26th.—The Emperor sent for me and my son, and set us to look over the
Moniteur, for the purpose of comparing and completing the manuscript of
the Campaigns of Italy.
The Emperor, though he had announced his intention of doing so, had not
yet resumed his dictations, and I rejoiced at a circumstance which
promised at length to excite renewed interest.
Our business was to select from the Moniteur all the reports and
official letters, for the purpose of vouchers. The Emperor wished them
to be properly classed, and desired us to make an estimate of their
extent, in order that he might be able to calculate at once the space
they would occupy when printed, reminding me at the same time that these
were henceforth my own affairs; that I should only be serving myself for
the future. Delightful words, to which the tone of his voice, his
familiar air, and his whole expression, imparted even more value than
was conveyed in their meaning!
To-day, during dinner, the Emperor again reviewed the character of his
Generals. He passed an eulogium on several of them, the greater number
of whom are now no more. He bestowed the highest praise on the talents
of General Drouot. Every thing in life is a problem, said he; it is only
by what is known that we can come at what is unknown. He observed that
he knew to a certainty that General Drouot possessed every quality
necessary to make a great General. He had sufficient reasons for
supposing him superior to many of his Marshals. He had no hesitation in
believing him capable of commanding 100,000 men. “And perhaps,” added
he, “he was far from thinking so himself, which, after all, can only be
regarded as an additional good quality.”
He again alluded to the prodigious valour of Murat and Ney, whose
courage, he said, so often outstripped their judgment. Such is the
enigma, said he, of certain actions in certain individuals: the
inequality between disposition and understanding explains all.
The conversation turned on the battle of Hohenlinden. The Emperor
remarked that “it was one of those great triumphs that are brought about
by chance, and obtained without plan. Moreau, he repeated, was destitute
of invention; he was not sufficiently decided; and, therefore, he was
most fit to be employed on the defensive. Hohenlinden was a confused
sort of affair; the enemy had been unexpectedly attacked amidst his own
operations, and was conquered by troops whom he had already broken and
nearly destroyed. The merit rested chiefly with the troops and generals
of the partial corps, who had been most exposed to danger, and who had
fought like heroes.”
When speaking of the campaigns of Italy, we observed to the Emperor that
the rapid succession of his daily victories, which filled the mouth of
fame, must have been a source of great delight to him.—"By no means,"
replied he. “At least they were supposed to have been so by those who
were at a distance from the scene of conflict.”—"That may be; those who
were at a distance knew only our success; they knew nothing of our
situation. If those victories could have procured me pleasure, I should
have enjoyed repose. But I had always the aspect of danger before me,
and the victory of to-day was speedily forgotten through the obligation
of gaining another to-morrow."
I recollect having heard a distinguished General (Lamarque) deliver a
very characteristic opinion of Moreau. Lamarque had been much attached
to Moreau, and had for a long time served under him. He was endeavouring
to make me understand the different tactics of Moreau and Napoleon. He
said:—"Had their two armies been in presence, and there had been
sufficient time to move, I would have entered the ranks of Moreau, which
were sure to be managed with the utmost regularity, precision, and
calculation. On these points, it was impossible to excel, or even to
equal, Moreau. But if the two armies had to approach from points a
hundred leagues distant from each other, the Emperor would have routed
his adversary three, four, or five times over, before the latter could
have had time to look about him."
ANNOYANCE FROM RATS.—LORD CASTLEREAGH’S IMPOSTURES.—FRENCH
HEIRESSES.
Thursday, 27th.—We had nearly gone without our breakfast: an incursion
of the rats, which had entered our kitchen from several points, during
the night, had deprived us of every thing eatable. We are much infested
with these vermin; they are of enormous size, and very daring and
mischievous; it took them very little time to penetrate our walls and
floors. Attracted by the smell of the victuals, they even made their way
into our drawing-room whilst we were at dinner. We were several times
obliged to give them battle after the dessert; and one evening, when the
Emperor wished to retire, and his hat was handed to him, a rat of the
largest size jumped out of it. Our grooms had tried to rear some
poultry, but they were compelled to abandon the attempt, because the
rats devoured all the fowls. They would even seize them in the night on
their perches.
The Emperor was this day translating some review or journal, in which it
was mentioned that Lord Castlereagh had asserted at a public meeting
that Napoleon, even since his fall, had not hesitated to declare that,
so long as he should have reigned, he would have continued to make war
against England, having never had any object but that of her
destruction.
The Emperor could not help feeling provoked by these words. “Lord
Castlereagh,” said he, with indignation, “must be much accustomed to
lying, and must place great dependence on the credulity of his auditors.
Can their own good sense allow them to believe that I could ever make
such a foolish speech, even if I had had such intentions!”
It was afterwards stated that Lord Castlereagh had said, in parliament,
that the reason why the French army was so much attached to Bonaparte
was that he made a kind of conscription of all the heiresses of the
empire, and then distributed them amongst his generals. “Here again,”
observed the Emperor, “Lord Castlereagh tells a wilful falsehood. He
came amongst us; he had an opportunity of seeing our manners and laws,
and of knowing the truth; he must be certain that such a thing was quite
impracticable and out of my power. What does he take our nation for? The
French were never capable of submitting to such tyranny. I have, no
doubt, made a great number of matches; and I would gladly have made
thousands more; it was one of the most effectual methods of amalgamating
and uniting irreconcileable factions. If I had had more time to myself,
I would have taken great pains to extend these unions to the provinces,
and even to the Confederation of the Rhine, in order to strengthen the
connection of those distant portions of the empire with France; but in
such proceedings, I exerted only my influence, and never my authority.
Lord Castlereagh disregards such distinctions; it is important to his
policy to render me odious; he is not scrupulous about the means; he
does not shrink from any calumny; he has every advantage over me. I am
in chains; he has taken all possible precautions for keeping my mouth
shut, and preventing the possibility of my making any reply, and I am a
thousand leagues from the scene of action; his position is commanding;
nothing stands in his way. But certainly this conduct is the _ne plus
ultra_ of impudence, baseness, and cowardice.”
I shall now introduce an instance which may serve to prove the truth of
the foregoing assertion of Napoleon with respect to French heiresses. I
had the account from the lips of the person chiefly interested.
M. d’Aligre had a daughter who was heiress to immense property: the
Emperor conceived the idea of marrying her to M. de Caulaincourt, Duke
of Vicenza, for whom he had such a particular regard that he was looked
upon as a kind of favourite. His personal qualities, not less than his
high official employment, rendered him one of the first personages in
the empire. The Emperor, therefore, never imagined that there could be
the slightest impediment to this union. He sent for M. d’Aligre, who
often came to Court, and made his request; but M. d’Aligre had other
views, and declined the alliance. Napoleon urged it in every possible
way, but M. d’Aligre remained immoveable. From his manner of relating
the affair to me, it was evident that he thought he had shewn great
courage, and, in fact, he deserved the credit of having done so, for he
imagined, like all of us, that it was very dangerous to thwart the
Emperor’s inclinations. We were, however, all mistaken; we did not know
Napoleon. I am now convinced that the justice due to individuals, and to
family rights in particular, are sacred to him; and I never heard that
M. d’Aligre suffered any inconvenience whatever through his refusal.
After dinner, the Emperor tried some of Pigault Le Brun’s romances and
others of the same kind, but in vain: after turning over a few pages of
each, he rejected them all, saying that they were all in very bad taste.
THE GOVERNOR’S STATEMENTS RESPECTING THE
EXPENSES AT LONGWOOD, &C.
Friday, 28th.—Towards one o’clock, the Emperor sent for me and my son.
We carried him the first chapter of the Campaigns of Italy, with our
last work completing it. He detained us until almost six o’clock.
The Governor had paid a visit to the Grand Marshal, and in a vague
manner given him reason to expect some reductions at Longwood. He had
stated, with some simplicity, that it had been expected at London that
the permission which had been offered us to return to Europe would have
greatly diminished the Emperor’s domestic circle. He had also said,
without being well understood by the Grand Marshal, that, if we had any
private property, we might avail ourselves of our own money, by drawing
upon our own funds, as I had already done. His government, he said, had
never intended to allow the Emperor more than a table for four persons
daily at most, and company to dine once a-week. What a statement! Is it
possible that he meant to insinuate that, with respect to us, we ought
to pay for our maintenance, and contribute, for the future, to the
expenses of the establishment? Let it not be thought incredible: we
daily learn here to believe that there is nothing impossible.
The Emperor, afterwards, reverting to a book which he had been reading,
and in which there was a story of an Irish lady, respecting whom
Goldsmith had abused him violently, recollected well, he said, that,
being at Bayonne at the chateau de Marrach, when the city of Bourdeaux
gave him a _fête_, he saw, by the side of the Empress Josephine, a
charming face of the most perfect beauty, with which he was forcibly
struck. The impression she had made did not pass unperceived. It had
been anticipated and brought about designedly. “God knows,” said the
Emperor, “with what intention. She was a Miss ——, afterwards Madame ——,
a new reader to the Empress Josephine, whom she attended to the chateau
de Marrach, and might very possibly have had great success. She already
occupied my thoughts, when M. de Lavalette, who was at the head of the
secret department of the post-office, destroyed the charm. He sent,
direct to me, a letter addressed to this young lady. It was from her
mother, or her aunt, an Irishwoman, and contained minute directions for
the part she was to play, and particularly urged her by all means to
contrive to secure such a living pledge as might prolong her empire, or
at least secure her great influence. On reading this,” said the Emperor,
“all illusion vanished. The coarseness of the intrigue, the turpitude of
the details, the style, the hand which had written the letter; but,
above all, her being a foreigner, produced immediate disgust; and the
pretty little Irish girl was, in fact, as Goldsmith says, put into a
post-chaise and suddenly packed off to Paris. And here I find,”
continued Napoleon, “a libel imputing this to me as a crime, when, in
fact, it was much rather a virtue in me; an act of continence, of which
I might, perhaps, boast with much more reason than the famous Scipio.
But this is the way in which history is written.”
After dinner, when we were debating what we should read, the Emperor
said that, since we confessed we had not wit enough to relate each his
tale or story, we ought at least to be condemned to choose, by turns,
our evening’s reading; and he began by naming for his part, the poem _De
la Pitié_, by the Abbé Delille. He thought the verses good, the language
pure, the ideas pleasing; nevertheless, he observed, it was destitute of
imagination or warmth. It was, undoubtedly, superior in versification to
Voltaire; but still far beneath our other great masters.
Saturday, 29th.—The Emperor breakfasted in the garden, and invited us
all. After breakfast he took an airing in the calash. He was in good
spirits, and rallied us all in our turns. One he complimented on the
beauty and elegance of his apartments, another on the sums which the
Governor had paid for him, and which would soon be increased by a
handsome stock of child-bed linen; me he congratulated on the taste
which the Governor seemed to have for my bills of exchange, which had
induced his Excellency to wish the rest to draw bills likewise. He
laughed, and was highly amused with our remarks on each other. The
weather suddenly changed and obliged him to return home.
After dinner, the Emperor read some passages of Milton, translated by
the Abbé Delille. He thought the versification very inferior to the poem
_De la Pitié_; and, in fact, it was a work prescribed to the author,
written during his emigration, whilst at London, and published by
subscription.
During the whole of our morning’s ride, the conversation turned on our
kings and their mistresses: Mesdames de Montespan, de Pompadour,
Dubarry, &c. The principle was warmly discussed, opinions differed, and
were obstinately defended. The Emperor amused himself with fluctuating
alternately from one opinion to another. He concluded, however, by
deciding in favour of morality.
POLITICAL HISTORY OF THE COURT OF LONDON DURING OUR EMIGRATION.—GEORGE
III.—MR. PITT.—THE PRINCE OF WALES.—ANECDOTES.—THE NASSAUS.—REMARKABLE
DIGRESSION OF NAPOLEON TO HIS OWN HISTORY.
Sunday, 30th.—The Emperor desired me to be called early in the morning
to breakfast with him; he was sad, gloomy, and unable to converse; he
could not find words. Chance having produced the mention of London and
of my emigration, the Emperor said, by way of fixing on a subject, and
finding something to occupy his attention, “You must have seen in
London, the Court, the King, the Prince of Wales, Mr. Pitt, Mr. Fox, and
other great personages who figured at that time? Tell me what you know
of them. What did people think of them? Give me an historical
sketch.”—"Sire, your Majesty forgets, or perhaps was never precisely
informed of the situation of an emigrant in London. I doubt whether we
should have been received at Court; the good old George III. was deeply
concerned for our personal misfortunes, but he was extremely reluctant
to avow us in a political sense. And if we could have been received
there, our means would not have enabled us to appear. I did not
therefore go to Court. I have, however, seen most of those whom your
Majesty mentions, and I have also heard much said of them.
"I have seen and heard the King several times in the House of Lords, and
been very near him; the Prince of Wales in the same place, and also in
company in the metropolis. Besides, it is not in London as in France; we
do not find there that immense distance between the Court and the mass
of the nation; the country is so crowded, information so general,
education so equal, affluence so common, and the sphere of activity so
rapid, that the whole nation seems to be in the same place and on the
same plane; whilst, in looking at this assemblage, which might deserve
to be called distinguished, one is tempted to ask, _Where is the
people?_ which is, in fact, the question that Alexander is said to have
asked at the time of his visit to London. It follows then, that having
seen many people of all classes, conditions, and opinions, I must have
imbibed some notions approaching in all probability very near the truth.
Unluckily, I was then little solicitous about observing and collecting
information; and I am likewise fearful that the lapse of so much time
may now confuse my memory.
"George the Third was the honestest man in his dominions; his personal
virtues made him an object of profound veneration; an extreme morality,
and great respect for the laws, were the principal characteristics of
his whole life. He came to the throne at twenty years of age, deeply
enamoured of a charming young Scotch lady, of one of the first families
in the country, it was much feared that he would marry her; but it was
sufficient to remind him that it was contrary to law, and he instantly
consented to marry the person who should be chosen for him. This was a
princess of Mecklenburg. In his grief, he thought her very ordinary, and
in fact she was so; nevertheless George III. remained all his life an
exemplary husband; he was never known to be guilty of the least
infidelity.
"The accession of George III. was an actual political revolution in
England: the days of the Pretenders were over; the house of Hanover was
established; the Whigs, who had placed that family on the throne, were
dismissed from administration: they were troublesome observers, who were
no longer wanted. The government was again seized by the Tories, those
friends of power, who have ever since kept it, to the great detriment of
public liberty.
"The King, however, was personally free from prejudice in this respect:
he sincerely loved the laws, justice, and the welfare and prosperity of
his country. The violent part taken by England against our French
revolution was much less the fault of George III. than of Mr. Pitt, who
was the real firebrand. The latter was instigated by the extreme hatred
to France which he inherited from his father, the great Chatham, and
also by a strong predilection for power and the oligarchy. At the
commencement of our revolution, Mr. Pitt was the man of the people: he
governed England; he drew in the King, who was always to be worked on by
facts; and it must be acknowledged that the excesses and crimes of our
outset afforded very favourable opportunities to the measures and the
eloquence of Mr. Pitt. It is probable, Sire, that if the unfortunate
George III. had retained his reason, your Majesty would eventually have
found it greatly to your advantage, because your reign would have
presented new facts to his observation, to which he would have yielded.
George III. had his own species and degree of character: it was in
harmony with his intellectual conceptions: he wished to know things, to
be convinced. When once his resolution was taken, it was difficult to
make him alter it; yet it was not impossible: his good sense afforded
great opportunities.
"His illness was, on this account, a curse to us, a curse to Europe, and
to the English themselves, who begin now to give up the high opinion
they once professed of Mr. Pitt, of whose fatal errors they now feel the
effects.
"It was the first attack of the King’s illness which established the
reputation and credit of Mr. Pitt. That minister was little more than
twenty-five years of age, when he ventured alone to encounter the mass
of those who deserted the King and considered him lost; and who were
eager to proclaim the monarch’s incapacity, in order to possess
themselves of power under his youthful successor. This conduct rendered
Mr. Pitt the idol of the nation. This was the most glorious period of
his life; and his noblest triumph was, undoubtedly, that of conducting
George III. to St. Paul’s, to return thanks to God for his restoration
to health, amidst an immense concourse of people intoxicated with joy
and satisfaction.
"There was no doubt that Mr. Pitt was on this occasion the saviour of
the King as well as of the public peace; for experience proved that
George III. had not become incapable of reigning again; and it was
strongly suspected that, had the regency been organized, as the
Opposition wished to have it, this capability would not have been very
readily acknowledged at a subsequent period; and thus a civil war might
have been occasioned.
"I have often heard it said that the mental derangement of George III.
was not a common kind of madness: that his alienation did not exactly
arise from a local affection of the brain, but from the repletion of the
vessels leading to it; a derangement produced by a malady which had long
been peculiar to this family. His disorder, it was said, was rather
delirium than insanity. When the cause was removed, the sovereign
instantly recovered all his faculties, in as great perfection as if they
had sustained no interruption; this circumstance explains his numerous
relapses and restorations. As a proof of this, people used to mention
the strength of mind he must have possessed, to be able, immediately on
his first convalescence, to support the pomp of the procession, attended
by the assembled population of London, filling the air with
acclamations.
"After his second relapse, he gave another not less remarkable proof of
this nature, by the calmness and composure which he displayed, when
fired at by an assassin, as he entered his box at the theatre. He was so
little disturbed that he instantly turned to the Queen, who had just
reached the door of the box, to tell her not to be alarmed, for that it
was only a squib which had been let off in the theatre: he remained
during the whole performance apparently unmoved. Here was certainly no
proof of weakness. The permanence of the complaint in his latter years
might indeed be opposed to these facts, if it be certain that he had not
long lucid intervals.
"George III., although so worthy and well-meaning a monarch, was several
times very near falling a victim to assassins. Several instances of this
kind occur in his history; and I do not believe any of the persons
implicated suffered death, because they all appeared to be insane—all
religious or political fanatics. The last and most famous attempt
occurred, I think, in 1800.[26] The King went to the theatre, as he did
from time to time at that critical period, to keep up his popularity. As
he entered his box, a man in the pit took aim at him with a horse
pistol, and the ball only missed through the King’s bowing at the moment
to salute the public. The dreadful tumult that ensued may easily be
conceived! The man did not attempt to deny his crime; he was precisely
such another as the fanatic at Schoenbrun, who would have sacrificed
your Majesty, and always maintained that he had no other object in view
than peace and the happiness of his country. A jury pronounced this man
insane, and he was condemned to confinement.
Footnote 26:
The author seems not to be aware that this is the very attempt to
which he had just adverted.—_Translator._
"During my excursion to London in 1814, a singular chance procured me a
sight of this very assassin. My mind being still occupied with the
mission which your Majesty had confided to me the preceding year,
concerning the depôts of mendicity and houses of correction, I wished to
see the English establishments of this kind. Whilst I was taking a
minute survey of Newgate, I entered an apartment in which I found a
great number of condemned persons enjoying a certain degree of liberty.
The first on whom my conductor fixed his eyes happened to be Hatfield,
whom he pointed out to me, and whose name I immediately recollected, and
asked if he was the man who had attempted to assassinate George III. It
was the same, he said, and he was undergoing the confinement to which he
had been condemned, as insane, in Newgate. I observed that, at the time,
his insanity had been much doubted and contested by the public, as it
always happens in such cases. I was assured, however, that Hatfield was
indisputably mad, but only by fits; that his madness was, however, so
mild that he was suffered to go about the town, on his word; and that he
was the first to request he might be attended to, when he felt that his
disorder was coming on. My conductor then called him. Having ventured to
ask him some questions, he immediately discovered me to be French by my
accent, and told me he had often fought against my countrymen in
Flanders. (He had served in the light-horse, or dragoons, under the Duke
of York.) He bore their marks, he said, shewing me several scars; and
yet, he added, he was far from hating them, for they were brave, and
were not to blame in that affair; people had insisted on meddling in
their disputes, which concerned themselves only. He began to grow very
warm, which induced my conductor to make me a sign, and to send him
away. We had touched the chord of his derangement, my conductor
observed, and had we continued, he would have become outrageous.
"But I return to George III. The predominant sentiment of that prince
was the love of the public good and the welfare of his country. To these
he always sacrificed every consideration: this alone induced him to
retain Mr. Pitt so long, towards whom he felt a strong repugnance,
because he was very ill-treated by that minister.
"The crisis was of the most vital importance to England; the danger most
imminent; the talents of the Prime Minister of a superior kind. He was,
therefore, necessary. Presuming on the omnipotence of this circumstance
over the King’s mind, Mr. Pitt ruled him tyrannically, and without the
least delicacy; he scarcely allowed him the disposal of the most
trifling place. If there was a vacancy, and the King wished to reward a
private servant of his own, he was always too late; Mr. Pitt had already
disposed of it, and for the good of the state, he would say—for the sake
of parliamentary services. If the King shewed too much dissatisfaction,
Mr. Pitt had one invariable answer constantly ready—he would resign and
give up his place to another. At length a circumstance occurred of the
most delicate kind, as it concerned the King’s conscience, who was very
religious; that is to say, the question of the emancipation of the
Catholics of Ireland, to which he obstinately refused to consent. Mr.
Pitt insisted with equal perseverance; he was pledged to this measure,
he said, and resorted to his usual threat. But the King this time took
him at his word, and, overjoyed at his deliverance, repeated the same
day, to several persons, that he had now got rid of a man who had for
twenty years been kicking at him. And it may not, perhaps, be useless to
observe here, as a remarkable singularity, in contrast to Mr. Pitt’s ill
usage of the King, that George III. has been heard to say that, of all
his ministers, Mr. Fox (so much accused of republicanism, and perhaps
not without foundation) was the person who, when at the head of affairs,
had constantly shewn him the greatest delicacy, deference, respect, and
attention.
"Nevertheless, such was the influence of the public interest over the
King’s mind that, notwithstanding all his aversion, he reinstated Mr.
Pitt a year afterwards. It was thought, at the time, that when Mr. Pitt
retired he had had the address to fix Mr. Addington, a creature of his
own, in the ministry, in order to be able to replace himself there in a
short time without difficulty: but it has since been proved that Mr.
Pitt himself was obliged to have recourse to intrigues to overthrow his
successor and obtain his second administration, which, however, was by
no means worthy of him: it was filled with disasters which he himself
had occasioned. The ball that decided the victory of Austerlitz killed
him in London.
"Time daily undermines the great reputation of Mr. Pitt, not with
respect to his eminent talents, but their fatal employment. England
groans under the calamities with which he overwhelmed her, the most
fatal of which are the school and the doctrines he bequeathed to her. He
introduced the police into England, accustomed the nation to an armed
force, and commenced that system of informations, snares, and
demoralization of every kind so completely perfected by his successors.
“His great system of tactics was constantly to excite our excesses on
the Continent, and then to hold them up as a scarecrow to England,
which immediately granted him all he wanted.” “But what did you all
say to that?” asked the Emperor: “What was the opinion of the
emigrants?”—"Sire," I replied, “we all constantly saw through the same
glass; what we said the first day of our emigration we still repeated
on the last day of our exile. We had not advanced one step; we had
become and remained a people by ourselves. Mr. Pitt was our oracle;
whatever was said by him, by Burke, Windham, or any of the most
violent on that side of the question, appeared to us to be delicious;
all that their adversaries objected, abominable. Fox, Sheridan, and
Grey, were in our eyes nothing but infamous Jacobins; we never called
them by any other name.” “Very well,” said the Emperor; “now return to
George III.”
"This virtuous prince was excessively partial to private life and rural
occupations; he devoted all the time he could spare from the business of
the state to the cultivation of a farm a few miles from London; he never
returned to the capital except for his regular levées, or extraordinary
councils required by circumstances; and he immediately returned to his
fields, where he lived without pomp, and like an honest farmer, as he
said himself. All intrigues were left in town, about the ministers, and
amongst them.
"George III. had many domestic troubles. His sister was Matilda Queen of
Denmark, whose story forms so melancholy a romance; his two brothers
caused him many vexations by their marriages; and he had not reason to
be perfectly satisfied with his eldest son.
“The two brothers of George III. were the Duke of Cumberland and the
Duke of Gloucester. I often saw the latter in private society; he was
the worthiest, most polite, and honourable gentleman in England. Both
these illustrious individuals, according to the spirit of the British
constitution, were entirely strangers to public business. The King heard
that one of them had married or was about to marry a private individual.
This was a great crime in his estimation; he had himself made a great
sacrifice to avoid committing it. He was extremely angry; and whilst he
was sending a message to Parliament against the brother who had thus
given offence, he was informed that the other had eloped to Calais for a
similar purpose. It was like a fatality, an absolute epidemic, for it
was at the same time reported on all sides, that the heir-apparent
himself was also secretly married.”—"What," said the Emperor, “the
Prince of Wales!”—"Yes, Sire, himself: his marriage was every where
talked of, but with circumstances not sufficiently certain for me to
venture to repeat them; the fact, however, seemed generally
acknowledged. But, as the Prince afterwards caused it to be contradicted
in Parliament, through the medium of the opposition, we are bound after
that to believe him.
"I have it, however, from the mouth of a very near relation of his
pretended wife, that the matter was positively so. I heard this person
give way to the most violent rage on the solemn marriage of the prince,
and threaten to resort to personal violence. It might, therefore, be
considered a contested point, which was unavoidably represented
according to party-spirit; some obstinately maintaining the reality of
the marriage, whilst others denied it in the most violent manner.
Perhaps this contradiction might be reconciled by the consideration that
the person he was said to have married, Mrs. Fitzherbert, was a
Catholic. This circumstance rendered the marriage impossible in the eyes
of the law, and perfectly void with respect to the heir to the throne.
However this may be, I have often met Mrs. Fitzherbert in company: her
carriage bore the Prince’s arms, and her servants wore his livery. This
lady was much older than himself; but beautiful, agreeable, of a
powerful mind, and haughty, impatient temper, which often involved her
in disputes with the Prince, and gave rise, it was said, to scenes of
violence not very becoming such elevated rank. It was during one of the
last quarrels of this kind, when, they say, Mrs. Fitzherbert had
obstinately kept the door shut against the Prince, that Mr. Pitt
dexterously took the opportunity of persuading him to consent to a
marriage with the Princess of Brunswick."—"But stay," said the Emperor,
“you go too fast; you pass over what chiefly interests me. Under what
auspices did the Prince of Wales enter into life? What was there
peculiar in his political conduct, his situation with regard to the
Opposition, and so forth?”—"This Prince, Sire, came before the public
with all the advantages of face, person, and mind. He was greeted with
universal enthusiasm; but he soon evinced those inclinations, and began
to act that part, which seemed necessarily imposed on great personages
in the middle of the last century. Such were the infatuation of gaming,
and its consequent embarrassments; table and other excesses; and, above
all, a set of companions disapproved of by the public. Then it was that
all generous hearts were grieved; hope was blighted, and the middling
class, which in every country really constitutes the nation, and which,
it must be confessed, is in England the most moral population of all
Europe, despaired of the future. It was a received adage in England,
amongst the lower classes in particular, that the Prince of Wales would
never reign; the fortune-tellers and conjurors, it was said, had
foretold it to himself.
“The opposition, into whose arms he had thrown himself, as heirs
presumptive too frequently do; the opposition, whose stay and hope he
was, perhaps trying to deceive themselves, when this misconduct was
mentioned to them, used to get over it by saying that he would be
another Henry V.; that Henry V. had been extremely dissipated when
Prince of Wales; but that he became the greatest King the monarchy had
produced; and thence they concluded that the Prince of Wales would make
one of their greatest kings.”—"But did he adopt the revolutionary party
and defend our modern ideas?" said the Emperor. "No, Sire; as the fever
of revolutionary principles increased, decency compelled him to withdraw
by degrees from the opposition which defended them. He relinquished all
ostensible alliance, and filled up the void of his life by giving
himself up to pleasure and its attendant difficulties. He was constantly
overwhelmed with debts, although parliament had already paid them
several times. By these encumbrances he was greatly embarrassed, and his
character and popularity were endangered. It was whilst thus involved,
and during a quarrel with Mrs. Fitzherbert, that Mr. Pitt got hold of
him, offering to pay his debts again, if he would adopt his father’s
views and consent to marry. He was obliged to submit to all that was
prescribed, and the hand of the Princess of Brunswick was asked and
obtained. But, during the short interval of the negotiation, a
celebrated woman who had long aspired to govern the prince, finding the
place vacant, took possession of it herself. It is pretended that she
has said she had sought this connection for twenty years; for she was
much older than himself, a circumstance which seemed to indicate a
peculiar taste in this family, having also been remarked in several of
his brothers. This person was immediately appointed Lady of the
Bed-chamber to the future Princess of Wales; she even went to meet her
and bring her to England. It was under such auspices, such malignant
influence, that the bride landed on the British shore. Accordingly, it
is positively asserted that this unhappy princess had not even so much
as twenty-four hours’ enjoyment, out of that privileged period
emphatically called by the English the honey-moon. From the very day
after her marriage, ridicule, neglect, and contempt were her portion.
"All who possessed the least spark of generosity or morality in England
took her part, and loudly exclaimed against the manner in which she was
treated. The greater share of the odium, however, fell on Lady Jersey,
who was accused of having bewitched the prince. She became the object of
public execration; yet the Prince, it was declared could not plead the
excuse of illusion or blindness; for it is said that, after a very gay
entertainment amongst his jovial companions, one of them was led, in the
course of conversation, to say that he knew the Madame de Merteuil of
the Liaisons Dangereuses. Many of the others immediately cried out that
they also knew one: upon this, it is said, the Prince proposed, for a
frolic, that each should write his secret separately. All the notes were
thrown into a vase; and the name of Lady Jersey was found written on
every one of them: the Prince himself, not having looked for such
unanimity, or expected to be discovered, had written this name as well
as the rest.
"I knew this Lady Jersey, and it must be confessed that her face and
whole appearance were so little indicative of her age, that it could not
easily have been suspected. She had all the charms of early youth,
heightened by all the grace of the most elegant manners; and I am bound
to say, that, in the circles in which I saw her, she even possessed a
sort of attractive kindness; whether the manners of her class render the
disposition indulgent, or whether she did not in fact deserve all the
reproaches with which she was loaded.
“The Prince of Wales seems to have possessed a peculiar faculty, a gift,
which the English call the power of fascination. He is endowed with it
in the highest degree; one would think that his will was sufficient to
reclaim the attachment of the multitude, and as it were to corrupt
public opinion. His history is full of those losses and returns of
popularity; and, perhaps, it is the certainty of being able to command
this sort of success that has so often led him, as his detractors say,
to disregard public opinion. His enemies have asserted that he has
carried this species of courage to absolute heroism. They have censured
him for his hardihood in persisting, whilst lying himself under the
reproach of an irregular life, in accusing his wife of that conduct of
which he set the example; an inconsistency which ought, undoubtedly, to
be attributed to the fatal suggestions of pernicious counsellors,
inimical to his glory and tranquillity. It is at least certain, that the
basest corruption, the aid of the laws, and the influence of the heir to
the throne, were all employed against the Princess, and all in vain: a
circumstance which, it is said, used to torment the Prince and expose
him to ridicule. People laughed at his unprecedented ill-luck, in being
unable to prove, with all his endeavours, what so many husbands would
give so much to conceal. Hatred increased on every new defeat, and with
it the sufferings of the victim. She was reduced, at last, to a sort of
banishment, to a place a few miles from London; she was deprived of her
daughter; she was insulted in the sight of the allied Sovereigns when
they visited London. But the expression of the feelings of the multitude
was always ready to avenge her, and it became necessary to get her to
quit England; which she was induced to do voluntarily, by the aid,
perhaps, of the perfidious insinuations of some pretended friend.”
Here the Emperor again interrupted me, saying that I was leaving out a
very essential point. “When and how had the Prince attained the Royal
authority? How had he arranged matters with the opposition? What had he
done with those old friends?” “Sire,” I replied, "my information ends
here. There was a time when political events induced your Majesty to cut
off all intercourse between England and France. We no longer obtained
the papers; we were prevented from receiving letters; the two nations
had no longer any thing in common. There is, therefore, an actual blank
in my intelligence, which I should be unwilling to fill up with mere
conjectures. I understand, however, that after several recoveries and
relapses of the old King, all parties at length agreed to consign the
regency to the Prince of Wales, and place him in full possession of the
sovereign authority. The long expected period of changes and of hopes
was at length arrived. The gates of heaven were now to open, at length,
to that opposition which had so long eulogised the Prince; to those old
friends who had seemed from infancy to unite their fate with his. But,
to the great and universal surprise of the nation, and through I know
not what contrivance of Lord Castlereagh’s, nothing was altered. Those
old ministers, who had so long been the objects of the Prince’s dislike
and censure, kept their places, and those intimate and dearly beloved
friends, who had so long been caressed, remained out of office.
"The opposition complained loudly; but they were laughed at, and told
that when the wild Prince of Wales became a great King, his first care
was to get rid of his old companions. The jest might be a very good one,
but it was by no means applicable; for the greatest characters in the
empire were at the head of this opposition; and they were far from being
Falstaffs or profligates of that kind. From that instant they evinced a
marked coolness towards the Prince: some would no longer see him; others
refused his invitations, or repelled the advances which he made to them.
It is said, however, that one of them suffered himself to be persuaded
to go to dine in private with the Prince. The latter, recurring to his
usual victorious weapons, endeavoured to prove to him, with his
accustomed grace, that he could not have acted differently; and at
length desired to be told of what his old friends could justly accuse
him. The guest, whose heart was still swelling with indignation, seized
the opportunity, and freely told him all his faults, with such warmth,
that the Princess Charlotte, who was at table, and was perhaps secretly
inclined towards the guest’s opinion, burst into tears. Lord Byron heard
of this scene the next day, and consecrated the event in these
celebrated verses:—
"Weep, daughter of a royal line,
A Sire’s disgrace, a realm’s decay;
Ah happy! if each tear of thine
Could wash a father’s fault away!
Weep, for thy tears are virtue’s tears,
Auspicious to these suff’ring isles;
And be each drop, in future years,
Repaid thee by thy people’s smiles."
March, 1812.
“In 1814, at the time of my visit to London, I had the honour of being
presented to the Prince of Wales at Carlton House.”—“And what the devil
did you want there?” said the Emperor. “I do not wonder that your
Majesty is surprised; but I was induced by a sort of point of honour: I
thought I could do no other. There were many French in London at that
time; I was the only one who had been near your Majesty’s person, worn
your colours, and followed the line of conduct which seemed to be
censured at that period. Some one having told me that the others would
certainly not endure my presence, that circumstance determined me to go.
We were, in fact, twenty-two Frenchmen, presented at the same time, at
one of the Prince’s grand levees; and I must say that I never saw more
graceful manners, more pleasing expression, more harmony in the
_tout-ensemble_; I thought him the _beau-ideal_ of elegance. I
comprehended the full power, the whole truth of that magic fascination
which I had so often heard attributed to him; and even at this moment,
Sire, when I recollect that fine countenance, on which I thought I
perceived elevation of mind, and the love and desire of glory, I cannot
help asking myself how your Majesty comes to be here, how those
atrocious ministers could induce him to declare himself the gaoler,
the...?” “My dear Sir,” said the Emperor, “perhaps you were no
physiognomist; you took the halo of coquetry for that of greatness; the
study to please for the love of glory; and, besides, the love of glory
is not exactly in the face; it is in the recesses of the heart, and you
did not search there.[27]
Footnote 27:
Since this was said, the great victim has fallen. I, his servant, saw
his torments begin; others have communicated to me his last sufferings
and protracted agonies. He expired! His enemies never ceased to strike
him, in the name of the Prince! This immortal victim accordingly left
with his own hand, these dreadful words: “_I bequeath the infamy of my
death to the reigning family of England!_”
“But were you not translating to me, the other day,” said the Emperor,
"some journal or work, in which it was stated that the Prince Regent had
made a great display of sympathy towards the last Stuarts; that he had
paid the most extravagant prices for things which had belonged to, and
been left by them; that he had talked of raising a monument to the last
of them? There is much more calculation than magnanimity in all that; it
is because he is anxious to establish and consecrate their extinction.
From that event his legitimacy and security date; and he is in the
right. If, in my time, and under the circumstances into which the
English Ministers had plunged the nation, there had been some young
Stuart, of a brave and enterprising character, equal to the present age,
he would have been landed in Ireland, escorted by the modern doctrines;
and then we should undoubtedly have seen the regenerate Stuarts driving
out the degenerate Brunswicks. England would have had its 20th of March.
Such are thrones and their contagious influence; scarcely is one seated
there when the poison begins to operate. These Brunswicks, brought in by
liberal ideas, raised by the will of the people, have no sooner ascended
the throne, than they grasp at arbitrary and despotic power; they must
absolutely drive their wheels in the track which overturned their
predecessors; and this because they are become Kings! And it should seem
that this is the inevitable course! That fine stem of the Nassaus, for
instance, those patrons of noble independence in Europe, whose
liberalism ought to be in the blood, and even in the marrow of their
bones; those Nassaus, who, as far as regards their dominions, would be
only at the tail, and who might by their doctrines, place themselves at
the head,—they have just been placed on a throne; well, you will
infallibly see them concern themselves about nothing but becoming what
they call legitimates; and adopt the principles, the proceedings, and
the errors of that class.
“Nay, after all, my dear Sir, has not the same thing been said of me,
myself? and perhaps not without some appearance of reason; for probably
many circumstances may have escaped my observation. Nevertheless I
declared, on a solemn occasion, that in my estimation the sovereign
power was not in the title, nor the throne in its splendour. It has been
said of me, that scarcely had I attained power, when I exercised a
despotic and arbitrary sway; but it was rather a Dictatorship; and the
circumstances of the times will be a sufficient excuse for me. I have
also been reproached with having suffered myself to be intoxicated with
pride at my alliance with the house of Austria, and having thought
myself more truly a sovereign after my marriage; in fact, of having
considered myself from that time as Alexander, become the son of a god!
But can all this be just? Did I really fall into such errors? A young,
handsome, agreeable, woman fell to my lot; was it inadmissible for me to
testify some satisfaction? Could I not devote a few moments to her
without incurring blame? Was I not to be allowed to abandon myself to a
few hours of happiness? Was I required to use my wife ill from the very
first night, like your Prince ——? Or was I, like the Sultan we have read
of, to have her head struck off, in order to escape the reproaches of
the multitude? No! my only fault in that alliance was that of carrying
too plebeian a heart with me. How often have I said that the heart of a
statesman ought only to be in his head. Mine, unfortunately, in this
instance, remained in its place, subject to family feelings, and this
marriage ruined me; because I believed, above all things, in the
religion, the piety, the morality, and the honour of Francis I. He has
cruelly deceived me. I am willing to believe that he was himself
deceived; and I forgive him with all my heart. But will history spare
him? If, however,...”
Here Napoleon was silent for a few moments, resting his head on one of
his hands; then resuming, “But what a romance is my life!” said he,
rising. “Open the door, and let us walk.” And we walked up and down the
adjoining rooms, for some time.
MY SON’S FALL FROM HIS HORSE.—PILLAGE IN WAR.—CHARACTER OF THE FRENCH
SOLDIER.—PARTICULARS RELATING TO WATERLOO, BY THE NEW ADMIRAL.
Monday July 1st to Thursday 4th.—Yesterday, my son’s horse ran away with
him, whilst he was taking a ride; and, being fearful that the horse
might dash him against the trees, he thought it best to throw himself
off his back. He had sprained his ancle sufficiently to condemn him to
the sofa for a month.
The Emperor condescended to come into my room, about 11 o’clock, to
learn the state of my son, whom he rated well for his awkwardness. I
followed him into the garden, where he breakfasted, which he had not
done there for some time previously.
The conversation turned on pillage by armies, and the horrors occasioned
by it.
Pavia, the Emperor said, was the only place that he had ever given up to
pillage; he had promised it to his soldiers for 24 hours; “but after
three hours,” said he, “I could bear it no longer, and I put an end to
it. I had but 1200 men;” said he, “the cries of the populace which
reached my ears prevailed. If there had been 20,000 soldiers, their
numbers would have drowned the complaints of the people, and I should
have heard nothing of it. Happily, however, policy and morality are
equally opposed to the system of pillage. I have meditated much on this
subject: and have often been urged to gratify my soldiers in this
manner. But nothing is so certain to disorganize and completely ruin an
army. A soldier loses all discipline as soon as he gets an opportunity
to pillage; and, if by pillage he enriches himself, he immediately
becomes a bad soldier, and will not fight. Besides,” continued he,
“pillage is incompatible with our French manners; the hearts of our
soldiers are not bad; when the first transport of fury is over, they
come to themselves again. It would be impossible for French soldiers to
pillage for twenty-four hours; many of them would employ the latter part
of the time in repairing the mischief they had done in the beginning.
They afterwards reproach each other, in their quarters, with the
excesses they have committed, and load with reprobation and contempt
those whose conduct has been particularly odious.”
About three o’clock, the new Admiral, Sir Pulteney Malcolm, and all his
officers, were presented to the Emperor. The Admiral first conversed
with the Emperor alone, for nearly two hours. He must have been much
impressed with this conversation, for he said, as he came out, that he
had been taking a very fine and valuable lesson on the history of
France.
The Emperor was understood to have said to him, towards the close of the
interview, what I believe I have already introduced elsewhere on this
subject. “You have levied a contribution of 700 millions on France; I
have imposed one of more than 10,000 millions on your country. You
raised yours by your bayonets: I caused mine to be raised by your
parliament.” “And that is the true summary of the matter,” replied the
Admiral.
The Admiral was bringing from America some old troops consisting of
12,000 men, without the least suspicion of the new state of Europe. At
sea, a vessel informed him of the return of the Emperor from the isle of
Elba, and the consequent revolution; it seemed to him so magical that he
could scarcely believe it. But when he arrived in sight of Plymouth, he
received orders to proceed, with all possible expedition, to Ostend; he
reached it in time, and 4000 of the men on board his ships were enabled
to take part in the battle, and they were unquestionably amongst the
best troops in the whole line, as the Admiral declared. Who can
determine what degree of influence they may have had? The English
thought the battle lost, during the whole day, and they acknowledge that
it would have been so, but for Grouchy’s error.