gation was in
those days--that is, by the propulsion of fickle winds amid the partly
known currents of ocean and sea--the command of Gibraltar and Malta
meant the control of the Levant, and the British held both places.
With Spain in French hands, Gibraltar eventually might be taken, but
the case of Malta was far different. In the possession of a seafaring
nation like the English the island was impregnable. But was this in
reality the only outlet for the French empire to the East? From France
proper, yes; but from Italy, by the Adriatic, there was an admirable
alternative, if not, indeed, the only true line of trade.

Since the first awakening of his ambition, Napoleon had dreamed of
supremacy in the Mediterranean, and every successive treaty made with
Northern powers had looked to some strengthening of French influence
on that sea. Now at last he had Corfu, and the English, straitened for
troops, were withdrawing the forces which occupied Sicily to send them
into Portugal. The squadrons from Brest, Lorient, and Rochefort were
at once ordered to unite in the Mediterranean. This was the moment to
seize Sicily, and with that island added to Corfu, France would
control the best road into Egypt. But the hostile fate which seemed to
attend all Napoleon's undertakings by sea again checkmated him.
English cruisers were found hovering about Corfu, and the landing in
Sicily was temporarily abandoned in order to sweep the English from
the waters of the Ionian Isles. In the event of success, the invasion
of Turkey, the seizure of Egypt, and the gratification of Alexander
would be easy. More remotely, the deadly blow at England could be
struck in Asia. What a conception! What a debauch of the imagination!

But there was one specter which, though laid for intervals, would not
entirely down, and returned with stolid persistency: the existence of
the Western empire hung on the thread of a single life; the very
crowns of France and Italy had no heir. The situation was much
discussed in court circles, sometimes even among the people, and was
becoming acute. In order to solve the problem peace was essential, and
not a remote, but an immediate one, if possible. The Russian
ambassador, returning from London, had reported on his journey through
France that the English were not so envenomed as they seemed. It was
only a straw, yet it was talked of. At once Napoleon seized it, and
announced that his one aim, his most ardently desired goal,