On the very night of Napoleon’s return to Paris from the army, he summoned his council. The finances were in confusion; there had been something of a panic, and only the victory of Austerlitz restored confidence. The minister, who had brought about this state of things by his mismanagement, was Barbé-Marbois, a royalist whom Napoleon had recalled from banishment and elevated to high office. During the Emperor’s absence the minister had allowed the contractors and speculators to become partners in the management of the treasury, had allowed these speculators to use public funds, and had carried his complaisance to such an extent that they now owed the government more than $25,000,000. Under the Old Régime it was quite the usual thing to allow contractors and speculators to use and misuse public funds. In our own day it is the universal rule. No well-regulated Christian government would think of issuing a loan, undertaking public improvements, or refunding its debt without giving to some clique of favored capitalists a huge share of the sum total: just as it would shock a modern government to its foundation if the principle were enforced that public funds should be rigidly kept in public depositories to be used for public purposes only.
Napoleon, however, was neither a ruler of the ancient Bourbon type, nor a Christian governor of the modern sort. He would not float loans, levy war taxes, nor allow his treasury to become the hunting-ground of the Bourse. England was fighting Napoleon with paper money, was floating loan after loan, was giving to speculators and contractors golden opportunities to enrich themselves. In the end, England’s paper money, loans, and war taxes were to whip the fight; but in the meantime Napoleon believed himself right and England wrong. He honestly believed that England would sink under her debt, taxes, and worthless currency. When he saw her grow in strength year by year, her manufactures increase, her trade increase, her wealth, power, and population increase, he was unable to comprehend the mystery. Mr. Alison, the Tory historian, who chronicles the facts, explains, kindly, that this growth of England was illusive and fictitious. To Napoleon, sitting desolately on the rock at St. Helena, housed in a remodelled cow barn and tormented by rats, it must have seemed that this paper-money growth of English power was not quite so illusive as Mr. Alison declared.
Sternly adhering to his own system, Napoleon called the erring minister and the greedy speculators to account. Marbois was dismissed from office, the speculators thrown into jail, the property of the syndicate seized, and the debt due the treasury collected. The Bank of France was overhauled, the finances put into healthy condition, and the public funds advanced until they commanded a higher price than ever before, nearing par.
CHAPTER XXVII
After the treaty of Presburg the Archduke Charles, in paying off the Austrian troops, said to them, “Go and rest yourselves until we begin again.” Even at that early date the European powers were acting upon the fixed principle that the war against France was not to cease till she had been forced back into her ancient limits. No matter what battles might be fought, treaties made, and territories yielded, the one thing upon which England, Austria, and Russia were agreed, was that Napoleon must be crushed. He represented the New Order brought forth by the Revolution. He represented liberalism, civil and religious freedom, and progress in its modern sense of giving to every man a chance in life. Such principles were destructive to the repose of Europe, and the ruling classes in Europe were deeply attached to this repose. England’s ruling class, supported in lordly preëminence by the patient millions below them, wanted no levelling tendencies to invade her caste-ridden isles. Germany, whose nobles and landowners clung to all the privileges and barbarities of feudalism, abhorred the Code Napoléon, and the democratic germs of the Napoleonic system. Russia, almost as benighted as Persia or Turkey, dreaded a trend of events which meant freedom for the serf and civil rights for the common people. The nobleman in Russia, the peer of Great Britain, the petty lord in Germany, was at heart one and the same man. He had been born to wealth, privilege, and power; he meant to keep what birth had given him, and he meant to pass it on to his son, “forever in fee simple.” Of course he explained that God had ordained it so. And what the nobleman asserted, the priest maintained. If Napoleon foresaw that as Consul war would be made upon him continually by the opposing systems of Europe, how much less hope was there for peace now, when he had begun to shatter the ancient feudalisms?
Let crimination and recrimination exhaust itself, let Thiers write bulky volumes in Napoleon’s favor, while Lanfrey and Baring-Gould print heavy pamphlets against him, the truth lies here:—
Napoleon represented principles which were considered ruinous to the Old Order in Europe, and the beneficiaries of that Old Order were determined not to surrender without a desperate fight. Just as the Old Order in France resisted all efforts at reform, so on a wider field the kings and aristocracies of Europe resisted Napoleon. They could not believe themselves safe while he was aggressive and triumphant. Therefore, while Austria might bow to the storm, while the Emperor Francis might come to Napoleon’s tent, pleading for mercy, and get it, the true sentiment of Austria was voiced by the Archduke Charles, when he said to the troops, “Go rest yourselves, my children, till we begin again.” It was only a question of time and opportunity when they would begin again.
Prussia had been one of the first nations to arm against revolutionary France. Lugged in by Austria, she had published the famous proclamation of Brunswick, had invaded France, and had been beaten back at Valmy. In due time Prussia had become disgusted with the French royalists—tired of a contest in which, gaining no glory, she lost men, money, and prestige. She had made peace with the Republic, and had become honestly neutral. Harmonious relations had continued to exist between the two nations until the rupture of the Peace of Amiens. England had then done her utmost to draw Prussia into the third Coalition, but had not quite succeeded. In the grand strategy leading to the climax at Ulm, it had become necessary to march some French troops through Anspach, a Prussian province. This violation of his territory gave great offence to the young King Frederick William IV., and he threatened war.
Napoleon’s crushing blows on Austria intimidated Prussia and made her hesitate; but when the French risked themselves in Moravia, and the outlook for Napoleon began to grow gloomy, Prussia sent him her minister, Haugwitz, bearing an ultimatum. Napoleon realized his peril, postponed immediate action, and fought the battle of Austerlitz. His victory released him from danger, and Haugwitz, forgetting his ultimatum, poured forth congratulations. Napoleon heard them with a sardonic amusement he did not conceal, bluntly declaring that Austerlitz had changed the Prussian tone.