Retirement of the army of Vilette behind the Loire—Occupation of the
French capital by the allies—Thoughts on the disposition of the
Bourbon government toward Great Britain—Conduct of the allies after
their possession of Paris—Infringements of the treaty—Removal of the
works of art from the Louvre—Reflections on the injurious result of
that measure to the British student—_Liberal_ motive operating on the
English administration of that period—Little interludes got up between
the French king and the allies—Louis the Eighteenth’s magnanimous
letters—Threatened destruction of the _Pont de Jena_ by Marshal
Blucher—Heroic resolution of His Most Christian Majesty to perish in
the explosion.
The rapid succession of these extraordinary events bore to me the
character of some optical delusion, and my mind was settling into a
train of reflections on the past and conjectures as to the future, when
Fouché surrendered Paris, and gave up France to the discretion of its
enemies; at least, on a capitulation, the _terms_ of which were too
indefinite to protect the _spirit_ of it. In a few hours after I saw
that enthusiastic, nay that half-frantic army of Vilette (in the midst
of which I had an opportunity of witnessing a devotion to its chief
which no defeat could diminish) on the point of total annihilation. I
saw the troops, sad and crestfallen, marching out of Paris to
consummate, behind the Loire, the fall of France as a warlike kingdom.
With arms still in their hands, with a great park of artillery, and
commanded by able generals, yet were they constrained to turn their
backs on their metropolis, abandoning it to the “tender mercies” of the
Russian Cossacks, whom they had so often conquered.
I saw likewise Fouché, Duke of Otranto (who had with impunity betrayed
his patron and his master) betraying, in their turn, his own tools and
instruments—signing lists of _proscription_ for the death or exile of
those whose ill fortune or worse principle had rendered his _dupes_; and
thus confirming, in my mind, the scepticism as to all public men and
measures which had long been growing on me. With all the faults of
Napoleon, he never could have merited the superlative ingratitude of
those whom he had raised from _nothing_, and fostered in his bosom, to
destroy himself.
The only political point I fancy at present that I can see any certainty
in is, that the French nation is not _mad_ enough to engage lightly in a
fresh war with England. The highest-flown ultras, even the Jesuits
themselves, cannot forget that to the inexhaustible perseverance of the
United Kingdom is attributable the present political condition of
Europe.—The _people_ of France may not, it is true, owe us much
gratitude as to their magnificence or power; but, considering that we
transmitted both his present and his late majesty safely from exile here
to their exalted station among the potentates of Europe, I do hope, for
the honour of our common nature, that the _government_ of that country
would not willingly turn the weapons which _we_ put into their hands
against ourselves. If they should, however, it is not too much to add,
bearing in mind what we have successfully coped with, that their
hostility would be as ineffectual as ungrateful. And here I cannot
abstain from briefly congratulating my fellow-countrymen on the manly
and encouraging exposition of our national power recently put forth by
Mr. Canning in the House of Commons. It has been felt by every cabinet
in Europe—even to its core. The Holy Alliance has dwindled into
insignificance; and Great Britain, under an energetic and liberal-minded
administration, re-assumes that influence to which she is justly
entitled, as in the first order of European empires.[50]
-----
Footnote 50:
Since the first edition of this work, most unexpected events have
taken place in the state of England and her relative situation with
the continent. The admirable policy of Canning has opened the eyes of
Europe, and supplanted the despotism of the Holy Alliance by
principles of a liberal and enlightened nature. The first practical
effect of this has been seen in Greece. The battle of Navarino has
done more toward exciting cordiality between the French and English
people than any person can suppose, who has not witnessed its
extraordinary effects in France, both on the people and the
government.
-----
To return:—The conduct of the allies after their occupation of Paris was
undoubtedly strange, to say the least of it; and nothing could be more
inconsistent than that of the populace on the return of King Louis. That
Paris was betrayed is certain; and that the article of capitulation
which provided that “wherever doubts existed, the construction should be
in _favour_ of the Parisians,” was not adhered to, is equally so. It was
never in contemplation, for instance, that the capital was to be rifled
of the monuments of art and antiquity, whereof she had become possessed
by right of conquest. If such a _right_ exists, it should be respected:
if it does not exist, there have not been a more illegal body of
depredators in the universe than ourselves. A reclamation of the great
mortar in St. James’s Park, or of the throne of the king of Ceylon,
would have just as much appearance of fairness as that of _Apollo_ by
the Pope, and _Venus_ by the Grand Duke of Tuscany. What preposterous
affectation of justice was there in employing British engineers to take
down the brazen horses of Alexander the Great, in order that they may be
re-erected in St. Mark’s Place at Venice,—a city to which the Austrian
emperor has no more equitable a claim than we have to Vienna! I always
was, and still remain to be, decidedly of opinion that, by giving our
aid in emptying the Louvre, we authorised not only an act of unfairness
to the French, but of impolicy as concerned ourselves;—since by so
doing, we have removed beyond the reach of the great majority of British
artists and students the finest specimens and models of sculpture and of
painting this world has produced. Besides, to send a _heathen god_ to
the _pope_ might certainly have been dispensed with.
When this step was first determined on the Prussians began with
moderation; they rather _smuggled_ away than openly stole, fourteen
paintings only; but no sooner was this rifling purpose generally made
known, than the legate of his _holiness_ the pope was all anxiety to
have his master’s _gods_ again locked up in the dusty store-rooms of the
Vatican! The Parisians now took fire. They remonstrated, and protested
against this infringement of the treaty; and a portion of the national
guards stoutly declared that they would _defend the gallery_! But the
king loved the pope’s toe better than all the works of art ever
achieved; and the German autocrat being also a devoted friend of St.
Peter’s (while at the same time he lusted after the “brazen images”),
the assenting fiat was given, and the plundering proceeded with the
utmost voracity. Wishing, however, to throw the stigma from the
shoulders of Catholic monarchs upon those of Protestant soldiers, these
wily allies determined that, although England was not to share the
spoil, she should bear the trouble and discredit; and therefore the
national guards in the Louvre were threatened with a regiment of
Scotchmen—which threat produced the desired effect.
Now it may be said, that the “right of conquest” is as strong on one
side as on the other, and justifies the reclamation as fully as it did
the original capture of these _chef-d’œuvres_:—to which plausible
argument I oppose two words—_the treaty!—the treaty!_ Besides, if the
right of conquest is to decide, then I fearlessly advance the claim of
Great Britain, who was the principal agent in winning the prize at
Waterloo, and had therefore surely a right to wear at least some portion
of it; but who nevertheless stood by and _sanctioned_ the injustice,
although she affected to have too high a _moral sense_ to participate in
it. What will my fellow-countrymen say, when they hear that the
_liberal_ motive which served to counterbalance, in the minds of the
British ministry of that day, the solid advantages resulting from the
retention of the works of art at Paris, was, a jealousy of suffering the
French capital to remain “the Athens of Europe?”[51]
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Footnote 51:
These words were used to me by Mr. Secretary Cook, at the moment, in
Paris. But the truth was, our generals and diplomatists then on the
spot knew but little and cared less about the fine arts or belles
lettres.
-----
The farce played off between the French king and the allies was
considered supremely ridiculous. The Cossacks bivouacked in the square
of the Carousel before his majesty’s windows; and soldiers dried their
shirts and trowsers on the iron railings of the palace. This was a
nuisance; and for the purpose of abating it, three pieces of ordnance
duly loaded, with a gunner and ready-lighted match, were stationed day
and night upon the quay, and pointed directly at _his majesty’s
drawing-room_; so that one salvo would have despatched the Most
Christian King and all his august family to the _genuine_ Champs
Elysées. This was carrying the jest rather too far, and every rational
man in Paris was shaking his sides at so shallow a manœuvre, when a new
object of derision appeared in shape of a letter purporting to be
written by King Louis the XVIIIth, expressing his wish that he was young
and active enough (who could doubt his wish to grow young again?) to put
himself at the head of his own army, attack his puissant allies, and cut
them all to pieces for their duplicity to his loving and beloved
subjects.
A copy of this alleged letter was given me by a colonel of the national
guards, who said that it was _circulated_ by the _highest_ authority. I
still retain it.
“_Lettre du Roi au Prince Talleyrand._
“Du 22 Juillet, 1815.
“La conduite des armées alliées réduira bientôt mon
peuple à s’armer contre elles, comme on a fait en Espagne.
“Plus jeune, je me mettrais à sa tête:—mais, si l’âge et mes
infirmités m’en empêchent, je ne veux pas, au moins, paroître
conniver à des mesures dont je gémis! je suis résolu, si je ne
puis les adoucir, à demander asile au roi d’Espagne.
“Que ceux qui, même après la capture de l’homme à qui ils ont
déclaré la guerre, continuent à traiter mon peuple en ennemi, et
doivent par conséquent me regarder comme tel, attentent s’ils le
veulent à ma liberté! ils en sont les maîtres! j’aime mieux
vivre dans ma prison que de rester ici, témoin passif des pleurs
de mes enfans.”
But,—to close the scene of his majesty’s gallantry, and anxiety to
preserve the capitulation entire. After he had permitted the plunder of
the Louvre, a report was circulated that Blucher had determined to send
all considerations of the treaty to the d—, and with his soldiers to
blow up the _Pont de Jena_, as the existence of a bridge so named was an
_insult_ to the victorious Prussians! This was, it must be admitted,
sufficiently in character with Blucher: but some people were so
fastidious as to assert that it was in fact only a clap-trap on behalf
of his Most Christian Majesty; and true it was, that next day copies of
a very dignified and gallant letter from Louis XVIII. were circulated
extensively throughout Paris. The purport of this royal epistle was not
_remonstrance_: that would have been merely considered as matter of
course: it demanded, that Marshal Blucher should inform his majesty of
the precise moment the bridge was to be so blown up, as his majesty
(having no power of resistance) was determined to go in person—stand
upon the bridge at the time of the explosion, and mount into the air
amidst the stones and mortar of this beautiful piece of architecture! No
doubt it would have been a sublime termination of so _sine cura_ a
reign; and would have done more to immortalise the Bourbon dynasty than
any thing they seem at present likely to accomplish!
However, Blucher frustrated that gallant achievement, as he did many
others; and declared in reply, that he would not singe a hair of his
majesty’s head for the pleasure of blowing up a hundred bridges![52]
-----
Footnote 52:
Nothing could be more hostile than the feelings of the French were, at
that period, to the allies;—the Prussians they hated inveterately; the
English next in proportion. Their detestation of the _Prussians_
remains still in full vigour, and, indeed, daily increases: their
animosity to the _English_ is extinguished. The French clearly see
that both interest and pleasure are the result of a friendly
intercourse with us, and I think it is cementing fast, and ought to be
cultivated by the respective governments. They are a fine people.
England and France never should be enemies: there is world enough for
both: united, they might command Europe as far as Smolensko; that is
the “Rubicon Russe.” The liberal policy of Mr. Canning’s government
made an incredible and most rapid impression on the French nation: the
old and _savage_ principle that England and France were natural
enemies is totally at an end: they may be occasionally _political_,
but not _natural_ adversaries.
I have never seen popular gratification more strong or more general
than that of the French on hearing of the battle of Navarino; nor have
I ever yet seen a feeling of generous liberality and growing
friendship more pure and unequivocal than was evinced by the French
military and people at the cordiality with which their fleets and ours
mingled in battle. Their having been led to victory by an
_Englishman_, so far from creating _jealousy_, delighted them.
-----