A NEW LIFE OF NAPOLEON.*

OF writing Lives of Napoleon there is no end. Each month almost each week, produces a new contribution towards the history of the Emperor. Mr. Sarin g-Gould's is the last, but it is by no means the least interesting of the series which in England was begun by Sir Walter Scott. Perhaps, however, it would be more accurate not to call it a Life, but, instead, a series of notes on Napoleon's personal character and chief acts arranged in chronological order. We do not say this as a piece of adverse criticism, for Mr. Baring-Gould in effect suggests the thought in his preface. Knowing that as regards an ordinary Life the !ground is covered, he has deliberately attempted rather to illustrate Napoleon's personality and to show the evolution of his character than to tell in detail the Emperor's story. To do this he draws together everything - that has a bearing upon the formation of the man's mind. The result is most interesting, though not final. Mr. Baring- Gould has doubtless spent a great deal of labour on his book, but to perform his task perfectly a great deal more time would have to be employed than could be spared by a man of letters busy with many things. To trace to the full the mental evolution of Napoleon would require twenty years of study and five years of writing and rewriting. Still, im- perfect as it is, Mr. Baring-Gould's book is exceedingly interesting. It is very readable, and in no sense perfunctory. If ever a writer arises who will devote himself to a com- plete analysis of the Corsican adventurer's mind, he will find the present work of great use to him. The illustrations of the book are excellent. Almost every page has some repro- duction of a contemporary picture or engraving throwing .light on Napoleon's career.

The newest portion of the book is that devoted to Napoleon's eanly life in Corsica. During the period between his appoint-. ment to a commission in the Artillery, and his participation in the coup d'etat of the 13th Vendemiaire he passed a con- siderable amount of time in his native island, and was engaged in a multitude of plots and counter-plots, sometimes making men think him a strenuous Corsican patriot, and now showing his devotion to France and the Jacobins. On this tiny stage he learned many a lesson in stage-craft and political duplicity. That he profited by his Corsican experi- ences is clear, for curiously enough he was as unsuccessful in his petty intrigues as he was successful in his great. We must, however, leave our readers to follow the Corsican nar- rative in Mr. Baring-Gould's book, and to learn from his judicious comments how these events affected the mind of the young soldier, or rather of the young politician, for Napoleon was always at heart and first a politician. The politician happened to be also one of the greatest soldiers that the world has seen ; but in Napoleon's mind the political always dominated the military idea. For example, Napoleon's persistent attempts to destroy England were based on a political rather than a military motive. No doubt when the great soldier is also King, military and political ideas are apt to get blended. The distinction is nevertheless a true one, and can be made clear by the example of Alexander. In him the soldier was always first, the statesman second.

The more one reads of Napoleon the more one is confirmed in the idea that his was a "corrupted heart." He was not such a fool as to be cruel or bloodthirsty or homicidal for nothing. He would no more kill men for the pleasure of killing than will an ordinary man kill flies for killing's sake. If, however, a man's removal was very convenient to him or helped him in a high degree, the man had to die. But this trait would not alone snake him so odious and contemptible a person as he actually was. One might shudder at the politician who crushed the life out of a man as one crashes a mosquito

• The Life of Napoleon Bonayarte. By 8. Maring•Gould. Loudon: Methuen and Co.

on the window-pane, but one would not despise him. In Napoleon there was a deep strain of littleness and vile- ness which tainted his whole being. Though he could fee/ affection for others, or at any rate for the members of his own family, it is very doubtful whether he could inspire love.

Men followed him from awe and fear and hero-worship, but never from equal affection. He had devoted followers but no friends. And no wonder. You could not come near him on anything approaching familiar or equal terms without getting an occasional glimpse into the hell of his mind. But such glimpses left no ground for love. Little things show the odiousness of the man's nature. As he held his little nephew Napoleon, the son of Louis, on his knee, he told him that some day he might be King. Murat, jealous for his own son, also a nephew, inquired uneasily as to his little Achille, and was told that he would be a great soldier. Then, to the child, —"Mind, my poor child, if you value your life do not accept invitations to dinner with your cousins." Possibly admirers of Napoleon will call the remark playful. If so, it was the playfulness of an ogre. But the incident does not stand alone. Hundreds of other examples might be quoted to show

how incapable Napoleon's mind was of thoughts which were generous or kindly. In truth the man was inhuman in

the fullest, widest, deepest, and most essential meaning of the phrase. Byron, with a poet's insight, saw this clearly :—

"'The great error of Napoleon,' says Byron, in a note to the Third Canto of Childe Harold, was a continued obtrusion on mankind of his want of all community of feeling for or with them ; perhaps more offensive to human vanity than the active cruelty of more trembling and suspicious tyranny. Such were his speeches to public assemblies as well as to individuals, and the single expression which he is said to have used, on returning to Paris after the Russian winter had destroyed his army, rubbing his hands over a fire, "This is pleasanter than Moscow," would probably alienate more favour from his cause, than the destruction and reverses which led to the remark."

Napoleon, indeed, saw the fact himself, and gloried in it, for he did not realise that since man cannot, as the Roman Emperors hoped or feigned, be a demi-god, not to be a man,

i.e., to be inhuman, is to be less than a man. It was his aloof- ness from human feeling which in the end wrought his ruin.

One of the most interesting passages in Mr. Baring- Gonld's book is that which deals with the murder of the Doc d'Enghien. He takes the view that Napoleon's object was here not policy but fear. The blow was aimed not so much to strike terror into the Bourbons as to make the con- spirators whom he Einpposed to be plotting against his life realise that the game was too dangerous. But Napoleon knew that it would not do to seem afraid for his life, and he

therefore talked as if policy were the motive for the crime. Here is Mr. Baring-Gould's account of Napoleon's terror of assassination :—

"This belief in being surrounded by assassins, this constant terror lest he should be attacked by them, was a remarkable feature in Bonaparte's mental condition. It resembles the ever- present fear of Nero, and is, in certain cases, an indication of derangement. There were no plots to assassinate him, except that one with the infernal machine. All the rest were inventions of Fouche, who had discovered how timorous his master was. Akin to this dread of assassination was the nervous mistrust with which he treated even his most devoted friends. When Josephine heard of the arrest of the Duo d'Enghien, she interceded for him personally, but in vain. 'In politics,' said Napoleon to her, a death destined to give repose is not a crime. The orders have been given. There is no possibility of retreat."

After giving an account of the death of the Due d'Enghien and of Pichegru, of which event Talleyrand said, "It was very sudden but very opportune," Mr. Baring-Gould goes on to tell of the other men whose deaths were both mysterious and timely :— " Having spoken of the murder of the Duo d'Enghien, and the supposed suicide of Pichegru, it may be as well here to mention some other eases of mysterious deaths, of which Napoleon is believed to have been guilty. As already mentioned, Captain Wright, who had disembarked three Royalist refugees in France, was taken. Napoleon at once, without a particle of evidence, concluded that these were assassins in the pay of the British Government. He wrote from Ostend on the 14th of August, 1804, to Talleyrand, We have obtained the proof ( ! ! ) that he was placed at the disposal of Lord Hawkesbiu7 by the Admiralty, which had no idea of the duty he was intended for; gallant officers like the Lords of the Admiralty would not have suffered the English Navy to be thus dishonoured. We are oonvinced that this dishonourable act is the personal affair of this officer Wright and of Lord Hawkeebury, who himself drew £40,000 out of the Treasury as the price of this crime It is for pos- terity to affix the brand of infamy on Lord Hawkesbury and

those cowards who have adopted assassination and crime as a means of war.' Wright was found with his throat cut in prison, and the razor which had cut it folded at his side. He had been heard the night before playing his flute, and was cheerful, antici- pating his exchange. The gravest doubts remain as to the possi- bility of this having been a case of suicide. It seems likely that he was put to death in prison, because no evidence sufficient to convict him was producible, although Napoleon was firmly con- vinced of his guilt. The extraordinary, and to this day mysterious, disappearance of Mr. Bathurst was, at the time, attributed to Napoleon, who carried off Sir G. Rambold from Hamburg, and

onfined him in the Temple. Bathurst had been sent on a secret embassy from the English Government to the Court of the Emperor Francis early in 1809. Napoleon was extremely anxious to ascertain what communications were passine•b between Vienna and London, and on the way back from the Austrian capital, as he neared the Hanoverian frontier, then occupied by the French, Bathurst was spirited away, and was never seen or heard of again. The case of Villeneuve is more compromising. After the battle of Trafalgar, which he had lost, he was landed at Modals, and proceeded on his way to Paris, in order to demand that a court- martial should be held on his conduct. He had engaged the English against his judgment, and solely because obliged to do so by express written orders from Napoleon. On reaching Rennes, he was found in his room stabbed in six places. Two of the wounds were mortal; so that if this were a ease of suicide, Villeneuve must have stabbed himself at least once after having received a mortal blow, and then have thrown the dagger away, as it was picked up at a distance from his body. It was pre- tended that a letter was found on the table, in which he bade farewell to his wife, and announced his purpose of destroying himself, but the widow could never obtain a sight of this letter, and no traces of the original have ever been found. A strong suspicion existed that Napoleon had ordered the assassination, lest at a court-martial Villeneuve should produce his order, and so reveal that Napoleon himself was to blame for the disaster of Trafalgar. On the very day of the Admiral's death, a letter from the Emperor to Decres ordered, 'Send Admiral Villeneuve home, with orders to remain quietly in Provence until his exchange can be effected.' This letter is in itself suspicious. It is inconsistent with the character of Napoleon's communications after a disaster. It shows no resentment at all, and it makes no mention of the court-martial which the Admiral demanded. The letter looks sus- piciously like an attempt made to throw dust in the eyes of the public.'

No Englishman can ever read the life of Napoleon without a thrill of pride in his race. There is nothing more splendid in history than the way in which our stubborn forefathers stood up against this demoniac conqueror. We had a half- crazy King and a foolish, dissolute Regent. Our only great statesman died in the moment of greatest peril, as did our great Admiral. Except for Wellington, who did not emerge as a great force till the end of Napoleon's career, we had only second-rate men in the Cabinet, on the sea, or in the Army. Yet the plain men who ruled England and were England fought doggedly on, blundering and muddling and wasting their wealth on useless allies, yet never bating one jot of heart or hope. Their realisation from the beginning that all the talk of peace was useless, and that either they or Napoleon must be totally beaten, was heroic. Truly we who spring from such sires may boast ourselves citizens of no mean State.