Chapter 30

THE DESCENT INTO ENGLAND[30]

[Footnote 30: References: the memoirs of Barante, Rémusat, Ségur, Macdonald, Thiébault, Marbot, Bigarré, the works of Roederer, the Memorial of Norvins, the volumes of Fauriel, Masson, d'Haussonville, and Welschinger, the Correspondence of Davout. Also, Fontaine et Percier: Sacre de Napoléon; Artaud de Montor: Vie et Pontificat du pape Pie VII; Nicolay: Napoleon at the Boulogne Camp; Wheeler and Broadley: Napoleon and the Invasion of England. Rose and Broadley: Dumouriez and the Defence of England; Rose: Napoleonic studies; Desbrière: Projets et tentatives de débarquement aux Îles Britanniques.]

Legitimacy Desired for the Empire -- The Pope's Conditions -- The Festival at Boulogne -- Position of Josephine -- The Court at Aachen -- Pitt and the Continental Powers -- France Defiant -- The Feint against England -- Napoleon's Naval Plans -- Consolidation of his Sea-Power -- Manoeuvers of his Fleet -- Attempt to Mystify England -- The Underlying Purpose -- Napoleon's Own Statement -- Corroborative Proof -- Pitt's Prophecy -- The "Descent" Impossible.

[Sidenote: 1804--05]

When Pepin the Short asked Pope Zacharias in 752 whether the name or the fact made the legitimate king, the reply was, "He is king who has the power"; and in token of this doctrine it was the papal sanction which sealed the legitimacy of the Karlings in Boniface's crowning Pepin as king. Half a century later Pope Leo III, acting by an arrogated but admitted authority, likewise established their imperial dignity by setting the imperial crown on the head of Charles the Great. This event occurred on Christmas day of the memorable year 800. Early in May of the year 1804, a millennium later, word came that the occupant of St. Peter's chair must once more empty the little vial on the head of another Western emperor, and this time not of his own volition, nor in eternal Rome, but by the Emperor's demand, and in Paris, inheritor of classic glory and renown. The feeble Pontiff was made wretched by the summons. But the Concordat was recent, and doubtless other much-longed-for advantages might be secured by compliance; the legations, once his, but now forming the fairest provinces of the Italian republic, were still outside the pale of his temporal power; moreover, no adequate compensation had ever been received for Avignon and Carpentras, lost to him since the peace of Tolentino in 1797.

At last a hesitating consent was given: the Pontiff would come "for the welfare of religion," if the Emperor would invite him on that pretext. Besides, he hoped there would be a reconsideration of the organic articles of the Concordat, if, as head of the Church, he should demand the expulsion of the "constitutional" bishops. One minor stipulation was that under no circumstances would the Holy Father receive Mme. Talleyrand. Out of gratitude for the Concordat he had, to be sure, removed the ban of excommunication from the sometime bishop, and had given him leave "to administer all civil affairs," but the interpretation of this clause into a permission to marry had been intolerably exasperating. The Emperor in reply recited all his own services to the Church and to the papacy; and what might not hereafter be expected of one who had already done so much? With this indefinite pledge the Pope was obliged to content himself, and the coronation ceremony was appointed for December second.

But festivities and activities alike began immediately after the declaration of the Empire on May eighteenth, 1804. A most successful ceremonial of inauguration was held in June at the Hospital of the Invalides. The titled emigrants who were now numerous in society assumed a most amusing pose. They pouted and with contemptuous gestures signified their sense of shame at having fallen to such low estate. But our evidence is conclusive that by dint of unwearied solicitation they "forced themselves to be forced," in the words of a later historian. The self-styled aristocracy of the day resembled no other: most of their titles were either new or were held by persons otherwise consequential, not by birth, but on account of either wealth or influence, who had at no very distant date married or assumed the dignities they flaunted. This had long been true even under the old monarchy; the Revolution had enabled many shrewd bargainers to assume territorial names and particles which were for the best of reasons not questioned by needy adventurers of older stock; the dawning imperial society, though yet untrained to the severe restraint of the courtier, was making rapid progress and had moreover all the influence which proceeds from a fountain of honor which is likewise the well-spring of power. Hungry aspirants to imperial favor must needs brook more exasperating associates than even the rude soldiery and the Bonaparte family, who, though utterly common, were at least personally good to look upon and exhibited all possible zeal to acquire the manners of a more experienced nobility. The number of those who expressed their disgust for Napoleon's weakness in the tawdry display he so admired was few indeed. Courier said that in the arrangement of empire the hitherto great man had aspired to degradation, and Beethoven changed the dedication of his Heroic Symphony from the form, "To Bonaparte," into the sad caption, "To the memory of a great man." The legend on Napoleon's new coinage was most significant: French Republic, Napoleon Emperor. To be Emperor of the French Republic would have been to continue great. Human nature and unfavorable environment made it impossible.

The Tuileries, however, blazed with candles and jewels; the extravagance and heartburnings of a court began at once. Thanks to Ségur, the exterior at least was gorgeous. That the cup of the aristocracy might overflow, the clemency of the Empire was first displayed in the pardon of all the nobles who had been implicated with Georges. The Emperor's first journey was in July to his camp at Boulogne, where a distribution of decorations and the swearing of allegiance by the army were made the occasion of a second magnificent ceremonial. The ancient Frankish warriors were accustomed to set up their kings on a stage formed of their own bucklers. Napoleon received the acclamations of his troops seated in an iron chair, which was said to have been Dagobert's, and gazing over the sea towards the cliffs of Albion.

On this notable journey, which was intended to have political as well as military significance, he was accompanied by Josephine. Her position was far from comfortable. As will be remembered, her husband when first in Italy had been disappointed in the expectation that she was soon to give him an heir, and her intrigues at Milan were the cause of frequent quarrels between them. Bonaparte had justified his public and scandalous association with a certain Mme. Fougé in Egypt by a suggestion that if he could but have a son he would marry the child's mother; the reconciliation of Brumaire was an act of expediency, and while it did a perfect work for the Consulate, the discussions which had been rife about the line of descent ever since the talk of empire had become general showed the instability of the relation between the imperial pair; even the formal regulations of the new constitution had inspired little confidence in the Beauharnais party. The new Empress, therefore, was the embodiment of meekness, but for the present she was, according to the old Roman formula, "Caia" where her husband was "Caius." Side by side, and apparently in perfect amity, they proceeded from Boulogne to Aachen, the ancient capital of Charles the Great, on the German frontier.

As if to mock the Roman and German claims of Francis, Napoleon and his consort held high court in that historic town, whose memories were redolent of European sway, and whose walls had been the bulwarks of that medieval Roman empire which, though itself an ineffective anachronism, was about to be renewed in modern guise. The dukes, princes, and kings of Germany, either in person or by their ambassadors, came to do homage; even Austria had a representative. Constantine had made a capital for his reunited empire by building a new Rome on the banks of the Bosporus; Paris and France could see how easily Napoleon might adopt a similar policy. They did observe, and not without dismay.

But while the princes of the earth were jostling each other to honor this new monarch of monarchs, the underground currents of feeling were doing his work. Already the "Empire" meant war; but the war so far was with England alone, and must necessarily be either a maritime conflict or else a costly and risky invasion. Pitt's return to power on May twelfth signified the resistance of a united Britain to Bonaparte and all his works: on her own soil, if necessary, but preferably by the renewal of the premier's old policy of continental coalition against France. It was the irony of fate that, thanks to the intricacies of party politics and the King's imbecility, the strong man was brought back to power with a contemptible and feeble cabinet. For the first, therefore, he could only fortify the island kingdom. Signs soon began to appear, however, that his enemy would meet him at least half-way in provoking a new coalition; the union of western Europe for war would give Napoleon the Emperor a new hold on France, that second string to his bow which he always intended to have by him, and of which he now had greater need than ever. Moreover, success would mean to him the immediate realization of a French empire so transcending the boundaries of France herself that men would forget the old nation in the splendors of a new inclusive French political organism, destructive of nationality as an influence in the world.

In July, Russia, whose ruler in reality had cared little for the death of Enghien, and was actuated by an unbounded ambition for Oriental empire, made a formal protest against France's foreign policy, demanding the evacuation of Naples and an indemnity for the King of Sardinia. Talleyrand replied roughly that France had asked no explanation of the suspicious death of the Emperor Paul; that Russia had naturalized notorious French emigrants; that she had sent to Paris in the person of Markoff a distasteful diplomat, who, by the sarcastic disdain of his manners, clearly showed his master's animus toward France; and that, moreover, she had occupied the Ionian Islands. "The Emperor of the French wants peace," said Talleyrand, "but with the aid of God and his armies he need fear no one." Taken in connection with certain high-handed acts already committed by Napoleon,--as, for example, the expulsion from their posts, by his command, of the English envoys at Stuttgart and Munich, who had imprudently plotted with Méhée de la Touche; and the much more arbitrary seizure at Hamburg of Rumbold, the recently appointed minister of England to Saxony, while on his way to assume his diplomatic duties,--these words of Talleyrand meant nothing less than defiance to the whole Continent, as well as to England. Russia had protested in vain against the violation of Baden's neutral territory by the seizure of Enghien; Prussia was successful in her remonstrance with regard to Rumbold, but in view of the continued occupation of Hanover by a strengthened French garrison, this scanty grace did not reassure her ministers.

These provocations seem to furnish cumulative evidence that the ostentatious preparations for invading England were little more than a feint. It may have been that, as ever, the colossal genius of the man who knew that he was a match in military strength for the whole Continent was making ready for either alternative. The romance of his imperial policy knew no bounds: thwarted in crossing the Channel, he might confirm his new position by overwhelming the coalition which, as a result of his conduct and of Pitt's time-honored policy, was sure to be formed at once; or, on the other hand, checked on the Continent, he might retrieve all by one crushing blow at England. But this is the most that can be conceded, even in view of his great preparations and his apparent earnestness.

The autumn of 1803 and the spring of 1804 had seen a steady development of resources at Boulogne. It was tentatively arranged that a French fleet of ten sail of the line under Latouche-Tréville should leave Toulon on July thirtieth as if to reoccupy Egypt, and thus tempt Nelson to follow with the hope of repeating his victory in the scenes of his former exploits. But the French admiral was to turn and appear at Rochefort on the Bay of Biscay, increase his armament by the addition to it of six first-rate vessels with a number of frigates, and then, by a long detour, arrive in the Strait of Dover, as if doubling Cape Clear from the West. "Masters of the Channel for six hours, we are masters of the world," wrote the Emperor. This scheme was thwarted by the untimely death of the admiral.

However, a much grander one was evolved in September. Napoleon's policy of conciliating Spain by gifts and promises to the Duke of Parma had made the queen of that country his friend, and her criminal intimacy with Godoy, the Prince of the Peace, being already notorious, both she and her paramour paid the price of toleration by abject servility. At the First Consul's nod Spain invaded and humiliated Portugal, whose ships had aided Nelson in the Levant, and whose fine harbors were invaluable to England. At the peace of Amiens he gave the Spanish colony of Trinidad to England without consulting its owner, and he sold Louisiana in utter disregard of the right of redemption reserved by Spain. He now forced his ally to a monstrous treaty whereby she was to keep Portugal neutral, and increase her subsidy to the exorbitant sum of six million francs a month. This alliance made Napoleon absolute master of the Spanish maritime resources, when, in December, 1804, as was inevitable, war broke out between England and Spain: he commenced even earlier to act as if the French mastery of the seas were to be not for six hours, but forever. A feverish activity began in all his dockyards and arsenals; press-gangs ranged the harbor cities and seized all available sailors, and in a few weeks the imperial marine was nearly doubled in ships, guns, and men. Its efficiency unfortunately diminished in the direct ratio of its unwieldy size. Villeneuve, the new commander at Toulon, though capable in many ways, was only too well aware of the utter demoralization in French naval affairs. He was consequently destitute of all enthusiasm, and shy of the task imposed upon him.

This mattered little, for his and the Rochefort squadron were now destined to sail for the West Indies separately, in order to draw away the English; incidentally they were to recover San Domingo, if possible, and to strengthen Guadeloupe, Martinique, and Santa Lucia. Ganteaume, the commander at Brest, was to bring out his squadron of twenty line-of-battle ships with Augereau and eighteen thousand men on board, sail westward half-way to Newfoundland as a feint, then, returning, land the soldiers in the north of Ireland, and, sailing thence, enter the Channel from the north to coöperate with the flotilla of invasion which, with great expense, had been got together at and near Boulogne. How little in earnest the Emperor was in this showy plan is evinced by his carefully studied letter of January sixteenth, 1805, in which he proposes attacking England in the East Indies with this same Brest squadron and a force of thirty thousand men. This proposition was seriously made even before Villeneuve had put to sea; it should not be considered as one of the occasional divagations which such a man may either claim as revealing a genuine state of mind, or which may be ridiculed by himself, and forgotten by others, as chimerical, according to the turn of affairs. The Rochefort squadron succeeded in passing the English blockaders, and reached Martinique in safety. Villeneuve left Toulon on January seventeenth, 1805, under cover of a storm, which he hoped to use in running from Nelson; but it so dispersed his ships as to make any concerted action impossible, and the separate vessels returned with some difficulty to their port of departure. Ganteaume did not even make an effort to run the English blockade before Brest.

Three months later a third preposterous scheme for mystifying England was divulged, the Indian expedition being held still in reserve. This time the apparent object was to effect a union of all the French naval forces in the West Indies, and orders were given accordingly. Thence under the command of Villeneuve the vast fleet, forty ships of the line, should return, by the tremendous detour around Scotland and through the North Sea to sweep the Channel clear and keep it so until the flotilla of transports could cross. The whole scheme has been stigmatized as a landsman's conception. In fact, viewed as a serious design, it makes every quality of Napoleon's mind the reverse of what it really was. The monstrous expense of sustaining for such a length of time, and without the usual war indemnities, both a fleet and a large army entirely disproportionate to the demands of invasion; the theatrical character of all these arrangements; the apparent carelessness of indefinite delay; the calmness with which the news of Trafalgar was heard by the great captain--all these are considerations which cumulatively lead to the conclusion that he was in earnest neither with the maritime campaign nor with the invasion, and that his real armament was the costly land force which was prepared for the purpose of conquering Austria, the enemy against whom, in the following year, it was actually used; while the naval armament, including the Boulogne flotilla, was intended to prevent, as it did, the active interference of England to destroy his own so-called blockade of the continental ports, and thereby to renew her commerce.

Napoleon's generals, whose ability was as remarkable as the feebleness of his admirals, were interested, as their own memoirs and those of other keen observers prove, in an empire of Europe by which their dignities were to be perpetuated and strengthened. Joseph told the Prussian minister that his brother's strength with the army was in the new laurels which they hoped to pluck, and in the wealth which would follow as a result. The Emperor had revealed the truth to his favorite brother when he said that he himself would never attempt a landing on British shores, but that he might send Ney to Ireland. It is perhaps a significant straw that when Robert Fulton, as tradition asserts, offered to make the flotilla independent of wind and wave by the use of steam, Napoleon, the apostle of science, friend of Monge and Volney, member of the Institute, displayed very little scientific interest. For some time past he had been coquetting with the great American inventor, granting him inadequate subsidies to prosecute his schemes for applying steam-power to various marine engines of destruction. It must, however, be remembered that there is no proof of actual negotiations between the two for the application of steam to navigation. The Emperor probably intended to keep others from using Fulton's inventions; that he made no fair trial of them himself would seem to show that he had no real use for them.

Most English historians have believed that Napoleon's forecast saw a successful invasion of their country, and Great Britain as a consequence disgorging a vast war indemnity wherewith his invincible legions could be recruited and the continental powers could be reduced to subjection. Englishmen have always felt that it was a deed of high enterprise for Britons to overawe the Corsican ogre by the magnitude of their preparations to resist him, and have by constant iteration convinced large numbers that this among other honors is also theirs. They have rarely considered the anxiety of the other side lest English troops should be landed on the Continent under the protection of such an overwhelming sea-power as Great Britain possessed. It will, of course, never be known how serious the Emperor's much-paraded purpose was during 1803 and 1804. But a more significant sign even than those already enumerated is the fact that in January, 1805, while the council of state was discussing the budget, he declared that for two years France had been making tremendous sacrifices. "A general war on the Continent," he said, "would demand no greater. I now have the strongest possible army, a complete military organization, and am this moment on the footing which I generally have first to secure in case of actual war. To raise such forces in time of peace--twenty thousand artillery, horses and trains complete--there was need of a pretext in order to levy and bring them all together without rousing suspicion in the other continental powers. This pretext was afforded by the project for landing in England. Two years ago I would not thus have spoken to you, but it was nevertheless my sole purpose. I am well aware that to maintain such an equipment in time of peace means throwing thirty millions out of the window. But in return I have the advantage of all my enemies by twenty days, and can take the field a whole month before Austria can even prepare her artillery."

Even within the labyrinthine turnings of the most tortuous mind there is a clue, and this time Napoleon probably spoke the truth. The inherent probability is further strengthened by the evidence of what followed. Some weeks later he said in a moment of frankness: "What I have so far done is nothing. There will be no peace in Europe except under a single chief, under an emperor who shall have kings for officials, who shall distribute kingdoms to his lieutenants, making one king of Italy, another of Bavaria, this one landmann of Switzerland, that one stadholder of Holland--all charged with duties in the imperial household.... You may say there is nothing new in this, that it is only an imitation of the plan on which the German Empire was founded; but nothing is absolutely new: political institutions revolve in an orbit, and it is often necessary to return to what has been." "We were soon aware," wrote Miot de Melito in August, 1804, referring to the demonstration against England, "that the Emperor, in the execution of a plan already abandoned, had made such demonstrations only to increase the security of the continental powers, and lure them to some decisive step which would permit him to speak out and act."

It is well to recall that if the great Egyptian expedition was intended by Bonaparte and his friends in the Directory to mystify the French, the naval preparations, made as if both to meet England on her own undisputed element, and likewise to invade her soil, may well have been made with similar intention regarding the English. The one hypothesis requires no greater credulity than the other. Having driven the Addington ministry from power, Pitt said, on May twenty-third, 1803, that France would base her hope of success either on the expectation that she could "break the spirit and shake the determination of the country by harassing us with perpetual apprehension of descent upon our coasts," or on the supposition that she could "impair our resources and undermine our credit by the effects of an expensive and protracted contest." There is no reason to regard this as other than a prophetic utterance, except that the preparations of Napoleon for invasion assumed such dimensions as to give the whole scheme for "harassing" England the appearance of a real purpose. But it must be remembered that no other course would have deceived a people so astute as the English, and this fact, taken in connection with the Emperor's ever-increasing determination that no power within the sphere of his influence should remain neutral, but that all should close their doors to English commerce, is very strong proof that Napoleon was fighting England in both the ways indicated by Pitt.

It is also pertinent to inquire what would have happened had Napoleon been successful in landing an army on English shores. In the first place, his mastery of the seas would have been quickly ended by the combined efforts of the English war-vessels then afloat, and he would have been left without base of supplies or communication. In the second place, he would have met a resistance from a proud, free, enlightened, and desperate people which would have paralyzed all his tactics, and would have worn out any force he could have kept together. Napoleon had said before that an army which cannot be regularly recruited is a doomed army. He knew very well that with the fleets and flotillas at his disposal a permanent control of the seas was out of the question. The impression which Metternich received in 1810, that the Emperor's intention had been a continental war from the first, and the lavishness with which Napoleon, throughout his public career, made use of any form of ruse, even the costliest, in order to mislead his foes, are complementary pieces of evidence which furnish the strongest corroboration.