_Different Views entertained by the English Ministers and the
Chief Consul of the effects of the Treaty of Amiens--Napoleon,
misled by the Shouts of a London Mob, misunderstands the
Feelings of the People of Great Britain--His continued
encroachments on the Independence of Europe--His conduct to
Switzerland--Interferes in their Politics, and sets himself up,
uninvited, as Mediator in their concerns--Ney enters Switzerland
at the head of 40,000 men--The patriot, Reding, disbands his
Forces, and is imprisoned--Switzerland is compelled to furnish
France with a Subsidiary Army of 16,000 Troops--The Chief Consul
adopts the title of Grand Mediator of the Helvetic Republic._
The eyes of Europe were now fixed on Buonaparte, as master of the
destinies of the civilized world, which his will could either maintain
in a state of general peace, or replunge into all the miseries of
renewed and more inveterate war. Many hopes were entertained, from his
eminent personal qualities, that the course in which he would direct
them might prove as honourable to himself as happy for the nations over
whom he now possessed such unbounded influence. The shades of his
character were either lost amid the lustre of his victories, or excused
from the necessity of his situation. The massacre of Jaffa was little
known, was acted afar off, and might present itself to memory as an act
of military severity, which circumstances might palliate, if not excuse.
Napoleon, supposing him fully satiated with martial glory, in which he
had never been surpassed, was expected to apply himself to the arts of
peace, by which he might derive fame of a more calm, yet not less
honourable character. Peace was all around him, and to preserve it, he
had only to will that it should continue; and the season seemed
eminently propitious for taking the advice of Cineas to the King of
Epirus, and reposing himself after his labours. But he was now beginning
to show, that, from the times of Pyrrhus to his own, ambition has taken
more pleasure in the hazards and exertions of the chase than in its
successful issue. All the power which Buonaparte already possessed
seemed only valuable in his eyes, as it afforded him the means of
getting as much more; and, like a sanguine and eager gamester, he went
on doubling his stakes at every throw, till the tide of fortune, which
had so long run in his favour, at length turned against him, and his
ruin was total. His ruling and predominating vice was ambition--we would
have called it his only one, did not ambition, when of a character
intensely selfish, include so many others.
It seems the most natural course, in continuing our history, first to
trace those events which disappointed the general expectations of
Europe, and after a jealous and feverish armistice of little more than
a year, again renewed the horrors of war. We shall then resume the
internal history of France and her ruler.
[Sidenote: TREATY OF AMIENS.]
Although the two contracting powers had been able to agree upon the
special articles of the peace of Amiens, they possessed extremely
different ideas concerning the nature of a state of pacification in
general, and the relations which it establishes between two independent
states. The English minister, a man of the highest personal worth and
probity, entertained no doubt that peace was to have its usual effect,
of restoring all the ordinary amicable intercourse betwixt France and
England; and that, in matters concerning their mutual allies, and the
state of the European republic in general, the latter country, on
sheathing the sword, had retained the right of friendly counsel and
remonstrance. Mr. Addington could not hope to restore the balance of
Europe, for which so much blood had been spilled in the eighteenth
century. The scales and beams of that balance were broken into
fragments, and lay under the feet of Buonaparte. But Britain did not lie
prostrate. She still grasped in her hand the trident of the ocean, and
had by no event, in the late contest, been reduced to surrender the
right of remonstrating against violence and injustice, and of protecting
the feeble, as far as circumstances would still permit.
But Buonaparte's idea of the effects of the treaty of Amiens was very
different. It was, according to his estimation, a treaty, containing
every thing that Britain was entitled to expect on the part of herself
and her allies, and the accepting of which excluded her from all farther
right of interference in the affairs of Europe. It was like a bounding
charter, which restricts the right of the person to whom it is granted
to the precise limits therein described, and precludes the possibility
of his making either claim or acquisition beyond them. All Europe, then,
was to be at the disposal of France, and states created, dissolved,
changed and rechanged at her pleasure, unless England could lay her
finger on the line in the treaty of Amiens, which prohibited the
proposed measure. "England," said the _Moniteur_, in an official tone,
"shall have the treaty of Amiens, the whole treaty of Amiens, and
nothing but the treaty of Amiens!" In this manner the treaty was, so far
as England was concerned, understood to decide, and that in favour of
France, all questions which could possibly arise in the course of future
time between the two countries; while, in ordinary candour, and in
common sense, it could be only considered as settling the causes of
animosity between the parties, as they existed at the date of the
pacification.
The insular situation of England was absurdly alleged as a reason why
she should not interfere in continental politics; as if the relations of
states to each other were not the same, whether divided by an ocean or a
line of mountains. The very circumstance had been founded upon
eloquently and justly by one of her own poets, for claiming for Britain
the office of an umpire,[644] because less liable to be agitated by the
near vicinity of continental war, and more likely to decide with
impartiality concerning contending claims, in which she herself could
have little interest. It was used by France in the sense of another
poet, and made a reason for thrusting England out of the European world,
and allowing her no vote in its most important concerns.[645]
To such humiliation it was impossible for Britain to submit. It rendered
the treaty of Amiens, thus interpreted, the counterpart of the terms
which the Cyclops granted to Ulysses, that he should be the last
devoured. If Britain were compelled to remain, with fettered hands and
padlocked lips, a helpless and inactive witness, while France completed
the subjection of the Continent, what other doom could she expect than
to be finally subdued? It will be seen afterwards that disputes arose
concerning the execution of the treaty. These, it is possible, might
have been accommodated, had not the general interpretation, placed by
the first consul on the whole transaction, been inconsistent with the
honour, safety, and independence of Great Britain.
It seems more than probable, that the extreme rejoicing of the rabble of
London at signing the preliminaries, their dragging about the carriage
of Lauriston, and shouting "Buonaparte for ever!" had misled the ruler
of France into an opinion that peace was indispensably necessary to
England: for, like other foreigners, misapprehending the nature of our
popular government, he may easily enough have mistaken the cries of a
London mob for the voice of the British people. The ministers also
seemed to keep their ground in Parliament on condition of their making
and maintaining peace; and as they showed a spirit of frankness and
concession, it might be misconstrued by Buonaparte into a sense of
weakness. Had he not laboured under some such impression, he would
probably have postponed, till the final pacification of Amiens, the
gigantic steps towards farther aggrandisement, which he hesitated not to
take after signing the preliminaries, and during the progress of the
Congress.
We have already specified Napoleon's acceptance of the presidency of the
Cisalpine Republic, on which he now bestowed the name of Italian, as if
it was designed at a future time to comprehend the whole peninsula of
Italy. By a secret treaty with Portugal, he had acquired the province of
Guiana, so far as it belonged to that power. By another with Spain, he
had engrossed the Spanish part of Louisiana, and, what was still more
ominous, the reversion of the duchy of Parma, and of the island of
Elba,[646] important as an excellent naval station.
In the German Diet for settling the indemnities, to be granted to the
various princes of the empire who had sustained loss of territory in
consequence of late events, and particularly of the treaty of Luneville,
the influence of France predominated in a manner which threatened entire
destruction to that ancient confederation. It may be in general
observed, that towns, districts, and provinces were dealt from hand to
hand like cards at a gaming-table; and the powers of Europe once more,
after the partition of Poland, saw with scandal the government of
freemen transferred from hand to hand, without regard to their wishes,
aptitudes, and habits, any more than those of cattle. This evil
imitation of an evil precedent was fraught with mischief, as breaking
every tie of affection betwixt the governor and governed, and loosening
all attachments which bind subjects to their rulers, excepting those
springing from force on the one side, and necessity on the other.
In this transfer of territories and jurisdictions, the King of Prussia
obtained a valuable compensation for the Duchy of Cleves, and other
provinces transferred to France, as lying on the left bank of the
Rhine.[647] The neutrality of that monarch had been of the last service
to France during her late bloody campaigns, and was now to be
compensated. The smaller princes of the empire, especially those on the
right bank of the Rhine, who had virtually placed themselves under the
patronage of France, were also gratified with large allotments of
territory; whilst Austria, whose pertinacious opposition was well
remembered, was considered as yet retaining too high pretensions to
power and independence, and her indemnities were as much limited as
those of the friends of France were extended.
The various advantages and accessions of power and influence which we
have hitherto alluded to, as attained by France, were chiefly gained by
address in treating, and diplomatic skill. But shortly after the treaty
of Amiens had been signed, Buonaparte manifested to the world, that
where intrigue was unsuccessful, his sword was as ready as ever to
support and extend his aggressions.
[Sidenote: SWITZERLAND.]
The attack of the Directory on the Swiss Cantons had been always
considered as a coarse and gross violation of the law of nations, and
was regarded as such by Buonaparte himself. But he failed not to
maintain the military possession of Switzerland by the French troops;
nor, however indignant under the downfall of her ancient fame and
present liberties, was it possible for that country to offer any
resistance, without the certainty of total destruction.
The eleventh article of the treaty of Luneville seemed to afford the
Swiss a prospect of escaping from this thraldom, but it was in words
only. That treaty was declared to extend to the Batavian, Helvetic,
Cisalpine, and Ligurian Republics. "The contracting parties guarantee
the _independence_ of the said republics," continues the treaty, "and
the right of the people who inhabit them to adopt what form of
government they please."[648] We have seen how far the Cisalpine
republic profited by this declaration of independence; the proceedings
respecting Switzerland were much more glaring.
There was a political difference of opinion in the Swiss Cantons,
concerning the form of government to be adopted by them; and the
question was solemnly agitated in a diet held at Berne. The majority
inclined for a constitution framed on the principle of their ancient
government by a federative league, and the plan of such a constitution
was accordingly drawn up and approved of. Aloys Reding, renowned for
wisdom, courage, and patriotism, was placed at the head of this system.
He saw the necessity of obtaining the countenance of France, in order to
the free enjoyment of the constitution which his countrymen had chosen,
and betook himself to Paris to solicit Buonaparte's consent to it. This
consent was given, upon the Swiss government agreeing to admit to their
deliberations six persons of the opposite party, who, supported by the
French interest, desired that the constitution should be one and
indivisible, in imitation of that of the French Republic.
This coalition, formed at the first consul's request, terminated in an
act of treachery, which Buonaparte had probably foreseen. Availing
themselves of an adjournal of the Diet for the Easter holidays, the
French party summoned a meeting, from which the other members were
absent, and adopted a form of constitution which totally subverted the
principles of that under which the Swiss had so long lived in freedom,
happiness, and honour. Buonaparte congratulated them on the wisdom of
their choice. It was, indeed, sure to meet his approbation, for it was
completely subversive of all the old laws and forms, and so might
receive any modification which his policy should dictate, and it was to
be administered of course by men, who, having risen under his influence,
must necessarily be pliant to his will. Having made his compliments on
their being possessed of a free and independent constitution, he
signified his willingness to withdraw the troops of France, and did so
accordingly. For this equitable measure much gratitude was expressed by
the Swiss, which might have been saved, if they had known that
Buonaparte's policy rather than his generosity dictated his proceedings.
It was, in the first place, his business to assume the appearance of
leaving the Swiss in possession of their freedom; secondly, he was sure
that events would presently happen, when they should be left to
themselves, which would afford a plausible pretext to justify his armed
interference.
[Sidenote: July 19.]
The aristocratic cantons of the ancient Swiss League were satisfied with
the constitution finally adopted by the French party of their country;
but not so the democratic, or small cantons, who, rather than submit to
it, declared their resolution to withdraw from the general league, as
new-modelled by the French, and to form under their own ancient laws a
separate confederacy.[649] This was to consist of the cantons of
Schweitz, Uri, and Underwalden, forest and mountain regions, in which
the Swiss have least degenerated from the simple and hardy manners of
their ancestors. A civil war immediately broke out, in the course of
which it was seen, that in popularity, as well as patriotism, the
usurping Helvetic government, established by French interest, was
totally inferior to the gallant foresters. These last were guided
chiefly by the patriotic Reding, who strove, with undaunted though
ultimately with vain resolution, to emancipate his unfortunate country.
The intrusive government were driven from Berne, their troops every
where routed, and the federative party were generally received with the
utmost demonstrations of joy by their countrymen, few adhering to the
usurpers, excepting those who were attached to them by views of
emolument.
But while Reding and the Swiss patriots were triumphing in the prospect
of restoring their ancient constitution, with all its privileges and
immunities, the strong grasp of superior power was extended to crush
their patriotic exertions.
[Sidenote: Sept. 30.]
The fatal tidings of the proposed forcible interference of France, were
made known by the sudden arrival of Rapp, adjutant-general of
Buonaparte, with a letter addressed to the eighteen Swiss cantons.[650]
This manifesto was of a most extraordinary nature. Buonaparte upbraided
the Swiss with their civil discords of three years standing, forgetting
that these discords would not have existed but for the invasion of the
French. He told them that, when he, as a boon granted, had been pleased
to withdraw his troops from their country, they had immediately turned
their arms against each other. These are singular propositions enough
to be found in a proclamation addressed by one independent nation to
another. But what follows is still more extraordinary. "You have
disputed three years, without understanding one another; if left any
longer to yourselves, you will kill each other for three years more,
without coming to any better result. Your history shows that your
intestine wars cannot be terminated without the efficacious intervention
of France. It is true, I had resolved not to intermeddle with your
affairs, having always found that your various governments have applied
to me for advice which they never meant to follow, and have sometimes
made a bad use of my name to favour their own private interests and
passions. But I neither can, nor ought to remain insensible to the
distress of which I see you the prey. I recall my resolution of
neutrality. I consent to be the mediator of your differences; but my
mediation shall be effectual, such as becomes the great nation in whose
name I address you."[651]
This insulting tone, with which, uninvited, and as if granting a favour,
the chief consul took upon him, as a matter of course, to exercise the
most arbitrary power over a free and independent people, is equally
remarkable at the close of the manifesto. The proclamation commands,
that a deputation be sent to Paris, to consult with the chief consul;
and concludes with an assertion of Buonaparte's "right to expect that no
city, community, or public body, should presume to contradict the
measures which it might please him to adopt." To support the reasoning
of a manifesto which every schoolboy might have confuted, Ney, with an
army of forty thousand men, entered Switzerland at different points.
As the presence of such an overpowering force rendered resistance vain,
Aloys Reding, and his gallant companions, were compelled to dismiss
their forces after a touching address to them. The Diet of Schweitz also
dissolved itself in consequence of the interference, as they
stated,[652] of an armed force of foreigners, whom it was impossible, in
the exhausted state of the country, to oppose.
Switzerland was thus, once more, occupied by French soldiers. The
patriots, who had distinguished themselves in asserting her rights, were
sought after and imprisoned. Aloys Reding was urged to conceal himself,
but he declined to do so; and when upbraided by the French officer who
came to arrest him, as being the head of the insurrection, he answered
nobly, "I have obeyed the call of conscience and my country--do you
execute the commands of your master." He was imprisoned in the castle of
Aarsbourg.[653]
The resistance of these worthy patriots, their calm, dignified, and
manly conduct, their simple and affecting pleas against overmastering
violence, though they failed to procure the advantages which they hoped
for their country, were not lost to the world, or to the cause of
freedom. Their pathetic complaints, when perused in many a remote
valley, excited detestation of French usurpation, in bosoms which had
hitherto contented themselves with regarding the victories of the
Republic with wonder, if not with admiration. For other aggressions, the
hurry of revolution, the extremity of war, the strong compulsion of
necessity might be pleaded; but that upon Switzerland was as gratuitous
and unprovoked as it was nefariously unjust. The name of the cantons,
connected with so many recollections of ancient faith and bravery, hardy
simplicity, and manly freedom, gave additional interest to the
sufferings of such a country; and no one act of his public life did
Buonaparte so much injury throughout Europe, as his conduct towards
Switzerland.[654]
The dignified resistance of the Swiss, their renown for courage, and the
policy of not thwarting them too far, had some effect on the chief
consul himself; and in the final act of mediation, by which he saved
them the farther trouble of taking thought about their own constitution,
he permitted federalism to remain as an integral principle. By a
subsequent defensive treaty, the cantons agreed to refuse all passage
through the country to the enemies of France, and engaged to maintain an
army of a few thousand men to guarantee this engagement. Switzerland
also furnished France with a subsidiary army of sixteen thousand men, to
be maintained at the expense of the French Government. But the firmness
which these mountaineers showed in the course of discussing this treaty
was such, that it saved them from having the conscription imposed on
them, as in other countries under the dominion of France.[655]
[Sidenote: HELVETIC REPUBLIC.]
Notwithstanding these qualifications, however, it was evident that the
voluntary and self-elected-Mediator[656] of Switzerland was in fact
sovereign of that country, as well as of France and the north of Italy;
but there was no voice to interdict this formidable accumulation of
power. England alone interfered, by sending an envoy (Mr. Moore) to the
diet of Schweitz, to inquire by what means she could give assistance to
their claims of independence; but ere his arrival, the operations of Ney
had rendered all farther resistance impossible. A remonstrance was also
made by England to the French Government upon this unprovoked aggression
on the liberties of an independent people.[657] But it remained
unanswered and unnoticed, unless in the pages of the _Moniteur_, where
the pretensions of Britain to interfere with the affairs of the
Continent, were held up to ridicule and contempt. After this period,
Buonaparte adopted, and continued to bear, the title of Grand Mediator
of the Helvetian Republic, in token, doubtless, of the right which he
had assumed, and effectually exercised, of interfering in their affairs
whenever it suited him to do so.[658]
FOOTNOTES:
[644]
"Thrice happy Britain, from the kingdoms rent,
To sit the Guardian of the Continent."
ADDISON.--S.
[645]
----"penitus toto divisos orbe Britannos."
VIRGIL.--S.
[646] See Annual Register, vol. xliv., p. 608.
[647] Jomini, tom. xv., p. 25; Annual Register, vol. xliv., p. 640.
[648] Annual Register, vol. xliii., p. 273.
[649] "In the conviction, that for a forced and unfortunate marriage,
divorce is the only reasonable remedy, and that Helvetia and ourselves
cannot recover repose and content, except by the rupture of this forced
tie, we are firmly resolved to labour at that separation with all
possible activity."
[650] "The first consul instructed Ney to enter Switzerland with a corps
of troops, and caused Reding, the instigator of the disturbances, to be
arrested; and he despatched Rapp, in all haste, who providentially
arrived at the moment when the parties were coming to blows. Rapp, with
a rare presence of mind, alighted from his carriage, placed himself
between the two armies, loudly declaring, in the German language, that
he was authorised to denounce, as an enemy of the French nation,
whichever of the two parties should commence firing, and that he was
ordered to introduce a fresh body of French troops into the Swiss
territory. His firmness produced the greater effect, as both parties had
the same consequences to apprehend, from a second invasion."--SAVARY,
tom. i., p. 301.
[651] Annual Register, vol. xliv., p. 671.
[652] Annual Register, vol. xliv., p. 678.
[653] Aloys Reding was born in 1755. After being confined several months
in the castle of Aarsbourg, he was liberated, and being in 1803 elected
landemann of the canton of Schweitz, he assisted, in that capacity, at
the diet of Fribourg, in 1809. He died at Schweitz in 1819.
[654] "Never did Buonaparte less abuse his vast preponderance; and
Switzerland is, without contradiction, of all states, near or distant,
over which he has exerted his influence, that which he has spared the
most, during the fifteen years of his ascendency and glory. In order to
pay a proper tribute to truth, I will add, that the act of mediation was
impregnated, as much as possible, with the conciliatory and
characteristically moderate spirit of Barthélemi."--FOUCHÉ, tom. i., p.
254.
[655] Montgaillard, tom. vi., p. 5; Jomini, Vie Politique et Militaire
de Napoleon, tom. i., p. 532; Savary, vol. i., p. 302.
[656] "The deputies, pleased with the result of their mission, requested
the first consul to retain the title of Mediator which had been
conferred upon him. The country was restored to its wonted tranquillity
without the effusion of blood; and the celebrated M. de la Harpe
(formerly tutor to the Emperor Alexander,) who had governed it under the
title of Director, came to fix his residence in Paris."--SAVARY, tom.
i., p. 302.
[657] For Lord Hawkesbury's note-verbal to M. Otto, Oct. 10, 1802,
together with his lordship's directions to Mr. Moore, and Mr. Moore's
reply, see Annual Register, vol. xliv., pp. 674-678.
[658] "That which Sir Walter Scott here advances concerning the
blameable policy of Napoleon with respect to the Swiss, when he gave
them this act of mediation, is not correct, and I will prove it to be
so. I was in Switzerland in 1814, after the invasion of the allies, and
certainly this was the period of the greatest enmity towards my brother;
it was the epoch of the calumniators and libellers; nay, there existed
those who carried their effrontery so far, as to declare that the name
of Napoleon was not his own, and that he was called Nicholas.
Nevertheless, even at this period, some of the deputies of the Diet, and
the landemanns of the different cantons, and the principal Swiss, who
frequented the baths of Baden, near Zurich, where I then was, did not
refrain from openly declaring, that they could not complain of the
Emperor Napoleon, that he had put an end to their difficulties, and that
they could feel nothing but gratitude towards him."--LOUIS BUONAPARTE,
p. 38.
APPENDIX.
No. I.
BUONAPARTE'S LETTER TO GENERAL PAOLI.
[See p. 9.]
GENERAL,
I was born when our country was perishing. Thirty thousand Frenchmen,
vomited on our coasts, drowning the throne of liberty in streams of
blood--such was the odious spectacle which first presented itself to my
sight.
The cries of the dying, the groans of the oppressed, the tears of
despair, were the companions of my infancy.
You quitted our island, and with you disappeared the hope of happiness.
Slavery was the reward of our submission; weighed down under the triple
chain of the soldier, the legislator, and the collector of imposts, our
countrymen live despised--despised by those who have the forces of the
administration in their hands. Is not this the severest of suffering for
those who have the slightest elevation of sentiment? Can the wretched
Peruvian, groaning under the tortures of the rapacious Spaniard,
experience a vexation more galling?
The traitors to our country--the wretches whom the thirst of sordid gain
has corrupted--to justify themselves, have circulated calumnies against
the national government, and against you in particular. Writers,
adopting them as truths, transmit them to posterity.
While reading them, my blood has boiled with indignation; and at length
I have resolved to disperse these delusions, the offspring of ignorance.
An early study of the French language, long observation, and documents
drawn from the portfolios of the patriots, have led me to promise myself
some success.
I wish to compare your government of our country with the present one. I
wish to brand with infamy the men who have betrayed the common cause. I
wish to summon before the tribunal of public opinion the men now in
power--to set forth their vexatious proceedings, expose their secret
intrigues, and if possible, interest the present minister[659] in the
deplorable situation we are now in.
If my fortune had permitted me to live in the capital, I should
doubtless have found out other means of making known the wrongs of my
country: but, obliged to serve in the army, I find myself compelled to
resort to this, the only means of publicity; for, as to private
memorials, they would either not reach those for whom they were
intended, or, stifled by the clamour of interested individuals, they
would only occasion the ruin of the author.
Still young, my undertaking may be a rash one; but a love of truth, my
native land, and fellow-countrymen--that enthusiasm, with which the
prospect of an amelioration in our state always inspires me, will be my
support. If you, general, condescend to approve of a labour, of which
your deeds will form so large a portion--if you condescend to encourage
the efforts of a young man, whom you have known from the hour of his
birth, and whose parents were always attached to the good cause, I shall
dare to augur favourably of my success.
I at one time indulged a hope, that I should have been able to go to
London, to express to you in person the sentiments you have given birth
to in my bosom, and to converse together on the misfortunes of our
country; but the distance is an obstacle. The day, perhaps, will arrive,
when I shall be able to overcome it.
Whatever may be the success of my work, I am sensible that it will raise
against me the whole host of French employés, who misgovern our island,
and against whom my attack is directed. But what imports their enmity,
when the interest of our country is at stake! I shall be loaded with
their abuse; and, when the bolt falls, I shall descend into my own
bosom, call to memory the legitimacy of my motives, and from that moment
defy it.
Permit me, general, to offer you the homage of my family. And, ah! why
should I not say, of my countrymen? They sigh at the recollection of a
time when they had hoped for liberty. My mother, Madame Letitia, charges
me especially to recall to your memory the years long since past at
Corté.
I am, with respect,
General,
Your very humble, and very obedient Servant,
NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE,
_Officer in the Regiment of La Fère_.
AUXONNE-EN-BOURGOYNE, }
_12th June, 1789._ }
FOOTNOTES:
[659] M. Necker.
No. II.
LETTER OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE TO M. MATTEO BUTTAFUOCO, DEPUTY FROM
CORSICA TO THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY.
[See p. 10.]
SIR,
From Bonifacio to Cape Corso, from Ajaccio to Bastia, there is one
chorus of imprecations against you. Your friends keep out of sight, your
relations disown you, and even the man of reflection, who does not allow
himself to be swayed by popular opinion, is, for once, led away by the
general effervescence.
But what have you done? What are the crimes to justify such universal
indignation, such complete desertion? This, sir, is what I wish to
inquire into, in the course of a little discussion with you.
The history of your life, since the time at least when you appeared on
the stage of public affairs, is well known. Its principal features are
drawn in letters of blood. Still, however, there are details
comparatively unknown. In these I may be mistaken; but I reckon upon
your indulgence, and hope for information from you.
After having entered the service of France, you returned to see your
relations: you found the tyrants vanquished, the national government
established, and the Corsicans, entirely governed by noble sentiments,
vying with each other in daily sacrifices for the prosperity of the
state. You did not allow yourself to be seduced by the general
enthusiasm; far from that, you looked with nothing but pity on the
nonsensical stuff about country, liberty, independence, and
constitution, which had got into the heads of our meanest peasants. Deep
reflection had taught you to set a proper value on those artificial
sentiments, the maintenance of which is a general evil. In fact, the
peasant must be taught to mind his work, and not play the hero, if it is
wished that he should not starve, that he should bring up his family,
and pay respect to authority. As to those who are called, by their rank
and fortune, to occupy stations of power, they cannot long remain such
dupes as to sacrifice their comforts and consideration in society for a
mere chimera, or stoop to pay court to a cobbler, that they may at last
play the part of Brutus. Still, as it was necessary for your designs
that you should gain the favour of Paoli, you had to dissemble;--M.
Paoli being the centre of all the movements of the political body. We
shall admit that he had talent--even a certain degree of genius; he had,
in a short time, placed the affairs of the island on a good footing; he
had founded a university, in which, for the first time, perhaps, since
the creation, the sciences which are useful for the developement of
reason were taught among our mountains. He had established a foundery
for cannon, powder-mills, and fortifications, which increased the means
of defence; he had formed harbours, which, while they encouraged
commerce, improved agriculture; he had created a navy, which protected
our communication with other countries, while it injured our enemies.
All these establishments, in their infancy, were a mere presage of what
he one day might have done. Union, peace, and liberty, seemed the
precursors of national prosperity, had not a government, ill-organized,
and placed on an unsound basis, afforded still surer indications of the
misfortunes which were to happen, and of the total ruin into which every
thing was to fall.
M. Paoli had dreamed of being a Solon, but had been unsuccessful in his
imitation. He had placed every thing in the hands of the people or their
representatives, so that it was impossible even to exist without
pleasing them. A strange error which places under the control of a
brutal and mercenary plebeian, the man who alone, by his education, his
illustrious birth, and his fortune, is formed for governing. In the long
run, so palpable a dereliction of reason cannot fail to bring on the
ruin and dissolution of the body-politic, after having exposed it to
every species of suffering.
You succeeded to your wish. M. Paoli, constantly surrounded by
enthusiastic and hot-headed persons, never imagined that there could be
any other passion than the devotion to liberty and independence. Finding
that you had some knowledge of France, he did not trouble himself to do
more than take your own word for your moral principles. He got you
appointed to treat at Versailles respecting the accommodation which was
negotiating under the mediation of the cabinet. M. de Choiseul saw you,
and knew you; minds of a certain stamp are speedily appreciated. In a
short time, in place of being the representative of a free people, you
transformed yourself into the clerk of a minister; you communicated to
him the instructions, the plans, the secrets of the Cabinet of Corsica.
This conduct, which is considered here as base and atrocious, appears to
me quite natural; but this is because, in all sorts of affairs, we
should understand one another, and reason with coolness.
The prude censures the coquette, and is laughed at by her in return;
this, in a few words, is your history. The man of principle judges you
harshly, but you do not believe that there is a man of principle. The
common people, who are always led away by virtuous demagogues, cannot be
appreciated by you, who do not believe in virtue. You cannot be
condemned but by your own principles, like a criminal by the laws; but
those who know the refinement of your principles, find nothing in your
conduct but what is very simple. This brings us back, then, to what we
have already said, that, in all sorts of affairs, the first thing
requisite is to understand one another, and then argue coolly. You are
also protected by a sort of sub-defence, not less effectual, for you do
not aspire to the reputation of a Cato or a Catinat. It is sufficient
for you to resemble a certain class; and, among this certain class, it
is agreed that he who may get money, and does not profit by the
opportunity, is a ninny; for money procures all the pleasures of sense,
and the pleasures of sense are the only pleasures. Now, M. de Choiseul,
who was very liberal, made it impossible for you to resist
him--particularly as your ridiculous country paid you for your services,
according to her laughable custom, by the honour of serving her.
The treaty of Compiégne being concluded, M. de Chauvelin and twenty-four
battalions landed on our shores. M. de Choiseul, to whom the celerity of
the expedition was most important, had uneasiness on the subject, which,
in his confidential communications, he could not disguise from you. You
suggested that he should send you there with a few millions. As Philip
took cities with his Mule, you promised to make every thing yield to him
without opposition. No sooner said than done--and there you are,
recrossing the sea, throwing off the mask, and, with money and your
commission in your hand, opening negotiations with those whom you
thought would be most easily gained over.
Never imagining that a Corsican could prefer himself to his country, the
Cabinet of Corsica had intrusted you with her interests. Never dreaming,
for your part, that any man would not prefer money and himself to his
country, you sold yourself and hoped to buy every body. Profound
moralist as you were, you knew how much the enthusiasm of each
individual was worth; some pounds of gold, more or less, formed, in your
eyes, all the shades which diversify character.
You are mistaken, however:--the weak-minded were certainly shaken, but
they were terrified by the horrible idea of mangling the bosom of their
country. They thought they saw their fathers, their brothers, their
friends, who perished in defending her, raise their heads from the tomb
to load them with curses. These ridiculous prejudices were strong enough
to stop you in your career; you lamented having to do with a people so
childish in its notions. But, sir, this refinement of sentiment is not
bestowed on the multitude; and, therefore, they live in poverty and
wretchedness; while a man who has got proper notions, if circumstances
favour him ever so little, knows the way to rise very speedily. This is
pretty exactly the moral of your story.
When you made your report of the obstacles which prevented you from
realizing your promises, you proposed that the Royal Corsican regiment
should be bought. You hoped that its example would enlighten our too
simple and honest peasants, and accustom them to things to which they
felt so much repugnance. But what happened? Did not Rossi, Marengo, and
some other madmen, inflame the minds of the regiment to such a pitch,
that the officers in a body protested, by an authentic writing, that
they would throw up their commissions, sooner than violate their oaths,
or their duties, which were still more sacred?
You thus found yourself reduced to stand alone as an example to others.
Without being disconcerted, at the head of a few friends and a French
detachment, you threw yourself into Vescovato; but the terrible
Clement[660] unkennelled you from thence. You retired upon Bastia with
your companions in adventure. This little affair was not much to your
credit; your house, and those of your associates, were burnt. But, in a
place of safety, you laughed at these impotent efforts.
People here charge you with having endeavoured to arm the Royal
Corsicans against their brethren. They also wish to impeach your
courage, from the small resistance you made at Vescovato. There is
little foundation for these accusations; for the first was an immediate
consequence of your projects, indeed one of your means of executing
them; and, as we have already proved that your conduct was perfectly
simple and natural, this incidental charge goes for nothing. As to your
want of courage, I do not see how this is settled by the action of
Vescovato: You did not go there with the serious purpose of fighting,
but for the sake of encouraging, by your example, those who were
wavering in the opposite party. And after all, what right has any one to
require that you should have run the risk of losing the fruits of two
years' good conduct, by being shot like a common soldier? But you must
have felt a good deal, say some folk, on seeing your own house, and
those of your friends, become a prey to the flames. Good God! when will
narrow-minded people give over trying to judge of every thing? Your
letting your house be burnt, put M. de Choiseul under the necessity of
indemnifying you. Experience proved the accuracy of your calculations;
you received much more than the value of what you lost. To be sure you
are accused of having kept all to yourself, and of having given nothing
but a trifle to the poor creatures whom you had seduced. In order to
justify your having acted in this way, it is only necessary to inquire
if you could do it with perfect safety. Now, the poor people who were so
dependent on your protection, were neither in a condition to demand
restitution, nor even to understand very clearly the injustice which was
done them. They could not become malecontents, and rebel against your
authority; being held in detestation by their countrymen, their return
to their former sentiments could no longer be held as sincere. It was
then very natural that, when a few thousand crowns thus came in your
way, you should not let them out of your hands;--to have done so, would
have been cheating yourself.
The French, beaten in spite of their gold, their commissions, the
discipline of their numerous battalions, the activity of their
squadrons, the skill of their artillerymen,--defeated at La Penta,
Vescovato, Loretto, San Nicolai, Borgo Barbaggio, Oletta,--intrenched
themselves, excessively disheartened. Winter, the time of their repose,
was for you, sir, a period of the greatest labour; and if you could not
triumph over the obstinacy of prejudices so deeply rooted in the minds
of the people, you found means to seduce some of their chiefs, whom you
succeeded, though with some difficulty, in bringing to a right way of
thinking. This, along with the thirty battalions whom M. de Vaux brought
with him the following spring, forced Corsica to yield to the yoke, and
drove Paoli and the greatest fanatics into banishment.
One portion of the patriots had died in the defence of their
independence, another had fled from a land of proscription, and which,
from that time, was a hideous den of tyrants. But a great number could
neither die nor take flight; they became the objects of persecution.
Minds, whom it had been found impossible to corrupt, were of such a
stamp, that the empire of the French could only be established on their
total destruction. Alas! this plan was but too punctually executed. Some
perished, victims of crimes unjustly imputed to them; others, betrayed
by their own hospitality, and by their own confidence, expiated on the
scaffold the sighs and tears into which they had been surprised by
dissimulation. A great number, crowded by Narbonne-Fridzelar into the
town of Toulon, poisoned by unwholesome food, tortured by their chains,
and sinking under the most barbarous treatment, lived a short time in
their misery, merely to see death slowly approaching. O God, witness of
their innocence, why didst thou not become their avenger?
In the midst of this general calamity, in the midst of the groans and
lamentations of this unfortunate people, you, however, began to enjoy
the fruit of your labours--honours, dignities, pensions, all were
showered upon you. Your prosperity would have advanced still more
rapidly, had not Du Barri overthrown M. de Choiseul, and deprived you of
a protector, who duly appreciated your services. This blow did not
discourage you: you turned your attention to the _bureaux_; you merely
felt the necessity of greater assiduity. This flattered the persons in
office, your services were so notorious. All your wishes were granted.
Not content with the lake of Biguglia, you demanded a part of the lands
of many communities. Why, it is said, did you wish to deprive them of
these lands? I ask, in my turn, what regard ought you to have for a
nation by whom you knew yourself to be detested?
Your favourite project was, to divide the island among ten Barons. How!
not satisfied with having assisted in forging the chains with which your
country was bound, you wished still further to subject her to the absurd
feudal government! But I commend you for having done as much harm to the
Corsicans as you possibly could. You were at war with them; and, in war,
to do evil for one's own advantage, is a first principle.
But let us pass over all these paltry matters--let us come to the
present moment, and conclude a letter, which, from its frightful length,
cannot fail to fatigue you.
The state of affairs in France prognosticated extraordinary events. You
became alarmed for the effect of them in Corsica. The same madness with
which we were possessed before the war, began, to your great scandal, to
infect that amiable people. You comprehended the consequences; for, if
noble sentiments were to gain an ascendency in public opinion, you would
become no better than a traitor, instead of being a man of prudence and
good sense. What was still worse, if ever noble sentiments were again to
stir the blood of our ardent countrymen, and if ever a national
government were to be the result of such sentiments, what would become
of you? Your own conscience then began to terrify you. Restless,
however, and unhappy as you were, you did not yield to your conscience.
You resolved to risk every thing for every thing--but you played your
game skilfully. You married, to strengthen your interest. A respectable
man, who, relying on your word, had given his sister to your nephew,
found himself abused. Your nephew, whose patrimony you had swallowed up
in order to increase an inheritance which was to have been his own, was
reduced to poverty, with a numerous family.
Having arranged your domestic affairs, you cast your eyes over the
country. You saw it smoking with the blood of its martyrs, heaped with
numerous victims, and, at every step, inspiring only ideas of vengeance.
But you saw the ruffian soldier, the insolent pettifogger, the greedy
tax-gatherer, lord it without contradiction; and the Corsican, groaning
under the weight of triple chains, neither daring to think of what he
was, nor to reflect on what he still might be. You said to yourself, in
the joy of your heart, "Things go on well, and the only thing is to keep
them so." And straightway you leagued yourself with the soldier, the
pettifogger, and the tax-gatherer. The only point now to be attended to
was, to procure deputies who should be animated by congenial sentiments;
for, as to yourself, you could never suppose that a nation which was
your enemy would choose you for her representative. But you necessarily
changed your opinion, when the letters of convocation, by an absurdity
which was perhaps the result of design, determined that the deputy from
the nobility should be appointed by an assembly composed of only
twenty-two persons. All that was necessary was to obtain twelve votes.
Your associates in the higher council laboured with activity. Threats,
promises, caresses, money, all were put in action. You succeeded. Your
friends were not so successful among the Commons. The first president
failed; and two men of exalted ideas--the one the son, the brother, the
nephew, of the most zealous defenders of the common cause--the other a
person who had seen Sionville and Narbonne, and whose mind was full of
the horrid actions he had seen, while he lamented his own want of power
to oppose them;--these two men were proclaimed deputies, and their
appointment satisfied the wishes of the nation. The secret chagrin, the
suppressed rage, which were every where caused by your appointment, form
the best eulogy on the skill of your manœuvres, and the influence of
your league.
When you arrived at Versailles, you were a zealous Royalist. When you
now arrived at Paris, you must have seen with much concern, that the
government, which it was wished to organize upon so many ruins, was the
same with that which, in our country, had been drowned in so much blood.
The efforts of the unprincipled were powerless; the new constitution
being admired by all Europe, and having become an object of interest to
every thinking being, there remained for you but one resource. This was,
to make it be believed that this constitution was not adapted to our
island; although it was exactly the same with that which had produced
such good effects, and which it cost so much blood to deprive us of.
All the delegates of the former administration, who naturally entered
into your cabal, served you with the zeal arising from personal
interest. Memorials were written, the object of which was to prove how
advantageous for us was the existing government, and to demonstrate that
any change would be contrary to the wish of the nation. At this time the
city of Ajaccio obtained some knowledge of what was going on. This city
roused herself, formed her national guard, organized her committee. This
unexpected incident alarmed you--the fermentation spread in all
directions. You persuaded the ministers, over whom you had gained some
ascendency in relation to the affairs of Corsica, that it was of
importance to send thither your father-in-law, M. Gaffory, with a
command; and immediately we saw M. Gaffory, a worthy precursor of M.
Narbonne, endeavouring, at the head of his troops, to maintain by force
that tyranny which his late father, of glorious memory, had resisted and
confounded by his genius. Innumerable blunders left no room for
concealing your father-in-law's mediocrity of talent; he possessed no
other art but that of making himself enemies. The people rallied against
him on every side. In this imminent danger you lifted up your eyes, and
saw Narbonne! Narbonne, profiting by a moment of favour, had laid the
plan of establishing firmly, in an island which he had wasted with
unheard-of cruelty, the despotism which oppressed it. You laid your
heads together; the plan was determined on; five thousand men received
orders; commissions for increasing by a battalion the provincial
regiment were prepared. Narbonne set out. This poor nation, unarmed and
disheartened, without hope and without resource, is delivered into the
hands of her executioner.
O unhappy countrymen! Of what odious treachery were you to be the
victims! You would not perceive it till it was too late. How were you,
without arms, to resist ten thousand men? You would yourself have signed
the act of your degradation; hope would have been extinguished; and days
of uninterrupted misfortune would have succeeded. Emancipated France
would have looked upon you with contempt; afflicted Italy with
indignation; and Europe, astonished at this unexampled degree of
degradation, would have effaced from her annals the traits which do
honour to your character. But your deputies from the Commons penetrated
the design, and informed you of it in time. A king, whose only wish was
the happiness of his people, being well informed on the subject by M. La
Fayette, that steady friend of liberty, dissipated the intrigues of a
perfidious minister, who was certainly impelled by the desire of
vengeance to do you injury. Ajaccio showed resolution in her address, in
which was described with such energy the miserable state to which you
were reduced by the most oppressive of governments. Bastia, till then
stupified as it were, awoke at the sound of danger, and took up arms
with that resolution for which she has been always distinguished. Arena
came from Paris to Boulogne, full of those sentiments which lead men to
the boldest enterprises. With arms in one hand, and the decrees of the
National Assembly in the other, he made the public enemies tremble.
Achilles Meurate, the conqueror of Caprana, who had carried desolation
as far as Genoa, and who, to be a Turenne, wanted nothing but
opportunity and a more extensive field, reminded his companions in
glory, that this was the time to acquire additional fame,--that their
country in danger had need, not of intrigues, which he knew nothing
about, but of fire and sword. At the sound of so general an explosion,
Gaffory returned to the insignificance from which he had been brought,
so _mal-à-propos_, by intrigues;--he trembled in the fortress of Certe.
Narbonne fled from Lyons, to hide in Rome his shame, and his infernal
projects. A few days afterwards Corsica is united to France, Paoli
recalled; and in an instant the prospect changes, and opens to your view
a course of events which you could not have dared to hope for.
I beg your pardon, sir; I took up my pen to defend you; but my heart
revolts against so uniform a system of treason and atrocity. What! did
you, a son of the same country, never feel any thing for her? What! did
your heart experience no emotion at the sight of the rocks, the trees,
the houses, the spots which were the scenes of your infant amusements?
When you came into the world, your country nourished you with her
fruits; when you came to the years of reason, she placed her hopes in
you; she honoured you with her confidence; she said to you, "My son, you
see the wretched state to which I am reduced by the injustice of
men;--through my native vigour, I am recovering a degree of strength
which promises me a speedy and infallible recovery; but I am again
threatened! Fly, my son, hasten to Versailles; inform the great king of
every thing, dissipate his suspicions, request his friendship."
Well! a little gold made you betray her confidence; and forthwith, for a
little gold, you were seen, like a parricide, tearing open her bosom.
Ah, sir, I am far from wishing you ill; but there is an avenging
conscience! Your countrymen, to whom you are an object of horror, will
enlighten France as to your character. The wealth, the pensions, the
fruits of your treasons, will be taken from you. In the decrepitude of
old age and poverty, in the frightful solitude of wickedness, you will
live long enough to become a prey to the torments of conscience. The
father will point you out to his son, the master to his pupil, saying,
"Young people, learn to respect your country, virtue, fidelity, and
humanity."
And you, respectable and unhappy woman, whose youth, beauty, and
innocence were vilely prostituted, does your pure and chaste heart beat
under a hand so criminal? In those moments in which nature gives the
alarm to love, when, withdrawn from the chimeras of life, unmingled
pleasures succeed each other with rapidity, when the mind, expanded by
the fire of sentiment, enjoys only the pleasure of causing enjoyment,
and feels only the pleasure of exciting feeling,--in those moments you
press to your heart, you become identified with that cold and selfish
man, who has never deviated from his character, and who, in the course
of sixty years, has never known any thing but the care of his own
interest, an instinctive love of destruction, the most infamous avarice,
the base pleasures of sense! By and by, the glare of honours, the
trappings of riches, will disappear; you will be loaded with general
contempt. Will you seek, in the bosom of him who is the author of your
woes, a consolation indispensable to your gentle and affectionate mind?
Will you endeavour to find in his eyes tears to mingle with yours? Will
your failing hand, placed on his bosom, seek to find an agitation like
that in your own? Alas, if you surprise him in tears, they will be those
of remorse; if his bosom heave, it will be with the convulsions of the
wretch who dies abhorring nature, himself, and the hand that guides him.
O Lameth! O Robespierre! O Pétion! O Volney! O Mirabeau! O Barnave! O
Bailly! O La Fayette! this is the man who dares to seat himself by your
side! Dropping with the blood of his brethren, stained by every sort of
vice, he presents himself with confidence in the dress of a general, the
reward of his crimes! He dares to call himself the representative of the
nation--he who sold her--and you suffer it! He dares to raise his eyes,
and listen to your discourse, and you suffer it! Is it the voice of the
people that sent him? He never had more than the voice of twelve nobles.
Ajaccio, Bastia, and most of the districts, have done that to his effigy
which they would have been very glad to do to his person.
But you, who are induced, by the error of the moment, or perhaps
temporary abuses, to oppose any fresh changes, will you tolerate a
traitor? a man who, under the cool exterior of a man of sense, conceals
the avidity of a lacquey? I cannot imagine it. You will be the first to
drive him away with ignominy, as soon as you are aware of the string of
atrocities of which he has been the author.
I have the honour, &c.
BUONAPARTE.
_From my closet at Milleli,
23d January, 1790_
FOOTNOTES:
[660] Clement Paoli, elder brother of the general, a good soldier, an
excellent citizen, a real philosopher. At the beginning of an action he
could not bring himself to engage in personal combat; he gave his orders
with the _sang froid_ which characterises the good officer. But he no
sooner saw his men begin to fall, than he seized his arms with a
convulsive movement of indignation, and made use of them,
exclaiming--"Unjust men! why break down the barriers of nature? why must
you be enemies of your country?" Austere in his manners, simple in his
habits, he has always lived retired. It was only in great emergencies
that he came forward to give his opinion, which was very seldom departed
from.--S.
No. III.
THE SUPPER OF BEAUCAIRE.
_July 29, 1793._
[See p. 14.]
I happened to be at Beaucaire on the last day of the fair, and by chance
had for my companions at supper two merchants from Marseilles, a citizen
of Nimes, and a manufacturer from Montpelier.
After the first few minutes of mutual survey, they discovered that I
came from Avignon, and was in the army. The attention of my companions,
which, all the week, had been fixed on the details of that traffic which
is the parent of wealth, was at this moment turned to the issue of those
passing events, upon which the security of all wealth so much depends.
They endeavoured to come at my opinion, in order that, by comparing it
with their own, they might be enabled to form probable conjectures
respecting that future, which affected us so differently. The two
citizens of Marseilles, in particular, appeared to be perplexed in
spirit. The evacuation of Avignon had taught them to doubt of every
thing. They manifested but one great solicitude as to their future fate.
Confidence soon made us talkative, and our conversation ran in nearly
the following terms:--
_Nimois._--Is Cartaux's army strong? It is said to have lost a great
many men in the attack; but if it be true that it has been repulsed, why
have the Marseillese evacuated Avignon?
_Militaire._--The army was four thousand strong when it assaulted
Avignon; it now amounts to six thousand, and within four days will reach
ten thousand men. It lost five men killed and eleven wounded. It has
never been repulsed, since it never made a formal attack; the troops
only manœuvred about the place, in order to ascertain where an
attempt to force the gates, by means of petards, might be made to the
best advantage; a few cannon were fired, to try the courage of the
garrison, and it was then necessary to draw back to the camp, to combine
the attack for the following night. The Marseillese were three thousand
six hundred men; they had a heavier and more numerous artillery, and yet
they have been obliged to recross the Durance. This surprises you; but
it is only veteran troops who can endure the uncertain events of a
siege. We were masters of the Rhone, of Villeneuve, and of the open
country; we had intercepted all their communications. They were under
the necessity of evacuating the town, were pursued by our cavalry, and
lost many prisoners, with two guns.
_Marseillese._--This is a very different story from what we have been
told. I do not dispute what you say, since you were present; but you
must confess, that, after all this, they can do you no good. Our army is
at Aix. Three good generals are come in place of the former ones: at
Marseilles they are raising fresh battalions; we have a new train of
artillery, several twenty-four pounders; in a few days, we shall be in a
position to retake Avignon, or at worst we shall remain masters of the
Durance.
_Militaire._--Such is the story you have been told, to entice you to the
brink of the abyss, which is deepening every moment, and which perhaps
will engulf the finest town of France--the one which has deserved most
of the patriots. But you were also told, that you should traverse
France--that you should give the _ton_ to the Republic--and yet your
very first steps have been checks. You were told that Avignon could
resist for a long time a force of twenty thousand men--and yet a single
column, without a battering train, gained possession of it in
four-and-twenty hours. You were told that the south had risen--and you
found yourselves _alone_! You were told that the Nimes cavalry were
about to crush the Allobroges--and yet the Allobroges were already at
Saint-Esprit, and at Villeneuve. You were told that four thousand
Lyonese were marching to your assistance--and yet the Lyonese were
negotiating an accommodation for themselves. Acknowledge, then, that you
have been deceived--open your eyes to the want of skill among your
leaders, and put no faith in their calculations. Of all counsellors,
self-love is the most dangerous. You are naturally impetuous: they are
leading you to your destruction, by the self-same means which have
ruined so many nations--by inflaming your vanity. You possess
considerable wealth, and a large population--these they exaggerate. You
have rendered signal services to the cause of liberty--of these they
remind you, without, at the same time, pointing out to you, that the
genius of the republic was at that time with you, that it has now
abandoned you.
Your army, you say, is at Aix with a large train of artillery, and
skilful generals; well, do what it may, I tell you it will be beaten.
You had three thousand six hundred men--a full half is dispersed.
Marseilles, and a few refugees from the department, may offer you four
thousand: that is the utmost. You will then have between five and six
thousand troops, without unity, without order, without discipline.
You have, you say, good generals. I do not know them, and shall not,
therefore, dispute their abilities; but they will be absorbed in
details, they will not be seconded by the subalterns, they will be
unable to do any thing to maintain the reputation they may possess; for
it would require at least two months to get their army into tolerable
discipline; and in four days Cartaux will have passed the Durance--and
with what soldiers? Why, with the excellent light troop of the
Allobroges, the old regiment of Burgundy, and the brave battalion of the
Cote d'Or (which has been a hundred times victorious in battle,) and six
or seven other corps, all disciplined soldiers, encouraged by their
successes on the frontiers, and _against your army_! You have some
twenty-four pounders, and eighteen pounders, and you fancy yourselves
impregnable. In this you but follow the vulgar opinion; but military men
will tell you, and fatal experience is about to convince you, that good
four-pounders and eight-pounders are preferable on many accounts to
pieces of heavy calibre! You have cannoneers of the new levy--your
adversaries have gunners from regiments of the line, the best masters of
their art in all Europe!
What will your army do if it concentrates itself at Aix? It is lost. It
is an axiom in the military art, that the army which remains in its
intrenchments is beaten: experience and theory agree upon this point;
and the walls of Aix are not equal to the worst field-intrenchment,
especially if you bear in mind their extent, and the houses which skirt
them on the exterior within pistol-shot. Be you well assured then that
this course, which to you appears the best, is the very worst. Besides,
what means will you possess of supplying the town, in so short a time,
with every kind of provisions? Will your army offer battle? Why, it is
the weaker in numbers--it has no cavalry--its artillery is less adapted
for the field--it would be broken, and from that moment defeated without
resource, for the cavalry would prevent it from rallying.
Expect, then, to see the war carried into the Marseilles territory.
There a tolerably powerful party is for the Republic; this will be the
moment for the struggle; the junction will be made; and your city, the
centre of the commerce of the Levant, the _entrepôt_ of the south of
Europe, is lost! Recollect the recent example of Lisle,[661] and the
barbarous laws of war.
What infatuation has all at once possessed your townsmen? What fatal
blindness is leading them to their ruin? How can they fancy themselves
powerful enough to oppose the whole Republic? Even should they compel
this army to fall back upon Avignon, can they doubt that, in a few days,
fresh troops would come to supply the place of the former? The Republic,
which gives the law to Europe, will she receive it from Marseilles?
United with Bourdeaux, Lyons, Montpellier, Nimes, Grenoble, the Jura,
the Eure, the Calvados, you undertook a revolution. You had a
probability of success: those who spurred you on might be
ill-intentioned men; but you were an imposing mass of strength. On the
contrary, now that Lyons, Nimes, Montpellier, Bourdeaux, the Jura, the
Eure, Grenoble, Caen, have accepted the constitution;--now that Avignon,
Tarascon, Arles, have submitted, acknowledge that in obstinacy there is
folly. The fact is, that you are under the influence of individuals who,
_having no property of their own to look after_, are involving you in
their ruin.
Your army will be composed of the best-conditioned, the richest portion
of your city; for the Sans-Culottes could but be too easily turned
against you. You are about, then, to risk the _élite_ of your youthful
population, young men accustomed to hold the commercial balance of the
Mediterranean, and enrich you by their economy and their speculations,
against veteran soldiers a hundred times stained with the blood of the
desperate aristocrat or the ferocious Prussian.
Let poor countries fight to the last extremity. The inhabitant of the
Vivarais, of the Cevennes, of Corsica, exposes himself without fear to
the issue of a battle; if he gains it, he has obtained his object; if he
is beaten, he finds himself as before, in the condition to make peace,
and in the same position. But you!--lose but a battle, and the fruits of
a thousand years of industry, of economy, of prosperity, become the prey
of the soldier.
_Marseillese._--You get on a great rate, and you alarm me. I agree with
you that our situation is critical. It is perhaps true, that we do not
sufficiently consider the position in which we now stand; but you cannot
but acknowledge that we have still immense resources to oppose you. You
have persuaded me that we could not resist at Aix: your observation as
to the want of subsistence is perhaps unanswerable, as applied to a
siege of long duration; but do you imagine that all Provence can, for a
long period, witness with indifference the blockade of Aix? It will rise
spontaneously; and your army, hemmed in on all sides, will be but too
happy to repass the Durance.
_Militaire._--Ah! how little you know of the spirit of men, and of the
times, to talk thus! Everywhere there are two parties. The moment you
are besieged, the Sectionary party will be put down in all the country
places. The example of Tarascon, Saint-Remy, Organ, Arles, should
convince you of this; a score of dragoons have sufficed to restore the
old authorities, and put the new ones to flight.
Henceforward, in your department, any powerful movement in your favour
is impossible. It might have taken place when the army was on the other
side the Durance, and you were unbroken. At Toulon, the active spirits
are much divided; and there the Sectionaries have not the same
superiority as at Marseilles; they must therefore remain in the city to
keep down their adversary. As for the department of the Lower Alps,
nearly the whole of it, as you know, has accepted the constitution.
_Marseillese._--We shall attack Cartaux in our mountains, where his
cavalry will be of no service to him.
_Militaire._--As if an army engaged in protecting a town could choose
the point of attack. Besides, it is a fallacy to suppose there are any
mountains near Marseilles sufficiently inaccessible to render cavalry
ineffective: your hills are just steep enough to render the use of
artillery more difficult, and to give a great advantage to your enemy;
for it is in a country intersected by rivers that the skilful
artilleryman, by the rapidity of his movements, the exactness in serving
his pieces, and the accuracy of his elevations, is the most sure of
having the superiority.
_Marseillese._--You fancy us, then, to be without resources: Is it then
possible, that it can be the destiny of a town who resisted the Romans,
and preserved a portion of its laws under the despots who succeeded
them, to become the prey of a handful of brigands? What! the Allobroge,
laden with the spoils of Lisle, shall he give law to Marseilles? What!
Dubois du Crancé, and Albitte, shall they rule over us uncontrolled?
Those men, steeped in blood, whom the miseries of the times have placed
at the head of affairs, shall they be our absolute masters? Sad, indeed,
is the prospect you set before us! Our property, under different
pretences, would be invaded; at every instant we should be the victims
of a soldiery, whom plunder unites under the same banner: our best
citizens would be imprisoned, and perish by violence. The Club would
again rear its monstrous head to execute its infernal projects! Nothing
can be worse than this; better to expose ourselves to the chance of
warfare, than become victims without alternative!
_Militaire._--Such is civil war! men revile one another--detest one
another--kill one another, without knowing one another! The Allobroges!
what do you suppose them to be? Africans? inhabitants of Siberia? Oh,
not at all! They are your countrymen,--the men of Provence, of Dauphiny,
of Savoy. Some people fancy them to be barbarians, because the name they
have taken sounds oddly. If your own troops were to be called the
Phocœan phalanx, every species of fable would be accredited
respecting them.
You have reminded me of one fact, the assault of Lisle. I do not justify
it, but will explain to you how it happened. The inhabitants killed the
trumpeter who was sent to them; they resisted without the slightest
chance of success; the town was taken by assault; the soldiers entered
it amidst fire and slaughter: it was impossible to restrain them, and
fury did the rest.
Those soldiers whom you call brigands, are our best troops, and most
disciplined battalions: their reputation is above calumny.
Dubois-Crancé and Albitte, constant friends of the people, have never
deviated from the right line. Certainly they are "wicked men" in the
eyes of the bad: but Condorcet, Brissot, Barbaroux, were also "wicked
men," so long as they remained uncontaminated. It will ever be the fate
of the good to be ill-spoken of by the worthless. You imagine they show
you no mercy; on the contrary, they are treating you like wayward
children. Do you think, if they had been otherwise disposed, that the
merchants of Marseilles would have been suffered to withdraw the goods
which they had at Beaucaire? They could have sequestered them till the
war was over. They were unwilling to do so; and, thanks to them, you can
now return quietly to your homes.
You call Cartaux an assassin. Well! let me tell you, that that general
takes the greatest pains to preserve order and discipline; witness his
conduct at St. Esprit and at Avignon. He ordered a sergeant to prison
because he had violated the asylum of a citizen who concealed one of
your soldiers. In the eyes of the general, this sergeant was culpable
for having entered, without direct orders, a private dwelling. Some
people of Avignon were punished for pointing out a house as belonging to
an aristocrat. A prosecution is now going on against a soldier, on a
charge of theft. On the contrary, your army killed, assassinated more
than thirty persons, violated the asylums of families, and filled the
prisons with citizens, on the vague pretence that they were brigands.
Do not be in alarm about the army. It esteems Marseilles, because it
knows that no town has made so many sacrifices for the public good. You
have eighteen thousand men on the frontier; and you have not spared
yourselves under any circumstances. Shake off, then, the yoke of the few
aristocrats who govern you; return to sounder principles, and you will
have no truer friend than the army.
_Marseillese._--Ah! your army! It has greatly degenerated from the army
of 1789. That army would not take up arms against the nation. Yours
should imitate so worthy an example, and not turn their arms against
their fellow-citizens.