The time seemed now propitious for Buonaparte to make the last remaining movement in the great game, which he had hitherto played with equal skill, boldness, and success. The opposing factions of the state lay in a great measure prostrate before him. The death of the Duke d'Enghien and of Pichegru had intimidated the Royalists, while the exile of Moreau had left the Republicans without a leader.

These events, while they greatly injured Buonaparte's character as a man, extended, in a like proportion, the idea of his power, and of his determination to employ it to the utmost extremity against whoever might oppose him. This moment, therefore, of general submission and intimidation was the fittest to be used for transmuting the military baton of the first consul into a sceptre, resembling those of the ancient and established sovereignties of Europe; and it only remained, for one who could now dispose of France as he listed, to dictate the form and fashion of the new emblem of his sway.

The title of King most obviously presented itself; but it was connected with the claims of the Bourbons, which it was not Buonaparte's policy to recall to remembrance. That of Emperor implied a yet higher power of sovereignty, and there existed no competitor who could challenge a claim to it. It was a novelty also, and flattered the French love of change; and though, in fact, the establishment of an empire was inconsistent with the various oaths taken against royalty, it was not, in terms, so directly contradictory to them. As the re-establishment of a kingdom, so far it was agreeable to those who might seek, not indeed how to keep their vows, but how to elude, in words at least, the charge of having broken them. To Napoleon's own ear, the word King might sound as if it restricted his power within the limits of the ancient kingdom; while that of Emperor might comprise dominions equal to the wide sweep of ancient Rome herself, and the bounds of the habitable earth alone could be considered as circumscribing their extent.

The main body of the nation being passive or intimidated,[73] there was no occasion to stand upon much ceremony with the constitutional bodies, the members of which were selected and paid by Buonaparte himself, held their posts at his pleasure, had every species of advancement to hope if they promoted his schemes, and every evil, of which the least would be deprivation of office, to expect, should they thwart him.

On the 30th of April, 1804, CurÉe,[74] an orator of no great note, (and who was perhaps selected on that very account, that his proposal might be disavowed, should it meet with unexpected opposition,) took the lead in this measure, which was to destroy the slight and nominal remains of a free constitution which France retained under her present form of government. "It was time to bid adieu," he said, "to political illusions. The internal tranquillity of France had been regained, peace with foreign states had been secured by victory. The finances of the country had been restored, its code of laws renovated and re-established. It was time to ascertain the possession of these blessings to the nation in future, and the orator saw no mode of doing this, save rendering the supreme power hereditary in the person and family of Napoleon, to whom France owed such a debt of gratitude. This, he stated, was the universal desire of the army and of the people. He invited the Tribunate, therefore, to give effect to the general wish, and hail Napoleon Buonaparte by the title of Emperor, as that which best corresponded with the dignity of the nation."[75]

The members of the Tribunate contended with each other who should most enhance the merits of Napoleon, and prove, in the most logical and rhetorical terms, the advantages of arbitrary power over the various modifications of popular or limited governments. But one man, Carnot, was bold enough to oppose the full tide of sophistry and adulation. This name is unhappily to be read among the colleagues of Robespierre in the Revolutionary Committee, as well as amongst those who voted for the death of the misused and unoffending Louis XVI.; yet his highly honourable conduct in the urgent crisis now under discussion, shows that the zeal for liberty which led him into such excesses was genuine and sincere; and that, in point of firmness and public spirit, Carnot equalled the ancient patriots whom he aspired to imitate. His speech was as temperate and expressive as it was eloquent. Buonaparte, he admitted, had saved France, and saved it by the assumption of absolute power; but this, he contended, was only the temporary consequence of a violent crisis of the kind to which republics were subject, and the evils of which could only be stemmed by a remedy equally violent. The present head of the government was, he allowed, a dictator; but in the same sense in which Fabius, Camillus, and Cincinnatus, were so of yore, who retired to the condition of private citizens when they had accomplished the purpose for which temporary supremacy had been intrusted to them. The like was to be expected from Buonaparte, who, on entering on the government of the state, had invested it with republican forms, which he had taken a solemn oath to maintain, and which it was the object of CurÉe's motion to invite him to violate. He allowed that the various republican forms of France had been found deficient in stability, which he contended was owing to the tempestuous period in which they had been adopted, and the excited and irritable temper of men fired with political animosity, and incapable at the moment of steady or philosophical reflection; but he appealed to the United States of America, as an example of a democratical government, equally wise, vigorous, and permanent. He admitted the virtues and talents of the present governor of France, but contended that these attributes could not be rendered hereditary along with the throne. He reminded the Tribunate that Domitian had been the son of the wise Vespasian, Caligula of Germanicus, and Commodus of Marcus Aurelius. Again, he asked, whether it was not wronging Buonaparte's glory to substitute a new title to that which he had rendered so illustrious, and to invite and tempt him to become the instrument of destroying the liberties of the very country to which he had rendered such inestimable services? He then announced the undeniable proposition, that what services soever an individual might render to the state of which he was a member, there were bounds to public gratitude prescribed by honour as well as reason. If a citizen had the means of operating the safety, or restoring the liberty of his country, it could not be termed a becoming recompense to surrender to him that very liberty, the re-establishment of which had been his own work. Or what glory, he asked, could accrue to the selfish individual who should claim the surrender of his country's independence in requital of his services, and desire to convert the state which his talents had preserved into his own private patrimony![76]

Carnot concluded his manly and patriotic speech by declaring, that though he opposed, on grounds of conscience, the alteration of government which had been proposed, he would, nevertheless, should it be adopted by the nation, give it his unlimited obedience. He kept his word accordingly, and retired to a private station, in poverty most honourable to a statesman who had filled the highest offices of the state, and enjoyed the most unlimited power of amassing wealth.[77]

When his oration was concluded, there was a contention for precedence among the time-serving speakers, who were each desirous to take the lead in refuting the reasoning of Carnot. It would be tedious to trace them through their sophistry. The leading argument turned upon the talents of Buonaparte, his services rendered to France, and the necessity there was for acknowledging them by something like a proportionate act of national gratitude. Their eloquence resembled nothing so nearly as the pleading of a wily procuress, who endeavours to persuade some simple maiden, that the services rendered to her by a liberal and gallant admirer, can only be rewarded by the sacrifice of her honour. The speaking (for it could neither be termed debate nor deliberation) was prolonged for three days, after which the motion of CurÉe was adopted by the Tribunate,[78] without one negative voice, excepting that of the inflexible Carnot.

The Senate, to whom the Tribunate hastened to present their project of establishing despotism under its own undisguised title, hastened to form a senatus consultum, which established the new constitution of France. The outline,—for what would it serve to trace the minute details of a design sketched in the sand, and obliterated by the tide of subsequent events,[79]—was as follows:—

1st, Napoleon Buonaparte was declared hereditary Emperor of the French nation. The empire was made hereditary, first in the male line of the Emperor's direct descendants. Failing these, Napoleon might adopt the sons or grandsons of his brothers, to succeed him in such order as he might point out. In default of such adoptive heirs, Joseph and Louis Buonaparte were, in succession, declared the lawful heirs of the empire. Lucien and Jerome Buonaparte were excluded from this rich inheritance, as they had both disobliged Napoleon by marrying without his consent.

2d, The members of the Imperial family were declared Princes of the Blood, and by the decree of the Senate, the offices of Grand Elector, Archchancellor of the Empire, Archchancellor of State, High Constable, and Great Admiral of the Empire, were established as necessary appendages of the empire. These dignitaries, named of course by the Emperor himself, consisting of his relatives, connexions, and most faithful adherents, formed his Grand Council. The rank of Marshal of the Empire was conferred upon seventeen of the most distinguished generals, comprehending Jourdan, Augereau, and others, formerly zealous Republicans.[80] Duroc was named Grand Marshal of the Palace; Caulaincourt, Master of the Horse; Berthier, Grand Huntsman, and the Comte de SÉgur, a nobleman of the old court, Master of Ceremonies.

Thus did republican forms, at length and finally, give way to those of a court; and that nation, which no moderate or rational degree of freedom would satisfy, now contentedly, or at least passively, assumed the yoke of a military despot. France, in 1792, had been like the wild elephant in his fits of fury, when to oppose his course is death; in 1804, she was like the same animal tamed and trained, who kneels down and suffers himself to be mounted by the soldier, whose business is to drive him into the throng of the battle.

Measures were taken, as on former occasions, to preserve appearances, by obtaining, in show at least, the opinion of the people, on this radical change of their system.[81] Government, however, were already confident of their approbation, which, indeed, had never been refused to any of the various constitutions, however inconsistent, that had succeeded each other with such rapidity. Secure on this point, Buonaparte's accession to the empire was proclaimed with the greatest pomp, without waiting to inquire whether the people approved of his promotion or otherwise. The proclamation was coldly received, even by the populace, and excited little enthusiasm.[82] It seemed, according to some writers, as if the shades of D'Enghien and Pichegru had been present invisibly, and spread a damp over the ceremony. The Emperor was recognised by the soldiery with more warmth. He visited the encampments at Boulogne, with the intention apparently, of receiving such an acknowledgment from the troops as was paid by the ancient Franks to their monarchs, when they elevated them on their bucklers. Seated on an iron chair, said to have belonged to King Dagobert, he took his place between two immense camps, and having before him the Channel and the hostile coasts of England. The weather, we have been assured, had been tempestuous, but no sooner had the Emperor assumed his seat, to receive the homage of his shouting host, than the sky cleared, and the wind dropt, retaining just breath sufficient gently to wave the banners. Even the elements seemed to acknowledge the imperial dignity, all save the sea, which rolled as carelessly to the feet of Napoleon as it had formerly done towards those of Canute the Dane.

The Emperor, accompanied with his Empress, who bore her honours both gracefully and meekly, visited Aix-la-Chapelle, and the frontiers of Germany. They received the congratulations of all the powers of Europe, excepting England, Russia, and Sweden, upon their new exaltation; and the German princes, who had every thing to hope and fear from so powerful a neighbour, hastened to pay their compliments to Napoleon in person, which more distant sovereigns offered by their ambassadors.[83]

But the most splendid and public recognition of his new rank was yet to be made, by the formal act of coronation, which, therefore, Napoleon determined should take place with circumstances of solemnity, which had been beyond the reach of any temporal prince, however powerful, for many ages. His policy was often marked by a wish to revive, imitate, and connect his own titles and interest with some ancient observance of former days; as if the novelty of his claims could have been rendered more venerable by investing them with antiquated forms, or as men of low birth, when raised to wealth and rank, are sometimes desirous to conceal the obscurity of their origin under the blaze of heraldic honours. Pope Leo, he remembered, had placed a golden crown on the head of Charlemagne, and proclaimed him Emperor of the Romans. Pius VII., he determined, should do the same for a successor to much more than the actual power of Charlemagne. But though Charlemagne had repaired to Rome to receive inauguration from the hands of the Pontiff of that day, Napoleon resolved that he who now owned the proud, and in Protestant eyes profane, title of Vicar of Christ, should travel to France to perform the coronation of the successful chief, by whom the See of Rome had been more than once humbled, pillaged, and impoverished, but by whom also her power had been re-erected and restored, not only in Italy, but in France itself.

Humiliating as the compliance with Buonaparte's request must have seemed to the more devoted Catholics, Pius VII. had already sacrificed, to obtain the Concordat, so much of the power and privileges of the Roman See, that he could hardly have been justified if he had run the risk of losing the advantages of a treaty so dearly purchased, by declining to incur some personal trouble or, it might be termed, some direct self-abasement. The Pope, and the cardinals whom he consulted, implored the illumination of Heaven upon their councils; but it was the stern voice of necessity which assured them, that except at the risk of dividing the Church by a schism, they could not refuse to comply with Buonaparte's requisition. The Pope left Rome on the 5th November. He was every where received on the road with the highest respect, and most profound veneration; the Alpine precipices themselves had been secured by parapets wherever they could expose the venerable Father of the Catholic Church to danger, or even apprehension. Upon the 25th November he met Buonaparte at Fontainbleau;[84] and the conduct of the Emperor Napoleon was as studiously respectful towards him as that of Charlemagne, whom he was pleased to call his predecessor, could have been towards Leo.

On the 2d December, the ceremony of the coronation took place in the ancient cathedral of Notre Dame, with the addition of every ceremony which could be devised to add to its solemnity.[85] Yet we have been told, that the multitude did not participate in the ceremonial with that eagerness which characterises the inhabitants of all capitals, but especially those of Paris, upon similar occasions.[86] They had, within a very few years, seen so many exhibitions, processions and festivals, established on the most discordant principles, which, though announced as permanent and unchangeable, had successively given way to newer doctrines, that they considered the splendid representation before them as an unsubstantial pageant, which would fade away in its turn. Buonaparte himself seemed absent and gloomy, till recalled to a sense of his grandeur by the voice of the numerous deputies and functionaries sent up from all the several departments of France, to witness the coronation.[87] These functionaries had been selected with due attention to their political opinions; and many of them holding offices under the government, or expecting benefits from the Emperor, made up, by the zealous vivacity of their acclamations, for the coldness of the good citizens of Paris.

The Emperor took his coronation oath, as usual on such occasions, with his hands upon the Scripture, and in the form in which it was repeated to him by the Pope. But in the act of coronation itself, there was a marked deviation from the universal custom, characteristic of the man, the age, and the conjuncture. In all other similar solemnities, the crown had been placed on the sovereign's head by the presiding spiritual person, as representing the Deity, by whom princes rule. But not even from the Head of the Catholic Church would Buonaparte consent to receive as a boon the golden symbol of sovereignty, which he was sensible he owed solely to his own unparalleled train of military and civil successes. The crown having been blessed by the Pope, Napoleon took it from the altar with his own hands, and placed it on his brows. He then put the diadem on the head of his Empress, as if determined to show that his authority was the child of his own actions. Te Deum was sung; the heralds (for they also had again come into fashion) proclaimed, "that the thrice glorious and thrice august Napoleon, Emperor of the French, was crowned and installed." Thus concluded this remarkable ceremony. Those who remember having beheld it, must now doubt whether they were waking, or whether fancy had framed a vision so dazzling in its appearance, so extraordinary in its origin and progress, and so ephemeral in its endurance.[88]

The very day before the ceremony of coronation, (that is, on the 1st of December,) the Senate had waited upon the Emperor with the result of the votes collected in the departments, which, till that time, had been taken for granted. Upwards of three millions five hundred thousand citizens had given their votes on this occasion; of whom only about three thousand five hundred had declared against the proposition. The vice-president, Neufchateau, declared, "this report was the unbiassed expression of the people's choice. No government could plead a title more authentic."[89]

This was the established language of the day; but when the orator went farther, and mentioned the measure now adopted as enabling Buonaparte to guide into port the vessel of the Republic, one would have thought there was more irony than compliment in the expression.

Napoleon replied, by promises to employ the power which the unanimous consent of the Senate, the people, and the army, had conferred upon him, for the advantage of that nation which he himself, writing from fields of battle, had first saluted with the title of the Great. He promised, too, in name of his Dynasty, that his children should long preserve the throne, and be at once the first soldiers in the army of France, and the first magistrates among her citizens.[90]

As every word on such an occasion was scrupulously sifted and examined, it seemed to some that this promise, which Napoleon volunteered in behalf of children who had as yet no existence, intimated a meditated change of consort, since from his present Empress he had no longer any hope of issue. Others censured the prophetic tone in which he announced what would be the fate and conduct of unborn beings, and spoke of a reign, newly commenced, under the title of a Dynasty, which is usually applied to a race of successive princes.

We pause for a moment to consider the act of popular accession to the new government; because there, if any where, we are to look for something like a legal right, in virtue of which Napoleon might claim obedience. He himself, when pleading his own cause after his fall, repeatedly rests his right to be considered and treated as a legitimate monarch, upon the fact, that he was called to the crown by the voice of the people.[91]

We will not stop to inquire how the registers, in which the votes of the citizens were enrolled, were managed by the functionaries who had the charge of them;—it is only necessary to state in passing, that these returning officers were in general accessible to the influence of government, and that there was no possibility of instituting any scrutiny into the authenticity of the returns. Neither will we repeat, that instead of waiting for the event of the popular vote, he had accepted of the empire from the Senate, and had been proclaimed Emperor accordingly. Waving those circumstances entirely, let it be remembered, that France is usually reckoned to contain upwards of thirty millions of inhabitants, and that three millions five hundred thousand, only gave their votes. This was not a third part, deducing women and children, of those who had a title to express their opinion, where it was to be held decisive of the greatest change which the state could undergo; and it must be allowed that the authority of so limited a portion of the people is far too small to bind the remainder. We have heard it indeed argued, that the question having been formally put to the nation at large, every one was under an obligation to make a specific reply; and they who did not vote, must be held to have acquiesced in the opinion expressed by the majority of such as did. This argument, being directly contrary to the presumption of law in all similar cases, is not more valid than the defence of the soldier, who, accused of having stolen a necklace from an image of the Virgin, replied to the charge, that he had first asked the Madonna's permission, and, receiving no answer, had taken silence for consent.

In another point of view, it must be remembered that this vote, by which Napoleon claimed the absolute and irredeemable cession of the liberties of France in his favour, was not a jot more solemn than those by which the people had previously sanctioned the Constitutional Monarchy of 1791, the Republic of 1792, the Directory of 1795, and the Consular Government of 1799. Now, either the vote upon all those occasions was binding and permanent, or it was capable of being denied and recalled at the pleasure of the people. If the former was the case, then the people had no right, in 1804, to resume the votes they had given, and the oaths they had sworn, to the first form of government in 1791. The others which they sanctioned in its stead, were in consequence, mere usurpations, and that now attempted the most flagrant of all; since three constitutions, each resting on the popular consent, were demolished, and three sets of oaths broken and discarded, to make room for the present model. Again, if the people, in swearing to one constitution, retained inalienably the right of substituting another whenever they thought proper, the imperial constitution remained at their mercy as much as those that preceded it; and then on what could Buonaparte rest the inviolability of his authority, guarded with such jealous precaution, and designed to descend to his successors, without any future appeal to the people? The dynasty which he supposed himself to have planted, was in that case not the oak-tree which he conceived it, but, held during the good pleasure of a fickle people, rather resembled the thistle, whose unsubstantial crest rests upon the stalk only so long as the wind shall not disturb it.

But we leave these considerations; nor do we stop to inquire how many, amid the three millions and upwards of voters, gave an unwilling signature, which they would have refused if they had dared, nor how many more attached no greater consequence to the act than to a piece of formal complaisance, which every government expected in its turn, and which bound the subject no longer than the ruler had means to enforce his obedience. Another and more formidable objection remains behind, which pervaded the whole pretended surrender by the French nation of their liberties, and rendered it void, null, and without force or effect whatever. It was, from the commencement, what jurists call a pactum in illicito:—the people gave that which they had no right to surrender, and Buonaparte accepted that which he had no title to take at their hands. In most instances of despotic usurpation—we need only look at the case of CÆsar—the popular party have been made the means of working out their own servitude; the government being usurped by some demagogue who acted in their name, and had the art to make their own hands the framers of their own chains. But though such consent on the part of the people, elicited from an excess of partial confidence or of gratitude, may have rendered such encroachments on the freedom of the state more easy, it did not and could not render it in any case more legal. The rights of a free people are theirs to enjoy, but not theirs to alienate or surrender. The people are in this respect like minors, to whom law assures their property, but invests them with no title to give it away or consume it; the national privileges are an estate entailed from generation to generation, and they can neither be the subject of gift, exchange, nor surrender, by those who enjoy the usufruct or temporary possession of them. No man is lord even of his person, to the effect of surrendering his life or limbs to the mercy of another; the contract of the Merchant of Venice would now be held null from the beginning in any court of justice in Europe. But far more should the report of 1804, upon Buonaparte's election, be esteemed totally void, since it involved the cession on the part of the French people of that which ought to have been far more dear to them, and held more inalienable, than "the pound of flesh nearest the heart,"[92] or the very heart itself.

As the people of France had no right to resign their own liberties, and that of their posterity, for ever, so Buonaparte could not legally avail himself of their prodigal and imprudent cession. If a blind man give a piece of gold by mistake instead of a piece of silver, he who receives it acquires no legal title to the surplus value. If an ignorant man enter unwittingly into an illegal compact, his signature, though voluntary, is not binding upon him. It is true, that Buonaparte had rendered the highest services to France by his Italian campaigns in the first instance, and afterwards by that wonderful train of success which followed his return from Egypt. Still the services yielded by a subject to his native land, like the duty paid by a child to a parent, cannot render him creditor of the country, beyond the amount which she has legal means of discharging. If France had received the highest benefits from Buonaparte, she had in return raised him as high as any subject could be advanced, and had, indeed, in her reckless prodigality of gratitude, given, or suffered him to assume, the very despotic authority, which this compact of which we treat was to consolidate and sanction under its real name of Empire. Here, therefore, we close the argument; concluding the pretended vote of the French people to be totally null, both as regarding the subjects who yielded their privileges, and the emperor who accepted of their surrender. The former could not give away rights which it was not lawful to resign, the latter could not accept an authority which it was unlawful to exercise.

An apology, or rather a palliation of Buonaparte's usurpation, has been set up by himself and his more ardent admirers, and we are desirous of giving to it all the weight which it shall be found to deserve. They have said, and with great reason, that Buonaparte, viewed in his general conduct, was no selfish usurper, and that the mode in which he acquired his power was gilded over by the use which he made of it. This is true; for we will not under-rate the merits which Napoleon thus acquired, by observing that shrewd politicians have been of opinion, that sovereigns who have only a questionable right to their authority, are compelled, were it but for their own sakes, to govern in such a manner as to make the country feel its advantage in submitting to their government. We grant willingly, that in much of his internal administration Buonaparte showed that he desired to have no advantage separate from that of France; that he conceived her interests to be connected with his own glory; that he expended his wealth in ornamenting the empire, and not upon objects more immediately personal to himself. We have no doubt that he had more pleasure in seeing treasures of art added to the Museum, than in hanging them on the walls of his own palace; and that he spoke truly, when asserting that he grudged Josephine the expensive plants with which she decorated her residence at Malmaison, because her taste interfered with the prosperity of the public botanical garden of Paris.[93] We allow, therefore, that Buonaparte fully identified himself with the country which he had rendered his patrimony; and that while it should be called by his name, he was desirous of investing it with as much external splendour, and as much internal prosperity as his gigantic schemes were able to compass. No doubt it may be said, so completely was the country identified with its ruler, that as France had nothing but what belonged to its Emperor, he was in fact improving his own estate when he advanced her public works, and could no more be said to lose sight of his own interest, than a private gentleman does, who neglects his garden to ornament his park. But it is not fair to press the motives of human nature to their last retreat, in which something like a taint of self-interest may so often be discovered. It is enough to reply, that the selfishness which embraces the interests of a whole kingdom, is of a kind so liberal, so extended, and so refined, as to be closely allied to patriotism; and that the good intentions of Buonaparte towards that France, over which he ruled with despotic sway, can be no more doubted, than the affections of an arbitrary father whose object it is to make his son prosperous and happy, to which he annexes as the only condition, that he shall be implicitly obedient to every tittle of his will. The misfortune is, however, that arbitrary power is in itself a faculty, which, whether exercised over a kingdom, or in the bosom of a family, is apt to be used with caprice rather than judgment, and becomes a snare to those who possess it, as well as a burden to those over whom it extends. A father, for example, seeks the happiness of his son, while he endeavours to assure his fortunes, by compelling him to enter into a mercenary and reluctant marriage; and Buonaparte conceived himself to be benefiting as well as aggrandizing France, when, preferring the splendour of conquest to the blessings of peace, he led the flower of her young men to perish in foreign fields, and finally was the means of her being delivered up, drained of her population,[94] to the mercy of the foreign invaders, whose resentment his ambition had provoked.

Such are the considerations which naturally arise out of Napoleon's final and avowed assumption of the absolute power, which he had in reality possessed and exercised ever since he had been created First Consul for life. It was soon after made manifest, that France, enlarged and increased in strength as she had been under his auspices, was yet too narrow a sphere for his domination. Italy afforded the first illustration of his grasping ambition.[95]

The northern states of Italy had followed the example of France through all her change of models. They had become republican in a directorial form, when Napoleon's sword conquered them from the Austrians; had changed to an establishment similar to the consular, when that was instituted in Paris by the 18th Brumaire; and were now destined to receive, as a king, him who had lately accepted and exercised with regal authority the office of their president.

The authorities of the Italian (late Cisalpine) republic had a prescient guess of what was expected of them. A deputation[96] appeared at Paris, to declare the absolute necessity which they felt, that their government should assume a monarchical and hereditary form. On the 17th March, 1805, they obtained an audience of the Emperor, to whom they intimated the unanimous desire of their countrymen, that Napoleon, founder of the Italian Republic, should be monarch of the Italian Kingdom. He was to have power to name his successor, such being always a native of France or Italy. With an affectation of jealous independence, however, the authors of this "humble petition and advice" stipulated, that the crowns of France and Italy should never, save in the present instance, be placed on the head of the same monarch. Napoleon might, during his life, devolve the sovereignty of Italy on one of his descendants, either natural or adopted; but it was anxiously stipulated, that such delegation should not be made during the period while France continued to occupy the Neapolitan territories, the Russians Corfu, and the British Malta.[97]

Buonaparte granted the petition of the Italian states, and listened with indulgence to their jealous scruples. He agreed with them, that the separation of the crowns of France and Italy, which might be useful to their descendants, would be in the highest degree dangerous to themselves; and therefore he consented to bear the additional burden which their love and confidence imposed, at least until the interest of his Italian subjects should permit him to place the crown on a younger head, who, animated by his spirit, should, he engaged, "be ever ready to sacrifice his life for the people over whom he should be called to reign, by Providence, by the constitution of the country, and by the will of Napoleon."[98] In announcing this new acquisition to the French Senate, Buonaparte made use of an expression so singularly audacious, that to utter it required almost as much courage as to scheme one of his most daring campaigns. "The power and majesty of the French empire," he said, "are surpassed by the moderation which presides over her political transactions."

Upon the 11th April, Napoleon, with his Empress, set off to go through the form of coronation, as King of Italy.[99] The ceremony almost exactly resembled that by which he had been inaugurated Emperor. The ministry of the Pope, however, was not employed on this second occasion, although, as Pius VII. was then on his return to Rome, he could scarcely have declined officiating, if he had been requested by Buonaparte to take Milan in his route for that purpose. Perhaps it was thought too harsh to exact from the Pontiff the consecration of a King of Italy, whose very title implied a possibility that his dominion might be one day extended, so as to include the patrimony of Saint Peter. Perhaps, and we rather believe it was the case, some cause of dissatisfaction had already occurred betwixt Napoleon and Pius VII. However this may be, the ministry of the Archbishop of Milan was held sufficient for the occasion, and it was he who blessed the celebrated iron crown, said to have girded the brows of the ancient Kings of the Lombards. Buonaparte, as in the ceremony at Paris, placed the ancient emblem on his head with his own hands, assuming and repeating aloud the haughty motto attached to it by its ancient owners, Dieu me l'a donnÉ; Gare qui la touche. "God has given it me: Let him beware who touches it."[100]

The new kingdom was, in all respects, modelled on the same plan with the French empire. An order, called "of the Iron Crown," was established on the footing of that of the Legion of Honour. A large French force was taken into Italian pay, and Eugene Beauharnois,[101] the son of Josephine by her former marriage, who enjoyed and merited the confidence of his father-in-law, was created viceroy, and appointed to represent, in that character, the dignity of Napoleon.[102]

Napoleon did not leave Italy without further extension of his empire. Genoa, once the proud and the powerful, resigned her independence, and her Doge presented to the Emperor a request that the Ligurian republic, laying down her separate rights, should be considered in future as a part of the French nation. It was but lately that Buonaparte had declared to the listening Senate, that the boundaries of France were permanently fixed, and should not be extended for the comprehension of future conquests. It is farther true, that, by a solemn alliance with France, Genoa had placed her arsenals and harbours at the disposal of the French government; engaged to supply her powerful ally with six thousand sailors, and ten sail of the line, to be equipped at her own expense; and that her independence, or such a nominal share of that inestimable privilege as was consistent with her connexion with this formidable power, had been guaranteed by France. But neither the charge of inconsistency with his own public declarations, nor consideration of the solemn treaty acknowledging the Ligurian republic, prevented Napoleon from availing himself of the pretext afforded by the petition of the Doge. It was convenient to indulge the city and government of Genoa in their wish to become an integral part of the Great Nation.[103] Buonaparte was well aware, that, by recognising them as a department of France, he was augmenting the jealousy of Russia and Austria, who had already assumed a threatening front towards him; but, as he visited the splendid city of the Dorias, and saw its streets of marble palaces, ascending from and surrounding its noble harbours, he was heard to exclaim, that such a possession was well worth the risks of war.[104] The success of one mighty plan only induced him to form another; and while he was conscious that he was the general object of jealousy and suspicion to Europe, Napoleon could not refrain from encroachments, which necessarily increased and perpetuated such hostile sentiments towards him.[105]