fortifications which were surrounding us; and he could not forbear
smiling at these useless and absurd works. He remarked that the ground
in our neighbourhood had been entirely disfigured by the removal of
the kind of turf with which it was covered, and which had been carried
away for the purpose of raising banks. In fact, for the last two
months, the Governor has been incessantly digging ditches,
constructing parapets, erecting palisades, &c. He has quite blockaded
us in Longwood, and the stable at this moment presents every
appearance of a redoubt. We are at a loss to guess where will be the
advantage equivalent to the expense and labour bestowed on these
works, which by turns excite the ill-humour and ridicule of the
soldiers and Chinese, who are employed upon them, and who now call
Longwood and its stable, by the names of _Fort Hudson_ and _Fort
Lowe_. We are assured that Sir Hudson Lowe often starts from his sleep
to devise new measures of security. “Surely,” said the Emperor, “this
seems something like madness. Why cannot the man sleep quietly, and
let us alone? Has he not sense enough to perceive that the security of
our local situation here is sufficient to remove all his panic
terrors?”—“Sire,” said an individual present, “he cannot forget Capri,
which, with 2000 men, thirty pieces of cannon, and perched among the
clouds, was taken by 1200 Frenchmen, commanded by the brave Lamarque,
who could only reach Sir Hudson Lowe by the help of a triple
escalade.”—“Well,” said the Emperor, “this only proves that our
Governor is a better jailor than general.”
For some time past, I have felt seriously alarmed respecting the
health of my son. The pains of which he formerly complained have been
succeeded by violent palpitations, attended by fainting fits; and he
is frequently obliged to rise during the night, to relieve himself by
walking about, or assuming some particular position. Dr. O’Meara
thought he perceived symptoms of aneurism, and considered him to be in
a dangerous state. I requested the chief medical officer. Dr. Baxter,
to hold a consultation with Dr. O’Meara. The result greatly relieved
my anxiety; for his state was declared to have nothing in it very
alarming.
During the conversations of the day, the Emperor alluded to Madame de
Staël, of whom, however, he said nothing new, except mentioning some
letters which had been examined by the police, and which related to
Madame Recamier and a Prussian Prince.
“This correspondence,” said the Emperor, “presented unequivocal proofs
of the influence of Madame Recamier’s charms, and the high regard
which the Prince entertained for her. The letters contained nothing
less than offers or promises of marriage on his part.”
The following is an explanation of this affair. The beautiful Madame
Recamier, whose pure reputation stood unassailed during those stormy
times in which few escaped censure, was residing with Madame de Staël,
to whom she had heroically devoted herself, when one of the Prussian
Princes, who had been made prisoner at Eylau, and who was proceeding
to Italy by Napoleon’s permission, alighted at the castle of Coppet,
with the intention of resting only for a few hours. Here, however, he
was detained during the whole of the summer by the charms of Madame
Recamier, who was voluntarily sharing the exile of her friend. This
lady, and the young Prince, both considered themselves as the victims
of Napoleon, and their common hatred of him, whom they looked upon as
their oppressor, probably engendered the interest which they mutually
conceived for each other. Inspired with an ardent passion, the Prince,
in spite of the difficulties which his exalted rank naturally
suggested, conceived the idea of marrying Madame Recamier. He
communicated his design to Madame de Staël, whose poetic imagination
prompted her to favour a scheme that was calculated to diffuse a sort
of romantic interest over Coppet. The Prince was recalled to Berlin,
but absence produced no change in his sentiments. He still ardently
prosecuted his suit; but Madame Recamier constantly declined this
unexpected elevation, either from natural generosity of feeling, or
from her Catholic prejudice against divorce.
To this circumstance we are indebted for the picture of Corinne, which
is accounted one of the most original creations of Gerard’s pencil.
The Prince ordered the picture as a compliment to Madame Recamier.
Having reverted to Madame de Staël, I will take this opportunity of
observing that since the publication of the preceding parts of my
Journal, I have been visited by some of the most intimate friends of
that celebrated woman. These individuals have assured me that Madame
de Staël has been often represented to have employed expressions in
reference to Napoleon, of which she was wholly incapable,—for example,
the phrase _Robespierre on horseback_, which they said they could take
upon themselves conscientiously to disavow. I have moreover been
informed that Madame de Staël was often more favourable to Napoleon in
her private conversation than in her writings, which, it must be
confessed, are, in all that relates to the Emperor, embittered by a
spirit of malignity and resentment. One of her friends assured me that
he had been very much gratified on finding it mentioned in my Journal
that Napoleon at St. Helena had compared Madame de Staël at once to
Armida and Clorinda I was informed that Madame de Staël, on her part,
at the time of her enthusiasm for the young General of the army of
Italy, had compared him at once to Scipio and Tancred; because, as she
said, he combined the simple virtues of the one with the brilliant
achievements of the other.
After dinner, the Emperor ordered his favourite Racine to be brought
out, and he read to us some of the finest passages in Iphigenia,
Mithridates, and Bajazet. “Though Racine has produced master-pieces in
themselves,” said he, “yet he has diffused over them a perpetual air
of insipidity. Love is eternally introduced, with its tone of languor
and its tiresome accompaniments. But these faults must not be
attributed entirely to Racine, but to the manners of the age in which
he wrote. Love was then, and at even a later period, the whole
business of life with every one. This is always the case when society
is in a state of idleness. As for us,” said he, “our thoughts have
been cruelly turned to other subjects, by the great events of the
revolution.”
The Emperor likewise condemned, by the way, the whole of the
celebrated plan of campaign of Mithridates. He remarked that it might
be fine as a narrative; but that it was absurd as a conception.
PORTRAITS OF THE PRESENT ENGLISH MINISTERS.—THE EMPEROR CONDEMNS ALL
MINISTRIES.—HONOURABLE EXCEPTIONS.—NAPOLEON’S SENTIMENTS FOR THE
INDIVIDUALS WHO SERVED HIM.
16th.—I found the Emperor amusing himself by looking over an English
publication, a kind of political almanack. Alluding to the members of
the English Ministry who were mentioned in the work, he said to me:
“Do you know any of them? What was the general opinion of them, when
you were in England?”—“Sire,” I replied, “it is so long since I left
England that nearly all who are now distinguished in the ministry were
then only commencing their career. At that time none of them had come
forward on the scene.”
The Emperor, having mentioned Lord Liverpool, said: “He appears to me
to be the most worthy man among them. I have heard a great deal of
good of him. He seems to have some feeling of propriety and decorum. I
have no objection to a man being my enemy: every one has his own
business and his own duties to perform; but I have certainly a right
to be indignant at unworthy conduct and measures.” I mentioned to the
Emperor that, when I was in England, Lord Liverpool’s father, Mr.
Jenkinson, who successively became Lord Hawkesbury, and Lord
Liverpool, had made his political fortune. He was said to have been a
very good kind of man, and a private friend of George III.; he was
distinguished for assiduity, and particularly directed his attention
to diplomatic documents.
The Emperor next mentioned Lord Sidmouth. “I am told,” said he, “that
he too is a worthy man enough: but he possesses no great share of
understanding. He is one of those honest blockheads who, with the
utmost sincerity, concur in all sorts of mischief.”
“Sire,” said I, “in my time, Lord Sidmouth, under the name of Mr.
Addington, was a member of the House of Commons, and was a man
generally esteemed. He was said to be the creature of Mr. Pitt, who
was understood to have appointed Addington as his successor, in order
to ensure to himself the means of returning to the ministry whenever
he should think fit. The public were certainly greatly astonished to
see Pitt succeeded by Mr. Addington; as the post was considered to be
very far beyond his talents. One of the English opposition papers,
alluding to Mr. Addington, quoted the remark made by a philosopher
(Locke, I believe), who says that the mind of a child is a blank sheet
of paper, on which nature has yet written nothing: and the Journal in
question humorously observed that when nature wrote upon the blank
sheet of the Doctor (the nickname then given to Mr. Addington), it
must needs be confessed, she left plenty of margin.”
“Well,” resumed the Emperor, “what do you know of that sad fellow,
into whose keeping we have been delivered up—that Lord Bathurst?”
“Absolutely nothing, Sire,” I replied, “either of his origin, his
person, or his character.”—“For my part,” said he, with some degree of
warmth, “I have no opportunity of knowing him, except by his conduct
towards me; and in judging from that, I hold him to be the _vilest_
the _basest_ the most _cowardly of men_. The brutality of his orders,
the coarseness of his language, the choice of his agent, all authorize
me to make this declaration. An executioner, such as he has sent
hither, is not easily found. Such a selection could not be made at
random. He must have been sought for, tried, judged, and instructed.
Certainly, this, in my opinion, is sufficient to justify the moral
condemnation of the man who could stoop to so base a course. By the
arm which he moves it is easy to guess what must be his heart!”
I must confess that, yielding to feelings of delicacy, I had at first
almost prevailed on myself to suppress or to soften down the
expressions above quoted: but on the other hand, certain scruples
deterred me from doing so. The shade of him who was so deeply injured
is, thought I, at this moment hovering above me, and seems to
say:—“Since you make me speak, at least preserve my words.” Justice
asserts her rights. Men, in the enjoyment of honours and powers must
feel it incumbent on them to answer charges that are brought against
them. Let the accused justify himself:—if he can, so much the better.
Speaking of Lord Castlereagh, the Emperor said:—“This man governs all
the rest, and rules even the Prince himself, by dint of impudence and
intrigue. Supported by a majority of his own creating, he is always
ready to contend, with the utmost effrontery, against reason, law,
justice, and truth. No falsehood staggers him: he stops at nothing,
well knowing that he can always command votes to applaud and legalize
whatever he does. He has completely sacrificed his country, and is
daily degrading her by acting in opposition to her policy, doctrines,
and interests: in short, he has entirely delivered her up to the
Continent. The situation of England is becoming worse and worse.
Heaven knows how she will extricate herself!”
“Lord Castlereagh,” continued he, “is, I am informed, looked upon,
even in England, as a man politically immoral. He commenced his career
by an act of political apostacy, which, though common enough in his
country, nevertheless, always leaves an indelible stain. He entered
upon public life as an advocate of the people, and he has finally
become the engine of power and despotism. If all that is said of him
be correct, he must be execrated by his countrymen, the Irish, whom he
has betrayed, and by the English, who may justly regard him as the
destroyer of their domestic liberties, and foreign interests.
“He has had the impudence to bring forward in parliament, as authentic
facts, statements which he knew to be false, and which probably he
himself fabricated: and yet, on the authority of these documents,
Murat’s dethronement was decided. Lord Castlereagh makes it his
business to belie himself daily in parliament and in public meetings,
by putting into my mouth language calculated to prejudice me in the
eyes of the English, though he is well aware that he is making false
assertions. This conduct is the more base; since he himself withholds
from me the power of refuting him.
“Lord Castlereagh is the disciple of Pitt, of whom he probably thinks
himself the equal, though he is merely the ape of that distinguished
statesmen. He has incessantly pursued the plans and plots of his
master against France; but even here pertinacity and obstinacy were
perhaps his only good qualities. But Pitt had grand views: with him
his country’s interest took place of every consideration. He possessed
talent and ingenuity; and from England, he moved the lever by which he
ruled and influenced the continental sovereigns at will. Castlereagh,
on the contrary, substituting intrigue for ingenuity, and subsidies
for genius, is regardless of his country’s interest, and has
incessantly employed the credit and influence of the continental
sovereigns merely to confirm and perpetuate his own power at home.
However, such is the course of things in this world, that Pitt with
all his talent, constantly failed, while the incapable Castlereagh has
been completely successful. Oh, blindness of fortune!
“Castlereagh has proved himself entirely the man of the continent.
When master of Europe, he satisfied all the monarchs of the continent,
and only forgot his own country. His conduct has been so prejudicial
to the national interests, so incompatible with the doctrines of his
country, and altogether presents so much the appearance of
inconsistency, that it is difficult to conceive how so wise a people
as the English can allow themselves to be governed by such a fool!
“He adopts legitimacy as the basis of his creed, and wishes to
establish it as a political dogma, while that principle would sap the
very foundation of the throne of his own sovereign. Besides, he
acknowledges Bernadotte in opposition to the legitimate Gustavus IV.,
who sacrificed himself for England; and he acknowledges the usurper
Ferdinand VII., to the detriment of his venerable father, Charles IV.
“He and the Allies establish, as another fundamental basis, the
restoration of the old order of things, the redress of what they term
past injuries, injustice, and depredation; finally, the return of
political morality. Yet Castlereagh scrupled not to sacrifice the
republic of Venice and Genoa, by abandoning the former to Austria, and
annexing the latter to Piedmont. He enriched Russia by the possession
of Poland. He robbed the King of Saxony, for the advantage of Prussia,
who can no longer afford any aid to England. He separated Norway from
Denmark, while, had the latter power been left more independent of
Russia, she might have surrendered to England the key of the Baltic;
and Norway was transferred to Sweden, which, by the loss of Finland
and the Islands of the Baltic, has fallen entirely under the
subjection of Russia. Finally, by a violation of the first principles
of general policy, he neglected, in his all-powerful situation, to
restore the independence of Poland, thereby exposing Constantinople,
endangering the whole of Europe, and preparing a thousand troubles in
Germany.
“I need say nothing of the monstrous inconsistency of a Minister, the
representative of a nation pre-eminently free, restoring Italy to the
yoke of slavery, keeping Spain in a state of bondage, and exerting
every effort to forge fetters for the whole continent. Does he think
that liberty is only proper for the English, and that the rest of
Europe is not fit to enjoy it?[15] But even supposing him to entertain
this opinion, how does he explain his conduct with regard to his own
countrymen, whom he is daily depriving of some of their rights? For
example: the suspension of the _Habeas Corpus_ Act, right or wrong;
the enforcement of the Alien Bill, by which (will it be credited?) the
wife of an Englishman, should she happen to be a foreigner, may be
driven from England, at the will and pleasure of the Minister; the
endless dispersion of spies and informers, those exciting agents and
infernal instigators, by whose aid criminals may always be created,
and victims multiplied. In short, Castlereagh has established at home
the system of cold violence, the iron yoke, which he exercises over
foreign dependencies.[16] No; Lord Castlereagh is not calculated to be
the Minister of a free people, or to command the respect of foreign
nations. He is the vizier of the continental Sovereigns, at their
instigation training his countrymen to slavery: he is the connecting
link, the conductor, by which English gold is dispersed over the
continent, and the despotic doctrines of other countries imported into
England.
Footnote 15:
Lord Castlereagh actually had the assurance to make this
declaration, and nearly in the words above quoted, during a debate
in Parliament, relative to the Constitution of Baden or Bavaria.
Footnote 16:
I have been informed that, since my departure, the Emperor, reading
the complaints of the Ionian Islands, and indignantly enumerating
the acts of the Allies, who, while they talked loudly about
morality, justice, and the independence of nations, vied with each
other in appropriating to themselves the wrecks of the Great Empire,
and scrupled not to parcel out millions of people,—said, “These
insolent and hypocritical men presumed, in the face of the world, to
declare that I was selfish, faithless and tyrannical!”
On learning the fate of unfortunate Parga, he exclaimed, “Parga!
Parga! Certainly, this act is enough to brand a man and mark his
forehead for ever!”
“He proves himself to be the partisan, the obsequious associate of the
Holy Alliance,—that mysterious alliance, of which I cannot guess
either the meaning or the object, which can afford neither utility nor
advantage. Can it be directed against the Turks? It would then be for
the English to oppose it. Can it really have for its object the
maintenance of a general peace? That is a chimera, by which it is
impossible diplomatic cabinets can be duped. With them, alliances can
only be formed for the purpose of opposition or counterpoise. They
cannot all be allied together. I cannot therefore comprehend this Holy
Alliance, except by regarding it as a league of sovereigns against
subjects; but, in that case, what has Castlereagh to do with it? If it
be so, will he not, ought he not, one day, to pay dearly for his
conduct?
“I once had Lord Castlereagh in my power,” said the Emperor. “He was
intriguing at Chatillon, when, during one of our momentary successes,
my troops passed beyond the seat of Congress, which was, by this
means, surrounded. The Prime Minister of England maintained no public
character, and was without the law of nations.
“He was aware of his embarrassing situation, and manifested the utmost
uneasiness at thus finding himself in my power. I intimated to him
that he might set his mind at rest, as he was at perfect liberty. I
did this on my own account, and not on his, for certainly I had no
reason to expect any good from him. However, some time afterwards, he
evinced his gratitude in a very peculiar way. When he saw me make
choice of the Isle of Elba, he caused England to be proposed as my
asylum, and employed all his eloquence and subtlety to induce me to
make choice of that country as my place of residence. Now, however, I
may justly entertain suspicion of the offers of Castlereagh, and
doubtless, he already meditated the horrible treatment which he is at
this moment exercising towards me!
“It was a misfortune for England that her Prime Minister treated
personally with the continental Sovereigns: it was a violation of the
spirit of the British constitution. The English at first felt their
pride flattered, at seeing their representative dictate laws to
Europe; but they have now abundant cause to repent, since the result
has proved that, on the contrary, he only stipulated for
embarrassment, degradation and loss.
“It is an undoubted fact, that Castlereagh might have obtained all;
while, on the contrary, from blindness, incapacity, or perfidy, he
sacrificed every thing. When seated at the banquet of Monarchs, he
blushed to dictate peace like a merchant, and determined to treat
liberally like a lord. Thus he gained something in point of vanity;
and, it may be presumed, he lost nothing in point of interest: his
country alone suffered, and will long continue to suffer.
“And the continental Sovereigns are also likely to repent of having
permitted their Prime Ministers to come into personal contact with
each other. The result seems to have been that these Premiers have
created among themselves a sort of secondary sovereignty, which they
mutually guarantee to each other; and, there is good reason to suppose
that it is accompanied by subsidies furnished with the knowledge of
their respective Sovereigns. This business may be very easily managed;
nothing can be more simple, and, at the same time, more ingenious. In
fixing the secret service money, it is very easy to mention that such
a one on the continent has been very useful, that he may still
continue to be so, and, therefore, that it is proper to make an
acknowledgment for his services. This individual, in his turn, may
represent to his Government that some man or other abroad has rendered
important services and even compromised his own interests, and that
consequently he should not be forgotten. It was probably some such
arrangements as these that occasioned an illustrious personage at
Vienna to exclaim, in a moment of vexation, _Such a one costs me the
eyes in my head!_ Doubtless, these disgraceful schemes and
transactions will one day come to light. We shall then see what
enormous fortunes have thus been squandered and swallowed up. They
will perhaps hereafter be recorded in new letters of Barillon; but
nothing will be unfolded, no characters will be disgraced, because
contemporaries will have anticipated all.”
After this long and energetic sally, in which, I may say, I for the
first time heard Napoleon express himself privately, with such warmth
and bitterness against these individuals of whom he had personally
cause to complain he was silent for a few moments. Then resuming, he
said, “And Lord Castlereagh is artful enough to support himself
entirely on Lord Wellington (whose name the Emperor, at the moment,
found among the members of the English Ministry). Wellington has
become his creature! Can it be possible that the modern Marlborough
has joined the train of a Castlereagh, and yoked his victories to the
turpitude of a political mountebank? It is inconceivable! Can
Wellington endure such a thought? Has not his mind risen to a level
with his success?...”
I had remarked that, in general, the Emperor disliked to speak of Lord
Wellington. He seemed carefully to avoid pronouncing his opinion on
him; feeling, no doubt, the impropriety of publicly depreciating the
General who had triumphed over him. On the present occasion, however,
he yielded, without reserve, to the full expression of his feelings.
The consciousness of the indignities that are heaped upon him seemed,
at this moment, to rise forcibly in his mind. Though usually so calm
and unresenting towards those who had done him the greatest injuries,
he now evinced a degree of warmth which I had never before witnessed
in him. His gestures, his features, his tone of voice, were all
expressive of the utmost indignation. I listened to him with
astonishment.