The establishment of the Empire, as has been seen, provoked few signs of opposition from the French armies, once renowned for their Jacobinism; and by one or two instances of well-timed clemency, the Emperor gained over even staunch republicans.  Notably was this the case with a brave and stalwart colonel, who, enraged at the first volley of cheers for the Empire, boldly ordered “Silence in the ranks.”  At once Napoleon made him general and appointed him one of his aides-de-camp; and this brave officer, Mouton by name, was later to gain glory and the title of Comte de Lobau in the Wagram campaign.  These were the results of a timely act of generosity, such as touches the hearts of any soldiery and leads them to shed their blood like water.  And so when Napoleon, after the coronation, distributed to the garrison of Paris their standards, topped now by the imperial eagles, the great Champ de Mars was a scene of wild enthusiasm.  The thunderous shouts that acclaimed the prowess of the new Frankish leader were as warlike as those which ever greeted the hoisting of a Carolingian King on the shields of his lieges.  Distant nations heard the threatening din and hastened to muster their forces for the fray.

As yet only England was at war with the Emperor.  Against her Napoleon now prepared to embattle the might of his vast Empire.  The preparations on the northern coast were now wellnigh complete, and there was only one question to be solved—­how to “leap the ditch.”  It seems strange to us now that no attempt was made to utilize the great motive force of the nineteenth century—­steam power.  And the French memoir-writers, Marmont, Bourrienne, Pasquier, and Bausset, have expressed their surprise that so able a chief as Napoleon should have neglected this potent ally.

Their criticisms seem to be prompted by later reflections rather than based on an accurate statement of facts.  In truth, the nineteenth-century Hercules was still in his cradle.  Henry Bell had in 1800 experimented with a steamer on the Clyde; but it aroused the same trembling curiosity as Trevithick’s first locomotive, or as Fulton’s first paddle-boat built on the Seine in 1803.  In fact, this boat of the great American inventor was so weak that, when at anchor, it broke in half during a gale, thus ridding itself of the weight of its cumbrous engine.  With his usual energy, Fulton built a larger and stronger craft, which not only carried the machinery, but, in August, 1803, astonished the members of the French Institute by moving, though with much circumspection.

Fulton, however, was disappointed, and if we may judge from the scanty records of his life, he never offered this invention to Napoleon.[321] He felt the need of better machinery, and as this could only be procured in England, he gave the order to a Birmingham firm, which engined his first successful boat, the “Clermont,” launched on the Hudson in 1807.  But for the war, perhaps, Fulton would have continued to live in Paris and made his third attempt there.  He certainly never offered his imperfect steamship to the First Consul.  Probably the fact that his first boat foundered when at anchor in the Seine would have procured him a rough reception, if he had offered to equip the whole of the Boulogne flotilla with an invention which had sunk its first receptacle and propelled the second boat at a snail’s pace.