Napoleon soon left the Opera and returned to the Tuileries. He
found a vast crowd assembled there, attracted by affection for his
person, and anxiety for his safety. The atrocity of this attempt
excited universal horror, and only increased the already almost
boundless popularity of the First Consul. Deputations and addresses
were immediately poured in upon him from Paris and from all the
departments of France, congratulating him upon his escape. It was
at first thought that this conspiracy was the work of the Jacobins.
There were in Paris more than a hundred of the leaders of the
execrable party, who had obtained a sanguinary notoriety during
the reign of terror. They were active members of a Jacolin Club,
a violent and vulgar gathering continually plotting the overthrow
of the government, and the assassination of the First Consul. They
were thoroughly detested by the people, and the community was glad
to avail itself of any plausible pretext for banishing them from
France. Without sufficient evidence that they were actually guilty
of this particular outrage, in the strong excitement and indignation
of the moment a decree was passed by the legislative bodies, sending
one hundred and sixty of these bloodstained culprits into exile.
The wish was earnestly expressed that Napoleon would promptly punish
them by his own dictatorial power. Napoleon had, in fact, acquired
such unbounded popularity, and the nation was so thoroughly impressed
with a sense of his justice, and his wisdom, the whatever he said
was done. He, however, insisted that the business should be conducted
by the constituted tribunals and under the regular forms of law.
"The responsibility of this measure," said Napoleon, "must rest
with the legislative body. The consuls are irresponsible. But
the ministers are not. Any one of them who should sign an arbitrary
decree, might hereafter be called to account. Not a single
individual must be compromised. The consuls themselves know not
what may happen. As for me, while I live, I am not afraid that any
one will be killed, and then I can not answer for the safety of my
two colleagues. It would be your turn to govern," said, he, smiling,
and turning to Cambaceres;" and you are not as yet very firm in
the stirrups . It will be better to have a law for the present, as
well as for the future." It was finally, after much deliberation,
decided that the Council of State should draw up a declaration of
the reasons, for the act. The First Consul was to sign the decree,
and the Senate was to declare whether it was or was not constitutional.
Thus cautiously Napoleon proceed under circumstances so exciting.
The law, however, was unjust and tyrannical. Guilty as these men
were of other crimes, by which they had forfeited all sympathy,
it subsequently appeared that they were not guilty of this crime.
Napoleon was evidently embraced by this uncertainty of their guilty,
and was not willing that they should be denounced as contrivers
of the infernal machine. "We believe ," said he, "that they are
guilty. But we do not know it. They must be transported for the
crimes which they have committed, the massacres and the conspiracies
already proved against them." The decree was passed. But Napoleon,
strong in popularity, became so convinced of the powerlessness and
insignificance of these Jacobins, that the decree was never enforced
against them. They remained in France. But they were conscious that
the eye of the police was upon them. "It is not my own person," said
Napoleon, "that I seek to avenge. My fortune which has preserved
me so often on the field of battle, will continue to preserve me.
I think not of myself. I think of social order which it is my mission
to re-establish, and of the national honor, which it is my duty
to purge from an abominable stain." To the innumerable addresses
of congratulation and attachment which this occurrence elicited
Napoleon replied. "I have been touched by the proofs of affection
which the people of Paris have shown me on this occasion. I deserve
them. For the only aim of my thoughts, and of my actions, is to
augment the prosperity and the glory of France. While those banditti
confined themselves to direct attacks upon me, I could leave to
the laws the task of punishing them. But since they have endangered
the population of the capital by a crime, unexampled in history,
the punishment must be equally speedy and terrible."
It was soon proved, much to the surprise of Napoleon, that the
atrocious act was perpetrated by the partisans of the Bourbons.
Many of the most prominent of the Loyalists were implicated in this
horrible conspiracy. Napoleon felt that he deserved their gratitude.
He had interposed to save them from the fury of the Jacobins.
Against the remonstrances of his friends, he had passed a decree
which restored one hundred and fifty thousand of these wandering
emigrants to France. He had done every thing in his power to enable
them to regain their confiscated estates. He had been in all respects
their friend and benefactor, and he would not believe, until the
proof was indisputable, that they could thus requite him. The wily
Fouche, however, dragged the whole matter into light. The prominent
conspirators were arrested and shot. The following letter, written
on this occasion by Josephine, to the Minister of Police, strikingly
illustrates the benevolence of her heart, and exhibits in a very
honorable light the character of Napoleon.
"While I yet tremble at the frightful event which has just occurred,
I am distressed through fear of the punishment to be inflicted on
the guilty, who belong, it is said, to families with whom I once
lived in habits of intercourse. I shall be solicited by mothers,
sisters, and disconsolate wives, and my heart will be broken through
my inability to obtain all the mercy for which I would plead. I know
that the elemency of the First who belong, it is said, to families
with whom I once lived in habits of intercourse. I shall be
solicited by mothers,sisters, and disconsolate wives, and my heart
will be broken through my inability to obtain all the mercy for
which I would plead. I know that the elemency of the First Consul
is great--his attachment to me extreme. The chief of the government
has not been alone exposed; and it is that which will render him
severe, inflexible. I conjure you, therefore, to do all in your
power to prevent inquiries being pushed too far. Do not detect all
those persons who have been accomplices in this odious transaction.
Let not France, so long overwhelmed in consternation, by public
executions, groan anew, beneath such inflictions. When the ringleaders
of this nefarious attempt shall have been secured, let severity
give place to pity for inferior agents, seduced, as they may have
been by dangerous falsehoods or exaggerated opinions. As a woman,
a wife, and a mother, I must feel the heartrendings of those will
apply to me. Act, citizen minister, in such a way that the number
of these may be lessened."
It seems almost miraculous that Napoleon should have escaped the
innumerable conspiracies which at this time were formed against
him. The partisans of the Bourbons though that if Napoleon could be
removed, the Bourbons might regain their throne. It was his resistless
genius alone, which enabled France to triumph over combined Europe.
His death would leave France without a leader. The armies of the
allies could then, with bloody strides, march to Paris, and place
the hated Bourbons on the throne. France knew this, and adored its
preserver. Monarchical Europe knew this, and hence all the engergies
of its combined kings were centred upon Napoleon. More than thirty
of these consipracies were detected by the police. London was
the hot-house where they were engendered. Air-guns were aimed to
Napoleon. Assassins dogged him with their poniards. A bomb-shell was
invented, weighing about fifteen pounds, which was to be thrown in
at his carriage-window, and which exploding by its own concussion,
would hurl death on every side. The conspirators were perfectly
reckless of the lives of others, if they could only destroy the life
of Napoleon. The agents of the infernal-machine had the barbarity
to get a young girl fifteen years of age to hold the horse who
drew the machine. This was to disarm suspicion. The poor child was
blown into such fragments, that no part of her body. excepting the
feet, could afterwards be found. At last Napoleon became aroused,
and declared that he would "teach those Bourbons that he was not
a man to be shot at like a dog."
One day at St. Helena, as he was putting on his flannel waistcoat,
he observed Las Casas looking at him very steadfastly.
"Well! what is your Excellency thinking of?" said Napoleon, with
a smile.
"Sire," Las Casas replied, "in a pamphlet which I lately read, I
found it stated that your majesty was shielded by a coat-of-mail,
for the security of your person. I was thinking that I could bear
positive evidence that at St. Helena at least, all precautions for
personal safety have been laid aside."
"This," said Napoleon, "is one of the thousand absurdities which
have just mentioned is the more ridiculous, since every individual
about me well knows how careless I am with regard to self-preservation.
Accustomed from the age of eighteen to be exposed to the connon-ball,
and knowing the inutility of precautions, I abandoned myself to
my fate. When I came to the head of affairs, I might still have
fancied myself surrounded by the dangers of the field of battle;
and I might have regarded the conspiracies which were formed against
me as so many bomb-shells. But I followed my old course. I trusted
to my lucky star, and left all precautions to the police. I was
perhaps the only sovereign in Europe who dispensed with a body-guard.
Every one could freely approach me, without having, as it were, to
pass through military barracks. Maria Lousia was much astonished
to see me so poorly guarded, and she often remarked that her father
was surrounded by bayonets. For my part, I had no better defense
at the Tuileries than I have here. I do not even know where to
find my sword," said he, looking around the room; "do you see it?
I have, to be sure, incurred great dangers. Upward of thirty plots
were found against me. These have been proved by authentic testimony,
without mentioning many which never came to light. Some sovereigns
invent conspiracies against themselves; for my part, I made it a
rule carefully to conceal them whenever I could. The crisis most
serious to me was during the interval from the battle of Marengo, to
the attempt of George Cadoudal and the affair of the Duke D'Enghien"
Napoleon now, with his accustomed vigor, took hold of the robbers an
and made short work with them. The insurgent armies of La Vendee,
numbering more than one hundred thousand men, and filled with
adventurers and desperadoes of every kind, were disbanded when their
chiefs yielded homage to Napoleon. Many of these men, accustomed to
banditti warfare, took to the highways. The roads were so infested
by them, that travailing became exceedingly perilous, and it was
necessary that every stage-coach which left Paris should be accompanied
by a guard of armed soldiers. To remedy a state of society thus
convulsed to its very centre, special tribunals were organized,
consisting of eight judges. They were to take cognizance of all such
crimes as conspiracies, robberies, and acts of violence of any kind.
The armed bands of Napoleon swept over France like a whirlwind.
The robbers were seized, tried, and shot without delay. Order was
at once restored. The people thought not of the dangerous power
they were placing in the hands of the First Consul. They asked only
for a commander, who was able and willing to quell the tumult of
the times. Such a commander they found in Napoleon. They were more
than willing to confer upon him all the power he could desire. "You
know what is best for us;"" said the people of Napoleon. "Direct
us what to do, and we will do it." It was thus that absolute power
came voluntarily into his hands. Under the circumstances it was
so natural that it can excite no suspicion. He was called First
Consul. But he already swayed a scepter more mighty than that of the
Caesars. But sixteen months had now elapsed since Napoleon landed
at Frejus. In that time he had attained the throne of France. He had
caused order and prosperity to emerge from the chaos of revolution. By
his magnanimity he had disarmed Russia, by his armies had humbled
Austria, and had compelled continental Europe to accept an honorable
peace. He merited the gratitude of his countrymen, and he received
it in overflowing measure. Through all these incidents, so eventful
and so full of difficulty, it is not easy to point to a single act
of Napoleon, which indicates a malicious or an ungenerous spirit.
"I fear nothing," said Napoleon at St. Helena, "for my renown.
Posterity will do me justice. It will compare the good which I
have done with faults which I have committed. If I had succeeded
I should have died with the reputation of being the greatest man
who ever existed. From being nothing I became, by my own exertions,
the most powerful monarch of the universe, without committing
any crime. My ambition was great, but it rested on the opinion of
the masses. I have always thought that sovereignty resides in the
people. The empire, as I had organized it, was but a great republic.
Called to the throne by the voice of the people, my maxim has always
been a career open to talent without distinction of birth . It is
for this system of equality that the European oligarchy detests
me. And yet in England talent and great services raise a man to
the highest rank. England should have understood me."
The French Revolution," said Napoleon, "was a general movement of
the mass of the nation against the privileged classes. The nobles
were exempt from the burdens of the state, and yet exclusively
occupied all the posts of honor and emolument. The revolution
destroyed these exclusive privileges, and established equality of
rights. All the avenues of wealth and greatness were equally open
to every citizen, according to his talents. The French nation
established the imperial throne, and placed me upon it. The throne
of France was granted before to Hugh Capet, by a few bishops and
nobles. The imperial throne was given to me, by the desire of the
people."
Joseph Bonaparte was of very essential service to Napoleon in the
diplomatic intercourse of the times. Lucien also was employed in
various ways, and the whole family were taken under the protection
of the First Consul. At St. Helena Napoleon uttered the following
graphic and truthful eulogium upon his brothers and sisters: "What
family, in similar circumstances, would have acted better? Every
one is not qualified to be a statesman. That requires a combination
of powers which does not often fall to the lot of any one. In this
respect all my brothers were singularly situated; they possessed
at once too much and too little talent. They felt themselves too
strong to resign themselves. blindly to a guiding counselor, and
yet too weak to be left entirely to themselves. But take them all
in all I have certainly good reason to be proud of my family. Joseph
would have been an honor to society in any country, and Lucien
would have been an honor to any assembly; Jerome, as he advanced
in life, would have developed every qualification requisite
in a sovereign. Louis would have been distinguished in any rank
or condition of life. My sister Eliza was endowed with masculine
powers of mind; she must have proved herself a philosopher in her
adverse fortune. Caroline possessed great talents and capacity.
Pauline, perhaps the most beautiful woman of her age, has been and
will continue to the end of her life, the most amiable creature in
the world. As to my mother, she deserves all kinds of veneration.
How seldom is so numerous a family entitled to so much praise. Add
to this, that, setting aside the jarring of political opinions, we
sincerely loved each other. For my part, I never ceased to cherish
fraternal affection for them all. And I am convinced that in their
hearts they felt the same sentiments toward me, and that in case
of need, they would have given me every proof of it."
The proud old nobility, whom Napoleon had restored to France,
and upon many of whom he had conferred their confiscated estates,
manifested no gratitude toward their benefactor. They were sighting
for the re-enthronement of the Bourbons, and for the return of the
good old times, when all the offices of emolument and honor were
reserved for them and for their children, and the people were
but their hewers of wood and drawers of water. In the morning, as
beggars, they would crowd the audience-chamber of the First Consul
with their petitions. In the evening they disdained to honor his
levees with their presence. They spoke contemptuously of Josephine,
of her kindness and her desire to conciliate all parties. They
condemned every thing that Napoleon did. He, however, paid no heed
to their murmurings. He would not condescend even to punish them
by neglect. In that most lofty pride which induced him to say that,
in his administration he wished to imitate the elemency of God , he
endeavored to consult for the interests of all, both the evil and
the unthankful. His fame was to consist, not in revenging himself
upon his enemies, but in aggrandizing France.
At this time Napoleon's establishment at the Tuileries rather resembled
that of a very rich gentleman, than the court of a monarch. Junot,
one of his aids, was married to Mademoiselle Permon, the young
lady whose name will be remembered in connection with the anecdote
of "Puss in Boots." Her mother was one of the most haughty of the
ancient nobility, who affected to look upon Napoleon with contempt
as not of royal blood. The evening after her marriage Madame Junot
was to be presented to Josephine. After the Opera she drove to the
Tuileries. It was near eleven o'clock. As Josephine had appointed
the hour, she was expected. Eugene, hearing the wheels of the carriage,
descended to the court-yard, presented his arm to Madame Junot,
and they entered the large saloon together. It was a magnificent
apartment, magnificently furnished. Two chandeliers, surrounded
with gauze to soften the glare, shed a subdued and grateful light
over the room. Josephine was seated before a tapestry-frame working
upon embroidery. Near her sat Hortense, sylph-like in figure,
and surpassingly gentle and graceful in her manners. Napoleon was
standing near Josephine, with his hands clasped behind him, engaged
in conversation with his wife and her lovely daughter. Upon the
entrance of Madame Junot Josephine immediately arose, took her
two hands, and, affectionately kissing her, said, "I have too long
been Junot's friend, not to entertain the same sentiments for his
wife; particularly for the one he has chosen."
"Oh, Josephine!" said Napoleon, "that is running on very fast.
How do you know that this little pickle is worth loving. Well,
Mademoiselle Loulou (you see that I do not forget the names of my
old friends), have you not a word for me!" Saying this, he gently
took her hand and drew her toward him.
The young bride was much embarrassed, and yet she struggled to
retain her pride of birth. "General!" she replied, smiling, "it is
not for me to speak first."
"Very well parried," said Napoleon, playfully, "the mother's spirit!
And how is Madame Permon?"
"Very ill, general! For two years her health has caused us great
uneasiness."
"Indeed," said Napoleon," so bad as that? I am sorry to hear it;
very sorry. Make my regards to her. It is a wrong head, a proud
spirit, but she has a generous heart and a noble soul. I hope that we
shall often see you, Madame Junot. My intention is to draw around
me a numerous family, consisting of my generals and their young
wives. They will be of my wife and of Hortense, as their husbands
are my friends. But you must not expect to meet here your acquaintances
of the ancient nobility. I do not like them. They are my enemies,
and prove it by defaming."
This was but the morning twilight of that imperial splendor which
afterward dazzled the most powerful potentates of Europe. Hortense,
who subsequently became the wife of Louis Bonaparte, and the mother
of Louis Napoleon, who, at the moment of this present writing, is
at the head of the government of France, was then seventeen years
of age. "She was," Madame Junot, "fresh as a rose. Though her fair
complexion was not relieved by much color, she had enough to produce
that freshness and bloom which was her chief beauty. A profusion of
light hair played in silken locks around her soft and penetrating
blue eyes. The delicate roundness of her figure, slender as
a palm-tree, was set off by the elegant carriage of her head. But
that which formed the chief attraction of Hortense was the grace
and suavity of her manners, which united the Creole nonchalance
with the vivacity of France. She was gay, gentle, and amiable. She
had wit, which, without the smallest ill-temper, had just malice
enough to be amusing. A polished and well-conducted education had
improved her natural talents. She drew excellently, sang harmoniously,
and performed admirably in comedy. In 1800, she was a charming young
girl. She afterward became one of the most amiable princesses in
Europe. I have seen many, both in their own courts and in Paris,
but I have never known one who had any pretensions to equal talents.
She was beloved by every one. Her brother loved her tenderly. The
First Consul looked upon her as his child."
