I shall first detail the circumstances under which this singular event took place; afterwards attempt to give some idea of the effects produced by it on the multitude. On the 1st of March 1815, Napoleon landed near Cannes, in the gulf of Juan. His first step was, to dispatch his Aide-de-Camp, Casabianca, with another officer and 25 men, to ask admittance into the Fort of Antibes; admitted into the Fort, they demanded its surrender to Bonaparte. The Governor paraded his garrison, and having made them swear allegiance to their Sovereign, he secured the rebels. Casabianca leaped from the wall and broke his back. In the meantime, Napoleon, finding his first scheme fail, marched straight to Grace, with between 700 and 800 men. He there encamped with his small force on the plain before the town, and summoned the mayor to furnish rations for his men; to which the mayor replied; that he acknowledged no orders from any authority except Louis XVIII. This conduct was the more worthy of praise, as the poor mayor had not a soldier to support him. The Emperor then attempted to have printed a proclamation in writing, signed by him, and counter-signed by General Bertrand, in which, among other rhodomontades, he tells the good people of France, that he comes at the call of the French nation, who, he knew, could not suffer themselves to be ruled by the Prince Regent of England, in the person of Louis XVIII.—The printer refused to print it. Napoleon proceeded from Grace to Digne, from Digne to Sisteron, and from Sisteron to Gap, where he slept on the 6th of March. In all the villages, he endeavoured, apparently without success, to inflame the minds of the people, and strengthen, by recruits, his small body of troops. He has, as yet, got no one to join him; but, on the other hand, he has met with no resistance. This day, the 8th, he must meet with three thousand men, commanded by General Marchand. It is thought, that if these prove true to their allegiance, he will make good his way to Lyons; but if, on the contrary, they oppose him, he is ruined. The commotion excited in Aix, by this news, is not to be conceived. The hatred and detestation in which Bonaparte is held here, becomes, I think, more apparent as the danger is more imminent. With a very few exceptions, all ranks of people express these sentiments. The national guard were immediately under arms, and entreated their commanding officer and the civil authorities, to permit them to go in pursuit of the ex-Emperor. Unfortunately the chiefs were not well agreed on the measures which ought to be adopted. From the excessivesang froidwith which Massena conducted himself, I should not be surprised if there were some truth in the report which was current here, that he had intelligence of the whole scheme, and kept back, in order that he might join Bonaparte. The first and second day, nothing was done; on the 3d, the 83d regiment was dispatched in pursuit from Marseilles. I accompanied them for four miles, during which, they had made two short halts. I had an opportunity of talking with a number of the men: they were certainly liberal in their abuse of the ex-Emperor; but several of them remarked, that itwas a hard thing to make them fight against each other. The French here are all of opinion, that the troops of the line are not to be trusted. Like all other soldiers, they long for war, and as they would be more likely to have war Under Napoleon, than under Louis XVIII. I have little doubt they would join him. On the first news, the whole society of Aix were in the deepest affliction—the men agitated and disturbed—the women and children weeping. Each hour these feelings changed, for every hour there was some new report. The French believe every thing, and though each report belied the other, I saw no difference in the credit attached to them. There is no newspaper published in Aix, and the prefect, who is a person much suspected, has taken no steps to give the public correct information, but allows them to grope, in the dark; they have invented accordingly the most ridiculous stories, converting hundreds into thousands, and a few fishing boats and other small craft, into first a squadron of Neapolitans, and then a fleet of English ships. This report of the English ships is, I am sorry to say, still current, and the English are looked on with an evil eye by the lower orders. Even among our more liberal friends, there were some who asked me, what interest the English could have in letting him escape? After some cool reasoning, however, they acknowledged the folly of this story. The King is universally blamed for employing, in the most responsible situations, the Generals attached to Napoleon. The populace declare, that Soult, the Minister of War, is at the bottom of this attempt. Now, that one can reason on the matter, and that the impression of the magnanimity which dictated the conduct of the allied Powers to Napoleon, is somewhat diminished, it must be allowed, that there is some sense in the remark, that it was folly to dismiss him to Elba, with all the appointment, "pomp, and circumstance" of a little Sovereign, instead of confining him in a prison, or leaving him no head to plan mischief. The people affirm here, that this was done purposely by the English, to keep France in continual trouble.
15th.—All possibility of continuing this little Journal is precluded by the alarming progress of Napoleon, and the consequent necessity of taking immediate steps for our departure from this country. The ex-Emperor is every day making rapid strides to the capital; and we have to-day intelligence that it is believed the troops in Lyons are disaffected. I have now given up all hope, for I see plainly that every thing is arranged—not a blow has been struck. The soldiers have every where joined him, and there cannot be a doubt that he will reign in France. He may not, indeed, reign long; for it is to be hoped that the English will not shut their eyes, or be deceived by the fabricated reports of the journals—It is to be hoped that the allied Powers are better acquainted with the character of Napoleon than the too-good Louis XVIII. In the mean time, it is high time for us to be off; and I think we shall take the route of Bourdeaux. This unfortunate town (Aix), is now a melancholy spectacle; for all the thinking part believe that the cause of the Bourbons is lost. Our poor landlord, a violent royalist, has just been with us. He affirms that he could have predicted all this; for when he sold the white cockades to the military, they often said,[10]"Eh bien; c'est bon pour le moment, mais cela ne durera pas long temps."—Poor man, he is in perfect agony, and his wife weeps all day long. If all the people of France thought as well as those at Aix, Napoleon would have little chance of success; but alas, I am much afraid he will find more friends than enemies.
The whole town is still in the greatest confusion. The national guard, amongst whom were many of our friends, were not allowed to march till the seventh day after the landing of Napoleon. By day-break, we were awoke by the music of the military bands, and saw, from the windows, the different companies, headed by their officers, many of whose faces were familiar to us, march out, seemingly in great spirits. It was a melancholy sight to us. There was something in our own situation; placed in a country already involved in civil commotion, finding our poor French friends, whose life seemed before this to be nothing but one continued scene of amusement, now weeping for the loss of their sons and husbands and brothers, who had marched to intercept Napoleon, and involved in uncomfortable uncertainty as to our future plans, which for some time made every thing appear gloomy and distressing. The interval between the 8th and the 12th has been occupied by a constant succession of favourable and unfavourable reports; gloomy conjectures and fearful forebodings, have, however, with most people here, formed the prevailing tone of public opinion. The report which was, a few days ago, circulated here, that the escape of the ex-Emperor was a premeditated plan, invented and executed by the English, gains ground every day. It is completely credited by the lower classes here; and such is the enmity against the English, that we are now obliged to give up our country walks, rather than encounter the menacing looks and insulting speeches of the lower orders. To-day is the 8th, and we are in a state of the most extreme anxiety, waiting for the arrival of a courier. In this unfortunate country, owing to the imperfection of the system of posts, public news travel very slowly; and in proportion to the scarcity of accurate information, is the perplexing variety of unfounded reports. The prefect of Aix has just been here to tell us that as yet there appears to be nothing decided; but that upon the whole, things look favourably for the Bourbons. Bonaparte, he informs us, slept at Gape on Sunday, and dispatched from that town three couriers with different proclamations. Not a man joined him, and it is said he left Gape enraged by the coolness of his reception. In the course of the day, another mail from Gape has arrived, but still brings no intelligence, which looks as if this unfortunate business would be speedily decided. Monsieur has arrived at Lyons, and intends, we hear, to proceed to Grenoble. Last night it was quite impossible for us to sleep. The crowds in the streets, and the confusion of the mob who parade all night, expecting the arrival of a new courier, creates a continual uproar. During the night, we heard our poor landlady weeping; and we found out next morning that her husband had been called off in the night to join the national guard, which had marched in pursuit of the ex-Emperor.
Friday, the 10th.—Still no decisive intelligence has arrived. Every thing, it is said, looks well, but there is a mystery and stillness about the town to-day which alarms us.
Saturday, the 11th.—We have this day received from Mr L. B., who marched with the national guard, a very interesting letter from Sisteron. The crisis, which will determine the result of this last daring adventure of the ex-Emperor, seems to be fast approaching. Our friend tells us all as yet looks well. Bonaparte is surrounded and hemmed in to the space of two leagues by troops marching from all sides. These, however, how strong soever they may be, appear to maintain a suspicious kind of inaction, and he continues his progress towards Grenoble. Every thing depends on the conduct of the troops there, under General Marchand. Their force is such, that if they continue firm, his project is ruined. On the contrary, if their allegiance to the Bourbons is but pretended, and if their attachment to their old commander should revive, it is to be dreaded that this impulse will have an irresistible effect upon the troops; and if Marchand's division joins him, all is irretrievably lost: He will be at the head of a force sufficient to enable him to dictate terms to Lyons, and the pernicious example of so great a body of troops will poison the allegiance of the rest of the army.
Sunday, the 12th.—Our fears have been prophetic. We have heard again from Mr L. B. This letter is most melancholy; Marchand's corps have joined the ex-Emperor, and he is on his march to Lyons, the second town in the kingdom, with a force every day increasing. It is absolutely necessary now to form some decided plan for leaving this devoted country. Whether it will be better to embark from Marseilles or to travel across the country to Bourdeaux, is the question upon which we have not yet sufficient information to decide. We expect to hear to-morrow of an engagement between the troops commanded by the Prince D'Artois at Lyons, and the force which has joined Napoleon. Every moment which we now remain in this kingdom is time foolishly thrown away. Bonaparte may have friends in the sea-port towns; the organization of this last scheme may be, and indeed every hour proves, that it has been deeper than we at first imagined, and the possibility of escape may in a moment be entirely precluded.
Monday, the 13th.—This has been a day of much agitation; a courier has arrived, and the intelligence he brings is as bad as possible. Every thing is lost. The Count d'Artois harangued his troops, and the answer they made, was a universal shout ofVive l'Empereur. The Prince has been obliged to return to Paris; Bonaparte has entered Lyons without the slightest opposition, and is now on his march to the capital. We have just been informed, that the Duc d'Angouleme is expected here this evening or to-morrow. The guarde nationale has been paraded upon theCours, and a proclamation, exhorting them to continue faithful to the King, read aloud to the soldiers. We hear them rapturously shouting Vive le Roi; and they are now marching through the streets to the national air of Henrie Quatre. Every house has displayed the white flag from its windows.
Thursday, the 16th.—We have determined now to run the risk of travelling across the country to Bourdeaux, trusting to embark from that town for England. I have visited Marseilles, and find that there are no vessels in that port; and in the present uncertain state of Italy, it would be hazardous attempting to reach Nice. Bonaparte, we hear, is near Paris, and is expected to enter that capital without opposition; but we now receive no intelligence whose accuracy can be relied on, as the couriers have been stopt, and all regular intercourse discontinued. The preparations, for the arrival of the Duc d'Angouleme, continued till this morning; and in the evening we witnessed his entry into Aix: It was an affecting sight. At the gate of the town, he got out of his carriage, mounted on horseback, and rode twice along the Cours, followed by his suite. The common people, who were assembled on each side of the street, shouted Vive le Roi, Vivent les Bourbons, apparently with enthusiasm. The attention of the Duke seemed to be chiefly directed to the regiments of the line, which were drawn up on the Cours. As he rode along, he leant down and seemed to speak familiarly to the common soldiers; but the troops remained sullen and silent. No cries of loyalty were heard amongst them—not a single murmur of applause. They did not even salute the Duke as he past, but continued perfectly still and silent. In the midst of this, we could hear the sobs of the women in the crowd, and of the ladies, who waved their handkerchiefs from the windows. As he came near the balcony where we and our English friends were assembled, we strained our voices with repeated cries of Vive le Roi. He heard us, looked up, and bowed; and afterwards, with that grateful politeness, the characteristic of the older school of French manners, he sent one of his attendants to say, that he had distinguished the English, and felt flattered by the interest they took in his affairs. Although it was positively asserted by our French friends here, that Marseilles was in the greatest confusion; and that on account of the prevalence of the report of the English having favoured the escape of Bonaparte, all our countrymen were liable to be insulted; I yet found the town perfectly tranquil. Massena, I heard, had sent for some troops from Toulon; and the 3000 national guards employ themselves night and day, in shoutingVive le Roi. We shall leave Aix to-morrow morning, taking the route to Bourdeaux.
Friday, the 17th of April.—Our leaving Aix this morning was really melancholy. French friends, hearing of our approaching departure, flocked in to bid us farewell. They were in miserably low spirits, deploring the state of their unhappy country, weeping over the fate of their sons and husbands, who had marched with the national guard in pursuit of the ex-Emperor; and full of fears as to the calamities this might bring upon them. You are happy English, said they, and are returning to a loyal and secure country, and you leave us exposed to all the calamities of a civil war.
After a long day's journey, we have at last arrived at Orgon, at seven in the evening. There has been little travelling on the road to-day. The country has nearly the same aspect as in November last. The only difference is, that the almond trees are in full blossom, and some few other trees, such as willows, &c. in leaf; the wheat is about half a foot to a foot high: The day was delightfully mild; and as we drove along, we met numberless groups of peasants who lined the road, and were anxiously waiting for their Prince passing by. The road was strewed with lilies, and the young girls had their laps filled with flowers as we passed. As we past, they knew us to be English, and shouted Vive le Roi.
We are now in Languedoc, but as yet I cannot say that it equals, or at all justifies Mrs Radcliffe's description: Flat and insipid plains ofvignobleor wheat. However, there is here, as every where in France, no want of cultivation. Napoleon had commenced, and nearly finished, a very fine quay and buttresses between the two bridges of boats. That man had always grand, though seldom good views. The walls of the inn here were covered with a mixture of "Vive le Roi!" and "Vive Napoleon!" this last mostly scratched out. National guards in every town demanded our passport. These men and the gens-d'armes are running about in every direction. No courier from Paris arrived here these three days. This looks ill. The houses are better in appearance than in Provence. The country very productive: Potatoes the finest I have seen in France.——Distance 34 miles.
Sunday, 19th.—We left Nismes at six o'clock this morning, and breakfasted at Lunel, where they appear to be full of loyalty. It was a subject to us of much regret, that more time was not allowed us to examine a magnificent Roman amphitheatre, half of which is nearly entire, although the remaining part is quite ruinous. The troops in the town were drawn up on the parade, expecting the Duke d'Angouleme. We received a small printed paper from an officer on the road, containing the information last received from Paris, which secured us a good reception at the inn. The people were delighted to procure a piece of authentic intelligence, (a thing they seldom have); they flocked round us, and upon their entreaty, I gave them the paper to carry to the caffèe. In the inn we found a number of recruits for the army forming by the Duke d'Angouleme; it is said that he has already collected at Nismes nineteen hundred men, all volunteers. The country does not improve in romantic beauty as we advance in Languedoc; but what is better, the cultivation is very superior; large fields of fine wheat. There seems to be all over the south the same want of horned cattle; horses also are very scarce and very bad:—milk never to be had unless very early, and then in small quantity. No land wasted here. All the houses about Montpellier are better than near Aix, and we even saw some neat country seats, a circumstance almost unknown in all the parts of France where we have hitherto been. The olive trees are here much larger and finer than in Provence; but the country, although covered with olives, vines, and wheat, is flat, ugly, and insipid. The instruments of agriculture are even inferior to those in Provence, which last are at least a century behind England. The plough here is as rude as in Bengal, and is formed of a crooked branch of a tree shod with iron. As we approached near Montpellier, the appearance of the country began to display more beautiful features. The ground is more varied, the fields and meadows of a richer green, a distant range of hills closes in the view, and the olive groves are composed of larger and more luxuriant trees. Nearer to the town, the country is divided into small nursery gardens, which, although inferior to those in the environs of London, give an unusual richness to the landscape. We arrived at Montpellier at six o'clock, and from the crowd in the town, found much difficulty in procuring an hotel.
Monday, 20th April.—We have better news to-day; letters from the Duke d'Angouleme announce that the whole conspiracy has been discovered, and that Soult (Ministre de Guerre) and several other generals have been arrested. In consequence of which, it is expected that the plans of the conspirators will be in a great measure defeated. The French change in a moment from the extreme of grief to the opposite, that of the most extravagant joy. To-day they are in the highest spirits;—but things still look very ill. No courier from Paris for these last four days. The ex-Emperor still marching uninterruptedly towards that city, yet no one can conceive that he will succeed, now that the King's eyes are open;—his clemency alone has occasioned all this—he would not consent to remove the declared friends of Napoleon.
We passed this day at Montpellier; but were prevented by the intense heat of the sun from seeing as much of the environs as we could have wished. The town is old and the streets shabby; but the Peyroue is one of the most magnificent things I ever saw. It is a superb platform, which forms the termination of the Grand Aqueduct built by Louis XIV. and commands a magnificent extent of country. In front, the view is terminated by a long and level line of the Mediterranean. To the south-west the horizon is formed by the ridge of the Pyrenees; while, to the north, the view is closed in by the distant, yet magnificent summits of the Alps. Immediately below these extends, almost to the border of the Mediterranean, a beautifulpaysage, spotted with innumerable country seats, which, seen at a distance, have the same air of neatness and comfort as those in England. At the end of this fine platform, is a Grecian temple, inclosing a basin, which receives the large body of water conveyed by the aqueduct, and which empties itself again into a wide basin with a bottom of golden-coloured sand. The limpid clearness of the water is beyond all description. The air, blowing over the basin from a plain of wheat and olives (evergreens in this climate), has a charming freshness. The Esplanade here is also a fine promenade, although the view which it commands is not so fine as that from the Peyroue. The manufactures of Montpellier are, verdigris, blankets and handkerchiefs; little trade going on. The climate is delightful, though now too warm for my taste. Every thing is much farther advanced here than at Aix. They have some very pretty gardens here, though nothing equal to what we see every day in England. The botanical garden is very small. We start to-morrow at six for Beziers, where we expect to find water carriage to Toulouse.
Tuesday, 21st April.—We left Montpellier at five in the morning, and although the country round the town is certainly more beautiful than the greater part of Languedoc we have yet seen, it in a short time became very uninteresting; an extended plain, covered with uninclosed fields of wheat, and occasionally a plantation of olives. Before reaching Maize, a small town situated within a mile of the shore of the Mediterranean, we passed through a fine forest, the only considerable one we have seen in Languedoc. The road winded along the shore; the day was delightful, and as warm as with us in July; and the waters of the Mediterranean lay in a perfect calm, clear and still, and beautiful, under the light of a glorious sun. The general appearance of the country is certainly not beautiful. It improves much upon coming near Pezenas, where the fields are divided into green meadows, and interspersed with little gardens, in which, although it is now only April, the fruit trees are in full blossom, and giving to the view an uncommon beauty. The blossom of the pears, peach, and apple-trees, is, I think, richer than I ever saw in England. The season is not only much more advanced here than at Aix, but the warmth and mildness of the climate gives to the fields and flowers a more than common luxuriancy. Many of the meadows are thickly sown with the white narcissus, and the hedges, which form their inclosures, are covered with the deepest verdure, which is finely contrasted with the pink-flowers of the almond trees, rising at intervals in the hedge-rows. The wheat round Montpellier was now, in the middle of April, in the ear. We set off to-morrow at half-past five, in order to get into thecoches d'eauat Beziers before 12 (the hour of starting). Hitherto we have proceeded without the slightest molestation. The English, I am now thoroughly convinced, are not popular amongst the lower orders; but as we are the couriers of good news, we are at present well received. Could it be believed by an Englishman, that we, who travel at the miserable rate of 30 miles a-day,should be the first to spread the news wherever we go. The reason is, that we get the authentic news through our friends and bankers, and circulate it in the inns, instead of the ridiculous stories invented by those groping in ignorance. The feelings of the people seem excellent every where; the troops alone maintain a gloomy silence. The country, from Montpellier, is the same as hitherto, flat and insipid: but the crops are much farther advanced than in Provence. We had some fine peeps at the Mediterranean this morning. The town of Pezenas is prettily situated, and is surrounded by numbers of beautiful gardens, though on a small scale. All the fruit trees are here in blossom: Green peas a foot and a half high. The ploughs in this part of the country are more antiquated than any I have seen. The ploughing is very shallow; but nature does all in France.——Distance about 34 miles.
Wednesday, 22d.—Left Pezenas at half past five, and arrived to breakfast at half past nine at Beziers. We went to see thecoches d'eau, described assuperbesandmagnifiquesby our French friends. Their ideas differ from ours. It would be perfectly impossible for an English lady to go in such a conveyance; and few gentlemen, even if alone, would have the boldness to venture. The objections are: there is but one room for all classes of people; they start at three and four each morning; stop at miserable inns, and if you have heavy baggage, it must be shifted at the locks, which is tedious and expensive. Adieu to all our airy dreams of gliding through Languedoc in theseCleopatrian vessels. They are infested with an astonishing variety of smells; they are exposed to all the inclemencies of the weather; and they are filled with bugs, fleas, and all kinds of bad company. The country to-day, though still very flat, is much improved in beauty. Very fine large meadows, bordered with willows, but too regular. Bullocks as common as mules in the plough. Wheat far advanced, and barley, in some small spots, in the ear. I learnt some curious particulars, if they can be depended upon, concerning this conspiracy of Bonaparte from a Spanish officer, who had taken a place in our cabriolet. He says, that one of the chief means he has employed to create division in France, and to make himself beloved, has been by carrying on a secret correspondence with the Protestants, and persuading them that he will support them against the Catholics; and by representing the King as wishing to oppress them. To the army he has promised, that he will lead them again against the allied Powers, who have triumphantly said they have conquered them; this is a tender point with the French: At the present time, when the troops are deserting their King, and flying to the standard of the usurper, still even the most loyal among the people cannot bear the idea that the allies should assist in opposing him.
We have continued with our coachman, and carry him on to Toulouse. He is an excellent fellow, has a good berlin, with large cabriolet before, and three of the finest mules I ever saw. He takes us at a round pace, from 15 to 20 miles before breakfast, and the rest after it, making up always 30 miles a-day. The pay for this equipage per mile is not much above a franc and a half. We have found it the most comfortable way of travelling for so large a party. He carries all our baggage, amounting to more than 400 pounds, without any additional expence. The country between Pezenas and Beziers, and between Beziers and Narbonne, is richer and more beautiful than any part of Languedoc which we have yet seen. It is divided into fields of wheat, which is now in the ear, divisions of green clover grass, meadows enclosed with rows of willows, and orchards scattered around the little villages. These orchards, which are now all in blossom, increase in number as you approach the town of Narbonne. We have enjoyed to-day another noble view of the distant summits of the Pyrenees, towering into the clouds.——Distance, 34 miles—to Narbonne.
Thursday, 23d.—We left Narbonne at half past five, and have travelled to-day, through a country more ugly and insipid than any in the south; barren hills, low swampy meadows, and dirty villages. There is a total want of peasants houses on the lands; but still a very general cultivation. Ploughs, harrows, and other instruments, a century behind. Fewer vines now, and more wheat. At Moux, one of the police officers read out a number of proclamations, sent by the prefect of the department, exciting the people to exertions in repelling the usurper. The cries of "Vive le Roi" were so faint, that the officer harangued the multitude on their want of proper feeling. He did not, however, gain any thing. One of the mob cried out, that they were not to be forced to cry out "Vive le Roi." Wherever we have gone, I have heard from all ranks that the English have supported Bonaparte, and that they are the instigators of the civil war. In vain I have argued, that if it were our policy to have war with France, why should we have restored the Bourbons? Why made peace? Why wasted men and money in Spain? It is all in vain—they are inveterately obstinate.——Distance 39 miles.
Friday, 24th.—We left Carcassone at seven, as we have but a short journey to-day. Arrived at Castelnaudry at half past five, and found the inn crowded with gentlemen volunteers for the cavalry. The volunteers are fine smart young men, and all well mounted. Their horses very superior to the cavalry horses in general. We passed a cavalry regiment of the line this morning, the 15th dragoons. Horses miserable little long-tailed Highland-like ponies, but seemingly very active. The whole country through which we have travelled since the commencement of our journey in France, is sadly deficient in cattle. We meet with none of these groupes of fine horses and cows, which delight us in looking over the country in England, in almost every field you pass. This want is more particularly remarkable in the south. The country to-day is the same; a total want of trees, and of variety of scenery of any kind. No peasants houses to be seen scattered over the face of the country; the peasantry all crowd into the villages.—Yet there is no want of cultivation. The situation of the lower classes is yet extremely comfortable. The girls are handsome, and always well drest. The men strong and healthy. The young women wear little caps trimmed with lace, and the men broad-brimmed picturesque-looking hats: both have shoes and stockings. The parish churches in this part of France are in a miserable condition. It is no longer here, as in England, that the churches andCurès'houses are distinguished by their neatness. Here, the churches are fallen into ruins; the windows soiled, and covered with cobwebs. The order of the priesthood, from what I have seen, are, I should conceive, little respected.——Distance 29 miles.
Saturday, the 25th.—We left Castelnaudry at five o'clock, and have travelled to-day through a country, which, from Castelnaudry to Toulouse, is uniformly flat and bare, and uninteresting. We were surprised to-day by meeting on the road a party of English friends, who had set out for Bourdeaux, returning by the same road. They informed us, they had heard by private letters, that Bonaparte was at the gates of Paris, on which account they had returned, and were determined to pass into Spain. They told us, that the roads were covered by parties of English flying in every direction; and that all the vessels at Bourdeaux were said to have already sailed for England. It was, however, impossible for us now to turn back; and we continued our route to Bourdeaux with very uncomfortable feelings, anxious lest every moment should confirm the bad news, and put a stop to our progress to the coast, or that, when we arrived, we should find the sea-ports under an embargo. Near Toulouse, are seen a few country seats, which relieve the eye; but the town is old and ugly, and situated, to all appearance, in a swampy flat. We shall see more of it to-morrow. The road from Castelnaudry to this is very bad, the worst we have seen yet in the south of France; it has been paved, but is much broken up.——Distance 41 miles.
Sunday, 26th.—It has become necessary now to change all our plans of travelling. Upon visiting our banker this morning, I received from him a full confirmation of the bad news—Napoleon is in Paris, and again seated on the throne of France. Our banker has procured for us, and another party, forming in all 29 English, a small common country boat, covered over only with a sail. In this miserable conveyance we embarked this afternoon at two, and arrived the first night at Maste. Our passage down the Garonne is most rapid, and as the weather is delightful, the conveyance is pleasant enough; but our minds are in such a state we cannot enjoy any thing. To-morrow I shall continue more connectedly.
Monday, the 27th.—We are now gliding down the Garonne with the utmost rapidity and steadiness. The scene before us presents the most perfect tranquillity. The weather which we now enjoy is heavenly,—the air soft and warm,—and the sun shedding an unclouded radiance upon the glassy waters of the Garonne, in whose bosom the romantic scenery through which we pass, is reflected in the most perfect beauty. On each side, are the most lovely banks covered with hanging orchards, whose trees, in full blossom, reach to the brink of the river. We have passed several small villages very beautifully situated; and where we have not met with these, the country is more generally scattered with the cottages of the peasantry, which are seen at intervals, peeping through the woods which cover the banks. As our boat passes, the villagers flock from their doors, and place themselves in groups on the rocks which overhang the river, or crowd into the little meadows which are interspersed between the orchards and the gardens. At the moment in which I now write, the sun is setting upon a scene so perfectly still and beautiful, that it is impossible to believe we are now in the devoted country, experiencing, at this very hour, a terrible revolution; the most disastrous political convulsion, perhaps, which it has ever yet undergone. In former times, the changes from the tranquillity it enjoyed under a monarchial government, to the chaos of republicanism, and from that to the sullen stagnation of a firm-rooted military despotism, were gradual; they were the work of time. But the unbounded ambition of Bonaparte, after a series of years, had brought on his downfall, by a natural course of events, and France had begun to taste and to relish the blessings of peace. On a sudden, that fallen Colossus is raised again, and its dark shadow has over-spread the brightening horizon. Could it be credited, that within one short month, that man whom we conceived detested in France, should have journeyed from one extremity of that kingdom to another, without meeting with the slightest resistance? I say journeyed, for he had but a handful of men, whom, at almost every town, he left behind him, and he proceeded on horseback, or in his carriage, with much less precaution than at any former period of his life. France has now nothing to hope, but from the heavy struggle that will, I trust, immediately take place between her and the allied powers. It will be a terrible, but, I trust, short struggle, if the measures are prompt: but if he is allowed time to levy a new conscription; if even he has sufficient time to collect the hordes of disbanded robbers whom his abdication let loose in France, he possesses the same means of conducting a long war that he ever possessed. The idea so current in France, that this event will only occasion a civil war, is unworthy of a moment's attention. Every inhabitant in every town he passed, was said to be against him. We heard of nothing but the devoted loyalty of the national guards; but at Grenoble, at Lyons, and at Paris, was there found a man to discharge his musket? No! against a small number of regular and veteran troops, no French militia, no volunteers will ever fight, or if they do, it will be but for a moment; each city will yield in its turn.
The country is improving; the banks, in many places, are beautiful; for some days past we have been in the country of wheat, but now we are again arrived among the vines. Very little commerce on this river, although celebrated as possessing more than any one in France. It reminds me of the state of commerce in India,—boats gliding down rapidly with the stream, and toiling up in tracking. The shape, also, of the boats is the same. We have this moment passed a boat full of English, and the sailors have shouted out, that the white flag is no longer flying at Bourdeaux. If the town has declared for the ex-Emperor, I dread to think of our fate.
Tuesday, the 28th.—This morning, at three, I left my party, and took a very light gig, determined (as the news were getting daily worse, and the road full of English hurrying to Bourdeaux), to post it from Agen. I was attended by a friend. By paying the post-boys double hires, we got on very fast, and although, from their advanced age and infirmities, the generality of French conveyances will not suffer themselves to be hurried beyond their ordinary pace, this was no time to make any such allowances. We accordingly hurried on, and after having broke down four times, we arrived at Bourdeaux at six in the evening, a distance of more than a hundred miles; and were delighted to see the white flag still displayed from all the public buildings. The country from Agen to Bourdeaux is the richest I have seen in France, chiefly laid out in vines, dressed with much more care than any we have yet seen; many fields also of fine wheat, and some meadows of grass pasture. Every thing is much further advanced than in Languedoc, even allowing for the advance in the days we have passed in travelling. Barley not only in the ear, but some fields even yellowing. Bourdeaux is a noble town, though not so fine, I think, as Marseilles. We arrived just in time: a few hours later, and I should have found no passage.
Wednesdaymorning, the 29th.—I have settled for the last accommodations to be had, viz. a small cabin in a brig, for which I pay L.130. The owner, like every other owner, is full of great promises; but in these cases, I make it a rule to believe only one half. Bourdeaux shews the most determined loyalty; but, alas! there are troops of the line in the town, and in the fort of Blaye. Instead of sending these troops away, and guarding the town by the national guards, they content themselves with giving dinners to each other, and making the drunken soldiers cry, "Vive le Roi!" In England, every thing is done by a dinner; perhaps they are imitating the English: but dinners will not do in this case; decided measures must be taken, or Bourdeaux will fall, in spite of its loyalty, and the noise it makes. The journal published here, of which I have secured most of the numbers, from Napoleon's landing to this day, is full of enthusiastic addresses:—The general commanding the troops to the national guards,—the national guards to the troops,—the mayor to his constituents,—the constituents to the mayor;—all this is well, but it will do nothing. Although every thing is yet quiet, I am determined to hurry our departure, for I do not think there is a doubt of the issue. Since I entered Bourdeaux, I have always thought it would yield on the first attack.
Thursday, the 30th.—Things look very ill. The fort of Blaye has hoisted the tri-coloured flag. Thank heaven our vessel passed it to-day; we should otherwise probably have been fired upon. We go to Poillac, where we are to embark by land, as a party of English, who attempted to go by water, were stopt and made prisoners. The town of Bourdeaux is in a dead calm; the sounds of loyalty have ceased, and a mysterious silence reigns throughout the streets: I am sure all is not well. Suddenly after all this silence, there has been a most rapid transition to sentiments of the most devoted loyalty. This has been occasioned by a great entertainment given by the national guards to the troops of the line; so that I am afraid that although these regular soldiers of the regular army, when elated with wine, choose to be devoted loyalists, their political sentiments may undergo many different changes upon their return to sobriety. At present, the shout of Vive le Roi, from the different troops of the line and national guards which are patroling the streets, is loud and reiterated. Napoleon has sent to-day his addresses and declarations to Bourdeaux, but the couriers have been imprisoned, and the civil authorities have sworn to continue faithful to their King. This loyalty will be immediately put to the test, for Clausel is advancing to the walls. The Dutchess d'Angouleme passed through the streets, and visited thecasernesof the troops: Indeed her exertions are incessant. To her addresses the people are enthusiastic in their replies, but the troops continue, as I expected, sullen and silent; they answered, that they would not forget their duty to her, as far as not injuring her. I trust that she passed our hotel this evening for the last time, and that she has left Bourdeaux for England. Every individual in this city, the troops excepted, appears to hate and detest Napoleon as cordially as he detests them. They expect immediate destruction if he takes the town. Their commerce must be ruined; yet there is no exertion—nothing but noise. Vive le Roi is in every heart, but they are overawed by the troops; it costs nothing. Subscriptions, however, for arming the militia, go on slowly. They seem always to keep a sharp eye to their pockets, although, as far as shouting and bellowing is required, they are willing to levy any contribution on their lungs. The French are indeed miserably poor, but they are also miserably avaricious. There is nothing even approaching to national spirit; yet their prudence sometimes gets the better even of their economy. One instance, which I witnessed to-day, will shew the way in which a Frenchman acts in times like these: I was in a shop when one of the noblesse entered, bearing a subscription paper. He addressed the shopkeeper, saying, that he begged for his subscription, as he knew he was a royalist. I neversubscribemy name in times like these, said the cautious Frenchman, but I will give you some money. The gentleman entreated, urging, that respectablesubscriptions, more than money, were wanted; but all in vain. The shopkeeper paid his ten shillings, saying,he would always be the first to support his King.
I entered a bookseller's shop, and asked for the political writings of the day. The man looked me cautiously in the face, and said he had none of them. I happened to see one on the table, and asked him for it, telling him that I was an Englishman, and wished to carry them with me; he then bid me step in, and from hidden corners of the inner-shop, he produced the whole mass of pamphlets.—All this denotes that a change is immediately expected.
This last night has been passed as might be expected, owing to the circumstances in which we were placed, in much agitation. Clausel is every moment advancing up the town. Every thing is in confusion. The troops declare they will not fire a shot. The national guards are wavering and undecided, and this moment (five in the morning) our coachman has knocked at our door to tell us that we cannot remain another moment safe in the town.
Friday, the 31st.—We set off accordingly at sunrise, before any one was abroad in the street. Our coachman reported, that General Clausel had reached the gates, and that the national guard had been beat off. We have arrived, therefore, at the most critical moment, and may be grateful that we have escaped. The road between Bourdeaux and Poillac is very bad. Arrived at the inn at half way, we met with the Marquis de Valsuzenai, prefect of the town, who confirmed the bad news: We learnt from him, that at three in the morning of the 30th, the town had capitulated without a shot having been fired. Two men were killed by a mistake of the soldiers firing, upon their own officers; a miserable resistance! But it could not be otherwise, as no militia could long stand against regulars. Still I expected tumults in the streets—rising among the inhabitants—weeping and wailing. But no: the French are unlike any other nation, they have no energy, no principle. Miserable people! We arrived at Poillac just as it grew dark, and owing to the sullen insolence of our coachman, who was a complete revolutionist, and to his hatred for the English, which evinced itself the moment he found that Bourdeaux had capitulated, we found it difficult to get any thing like accommodation. I am happy to add, that this same fellow, meeting another party of English, and beginning to be insolent, an Irish gentleman, with that prompt and decisive justice which characterises his country, by one blow of his fist laid him speechless upon the pavement.
Upon meeting the Prefect of Bourdeaux, between that town and the little sea-port Poillac, in disguise, and hurrying to the shore, he informed us that before leaving the city, he had fallen on his knees before the Dutchess d'Angouleme, to persuade her to embark for England, and had, after much entreaty, succeeded. That before setting out himself, he had sent her post-horses, and most anxiously expected her arrival, although he had doubts whether she would be permitted to leave the town. As we pursued our route, we passed the Chateau Margot. The Marquis, to whom it belonged, was watching on the road with his young daughter; and the moment our carriage came in sight, he rushed up in great agitation, and exclaiming, "Where is the Dutchess? Why does she not come. She must be concealed at my house to-night. There are troops stationed at a league's distance from this to prevent her escape." Then observing the fair complexion of one of the ladies of our party, he cried out, "It is the Dutchess, it is my beloved Princess. Oh! why have you no avant garde; you must not proceed." The poor old man was in a state of extreme agitation, and his daughter weeping. It was a few minutes before we could undeceive him, and his assurances that we should be stopt by the troops on the road, afforded us no very cheering prospect as we proceeded on our journey. No troops, however, appeared, and we arrived safely at Poillac at seven o'clock.
The Dutchess did not appear that night; but early next morning, we were called to the window, by hearing a great bustle in the street. It was occasioned by the arrival of this unfortunate Princess. She had three or four carriages along with her, filled with her attendants, and was escorted by a party of the national guards. Their entry into Poillac formed a very mournful procession; she herself looked deadly pale, although seemingly calm and collected. We saw many of the officers of the national guard crowding round her with tears in their eyes. There was a little chapel close to where we were lodged, and while the other ladies went down to the frigate to prepare for the embarkation, we heard that the Dutchess herself had gone to mass. After we imagined that the service would be nearly concluded, two of the ladies of our party entered the chapel, and placed themselves near to where they knew she would pass. As she came near them, observing that they were English, and much affected, she held out her hand to them; one of them said, "Oh, go to our England, you will be cherished there." "Yes, yes," replied she, "I am now going to your country;" and when they expressed a wish that this storm would be quickly over, and that when she again returned to France it would be for lasting happiness. The Dutchess replied with an expression which was almost cheerful, "Indeed, I hope so." This was the last time that any of us saw her. There was then in her expression a look of sweet and tranquil suffering, which was irresistibly affecting.
We embarked, this morning,Saturday, the 1st, on board the William Sibbald, after a night of troubles. Most fortunately for me, I had not trusted entirely to the owner's word, and had provided three beds and some provisions; for the captain told us, he could not provide ship room, and neither mattress nor provision of any kind.——Here we are then, in no very comfortable circumstances, yet thankful to escape from this miserable country. There are others in much greater misery than we. The Count de Lynch, Mayor of Bourdeaux, his brother, and another relation, the General commanding the national guard, and four or five French fugitives, have been sent on board here, by the Consul and the English Captain of the frigate; and they have neither clothes, nor beds, nor victuals: they leave their fortunes and their families behind them. "Alas! what a prospect," one of them exclaimed to-day; "this is the third fortune Bonaparte has lost to me." The unfortunate Dutchess d'Angouleme is now safe on board the English frigate. On leaving Bourdeaux, the Dutchess printed an address to the inhabitants, stating the reasons of her leaving them, to prevent the town from becoming a scene of blood and pillage. Alas! she knows not her own countrymen; they would not fight an hour to save her life: yet it is not because they do not love her—she is adored—the whole family are adored. The good among the nation wish for peace, but the troops are for war, and they are all-powerful. It is unjust to say that France ought to be allowed to remain under Napoleon, as she has desired his return: the army chiefly have desired it, and plotted it. They burn for pillage and for revenge on the allies, who had humbled their pride. If the allies are not prompt, he will again be master of his former territory. Something might even yet be done at Bourdeaux by an English army.
We are now in the mouth of the English channel, and in full hopes, that as our stock, of water and of patience is almost exhausted, the Captain will put us into the first English port. May God grant us soon the sight of an English inn, and an English post-chaise, and in a day we shall forget all our troubles.
end of the journal.
STATE OP FRANCE UNDER NAPOLEON.
Totrace, with accuracy, the effects of the revolution and of the military despotism of Napoleon on the kingdom of France, it would be necessary to attend to the following subjects:—the state of commerce—wealth of the nation, and division of this wealth—the state of agriculture—the condition of the towns and villages—of the noblesse and their property—the condition of the lower ranks, namely, the merchants, tradesmen, artificers, peasants, poor, and beggars—the state of private and public manners—the dress of the people—their amusements—the state of religion and morality—of criminal delinquency and the administration of justice.
But to treat all these different subjects, and to diverge into the necessary observations which they would naturally suggest, would form of itself a voluminous work. In order, however, to judge fairly of the state of France, and of the character of the people, we must select and make observations on a few of the most material points. In my Journal, which accompanies this, I have purposely said but little on the state of the people and their character, as I intended to finish my travels before I formed my opinion. I did not wish to be guilty of the same mistake with another traveller, who, coming to an inn in which he had a bad egg for breakfast, served by an ugly girl, immediately set down in his Journal, "In this country, the eggs are all bad, and the women all ugly." My readers are already aware of the opportunities I possessed of obtaining information. They are such as present themselves to almost every traveller in France; and they will not therefore be surprised if my remarks are somewhat common-place. They will recollect that our party disembarked at Dieppe, and travelled from one coast to the other by Rouen, Paris, Lyons and Aix. By travelling very slowly, never above 30 miles a-day, I had, perhaps a better opportunity than common of seeing the country, and of conversing with the inhabitants; and I have been more than commonly fortunate in forming acquaintance with a number of very well informed men in the town, which we selected as the place of our residence in the winter: This was Aix, in Provence. I have described it before in my Journal, and have only to add, that the head court for four departments is held there; that there is a College for the study of Law and Divinity, and that it is remarkable for possessing a society of men better informed, and of more liberal education, than most other towns in France.
The inhabitants of Provence have always been marked by excesses of affection or disaffection. They do nothing in moderation; "Les têtes chaudes de Provence," is an expression quite common in France. In the commencement of the revolution, the bands of Provençals, chiefly Marseillois, were the leaders in every outrage. And when the tyrant, Napoleon, had fallen from his power, they were among the first to cry "Vivent les Bourbons!" They would have torn him to pieces on his way to Frejus, had he not been at times disguised, and at other times well protected by the troops and police in the villages through which he passed. It will then easily be imagined that the English were received with open arms at Aix. They heaped on us kindnesses of every description, and our only difficulty was to limit our acquaintance. From among the most moderate and best informed of our friends at Aix, I attempted to collect a few traits and anecdotes of Napoleon, and with their assistance, I shall, in the first instance, attempt giving a sketch of his character. It would be tedious, as well as unnecessary, to detail all the circumstances of his life; for most of these are generally known. I shall therefore only mention such as we are not generally acquainted with.
Napoleonwas born at Ajaccio, in Corsica, not, as is generally supposed, in August 1769, but in February 1768. He had a motive for thus falsifying even the date of his birth; he conceived that it would assist his ambitious views, if he could prove that he was born in a province of France, and it was not till 1769 that Corsica became entitled to that denomination. His reputed father was not ahuissier(or bailiff) as is generally stated, but agreffier(or register of one of the courts of justice). His mother is a Genoese; she is a woman of very bad character; and it is currently reported that Napoleon was the son of General Paoli; and that Louis and Jerome were the sons of the Marquis de Marbeuf, governor of the island. The conduct of the Marquis to the family of Bonaparte, then in the utmost indigence, would sanction a belief in this account; he protected the whole family, but particularly the sons, and he caused Napoleon to be placed at the Military School of Brienne, where he supplied him with money. This money was never spent among his companions, but went to purchase mathematical books and instruments, and to assist him in erecting fortifications. The only times when he deigned to amuse himself with others was during the attacks of these fortifications, and immediately on these being finished, he would retire and shut himself up among his books and mathematical instruments. He was, when a boy, always morose, tyrannical and domineering. "[11]Il motrait dans ces jeux cet esprit de domination qu'il a depuis manifestée sur le grand theatre du monde; et celui qui devoit un jour epouvanter l'Europe a commencè par etre le maitre et l'effroi d'une troupe d'enfans[12]."
He left the military college with the rank of lieutenant of artillery, and bearing a character which was not likely to recommend him among good men. He had very early displayed principles of a most daring nature. In a conversation with the master of the academy, some discussion having taken place on the subject of the difficulty of governing a great nation, the young Corsican remarked, "that the greatest nations were as easily managed as a school of boys, but that kings always studied to make themselves beloved, and thus worked their own ruin." The infant despot of France was certainly determined that no such foolish humanity should dictate rules to his ambition. He was once in a private company, where a lady making some remarks on the character of Marshal Turenne, declared that she would have loved him had he not burned the Palatinate. "And of what consequence was that, Madame," said the young Napoleon, "provided it assisted his plans?" We may here trace the same unfeeling heart that ordered the explosion of the magazine of Grenelle, which, if his orders had been executed, must have laid Paris in ruins. Some of my readers may, perhaps, not have seen an authentic statement of this most horrid circumstance, I shall therefore give a translation of the letter of Maillard Lescourt, major of artillery, taken from the Journal des Debats of the 7th April: "I was employed, on the evening before the attack of Paris, in assembling the horses necessary for the removal of the artillery, and was assisted in this duty by the officers of the 'Direction Generale.' At nine at night a colonel gallopped up to the gate of the grating of St Dominique, where I was standing, and asked to speak to the Directeur d'Artillerie. On my being shewn to him, he immediately asked me if the powder magazine at Grenelle bad been evacuated? I replied that it had not, and that there was neither time nor horses for the purpose. Then, Sir, said he, it must be blown up. I turned pale, and trembled, not reflecting that there was no occasion to distress myself for an order which was not written, and with the bearer of which I was unacquainted. Do you hesitate? said the Colonel.—It immediately occurred to me, that the same order might be given to others, if I did not accept of it; I therefore calmly replied to him, that I should immediately set about it. Become master of this frightful secret, I entrusted it to no one." At Paris we met with persons of much respectability, who vouched for the truth of this statement.
There can be no doubt that this order was given by Napoleon, for at this time the other ruling authorities had left Paris. It is by no means inconsistent with the character of the man; never, in any instance, has he been known to value the lives of men, where either ambition or revenge instigated him. Beauchamp, in his history of the last campaign, gives the following anecdote;[13]"Sire, (lui disoit un general, en le felicitant sur la victoire de Montmirail), quel beau jour, si nous ne voyions autour de nous tant de villes et de pays devastès. Tant mieux, replique Napoleon, cela me donne des soldats!!"
The second capture of Rheims in that campaign was an object of little consequence to him, but he now determined it should suffer by fire and sword. From the heights he looked down on the town, then partly on fire, and smiling said,[14]"Eh bien, dans une heure les dames de Rheims auront grand peur." His resentment against the towns that declared for the Bourbons was beyond all bounds; The following account of the murder of the unfortunate De Goualt is taken from Beauchamp's interesting work:[15]"On le saisit, on le conduit à l'hotel de ville, devant une commission militaire, qui proçede à son jugement, on plutôt à sa condamnation. Une heure s'etait à peine ecoulee qu'un officier survient se fait ouvrir les portes, et demande si la sentence est prononçee. Les juges vont aller aux voix, dit on. "Qu'on le fusille, sur le champ," dit l'officier; "l'Empereur l'ordonne." Le malhereux Goualt est condamne. Le deuil est génerale dans la ville. Le proprietaire de la maison, qu'avoit choisi Bonaparte pour y etablir son quartier, solicite une audience; il l'obtient. "Sire, (dit Monsieur du Chatel à Napoleon), un jour de triomphe doit etre un jour de clemence. Je viens de supplier votre Majesté d'accorder à toute la ville de Troyes la grace d'un de nos malheureux compatriotes qui vient d'etre condamne a mort." "Sortez," dit le tyran, d'un air faronche, "Vous oubliez qui vous etes chez moi." Il etait onze heures et cet infortune sortait de l'hotel de ville, escorte par des gens-d'armes, portant, attache à son dos, et à sa poitrine un ecriteau en gros caracteres, dans ces mots, "Traitre a la patrie," qu'on lisait à la lueur des flambeaux. Le dechirant et lugubre cortege se dirigeait vers la place du marche destine aux executions criminelles. La on veut bander les yeux au condamne. Il s'y refuse, et dit d'une voix ferme qu'il saura mourir pour son Roi. Lui meme donne le signal de tirer et c'est en criant, "Vive le Roi! Vive Louis XVIII!" qu'il rend le dernier soupir."
Tacitus, in describing the Corsicans, gives us three of the principal ingredients in the character of Napoleon, when he says,[16]"Ulcisci, prima lex est, altera, mentiri, tertia, negare Deos." To these we may add unlimited ambition, insatiable vanity, considerable courage at times, and the most dastardly cowardice at others. It must be owned, that this last is an extraordinary mixture; but I am inclined to believe, in despite of the many proofs of rash and impetuous courage, that Napoleon was in the main, and whenever life and existence was at stake, a cool and selfish coward. His rival Moreau always thought so. Immediately before the campaign of Dresden, in a conversation on Napoleon's character, this General observed,[17]"Ce qui characterise cet homme, ce'st le mensonge et l'amour de la vie; Je vais l'attaquer, je le battrai, et je le verrai a mes pieds me demander la vie."—It pleased Providence that a part only of this prediction should be accomplished; but we have seen that Bonaparte dared not court the death of Moreau. Never was more decided cowardice shewn by any man than by Napoleon after the entry of the allies into Paris. How easily might he have fought his way, with a numerous band of determined followers, who, to the last minute, never failed him; but he preferred remaining to beg for his life, and to attend to the removalof his wines and furniture!! But we must proceed more regularly in developing the traits of this extraordinary man. A gentleman of Aix, one of whose near relations had the charge of Napoleon, when his character was suspected at Toulon, gave me the following particulars of his first employment. During the siege of Toulon, he had greatly distinguished himself, and had applied to the "Commissaires de Convention," who at that time possessed great power in the army, to promote him; but these men detesting Bonaparte's character, refused his request.—On this occasion, General De Gominier said to them,[18]"Avancez cet officier; car si vous ne l'avancez pas, il saura bien s'avancer lui meme." The Commissaries could no longer refuse, and Bonaparte was appointed colonel of artillery. Shortly after this, having got into some scrape from his violent and turbulent disposition, he was put under arrest; and it was even proposed that he should be tried and executed (a necessary consequence of a trial at that period). His situation at this time was extremely unpromising; Robespierre and his accomplices, Daunton, St Juste, Barrere, &c. were all either put to death or forced to conceal themselves. Bonaparte now perceived, that for the accomplishment of his views, it was necessary that he should forsake his haughty and domineering tone, and flatter those in power. He immediately commenced a series of intrigues, and by the assistance of his friends at Paris, and that good fortune which has always befriended him, he soon found an opportunity of extricating himself from the danger which surrounded him. Barras, who was then at the head of the administration, under the title of Directeur, alarmed by the distracted state of Paris, and dreading the return of the Bourbons, assembled a council of his friends and associates in crime; it was then determined that an attack should immediately be made on the Parisian royalists, or, as the gentleman who gave me this account expressed it,[19]"Dissiper les royalistes, et foudroyer les Parisiens jusque dans leurs foyers."
But where were they to find a Frenchman who would take upon him the execution of so barbarous an order? One of the meeting mentioned Bonaparte, and his well-known character determined the directors in their choice. He was ordered to Paris, and the hand of Madame Beauharnois, and the command of the army of Italy, held out to him as the reward of his services, provided he succeeded indissipatingthe royalists. It is well known that he did succeed to his utmost wish; the streets of Paris were strewed with dead bodies, and the power of the Directory was proclaimed by peals of artillery.
Shortly after this, Bonaparte commenced that campaign in Italy, in which he so highly signalised himself as a great general and a brave soldier. It is the general opinion of the French that this was the only campaign in which Napoleon shewed personal courage; others allege, that he continued to display the greatest bravery till the siege of Acre. To reconcile the different opinions with respect to the character of Napoleon in this point, is a matter of much difficulty. After having heard the subject repeatedly discussed by officers who had accompanied him in many of his campaigns; after having read all the pamphlets of the day, I am inclined to think that the character given of him in that work, perhaps erroneously believed to be written by his valet, is the most just. This book certainly contains much exaggeration, but it is by no means considered, by the French whom I have met, as a forgery. The author must, from his style, be a man of some education; and he asserts that he was with him in all his battles, from the battle of Marengo to the campaign of Paris. He declares, that Napoleon wascourageous only in success, brave only when victorious; that the slightest reverse made him a coward. His conduct in Egypt, in abandoning his army, his barbarous and unfeeling flight from Moscow, and his last scene at Fontainbleau, are sufficient proofs of this.
The battle of Marengo is generally instanced as the one in which Napoleon shewed the greatest personal courage; but this statement neither agrees with the account given in the above work, nor by Monsieur Gaillais. From the work of the last mentioned gentleman, entitled "Histoire de Dix huit Brumaire," I shall extract a few lines on the subject of this battle.[20]"A la pointe du jour les Autrichiens commencerent l'attaque, dabord assez lentement, plus vivement ensuite, et enfin avec une telle furie que les Français furent enfoncès de tous cotès. Dans ce moment affreux ou les morts et les mourants jonchaiènt la terre, le premier Consul, placè au milieu de sa garde, semblait immuable, insensible, et comme frappè de la foudre. Vainement les generaux lui depechaient coup sur coup leurs Aides de Camp, pour demander des secours; vainement les Aides de Camp attendaient les ordres; il n'endonnait aucune; il donnait a peine signe de la vie. Plusieurs penserent que croyant la battaille perdue, il voulut se faire tuer. D'autres, avec plus de raison, se persuaderent qu'il avoit perdu la tête, et qu'il ne voyait et n'entendait plus rien de se qui se disoit et de ce qui se passait autour de lui. Le General Berthier vint le prier instamment de se retirer; au lieu de lui repondre il se coucha par terre. Cependant les Français fuyerent a toutes jambes, la bataille etoit perdue lorsque tout a coup on entendait dire que le General Dessaix arrive avec une division de troupes fraiches. Bientot apres on le voit paroitre lui meme a leur tête; les fuyards se ralliaient derrierè ses colonnes—leur courage est revenuè—la chance tourne—les Français attaquent a leur tour avec la meme furie qu'ils avoient etê attaquè—et brulent d'effacer la honte de leur defaite du matin."
Desaix fell in this battle, and the whole glory of it was given to Napoleon. The last words of this gallant man were these:[21]"Je meurs avec le regret de n'avoir pas assez vecu pour ma patrie.".
This account of Napoleon's behaviour at Marengo was confirmed to me at Aix, by two French officers of rank who had been present at the battle.
I do not mean to give a life of Napoleon; ere a year is past, I have not a doubt that we shall have but too many; indeed, already they are not wanting in England. I mean only to give such anecdotes as are not so generally known, and to attempt an explanation of the two most interesting circumstances in his career, viz. the means he has employed in his aggrandisement, and the causes of his downfall. It is only when we survey the extent of his power, without reflecting on the gradual steps which led to it, that we are astonished and confounded; for, in reality, when his means are considered, and the state of France at the time is placed before our eyes, much of the difficulty vanishes; and we perceive, that any daring character, making use of the same means, might have arrived at the same end. It is foolish to deny him (as many of his biographers do), great military talent, for that he certainly possessed, as long as his good fortune allowed him to display it. This talent he not only evinced in the formation of his plans, but in the execution also. No man knew better the means of calling forth the inexhaustible military resources of France. The people of that country were always brave; but Bonaparte alone knew how to make them all soldiers. The desire of glory has ever characterized the nation, and the state of tyranny and oppression in which they were kept under his government, had no effect in diminishing this passion. The French people under Napoleon furnish a striking exception to the maxim of Montesquieu, when he says,[22]"On peut poser pour maxime, que dans chaque etat le desir de la gloire existe avec la liberté de sujets, et diminue avec elle; la gloire n'est jamais compagne de la servitude."
The French forget their misfortunes almost immediately. After the campaign of Moscow, one would have thought that the hardships they endured might have given them a sufficient disgust, and that it was likely they would forsake one who shewed so little feeling for them. I happened once to meet with several of the poor wretches who had been with him; they were then on their road home; most of them were entirely disabled; one had his toes frozen off—they declared that theywould again fight under him if they were able. At one of the inns, I met with a young officer who had also been with him at Moscow: I happened to enquire how they could bear the cold? "We were as comfortable," said he, "as you and I are at this fire-side." The poor fellow was not twenty-one years old.[23]"La jeunesse d'aujour-d'hui est elevee dans d'autres principes; l'amour de la gloire sur tout a jetè des profondes racines; il est devenu l'attribut le plus distinctif du caractere national, exaltè par vingt ans de succes continues. Mais cette gloire meme etoit devenue notre idole, elle absorboit toutes les pensees des braves mis hors-de-combat par leurs blessures, toutes les esperances des jeunes gens qui faisaient leur premieres armes. Un coup imprevu l'a frappè, nous trouvons dans nos cœurs une vide semblable a celui qui trouve un amant qui a perdu l'objet de sa passion; tout se qu'il voit, tout ce qu'il entende renouvelle sa douleur. Ce sentiment rend notre situation vague et penible; chacun cherche a se dissimuler la place qu'il sente exister au fond de son cœur. On le regarde comme humilie, apres vingt ans des triomphes continues, pour avoir perdu une seule partie malhereusement etait la partie d'honneur; et qui a fait la regle de nos destinees."—Such is the language of the military.
In conversation one evening with one of the noblesse, who had suffered in the revolution, he told me that this military spirit extended not only to all ranks and professions, but to all ages. He said that the young men in the schools refused to learn any thing but mathematics and the science of arms; and that he recollected many instances of boys ten and twelve years of age, daily entreating their fathers and mothers to permit them to join Napoleon. It was in vain to represent to them the hardships they must suffer; their constant reply was, "If we die, we will at least find glory." Read the campaign of Moscow, said another gentleman to me, you will there see the French character:[24]"Les François sont les seuls dans l'univers qui pourroient rire meme en gelant."
Napoleon certainly greatly encreased the military spirit of the people: Before his time, you heard of commerce, of agriculture, of manufactures, as furnishing the support of the community; under him, you heard of nothing but war. The rapid destruction of the population of France occasioned constant promotion, and the army became the most promising profession. It was a profession in which no education was wanting—to which all had access. Bonaparte never allowed merit to go unrewarded. The institution of the Legion of Honour alone was an instrument in his hands of sufficient power to call forth the energy of a brave people; to this rank even the private soldier might arrive. In this organization of the army, therefore, we may trace his first means of success.
The next was his militarytactique:—The great and simple principle on which this was founded, is evident in every one of the pitched battles which he gained;—he out-numbered his opponents,—he sacrificed a troop,—a battalion,—a division,—or a whole army without bestowing a moment's thought. Bonaparte has sometimes, though very seldom, shewn that his heart could be touched, but never, on any occasion, did the miserable display of carnage in the field of battle call forth these feelings; never was he known to pity his soldiers. On seeing a body of fresh recruits join the army, his favourite expression was always,[25]"Eh bien, voyez encore de matiere premiere, du chair a cannon." After a battle, when he rode over the ground, he would smile, and say,[26]"Ma foi, voyez une grande consommation." The day after the battle of Prusse-Eylau, his valet thus describes his visit to the field of blood:[27]"Il faisoit un froid glacial, des mourants respiroient encore; la foule des cadavres et les cavitès noiratres qui le sang des hommes avoit laisse dans la neigè faisoit un affreux contraste. L'etat Major etoit peniblement affectè. L'Empereur seul contemplait froidement cette scene de deuil et de sang. Je poussai mon cheval quelques pas devant le sien; j'etois eurieux de l'observer dans un pareil moment. Vous eussiez dit qu'il etoit alors detachè de toutes les affections humaines, que tout ce qui l'environnait n'existoit pour lui. Il parloit tranquillement des evenemens de la veille. En passant devant une groupe des grenadiers Russes massacrès, le cheval d'un Aide-de-Camp avoit peur. Le Prince l'appercevait: "Ce cheval, lui dit il, froidement, est un lache."