation as the most beautiful woman of the time, she did all she -could to enhance and set off her beauty. Like Poppæa, she bathed every -day in milk—a hot milk bath followed by a cold milk shower. She -surrounded herself with negro servants and dwarfs, by way of contrast, -and her extravagances and wanton waste of money were the talk of the -whole Empire. Canova carved her statue, and despite his cold classicism -we can still perceive in that recumbent, self-satisfied figure the -fiery, tempestuous woman who was once Pauline. Her posing semi-nude, -even to such a sculptor as Canova, called forth a storm of comment from -a gossip-loving Empire. The tale was told that when Pauline was asked if -she did not feel uncomfortable, posing half-dressed, she replied, “Oh -no, there was a fire in the room.” - -When Elise received Piombino, Pauline begged Guastalla from Napoleon, -and as Duchess she, too, held sovereignty. Borghese was made -Governor-General of the Piedmontese departments, and was sent to Turin -with an enormous Civil List to play the part of a semi-royalty, and to -reconcile the Piedmontese to the loss of their Sardinian king. Such a -task was naturally agreeable to Pauline, and in Turin she and Borghese -did their best to astonish the provincials with a series of fêtes of -unheard-of opulence. Pauline was the most talked about of all -Bonaparte’s sisters; the voice of adulation praised her beauty; the -voice of vituperation hinted frightful things about her morals. She was -accused of hideous vices, of too great an affection for her brothers, of -a lunatic passion for various men. Pauline apparently did not mind. She -went gaily on through life, quarrelling with Borghese, spending money -like water, indulging in hectic episodes with artists and soldiers, and -generally recalling to mind the old days of the Borgias and the -Viscontis. - -With the publication of the fate of Napoleon’s Russian expedition a -shudder ran through the Empire. Murat, whom Napoleon had left in command -of the wreck of the Grand Army, deserted his charge and rushed home so -as to be at hand to preserve his own kingdom should the Empire fall. -Prussia became Russia’s ally. Sweden, under Bernadotte, had already done -the same. Napoleon made a gigantic effort; in three months he raised and -equipped an army of three hundred thousand men; he beat back the Allies, -winning victories at Lützen and Bautzen; for a space it seemed as if he -would regain his old European domination. Consequently the pendulum of -his allies’ attitude swung back once more towards faithfulness, and -Murat left Naples once more to command the cavalry of the Grand Army. -But already Caroline and he had negotiated a secret convention with -Austria by which he would declare war on France if called upon to do so. -Elise in Tuscany had decided to join him, although, unfortunately for -her, she extracted no definite promise from Austria that she would -retain her throne. - -Thus, while Murat was fighting for the Grand Army, leading charges made -by fifty and seventy squadrons at a time, and capturing twelve thousand -Austrian prisoners in a single battle, his wife in Naples was assuring -Austria of his devotion to Austria; she was recruiting the Neapolitan -army to the utmost, and, while not actually moving against France, she -was refusing to allow a single Neapolitan battalion to go to Napoleon’s -help. Then came the French defeats of 1813, culminating in the disaster -of Leipzig. It was obvious that the Empire could not endure much longer. -Bavaria, Baden, Würtemberg, all turned against Napoleon, and Murat -realized that if he delayed further the Allies would not have so -pressing a need for his aid, and he would be unable to secure his throne -by his treachery. Without further hesitation he left the beaten Emperor, -hurried across Europe through the first snows of autumn, and reached -Naples early in November. The Neapolitan army was at last going to -advance. - -The advance was a very slow and cautious one. Eugène de Beauharnais, -Viceroy of Italy, was fighting fiercely in Venetia against the -Austrians. Tempting offers were made to him by the Allies, but he -refused them; his dignified replies are worthy of Bayard or Francis I. -But Murat and his Neapolitans were moving steadily northward; even now -he had made no public declaration as to which side he was on, and in -private he and Caroline were assuring Eugène, Napoleon and the Austrians -at one and the same time of their unfailing support. Nor was this all. -They were further intriguing with the infant United Italy party in an -endeavour to increase their dominion in that way; while in addition they -had made some sort of agreement with Elise Bonaparte in Tuscany. It -would be hard to discover anywhere in history an equally loathsome -example of double-dealing. - -Murat occupied the Papal States, Tuscany, and portions of the Kingdom of -Italy, but he still refrained from making any open attack on either -French or Austrians. Not until March 6th, 1814, when he received from -Caroline definite news of the certainty of the fall of the Empire, did -he attack Eugène’s forces. He achieved little, and after two fierce -little skirmishes he subsided once more into inaction. At last official -intimation of Napoleon’s fall came to hand, and, abandoning Elise to her -fate, Murat returned to Naples. Further diplomacy confirmed him in his -possession of Naples; the only person concerned who kept to his pledged -word in all the intricacies of the negotiations was Francis of Austria. - -Thus 1815 found Napoleon’s three sisters in very different situations. -Caroline was still a Queen; Elise, turned out of Tuscany by the -Austrians, was a pensioner on her bounty; while Pauline, who alone had -remained faithful to her brother, was living with Napoleon at Elba. -Suddenly there came another dramatic change, for Napoleon escaped from -Elba, and within a few days was once more Emperor of the French. Italy -was again plunged into a ferment. Murat and Caroline were naturally -anxious, for they could not expect that Napoleon would forgive their -black treachery of the year before, while it was only too obvious that -not a single country in Europe retained any interest in their possession -of the throne of Naples. In these circumstances Murat took the first -heroic decision of his life, and decided to cut the Gordian knot by -force of arms. He declared war against Austria, proclaimed a United -Italy, and with fifty thousand men he marched northward to establish -himself as King of Italy. It was a vain effort. The Neapolitan army was -a wretched force, and Murat himself was worse than useless in -independent command. The Austrian army hurriedly concentrated, defeated -Murat in one or two minor actions, and finally utterly routed him at -Tolentino. The Neapolitans deserted in thousands, and Murat re-entered -his dominions with only five thousand men left. The Austrians followed -him up remorselessly; the Sicilians were preparing an expedition against -him; and all that was left for Murat to do was to abdicate and fly for -his life. - -Caroline was successful in obtaining the protection of Francis of -Austria, and she soon went off to settle down in Austria with a pension -and a residence. Murat had reached France, and for some weeks he was in -hiding in Marseilles. After Waterloo he left by sea to join his wife, -but on his way he changed his mind and took his second heroic decision. -Napoleon had regained France simply by appearing in person before his -army; why should not Murat regain Naples in the same way? Murat landed -with a score of companions at Pizzo in Calabria, and marched into the -market place with his escort shouting “Long live King Joachim!” For a -moment there was an astonished silence, and then the townspeople fell on -the little party. Not for nothing had Murat decorated every mile of -every road in Calabria with a gallows from which hung captured bandits; -every soul in Pizzo must have had a blood feud with their late King. -Battered with sticks and stones, Murat was seized and flung into prison, -and five days later he was tried and shot. - -Murat’s attempt was the last spurt of the Napoleonic feeling for a long -period. Not until, with the passage of years, the Legend had been built -up, do we hear of any surprising action or heroic deed. Europe sank into -a slough of inaction, crushed down by the weight of the Holy Alliance -and the burden of accumulated debts. The most typical action of a dull -generation was the establishment on the throne of France of fat, -pathetic, bourgeois Louis Philippe as King of the French. It was a safe -thing to do, and Louis Philippe and his Amelia did their best to make it -remain safe. No risks were taken until the movement of 1848. Happiness -has no history, and there is precious little history about the period -1815-48. Had the Holy Alliance had its way, there would be even less. -Somehow one cannot help feeling that the dullness of the period is the -dullness of unhappiness. It was the time when “order reigned in Warsaw,” -when little children died in droves in English factories, when in Naples -the negation of God was erected into a system of government. Historians -may sneer at the ineffectiveness of the Napoleonides; they may point to -a pillaged, blood-drenched Europe writhing under the heel of a Corsican -Emperor; they can draw horrible pictures of the sacks of Lübeck or -Badajoz, but they are unconvincing when they attempt to prove that there -was more unhappiness under the Empire than under the Holy Alliance. -Peace has its defeats as well as war. - -This digression may be unpardonable, but it was nevertheless inevitable. -Let us minimize our error, even if we cannot repair it, by turning back -to the consideration of three fair and frail women whom we left thrust -back unwillingly into a private station of life. One of them did not -long survive the calamities of 1814. This was Elise. The Allies refused -her request to join Napoleon at St. Helena, and she lived quietly in -Italy until her death in 1820. She was only forty-two when she died. -Pauline had the advantage over her sisters of having a husband whose -position was independent of the Empire. Prince Borghese was a very -considerable person in Rome, and Pauline for some time was a leading -figure in Italian society. It did not last long, however. She quarrelled -with her husband; her beauty left her; Austrian, French and Papal -surveillance worried her, and she died in 1825. - -Caroline, the most capable and cold-hearted of all the Bonapartes, after -Napoleon, bore her troubles with more dignity and for a much longer -time. As the Countess of Lipona (an anagram of Napoli) she lived for -some time in Austria; she travelled restlessly about; she seemed in fact -to have completely recovered from the shock of the loss of her husband -and her throne, when at last a whole series of deaths broke down her -reserve and shortened her life. Pauline and Elise, as has been said, -were already dead; in 1832 the Prince Imperial (Napoleon II.) died at -Vienna; Prince Borghese died in the same year. Another brother-in-law, -Baciocchi, died in 1834; Catherine of Westphalia, her best beloved -sister-in-law, died in 1835, and then in 1836 Madame Mère, her stern but -adored mother, also died. Caroline endured her loneliness for a little -while longer, but she died in 1839. Even she, almost the last of her -generation, was only fifty-six at her death. - -None of the Bonaparte family was as long-lived as Napoleon’s mother. -Maria Letizia Ramolino was certainly one of the greatest women of the -period. Elise Bonaparte might be called the Semiramis of Italy; Caroline -might intrigue for Empires; Pauline might be the most beautiful woman of -France; but their mother combined all their good qualities with very few -of their bad ones. To bring up a family of eight children thoroughly -well on an income of less than one hundred pounds a year in a -revolution-torn country like Corsica is in itself a remarkable feat, -though hardly likely in unfavourable circumstances to gain mention in -history, but to do it when handicapped by a husband like Carlo Bonaparte -is more remarkable still. The strain of those dreadful years in Ajaccio -would have broken down anyone of stuff less stern than Maria Letizia’s; -pitched battles were fought in the streets outside the Bonapartes’ -house; three-quarters of Corsica were at feud with the Bonapartes and -the party they represented; death threatened them all at different -times, while all the time a most bitter, grinding poverty harried them -unmercifully. - -Maria Letizia came through the ordeal unbroken in body or spirit. Even -Napoleon’s fierce pride humbled itself before her, and her other -children were her slaves. But she had a woman’s weaknesses as well as a -man’s strength. She was bitterly jealous of her daughter-in-law -Josephine; she was bigoted in church matters; and she fought like a -tigress in the cause of whichever of her children was experiencing -misfortune. When Lucien left France in disgrace in consequence of his -marriage to Madame Jouberthon, his mother strove desperately hard to -re-establish him. She went to Italy to be near him, and endeavoured, by -absenting herself at the time of the coronation, to force Napoleon to -recall Lucien and herself together. However, her great son outwitted her -on this occasion, for he dispensed with her presence, and yet arranged -with David the artist for her portrait to appear along with the other -French dignitaries in the celebrated picture of the coronation. - -Letizia had a very good opinion of her own position. When Napoleon -became Emperor, and made his brothers and sisters Imperial Highnesses, -she demanded some greater title for herself. Napoleon was in a quandary, -for on consulting precedents he found that no French king’s mother had -ever been given any such honour if she had never been queen. Letizia -insisted, and, almost at his wits’ end, Napoleon at last gave her a -singular dignity. He awarded her the same position and precedence as -used to be given under the Bourbons to the wife of the king’s second -son. The king’s second son was Monsieur, and his wife was Madame. -Letizia was named Madame, and as a subsidiary title she was called Mère -de S.M. l’Empéreur et Roi. Almost at once the titles were merged -together in common speech, and Letizia was called Madame Mère everywhere -except at strict official gatherings. - -By the time that the Empire was firmly founded, and all her children -except Lucien were seated on thrones, Letizia was able to give free rein -to the passion which came only second with her to her love for her -children. It is said that shipwrecked sailors who have been starved for -a long time cannot help, after being rescued, hoarding fragments of food -for fear of another period of famine. With Madame Mère a similar state -of affairs prevailed. She had felt the pinch of poverty for fifty years, -and in no circumstances could she endure it again. She still lived as -cheaply as she could, and she saved her money like a miser. She coaxed -Napoleon into giving her an annual income of a million francs, and she -did not spend a quarter of it. She did her best to obtain a sovereignty -for herself, not that she wanted to rule, but because she could sell the -fief back to the French and invest the proceeds. She made money by acute -speculation. She clung like grim death to every sou which came within -her reach. - -Yet avarice pure and simple was not the sole motive of her actions. Just -as a prophet has no honour in his own country, so the Emperor and the -Kings and Princesses who were her children still seemed to be children -to her, and all their talk of sovereignty was little better than -childish prattling. She did not believe for one moment that the Empire -could long endure, and in this her judgment was more acute than that of -the majority of European statesmen. Wellington, as early as 1809, had -seen through the shams and pretences of the glittering Empire, but few -other men, not even Metternich, agreed with him at that time. But Madame -Mère saw the end long before it came, and it was against that time of -need that she saved so avariciously. Her judgment was proved accurate, -and her savings proved useful in 1814. - -In 1802 she had befriended Lucien; in 1805, Jerome; in 1810, Louis; now -the greatest of her sons had met with adversity, and Letizia rushed to -his assistance. She shared his exile in Elba, and from her own purse she -provided the money which enabled him to maintain his Lilliputian court. -She was by his side during the Hundred Days, and after he had been sent -to St. Helena she returned to Italy and resumed the headship of the -family. Her wealth as well as her marvellous personality assured her the -respect of her sons and daughters. The death of the Prince Imperial in -1832 was a terrible shock to her; she had long been looking to him to -restore the fame of the exiled house, and she had arranged to leave him -all her money and papers. She did not long survive his death, but died -in 1836, at the age of eighty-six. - -She lies buried in Ajaccio, and the inscription over her tomb can still -make the casual tourist catch his breath, and still makes the blood of -Corsican youth run a little faster— - - MARIA LETIZIA RAMOLINO BONAPARTE. - MATER REGUM. - -[Illustration: CAROLINE MURAT - (née BONAPARTE)] - - - - - CHAPTER XII - STARS OF LESSER MAGNITUDE - - -‟BAD troops do not exist,” said Napoleon on one occasion. “There are -only bad officers.” Napoleon did his best therefore to find good -officers, and trusted that the rank and file would through them become -good soldiers. And yet, was he successful either in his end or in his -method? The army of 1796, which he did not train, was timid in retreat -though terrible in advance. The men were fanatics, and similar strengths -and weaknesses are typical of fanatics in large bodies. In 1800 Napoleon -had an army which he could manœuvre in line, and which bore the dreadful -strain of Marengo without breaking. Half the men in the ranks, however, -were untrained boys, who, as Napoleon’s despatches tell us, were -ignorant a few days before the battle as to which eye they should use to -aim their muskets. Marengo was largely a personal triumph for Napoleon; -it was his vehement encouragement, coupled with the confident -expectation of Desaix’ arrival, which held the men together during that -long-drawn agony. - -The peace which followed Hohenlinden gave Napoleon a chance to train an -army as he wished, and the Austerlitz campaign found him at the head of -an army of two hundred thousand men, half of them veterans, all of them -of very considerable length of service, who were to a man inspired with -the utmost enthusiasm for him and for the Empire. Yet at Austerlitz the -line was abandoned almost entirely in favour of the column; the columns -showed evident signs of disintegration even when victorious. It was -already a little obvious that the Imperial armies were only adapted to a -furious offensive effort, and that failure of this effort meant -unlimited catastrophe. At Jena the Prussians were too heavily -outnumbered to offer any serious resistance, but at Eylau the French -army was only saved from destruction after the failure of their first -offensive by the fact that Napoleon held ready at hand eighteen thousand -cavalry, and by the constitutional sluggishness of the Russian army. - -Friedland offered the last example of a really heroic defensive by an -Imperial force, but the soul of that defensive was Lannes. Few other men -could have held a French army corps together against superior forces as -did Lannes on that fateful anniversary of Marengo. After Friedland we -find the French army growing progressively poorer and more unreliable. -We read of panics at Wagram, of the introduction of regimental artillery -to give the infantry confidence, of shameless skulking on the field of -battle and of heavy desertion while on the march. Discipline was fading -at the same time as devotion to the Emperor was losing some of its -force. In the Russian campaign of 1812 the Grand Army had barely crossed -the frontier before it began to go to pieces. Napoleon could not trust -his men to manœuvre at Borodino, and in consequence he had to rely on -frontal attacks made against elaborate fieldworks defended by the most -stubborn of all Continental infantry. At the crisis of the battle he -refused to fling the Imperial Guard into the struggle; some thought it -was because he was too far from his base to risk his best reserve; some -suspected Bessières of having implored him not to waste his best troops; -but perhaps the reason was a more logical one. Had the Guard been sent -forward and been beaten back, the whole army would have fallen back -routed; at Waterloo Napoleon took the risk and lost; at Borodino he -refused to take it and was satisfied with an indecisive gain. - -The Grand Army perished in Russia, but in three months Napoleon raised, -trained and equipped three hundred thousand more men and was for a time -once more successful. Curiously enough, this raw infantry of 1813 was to -all intents and purposes of greater military value than the two or three -year trained infantry of 1812. The army of 1812 possessed the little -knowledge proverbially dangerous, and would not willingly expose itself -to sacrifice, but the novices of 1813 knew nothing of war, and suffered -losses and privations which would have roused veterans to mutiny. At -Lützen Ney’s corps of half-grown boys endured for hours the attack of -the whole Allied force, and fought like demons in the shelter of the -villages of Gorschen and Kaya. At Bautzen the French attacked with a -dash and fury reminiscent of Elchingen or Saalfeld. Before Dresden they -accomplished a march which easily bears comparison with anything -achieved in 1796. But the decline of their fame had already begun. At -the Katzbach, at Gross Beeren, at Dennewitz, the conscripts fled in -panic. They had discovered by this time that a battle generally implies -the sacrifice of one portion of the army while the rest gains the -victory, and they were one and all determined not to be the sacrifice. -At Leipzig what was left of the army of 1813 lost the greater part of -its numbers—a new lesson to the effect that it is easier to surrender -than to fight had been learned. Napoleon’s last victorious phase, in the -campaign of France in 1814, coincides with his use of a fresh army of -raw conscripts, and his surrender took place when the men of the ranks -had once more learnt the lessons of their predecessors. - -Waterloo, the last battle of the Empire, epitomizes all these -observations. The French attacked with dash, but a single reverse was -sufficient to weaken the infantry so much that no support was -forthcoming for the later cavalry attacks. A powerful counter-attack by -the enemy brought about, not merely retreat, but unspeakable panic. -Practically every battalion which had been in action broke and fled. The -Guard, which had moved forward so majestically, dispersed like the -merest conscripts. The only troops which held together were the reserve -battalions of the Old Guard, which had not yet been engaged, and for a -time Lobau’s corps at Planchenoit. The Prussians after Jena were not so -hopelessly disorganized as were the French after Waterloo. - -Napoleon undoubtedly appreciated this weakness of his army, and this -explains the reckless manner in which he sought battle at all costs, and -the risks he cheerfully ran in his endeavour to get to grips with his -enemy. His headlong, energetic strategy gave him the initiative, and -this initiative he retained on the field of battle. Jena, Eylau, -Eckmühl, Aspern, Wagram, Borodino, were all examples of a fierce -tactical offensive. On the two principal occasions, at Austerlitz and -Friedland, when he confined some part of his force to a dogged -defensive, he saw that the generals in command were men of wide personal -influence, and that the troops they led were the best available. Davout -and Lannes were certainly successful. At Lützen Ney’s necessarily -defensive rôle was not fully foreseen, but he was able to hold on, -partly through the enthusiasm of his young men, partly through the -advantage they possessed in holding the villages, and partly through -Wittgenstein’s bungling of the attack. - -At no period in its development will Napoleon’s army bear comparison -with, say, the army of Cromwell, or the original force of Gustavus -Adolphus, or with the army of the Third Republic. It incidentally -follows that Napoleon’s military achievements should be rated even -higher than they usually are, seeing that the immense successes he -gained were gained with inferior troops. - -But if the rank and file were of this doubtful quality, it was far -otherwise with the officers, and the statement of Napoleon’s with which -this chapter opens is therefore subject to doubt. Napoleon’s method of -making war support war exposed his armies, as he candidly admitted, to a -loss of one-half of their numbers every year, and since this loss fell -far more heavily on the privates than on the officers, it followed that -a very widely experienced corps of officers was built up. It was quite -usual for men of good birth to serve a few months in the ranks before -taking commissions; Marbot and Bugeaud are good examples of this among -the younger men. Once they had gained their lieutenancy anything might -happen. They might in ten years be dukes and generals, or they might -still be lieutenants. The open system of promotion was stimulating, -certainly, but it was undoubtedly unfair at times. Curély, who served -from 1800 to 1814, and was subsequently admitted to be the best light -cavalry officer in the French service, only attained his colonelcy in -his last campaign. The men who received the most rapid promotion were -those who had attracted Napoleon’s notice in 1796 or in the Egyptian -campaign. Some of these choices were highly successful, as witness the -career of Davout, but others were positively harmful. Marmont was a -failure, Junot was a failure, Murat was a failure, while men of -undoubted talent served in twenty campaigns without receiving promotion. -Kellermann the younger fought at Waterloo with the same military rank as -he had held at Marengo. Suchet, who was one of the most successful -generals of division in 1799, remained a general of division until 1811. -If this was the case with the higher ranks, it must have been nearly as -bad with the lower ranks. When the rush of promotion of the -Revolutionary era ended, advancement became very slow indeed. A man who -was a captain at the battle of the Pyramids might well consider himself -fortunate if he commanded a battalion at Ligny. Occasionally, however, -the divisional generals were given their chance. The vast expansion of -the Imperial Army for the Russian campaign increased the commands of -some of the Marshals to eighty or a hundred thousand men, and generals -of division similarly found themselves at the head of twenty or thirty -thousand. Many of them displayed talents of a very high order. St. Cyr -won the battle of Polotsk, for which he received his bâton. The most -remarkable example occurred at Salamanca. Here Wellington had flung -himself suddenly on the over-extended Army of Portugal, had shattered -one wing, and had beaten back the remainder in dire confusion; Marmont, -the commander-in-chief, was badly wounded. Bonnet had hardly succeeded -to the command when he was killed. Several other generals of division -were struck down. The man who took over command of the fleeing mob was -already wounded. He was practically unknown; he was leading a beaten -army in wild retreat from the finest troops in the world. And yet he -rallied that beaten army; in the course of a few hours he had them once -more in hand. He faced about time and again as he toiled across the -wasted Castilian plains; in a dozen fierce rearguard actions he taught -the exultant English that some Frenchmen, as well as being more than men -in victory, were not less than women in defeat, and he showed Wellington -that every French general was not a Marmont. Every morning found his -army posted in some strong position; all day long the English marched by -wretched roads and over thirsty plains to turn the flanks; every evening -as the movement was nearing completion the French fell back to some new -position where the English had to resume the whole weary business next -day. The French survived the severest defeat they had yet received in -the Peninsula at English hands with astonishingly little loss; a few -weeks later they had so far recovered as to thrust fiercely forward once -more, and aid in driving Wellington from Madrid. The man who was -responsible for this wonderful achievement deserved reward. Bessières -and Marmont had been given bâtons for much less. A title, a marshalate, -a dotation of a million francs would not have seemed too much for saving -for France a kingdom, an army of forty thousand men, and dependent -forces numbering a quarter of a million. But Clausel was not made -Marshal, nor Duke of Burgos. Instead he was recalled, and an inferior -general, Souham, sent in his place. Napoleon had a prejudice against -“retreating generals” dating from the days of Moreau. Clausel took the -affront philosophically, and fought on for his Emperor. When it was too -late, his worth was recognized, and during the Hundred Days he was given -the independent command of the Pyrenees. After Waterloo he fled from -France with a price on his head. Clausel went unrewarded; Murat was -over-rewarded. Their lines of conduct differed greatly. - -The men who were never granted the coveted rank of Marshal, but who did -each as much for France as any one of half the Marshals, are in number -legion. Their very names would fill a page. Kellermann the younger has -already been mentioned. At Marengo his desperate charge at the head of -the heavy cavalry saved the day, and “set the crown of France on -Napoleon’s head.” But Napoleon found it far safer and far cheaper to -praise a dead man, and he awarded the chief credit to the slain Desaix. -D’Hautpoult died at the head of his Cuirassiers at Eylau, charging one -army to save another. St. Hilaire, the finest of them all, died -miserably at Essling, with the Empire reeling round him. Lasalle, the -pride of the light cavalry, the man who captured Stettin with a few -score Hussars, fell at the head of his men in the pursuit after Wagram. -Montbrun, another Cuirassier, was killed in the great redoubt at -Borodino. - -Their names are carved upon the Arc de Triomphe, and the bourgeois peer -at them with self-satisfaction. They fell in a far less worthy cause -than did the myriad Frenchmen who died by poison gas and shrapnel in the -trenches a few years ago. To us now it seems to be nearly blasphemy to -think in the same moment of the Moskowa and the Marne, or to speak in -the same breath of the sieges of Verdun and of Hamburg. The Englishman -turns lightly from the great names on the Arc de Triomphe, and thinks -with proud regret of the simple inscription on an empty tomb in -Whitehall. And yet these men were the wonders of their time. They did -their duty; more cannot be said of any man, and much less of most. They -gave their lives with a smile for a country which they adored. Danger -was as usual to them as was the air they breathed. They gave their blood -in streams; they marched with their men into every Continental capital. -Their cowed enemies regarded them timidly, as though they were beings -from another world. Their continued success and their overwhelming -victories might well have led them to believe themselves superhuman. And -when Waterloo was fought and lost they went back to their beloved -France—such of them as survived—and nursed their wounds on pensions of -thirty pounds a year. - -There was one general of division who attained as near as might be to a -marshalate without quite achieving this last step. He was made a duke -and he gained a vast fortune. This man was Junot. Junot, indeed, is -often stated to have received his bâton, but he never did, although he -was as much a favourite of Napoleon’s at one time as was Marmont. It was -Junot who at Toulon was writing a letter at Bonaparte’s dictation, when -a cannon shot plunged near-by and scattered earth over them. “We need no -sand to dry the ink now,” laughed Junot, and from that day his future -was made. He married Mademoiselle Laurette Permon, whom Napoleon had -once courted, and whose memoirs are one of the most interesting books of -the period. Junot himself served as Bonaparte’s aide-de-camp all over -Europe and in Egypt as well. He received promotion steadily, and was a -general of division in a very brief while. With that rank, however, he -was forced to be content, for Napoleon realized his shortcomings, while -a wound in the head which he early received unbalanced him a little -mentally. The one outstanding feature of his character was his -passionate devotion to Napoleon. Napoleon was his God, and Junot served -him with a faithfulness almost unexampled. Adventures came his way with -a frequency characteristic of the period. He fell into English hands and -was exchanged; he went as ambassador to Portugal and made a large -fortune; he was appointed Governor of Paris, and withstood Caroline -Bonaparte’s blandishments when she tried to induce him to subvert the -Government. Half dead with wounds, he travelled across Europe in -November, 1805, and arrived at Austerlitz on the very morning of the -battle. He was again wounded heading a charge that day. In 1807 Napoleon -gave him a command which he hoped would bring him fame, and a marshalate -was promised in the event of success. Junot was to lead the army of -Portugal from France to Lisbon; he was to capture the Portuguese royal -family and the English shipping in the harbour; he was to tear down the -Portuguese Government and to rule the country himself in the name of the -Emperor. Junot set out with a mixed French and Spanish force numbering -nearly forty thousand men. At every stage he received frantic orders -from Paris demanding greater speed from him and his men. Junot did what -he could. The whole valley of the Tagus was littered with the guns, dead -horses and exhausted men whom he had left behind. His army was dispersed -into fragments, and it was only with four hundred men at his back that -Junot burst into Lisbon. The English shipping and the Portuguese royal -family had fled the day before. - -Junot was in a serious position. With four hundred men he had to rule a -large town simmering with rebellion, but he succeeded, and held the -country down while the rest of his army trailed disconsolately into -Lisbon. His astonishing march had not achieved its object, and the -marshal’s bâton was therefore withheld. Napoleon offered some sort of -consolation by creating Junot Duke of Abrantès, but there is no doubt -that the disappointment weighed heavily upon him. Napoleon had meditated -making Junot Duke of Nazareth, in memory of his victory during the -Syrian campaign, but he had decided that it would be inadvisable, as the -soldiers would call him “Junot of Nazareth.” - -Napoleon was not quite so far-sighted when at the same time he made -Victor, at the suggestion of one of the wits of his court, Duke of -Belluno. Victor was commonly called the Beau Soleil of the French Army. -Napoleon’s investiture made him Duke of Belle Lune. - -Immediately afterwards the Spanish war broke out, and Junot found -himself isolated at Lisbon. He gathered his forces together, and without -any help whatever from France he maintained them and re-equipped them at -the cost of unfortunate Portugal. But it was not to last long, for -Wellington landed in Mondego bay, and Junot, furiously attacking him, -was badly beaten at Vimiero. There followed the Convention of Cintra. By -it Junot and his men were transported back to France with their arms, -baggage and plunder; all that the English gained was a bloodless -occupation of Portugal. It is difficult now to decide who had the best -of this agreement. Certainly Napoleon thought that Junot had made a good -bargain, and equally certainly the English public thought that -Wellington had blundered badly. - -If the Convention had not been concluded, the English would have cut -Junot off from France (two hundred thousand Spanish insurgents had done -that already) and would have shut him up in Lisbon. Without a doubt, -Junot would have made a desperate resistance there. Masséna’s holding of -Genoa in 1800 might have been re-enacted, and the wretched Portuguese -might have starved while Junot held out. In this event the hands of the -English would have been so full that no help could have been offered to -the Spanish armies; Moore’s skilful thrust at Sahagun could never have -been made, and the Spaniards might have met with utter annihilation. By -the Convention of Cintra, France gained an immediate benefit, but -England eventually gained even more. - -After Vimiero, Junot’s military career is one of continued -failure—failure under Masséna in the Busaco campaign, failure under -Napoleon in the Russian campaign, until at last the Duke of Abrantès was -sent into comparative exile as Governor of Illyria. Here his troubles, -his wounds and his disappointments bore too heavily upon him. He went -raving mad, and performed all sorts of lunatic actions in his Illyrian -province until he was removed to France. At Dijon he flung himself from -a window and killed himself. Junot is one more example of those whom -Napoleon favoured, who met with horrible ends. - -But Marshals and Generals alike, Napoleon’s superior officers were -nearly all distinguished by one common failing—a dread of -responsibility and a hopeless irresolution when compelled to act on -their own initiative. The examples of this are almost too numerous to -mention; the most striking perhaps is Berthier’s failure during the -early period of the campaign of 1809. There are many others which had -much more important results, although at first they seem trivial in -comparison. Thus, Dupont’s surrender at Baylen, although it only -involved twenty thousand men, was one of the principal causes of the -prolongation of the Peninsular War. Dupont surrendered with twenty -thousand men; his action necessitated the employment in the Peninsula of -three hundred thousand men for six years afterwards. - -Another incident of the same type was Vandamme’s disaster at Kulm. -Vandamme was a burly, heavy-jawed soldier of the furious and thoughtless -kind, who had learnt his trade thoroughly well by rule of thumb, and who -had made his name a byword throughout Germany on account of his dreadful -depredations. His boast was that he feared neither God nor devil, and -Napoleon referred to this once when he said that Vandamme was the most -valuable of all his soldiers because he was the only one he could employ -in a war against the Infernal regions, should such a contingency arise. - -In July, 1813, the Armistice of Pleisswitz had come to an end, and -Austria had joined the ranks of Napoleon’s enemies. The Grand Army was -in Silesia when the news arrived that the Austrians were marching on -Dresden. Napoleon turned back without hesitation, marched a hundred and -twenty miles in four days, and by what was almost his last victory he -saved the town. At the commencement of his march he had detached -Vandamme with twenty thousand men to hold the passes of the Erz Gebirge -against the retreating forces. The beaten Austrian army came reeling -back towards them. The Emperor of Austria and the Czar of Russia were -present in its ranks, and it seemed as if nothing could save them from -surrender. Fortunately, perhaps, for Europe, Napoleon was unwell and did -not press the pursuit as closely as he might have done, and Vandamme, -who rushed into peril like a bull into the ring, without outposts, -without flank guards, without any reasonable protection, was overwhelmed -by forces outnumbering his by four to one, and was forced to surrender. -Vandamme may have feared neither God nor devil, but he had not the -brains for a command in chief, even against men. - -His own honour he redeemed from all possible accusations of cowardice, -when, a prisoner in Austrian hands, with all the possibilities before -him of condemnation to slow death in a salt-mine or speedy death on the -spot, he was led before the Czar, and he did not quail. Alexander rated -him for his excesses in Prussia, and Vandamme hit back at Alexander’s -tender spot—his conscience. “At least I did not kill my own father,” -said Vandamme. - -Indecision characterizes the actions of many French generals during the -Empire. The most discussed case perhaps was Grouchy’s hesitation at -Wavre during the Waterloo campaign, and this, curiously enough, was not -really hesitation. The sole military crime of which Grouchy was guilty -was a too pedantic obedience to orders. Grouchy has been blamed for -misreading the situation and for not marching from Wavre on Waterloo, -but Napoleon misread the situation just as badly, as his orders to -Grouchy clearly prove. Moreover, once Grouchy’s hands had been freed by -the destruction of the main French army, his actions were exceedingly -bold and competent. His retreat across the Allies’ rear and his capture -of Namur were manœuvres of sound military skill. - -Grouchy’s military career had been in every way honourable throughout -his life. He had ridden bravely to destruction at the head of his -dragoons during Murat’s charge at Eylau. He had fought magnificently at -Friedland and elsewhere. The only other time when he had been in -independent command, and when he did display genuine dilatoriness was -many years before when he had found himself in command owing to the loss -of Hoche on the French expedition to Bantry Bay in 1796. Grouchy’s -courage failed him then, and he withdrew at the very time when his -landing would have set Ireland in an inextinguishable blaze. For a -series of quite strictly correct actions at Waterloo Grouchy has gone -down to history as a fool and a humbug, but he was neither—to any great -extent. - -During the Waterloo campaign there was certainly one example of a -general being overwhelmed by his sense of responsibility. Up to the -moment of execution not one of Napoleon’s plans of attack had been more -brilliantly conceived or better arranged. A hundred and twenty thousand -men were assembled at the crossings of the Sambre by Charleroi without -the enemy gathering more than a hint as to what was in the air; in fact -the Allies’ Intelligence completely lost sight of Gérard’s corps of -sixteen thousand men. From this point, however, the arrangements rapidly -grew worse and worse. Bad staff work caused delays at the crossing of -the Sambre; Ney’s unexpected appointment to the command of the left wing -was disturbing, in that he was without a staff and his sudden elevation -annoyed d’Erlon and Reille, his subordinate corps commanders. Zieten’s -stubborn rearguard actions held up the French columns for a considerable -time; and finally a sort of universal misunderstanding led to everyone -being more or less in the dark as to the need for a determined and -immediate attack. Ney, goaded by repeated orders, at last attacked at -Quatre Bras quite six hours later than he should have done, and even -then he had only half his force in hand. The other half, under d’Erlon, -was making its way towards him, when it was caught up by an aide-de-camp -of Napoleon’s, who was bearing a message to Ney requesting him to send -help to the Emperor at Ligny. The aide-de-camp, on his own -responsibility, sent d’Erlon marching over towards Ligny instead of to -Quatre Bras, and went on to inform Ney of his action. Ney was furious. -Every moment the British army in front of him was being reinforced, and -he was now being steadily pushed back. He saw defeat close upon him, and -he sent off a frantic order to d’Erlon to retrace his steps and march on -Quatre Bras. The order reached d’Erlon at the crisis of the battle of -Ligny. For hours a fierce and sanguinary battle had raged there, and at -the crucial moment d’Erlon had appeared, like a god from a machine, with -twenty thousand men on the Prussian flank. Napoleon sent him urgent -orders to attack, but the officier d’ordonnance returned disconsolate. -D’Erlon had just received Ney’s order and had marched back towards -Quatre Bras, where he arrived just as darkness fell, two hours too late. -His sense of responsibility did not permit him to disregard the orders -of his immediate superior, although it had lain in his power, by -disregarding them, to have dealt the Prussian army a blow from which it -could hardly have recovered. The attack d’Erlon should have made was -later made by six thousand weary men who had fought all day long, and -naturally did not have the immense success d’Erlon might have achieved. - -Drouet, Comte d’Erlon, had built himself up during twenty campaigns a -reputation as a skilful and hard-fighting officer. He was neither a -poltroon nor congenitally weak-minded; what was the matter with him was -that he had fought twenty campaigns under Napoleon. The brilliance of -the Emperor and the implicit, blind obedience he demanded had weakened -d’Erlon’s initiative past all reckoning. It is interesting to compare -d’Erlon’s action at Ligny with Lannes’ at Friedland, or with the daring -of the subordinate Prussian officers at Mars-la-Tour and at Gravelotte -in 1870. - -And yet one cannot help but think, on reading military history, that the -Lannes and the Davouts of this world are astonishingly few when compared -with the d’Erlons and the Duponts. Military history is a history of -blunders, fortunate or unfortunate. Men are found everywhere in control -of the lives and destinies of ten, twenty, a hundred thousand men, and -completely unable even to expend them in an efficient manner. On reading -of the fumbling campaigns of Schwartzenberg, of Carlo Alberto, of -Napoleon III., or even of wars waged more recently still, and of which -we ourselves have had experience, one cannot help feeling overwhelming -pity at the thought of the wretched men—every one of them as full of -life as you or I—who were called upon to lay down everything at the -call of duty or patriotism—and to lay down everything _uselessly_. The -argument against war which appeals most to those who may have to take -part in it is not so much that it is expensive or that it costs lives, -but that it is so blightingly inefficient. To die because one’s country -is in need, that is one thing; but to die because one’s commanding -officer has bad dreams, is quite another matter. - -But the armies of Napoleon were at least free from a horrible slur which -has been cast upon other armies. We cannot find anywhere any hint that -the officers did not do all their duty as far as they visualized it. On -going into action the men did not shout “Les epaulettes en avant” as did -the army of the Second Empire at Solferino. No officer of Napoleon’s -ever wasted his men’s lives to gratify his own pride, in the way that -English marines died at Trafalgar. It was said with pride of an officer -of Marlborough’s that he always said, “Come on” not “Go on” to his men. -The same could be said of every one of the higher officers of the army -of the First Empire. The hundreds of volumes of memoirs written by -Napoleon’s men teem with examples (grudgingly given, in some cases) of -valour, but there is hardly one case where an Imperial officer is -accused of cowardice, or even of shirking. The officers bore exactly the -same hardships as did the men, and the friendship and trust which -existed between the rank and file and the commissioned officers of the -army of the First Empire has never been excelled in any other army in -history. - -A simple calculation at any Napoleonic battle will show that the number -of generals killed is proportionate to that of the privates, while of -the twenty-four Marshals of the Empire who fought after the -inauguration, three—Lannes, Bessières and Poniatowski—were killed in -action, and all the others were wounded at various times. Napoleon -himself, as is well known, was wounded during the fighting round -Ratisbon in 1809, and Duroc, his trusted Grand Marshal of the Palace, -was struck down at his side by a stray cannon shot at Bautzen in 1813, -and died an hour later in horrible agony. - -The facts about the Imperial army are curiously contradictory. The men -were devoted to Napoleon, but their devotion did not hold them together -in moments of panic. The officers were experienced in all the details of -war, but for all their experience they lost touch with the Prussian army -during the vital period following Ligny. Napoleon had laid down as -essential various rules of strategy—but he departed from them during -the autumn campaign of 1813. Nothing seems consistent or satisfactory -during the whole period. - -Yet there are hundreds upon hundreds of incidents of which one cannot -read without a thrill. Cambronne at Waterloo replying with a curse when -called upon to surrender in the face of certain destruction; the Red -Lancers of the Guard gaining the Somo Sierra in the teeth of a tempest -of cannon shot; the conscripts of 1814, in sabots and blouses, facing -undaunted the savage enemy cavalry at Champaubert; Ney rallying the -rearguard during the retreat from Moscow; Kellermann charging an army at -Quatre Bras; the engineers dying gladly to save the army at the -Beresina; all these incidents are worthy to be remembered with pride, -and almost blot out the memory of the hideous ferocity of these selfsame -men in Spain, in Germany and in Russia. - -It is the fate of the Emperor and the Grand Army to be equally at the -mercy of the panegyrics of the admirer and the insults of anyone who -chooses to inveigh against them. - -[Illustration: LETIZIA BONAPARTE - (MADAME MÈRE)] - -[Illustration: ELISE BACCIOCHI - (née BONAPARTE)] - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - WOMEN - - -IT would be as easy to omit all mention of Napoleon’s mistresses in a -serious history as it would be difficult to omit the king’s mistresses -from a history of Louis le Grand or Louis le Bien-Aimé. Napoleon was not -the man to allow his policy to be influenced by women. Not one of the -many with whom he came into contact could boast that she had deflected -him one hairbreadth from the path he had mapped for himself. Not all -Josephine’s tears could save the life of the young d’Enghien; not all -Walewska’s pleading could re-establish the kingdom of Poland. - -“Adultery,” said Napoleon, “is a sofa affair,” and he was speaking for -once in all honesty. He was a man blessed with a vast personality, a -vast power and a vast income, and it is unusual for a man with these -three to go long a-suing. Moreover, if the lady who attracted his -attention proved recalcitrant, Napoleon rarely pleaded; he raised his -offer, and in the event of a further refusal he turned away without a -sigh and forgot all about her. That indicates Napoleon’s attitude -towards women. - -There were, as a matter of fact, one or two whom he honoured by more -lover-like attentions. Josephine cost him many bitter hours of -self-reproach; Walewska he sought long and earnestly; he displayed every -sign of attachment towards Marie Louise. Yet not merely these three, but -every woman who granted him favours received in return immense gifts, -and, if she desired it, a husband whose path to promotion was made -specially easy. The women who flit into and then out of Napoleon’s life -seem to be without number, but the gossip of a thousand memoirs, and the -hints of a thousand letters, combined with the painstaking care of a -crowd of patient inquirers, have brought them all under notice at some -time or other. And yet the most elaborate research can only prove that -there was one woman who might perhaps have given much to Bonaparte -before his meeting with Josephine, and that was a street-walker of the -Palais Royal. This tiny incident is hinted at in a letter written by -Bonaparte at the age of eighteen. - -After this, we find nothing of the same nature for another nine years. -Napoleon was too busy and too desperately poor to trouble about such -things. He flirted with Laurette Permon, who later became Madame Junot, -Duchess d’Abrantès; with his sister-in-law, Désirée Clary, afterwards -Madame Bernadotte, Princess of Ponte Corvo and Queen of Sweden and -Norway; and with a few young women of good social position whom he met -while serving as a junior officer of artillery at Valence. That is all. -He came to Josephine heartwhole and inexperienced, and he lavished upon -her during the first feverish months of his married life all the -stored-up passion of a man of twenty-six. Josephine baulked and thwarted -this passion by her delay in joining him while he was conquering Italy, -by her petty flirtations with Charles and others, and by the general -light-mindedness of her behaviour; from that time forth Napoleon became -passionless towards all women. Some he liked, and some he even admired, -as far as it was in his nature to admire anyone, but for none did he -ever exhibit the uncontrollable desire which for that brief space he had -felt for Josephine. Unfaithfulness to her, which he would once have -regarded as treason, he now thought of merely as necessary to a man of -mature age. - -However, throughout the years 1796 and 1797 one cannot find any proof of -genuine inconstancy. It was only in 1798, when Napoleon found himself -the unrestrained ruler of Egypt, with the whole East apparently at his -feet, that he left the narrow path of strict physical virtue. The native -ladies did not appeal to him, and he turned with disgust from their over -opulent charms. The same cannot be said of some of his officers, a few -of whom actually married Egyptian beauties and later brought them back -to France. Menou, who succeeded to the chief command after Napoleon’s -departure and Kléber’s assassination, was one of these. Others, again, -married and settled down in Egypt after the evacuation. Their -descendants were supporters of Mehemet Ali, and even nowadays many rich -Egyptian proprietors can trace back their descent to a Frankish ancestor -who became a Mohammedan a hundred and twenty years ago. - -But although, as has been said, Napoleon found no charms behind the -yashmaks, the possibilities were by no means exhausted, as his -aides-de-camp hastened to point out to him. A few Frenchwomen, by -donning male attire, had evaded the strict regulation that no women -should accompany the Army of the Orient. The most attractive of these -was Marguerite Pauline, wife of a lieutenant of Chasseurs, by name -Fourès. To a Commander-in-Chief all things are possible, and young -Fourès was packed off in one of the frigates which had escaped from the -disaster of the Nile with orders to carry despatches to the Directory. -The night of his departure Madame Fourès (la Bellîlote, as she was -called, from her maiden name of Belleisle) was entertained by Napoleon -at a gay little dinner party; the proceedings, however, were cut short -by the General upsetting iced water over her dress and carrying her off -under the pretext of having the damage attended to. - -After this la Bellîlote was established in a Cairo palace close to -General Headquarters, and the little idyll seemed to be progressing -famously when a most indignant intruder in the person of Lieutenant -Fourès appeared on the scene. He had been captured by the English on his -way to Italy, and had been returned for the express purpose of -inconveniencing the Général-en-chef. The English were, however, doomed -to disappointment, for Napoleon, exercising his dictatorial powers, had -a divorce pronounced between Fourès and his wife, and then sent the -wretched man back once more to France. From this time forth la Bellîlote -had an almost regal dominion in Cairo. The finest silks in the land were -confiscated for her adornment, and she drove about the streets amid -cries from the soldiers of “Vive la Générale!” and “Vive Clioupatre!” At -times she even appeared on horseback in a general’s uniform and cocked -hat. The whole proceeding savours of some of the doings of the early -Roman Emperors. Suetonius tells us very similar stories of Nero and -Caligula. Little adverse comment was caused among the French; it was a -very usual thing during the Revolutionary era for officers to be -accompanied by women in this fashion. Some women even served generals as -aides-de-camp and orderlies, while the Army of Portugal during 1810-11 -was frequently hindered because Masséna, commanding, had his _chère -amie_ with him. - -Madame Fourès’ experience of the delights of being the left-handed queen -of the uncrowned king of an unacknowledged kingdom was not destined to -endure long; Napoleon returned to France, and she, following him, by his -orders, as soon as possible, fell into the hands of the English just as -her husband had done. When at last she reached France Bonaparte refused -to see her, for he was now reconciled to Josephine, besides being First -Consul and having to be careful of his moral reputation. Napoleon did -whatever else he could for her; he gave her large sums of money, bought -her houses, and secured a new husband for her, whose agreement he -ensured by means of valuable appointments under the Ministry of Foreign -Affairs. - -Napoleon and la Bellîlote never met again; after 1815 she eloped with -another man, built up a substantial fortune in the South American trade, -and finally died quite in the odour of sanctity at the venerable age of -ninety-one. - -On Bonaparte’s return to France Josephine had contrived to win him once -more to her, despite the efforts of his family, and his own -half-determination to end the business there and then, but matters were -never the same between them. Napoleon indulged more and more frequently -in petty amours with various women, and Josephine, instead of -appreciating her helplessness, as is the more usual way with queens and -empresses, caused frequent furious scenes by spying on his actions and -upbraiding him when any rumour came to her notice. Napoleon cared no -whit; he was, moreover, able, by virtue of his supreme power, frequently -to ensure that Josephine knew nothing of his infidelity. In 1800 he was -peculiarly successful in this way. Marengo had been fought and won, and -the First Consul was enjoying, at Milan, the fruits of his dramatic -success. The most eminent contralto of the time, Grassini, sang at -concerts hurriedly arranged in his honour. Grassini had endeavoured to -force herself on his notice three years before, without success, for -Josephine held power over him then. The circumstances were different -now, and Napoleon, his Italian temperament inexpressibly charmed by her -magnificent voice, honoured her by a summons to his apartments. She -obeyed gladly; she came at his request to Paris; and finally Napoleon -had the effrontery to command her to sing at the thanksgiving festival -in the Invalides for the Marengo campaign, where he appeared accompanied -by his wife and by all the notabilities of the Consulate. Later she -appeared at the Théâtre de la République, and was given a large -allowance, both publicly as a singer and secretly as a friend of -Napoleon’s. The arrangement ended abruptly, for Grassini was detected in -an intrigue with an Italian musician, and left France for a Continental -tour. - -It was not till 1807 that she returned, and although Napoleon never -renewed the old relationship, he gave her an official title, a large -salary and employment under his Bureau of Music. - -Grassini spent the rest of her days mainly in Paris, and she enjoyed a -vast reputation all her life. Money troubles, due to her passion for -gambling, and wild adventures of the heart, engaged most of her -attention. It has even been said that after Waterloo she condescended to -grant Wellington the same favours as Napoleon had enjoyed thirteen years -before. Despite the obvious bias of many of the witnesses, the evidence -to this end seems conclusive. If it really was true, then Grassini might -claim a distinction as notable as Alava’s, who was the only man who -fought both at Trafalgar and at Waterloo. - -After Grassini passed out of Napoleon’s life, a long period ensued -during which no woman received the Emperor’s favour for any continuous -length of time. At intervals various hooded figures slipped through the -postern door of the Tuileries, past Roustam the Mameluke, and through a -secret passage to the Imperial apartments, but the visits were irregular -and were merely the results of passing whims on the part of the Emperor. -Not one of the women concerned had need of much pressure to become -agreeable to the invitations brought them by Duroc, the faithful Grand -Marshal of the Palace. They were actresses mainly, and since most of -them appeared at theatres managed or subsidized by the Government, -Napoleon, if not their direct employer, had in his gift important acting -parts and desirable salaries. Many of them were already the mistresses -of dandies of the town, and some of them passed on to act in the same -capacity for various crowned heads of Europe, while one was actually -requested by a powerful party in Russia to win Alexander the Czar from -an objectionable _chère amie_ so that he might return to the Czarina! - -Napoleon did all he could to keep these liaisons secret, but he was -rarely successful. The women boasted far and wide of their success, and -it is likely that many of those who boasted had nothing to boast about. -Some even went so far as to publish their memoirs after the Restoration, -and to make capital of their own dishonour. Another factor which -militated against secrecy was Josephine’s jealousy. Josephine, with the -spectre of divorce always before her eyes, was in continual terror lest -Napoleon should experience a lasting attachment for one of his stray -lights o’ love. Consequently she spied upon him incessantly, battered on -his locked doors, wrote frantic appeals to her friends for help and -information, and generally acted with less than her usual dignity. -Napoleon disregarded her appeals, and stormed back at her whenever she -ventured to remonstrate. He was above all law, he declared, and he would -allow no human being to judge his actions. Nevertheless, he took care to -interfere with the most intimate affairs of all his friends. He tried to -bully Berthier, his trusted Chief of Staff, into separating from the -lady with whom he had lived for years. At first it seemed as if he was -successful, and he consoled his friend by giving him as wife a Princess -of the royal House of Bavaria. However, Berthier contrived to obtain his -young bride’s agreement to the presence of the other lady, and the three -of them ran a perfectly happy _ménage à trois_ for the rest of his life. -Napoleon meddled with many other people’s domestic affairs, and it is -darkly hinted that Talleyrand’s enmity for the Emperor began when -Napoleon first disturbed the tranquillity which existed between the -great diplomat and Madame Grand. - -The Emperor continued serenely on his way, acting up to his dictum that -women were merely incidents in a man’s life. His Court was thronged with -greedily ambitious women who threw themselves in his path at every -opportunity. At the least hint of a preference on his part, officious -courtiers hurried to assist in the negotiations in the hope either of -favour or perquisites. The astonishing thing is that the list of the -chosen is not many times longer. These intrigues all ran much the same -course—a brief partnership, generally without a hint of affection on -either side; a minor place in Court for the lady; then a marriage was -arranged, an ample dowry provided by the Emperor, and the incident was -closed. Not merely did people endeavour to gain their private ends in -this manner, but even political parties made use of similar tools. -During the Consulate the Bourbons despatched a lady to Paris for the -sole purpose of ensnaring Bonaparte, and it is hinted that Metternich -endeavoured to place a friend at Court in the same fashion. The great -example of this political manœuvre, however, occurs later. - -But before Madame Walewska’s name, even, was known to Napoleon, he -formed an attachment of some slight historical importance. Eléonore -Denuelle was an exceedingly beautiful girl, daughter of parents of a -doubtful mode of life, who had been educated at Madame Campan’s famous -school along with Caroline Bonaparte and various other great ladies of -the Court. Her parents designed a great marriage for her, but they met -with poor success, for a certain graceless ex-officer, by name Revel, -succeeded in making her believe that he was a good match, and the couple -were married early in 1805. Revel believed that Eléonore was an heiress; -Eléonore believed that Revel was a rich man; they were both of them -woefully disappointed, and separated after two months of married life. -Eléonore in despair applied for help to Caroline Murat, and received a -minor post in that princess’s household. Napoleon noticed her in -January, 1806, and from that time the affair moved rapidly, for in -February Eléonore applied for a divorce from Revel (who was now in -gaol), and in December a son was born to her whose father, almost -without a doubt, was Napoleon. - -By the time of his birth, however, Napoleon had formed a new attachment, -and Eléonore was never again admitted to his rooms. Napoleon saw that -both his son and his ex-mistress were suitably provided for; he settled -a thousand pounds a year on Eléonore and married her to a prominent -politician (a Monsieur Augier), while he invested large sums of money in -trust for her son, Léon. He further mentioned him in his will. -Eléonore’s later career was unlucky; her second husband died, a prisoner -in Russian hands, and when she married for a third time she was -blackmailed for the rest of her life by her first husband and by her -scapegrace illegitimate son. Léon ruined all his chances of success in -life by his reckless way of living. He gambled away all he possessed, -and then lived on what small sums he could beg from his mother and from -his Bonaparte relations. He plunged into politics, and even considered -for a while standing as a candidate for the position of President of the -Second Republic in opposition to Louis Napoleon. He induced the latter -to give him a small pension; he made all manner of claims upon the -Government, and squandered whatever he obtained in a wild fashion. He -issued all sorts of remarkable suggestions, not one of them of the -slightest value, on every conceivable subject, and he raised the most -frightful clamour when they were disregarded. There is no doubt that he -was mentally deranged. He died in 1881 without having accomplished a -single noteworthy action. - -There is a faint doubt as to Léon’s paternity, due to his mother’s way -of living, but the doubts are countered by his striking physical -resemblance to the Emperor. Napoleon himself certainly believed him to -be his own child; perhaps if he could have foreseen the later career of -the child in question he would have been more chary of his -acknowledgment. The whole affair seems to be very much wrapped in doubt; -Napoleon evinced for young Léon not half the care which he displayed for -his other sons, while Léon’s birth (perhaps because it took place while -Napoleon was away in Poland) did not rouse nearly as much interest as -Walewski’s three years later. - -It has already been said that at the time of Léon’s birth Napoleon’s -attention was occupied by a new mistress; it was this particular -mistress who has been elevated by some writers to the proud position of -being “the only woman Napoleon ever loved,” and who certainly held -whatever affection the Emperor was able to display for a longer period -than any other woman. To begin with, she was of a rank and class far -different from any of her predecessors, Josephine not excepted, while -secondly she was far fonder of him than was any other woman. The -circumstances in which the two met were romantic. Napoleon had just -overturned the Prussian monarchy; he had advanced like lightning from -the Rhine to the Niemen, and he burst at the head of the Grand Army into -Poland, where never before had a French army appeared. The Poles were in -ecstasy. They had not the least doubt that their period of slavery was -ended, and that the young conqueror would once more unchain the White -Eagle. Deputations thronged to meet him, and mobs gave him homage in the -villages. At the little town of Bronia, not far from Warsaw, a lady was -presented to him at her earnest request, for she had braved all the -terrors of the hysterical mob in order to meet him. She proved to be -hardly more than a child, and dazzlingly beautiful. Napoleon thanked her -for her kindness, and said that he was anxious to see her again. The -whole interview barely lasted a minute, for it was imperative that -Napoleon should press on to Warsaw, but it made a deep impression on -both of them. - -Marie Laczinska was the daughter of one of the old noble families of -Poland, and she had recently married Anastase Colonna de -Walewice-Walewska. Although Marie’s family was noble, it was hardly to -be compared with that of her husband, for Anastase was not only the head -of a house in whose veins ran the bluest blood of Poland, but he also -traced his descent to the Roman family of Colonna, and through them his -line ran back into the mists of history beyond the Carolings and the -Merovings until one could trace its source among the patrician families -of republican Rome. He was rich, he was famous, he held vast power. The -only objections to him as a husband were that he was seventy years old -and already had grandchildren who were older than Marie. In the minds of -Marie’s guardians such objections were trivial, and the young girl was -forced into marriage with the old noble, to play the part of Abishag to -Walewska’s David. She was not fated to endure this for long, because -Napoleon had not forgotten the meeting at Bronia, and sought her at all -the fêtes at which he appeared in Warsaw. The secret could not be kept, -and soon all Poland was aware that the great Emperor was in love with -the Polish lady. The nationalist party heard the news with wild -exultation, and Poniatowski, the hope of Poland, called upon her to -sacrifice herself for her country. The other great nobles pressed her -feverishly, and they contrived to persuade Walewska (who, naturally, was -the only man who was ignorant of what was going on) to bring his wife to -a ball which Poniatowski was giving in the Emperor’s honour. - -Marie came reluctantly. She was dressed as plainly as possible, in white -satin without jewels, and, once in the ballroom, she kept herself as far -in the background as she could. To no purpose, however. Napoleon, -overjoyed, observed her as soon as she appeared, and immediately sent to -her and requested her to dance with him. She refused. Duroc and -Poniatowski remonstrated with her, but she remained adamant. Many other -French officers had already noticed her dazzling beauty, her rich fair -hair and the blueness of her eyes, and they swarmed round her. Napoleon -watched the proceedings jealously from the other end of the room. As -soon as any one of his officers appeared to have made any progress, he -called to his Chief of Staff, and that particular officer was sent off -post haste to carry a message somewhere out in the bleak countryside a -hundred miles away. The situation verged on the impossible. Napoleon in -desperation made a tour of the room, speaking to all the hundreds of -women present merely in order to exchange half a dozen words with the -one who was the cause of all this trouble. When at last he reached -Madame Walewska the interview was unsatisfactory. She was as pale as -death, and said nothing. He was vastly and unusually embarrassed. “White -upon white is a mistake, Madame,” he said, looking at her pale cheeks. -Then—“This is not the sort of reception I expected after——” Then he -passed on, and left the ballroom soon after. - -That same evening she received a wild, urgent note from Napoleon. Others -followed in rapid succession. Poniatowski and all the fiery patriots of -Poland implored her to yield. Her blind husband, infatuated by this -remarkable new popularity, bore her to reception after reception. A -mercenary old aunt of hers, tampered with by Poniatowski, flung herself -into the business as well, and offered herself as go-between. At last -she received a letter from Napoleon hinting that he would restore Poland -if she would yield. She yielded. Napoleon did not restore Poland. - -For Poland’s sake she had broken her marriage vows and violated all the -dictates of her conscience. Napoleon, in return, temporized and -compromised. He erected the Grand Duchy of Warsaw out of territory torn -from Prussia, but the Grand Duchy was not autonomous, it was not called -Poland, it was only one-third the size of the old land of the White -Eagle. Poor Marie protested to the best of her ability, to be soothed by -fair words from the Emperor. At Napoleon’s request she left Poland after -Tilsit, and came to Paris, where she lived in extreme retirement, -visited by Napoleon as often as he could manage. Her gentleness and -dislike of display must have been grateful to Napoleon after his other -experiences, and he passed many happy hours with her. She was by his -side during the maelstrom of the Essling campaign, and at Schönbrunn, -the Palace of the Cæsars, she told him she was about to bear him a -child. She did not realize then that from that selfsame palace Napoleon -would summon, in a few months’ time, a young girl who would supplant her -in his affections, and who would also bear him a son, who, in place of -being a nameless bastard, would bear the title of King of Rome. She went -back to her dear Poland for the event, and at Walewice, in May, 1810, -Alexander-Florian-Joseph-Colonna-Walewski was born. On her return to -Paris Napoleon had married Marie Louise. - -Napoleon softened the blow for her as well as he could. He heaped wealth -upon her; he gave her town houses and country houses; the Imperial -officials were always at her orders, and the Imperial theatres were -always open to her. Her son, young Walewski, was made a Count of the -Empire. Perhaps this was some consolation to her. Perhaps—seeing that -it was her son’s birth which had determined Napoleon to make a new -marriage—not. Napoleon even found time during the turmoil of the -Campaign of France to make additional arrangements in their favour, but -by this time whatever remained of the affair had long since burnt itself -out. - -After the fall of the Empire, Marie Walewska seems to have considered -herself free. She paid a mysterious visit to Napoleon at Elba in 1814, -accompanied by her little son, and she was present at the Tuileries on -Napoleon’s arrival there during the Hundred Days, but apparently on -neither occasion was the old relationship renewed. In 1816 she married a -distant cousin of the Bonapartes, a certain d’Ornano, a Colonel of the -Guard, but she was not destined long to enjoy her new happiness. Marie -de Walewska died in December, 1817. - -Poor Marie! Her life was short, but it must have been full of -bitterness. Napoleon’s affairs of the heart (if they are even worthy of -that name) all seem inexpressibly harsh and matter-of-fact. He seemed to -have a kind of Midas touch in these matters, whereby everything -honourable and romantic with which he came into contact turned, not into -gold, but into lead. Various authors have tried to infuse into his -association with Marie de Walewska some gleam of romance, some essence -of the self-sacrificing spirit which is noticeable in the parallel deeds -of other monarchs, but they have failed. Marie certainly seems at first -to have believed him to be a hero, a knight without reproach as well as -without fear, but as soon as she was disillusioned she resigned herself -to an existence as drab as if she had been once more a septuagenarian’s -wife, and not the mistress of an Emperor. Contemporary Parisian society -was almost entirely ignorant of her existence. She paid no calls, and -she received none. The few appearances she made at Court were such as -were only to be expected from a Polish lady of high rank. Napoleon could -not keep her love for long, and, though she was faithful to him as long -as the Empire endured, she obviously considered herself free as soon as -Napoleon was sent to St. Helena. It was not the long-drawn, heroic -romance some writers have endeavoured to make it appear; rather was it a -brief burst of passion, and then—monotony. - -The baby Count of the Empire whom she left behind enjoyed a -distinguished career. In appearance he certainly resembled his great -father, but his talents never seem to have risen above a mediocre -standard. Alexander-Florian-Joseph-Colonna-Walewski was mainly educated -in France, but he was a Pole by birth, and he fought for Poland at the -age of twenty during the rising of 1830-31. When Poland fell once more -before the might of Russia, he returned to France, became a Frenchman, -and served in the French army. The revolution of 1848 brought Napoleon -III. to the front, and the new Emperor, with his power based on the -frail fabric of a legend, saw fit to surround himself with names which -recalled to men’s minds the old splendours of the First Empire. Walewski -received honours in plenty; he was Ambassador to the most important -Courts of Europe, a Senator, and a Minister of State. He wrote learnedly -on various subjects. But all his glory was only a pale reflection of his -father’s and cousin’s; he suffered eclipse after Sedan, and when he -died, aged seventy-two, he had, after all, made very little mark in the -world. He had not played the part of a Don John of Austria, or even of a -Monmouth. De Morny quite outshone him. - -With Napoleon’s marriage to Marie Louise and association with Madame -Walewska, his casual amorous adventures came to a more or less abrupt -end. It has been suggested that this was on account of increasing age, -but Napoleon was only in the early forties, and this cannot be the true -reason. However, the explanation is just as simple. Napoleon was devoted -to his new wife, and he was frightfully busy. From the summer of 1812, -two years after his second marriage, he was almost continuously in the -field. His exertions and worries thenceforward were sufficient to occupy -even him, without any other complications. One likes to think of him -turning with relief from the agonizing strain of ruling Europe to snatch -a few quiet minutes in the placid peace surrounding Marie Louise and her -child. That is all. He had no other mistress. At Elba he lived with his -sister and mother, with no woman to share his inner life. Perhaps this -was policy, for Napoleon was trying hard to induce Marie Louise to join -him, and he would naturally be chary of doing anything which might annoy -her—ignorant as he was of her unfaithfulness. This may be the -explanation of the briefness of Madame Walewska’s visit; she may have -come intending to join him, and he may have sent her away again, but the -fact that she was accompanied by her brother and other relations -militates against this theory. Moreover, Marie was already close friends -with d’Ornano. After the Hundred Days Napoleon was sent to St. Helena, -and once again no woman accompanied him. The manifold rumours about -Madame de Montholon and others at St. Helena seem to have no foundation -whatever in fact. Thus practically all Napoleon’s illicit loves are -confined to the decade 1800-10, while the last decade is entirely clear -of them. - -Thus far we have only treated of women who were Napoleon’s mistresses; -but considerable interest also attaches to a large number of women who, -although members of the Imperial circle, never attained this dubious -honour. Perhaps of these the one who attained the greatest heights (and -who, incidentally, did least to deserve it) was Désirée Clary. She was -the sister of the lady whom Joseph Bonaparte made his wife, and whose -dowry of six thousand pounds was so welcome to the struggling family. -Désirée’s own dowry would have been of the same amount, and Joseph and -various other Bonapartes tried to induce Napoleon to marry her. He seems -to have dallied with the idea; indeed, it is frequently stated that a -contract of betrothal was drawn up, but, however it was, Napoleon broke -off the negotiations rather abruptly when he went to Paris in 1795. -There is hardly any doubt that he had flirted with Désirée rather -excessively, and that, after making a deep impression upon her, he had -wounded her deeply by his precipitate abandonment. Subsequently he tried -to make amends in much the same manner as he employed with his discarded -mistresses—he tried to find her a husband to whom he could give -substantial promotion. But Désirée was once more unlucky, for the man -Napoleon sent to her, General Duphot, was murdered almost on her -threshold while she was staying at Joseph Bonaparte’s Embassy in Rome. - -Eventually she was approached by Bernadotte, during Napoleon’s absence -in Egypt, and married him. Subsequently she declared that she had done -this because Bernadotte was the only man who could injure Bonaparte, but -she must have been far-sighted indeed if she could perceive the career -which was awaiting Bernadotte. Moreau, and half a dozen other generals, -such as Augereau, were more powerful than Bernadotte at the time. -Désirée’s statement was probably made in the light of subsequent events. - -It was Bernadotte who gained most by the marriage. He acquired at one -stroke a venomous, if inert, ally in his wife, an enthusiastic supporter -in Joseph, his brother-in-law, and a sure refuge in case of trouble in -Napoleon’s dislike of a scandal in his family. From this time on, -Désirée received distinction after distinction, and soon she was Son -Altesse Serène la Maréchale Princesse de Ponte Corvo, sister of the -Queen of Spain, and a leading figure in Imperial society. Then came the -greatest distinction of all, and she found herself Princess Royal of -Sweden. This last she found rather upsetting, for she discovered she was -expected to leave her beloved Paris to live in the bleakness of the -Stockholm palaces. She said, tearfully and truthfully, that she had -thought at first that her new rank was merely a titular distinction, of -the same class as her sovereignty of Ponte Corvo. She refused absolutely -to leave France, and so Bernadotte went alone to Stockholm, thence to -lead his Swedes against the Empire, while his wife stayed on in Paris. -It certainly was an anomalous position, and some authors have said that -Désirée acted as a spy on behalf of the Allies during the war of -liberation. However, we can be quite sure that Napoleon, whatever -tenderness he still felt towards her, would not have tolerated her -sending news of any value to her husband; incidentally, it is obvious -that a woman to whose mind Ponte Corvo, with its six thousand -inhabitants, was in the same class as Sweden, with its millions, could -not have been of much use as a spy. - -After 1815, fate overtook her, and she was borne away to spend the rest -of her life in the spartan splendour of the palace in the Staden. From -that time forth she and her husband were a disappointed couple, -distrusted and despised by all Europe, he with his eyes turned -lingeringly towards the France whose crown he believed he had so nearly -attained, she thinking longingly of the gaiety and careless freedom of -the Paris she had left behind, which now hated her with true Parisian -virulence. - -Napoleon’s sisters married before the plenitude of his power, and the -matches they made were not as splendid as they might have been later; it -was for his younger but much more distant connections that Napoleon was -able to find husbands of royal rank. It is curious to notice the -extraordinary marriages which were arranged while the Empire was at its -height. A niece of Murat’s, who had been brought up as the ragged and -bare-footed daughter of a small farmer, married Prince Charles of -Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen, and among her grandchildren and -great-grandchildren at the present day are the King of Rumania, the King -of the Belgians and the Queen of Portugal. Several of the petty -princelings of Germany, with thirty generations of royal descent behind -them, married obscure little Beauharnais and Taschers de la Pagerie. -Eugène de Beauharnais and Berthier married princesses of Bavaria, and -Jerome received as bride a daughter of the King of Würtemberg. - -Eugène’s marriage had caused a difficult situation, for Augusta of -Bavaria was already affianced to the Hereditary Prince of Baden, heir -apparent to the reigning Grand Duke. Napoleon had caused the marriage -contract to be broken, but he was in no way disconcerted; he straightway -found a new bride for the Hereditary Prince. He selected Stéphanie de -Beauharnais, a “thirty-second cousin” of Josephine’s. Stéphanie was the -merest child, who had had the most extraordinary upbringing. Her parents -were of a shiftless character, like various other Beauharnais, and after -the Revolution Stéphanie had been dependent on an English peeress, Lady -de Bathe, who had arranged with two nuns from the suppressed houses to -look after her. As soon as Napoleon heard of her existence, he summoned -her to Court, and in accordance with his pronounced ideas on family -loyalty, made himself responsible for her support. Next he announced to -her that he had secured her a royal husband. Stéphanie immediately -became a person of consequence, because as yet royal marriages were by -no means common in the Bonaparte family. Their Imperial Highnesses, -Napoleon’s sisters, naturally turned like tigresses upon the interloper, -and reduced the fifteen-year-old child to tears more than once in the -presence of the Court. This was more than Napoleon could stand, and by a -single decree he gave the girl precedence over the whole Imperial family -save himself and Josephine. He wished to keep the House of Baden as -satisfied as possible. With the same idea he gave Stéphanie a marvellous -trousseau, a dowry of sixty thousand pounds, and jewels costing the same -amount. Her wretched father, who had returned from exile, received an -income of three thousand pounds a year and a lump sum of two hundred -thousand francs. He had done nothing to earn it; he was merely the -father of the girl who was marrying an ally of the Emperor’s. - -The period was one of general rejoicing, for Austerlitz had just been -won, and French domination over Europe seemed assured. The fêtes of the -marriage were of unexampled splendour; there were illuminations; there -were fireworks; and there were balls without number, at one of which -over two thousand persons appeared. But behind all the rejoicings there -was a curious tragi-comedy being played, for poor Stéphanie, married at -sixteen to a man she had never met, displayed a disconcerting reluctance -to complete all the accompanying formalities. Night after night she -insisted on a girl friend sharing her room with her. The Hereditary -Prince grew restive; the whole Court knew of the deadlock, and were -proportionately amused. But international politics cannot wait on a -girl’s whim; war clouds were appearing again across the Rhine; Prussia -seemed bent on war, and it was important for Napoleon to be sure of -Baden’s friendship. Napoleon admonished Stéphanie with all the severity -of which he was capable; he terrified the wretched girl into passivity, -and when at last the newly-married couple set off for Carlsruhe Baden’s -support of France was assured. - -But the unhappiness which awaited all Napoleon’s favourites dogged poor -Stéphanie to her grave. The House of Zaehringen hated her as an -intruder; her male children all died in infancy, and when in 1818 her -husband died she found herself without any established position in a -hostile land. Hints have not been lacking that Charles of Baden died -through poison administered by the Hochberg family (of morganatic -descent from an earlier Elector), which ultimately obtained the throne. -But the strangest story is that concerning Kaspar Hauser. In 1828 a -young man was found wandering in the streets of Nuremberg, who had never -seen the sunlight, and whose whole appearance seemed to indicate that he -had been shut up in a cellar all his life. He did not long survive his -freedom. Stéphanie jumped to the conclusion that he was her second son, -born in 1811, who was supposed to have died as an infant while she was -seriously ill. Many people have agreed with her, and have supposed that -he had been kidnapped by the Hochbergs to prevent his inheritance of the -throne. Some people go further, and boldly declare that after his escape -he was poisoned. The whole matter has an aura of peculiarity, and it has -attracted the attention of many writers of authority, among them Mr. -Baring Gould. The most obvious counter to the theory that Kaspar Hauser -was a son of Stéphanie is that the people who would be bold enough to -kidnap him would have had the sense to kill him outright, and not to -keep him as living evidence of their guilt. If they murdered him in -1828, they would certainly not have flinched from murdering him in 1811. - -But Stéphanie always believed that Kaspar was her son, and she passed -the last thirty years of her life in mourning a murdered husband, a -murdered son, a lost throne, and the utter ruin of her whole life. - -This is only one more example of the blight which Napoleon left upon the -lives of nearly everyone with whom he came into close contact. All the -people who were indebted to him for their entire personal advancement -lived to see the day when they paid for a few golden hours with the most -utter regret and bitterness. The only ones who “lived happily ever -after” were those who had always regarded him with suspicion, like -Macdonald, or those of inferior mental calibre, like Marie Louise, whom -a strange Providence seemed to take under its own special care. - -So much for Napoleon’s relations with women. Nowhere can one find the -least trace of romance or self-sacrifice on his part, and it can safely -be said that no woman ever loved him devotedly. Never could Napoleon -have said of any woman’s beauty, as Richard III. said, - - “Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleep - To undertake the death of all the world - So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.” - -In men he could inspire the utmost self-devotion; it seems hateful to -think first of the Cuirassiers, a living torrent of steel, pouring -cheering to their deaths at Wagram at his command, and then of his -vulgar deceit of Walewska and his petty, mercenary intrigues with other -women. It leaves a foul blot on the splendour which surrounds him. - - “Methought I saw a slug crawl slavering - Over the delicate petals of a flower.” - -[Illustration: THE KING OF ROME] - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - LIKES AND DISLIKES - - -PERHAPS now we can see a little more clearly the man who was the centre -of so much interest. To appreciate a man’s character it is not so much -necessary to realize what he did, as to realize what he wanted to do, -what he was fond of doing, and what he would have done had he been able; -and on the other hand it is equally necessary to realize what it was he -did not like doing. With Napoleon these matters do not bear a great deal -of analysis. - -One is astonished at first when it is borne in upon one that Napoleon -was a man of tepid desires in most directions. It seems almost -inconceivable that the man who was the storm centre of Europe, who was -capable of rousing overwhelming emotion in others, was nearly incapable -of emotion himself. Yet so it was. Napoleon had one ruling desire—for -work, and he had one ruling passion—for the army. His secondary -passions were small, and his dislikes were equally small. Compared in -this light to any full-blooded personality, Dr. Johnson, for instance, -Napoleon fades away into dismal uninterestingness. Work was what -Napoleon liked best of all in this world. When other men would have -broken down under the simultaneous strain of work and anxiety, he throve -and grew fat. One of his most famous letters was written on this very -subject to his brother Joseph at the height of the Eylau campaign. -Joseph, from among the soft delights of Naples, had written complaining -of the troubles which beset him while ruling his little kingdom, and -Napoleon wrote back briefly and sternly, telling how he was at that -moment engaged in a life and death struggle against Bennigsen; how he -was encumbered with the difficulties of feeding and manœuvring two -hundred thousand men in the boggy plains of Poland, where even he -himself could hardly obtain the necessaries of life; how at the same -time the affairs of half Europe demanded his attention, and yet for all -this he did not allow himself to be worried by these numerous interests; -he did all he had to do and delighted in the strain. - -It can safely be said that Napoleon never took a holiday. Sometimes it -has been hinted that in 1810 and 1811, after his marriage with Marie -Louise, he slackened his pace and did not do as much as he might have -done. This is true in part, but it is equally true that during that time -he got through an amount of work which would have broken down most men. -Napoleon was not made for holidays. It is hard to find, during the whole -period covered by his correspondence, a single day in which he did not -despatch a dozen letters, all of them bearing the hallmarks of the -utmost care and thought, and nearly all of them vitally important links -in a chain of important decisions. Inactivity was hateful to him. No -sooner had he landed in Elba, removed entirely from the usual outlets of -his energy, than he flung himself into the business of building up new -interests. He laboured harder while governing his little island than did -Kings of countries hundreds of times its size. Only when he was lodged -in St. Helena, do we find a cessation of his frantic toil. Here -circumstances were against him; his gaolers did their best in a blind -fashion to prevent him from indulging in either mental or physical -activity, while the climate and environments were both conducive to -torpor. Yet even at St. Helena Napoleon was responsible for the -production of a mass of written material of whose amount an average man -might be proud if it were the results of the labour of a lifetime. Hard, -unrelenting toil was to Napoleon the breath of life. - -His chief relaxation was also in the nature of toil. Napoleon was -passionately fond of all things military. Reviews were to him a source -of unending delight. On emerging triumphant from a period of intense -anxiety his first action almost invariably was to hold a review of all -the troops he could muster; the very day on which he took up his -residence at the Tuileries after the _coup d’état_ of Brumaire, he -reviewed on the Caroussel those battalions which later formed the -nucleus of the Guard, while at Tilsit he contrived to arrange for two or -three reviews every day. All the pageantry and pomp of war appealed -irresistibly to this man to whom so little else appealed. To Napoleon a -battalion marching past in column of double companies was worth all the -vigour of Schiller and all the passion of Alfieri. Soldiers are a -delight to most of us from our nursery days to our maturity; the sight -of a long line of bayonets or the brilliance and glitter of the plumes -and armour of the Household Cavalry can still make us catch our breath -for an instant, but in few instances does this passion become -overwhelming. When it becomes characteristic of a nation it usually -portends calamity. Frederick William I. of Prussia suffered from it to -an extent which has become historic, but in his case his passion for -soldiers was so overwhelming that he did not risk losing any of his -Potsdam Guards. Napoleon was different; he intended his army for -fighting, and fight it did for twenty years, pomp and pageantry -notwithstanding. Not the wildest calumniator has ever hinted that the -reason why Napoleon did not send the Guard into action at Borodino was -because he wanted to keep them to review in peace-time—though this -explanation is sounder than some of those put forward. Napoleon indulged -his passion whenever possible, but he kept it nevertheless strictly -within bounds. - -Napoleon had been a soldier from the age of twelve, so that one can -easily explain his liking for military detail; he had been human from -the day of his birth, but it is not so easy to find any other human -traits or weaknesses. The pleasures of the table meant nothing to him; -twenty minutes sufficed for dinner at the Tuileries, and he dined just -as contentedly on horse-steak in Russia as he did on the elaborate -dishes which delighted Marie Louise. So far as can be ascertained -Napoleon was never seen drunk, or sea-sick, or dyspeptic. It would be -almost with relief that we would read of his suffering from measles, had -he ever done so. His freedom from ordinary weaknesses tends to throw the -whole picture out of perspective. One can hardly be surprised that even -so sensible a man as Thiers lost his head while telling of Napoleon’s -exploits. There is only one human touch to which we can turn to gain the -measure of the whole. Napoleon loved a lord. - -We have already described how ardently Napoleon looked forward to his -meeting with his Imperial bride, and the complacency with which he -referred to her royal uncle and aunt his predecessors, Louis XVI. and -Marie Antoinette. The same characteristic is noticeable in many of his -actions. Perhaps it is going to extremes to describe his origination of -the Legend of Honour as a piece of snobbery, but his other arrangements -for the provision of a titled nobility are strongly indicative of this -curious stray littleness of mind. No one reading his letters can doubt -that he preferred speaking of Monsieur le Maréchal Prince d’Essling, Duc -de Rivoli, Grand Aigle de la Légion d’Honneur to speaking of plain -General Masséna. He delighted in seeing about him Grand Constables, -Arch-Chancellors, Grand Chamberlains; it pleased him to walk midst Grand -Dukes and Princesses; he preferred conversation with the not -over-talented Queen of Prussia to any interview with Goethe. -Characteristically, he once invited an actor to come and perform before -a “Parterre of Kings.” It may perhaps be pleaded that his painstaking -care in the regulation of precedence, and his minute examination of -forms and ceremonies were due to his desire to have his Imperial -arrangements perfect, but it may be pleaded with equal justice that he -entered voluntarily into these arrangements. The Imperial dignity was -not forced upon him; he lost as many adherents by his assumption of it -as he gained. For all this, once Napoleon decided upon indulging his -snobbery, he indulged in such a manner as to gain most profit by it. -Just as his delight in military matters tended towards the improvement -of his army, so his snobbery tended towards buttressing his throne. -Napoleon took advantage of his own weaknesses just as he did of other -people’s. - -One searches in vain for other prominent characteristics. The -selfishness so often attributed to him is not so much the selfishness of -Napoleon as the selfishness of the Emperor. One cannot call selfish the -young lieutenant who took upon himself the maintenance of a brother when -his sole income was thirty pounds a year, nor the man who gave crowns -and fiefs and fortunes to his friends, but the Emperor who pried -jealously into the management of his subject kingdoms and took them back -if he saw fit, the Emperor who refused to share his glory with his -general, the Emperor who sacrificed thousands of lives in order to hold -down Europe was selfish because he believed the Imperial power would -suffer were he unselfish. Even the ambition with which he is usually -credited does not appear on close examination to be very remarkable or -extraordinary. Ambition is, after all, one of the commonest of human -traits, and varies only in degree and not in occurrence. When Napoleon -was a young man he wanted to “get on”; he “got on” partly through -abundance of opportunity and partly through his extraordinary talent. If -it be said that he succeeded through the force of his ambition, it can -easily be countered that most of the men who have ever succeeded were -ambitious. A quite plausible life of Napoleon might be written showing -that he was entirely the reverse of ambitious, and that all the steps of -his career towards power from the day of his receiving the command of -the army of Italy to his invasion of Russia in 1812, were forced upon -him. At the beginning of his career Napoleon had far less chance of -gaining supreme power than had Hoche, or Pichegru, or Jourdan, or -Moreau, but his rivals dropped out of the race through early deaths, -sheer folly, or, perhaps in the case of Moreau, mere inertia. Napoleon -is believed to have schemed to seize the reins of government as early as -1797, but half a dozen others, including even Bernadotte and Augereau, -did the same. Napoleon was lucky, vigorous, and far more gifted than -they, and it was into his hands that the ripened fruit dropped. From -1799 on, from the Consulate to the Consulate for life, from the -Consulate for life to the Empire of the French, from the Empire of the -French to the visionary Empire of the West, were steps which he could -hardly have avoided taking in some form or other if he wished to retain -any power at all. The attempt to enforce the Continental System -undoubtedly led him further forward than was wise or than he desired. -Had Bonaparte been a Washington, he might have retired after the peace -of Amiens, but it is perfectly possible that even if a series of -Washingtons had succeeded him, the last of them would have been beaten -in a great battle some ten years later by the armies of an alliance of -nations which had for some time back been oppressed and enslaved in -increasing degree by the French. Undoubtedly this train of reasoning is -forced and unsound in some respects, but it certainly gives a great deal -of plausibility to the theory that Napoleon’s ambition was not so -far-reaching and impossibly aspiring as it is sometimes carelessly said -to have been. In addition, it is necessary to remember that his restless -energy must occasionally have spurred him to further action while a -lazier man would have remained tranquil. This is possibly an explanation -of his suicidal plunge into Spanish affairs. - -In like fashion the other indications of Napoleon’s character are faint -and colourless. Women had no vast attraction for him; he appreciated -them as a physical necessity, but that was all. Undoubtedly he ranked -women in his mind along with exercise and medicine, as things without -which men are liable to deteriorate. Wit and humour had very little -meaning for him—as witness his distaste for Molière—and Art had even -less. He ransacked Europe to fill the Louvre with masterpieces, but he -himself did not enjoy them. He was careless of his ease, of his attire, -of his comfort. When he fell from power, he did not seem to resent it -very much. There is a story of his having attempted suicide after his -abdication in 1814, but it is much to be doubted. The details seem far -more in agreement with the symptoms of his mysterious illness, or of the -malignant disease of which he died a few years later. He did not seem -vastly depressed at Elba, or even at St. Helena. Comparable to this lack -of depression is his hopefulness during the hopeless campaign of 1814. -He stood to lose so much, and he lost so much, but neither the -possibility nor the loss weighed upon him unbearably. Perhaps he was -confident that more greatness awaited him in the future; perhaps he -simply did not care. The furious rages in which Napoleon sometimes -indulged seem to have been merely good acting; he himself admitted that -he never allowed his rage to mount higher than his chin. - -Another human trait which was wanting in Napoleon was the capacity for -hatred. With his Corsican upbringing one might have expected to find him -at feud with numbers of people, but he was not. Napoleon was not a good -hater. He never hated Pozzo di Borgo, for instance, half as much as -Pozzo hated him. He took violent dislikes to a few individuals, but he -frequently overcame these in course of time. Macdonald is a case in -point. Hating must be distinguished from despising. Napoleon despised -the Spanish and Neapolitan Bourbons, but he did not hate them. He waged -war after war on Francis of Austria, but he never admitted any personal -dislike. Hatred and affection were alike unknown to Napoleon. - -There are one or two isolated examples of men for whom Napoleon -professed affection, but a good deal of doubt surrounds the matter. -Napoleon said he was fond of Muiron, who gave up his life for him at -Arcola; he said he was fond of Duroc, the Grand Marshal of the Palace, -who was killed at Bautzen, but it is significant that we do not hear -much about this affection in either case until after Duroc and Muiron -were both dead. More than one contemporary writer, indeed, has hinted -that Duroc disliked Napoleon, although he did his duty in an exemplary -manner, while so little is known about Muiron that we can be permitted -to assume that the affection Napoleon expressed after Duroc and he were -dead was a theatrical touch assumed for the purpose of enlisting still -more sympathy at St. Helena. This is quite in accordance with what we -know both of Napoleon’s own nature and of his plan of campaign while in -exile. - -One more point. Napoleon habitually attributed the lowest possible -motives to all human actions. His attitude was not so much cynical as -uncomprehending (though some people think that cynicism is merely lack -of comprehension); he simply could not understand anyone making any -self-sacrifice when quite disinterested or altruistic. If anyone did, he -put it down to hysteria. The brave boys who died for him in the filth -and misery of twenty campaigns were so enthusiastic, Napoleon thought, -merely because they were hysterical. - -This idea is plainly to be discerned on reading Napoleon’s bulletins and -proclamations. They are all of them apparently designed to appeal to a -sentimental and hysterical public. Without doubt, they did appeal to -their readers, but one cannot help feeling nowadays a sensation of -distaste when looking through them. They are unbearably reminiscent of -street corner oratory and of the flamboyant efforts of the sensational -press—appeals to hysteria pure and simple. Moreover, it is also plain -that Napoleon himself felt none of these hysterical impulses—he was -merely working cold-bloodedly on the passions of a passionate people. -Napoleon was entirely unfamiliar with noble instincts or with the idea -of devotion. He laid claim to them himself, of course, despite his -disbelief in them, but that was merely another method of capturing the -favour of the populace. Washington’s loftiness of character was as much -a sealed book to him as would have been (had he lived to see it) -Garibaldi’s disinterested patriotism. - -Even the sympathy with nationalism which his nephew later laboured so -hard to attribute to him was wanting; the man who could unite seven -nationalities into one state, and who tossed fragments of territory from -one power to another without consulting anything beyond his own desires -must of necessity have cared nothing either for national or individual -sentiment. - -We can sum up then by describing Napoleon as the embodiment of enormous -ability, unquenchable energy, and—nothing else. He can be compared to -an unguarded store of high explosive; he was bound to cause trouble -wherever he settled. Once afforded an opportunity he was certain to -bring about unexpected results, and, as it happened, the turmoil into -which France was flung just as he reached manhood afforded a very early -opportunity. Without morals or ideals to restrain or guide him, he would -cause destruction wherever he went, like a runaway horse or a motor -lorry out of control. He was a Frankenstein monster let loose on the -world; the good he did was as haphazard as the harm. - -[Illustration: PAULINE BORGHESE - (née Bonaparte)] - - - - - CHAPTER XV - WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN - - -OFTEN and often it has been savagely pointed out that Napoleon enjoyed -greater good fortune than anyone could with reason expect. Every -incident in Napoleon’s life, from his employment by Barras in 1795 to -the collapse of Francis I.’s nerve in 1809, has been used to prove this, -while his later misfortunes have been casually mentioned as being -inevitable considering his careless taking of risks. The former -criticism is undoubtedly fair, but the latter is open to serious -disagreement, and has hardly received the opposition it deserves. - -Napoleon’s domination of Europe from 1805 onwards depended entirely upon -his military supremacy; nobody would dream of saying that he would have -received the homage of the Confederation of the Rhine, the submission of -Prussia and the co-operation of Austria simply because of the force of -his personality, if that personality had not also been supported by the -menace of four hundred battalions. Consequently Napoleon’s policy could -not be questioned so long as his army was invincible, and mistakes of -policy could be rapidly erased by a victory in the field. Similarly a -military error was of far more importance than a political one; if the -Bonapartes had never met with a defeat in battle their line would still -inevitably hold the throne of France, with a ring of subject countries -round them. It is therefore of the first importance to inquire into the -failure of the army; the other failures are merely secondary. Thus if -anyone says that he has just quitted a certain building for three -reasons, one of them being that he was thrown out, the other two reasons -are of secondary importance. - -Various dates have been assigned to the commencement of the decline of -Napoleon’s military ascendancy, and the very fact that this is so proves -how difficult it is to be dogmatic on the subject. Napoleon lost battles -in 1807, and he won battles in 1813—and 1814 and 1815 for the matter of -that. The quality of the material at his disposal certainly grew more -and more inferior as time went on, but it is easy to make too much of -this point, for Napoleon was _never_ defeated except by superior -numbers. However, the first time he met with serious disaster was, -undoubtedly, in the campaign of 1812. The catastrophe has been described -times without number; what has not so often been mentioned is the -nearness of Napoleon’s approach to another triumph. - -A Napoleonic army never took the field without the full expectation of -losing half its numbers through hardship, as distinct from the action of -the enemy. This was the price it paid for its rapidity of marching and -its freedom from a rigid dependence upon its base. If Napoleon led half -a million men to attack Russia, he expected to lose a quarter of a -million before he was in a position to gain a decisive success; he -certainly lost the quarter million, and he certainly gained a success, -but the losses continued and the success was not decisive. And yet on -several occasions it appeared as if a new Austerlitz or a new Friedland -were at hand. - -The irony of the situation lies in the fact that in 1812 Napoleon took -much more extensive measures to ensure that losses due to poverty of -supplies would be minimized than he did in any other campaign. He -organized an elaborate Intendance, with vast trains of wagons, and he -collected enormous depôts of stores wherever possible. The system broke -down almost at once, partly on account of the inexperience of the -commissariat staff, partly because of torrential rains which ruined the -roads as soon as the army started, and partly because the army and train -were so huge that they had already absorbed every available horse in -Europe, so that losses (which necessarily increased with the distance -marched from the depôts) could not be replaced at all. This threw -additional work on the surviving horses, thereby increasing the wastage, -so that the Intendance went to pieces at a rate increasing by -geometrical progression. Before very long the Grand Army was once more -dependent entirely on the country through which it marched, and the -numbers were vast and Lithuania and White Russia were miserably poor. It -was a combination of circumstances apparently almost justifying the -Russian boast that God was on their side. - -Yet matters were not progressing any too well for the Russians. Their -field army was hopelessly divided; one portion, from the Danube, could -not be expected for months, while of the other two parts one was almost -in the clutches of the French, and the two together were hopelessly -inferior in numbers to the forces at Napoleon’s disposal. The tide of -war came surging back across Russia; the Russians were marching -desperately to escape from the trap; the French were pursuing equally -desperately in the hope of closing the last avenue of escape. The -balance wavered, but at length turned in favour of the Czar. The roads -were mere mud tracks, churned by the Russians into quagmires, and the -French were delayed. Jerome Bonaparte was not as insistent on speed as -he might have been, and at last, after fierce rearguard fighting, -Bagration escaped from the snare laid for him. A little more—ever so -little!—and Smolensk might have been another Ulm. - -The two main Russian armies were now combined, and, a hundred and twenty -thousand strong, with a numerous cavalry, they were able to sweep the -country bare before the French advance. Had the French movements round -Smolensk been successful, the Russians would have had only half these -numbers, and they would probably have been panic-stricken in addition; -the French advance would have been proportionately easier and less -expensive. In fact, it is difficult to see how Russia could have -continued the war, for Alexander’s nerve would have been shaken, the war -party would have received a severe rebuff, and altogether an entirely -different atmosphere would have arisen. The Russians fell slowly back -towards Moscow, the French, starving and disease-ridden, toiled -painfully after them. Barclay de Tolly was relieved from his command in -consequence of his inaction, and Kutusoff, the disciple of the great -Suvaroff, took his place. A battle was fought at Borodino. For Napoleon, -it was the first victory which did not give him huge captures of -prisoners and the prompt and abject submission of his enemies; for the -Russians it seemed as good as a victory, for they had met the great -conqueror _en rase campagne_, and had escaped. - -Yet they should not have done. The late Lord Wolseley declares that -Napoleon’s plan of attack at Borodino “could not be more perfectly -conceived or better elaborated,” and he goes on to say that it was a -sudden attack of illness which prevented Napoleon from controlling the -battle when it reached its height, and from sending adequate supports to -Ney at the crucial moment. This is the first mention we find of the -mysterious illness on which a large number of writers lay so much -stress; in the next campaign we shall find a much more important -example. But whether Napoleon was ill or not, a little better luck for -Ney or Davout would certainly have brought about important results. The -destruction of Kutusoff’s army would have had a great effect on the rest -of the campaign, even if it had not appalled Alexander into making -peace. - -The next mistake of the Emperor’s was in staying too long at Moscow; -during the five weeks he spent there his own army became demoralized, -the Russians had time to rally and to bring up the Army of the Danube, -and winter closed down on the countryside. When at last Napoleon decided -to retreat Kutusoff was able at Malo-Jaroslavetz to bar the way to -Kaluga, and to force him to go back through the pillaged districts -through which he had come; this could mean nothing less than the -destruction of his army, and, as everyone knows, the Grand Army was -destroyed. It is needless here to tell once more the tale of the -Beresina and Krasnoi; the interest of “what might have been” ceases with -the battle of Malo-Jaroslavetz. - -The points to be remembered are that during the fighting round Smolensk -Napoleon was within a hairbreadth of an overwhelming victory; at -Borodino he might have gained a satisfactory victory; a prompt retreat -from Moscow would at least have minimized disaster; a success at -Malo-Jaroslavetz would have saved part of the army, while the check -which was actually experienced here was due to the accumulated effects -of the earlier bad luck. In a military sense the campaign of 1812 was -not merely justifiable but it was very nearly justified. A little—a -very little more thrown into the scale would have saved his Empire for -Napoleon and set him on a higher throne than ever before. - -The campaign of 1813 was in this sense even more striking. It was waged -with untrained, immature forces, for the most part against overwhelming -odds, but during the course of the fighting Napoleon was not once, but -many times, within an ace of successes more splendid than Austerlitz. -The actions of the Allies seemed to portend failure for them from the -start. Although Prussia joined Russia as soon as the extent of the -French disaster became known; although there was nothing to bar their -way except a few thousand starving survivors of the Grand Army; although -all Germany was in a ferment, and the French domination of the Rhenish -Confederation was tottering, the Russians advanced with pitiful caution -and delay. Napoleon had returned to Paris, had raised, organized, -equipped and set in motion a new army of a quarter of a million men by -the time the Russians reached the Elbe. Almost before the Russian -commander-in-chief, Wittgenstein, knew what was happening, Napoleon had -rushed back at the head of his new army, had won the battle of Lützen, -had reconquered Saxony, and had flung the Allied army back across the -Oder. - -At Bautzen they stood once more to fight. Napoleon drew up the most -gigantic battle plan ever conceived up to that time; with half his force -he assailed the Allied centre, while Ney with sixty thousand men marched -against the right. The struggle lasted for twelve bitter hours. Somehow -Napoleon held his own command together and kept the Allies pinned to -their position, while Ney was slowly wheeling his immense force round -for the decisive movement. But the stars in their courses fought against -the Emperor. Ney failed lamentably. He lost sight of the main object of -his march, and he showed his hand and then wasted his strength in a -fierce attack on Blücher at Preistitz. Blücher struggled gamely; more -and more of Ney’s forces were drawn into the fight; the turning movement -was delayed, and the Allies, warned in time, writhed out of the trap. -Fifty thousand prisoners and two hundred guns might have been captured; -as it was, Napoleon was left to deplore a massacre—for nothing! -Alluding to Soult’s capture of Badajoz in 1811, Napoleon had said, -“Soult gained me a town and lost me a kingdom.” He might well have said -of Ney’s attack on Preistitz that Ney gained him a village and lost him -an Empire. It is inconceivable that the war could have been prolonged if -Ney had obeyed orders at Bautzen; the allied army comprised all the -troops that Russia and Prussia could at that time put into the field; -its destruction would have meant the reconquest of Prussia and of -Poland, the intimidation of Austria, and the regaining of Napoleon’s -European ascendancy. - -After Bautzen Napoleon concluded an armistice with his enemies. He still -hoped for an advantageous peace, and even if he failed to obtain this he -expected that the delay would enable him to rest the weary boys who -filled the ranks, to drill his wretched cavalry into some semblance of -order, and to clear his rear of the bandits and partisans who were -swarming everywhere. Moreover, for the last eighteen months he had been -working at a pace which would have killed most men, and he himself was -undoubtedly feeling the strain. The armistice would give him a little -rest. But it meant disaster, nevertheless. From all over Russia new -recruits were plodding across the unending plains to fill the gaps in -the ranks of the field army; Prussia was calling out her whole male -population, and Bernadotte’s Swedes were gradually moving up into line. -Worse than all, Austria turned against him. The delay enabled Francis to -bring his army up to war strength on the receipt of lavish English -subsidies, and, even while he still hesitated to attack his son-in-law, -the news arrived that Wellington had routed Joseph Bonaparte at -Vittoria, had cleared Spain of the French, and was about to attack the -sacred soil of France herself. The news was decisive, and the demands of -the Allies promptly increased inordinately. When, in August, the -armistice came to an end, Napoleon found himself assailed by forces of -twice his strength. - -Yet he did not despair; he thrust fiercely into Silesia, and then, -finding the Austrians moving against Dresden, he wheeled about, marched -a hundred and twenty miles in four days, and gained at Dresden the most -surprising of all his victories. With a hundred thousand men he flung -back a hundred and sixty thousand Russians and Austrians in utter -disorder; Vandamme had cut off their retreat, and once again it seemed -as if Ulm and Austerlitz were to be repeated. And then once more -occurred a startling change of fortune. Napoleon might have taken a -hundred thousand prisoners; the Emperors of Austria and of Russia might -have fallen into his power; Austria would have been ruined, and Napoleon -could have dictated peace on his own terms. But Napoleon handed over the -pursuit to Murat and St. Cyr, and returned to Dresden. In consequence, -the retreating Austrians were not pressed, Vandamme was overwhelmed, and -the action at Kulm gave the Allies twenty thousand prisoners instead of -placing the whole Allied army in the hands of the French. - -No one knows why Napoleon returned to Dresden when victory was in his -grasp. The advocates of the illness theory certainly have a strong case -here; but perhaps it was news of the disasters in Silesia which recalled -him; perhaps he was merely too tired to continue; perhaps he only had a -bad cold as the result of sitting his horse all day in the pelting rain -which fell all day during the battle of Dresden. However it was, -Napoleon’s mastership of Europe was lost irreparably when he came to his -decision to leave his army. - -For two months disaster now followed disaster. Macdonald had already -been routed on the Katzbach; Oudinot was beaten at Gross Beeren, Ney was -beaten at Dennewitz, St. Cyr surrendered at Dresden, and Napoleon -himself tasted the bitter cup of defeat at Leipzig. The astonishing -feature of the autumn campaign of 1813 was not that Napoleon was -defeated, but that he ever escaped from Germany at all. But he did, -blotting out on his path the Bavarian army which opposed him at Hanau. - -Once again the Allies advanced too slowly, and once again Napoleon was -able to organize a fresh army to defend France. Soult had grappled with -Wellington in the south, and was stubbornly contesting every inch of -French soil in his desperate campaign of Toulouse. Napoleon prepared to -make one more effort for success in the north. Russia, Austria, Prussia, -Sweden, the Confederation of the Rhine, Holland and even Belgium had -sent every man available against him. Four hundred thousand men were -about to pass the Rhine while Napoleon had not a quarter of this force -with which to oppose them. However, the prospect was not as hopeless as -it would appear. The Allies were bitterly jealous of each other, and -Napoleon had good grounds for hoping to divide them even now. Besides, -they were all of them intent upon gaining possession of whatever -territory they wished to claim at the conclusion of peace, and an army -guided solely by political motives is at the mercy of another which is -directed only in accordance with the dictates of military strategy. - -This early became obvious. Austria had bought the alliance of the -smaller German states only by means of extensive guarantees of their -possessions; in consequence she determined to find compensation for her -losses by acquisitions in Italy. But Italy was stoutly defended by the -Viceroy Eugène; she could make no progress there, and in consequence she -did not yet desire Napoleon’s fall. Schwartzenberg, the Austrian -general, was therefore held back by Metternich’s secret orders until -Venetia and Lombardy should be in Austrian hands. Metternich was quite -capable of leaving the Russians and Prussians in the lurch while he -played his own tortuous game; however, the situation was saved by -Murat’s betrayal of Napoleon. With Murat on his side, and the Neapolitan -army moving forward against Eugène, Metternich was sure of Italy, and -Schwartzenberg was allowed to proceed into France. Once more the -weakness and treachery of a subordinate had prevented Napoleon from -gaining a decisive success. - -The prospect grew gloomier and gloomier for the French. Napoleon was -beaten at Brienne and at La Rothière; immediate and utter ruin seemed -inevitable. Suddenly everything was changed. Napoleon fell upon the -dispersed army of the Allies. At Champ-Aubert, Vauchamp, Château-Thierry -and Mormant the Allies were beaten and hurled back. More than this, the -Prussians under Blücher, thirty thousand strong, hard pressed by -Napoleon, came reeling back towards Soissons and the Marne—and Soissons -was held by a French garrison. With an unfordable river before him; the -only bridge held by the enemy; a panic-stricken army under his command, -and Napoleon and his unbeaten Frenchmen, flushed with victory, at his -heels, Blücher seemed doomed to destruction. The officer in command at -Soissons bore the ominous name of Moreau; he was intimidated into -surrender when one more day’s defence would have had incalculable -results. Blücher escaped across the Marne not a minute too soon. - -This was Napoleon’s last chance before his abdication. His armies were -weakened even by their victories; the Allied forces seemed -inexhaustible. All Napoleon’s efforts were unavailing; his final threat -at Schwartzenberg’s communications was disregarded, and the Allies -reached Paris. Marmont’s surrender here has often been brought forward -as one more instance of treachery in high places, but it was not -treachery, it was only timidity and fear of responsibility. One cannot -imagine Blücher surrendering under similar circumstances. Be that as it -may, Paris fell, and Napoleon abdicated. - -After the abdication came the descent from Elba; after the descent from -Elba came the Hundred Days; and at the end of the Hundred Days came the -Waterloo campaign. It was during the Waterloo campaign that there -occurred, not one but half a dozen chances for Napoleon to win the -decisive victory for which he had been striving ever since 1812, but all -these half-dozen chances were spoilt by unexpected happenings and by -sheer hard luck. - -Many critics have inveighed against Napoleon’s decision to take the -initiative into his own hands and to carry the war into the enemy’s camp -by his invasion of Belgium, but there is hardly one who can find any -fault with the plan of invasion once it had been decided upon. The chief -fault-finder, indeed, is Wellington, who, to his dying day, maintained -that the movement should have been commenced through Mons, against the -English right, and not through Charleroi, against their left. However, -Wellington’s opinion on this matter does not carry as much weight as it -might, because the Iron Duke was guilty of several serious mistakes -during the campaign, and was only too anxious to draw any red herring -that offered across their trail, especially as these mistakes were -nearly all committed while he was under the impression that Napoleon’s -ultimate objective was his right and not his centre. The whole weight of -later opinion is in favour of Napoleon’s plan. - -Napoleon decided, then, to invade Belgium via Charleroi, to interpose -between the Prussian and the Anglo-Allied armies and defeat them in -detail. The fact that he had only 130,000 men against 120,000 Prussians -and 100,000 English and Allies does not seem to have caused him any -grave apprehension. The greatest handicap under which he suffered was -the absence of Berthier and Davout; both staff work and the higher -commands suffered because of this, for Soult had no aptitude for the -task of Chief of Staff, and Ney and Grouchy had no skill either in -higher strategy or in the handling of large numbers of men. -Nevertheless, the initial movements, without the interference of the -enemy, were carried out with brilliant success; the 130,000 men -available were assembled on the Sambre without either Blücher or -Wellington having any suspicion as to the storm that was gathering. Next -day the advance across the Sambre was ordered, and the storm burst. - -The two vitally important factors for success were extreme simplicity of -movement and the utmost secrecy of design. But these were rendered -impossible at the very moment of the opening of the campaign. First, a -general of division, as soon as he was over the river, deserted to the -Prussians and disclosed the very considerable information of which he -was possessed, and secondly the officer bearing orders to Vandamme to -advance met with an accident and broke his leg. This held up both -Vandamme’s corps and the one behind it, Lobau’s, and delayed the advance -after the movement had become known for six valuable hours. All chance -of surprising the Prussians in their cantonments was now lost, but for -all that the plan of campaign was so perfect that on the next day the -English and Prussians could only bring slightly superior numbers to bear -on the French force. At Ligny the Prussians were beaten; at Quatre Bras -the English were held back. Ney’s and d’Erlon’s mistakes on this day -have already been described. Had Ney acted with all possible diligence, -or had d’Erlon used his wits, either a completely crushing victory over -the Prussians or a nearly equally satisfactory success over the English -could have been obtained. Even both were possible. But Napoleon’s chance -was spoiled owing to the inefficiency of his subordinates. Soult, Ney -and d’Erlon were all equally to blame. - -The next point is more mysterious. After Ligny was fought and won, it -was clearly to Napoleon’s advantage to follow up his success without a -moment’s delay. No other general had ever been so remorseless in hunting -down a beaten enemy, and in wringing every possible advantage from his -victory. But at Digny Napoleon paused. No order for an advance was -issued. For twelve hours paralysis descended upon the Imperial army. The -Prussians struggled out of harm’s way, and crawled painfully by by-roads -to Wavre to keep in touch with the English. The cavalry reconnaissances -which were sent out later the next morning to find the Prussian army did -their work badly, and left Napoleon convinced that they had fallen back -on Liège and not on Wavre. It was the delay, however, and not the faulty -scouting, which proved most disastrous. Like Napoleon’s return to -Dresden in 1813, it has never been explained. Some historians say that -he was struck down by an attack of the same nameless illness which had -overcome him at Borodino, at Moscow, at Dresden and at Leipzig. In this -case it is the only possible explanation. For four or five hours -Napoleon must have suffered from a complete lapse of his faculties. -Those four or five hours were sufficient to ruin the Empire. Napoleon -was left completely in the dark as to the moral, strength and position -of the Prussians, and consequently he detached Grouchy with ambiguous -orders in pursuit, gave him a force too small for decisive operations -and yet much too large for mere observation, and sent him by a route -which precluded him either from assisting the main body or from -interfering seriously with the operations of the Prussians. Grouchy -might possibly have done both if only he had possessed vast insight, -vast skill and vast determination, but he did not; he was merely -ordinary. So Wellington turned to bay at Waterloo; the Prussians -assailed Napoleon’s flank, and the day ended in despair and disaster. - -Thus, on looking back through the years of defeat, 1812, 1813, 1814 and -1815, we find that there were a great number of occasions when Napoleon -might have gained a success which would have counter-balanced the -previous reverses. At Smolensk he might have gained another Friedland; -at Borodino he might still have snatched some slight triumph out of the -Moscow campaign. At Bautzen he came within an ace of destroying the -Russian and Prussian armies, at Dresden he nearly captured the whole -Austrian army and the two most powerful autocrats of Europe. The -surrender of Soissons just saved the Prussians in 1814. In 1815 he might -have shattered either or both of the armies opposed to him. It is not -too much to say that with the good luck which had attended him during -his earlier campaigns not only might he not have been forced to abdicate -in 1814, but he might have enjoyed his continental ascendancy for a very -considerable additional length of time. - -Beside these undoubted possibilities there are others not as firmly -based. Marbot tells a story that on the eve of Leipzig, while at the -head of his Chasseurs, he saw a party of horsemen moving about in the -darkness a short distance ahead. For various reasons he refrained from -attacking—to discover later that the hostile force had consisted of the -King of Prussia, the Emperors of Austria and Russia, and their staffs. A -resolute charge by Marbot would have brought back as prisoners all the -brains and authority of the opposing army. The Spanish victory at Pavia, -when Francis the First lost “everything except honour,” would have been -a poor success in comparison. We have, however, only Marbot’s word for -this incident, and Marbot is distinctly untrustworthy. Edward III.’s -army was not the only one which used the long bow. - -It is more to the purpose to consider Dupont’s surrender at Baylen. When -Dupont was sent out from Madrid to conquer Andalusia, there was only one -Spanish field army in being, and that was the one he was to attack. As -it happened, his nerve failed him, he frittered away weeks of valuable -time, and finally he was hemmed in and forced to surrender rather -feebly. The news of the disaster spread like wildfire over the -Peninsula. Moncey was repulsed from Valencia; Catalonia broke into -insurrection and hemmed Duhesme into Barcelona. Galicia and Aragon began -to arm. The Peninsular War was soon fully developed; it was to absorb -the energies of an army of three hundred thousand men for five years; it -was to shed the blood of half a million Frenchmen; it was to encourage -first Austria, then Russia, to rebel against the Napoleonic domination, -and it was only to end when the British flag waved over Bordeaux and -Toulouse. Had Lannes or some other really capable officer been in -command of Dupont’s twenty thousand men, the Army of Andalusia might -have been thoroughly beaten and the Peninsula overawed, for Baylen was -the battle which destroyed the French army’s reputation for -invincibility. Had not the Spaniards been victorious there, there would -not have been an opportunity for the simultaneous call to arms which set -all Spain in an inextinguishable blaze; isolated outbreaks might -naturally have occurred, but the long respite given to the Spaniards -during the summer of 1808, while Madrid was evacuated, would not have -taken place to give the Peninsula its opportunity for arming and -organizing. Baylen is as great a turning-point in Napoleonic history as -even Bautzen or Leipzig—and but for Dupont history might have turned in -another direction. - -Instances such as this might be multiplied indefinitely, from Marmont at -El Bodin (where he hesitated when half the British army was in his -power) to Jourdan in his retreat to Vittoria; from Jerome’s -mismanagement of Westphalia to Ney at Dennewitz; but it is useless to -continue. It is obvious that Napoleon’s military set-backs were due very -largely, not to his own failings, but to the incapacity of his -subordinates. Napoleon made mistakes, enormous ones, sometimes (a few -will be considered in the next chapter), but none of them as utterly -fatal as those of the other generals. And yet these other generals were -quite good generals as far as generals go—they were far and away -superior to Schwartzenberg and Wittgenstein, for instance. Only -Wellington and perhaps Blücher can be compared to them. The only moral -to be drawn is that nothing human and fallible could sustain the vast -Empire any longer; the dead weight of the whole was such that the least -flaw in any of the pillars meant the progressive collapse of the entire -fabric. - -This conclusion enables us to approach a definite decision as to “what -might have been.” It is unnecessary to argue as to whether the English -Cabinet would have survived a defeat at Waterloo, or whether Francis -would have made peace if he had been captured at Dresden. The result -eventually would have been the same. There was only one Napoleon, and -the Empire was too big for him to govern. Sooner or later something -would go wrong, and the disturbance would increase in geometrical -progression, and with a violence directly proportionate to the length of -time during which the repressive force had been in action. It was -inevitable that the Empire should fall, although as it happened the fall -was accelerated by a series of unfortunate incidents. Victor Hugo meant -the same thing when he said “God was bored with Napoleon”; and Napoleon -himself had occasional glimpses of the same inevitable result—as -witness the occasion when he said, “After me, my son will be lucky if he -has a few thousand francs a year.” - -Thus, if Napoleon by good fortune had reestablished his Empire in 1813, -and taken advantage (just as he did in 1810) of peace in the east to -reconquer Spain in the south, even then he would not long have retained -his throne. The persistent enmity of England would have continued to -injure him, and to seek out some weak spot for the decisive blow. Even -if Ferdinand had been sent back to Spain, and French prestige survived -such a reverse, there would have still remained various avenues of -attack. England was suffering severely, but France was suffering more. -Perhaps the patience of the French would have become exhausted, and some -trivial revolt in Paris would have driven Napoleon into exile. A very -similar thing happened in 1830, and the house of Orleans was always -anxiously awaiting some such chance. There could hardly have arisen a -Napoleonic Legend in that event. To the French mind Napoleon the Great -and Napoleon the Little would have been the same person, instead of -uncle and nephew. - -However it was, Napoleon was not destined to live long, and even if his -Empire had survived him, at his death one can hardly imagine Europe -remaining under the thumb of any Council of Regency he might appoint, -with Joseph and Jerome and the Murats all scheming and conspiring to -grasp the main power. Poor silly Marie Louise could never have kept -order; some Monk would have arisen to restore the Bourbons, and Napoleon -II. would have received the same treatment as did Richard Cromwell. The -legend of l’Aiglon would then have been very different. A Bonaparte -restoration in France might be as feasible as ever was a Protectorate -restoration in England. Not all Louis Napoleon’s wiles could have built -up a reactionary party; not all the glamour of Austerlitz and Jena could -have masked the discredit of a new dynasty being cast out by its own -people instead of by a league of indignant autocrats; even Sedan was not -the death-blow to Bonapartism. As it is, there will be a Third Empire in -France as soon as there arises a Napoleon the Fourth. - -[Illustration: DAVOUT - (PRINCE D’ECKMÜHL AND DUC D’AUERSTÄDT)] - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - SPOTS IN THE SUN - - -IT was Napoleon’s fate, during his lifetime and for some time after, to -have his worst mistakes overlooked, and to have various strokes of -policy violently condemned as shocking errors. Everyone has heard the -execution of the Duc d’Enghien spoken of as “worse than a crime—it was -a blunder.” It is difficult to see why. Perhaps Fouché, to whom the -remark is attributed, did not see why either. If a man should happen to -think of an epigram of that brilliancy, it is hard to condemn him for -using it without troubling much as to its truth. But whether launched in -good faith or not, that shaft of wit sped most accurately to its mark, -and proved so efficiently barbed that it has stuck ever since. - -The real point was that France was at war with England at the time, and -that Napoleon was so universally dreaded that any stick was considered -good enough to beat him with. Consequently a storm of indignation arose, -diligently fostered by those who benefited, and soon all Europe was -furious that a poor dear Bourbon had been shot. If nowadays the -President of the German Republic were to lay hold of a young -Hohenzollern and shoot him on a charge of conspiracy, it is doubtful -whether it would cause any similar stir. Europe is not fond of -Hohenzollerns, and the principle of Legitimacy is so far discredited -that it is not considered blasphemy to treat the descendant of an -autocrat with violence. - -Undoubtedly it was a crime for Napoleon to shoot the Duke, but it was -hardly a blunder. It was contrary to international law for him to send -the expedition to Ettenheim which arrested d’Enghien; it was contrary to -statutory law to try him without allowing him to make any defence; it -was contrary to moral law to shoot him for an offence of which he was -not guilty. For all this Napoleon deserves the utmost possible -censure—but without doubt he profited largely. Everywhere among -Napoleon’s enemies arose a weeping and wailing; the English poured out -indignant seas of ink (in 1914 they wrote in much the same fashion about -Wilhelm of Germany’s withered arm). Alexander of Russia put his Court in -mourning (only three years before he had been cognisant of the plot -which brought about the murder of his own father); the King of Sweden -tried to organize a crusade of revenge; but a month after d’Enghien died -the Senate begged Napoleon to assume the Imperial title. It is curious, -indeed, that so much notice should have been taken of one more murder by -a generation which witnessed, without one quarter so much emotion, the -partition of Poland, the storming of Praga, the sack of Badajoz, the -shooting of Ney, and Wellington’s devastation of the Tagus Valley. The -art of propaganda was at quite a high level even more than a century -ago. - -Once again, the execution of d’Enghien was a crime and not a mistake. By -it Napoleon showed that he was no mere Monk dallying with the idea of -restoring the Bourbons. He brought to his support all the most -determined of the irreconcilables. He showed the monarchs of Europe that -he was a man to be reckoned with. Murat, Savary, everyone implicated was -cut off from all possible communication with the Bourbons. The deed -cowed the Pope into submission at a vitally important moment, while the -mere mention of it later was sufficient to frighten the wretched -Ferdinand of Spain into abject obedience at that strange conference at -Bayonne, when an idiotic father and a craven son handed the crown of -Charles V. to an incompetent upstart. But Napoleon would have met with -no more than he deserved had he had dealt out to him at Fontainebleau in -1814 the same tender mercy which Condé’s heir received at Vincennes ten -years before—ten years almost to the day. - -If Enghien’s execution were a crime but not a mistake, there are several -incidents, most of them occurring about the same time, which undoubtedly -indicated mistakes, even if they were not crimes. Thus Pichegru was -found dead in prison. Pichegru was one of the generals of the Republic, -almost worthy of ranking with Hoch and Kléber. He had conquered Holland, -and was credited with the mythical exploit of capturing the frozen-in -Dutch fleet with a squadron of Hussars. (The Dutch had obligingly -forestalled this achievement by surrendering some time previously.) -Later he had been found to be parleying with the Bourbons, and had been -disgraced and exiled. Returning at the time of Cadoudal’s conspiracy, he -had been arrested, imprisoned—and was found one morning dead, with a -handkerchief round his neck which had been twisted tight by means of a -stick. Paris gossip credited Napoleon with the guilt of his death, and -darkly hinted that his confidential Mamelukes had revived the Oriental -process of bowstringing. It is hard to believe that Napoleon really was -guilty, for he could have secured Pichegru’s death by legal methods had -he wished, while if he wanted to kill Pichegru quietly he could have -adopted more subtle means. The blunder lay in his allowing the -circumstances to become known; with his power he could have arranged a -much more satisfactory announcement which would leave no doubt in men’s -minds that Pichegru really had committed suicide. In consequence of his -carelessness Napoleon was also charged with the murder, a year later, of -an English naval officer, Captain Wright, who also committed suicide in -prison. - -A more terrible mystery surrounds the death of Villeneuve. This -unfortunate man had been in command at Trafalgar; he had been wounded -and taken prisoner, and had subsequently been sent back to France. As -soon as he landed he found that Napoleon was furious with him as a -consequence of his defeat, and he was found dead in his room at Rennes, -with half a dozen knife-stabs in his body. It was announced that he had -committed suicide, but there are several unpleasant facts in connection -with his death which point to another conclusion. Letters from him to -his wife and from his wife to him had disappeared in the post; the -manner of death was strange, for the knife-thrusts were numerous and one -of them was so situated that it could hardly have been self-inflicted. -Perhaps Napoleon had Villeneuve killed; perhaps the crime was committed -by over-zealous underlings; however it was, it was a serious error on -Napoleon’s part to have allowed any room for gossip whatever. A possible -motive for the crime (if it was one) lies in the fact that Napoleon was -terribly anxious to keep secret the news of Trafalgar; not until the -Restoration was the general French public acquainted with the fact that -the French fleet had been destroyed—Napoleon had never admitted more -than the loss of one or two ships. - -It was incidents of this nature which caused the feeling of distrust -which gradually arose in the minds of the French people. Broken treaties -and international bad faith did not move them so much, partly because -they were never in possession of the true facts, partly because a series -of brilliant victories wiped off the smudges from the slate, and partly -because international morality was at its usual low ebb; but tales of -official murder and of unsavoury scandals in high places constitute the -ideal food for gossip, and rumours spread and were distorted in the way -rumours are, until a large section of the public had lost its faith in -the Emperor. As long as Napoleon was successful in the field this -defection was unimportant, but as soon as his power began to ebb it -became decidedly noticeable, and, as much as anything else, helped to -reconcile the mass of the people to the return of the Bourbons. - -It has been well said that the man who never makes any mistakes never -makes anything else, and allied to this statement is Wellington’s famous -dictum (which applies equally well to all kinds of endeavour) that the -best general is not the one who makes fewest mistakes, but the one who -takes most advantage of the mistakes of his opponent. On examining -Napoleon’s career one finds mistakes innumerable—and the successes are -more numerous still. In military matters the explanation lies in the -extreme and elaborate care Napoleon devoted to his strategic -arrangements. His movements were so planned that no tactical check could -derange them. His _bataillon carré_ of a hundred thousand men, with -Lannes the incomparable at the head of the advanced guard, could take -care of itself whatever happened. The advanced guard caught the enemy -and pinned him to his ground, providing that fixed point which Napoleon -always desired as a pivot, and then the massed army could be wheeled -with ease against whatever part of the enemy’s line Napoleon selected. -If victory was the result, then the pursuit was relentless; if perhaps a -check was experienced, then the previous strategy had been such that the -damage done was minimized. It was this system which saved him at Eylau -and which was so marvellously successful at Friedland. - -The occasions when danger threatened or when disaster occurred were -those when Napoleon did not act on these lines. The campaign of 1796, -indeed, shows no trace of the “Napoleonic system.” The principles which -Napoleon followed were only those of the other generals of the period, -but they were acted upon with such vigour and with such a clarity of -vision that they were successful against all the odds which the Aulic -Council brought to bear. At Marengo, on the other hand, the conditions -were different and more exacting. This victory had to be as gratifying -as possible to the French nation—it had to be gained by extraordinary -means; it had to be as unlooked-for as a thunderbolt, as startling as it -was successful, and it must bring prodigious results. Also (for -Napoleon’s own sake) it had to be gained as quickly as possible, so that -he could return to Paris to overcome his enemies. - -The Austrians had overrun Italy, were besieging Genoa, and had advanced -to the Var. No mere frontal attack upon them would fulfil all the -onerous conditions imposed upon the First Consul. A series of successes -painfully gained, resulting in the slow driving of the Austrians from -one river line to another, might be safe, but it would not be dramatic -nor unexpected, and, worst of all, it would not be rapid. Napoleon took -an enormous risk, and led his Army of Reserve over the Alps. He had -satisfied the need for drama; now he had to justify himself by a speedy -victory. Defeat, with an impassable defile in his rear, meant nothing -less than disaster; but delay, with his enemies gradually rallying at -Paris, meant similar disaster. The strain became unbearable, and -Napoleon scattered his army far and wide in his endeavour to come to -grips with the Austrians. The risk he ran was appalling, and was almost -fatal, for the fraction of the army which he still retained under his -own hand was suddenly attacked by the combined Austrians, and driven -back. Napoleon flung himself into the battle; somehow he kept his -battered battalions together until three undeserved strokes of luck -occurred simultaneously. Desaix arrived with his stray division; Zach -unduly extended the Austrian line; and Kellermann was afforded an -opportunity for a decisive charge. In ten minutes the whole situation -was changed. Marengo was won; it was the Austrians who were defeated -without an avenue of retreat; and Napoleon was free to enjoy the -intoxication of supreme power—and to meditate on the destiny which had -saved him from indescribable disgrace. - -The errors into which Napoleon fell during the campaign of 1805 were -mainly the result of his overestimation of his adversaries’ talents. No -one could possibly have imagined that Mack would have been such a -spiritless fool as to stay in Ulm and allow himself to be surrounded by -an army three times his strength. Napoleon certainly did not expect him -to, and made his dispositions on the supposition that Mack would -endeavour to fight his way through to Bohemia or Tyrol. But Mack -remained paralysed; the one gap left open was closed to him by Ney’s -dashing victory at Elchingen, and all that remained to be done was for -Napoleon to receive the timid surrender of thirty thousand men and for -Murat to hunt down whatever fragments were still at large. Five weeks -later the Russians were destroyed at Austerlitz. There is no manœuvre of -Napoleon’s during these five weeks at which anyone can reasonably cavil; -the faint criticism that Napoleon ought not to have advanced as far as -he did into Moravia is easily falsified by the fact that by this means -he was able to find room for his retreat on Austerlitz which gave so -much heart to the Russians and which induced them to make their ruinous -attack on his right wing. - -The mistakes which Napoleon made during the Jena campaign have already -been fully discussed. He made several gross miscalculations, and his -only justification is his final success. As the war went on, however, -and the French advanced into Poland, we find Napoleon at his very best -strategically. At Eylau he blundered in sending forward Augereau’s corps -in their mad rush at the powerful Russian line, but once again he was -able to extricate himself from his difficulties, and Friedland settled -the matter. - -It is now that we come to the most disastrous adventure of all—the -Spanish affair. The remark has been made that until 1808 Napoleon had -only fought kings, and never a people. He plunged into the involved -politics of Spain expecting as easy a victory as Masséna’s conquest of -Naples in 1806, or Junot’s conquest of Portugal in 1807. He was sadly -mistaken. And yet one can find traces indicating that he was taking all -possible precautions. His instructions to his representatives at Madrid -certainly suggest that he was trying to frighten the Spanish royal -family out of the country, and that only when this scheme had been upset -by the abdication of Charles at Aranjuez (which could not possibly have -been foreseen) did he call the suicidal conference of Bayonne. The -Portuguese royal family had fled from Junot; the Neapolitan Bourbons had -fled from Masséna; it might have been expected that the Spanish Bourbons -would have fled from Murat, especially as they had rich American -dependencies in which to settle. The Spaniards would not have fought -half so hard for a craven King in America as they did for one who was -pictured to them as suffering a martyr’s torments in a French prison. So -far Napoleon’s methods are perhaps justified in every way except -morally. But from this time onward he made mistake after mistake. He -entrusted the conquest of Spain to officers and troops of poor -quality—generals like Savary, Dupont and Duhesme, with mere provisional -regiments formed from the sweepings of the depôts. The capitulation of -Baylen and the loss of Madrid were the natural consequence. In wrath -Napoleon called upon the Grand Army. He plunged into Spain, routed the -wretched Spanish levies, pressed on to conquer all Spain and—was forced -to wheel back to counter Moore’s swift thrust at his rear. - -Napoleon never returned to the Peninsula. It was not central enough; he -could not from there keep an eye on the rest of Europe. He endeavoured -instead to direct affairs from Paris, with the result that what little -order remained dissolved into chaos. His despatches arrived six weeks -late, and co-ordination was impossible. The best course left open to him -was to entrust the supreme command in Spain to the most capable of his -subordinates, someone who could make his plans on the spot and see that -they were carried out. But there Napoleon stopped short. Give to another -Frenchman the command of three hundred thousand men and all the -resources of a vast kingdom? Unthinkable! So matters drifted from bad to -worse while the Marshals quarrelled among themselves, while Joseph and -Jourdan tried to make their authority felt, and while Napoleon blindly -stirred up still further trouble among them. - -Worse than this; Napoleon entirely misread the character of the Spanish -war. Despite his own experiences there, he did not realize the enormous -difficulties with which the French armies had to contend. He set three -hundred thousand men a task which would have kept half a million fully -occupied, and he further hampered them by the niggardly nature of their -allowances of money and material. He under-estimated the fighting power -of the guerillas, of the Portuguese levies, and (worst of all) of the -English army. He over-estimated the power of his name among the -unlettered Spanish peasants. He left entirely out of account the -impossibility of communication and of supply. In a word, there was no -error open to him into which he did not fall. - -The Spanish trouble had hardly assumed serious dimensions when in 1809 -Austria made one more bid for freedom and commenced hostilities against -him. As busy as he could possibly be with Spanish affairs, with troubles -in Paris, and with ruling the rest of Europe, Napoleon delayed before -going in person to the seat of war. He miscalculated the time necessary -to Austria to mobilize, and he entrusted the temporary command to -Berthier—two grave errors. Only Davout’s skill and his own -unconquerable energy staved off a serious disaster and snatched a -victory from the jaws of defeat. The French pressed on to Vienna. This -time there was no Auersperg to be cozened out of his command of the -Danube bridge; the crossings were all broken down, and Napoleon was -compelled to force a passage in face of a hostile army of equal -strength—the most delicate operation known to military science. -Napoleon’s first attempt was rash to the verge of madness. It was simply -a blind thrust at the heart of the opposing army; the bridges provided -were insufficient, and broke down through enemy action at the crisis of -the battle; the staff work and the arrangements generally appear to have -been defective. Thirty-six hours of fierce fighting saw the French -hurled back again; Masséna’s tenacity and Lannes’ daring saved the army -from destruction, but the cost of defeat amounted to twenty thousand -men—among them was Lannes, the hero of Montebello, of Saalfeld, of -Friedland, of Saragossa; one of the few who dared to say what they -thought to the Emperor, and one of the few who enjoyed his trust and -friendship. - -To point the moral, Napoleon contrived soon afterwards to bring up huge -reinforcements, and then to cross the Danube without opposition. The -movement was carefully planned and carried out, and the results were the -victory of Wagram, the armistice of Znaim, and the dismemberment of -Austria. If, after experiencing a severe defeat, Napoleon could succeed -in bringing up the Army of Italy and crossing the Danube without -opposition, he could surely have done so at the first attempt. The -battle of Aspern is typical of Napoleon’s reckless methods and of his -under-estimation of the enemy. - -In this campaign of 1809 Napoleon’s fall was nearly anticipated. Had the -forty thousand men whom England sent to Walcheren, too late, been -despatched a little earlier, under a competent general; had Prussia -flung her weight into the scale at the same time, it is hard to see how -Napoleon could have recovered himself. Germany was already prepared to -revolt, Tyrol was ablaze with insurrection, Wellington was marching into -the heart of Spain, Russia was ready to change sides at a moment’s -notice. What saved Napoleon was the fact that three of his enemies were -timid and incompetent. Chatham could achieve nothing in the Netherlands; -Frederick William III. hesitated in Prussia, and Francis of Austria, -although Wagram was not in the least a crushing defeat, decided that he -could not continue the struggle. - -We have already dealt in part with 1812 and 1813. There are mistakes in -plenty here, although now they were accentuated by the worst of ill -luck. The whole advance into Russia was one gigantic error; not even -Napoleon’s tremendous efforts could counter-balance the handicaps which -he encountered, and which he ought to have foreseen. As far back as 1807 -he had commented bitterly on the horrible Polish roads and on the -clinging black mud of that district; he should have realized that it was -impossible for him to feed an army five hundred thousand strong by road -transport under such conditions. Nevertheless, he nearly succeeded at -Smolensk in countering a strategic disadvantage by a tactical victory, -in the same manner as he had done twelve years before at Marengo. Even -after utter ruin had descended upon him, he contrived by his gigantic -labours to raise a new army and to enter afresh into the field in 1813 -before his enemies were ready for him. The early movements in the -campaign are practically perfect; until after Bautzen he showed all his -old brilliancy and skill—negatived this time by the mistakes of -subordinates. But from Bautzen onwards we find repeated errors both in -policy and in the field. It was a mistake to enter into the armistice of -Pleisswitz; it was a mistake not to secure the neutrality of Austria, -even if it had cost him the whole Kingdom of Italy; it was a mistake not -to accept the Allies’ offers of peace; it was a mistake not to send back -Ferdinand to Spain and extricate himself somehow from the tangle of the -Peninsular War; it was a mistake to send Oudinot and Ney against Berlin; -it was a mistake to try to hold the line of the Elbe; it was a mistake -to fight at Leipzig; and, having decided to fight, it was a mistake not -to see that there was a satisfactory line of retreat over the Elster. - -It is clear that Napoleon was not the man he once was. And yet—and yet -he nearly saved the whole situation at Dresden! Three days’ fighting -there nearly counter-balanced all the disasters of the previous eighteen -months. Smolensk, Bautzen and Dresden—three times he almost made up for -all his defeats. The conclusion is forced upon one that all through the -years of victory Napoleon was on the verge of defeat, and all through -the years of defeat he was on the verge of victory. For twenty years the -fate of Europe hung balanced upon a razor edge. - -Napoleon’s good luck is very evident; his bad luck was an equally potent -factor in his career. On striking a balance and considering what -enormous success was his for a time, the resultant inference is -unavoidable. He was vastly superior to all the other men of his time; -his superiority was such that individual differences between others fade -into insignificance when contrasted with the difference between him and -anyone else who may be selected for comparison. He was superior not -merely in mental capacity, but in all other qualities necessary for -success in any sphere of business. His moral courage was enormous; his -finesse and rapidity of thought were unequalled. He hardly knew what it -was to despair. His adaptability and his fertility of resource were -amazing. - -In spite of this (or perhaps because of this) it is very easy to detract -from any of his achievements. The Code Napoleon, his most enduring -monument, was not his own work, nor, of course, can much credit be given -to his assistants. Codification of laws is in no way a new idea—it is -almost contemporary with laws themselves. Napoleon’s German policy was -much the same as that of Louis XIV.; his Italian policy is reminiscent -of Charles VIII.’s or even earlier; the germ of his Oriental policy can -be found in that of Louis IX.; his Spanish policy was similar to, but -more unsuccessful than that of his predecessors. Even the Continental -system was only the development of previous schemes to their logical -climax. In his Court arrangements Napoleon brought no new idea into -play; most of his regulations were elaborated from the ceremony which -surrounded the Soleil Monarque, while others were borrowed from the -etiquette of the courts of Vienna and Madrid. Any approaching ceremony -called for an anxious examination of precedents; if Napoleon could find -a parallel far back stamped with the approval of a Valois or an -Orléans-Angoulême the matter was settled on the same lines, no matter -what inconveniences resulted. Similarly in purely Imperial concerns he -was always harking back to Charlemagne or to the Empire of Rome. It is -exceedingly probable that his annexation of Spain north of the Ebro in -1812, which excited roars of derision all over Europe because -three-quarters of the district was aflame with guerillas who shot on -sight any Frenchman they met, was directly inspired by Charlemagne’s -action a thousand years before. Charlemagne’s Spanish campaign, even if -it added the Spanish March to his dominions, cost him his rearguard and -all his Paladins; Napoleon might well have taken warning. The references -to Imperial Rome, from the design of his coinage and the plan of the Arc -de Triomphe to the “cohorts” of the National Guard and his adoption of -Eugène, are too numerous to mention. We even find him going back farther -still, and complaining that he could not, like Alexander, announce -himself as of divine birth and the son of Jupiter. - -In military matters an equally well (or ill) founded charge of -unoriginality can be brought against Napoleon’s methods. To those of us -who saw a short time ago what changes four years of war wrought in the -weapons and tactics employed, it seems amazing that at the end of twenty -years of life and death struggles the soldiers were still armed with the -smooth bore flintlock musket which had already been in use for a -century. Only two important new weapons were evolved, and neither of -them attained any great popularity. They were shrapnel shell and -military rockets, and the latter, at least, Napoleon never employed. The -rifle never attained any popularity with him, although to us it seems -obvious that it was the weapon of the future. Fulton offered Napoleon -his steamboat invention, and was treated as a wild dreamer—at the very -time when Napoleon was most preoccupied with the problem of sending an -army across the Channel. As an irresponsible autocrat, Napoleon had -boundless opportunities of testing and employing any new invention which -might be suggested, but he made no use of them. In this respect he -compares unfavourably with his far less gifted nephew. Napoleon III.’s -system of “sausages and champagne” certainly finds a parallel in his -uncle’s treatment of his troops when not on active service. When -Napoleon’s armies returned victorious they were received with fêtes and -salutes innumerable; an ignorant observer might well have believed them -to be demigods, to whom ceremonies and sacrifices were peculiarly -acceptable. The arrangement had a double effect; it is certainly good -for an army’s esprit de corps for the men to be considered demigods; and -it is certainly useful for an autocrat whose rule is based on his army -to have his subjects believe that that army is semi-divine. But for the -little personal comforts of his men Napoleon took small notice. They -were not relieved of the cumbersome features of their uniforms; even if -they were not worried by petty details of pipeclay and brass polish as -were the English, they were still forced to wear the horrible stock and -tunic which Frederick the Great had set in fashion. The French army -slang term “bleu” for recruit has its origin in the fact that the -recruits for the old army used to go black and blue in the face owing to -the unaccustomed restriction of the Napoleonic stock. The French helmets -may have been imposing, but they were terribly uncomfortable to wear. -The gain in efficiency resulting from a radical change in these matters -must have counter-balanced any possible loss in esprit de corps had -Napoleon seen fit to bring this change about. - -It is with trembling and delicacy that one approaches the realm in which -Napoleon apparently reigns supreme—that of tactics. It is a rash act to -say that the winner of sixty battles won them badly. Yet one cannot help -making a few cautious comments. When Napoleon attained supreme power the -line and the column were almost equally in favour in the French army. -The most usual formation in action was the line, backed at intervals by -the column. At Marengo this arrangement was largely employed, and was -successful. As time went on, however, we find that the line disappeared, -its place was taken by additional skirmishers, and the columns became -heavier and heavier. The system was altogether vicious; the column is -both untrustworthy and expensive. French columns might be successful -when pitted against any other columns, but they failed against -disciplined infantry formed in line. Every battle and combat fought by -the English, from Alexandria and Maida to Vittoria, proved this, but -Napoleon and his officers never learnt the lesson. The Emperor’s letters -to his generals in Spain give repeated examples of his contempt for the -English and Portuguese troops; it was hardly a contempt that was -justified. And despite all these warnings, despite (so it is reported) -Soult’s and Foy’s pleadings, the first grand attack at Waterloo was made -by twenty thousand infantry herded together twenty-four deep. This -clumsy mass was easily held up, outflanked and forced back by six -thousand English and Hanoverians under Picton. It was not the first -example which had been forced upon Napoleon’s notice of the uselessness -of the column. At Wagram he had sent Macdonald’s corps, some twenty -thousand strong, against the Austrian centre, massed in a gigantic -hollow square, which can be considered as forming two columns each about -thirty-five deep. Macdonald reached his objective, but by the time he -arrived his men were so jostled together, ploughed up by artillery, and -generally demoralized that they could effect nothing. One lesson such as -this ought to have convinced Napoleon, but it did not. He continued to -use columns—and he was beaten at Waterloo. It is frequently urged in -his defence that the column was the “natural” formation in the French -army, that tradition had grown up around it, so that it was unsafe to -meddle with it, that French troops fight better in column than in line, -and that his troops were of necessity so raw that they could not be -trusted in line. These arguments seem completely nullified by the facts -that the line was actually employed early in Napoleon’s career, that -both before and after Waterloo French troops fought well in line, and -that at Waterloo, at any rate, the French troops were all well-trained, -while Picton’s men were largely new recruits. - -The employment of cavalry in the Imperial armies might similarly be -condemned as extravagant and inefficient. The system of Seidlitz under -Frederick the Great was forgotten. Napoleon had uprooted the triumphal -memorial erected at Rossbach, and with it it seemed he had uprooted the -memory of the charges with which Seidlitz’ hard-welded squadrons had -routed the army of France fifty years before. Murat’s famous charges -were not pressed home in the hard, utterly logical fashion of -Frederick’s cavalry. If the opposing infantry stood firm at the approach -of the cavalry, then the latter parted and drifted away down each flank. -If (as must be admitted was much more usual) the infantry broke at the -sight of the horsemen tearing down on them, then the pursuit was pushed -home remorselessly, but never do we find the perfect charge, in few -ranks, packed close together and held together like a steel chain, which -must overturn everything in its way. Under Napoleon the French cavalry -never charged home; at Waterloo we find the great cavalry charges, which -Ney directed against the English squares, made at a trot, and the -horsemen, swerving from the steel-rimmed, fire-spouting squares, -wandering idly about on the flanks, while a few of the more enterprising -cut feebly at the bayonets with their sabres. Wellington’s description -of them riding about as if they owned the place argues powerfully -against their ever having flung themselves upon the bayonet points, as -good cavalry should do if sent against unbroken infantry. - -In fact, both the French infantry and the French cavalry relied upon the -moral effect of their advance rather than upon their capacity for doing -damage when they made their charges. It is perfectly true that they were -generally successful; Napoleon’s dictum that the moral is to the -physical as three to one was borne out in a hundred battles from Arcola -to Dresden; but it was found wanting at Vimiero, at Busaco, at Borodino, -at Waterloo, everywhere in fact, where the enemy was too stubborn or -well-disciplined to flinch from the waving sabres or the grenadiers’ -gigantic head-dresses. - -In the wider field of strategy it cannot be denied that Napoleon made -use of original devices and brought about revolutionary changes in the -whole system. They do not appear in the Italian campaign of 1796 nor in -the campaigns of Egypt and Marengo, but in 1805 we find the cavalry -screen completely contrived and in efficient working order; in 1806 the -strategic advanced guard; and in 1807 the perfect combination of the -two. The curious part is that Napoleon himself did not seem to realize -the importance of his own inventions; time and again in 1812 and 1813 he -did not employ them, with invariably disastrous results. It seems a -mistake on Napoleon’s part not to have made use of the new devices on -these occasions, but it is unwise to condemn him offhand, because it -seems inconceivable that he of all persons did not appreciate the -magnitude and efficiency of his own discoveries; there must have been -some reason not now apparent for these actions. - -It is very nearly impossible to discover any action of Napoleon’s which -was not faulty in some way, or which could not be improved upon. But -since he met with unprecedented success the only conclusion is that, -although his mistakes were many, they were far fewer than would have -been the average man’s. Furthermore, since his schemes were all so -direct and simple (a comparison between his plan and Moreau’s for the -crossing of the Rhine at Schaffhausen in 1800 is very illuminating on -this point), no one can help feeling a sneaking suspicion, when reading -of Napoleon’s achievements, that he could not have done the same—only -just a little better. Thiers’ long-drawn panegyric grows ineffably -wearisome simply on this account; the writer’s efforts to minimize his -hero’s errors are so obvious and so ineffective that the reader is -irritated by them, while the continued superlatives seem to be given -with gross unfairness to a man whose blunders are so difficult to -conceal. It is far easier to write a panegyric on a man who has done -nothing whatever than on a man whose whole life was spent in productive -activity. - -Of what has sometimes been termed Napoleon’s cardinal error, the -Continental System, I have not ventured to speak. As originally -conceived it was undoubtedly a wise move. If France could exist without -English products, then obviously it was a sound proceeding to deprive -England of so rich a market for her goods. The complications make the -question much more difficult. Certainly the effort to close the whole of -Europe to British trade led Napoleon into damaging annexations and -disastrous wars, while the fact that the countries involved, Russia, for -instance, preferred to fight rather than to continue to enforce the -system, seems to indicate that it was impossible to enforce—that the -country (or at least its Government) could not continue to exist without -British trade. This is the simplest complication of all. It is when we -come to consider Napoleon’s juggling with permits and licenses that we -become involved in the fog which surrounds all tariff questions. The -only certain points are that Napoleon derived a large revenue from his -licenses, that the British Government was frequently severely -embarrassed for want of money (the difficulties involved in collecting -sufficient gold to pay subsidies and the expenses of armies in the field -led to unfortunate delays), and that the discontent of the Continent was -great and general. It is a purely arbitrary matter, dependent on the -personal equation, to come to any decision as to the balance of these -conclusions. - -Taking the career of Napoleon as a whole, it is easy to see how -frequently he was guilty of errors; what should also be obvious is that -it was almost inevitable that he should fall into these errors. If the -Austrian marriage was a mistake, then it was a mistake Napoleon could -not help making; undoubtedly he did the best he could for himself in the -prevailing circumstances. If the advance into Russia was a mistake, it -is impossible to indicate what alternative could have been chosen, for -Napoleon, at war with Russia, could not safely remain at war without -gaining a decision; he could hardly maintain an army on the Russian -frontier awaiting Alexander’s pleasure. - -If it was a mistake to advance into Belgium in June, 1815, it would have -been a far worse one not to have advanced. The greatest mistake of those -into which he was _not_ driven by circumstances was his theft of the -throne of Spain—and it was that which ruined him. - -[Illustration: MASSENA - (PRINCE D’ESSLING AND DUC DE RIVOLI)] - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - ST. HELENA - - -WHEN Napoleon abdicated after Waterloo, for the second time, the Allies -had achieved the object for which ostensibly they had made war. The -Emperor had fallen, and the war they had waged had, they declared, been -directed entirely against him. The immediate and burning question now -arose as to what was to be done with the man against whom a million -other men were on the march. Blücher wanted to catch him and shoot him; -Wellington, with his usual cautious good sense, did not want to be -burdened with the responsibility of an action which might be unnecessary -and would certainly be unpopular. Napoleon himself, disowned by the -government and by the army, wanted to retire to America, but his enemies -were unwilling to set him free. The English fleet blockaded the coast, -and Napoleon was compelled to surrender to it, lest worse should befall -from the Prussians, or the Republicans, or the White Terror, or from -personal enemies. He tried to make the best of his necessity by claiming -the hospitality of England, but England kept him a close prisoner until -her Allies had been consulted. They offered to hand him over to Louis -XVIII. for trial as a rebel, but even Louis had the sense to decline the -offer. He could shoot Ney and la Bédoyère, but he could not shoot -Napoleon. For Louis to shut him up in a fortress would be as dangerous -as it would be for a private individual to keep a tiger in his cellar. -In the same way no Continental state would willingly see any other -appointed his guardian. That would mean giving the guardian country a -most potent instrument of menace. England remained the sole possible -gaoler, and England accepted the responsibility. - -Next arose the question as to the locality of the prison, and the answer -to that question was already prepared—St. Helena. To keep Napoleon in -England was obviously impossible, for England was nearer France even -than was Elba, while, incredible though it might seem, the oligarchy -which ruled England were afraid lest Napoleon should corrupt the mass of -the people to Republicanism. That there was some foundation for this -fear is shown by the intense interest in Napoleon which the people -displayed while he was in Plymouth harbour. Similar arguments were -effective against Malta or any other Mediterranean island. But St. -Helena had none of these disadvantages. It was thousands of miles away; -it was small, and could be filled with troops; there were only two -possible places for landing, and these could be well guarded; the few -reports on the island which were to be had seemed to indicate that fair -comfort was obtainable there, and, above all, it was not at all a place -where ships or individuals could easily find an excuse for calling or -remaining. Even before the descent from Elba St. Helena had been -suggested as a more suitable place for Napoleon’s prison, and now, with -little discussion, he was sent off there. - -It is impossible to argue about the legality or otherwise of this -decision. Morally, the Powers were as justified in imprisoning Napoleon -as is a government in locking up a homicidal maniac. A maniac may hurt -people; Napoleon might hurt the Powers. Napoleon might hurt them for -reasons which to him might appear perfectly defensible; but a homicidal -maniac can usually boast the same purity of motive. The maniac may be -right and everyone else wrong; Napoleon may have been right and the -Powers wrong; but the Powers were none the less justified in seeing that -he could do no more harm. It has been argued that by invading France and -removing her ruler Europe was committing a moral crime; that it is -intolerable for one country to interfere in another country’s system of -government. This argument fails because its scope is inelastic. In the -same way it is said that “an Englishman’s house is his castle,” and -that, for instance, a man’s conduct towards, or training of, his -children is his own personal business. But if that man tries to cut his -children’s throats, or worse, encourages his children to cut his -neighbours’ throats, then the State steps in and prevents him from doing -so. That is exactly what the Powers did with Napoleon. Where they went -wrong was in not seeing that their decision was carried into effect with -humanity and dignity. - -The initial arrangements for Napoleon’s exile seemed to portend that he -would end his days in luxury. Lord Liverpool had said that on the island -there was a most comfortable house exactly suited for Napoleon and his -suite; Lord Bathurst had given official orders that he was to be allowed -all possible indulgence so long as his detention was not imperilled. But -Napoleon was not given the comfortable house, while Bathurst’s -confidential orders to Sir Hudson Lowe displayed unbelievable rigour. -Already Napoleon had experienced some of the results of the workings of -the official mind; the naval officers with whom he had come in contact -had been strictly ordered not to pay him any of the compliments usually -accorded to royalty. They remained covered in his presence, and they -addressed him as “General Bonaparte.” Cockburn, the Admiral in command, -acted strictly to the letter of the orders which commanded him to treat -“General Bonaparte” in the same manner as he would a general officer not -in employ. If Napoleon seemed inclined to act with more dignity than -this rather humble station would warrant, then Cockburn was distant and -reserved; but if Napoleon ever showed signs of “conducting himself with -modesty,” as Cockburn himself writes, then the Admiral was graciously -pleased to unbend a little to his helpless prisoner. - -The whole question of the title was intricate and irritating. The -English Government declared that they had never recognized Napoleon as -Emperor even at the height of his power, and they certainly were not -going to do so now that he was a discredited outcast. They were hardly -correct in fact or in theory, for they had sent him an Ambassador when -he was First Consul; they had sent plenipotentiaries to Châtillon who -had signed documents in which he was called Emperor; they had sent a -representative to him at Elba when he was Emperor there, and, equally -important, they had ratified the Convention of Cintra, among the -documents of which he was distinctly called His Imperial Majesty. -Moreover, by refusing him this mode of address, they were insulting the -French people, who had elected him, the Courts of Europe, who had -recognized him, and the Pope, who had crowned and anointed him. It was -the English Government which lost its dignity in this ridiculous affair, -not Napoleon. But the worst result of this decision was not the loss of -dignity, nor the injury to French pride. It was that it gave Napoleon an -opportunity to hit back. It gave him a definite cause of complaint, -apart from that of his arbitrary incarceration, which was generally held -to be justified. It was the first opportunity of many, of all of which -Napoleon eagerly took advantage, so that the Napoleonic Legend had a -firm base for future development. By complaining at any and every -opportunity Napoleon was able to surround his own memory with an aura of -frightful privations, so that it was easy for his subtle nephew later to -picture him as Prometheus, the benefactor of mankind, bound to his rock -in mid-ocean with the vultures of the allied commissioners gnawing at -his liver. - -A further blunder on the part of the English Government afforded -Napoleon his next cause of complaint. Sir Hudson Lowe was a good, if -unimaginative soldier who had fought all his life against the French. -Furthermore, he had commanded a force of Corsican Rangers, recruited -from the island that was Napoleon’s birthplace. He had held Capri for -two years in the face of Masséna and Joseph Bonaparte, and was only -turned out by a daring expedition sent by Murat. His very name was -hateful to Napoleon, and yet he was appointed his guardian. But this was -not all. A huge responsibility devolved upon Sir Hudson Lowe. A moment’s -carelessness on his part might allow Napoleon to escape, and if Napoleon -escaped there might ensue another Waterloo campaign with a very -different result. The responsibility was too great altogether for Lowe. -Because of it he carried out the orders sent him with a strictness which -knew no bounds. He pestered the wretched prisoner, who already had good -reason to dislike him, until he nearly drove him frantic. Lowe himself -was desperate, and many people who saw him during that period commented -on his worried demeanour and his inability to support his -responsibilities. It is easy then to imagine the violent friction which -prevailed between him and his captive. - -On a casual inspection, the restrictions imposed upon Napoleon do not -seem particularly severe. He was to keep within certain limits; he was -to be accompanied by an English officer if he went beyond them; his -correspondence was to pass through Lowe’s hands, and he was to assure -the English of his presence every day. But these restrictions galled -Napoleon inexpressibly. Along the boundaries of his free area was posted -a line of sentries, and he could not turn his eyes in any direction -without perceiving the hated redcoats. The continued presence of an -officer if he rode elsewhere was not unnaturally irksome—so irksome, in -fact, that Napoleon, who had previously passed half his days on -horseback, gave up riding—while the mortification of having his letters -pried into and the utter, hateful humiliation of having to exhibit -himself on command to an Englishman must have been maddening to a man -who not so many months before had ruled half Europe. - -Napoleon found himself shut up in a restricted area and with limited -accommodation; he had no old friends with him, because he had never had -any friends; of the five officers who had accompanied him only two were -men of any distinction and of any length of service. Not one of them was -particularly talented, and they were one and all fiercely jealous of -each other. Add to these conditions a tropical climate and the utter -despair into which they were all plunged, and it is easy to realize that -furious quarrels and bitter heart-burnings must have been their lot. It -is the most difficult matter in the world to find the exact truth about -what went on in Longwood. Everyone concerned wrote voluminously, and -everyone concerned wrote accounts which differed from everyone else’s. -There is an atmosphere of untruth surrounding everything which has been -written by the actors in this last tragedy. Napoleon himself set his -friends the example, for his dictated memoirs and the information which -he gave Las Cases to help him in his writings are full of lies, some -cunning, some clumsy, but all of them devised for obvious purposes. He -tried to throw the blame of the Spanish insurrection on Murat, the blame -of the execution of d’Enghien on Talleyrand, the blame of Waterloo on -Grouchy. It is difficult to discover whether he was merely trying to -excuse himself in the eyes of the world, or to rehabilitate Bonapartism -so that his son might eventually mount the Imperial throne. And his -companions’ memoirs lie so blatantly and so obviously that one cannot -decide which was his aim. - -Napoleon himself had deteriorated vastly. As might be expected, his -complete cessation of bodily activity led to an increase in his -corpulence until he became gross and unwieldy. His mental power had -decayed, although he was still able to dictate for hours on end. Even -under the burdensome conditions imposed upon him he never seems to have -abandoned the rigid reserve which he had maintained all his life. The -few scenes which the memoirists describe which have a ring of truth -about them seem to show him still acting a part, still posing as the -inestimably superior being whom his followers believed him to be. -Sometimes we have a brief glimpse of him stripped of his heroics, as -witness the occasion when he said bitterly that his son must necessarily -have forgotten him; but most of the time he seems to have adhered to his -old methods, and posed as the misunderstood benefactor of humanity, -ignoring Marie Louise’s defection, ignoring the distrust with which the -Council of State had regarded him during the last months of his reign; -in fact proclaiming himself the man who martyred himself for the French -nation, with such iteration that he was at last believed. His -declamations have coloured nearly everything written since, so that it -is quite usual to find it stated, either actually or inferentially, that -his fall was due solely to the jealousy of the other rulers of Europe, -and not due in any degree to the slowly developed dislike of his own -subjects. - -And all this time he was making Sir Hudson Lowe’s life a burden to him -as well. Some of Napoleon’s complaints were just, some merely frivolous, -but every one of them goaded Lowe into further painful activity. This -activity reacted in another direction, so that Lowe issued edicts of -increased stringency, and, half mad with responsibility, treated -Napoleon with an exaggeration of precaution and imposed upon him -restraints of a pettiness and a casuistry almost unbelievable. It can -hardly be doubted that Napoleon actually sought opportunities for egging -Lowe on to further ill-treatment; he certainly treated him with a most -amazing contumely, and it is very probable that the numerous rumours of -attempts at rescue, by submarine boat, by an armed force from Brazil, or -by any other fantastic means, had their origin in Napoleon himself, so -that Lowe was inspired to further obnoxious measures. Napoleon made the -most of his opportunity. He raised a clamour which reached Europe (as he -had intended), so that interest in his fate and sympathy for the poor -ill-treated captive gradually worked up to fever heat. He sold his plate -to buy himself necessaries (at a time when he had ample money at his -command) and of course France heard about it, and was wrung with pity -for the wretched man forced by his captor’s rapacity to dine off -earthenware. The fact that Napoleon nevertheless retained sufficient -silver to supply his table was not so readily divulged. He made a -continual complaint about his health; undoubtedly he was not well, and -equally undoubtedly he was already suffering from the disease which -killed him; but his complaints were neither consistent nor, as far as -can be ascertained, entirely true. He hinted that the Powers were -endeavouring to shorten his life; he even said that he went in fear of -assassins. All this news reached Europe by devious routes, and sympathy -grew and grew until, after the lapse of years, it waxed into the -hysteria evinced at his second funeral and the more effective hysteria -which set Napoleon III. on the throne. - -Despite all the undignified squabbles in which he was engaged, one can -nevertheless hardly restrain a feeling of admiration for Napoleon amid -the trials which he was enduring. He was hitting back as hard as -circumstances would allow him, and he was hitting back with effect. He -had driven Lowe frantic, and he had secured his object of reviving -European interest in him. Furthermore, he flatly refused to submit to -the humiliating commands which Lowe attempted to enforce. Lowe might -speak of “General Bonaparte” or “Napoleon Bonaparte” (in the same way as -he might speak of John Robinson, says Lord Rosebery) but in his own home -Napoleon was always His Imperial Majesty the Emperor, to whom everyone -uncovered, and in whose presence everyone remained standing. Lowe’s -order that he must show himself to an English officer every day was -completely ignored, and we hear of officers climbing trees and peering -through keyholes in vain attempts to make sure of his presence. For days -together Napoleon might have been out of the island for all Lowe knew to -the contrary. The commissioners sent by France and Austria and Russia -did not set eyes on him from the time of their arrival until after his -death. Napoleon had sworn that he would shoot with his own hand the -first man who intruded on his privacy, and he was believed; the attempt -was never made, and Napoleon continued to reign in Longwood, in an -_imperium in imperio_. - -The whole period seems indescribably sordid and wretched. Napoleon’s -companions were intriguing jealously for his favour, scheming for the -privilege of eating at his table, and even endeavouring to be sure that -he would leave them his money in his will. Tropical weather, harassing -conditions, prolonged strain, and the overwhelming gloom of recent -frightful disasters, all tended towards overstrained nerves and -continual quarrels. Napoleon wrangling with Lowe over his -dinner-service; Montholon in tears because Napoleon chooses to dine with -Las Cases; an Emperor quarrelling with a general as to whether or not -his liver is enlarged; this is not tragedy, it is only squalor with a -hideously tragic taint. It is Lear viewed through reversed -opera-glasses. - -The end came at last in 1821. The disease of which his father had died -held Napoleon as well in its grip. He was an intractable patient, and -diagnosis was not easy, but it certainly seems that the medical -treatment he received was unspeakably bad. He was dosed with tartar -emetic, of all drugs, at a time when his stomach was deranged with -cancer. At times he suffered frightful agony. He bore it somehow; argued -with his doctors, chaffed his friends, until at last he sank into -unconsciousness, and he died while a great storm howled round the -island. The lies and contradictions of the memoirists persist even here, -for no one knows accurately what were his last words, or when they were -uttered. - -The post-mortem report is sufficient to convince any reader that none of -the doctors concerned knew their business;[A] the man who had once ruled -Europe was now thrust into a coffin too small to allow him to wear his -complete uniform, so that his hat rested on his stomach; and he was -buried in one of his old favourite spots in the island. Once more there -arose the old vexed question of title, for the French wished to inscribe -“Napoleon” on the coffin; Lowe insisted on “Bonaparte” being added; in -the end it was a nameless coffin which was lowered into the grave. - ------ - -[A] It is, I believe, a fact never previously published that the first -post-mortem certificate drawn up by the doctors responsible was rejected -by Sir Hudson Lowe. It contained the words “the liver was perhaps a -little larger than natural,” and this remark naturally did not commend -itself to Lowe, in consequence of the fierce quarrels he had had with -Napoleon on this very subject. The post-mortem certificate in the -English Record Office does not contain these words, but the Rev. Canon -E. Brook Jackson, Rector of Streatham, has in his possession the earlier -certificate, signed by the doctors concerned, with the footnote -“N.B.—The words obliterated were suppressed by order of Sir Hudson -Lowe. Signed, Thomas Short, P.M.O.” The words referred to are clearly -legible and are those given above. - -Napoleon failed during his lifetime, but he was triumphant after death. -His gallant fight at St. Helena against overwhelming odds was remembered -with pride by every Frenchman. Men hearing garbled versions of his -sufferings felt a pricking of their consciences that they had abandoned -him in 1814 and 1815. The helpless policy of Louis XVIII. and Charles -X., and the humdrum policy of Louis Philippe set all minds thinking of -the glorious days, not so very long ago, when France had been Queen of -the Continent. Louis Napoleon skilfully employed the revulsion of -feeling to his own advantage, and the glory of Austerlitz and Jena was -sufficient to hide the absurdities of Boulogne and Strasbourg. But it -was the six years’ struggle of St. Helena which made so refulgent that -glory of Austerlitz. - -What the British Government could have done to prevent the formation of -a St. Helena legend cannot easily be decided. They were in terror lest -he should escape again, and severe ordinances were necessary to prevent -this. Had they treated him luxuriously, public opinion in England would -have been roused to a dangerous pitch. They had originally tried to get -out of the difficulty by handing him over to Louis XVIII. for execution, -but Louis XVIII. had no real case against him. A state trial would have -given Napoleon unbounded opportunities for the rhetoric in which he -delighted, and which had so often rallied France to his side. Napoleon -might well have pleaded, with perfect truth, that in the descent from -Elba he was no rebel, but the Emperor of Elba making war upon the King -of France; but so tame a plea would hardly have been employed. Napoleon -would have proclaimed himself the purest altruist come to see that the -French people obtained their rights, or to save France from the -machinations of tyrants. Louis was wise in refusing the offer. The -custody of Napoleon was thus thrust upon the British Government. If -remarkably far-sighted, they might have lapped him in every luxury; have -treated him subserviently as if he was Emperor in fact as well as in -name; they might have encouraged him to debauchery as wild as Tiberius’ -at Capri; and then by subtle propaganda they might have exhibited him to -a scornful world as a man who cared nothing for his lost greatness, or -for the dependence of his position. Such a scheme appealed favourably to -the imagination, but there was an insuperable obstacle—Napoleon. -Napoleon had a definite plan of campaign. He was going to complain about -everything and everybody with whom he came in contact. He was going to -clamour unceasingly against the brutality and arbitrariness of his -gaolers. Without regard for truth he was going to proclaim continually -that he was being ill-treated and martyred, and he would have done it -whatever had been his treatment, and, being Napoleon, he would have done -it well. The error of the British Government lay in their affording him -so many opportunities, not in their affording him any at all. - -And after he was dead there followed the events which he had foreseen -and over whose engendering he had laboured so diligently. Little by -little the evil features of the Imperial régime were forgotten; the -glory of his victories blazed more brightly in comparison with the -exhaustion of France under the Bourbons and the pettifogging Algerian -razzias of Louis Philippe. The literature of St. Helena, both the -spurious and the inspired, induced men to believe that Napoleon was the -exact opposite of what he really was. It gave him credit for the -achievements of Carnot; it shifted the disgrace of failure on to the -shoulders of helpless scapegoats. It proved to the satisfaction of the -uninquiring that Napoleon stood for democracy, for the principle of -nationality, and even for peace. It raised to the Imperial throne the -man who said “the Empire means peace.” The whole legend which developed -was a flagrant denial of patent facts, but it was a denial sufficiently -reiterated to be believed. The belief is not yet dead. - -[Illustration: LOUIS NAPOLEON, KING OF HOLLAND] - - - - - APPENDIX - INCIDENTS AND AUTHORITIES - - -IT is much more than a hundred years since Napoleon lived; since his -time we have witnessed cataclysms more vast than were the Napoleonic -wars; the Europe of that period seems to us as unfamiliar and as -profitless a study as Siam or primitive Australia. Perhaps this is so. -Perhaps the lessons to be drawn from the Napoleonic era are now -exhausted. Perhaps the epoch ushered in by Marengo is slight and -unimportant compared to that which follows the Marne. Perhaps Englishmen -will forget the men who stood firm in the squares at Waterloo, and will -only remember those who stood firm at Ypres and the Second Marne. -Perhaps the Congress of Vienna will lapse into insignificance when -compared with the Congress of Versailles. But this is inconceivable. -Previously, perhaps, too much importance has been attached to the -Napoleonic era, but that is because it had no parallel; it was unique. -Similarly the period pivoting about the Great War of 1914-18 might be -said to be unique, but it is not so. The two epochs are very closely -related, very closely indeed. Much may be gained from the study of -either, but this is nothing to be compared with the gain resulting from -the study and comparison of the two together. In this way the Napoleonic -era becomes more significant even than it was before the great war, and -this without considering how much of the great war was directly due to -arrangements made as a consequence of Napoleon’s career. - -But apart from all such considerations, the study of the period is one -from which a great deal of purely personal pleasure can be derived. Even -nowadays one cannot help a thrill of excitement when reading of the -advance of the British infantry at Albuera; one cannot help feeling a -surge of emotion on reading how Alvarez at the siege of Gerona moaned -“No surrender! No surrender!” although he was dying of fever and half -the populace lay dead in the streets, while the other half still fought -on against all the might of Reille and St. Cyr. Even the best novel -compares unfavourably with Ségur’s account of the Russian campaign; and -although there is no French biographer quite as good as Boswell, yet -there are scores of memoirs and biographies of the period which rank -very nearly as high, and which are pleasant to read at all times. Marbot -may be untruthful, but he is delightful reading; Madame Junot gives a -picture of her times and of the people whom she met which is honestly -worthy of comparison with Dickens and Thackeray; while to track down in -their memoirs Fouché’s and Talleyrand’s carefully concealed mistakes is -as interesting a pastime as ever was the attempt to guess the dénouement -in a modern detective novel. - -The literature of the time is full of happy anecdotes, some of which -have attained the supreme honour of being taken out bodily, furnished -with modern trimmings, and published in twentieth century magazines, -without acknowledgment, as modern humour. But many have escaped this -fate, partly because they are untranslatable, and partly because they -bear the definite imprint of the period. Thus there is the story of the -fat and pursy King of Würtemberg, who once kept waiting a committee of -the Congress of Vienna. At last he arrived, and as his portly majesty -came bustling through the door, Talleyrand remarked, “Here comes the -King of Würtemberg, _ventre à terre_.” In a grimmer vein is the story of -the reception held on the night after Ney was shot. The company were -mournfully discussing the tragedy, when a certain M. Lemaréchal was -announced. As this gentleman had a son of mature years, the announcement -was worded “M. Lemaréchal ainé”—which the panic-stricken assembly heard -as “M. le Maréchal Ney.” - -Some of the heroes of that time have had the bad luck to be -misrepresented not only in literature but even in portraits and in -sculpture. Napoleon had at one time the plan of placing statues of all -his generals in the Louvre, but he abdicated before the work was -anywhere near completion, and left its continuation to his successors. -Louis and Charles did nothing towards it, and the parsimonious Louis -Philippe, when he came to the throne, decided as a measure of economy -only to represent the most famous. But some of the statues of junior -officers were already finished. Louis Philippe saw his chance of still -greater economy. For Lasalle’s head was substituted Lannes’; for -Colbert’s, Mortier’s; while the entire statue of St. Hilaire was simply -labelled Masséna and set up without further alteration. These statues -are still in the Louvre; no subsequent correction has ever been made. - -But the anecdotes are responsible for only a very small part of the -interest of Napoleonic literature. Many of the subsequent histories are -very nearly models of everything a book ought to be. Napier’s -“Peninsular War,” despite its bias and its frequent inaccuracies, has -already become a classic; Sir Charles Oman’s work on the same subject is -much more striking and makes a far greater appeal. His descriptions of -the siege of Gerona and of the cavalry pursuit at Tudela are more moving -in their cold eloquence than ever was Napier at his fieriest. One -English author whose books have attracted far less attention than they -should have done is Mr. F. Loraine Petre; his accurate and impartial -histories of the successive Napoleonic campaigns are dramatic enough to -hold the interest of the ordinary reader as well as that of the military -student. In matters other than military, the writer whose reputation -overtops all others is M. Frédéric Masson. His celebrity is such that it -would be almost impertinence to cavil at his writings. For painstaking -and careful accumulation of evidence he stands far and away above all -his contemporaries. He examines and brings to notice every single -detail. A catalogue of an Empress’s chemises interests him as deeply as -a list of a Council of State. The trouble is that his catalogue of -chemises is merely a catalogue of chemises—as interesting as a -laundress’s bill. M. Masson’s books are exceedingly important and -invaluable to the student: but that they are important and invaluable is -all one can say about them. - -The ultimate source of much information is, of course, the endless -collection of volumes of Napoleon’s correspondence. Even merely to -glance at one of these is a lesson in industry far more thorough than -anything achieved by the worthy Dr. Samuel Smiles and his like. -Examination of a single day’s correspondence is sufficient to show the -complexity of Napoleon’s interests, the extent of his knowledge of each -subject, and the nature of the driving power which built up the First -Empire. Close study of the Correspondence is necessary to enable one to -follow the twists and turns of Napoleon’s policy; the main difficulty is -that the bundle of hay is so large that the finding of needles in it is -a painfully tedious business. However, the casual reader will find that -this spadework has been done for him by a large number of painstaking -writers. Even during the present century several English authors have -published books upon particular events and persons of the Napoleonic -era. Mr. Hilliard Atteridge is an example of those who have done the -best work in this direction. But the greater number of these books seem -to be struck with the same blight—they are ineffably tedious. Generally -they are most correct as to facts; their impartiality is admirable; the -knowledge displayed is wide; but they are most terribly boring to read. -They are useful to familiarize the reader with the various persons -described so that their place in the whole period is better understood, -for the Napoleonic era is a tangled skein of threads, each of them a -different personality, wound round and completely dependent upon the -central core, which is Napoleon. - -Of biographies and general histories it is impossible to speak -definitely. Napoleon can boast hundreds more lives than any cat in fact -or fancy. The percentage of lies contained in books on Napoleon varies -between ten and ninety—and what is more aggravating is that the -picturesque and readable lives are usually those which contain the most -inexactitudes. It is perfectly safe to say that no Life of Napoleon has -ever been written which combines complete accuracy with genuine -readableness. This is of small account, however, for one has only to -read enough of the readable and inexact lives to form a fairly correct -opinion on most matters of importance at the same time as one enjoys -both the reading and the forming of the opinion. The contemporary -memoirs are very useful, and are mainly interesting. Bourrienne’s -biography is rather overrated usually, for he is unreliable in personal -matters, and a great deal of his book is undeniably heavy. One of his -most illuminating pictures shows Napoleon driving with him over the -countryside, and ignoring the beauty of the scenery in favour of the -military features of the landscape. This anecdote receives an additional -interest when it is recalled that an exactly similar story is told of -von Schlieffen, the German Chief of Staff of the ’nineties, who planned -the advance through Belgium which had such vast consequences in 1914. -One certainly cannot help thinking that if Napoleon had been at the head -of the German army at that date he, too, would have advanced through -Belgium, and this tiny parallel offers curious corroboration. Such a -move would have been in complete accordance with Napoleon’s -character—compare Bernadotte’s march through Anspach in 1805. The way -in which Napoleon took enormous risks, such as this, and his method of -securing the friendship of other Powers by storming and bluster instead -of by finesse, is the most curious trait of his whole curious character. -Bourrienne offers several examples; so do Talleyrand, Fouché, Pasquier -and Molé. - -For some decades after Napoleon’s death an immense amount of spurious or -heavily revised reminiscent literature appeared. Constant (the valet), -Josephine, and various others, are credited with volumes of ingeniously -written memoirs. They are well worth reading, but they contain little -worth remembering. In many matters they are demonstrably incorrect, and -they are generally prejudiced and misleading. For personal and intimate -details one of the best contemporary writers is de Bausset, who -certainly wrote the book which bears his name, and who equally certainly -was in a position to perceive what he described, for he was a palace -official for many years under the Empire. - -In military matters the Marshals’ memoirs are peculiarly enlightening, -not so much in matters of detail (in fact they are frequently incorrect -there) but in exhibiting the characters of the writers themselves. -Davout’s book is just what one would expect of him, cold and unrelenting -and yet sound and brilliant. Suchet’s is cynical and clever and subtle, -and, if necessary, untrue. St. Cyr’s displays his jealousy, suspicion -and general unpleasantness along with undoubted proof of talent. -Macdonald’s is bluff and honest. There is a whole host of smaller fry, -from Marbot downwards, who wrote fascinating little books about the Army -and their own personal experiences. Some of them, such as the -Reminiscences of Colonel de Gonneville, have appeared in English. They -are all obtainable in French. The last authority, of course, on military -matters is the Correspondence. There are only one or two doubtful -letters in the whole collection, and these are either printed with -reserve or bear the proofs of their spuriousness on the face of them. - -But no matter how much is written, or published, or read, no two men -will ever form quite the same estimate of Napoleon. It is as easy to -argue that he only rose through sheer good luck as it is to argue that -he only fell through sheer bad luck. He can be compared to Iscariot or -to St. Paul, to Alexander or to Wilhelm II. At times he seems a body -without a soul; at others, a soul without a body. All this seems to -indicate that he was a man of contradictions, but on the other hand he -was, admittedly, thoroughly consistent in all his actions. The most one -can hope for is to form one’s own conclusions about him; one cannot hope -to form other people’s. - - - - - INDEX - - -Abo, Treaty of, 32 -Agincourt, 11 -Alexander (Czar), 16, 23, 47, 145 -Alexandria, 11 -Aspern, 30, 74, 211 -Atteridge, A. Hilliard, 240 -Auerstädt, 20, 69 -Augereau, 67, 81, =91-93= -Austerlitz, 15, 20, 69, 134, 208 - -Baciocchi, Elise (_née_ Bonaparte), =114-128= -Barras, 14, 35, 38 -Bausset, de, 13, 242 -Bautzen, 16, 29, 135, =189= -Baylen, 15, 198 -Bennigsen, 32, 77 -Bernadotte, 25, =31-33=, 74 -Bernadotte, Désirée (_née_ Clary), 31, 152, =167-169= -Berthier, 25, 27, 50, 58, 157 -Bertrand, 21 -Bessières, =28=, 58, 149 -Blücher, 193, 199 -Borghese, Pauline (_née_ Bonaparte), 57, =114-128= -Borodino, 134, 176, 187 -Bourrienne, 22, 241 -Buenos Ayres, 11 - -Catherine of Westphalia, 53, 110, 111, 129 -Charles, Hippolyte, 21, 39 -Clausel, =138-139= -Cockburn, Admiral, 226 -Confederation of the Rhine, 15 -Continental System, 111, 220 -Corneille, 19 - -David, 18, 19 -Davout, 20, 25, 58, =67-79=, 85, 136, 242 -Dennewitz, 29, 135 -Denuelle, Eléonore, =158-160= -Dresden, 16, 135, 191, 213 -Dupont, =198-199= -Duroc, 149, 157, 181 - -Eckmühl, 73, 83 -Egypt, 14 -Elba, 16 -Elchingen, 29 -Enghien, d’, 15, 40, =202-204= -Eugène de Beauharnais, 68, 74, 76, 125, 169 -Erlon, d’, =146-148= -Eylau, 15, 29, 93 - -Fouché, 58, 62, 238 -Fourès, Marguerite, =153-155= -Francis I., Emperor of Austria, 48, 181 -Friedland, 15, 30, 134 - -Genoa, 82 -Goethe, 19 -Gourgaud, 21 -Grassini, =155-156= -Grouchy, 25, 59, =145-146= - -Hamburg, 77 -Hauser, Kaspar, 171-172 -Hortense Bonaparte, 43, 54 - -Isabey, 18 - -Jena, 15, 20, 29, 69, 134 -Jerome Bonaparte, 15, 75, =106-113=, 186 -Joseph Bonaparte, 15, 18, 83, 87, 96, =103-106= -Josephine, Empress, 14, 17, 21, =35-46=, 57, 155, 242 -Jourdain, 68, 72, 210 -Junot, 26, 39, 84, =141-144=, 238 -Junot, Madame, 141, 152 - -Katzbach, 33, 77 -Kellermann, 140, 208 - -Lannes, =30=, 57, 58, 67, 73, 131, 149, 206, 211 -Leclerc, 99, 116, 117 -Lefebvre, 23, 26 -Leipzig, 16, 77, 135 -Léon (Denuelle), =159-160= -Letizia Bonaparte (Madame Mère), 57, =129-132= -Ligny, 147, =196= -Louis XVIII., 51, 223, 234 -Louis Bonaparte, 15, 43, 96, =101-103= -Lowe, Sir Hudson, 121, 225-235 -Lucien Bonaparte, =97-101= -Lützen, 16, 189 - -Macdonald, =33=, 78, 242 -Mack, 15 -Maida, 11 -Mallet Conspiracy, 63 -Malo-Jaroslavetz, 188 -Marbot, 137, 197 -Marengo, 14, 20, 30, 207, 208 -Marie Antoinette, 49 -Marie Louise, 16, 21, =47-66=, 166 -Marmont, =30=, 68, 73, 78 -Masséna, 14, 20, 42, 58, 59, 68, 71, 73, =80-85=, 154 -Metternich, 26, 50, 64, 158, 238 -Minden, 11 -Montebello, Duchess of, 55, 62 -Moore, Sir John, 86, 105, 143, 210 -Montholon, 21, 232 -Moreau, 14, 31, 33, 81, 116 -Moscow, 188 -Murat, Joachim, 15, 25, 27-=28=, 39, 76, 118-125 -Murat, Caroline (_née_ Bonaparte), 52, 53, 57, =114-128=, 159 - -Napier, =239= -Napoleon, I., =9-243= -Napoleon II., 60, 61 -Napoleon Charles Bonaparte, 43 -Neipperg, 21, =64-66= -Ney, =29=, 58, 67, 78, 85, 136, 189 - -Oman, Sir Charles, 239 -Ossian, 19 -Oudinot, 67, 78 - -Patterson-Bonaparte, Elizabeth, 107, 108 -Petre, F. L., 239 -Pichegru, =204= -Pius VII., 44, 45 -Poniatowski, 25, 149 - -Rouget de l’Isle, 19 -Rousseau, 19 - -St. Helena, 16, 223-235 -St. Cyr, =33-34=, 78, 242 -Salamanca, 30, 138 -Savary, 58, 63, 203 -Schwartzenberg, 51, 148, 193 -Ségur, 59, 238 -Soissons, 193 -Soult, 68, 71, =85-89= -Staël, Mme. de, 19 -Stéphanie de Beauharnais, =170-172= -Suchet, 25, 68, 88, =89-91=, 138, 242 -Suvaroff, 82 - -Talleyrand, 56, 158, 238 -Tallien, Mme., 37 -Thiers, 177 -Tilsit, Treaty of, 15 - -Ulm, 15, 29 - -Vandamme, 59, 73, 109, =144-145=, 191 -Verestchagin, 17 -Victor, 143 -Villeneuve, 205 -Vittoria, 106, 191 -Vimiero, 15, 143 - -Wagram, 32, 74, 84, =212= -Walewska, Marie de, 18, 21, 43, =160-165= -Walewski, Alexander, =165-166= -Waterloo, 16, 78, 79, 112, 136, 217 -Wellington, 11, 84, 86, 87, 156 - -Zürich, 82 - - - - - PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY THE NORTHUMBERLAND PRESS LIMITED - - WATERLOO HOUSE, THORNTON STREET, NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE - - - - - TRANSCRIBER NOTES - -Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. 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