exerted on democratic institutions. The age of Alcibiades, the doom of
the Roman Republic, and many other examples might be cited to show
that free institutions can with difficulty survive the strain of a
vast military organization or the insidious results of an exacting
diplomacy. But never has the gulf between democracy and personal rule
been so quickly spanned as by the commanding genius of Bonaparte.

The events which disgusted both England and France with war have been
described above. Each antagonist had parried the attacks of the other.
The blow which Bonaparte had aimed at Britain's commerce by his
eastern expedition had been foiled; and a considerable French force
was shut up in Egypt. His plan of relieving his starving garrison in
Malta, by concluding a maritime truce, had been seen through by us;
and after a blockade of two years, Valetta fell (September, 1800). But
while Great Britain regained more than all her old power in the
Mediterranean, she failed to make any impression on the land-power of
France. The First Consul in the year 1801 compelled Naples and
Portugal to give up the English alliance and to exclude our vessels
and goods. In the north the results of the war had been in favour of
the islanders. The Union Jack again waved triumphant on the Baltic,
and all attempts of the French to rouse and support an Irish revolt
had signally failed. Yet the French preparations for an invasion of
England strained the resources of our exchequer and the patience of
our people. The weary struggle was evidently about to close in a
stalemate.

For political and financial reasons the two Powers needed repose.
Bonaparte's authority was not as yet so firmly founded that he could
afford to neglect the silent longings of France for peace; his
institutions had not as yet taken root; and he needed money for public