At this period of Buonaparte's elevation, when his power seemed best established, and most permanent, it seems proper to take a hasty view, not indeed of the details of his internal government, which is a subject that would exhaust volumes; but at least of its general character, of the means by which his empire was maintained, and the nature of the relations which it established betwixt the sovereign and his subjects.
The ruling, almost the sole principle on which the government of Buonaparte rested, was the simple proposition upon which despotism of every kind has founded itself in every species of society; namely, that the individual who is to exercise the authority and power of the state, shall, on the one hand, dedicate himself and his talents exclusively to the public service of the empire, while, on the other, the nation subjected to his rule shall requite this self-devotion on his part by the most implicit obedience to his will. Some despots have rested this claim to universal submission upon family descent, and upon their right, according to Filmer's doctrine, of representing the original father of the tribe, and becoming the legitimate inheritors of a patriarchal power. Others have strained scripture and abused common sense, to establish in their own favour a right through the especial decree of Providence. To the hereditary title Buonaparte could of course assert no claim; but he founded not a little on the second principle, often holding himself out to others, and no doubt occasionally considering himself, in his own mind, as an individual destined by Heaven to the high station which he held, and one who could not therefore be opposed in his career, without an express struggle being maintained against Destiny, who, leading him by the hand, and at the same time protecting him with her shield, had guided him by paths as strange as perilous, to the post of eminence which he now occupied. No one had been his tutor in the lessons which led the way to his preferment—no one had been his guide in the dangerous ascent to power—scarce any one had been of so much consequence to his promotion, as to claim even the merit of an ally, however humble. It seemed as if Napoleon had been wafted on to this stupendous pitch of grandeur by a power more effectual than that of any human assistance, nay, which surpassed what could have been expected from his own great talents, unassisted by the especial interposition of Destiny in his favour. Yet it was not to this principle alone that the general acquiescence in the unlimited power which he asserted is to be imputed. Buonaparte understood the character of the French nation so well, that he could offer them an acceptable indemnification for servitude; first, in the height to which he proposed to raise their national pre-eminence; secondly, in the municipal establishments, by means of which he administered their government, and which, though miserably defective in all which would have been demanded by a nation accustomed to the administration of equal and just laws, afforded a protection to life and property that was naturally most welcome to those who had been so long, under the republican system, made the victims of cruelty, rapacity, and the most extravagant and unlimited tyranny, rendered yet more odious as exercised under the pretext of liberty.
To the first of these arts of government we have often adverted; and it must be always recalled to mind whenever the sources of Buonaparte's power over the public mind in France come to be treated of. He himself gave the solution in a few words, when censuring the imbecility of the Directors, to whose power he succeeded. "These men," he said, "know not how to work upon the imagination of the French nation." This idea, which, in phraseology, is rather Italian than French, expresses the chief secret of Napoleon's authority. He held himself out as the individual upon whom the fate of France depended—of whose hundred decisive victories France enjoyed the glory. It was he whose sword, hewing down obstacles which her bravest monarchs had accounted insurmountable, had cut the way to her now undeniable supremacy over Europe. He alone could justly claim to be Absolute Monarch of France, who, raising that nation from a perilous condition, had healed her discords, reconciled her factions, turned her defeats into victory, and, from a disunited people, about to become the prey to civil and external war, had elevated her to the situation of Queen of Europe. This had been all accomplished upon one condition; and, as we have stated elsewhere, it was that which the Tempter offered in the wilderness, after his ostentatious display of the kingdoms of the earth—"All these will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me."
Napoleon had completed the boastful promise, and it flattered a people more desirous of glory than of liberty; and so much more pleased with hearing of national conquests in foreign countries, than of enjoying the freedom of their own individual thoughts and actions, that they unreluctantly surrendered the latter in order that their vanity might be flattered by the former.
Thus did Napoleon avail himself of, or, to translate his phrase more literally, play upon the imagination of the French people. He gave them public festivals, victories, and extended dominion; and in return, claimed the right of carrying their children in successive swarms to yet more distant and yet more extended conquests, and of governing, according to his own pleasure, the bulk of the nation which remained behind.
To attain this purpose, one species of idolatry was gradually and ingeniously substituted for another, and the object of the public devotion was changed, while the worship was continued. France had been formerly governed by political maxims—she was now ruled by the name of an individual. Formerly the Republic was every thing—Fayette, Dumouriez, or Pichegru, were nothing. Now, the name of a successful general was of more influence than the whole code of the Rights of Man. France had submitted to murder, spoliation, revolutionary tribunals, and every species of cruelty and oppression, while they were gilded by the then talismanic expressions—"Liberty and Equality—Fraternization—the public welfare, and the happiness of the people." She was now found equally compliant, when the watchword was, "The honour of his Imperial and Royal Majesty—the interests of the Great Empire—the splendours of the Imperial Throne." It must be owned, that the sacrifices under the last form were less enormous; they were limited to taxes at the Imperial pleasure, and a perpetual anticipation of the conscription. The Republican tyrants claimed both life and property, the Emperor was satisfied with a tithe of the latter, and the unlimited disposal of that portion of the family who could best support the burden of arms, for augmenting the conquests of France. Such were the terms on which this long-distracted country attained once more, after its Revolution, the advantage of a steady and effective government.
The character of that government, its means and principles of action, must now be briefly traced.
It cannot be forgotten that Buonaparte, the heir of the Revolution, appropriated to himself the forms and modifications of the Directorial government, altered, in some degree, by the ingenuity of Siêyes; but they subsisted as forms only, and were carefully divested of all effectual impulse on the government. The Senate and Legislative Bodies became merely passive and pensioned creatures of the Emperor's will, whom he used as a medium for promulgating the laws which he was determined to establish. The Tribunate had been instituted for the protection of the people against all acts of arbitrary power, whether by imprisonment, exile, assaults on the liberty of the press, or otherwise; but after having gradually undermined the rights and authority of this body, after having rendered its meetings partial and secret, and having deprived it of its boldest members, Buonaparte suppressed it entirely, on account, as he alleged, of the expense which it occasioned to the government. It had, indeed, become totally useless;[307] but this was because its character had been altered, and because, originating from the Senate, and not from popular election, the Tribunate never consisted of that class of persons, who are willing to encounter the frown of power when called upon to impeach its aggressions. Yet, as the very name of this body, while it subsisted, recalled some ideas of Republican freedom, the Emperor thought fit altogether to abolish it.
THE COUNCIL OF STATE.
The deliberative Council of the Emperor existed in his own personal Council of State, of whose consultations, in which he himself presided, he made frequent use during the course of his reign. Its functions were of an anomalous character, comprehending political legislation, or judicial business, according to the order of the day. It was, in short, Buonaparte's resource, when he wanted the advice, or opinion, or information, of others in aid of his own; and he often took the assistance of the Council of State, in order to form those resolutions which he afterwards executed by means of his ministers. Monsieur de Las Cases, himself a member of it, has dwelt with complaisance upon the freedom which Buonaparte permitted to their debates, and the good-humour with which he submitted to contradiction, even when expressed with obstinacy or vivacity;[308] and would have us consider the Council as an important barrier afforded to the citizens against the arbitrary will of the Sovereign. What he has said, however, only amounts to this,—that Buonaparte, desirous to have the advice of his counsellors, tolerated their freedom of speech, and even of remonstrance. Mahmoud, or Amurath, seated in their divan, must have done the same, and yet would not have remained the less absolutely masters of the lives of those who stood around them. We have no doubt that Buonaparte, on certain occasions, permitted his counsellors to take considerable freedoms, and that he sometimes yielded up his opinion to theirs without being convinced; in such cases, at least, where his own passions or interest were no way concerned.[309] But we further read of the Emperor's using, to extremely stubborn persons, such language as plainly intimated, that he would not suffer contradiction beyond a certain point, "You are very obstinate," he said to such a disputant; "what if I were to be as much so as you? You are wrong to push the powerful to extremity—you should consider the weakness of humanity." To another he said, after a scene of argumentative violence, "Pray, pay some attention to accommodate yourself a little more to my humour. Yesterday, you carried it so far as to oblige me to scratch my temple. That is a great sign with me—take care in future not to drive me to such an extremity."[310]