PARIS, September, 1805.
MY LORD:--Portugal has suffered more from the degraded state of Spain,
under the administration of the Prince of Peace, than we have yet gained
by it in France. Engaged by her, in 1793, in a war against its
inclination and interest, it was not only deserted afterwards, but
sacrificed. But for the dictates of the Court of Madrid, supported,
perhaps, by some secret influence of the Court of St. James, the Court of
Lisbon would have preserved its neutrality, and, though not a well-wisher
of the French Republic, never have been counted among her avowed enemies.
In the peace of 1795, and in the subsequent treaty of 1796, which
transformed the family compact of the French and Spanish Bourbons into a
national alliance between France and Spain, there was no question about
Portugal. In 1797, indeed, our Government condescended to receive a
Portuguese plenipotentiary, but merely for the purpose of plundering his
country of some millions of money, and to insult it by shutting up its
representative as a State prisoner in the Temple. Of this violation of
the laws of civilized nations, Spain never complained, nor had Portugal
any means to avenge it. After four years of negotiation, and an
expenditure of thirty millions, the imbecile Spanish premier supported
demands made by our Government, which, if assented to, would have left
Her Most Faithful Majesty without any territory in Europe, and without
any place of refuge in America. Circumstances not permitting your
country to send any but pecuniary succours, Portugal would have become an
easy prey to the united Spanish and French forces, had the marauders
agreed about the partition of the spoil. Their disunion, the consequence
of their avidity, saved it from ruin, but not from pillage. A province
was ceded to Spain, the banks and the navigation of a river to France,
and fifty millions to the private purse of the Bonaparte family.
It might have been supposed that such renunciations, and such offerings,
would have satiated ambition, as well as cupidity; but, though the
Cabinet of Lisbon was in peace with the Cabinet of St. Cloud, the
pretensions and encroachments of the latter left the former no rest.
While pocketing tributes it required commercial monopolies, and when its
commerce was favoured, it demanded seaports to ensure the security of its
trade. Its pretensions rose in proportion to the condescensions of the
State it, oppressed. With the money and the value of the diamonds which
Portugal has paid in loans, in contributions, in requisitions, in
donations, in tributes, and in presents, it might have supported, during
ten years, an army of one hundred thousand men; and could it then have
been worse situated than it has been since, and is still at this moment?
But the manner of extorting, and the individuals employed to extort, were
more humiliating to its dignity and independence than the extortions
themselves were injurious to its resources. The first revolutionary
Ambassador Bonaparte sent thither evinced both his ingratitude and his
contempt.
Few of our many upstart generals have more illiberal sentiments, and more
vulgar and insolent manners, than General Lasnes. The son of a publican
and a smuggler, he was a smuggler himself in his youth, and afterwards a
postilion, a dragoon, a deserter, a coiner, a Jacobin, and a terrorist;
and he has, with all the meanness and brutality of these different
trades, a kind of native impertinence and audacity which shocks and
disgusts. He seems to say, “I am a villain. I know that I am so, and I
am proud of being so. To obtain the rank I possess I have respected no
human laws, and I bid defiance to all Divine vengeance. I might be
murdered or hanged, but it is impossible to degrade me. On a gibbet or
in the palace of a Prince, seized by the executioner or dining with
Sovereigns, I am, I will, and I must, always remain the same. Infamy
cannot debase me, nor is it in the power of grandeur to exalt me.”
General, Ambassador, Field-marshal, First Consul, or Emperor, Lasnes will
always be the same polluted, but daring individual; a stranger to remorse
and repentance, as well as to honour and virtue. Where Bonaparte sends a
banditto of such a stamp, he has resolved on destruction.
A kind of temporary disgrace was said to have occasioned Lasnes’s first
mission to Portugal. When commander of the consular guard, in 1802, he
had appropriated to himself a sum of money from the regimental chest,
and, as a punishment, was exiled as an Ambassador, as he said himself.
His resentment against Bonaparte he took care to pour out on the Regent
of Portugal. Without inquiring or caring about the etiquette of the
Court of Lisbon, he brought the sans-culotte etiquette of the Court of
the Tuileries with him, and determined to fraternize with a foreign and
legitimate Sovereign, as he had done with his own sans-culotte friend and
First Consul; and, what is the more surprising, he carried his point. The
Prince Regent not only admitted him to the royal table, but stood sponsor
to his child by a wife who had been two years his mistress before he was
divorced from his first spouse, and with whom the Prince’s consort, a
Bourbon Princess and a daughter of a King, was also obliged to associate.
Avaricious as well as unprincipled, he pursued, as an Ambassador, his
former business of a smuggler, and, instead of being ashamed of a
discovery, proclaimed it publicly, deserted his post, was not reprimanded
in France, but was, without apology, received back again in Portugal. His
conduct afterwards could not be surprising. He only insisted that some
faithful and able Ministers should be removed, and others appointed in
their place, more complaisant and less honest.
New plans of Bonaparte, however, delivered Portugal from this plague; but
what did it obtain in return?--another grenadier Ambassador, less brutal
but more cunning, as abandoned but more dissimulating.
Gendral Junot is the son of a corn-chandler near the corn-market of this
capital, and was a shopman to his father in 1789. Having committed some
pilfering, he was turned out of the parental dwelling, and therefore
lodged himself as an inmate of the Jacobin Club. In 1792, he entered, as
a soldier, in a regiment of the army marching against the county of Nice;
and, in 1793, he served before Toulon, where he became acquainted with
Bonaparte, whom he, in January, 1794, assisted in despatching the
unfortunate Toulonese; and with whom, also, in the autumn of the same
year, he, therefore, was arrested as a terrorist.
In 1796, when commander-in-chief, Bonaparte made Junot his aide-de-camp;
and in that capacity he accompanied him, in 1798, to Egypt. There, as
well as in Italy, he fought bravely, but had no particular opportunity of
distinguishing himself. He was not one of those select few whom Napoleon
brought with him to Europe in 1799, but returned first to France in 1801,
when he was nominated a general of division and commander of this
capital, a place he resigned last year to General Murat.
His despotic and cruel behaviour while commander of Paris made him not
much regretted. Fouche lost in him, indeed, an able support, but none of
us here ever experienced from him justice, much less protection. As with
all other of our modern public functionaries, without money nothing was
obtained from him. It required as much for not doing any harm as if, in
renouncing his usual vexatious oppressions, he had conferred benefits. He
was much suspected of being, with Fouche, the patron of a gang of street
robbers and housebreakers, who, in the winter of 1803, infested this
capital, and who, when finally discovered, were screened from justice and
suffered to escape punishment.
I will tell you what I personally have seen of him. Happening one
evening to enter the rooms at Frascati, where the gambling-tables are
kept, I observed him, undressed, out of regimentals, in company with at
young man, who afterwards avowed himself an aide-de-camp of this general,
and who was playing with rouleaux of louis d’or, supposed to contain
fifty each, at Rouge et Noir. As long as he lost, which he did several
times, he took up the rouleau on the table, and gave another from his
pocket. At last he won, when he asked the bankers to look at their loss,
and count the money in his rouleau before they paid him. On opening it,
they found it contained one hundred bank-notes of one thousand livres
each--folded in a manner to resemble the form and size of louis d’or. The
bankers refused to pay, and applied to the company whether they were not
in the right to do so, after so many rouleaux had been changed by the
person who now required such an unusual sum in such an unusual manner.
Before any answer could be given, Junot interfered, asking the bankers
whether they knew who he was. Upon their answering in the negative, he
said: “I am General Junot, the commander of Paris, and this officer who
has won the money is my aide-de-camp; and I insist upon your paying him
this instant, if you do not wish to have your bank confiscated and your
persons arrested.” They refused to part with money which they protested
was not their own, and most of the individuals present joined them in
their resistance. “You are altogether a set of scoundrels and sharpers,”
interrupted Junot; “your business shall soon be done.”
So saying, he seized all the money on the table, and a kind of
boxing-match ensued between him and the bankers, in which he, being a
tall and strong man, got the better of them. The tumult, however,
brought in the guard, whom he ordered, as their chief, to carry to prison
sixteen persons he pointed out. Fortunately, I was not of the number--I
say fortunately, for I have heard that most of them remained in prison
six months before this delicate affair was cleared up and settled. In
the meantime, Junot not only pocketed all the money he pretended was due
to his aide-de-camp, but the whole sum contained in the bank, which was
double that amount. It was believed by every one present that this was
an affair arranged between him and his aide-de-camp beforehand to pillage
the bank. What a commander, what a general, and what an Ambassador!
Fitte, the secretary of our Embassy to Portugal, was formerly an Abbe,
and must be well remembered in your country, where he passed some years
as an emigrant, but was, in fact, a spy of Talleyrand. I am told that,
by his intrigues, he even succeeded in swindling your Ministers out of a
sum of money by some plausible schemes he proposed to them. He is, as
well as all other apostate priests, a very dangerous man, and an immoral
and unprincipled wretch. During the time of Robespierre he is said to
have caused the murder of his elder brother and younger sister; the
former he denounced to appropriate to himself his wealth, and the latter
he accused of fanaticism, because she refused to cohabit with him. He
daily boasts of the great protection and great friendship of Talleyrand.
‘Qualis rex, talis grex’.