M. Thiers' History of the Consulate and the Empire. 133

ART. VI.-Histoire du Consulat et de L'Empire. Faisant suite a L'Histoire de la Revolution Française. Par M. A. THIERS. Tome XVII. Paris, 1860.

THE drama of the French Revolution, and of the rise and fall of the first Napoleon, is so vast, grand, and complicated, it contains such a variety of phenomena, and it suggests such a multitude of reflections, that, like that of the Reformation, it will probably never find an adequate exponent. The historian who would truly unfold it should possess a character, moral and intellectual, which is seldom found in our imperfect nature. He should be able to pass the bounds of party and country, to free himself from their prejudicing influences, and to survey a wide range of human action and passion in almost every possible phase of development, with an eye alike philosophical and sympathetic. He should not write in the interest of any state or opinion, and especially he should avoid to warp his theme into evidence of any particular theory of government or politics. He should take care to prevent the fascinations of genius, when in alliance with colossal power, from blinding him to truth, justice, and right; and he should remember the claims of honour and patriotism, although divorced from ability or good fortune. Above all, he should remove the false halo of success from events, actions, and personal qualities; and his judgment should keep firm to that standard of conscience which is the only just canon of approbation. To these moral gifts he should add a force of intellect and a mass of multifarious acquirements, which rarely unite in a single person. He should thoroughly understand and vividly reproduce the social and political condition of Europe before the convulsion of 1789. He should penetrate the inner life of the various communities which, in the strife between 1792 and 1815, became theatres for the antagonism of Democracy and Monarchy. He should be able to point out how the furious energy of Revolution, after having overcome all obstacles to its progress, surrendered itself to an absorbing despotism, which gradually, through its widespread tyranny, arrayed against itself the very spirit which first gave it its evil ascendancy. He should trace out the effects which the fall of the old French monarchy and the growth and collapse of the rule of Napoleon have had upon the frame of European society, and upon its divisions, laws, and institutions. He should have the genius to portray such opposite characters as Mirabeau and Talleyrand, as Wellington and Metternich, as Napoleon and Alexander, as Pitt and Caulaincourt, and to note accurately their influence on the period. His mind should thoroughly master

and assimilate not only an immense variety of facts, but also the secrets of cabinets and councils, the mysteries and intricacies of diplomacy; the correspondence of princes, generals, and statesmen; the operations of war of every kind, on sea and land, in all parts of the world; and the effects produced on European society by different principles of government or policy. And he should have the art to extract the truth on all these subjects from an enormous mass of undigested materials; to place it vividly before the mind in its natural order and significance; and, finally, so to arrange his narrative as to make it clear, harmonious, and, when necessary, eloquent.

How M. Thiers has conformed to this ideal in his "Histories of the French Revolution, and of the Consulate and First Empire," is tolerably well acknowledged by competent persons. It would be unjust to deny him the merits of industry, of much skill in composition, of occasional felicity in describing events, and in portraying individual characters, and of a style never solemn or dignified, but generally glowing, and sometimes brilliant. He has the genius of order common to his countrymen, and the faculty of hitting on incidents and details which throw light on periods and historical personages; and he has described the inner life of the French Empire with more minuteness and vividness than any of his fellow-labourers. But he is entirely wanting in several of the qualifications which are necessary to a great historian, especially as regards the subject he has chosen; and he frequently displays a deficiency of knowledge, and a hastiness and inaccuracy when dealing with details which are equally censurable and ridiculous. He has no consciousness of the awful moral tragedy which the events he describes reveal to the thinker. He has not grasped the deep and sad significance of the Reign of Terror and the rise of Napoleon; for in the one he sees only an unintelligible chaos, and in the other the growth of his country's glory. He does not perceive that the strife which preceded the Empire was a contest between contending principles; and he dwarfs it into a brilliant episode in the annals of French military history. He ascribes the sudden downfall of Napoleon to errors of policy and individual ambition; and he is too shallow to trace it to the effects of a despotism that sapped life and energy at home, and that gathered on itself the vengeance of Europe. He has a sentimental love for free government; but he is so blinded by the glory of Napoleon, that he forgets that he was the inveterate enemy of freedom, and he evidently considers her gifts less valuable than a glittering page in the national history. So long as the career of his hero is crowned with success, he can scarcely find a fault in him; he only begins to condemn Napoleon when he is obviously endan

Characteristics of the Work.

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gering his people's strength; and it is plain that he would have approved of all the sins of the Empire had its wild dreams of ambition been realized. And, as he thus sacrifices the truth and the lessons of history to the love of flattering national vanity, and to the exaltation of a single man, so he is quite insensible to many events which should have roused his deepest sympathies ; and he defaces his narrative by a partiality which would be scandalous were it not laughable. He cannot comprehend the pious heroism of La Vendée, the nobleness of Hofer, or the patriotism of Blucher. He sees nothing to admire in the conflagration of Moscow, in the efforts of the German Togenbund, and in the insurrection of Prussia and Holland. He can appreciate the attitude of France in 1793, when she stood in arms against her tyrants; but he has no feeling for the agonies of Germany when in the grasp of French despotism. It is significant of the same spirit, that, while he magnifies Jena, Marengo, and Austerlitz beyond their natural measure and compass, he depreciates the Nile, Trafalgar, and Leipsic; and he underrates miserably the Peninsular war, and misrepresents every battle in it. Add to this, that he shows very little acquaintance with any writers but those of his own country; that he is extremely ignorant of English history, even for the period he has to deal with; that he is often greatly at fault with respect to facts of which we have complete evidence; and that in no portion of his work is he really sober, thoughtful, and candid. No grace of narrative and brilliancy of style can atone, we think, for the want of depth and feeling, for the vanity and the Talleyrand ethics, and for the onesidedness and the perversion of facts which are visible in every part of this History.

The most interesting part of the volume before us is an abridgment of the entire History, in the form of a sketch of the reign of Napoleon. It is characteristic of the author's political creed; of his utter insensibility to moral considerations, when inconsistent with French aggrandisement; of his pandering to the ruthless spirit of conquest, except when it is too self-destructive; of his readiness to sacrifice liberty to glory; of his gross unfairness, and of his hasty errors. His idea of the balance of power is, that France is to be predominant in Europe. His standard of the merits of a government is not, whether it secures respect abroad by its good faith and regard to justice, nor whether it adds to the happiness of its subjects, but whether it succeeds in making the Continent dependent on one only of its many communities. The test he applies to any course of policy is, that it is right if it extends the authority of France to the utmost limits compatible with her safety, but that it may be wrong if it proceed further. The European settlement made at Luneville,

assigned to France her true position, and to attain it again should always be her object. The policy of Napoleon, when First Consul, is the grand ideal for French statesmen, not because it staunched the wounds of anarchy, nor because it reconstructed society, but because it gave France her "natural limits, and, without overtasking her energies, made her arbiter of Spain, Italy, and Germany. It is true that this policy extinguished her liberties, not merely for a season, but designedly for ever; and that it bound her under a grinding despotism, which, "based on force, believed itself immortal;" but it gave her the Code, the Concordat, and the conscription, it placed her under an excellent organization, and it made her formidable to all the world. The murder of the Duc d'Enghien was a mistake, because it alienated Austria, Prussia, and Russia; and the invasion of Switzerland and the plot against Turkey were wrong, because they gave umbrage to England; but, on the whole, the reign of the First Consul was a noble specimen of "power and moderation." After this, it was an error to break the peace of Amiens, for the navy of England was then too powerful, and it would have been wise to wait for a better season; and the peace of Presburg was bad policy, because it tended to combine Austria and Prussia in a league against French ambition and rapacity. There was no great harm in annexing Venice and Piedmont; but the seizure of Holland and the Illyrian Provinces, and the conceptions of the Confederation of the Rhine and of the kingdom of Westphalia were to be deprecated, because France was unequal to such an enlargement. At the same time, the Continental system, for the sake of which chiefly this enlargement was made, was a really grand and noble idea, since, although it steeped half of Europe in misery, and was a monstrous piece of tyrannical violence, it weakened the strength of "impregnable England." The Spanish war, however, was a notable fault, not because it sowed the Peninsula with ruin, but because it gave a field to a British army, and put an end to a great deal of French boasting; and the Russian expedition was a piece of madness, since even Napoleon was no match for Nature. It is also satisfactory to know that the partition of Europe, planned at Tilsit, cannot be justified in point of prudence, although it was a magnificent thought; and that the weakening and spoliation of Germany, the plunder of Rome, Madrid, and Florence, the erection of the Grand Duchy of Warsaw, the destruction of the Hanse Towns, the absorption of the Duchy of Oldenburg, and the rending asunder the system of Europe, according to the fancy of a despot, were calculated to cause a reaction" against France, and, for this reason, were an "unsound policy." Finally, we are told that the Empire fell, it is true, but that it fell solely from Napoleon's "mistakes;" that

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Its Moral Obliquity, and Disregard of Truth.

137 he never committed an error in strategy; and that the French army, though often "unfortunate," has no equal or rival in the world.

We are at a loss to decide whether this review of the affairs of Europe between 1800 and 1814 is more calculated to excite indignation or laughter, is more morally wrong or logically absurd. M. Thiers is a statesman who held power under a dynasty whose very watchword was "Peace," and yet he coolly proclaims a policy for his country which could never succeed except at the cost of war and misery from Finland to Cadiz. When he tells us that the right of France is her status at the Peace of Luneville, he means that she should expand to the Rhine and the Alps, that she should possess Savoy and Nice, Belgium, and the Rhenish Provinces; that she should occupy Holland as a dependency, that she should hold Switzerland in mere vassalage, that she should keep Italy to the Adige in subjection, and stretch her influence from Venice to Palermo, and, finally, that she should menace Germany, and be able to dictate to Spain as she pleases! For whatever M. Thiers may say to the contrary-and, indeed, he says very little to the contrary-this was the actual position of France in 1801, at the close of the war which ended at Marengo. The Peace of Luneville gave her the Rhine as a boundary, with all the strong places of the Netherlands, and sanctioned the annexation of Nice and Savoy. It broke up completely the German Empire, humiliated and weakened Austria excessively, and bought the assent of Prussia to aggression. As, unfortunately, it made no stipulation for Piedmont, the Great Republic of course annexed it immediately, and thus acquired the outwork of Italy. The recognition of the Batavian Republic made France as completely the ruler of Holland as England is of the Ionian Islands. The guaranteeing of the Cisalpine, the Helvetian, and the Ligurian Republics laid Italy at the feet of a dictator, who, in a few years, converted her into an appanage to his empire. As for Spain, the Peace of Luneville "left her in such a state of disintegration, that one word sent from Paris to poor Charles IV. or to the wretched Godoy was sufficient to govern her; and it was evident that she would soon be obliged to ask from the First Consul, not only a system of policy, which she had already done, but a government, and perhaps a king." In fact, this "just and glorious peace made France the mistress of the Continent; and yet a statesman who speaks of public right, and even of the balance of power, calls that peace a legitimate arrangement of Europe, though he must know that Europe would run to arms were France even to hint a claim to such a position!

M. Thiers next tells us that the government of the First Con