REVIEW OF THE CONSULAR GUARD. CONVERSATION WITH ONE
OF THE HEADS OF THE REPUBLIC, RESPECTING BONAPARTE
I wish to describe a grand review of the Consular Guard, which took
place on the Place du Carrousel, at this very Easter-tide--a review of
which so much has been said all over Europe. It is really nothing more
nor less than a parade, for not a single evolution is made. Indeed, if
it were wished to make an evolution the size and situation of the Place
du Carrousel would not admit it.
The order in which the troops are disposed shows the impossibility
of manœuvring them, for the place in which 6000 men, horse and foot,
besides artillery, are collected, is not so large as our Horse Guards
Parade at Whitehall.
The review really consists in the First Consul, his generals, his
aides-de-camp and his Mamelukes, trotting very fast through the lines.
He then takes his station in front of the gates of the Tuileries, and
the troops pass him in quick time, afterwards filing off to their
respective quarters.
In order that I may give a clear idea of this military show, I will
briefly state the order in which the troops take their positions and
move from the ground.
A battalion of Grenadiers, with their band, is stationed from the left
corner of the Tuileries to the Palace door, from the right corner to
the same door is another battalion of Grenadiers, called the Column
of Granite, because at the battle of Marengo, “firm as adamant,” they
withstood the charges of Austrian cavalry. About sixteen paces in front
the first line commences with a battalion of Invalids, without a band
or even pipes, having only half a dozen drums attached to it. Next to
these are two battalions composed of select troops from the line. An
intervening space of thirty-six paces here occurs, when another line of
infantry, composed of two heavy battalions without music, extend along
the whole area. Behind these are two regiments of Hussars. A little
on their side at the right two troops of flying Artillery, and then
the famous regiment of Guides, commanded by Eugène de Beauharnais[1]
(the Consul’s step-son) surnamed the Casse Cous, because they are said
neither to give nor receive quarter. Opposite this corps, at the other
extremity of the lines and under the Gallery of the Louvre, stands the
corps of Mamelukes--they retain their national costume, and every means
is employed to attach them to the interests of the French people--which
they are made to believe are identical with those of their Mussulman
Caliph.
Three generals of division commanded the Consular troops under
Bonaparte, who reserves to himself the chief command.
As soon as the First Consul had mounted Marengo, the drums beat a
tattoo, and the men shouldered arms.
[Sidenote: BONAPARTE]
Preceded by several Mamelukes and four aides-de-camp in superb Hussar
uniforms, he rode at full trot through the lines. When he returned
to the centre a detachment from an Artillery corps, now serving in
Italy, marched up to the Consul to receive their standard. It was
held by a sergeant. The Consul made them a short speech, ordering
them to swear they would rather die than abandon it. The infantry
guard then passed before the Consul, beginning with the battalion of
Invalids and ending with the Column of Granite, then came the Flying
Artillery, the regiments of Horse, and, last of all, the regiment of
Guides, beyond comparison the finest corps, whether for men or horses,
I ever beheld, their Colonel, Beauharnais, being the handsomest young
man amongst them. This regiment is dressed in green, as Hussars, and
wheeled with uncommon precision and velocity. The Column of Granite
was the only battalion which seemed to pay any attention to distance
or time; its sections wheeled and performed like a piece of machinery,
but all the other battalions were remarkably deficient in this branch
of discipline. I remarked to a French general upon the slovenly manner
in which those battalions wheeled; he nodded assent to the observation,
remarking shrewdly and wisely: “It is of no matter of consequence, they
know how to fight.”
As soon as the last section had passed, the Consul, who seemed to be
in a very ill-humour, rode to the door of the Palace, dismounted and
disappeared. He was not in a general’s uniform, but wore the same dress
as that in which he appeared on the morning of the procession to Nôtre
Dame.
Upon the whole, I cannot say that this review answered my expectations.
The troops were tall and well-clothed. The cavalry were magnificently
mounted, and made a noble appearance, but still the _tout
ensemble_ did not excite my admiration to a very great extent.
While Bonaparte was passing the lines, one of my acquaintance
exultingly turned to me and said: “Voilà le maître de la terre!”
Several English gentlemen, who were not very distant from me, made
themselves conspicuous by their ecstatic exclamations of adulation
towards Bonaparte, one of them, a person of rank and fortune, bawling
out loud enough to be heard by fifty people, “By G--d! this man
deserves to govern the world!”
On our return from the parade, we went into a large party of ladies
and gentlemen, among whom were several members of the Government. One
of them took me aside; he questioned me as to the state of feeling in
England on the subject of the peace, and asked me whether I read with
attention the English papers. Upon my answering in the affirmative,
he remarked that though the liberty of the Press was an essential
principle of our British Constitution, persons in foreign countries
were often exposed to the highest and most malignant censures from its
abuse. I now understood the drift of his conversation and observed
that natives of England, as well as foreigners, frequently had to
smart under the lash of the British Press and that no one had been
more severely handled (on some occasions) than myself. I explained
that we in England never noticed those things, unless by retorting
upon our opponents through the medium of the Press. He then said with
some hesitation: “I have excellent authority for saying that the First
Consul is incensed beyond measure at the liberties taken with his
character and government in the English papers.” “If that be all,” I
replied, “his anger will not go down with the sun, for I may venture
to promise him an unceasing fire from the British Press as long as he
discloses an ambition that is fatal to the security of Europe.” “And to
France,” he exclaimed. Then taking me by the arms, he said with great
energy, “When, my dear friend, you return to England, animate every
person concerned in the public journals to give him no quarter. It is
only through the medium of your papers that we know our situation; the
sound philosophy of your principles (meaning the English nation’s) will
finally rescue France from slavery.” Having uttered these words under
strong symptoms of agitation, he left the room.
[Sidenote: ENGLISHMEN AND FIRST CONSUL]
Thunderstruck and confounded at this unexpected termination of our
discourse, I was for a moment at a loss what to think and how to act,
when fortunately the ex-Director Barthélémi came up and asked whether
I was pleased with the review. This made me recover my senses, and I
was enabled to enter into genial conversation. I was introduced to
Archbishop Faesh,[1] Bonaparte’s uncle; and to Visconti,[1] but the
only news they communicated were the details of the operations in San
Domingo, brought home by Jerome Bonaparte. We soon afterwards left the
party. I conveyed the ladies back to the hotel, and then drove to the
house of the person with whom I have been engaged in the conversation
related above.
He received me with great consideration and politeness, and stated how
happy he was to be able to confer with me alone, as it was not safe to
enter into particular details in a mixed assembly. I agreed with him,
and he immediately entered more fully into the subject.
He told me that there were at present in France several Englishmen
employed by the First Consul to write against our Government and in
support of his (Bonaparte’s) administration. That an Englishman named
Joliffe was employed by Monsieur de Talleyrand to translate all the
articles in our newspapers which had any reference to France, and
that Talleyrand carried them to Bonaparte as regularly as he did his
official despatches. He mentioned the names of several other Englishmen
employed by the Consul for similar purposes, among whom were Messrs.
Morgan, Stone and Dr. Watson.
The two objects he seemed extremely anxious to impress upon me were,
first that the Government and person of Bonaparte ought to inspire us
with extreme aversion, but secondly that we ought to abstain rigidly
from involving ourselves in another war with him.
These points seemed rather paradoxical, and I asked how Great Britain
would be compromised in case of a renewal of the war. To this he
answered that 50,000 or 60,000 such military automatons as I had seen
to-day were always ready to execute without reflection or care whatever
orders the First Consul might issue. Then, again, the violent spirit
of Bonaparte was greatly to be dreaded. In case of a war between
England and France he would infallibly attack some of the weaker Powers
of Europe under the pretext that they favoured our cause. Upon my
expressing my astonishment that an enlightened nation should passively
submit to a system of tyranny which they disapproved of, and that
himself, who had so great an influence, together with many of his
colleagues, were taking no steps to abridge the power of this Corsican,
he observed with great feeling: “The Revolution was made _for_ the
people, but not _by_ the people. The principles of philosophy upon
which it was founded have been trampled under foot by the military,
and under every form of our government they have been masters. Whoever
got possession of the power of the sword ruled and rules the Republic.
France is the prize of generals whom our folly has placed on too high
an eminence.”
The conversation was next resumed on the dissatisfaction which the
government of Bonaparte had occasioned throughout the Republic; and of
my speaking favourably of the character, abilities and influence of
Moreau,[1] he differed from me, and observed that General Moreau was a
man of passive qualities, destitute of energy to undertake any grand
political scheme. His chief employment consisted in reading all the
military memoirs and books which had ever been written and playing with
his pretty wife.
Upon the whole, after a conversation of about three hours, he ended
the dialogue by observing that he was at a loss whether to think war
or peace would be most favourable to the views of those who wished
the destruction of Bonaparte. He urged me, however, on my return to
England, that I should describe in the Press the horrible state of
slavery to which “Le Petit Caporal” had reduced the French. After
having solemnly enjoined me to be very guarded in my expressions during
my stay in France, we took leave of each other. The sentiments I have
detailed being those of a distinguished member of the Government, what
must be those of the people?