It was at this period that Napoleon published, in the Moniteur, a long memorial, drawn up by General Sebastiani, who had just returned from a mission to the Levant, abounding in statements, and clothed in language, such as could have had no other object but to inflame the government of England to extremity. Sebastiani detailed the incidents of his journey at great length, representing himself as having been everywhere received with honour, and even with enthusiasm, as the envoy of Napoleon. Such, he said, were the dispositions of the Mussulmans, that 6000 French would now suffice to restore Egypt to the republic; and it was in vain that General Stuart, who represented the English king in that country, had endeavoured to excite the Turkish government to assassinate him, Sebastiani. Lastly, the report asserted, that the Ionian Islands would, on the first favourable occasion, declare themselves French.
The English government reclaimed against this publication, as at once a confession of the dangerous ambition of Buonaparte, and a studied insult to them, whose representative's character and honour one of its chief statements must have been designed to destroy, at a wilful sacrifice of truth. The French minister replied, that the Chief Consul had as much right to complain of the recent publication of Sir Robert Wilson's Narrative of the English Expedition to Egypt, which contained statements in the highest degree injurious to his character and honour;[46] and had, nevertheless, been dedicated by permission to the Duke of York. The obvious answer, namely, that Sir Robert Wilson's book was the work of a private individual, and published solely on his own responsibility, whereas Sebastiani's was a public document set forth by an official organ, was treated as a wanton and insolent evasion. Meanwhile the language of the press on either side became from day to day more virulently offensive; and various members of the British Parliament, of opposite parties, and of the highest eminence, did not hesitate to rival the newspapers in their broad denunciations of the restless and insatiable ambition of the Chief Consul.—"Buonaparte," said Mr. Wyndham, "is the Hannibal who has sworn to devote his life to the destruction of England. War cannot be far off, and I believe it would be much safer to anticipate the blow than to expect it. I would advise ministers to appeal to the high-minded and proud of heart—whether they succeed or not, we shall not then go down like the Augustuli." "The destruction of this country," said Mr. Sheridan, "is the first vision that breaks on the French Consul through the gleam of the morning: this is his last prayer at night, to whatever deity he may address it, whether to Jupiter or to Mahomet, to the Goddess of Battles or the Goddess of Reason. Look at the map of Europe, from which France was said to be expunged, and now see nothing but France. If the ambition of Buonaparte be immeasurable, there are abundant reasons why it should be progressive."
Stung to the quick by these continual invectives, Napoleon so far descended from his dignity as to make them the subject of personal complaint and reproach to the English Ambassador. He obtruded himself on the department of Talleyrand, and attempted to shake the resolution of the ambassador, Lord Whitworth, by a display of rude violence, such as had, indeed, succeeded with the Austrian envoy at Campo-Formio, but which produced no effect whatever in the case of this calm and high-spirited nobleman. The first of their conferences took place in February, when the Consul harangued Lord Whitworth for nearly two hours, hardly permitting him to interpose a word on the other side of the question. "Every gale that blows from England is burdened with enmity," said he; "your government countenances Georges, Pichegru, and other infamous men, who have sworn to assassinate me. Your journals slander me, and the redress I am offered is but adding mockery to insult. I could make myself master of Egypt to-morrow, if I pleased. Egypt, indeed, must sooner or later belong to France; but I have no wish to go to war for such a trivial object. What could I gain by war? Invasion would be my only means of annoying you; and invasion you shall have, if war be forced on me—but I confess the chances would be an hundred to one against me in such an attempt. In ten years I could not hope to have a fleet able to dispute the seas with you: but, on the other hand, the army of France could be recruited in a few weeks to 480,000 men. United, we might govern the world:—Why can we not understand each other?" Lord Whitworth could not but observe the meaning of these hints, and answered, as became him, that the King of England had no wish but to preserve his own rights, and scorned the thought of becoming a partner with France in a general scheme of spoliation and oppression. They parted with cold civility, and negotiations were resumed in the usual manner: but England stood firm in the refusal to give up Malta—at least for ten years to come. The aggressions of Napoleon had wholly changed the arrangement of territory and power contemplated when the treaty of Amiens was drawn up; what security could there be for the retention of Malta by Naples, or any such minor power, if Buonaparte wished to have it? To surrender it would in fact be to yield an impregnable harbour and citadel in the heart of the Levant, to a government which had gone on trampling down the independence of state after state in the west. Meanwhile the English government openly announced, in Parliament, that the position of affairs seemed to be full of alarm—that the French were manning fleets and recruiting their armies, and that it was necessary to have recourse to similar measures; and, accordingly, a considerable addition to the military establishment was agreed to.
Thus stood matters on the 13th of March, when Lord Whitworth made his appearance at the levee of the Chief Consul, in company with all the rest of the diplomatic body. Napoleon no sooner entered, than, fixing his eye on the English Ambassador, he exclaimed aloud and fiercely, in presence of the circle, "You are then determined on war!" Lord Whitworth denied the charge, but the Consul drowned his voice, and pursued thus:—"We have been at war for fifteen years—you are resolved to have fifteen years more of it—you force me to it." He then turned to the other ministers, and said, in the same violent tone: "The English wish for war; but if they draw the sword first, I will be the last to sheath it again. They do not respect treaties—henceforth we must cover them with black crape." Then, turning again to Whitworth, "To what purpose," he cried, "are these armaments? If you arm, I will arm too; if you fight, I can fight also. You may destroy France, but you cannot intimidate her." "We desire neither to injure nor to alarm her, but to live on terms of good intelligence," said Lord Whitworth. "Respect treaties, then," said Napoleon; "woe to those by whom they are not respected!—they shall be responsible to Europe for the result." He repeated these last words sternly, and immediately quitted the apartment, leaving the assembled ministers utterly confounded by this indecent display of violence.
Some persons, who knew Buonaparte well, have always asserted that this undignified scene was got up with calm premeditation, and that the ferocity of passion on the occasion was a mere piece of acting. Lord Whitworth, however, was an excellent judge of men and manners, and he never doubted that the haughty soldier yielded to the uncontrollable vehemence of wrath. The cautious Talleyrand made various efforts to explain away the intemperate words of his master; but they, and the tone in which they had been uttered, went far to increase the jealousy and animosity of the English government and nation, and to revive or confirm the suspicion with which the other powers of Europe had had but too much reason to regard the career of revolutionary France.
On the 18th of May Great Britain declared war. Orders had previously been given for seizing French shipping wherever it could be found, and it is said that 200 vessels, containing property to the amount of three millions sterling, had been laid hold of accordingly, ere the proclamation of hostilities reached Paris. Whether the practice of thus unceremoniously seizing private property, under such circumstances, be right on abstract principle, or wrong, there can be no doubt that the custom had been long established, acted upon by England on all similar occasions, and of course considered, after the lapse of ages, and the acquiescence of innumerable treaties, as part and parcel of the European system of warfare. This was not denied by Napoleon; but he saw the opportunity, and determined to profit by it, of exciting the jealousy of other governments, by reclaiming against the exercise, on the part of England, of a species of assault which England, from her maritime predominance, has more temptations and better means to adopt than any other power. He resolved, therefore, to retaliate by a wholly unprecedented outrage. The very night that the resolution of the cabinet of St. James's reached Paris, orders were given for arresting the persons of all English subjects residing or travelling within the dominion of France.
Not less than 10,000 persons, chiefly of course of the higher classes of society, thus found themselves condemned to captivity in a hostile land. Had Napoleon adopted less violent measures, his reclamations against the English government might have been favourably attended to throughout Europe. But this despotic and unparalleled infliction of exile and misery on a host of innocent private individuals, was productive of far different effects. It moved universal sympathy, indignation, and disgust.